#and then there’s white haired guy who works as like a bounty/monster hunter

[strawberri-draws]

Oc family!!!!!!

[sylverstorms]

Miss Fortune x Reader ----Salt-Crusted Heart

For an easier read, head to Ao3.

Another day. Another hunt for a fetter.

Feels like this is your life now, your present and your future. It feels like this war against the ever-spreading mist and Viego will never end. Your days as a trainee Sentinel, where the tough schedule of the Academy was your only problem, seem so far away now it’s like they belong in a dream. Like that was a different you.

And it was, wasn’t it.

That ‘you’ hadn’t ever slashed at anything other than a training dummy. Now you’re out here –with a very dysfunctional crew of lunatics— fighting mist monsters.

Said dysfunctional crew is, once again, arguing amongst themselves on which way you’re supposed to be headed next. Everyone’s got their own opinion and somehow it never matches with anyone else’s. You don’t even know how they manage that.

It takes a few light years for the majority to agree you’re heading to Bilgewater.

By the time you Wayfinder them there, you’re not surprised that all you see is darkness and sickly green mist. Half the world has gone to shit already and you’ve come to terms with that. More or less. Probably less.

“Wow.” you say as you take in the ghostly-looking town ahead of you and the armada of ships at the port below, blocking this side of the island off completely. Not that there’s a lot to block because the place is a ravaged hellhole anyway.

The environment has this wrecked, haunted vibe that would be super interesting to see in a movie with an apocalypse theme. Perhaps not so much on an actualapocalypse, though.

“Likin’ the view?” Graves asks, the corner of his lips sealed over his cigar.

“No, it was more of a ‘this is so much worse than I could have imagined’ type of wow.” you explain.

“It really is.” Riven agrees.

“Funny thing; the mist ain’t changed it all that much.” Graves laughs.

“Hey. Focus.” Lucian chastises. This guy, you’re convinced, is allergic to lightening the mood. He’s also not someone you dare say this to. “See that?” he points at the sea, to the massive ship there, towering over the rest.

You’re so focused on its fine craftsmanship and the little details you keep finding the longer your eye remains on it, you miss his point entirely, at first. Then you blink and look closer –at the thin, telltale trail of green-black smoke floating upwards from its deck.

There’s no mistaking it; a fetter is on that vessel.

“Now, listen up, everybody. Big Ol’ Graves is a legend around these parts, so my name will get us on that beauty. But. People here can be a bit… unfriendly towards new faces.” he begins. “Let’s not walk up there like an attack force and end up riddled with holes, ye?”

“Good idea.” you nod.

“Rookie, Graves, you’re heading up first.” Lucian motions with his chin.

“Bad idea.” you comment, but his skewering glare has you agreeing with the plan the same second.

“Signal if you need help.” Senna adds.

Graves only laughs heartily and grabs your uniform with his large hands, pulling you along. You know you won’t like what you hear when he leans down and whispers to you:

“We won’t have time to signal if they decide we’re not worth listening to but let’s not tell them that, Rook.”

“That’s… just what I needed to hear.” you grimace.

“Ha! Which means you’re goin’ up first. Chances are they won’t instantly shoot your pretty face off.”

“Wait… what about that ‘my name will get us up there, no trouble’?” you ask.

“Hah! That was just to impress Vayne, kiddo. My name is far more likely to get us killed in these parts.” he laughs but you don’t. “Did she look impressed?”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, she didn’t, mate.” Nothing has ever moved Vayne other than when she kills monsters in a particularly violent way.

“Ah, shit. Maybe next time.”

Yeah, if there is a next time.

Your chances aren’t looking good as soon as you step onto that deck and every weapon imaginable is suddenly shifted to you.

…

Graves tells you to put your ‘social skills’ into good use. You are not aware that was one of your talents, so it’s probably more of his bullshit. Either way, death by a thousand bullets gives you a solid motivation to turn the charm on and talk.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure we can all come to an agreement here. No need for all that firepower.” you say, totally not sweating at all underneath your white jacket. “You have something that we need and I’m sure we can negotiate a profitable deal for everyone.”

Jackpot. Bounty hunters want money more than anything. And there is not a sweeter sound to their ears than the promise of wealth. Even if you’re just talking nonsense to save your ass.

“If I could just speak to the captain—”

“The captain is listening.” a commanding voice says from up ahead. Some of the crew members part to let her through…

And.

You see a vision in this nightmare.

The woman that walks forward stands out like fire over water, like stark color on Bilgewater’s salt-washed palette. Maybe it’s the vivid red of her flowing hair, stark against the gold-trimmed black of her hat, or the emerald green of her eyes, or the way she holds herself, a queen on this deck. Whatever the reason, you cannot tear your gaze off of her.

Tongue-tied at the moment, you let Graves do the talking. Big mistake.

The goddess’ visage darkens when she sees your company, who she addresses in a less than pleasant tone: “Look what washed in with the tide. Malcolm Goddamn Graves.” You wouldn’t want that glare directed at you, ever.

“Fortune? Ah, hells, naw.” he curses. “What are ya doin’ here? How did ya get a whole damn fleet a’ warships?”

“A lot has changed since we last met. Fools around here decided to challenge me for control over Bilgewater. I locked this place down until we can resolve this inconvenience.” she says, like cutting off half the freaking island is not a big issue.

The sound of her heels on the wooden floor is downright ominous as she approaches. Her eye scans you lightning-quick, then the entirety of her attention is on Graves. The very next second…

A blunderbuss pistol is pointing right to your face, same as his.

“Whoah.” you gasp.

“What’s Gankplank paying you?!” she demands.

“I ain’t workin’ for that bastard! I ain’t even on speakin’ terms with his orange-eatin’ ass! Ya know that!”

“What I know is you came onto my deck with fancy new equipment and a whole team of mercenaries at your back. You know, just in case you thought you were being subtle, in all that silver and white sticking out in Bilgewater like a sore thumb.” She has a point. “That getup isn’t cheap and there’s only one cretin around here with that kind of coin. Now tell me what he’s planning, of you’ll be smoking that cigar through a new hole.”

“Um –ma’am? He’s telling the truth.” You almost regret speaking up when her piercing stare lands on you. “And we’re not mercenaries. We’re Sentinels of Light.” you add.

“You put on a convincing performance, cutie.” she says.

In any other scenario, a goddess like that calling you cute would make you blush. But the gun still very much in your face makes it difficult to really register the word.

“Like you’ve never heard of the ‘Saltwater Scourge’, ‘Reaver King of the High Seas’… ‘Scum-sucking Hagfish Who Takes All You Ever Cared About’…”

Oh, okay. So, she’s got a screw loose as well.Not surprising considering the company you attract, lately.

“Nope. Kiddo’s right, Sarah. They’re Sentinels, alright.” the very familiar voice of your boss, which normally doesn’t make you happy to hear, has the opposite effect now. Lucian walks up behind you to save the day.

“Lucian?” she asks, finally lowering her weapons. “…this is your crew?”

“Yep. And I’d appreciate it if you kindly refrained from killing them. Need about every gun we can get.” he replies.

“Follow me.” she says. “It seems we have a lot to discuss.”

…

Captain Fortune does not drive an easy bargain.

From what you hear later, she’s given Lucian a real hard time with negotiations. And even now, she’s the one who holds all the cards.

If you are to defeat Viego and make it clear to Bilgewater it was her who made it possible, she is willing to trade with the fetter and even let you stay on her ship in the meantime. Otherwise, if she gets the feeling it’s him who gains ground and holds the power in this place, you’re basically screwed.

The others are uneasy. They’ve suggested multiple times you steal the fetter from Fortune and dash for your lives after. Thing is, with how close she keeps that relic, that plan is looking impossible.

Which brings you to where you are right now, all the Sentinels and Miss Fortune gathered around the same map, planning your next action.

“Yes, but if I help you get there, what’s in it for me?” she asks.

And really, you don’t have anything to offer her in return. Even Lucian looks to Senna for help. Who, in turn, looks at you.

Why do they keep doing that? What have you done to convince these people you are good at talking? Especially to women like the captain.

“How about the… moral reward of helping save people from these monsters?” you suggest.

Her green eyes –and holy shit are they green— look at you like she wants to both scoff and laugh sardonically. “Tell me that is a joke.”

“It –it really isn’t.” you reply.

She huffs. “Look. I’m sure you’re all nice people. But nice people here get their throats cut.” She motions with her hand. “The cutthroats get the spoils. That’s how it works. I only care about the spoils.” she states. “So, if you want things from me and my crew, you need to make it worth our time.”

Their time sure isn’t cheap.

You know you don’t have anything at Headquarters with the kind of value she’s looking for. Definitely no coin and no gold for her services. But. You’ve heard multiple times during classes that the materials the Sentinel outfits are weaved from are extremely durable and therefore, extremely desirable.

“Would you and your crew be interested in a wardrobe overhaul?” you ask. All eyes are on you, but hers are the most intense. “Every prestigious fleet has to look the part, no? Plus, these clothes…” you say, grabbing the nearest knife and dragging it across your sleeve. The fabric is not so much as scratched. “…are pretty cool.” you tell her.

Miss Fortune leans back in her captain’s chair with a pretty smile painted on her –very attractive— lips.

“Now you’re talking my language, cutie. I’m sure we can work something out.”

…

On one hand, you have Gwen sewing day and night –your fault, you feel bad for it— while the rest of you handle the fighting. On the other, you do have a ship taking you wherever you need and making your job of clearing the darkness ten times faster.

Even Lucian has given you a pat on the back for that one. That was certainly unexpected.

“We need Fortune to take us here.” Senna points on the map. “Rookie, you go tell her.”

You almost choke on your water. “Why me?” you ask.

“Because you’re finally making yourself useful.” Lucian replies. Ouch.

“I’ve been very useful from the start!” you argue. The others look amongst themselves. “Hey!”

“I mean… points for effort.” Diana comments.

“Moral support is useful, I agree.” Riven smirks at you.

‘Asshole’ you mouth, rising from your seat. Her grin only widens.

You send them a narrowed, unimpressed look over your shoulder on your way out. Some of the crew members that see you walking towards the captain’s cabin whistle your way. You’re sure there’s tons of colorful comments behind your back but you have bigger things to worry about.

Like… the way a certain redhead looks leaned back in her plush chair, a queen on her throne, toying with a gold coin that flips over her nimble fingers with effortless ease. Focus on the mission. The mission, I say. Oh, Gods…

“I love how they send you in to ask for extra.” she says. “So. Are you the silver tongue of the group?” There’s something in her little smirk and the way she says ‘tongue’ that gets to you, but that’s probably just your vivid imagination.

That and the months you’ve spent without any outlet for your stress other than fighting, on top of more fighting.

“No, the others are just that terrible at basic social interactions.” It’s the truth.

Fortune gives a small chuckle. “Let’s see how good you are, then, Sentinel.”

You pleadwith your hopeless lesbian brain not to fry on the spot. “We sort of need you to get us further than discussed. While hoping that… the scenic route will be its own reward?”

“Cute.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” you perk up.

“No.”

“I’ll send Lucian here next time so he can bore you to death until you agree.” You never claimed to be above blackmail.

“A bold statement.” she replies. “Tell you what. If you demolish a few of my enemies’ ships during your hunt for the mist things, then deal.”

Sentinels aren’t supposed to do that. And if you tell Lucian, that will be his exact answer. You can already hear his unpleasant voice in your head. However, you’ve already figured out the world doesn’t work by the Sentinel Code, so…

“Accidents do happen on the battlefield.” you say.

Sarah gives you that slow smile that makes a certain part of you feel hot under your outfit. “And don’t bring any of the others in here to negotiate. I’d rather look at your pretty face.”

Uh.

Um.

By the time you exit the cabin, all you can think is, what just happened?

…

Combat is a rush, sometimes. As is knowing you’re getting stronger and faster by the day. You still don’t hold a candle to the rest of your group, but you can finally say you’re helping them out.

Being further up in the enemy’s face, though, is also petrifying. You see a twisted reflection of yourself in every mist wraith’s dead eyes. There are nightmares that come hand-in-hand with the experience… and then there’s physical pain.

You’ve been hurt before. Their talons can slice through even your magic-reinforced outfits. Still, every time feels worse than the last. The laceration you’re currently sporting on your side is burning like the fires of hell.

You’re trying not to scream by the time Riven lowers you onto the deck. Your vision is blurred with sweat and the tears you’re fighting to keep at bay.

“What’s going on here?” you hear Fortune’s voice in your haze.

“Tell me you have a healer on board!” Riven shouts.

“And they can get here fast!” Senna adds.

You’re not sure how much time passes. It feels like light years until someone kneels beside you and starts working on your wound. The healing magic pulls and sears at you. Every muscle in your body is taut with the effort to keep still.

“Isn’t …a healing spell supposed to numb the pain, first?” Diana asks.

“Look, blondie, I’m no professional here, ye? Just picked up a few things from mah old man. If ya wanna criticize, come here and do it yourself.” he answers. And it’s …not the best feeling in the world to hear your healer say that.

“No offense. Just worried for our teammate.” Senna adds. At least one of your bosses cares about your wellbeing.

The other just benches you for the next mission.

…

Out of all the people you expected to come see you while you’re recovering, Sarah Fortune is the last who came to mind. You’re almost shocked mute when the captain comes to sit on the edge of your bed, graceful and fluid as ever. Gorgeous as ever, too, while you’re sure you look pale as a ghost, eyes sunken as a shipwreck.

“Hey, Rookie.” she greets.

“Ah, great. That nickname’s never gonna come off, is it.” you roll your blue eyes.

“How’s the battle scar?”

“I’m not bleeding all over your fancy deck anymore, at least.” you say. “Guess I should be glad for that.” Although you are a bit frustrated that the ‘healer’s’ hand was so shaky there’s a scar left there now, permanently, when it could have been avoided. “And that the dude wasn’t drunk bad enough to stitch my organs to my skin.”

“Yeah, luckily he was only a little drunk.” she nods.

“That makes total sense for a healer. Who, from what I know from four years at the Academy, should always be sober.” you cannot keep it in any longer.

“That’s… a tall order here.” Yes, of course, the place is far too shitty for that.

“I gathered.”

“Come, now. Don’t be upset about the scar.” You’re upset about the pain that could have been avoided if the damn guy just didn’t drink his ass off in the middle of the day. “…Want me to kiss it better?”

You’re so far up your mind –filled with thoughts of being a dead weight on the team on top of your dead classmates because of Viego— you don’t even hear her. Your head is pounding from the pressure the memory causes you, a killer mix with the effect of the painkillers you’ve been on, all evening.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” you reply, your voice hoarse and alien to your own ears.

…

You and Fortune talk a bit more on the two days you’re out of commission.

You learn a few things about her, like the fact you have a common interest in psychology. Like the fact you shouldn’t ever ask about her past or her family, unless you want her to close up tighter than a clam, at the speed of lightning. In the meantime, if it feels like she may be throwing more smirks your way than when she talks to anyone else, you blame that on your wishful thinking.

That woman is way out of your league.

It is one in the night and everyone on the ship is either well asleep or completely passed out from booze. You wake up from a nightmare, then fully register the way the ship is swaying from the angry waves. The resulting nausea has you completely losing the desire to fall back into the land of dreams.

You thought you’d be the only one awake when you walked up to the deck, yet you quickly realize that’s not the case when the sound of heels approaches from behind. You already know it’s her. The night breeze does a wonderful job of carrying her perfume straight to your nose. As if she wasn’t already fatally attractive without it.

You keep your eyes on the waves, so dark blue they look black.

“Oh, this is a surprise. Such a romantic soul, admiring the sea in the dead of night.” she says. The slight –sexy as fuck— slur to her words must have something to do with the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Yeah, my thoughts are not that deep.” you chuckle. “More like ‘fuck this constant motion under my feet’.”

She gives a small, airy exhale that could pass as a laugh, leaning on the railing next to you. Kind of close, too. “Ah and here I thought Sentinels didn’t swear.” she says. “And that they don’t drink. Unless you care to prove me wrong there, too.”

She takes a swing of the bottle and passes it to you. The smart part of your brain tells you it is a bad, bad idea. The rest of you is seduced by the promise of the buzz and the challenge in her eyes.

Well. Since you’re not really getting anywhere closer to where her lips are in anything other than your very private fantasies, you think may just take the chance for an indirect kiss that’s presented.

The gulp you take from the bottle –you intended a sip but the fucking ship moves so much— burns a trail down your throat and past your insides. You almost cough. How heavy is this thing?

“Ahem. So.” you begin. “What’s keeping you out late?”

“I have great company.” At first you think she means you, then you realize it’s the bottle that’s lucky. Hah, fell right into that one. “And… my cabin is very cold tonight.”

It’s really chilly, yeah, but it’s not that bad, you think. Maybe the two of you are just used to different climates, though. “I’m… sorry to hear that.” you reply.

“Well. Guess I should head in or it will never warm up by itself.” she says.

You nod and bid her goodnight, turning your eyes back to the inky waves. But then you feel her weight softly crash into your back, ample chest pressing against you, one of her hands on your waist and the other on the railing next to yours for support. Her lips are right by your ear, so close you feel them brush against the shell as she says:

“Oops.”

Then she’s gone, taking her extremely sexy perfume with her, while your stomach drops to the sea and sinks right to the very bottom. It takes a few moments to realize you’re still holding the railing so tightly your fingers have gone white.

What the…

You go back to bed trying not to think about whatever that was.

The next day, you have no idea why she’s not speaking to you at all, or why she doesn’t even look at you when she addresses the Sentinels, none-too-pleased with your progress.

…

When one of the crewmates tell you the captain has summoned you, you do a double take and ask if she really means you. Fortune has been in a weird mood towards you since that night, to say the least.

You are mentally braced for the worst when you enter her cabin. You’re already tired from fighting mist wraiths all morning and you don’t think you can handle whatever it is that’s going on with her at the moment.

Scratch that. You’re sure you can’t when she gets up from her seat, walking almost in a circle around you, like a shark. You lean back against the wooden surface of her desk, waiting. Cautious.

“Have I not been clear enough, all these days?” she asks, as if wondering out loud.

“Um…. excuse me?” you question back. Has the mist gotten to her? It has been known to cause strange behavior after prolonged exposure.

She’s at the door now, facing you without really looking at you and it makes you feel trapped. Your one escape is blocked. “You’re not from around here, so I thought it was best not to be… Bilgewater-forward.” she says. “On the other hand, I don’t think I’ve been that subtle?”

“…I’m. I’m not…sure I follow.” you speak, quietly.

“Do you really have no idea or are you just trying to be polite?” She finally looks into your eyes.

You shake your head ‘no’.

She licks her lips. “What, was I supposed to give you a formal letter inviting you to my cabin for sex the other night?” Your jaw, you think, hits the floor and shatters. Your whole body shivers and goes rigid. “If you don’t want to, just say it so I won’t wait around for nothing.”

You… don’t know what words are at the moment. The ground has disappeared and you’re a falling mess. It is the worst case of freezing on the spot you’ve ever experienced.

“That’s not… that’s not… the case.” you manage to say.

“Good to know.” she nods, casually, then strides up to you and grabs the front of your high-collared Sentinel jacket, bringing you lip-to-lip. “Is this clear enough for you?” she breathes against you.

It’s more than clear enough when her plump lips seal over yours, tasting of sweet-flavored lipstick and alcohol and sea-salt. In fact, it is clear like a nuclear bomb going off on the back of your head.

The heat wave burns down your stomach violently and it only gets worse when she pushes her tongue into your mouth, licking over yours, her hips practically straddling you with how tightly fitted you stand. Every movement of her mouth or her body echoes all the way down yours.

It’s beyond anything you could have ever conjured in your head, having her angle your chin however she wants it while her hips slowly rock against you. It’s almost too hard and too fast and too good –and you get too close.

But then—

A knock comes on the door.

“Captain?” someone asks from the outside and it’s both a blessing and a dark curse.

Sarah tries to catch her breath, every exhale tickling your ear. “One moment.” she calls over her shoulder, sounding every bit the captain she is, as if the past minutes where you were literally dry humping each other didn’t happen.

She pulls back from you with a satisfied little smirk at how wrecked you no doubt look, pulling your outfit straight. Her thumb wipes off the smudge of her lipstick on the corner of your mouth, then she goes to a nearby mirror to reapply hers.

When she walks back over to you, your knees shake at just the sight of her. You don’t know how you’ll ever calm down from this. Safe to say she’s ruined every kiss you’ve ever had or will have.

“My bedroom will be open to you tonight. Consider this your formal letter, yes?” her long fingers brush over your jawline, as she stalks back to her seat.

“Come in.” she calls, poker face on, sounding bored.

You make your escape as tactical –and dignified— as possible and don’t look back until you’re practically off the ship.

…

To say you are distracted for the rest of the hours until night completely settles over Bilgewater is an understatement. Your head is in the clouds and you have no idea what’s going on around you. The whole world could catch fire and all you’ll be thinking about is Fortune, Fortune, Fortune…

“What’s got you so quiet tonight, little Sentinel?” Riven asks.

Only the best damn kiss of your entire life. Plus the fact you’re living a dream and you don’t want to wake up. “Maybe I’m just trying to imitate Vayne. From now on you’ll hear my voice only when we kill stuff.”

“Ha, ha.” Vayne comments in typical Vayne style from her seat, hunched over her weapon and making calibrations.

“All I’ll say is, be careful.” the Noxian lowers her voice a bit, the words kept between the two of you.

“Of what?” you play dumb.

“Just in general.”

You don’t know what Riven suspects but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been through a lot these past months. You deserve to feel something good once in a while. Your love life is none of their business unless it interferes with their business, which it won’t because you’re sure this won’t mean anything beyond Fortune’s bedroom.

You wait until everyone on the ship is asleep and take a liquid courage boost to sneak to the captain’s cabin.

…

One knock. That is all your knuckles manage, one contact with the door, until it swings open and a familiar hand grabs at the front of your outfit, pulling you in.

You’re pressed back against it as soon as it shuts, crimson lips hot on yours before you can even think to say anything. Gods, is she always so insistent?You could melt into a wet puddle on the floor from the way she presses into you alone. This woman knows exactly what she wants and how to take it.

Somewhere in the back of your head you hear the sound of a lock turning.

“Took you long enough.” she whispers when you break apart.

Once again, whatever you were about to say is cut off by her tugging on the high collar of your jacket. She either has a thing for it or for pulling you around in general, you think. No complains, whatever the case.

“Won’t you give me the tour around, first?” you ask, playing coy only thanks to the drink you’ve had. Otherwise, you’d be your usual self; a mess.

“Oh, sure.” she says as she shoves you into her bedroom, illuminated by a single candle. “Wardrobe, guns, bed.”

Well. It still feels like the best tour you’ve ever had when she walks you back until you’re falling on her very comfortable mattress, with her perched above you like a predator. She gives you a little smirk as she straddles your thigh and sits up, undoing the taut buttons on her shirt, painfully slow.

Oh… It would be very awkward if you died from a heart attack now, yet it feels like you’re on the verge of one.

“Nothing smart to say now, Sentinel?” The confidence comes with her looks, you’re sure. She knows she’s hot as fuck.

You shake your head, speechless, eyes travelling from her toned midriff to her perfect chest, to her hypnotic eyes and the sensual way her hair spills like a red waterfall across her shoulders. This is a dream, it’s not real life, but don’t wake me up ever…

Fortune leans back down, taking your chin in two fingers as she studies your flushed face. You don’t know what she’s looking for, but something in her visage softens a fraction.

“If it’s too much at any point, tell me.”

“If I can talk, I will.” you say, mesmerized by the way her eyes look under the dim light.

Your next liplock is a little less rushed than your previous ones. She takes her time exploring your mouth and you gradually get bolder with where you touch her, fingers grazing up her sides to her stomach, to the underside of her bra.

Her lips leave yours only to burn a trail down the corner of your mouth, across your jawline and to your neck. Deft fingers undo the clasps and pull down the zipper of your white jacket, guiding it past your shoulders without taking it completely off. She definitely has a thing for it. You’d comment on that, too, if you could think about anything other than how good she smells.

Clothes come off while she sucks on your neck, teeth pressing against you just shy of leaving marks. When both of you are down to your underwear and breathing heavy, her fingers caressing dangerously low on your waistline, her lips come near your ear.

“So… I want to make you beg, but I can’t help but feel like I’m already corrupting you a lot.”

Corrupt away. you want to tell her.

“Does that turn you on?” you whisper in her ear and feel her response with how her hips press down harder onto yours.

“Yes.” That breathless admission becomes your undoing.

You get lost in her lips after it and the sensation of her fingers on you –inyou— working you up towards what could be simultaneously your ruin and your salvation. You touch her in turn, filling the room with both your moans and gasps, until that glorious peak of white-hot pleasure where the whole world comes to a stop for a few moments.

There is a time limit to your time together, now and generally, you are aware. But you allow yourselves a few quiet moments together as you lay there with the excuse of catching your breath, even if you already have.

Tough game you’re playing here. The smarter part of your brain says. It’s all too easy to get addicted to having her atop you like this. The better the dream, the more bitter the wakeup.

When Fortune lifts herself off you to slide under her heavy covers, you register the chill of night. You dress almost sluggishly, your body so very exhausted from the activities of the whole day.

Kissing her goodnight is almost an urge you fight under control, not wanting to make her uncomfortable if this was all she wanted out of your dalliance.

“Well, my bunk is calling.” you turn around to tell her, trying not to blush when you see her with her elbow resting on her pillow, cheek cutely pressed on her fist, watching you like a languid cat.

“Hate to watch you leave but I love to watch you go.” she smirks at you.

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

…

It is after a long damn day of fighting that you get to finally sit down and enjoy a meal and drinks.

The crew was cold and distrustful towards you at first, but they seem to have opened up more over the course of weeks –especially today, after you secured them a chest filled with gold coins left behind by wealthy people who were running from the wraiths. From the corner of your eye, you subtly watch Sarah Fortune interact with her men, hoping it’s not obvious how badly into her you are.

“So…” Riven begins from the chair next to you and you know that’s not going to be good.

“What?” You face her, playing cool.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to say that she’s bad for you… but I will, anyway.” You give Riven a blank stare that absolutely doesn’t fool her. Shit.

“Like how do you even know.” You finally break.

“It wasn’t obvious since day one there was something there?” Yeah, maybe to everyone except you.

“Wait.” Hold on a second. “Does everyone know?”

“I think everyone except Diana has pretty much figured it out.” That certainly explains the looks Lucian has been giving you all day. Double shit.

“What? The thing between Fortune and Rookie, here?” Diana asks from behind you.

Triple—

“Scratch that. Everyone knows.” Riven tells you. “And we all agree. She’s bad for you.” You hate the emphasis on that. “As in the worst.”

“I getit, Riven, thank you.” You shake your hand in her face while the other covers yours.

“I mean I know ruthless, player redheads who can and will absolutely murder you without a second thought are, like, a kink of yours—”

You don’t think your face gets any redder than this. “What—” you nearly choke on air. “That –how do you figure that out? That’s not even true.”

“Dude. When Katarina Du Couteau was brought into our conversation you nearly gasped and fangirled for the next hour.”

“I just heard a lot about one of our biggest Demacian enemies and wanted to know if it was all true!” you defend yourself.

“You asked me if she’s as hot as rumor has it, not about her war achievements.” Riven laughs.

“And you didn’t answer! Well, is she or isn’t she?” you ask. For… scientific purposes.

“I’m not going to answer that!” Riven lifts her hands up.

“She is.” Graves says as he slides into the seat next to you, drink in hand.

“Thank you!” You pat him on the shoulder.

“We should totally have her join the Sentinels.” he adds.

“Hah!” A vein pops at Riven’s temple. “And the answer will be something along the lines of ‘bold of you to assume I give a single fuck about the world’.” comes the imitation.

“Whoa, that’s exactly how she sounds like.” Graves says.

You’re glad the conversation has shifted away from you, at least.

From the opposite side of the room, you feel a familiar pair of eyes on you, yet they’re averted the second you raise yours to meet them.

…

They may know about your one-time thing with Fortune and heavily scrutinize it, but they still send you in now that they need to ask for more from the captain. With that, your teammates lose every right to comment on what you do and don’t do with her.

“We’ll get you the coin from that ship –well, Graves will, since they already hate him—and you help us out here. Deal?” you ask her.

There. You can be a professional and negotiate terms with the most beautiful woman in the world, who you also happened to have had mindblowing sex with, without constantly looking at her lips.

“Deal, but…” she begins. “You’re sitting all the way over there… why?”

So much for keeping your mind out of the gutter. “Um.” You lick your lips, unsure of what to say, while she smirks slow, like the cat that got the canary.

“Come here.” A pat on her desk, right in front of her chair.

Against your better judgement, you walk around the furniture and lean there, really, really close to her, especially when she stands, towering over you in her heels. You can tell she likes it, too.

“Don’t look at me like that, we leave in ten minutes.” you say. It doesn’t even phase her.

Her fingers move to the zipper of your jacket and although you should stop her, you don’t. “Really?” she leans closer, closer still, until her tantalizing mouth is a hair’s breadth from yours.

“…really. Nine, now.” you waver.

“Guess we have to be fast, then.”

She lightly pushes you onto her desk and starts undoing your belt buckles. The thought of what you’re about to do alone could make you come on the spot. It’s not just the thought that’s threatening to do that, when you feel her cool fingers slide right where you need them.

“You’re going to ditch me for your little Sentinel friends, who don’t like me?” she asks in your ear.

Oh, Gods…

“Ah, I like you enough for all of us, Fortune.” your lips move against her jawline as you speak. A little further down and you can feel how quick her pulse is. You wouldn’t have guessed, with how composed she looks fingering you on her desk.

“Sarah.” she holds your chin with two fingers as she says it, like a secret between you. “Call me Sarah when you come.”

You do.

…

It becomes a nightly thing after that, your visits in her bedroom.

She’s insatiable and she makes everything bothering you go away for those precious hours. But. The more you see of her, you cannot help but feel like something’s very wrong with Sarah.

Underneath the visage of the ruthless captain, the queen who can just reach out and take anything she wants, you see… cracks. She doesn’t sleep well. She drinks. You’re pretty sure you’re another distraction –coping mechanism?— although it doesn’t bother you. She’s the same for you, isn’t she?

It’s not like you have feelings for her.

…Right?

No, no that would be terrible. You definitely don’t. You are allowed to love the way her fingers are running lazy circles on your thigh right now without any sort of complicated emotions involved.

“You should quit while you’re ahead.” she tells you, half muffled into her pillow, stark black against the red of her hair.

This or the Sentinel war? You wonder.

“You have little cuts everywhere. They don’t even have time to disappear before new ones open on top of them.” she moves the back of her pointer to the biggest visible line near your knee, then up your arm, until her hand rests on the crook of your neck. “Leave the others to deal with the mist. It’s not your problem.”

“The world’s problem is my problem. Guess where I lived and what region fell to Viego first.”

You refrain from telling her how many people close to you met his blade before that. How many of the classmates you ate and trained with for four years you had to see skewered by him, on his insane quest for his ‘love’. You don’t want to sour your time together with your burdens. Your pain, your nightmares, are your own to deal with.

“If you keep going you’ll fall to him first.” she counters. “You’ll die protecting one of those idiots in your group or some random civilian.”

“Thanks, Miss Fortune-teller.” you say, a tad irked at her blatant disregard for anyone who isn’t herself.

“I don’t have to be one to tell.” she gives you a sad smile. “It’s always the good ones that die. It’s always the monsters that win.”

You can’t help but wonder…

What made you this way?

…

You see now why emotions are considered a distraction on the battlefield. Even as you kill monsters, all you think about is her.

Come to think of it…

You’ve never seen her smile for real. What you’re looking for is a far cry from those smirks she throws around to bring people to their knees, or the sardonic ones she levels Lucian with. Even those she offers you behind closed doors have a shadow underneath them. It makes you wonder about what would make her happy enough to give a genuine smile.

When you happen across a shipwreck filled with valuables, you think this may be it. The Sentinels take what they need and agree to give the rest to Fortune to stay on her good graces.

Her whole ship lights up with the joy of riches. The crew is ecstatic. Laughter and cheers fill the deck.

And yet.

Her glee is pretend, just for the sake of her men. Her eyes are hollow.

When she eventually retreats to her cabin, you follow her and knock on her door. “It’s always open for you~” she calls from the inside, already in the company of a whiskey bottle.

You turn the key behind you, then lean forward with your hands on her desk, staring at her.

“Why this serious, sexy?” she asks. “Need me to help loosen you up a bit?”

“You need to part with the fetter, Sarah.” you state. “It affects you in ways you won’t notice or understand but it always does.”

“Ah, part with it so you and your crew of misfits can steal it from me? Hmm… no.” she chuckles.

“I care more about what it does to you than the fetter itself right now.” you try again. Only to fail again.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t trust you.” Talk about words being sharper than knives, sometimes. “Don’t take it personally; I don’t trust anyone.”

“What a joyful life this must be.” you bite back.

“Coin is joy for me, sweetheart.” she leans back in her plush chair, taking another swing from the bottle.

“You didn’t seem very happy to me, back there.”

She gives you a look and finally sets the whiskey down. “Come here. I’ll tell you a little secret about me.” she says, a tad more serious than before.

Cautiously, you step around the desk until you’re in front of her seat. Her hand shoots up like a bullet, then, taking hold of your jacket and dragging you down until the two of you are eye-level.

“You know what would really make me happy right now?” You feel her leg move up the inside of yours, deliciously slow, as she speaks… until she hooks her calf behind your knee and makes your weight fall onto it. “For you to shut up about fetters and concerns and go down on me.”

Fuck.

Deep down, to a small part of you not ruled by your hormones, you know using sex to avoid any sort of deeper conversation between you is unhealthy. You know an arrangement where there’s no trust is unhealthy.

Then again, the circumstances that brought you together are anything but healthy.

And what sort of pretty flower can burst forth, really, from a corrupted seed?

…

When you return from your mist-slaying, late in the evening, the crew is uneasy.

“Don’t bother the cap’n right now.” One of the men says. “She ain’t havin’ the best o’ days.”

You later find out that they had a run-in with an enemy fleet. That the Reaver King has resurfaced and is looking to claim Bilgewater for himself. Major shit is about to go down, the bounty hunters tell you and you do not want to be outsiders caught in the middle when it finally hits the fan.

You give Sarah her space until the need to check up on her becomes overwhelming.

One knock on the door. “Leave.” she hisses from within the office like a tensed cat. Another knock. “You have ten seconds before I put a bullet through your skull!”

“Can’t imagine I’ll be very attractive then.” you reply.

The door swings open; her eyes are the epitome of a raging storm. You’ve never seen her like this, so hateful and distressed… and it hurts to witness. “My ‘leave’ applies to everyone. You, included.”

“Cool.” you nod at her. Pause. “So… can I come in now?”

Sarah throws her hands up in exasperation, pivoting with an angry, whispered ‘whatever’. She paces across her cabin, an agitated lion one step away from pouncing. Her hands run through her fiery hair as though they cannot keep still.

“You need to leave Bilgewater asap and never come back.” You don’t know if she’s talking to you or thinking out loud. “You need to go. With or without the rest of them, I don’t care, just go!”

“What’s… gotten into you?” you dare ask.

“He’s back. He always comes back, no matter how many times I sink the bastard. It’s like he cannot die. He just won’t die!” her voice is raw with her rage. “You Sentinels fight the darkness but you don’t kill evil. Evil will still be here –rooted here— even if you win.”

You open your mouth but can’t find anything to say.

“I have to win my own war. I will be victorious no matter the cost, no matter the bloodshed.” Sarah goes on. “But I need to know that you won’t be here. Do you understand?!”

You just look at her, sad and frozen, trying to understand. There’s nothing you can say to ease what’s hurting her and nothing you can do. You’ve seen this wretched thing eat away at her every day since the moment you met. It’s too deeply engraved in her heart for you to hope to change it; and it has little to do with the fetter in her possession.

Sarah crosses the room in two large strides and grabs your biceps. She looks like she’s ready to throw you off her ship herself…

Until.

She pulls you into her arms, instead.

Tight, like she’s afraid you’ll be gone the moment she lets go, she holds you close. Her head is tucked into your shoulder, her nails press hard into your back. You slowly bring your hands up to encircle her waist in return.

“I’ve lost everything. He took everything from me. I won’t give him the chance to take you away, as well.” she says.

Oh. you think. She cares about you, after all.

If only that was a good thing for either of you.

…

You feel it, when the moment comes.

Maybe you’ve always felt it and just didn’t want to admit it.

When Sarah stands in front of Viego offering the lot of you up along with the fetter in exchange for his ruined power, you know the agony you feel, like a blade splitting you down the middle, is your own doing. There is nobody but yourself to blame for it. The others warned you. Your own instinct warned you.

You didn’t listen.

You wanted to trust her. Maybe even to love her.

But her hatred runs deeper than whatever measly thing you were to her.

As the mist shrouds Fortune and turns her red hair luminescent blonde, as it eats away at her colors until they’re all black and sickly green, until the eyes you knew turn cold and unfeeling, you feel something in you crack. Maybe it’s your faith. Maybe it’s your heart.

There’s a lesson to take from this, you’re sure, despite how your emotions choke you. Right now, though, you focus on avoiding her bullets and having your teammates’ backs in the rain of chaos that follows.

You end up deep in the water, bleeding, defeated. You and the other Sentinels have never been crushed by your losses, but it will take some time to pick up your pieces and continue onward until the end of your war.

You allow yourself one scream muffled in the dark sea.

When you swim to the shore and pull your body out of the mud, you are silent.

“Are you okay? I know that was harder for you than it was for us.” Riven lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’ll let it hurt after we get Viego.”

For now, you can’t afford taking the pain of a broken heart with you on the battlefield.

Sarah. You later think. Now I understand why hurricanes are named after people.

[sweebat]

Short segment of an au I have. 2k mini-fic under the line. 

Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence

“Drake…?”

Standing at a height of over twenty feet tall, armed with razor-sharp fangs and poignant talons and claws, with its muscular body adorned with thick armor and glimmering scales that illuminated through the darkness of the night, the beast loomed over the motionless body of his dragon—his childhood friend whom Ryouga raised since he was a hatchling.

Drake laid upon the moist ground in a bloodbath. His limbs were strewn about in a haphazard manner as though he was tossed and thrown around like a ragdoll. Along the entire length of his body, spreading from his face to his chest, torso, flippers and all, were deep, gaping wounds. Burn marks littered his skin. His arms and legs harbored bite marks and scratches with entire chunks of flesh missing. The leather of his wings was shredded until only a handful of loose sheets remained, dangling from the frame by mere threads of tissue alone. His blood leaked into the soil as much as it stained the rest of his scales. But then, Ryouga caught sight of it. At the base of his throat, Drake’s impermeable hide peeled away, leaving behind a dark crater that oozed with his own blood. The loose flesh struggled to hang onto his body as best as they could; however, even from his position, he saw that the wound deep enough to reveal bones underneath. With his throat torn out, his poor dragon suffocated in his own blood and…

The other behemoth snarled lowly as it inspected its mauled prey.

Ryouga tore his attention away from Drake and towards the killer.

Frozen with fear, the man watched while the massive dragon hovered over the corpse. Blood trickled from its crimson-soaked mouth. A slimy, purple tongue slithered out from the crevice of its maw before stroking along the bloodied pathway along its lips. It lapped up the remaining fluids before releasing a low bellow, a satisfied rumble of some sort.

A lightheadedness overtook Ryouga as the scope of the tragedy set in. His heart sank into the pits of his stomach, pounding heavily while doing so. His lungs refused to breath, and when it did, it was short, erratic, and ragged. His hands trembled, and his legs quivered. A painful bubble swelled at the back of his throat—tears formed at the corners of his eyes, worsening his blurred vision before a single blink cleared his sight for a brief moment.

“N-No…” Ryouga uttered.

Decades of raising his dragon, all that work and care and…

The iridescent dragon ushered another snarl. With its massive teeth protruding from its maw, the dragon leaned towards the fallen Drake. Its mouth unhinged completely, and it prepared to devour and further mutilate the body of his cherished companion.

His frozen hands balled into a tight fist.

His sadness shifted into a fit of rage.

Without a hesitant thought, he screamed at the glowing dragon. “Get away from him!”

The gigantic monster came to a sudden halt. It steadily closed its mouth while raising its head and turning away from the dragon below it. Before Ryouga knew it, a pair of glowing eyes pierced down at him. It released a low growl as the spiny armor running down its backside gradually rose in agitation. The dragon hunched onto hinds, twisting its body until it faced the small human standing behind. The spines and scales on its backside fanned outward, adding more girth to its already-impressive size.

Ryouga flinched when it locked its eyes onto him, but he shoved the fearful sensation into the depths of his heart.

He refused to let this fucker eat his friend. “Come on, you bastard!” He barked at it, swinging his arms to affirm its attention on him.

It unleashed a deafening roar.

The ear-piercing sound caused him to recoil in pain, but as he was recovering from the stunning effect, the large dragon lunged towards him. Its tuckered wings extended outward fully, engulfing the area in its shadow—with the same illumination as the rest of its form, the shroud of light from its wings blinded Ryouga, forcing him to cover his face with his arm if he valued his eyesight.

As he braced himself for a fatal impact, for claws to pierce through his skin, or fangs to rip his body in half, crushed in the powerful jaws of the beast—

A sharp whistle reverberated through the field.

Seconds passed. Ryouga noticed that the light was prominent, still, yet his body remained intact; not crushed or swallowed or blasted into oblivion.

He slowly lowered his arms. Eyes squinted to nullify the effects of the bright light, the first thing he saw was a gigantic, bloodied snout hovering inches away from him.

“Gah!” He cried as he stumbled backwards and away from the merciless killer. The spontaneous movement as well as his shock caused him to lose his balance. With a noisy thud, he fell onto his back.

The dragon, however, remained motionless.

Another whistle rang out—this one sounded more like a specific and ghastly tune than a single sharp noise.

Like an obedient dog responding to the commands of its master, the large beast retracted from the human, folding its wings back towards his backside; although, it released a series of low growls and grumbles as it did so.

“You really are foolish if you thought you could go up against my galaxy-eyes.” A deep voice sounded from above Ryouga’s position.

He jumped in surprise at the voice of person, and then he jerked his head towards the source of the sound, towards a small, rocky outcrop overlooking the clearing.

Through the radiance of the dragon, he caught the clear form of a humanoid. A man, in fact. The man stood on the rocks with his chin held high, arms crossed, legs straight. He gazed down at Ryouga with callous bluish-gray eyes—it harbored a hint of arrogance that crawled under his skin and infuriated him. The man’s blond hair was bulbous, almost, with a curled tip at the ends. Dark teal bangs encircled the base of his yellow hair, where it appeared almost like a crown of antlers. White trousers with a white undercoat, as well as white leather gloves, clung onto his pale and toned body. A large metallic belt wrapped around his waist, and attached to it were bundles of small, brown sacks. Over this, he wore a dark coat with a flaring tailcoat lined with markings of some sort, but Ryouga was too far away to tell what they were. He was dressed modestly with class, yet by his rugged appearance, he appeared more like a lone bounty hunter than a law-abiding enforcer.

Ryouga’s eyes hardened into a fierce glare. Shaking with rage, he scrambled to his feet before screaming at the newcomer. “That thing’s yours!” He pointed at the monster, the galaxy-eyes. “It murdered my friend, you fucking bastard!”

The man scoffed. “Friend? That thing of yours is no friend.”

His teeth gritted. Ryouga raised a fist, and the desire to pummel this guy into a pulp rose exponentially. “What did ya say!”

“It’s a Number,” explained the blond matter-of-factly, as through the designation was enough to justify Drake’s death. “My job is to exterminate every single Number out there. It’s not my problem that your so-called ‘friend’ happens to be one.”

Before he could berate the stranger for killing his dragon for no particular reason—and even if he had one, Ryouga would still be furious—the man continued.

“I was going to let my galaxy-eyes nourish himself, but I guess I could have a heart and let you finish mourning whatever’s left of it.”

“You bastard! You’re gonna pay for this!”

The man snorted in amusement. Finished with the conversation, the blond whistled yet another tune.

The galaxy-eyes rumbled lowly. Its wings gradually unfolded once more. After reaching its maximum length of several meters long per wing, the dragon propelled into the air through a series of gradual flaps. The gusts of wind knocked Ryouga off his feet, while the man above remained unfazed by the increasing flurries. The dragon took to the high skies; in a wide turn, it swooped down at the man on the rock.

Ryouga could do nothing but watch as the dragon quickly seized its master in its claws before launching above the canopy of the forest. The dragon and the man disappeared over the tip of the leaves, and as the distance between Ryouga and the killers grew more and more with each passing second, the powerful glow diminished until it disappeared entirely.

Ryouga was left alone with no one except for the cold body of his dragon.

He growled in annoyance. They got away so easily, but then he let out a frustrated sigh. There was nothing to be done about that even if he wanted to…

He turned his head to the large, unmoving form a little while away. The earth around him was scorched, yet it was also moistened by the blood spilling from his lifeless companion.

He somberly staggered over to Drake. A shaky hand stroked across the water dragon’s tough beak and smooth scales. As his fingers ran down the surface, it stained itself in the dragon’s blood. He stopped as his bloodied fingers traced under a hazy and dull eye.

His anger dissolved into sadness.

Not even an hour ago, the dragon was nuzzling into his lap, purring and lively, and now…

“Drake…”

Utterly exhausted, with his arms wrapped around the dragon, uncaring of the crimson sludge that smeared on him as he did so, Ryouga shifted into unconsciousness, wondering what he was supposed to do now that his dragon was gone.

— —

He awoke at the dawn of sunrise to the sound of boots on gravel. It was approaching him from behind—slowly, steadily, but not discreetly.

Who…

“You are grieving,” stated an unknown voice. It was high-pitched and child-like, but at least he knew it wasn’t that jackass from last night.

Ryouga grunted. He held onto the stiff body of his dragon. Off the corner of his eyes, he noticed scavengers creeping their way from the edge of the clearing to the exposed wounds, starving to pick the flesh off of the bones.

An annoyed growl erupted from him. “What does it look like.” He snapped at the child, or whoever this was.

He just wanted to be left alone.

The child laughed. “It looks like you want revenge.”

Ryouga froze upon hearing the assumption.

He jerked his body around. How does this kid know—

It was him.

A child bearing a metal mask—he heard of this mysterious figure in passing within towns.

The boy stood there with the horizon rays of sunlight illuminating him from behind, making it difficult to examine him apart from the most jarring characteristic of the boy. Engulfing his entire face was a silver, elegant mask. It had a slit for his right eye and half of his mouth, but other than that, the rest of the area was covered completely, making very difficult to read his expressions.  

“What are you doing here,” he started with caution.

He heard that this child was a pawn of some otherworldly beings.

He heard that this child had no soul.

He heard that this child was not to be mingled with.

“I simply sensed your sadness.” The child laughed. “And I have a way to get rid it.”

Get rid of his sadness…?

“No thanks,” Ryouga muttered before turning around. He looked down at Drake. The dragon’s eyes glazed over, and it appeared more lifeless than ever.

As much as he wanted revenge against the murderers, it won’t bring his dragon back to life.

The child manifested directly over him, standing less than a foot away from where he kneeled. “What if I said you can bring him back to life and let you have your revenge?”

Ryouga jumped backwards in shock at the sudden appearance. As he absorbed the words of the child—"You—You read my thoughts!?“

The child giggled manically. "Perhaps~”

His eyes squinted. He had no idea what this child was playing at, but the thought of it intrigued him. Although skeptical, he pressed on. “What… What do you mean by that? What sorta trick is this?”

“No trick,” answered the child. The child ran his gloved hand across Drake’s scales. The blood was dried by now, and the stroke was so light that it left no stains on the flawless silk. “I mean exactly as I said. Your little precious dragon will be reborn, and you can get your revenge on that meanie Kaito for hurting him.”

“Kaito, huh…”

The child’s smile grew wide behind his mask. “There are powerful forces out there, Ryouga,"—he never told him his name—"and I can connect you back to them.”

[celmation-gibson]

The First Drawing to post for this New Decade, and it's the Best of the Movies that I've seen in the Cinemas, and one I've heard of for a while. So here are some Favorite Characters of mine that were fun to Draw, along with the Reviews for the Films.

Missing Link - My First movie to see in the Cinemas of this Year, and it's another Laika Classic, and despite being a Box Office flop, It did receive some very Good Reviews from Critics, and even my Foodtown Boss' Grandchildren saw the Film on a Thursday(?) and they Loved it, so I figured I give this film a watch, and I was amazed at the Final result, An Amazing sight to see that some Folks out there don't know what their Missing. It was directed by Chris Butler, who was co-Director of Laika's other projects 'ParaNorman', and it had an Amazing cast such as Mr. Zach Galifianakis (Felix of 'Bob's Burgers' & Lego Joker of 'the Lego Batman Movie'), Zoe Saldana(Avatar, Gaurdians of the Galaxy), & Hugh Jackman (Van Helsing & Wolverine of the live-Action 'X-Men' films). And once again, the Folks of Laika really did some good Work & Commitment in Making this Film, especially when I loved the Film's settings & Landscaping, and the Action Sequences are Phenomenal, especially in those Action sequences when the Ship rotates with the People in it when it was Struck with the Storm's Big Wave, and How Suspenseful it was when the Characters are dangled into Ice blocks or big icicles, and how shocking on how the Villains' defeat of Lord Piggot-Dunceby, his neurotic right-hand man Mr. Collick, and Bounty Hunter Willard Stenk were killed in Cold Blood, cuz I knew that that Ice Bridge in the Film was gonna Break in a Sequence. Plus there were some Cute Humor in the Film as well, especially after when Mr. Link/Susan Roared at a Dog during a Bar Fight, and after a Moment of Silence, the Dog just attacked on of his Men and the Bar Fight continues (that's when most kids in the Auditorium laughed at that part), and how Susan literally thrown some Objects over the Wall. And I'm always fascinated with Cryptozoology creatures such as Bigfoot, Abominable Snowmen, & the Loch Ness Monster, even when they make me think about that 1970's film entitled 'the Mysterious Monsters'. And even if the film was Distributed by United Artists (a Subsidiary of MGM I suppose), it's kinda Weird now now that it was released on DVD and Blu-Ray from 20th Century Fox, even after Disney's Conquest, but can we still call ML a Non-Disney film, even if some MGM films are being released by FOX under a Contract?

Godzilla: King of the Monsters - Well me and my dad certainly love Giant Monster movies when we were Young, and I certainly remember renting every Godzilla movie on VHS back when Blockbuster was still around, and we certainly enjoyed that one 2014 'Godzilla' movie, unlike the 1998 Matthew Broderick one, so we decided to give this new kaiju movie 'Godzilla: King of the Monsters' a viewing pleasure, not to be confused with the 1956 Americanized 'Gojira' movie starring Raymond Burr. And i gotta say that it was an Epic Thrill-ride of our Lives, even the monsters we were familiar with were Amazing, Godzilla being all greatly Huge and Buffed-up as always in the USA, Rodan looking a-little Sinister lookin', Mothra playing out like the original 'Mothra' movie, starting off as a larva hatching from her Egg, then Evolving into a beautiful Butterfly-like Moth, then King Ghidorah was so Menacing in this one, and being like Lizzie in 'Rampage', he was such a "Pain-in-the-Ass" character, even once being Nicknamed 'Monster Zero', either that Nickname was also used in Japan, or used for one of Ghidorah's old film appearances in the US, that was double-billed with 'War of the Gargantuas'. I even like how they referenced some stuff from Warner Bros. & Legendary Films' 'Kong: Skull Island', as that films along with the 2014 Godzilla, and this Film are all in the same Universe, Monsterverse that is. And how surprising that there are other Kaijus in this Movie that I'm not even certainly familiar about, like that one Arachnid-like featured titan, or the Giant Ape Body/Mammoth Trunk beast, or another Muto(?), and I am wondering if the Demolished Boston at the end of the movie is gonna be the new 'Monster Island'. The human characters were good, I mostly like every member on the character Dr. Mark Russell's team, they seem likable, and the Cast was great, even after looking at the film's Poster befor we went inside the theater, I saw the familiar name of Thomas Middleditch, the same man who did voices in 'Captain Underpants' & 'Bob's Burgers', doing a Live-action role, and while writing this review, I've discovered some other actress who starred in this film include Sally Hawkins, who starred in the previous 2014 Godzilla movie, and also in Guillermo del Toro's 'the Shape of Water, and the woman playing the daughter in this film, also played in 'Stranger Things' as Eleven. And also I love on how the film as a Newer Version of Godzilla's approach-like film that was used in the old films, and even the end Credits have Cover version of Blue Oyester Cult's classic hit 'Godzilla'. And one of the Film's story plot is Fascinating, like how this Earth was once ruled by Giant Titans, until us small Humans have taken over while most of those Titans went Extinct and hiding in the Earth's Spirit.

The Secret Life of Pets 2 - Well, Illumination has done it again, as it Amuses me once before with 'the Grinch', 'Despicable Me 2', 'the Secret Life of Pets', & 'Sing', they have released a Sequel to my Favorite Secret Life of Pets movie that I saw in theaters back in 2016, and now have it on DVD. And when I heard that the Original voice for Max got replaced with a Guy I know of who has a Great Career in Animation, I was like "Whuuut?", but even after reading what Happened to that one Guy, i figured I'd give this Movie a Watch, since I'll like Patton even more. And I gotta say, this Sequel does have some Cute and Lovable moments in the Film, and those Subplots in the Film are Wonderful, leading up to a Story on how to save a White Tiger cub from a Wicked Ringmaster (voiced by Funny voice man, Mr. Nick Kroll(Sausage Party, Sing, Captain Underpants). And Snowball is more luvable in this one as he is in the first Film (Kevin Hart is so Wonderful!), even teaming up with a Cute/Funny character such as Daisy, a Shih Tzu voiced by Tiffany Haddish (who just did a guest voice role in 'Bob's Burgers'). Also with a Cute story on how Max & Duke's owner fall in Love with a Fun Gentleman and have a Kid together, and I love how the Dogs raised the Boy up, by helping him to Crawl & walk, and have Good Animal Instincts, which makes me think that what if my Sister & her Husband had a Pet Puppy that could be a good a Good Companion to my Little Layla niece. And some of the Parts in the Film have Good humor in it, like did I just heard a Cow say "Rat Turd" in front of an auditorium full of Young children? Plus Mr. Harrison Ford(Han Solo in 'Star Wars' & Indiana Jones) was great as a character named Rooster, who tries to Man/Brave up Max and a few characters, after Max has devoted his Life to Little Liam, which led to the Funny Collar on his head. And I'd figured there was something Familiar about that Young Lamb Cotton's voice in the Movie, as he is voiced by Mr. Sean Giambrone, the voice of Jeff in 'Clarence' & Shermy in the 'Adventure Time' series Finale.

Abominable - Well, Dreamworks has done it again, a new film from a Creative Team was made and about to be released soon, and when I saw the Previews of it for the First time, I thought I wasn't too interested in it, especially with the humorous Blueberry gag parts. But after a while, and see that if it looked cuter as Dreamworks' previous film 'Home(2015)', I thought I give it a go, and hopefully it look way better than that one Weird-Looking film in 1995 called 'to catch a Yeti' starring Meatloaf. But for the 'Abominable' film, since the Movie was getting Good Feedback from Reviewers and Viewers, I was Lucky to watch the Film for myself. The Characters were Cute and Funny, almost like the ones from 'Home', especially with Ethnic Protagonists. And the settings and Designs of Asia in the Open Fields, Forests, and Cities are really nice, wishing I could visit and/or live there. And the Great story is like an E.T. Extra Terrestrial thing, expect that the Heroes goes with the Creatures on an Adventure of a lifetime to bring back the Creature to his Beloved Family that they Tried to protect from any threats what's-so-ever. And there are some Amazing plot Twist among the Villainous Characters, like just when you thought the villain was actually an elderly Man who has been hunting Mythical creatures for rewards, but it turns out that the True Villain was actually a Nerdy Woman who thought was a seemingly-gentle Scientist just doing what's right for the World, who almost Barely looks like a geeky version of Kari McKeen of Disney/Pixar's 'the Incredibles', and when she let down her Hair, she may look like a Devious version of Merida of Disney/Pixar's 'Brave'. The Effects in the Movie is Super Nice & Super Awesome, especially in the Yeti's Humming effects, some Action Sequences, and that one moment when the Heroine's Father's Violin broke, the Yeti fixes it by using his own Hair for the String replacements, and I know from that Moment, with Yi's Musical skills and the Yeti's Powers combined, and when the Hearts are Full, and the Heavens are listening, Magic is bound to happen. And for the one other part when the Heroes are Gazing into the Stars, they say that the Stars could be our Ancestors watching over us, and that if we don't see any Stars in the Sky, there will be always there for us, almost like even if for some Folks lost their Love ones, they will always be there, even if we can't see them. But I'm glad i enjoyed the Movie, and I know that some Tween kid group enjoyed it as well, laughing at some Funny Parts in which i enjoyed, sometimes with the Woofing Snakes, "WOOF, there it is, WOOF, there it is".

the Addams Family - Well, a another Fantastic new Animated feature has been made, and it's based off of what I remember from my Childhood, cuz I do remember watching the early 1990's Live-Action movies of the Creepy Family starrring Christopher Lloyd and Christina Ricci, before I knew who some of the Actors were, and I remember the Animated Hanna-Barbera Kooky series on Cartoon Network a while back, even making a Spooky Guest appearance in 'the New Scooby-Doo Movies', but I haven't watched much of their old Ookie Live-action series, and the Family I'm talking about is 'the Addams Family'. And I've read a while back that an Animated CGI feature is gonna be released soon, and I knew back there that that would be interesting for me to see, so I've waited several months for the to be released in Cinemas, and I finally got a chance to do so. It was a Fun and Entertaining movie, and surprising it was made Directed and made by the same team who did the 2016 R-rated Animated film 'Sausage Party' starring Seth Rogan & Kristen Wiig, and the Character designs for the Film were to be based off the old design from the Original Addams Family comics in the old days, and with modern help from Mr. Craig Kellman(Hotel Transylvania, Madagascar). And the voice cast is amazing, we got Mr. Nick Kroll(Captain Underpants) voicing Uncle Fester, Chloe Grace Moretz(Kick-Ass) as Wednesday Addams, Finn Wilfhard(IT, "Beep, Beep, Richie") as Pugsley Addams, Charlize Theron(Kubo and the Two Strings) as Morticia Addams, Bette Midler(Hocus Pocus) as Grandmama, Snoop Dogg as Cousin Itt, Elsie Fisher(Despicable Me) as Parker Needler, even the film's co-director Mr. Conrad Vernon as Lurch ("YYYOOOOOOUUUUUUU RRRAAAAANNNGGGG?!", LOL!!!), a priest that presides over Gomez and Mortica's wedding, the spirit that haunted the abandoned asylum that Gomez and Morticia move into (who often threatened them to get out, much to the family's delight, which i find those Parts to be entirely Hilarious, even in the Theater's Booming Stereo), and Dr. Flambe, a Devil-like relative of the Addams family with fire-like abilities. And the Film's Story is very cute, even with the Film's Opening Scenes on the Origin story of the Addams Family and their "Creative Differences" with other Societies, and it gives me some Good comparisons with Sony's 'Hotel Transylvania' as Creepy Creatures who have lived through the Centuries and Years soon get into Modern times and how other people dealt with Beings like the Monsters of HT and the Addams Family and their Clan. And it would be nice if my Parents were watching the Film with me in the Theaters, cuz during the Film's Ending, me and the people in the Auditorium got a chance to sing-along with the Film's Theme Song, and everyone was Snapping their Fingers to the tune. So If you wanna celebrate Halloween in a Great and Wonderful way, I think that this film is for you, and for all you Goth, Emo, and Young-at-Heart Artists out their who would love a Creepy Treat, and just can't wait to get it on DVD. Klaus - To come clear, I've heard about this movie, and I've even seen some Pencil Tests of it way back then, but I've actually never seen the whole thing, or catch it in a Selected Theater, but I really did see the Film's Trailer. And I would say for a 2D, Hand-Drawn, Frame-by-Frame, Animated feature, these people tried to Improve something for the Classic Animation with their Coloring and Shading type Technique, and even though It's a wonderful Improvement, I wouldn't expect some folks to use this kind of thing more often for Future Celmated Features. As for the Voice cast, I already know who Mr. J.K. Simmons is, but I was surprised to read that the voice man for Mr. Jesper Johansson, is also the guy who played the Villianous Gideon Graves of 'Scott Pilgrim vs. the World' movie.

And sorry if I didn't catch 'IT: Chapter 2' like I did with the first one, But I'm hoping o see some more clips of it online. And I Never had interest in seeing the 2019 'Child's Play', though I still like Ms. Aubrey Plaza & Mr. Mark Hamill. And I had no interest in seeing 'the Angry Birds Movie 2' since I'm never a Big Fan of Thurop Van Orman's creativity. And lastly, I didn't felt like seeing the 'Spies in Disguise' movie ever since Disney's Horrible Conquest of the whole 20th Century Fox media.

[kingdommad300]

KH DnD: Between Dawn to Dusk Aithne’s Report

Warning!!!

For my current DnD players, until you find out more details in-game. Please do not read this. This is for those that following the campaign through this blog and for the player of Aithne.

Aithne gasps as she finds herself in The Dark Realm. She feels a dense pressure in the atmosphere, mainly on her heart. As if on instinct, she told the current cloak off and put her own, holey one back on, feeling the dense pressure disappear, making it easier to breathe. Vanitas remarks that she at least remembered one thing. Aithne asked him why they had come to the Realm of Darkness, only for Vanitas to tell her to wait and see.

After walking for a while and feeling the Heartless from the sidelines watch them, Vanitas shows Aithne a ruined town, half swallowed by the darkness while traces of burns on the buildings. As Aithne walks through the ruins, she felt the sense of familiarity despite not knowing what this place is. When she questioned Vanitas, he explained that this was her home once. From what Aithne had told him in the past, the ruined town was called Dawn and she had peacefully lived here with her father and brother. She was a gifted magic user when she was young and had developed a way to create ‘blue fire’. One day, a keybearer saw Aithne’s gifts as signs of darkness and had attacked the town. Heartless ended up attracted to the burning town and had taken the remains of the building into the dark realm, leaving Aithne to be the only survivor. 

She had started to survive on her own at the age of 8 and had come across Vanitas when she was 9. Since he had a keyblade, she tried to kill him off but failed miserably. Seeing her magic abilities as a useful tool, Vanitas decided to take her in as a student and taught her how to be a bounty hunter. Eventually, Aithne got ‘too cocky’ for her own good and decided to take up a job for the ‘Man in White’, which was the last time Vanitas saw her.

Vanitas gives Aithne the option on whether she should use her position to target Ventus and Kairi or decide to stick with him. Aithne questions why she should truly trust what he is saying. Vanitas goes on to explain a little more about the Corruption, explaining that because of Ventus and Kairi’s actions to try and bring Sora back, they ended up creating the Corruption, ending the lives of thousands and thousands over the last 3/4 of a decade. He goes on to explain that they seem to be trying to find a way to ‘cure’ the Corruption but nothing can cure it. You can become a monster or let the Corruption consume you to become someone else.

When Aithne mentions that both options seem back, Vanitas makes a comment that she just hasn’t seen both options yet. Aithne, who is holding her anger towards Ventus and Kairi in at this moment, asks if Ventus and Kairi were looking for him, since they seemed eager to look into the appearance of the Unverse. Vanitas explains, while taking his helmet off, that they needed him to prove their theories.

Aithne takes in the face, recognizing it before Vanitas puts his helmet back on. 

Vanitas asks the same question again and Aithne decides to stick with him. With her mind made up, Vanitas begins to lead them out of the ruins. While walking, Aithne asked why she needed to put her old cloak on and why the Heartless was not bothering them. Vanitas explains that the cloak that she is wearing not only protects her from the darkness but according to the Heartless, she is darkness while wearing the cloak. It allows them to get through the Dark Realm without being bothered. She asked how long Vanitas was looking for her, which he response ‘a year’, and asked if he cared about her. Vanitas mentions that she is just a tool to him but she doesn’t fully believe him.

The two of them reach a small camp, seeing a mix of those affected by darkness, nothingness and the corrupted. Aithne did notice a few people with shadow like marks on their arms, similar to what Jason has. While going through the camp, they watched a rapid Corrupted humanoid, snatch the head off one of the head of the darkness controlled human and acted like a beast in their cage. While Aithne was horrified, Vanitas explains that those affected by the Corruption can become Rippers, the creature they see in front of them. They carry on and come across a large tent with a sign saying ‘The Cavern’. A bounty hunter guild.

Vanitas finds he lost his membership card, when Axton, the Nobody Doorman, explains no card, no entry! Aithne interrupts, explaining that it was her fault he lost his card. Persuded, Axton decided to let them in, saying to Aithne “welcome back”.

Aithne enters the guild to see it to mainly be a seedy like bar. As Vanitas seats down and talks to the barman, Aithne looks at the huge bounty board. Not sure what everything meant, she goes to take a seat next to Vanitas. She received a drink from a Heartless Orc called Bruce and gave him a stale cupcake in return.

As Vanitas handed his jobs in, he asks Aithne if she remembered anything before explaining to her the board that she was previously looking at. He explains that the bounty board is a ‘Keybearer Deadpool Board’. Bounty Hunters who put their name on the Keyblade Wielder who will be the last one to live on the board. They can only pick one wielder and they win a huge amount of munny for it but the catch is that other bounty hunters will go to kill them, as they are still marks, giving a sense of competition. After explaining, he tells Aithne to look again.

Aithne goes back over to the board but stops when she had put a wager on a keybearer to stay alive. She saw that she put a wager on Jason.

Before she could question why Jason was on the Deadpool Board, another bounty hunter comes into the room.

A short red haired guy, early 20′s, a bag of keyblades on his bag similar to Vanitas, his right arm a pure red shadow like claw shows off his cocky smile and sits next to Vanitas while giving Bruce his keyblades. Aithne watches the two for a second before coming over just as the guy asks Vanitas ‘why he should tell him anything.’ After explaining that she wanted to learn more about the ‘good’ side of corruption, the guy grinned at her and introduce himself as ‘Devon’, one of the newer bounty hunters in this guild. He shakes Aithne hand with his claw and Aithne decides to hold on a little longer, seeing his claw flare up slightly when she squeezed harder while she introduced herself.

After the introduce and the power play with the handshake, Devon explains a little more detail about the Corruption. Firstly explains that the corrupted is the tainted light within a person that can get blinded by their actions and let the light consume them, similar to how people can let darkness consume them. Secondly, he explains that the corruption has multiple stages to it, each being a test to the person affected and that the weak heart tend to fail quite quickly. First comes a voice, a voice that will target a weakness of the person’s identity (e.g. mention their fears, confidence, regrets, guilt ect.) He explains that if the person goes out of their way to prove the voice wrong, the voice will then send the person in a dream and ask them to accept what they will give them. If you say ‘No’, you die or become a Ripper. Says ‘Yes’ and become someone completely different.

When Aithne asked Devon what he meant, Devon asks for a drink as payment. After a bit of banter between the two of them, involving a agreement to trade information for information and Aithne explaining how she met Vanitas, Devon continues.

He explains a little about his background, telling her that he used to be a Keyblader Weilder under the Foretellers and that he was never able to meet his masters expectations and his angry issues affected his ability to work with the other weilders. When he first got Corrupted two years ago, the voice kept telling him that they were better off without him, playing on his anger and his lack of confidence. When he was near the blink of turning into a Ripper, he decided to face the music by standing up to the Foretellers and left the group. After some soul searching, Devon had managed to keep his anger and corruption under control now that the main issues were gone. When the voice send him to the dream and asked if he wanted its’ assistance, he had said ‘yes’ and didn’t look back. He explains to Aithne that he had gained a magic abilities from the corruption and felt more confident than ever, making him feel like a new person.

He eventually goes to ask a question to Aithne, asking if she knew anything about the Man in White, making Aithne curious. Vanitas jumps in at this point, telling Devon that the Man in White is off-limits and he should focus on the bounty board before telling Aithne that they were going.

Devon mentions that Aithne still owns him a questions and Aithne promises that the the next time they meet, he can ask whatever he wants and she will answer. She watches Devon talk to Bruce before she leaves the guild with Vanitas.

As they leave The Cavern, Vanitas creates another portal, telling Aithne they need to head to the safe house now to discuss a plan. Aithne nods in agreement and the two go through the portal.

After a moment, Aithne finds herself in the wasteland type area with keyblades scattered everywhere, even watching Vanitas swap some of the keyblades in his procession with the ones in the ground. As they carried on, they come across another cave with the same sort of sign at the front before the two of them entered.

Aithne saw on one side of the cave seem to have her belongings from before she left. She went over and found a bounty hunter log, a spell book and few pieces of equipment. While she is looking around, Vanitas explains that they need a plan for you to take Ventus and Kairi down. They first mention that the party would look for Phoenix feathers for Aerith and Kairi but both agreed that there was no guarantee that she will find the same Phoenix as the party’s due to them being a few. Vanitas then explained that different parties seem to be gathering crystal like orbs and decides that if they look for the crystals, they can introduce Aithne back to the group. Vanitas even creates an Unverse Fox called ‘Blink’ to be Aithne’s companion during her journey so that Vanitas can travel with her through the fox and that she can just hand the crystals to the fox.

Aithne agrees, but senses a problem, shes naturally bad at lying, so she needed to come up with a plan where she wasn't lying.. Vanitas gets an idea, he asked Aithne to walk out with him.. After a little while walking, Aithne notices that Vanitas stays behind a little, she turns around and he summons 5 Floods Unverse after her and Blink. Vanitas explains that he needs to see if she is ready anyway.

The Flood start to attack and surround Aithne and Blink and in a panic Athine casts Fireball point blank, creating a huge fiery blast, consuming the Flood at herself.  

Everything goes Black… Aithne hears a voice “i thought you could be better”, her heart starts to lead to the place where sky and sea meet, finding some peace...Her heart gets caught though as she’s sucked back into the darkness, feeling cold and scared and alone. She gasps awake, noticing a figure over her with a keyblade pointed at her chest, a voice saying “the weak one’s awake”, Aithne notices with horror that her hair gone, her body burnt and a blue flame mark on her chest. Taking a moment to remember what is going on, Vanitas turns to Aithne and says “As your saviour, you will live for me. DO everything I tell you, got it?!”, Athine nods......suddenly remembering the feeling of dread from being with this twisted man.

[1000roughdrafts]

Family Secrets: Chapter Five

Pretty Thoughts

Summary: After interrogating a demon for weeks on end, she gives you the information you‘ve been hunting for. Enlisting help from Garth brings trouble in the form of Dean Winchester. 

A/N: again, sorry about formatting, I’m on mobile. Also, happy halloweeeeeen🎃:)

Warnings: SPN style demon torture (lol), obscenities, slight angst (argument between reader x dean), Dean in slight pain

W/C: 2.7k

Masterlist/schedule

Previous Chapter

"Just give me their names you disgusting rat," you shout through clenched teeth at the thin, black hair and black eyed demon you have strapped to a rusted chair. Dumping holy water onto the demons face you smile as it screams out in agony. With clammy hands you lean in, your face just inches away from it's blood drenched cheek. "You're going to die no mater what, so give me what I need and I'll put you out of your misery."

The demon stays silent, looking at you with it's now chestnut eyes with russet rims. It's long lashes bat once at you. "Mandy," you say gingerly while pushing yourself up to stretch out your back.

Taking a glimpse at the devils trap you've carved into the floorboards of a room you and Rufus had added onto the cabin, it wretchedly begs, "it's been weeks."

"Pretty neat, huh?" You mendaciously chuckle while toying with the dagger. "I've expanded on the normal version. Thought I'd had a trick of my own. You're dying, slowly and never to return again that's to some spells I've learned along the way."

"How cute. A hunter dabbling in magic. Does daddy know that you're no better than those you're in search of?" She puts on a false pout before breaking into laughter, "oh, wait."

Your eyebrows erect to reveal your arrogant eyes and temperate smirk. "Names. Now."

The demon stays silent, continuing to look around for a way out. Fed up with its evasiveness you grab a syringe filled with holy water and finished off with a spell to elongate the effects, to quickly inject the demon before it can scream out. After giving a second dose, you throw the empty syringe back onto the tray.

"Guess I'll see you in a few days, then." You laugh, "if you're still alive that is. See, I do need this information, but if you die before I can get it, well, that just means I have to kill more of your kind. And that's a win win for me."

You stealthily turn to walk towards the wooden block of a door that leads to the cabin. As you approach the first step, the demon lets out a thundering, frustration driven growl. Twisting around to face the demon, you smile, "yes?"

"Allanah Sandburn, Rose Coach, Taylor something and Violet Yasmin."

"Who else?" you demand while striding over and paralleling you're torso to the demons, pulling your dagger to her cheek.

"Guess you're gonna have to get another 'rat' to tell you that one," it shrieks, spitting at you. "That's all I know."

"Good one," you say, wiping the saliva from your cheek with the back of your hand and letting out a small chuckle. "I guess you're right."

Thrusting the blade into the left center of the demons chest it lets out one last ear piercing shrill, throwing its head back in torment. The body twitches and convulses and the last bit of essence vanished from the vessel in a luminous flash of vivid energy.

After showering the dagger in holy water you use your handkerchief to wipe it dry before dialing a number into your cell. "Hi, Garth." You pause and smile, "yeah, grab a piece of paper, would ya?"

You rotate around and stride over to the demon. "Can you do me a solid and have a look-see at a few names?"

—

A nauseating stench vents into the smokey air as you glare into the pit and gawk at the burning carcass. You reach into your pocket and put the singing phone to your ear, "what's the word?"

"Why are you asking Garth to track down a coven?"

"Grumpy? What are you doing with Garths cell?"

"What? I'm no- didn't you see the number before you answered?"

"Luckily for you, I didn't. Slick move leaving your card behind, I thought I had your number blocked."

"Yeah, well," Dean clears his throat. "Sam says I may have been a little too tough on you."

"Tough?" You called me a fucking monster, asshole, your thoughts scream.

"Now, I know I called you a monster and hey," he chuckles, "I've been there. Like you said, a lot of hunters have a bounty on my head."

"And?" Do you expect me to fucking care? You think as you sit on the cement steps in front of the porch.

"And I'm not expecting you to care or anything, but, uh, I thought 'what the hell, let's give her a shot'. What do you say?"

"Give me a shot?" Better make sure that's an iron bullet, you cynically joke.

"No, look, I'm not fixin' to shoot you," he says quickly and then more smoothly, "I'm saying I want a second chance."

"Yeah well you can take that and-"

"Shove it where the sun don't shine? Tried that. It can right on back."

You can hear a playful grin that he's attempting to suppress, and roll your eyes at the image. "I have gone a very long time with just myself, I think I can handle-"

"You're not doing it on your own. Covens typically meet in groups of-"

"Thirteen. I'm aware. I wasn't born yesterday."

"Says the girl who doesn't even know when she was born," he scowls.

You laugh, "aw, would you look at that, it didn't even take more than five minutes for your true colors to shine back through."

"Okay, smarty pants, I'm looking at this from a logical point of view. Thirteen against one are not great odds. You want to get yourself killed? Be my first. But if you want help, do nothing until we get back. What do you say?"

"That's assuming that I'm not already being logical about this." You pause, "tell me what Garth found out and I light agree to that."

He sighs, "the main one you're looking for Allanah. I guess she was last seen somewhere near Kansas City, but seriously... don't go poking around until me and Sam get back to the cabin. Just stay where you are. Do you hear me?"

You switch the phone to your alternate ear, standing up from the steps. "You are not in charge of me, Dean! We met purely coincidentally, you threatened me and I went off on my own remember? I didn't even want to hear from you again!" What does he care anyway?

"Whatever. I don't care. Just don't drag Garth into it."

"Oh," you scoff. "So that's a perfectly acceptable thing for Dean Winchester, but I can't?" Asshole.

"What did you just say?"

Louder this time, you repeat yourself, "I'm saying you don't own him. You can't just keep bossing people aro-"

"No, something about an ass."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I could have sworn you called me an asshole."

Immediately you end the call and hold the phone against your chest. "How in the hell could he have heard that?" You say aloud, too scared to say anything mentally.

Walking inside to grab yourself a much needed beer you try to drown out the idea of Dean Winchester heading your every thought. You're trying to keep them concealed and nothing too personal, but after a lifetime of privacy as far as thoughts go, it's not as easy as you hope. Opening the beer, your phone rings again.

"Leave me alone," you growl.

"Oh," Tim says, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were upset with me."

You put your palm to your forehead, "I'm not, Tim. I'm sorry. I was just on the phone with someone else, and... what's up?"

"Well, there's this guy missing from my town. The police don't seem to be doing much, but I really gotta know if he's okay, you know?" He sniffles, "I figured since you're part of the FBI or CSI or secret service or something you could look into it?"

"Oh, I don't know, Tim," you sigh. "It doesn't really... work that way."

"Please? It would really mean a lot to me."

"Just... just text me the location."

By the time you arrive, the neighborhood is dark. No street or porch lights are on. Most of the houses are guarded up with rusted chains on the windows and skirted with tall metal fences. You grab your pistol from the glove box and double check the clip. With the dagger still in your boot, you sneak out while checking for wandering eyes. The sidewalk that interrupts a dandelion garden leads to a golden brown door. Checking over your shoulder once more, you pick the lock and creep inside.

What you presume used to be a coffee table is wearing the couch and underneath the two is a torn up rug. Shards of splintered wood litter the floor where the dining table had collapsed. A thick coating of muddy red blood is splattered over the previously cotton white walls and wooden floor. You aren't sure whether it came from one person or more, but it is enough to leave a man dead. The only room unscathed is the office, which seems to remain orderly if it weren't for the papers scattered around.

Whoever is doing this was looking for something.

After bowing to your knees, you rummage through the cluster trying to find a clue. You check the mahogany dressers of his desk, and find nothing to suggest he had a life outside of work. You open the screen of his laptop and smile when it pulls everything up with no need to enter a password. Finding nothing but excel worksheets and business projects, you focus your attention to the matching bookshelf to see much of the sale.

Nothing seems to be helpful until you notice that one is remarkably shallow compared to the other. Quickly and quietly, you pull everything out and using the heel of your gun you give the makeshift bottom a rough tap. After a few attempts it opens just enough to reach inside. The tips of your fingers are instantly cold to the touch of a large skeleton key. 

"I believe that belongs to me, sweetheart."

Drawing your weapon you whip around and lime the barrel between the mans eyes.

"Ah, the ol' gun to the head trick," he laughs with his arks in the air. "Go ahead, love, wouldn't work on me anyway." He drops his arms as you bend to reach the dagger, keeping him in sight. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. I know what you're going for, darling, and I'd strongly advice against it."

"Who are you?" Dean help! You scream in your mind, putting as much strength and emphasis onto the name as you can, hoping that he can hear you.

"Trying to cut out the foreplay I see," he snarls while walking to your side. "Very well, then. The names Crowley," he says proudly, chin held high.

Bursting through the door of the cabin, the Winchester's lug in their bags and plop them into the floor. Sam shuffled through one of the books shelves while Dean is staring out of a, foolishly open, window. He steps back and forth along the floor before throwing his arms out and halts his pacing, “we have four missing people, and never seen or heard of before weather patterns."

Sam lets out an exasperated sigh, "are we sure they're even connected?" He pulls a book from the case and settles in at the table to flip through it. He scans the room, twisting his body in both directions, "said a minute. Wasn't Blue supposed to be here?"

"I couldn't give a -" in completion of a sentence, Dean screams obscenities as he drops to the floor boards, holding his head in his hands.

"Woah, what's going on?" Sam scrambles to his side, dropping to the floor with him.

"I don't-" Dean belts out another cry of pain, "I don't know. I can hear her though."

"Who?" Sam pulls his brother up by the shirt and sits him upright. "Who do you hear?"

Dean clasps at his chest, looking up at Sam with wide eyes, "Blue. She's in trouble."

"I'm only here for one thing." He puts his lips next to your ear, and a hand in your hair. "And I'd hate to break those lovely little fingers of yours to get it, but you see, I'd do anything to get what I want." After rolling his fingers down your sleeve he removed his hand to point at the key, "and what I want is that."

"Did you kill him? What's so special about this key anyway?"

He chuckles, taking a short breath and turning his back to you. "You're such a naive, little, what? Hunger, are you? You really think I would waste my precious time on this fool?" He side eyes you while walking over to the bookshelf. "The key," he says, pouring some bourbon into a glass, "is really for me to know and for you," he paused with a grin and takes it down in one gulp, "to never find out."

"Wow," you scoff. Dean! Dean! Dean! Grumpy! Dean!

His eyes squint before trailing up and down your figure. When they meet back up with yours they are curious, and intrigued, "what's your name, love?"

"I'm not about to play share and tell with a demon," you scowl.

"King of Hell," he says through his teeth. "I could snap your neck with a snap of my fingers," he smiles and holds his hand up, "humor me."

"But I've piqued you're interest, haven't I? You could have done that from the start, but you didn't." You mirror the expression on his face as he pours himself another glass without removing his eyes from yours. "Which means you need me alive, don't you? Why?"

"Because we made a deal," a woman's voice fills the room before she can be seen. Grumpy, please! She slowly walks to Crowleys side, glancing at him once before resting an arm on his shoulder. She smiles at you, "hi, Y/N. It's been so long since I've seen you. So for the sake of meeting in, oh I don't know, twenty or so years, I'm Allanah."

She makes her way over to you, wrapping her arms sound your back and grabbing the key. She hands it to Crowley, who disappears instantly.

Allanah laughs, "the part he doesn't know is that without you, that key is nothing more than a paper weight."

Dean drops his hands to his knees and struggled to get his words out through chunky breaths, "have you seen a woman?"

"I run a bar, kid. You're gonna have to be a lot more specific than that," the man scoffs.

"I got this," Sam whispers and turns to face the bald and bearded man behind the counter. Clearing his throat, he asserts, "I'm agent Scott and uh, my partner here is Agent Paxton." Dean sits at the bar, using it as a pillow and only raises a hand in acknowledgment.

Sliding a picture onto the counter, Sam continues, "her name is Blue. Have you seen her come by in the last month or so?"

The man only shakes his head, Sam puts a palm down on the counter. "She may have had a, uh, fling with one of your employees."

The man laughs, "if you think that narrows it down, you'd be mistaken."

"I believe his name was Tim."

"That sounds about right. That Tim sure did have a way with the ladies," she shakes his head with another chuckle.

"Did?"

"Yeah, he quit comin' round about two weeks ago. No calls, nothing. Was a shame, too. It's difficult to find people who work in this damn town."

Dean... please, I'm begging you. Please.

"Shut up!" Dean yells, pounding the counter with his fist and capturing the attention of the people in the bar. When he noticed all eyes are on him, he adjusts his tie and gives a tired chuckle, "bad dream," he jokes with a half nod and light wave before dropping his upper portion back onto the counter.

Sam pulls a card from his suit and places it onto the bar, "if you hear anything." He lifts his eyebrows while tilting his head slightly and adds force to his words, "from either of them, give me a call."

Next Chapter

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[rebellect-writes]

[SIZE=1][b]Name:[/b] Jess. [b]Age:[/b] 21. [b]How did you find us?:[/b] I blame you!

[b]Name:[/b] Alec Orion Campbell.   [b]Nicknames & Aliases:[/b][LIST]Alias: Aleck O’Rourke. Alias: Noah Campbell. Nickname: Smart Alec. [/LIST] [b]Age:[/b] 32. [b]Date of Birth:[/b] March 1st 1979. [b]Gender:[/b] Male. [b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Equal opportunity! (Bi, leans towards guys lately.) [b]Occupation:[/b] Supernatural bounty hunter. [b]Powers:[/b] Not a lick of power in his body.

[b]Face Claim:[/b] Jensen Ackles [b]Description:[/b] [IMG]http://i672.photobucket.com/albums/vv90/bloodwillout/app%20pics/936full-jensen-ackles.png[/IMG] [i]Height:[/i] 6’1 [i]Weight:[/i] 171lbs. [i]Eyes:[/i] Hazel. [i]Hair:[/i] Brown/blonde.   [i]Build:[/i] Average, athletic. [i]Visible marks:[/i] His most notable mark is a nasty set of claw marks on his right shoulder from a werejaguar in New Mexico, other than that it’s small nicks and scrapes here and there that don’t even register to him. [i]Style:[/i] Instead of caring what new fashions are in and all that nonsense, Alec likes the comfortable and more practical stuff. Jeans, t-shirts, jacket and a nice pair of boots are things he favours. That doesn’t mean he won’t dress up every now and again if he has to make an impression. He does wear his wedding ring on a chain around his neck too. [i]Choice Weapon:[/i] His duel Colt 1911’s with silver plated bullets.

[b]Special Skills:[/b] [LIST] [*] He can speak Portuguese, Spanish, Russian and French. [*] Knows the ins and the outs of the police system. [*] Good enough under the hood of a car to get it to work for him. [*] Fairly proficient in the following areas involving firearms, knives, hand to hand combat. [*] Decent tracker if he does say so himself. [/LIST][b]Personality:[/b]

Alec is a natural smart arse; he uses the witty comments and remarks to cover a smart calculating mind. The laid back and easy persona is what everyone else see’s, when really, he’s watching for people to make mistakes that he can use to his advantage. He rarely does use what he see’s and learns to his advantage though, unless he’s on a job in which case, may the best man or monster win. He is fairly open minded with most things and will try anything at least once in his life. One thing that he can’t quite grasp is the whole religion thing. He doesn’t believe in God, but he believes there is something after death, he just doesn’t know what it is, so when it comes to using items of faith, they’re very faulty at best. He’s quirky, smiley, doesn’t go out of his way to start trouble but he will finish it if it happens.  

Confident on the surface, Alec’s been known to stare down any lycanthropes and just smirk as he’s read them their rights or recounted their adventures. Some might even call him cocky in this world, he’s only human after all and who in their right mind would fear a human! It’s that aspect which he uses against people; he’ll gladly shoot something in the face and crack silly jokes as things bleed. It’s the underneath that’s scary, he’s cold and won’t hesitate if it means people will live, and one more bad guy is put down out of the worlds collective misery. Trust is something that’s earned, while he may appear to go along with others ideas and follow peoples lead, you have to earn your stripes in his eyes because he can’t carry dead weight half the time. Once you’ve won his trust though, Alec is a little more open about things and he’s also hellish loyal in return.

Alec doesn’t like to be dragged into things that aren’t any of his business, which is pretty contradictory given his profession. When he’s hunting, he likes to get to know his prey as best as he can but if he can’t get a plan of action, he’ll wing it. His view on the supernatural world at large is pretty simple. There are monsters in the human community so why should he care about fangs and claws or magic? At the end of the day, it’s people’s choices that make them a monster to others, not infections or transitions. Hell! A good few of his friends are supernatural by nature and he’d trust them at his back on their bad days rather than an unarmed human that he doesn’t know.

One thing that will knock him every which way but the right way is bringing up his family, more to the point his baby girl. It’s probably the only thing that can really get through to him. Threaten her and he will rain unholy hell on anything and everything but it’s also his undoing. Caitlyn is the last piece of light in his soul and it would destroy him if anything happened to her. He’d do anything; even kill another human being, if it made sure she was safe. This is probably the reason that only the people closest to him know about her existence, to avoid such scenarios happening. He thought he was in love once with his wife, Chloe, but her betrayal locked down that part of his soul. Why should he allow himself to love if he’s going to get hurt? Commitment is something that he’s working on. Just give him a little time, ok?

[b]Likes:[/b] [LIST] [*] Blackberries. [*] Bacon burgers. [*] The Jerry Springer Show. [*] Keeping his weapons in good shape. [*] Keeping fit and active. Getting fat is not on his list of things to do. [*] The thrill he gets from hunting. [/LIST] [b]Dislikes:[/b] [LIST] [*] People that lie to his face. [*] Techno music. What the hell is that noise? [*] When people think that being human instantly means weakness. [*] Getting dragged into the centre of a confrontation that he didn’t start.   [*] The Church of Eternal Life...Followed by most vampires in general. [*] Being laid up in Hospital or at home. [/LIST][b]Strengths:[/b] [LIST] [*] Knowing his baby girl is safe with his uncle. [*] That whole lack of trust thing saved him from getting a knife in the back. [*] He can – surprisingly – follow orders. [*] Good at blending in. [/LIST] [b]Weaknesses:[/b] [LIST] [*] His daughter, Caitlynn. [*] Insomnia dulls his reflexes and sometimes he has to take medication to sleep. [*] His big mouth doesn’t know when to shut up sometimes. [*] The fact he doesn’t trust so easily anymore. [/LIST][b]Fears:[/b][LIST] [*] Caitlynn getting hurt because of him. [*] Clowns freak him out to no end. [*] Claustrophobia. [/LIST][b]History:[/b]

Back in early spring of ’79 at a hospital in downtown Phoenix, Arizona, Lillian Campbell gave birth to a screaming healthy baby boy, much to her and her husband Anthony’s surprise. They’d been told that they were going to get a girl by the doctors that they’d seen so Alec was a big surprise however it didn’t stop them from loving the babe though; it just meant that they’d have to repaint the nursery and get a new wardrobe better suited to boys than girls and until they did that. Baby Alec had to put up with what was there for the first few weeks of his life when the family swarmed and coddled the new arrival. It was great! Wonderful even! Shame he doesn’t remember those days and only knows about them from what he’s been told from relatives.

The one thing that’s blistered into his memories is the heat however, and growing up in Maryville wasn’t so bad. There wasn’t any drama there despite the fact that some of the kids in the neighbourhood were rougher but that wasn’t any reason for Alec to cower behind his mom’s skirt. In fact, it was the rougher kids that he fell in with when he was growing up, his father didn’t approve and he made it clear as he told Alec stories from his work despite Lillian’s attempts to stop him. Being an officer in the PGU (Phoenix Gang Unit), Anthony saw all kinds of things that had him awake at night, and it was his hope to shock Alec into staying away from certain types. It sort of worked, and it sort of didn’t at the same time. Alec didn’t want to give up his friends, so he stayed away from them when his parents were around to avoid the choice.

It didn’t work out as well as Alec planned, at the age of fifteen he was given a shock that changed his life forever. Anthony had been killed while investigating a prior drug related crime, it shattered Lillian and Alec was left to pick up the pieces. He cut himself off from the guys in the neighbourhood, buckled down at school and things started to look up; he even tried to find himself a job. However when he found out from his uncle that his dad had been killed by the same gang that he’d been running around with, Alec was filled with a rage so fierce that he couldn’t not go and confront someone. Alejandro Hernandez was his unlucky victim, Alec didn’t care how high the guy ranked, didn’t want to know or care, he just wanted the name of the idiot stupid enough to pull the trigger. Alejandro wasn’t put off by the ‘white boy’, but after Alec snapped his wrist and broke his knee, the slightly older boy gave over the name Jose Ramirez.

The problem with this newest revelation was that Ramirez wasn’t an unknown person in Alec’s life. The guy only lived a block away and his mum was friends with Alec’s. Unsure of anything at the time, he backed off for a fortnight to plan what he was going to do. He didn’t get to think for long because Jose came to him with the few of the ‘old gang’, demanding to know why he’d beat Ale. Despite the fact that they where only a couple of years older, Alec didn’t let that stop him from beating seven shades of hell out of him. It was Ramie’s mom that found them and screamed blue murder. The next few days went by in a rush and as a result of what had happened between him and his former friend, Alec found himself in a Juvenile detention centre for the next year for causing bodily harm to another minor. When he got out, he found that the Ramirez family had moved and hadn’t left a forwarding address. In fact, they'd left in a hurry and hadn't even packed their house up. Damn. The black mark on his record was recinded as other charges where brought to light against the Ramirez family several months later.

Since he couldn’t get back at the guy that killed his father, Alec sat back and thought about things. He was eighteen and he could do anything despite the stint in Juvi-Hall, at least that was what he kept telling himself. Instead of swearing vengeance, he decided to do the old man proud and started looking into how to be an officer of the law, just like Anthony had been and most of the men in the family before his father. So he went back to school and got his diploma, made things right with his mom and found a part time job at a body shop where he learnt everything he knew about a car. Since he had to be twenty one to even be considered, Alec made everything right that he could. He didn’t do drugs; he stayed away from fights and even found as many character references as he thought that he would need. What he didn’t do though, was stay away from the alcohol. He could handle his liquor no problem, but the slightly drunk one night stand with a closet bite junkie would come back and bite him in the arse.

His twenty first rolled around pretty quick and he applied to the criminal investigation unit for Arizona and went through all of the following tests and training that was needed. At the first meeting, things had looked bad because of his black mark, but he’d proven himself even to the people that hadn’t wanted to accept him. Twenty three, with a promising career before him, Alec was left gobsmacked when Chloe, the partier-cum-bite junkie that he’d slept with four years previous tracked him down with a squirming four year old baby girl she claimed was his. If Alec was shocked, his momma was even more shocked by the fact she was a grandmother. At first Alec didn’t buy it, didn’t want to believe that he’d missed out on four years of fatherhood so he demanded a paternity test before they moved forward. Six weeks later and a lot of making up and getting to know you moments, one piece of paper was all it took to make things seem real again and the old school charm of his had him blurting out those four magical words that any woman wants to hear, “Will you marry me?” And Chloe said yes.

Over the next five years, things were pretty normal or at least he thought that they were normal. Chloe had fallen off the wagon so to speak, and when she claimed that she was working late, she was really getting bitten by a vampire. Unbeknown to Alec, his wife had been marked as a vampire servant by a Master vampire that hailed from Reno who wanted to take over the Kiss in Phoenix. Of course, things started to get strained over the next few months and one day, Alec mouthed off to the wrong officer and got shunted into this small time squad called RPIT that was in charge of dealing with ghosts and ghoulies and when Chloe found out, she freaked! Started calling him a no good bum and how things were going to change or she’d leave. The argument they had ended as Chloe stormed off in a huff, out of the door and his life with his daughter and into the back of a limbo. The flashy exit did not stop Alec from taking the plate numbers.

Four months later he tracked the company down to Reno, not letting it go, he’d quit his job and annoyed his mom to the point that they no longer talked. After kicking up enough fuss in Reno, Chloe finally found him and so did her Master and lover, Ashe. They made no attempt to hide their relationship and infuriated Alec. He just wanted Cait! What he got was a nasty clip to the back of his head after Ashe fed from him, stuffed in a coffin and buried to be forgotten in the Mojave Desert. Chloe obviously hadn’t learnt a thing from Alec in the five years she’d known him, because when he came around, Alec found himself scared beyond reason and that only fuelled the need to get up and moving even though he had no idea how long he’d been there. Even though he was only human, he clawed his way through five feet of earth and finally found fresh air.

With no idea how long he walked for, or what really happened, it seemed like days. The heat having played tricks with his mind, at the hospital he’d been carted to by some tourist family that found him beside a stretch of road. Something had snapped in him, he called in a lot of favours to see if Ashe was still in Reno but he wasn’t. It was like they’d vanished without a trace and it broke something in him. He hadn’t been able to save Cait, his mind kept going over what his daughter must have been going through, stuck with a murdering scummy vampire. It was an odd change of mind that led him to hunting down the monsters that bumped back in the night. He knew enough about them from his time on RPIT, had more contacts and resources he could draw on prior to joining RPIT as well. That didn’t mean things weren’t bumpy, in fact bumpy would have been putting it lightly. Alec got his arse kicked countless times and risked being infected by lycanthropy or vampirism, maybe he wanted to kill himself, he certainly didn’t know at the time, but he brought down his fair share of things and he liked it.

Two years later, he’s bumped his kill count into double digits, he’s not so much a known name in the hunter circuits though, and he likes it that way. Then in December of 2009, he got a call from his uncle that said his 10 year old daughter had been dumped on his doorstep during the night with a letter from Chloe saying she was sorry. Instead of going home and being the father figure in her life, Alec arranged for his uncle to become a legal guardian for Caitlynn. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to be her pops; it was because he couldn’t be it. He loved the thrill of the hunt too much to put her at possible risk. He still gets letters occasionally from Uncle Robert about her and things that he was missing out on and that’s enough for him and he’s seen her from a distance, twice over the last two years and laboured under the illusion that she would be safe from the monsters if she stayed away from him, the biggest one in her life. So he’s in Jackford, on the other side of the world from his baby girl. He hopes that it’s enough, but deep down, he’s not so sure of anything anymore.[/SIZE]

[thedcdunce]

Lobo

“I killed every living thing on Czarnia fer fun. I killed Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny an' things that don't even exist, an' so help me, I tried ta follow th' triple-fold path o' peace. I tried my best... but frag me for a bastich, even I got limits!” - Lobo

Gender: Male

Height: 6′ 4″

Weight: 305 lbs (138 kg)

Eyes: Red

Hair: Black

Skin: Blue/ White

Powers:

Czarnian Physiology

Abilities:

Genius Level Intellect

Tracking

Multilingualism

Expert Combatant

Indomitable Will

Weaknesses:

Uncontrollable Personality

Always Keeps Promises

Equipment:

Spacehogt

Chained Hook

“Frag” grenades

Various Weapons

Universe:

Earth-One

New Earth

Base of Operations:

Ferris Aircraft

Coast City

Marital Status: Single

Citizenship: Czarnian

Occupation:

Priest

Assassin

Bounty Hunter

First Appearance: Omega Men #3 (June, 1983)

Powers

Czarnian Physiology: It is said that Czarnians can only be truly killed by other Czarnians. Furthermore, Lobo has been banned from entering either Heaven or Hell. Lobo can survive unaided in the vacuum of space.

Superhuman Strength: Lobo is able to effortlessly lift far in excess of 100 tons.

Superhuman Stamina: He possesses inexhaustible stamina.

Immortality: Lobo is functionally immortal and cannot die no matter what happens. He is immune to the effects of aging and disease and has been banned from entering either Heaven or Hell.

Invulnerability: He has at times shrugged off blows with no damage, taken planet-destroying attacks without so much as a scratch but at other occurrences has had his skin penetrated by bullets and had only some resistance against most magic spells and attacks.

Superhuman Speed: Lobo possesses the ability to sharpen his awareness and increase his temporal flow, appearing to move faster than humanly possible. He can move at incredible speeds.

Self-Sustenance: Lobo does not need any food, water, air, or sleep and he can survive in the vacuum of space without any harm.

Regeneration: If Lobo does somehow sustain an injury, his accelerated healing enables him to regenerate damaged or destroyed tissue instantly, with little apparent pain. He will apparently heal from any injury.

Bio-Fission: If Lobo spills even a drop of blood, that drop can become a completely new Lobo.

Thermal Immunity

Abilities

Genius Level Intellect: As unbelievable as it may seem, despite his violent and loutish nature, Lobo seems to have a genius-level intellect in matters of destruction and violence. He can create complex virulent agents and the necessary antidotes.

Tracking: The tracking ability allows him to trace any prey across even the Universe.

Multilingualism: By his own account, Lobo can speak 17,897 different languages from across the galaxy.

Morse Code: Lobo can communicate in Morse Code.

Expert Combatant: Lobo is a proficient hand-to-hand combatant.

Indomitable Will

Weaknesses

Uncontrollable Personality: Lobo loves fighting, loses patience easily, is very arrogant and does not get along in a group.

Always Keeps Promises: Even if it means his death.

Equipment

Spacehog

Chained Hook: Lobo's signature weapon is a large hook on a chain. Aside from use as a weapon, he also uses it to tie up opponents or drag them behind his bike.

"Frag" grenades

Various Weapons: Lobo has been shown carrying countless weapons, such as a laser weapon, a large knife, and even a guilt grenade.

History

Lobo, whose name comes from a Khund dialect and means  "one who devours your entrails and thoroughly enjoys it," is the last of his people for one reason: he killed them all. He hailed from the planet Czarnia which was a virtual paradise that knew nothing of war and the Czarnians were almost immortal. When Lobo was born, his evil was so frighteningly apparent, the nurse who delivered him went insane and became the planet's first mental patient in ten millennia after the infant Lobo chewed off four of her fingers. Lobo knew he was one of a kind, but he wanted even more. Inspired by the idea of genocide, Lobo created a swarm of lethal scorpion-like creatures, he set them on his people wiping out his entire species but himself. He claimed it was a science project and gave himself an 'A'. Since then he has traveled the galaxies collecting bounties. Despite his ruthless nature, Lobo has a strict code of honor when it comes to these agreements. Along the way he has met and battled a number of superheroes.

Omega Men

Lobo played an important role in the Citadel War, in his capacity as a bounty hunter. He was hired by the Citadel's human agent Harry Hokum to capture the Euphorian known as Kalista in a bid to learn the secret behind her home world's planetary shield. Along with fellow bounty hunters Bedlam and Berserk, he raided the mothership belonging to the Omega Men, where upon he engaged in combat with Kalista. Soon after, Harry Hokum hired Lobo once again, this time to assassinate the Omega Men's interim leader Tigorr. Lobo never had the opportunity to complete the contract however.

After the Citadel War ended, Lobo was then hired by Kalista's husband Primus to help them infiltrate a Citadel prison facility and free several of Primus' captured allies. During the prison break, Lobo killed the supreme commander of the surviving Citadel military forces.

Justice League

Lobo made his first appearance on the planet Earth when he was hired by Manga Khan to take out the newly formed Justice League International. But after Big Barda teleported Lobo across the galaxy, Lobo landed on Earth smack in the Justice League Embassy. After a brief altercation with Guy Gardner, Lobo hung around, pretending to be a friend, waiting for the right moment. But before he could act, Manga Khan canceled his contract.

L.E.G.I.O.N.

For a such a fierce bounty hunter and a loner, Lobo still held a few surprises under his brash exterior. He would prove to be more a team player than anyone would think. He kept a secret pod of pet Space Dolphins that he cared for. When one of the dolphins was killed, Lobo tracked the perpetrators to Vril Dox II's newly formed band of freedom fighters, the L.E.G.I.O.N.

Lobo single handily crippled the entire team, but was halted by Vril Dox II, who offered to provide protection for the Space Dolphins in exchange for Lobo's service in the L.E.G.I.O.N. Lobo accepted and accompanied the new team to Cairn, known galaxy wide as the "drug world." There the team dismantled the drug lords' empire by sheer brains and brawn. Vril Dox II also took advantage of Lobo's ability to multiply, which helped them destroy the remainder of Cairn's opposing rulers. During this mission, Dox secretly poisoned Lobo and his clones. Lobo was depowering, lost his ability to multiply, and his clones were destroyed. It was later revealed that one of Lobo's clones escaped to the planet Kannit.

During Lobo's service in the L.E.G.I.O.N., it was clear that he held no personal love for any of his teammates. He followed Vril Dox II's orders out of some sense of honor, but did not hesitate to break both of Garryn Bek's legs. But even Vril Dox II was not immune. When Vril Dox II was raped and killed by Stealth, he too was cloned. Lobo took advantage of Vril Dox II's vulnerability and attempted to kill the clone in order to be free from his pact.

Lobo was sent on an undercover mission to bring down a formidable opponent: the space pirate Dagon-Ra of the planet Trom whose natives have the power to transmute matter. He joined Dagon-Ra's crew and lead a successful mutiny against him.

Superman

Draaga found an intergalactic taxi driver to take him to Earth to get revenge on Superman. Just as they left the bar, Lobo arrived. Lobo was boozing it up at the bar when he heard two aliens in a bar corner discussing the odds of Draaga's return battle with Superman. Lobo got involved in the conversation, and the aliens got Lobo drunk enough to where he accepted a bet that he could kill Superman. Lobo, along with the bar's delivery guy Raof and Bibbo Bibbowski, traveled to the Fortress of Solitude, but Superman wasn't there. While the three were tooling around inside, Superman arrived. Lobo attacked Superman, and the two brawled through the Fortress. Superman escaped to a Kryptonian exo-suit he had, and battled Lobo outside while wearing the suit. Lobo blew the suit up with missiles from his spacehog, and Lobo and Bibbow presumed Superman dead. They then collapsed, both very drunk. It turned out that Superman was safe inside the Fortress, and had faked his death inside the suit.

Mister Miracle

Lord Manga Kahn accidentally captured space-dolphins belonging to Lobo, who came looking for them. After an altercation, Lobo recruited Mister Miracle to help him find his space-dolphins on Mogo.

Guy Gardner

Guy Gardner had to get back on his feet after his fight with Hal Jordan for Sector 2814, so he tried crime fighting ringless. When that didn't work, he enlisted the help of Lobo to go with him to Qward to get Sinestro's ring. Guy and Lobo then retrieved the ring.

Lobo eventually got into a fight with Guy, over the events on Qward.

Breakdowns

Lobo was hired by Lord Manga Kahn to take in Despero. Despero had been currently running rampant on Earth. Lobo tried to take the monster in, but met fierce resistance from the Justice League International and the Justice League Europe. Lobo, the JLE, and the newly formed Conglomerate all launched a frontal assault on Despero, but the monster was able to fend them all off. But Kilowog and L-Ron arrived, and Kilowog accidentally uploaded L-Ron's consciousness into Despero's head. Lord Manga Kahn then paid Lobo his fee for helping take down Despero, and also offered to finance the reconstruction of Times Square.

Superman's Resurrection

At one point, Lobo went back to Earth to prove that he was still better than Superman, even though Superman was resurrected. Along the way, Lobo destroyed a planet called Thanotopsia, which attracted the attention of a group of aliens that followed Lobo to Earth where Lobo confronted Superman in Metropolis. After a battle, Superman punched Lobo into orbit, and Lobo landed on the alien ship where he was attacked by a number of robot bounty hunters. Superman took out the disintegration cannon on the ship and hauled it away from Earth. Superman then caught back up to the ship and helped Lobo defeat the bounty hunters. Lobo then decided to not fight Superman anymore since Superman helped him out.

Miss Tribb

When Vril Dox II later hired Lobo to transport a prisoner to him safe and alive, Lobo thought that the transport normally wouldn't be more than a boring job. It turns out the prisoner in question is not only the person who wrote the book on Lobo, but was also his fourth grade teacher, Miss Tribb. The Legion Of Decency, a group of old women who want to kill Miss Tribb for writing such a nasty book; a group of truckers, after an altercation at a truck stop; the Dnedia Police S.W.A.T. Team after Lobo killed their chief; and the Pan-Galactic Demolition Dance Company after having to get Miss Tribb from their show and slaughtering many of their dance troop were among the groups of enemies Lobo were being tracked by. The only people on his side were a gang calling themselves the Sons of Lobo, not that he cares or even knows.

While each of the groups have their reasons for wanting Lobo and Miss Tribb dead, he eventually falls into the hands of The Orthography Commandos who seek to remove the ignorant and functionally illiterate from the universe. They have a special way of eliminating these so called unwanted by holding a spelling bee. Lobo was smarter than he lets on, especially when he's given words to spell that he likes, such as "Genocide", for example. Things go his way until he makes the mistake of telling these people that Miss Tribb is a teacher. Eventually, Lobo loses his patience with these people and kills them all. Unfortunately, after this situation was sorted out with violence, he contacts Vril Dox II and tells him he's taking a vacation on Revel-7. He does this over an unsecured line and it draws everyone to him like flies.

One world wide riot and massive body count later, Lobo delivers Miss Tribb to Vril Dox II, alive and well, but as soon as Vril receives the old woman, Lobo fixes things so that he is, once again, is the Last Czarnian.

52

Lobo eventually turned his back on his violent ways and became an archbishop in the First Celestial Church of the Triple Fish-God. He became a protector of sorts to a massive colony of refugees from Sector 3500 and also gained possession of the Emerald Eye of Ekron.

He happened to arrive in an asteroid field just in time to kill Devilance, rescuing Animal Man, Adam Strange, and Starfire, who were stranded in space. Starfire negotiated a deal with him, in which he would help them out of their predicament if they helped him with his problems. After helping the heroes defeat Lady Styx, he brought the Emerald Eye to the triple-headed fish god, who agreed to release Lobo from his vow of non-violence in exchange. When told that the Emerald Eye was the only thing that can kill the fish god, Lobo blasted him with it.

One Year Later

After the battle on Apokolips, Lobo's soul was sent to Hell. Lobo's suffering was enough to power Neron's entire region of Hell. When the demons Etrigan and Blue Devil went on a rampage through Hell to seek revenge on Neron, they accidentally freed Lobo from his prison. In order to buy time to fully recover before battling Czarnian, Etrigan stole Blue Devil's soul and told him he would have to fight Lobo to get it back. Lobo however during his rampage through the underworld cut off the magician Zatara's head, which angered his daughter, Zatanna who engaged in an intense battle with him before paralyzing him in place to escape with her team.

Brightest Day

Lobo appeared on Earth to capture a bounty on the Red Lantern Atrocitus's head. After battling Hal Jordan, Carol Ferris and Sinestro, he left without finishing his job. The mystery of his retreat is revealed as the fight was all staged by Atrocitus in order for the latter to gain the trust of the New Guardians. As a payment, Lobo was given a Red Power Ring.

R.E.B.E.L.S.

Still using the Red Power Ring, Lobo was recruited by Vril Dox II, who requires his help battling Brainiac and Pulsar Stargrave. Due to the fact that the Space Church that Lobo oversaw was spending more money than it was taking in, Lobo needed to work for Vril Dox as his personal enforcer. Even losing his Spacehog, Lobo saves the planet Colu, but Brainiac and Pulsar Stargrave escaped.

Lobo later battled Altin Ad'Ms, the Green Lantern of Sector 2828, to a stand still. He was later tricked into thinking that there was another Czarnian still alive, but Astrild Storm-Daughter, using pheromones to confuse Lobo, for this trick he later killed Astrild.

After tracking Astrild's origins to the Psion Homeworld he would go toe to toe with Smite, her friend and ally. The fight would only pause because Lobo was winning and wanted to get drunk instead of fighting. Lobo and Smite go to a bar and share a drink and war stories. He then explains to Smite he shouldn't be mad at him, he should be mad at Starro. Lobo and Smite then attack the now helpless Starro.

Fun Facts

Lobo's favorite color is "Sepulcher Black", which he names his hair color after.

Lobo's name translates to He Who Devours Your Entrails And Thoroughly Enjoys It.

Lobo is also known as the Main Man, the Bo, Master Frag, Mister Machete, Popebo, the Thrash, and Li'l Lobo.

Lobo possesses a fondness for space dolphins, which sometimes affects his judgment. Additionally, Lobo's word is the only thing he finds sacred, and will keep his promises, even to his detriment. He is also highly susceptible to gas attacks and is extremely violent even to his allies.

"Lobo" is Spanish and Portuguese for "Wolf".

"Bob Bastiche" was actually the name of the first employer to hire Lobo for bounty hunting work. He claims to have adopted the man's name as a saying just because he liked the sound of it.

Lobo was, allegedly, hired to assassinate Santa Claus by the Easter Bunny, and succeeded.

[dietaku]

The Legend of Iann Stilt-Walker

For those unaware, I also run an Exalted game, and one of my PCs met an ancient hero of his tribe. To solidify this NPC, I wrote up a sort of canon version of the folk tales surrounding this guy. I thought you all may enjoy that, so here it is.

Born in the trees between the Wall of the Mountains to the East and the Plains of the ordon to the East, there lived one of the oldest heroes the Vicriuth honor; that of Iann Stilt-Walker. Even the hero's conception was legendary, for his parents meeting was pure happenstance, occurring on a rare forest flood that trapped the pair together for ten days and nights. His mother's pregnancy lasted a full year, and when born, he already had a warrior's braid and could speak, reciting his lineage to his grandparents on both lines. When three, he was given to his grandfather to train in the arts of war, and by the age of twelve summers, he killed his uncle, Oscar, for attempting treachery by way of poisoning the clan's crops with fae-magic. He was strong enough at this point to lift a great sloth and quick enough to catch a forest gazelle, meeting no end of ire from the Fae Courts that resided within the forest boughs. It is by these games that he gained the weapon most familiar to those who know him, the Spear Liathbolg, a weapon carved of a still living demonic tree which possessed the living essence of its progenitor still and would grow within those cut or stabbed with the weapon, killing them painfully and slowly. Surrounded by the Court of the Byronic Lord of the Flute, Anscylloif. Those astute in the genealogies of Faeries, such as they are, will note this is the twin of Ancsyllrie, the Sugar-Garrote Poet, although the two rarely mention the other. The Romantic Lord of Woodwinds noticed the heavy destiny within the trapped boy and his heart swelled with the opportunity to see such heroics in action. Looming over his quarry, he declared,” Child, your people are crave beasts, forced to dwell in trees to hide from My People and our hunting beasts who walk the forest floor, along with the hidden beasts of the Masters who made this place. Yet, here you are, walking along the floor like you own this place. Tell me, what drives you to such arrogance?”

“I am Iann, son of Finn the White. I am a warrior of excellent caliber! I have slain over a dozen men and even bested the Raccoon Avatar, Rohke. Of course I am proud! I see no reason to step aside to monsters like yourself who did not work for your power!” he countered, as Ancylloif tapped his chin, an evil idea forming in whatever passes for a Fae mind.

“My dear child Bedeia live in a palace upon the clouds. I will give you one week. If you are capable, bring to me a token of her's back to this spot. To flee is to break this oath I will now bestow upon you, and there is no god in this world or in Heaven who can withstand my fury. Do you understand, Boy?” the Lord of Flutes asked.

Intrigued by the notion, Iann agreed, but soon discovered he had no way of traversing to the Clouds, even as strong as he was and even after stomping on the tallest Oak Mother till she agreed to let him use her as a springboard.

“How can I get to the Clouds? He wondered, as he heard the peals of beautiful harp music. This turned out to be the work of a nearby Skald, extoling the virtues of the nearby glenn.

“Ho! Skald, what wonders do you know to sing with such power?”

The Skald rose, bowing,” Good Day to you, Lord Iann. I am Oisiin of the Horse Clan. I have been banished from my ancestor's lands for my voice is so strong that my praise of my son's borth burned down the trees we resided in. Now, I am a wanderer, who makes do with what my whispering earns me.”

“You must be a powerful magician indeed to perform such a feat. Come, join me! I am in need of a way to reach the clouds. In a week's time, I must account to a Faerie  Lord or else lose my life,” Iann explained.

“Tis a hard road you're on, indeed. Very well! I will aid you. However, let me send word to my little brother. Fergus, for he will be of great use to us,” Oisin agreed, and in a day's time, Fergus joined the pair. Fergus was a mountain of a man, a great warrior who possessed the Faerie Warbeast  Grundbachm, the Howling Grinder. Seen as a many-toothed sword, this beast would grind all it grabbed into dust, even able to slash through a mountain within minutes. Once appraised of the situation, Fergus agreed to join their quest, but Oisin brought up a new problem.

“While it would be a simple thing for me to bring us to the Clouds, we also need the permission of the Five Oaks to do so. The Skies above the forests are their domain after all.” The Five Oaks were the rulers of the Spirit Courts, and also mischief makers of the highest caliber. After their old mistress, Lively Hyacinth perished under mysterious circumstances in the days of the Falling Stars, the five took control and ran it as an active racket, extorting worship and favors from thei mortals residing nearby, even allowing Faeries to live nearby unmolested so long as they paid gifts to them. Chief among them was Mother Willow, a conniving schemer who sought to dominate the entire East as the Goddess of Trees. When approached by the band of heroes, she quickly agreed, but on one condition.

“You must take my daughter along on your errand. She is a mighty magician and a hunter of Faeries. She will surely be a boon to you,” she declared, as a white haired beauty stepped forth. This was Charming Mizzet, the daughter mentioned by Mother Willow, and therein was the trap Mother Willow set, for she desired to have such a strong warrior in her control, and if she could ensnare him into her family with her daughter, then he could be used against her enemies, like the Great Sequoia, Calphrans himself!

With the permission they needed now within their possession, Oisin used his bewitching voice to sing a song of longing and beauty. So powerful were his words that the clouds themselves drew closer to listen, and it was in this way that Iann and his allies climbed to the clouds. There, they found Ancylloif's castle, but it was also guarded by a trio of creatures; the Flame-eyed Octopus Frothou, the Stone-Skinned Armadillo Doffboi, and the Gale Mosquito Jaubronn. Fergus made short work of Deffboi, gridnign through his stone skin, while Oisiin's powerful songs drove Frothou to tears, boiling himself alive, while Mizzet's swift arrows downed Jaubronn. Inside, Iann found Bedeia as promised, a golden haired beauty wearing a gown of woven emeralds with the soft cries of happy children dancing about her garb. Ignoring her beauty and pose, Iann persisted, demanding a token from her.

“My Lord, I knew of your coming, but to possess such bravery and arrogance to march through the front gates,” she cried, as she humbly gave him her belt for his token,” My Father will recognize this, and surely grant you his pardon.”

With his prize, the quartet of heroes fled the strange lands and returned to the agreed metting place. There, Iann presented Anscylloif the belt.

“You have done as I asked, but you took two tokens from my dear child. For, although you hold her belt, she also gave you her heart. If you were to take her hand, then I would not object,” he said, as Iann agreed, for his heart of adventure had been satiated in the journey and also because Blondes were his thing. The pair were soon wed, and Anscylloif presented his new son with his greatest weapon, the spear Liathbolg. However, despite the happy future seemingly in store for the happy couple, disaster would strike. Furious at the failure of her child, Mother Willow withehled her blessing from the lands of Iann. The rain no longer fell, wild beasts fled the forests of his Clan, and the trees and plants no longer offered their bounty. Despairing for his Clan's future, Iann once more approached Mother Willow for a boon to end this hardship. Mother Willow cruelly grinned at his plea.

“Your wish is easily granted, but  nothing will come for free. I wish to take your legs, for you cut the legs out from my dear Mizzet with the marriage of yourself to that Faerie,” she sneere. Iann nodded, and with a single motion sliced off his own legs at the mid-thigh. Collapsed on the ground, bleeding, Iann looked up at Mother Willow as she clapped slowly.

“You have done as I asked, although you are a fool, to not even ask for another price. You are ruined, Hero, and now, you have your respite from your Clan's poor future, you own is ruined thanks to cleaving to that monster,” she declared, leaving  Iann to his fate. Mizzet, despairing for the Hero, dragged him back to Anscylloif, fearful for his life. Despite rejecting her advances, she still cared for him dearly, and hoped to save his life. Upon seeing his son in such a state, the Flute Lord was quick to act.

“My dear boy, to have been wounded so, you are a true Hero. I can heal your wounds, although your life will never be easy,” he offered, as Iann agreed,” Very well.”

“Once you walked upon your own legs, but now your warbeasts will propel your forward. These will be your limbs, but also a burden,” he warned, as Iann looked down at his new legs. No different from his earlier limbs, they still radiated raw power.

“Flying in Blue Sky

Claws Outstretched to Kill Mortals

I am Faubahgau.”

“Swimming in Blue Waters

Teeth Ready to snatch swimmer

I am Juubrufraq.”

And so, Iann recovered from his maiming. However, he soon discovered what his father-in-law meant. His new limbs terrorized the forests, hunting down and scaring off clan's cattle, and driving away the game of the forests. It became so bad that when Galain the Crucible Knight, a burning Faerie king approached Iann's lands, Bedeia fled with him. This in turn prompted Iann's vengence upon the invader, calling upon his allies to return his wife. After many journeys, Iann discovered his wife hiding from his rampage. Dropping to his knees before her, relieved to see her well, he pleased to her,” Why? Tel me why you left me?”

“Because you're a monster now, Iann. A man of reckless action. Your new legs only exacerbate this. I love you, but you'll spread terror around you. I'm a princess who yearns for peace, and so we'll never stay happy together. The best I can hope for is to flee, and you follow after me. That way, no one else has to suffer,” she mumbled, as he sat there, shocked by her words. In this moments she jumped through a nearby open window, flying on the morning breeze to parts unknown. Thus, this is the quest of Iann Stilt-Walker, to reunite with his beloved, no matter how far or how long she flees.

[alleycat4eva]

Blood in the Water, Fire on the Land

I dedicate this to @tricneu who never let these guys die and @temahri who breathed life into the old cast once more.

It’s been two years since she settled with her choices and Ryuishi feels…old.

It’s a sensation in her bones; a weight, a hollow sort of density that sits in her ribs like lead. The number of years on her soul hangs across her shoulders like a shroud, constant and pressing. Sometimes it lingers in the line of her jaw, touching ever so faintly in the corner of her eyes. There are lines there now, faint ones she never grew old enough to see in her past life, and each one feels like it carries a metric ton.

It so much more than her body’s age, instead of something ephemeral and intangible that somehow takes shape in the heart of her. How many years has she been living now? How many in this world, and the one before?

She doesn’t know. Stopped counting things in years, only events.

She was born. She lived, she loved, she grew and played and learned. She died.

She was born. She lived, she loved, she grew and fought and fought and fought and learned.

Fights. Learns.

And still, somehow, with all that fighting and learning, she ends up here. Staring at the orange glow of a fire that will take days to burn itself out, eating its way across the plains of Grass Country, ravaging the countryside and laying waste to crops and homes alike. The heat of it prickles at her cheeks, and the ash falls from the sky like a gentle rain, sizzling where it lands on her damp skin.

There is no trail to find. There is nothing left but embers, she thinks passively, her heart weary but unmoved. Clever Hanako. Clever, clever Mumei.

She should have seen it coming, really. She taught them this trick decades ago when Kiri burned.

Her body shifts, unnatural chakra pooling at the base of the feet submerged far below her. It’s like finding grip midair, and the liquid solidifies into something that will hold her weight. Though the current still tugs at her clothes and hair, she rises steadily, smoothly ascending from the waters into the fiery night. Her movements are practiced and smooth, as old as she is in her soul, and there is no noise to give her way. No sound to speak of from her.

Nor is there any sound from the man already on the bank.

She turns to look at him anyway, his silhouette cast in dancing red and yellows. A strong build, sturdy and tall. He looks fierce, she thinks, the jutting lower half of an Oni’s jaw -all teeth and wicked snarls- covering the lower half of his face. Combined with his cutting eyes, it’s quite the picture. But not enough of one to stop her gaze from flickering just a further down to his chest. Even in the unsure light she can see it, that pasty paper white flesh keeping Zabuza alive, the remnants of a deal made with a trickster to pay for her mistake.

Something oozes inside her head, sloshing around a bit. The faded spark of a rage not just her own, accompanied by loss. The niggling sensation that there should be a smaller figure beside him, all ice and composure and a piece of her heart.

Ryuishi turns away, toward the fire once more.

There used to be a village here, several hundred yards from the edge of the river to allow for the flooding that naturally occurs every season. It was small, a stopover town built up over the past few years. It produced little other than agricultural goods, but there was a glass shop on one of the beaten dirt paths. The crafter in there used dye to turn sand up from Suna into works of art, twisting the molten material like taffy into creations and colors that could take your breath away.

Idly, she wonders if that’s where they started the blaze. It would be a tactically sound, the glass ovens kept hot near constantly so the glass inside did not destroy them, and wood placed out back to feed those ovens. The powders and minerals that brought out such rich color could be added to and tweaked to make something a bit more destructive. Something not what it was meant to be. Another errant thought ponders if that crafter is dead, while a third yet asks how the Mumei knew. How they figured out that she was close.

A heavy hand rests itself on her shoulder, warm despite the chill of the water. But, then again, almost everything feels warm to her these days, contrasting with her uncomfortably cold skin. A symptom of a deeper shift.

“I will put it out.”

The voice is deep and warbling, the presence at her back towering over her smaller frame. Kisame is, as ever. a behemoth of a man, his eyes reflecting light in the night the way no human’s could. His presence is a shroud against her back, solid and sturdy and so, so careful still.

“Suiton on that scale is a dead giveaway. The Mumei aren’t the only ones being hunted,” Zabuza grumbles from the bank. His voice is coarse, rough, even half muffled behind his new mask.

Ryuishi doesn’t make a face at the pronouncement, simply accepting the truth of the statement. The three of them have forever been targets in some shape or form, but these days the number of those who wish to see them stopped has grown exponentially. The semi-regular opportunistic bounty hunter and enemy nin has morphed and stretched into entire nations worth of ninja on the lookout, waiting for a word, a whisper of The Kaijuu. 

Of the Ryo.

It is not wholly undeserved, she thinks. In most ways, she has earned it.

Conniving and deceiving your way into power for around three decades will do that. Especially when one of your factions goes rogue and lights the fuse of a long-standing silent grudge by killing off a despot who was implied to rule by divine right. That single action, in turn, igniting a ruthless civil war and rampatting up tensions between civilian, noble, and shinobi across the elemental nations.

All that’s to say nothing of the undead menace with a too powerful eye and the literal eldritch horror mucking about.

“Only really have to worry about Konoha this close to the border. They’re the only ones with the skill and attention to spare right now,” Kisame returns.

“And Suiton of that level would get them to send who?”

Ryuishi’s stomach twists oddly, and she’s unsure if it’s her own reaction or a ghost of anothers. There’s a flash in her mind’s eye of silvery hair and the smell of ozone, a man leading a sunshine child -her heart, her child- away on a beach that is melting into a graveside.

She blinks and it’s gone, but her distaste for a mixed headspace lingers.

“Doesn’t matter. We have shook him before, we’ll do it again.”

“But they will know where we were. Useful information.”

“Not something they can do much with.”

Zabuza grunts. It is, she supposes, true in some ways and not in others. If someone does figure out where they were tonight, not much would change. Another sin might be added to their long and sordid list of them, but at this point, that scroll is so long it would take scribe weeks to right anyway. Not that scribes are a thing, here. They are unneeded, even among the rural towns these days. The population is growing past that, learning in new schools, rapidly outstripping previous generations with innovation and development. So quick, so clever. These days, people just know things.

Maybe things that make they shouldn’t, like tonight.

“The Mumei knew they had a tail. I can’t say if they knew it was us, but they knew something was up. They shouldn’t have. We need to know how.”

The men shift, her husky, ruined voice drawing their attention. The hand on her shoulder tightens its grip briefly, broad fingertips pressing in to the corded muscle of her shoulder. For a moment, the only sounds following her words are the steady crackling of flames, the soft drip of water from her clothes, and the running river beneath them.

“We’ll get them, Ryuishi,” Kisame says softly. His voice is closer now, and she can feel the rough material of his traveling cloak brush against own clothes. “People can’t run forever, not even nameless ones.”

Her eyes stray toward the flames, a part of her already thinking of cargo to be moved and calculating the loss of product in the harvest, crunching numbers as it recalls the direction of the wind and close by settlements.

“Monsters can,” Zabuza answers, and Ryuishi looks at him once more. She doesn’t know how to feel about that distinction, what to think of it.

These days, she doesn’t know much of what to think at all.

[theabominableblogger]

My Reaction to “Gotham” S3E1

Holy crap, we’re already on S3!

I’m still working on transcribing my reactions for the Azrael episodes in S2 but here’s the S3 premiere to keep you guys going in the meantime.

Oh, please tell me this is a dream sequence...

Oh God, it’s not.

LEE’S WITH SOMEONE ELSE!

NOPE.  I DON’T LIKE THIS EPISODE ALREADY.

Six months later?

The heck is that?

*gasps insanely loudly*

*The monster bends Gordon’s night stick*  Oh that’s not good.

IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE KILLER CROC?!?  He looks like the Arkham version of him!

*gasps when the monster gets hit by an oil truck*

*gasps when Valerie Vale comes up*

It’s Mulan from “Once Upon a Time!”  It’s the same actress [Jamie Chung]!

Wait, so Jim’s working as a bounty hunter for the GCPD now?  What?

“Jim, I [Harvey] love you like a brother...”  Awww...

*gasps*  Lucius’s working for the GCPD now!

Jim...

“"Fascistic meathead culture?”  I [Harvey] mean, you [Lucius] couldn't try to be just a little bit more positive?”  Pfftt....

*gasps when Oswald walks into the precinct during the middle of the press conference*

“My name is Oswald Cobblepot.”  I’m aware.

Oswald’s suit in this scene is fab.

Valerie, what are you smiling about?

What is this place?

Oh, it’s Barbara’s club!

“[Tabitha] You look great by the way.”  Awww...

“And that child [Selina] just stole your [Butch’s] wallet.”  Heehee!

*gasps when Selina unintentionally gives money to the Bruce clone*

Is there an official name for the Bruce clone?  Because I don’t wanna keep calling him the Bruce clone.

Oh, that’s Harvey’s old bar!

How is Ed still at Arkham?

Is Oswald wearing eyeliner in this episode?

Holy crap, Fish looks awesome!

And why is Selina still working for her?

Whoa...

Who is that dude?  And why does he keep hissing?

An aesthetic I love in this show:  Bruce continually roasting the board of executives at Wayne Enterprises

“Your name please, sir.”  “Crowley.”  Not the Crowley I know and like much better.

“Pancakes?”  “Pancakes.”  YES!

*Barbara gets slapped across the face by a rival gang member*  OHH!  NO!

*gasps when Barbara and Tabitha take them out*

“Shoot, if I [Selina] could fly to Italy and eat pizza all day, I would, too.”  “Switzerland.”  “Italy’s better.”  Ooooh, nice shout-out to the “When in Rome” comics by Tim Sale

Ohh, does the Bruce clone have a leitmotif?  If so, it sounds very much like something from “Edward Scissorhands”

This better not be freaking Fish...

OH SNAP!

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

IS THIS DUDE THE FREAKING MAN-BAT THAT WE SEE AT THE END OF THE S4 FINALE?!?!?

“Hello?”  WHAAAA...

“Bruce Wayne?  Who is he?”  *softly*  Ohhh my gosh...

One of the Indian Hill monsters [Marv] working with Fish looks like a white haired Jeff Goldblum.  Even with the glasses and the beard.

“Marv?”  OH, YOU BETTER NOT GO AFTER IVY!

*gasps when Ivy gets touched by Marv and falls into the sewage system*

*Jim holds up a picture of Lee*  Ugghhh...

Barbara wears a different dress in each scene she’s in.  She’s like Ferris Bueller.

*The Talon appears in Wayne Manor*  Ooh snap!

Oooh, go Alfred!

*The Talon kidnaps Bruce*  Noooo!!

[saintheartwing]

May the Force Be With You, Part Six

“6:45 express pulling into the station. You’re always on time!” 

Darth Raize smiled as she shook the poofy-but-grey-haired human’s hand. People on Nar Shadaa got their news primarily from fancy news stations that gave the major stories of the day via tele-vid stories. But those dealt with the major news of the day. When it came to more local stories, to the various boroughs of Nar Shadaa, there were smaller stations giving out newspads. You could get one for every single borough...along with a nice meal or snack or drink if you had the right station. 

And Darth Raize always came to the right fleet station. The high-powered hovertrains could get anywhere in the city within a matter of just a few minutes, faster than any hover vehicle. But you did have to put up with lots and lots of people crowded about, it could get ugly...it could SMELL ugly too. But Raize put up with it because at the end of her trip, after going out for an early morning run, she’d always return to the closest station to her and Furiosa’s home…

She’d return to Valentino. 

“Here.” He held up the datapad for her as the snow came down heavy and hard around her. “I made sure the datapads on the West Burough were EXTRA warm, right by the heater. And when I picked them up from the local distributor, I stuffed them under my coat to make them warm.” “You’re good to me, Valentino.” Raize said softly as she smiled back at him. Valentino had a rather big nose, but an even bigger smile, and a beefy, though somewhat tubby, body. 

“Hey, you and your girl cleaned up my neighborhood. Ain’t had a single mugging in three years since you came.” Valentino had insisted. “And you bring me cuisine!” 

“Salmon and capers quiche. You sure this is what you want?” She asked as she took out her little gift for the “newsstand man”. Valentino smiled as he took it.

“Absolutely. My wife Hali will raise hell cuz it raises my cholesterol, but, ah! I will die a happy and fat man.” He chortled. “Wish your daughter Nora luck on her finals for me. I can hardly believe she’s in her third year already.”

Valentino chuckled as he put the quiche away behind his countertop, the snow continuing to fall around him and his stand, and flopping onto Raize’s shoulders, even in her hooded robes. “Ah, the time flies so quickly when its not standing still. Oh, and uh, speaking of flying, I heard about that attempted attack on your tower from that ship. I can’t believe someone had the guts to try that!” He admitted. 

“Yeah, I know, it’s pretty shocking.” Raize admitted. “But we handled it alright.” 

Every day, she’d get a chance to talk to him. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it. 

“So this big monster, from what I heard, he smashed right through the building? How did you subdue it?” 

“Oh, we had to use both of our Jedi mind trick gifts. It wasn’t too difficult, the thing had a brain the size of a cannoli. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here yesterday. Furiosa had a touch of the flu, and I had to be there. She gave me the usual insistence. “My head hurts...my tummy hurts...my itty bitty widdle pinkies hurt”. And I just melted. I couldn’t go do patrols or go out on the town when she’s like that.” 

“Ahh, she needs more VITAMINS. You know, my wife could prescribe some, she IS a doctor…”

Valentino was a regular presence in her life. And a beloved one.

“They said the moon almost got blown up when the Mandalorians attacked! Can you believe we fought them off!?” “I know, I know, sometimes I don’t even believe we did it ourselves, it was touch and go. But you know, I want to do something nice for your news stand. You provide a great service to the neighborhood, and I thought you could use a hand rebuilding it, it’s gotten pretty beat up over the past couple of years.” 

Valentino was just always there. Always reliable. A constant. And people need constants in their life. 

“A child is a blessing, I tell you. Nora’s gonna be a mommy, can you believe it! I’M gonna be a grandpa! I hope one day you get blessed yourself. Maybe adopting?” 

“Oh, we’ve thought about it, honestly. It’s a great joy, I’ve heard.” “GREATEST joy, and greatest pain.” 

Then one day she’d noticed something.

“You sure you don’t want some? I can pick out the broccoli if you’d like.” “You’re a very good woman, Ms. Raize. No thank you. Gotta get to work. Don’t want a pink slip for the new year, y’know?” “Okay. But...are you alright? You look...troubled.” 

“...I’m fine, really, Ms. Raize. I’m fine.” 

And then, the next day...he wasn’t there. And the day after that. And the day after THAT. And then…

“Excuse me, where’s Mr. Valentino?” “Who?” 

She put her hands on her hips as she looked at the men who were packing up the news stand, breaking it down, moving it out of the way so that something else, most likely a dumpster, could be put there. The construction workers stared at her. 

“The man who works here. Poofy hair, also grey, big nose, he’s got slightly tanned skin and he’s usually wearing big, thick brown jackets?” “Dunno. He doesn’t work here anymore. His boss contacted our bosses and just told us that he wasn’t here anymore, and if he’s not here managing the thing, it can’t stay here. So they’re packing it up, and deciding if they want to put the thing elsewhere or not.” The lead construction worker said with a shrug, the wolf-esque alien shrugging as he adjusted the cap he wore. “Dunno where he went, Ms. Raize. Not a clue.” 

Furiosa was soon gently patting Raize on the back as the two sat in their penthouse on the couch, Raize slightly kneading over her hands.

“People leave, peanut. It happens. Especially in a big place like Nar Shadaa. There’s always bit players that zip in and out of your life. Some to poke you in the eye and wreck your week and others that are sweeth breaths of fresh air when the city seems to ugly to bear, and then...well, they go!” Furiosa reasoned. “Even endearing little Alderaanean refugees with cute wives and even cuter daughters.” “I don’t know his last name. I don’t even know where he lived. And I wouldn’t even say we were friends necessarily but...he always always there and now he’s NOT…” Raize muttered as she jiggled her leg nervously. “...I want to try and find him.” 

“You couldn’t get anything out of his mind when you tried to read him?” “Nothing, it was all super cloudy. I’m usually very good with being able to tell what’s on someone’s mind thanks to the Force. But there are people who are resistant to it and who don’t even know it. And then there’s people who are immune to it completely.” 

“We HAVE resources. Let’s get a bounty hunter to track him down.” Furiosa offered warmly. “I know just the guy. He comes highly recommended and he has a unique ability that could come in handy. And he has a lot of contacts in the criminal wing of Nar Shadaa that could prove helpful too.”

“Who?”

So it was that a very distinct figure was now interviewing MRS. Valentino. Or rather,  Hali T. Savarr, the wife of Valeninto Savarr, and mother of Nora Savarr. She had lovely locks of hair indeed, sweeping around her face as her daughter held her hand. Both had soft skin, and quiet voices, with cute freckles on their faces as the bounty hunter looked them over, his four-digited paws taking down notes on a notepad he’d brought.

The bounty hunter had a red bandanna that covered the top of his head, it rather resembled an old-fashioned “pirate’s cap” in how it looked. He had yellow eyes, with slightly darker yellow pupils, a diamond-shaped nose with a pink peace symbol necklace hanging down over his sleeveless white t-shirt. He wore red shorts that had white jagged ends at the bottom and a “Wave” of white flowing at the top, a belt of black with a green sonic pattern running through it, and his paws had gems embedded through them, green and glittering, encased in a black circular frame. It was as if someone had punched a hole right through and stuffed the gems in. He had sharp-looking fangs in his mouth, and his feet were balled, as if he could rollerblade around, and though he spoke in a faintly surfer-boy twang…

His eyes indicated he was taking all of this dead serious.

“So he missed your birthday.” He murmured. “And ain’t what your dad does. At all.” He offered quietly.

“No. It isn’t.” Valentino’s daughter admitted. “They were very appreciative, you know. The local police. We waited 24 hours before we called. They asked all the right questions. He had no enemies. Very few friends. No plans to travel. No drugs. No drinking. No vices of any sort. And there was no sign of a struggle and nothing stolen. Then they left, and that was three weeks ago.” 

“I’m certain he’s dead.” His wife murmured. “We just want to bury him. My darling Valentine would never miss our daughter’s birthday. Not ever.”

Frequency reached out, and softly held the women’s hands in his paw. “...I’m gonna do everything I can. You don’t gotta worry about paying me. A REAL good friend is looking into this, okay?”

Unbeknownst to Frequency OR to the Dyad, Kendall was also going to find himself involved in the case, because he happened to end up in the same bar that Frequency would end up in the very next night. Kendall was currently tending to the VERY beaten up bar patrons after a particularly horrible bar fight that had broken out only half an hour ago. The red-haired Logosian sighed, shaking his head back and forth as he leaned down and used a pair of tweezers, caaaaarefully extracting some splinters from a...very personal area.

“My, oh my, you’re lucky there was literally a doctor in the house. Or rather, a trained nurse.” Kendall confessed as he got to work on removing the splinters from the unfortunate Rodian, who whimpered pitifully as the woman who’d struck him “harrumphed”, looking away. Other bar patrons were nursing their own wounds, Kendall having helped to patch them up as he kept plucking the splinters out. “Just hold still, alright?” “Thanks…” The Rodian muttered. He had various cheek studs in his cheek and he cringed, one eye puffy and swollen as Kendall sighed. He recognized the Rodian, it was the same one who’d come in on the day he’d met Darth Raize. “I appreciate this again, you’re a real swell guy. Especially for a Logosian, they ain’t nice at all to folks like me. You ever in the neighborhood and want a favor, ask me.” 

Kendall nodded, then looked up at the Twi’lek woman.  “Did you happen to see who started the bar fight?” He asked her, the woman having a bad split lip as she pressed an ice pack to it, and a nasty, awful cut across her right arm that he’d applied gauze to. 

“No...I just remember getting a chair to my arm and the wood flying so I lashed out with a chunk of wood I grabbed off the floor.” She muttered. 

��Listen-EEEEGH. T-thanks for...for patching me...patching me up. Seriously. I’m REAL grateful. And again, here’s my card. You ever wanna favor…” The Rodian handed his card to Kendall as Kendall took it, smiling. Frequency took notice of the Rodian walking off towards his very heavily-armored hovercar that had just parked outside the bar...and which had several tough-looking guards inside. 

SNIVVIANS. Mammalian species, protruding jaws, short fangs, thick skin, large snout, big black eyes. And Snivvians were immune to Force influence. You couldn’t influence their minds at ALL, and these looked to be heavily armored types at that. And Frequency wanted to try and avoid making enemies, so an outright assault would be a bad idea. “Crap. How am I gonna chat that Rodian up now?” He wondered aloud. “Major uncool!” 

WHY did he want to talk to that Rodian? Well, Frequency had checked around Valentino’s apartment, and he’d noticed a very faint crack in the ceiling tiles where he lived, right above his bed. Sure enough, inspecting it had revealed...a betting book. Valentino had begun placing bets on races for about three months, EXACTLY when his daughter had been having trouble with paying for medical school. He hadn’t wanted her to drop out, especially not when she was in the middle of finals week!

The question now became “where did he place those bets and with who”? Well, Frequency had made some calls. As a bounty hunter, he did have contacts, but alas, none of them were involved in the racing game. But they knew someone who was, and that was that Rodian, named Karry. 

But Frequency couldn’t approach Karry directly, clearly. Not just because he wouldn’t be able to convince Karry to talk with a bit of...psychic persuasion from one of Frequency’s special tools, but because Frequency had promised to avoid killing or fighting people on a job whenever he could help it. And the Rodian’s guards were NOT going to let some rando speak to their boss. That much was clear. Frequency did TRY to just outright approach Karry at his workshop just in case, going to a place in the seedier districts of the capital, but the guards had turned him away, told him to get lost if he wasn’t interested in making a bet, and at the mere NOTION that they could be BRIBED to let him speak to their boss, they’d gotten out their guns and told him to scram.

Well, if HE couldn’t speak to him…

Perhaps that Logosian could. So Frequency was soon tailing Kendall, and followed him to the hotel room. He knocked on the door, Kendall calling out…

“It’s open. Come in.”

Frequency was surprised, but he walked inside, surprised at how Kendall was currently using his legs to kick the shit out of a training dummy in the middle of the room. The same sort of swift, sweeping strikes, all while murmuring something under his breath...it was a chant, a chant about the Force.

“What’re you doing?” Frequency inquired.

“I could say the same about you, I noticed you were tailing me.” Kendall said. “Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge…”

“What’s with the...kicking and the chanting?” 

“You don’t know about “repeating actions”?” Kendall asked as he finished kicking the training dummy, taking in some long, deep breaths before turning to Frequency. “It’s a set of pre-determined movements in order to maximize concentration. As the saying goes, repetition is the mother of learning and the father of action, which makes it the architect of accomplishment.” Kendall confessed. “It helps me focus, it builds up my lower body strength, and I’m able to really clear my mind. Mr. Solo actually taught me it, its something he picked up when he was young, it helped him with becoming a good shot...also, WOW, he kicks like a horse. Found that out the hard way when we did a training fight with no weapons.” Kendall confessed. “So...what can I help you with? Do you need a doctor on the sly, because I’m a head nurse,  not a doctor.”

“I can’t believe you SAW me. I’m getting sloppy here on Nar Shadaa. Bummer.” Frequency sighed. “Look, I...need a favor, but not a medical one. I know you know that Karry guy, that Rodian who’s a bookie boss for the illegal racing circuit. I wanna ask him some stuff about this guy I was hired to find.” Frequency admitted. “They won’t let ME talk to him, but they may let you, dude. So could ya do me a solid? I’ll owe ya.” 

“Okay.” Kendall remarked, as he held out his hand, shaking Frequency’s paw. It rather felt like he was shaking hands with a big blue teddy bear. “I’ll be happy to help. Tell me what you’d like me to ask Mr. Karry.”

“It’s some stuff about this newsstand owner, Valentino, who went missing. I KNOW he was making bets with Karry. I want to find out on what, how much, that sort of thing. If Karry knows where he went, all the better…” “You’re a bounty hunter, so you know this could end real badly, right?” Kendall asked quietly. “I’ve learned a lot about people working in the free clinic. You may find out something about your lost newsstand owner you really wish you hadn’t. He may not be who you think he is.” “Don’t matter. Dude’s lost, and I got asked to find him.” Kendall was surprised at the earnestness in Frequency’s voice. Despite the rather ridiculous “Surfer Boy” accent, he was so...sincere. “Okay. Write down what you want me to ask.” Kendall said as he went over to the nearby desk, getting out a notepad. “And then you’d better leave before Han and Leia get back. We can talk about what you can do for me later. Sound fair?”

…

…

…

… “He went home.” “What?” 

Kendall stared in confusion at Karry, sitting across from him in his office. 

“He took me for a bundle too. Lucky duck. Hit the big one and took it all the way back to his home planet.” Karry explained with a shrug. “I’m not too surprised. Said he wanted to buy back his old family home after the bank there repossessed it.” 

“Wait, that’s it? Just leaving his wife and pregnant daughter when she’s about to give him a grandchild?” Kendall was confused. He scratched his head, looking at Karry.

“He said it was embarrassing that they didn’t have a proper home and had to squeeze together into a tight apartment. Told me he was going to cash his winnings immediately and head off. That’s the last I saw of him.” Karry insisted. “When they get big winnings, they ALWAYS wanna go buy the biggest stuff they can think of.” 

It sounded reasonable enough, but Kendall, having worked in a doctor’s office for years, had noticed that certain patients had...tells. Ways you could “tell” if they were nervous or lying or afraid. Jiggling legs, bumps popping up on certain parts of the skin, sometimes their faces would turn a different color, or their eyes would flicker off to the left hand side over and over. And for Rodians, it was the glistening of their eyes, as if their very eyeballs were submerged in water and ready to begin dripping onto the floor below. When they were nervous or afraid, you could see their big dark eyes looked glistening, as if wet, and Karry’s was super glistening indeed. 

Kendall SO badly wished he could use the Force to make Karry speak, but...he couldn’t. So he thanked the Rodian and left, heading to an alleyway not far away as Frequency rested on the wall.

“How do you bounty hunters do it?” He asked quietly. “Deal with the...the lies, the inhumanity, the open cruelty? The worst parts of people?”

“Depends on the type of guy ya are. Me…” Frequency held up a pistol, spinning it around before he slunk it right back into its holster in a single smooth motion. “I have my ways. What about you?” Kendall bit his lip. He paced back and forth, thinking long and hard. Then he got an idea. 

“Karry doesn’t know I’ve got a lightsaber.” He remarked. “That I’m training as a Jedi. And the people in Nar Shadaa tend to be...well...they’re kind fo scared of Jedi AND Sith because of what the Dyad have done. Maybe…”

Frequency grinned. “Want me to get you a nice outfit to look the part, bro?” 

Indeed, that was the plan. The next day, Karry was speaking to a few clients in an alleyway, hand reaching out to collect their money as he grinned. “Always a pleasure doing business with-”

Then they heard a familiar PSSSSHHH, and the sound of a lightsaber igniting. They looked behind Karry, gasping in horror. There stood someone with incredibly pale skin, veins slightly popping up on his face, red, unnatural-looking eyes, eyes with faintly sunken-in, blackened sockets that looked as though soot had collected around them. His lips were cracked and pale too, with veins seeping over them, and his head was covered in a dark helm that covered up his hair, the same helm covering most of his face, save for his eyes and mouth. 

“Hello, gentlemen. The Dyad hopes you’re all being...good, law-abiding citizens?” Kendall inquired. 

They all screamed, racing off, Karry gaping at the obvious Sith with the red lightsaber before HE took off running too.

This would not be the first time. Karry was becoming a persona-non-grata over the next few weeks. EVERY time he tried to arrange a business deal, that Sith would appear, casually strolling by, stopping to say hi JUST in the middle of the business deal. Karry couldn’t get a single person to place a bet on any race whatsoever. Again and again and again the Sith kept popping up, always evilly and so CHEERILY smiling at Karry. 

Finally, at the top of a roof, after yet another day of losing business...Karry fell to his knees, slamming his fist into the ground again and again and again. “DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT! You got something to say to me, SAY it!” 

“How does it feel?”

Karry suddenly realized the man was right behind him. And...and it was KENDALL. Kendall was taking off the helm, a holographic guise falling away...but that lightsaber remained. He twirled it a bit as he and Frequency stood together. “You’re a Sith magnet now. Nobody from your world will speak to you. Nobody will look at you. You’re invisible to them. Do you GET what I’m trying to say to you?” “This is about that...that guy who made that bet, isn’t it? Valentino?” Karry asked nervously as Kendall nodded.

“I’ll stop appearing and interfering in your business...if you tell me what really happened.” Kendall said. “Right now.” 

Karry bit his lip, his body shaking, quivering in fear as he gulped. “I...the thing is...he won. He won and I couldn’t cover the bet.” “You couldn’t cover the bet?” “It was a long shot. The LONGEST. He...he BROKE me. But you...you can’t do business broke. I had to pay him. I had to pay out, I tried to get him to ROLL it over, I mean...most guys do! But he gave me a line about how his daughter, the doctor, needed the money, she was going to be giving birth, he needed it badly and he wasn’t going to leave the money with me. I had to pay, and...and the only thing worse than losing your bank is not paying. It ruins your reputation. I had to pay, and...so I...I lied to you. I said he went back to his home, I figured...I figured nobody would miss him. He was just a guy who worked a news stand. Nobody would care…” Karry trailed off. 

Frequency slowly got the pistol he’d shown off to Kendall a little while back out of its holster, but Kendall held his arm out. “You’re going to leave this planet. Tonight.” He said quietly. “You are NOT going to return. But first...you’re going to tell me where he is.”

And so, the next morning, Darth Raize and Furiosa were gently holding the shoulders of Valentino’s wife and daughter, as his wife quietly cried, all of them looking down into the depths of a large lake on the outskirts of the capital. “...it looks so cold down there. He...he doesn’t like the cold.” Hali murmured as Nora covered her face.

“I’m gonna be right back.” Frequency said as he flexed his shoulder muscles a bit, doing a pinwheel-esque motion before he dove into the water with a loud splash. Raize quietly watched, seeing Frequency’s blue form sinking down, down, out of sight, further into the depths of the lake. He’d trained as lifeguard for years, he was very good at swimming, and holding his breath. It was a good thing too, the lake was indeed cold and dark, a murky abyss that you could barely see anything in, but Frequency could see HIM.

A few fish slowly passed by him as Frequency touched down on the bottom of the lake, and gently knelt down. Valentino Savarr had been wrapped up in an enormous tarp from head to toe, and tied down in chains that were icy to the touch, serving to keep his frame at the bottom of the lake. Some fish had nibbled away at the tarp, thinking it was food, and as a few faint glimmers of sun cast light down from the water’s surface high above, one just barely caught the top of Valentino’s head, and the clear, obvious injury that had caused his death. 

Frequency picked him up, grunting a bit, and then began to undo the chains, swimming up with the form of the newsstand man. He had no intention of telling either of the Dyad how exactly he’d found the man. Not because he owed Kendall anything...him sparing Karry was the favor Kendall had asked for. He wasn’t going to tell the Dyad because he knew they were looking for him, and would kill him the minute they found out where he was hiding out. And somebody that decent...Frequency couldn’t bring himself to sell the Logosian out. 

“...we should say something about Mr. Valentino.” Furiosa offered to Raize as Raize wiped her eyes. “...when we do our weekly address to Nar Shadaa. About...about the ordinary people who can...slip through the cracks.”

“I would like that very much.” Mrs. Hali Savarr murmured as Raize nodded, Frequently gently putting Valentino’s body down, covering his face for the family before he quietly shook all of their hands, and then walked off, his paws in his pockets, just...thinking...about all he’d seen. 

And thinking about speaking to Kendall again.

“Today we mark the unfortunate demise of one Valentino Savarr. We had a reliable bounty hunter associate, Mr. Frequency, track him down after he was murdered and his body hidden in Lake Everclear, to the eastern outskirts of the capital. Some of you may ask why we’re...speaking about a random person who never did anything very “important” in their life. But the thing is, everyone in this city is...they’re not background noise. When one of us vanishes, someone else should notice. Every person is a star. A life. A heart. A voice. And when a voice is silenced by darkness, another must rise to see justice gets done. Valentino is survived by his wife, and his pregnant daughter, who expects to give birth in a few weeks. The funeral service will be attended by my wife and I. We would...very much like if you could come. It’ll be tomorrow at 1:00, in the eldest chapel on Main Street…” 

[routinely-unamoosed-blog]

13x04 ~ The Notorious Few

Someone teach me how to set up a queue I’m so sorry.

HERE IT IS GOOD GOD! This was supposed to post a fuckin month ago but I can’t set up queues for the life of me. I’m always apologizing jfc. Here’s chapter four for all to see, I guess.

Characters: Maddie Rayner, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester,

Word Count: 25,481 oops

Warning(s): mentions of torture; violence; possibly some typos idk; dean being the antagonist, I guess =/

One | Two | Three

A groan left her lips as her eyes opened to their own accord. She expected to see the single pillar of light that cascaded onto her for five weeks, but sunlight warmed and greeted her face. It was alarming to feel embracing swath of heat on her face when just seconds ago she was being carved into like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Was it seconds? She couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t remember what happened after Dean had knocked her out. Had she come to during a small window of time and forgotten about it, or had she really been unconscious for what felt like eons? Her mind was so wrapped up in the fact that she was confused as to where she was that she didn’t notice her surroundings.

Her arms were free, too. She was covered in bedsheets; she could tell by how they slipped down a bit when she cradled her burned wrists. Boys did their research, she thought with a throb of pain in her shoulder. She glanced down to look at the damage done by Dean.

White bandages prevented her from seeing how bad her shoulder really was. She rotated her arm and immediately felt the waves of pain in the muscle and bones, with something grinding against itself internally as well. She winced, exhaling sharply through gritted teeth, to keep away from the cloud of dizziness that hovered above her with rumbling thunder.

She sat up and almost screamed when she saw Sam sitting on the plush sofa next to the bed. His red and black flannel was discarded on the bed next to her, leaving him in a tight V-neck shirt, jeans and work boots. She crossed her legs when her core was clearly impressed at the sight of Sam so naked.

Maddie glanced down at herself on instinct, thankful the youngest brother hadn’t been invasive and taken her clothes off while she was unconscious.

“I did what I could without taking your clothes off. Didn’t wanna . . . y’know,” Sam said with a sigh and a nervous smirk, standing from the living room and tossing his phone on the bags piled next to him. She inhaled to ask how she got here, but he answered before the question even reached her throat. “You passed out. You’ve been out for at least a day.”

So it had been eons. A day for her felt like five minutes. Time seemed to flow rapidly in this damned line of work. Cases flew by like the morning breeze, with people falling victim to yet another monster the next day. She was shocked no Hunter had bothered to telephone her in need of assistance.

Her jaw clenched (and throbbed) as she stared at him. Her eyes lowered to his lips unconsciously, an eyebrow arching in satisfaction. They look kissable, she thought with a soft smile. She was happy that she was away from Dean, but she was more than happy to know that Sam was the one who risked everything he had with his brother to save her. She felt sympathy for the man, but a large part of her twinged with uneasiness.

“How do I know this isn’t a trap?” she asked and eyed Sam’s bag, which she could tell was filled with weapons and tools from how the smell of metal filled the room. She knew Sam’s . . . humanness couldn’t detect it, but her enhanced senses could pick it up a mile away.

Sam, sighing with a shrug, waved her over. Maddie was hesitant in her strides, fists clenching at her sides as she slowly picked up her legs and forced herself to take those steps. Her mind was screaming—and swimming in dizziness from being unconscious—at her to stop, to make her body halt in the center of the room and make a run for it. Her legs could be taking her to her death; Sam could pull a gun or a knife and end her right here. Who knows how long Sam rented this place for? Her body wouldn’t be found for possibly weeks.

She could die here. She could die without anyone knowing; her body could be here for weeks or months or even years. Sure, someone would smell her decomposing body, but she wondered if anyone would care. She understood her reputation in this world: Everyone was scared of her, everyone she’s ever met—Hunter or human—grew to fear her.

But her death could mean something. If Sam decides to kill her instead of having her face the consequences from his brother, he would live with the burden. Sam Winchester would live with the burden of killing the most notorious Hunter in the nation. His reputation and his mark on this sad, doomed little world would all be replaced by the one who killed Maddie Rayner, the last of its deadly and poisonous bloodline.

The youngest Winchester’s eyebrows lifted a bit in confusion. Maddie blinked, her mind returning to the present. She had stopped walking and now stood in the center of the motel room, inches away from Sam’s outstretched hand. His fingers held a new roll of bandages, a roll that looked minuscule in his rather large hands.

Maddie took note of his stature as she swiped the bandages from his hand. Now that she wasn’t in peril or danger, she could truly eye how short she felt in the Hunter’s presence. He was a towering man, at that, standing at least six-four or six-five. She eyed his muscle mass, too, and was astonished at what she saw. His biceps seemed to dominate his t-shirt with beautifully toned skin covering the perfectly sculpted muscle from decades of hunting.

His lips moved, but she was too damn focused on his muscles to notice. She looked up at him, finally, and raised her eyebrows. “What?”

Sam smiled. Dimples creased in the corners of his mouth as he looked away from her for a moment; his cheeks reddened a bit to her surprise. His smile, making his face brighter now, seemed to take over her mind. That smile, with pearly white teeth and no imperfections, seemed to make her forget about her torture. It made her think that everything was right in the world; no monsters, no demons on her ass, nothing. She forgot about the bounty hunt that Dean was possibly on.

“You’re gonna have to trust me on this,” he repeated.

Her head inclined a bit. She wouldn’t call it an act of authority. If anything, she felt the authority in Sam right down to the dominating stance he stood in. She stood there for a moment and crossed her arms over her chest with an arch of her eyebrow. She blinked once, looked up at him and said, “Okay.”

The answer must’ve caught him off guard a bit. His head leaned forward slightly, a look of confusion on his adorable face. Three or four wrinkles folded up in his forehead, and it was then that her heart actually fluttered.

“O-okay?” Sam repeated.

Maddie shrugged. “You saved my life. You don’t owe me anything, but . . . it’s been a long while since I’ve actually trusted somebody. And you, Sam, seem like an okay guy to trust. But, please, don’t forget that I will not hesitate to put a blade inside your head.” Her tone dipped from calm to filled with venom.

The man smirked nervously again as she shrugged her jacket off. Her Skynyrd tank top was soaked with dried blood, with most of her right shoulder covered in blood, dirt, and bruises from her torture. She felt Sam’s lingering gaze on her shoulders and biceps; she smiled as she tossed the jacket on the bed. Her shoulder twinged with pain.

It was when she turned to have her back face Sam did he let out a breath low enough for only her ears to hear. She bent over to take off her boots, straightening quickly when the floor creaked underneath the older Hunter’s feet.

She flicked her head back to look at him sidelong. He had taken a step closer to her. She scoffed softly, performing the most daring thing she could do in the same room with a Hunter and slipped off her shirt. She stood there in her athletic bra and—

“Do you w-want me to . . .” Sam seemed to be at a loss for words as he took in her muscle-bound back. She felt his eyes on her back as she allowed her uninjured shoulder to rotate, thus moving her shoulder blade beneath the equally toned skin.

I could have some fun with this, she thought as she turned to face him. She lifted a brow and put a bit more weight on her leg, bringing a hand to cup her hip in her attempt to be sexy. It clearly worked by how Sam averted his gaze and busied himself with finding a fishhook and what looked like a fishing line in his bag.

The finishing strides that took her to the other side of the room made her stomach turn slightly despite her confidence. She knew Sam wouldn’t want to hurt her unless he had to for self-defense.

Sam’s voice made her jump slightly. “Why don’t I, uh, help you stitch your shoulder?” he asked and sat on the bed. Maddie looked at him for a moment, a twinge of fear jolting her spine. She pushed it down, though. He was trying to help her, after all. It’d be hard to clean her wounds without another set of hands, anyway.

Her head inclined again and she sat on the floor with her back facing the bed. She lifted her knees to her chest and leaned forward until she knew Sam got a clear look at her back, where the two masses of skin just between her shoulder blades would give birth to her wings.

She felt Sam’s eyes roaming the tanned skin shrouded in rough flesh and dark ink. Her entire body was covered in tattoos, which seemed to catch Sam off guard when they had first met. His eyes had given her a poring once-over that made her feel somewhat violated, but she managed to grow used to it in what would be the five weeks she’d be with him.

The rolling muscle in her back toned with athleticism and altered genetics made Sam splay his hands on her slits. His hands were warm on her skin, save for the spasm of pins and needles that exploded in her back. She shuddered beneath him; his hands were pulled back.

“You good?” Sam asked, his fingers pulling back her hair and tossing it over her shoulder. Maddie felt a jolt of electricity rush through her. It was satisfying, yes, and her body begged for me. She glanced at him over her shoulder through her lashes and nodded.

Her shoulder lifted in half of a shrug. “They’re just sensitive. How close is the, uh, puncture wound?”

She watched him peer back at her shoulder, head turning to measure the distance. The wound in her shoulder still hurt like a bitch, and it took more courage for her to accept the fact that Sam’s hands on her were his way of helping her. Every faint touch of his hands on her made her jump and shrink into his legs more. Every brush of his fingers made her forget the throbbing pain the hook made as he sewed the puncture wound together.

“About an inch, give or take,” he guessed. He quickly picked himself up and went to the fridge. The appliance looked like as tinier as ever as he bent down to get a bottle of whiskey from the door. He shut the door with his foot, shuffling back over and handing her the alcohol. “Helps, trust me.”

One rather violent throb of pain made her snarl and whip her head around, her hand grabbing his hands and bending them back. One jerk down would break his entire arm or his wrist if she eased up on her strength. Her wing erupted from her right side, the muscle surrounding the mountain of rugged skin rippling with power. Sam leaned back a bit, his eyes widen a fraction. She didn’t see fear in his eyes, no.

She saw sorrow.

Her mood changed immediately. Her anger washed away as he stared at her, with her wing extending toward the farthest wall of the room, her eyes scanning the limb for any minor wounds. The feathers, where the wound from the machete would be, were soaked with blood. She gave her wing a twitch to test for pain. Nothing came, and it was Sam’s breathed awe that made her glare back at him.

Maddie tucked her wing in before Sam could say anything, pushing his hands back toward him. A blush warmed her cheeks when his forehead folded again. She flicked her hair out of her face and waited for Sam to resume unrolling the bandages. She took a rather long drink of the burning whiskey to drown the rumbling and thundering pain.

He had her kneel on the bed due to her height so he could wrap the bandage around her shoulder and part of her underarm. It took him at least three layers to finally contain the slight bleeding that oozed through the first layer. He had asked if she was a hemophiliac, to which she denied.

She got off the bed and lifted her wrists. They ached from the burns caused by the chains. Sam eyed them, too, and went to the bathroom. She watched him run a rag beneath the stream of warm water and wring it out. His muscles tensed in his T-shirt, making his biceps thicken. She clenched her jaw and stared longer than necessary, in her opinion, but the small smile on his lips made her glad as he pressed the rag to her skin.

A sharp wince left her clenched teeth when the warmth stung her wrist. Her hand took the rag from Sam’s.

Maddie watched the Hunter step away from her and go towards the bed. “What do you wanna do? I couldn’t find a case nearby, so I guess we have the day off,” he asked, spinning on his heel and plopping on his back on the bed.

She stared at him for a moment. He looked relaxed being in the same room with her, which meant that he would let his guard down around her. It wasn’t that she wanted to kill him. She wanted to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t steal any time for himself to possibly talk to his brother.

She didn’t trust this act for a second. Although the man had saved her life, she had lied to him so she could trust him. Lies were what kept people safe, in her opinion, but what lies were mounting on top of the other in this act? Sam seemed to be convinced she trusted him. Sure, a tiny part of her felt a strange version of trust towards the Hunter, and yes, maybe she enjoyed being in the presence of him . . . but she didn’t like being alone. She’s already spent at least fourteen years all by her lonesome when her family was murdered.

Being alone meant she had nobody. She understood hunting alone was a death sentence in itself, but she flew through cases like they were child’s play. Some of the more difficult cases were finished after at least three days, including the Wendigo case. She never found out if the boys had killed the beast when she was unconscious, but she didn’t want to know now.

She wanted to know why Dean has a vendetta against her.

Her head cocked when she thought about it. She realized she was still staring at Sam, but he was staring right back at her. Her cheeks warmed and she averted her gaze, fixing it on the duffle bag filled with fresh clothing. She longed for her old clothes covered in the smells of stale beer and cigarette butts.

She looked at the door and back at Sam. Her eyes roamed his athletic figure with pleasure, her tongue sticking out and wetting her lips in what she thought was sexy. His biceps looked magnificent in the lighting, both from the midday sun and the light streaming out from the bathroom.

She crossed her ankles as she scrunched her lips to the side. A question crossed her mind when she considered her own athleticism, a question that she was afraid that Sam would take offense to. Alas, her life was shortened the second she met him. Her mind shrugged, made up with its decision, and her mouth opened. It closed when Sam spoke.

“I tried to talk him out of it. I tried to . . . he wouldn’t listen, Maddie, for that I am so very sorry.” Emotion clung to his voice as she searched his face for any of that grinning Hunter she saw moments before. Her throat closed up on her when she tried to crack a stupid joke to lighten the mood. Her mind found nothing.

She pushed from the bed and in front of his, her hand grabbing his shirt and yanking him to his feet, his massive figure towering over her as she hugged his narrow waist. He seemed to be confused by how his arms just hovered above her, but his long arms eventually wrapped around her upper back.

Heat radiated from him. Despite wearing one layer of clothing, he was pretty squishy when she tightened her hands and buried her face in his chest. She smelled his cologne and a mixture of what smelled like alcohol, blood and books enveloped themselves around her, her body relishing in the calming aromas.

“It’s okay. It isn’t your fault.”

Her gut twisted when those words came out. Her brain cringed at that sorrowful sentence that nobody, not even her, would think of leaving her mouth. Her reputation was all snark and no kindness. Someone makes a stupid mistake? Call them out on it and patronize them. Somebody gets tragically killed? Say they deserved it and, again, call out their mistakes during the case that got them killed.

Two days later, Sam decided it was safe to go out in the open. Maddie, of course, took it upon herself to force the Hunter to take her shopping for new clothes. He was hesitant at first, his mind seemed like it was determined to keep a low profile until he was sure Dean was over Maddie’s escape.

That didn’t seem to be the case, she found out when pounding on their motel door startled both of the Hunters.

“Open up, Sammy!” a deep voice snarled, “just wanna talk.”

Dean.

Maddie sat up on her bed. Cold air drifted across her almost bare skin, her pajamas consisting of a camisole and new, somewhat scanty underwear from Victoria’s Secret. Her pulse quickened the second Dean’s fist slammed on the chipping white door. She fought dizziness as she threw the covers off her and leaped from the bed.

Sam seemed to remain calm. He must’ve planned this out in the three days they were rooming here, for his immediate reaction was to shove her into the bathroom and lock it from the inside. He instructed her to climb out of the window and run if things went south. The thought of that made her sprew hushed protests at the man, Maddie’s hands grabbing onto his shirt and begging him to come with her.

“Maddie, you know my brother’s pissed. He’s gonna kill you if he sees you . . . I can stall him,” he said, turning her and lifting her into the bathtub. The ceramic tub was cold against her shoulders as Sam left and shut the door, turning the knob a few times to confirm it was locked.

She found herself praying for him. Praying was extremely rare, considering her reputation for killing angels, but it was in occasional circumstances did she pray for the safety of herself and others. It wasn’t until then did she realize that she expected an answer. It was weird. To her, expecting an answer back would be like Satan crawling back to Heaven and apologizing; it’d never happen no matter how much she asked.

She wasn’t necessarily concerned for herself. She could be eleven-thousand feet in the air in a matter of seconds. It was Sam that she worried about. Sure, his brother was pissed that she escaped. But if Dean found out that it was Sam—his own brother—that got her out, who knows what he could do? He wouldn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re implying, Maddie, her mind muttered.

Right. Dean wouldn’t kill his own brother. Last time a brother killed a brother was with Cain and Abel. Then again, the boys are direct descendants of Cain and Abel. What’s the worst that could happen, right? Her mind tried to think of something else. Kissing Sam came immediately, but it faded when Sam and Dean’s voices filtered through the hideously green walls.

“I know you’re pissed . . .”

“Damn right, I’m pissed!”

“Dean, calm down.”

“‘Calm down’? Sam, Maddie is extremely dangerous. She’s us but ten times worse with great boobs!”

She sunk lower into the tub. Despite the humorous remark, she had to admit that Dean was right: her position in the hunting community was a terrifying one, at best, and nobody would trust her with their life. She couldn’t count how many Hunters or victims have been killed due to her temper and misjudgment.

Muffled crashes made her heart quicken even more. If she didn’t calm down, her heart might explode. She lifted her knees to her chest, pressing her ear to the wall behind her.

It got quiet.

Her eyes widened when she heard the doorknob shift and a displeased chuckle. “Did you have to lock the door, Sammy?”

She slowly crawled out of the tub and positioned herself beneath the window. Being tiny compared to the lumberjacks the Winchesters were, the window was higher than she expected. A curse left her lips that were pressed into a line, her teeth grinding against each other as she waited for the door to open.

Another crash came from the other room with adrenaline running through her veins. She felt the color fade from her face, although dizziness never came over her. The exhilaration that rushed through her made her throat close. This could be where she dies. She could die in a bathroom while one of the Winchesters was trying to protect her.

Come on, come on, she thought. A simple jump up could have her running down the hill in seconds. That, or if Dean managed to grab her feet, a powerful kick to the nose would kill him. Her nails dug into her palms.

“Come on out, Maddie,” Sam said, his words coming out quickly. Maddie could tell he was catching his breath, and when she slowly emerged from the bathroom, she saw the reason why. He had his gun aimed at his brother’s head, with Dean’s entire body being shoved against the wall. Sam’s chest was heaving.

She was hesitant on whether she should run to the door to freedom or help Sam kick his brother’s ass. Maddie found herself leaning towards the latter more than the former, but she decided to wait until Sam gave her further directions as to what he had planned. It wasn’t often that she took orders from others, but she decided to go down the safest route if it meant she’d live through this.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean purred, which got a frustrated groan from his brother. “Glad I got to see the show.” Dean’s eyes roamed her nearly bare figure. He licked his lips to her displeasure, but she had to admit that the subtle action was a bit of a turn-on. She inclined her head in authority and dodged Sam’s glare.

Sam, glancing at her, grunted when Dean whirled around and slammed his elbow across the younger Hunter’s face. Maddie went to grab the gun that slipped from Sam’s hands, but Dean had grabbed her in a backward hug.

Her arms were pinned to her sides in the tall man’s grasp, which felt unbelievably strong despite his being human. She snarled through clenched teeth as she whipped around in Dean’s grip, but to no avail did he weaken. Anger flooded through her as she saw Sam holding his nose as he gathered himself to his feet, legs wobbling the slightest. He seemed to be focused on something else, for the glare he sent to nobody consumed his attention.

Maddie slammed her head into Dean’s face. She felt the sickening crunch of his nose, and when the Hunter’s hands flew to collect the river of blood dripping from his nose, the Rayner struck Dean’s face again with her elbow, landing a final punch to his cheek that she knew was a one-way ticket to unconsciousness.

She took the time to grab Sam’s hand and haul ass, her fingers reaching and grabbing the duffle bags settled on the couch right next to the doorless frame. The door was somewhere near the bed, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was getting the hell out of that damned room.

Sam seemed to fail at trying to keep up. He yanked his hand out of hers and ran to the driver’s door of his 2008 Dodge SRT8. It was a charcoal color, one that seemed to suit the younger Hunter, and Maddie thought it looked nice despite the pitch black night.

Her eyes adjusted immediately to the darkness. She risked a glance back at the doorway, where she expected a slightly-injured Dean to aim a gun at her and pull the trigger. But nothing was there. Her heart rose in her chest at the time bomb that was her temporary freedom. She tossed the bags into the backseat as she dove into the passenger’s seat feet first.

The car roared to life as Sam jammed the keys in the ignition. A Ladyheart song played rather loudly into the car as the Dodge backed into the road and screeched off. The tail careened to the left a bit, which brought back glorious memories of how defunct her street racing career is.

The back window shattered when bullets slammed into the glass.

A groan flew from her lips. She covered her head and glanced back toward the motel, where the outline of Dean Winchester stood on the road with his arm outstretched. Her teeth clenched, and once the car turned with the curve of the road, she looked back out of the windshield.

“Your brother’s a psychopath, Sam, I hope you know that,” she spat loudly, rolling down the window and letting the August air blow her ratty hair about her face.

A soft chuckle from Sam made her bubbly inside. “Yeah, I know. You didn’t have to do that, y’know. I could’ve handled him myself.” He took his eyes off the road for a second to look at her. She glanced at him, taking note of the bags beneath his eyes.

After about twenty minutes of driving to no particular place, Maddie asked him to pull over. He protested, of course, saying that he was fine and insisting on driving some more. She decided to get forceful, throwing out a seemingly harmless threat or pickup line that seemed to make him more uncomfortable or flustered than ever.

Sam and Maddie traded seats in the car. He looked tall in the seat next to hers, which made her feel even punier compared to the Winchester.

It wasn’t until she pulled off the road did Sam speak. His voice cracked a bit, with exhaustion creeping into his words. “You’re not gonna go fast, are you? We already have Dean on our asses, so it’s best not to piss off the authorities.”

This time it was her turn to chuckle. She let one hand fall from the wheel and into her lap, while the other shifted to be at the top of the wheel. She pressed her foot harder on the accelerator. She glanced at him with a smirk and said, “You’re gonna have to trust me on this.”

[cenniedolls]

“Cedar Gate” Part Four

Part Three

Lilon jumped as they came in, lace and ruffles fluttering as his eyes tracked between them.  The house was almost a disappointment after the way Nerai styled the bog; nearly a fairy-tale after the tentacle-filled horror.  All warm wood and soft fabrics, pretty curtains drifting in the breeze from the open windows, with Lilon in the center of it, wide eyes and pastel layers over his pristine white fur.  Shifter-Kin like Sage, Lilon was as different as could be, especially now, with Sage still grumbling under his breath and dripping mud on the floor.

“Have a seat, dear,” Nerai said, cheerfully shoving Finael into a chair.  The kitchen dining set was tidy, whitewashed wood, set in the patch of clear sunlight coming in through the windows.  “Lilon, would you make us some tea?”

Lilon nodded, gaze still darting between the witch and her guest.

“I’ll help,” Kyprian said, following the bunny as he scurried into the kitchen.  He’d help with just about anything, to put some distance between himself and Finael.

“Me too-” Sage tried, but Nerai cut him off.

“You’ll go wash up,” she instructed.  

“Whose fault is that?” Sage rolled his eyes at her, but slunk back out the door regardless.

It wasn’t particularly soothing, puttering around the kitchen with Lilon, not with the sullen silence emanating from Finael just behind them.  Kyprian snuck a glance over his shoulder at her, but their guest was just sitting stiff and tall in the chair, long dark hair - or was it - tossed over the back.  Nerai was humming, off key and too energetic, arranging plates on the table.

“I made some scones earlier,” Lilon whispered.  His shoulders were nearly up to his ears, and those were twitching uncontrollably, long and soft and a perfect weathervane to his emotions.

Normally Kyprian would be excited to hear that, but all he could manage was a sickly smile as he watched Lilon pour far too much sugar directly into the teapot.

“First things first,” Nerai said with a brisk clap of her hands, as Lilon slid the tea tray onto the table.  Her eyes, steel belying the sunny smile on her face, held him in place when he started to back away.  “Do sit down, Lilon, Kyprian dear.  Anyway, as I was saying, we want everyone to be comfortable!  Leave your coat and shoes at the door, as it were; relax and stay a while!”  She snapped her fingers, fixing Finael in that unavoidable stare, and the shimmery edge to the mercenary’s appearance faded away.  

Finael gasped, the smallest break of composure, and suddenly Kyprian could really see her, like it was the first time.  Nothing changed, exactly, but it was an amazing relief to be able to say for certain that the woman’s hair was just past shoulder-length and golden blonde, that her eyes were bright, sharp green, that her skin was as pale as Kyprian’s own.  

The door crashed open, heralding Sage’s return; he shook water out of his tail as he came inside, an obvious and childish last complaint.  “Did I miss anything?  Oh, thank the Fates, you got rid of that glamour.  I wanted to itch my own eyeballs straight out, bringing her here.”

“Sit, boy,” Nerai said, pointing him to a chair.  That earned her a rude gesture, but Sage sat, slouching in the chair next to Kyprian and fiddling with his collar.

Lilon poured the tea, trembling and refusing eye contact.  Kyprian passed the scones, glad to have something to do with his hands.  Sage shoved one in his mouth, acting so nonchalant it was painful.  Nerai filled half her cup with cream, smiling all the while.  Finael didn’t touch hers.

“Cheers,” Nerai said.  Kyprian lifted his cup.  “Now that we’re all settled, you.”  She pointed to Finael, pausing to drink.  “Tell me who hired a Shapeshifter to come into my bog.”

Silence.

Nerai propped her chin on one hand, teacup dangling from the other as she braced her elbows on the table.  “Why don’t you start then, Kyp.”

Kyprian took a gulp of his tea.  Raspberry and… lavender?  Excessively sweet, but he liked that about Lilon’s tea.  Hardly the thing to be worrying about right now.

“Sort of the usual,” he began, feeling Finael’s eyes burning from across the table.  “She showed up in the inn, asking about the bog, so they sent her to me.  She introduced herself as Finael, and gave me a story about studying exotic plants.  Not a very good excuse, but you know they rarely are, if people even bother.  I assumed she was like the rest of the bounty hunters and adventurers, so I brought her to the edge of the bog, like we agreed.”

“Then the woman knocked him to the ground, just because I was following them,” Sage said, affronted.  “Rude.  That sort of thing’s not part of the deal.”

“That is rude,” Nerai agreed, with a lazy frown at Finael.  “Kyprian is a good boy, you shouldn’t treat him like that.”  

“How good can he be, if he’s working with a witch like you?”

“I’m hurt,” Nerai said, sounding anything but.  “Besides which, I’m asking the questions here.  If you don’t start answering, I can try a less hospitable approach.  You’re the one coming into my home with hostile intent, after all.  But then you’d miss out on Lilon’s scones, and the little bunny really is a good baker.

“Besides,” she added, “I already know about the Vonshertal prince getting busy on my northern border.  What did you expect?”

Finael looked startled by that, for a moment.  “Why would you think I have anything to do with him?”

“Look lady, just because you came in from the south doesn’t mean that’s where you came from,” Sage said.

“Like he said,” Nerai smirked, ignoring the nonsensical way he’d said it.  “I may live in the wilderness, but I know which way the winds are blowing.  The Terasin Empire doesn’t care about me; they’re worried about Vonshertal.  And Vonshertal doesn’t care about me either, but those princes of theirs care about magic, and that’s what I’ve got.  Nobody else is going to hire a Shapeshifter.  I assume you don’t come cheap.”

“It helps that your Prince Miloth hired some regular guys first,” Sage added, ruining Nerai’s air of omnipotence.  “They spilled everything they knew as soon as Nerai got her tentacles onto them.”

“Honestly, it was pathetic.  We tossed them out into the forest after and they just bolted, didn’t even look back.”  Nerai’s tone was gleeful.

“Some people like a little suspension play, but these guys-” Sage cut off under Lilon’s disapproving pout.  “Oh, come on, bunny, that’s hardly-”

“Hardly the point,” Nerai said, and Sage flinched in a way that suggested she had stomped on his paw under the table.

“You’re not exactly one to talk, anyway,” Kyprian whispered, earning himself a wounded glare.  Inappropriate jokes about Nerai’s swamp monsters, that was familiar territory.  Finael looked like she wanted to laugh, at least a little.

“Anyway!  Welcome, welcome, I know you’ve been sent in by foreign powers to learn all my secrets, do have some tea!”  Nerai settled back, and Finael sighed.

“I suppose it was hardly a secret.”

“Hardly,” Narai agreed.

“His Highness hired me to find out more about the source of the magic here,” Final said.  “Prince Miloth wants to know if you can be removed and that power channeled for their war effort, ultimately, but Prince Cayne is also involved, and his goal is more abstract.  They hired me for reconnaissance, essentially, to find out the nature of this magic, although I am under instructions to kill you, if the opportunity arises.”

Kyprian wasn’t exactly surprised that she could say that with a straight face, but it was still shocking to hear said so plainly.

“Lovely,” Nerai said, sweeping a curl off her forehead.  “It’s been ages since anyone worth my time has ventured into my swamp.  Practically boring.  You’re welcome to stay a while; it’s time to visit the Pool anyway.  Learn what you can to tell your Prince Cayne, and if you really think you have a chance of taking me out in my own territory, be my guest.”  Nerai grinned, all teeth.  “One rule.  Lay a finger on anyone else, and you’ll lose it.”

Kyprian had to say he was relieved to hear that, and by the way Lilon’s ears wilted, he was too.  Finael may be far below Nerai’s level in her own swamp, but she was still more than dangerous enough for the two of them.

Finael nodded, and took a bite of her scone.  “These are good,” she said politely, turning to Lilon.  He stammered and flushed, excusing himself to make another pot of tea.

“I’m more worried about this one’s evil big brother, in the grand scheme of things,” Nerai said.  “Compared to your princes.”

“Zetherain is not evil,” Kyprian protested, halfhearted at best.

“Yeah, yeah.  Who knows, if he ever comes back from Merstithe he might be,” Sage quipped.  “At least as evil as Vonshertal’s princes, and way more motivated.”

“Prince Miloth and Prince Cayne are not evil,” Finael retorted.  A chagrined look passed over her face as Sage laughed at her.

“Evil’s a strong word, but I don’t think we’d get along,” he said, with a wolfish grin.  The specific one he used when he wanted people to notice his teeth.  “Point being, we’re not afraid of them; a village boy in the next country over is higher on the list.  Whatever else you learn while you’re here, you can tell them that, when you go back.”

“I’ve never even met a full-blooded Shapeshifter,” Sage complained, “and now when I do, she’s like that?  I’m feeling so disillusioned.”

They’d gotten out of the house at the first opportunity; even with Nerai’s loose truce in place, Kyprian wasn’t comfortable near Finael.  His throat was still sore, and there were bruises forming where she’d thrown him down, he was sure.

“What did you expect?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  A grand entrance.  Somebody swooping down as a dragon and transforming mid-air, something like that.  I’m surprised she’s here at all, though.  From what I know, the only meaningful Shapeshifter populations are super remote - deep in the Crowshed mountains, the Testhartan desert, places like that.”

Kyprian laid back in the pile of rushes they were hiding in, beyond a low hill within earshot of the house.  The crushed plants smelled sweet at he moved, perfuming the air around them.  As he stared into the clear sky, Kyprian couldn’t help thinking that this was about as remote a place as he could imagine.  “How different are they, really?  You can shapeshift yourself, can’t you?”

“Just through the one shape,” Sage quipped, tugging at one of his dark-furred ears.  “That’s confusing enough, around the edges of the change.  I’d rather not try to keep more than that straight.  Anyway, you know how it is - Lilon and I are both Shifter-Kin, but he’s got full fur from the hips down all the time, plus those ridiculous ears, and I can control almost a full change from wolf to human.  He’s more ordinary, that way; more like fauns and centaurs and whatever that reproduce predictable traits.”

Kyprian nodded, not that Sage was looking, and listened to him roll around in the rushes, very much like a large dog.  The sweet smell washed over them, diffused by the soft breeze.  Midafternoon, and the air was nearly still.

“Besides,” Sage said, stopping with his face close to Kyprian’s, “It’s like you and that crazy brother of yours, with your weird pointy ears and predisposition for magic.  A little extra fey, even though your family has lived in that tiny village forever.  You can’t predict that sort of thing, it just happens.”

Kyprian nodded again, some of his hair tugging where Sage had rolled on top of it.  You couldn’t predict magic.  Of course, that’s exactly what Zetherain had left to learn - as much as he could about magic, the patterns and rules of it.

Sage’s tail thumped against the rushes, and he grinned, this one his soft doggy grin that made Kyprian forget the teeth.  “Do you have to go back tonight, Kyp?  Stay a few days; you can come to the Pool with us.”

The heart of the bog - or at least the source of the magic- up in the hills to the east, where the small crescent of mountains curled away from the deep bay dividing the northern coast of the continent from the Vonshertal glacier.  Kyprian had never been there.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to, but right now, in the sunlight rich with that first hint of autumn, hit with the full force of Sage’s most endearing smile, it sounded like a good adventure.  “Sure.”

[thesylverlining]

Cool Announcement Time, guys. :D For the first time since Chameleon Moon, I’m doing a new series. Two, actually. Less superheroes. More vampires. Same level of Emotion and Marginalized People Being Awesome.

Introducing STAKE SAUCE and DEATH MASQUERADE!

Part 1, “The Secret Ingredient Is Love. No, Really” Contains Punk-Rock Vampires, Complex Polyamory Webs, Portland OR Remaining Weird, Intense Feels, Pain, Catharsis, Healing, Puns, and Very Significant Sauce. (The secret ingredient isn't love. It's not love at all!)

Here's a blog post with more info on both of them

The first Stake Sauce chapter is available for pre-order on Amazon/Kindle (launching April 30th!)

And a Patreon with More Chapters and Tons of Bonus Content

More detailed synopses/links are under the cut, and at the blog post above! Thank you so much for reading/boosting! (Reblogging would be super appreciated. <3)

I think it’s gonna be fun.

Launching April 30th on Amazon Kindle – the first part of my new 6-part serial story, Stake Sauce! ARC 1: THE SECRET INGREDIENT IS LOVE. NO, REALLY. Features Punk-Rock Vampires, Complex Polyamory Webs, Portland Remaining Weird, Intense Feels, Pain, Catharsis, Healing, and Puns. (And As Usual, Everybody Is LGBT, Often Disabled, And Never Exploited For Shock/Suffering/’Inspirational’ Value!)

The story continues on Patreon! Supporters will get one Stake Sauce chapter a month, no waiting for the complete 6 Acts – which drops in October! As soon as Death Masquerade starts in 3 months, the same applies there! (This Patreon also contains a Veritable Crapton of bonus content, like monthly exclusive short stories, sneak peeks, aesthetics, and art! Patrons can also request writing/bonus stories!)

STAKE SAUCE ARC 1: 

THE SECRET INGREDIENT IS LOVE. NO, REALLY.

IN WHICH: A cute punk-rock vampire and a disabled firefighter-turned-mall-cop with a dark past join forces to battle the forces of evil.

Jude used to leap out of helicopters to rescue/protect people from terrifying infernos. Now, by day, he protects the local mall from rowdy teenagers who ride their skateboards inside. By night, he protects the the parking lot, and the rest of Portland, from undead, bloodsucking creatures of the darkness. Or would if he could find them.

But he’s just about ready to give it up (living with PTSD and pain from the traumatic event that cost him a leg, a friend, and a lot more is hard enough), when something crashes into his life. And his window.

It’s one of these creatures of the darkness – and he’s a lot less scary than expected. More cuddly, with dark fuzzy wings, and neon-bright hair.

His name is Pixie, and he refuses to bite anyone. Assault/murder/draining fluids isn’t punk, even if being a vampire really kind of is. He’s very hungry by now, and the much bigger, meaner, deadlier vamps kick him around on the nightly. Jude would love to find and fight some actual undead bullies. And Pixie could use some help staying… ‘alive.’ Time to make a deal.

Together they fight crime. And maybe even heal.

Of course, life still sucks when you’re a vampire who refuses to suck blood. Fortunately, there’s a really interesting new barbecue restaurant in the mall, with an intriguing new recipe. (We hear that the secret ingredient is… love. No, really.)

And Coming soon, Stake Sauce’s companion series, Death Masquerade!

150 years ago and several thousand miles away, the story began. And continues. These will both run at the same time, and as usual, Everything Is Connected. (Hi, Chameleon Moon fans!)

DEATH MASQUERADE ARC 1: 

THE SWEET NIGHT GODDESS (working title)

We pick up in 19th-century Venice, Italy, where we follow Letizia, spell-slinging, rooftop-leaping witch/seer/bounty hunter specializing in vanquishing hordes of the night, and her fabulous opera-star paramour, whose name burns in the brightest lights as she lights up the stage. MonaLisa holds records for most sold-out shows in a consecutive season, and longest full stage name. Her smile will melt your heart… and reveal some very pointy pearly whites. (Letizia knows. She’s cool with it. More than cool.)

When the no-nonsense Investigatore Giovanni is called in to address the ominous spike in Venice’s deadly murders, the last thing he wants to hear is that the culprit didn’t have a pulse. These ritualistic killings, all in front of or near cathedrals suggest occult serial attacks, not a monster-of-the-week… but he has to admit, things are getting pretty strange, and he could use a guide on this journey through the city’s underworld.

Letizia is that tarot-reading, deadpan-snarking, fiendishly effective guide, and she thinks it’s pretty obvious who/what’s behind these grisly scenes. And it’s not like she’s never dealt with fangs before. She’s got the situation under control… Until another body shows up right outside MonaLisa’s opera house – dedicated to the “Sweet Night Goddess.” Looks like the opera-world darling has an overzealous fan. Or maybe someone knows her secret.

Giovanni has a lead. Letizia has an Incentive. MonaLisa has a show to put on, no matter who ends up dead on her doorstep, or who’d like to see her rising star go down in flames. And like in all good masquerades, nothing is as it seems.

This story also contains Sweet Priest Nerds, Nonbinary Fire Witches Who Kick Butt, Plague Doctor Masks for Aesthetics and Practicality, More Polyamory… and Bears.

Feel free to request an advance review copy of Stake Sauce, Act 1 (and the first bonus short story)! Available in .mobi, .ePub, .pdf and plain .doc forms!

And a huge thank you to the amazing Kraken Collective! These series wouldn’t exist without this wonderful publishing group, and my love is… undying.

[spooky-skeptical-sigh]

Someone New (Gabriel x Reader)

Someone New (Gabriel x Reader) Characters: Gabriel x Reader

Someone New (Gabriel x Reader) Word Count:  14,655

Summary: You are a hunter who is lured to a case where everything reminds you of your boyfriend Gabriel, who has been dead for 7 years. You’re forced to relive all of your memories with him. Inspired by the song “Someone New” by Banks.

Note: Reposting this with edits made to correct typos. 

The nightclub was rundown, set in a dark, dingy part of Denver that Y/N tried to avoid when she could, but her job led her to this area more than she would like. She walked up the sidewalk, head down, not making eye contact with the locals until she reached the entrance to The Lemon Drop Nightclub and Cantina. The door was red wood with a giant swirly lollipop for a handle. Y/N shook her head as she pulled it open and walked inside.      Her senses were immediately assaulted by loud pop music and bright colored lights spinning from the ceiling, the walls were covered with candy ornaments of all kinds from old vintage tin signs to neon versions of Kit Kats, Twix, and Butterfingers. Gabe would love it here. The thought came into her head unbidden, as did the quick, sharp stab of pain when she thought of him. Taking a deep breath, she wrinkled her nose to keep any tears at bay and focused on the task at hand. She was a hunter, damn it, and she couldn’t afford to be seen as weak.      When she was sure her emotions were in check and her eyes had adjusted to the light, she made her way to the bar. The bartender was tall and muscular, his arms bulging out of a sleeveless Slayer t-shirt. His long black hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail. Wiping a glass with a questionable rag, he caught Y/N’s eye and gave her a backwards nod. “What can I getcha?”      “I was looking for Jillian Banks?” A knowing look entered the man’s eyes as he grinned widely.      “You a fan, then?” He raised his eyebrows and Y/N sighed.      “I’m here to talk to her about the…problems…she’s been having here.” It was her turn to grin when his smile faltered. “You wouldn’t know anything about those, would you?”      “Look, i don’t know what you’ve heard…are you a cop or something, cuz if you’re a cop, don’t I get to have my attorney present or some shit like that?”      “Number one, I’m not a cop. Number two, you don’t look like someone who has an attorney on retainer.” The man stared at her and Y/N wasn’t sure if he was too nervous to speak or didn’t understand the word “retainer.” Sighing again, she pulled a business card out of the back pocket of her jeans and slid it across the bar to him. “I’m a paranormal investigator. She contacted me, If you could point me in her direction or let her know I’m here, that would be great.” He picked up the card, checked it out, and gave a her a brief, unreadable look before saying he’d be right back.       Y/N leaned against the bar and looked at her reflection in the mirrored wall between all the bottles of booze. I look like shit, she thought, catching how her long Y/H/C hair fell from her head in lank, uninspired waves and her Y/E/C eyes were weary and sad. Not able to stand the sight any longer, she turned and faced the club, resting her elbows on the padded edge of the counter. She watched the patrons dance and laugh and drink, all seemingly having the time of their lives. I used to be like them, she thought wearily, as memories came flooding back.       Memories of hustling pool in dive bars all over the country with the Winchester Brothers. Their favorite ploy was using the fact that she was a girl to make knuckle headed drunks think she was a pushover, when in fact the only person who had ever been able to beat her was Sam. Sam freakin’ WInchester, the man who texted her earlier tonight with this case. Sam Winchester, the man who held her and comforted her after she lost everything. It didn’t matter where he told her to go for a case, she would do it. She owed him her life. So many times over. She was thinking of texting him a picture of this godawful place when the music changed. Taylor Swift’s “All You Had To Do Was Stay” began playing and her heart constricted painfully.       Everything she had wanted to forget came sweeping back. Gabriel. His ridiculous plan to leave her and fight his brother to keep her and everyone else safe. The fight they had about it before he left, the horrible, horrible things she said to him as he walked out the door.      The look in Sam’s eyes when he had to tell her that Gabriel had been killed by his brother.      This stupid song always made her think of Gabe. Some nights when she felt like wallowing, she would put it on repeat and cry into a glass of Jack Daniels. Most of the time, she simply avoided the song but here…there was nothing to do unless she wanted to kick the jukebox into submission. “Let me remind you this was what you wanted (Oh oh oh)….you ended it…you were all I wanted….”      “Fuck, come on,” she said out loud, biting her bottom lip hard. She would not give into the memories. Not here, not tonight.       Not here, not tonight, not here, not tonight.       That had been her mantra since that night. Y/N would say 97% of the time it worked. Tonight, however, looked to be the time that the 3% reared it’s ugly head. She felt the despair and grief wash over her and she had to sit down on a bar stool so that she didn’t sink to the floor. Even after seven years it was strong enough to knock the wind out of her. She wondered if it would ever get easier; then she realized that deep down, she didn’t want it to. If it did, that meant she was moving on, forgetting Gabriel, the only man she had ever truly loved. She couldn’t do that, not to him.        Y/N met Gabriel ten years ago while she was working a case in Springfield, Ohio with The Winchesters. He was deep in his Trickster persona and messing with Sam and Dean’s minds, causing them to fight more than usual. Y/N thought she could get the drop on the bad guy while they were bickering. She trailed him to his apartment after he left the university where he was posing as a janitor. With a stake dipped in his victim’s blood hidden in her oversized purse, she waited until he was inside before making her move.         She had been watching him long enough to realize that women were a weakness of his, so she put on her tightest jeans and her lowest-cut shirt before fluffing her hair out and walking boldly up to his apartment door. He answered almost immediately after she knocked and she had to wonder if he knew she was coming. “Well, hello, pretty lady. How can I help you?” The trickster let his eyes roam up and down her body as he grinned and leaned against the door, still wearing his grey janitor’s jumpsuit but the front was unzipped, showing off a crisp white t-shirt underneath.         “Um, hi, my car broke down outside and…I…uh…” when his eyes made their way back up to hers, she suddenly lost her train of thought. They were the most brilliant shade of gold, almost like sunlight streaming through a bottle of whiskey. She had never seen eyes like that before; she felt like she was drowning in them. Focus, Y/N, she told herself sternly, pulling her gaze away. That was when she saw the cocky smile, as if he could tell what she was thinking. “Uh…yeah, my car. It broke down and my phone is dead. Could I use yours?” She flashed him her most innocent grin and pushed her chest forward. His eyes flicked down quickly and she knew her ploy was working.         “Not from around here, are you,” he asked, his voice smooth as velvet.  She shook her head. “And I’m on the third floor. What made you pick my apartment?”         “I saw you pull in and I thought you looked nice,” she shrugged, raising her eyebrows and biting her bottom lip. “Please? I just need to call my friend so he can come pick me up.” The trickster stared at her for a beat too long, making her skin break out in goose pimples. Those eyes were dangerous. Then he stepped back and swept his arm gallantly.         “Who I am to turn a pretty woman away in her time of need. Please, be my guest.” Y/N rushed past him and into the apartment, taking it all in quickly. It was small; a tidy living area held only a television set, a recliner, and a TV tray. It led into an open kitchen. She noticed the counters were covered in sweets: pies, cakes, and cookies were everywhere.         “Having a party,” she asked, nodding her head to the bounty. He laughed, shutting the door firmly.         “I have a sweet tooth and a love for cooking shows,” he laughed. “I end up cooking everything they make on there. Want a cookie or something?”         “No, thanks, I’ll be out of your hair shortly if you’ll just point me to the phone.” To her surprise, he still had a landline hanging on the wall in the hallway. It was dark and she couldn’t see past where she stood. Hoping nothing jumped out at her, she dialed Dean’s number.        “Y/N, where are you,” he barked in greeting.        “I’m at an apartment building at 5th and Grant,” she replied. “My car broke down. I think it’s the carburetor.”        “Is he there with you now,” he asked, his voice brisk with a touch of worry. He recognized their code immediately.        “Yes, he was nice enough to let me use his phone.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled at the trickster, who was standing a few feet away. He raised his eyebrows at her.        “Do you have a weapon?”        “I do.”        “Be careful. We’re on our way.”        “Ok, thanks.” She hung up and turned around slowly. He was standing just a little closer than he had been. “Thank you. I’ll just go wait in my car now.”        “Are you sure you want to wait out there? It’s chilly.” His eyes were back on hers and she felt her stomach flip. She didn’t understand her reaction to him. He wasn’t her type of guy at all. She normally went for the tall, manly, dark haired muscular guys who were teddy bears underneath. Like Dean. This guy was nothing like her hunter - shortish (she gauged him around 5’8”, 5’9”), with unruly honey colored hair, thin lips, and just the tiniest bit of a belly. Probably from all those sweets, she thought. Not to mention he was a monster. A trickster who had killed innocent people. She had no business even thinking about him the way she was.         “So, uh, thanks again,” she stammered, walking towards him, her hand on the strap of her purse. “Maybe I will take that cookie. One for the road, you know?” He winked at her, turning to grab her a cookie from the kitchen. That was when she made her move, sliding the stake from her purse and rushing up behind him. He shocked her when he turned so fast, grabbing her wrist and forcing the weapon from her grip. It clattered uselessly on the floor. He pushed her up against the wall, pressing his whole body against her, holding her captured hand above her head. She couldn’t breathe, knowing for sure that she had failed and she would be his next victim.        “You reek of hunter,” he said, his face inches from hers. She could feel his hot breath on her face and it smelled of butterscotch. Her belly fluttered against her will. He cupped her face in his free hand, running a thumb along her lower lip. “A sexy hunter, sure but a hunter nonetheless.” Y/N tried to tell herself that her heart was pounding a mile a minute because death was imminent and not because he was so close to her, those whiskey eyes peering into hers with a scorching heat. He had to be causing these sensations; he was a trickster, after all.         “Stop it,” she ordered, trying and failing to sound authoritative. Her voice came out in a thick whisper.         “Stop what,” he asked, all innocence.        “You’re fucking with my mind. Just kill me and get it over with.” He chuckled and shook his head.        “Oh, sweetheart, your mind isn’t what I want to fuck.” He never gave her a chance to react to that statement. His lips were on hers in a hard, wet kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth. She found herself responding even though she knew she shouldn’t. He tasted so good though and his body felt right against hers. When she moaned against his kiss, he pulled away just a fraction. “No, I can’t kill you. I’ll be seeing you around, though.” She heard a snap and suddenly everything spun out of control. A few seconds later she found herself in the passenger seat of Dean’s Impala as he sped down the highway.       “Jesus Christ,” Dean yelled, swerving the car into oncoming traffic before gaining control and righting the wheels before pulling over to the side of the road. “Where the fuck did you come from?”        “Umm….the trickster made me,” she said, still trying to get her bearings. She was dizzy from the trip to the car, not to mention her lips still buzzed from the kiss and her body was keyed up from his words.        “So, what, instead of killing you, he snapped you here?” Y/N shrugged. “Maybe he figured you appearing out of nowhere would give me a heart attack and we’d both die.” She laughed at his explanation; it was better to let him think that than tell him what really happened, she decided as she ran her tongue along her bottom lip, still tasting the butterscotch from his kiss.       As she sat at the bar inside The Lemon Drop, she bit her lip with her tongue, fancying she could still taste him. Knowing that she would never again feel his lips on hers broke her heart all over again. She could feel tears threatening but was saved by the bartender returning. “Okay, Jillian wants to talk to you but it’ll be a while. She’s getting ready for her stage show and she doesn’t let anyone back there while she does so.” Y/N nodded. “She asked me to get you whatever you’d like while you wait.”       “Shot of Jack and…do you make butter babies?”       “Absolutely I do,” he grinned.       “Four of those as well, please.” Y/N knew she was hurting herself by drinking the one drink that reminded her of Gabe but this place seemed to lend itself to memories. Every song that popped up on the jukebox made her think of him. At that moment it was “Bubblegum Bitch” by Marina and the Diamonds. The lyrics always made her think of the different sweet-related nicknames he called her. At first she hated it but they grew on her and now whenever she heard the words “sugar,” “cupcake,” or “gumdrop,” pain squeezed a tight band around her heart.          The night after the trickster spared her life, Dean tracked him to the university auditorium for the showdown. When the hunter returned with the news that he had killed the trickster, Y/N was actually a little disappointed. She didn’t know if his spell was still lingering but she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Three months later, she walked into her motel room in Los Angeles, dirty and covered in blood. The only thing on her mind was a hot shower and her bed. So when she saw the trickster standing in the middle of the room with a sassy smirk on his face, she stopped cold, not sure if she should be pleased or worried. “Dean killed you,” she said finally, shutting the door behind her. She could see he recognized the motion as she wasn’t going to call for help.         “Trickster,” he replied, holding his arms out in a “ta-dah” motion. “You gotta get up pretty early in the morning to fool me.”         “Are you here to finish the job, then?” Y/N hated how her body was responding to being in the same room as her again. She should be angry that he was alive, scared that he was here to kill her but instead she felt herself wanting to be closer to him, feel his lips on hers once more.        “And which job would that be, cupcake” he asked with a cocky grin, taking a few steps towards her. Every instinct told her to back up, call for the boys, but instead she felt herself walking in his direction. “I already told you I couldn’t kill you. But if you’re referring to the ravishing you so deserve then, yes. I am here to finish the job.” By the time he finished his statement, they were standing inches away from each other. She was so confused. How could she be feeling this heat for a creature that she should be killing?       “Tell me something and please be honest,” she said, her voice husky with the need to taste his lips. “What I’m feeling for you, is this your doing? Is this a trick?”      “No.” His answer was so simple that it took her aback. She cocked her head and furrowed her eyebrows at him. His amber eyes were the most serious she had seen them.      “No?”      “No.” A thrill coursed through her body when he reached out and grabbed the back of her head, roughly bringing her lips to his. There it was, that butterscotch taste that she had been craving. With one hand she grasped the lapel of his army green jacket while the other hand snaked through his dark blonde hair, trying desperately to pull him closer. When he finally broke contact to let her breathe, he laughed.      “What’s so funny,” she asked.      “You’re a hunter, I’m a trickster. This shouldn’t be happening.” He shook his head before kissing her lips again, this time softly. Was it her imagination or did the softer kiss cause her toes to curl even more than the desperation? “It’s like someone is playing a trick on me.”      “Maybe they are. Are there others like you out there?” He clucked her chin with his hand and grinned.      “Sugar, there is no one else like me. Anywhere.” She returned the smile, amused by his cockiness. “There’s only one explanation then.”      “What’s that?” The trickster slung an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. She exhaled an, “oof!” as she bounced off of his chest. She slid her arms up over his shoulders as he winked at her.      “You were meant to be mine.”       You were meant to be mine. Y/N had scoffed when he first uttered those words, she recalled, slamming down the last butter baby shot. She chased it with the Jack then let out a huge sigh. The bartender was watching her, asking with his eyes if she wanted another round. She nodded slightly even though her head was telling her to stay sober. Her heart, however, needed some help getting through the memories that were assaulting her non stop.        “How can you not believe in destiny,” the trickster had asked after she told him his idea was silly.         “I believe in free will,” she answered, pulling out of his grip. “I’ve seen so much bad happen to good people…I just can’t believe that things like that were destined to happen to them.”          “Free will, huh? Ok, here’s a question for you, then.” He snapped his fingers and suddenly, laying on the motel bed was a wooden stake tipped with blood. Her stake that she lost that night. “There’s your weapon. And here’s the monster.” He spread his arms out wide, leaving his whole body vulnerable if she chose to strike. “If you’re not mine…if I’m not yours…if we aren’t meant to be together, kill me.”          “Dude….what the….”          “Do it,” he said, his voice gruff, his eyes hard. “Take that stake and plunge it into my heart. Finish what you started.” Y/N stared at him, her mouth agape. He was crazy. “Yeah, maybe I am crazy,” he said, startling her, “but I’m crazy for you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve messed with a lot of hunters and I’ve had a lot of women hotter than you…don’t get pissed,” he smiled when she huffed angrily at him. “But you…there’s something about you. Like you were made for me. After all these centuries of just drifting around, suddenly some mortal, some hunter, shows up and I’m done. I don’t want to play tricks on you, I don’t want to kill you. I want to hold you, and kiss you, and…shit, I want to be with you, okay?” His voice had taken on an edge of desperation, as if he needed her to believe what he was saying.          Y/N walked over to the bed and picked up the stake.  She turned it over in her hands, getting used to the feel of it again. “So if I kill you, like a good hunter should, you’re wrong about destiny?”         “Dead wrong,” he answered, causing her to laugh. She approached him slowly, the stake pointing out in front of her. She poked him in the belly with the tip lightly.        “But if I choose not to, emphasis on choose, then somehow that proves that we’re meant to be?”        “You got it, sugar lips.” She stared at him as she reflected on how her body reacted to him, how that kiss had made her feel. Was he right? Was her person actually a trickster? How screwed up did that make her destiny?        “God damn it,” she breathed, tossing the stake to the floor where it immediately shimmered and disappeared. “Why you,” she asked, cocking her head to study him.        “God only knows,” he winked, dropping his arms to his side now that he knew he was safe. They stood in the center of the room, staring at each other for what felt like forever. The trickster had a smug yet pleased look on his face and the longer Y/N looked at it, the crazier it made her. The heat between them was palpable. When she could stand it no longer, she launched herself at him, kissing him with everything she had. He returned the sentiment, his hands twining into her long Y/H/C hair and tugging her head backwards so he could delve deeper into her mouth with his tongue.        She was overcome with the need to feel him, feel his skin on hers and she started pulling at his clothes; she slid his jacket off then ripped at his black shirt, popping the buttons clean off. He chuckled at her earnestness and returned the favor by pulling her thermal shirt over her head and tossing it to the floor.  He bent his head and kissed the tender flesh above her bra, causing her to moan loudly while she ran her hands over his bare chest and stomach. Y/N grabbed the waistband of his jeans and thumbed the button open, shoving them to the floor. It made her giggle when she saw he was wearing rubber ducky boxers. “What the hell,” she laughed, as she trailed a multitude of kisses down his torso, sinking to her knees. Just as she went to yank the boxers off, she stopped and looked up him.        “By the way, I’m Y/N.”        “Yeah, I know,” he chuckled, his eyes hot as he stared down at her.        “What should I call you?”        “Gabe,” he replied, his face softening a little. “You can call me Gabe.        “Gabe,” Y/N whispered, desperate as a prayer. She finished off her third line of shots, feeling sufficiently liquored up to remember the sex. The first few weeks were amazing; every time Gabe touched her, it felt like her skin was ablaze.  Not to mention that having to hide their relationship from Sam and Dean, whom she was still hunting with, made it exciting. The first time they were almost caught was when Dean showed up at the door, already half-drunk, holding a six-pack of beer and looking for some company. That had been part of her relationship with Dean from the beginning but now she didn’t even think of him that way at all. Her brain, heart, body, and soul was completely saturated by her trickster. Y/N kept the door open just enough to tell him she had someone in the room with her; understanding dawned quickly and he tried to peek in. “You gonna introduce me?”      “God, no! This is fairly new and besides…you’re scary.” He laughed. “I will take a couple beers, though,” she said, snagging a couple before shutting the door. After that night, Dean would tease her about her new boyfriend, wanting to know details, wanting to meet him but she was able to put him off, distract him with liquor and, in desperate times, porn.       After a few months, her relationship with Gabe cooled to where some nights they were simply happy to be in each other’s company. Y/N’s favorite thing to do was snuggle with him on a lumpy motel room bed and watch old movies. He would sneak himself into the movie and she enjoyed trying to figure out where he would appear. One night while Y/N and the boys were on the trail of a Rugaru in New Orleans, she was chilling with Gabe, watching The Thin Man when there was a loud pounding at her door. “Y/N, we gotta go,” Sam yelled as she padded barefoot across the room. “A body was found in the French Quarter!” She opened the door, peeking out as was her norm now.      “Give me a sec, I’ll be right out, okay?”      “That guy here again,” Dean asked from behind his brother. She nodded, starting to close the door. When a big, beefy, tattooed hand appeared above her head and flung the door open, it startled not only her but the brothers as well. “Whoa,” Dean breathed, craning his head back to take in the full view. Y/N turned around to see what the hell was going on and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.      Gabe had transformed into a giant biker dude. He was 6’7” and easily 350 pounds with long, black hair and a full dark beard. He was wearing ripped jeans, black boots with chains around them, a Megadeth t-shirt and a denim vest covered in patches. Every inch of skin that was showing was tattooed and he had huge silver skull rings on three fingers. “What’s up guys,” he boomed. “You must be Sam and Dean. Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”        “Uh, yeah, hi,” Sam stuttered back, obviously not used to having to look up to make eye contact. Y/N would have bet her life savings that Gabe did that just to screw with him. “I’d like to say the same but Y/N’s kinda played you close to the vest. We don’t even know your name.” The trickster grabbed Y/N and pulled her into a tight side hug.        “It’s Gabe. But you can call me Mad Dog. And, yeah, she said you guys were scary but you look like all right to me. Put ‘er there!” He stuck out his free hand to shake Sam and Dean’s, gripping tighter than necessary according to their grimaces. Y/N knew Gabe was enjoying this way too much and it was time to put an end to it.        “Okay, okay, you know my big secret now…”        “Emphasis on the big,” Dean muttered, earning a glare from Y/N.        “Give me a second to get my stuff together and I’ll be right there, ok?” Both men just stood, rooted to the spot, staring at Gabe. “Okay,” she repeated, this time louder. The brothers jerked out of their trance and nodded, walking away as she shut the door, “And you!” She rounded on her boyfriend with hot eyes, her index finger poking him in his hairy, tattooed chest. “What the hell was that?”       “They were starting to get suspicious of me so I let them see me,” he replied, laughing as he shimmered back to his normal form. “This way, when you say you’re with me, they won’t come around bothering you. I cut a pretty impressive figure, right?” Y/N sighed; it was impossible to stay mad at him when he grinned at her like that, the right corner of his mouth tipping up roguishly.         “Okay, yeah, I think you shocked the shit out of them, I’ll give you that.” Shaking her head, she rushed over to stick her feet into her boots and grab her hunting bag. “I gotta go. Will you be here when I get back?”       “Absolutely.” She walked over to him, slipping her arms around his waist to hug him. He kissed the top of her head. “Be careful.”       That was always the last thing he would say to her before she left on a hunt and she to him when he would leave to dole out just desserts to deserving humans.        Except that last time.        That thought had her opening her mouth to flag down the bartender for another round but was stopped by a sweet voice in her ear. “Hi, Y/N?” Turning around, she came face to face with the prettiest woman she had ever see. Tall and curvy with shiny blonde hair that floated around her cherubic face in a cloud, she had big blue eyes with lashes a mile and a half long and pouty lips painted blood red. She was wearing a gold dress that sparkled in the rainbow lights of the club and matching heels, giving her an extra five inches of height. Y/N figured that even out of the shoes, she would tower over her. As if I didn’t feel bad enough about myself, she thought, this woman looks like a goddess.        “Yes, you’re Jillian?”        “I am. Thank you for coming.” Jillian sat down on a stool beside her and nodded at the bartender. Without a word, he brought her a tall, fruity drink in a hurricane glass topped by a hot pink umbrella and a lime green twisty straw. She took a long sip, closing her eyes and savoring the drink before looking over at Y/N. “So, Sam said you could help me.”        “I hope so,” she answered. “Why don’t you tell me a little about what’s been happening.”        “Well, it feels like I’m being watched 24/7,” she started, giving a little shiver. Jillian rubbed her hands over her bare shoulders. “But the creepy stuff, the real creepy stuff only happens when I’m here.”        “What’s the creepy stuff?”        “Things go missing and then appear in a place they should never be…things hurl themselves at me.” She propped a shapely leg on the rung of Y/N’s barstool and lifted up the hem of her dress, revealing an ugly bruise on her calf. “This happened about five days ago…an amp came sliding across the stage during one of my sets and slammed into me.” She removed her leg, holding out her left arm for view. She pushed her thick diamond bracelet up; underneath it was a long, angry red scratch. “This happened yesterday. I don’t even know what caused it. Or what I did to cause it.” Jillian’s voice caught and Y/N looked up to see the singer’s eyes filling with tears.         “Don’t cry, you’ll ruin your perfect make-up,” Y/N smiled, covering her hand with hers. Jillian sniffed and giggled. “It sounds like an angry spirit. But I can help you with it,” she hurried to say as Jillian’s mouth dropped in fear.         “You can, you really can?” She gripped Y/N’s hand tight. “You can make this stop?”         “I can. That’s what I do.”         “Thank you!” The woman jumped up and threw her arms around Y/N’s neck. “Thank you so much!” The hunter couldn’t help but laugh and after all the sad she had been wading through, it felt good. “Where do we start?”         “Well, I’ll need to check this place out when it’s empty, do a sweep with my EMF meter. I’ll need to do some research on this club as well, see if anyone died violently. And of course, I’ll need to ask you more questions, figure out why this spirit has linked itself to you.”         “Wow, okay,” Jillian breathed, pulling away from the hug. “It’s time for my set but if you want to stick around and listen, you can question me afterwards.” She smiled brilliantly and Y/N grinned back.         “Sounds like a plan.” The goddess sauntered away, taking her drink with her. With nothing to distract her now, Y/N’s ears tuned in immediately to the jukebox. Kelly Clarkson’s “Behind These Hazel Eyes” was playing and the hunter just shook her head. What were the odds that every song this place played would remind her of Gabe?           They had been seeing each other for a little over a year when everything changed. She and the Winchesters were hunting a band of shapeshifters in New Orleans and had tracked them to an abandoned warehouse down by the docks. Y/N was going in as lead with the brothers flanking her about six feet back, guns drawn. As she passed through the first set of doors, she paused to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. The area looked clear and she could see a second set of doors just to her left. She slowly and quietly picked her way over the gravel floor, motioning for Sam and Dean to follow. She was about five feet away from the entrance when an explosion rocked the warehouse.          Y/N felt herself flying backwards through the air; she landed on the ground hard. All the air left her body and she felt as if she were on fire. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see, she couldn’t hear. She tried to call for the boys, make sure they were okay, but she wasn’t sure if her voice was working either. She tried to sit up, assess the damage but she couldn’t move. Fear started to wrap itself around her as she swiveled her eyes, trying to see someone, something…anything.         Suddenly, Sam’s face was above hers. He was dirty and bloody but he was upright. His mouth was moving; it looked like he was yelling her name but Y/N couldn’t hear anything but the obnoxious ringing in her ears. Sam grabbed her shoulders and a whole new pain shot through her body; she think she screamed but she couldn’t be sure. He immediately let go as Dean appeared above her next to his brother. They both looked worried, scared. Sam had just pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket to presumably call for help when there was a brilliant flash of light and Gabe showed up behind them. “Gabe…” She couldn’t tell if the whisper actually came out of her mouth or not but he shoved the Winchesters aside and was kneeling at her side.         “Y/N, baby, oh God, baby, hold on, I’m here, I’m right here.”  Through the fog of pain, she realized she was hearing his voice in her head. It was comforting, knowing he was with her. With her in her last moments. She had accepted this and was happy that she would see the face she loved before she died. She tried to smile at him, tell him how she felt. “No! You will not die, not if I can help it!”  It didn’t surprise her that he could read her thoughts. She started to tell him how much she loved him when Sam grabbed Gabe by the collar of his coat and yanked him up, away from her. She didn’t know what they were saying but Sam was angry, yelling at Gabe. Her trickster simply snapped his fingers and the boys were gone. He turned back to her, kneeling at her side again.         “This might hurt but just hold on to me, okay, sugar? Just hold on.” Gabe put her arms over his shoulders as he leaned over her. At first all Y/N knew was the most intense pain she had ever felt. The bright golden light surrounding her pressed against her and put out a warmth that eked into every pore of her body, softening the pain molecule by molecule until it was completely gone. Y/N sighed and let her body go limp against Gabe’s chest as he held her to him. “Come on, baby, let’s get you somewhere safe.” She realized that she was actually hearing him talk now, it wasn’t just in her head.        “Gabe, you….saved me.” Her throat was raw; the words scraped out painfully. He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger there for a couple of seconds.        “Of course I did. I couldn’t lose you. I love you, Y/N, you’re my world.” She was so tired, all she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep for a year but her trickster just told her what she had been yearning to hear for months. He loved her.        “You love me…Gabe, you love me?”        “I do, I love you more than anything.”        “I love you, too,” she whispered. She lifted her face to his and he kissed her lips gently.        “Let’s get you out of here.” He picked her up, cradling her in his arms and carrying her out of the warehouse. As they walked outside, Sam and Dean immediately besieged them. “She’s okay, guys, she’s gonna be fine,” Gabe said before they could ask any questions.        “Y/N, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have taken the lead,” Dean said, grabbing her hand in his.        “Don’t blame yourself, Dean. It’s okay,” Y/N said weakly, trying to smile at him.        “Put her in the Impala,” Sam demanded, his voice angry. “We’ll get her to a hospital.”       “She doesn’t need a hospital,” Gabe answered firmly. “All she needs is me. I will take care of her.” He started to walk away from the boys then turned his head to look over his shoulder at them. “We’ll be in her motel room if you want to see her when you get back.” She heard the snap, felt the dizziness and she was suddenly in her motel room, Gabe laying her down on the bed. “Close your eyes and rest, cupcake,” he directed, his voice soft, smooth like velvet. She wanted to argue, wanted to ask him how he saved her but her eyes were heavy…so heavy….        When she awoke, she felt like she had been asleep for a hundred years. But she also felt amazing; there was no pain anywhere and she felt clear-minded and alert. She lay there for a few moments, savoring the feeling before forcing herself to remember what had happened. The explosion, the pain, Gabe saving her and snapping her here.        Gabe saying he loved her.        She sat up slowly, pushing her hair out of her face. There was her trickster, sitting at her bedside, a smile on his lips. “Good morning sleepy head,” he said, standing from his chair and sitting on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”         “Good,” she answered. “I feel good.” She reached out and covered his hand in hers, squeezing tightly. “Thank you for saving me.”         “You don’t need to keep thanking me, Y/N,” he replied, leaning in and kissing her temple. “It was a completely selfish act. I couldn’t bear the thought of existing without you.” Her heart melting, she threw her arms around him and kissed him thoroughly. Just as she pulled away, the door to her motel room flew open and the Winchesters barreled in, looking scared and pissed all at the same time.         “Hey guys,” Y/N smiled. They pulled up short, obviously shocked at how good she looked and sounded.         “Are you okay,” Dean asked gruffly, sending a hard look at the man sitting on the bed next to her.         “I’m fine, I feel great.”         “Took you guys long enough,” Gabe laughed. Y/N watched both brothers’ jaws clench and eyes narrow.         “It felt like it took a week to get here,” Sam growled, “What did you do?”         “Y/N needed her rest. She almost died. She didn’t need you two muttonheads bothering her.” He smirked at them. “And it was only two days, not a week.”         “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t stake your ass right here, right now,” Dean grumbled, taking a step towards the bed.          “Dean, don’t…” Y/N started but the trickster stopped her.                 “One,” Gabe put his index finger up in the air. “I saved your precious hunting partner. Two, I’m incredibly handsome and three…well…okay, I can’t think of a third reason but…”         “Three, if you do, I’ll never speak to you again.” All three men swung their eyes to Y/N who looked deadly serious. “The fact that he saved my life should be enough. Maybe you could try thanking him. Unless I don’t mean as much to you as you’ve always said I do.” Both hunters had the grace to look abashed at her words, mumbling half-sincere thank you’s. “That’s better,” she praised with a smile.          “So, I’ve gotta ask, why would you save Y/N? I mean, she’s a hunter.” Sam looked genuinely curious while Dean looked annoyed at the whole situation.           “Yeah, and why is a hunter defending a trickster,” the older brother asked, genuinely pissed off.           “You chuckleheads haven’t figured it out yet,” Gabe asked, laughter tinting his voice.           “Figured what out,” Dean huffed, narrowing his green eyes. Y/N held her breath as the shimmering started and suddenly Mad Dog the big burly biker was sitting next to her on the bed. He grinned and held his arms out in a “ta-dah” motion. Watching Sam and Dean’s reactions as the realization set in would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so terrifying. As soon as Gabe shimmered back to himself, the boys exploded.        “What the hell?”        “Are you fucking kidding me?”        “All this time?”        “You’ve been running around with this asshole?”        “How could you do that do that us, Y/N?”        Y/N found she would rather deal with Dean and his anger rather than Sam and his disappointment. She fixed her eyes on the older brother and said, “It’s none of your business who I see,” she yelled back.        “He’s a monster! We kill monsters, we don’t cuddle up with them!”        “Are you really going to play that card,” she shot back. “Benny.” She waited until Dean’s mouth hardened into a flat line before looking at Sam. “Ruby.” The tall man blushed hot and looked away. “I love Gabe. Love him. And he loves me. And that’s the end of this discussion.” The brothers looked like they both wanted to argue more but Y/N’s expression deterred them. It wasn’t often she got angry with them but when she did, they knew to back off.        “How were you able to heal her,” Sam asked finally, his voice calm as he stared at the trickster.        “What kind of a question is that,” Gabe asked. “I brought your precious brother back from the dead, why couldn’t I do something as simple as keeping someone from dying?”        “What? What the hell?” Dean’s eyes widened as he stared at Sam. “What is he talking about, Sam?”         “Later.” Sam shook his head without looking at his brother. “So, you love Y/N?”         “With all my heart.” Sam sighed and shook his head. It was hard to argue with Gabe when he was so sincere. “You’re right, Y/N, we have no right to tell you who you can be with. Just….just be careful.”         “I will. Thank you Sam.” She swiveled her eyes over to Dean who looked like a spoiled child who was told he needed to finish his spinach before he go out and play. He finally rolled his eyes and muttered, “whatever,” before stalking towards the door. He grabbed the handle then stopped and pointed at Gabe with his middle finger.        “You. You even think about hurting her, I will stake you so hard.” Without waiting for a reply, he stomped out the door, followed by Sam who still looked baffled by their pairing. When they were alone, Y/N let out a huge sigh.         “Well, that went well.” Gabe laughed and kissed the side of her head.         “Thanks for standing up for me.”         “Of course I stood up for you. You’re mine, remember?” She caressed his cheek and kissed his lips lightly. “So…what did you mean by you brought Dean back from the dead?”          “Oh…I might have trapped Sam in an alternate universe where he had to watch Dean die every day.” Hs tone was flippant yet he was watching out of the side of his eye for her reaction. She gasped, slapped his chest, then starting laughing.           “Why? Why would you do that? When did you do that?”           “Mmm….it was a couple of months ago. I did it because that caveman wouldn’t stop flirting with you.” Gabe wrapped his arms around Y/N and shifted all his weight so that he fell on top of her. She screamed, startled at the sudden position change but settled underneath him, her hands sliding over his shoulders. “Plus, it was a good time to teach Sam a lesson. Dean’s going to die and he needs to know what life without him will be like. It’s getting closer, you know, his crossroads contract.”          “Yes, I know. I’m trying not to think about it. Isn’t there anything you can do to save him?” Gabe shook his head.         “Crossroad deals are binding. Even someone like me can’t break them.” He kissed the tip of her nose before pushing himself up and crawling off of the bed.        “Where are you going,” she said, pouting just a little. He stood in the middle of the room and stared at her, his expression all kinds of serious.        “Look, I need to tell you something. I’ve wanted to for a while now but tonight seems like the right time.” As Gabe took a deep breath, Y/N sat up so she could see him better. “An ordinary trickster, well, he can’t do the things that I do. I’m different…because…” A soft, golden glow began to emanate from his body, growing brighter by the second. His eyes began to glow blue and suddenly, a pair of golden wings unfurled from behind him. “…I’m an angel.”        “Oh my God,” she gasped, unable to take her eyes off of the wings. They were huge, the feathers quivering with tiny electrical pulses, glowing with a light of their own.        “Not just any angel, either,” he continued, taking a step towards her. “I’m Gabriel.”        “The archangel,” she breathed.        “The one and only.” Y/N stared at him for a while, taking everything in. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, she ended up closing it again because she didn’t really know what to say, how to react. “Are you okay? Is this too much for you?”        “No….no….it’s, well, it is a lot to take in. You’re an archangel, for crying out loud. I grew up hearing about you in Sunday School.” She chuckled and shook her head, a baffled look coloring her features. “If I had told crabby Miss Parkerson then that Gabriel the archangel was my soul mate she would have stuck me in the corner for blasphemy!”        “So. this doesn’t frighten you off? You still want to be with me?” Y/N was shocked to hear worry in his voice. She crawled off of the bed and walked up to him, sliding her arms over his shoulders and linking her hands behind his neck, careful not to touch the wings that were shooting tiny sparks between the feathers.         “You’re mine. I’m yours. Forever. Wasn’t that the deal?”         “It was indeed.” Gabe rested his forehead on hers, his eyes, now returned to the whiskey color Y/N loved so much, stared into hers tenderly. She could have stayed there, in that embrace, forever.         The pain of remembering that night was still sharp after all these years and it cut her in places she thought were scarred over. She caught the bartender’s eye and signaled for another round. When Kelly Clarkson was done singing, the lights dimmed and the patrons of the club started applauding, gathering around the stage on the east end. A tall thin man with lanky dark hair dressed in a black suit with a shite shirt and red skinny tie came out and strapped an acoustic guitar around him. He started to play a soft melody that Y/N recognized as Lana Del Rey’s Born To Die. She grunted in disbelief at the opening song choice and downed the last of her shots. This was just getting ridiculous.         When Jillian took the stage, the crowd went wild and it seemed like the number of patrons had tripled in the last few seconds. She smiled beatifically and walked the length of the stage, touching hands with fans before beginning to sing into the silver bejeweled microphone. The first note quieted the crowd as her voice floated through the air. The group swayed as one as if they were in a trance. Y/N immediately thought siren but shook her head of that silly notion; the siren’s song was transmitted through saliva and it wasn’t like Jillian was out there licking people.        Y/N watched the crowd, looking to see if they all appeared human or maybe her vengeful spirit was wandering among them. She heard one girl say that she sounded like an angel, causing her to start laughing. The laugh caught in her throat and finished as a sob.         Gabriel was not a singer. He tried but he sounded like Scuttle from The Little Mermaid. “Where did the expression ‘sings like an angel’ come from if you can’t sing,” Y/N would tease him. He would just sing louder at her until she covered her ears and begged for mercy. She missed those times most, the fun times when she could forget that she was a hunter and he was a trickster and an angel.         Like her, he had a job to do. He still meted out just desserts to those who deserved them, even if it was her hunting partners. Almost two years after they discovered she was seeing him, they disappeared off the face the planet for a few days. Bobby couldn’t track them, Castiel couldn’t find them. And then Cas vanished as well. She called Gabe, asking if he had a hand in this and he told her he did, that they were fine, he’d send them back soon. They just had to learn a lesson. Again. So she waited.          And waited.         After three days, she tried to call Gabe but he didn’t answer. Now she was worried. He always answered, no matter what he was doing. She took a chance and dialed Dean’s phone. When he picked up, she wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or more scared. They wouldn’t hurt Gabe, would they? “Where are you,” he barked. “We need to have a conversation, you and I.”         “I’m at The Bluebird on 4th, room 27,” she answered, now more scared then ever. She tried Gabe time and again with no luck until Dean pounded on her door. She pulled it open and stood back, knowing he was going to storm in and she was right. “Are you guys okay,” she ventured, shutting the door after looking behind him and seeing no Sam.         “Oh, we’re just peachy,” he snarled, his voice on the brink of being a shout. His eyes were brimming with anger, his jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists. For a split second, Y/N had to wonder if she should be worried about her safety. “That douchebag boyfriend of yours is a freaking archangel!” Now he did shout. But she was more surprised by the fact that Gabe had finally told them his secret.         “Yeah…” Dean rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air.         “And you freaking knew! Of course you knew! How long have you known?” Dean kept his distance, maybe, she thought, because he was so angry he just might lash out physically at her and he didn’t really want that on his conscience.         “Since the night he saved me after the explosion,” she answered quietly. Dean closed his eyes as he absorbed the fact that she had known for two years. His fists clenched tighter before he took a deep breath and opened his eyes.          “And you didn’t tell us why?”          “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”          “It wasn’t your…Jesus Christ, Y/N, you could have saved us a lot of trouble by telling us this when he told you!”          “He asked me not to,” she said, bravely taking a step towards the angry hunter. “Besides, you wouldn’t have believed me then. That was well before Cas showed up. You would have thought he was tricking me.” Dean opened his mouth to argue but she could see he knew she was right. The anger seemed to leave his body with a sigh. “Is he okay,” she asked quietly. “Is Gabe okay?”           “Yeah, yeah, we left him in a circle of holy fire but he’s otherwise unharmed.” Y/N could tell that he was annoyed but she didn’t know if it was by her question or the fact that Gabriel was still kicking.          “Where’s Sam?”          “In the car. He didn’t really want to talk to you right now.”          “Ouch.”          “Well, your boyfriend put him through a lot. A lot more than me, actually.”          “I’m sorry. What was the reason for all of it?”          “To tell us to play our roles in the apocalypse.” Dean was starting to get worked up again so Y/N closed the gap between them and grabbed his hands in hers.           “Damn him,” she exclaimed. “I’ve asked him and asked him to see our side of things. But for eons he’s been walking around with the idea in his head that you’re Michael’s vessel and Sam, Lucifer’s. He’s stubborn.”          “Yeah, we get that.” Dean sighed again and looked her dead in the eye. “So you’re on our side and not that angel’s, right?”         “Of course. Till the very end.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead firmly. “I’ll tell you where he’s at so you can go free him…if he needs it…I turned the sprinklers on but…” he shrugged, “…but only if you try again to persuade him this apocalypse shit doesn’t need to happen. Tell him fate isn’t written in stone.”          “I’ll do my best,” she promised. When she got to the abandoned paper mill, she heard the fire alarm ringing but no fire trucks were in sight. She pulled the heavy door open and saw the sprinklers that Dean had activated were spitting out the last of their water supply onto a very wet, very pissed off archangel who sat cross-legged in the middle of dirty, wet floor inside a blackened ring of ashes. “Hey, hot stuff,” Y/N greeted, hoping to get a smile from him. Instead he merely raised his head and looked at her, water dripping from his head. “Baby, are you okay?” She received a shrug in return. as she kneeled next to him. “Gabe, talk to me. Please?”         “Your friend Dean really knows how to a cut a man deep, you know that?”         “I’m aware,” she replied, thinking how many times she got pissed at him for his insensitivity and cruel tongue. “What did he say?”         “He brought up things I wanted to forget. Me running away from Heaven when the fighting  between my brothers got bad. I wasn’t there when Lucifer was banished. Maybe if I had manned up and stuck around, I could have fixed it. Or stopped it.”          “Gabriel,” Y/N tried to reach for him but he shied away. It broke her heart to see her trickster so upset. “If you believe in destiny, then Lucifer’s falling had to happen. There was nothing you could have done to stop it.”          “Actually, that destiny was set on place after the fall.”          “Really? So…you’re saying that something unforeseen happened that caused a new destiny to be put into place?” He nodded sadly. “And if that’s true then maybe something we do, you and I, or Sam or Dean, can change destiny again?” She let her words sink in; suddenly his whole body language changed as he realized what she was saying. He stood up, his eyes sparkling again.          “Maybe…maybe!” He clapped his hands together and winked at her. “This is why I love you…well, one of the reasons. You’re smart, you’re always thinking.” She grinned at her angel and stood up.         “So, why didn’t the fire department show when Dean set the alarm off,” Y/N asked as she entwined her fingers with Gabe’s.        “Because brilliant little me warded the place before I brought The Wonder Twins in here. I didn’t want anyone accidentally wandering in.” She tilted her head, and Gabe heard her unspoken question. “Nothing I do is ever warded against you, sugar lips.” She chuckled, allowing Gabriel to finally embrace her and press his lips to hers. “Thanks for coming to get me.”        “Thanks for rethinking your position on this whole apocalypse thing.”        And there was the rub, Y/N thought as she came back to the present where Jillian was now singing another cover, Better In Time. By now she expected every song to remind her of Gabe so she let this one roll on by. Although she realized that Time, something she thought she would always have with her trickster, was the one thing they, in fact, did not have.         Y/N was working a rugaru case in Indianapolis a few months later. Sam and Dean were hightailing it out to help her after a demon possession in Smithfield, IN. Sam called her from the road to tell her that they were being delayed by a storm of biblical proportions and that they were staying the night at a place called The Elysian Fields Hotel. They would catch up with her tomorrow. As soon as she hung up her phone, she heard a telltale rustling behind her and her heart soared, knowing that Gabe was there. But when she turned around to face him, he looked serious, scared. “Babe, what’s wrong?”        “Your boys are in danger,” he blurted out. “And before you say they’re always in danger, I mean serious, their ass is in the fire, they’re gonna die danger.”        “What? How? I just got off the phone with Sam….”        “Yeah, the hotel they’re staying at is only an operating hotel when they want it to be.”        “When who wants it to be?” Gabe was pacing, obviously worried and it was frightening Y/N. “Gabriel, tell me what’s going on.”        “Do you remember when I told you about that gang of demigods I hung out with millennia ago?”        “You mean Kali and her cronies.” The tone of Y/N’s voice dropped a couple of degrees. Gabe had told her about his fling with the Hindu goddess shortly after they started getting serious. While she knew it was in the past, Y/N couldn’t help but be jealous. How could one compete with a literal goddess? Gabe stopped his pacing and gave her an exasperated, sideways glance. “Sorry. What do they have to do with Sam & Dean?”        “They want to stop the apocalypse as bad as you guys do but they figure with Michael and Lucifer’s vessels in their possession, they can use them as bargaining chips. Zao Shen is already talking of killing them.”       “We have to go then,” Y/N exclaimed, reaching for her hunting bag. Gabe stopped her with a hand on her arm.       “No. You can’t.” His voice was hard, almost as hard as his grip. She flicked her eyes up to him in surprise. “Kali already has a blood spell performed on the boys. They can’t leave and I’m the only one who can get close enough to her to get their blood back. She’ll snap your neck the second you show up.”       “I can’t just leave them to die, Gabriel!”       “I know you can’t. That’s why I’m going. I just wanted to let you know what my plan was…you know…just in case…” He yanked her up against his body and kissed her forcefully. “I love you.”       “I love you. Be careful, take care of my angel.” And he was gone. Y/N tried calling Sam back but the phone just went to voicemail. She hated being in the dark, waiting, wondering….and knowing he was with Kali, well, that just made her blood boil. She waited about an hour before Gabe popped back in. He looked ragged, tired, resigned. “Babe! Are you okay? Are Sam and Dean…”       “They’re fine, we’re fine. Kali tried to kill me but I was too smart for her.” Y/N rushed up to hug him but her hands went right through him, causing his image to shimmer. 
      “Gabe?” He sighed and looked at her with sad eyes.      “Kali is quick and I was distracted,” he admitted. “She got my blood so now I can’t leave, either.”      “What do you need me to do,” she asked immediately.      “Nothing. Stay right here where you’re safe.”      “What are you planning, trickster?”      “Look, my original mission was to go in a rescue the guys. But…things have changed.” He took a deep breath and didn’t meet her eyes when he said, “Lucifer is coming. He may already be here.”       “Then you’ve gotta kill Kali, break the blood spell, get the hell out of there!”       “No can do, sweetheart. I have a job to do…Dean made that very clear.”       “Dean? Why is Dean suddenly in charge?”       “Look, cupcake, if Lucifer is dead, this whole apocalypse nonsense stops right here, right now. And I’m the hero of the story. I have to stop running and do what’s right.”       “Gabe, don’t be a fool!” Y/N wished more than anything she could grab onto him, keep him here with her. She could see the determination in his whiskey eyes, that he wanted to be the one to slay his brother. “You can’t take on Lucifer! He’s too strong! And this isn’t your fight!”        “Dean said….”       “I don’t give a fuck what Dean said!” Her scream shocked both of them. But Y/N was angry, scared that he was going to sacrifice himself this way because of some bravado Dean Winchester had spouted. “It’s not your place to kill your brother! If Dean wants him dead, he can damn well kill him himself!”       “He’s tried.”       “Gabe, please, please, don’t fuck everything up, please?” She reached for him, even though she knew it would do no good. “If you shimmer out of here intending to go for Lucifer, I will never speak to you again! Do you hear me?”        “I love you, Y/N.” His eyes grew moist and soft, his lips turned up in a sad smile. He reached for her, too. “Don’t forget me. And don’t fall in love with someone new, okay?” He shimmered away before she could answer, leaving her standing there in the middle of the floor, hand outstretched, hot, angry tears coursing down her face.        “I hate you, Gabriel,” she cried, sinking to her knees and praying for his safety. She didn’t know how long she stayed on the floor, crying, pleading, begging into the emptiness of her hotel room. At some point she fell asleep and dreamed of the devil coming for her, his red eyes glowing in the darkness, laughing about how he killed Gabriel and she was next. She awoke to the sound of pounding and yelling outside her door. Shaking the cobwebs from her head and pulling herself to her feet, groaning as her muscles stretched, she recognized Dean’s voice. Her stomach a mass of knots, she threw open the door to see the Winchester brothers standing with a tall, beautiful, dark skinned woman. “Gabriel,” she asked, hating the piteousness in her voice as the trio walked into the room.        “Y/N, I’m sorry,” Sam started.        “No,” she yelled, slamming the door behind her. “No! Don’t say it!”        “He fought valiantly,” Dean said, his voice soft. “He saved so many people.”        “Is Lucifer dead?”        “No.” Y/N stood in the middle of her room and let the reality wash over her. Her angel, her trickster, her heart, was gone. Lost to her. Forever. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was an archangel, he was supposed to be eternal. She snapped her head up and stared at the woman.        “Are you Kali?” The goddess, not used to being spoken to that way by humans, widened her dark eyes in surprise as she nodded. “This is partly your fault!” Y/N strode across the room to face her, pointing at her. “You crafted that blood spell on him, making it so he couldn’t leave. If he could have snapped out of there…”       “Whoa, easy there,” Dean said, cutting her off with both hands raised in the air. He stood in between the two women, his back to Kali. “This chick can kill you with her mind…like Vader. So I’d take it down a notch or two.”       “Right now I don’t really care.” She was still upset but she turned the volume down.       “I understand the role I played in Loki’s death,” the Destroyer answered, her voice smooth and even. She placed a long nailed hand on Dean’s shoulder and gently pushed him out of her way. Her eyes bored into Y/N’s unblinking. “I feel great remorse for the way it played out. Here…” She held out a small glass vial that contained a golden red liquid. “This belonged to your angel. I’d like to give it to you as a small token to acknowledge the wrong I did him. And you.”       “I-thank you.” Y/N wanted to be angry at the goddess, rail against her, but she could see Kali was truly remorseful. She took the vial and held it tight in her hand.       “I could sense how deep his feelings ran for you, mortal. Just as I can see you truly loved your angel. Again, you have my sincerest condolences.” She nodded at Y/N before doing the same at the boys and then simply vanished.        “Y/N, are you doing okay,” Sam asked, once they all took in the fact that Kali the Destroyer was gone. She shook her head in response, still staring at Gabe’s blood. The tall hunter came over and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m so, so sorry.” She nodded and whispered her thanks. Dean walked towards her, arms outstretched to pull her into an embrace but she backed away.       “You,” she spat, looking up at him with fire in her eyes. “This is all your fault!”       “Excuse me?” Dean looked offended.       “You filled Gabriel’s head with all that honorable death crap! Telling him to man up and kill his brother. What right did you have to tell him that, to force that burden on him?” Y/N could feel the tears welling, threatening to push through and spill over the dam she was trying to hide them behind.       “I’m just trying to stop the freakin’ apocalypse,” Dean shot back, obviously wounded by her words.       “And you don’t care who you use to do it!” She took a deep breath, so close to her breaking point. “I know you didn’t like Gabriel, you’ve made that abundantly clear over the years. Was this your way of finally getting him out of your life? Goad him into playing chicken with Lucifer?”       “Y/N..” Sam tried to intervene but she was having none of it. She rolled right over him with her words.       “Are you happy now, Dean? Huh? Are you happy? He’s gone! The one man I ever loved, will ever love, and you killed him.” The hunter opened his mouth to defend himself but he didn’t have the time. “Don’t you even say that it wasn’t you, it was Lucifer. You may not have been the one to stick that angel blade in him but you sure as hell put him in the way of it. He wouldn’t have been there, trying to play hero if it wasn’t for you!”       “I’m not happy,” Dean replied after a few beats of shocked silence. “I’m sorry it worked out this way, Y/N.”       “I need to go.” Y/N ignored Dean’s apology and started grabbing her things, leaving him a stunned statue in the middle of the room.       “Where are you going,” Sam asked.       “Home. Colorado. I can’t…I can’t stay here, I can’t be around…” she motioned vaguely at Dean and Sam sighed.       “Let me drive you, at least?” Y/N stopped in the middle of throwing clothes in a duffel bag.        “I can drive,” she grumbled testily.        “No, I don’t think you’re in any condition to drive, nevertheless all the way to Colorado. Please,” he walked over to her, and pulled her into a tight hug. She dropped the bag and started to cry, arms limp at her sides. Sam didn’t seem to care that she was sobbing all over his jacket and shirt. He simply held her until she gained enough control of herself to look up at him and say, “Ok.”        “Ok. Thank you. Dean can pick me up whenever he’s ready, right, Dean?”        “Yeah, sure,” he grunted, keeping eye contact with the carpet. Y/N wasn’t sure if he was unhappy at the extra driving time or feeling angry over her accusation. She let Sam help her pack the Jeep and gave him the keys when they were done. She never said another word or even looked in Dean’s direction.        As Jillian spoke to the crowd at The Lemon Drop, Y/N counted how many years it had been since she spoke to Dean. It was going on seven. Although she did help with the procuring of some items they needed when he had the whole Mark of Cain thing going on. Y/N thought about Dean, wondering if she should give up this grudge she had been carrying around for so long. Seven years was a long time to punish someone. Maybe it was the memories assaulting her tonight but she felt like she should call him, or maybe swing by wherever he was when she was done with this case. It was a shock to realize that she actually missed Dean Winchester.  While she was at it, maybe she should stop hunting alone. It had been nice to have a partner, someone who had her back. She was tired of rushing headlong into dangerous situations with the hope that whatever she was hunting would end her suffering. As she pondered this change of heart, she fiddled with the silver chain around her neck, twisting it so the clasp that had found it’s way to the front was back behind her neck. Hanging from it was the vial of angel blood. She hadn’t taken it off since she slid it on the chain; she couldn’t. It was all she had left of Gabriel now.        Jillian started another cover song; this time it was Shakira’s Broken Record. Y/N rubbed her hand over her face in disbelief and was more surprised to find that she had been crying then she was that this was yet another of Gabe’s songs. She realized that she hadn’t thought about the archangel’s death in a very long time, at least not the details of that night. She had kept those locked down tight for seven years and yet tonight, everything seemed to scream at her to remember every painful moment. She grabbed a cocktail napkin and wiped the tears away, hoping not too many people had seen this display of emotion.        Y/N dug her phone out of her shirt, deciding to research this place before the show was over; she was done reliving the worst time of her life. It was time to focus on the reason she was here. She googled Lemon Drop Denver and was surprised when nothing came up except a doughnut shop and a handful of places she could buy the candy. She modified the search by adding “nightlife” to it but it only pulled up the best nightclubs that served Lemon Drop drinks. “Hey, when did this place open,” she asked the bartender.     “No idea. I just started working here.” Nodding, Y/N entered the club’s address into google. It came up as the Sleep-E-Tyme Motel. Following the links, she discovered that it had gone out of business three years previous. Not only were there zero indications that the property had been bought or converted into a nightclub, it also had a very non-existent history as a motel. No murders, unexplained deaths, or suicides connected with the property. Even after she used a little knowledge she’d learned from working with Sam all those years and hacked into the Denver County Assessor’s Office, she ended up with nada. The property was originally purchased 75 years previously and had been ten different motels over the years. Y/N, desperate to figure this out, tried a broad search for unexplained deaths in the Denver area but nothing matched up. Giving it one last try, she plugged Jillian’s name into the search engine and came up with a giant goose egg.       There were results for people who had her name but nothing came up about her at all. No Facebook page, no Twitter or Instagram account. In this day and age, how could a singer garner so much attention without having a presence on social media? An image search also pulled up nothing. “All right, Sam, what have you gotten me into,” Y/N said out loud as she texted him to ask who passed along the case to him.     “I’d like to sing a brand new song tonight,” Jillian announced, as Y/N waited for Sam’s reply. “It was written by my partner in crime, my guitarist Mad Dog.” She gestured to the long haired man standing to her left, who saluted the cheering crowd with a cheeky grin. “It’s dedicated to a certain someone out there in the audience tonight. She knows who she is.” Y/N scanned the mob of people to see if anyone reacted like they knew this song was for them but no one seemed to stand out. Her phone buzzing cut her search short.        “What case are you talking about,” Sam texted back.        “The possible poltergeist case in Denver. With the lounge singer? Jillian?”        “I got nothing. It wasn’t me.” There was a short pause before a second text from him popped up. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”        “I’ll let you know,” she sent back, her mind still reeling with possible explanations. If Sam didn’t send the text, then who did? Her phone buzzed insistently now, indicating she was receiving a call. She ignored it, knowing it was Sam being overprotective, and let the call go to voicemail.        Right now, the song demanded attention, starting out with a slow, melodic guitar riff. Confused as to where to go from here, Y/N put the phone down and turned her eyes to Jillian, the reason she was here. The singer had her eyes closed as she swayed to the beat. When she opened her mouth, her voice was smooth and effortless.     “Everything I do, I'm gonna think of you, don’t know what else to do…You got me, you got me, baby…everything I make, I only make for you…Baby, be patient for me, and please don't fall in love with someone new…I promise one day I'll come back for you.” Y/N’s heart stopped when she heard the words. Surely she heard wrong. She shook her head and leaned forward on her stool, determined to pay closer attention to the lyrics. “Oh, you say you hate me now, and you burn me with your words…Calling me a fool, saying that I've fucked up everything…and you'll never forgive me, though I'm doing this for you…”       “What the fuck,” Y/N whispered, her head spinning, her heart pounding. How was this happening. Why was this happening? Jillian sang the chorus again and she heard it clear as a bell: “Please don’t fall in love with someone new.” Y/N started looking around but for what or whom, she wasn’t sure. She just knew that someone was deliberately messing with her. She didn’t understand, though, how anyone could know that Gabriel had said those words to her. She never told anyone about their last conversation.         “Believe in you, believe in me, we're meant to be together…” Jillian sang the next line and looked right at Y/N. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a song,” Y/N told herself as her eyes welled up. She didn’t want to cry again, not now. But these lyrics were meant for her. And Jillian wasn’t breaking eye contact. She stepped off of the stage and began walking through the crowd towards her. The fans parted like the red sea. It was like they didn’t even care that the woman they had been screaming for moments before was walking by. “Please don’t hate me,” she sang, causing the dam to break. Y/N couldn't stop the tears if her life depended on it.         “I don’t hate you, I love you,” she whispered, choking on her tears. The closer Jillian got to her, the more convinced Y/N was that she was going to shimmer into Gabriel. The vial of Gabe’s blood that she wore around her neck was starting to heat up; it was burning her skin where it hung underneath her shirt. Y/N pulled it away from her, knowing in her heart of hearts that her angel was here.         “I promise one day I'll come back to you…” Jillian smiled, extending a hand towards her. Y/N stood up from her barstool, holding her breath. The singer stopped in front of her, a beautiful smile on her face. “I promise one day I'll come back to you.” Suddenly, everything around her shimmered; the neon candy, the crowd, the bartender. In a flash it was all gone. Y/N was standing in the lobby of an abandoned motel, facing Jillian. One lone spotlight remained, illuminating the beautiful singer. Y/N reached out to touch her hand, whispering her angel’s name.              But her hand went right through the songstress, who shimmered as well and disappeared. The spotlight shut off. “What? No, no! Where are you? Gabriel, where are you?” She spun around, seeing nothing but dark and street lights streaming in through grimy, boarded up windows. Everything was gone. Sinking to her knees, she sobbed Gabe’s name over and over, feeling as though she had lost him all over again. Maybe she was dead and this was her hell: reliving all the painful memories of him and thinking she had the chance to have him back. Or maybe another trickster had her in his sights.          Her rational side flared up, yelling at her to get up and investigate the situation. This whole thing smelled fishy and the quicker she got to the bottom of it, the sooner she would have answers. It wasn’t doing her any good to lay in the dirt and cry. She reached for her phone, planning to use the flashlight to search her surroundings until she remembered she had left it on the bar. When the bar disappeared, did her phone follow suit? Y/N sighed, wiping her tear-stained cheeks and pushing herself to her feet. If she had lost her phone in this debacle, she was screwed. She turned around slowly as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. She could make out a couple of tables, one laying cockeyed because of a broken leg, and a scattering of chairs. She didn’t see a bar or any barstools. “Damn it,” she said out loud, her voice echoing in the darkness.       Maybe it was on the ground, she thought, having fallen when the bar shimmered away. She crouched down and started feeling around with her hands. The floor was disgusting, covered in years of dust and dirt and, “Oh, God, what the hell was that,” she asked, praying it wasn’t animal droppings she just touched. Taking a deep breath and reminding herself she’s handled worse things during hunts, she crawled a few more feet before her hand touched something that felt like a shoe. A shoe that had a foot in it. As Y/N ran her hand up the shoe, she wasn’t sure if she wanted there to be a body attached to the foot or not.       Suddenly a light illuminated the space above her. Peering up, she was startled to see Jillian’s guitar player standing there, her phone in his hand, flashlight app functioning. “Looking for this?”        “I, uh, yeah, thanks.” As she started to pull herself up from the floor, he held out his free hand to help her. She reached out to take and it, half-expecting him to be a mirage as well. She gasped when her fingers closed around a real hand. “What’s going on,” she asked. “Why are you still here?” In the light of the phone, she could see him smile. A smile she knew like the back of your hand. “Gabe,” she whispered, her heart thumping hard against her chest. She didn’t think she could survive another letdown. “Are you real?”       “I’m real, sugar.” He snapped his fingers and there was her angel standing before her. She didn’t move for a few moments, just stared at him, letting her mind adjust. He started to walk towards her but she stopped him, rapidly pulling a knife from her belt. “Whoa, whoa, cupcake, no need for violence.” He put both hands in front of him, his whiskey eyes wide.       “I need to be sure I’m not in a Djinn soaked dream,” Y/N told him, drawing the large blade across her palm, opening her skin. Dark red blood spilled from the wound and onto the floor. Nothing happened, she stayed where she was, as did the man in front of her. “Okay, then,” she whispered, tearing her eyes away from the blood and looking up at Gabriel. “You’re really real. You’re really, truly real.”        “I’m really, truly, honestly here.” He stepped up to her, bringing her hand to his lips. He kissed her palm lightly and the wound disappeared. When his lips touched her skin, Y/N gasped, the sensation so much more intense than she remembered. She looked up at him and burst into tears. He gathered her into his arms and held her while she sobbed. Seven years of pent up anger, grief, sorrow…it all came out right then. She didn’t know how long she stood there in his embrace but she finally was able to catch her breath and pull her head away.        “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything I said,” she told him. “I don’t hate you, I never did.”        “I know, I know. It’s okay.” Gabriel used his thumb to wipe away a couple of straggling tears from her cheeks and she leaned in to his touch.          “It’s not okay, Gabe, it’s not. I was cruel and I should never have said what I said.” Y/N grabbed his face in both hands and placed her forehead against his, standing on her tiptoes to do so. “You were so brave to take on Lucifer that way, saving all of those people, those gods. I should have encouraged you but I was scared. I didn’t want to lose you.”        “You didn’t lose me, I’m back.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m back.”        “How are you back, anyway,” Y/N asked, not wanting to remind him of the seven years of torture that she endured when she did lose him.        “Dad put me back together.” He stepped away from her and held out his arms. “Did a fine job, I must say.”        “I don’t understand. I thought Chuck said…”        “When Dad revealed himself to the Hardy Boys? Yeah, they asked about bringing my brothers and me back to help fight Auntie Amara and yeah, he told them archangels were too difficult to build in such a short time. But when the dust settled and everything turned out A-OK, Dean prayed to Dad and asked him for a favor.” He smiled sweetly and took her hands in his. “He asked for me to be rebuilt. For you.”       “D-Dean prayed? For you and I?” Gabriel nodded, his honey colored hair flopping into his handsome face. “I can’t believe it.”       “Believe it, doll. He felt guiltier about getting me killed then anything he’s ever done.” The angel winked at her. “He misses you.”       “I…I don’t know what to say.”       “You could start by thanking him.” Y/N laughed.       “Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that,” she promised on a sigh as she hugged her angel again. “So you put this whole elaborate thing together just to surprise me?”        “Of course. Would you expect anything less?” She shook her head against his chest. “I wanted to be sure that you wanted me back. I needed you to comb through our memories together and see how you felt about me. I didn’t want to intrude if you had actually met someone else.”       “There will never be anyone else, Gabe. Ever.”           “I feel the same way about you, babe.” The look he gave her melted her insides. “I have to say, though, that watching you relive my death was pretty rough. I’m sorry I had to put you through that.”        “I hadn’t thought about that night in years. I think it was cathartic, though, something that I should have done a long time ago.” He pulled her flush against him once again before holding her out arms length, looking her up and down.        “Damn, I love you.”        “I love you, Gabe. I missed you.”        “Let’s get the heck outta this dump, shall we?”        “Let’s.” Gabriel snapped them out of the building and into Y/N’s Jeep. As she started up the car, the radio came on, blaring Led Zeppelin. She turned the volume down and said, “You know, I really liked that song you wrote.”        “Yeah?”        “Yeah. And Jillian’s voice was lovely. You should create her again, make her a star.” Gabe pursed his lips together, thinking about the idea as she pulled out of the motel parking lot.         “I like it. We could make some serious cash.”         “Better than hustling pool with the Winchesters,” she laughed. Gabe chuckled, reaching over and putting his hand on her knee. She smiled, feeling every broken piece of her knit back together.