#closed: an intruder an angel and a grim | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

obeymeluv · 4 years ago

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Could you do one with an MC who is rich and has two butlers and they happen to arrive out of nowhere, and they start to become clingy, and they call MC ✨Master✨? How would the brothers react? And could you also please do the reaction of the undateables to? Thank you and keep up the great work!❤️❤️

What an interesting concept :0

These will be short-ish since you want to include the Undateables, too. Also, bear with me. First time doing the Undateables. Luke is excluded because he is a baby.

Lucifer:

He didn’t remember this being in your selection packet. This is unacceptable.

Is very unnerved and aggravated because...why so clingy? Have some dignity!

Literally wrinkles his nose at them and scoffs

When they address you as “Master” in his presence he tries very hard not to throw something at them or make a demon noise.

Something about them addressing you like that seems like a smack in the face, like they’re flaunting their closeness and he’s just not here for it

If they get him the right way on the wrong day, he’s going to pull rank and be like ‘I was here with them BEFORE you got here and you’re in the Devildom. MY HOME. Know your place.’

Will play their game and force them to actually be a butler, dismissing them when he’s with you or requesting things. If they don’t look like they want to do it for them, he’d call them out on whether or not they’re really a butler with that shit-eating smirk on his face.

Mammon:

Is pretty excited. They’re basically his butlers now too, right?! He’s your best man so you share, right?!

If they shut him down, ignore him, or dismiss him, Mammon’s going to be super butthurt about it

Their whole clingy ‘Master’ bit is really not sitting right with him. It’s doing a number on his desire to be greedy and snap up all your time or attention

Is most likely to trick them, like sending an illusion of you down the hall just so they follow you. He’ll make off with the real you! Hey, it’s not his fault you have dumb human butlers, okay?

May just outright lie to them and convince them that they need to work odd jobs in the Devildom to support you (”Uh, yeah, no, they’re broke here. Human money doesn’t transfer, you know?”) because these simps would do it. You get more Grim and he gets you, it’s a win!

Levi

Weirded out but really interested. He’s not super close with Barbatos so this is a chance to find out exactly what being a butler entails. It’s kind of a mystery profession, he thinks

Is also convinced they may not be human butlers because he saw that in an anime once. This sends Levi on a small (constant) spying expedition to see if anything non-human happens

This may be where he realizes he has a sub kink because hearing them call you ‘Master’ makes him blush and feel some kind of way?!

The magic dies a bit when they’re dismissive and kind of protective, seeming to guard you from the bros

Gets jealous because they’re obviously close to you and that’s basically a pet name and why can’t HE have that?

They may or may not be scared by his demon form if/when he sulks around

Might trick them into playing an intense butler/serving VR game and trap them in it for a little bit. He feels like they’ve disturbed the peace of the house.

Satan

He sees their game and he’ll play it. If they’re your butlers--and good ones--they’ll cater to him, who is your company.

Lives for every moment he can catch them on a technicality and they have to include him on anything

Thinks it’s cute they call you master. If they get snippy with him, he’ll be happy to explain how that term originated with demons and it will take nothing short of their master to call him off of them

If he’s bored or just feeling some kind of way, he’ll ask them to help fetch books (at your behest, so they do it) and watch them struggle with ancient tomes that may have been enchanted to weigh a little more than normal.

Satan lowkey feels on edge because they feel like intruders in their home, in the space they’ve let you share. Does not want them here.

Asmo

Butlers?! How quaint and cute! Seems like a scene from a book! Have you ever had a wild love affair?!

Charms them without using his powers. They somehow accept him. He appears to be tolerated more than the rest of his brothers, though he undoubtedly plays second fiddle to you. He understands.

Thoroughly enjoys pissing off his brothers via the butlers, toasting with little glasses of drink while the two of you have a private party. Oh, it’s so fun!

Will poke fun at how much they use ‘Master’. “Some people really enjoy that, you know? Is it projection or just your thing?” (It gets on his nerves because, yes, it can be overused.)

It’s a nice peek into something he doesn’t have in his life but it does lose its charm eventually. He’d much prefer the House of Lamentation go back to the way it was.

Will probably charm them right back to the human world. No need for butlers here, you have seven demons!

Beel

Almost eats one of them because he thinks random humans just showed up in the house.

He honestly thought it was some reverse summoning gone wrong and they’d be totally free game to eat. They might have bad intentions, you know?

Once he realizes they’re here for you, he apologizes but is wary.

Are they here to take you away? To check in on you? Why would they do that? You signed all kinds of paperwork stating you’d be safe in the Devildom and stuff!

Lucifer gets aggravated with them floating around and attaching to you (and lowkey trying to clean/rearrange the house) so he asks you to put them on cooking duty. You seem to want a break from them so you agree. Beel tries not to abuse this too much, but he’s glad to have extra bodies ready to cook!

Doesn’t really get the ‘Master’ thing but won’t say anything. Will idly go ask Satan if that’s a thing in the human world. He feels like it should’ve gone out of date a couple of centuries ago.

The one to ask, point blank, if you guys decide to date or get married do they then become his butlers?

Will leave alone if he’s left alone, but if they start to get hostile or sabotage his ability to hang out with you, he will think of a very passive/casual way to show his strength and why he shouldn’t be messed with.

Belphie

Almost attacked them too, but for a different reason. He’d been sleeping when they arrived and no one thought to update him. When he saw random people in the house, he thought someone may have broken in.

Cow man will defend his territory

Will definitely make fun of them when they call you ‘master’. (”Seems like something a lesser creature would do.”)

They may be here for you but they’ll learn his rules. Mainly: do not, under any circumstances, touch his cow pillow.

Couldn’t care less but if he thinks his family is being pushed away because of them, he and Satan may form a smaller ‘Butlers suck’ club and test out some new pranks for the ‘Lucifer sucks’ club.

Will doze in your lap just to hear you defend him and shoo them off. May slap one of them with his tail ‘in his sleep’.

Solomon

Butlers, hm? It wasn’t something he expected

Has no outward animosity for them. Lowkey charms them; he wants them to open up and let their guard down because he is extremely interested in body language. What are they really feeling and thinking?

May show them a few spells to break the ice

If he feels they’re stealing up your time and blocking him, he’ll play their cat and mouse game. He and Satan have a lot in common in that respect.

Secretly wonders if you can make them try his cooking. He doesn’t think it’s half bad!

May ask them for tips on cooking

If he’s bored and you both want to have a laugh, he may find a way to spike them both with truth serum and have a fun time

Secretly wants to have a real tea party-type date

Simeon

What an act of labor and love! How adorable!

He considers them to be the human version of guardian angels and he’s just so touched by it. He thinks its very cute

Dotes on them a bit, almost like they’re puppies instead of people

He is polite and literally angelic, but he is not a pushover. Should they deny him your presence out of spite or distrust, he will give them a mini-schooling (scolding) on politeness and how he prays for their heart

Probably wins them over by being his usual neutral kind of polite self

Doesn’t quite care for them calling you master and warns them of false idols and such

Diavolo

Is very amused. You also have butlers? What a small world!

Do butlers like to hang out with other butlers?

Basically tries to arrange a butler play date

Genuinely laughs when they try to prevent him from being with you in any capacity. (”They may be your master but I am a prince. Soon to be king. Please step aside.”)

He appreciates that they’re protective of you but there IS such a thing as overdoing it and he can excuse them from the Devildom any time he wishes.

Overall takes their presence with grace because you having butlers is like him having Barbatos. They’re just very young and stubborn. He understands. They’ll mellow out soon.

Barbatos

Finds the whole thing laughable, especially when they try to prevent HIM from seeing you

Boy has been a butler for THOUSANDS of years, he knows all the dismissal tricks!

Barbatos will idly wipe a gloved hand over something they’ve cleaned (comes from being head of cleaning staff for thousands of years) and in butler code that SMACKS of judgement and disrespect

He knows this and sometimes he does it on purpose

Barbatos is the very quiet, sly kind of petty

May send the butlers into a cleaning frenzy just because they THINK he’ll say something or they THINK he gave them the side eye

Those humans may work themselves sore and oh, what’s this? You’re suddenly free and unattended? Well, he can’t have that, can he?

Probably saw this happening in one reality or another, so he takes it like a champ. There’s just that nasty bite of pride that refuses to let him be out-butlered.

Hope you liked it, Nonnie!

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fics-of-culture · 4 years ago

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Nightmares and Angels

Requested by anonymous

Summary: The littlest Winchester has been experiencing hallucinations and nightmares of her brothers covered in blood. Can a certain whiskey eyed angel come to the rescue?

Words: 2,123

Warnings: Blood, Hallucinations, Nightmares. Reader has PTSD. Possible misrepresentation of mental illness. (I personally don’t have many experiences with PTSD or hallucinations so take everything here with a grain of salt.)

It was late. And you found yourself milling around the bunker. Again. Trying to find anything to occupy your time with in order to avoid going back to your room. You were positive that if you went to bed you’d have nightmares. You’d been having them a lot recently. Along with some other... issues that you’d yet to address. Today had been especially difficult for you in that regard. Your older brother Dean had been in the kitchen making dinner when you had another one of your ‘attacks’ as you called them.

“You want bacon on your burger?” Dean turned away from the veggies he’d been chopping to face you. You were seated at the kitchen table, nose buried in a book and just enjoying your brother's company when he had asked. Being caught off guard by the question, you let out a little ‘huh?’ “The burger.” Dean repeated. “You want bacon on it or- Ah shit!” He exclaimed suddenly. You stood from your chair to check on your brother when you saw it. A steady trail of red streamed from his thumb onto the cutting board. Apparently Dean had nicked his finger while he was distracted. You froze in place. Images flashed rapidly before you as Dean grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding. You watched in horror as the blood seeped through the towel. Slowly, it continued to spread until it was running as a steady steam down his arm pooling around his shoes. You took an unsteady step back, priming yourself to run out the door when a pair of fingers snapped in front of you. Dean was staring at you with concern. Hand wrapped in a towel completely devoid of blood. “I said can you get me a bandaid?” Dean asked. Watching you curiously as you stood there. Shaking off your latest trance, you gave Dean a sharp nod before turning to locate your first aid kit.

It wasn’t always like this. Some days were just worse than others. You had gotten so accustomed to seeing your brothers steeped in blood that you had started to see it even when it wasn’t there. Your brothers didn’t know about this. No one did. And you intended to keep it that way. They always looked as though they had the weight of the world on their shoulders and you couldn't bear to stress them out more with your personal problems. You sighed as you wandered into the kitchen. It was empty now. Your brothers had gone to bed hours ago, meaning you could roam around freely without your brothers worrying about why you were up so late. Knowing you’d be awake for a while longer, you decided to brew some coffee. You were pouring yourself a steaming cup of coffee when you heard wings flap behind you.

“Is that for me? Oh sweetheart, you shouldn’t have.” Gabriel speaks in your ear as his arms wrap around you to pull the cup out of your hand. You roll your eyes as you turn to face him. You cross your arms as you stare at the angel who has been your best friend since he’d been ‘brought back to life’. A smug smirk graced his lips as he kept your beverage from you.

“Gabe, that drink does not have nearly enough sugar for it to be for you.” You sass him as you reach out to take your cup back, but he continues to withhold it from you.

“I’ll tell you what, you give me a little sugar right now and you’ll get this drink back.” You cross your arms and groan in annoyance as the mischievous angel taps a finger to his cheek. “Come on hon, one little kiss and I’ll stop buggin’ ya. Besides, I’ve been gone for weeks! Don’t you wanna welcome me home?” It is true that he had been gone for quite a while. He and Cas had been working overtime in heaven trying to keep the lights on. Uncrossing your arms, you sigh in mock defeat as you step closer to give your favorite angel a kiss on the cheek. He lets out a dramatic gasp as you give him a quick peck. You turn your face slightly to hide the blush spreading on your cheeks. If Gabriel notices your sudden bashfulness, he doesn’t say anything.

“You only get a kiss because I did miss you.” You mutter quietly. Gabe gives you a soft, genuine smile. “Now can I have my drink back?” You raise your arms and make little grabby motions with your hands as you wait for Gabe to give your drink back.

“Hell no!” He basically shouts, showing no concern for the other sleeping tenants of the bunker. He swiftly raises his right hand and snaps the coffee out of existence. Your arms fall to your sides as you regard your friend with a look of betrayal. You open your mouth to whine at him before being quickly cut off. “You have any idea what time it is, sugar? You don’t need coffee. You need sleep.”

“You promised you’d give it back.” You said, giving Gabriel your best pout. Maybe your patented Winchester puppy dog eyes would distract the angel from the lateness of the hour.

“Honey.” Gabriel’s voice was suddenly lacking that playful tone from before. “I know you and the rest of the mystery gang are used to burning the midnight oil, but you need to take care of yourself. Are you guys even on a case right now?”

“No.” You muttered quietly. “But!”

“But nothin’ sweetheart. You gotta go to bed. Unless there's something you’re not telling me?” Gabriel had suspected that something had been up with you for a while, but damn if you weren’t a tough cookie to crack. You just huffed out a little sigh before saying goodnight to Gabriel and heading to your room. You were certainly not interested in explaining your lack of sleep to Gabe. You figured that you could probably get away with loading up Netflix on your laptop and staying up a bit longer, but Gabe was right. You desperately needed sleep. Chuck knows you’d been lacking it for the past couple weeks. You resign yourself to your fate as you get ready for bed. Maybe with Gabe in the bunker, the dreams won’t be so bad you think to yourself as your eyes slide closed.

Sam was suddenly woken to the sound of your screams. His bedroom being situated directly across from yours gave him the benefit of being the first one to hear your destress. In less than a second, your brother sprung up from his bed, blankets violently tossed to the side as he rushed toward your room. Once he was in the hall, he shouted once for Dean, but didn’t linger to wait for him. Instead, Sam burst into your room, shotgun in hand. Expecting some sort of intruder, Sam was caught off guard when all he found was you screaming and writhing blindly on your mattress.

“Y/N!” Sam shouted your name as he rushed to your side. Jostling your shoulder in order to wake you, your brother watched in horror as your eyes opened suddenly, falling upon his face. Instead of his presence soothing you as he thought it would, you instead jerked away from his touch and let out a scream of what he could only describe as haunting despair. From your perspective, you weren’t seeing your sweet brother Sammy as you normally would. Instead, you watched as your brother’s face was covered in blood and contorted in anguish. Desperate to get away from this haunting image, you pulled away from his grasp and pinned yourself to the headboard of the bed. As far away from your concerned brother as possible. Vaguely you recognized that he was speaking to you, but you couldn’t pull away from your panic long enough to hear him. All you could do was stare at the blood pouring down his face, repeatedly jerking away from him each time he tried to touch you or otherwise get near you. A few moments later, you were curled into a ball on your bed when the door swung open once more. It was Dean. He stood there staring at you with a worried expression similar to Sam’s, apparently having heard the ruckus you’d made. But you couldn’t focus on that. All you could see was the copious amounts of blood dripping from what appeared to be a stab wound right where his heart was. Just like when Sam approached, you jerked away from Dean when he got near you. You were unable to do anything in this moment other than tremble and sob at the horrific images of your bloodied brothers before you. You truly tried to calm yourself, but nothing seemed to soothe you. And the presence of your brothers were just making your stress worse. You couldn’t get the picture of your blood soaked brothers out of your head. Subconsciously, you desperately cried out to the only being you thought might be able to save you. You didn’t even register the new presence in your room until you felt the bed dip. Your head jerked up, frantically searching for the new intruder when you saw Gabe. He wasn’t covered in blood or half dead. He was just your Gabriel. You let out a little cry of relief when you saw him. Instantly moving to crawl into his lap for comfort.

“Hey hon, what’s going on?” You hear him whisper as he wraps his arms around you. From your spot in his lap, you couldn’t see the confusion and worry on his face as he tried to figure out what was happening.

“I can’t- I can’t make them stop!” Your voice sounds pathetic to you as you speak frantically. Gabe runs his hand through his hair, not entirely sure what to do.

“What’re you talking about? What won’t stop?” His hand falls to your head and he lets his fingers card through your hair as you whimper into his chest.

“The hallucinations! I can’t make them go away.” With your head buried in his chest, you don’t see the grim look Gabriel sends your brothers. Your brothers turn to share a look as if to say ‘Did you know about this?’

“What’re you seeing?” He turns his attention back to you. He kept his voice gentle as he spoke to you, not wanting to spook you more than you already are.

“Sam and Dean. Covered in blood. Oh God make it stop.” The trickster was positive he felt his heart break when you said this. He knew you’d been having some sort of problem that you weren’t sharing with him, but he never imagined it was anything this severe. And according to the shocked looks on your brother’s faces, they hadn’t known either. He sucks in a breath and steadies himself, wanting to be confident for you.

“Look again.” He speaks calmly. And you pull away to look him in the eyes for the first time since he arrived. You let out a little ‘what?’ He’s patient as he speaks to you. “Look at your brothers again. It’ll be okay. I promise.” Hesitantly you do as he says. You turn your head to look at Sam and Dean as they stand helplessly in the corner of your room. Clearly unsure how to help you. To your shock, they looked completely normal. A little ruffled from getting out of bed so suddenly, but they didn’t have a speck of blood on them.

“Ho-how?” You can’t wrap your head around the sudden change.

“A little angel magic. As long as I’m here, you won’t have to worry about those pesky images.” You let out a little sob as you hugged him with renewed vigor. Gabe cuddled into bed with you and when you seemed calm enough, your brothers left the two of you alone. Dean was grumbling a bit about leaving his little sister alone with the trickster but Sam just shoved him out of the room. You were sure that they were going to have a long talk with you tomorrow, but for now they seemed content to just let you relax.

“Gabriel?” He let out a distracted ‘hmm?’ as his fingers continued to comb through your hair.

“Stay with me tonight?” You spoke so quietly that if Gabe hadn’t been an angel, he wasn’t sure he would’ve heard you.

“Anything for you, sweets.” The two of you made your way under the covers. You laid your head on Gabriel’s chest and slowly allowed yourself to succumb to sleep. Knowing that for the first time in months, you would be getting a peaceful sleep.

#spn #spn gabriel #gabriel #gabriel x reader #gabriel imagine #spn gabriel x reader #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural reader insert #reader insert #fanfic

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idkxwriting · 4 years ago

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Treacherous - Chapter 16

Author: idkhaylijah

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 7k

A/N: Well, this is it. Thanks for reading - this was a lot of fun to write, and I’m going to miss it. But who knows, there are always sequels, right? ;) Shoutout to @xxwritemeastoryxx for letting me run things by her

Chapter 15 - Masterlist

They drove back to Kansas in silence.

"Maybe we should just stay here for a few days..." Sam had suggested.

But Dean had refused, covering Y/N's body in a blanket and placing her in the back of the Impala with such delicate care. He slammed the car door shut, the familiar groan of the metal grating against his nerves. "We take her home, and we give her a hunter's funeral," he said with finality.

"She has friends here, Dean. People she loved, people that loved her..."

Dean ignored his brother, climbing into the driver's seat and keeping his head forward and leaving no room for further argument.

They drove through the night, Dean white knuckling the wheel. They made it in less than half the time, Sam not daring to suggest they slow down.

*****

"They're gone," Freya sighed.

"What do you mean they're gone?" Stefan asked. They were supposed to drive her back here..."

Freya shook her head. "Dean wanted to take her home," she explained. "He wants to give her a hunter's funeral."

"And they didn't think that was important to discuss with us first?" Stefan yelled.

She winced, but let him yell, waiting until he regained his composure once more. "He's hurting, Stefan. He loved her."

Stefan's jaw tightened.

"Where's Damon?" She asked quietly.

"He went to wake Elijah," he explained.

Freya nodded solemnly, knowing her brother would never get over this, that the grief would consume him.

*****

Dean lifted her carefully, carrying her inside the bunker, and laying her on her bed delicately. Sam watched from the doorway as his brother uncovered her face, brushing her hair back and dropping his head. "I'm so sorry, baby," he whispered.

Sam's eyes burned, wishing he could fix his big brother. His brother who was always so strong, so sure. It wasn't the first time he had seen him cry, but as his shoulders sagged and they began to shake, Sam turned away, feeling like he was intruding, as though he had no right to be there in Dean's grief.

He turned, walking away quietly and when he was sure Dean could no longer hear him he sunk to the floor, letting his own grief wash over him.

*****

Damon sighed as he read Stefan's text letting him know that Dean had taken Y/N back to Kansas. He glanced over at the body next to him, his patience beginning to wear thin.

Elijah's eyes shot open, and he took a deep breath, everything rushing back.

"Welcome back," Damon said, his voice grim, spinning the dagger absentmindedly in his hand.

Elijah sat up, his eyes moving toward the flames in the fireplace of the cabin. "Where is she?" He asked, his voice low, already knowing the answer.

"We should talk..."

*****

Dean stepped into the library, looking for Sam. He didn't want to wait, he couldn't stand the thought of leaving her in the infirmary like that. He knew they had to move, plan to send her off properly, burn the bones. He wiped his hand over his face, exhausted.

The books they had been searching through just days before were still sprawled on the table, and he ran his fingers across the pages. A vision of her face lighting up when he offered to let her tag along on a hunt popped into his mind, and he remembered the kiss he had stolen from her in the kitchen. He slammed his eyes shut, anger boiling up under his skin until it burst. He picked up a chair, throwing it across the room, the legs cracking as they came in contact with the wall. He roared, throwing the books and slamming his fists on the table.

"Dean..."

He turned to find Cas at the other end of the table, his expression grim. Dean squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw, his rage simmering as he looked at his former friend.

"I'm sorry about Y/N," the angel said quietly.

"You're sorry?" He shook his head. "Why didn't you just stick to the damn plan."

Cas' looked at him sternly. "That was the plan."

"And when the hell were you going to loop me in on that?" He shouted. "You let her march in there to die!"

"Crowley and I-"

"Crowley!?" He boomed. "Now you're working with Crowley again?"

"Empusa had to die, and the only way to do-"

"How many times are we gonna go down this road, Cas?" Dean cut him off, his rage out of control. "We would have found another way!" He bellowed. "We would have figured it out, like we always do! WithY/N!"

Cas shifted, getting defensive. "Like we always do? Dean, everything alwaysfalls apart! I know it doesn't feel like it now, but this is a win. If you knew what Emp-"

Dean shook his head, the muscles of his jaw tightening as he cut Cas off. "This wasn't a win," he gritted.

"I did what I had to do," Cas was firm, but his friend said nothing, instead turning away from him and refusing to look him in the eye, his anger rolling off of him in waves. Cas nodded in understanding and turned away, wishing there was anything he could have done to save her, to save Dean.

Dean held his breath, clenching his jaw when he heard the telltale sign of angel wings. Refusing to break again, he ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath.

"Dean! Come quick!" He heard Sam's heavy boots running down the hall.

He bolted, his legs pushing him forward as fast as he could, following his brother straight to the infirmary. As he turned the corner he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Y/N?"

She sat up in her bed, alive and real.

Her eyes met his, panic lacing the deep y/e/c of her irises. "What happened to me?" She breathed.

Dean made no move towards her at first, Sam sitting on the edge of her bed, his hands on hers. He watched as his brother hugged her, making sure she was really there, she was really her.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, searching his mind for some explanation.

She glanced down at herself, her brows furrowed as she struggled to put the pieces together. "I don't understand," she breathed, patting her chest where she had stabbed herself and finding nothing. A memory flashed before her, Empusa's hands on her throat, Dean's face as she tried to let him know she loved him before she lifted the blade...

"I died..." she recalled.

Still, Dean made no move towards her, his mind racing at all the possibilities.

Sam cleared his throat. "How are you here?" He asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know, I..." she stopped, the answer dawning on her as another memory rushed back.

Y/N, are you sure you want this?"

She nodded, untying the leather bracelet infused with vervain that she wore constantly. She tossed it into the passenger seat of Damon's car as they stood outside of the Grill.

Damon sighed heavily. "I'll get you the dagger," he promised. He dipped low, his hands coming up to hold her face so he could look her directly in the eyes. "When you're ready, you'll take the dagger and use it on Elijah."

Her pupils dilated as she repeated him in a daze. "I'll dagger Elijah," she whispered softly.

Damon continued to hold her face, his eyes sad but focused. "But before you do, you'll tell him and Dean how you feel, because they deserve to know."

She nodded.

"Good. Now I want you to put your bracelet back on, and forget we ever had this conversation."

"What do you remember?" Sam asked.

She shook her head. "I asked Damon to compel me," she whispered as the realization hit her. "He told me to be brave, that I needed to dagger Elijah to keep him safe." Her eyes met Dean's and her face flushed, deciding to keep the fact that she was compelled to make her confession to herself.

Sam swallowed nervously. "What else did he say?"

Her mind continued to rush as the moments she had forgotten came back with sudden clarity.

They moved through the tunnels mostly in silence, Damon leading the way.

"Do you ever think about dying?" Y/N asked after a while.

Damon shrugged. "It's not really on my to do list..."

"Yea, but even you aren't entirely invincible. Don't you ever wonder what happens to us after we die?"

"No," he stated matter-of-factly. "No, I don't."

She continued to follow Damon in silence, and when they reached their destination, Damon turned to her. They stood in an old crypt, and even in the darkness she could see the dust and decay that littered it. She was beginning to breathe heavily, and he took her hands in her face. "Hey," he reassured her. "I don't know what happens next," he paused. "But I believe no matter what comes after all of this, we're all okay in the end."

She nodded, trying to convince herself that he was right. "We're all okay," she repeated.

He pulled her wrist up, glancing at the leather bracelet. "Y/N, if you need me to, I can compel you...take it away so you don't have to be afraid."

She shook her head adamantly, stepping back from him. "I can do this, Damon." She closed her eyes, picturing everyone she cared about. The people she had loved, the ones she was lucky enough to have love her back.

Damon didn't doubt that she could, but at the end of the day, he couldn't. "Screw this," he muttered, tearing off her bracelet. His fingers burned as the vervain touched his skin, and he winced, but ignored it.

"What are you doing?" She struggled in his hold, but he gripped her chin.

"You deserve more than this, Y/N. Drink. Drink and forget this happened." He bit into his wrist and held the wound up to mouth and she did as he demanded, his blood racing through her system.

Dean put the pieces together for himself, and just like that all his hope was shattered as quickly as it had rushed in. He stormed off, Y/N and Sam wincing as a door slammed.

She covered her mouth to stifle the sobs she felt coming on. "I drank his blood," she confessed. "At the cemetery."

Sam gripped her hand, squeezing lightly and glancing away from her. "You're in transition."

*****

"You really make a girl work for it when she's dying."

Dean glanced up from under the hood of Baby to find Y/N standing in the door of the garage. "Hey," he said, his voice rough and his eyes trained on his hands.

"Hey," she whispered back.

He looked at her again, she had showered and was wearing a pair of shorts with one of his black t-shirts, looking so beautiful and alive he wondered how death could possibly dare to take her. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

She shrugged. "Hungry, if I'm being honest..." When he didn't respond she stepped further into the room. "Or maybe it's thirsty?" She joked.

"Don't do that."

"Oh come on," she whispered, trying to lighten the mood. "We've been given a second chance to say goodbye."

He shook his head, fidgeting with the wrench in his hands. "Look, I've been thinking, if you hold off on feeding and we can find Damon..."

She sighed. "I'm not going to kill Damon," she cut him off. "Sam already told me about your grandad's cure to vampirism. I can't do that, Dean."

"The guy's had a century to live, you've had nothing..." he argued.

"He's also long gone, if I know anything about him at all. Besides, I couldn't do that to Elena." She shook her head, stepping into him and wrapping her arms around him until he hugged her back. "This is my choice," she whispered.

He moved out of her hold, throwing the wrench across the room. "Yea, well this is bullshit!" He shouted.

She winced at his outburst.

"What about my choice?" He yelled. "Huh? Because you sure as shit didn't consult with me when you decided it was okay to run that damn blade through your heart!"

She bit her lip. "Would you have gone along with things if you had known what I was going to do?" She asked quietly.

"There is always another way!" He exclaimed.

"It was the only way Dean! And if I had to, I'd do it again if it meant you were safe!"

He didn't wait to hear more. He was so tired of losing, and too tired to fight anymore. He stormed off, leaving her in the cold garage.

*****

Y/N sat at the base of a tree just outside of the bunker, her phone in her hands. She had just gotten off the phone with Stefan, explaining to him that she wasn't going to feed.

"I can be there in a few hours," he had suggested.

She smiled at the offer, even though he couldn't see it. "Stefan," she spoke softly into the receiver. "This is hard enough. I won't be able to say goodbye if you come here. Please, just tell everyone I love them."

Stefan teared up on the other end but she knew he respected her too much to deny her this request. "I will," he said, his voice cracking.

"I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yea," he whispered. "I'll see you later."

She jumped at the slam of the bunker door, the sound ungodly loud. It grated on her nerves and caused her head to pound. She heard each fall of his boots as he walked toward her, each footstep louder and more irritating than the last. Dean finally stepped into view, distracting her from the annoyance, and her heart raced at the sight of him.

He didn't say anything for a moment, sitting down next to her with his gaze watching the field in front of them. He was careful to leave some distance between them. He thought of their time together that night she had asked him to stay with her, the way she felt underneath him, the way she said his name as she came undone. The way his heart pounded at the sight of her, and the way it had calmed when she laid her head on his chest.

They sat in silence, and she sunk into the memory of the last time they had watched a sunset together - knowing the sun going down had never brought him peace. Because there was no beauty in the twilight for Dean, only a heaviness as he anticipated the monsters that would crawl out of the shadows when the last bits of light were stolen away.

"So you were right," he broke the silence. "Damon is long gone."

She chuckled, but didn't offer him anything else.

He took a deep breath. "I've always known this would end bloody for me," he said, keeping his eyes forward. "And you know, I've been okay with it if it means we gank some sons of bitches and save a few lives. It comes with the territory."

She leaned forward, curling up against his back, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, unsure if she was trying to comfort him or herself.

"I made my peace with this life a long time ago, but I gotta be honest here. Losing you? I don't know if I can ever make peace with that. I can't do this, baby." He ran his hand over his face, sniffling. "Maybe I'm being selfish here, but the hits have been coming for as long as I can remember, so when will it be enough? I have lost everything. I can't lose you, too."

She felt his shoulders sag beneath her, and she clutched onto him. "Shh," she whispered into his shirt, holding onto him. "I don't want to leave you either, Dean. But you can do this," she moved to his side so she could turn his face until he looked at her. "You have Sam, and he needs you," she whispered. "You can do this."

He shook his head in protest but she silenced any argument from him with a kiss. He pulled back to look at her, stroking her cheek and swiping away the tears that had begun to form.

"Just sit with me for a little while? Watch the sunset?" She asked quietly, her voice beginning to sound weak.

He nodded, scooting back so he was against the tree, and she curled into him. He gripped her hand in his, their fingers intertwined as he committed the curves of her face to memory. Her eyes began to flutter shut, her body breaking down without feeding. "Dean," she said quietly. "Do you remember that hunt we did in Seattle a few months back?"

He nodded. They had taken out a nest of vampires, narrowly escaping without being turned themselves. "Yea."

"Do you remember our promise?"

He shook his head, remembering how she had made him promise to end it himself if she was ever unlucky enough to turn. At the time he had agreed happily, asking for her to do the same in return. "It won't come to that," he whispered.

She nodded sleepily. "I know. But if it does..." she held her free hand up, her pinky out.

He glanced down at it for a moment, swallowing before he wrapped his own pinky around hers, promising once more he wouldn't let her be a monster. He pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Thank you," she whispered, closing her eyes and relaxing, her pinky still wrapped around his.

He thought she had drifted off to sleep, but she broke the silence with a whisper once more. "Dean..."

"Yea sweetheart?"

"It would have been you."

*****

Y/N woke sometime later, and smiled at how peaceful Dean looked. She wondered when the last time he really slept was. She let her fingers trace over his lips before ghosting her own over them.

The scent of his skin was enticing, and she found that this close she could hear his blood pumping, and her mouth began to water. She pulled back, surprised to find that being close to him suddenly felt overwhelming. She stood quietly, ashamed that she was tempted at all, needing to get away.

She glanced around, unsure of where to go as panic began to wash over her. She remembered the room they had locked Crowley in a few times - the dungeon - Sam had called it. She ran back to the bunker and moved down the stairs, losing her balance. She caught herself and held herself up along the wall.

She felt tired and weak, but more than anything she was hungry.

So goddamn hungry.

She felt lightheaded and closed her eyes for a moment when she heard shuffling. She followed the noise to the library, where she found Sam sorting through books.

His hair was damp and he wore a fresh set of clothes, the stubble that had built up over the last several days gone, his face familiar once more.

She coughed, alerting him to her presence, and he glanced up at her. "Hey, sit down," he said, rushing to her side as she struggled to hold herself up.

She leaned on him, gripping his arm as he helped walk her to one of the chairs.

"You don't look so good..." he commented.

She shook her head. "I don't feel so good," she mumbled. She dropped into the chair with a sigh, the pain behind her eyes growing as she struggled to catch her breath.

Sam looked at her sadly, and knelt down in front of her. "Can I get you anything?" He asked, leaning over to grab his glass of water for her.

"I'm fine..." She shook her head, but as he turned his face she saw the small cut on his neck. It was fresh, left behind from his razor, and her mouth began to water.

"Here," he offered his water, and while she should have been grateful she found herself frustrated and angry.

"I said I'm fine!" She pushed the glass away, knocking it to the ground and Sam faltered as it shattered, surprised at her outburst.

He took a step back, looking at the pieces of glass and the water tracing the patterns on the floor beneath them. "Y/N, you're not fine."

"I'm sorry..." she whispered. She slid out of the chair and dropped to her knees, picking up the shards of glass, careful to avoid the sharp edges.

Sam stopped down next to her, taking the pieces from her hand gently. "Let me." The glass pricked his skin, ever so slightly, so soft he had barely even registered the cut.

But it was enough.

She pulled his hand into her own, delicately removing the glass, a single drop of blood forming on the tip of his finger.

Her mouth watered, and she began to lean forward when he pulled back suddenly. "Y/N," he warned.

She began to cry, frustrated that she was already losing herself, frustrated at the way her throat burned, begging for relief. "Sam, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay." He soothed her, pulling her in for a hug.

She felt small in his arms, though she imagined most people did. She let him pull her close and she wrapped her arms around him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck.

Her nose brushed against his skin where his razor had nicked him earlier, and she lifted her face slightly, so her lips hovered above it. While Sam continued to whisper words of encouragement, she drowned him out, focusing on the thrumming in his veins.

Her throat continued to burn, and everything else faded away, the only thing she could think of was ending the insatiable hunger she felt. His blood pumped louder and louder until she could no longer fight it, and she bit into his flesh.

It was only a moment, but she felt her world stop as the warmth of the blood hit her tongue. Her mouth ached as she felt her gums tear, but it was over quickly and suddenly she felt alive.

The way the blood felt on her tongue, the way it hit the back of her throat, the way she could feel it rush through her body, was pure ecstasy.

And just as quickly as it had begun it was gone.

Sam shoved her off, the force knocking her back and pulling her back to reality. "What the hell?" He shouted, jumping to his feet and feeling at his neck frantically.

She jumped up, too, the sorrow rushing forward as she realized what she had done. She felt at her mouth, the telltale sign of fangs that should definitely not be there confirming her worst fears. She was a monster.

"Sam! I'm so sorry." She stepped towards him but he moved back. "Please..."

He held a hand up, telling her to stay where she was. "Y/N, stop. We need to get you some help. I'm just going to go get Dean, and..."

She was behind him suddenly, startling him. "No! Please don't tell Dean...he can't see me like this. Please!" The guilt she felt was crushing, the worry of Dean's reaction enough to ruin her.

Sam shook his head, backing away carefully. "It's okay," he said calmly. "He'll know what to do."

She felt confused, her emotions bouncing wildly, making it difficult to keep track of exactly what she was feeling.

But the feeling always at the forefront of her mind was a desperate hunger.

She tried to ignore it, to pin down another emotion, until she found anger. Rage, even, that he was going to get Dean, that he'd let his brother see her like this.

She felt her eyes shift, and some part of her knew what she must look like, but she couldn't find a reason to care. She only knew she had to keep Sam from going to get Dean, so she lunged forward.

The sheer force of her knocked him off balance, and he fell back against the table. She used her newfound strength and speed to follow his movements, and she was on top of him, pulling his head back while pinning his arms down. The need to feel the same relief and ecstasy she had felt earlier was overwhelming all of her senses, all rational thought.

She bit into his neck, this time her teeth equipped to do the job properly, her fangs piercing his skin with ease. She pulled at his blood greedily, and she worked without thought or care, tearing into him, eager for more.

She felt him fight beneath her, but she ignored it, finding it as insignificant as a fly buzzing near her food.

"Y/N!" He choked out, and she had a vision of Sam, lifeless beneath her, as her chin dripped with his blood shook her out of her bloodlust.

She released him, jumping back, and he dropped to his knees, clutching his neck.

"No, no, no..." she began to panic, and she dropped down next to him, shoving the glass aside. "What did I do, what did I do?" She whispered, the tears coming fast and furiously. She rocked for a moment and she found that she could hear his heartbeat, slower than before, but the blood was still pumping strong, tempting her.

Sam held his free hand up cautiously, as if approaching a dangerous animal, his other hand pressed against the wound. "Y/N, calm down," he rasped.

Before he could say more she was gone.

*****

Dean woke from a dream - a damn good one - which didn't often happen. He sat up slowly, searching around him as the chill of the air fell over him. The glimpse of relief he had gotten while asleep faded rapidly as reality sunk down around him.

The silence that greeted him was eerie, and he had an all too familiar dread in the pit of his stomach.

Y/N was dying, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. And now she was missing.

He made his way back to the bunker, and a sense that could only be honed by a lifetime of hunting the things that go bump in the night told him to be careful. He opened the door slowly and moved silently down the stairs, knowing inherently something was wrong. He moved lightly, but quickly, until he heard the stifled sobs.

His heart stopped, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, alerting him that he wouldn't like what he found.

He turned the corner, stepping cautiously into the library and his heart dropped.

There across the room was Sam, clutching his neck.

"Sam!" Dean rushed, dropping beside his brother and searching frantically for the source of the blood.

Because there was so much blood.

"She's gone," Sam said.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked, helping him to his feet.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he rushed, trying to reassure his brother. "But she fed, and now she's gone."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Dean, we have to find her. We have to save her."

Dean shook his head, already headed towards his car. "She's gone, Sam. You said it yourself."

"Y/N needs help," Sam struggled to keep up with Dean's long strides, his own legs weak from the loss of blood.

"She's not Y/N anymore!" He roared, rounding on his brother. Sam's steps faltered and Dean turned away once more. "You know we have to do this."

Sam looked at him, knowing it wouldn't be easy for either of them, but the weight of this was something Dean would carry with him forever. After all, he had been there himself. He nodded solemnly. "Dean, I -"

Dean shook his head, his eyes burning with the tears he held back as tightly as he could. He knew all he had to do was ask, and his brother would do this for him. He cleared his throat. "It has to be me, Sammy."

*****

It didn't take Dean long to find her. He knew how newbie vampires worked, he had hunted enough of them over the years.

She'd want to avoid people, but she was scared, alone and hungry. And even though he hated to admit it, he knew she wouldn't be able to resist the hunt for long.

It didn't take him long to find her, but it was long enough.

She had made her way to a bar on the outskirts of town, and in the dark alley she knelt, her shoulders sagging.

He clenched his jaw, knowing even in the dark that she was kneeling over a body. A body she had dropped.

She heard him approach and knew by his footsteps it was him. "I'm a monster," she glanced down at her hands.

He didn't argue with her, but he couldn't help but think of the possibility that maybe Sam was right. He cleared his throat. "Baby, we can figure this out..." he whispered.

She shook her head and stood, stepping away from him, all too aware of what she must look like.

Dean stepped forward slowly, trying to calm her as she sobbed harder, the sadness and pain drowning her. "We can't figure this out, Dean, I just killed someone!" She screamed. "Even now I can't stop thinking about how hungry I am. Get away from me."

"Y/N..." Dean took another step toward her, and she shoved him away violently, putting him on the defense, and she knew he'd never be able to let her walk away from this.

And why should he? She thought, as she felt the veins ripple beneath her eyes, begging for her to give in to her worst intentions.

She watched as Dean pulled the stake from his jacket, turning it in his hand as he looked at the pointed end of the wood. He contemplated it for a moment before allowing himself to meet her eyes again.

He clenched his jaw, hating himself. Wondering if he should just call Stefan, let them figure out a new life for her, and remembering his promise to her.

"Please," she cried. "Dean."

He winced, his name rolling off her tongue in a siren's call. She was still Y/N, and he knew that even with the blood lust, he loved her. He always would.

Which made his promise all the more damning.

She stepped back, so her back was against the wall, and she reached out to him, pulling him closer. "You promised," she reminded him, her eyes pleading.

He shook his head, biting his lip and concentrating on the pain there instead of the one tearing through his chest.

His eyes bore into hers, and he knew there was a part of her that was considering running. Part of him wished she'd listen to that, but he knew she'd never forgive him if he let her go free and she went into the night, if she took another victim.

Worse, she'd never forgive herself.

That blood would be on both of their hands, and there was already too much.

Her sobs choked away anything she could say, and she didn't fight him as he raised the wood up to her chest.

He wished he could turn it off, steel his nerves so they were no longer Y/N and Dean, but hunter and monster, but he felt every moment, every second of pain and he knew it would never leave him. "I love you," he said instead, his own tears blurring his vision. And that was okay, he thought, because he didn't want to remember her like this - with murderous eyes and her face covered in death.

She nodded, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, raising her chin as she readied herself to meet her fate.

He leaned forward, ghosting his lips over her eyelids before closing his own eyes, slamming the splintered wood forward with as much force as he could muster.

He had killed plenty of vampires before. Most of them had taken a machete to the head, but several he had staked. He was familiar with the way a stake pressed through the layer of skin, the way you had to pop the muscle beneath it to get through all of the way, the force it took and the way the body gave before it broke.

He had anticipated it this time.

So he was surprised when he hit a solid wall. The stake not giving, and bruising his own ribs as he pressed his weight forward. He opened his eyes, surprised to see she was no longer in front of him, when out of the corner of his eye he saw him.

Elijah knelt over her, having rushed in and knocking her away from the force of the stake just in time.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, a mixture of relief, anger, guilt, frustration, love...she couldn't process everything she felt in that moment, still not used to the weight each emotion carried.

"Elijah," she breathed.

He nodded, his eyes searching her, taking in the change. She found he didn't look at her with pity or disgust, only his own regret. Still, there was awe.

He pulled out his handkerchief, wiping the blood from her chin delicately, his thumb tracing against her lips.

"I killed him," her voice cracked.

"Hey," he whispered, helping her stand, but gripping her arm. "This is the hunger."

She nodded, feeling calm in his hold, but as the rage and the hunger dissipated she found it made more room for grief and guilt. "I shouldn't be here," she cried. "I can't be this, Elijah. I can't. I'm a monster."

He shook his head, brushing her hair back from her face. "You can do this," he whispered. "We will do this together, but you must feed."

She made no move as she understood what he meant, her eyes searching for Dean, searching for an answer, but he looked away knowing he was an outsider in this moment.

Elijah gripped her face in his hands, pulling her attention back to him.

She looked dazed but nodded slowly, and he pulled her into him, allowing her to drink from his own veins as she cried, until her body relaxed in his arms.

He pulled back to look at her once more, his thumb wiping at the last trace of blood. "Go, Y/N. Go, and I give you my word I will be right behind you."

Her eyes moved toward Dean once more, and he looked back at her, his eyes filled with despair and longing. For a brief moment she saw the life they could have had, the life Dean had deserved, because he deserved it all. She cursed Chuck at the shitty hand he had dealt him, and knew even he didn't deserve Dean Winchester.

"Go," Elijah said urgently. "Go now."

Maybe it was her newfound perception, she thought maybe instead it was because she knew him, but she saw the slightest nod from Dean, and she knew he was giving them both an escape from this nightmare. He was saying goodbye, letting her go. He was breaking his promise.

She looked at him one last time, committing his face to memory, knowing she'd forever be haunted by his beauty, by the life they should have had.

And as quickly as Elijah had appeared, Y/N was gone.

Dean turned as Elijah stood and adjusted his suit jacket, sure he had a fight coming to him that he couldn't win, unsure if he cared anymore.

The Original waited until he was sure Y/N was out of hearing range, his eyes studying the man before him. "Tell me, Mr. Winchester. What kind of man gives up on the woman he loves?" He asked, his jaw clenched.

Dean looked away for a moment. He didn't need Elijah to hate him, he hated himself enough for the both of them. "I made her a promise, that if she ever became a monster..."

"You have no idea what she will become, what she is capable of."

He shook his head slowly. "She won't be Y/N anymore."

"I can help her," Elijah said with confidence. "Help her control her urges, teach her how to live with the hunger."

"When she kills again, the guilt will tear her apart, and she won't come back from it. It'll change her. It already has."

Elijah nodded and for a moment Dean saw the sorrow reflected in his own eyes. "Perhaps you are right," he said gravely. "But what kind of man would I be if I didn't try?"

Dean had no answer for him. Either way he knew Y/N was lost to him, and it killed him all the same.

Elijah stepped around him, pausing when Dean's hand came up to her shoulder. "I made a promise to stop her, Elijah. And I keep my promises."

Elijah considered him for a moment. He nodded silently and moved past him. When he was at the entrance of the alley he stopped, turning to face the hunter once more. "I am a man of my word as well. I meant it when I said I'd make it my business if you hurt her again."

Dean didn't turn around, waiting for the silence to wash over him once more, the all too familiar feeling of loneliness sinking on him before he dropped the stake he had white knuckled in his hand. He took a breath, his heart pounding as he realized it was all over.

Y/N was gone.

He punched the brick wall next to him, wincing at the pain in his knuckles that were already bruising.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself as the grief began to consume him.

*****

Y/N stood at the edge of town, pacing wildly. She was struggling to keep up with everything she felt, every noise she heard. The cars, the footsteps, the heartbeats. Everything was so loud.

It was all too much, and so she ran until she heard nothing but her own thoughts. She wasn't sure which was worse, but at least she knew she was alone out under the starry sky. She wouldn't hurt anyone here.

Flashbacks of Sam flooded her mind, and she felt grateful for a brief moment that he was okay - that she hadn't killed him like she had dreamt she had a few days ago. But her gratitude faded under the weight of the pain of what she had done. The pain she felt when Dean had looked at her, knowing she was gone.

It was odd, she thought, because still felt everything she had felt before. For Dean, for Elijah, for her friends...but it was all heightened...and didn't that mean she was still her?

You're a monster, she reminded herself as the flash of the dead man - the man who she had drained the life out of in a moment - came to the forefront of her mind.

So that was heightened, too. The guilt, the self loathing...

The hunger, the monster within reminded her.

She continued to pace when she stopped, her newfound hearing picking up on something in the distance.

Then his scent hit her. Elijah.

She needed to focus, so she grasped onto the emotion that popped up first.

Which apparently was anger. "I don't want this!" She shouted, turning as he approached. He said nothing, instead watching her, his brow creased and his gaze intent. "I should have died back there!" She screamed at him. "I didn't want this!"

Elijah approached her carefully, pulling her into him and pressing her against his chest.

It should have soothed her, like it had earlier, in the alley where the dark had hid what she had become. But out there in the open, under the light of the moon, where he could see her clearly she felt she was undeserving of his comfort, of his compassion and understanding. It only angered her more.

She pushed him away. "This was not the plan!" She cried, a fresh wave of anguish pulling her under once more.

Elijah clenched his jaw for a moment, thinking carefully on his words. "Y/N, everything you are feeling is heightened, and raw. It's all new, you need time..."

"I was out of time, Elijah! And I made my peace with it!"

"And I did not!" He hollered back.

Her stance faltered as she stepped back from him.

"I would have protected you," he whispered. "I would have done anything to keep you safe, and you took that away from me."

She was at a loss for words.

"And had I been there when you were in transition," he continued "I would have..."

"What?" she cut him off. "What would you have done Elijah? You said it yourself, you wouldn't have let me go."

He shook his head sadly. "I would have respected your decision," he whispered. "Whether you decided to feed or not, I would have loved you through it."

Her heart ached, knowing he meant it. If Elijah had been there, he would have broken his own heart to keep her from this life, if she had asked him to. "And now?" She asked.

His eyes searched hers, and she wondered if he still saw her, when it occurred to her that it wasn't the monster that had changed the way he had looked at her. Instead, the monster within his own eyes rose up to meet her demons, and she knew he'd fight them off for her as long as she let him.

It wasn't the monster. He looked at her differently because he knew.

"Elijah..." she said softly. "Earlier, back in the cabin you asked if I had made my decision..." words escaped her, unsure of how to tell him she wished she could go home to Dean, how it didn't even matter when all was said and done - because she still lost both of them.

He shook his head. "Don't," he pleaded.

She held back her words, locking them in a piece of her heart he'd never quite be able to reach. "Okay," she whispered.

"We have an eternity to discover what we are, what we could be. No matter what that might look like, I promised to protect you. Always."

She smiled sadly at that, knowing she didn't deserve him. "And forever."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. "Come," he said, offering his hand.

She glanced down at it, contemplating this new life that awaited her, before slipping her hand into his.

*****

A few hours later Dean pulled back up to the bunker.

"What happened?" Sam asked, appearing in the doorway when he heard Baby's engine.

Dean wiped at his eyes, composing himself before turning to face his brother, his eyes hard and lifeless. "Nothing," he said, clearing his throat and moving around to the back of the car, popping the trunk. He threw the stake from his jacket inside with the rest of the weapons.

Sam moved to stand next to him, sure his brother had not only found her, but let her walk away. "Maybe Y/N won't end up a ripper. Maybe she..."

"You ever mention Y/N to me again, and I will break your nose."

Sam blanched. "Dean..."

"I mean it."

Sam swallowed, and cleared his throat, knowing Dean put up a wall he'd never get through, that his word was final. "Okay," he agreed quietly.

"Come on," Dean said gruffly, slamming the trunk. "We got work to do."

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dmsden · 4 years ago

Text

Campaign Basics 12 - Against the Angel

Hullo, Gentle Readers. As the year comes to an end, it’s hard to believe we’ve been working on these campaign articles for a year! It seems appropriate to end the year with a look at what a first confrontation between the players and Adziel would look like.

If we’ve done our jobs as DM, over the first 9 levels, the players should slowly have begun to understand that there is a powerful entity enacting some kind of ritual. They may have come to know about the child, Summer, that Adziel keeps close to them. I would probably avoid the players knowing the whole story of Adziel’s fall. I would save that for “Act 2″ as it were.

I love sequences that aren’t just a simple fight, so I would probably have a scene where the PCs have to fight through a “dungeon” of cultists and such until they’re nearly exhausted, and then face the final scene. That way, it’s unlikely they will be able to stop the ritual that’s happening, but they’ll be able to strike a blow against the cultists and to be present when the flashy stuff happens.

I would make the earlier encounters Easy ones - small clusters of low-level cultists and such that will make the players waste time and resources but that have little chance of stopping them. Just before the final cofrontation, I would throw a Hard encounter. This should be a serious attempt by the enemies to stop anyone from intruding on the sanctity of the ritual. Perhaps the ritual is taking place in a sacred chamber beyond a pair of closed doors, and the Hard encounter is with guardians outside those doors. I might make this an interesting mix, with a few Cultists, a couple of Cult Fanatics, a Unicorn, and a reskinned (and slightly altered) Drow Priestess of Lolth.

Once these enemies are dispatched, the PCs are probably feeling a bit burnt out, but they know they can’t stop for a short rest. I would probably have an angelic ally intercede here that I’d set up in the past, perhaps granting them the effects of a short rest. This is one of my favorite rewards to grant in the middle of a dungeon...the ability to take a short or long rest without needing to take the time to do it. It could take the form of a magic fountain that refreshes the PCs, a blessing from a patron, a boon that must be paid for later, a moment of grim resolve, or anything else you like.

Beyond the inner doors lies our big set-piece encounter. Perhaps Adziel (in deva-form) is floating in a circle of chanting cultists. While the cultists continue to chant, we can have our fight. Flanked by two reskinned Drow Elite Warriors, Adziel themself comes down to fight. You can also throw cultists in the mix to pad out the fight. At this point, Adziel is likely to speak kindly to the PCs, even as they fight, and they will not be trying to kill.

I also recommend something non-combat to be interacted with. Maybe Summer is nearby and can be spoken with by someone while the combat is going on. If Adziel sees someone bothering Summer, it could give them disadvantage in attacks, as they’re distracted. If someone makes Summer scared or upset, they are likely to have a berserk deva going after them, perhaps giving the others an attack of opportunity as Adziel breaks off combat to go and destroy them, but giving Adziel Advantage on attacks in their fury. And if someone kills Summer (a decidedly evil act), the angel’s fury might become all-consuming, and they will begin striking to kill.

This feels pretty solid to me, and I feel like it could make for a very memorable mid-campaign climax. But what happens if the PCs kill Adziel at this point? That puts a crimp in the campaign, no? Well, no. Adziel is a celestial, which means that they simply return to their home plane for a time to reform. They’ll be defeated, but not killed for good. And the PCs may find this out to their detriment when they take Summer with them, only to suddenly be confronted by a returned Adziel who is now a Planetar, thanks to the ritual, and way above their pay-grade. I could see the Angel of Chaos, now darker, larger, and more powerful, ripping their way into an inn or castle to confront those who stole the child.

I hope you’ve been enjoying these articles. I do intend to continue them into 2021, looking at story arcs to continue the campaign, as well as ways to tie the player characters into the overall stories. Until then, may the dice ever favor you.

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myhauntedsalem · 4 years ago

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14 Firefighters Share Their Scariest Paranormal Encounters

The weirdest part of the fire was the 911 call. The callers wife was in the background screaming, “you f**ked him off now, look he’s gone and burned the place down”.

With grit and determination, every day firefighters bravely put their lives on the lines for us, but it seems it’s not just the flames these brave men and women face; from haunted firehouses to ghostly apparitions. Here are 14 of the most chilling paranormal encounters and ghost stories shared by firefighters from across the United States.

1. Guardian Angel

Our firehouse isn’t haunted, at least not on a regular basis, but one of our engines is.

Two examples I have personally seen and experienced are; first, we were responding to a call in a dark, secluded, industrial area one night when the engine suddenly sputtered, stalled, and coasted to a stop right in front of a railroad crossing with no gates. Just as we stopped, a freight train came through. The engine started right up and ran fine after the train passed.

The second example happened one blazing hot summer afternoon when we were called to a highway construction site for a burning shanty. We pulled up and began advancing the handline when it suddenly seemed like the hose became tangled up in the hosebed. We went back to the engine to check, and just then the shanty blew up into thousands of tiny pieces. There were NO tangles in the hose, and it wasn’t caught or hung up anywhere.

2. Mr Jones

Our fire department is haunted by a man named Mr. Jones. The story dates back many years before we built a new station. Mr. Jones died at the old firehouse from a heart attack after battling a house fire.

A chief told me a story once: ‘I went to the restroom which was off the hallway. On my way in, I sat my brand new pack of cigarettes on the file cabinet outside of the doorway. When I came out, the cigarettes were lined end-to-end down the hallway.’

Another firefighter about a year later also had a ‘Mr. Jones Experience.’ He and another guy were watching TV one night when the clock above the TV flew off the wall, landed in the center of the room, spun around a few times, then landed on a book shelf.

All of the ‘haunted firehouse’ stories never really had me believing until Mr. Jones gave me a story of my own. I have this thing about open shower curtains. I notice when they are open and I have to close them. I had walked into the restroom to clean it but forgot a trash bag. The shower curtain was open. When I walked back in, about 30 seconds later, the curtain was closed. That is the only story that is personal. Other than that, we have doors that open and close by themselves, lights that go on and off, stuff like that. So that’s my story and I’m stickin to it.

3. Jesus Christ

About seven or eight years ago, we arrived at a townhouse with heavy fire from the first floor on side one. After making entry, locating the fire in the kitchen, and extinguishing, we set about taking out a few windows for ventilation.

After the smoke had risen, we noticed that the living area to the rear of the kitchen (which was on the right hand side as we entered) had taken significant smoke and heat damage. On the wall was a picture of Jesus Christ, and it was the only object in the room that appeared untouched. Even the wall BEHIND the picture was smoke-stained and blistered.

There was evidence of two streams of water that had trickled from the lower corners of the picture to a point in the middle of the wall where they met and continued down to the floor. The odd thing was that the line had been pulled through this room and was flowing into the kitchen to push the fire out the front, through a large vented window. No water had been flowing in the room, and the steam produced had been pushed out the window. Even the FM was amazed, and we haven’t seen anything like it since. It kinda makes one wonder.

4. Steve

We have a protector. We had a member, Steve that was killed in the line of duty during a helicopter operation. Ever since he died, members swear they can hear him in the building at night. Doors close, open, etc. without explanation. Then one night we figured out why he was there.

One of our members who has been here about 15 years now was on duty. We have bullet proof vests we keep on the units, but in a back compartment. He heard that compartment open and close. He went out into the bay and looked at it, and for some reason he took the vest out and put it in the front seat. He’d never done that before.

Next thing you know, he’s toned out to a ‘sick call’ that after his arrival was deemed a shooting. Nothing happened to him, but the point was made.

Several such incidents have occurred. Whenever something big is about to happen, a unit door opens and shuts or a bay door opens etc. We always know.

5. The Phantom Handprint

On April 18, 1924, a firefighter named Frank Leavy was washing a window at the fire station. For some reason, he paused in his work, his hand resting against the pane of glass, and he told a friend who was standing nearby that he had the strangest feeling he was going to die that day. Just then, the station received an alarm call and the fire fighters were sent to a fire that had broken out at Curran Hall, an office building in Chicago. While fighting the fire, a wall collapsed and killed eight of the firemen… Frank Leavy was one of those killed.

The next day, one of the firemen noticed something strange about the window that Frank had been washing the day before. There seemed to be an unusual stain on the glass…. and it appeared to be the imprint of Frank’s hand at the same spot where he had been leaning the day before.

They tried everything that they could, but they could find no way to erase the strange handprint. It seemed to be etched into the glass!

An expert from the Pittsburgh Plate Glass company brought a special solution to the fire house, guaranteeing that it would remove the print, but it didn’t work. Over the years, there were suggestions that the pane of glass be removed, but many of the firemen argued, saying that it was not right to fool with the unknown. Besides that, it was a reminder, albeit a grim one, of their dead friend. And there was no doubt that the handprint belonged to Frank Leavy! An official from the city had come down with a fingerprint comparison and the prints matched those of Frank’s. For the next twenty years, the handprint defied all explanation and was a common attraction to visitors and other firemen from around the city.

Finally, on the morning of April 18, 1944 a careless paper boy tossed the morning edition at the fire house and shattered the window where Frank’s handprint had been.

It happened exactly twenty years to the date of when Frank Leavy died!

6. “You F**ked Him Off Now”

There was a fire about 6-7yrs ago. The call was weird from the start, the 1st due engine didn’t want to start (it was out on a run bout 20mins before) they get there, the house was fully involved. When they got there, the fire was burning in strange ways… at one point flames were shooting out a window, and taking a ninety degree turn upward. The investigator pictures show the face of the devil in the smoke and flames. I know it sounds BS, but I have seen a few of these pics, and have talked with some of the investigators. They were saying that the basement was rocking, when they went back the next day it looked as though nothing burned downstairs.

The weirdest part of the fire was the 911 call. The dispatcher said the callers wife was in the back ground screaming, “you f**ked him off now, look he’s gone and burned the place down”. These people were said to have been Satan worshipers, everyone in the Dept. is afraid to even go on that road for calls. Incidentally the name of the road is “Angel Hill” hmmm, pretty weird.

7. Footsteps

I worked for a department that had lost a few members in its time. Over the course of the first few months I was there, I noticed strange noises in the bay. Once, I walked in the front door only to hear the back door slam. I walked back to see who it was, and when I opened the back door, no one was there. There was fresh snow on the ground and no tracks.

Another time I went down to the bay in the middle of the night. I heard distinct footsteps walking around one of the rigs on the other side of the bay. I called out but no one answered. I got spooked and crept around the bay with an axe trying to find the intruder. No one there! I also got a really spooky feeling a few times when I was alone in the bay by the back door. Later, I happened to mention to the chief that I had heard some weird stuff in the station at night. He got a strange look on his face and said ‘Let me guess… footsteps behind Engine 3 and a creepy feeling by the back door!’ I got the same story from one of the captains, about hearing footsteps and all that. Guess someone’s still hanging around…

8. The Station in The Woods

Back at my old department before I moved to my current one I was assigned to the farthest southern station by myself with a single engine. The area was in a heavily wooded area of the district. At night it got extremely dark in that area, more so than the other areas of the dist. There were a lot of one lane dirt and paved roads as well as a few meth labs, and no police coverage.

I had had several occasions that I would hear dogs barking at a house near the station, and hear sounds outside the station like thumping noises, usually after 1 AM. I would go outside to look and no one would be there. These noises went on for about a week. Once I had a friend from another station come down to visit me but I was gone, he got scared off when he heard five loud bangs on the wall near the kitchen, of course he failed to tell me this. Another night I was in bed and saw a shadow outside my window walking in the flower bed. The shadow passed my window and then the person kicked the door near the bay. I crawled out of bed and called 911, while I was on the phone the person busted out the bedroom window, half scared shitless I ran to the engine and bailed north to another station with a higher staffing level. The PD responded and 45 minutes later searched and deemed the station safe.

I soon after moved from that station and it is no longer staffed even now 3 years later. I found out from a B/C later on that a previous FF had been attacked in the parking lot washing an engine, and that the station had had several other weird occurrences happen since it was built.

9. The Hose Tower Hanging

I too have heard of the strange noises that occur inside many of our firehouses.

We have a firehouse that late at night, you can hear chains rattling at the top of the hose tower. When you turn on the light and climb the ladder to the platform at the top of the tower, nothing is there. The rumor has it that back in the 50’s a probationer hung himself in the hose tower and wasn’t discovered for a week.

10. The Old Capt.

The oldest station in Lex., KY, is haunted, according to some of the old heads, by an old Capt. who died while on duty in his sleep on Christmas Eve in the 1940’s. He is said to have sat in an old cane bottomed rocking chair, that chair was put in the attic of the station after his death, where it is still heard to be rocking on occasion.

Chiefs have gotten calls from neighbors who were mad because they could see a fireman looking out of the upstairs window, but no one would answer the door. This usually happens when the engine company was out on a fire run or training. Engine started by itself and backed in to the wall one night (std. trans.). Some of the guys who have worked there would not even go in the house alone on payday to pick up their pay checks if the co. was out.

11. The Ouija Board

A fire company that I used to belong to is quartered in a building built in the 1930’s and it is unquestionably haunted. Odd things happen regularly such as bathroom stall doors being locked from the inside, tv and lights turning on and off, footsteps across the floor, yelling when nobody else is there, etc… A few members decided to bring in an Ouija board one night and see what they could find. It turns out that there are two ghosts, one is a past chief and the other is a small boy that used to live in a row of miner’s houses that has long since been torn down.

The chief confirmed his identity by naming other long dead members (so long dead that we had to dig back 50 years in the company’s records to even find their names!). The chief generally drags chairs around the meeting room at night and yells at members while the boy is constantly bouncing his ball on the upstairs floor. All of this only happens at night.

12. The Indian Arrowheads

My father’s volunteer fire company also found Indian arrowheads while they were digging for an addition to the firehouse back in the 50s, but they also unearthed cannonballs and buttons. If my memory is right, some expert said that the cannonballs were from the American revolution and that the buttons were from a Hessian soldier (Hessians were mercenaries that the British used against Washington’s army). BUT – strange things began happening while those items the firemen dug up were in the firehouse.

First off, anyone that touched the items got very ill with high fevers and rash. The guys that actually dug up the items were very bad off; and their feet became swollen and turned black and blue. The door to the firehouse would also swing open just as someone approached, and the doors to the huge cast iron firehouse oven would open and close all by itself. Someone in the company said that they should bury the items; put them back in the ground – and when they did everyone got better, and all the strange things stopped happening.

13. The Fortune Teller

My firehouse has had a run of strange happenings over the years also. Many of us have actually seen a misty figure move through the rec room and out to the apparatus room. Some of the crews have seen the figure together, others have seen him when they were by themselves. The usual doors swinging, chairs moving upstairs, people walking across the floor or up and down the stairs happens occasionally.

The really scary part was when a friend of a friend stopped by the firehouse with her kids for a tour. This woman practices tarot card readings, fortune telling and the like. She had never been in the firehouse before and had never known about any of the instances in the firehouse. After the tour she asked me if the firehouse had ��guest appearances” often. I thought she meant the kids and said that we often have children take tours of the place. She corrected herself and asked if we had ever seen ghosts, I said, maybe-I’m not sure. She described our misty figure from head to toe exactly as he appears and said she had seen him. Do I believe, probably not much more than I had before that day but I don’t doubt anything.

14. Standing Behind Me

This story takes place in Fayetteville, NC and the department I used to work for there. When I was assigned to Engine 2, I had heard all kinds of stories of it being haunted. Footsteps, doors opening, writing on the wall, and even a sighting are all the things I was told about.

I heard some things once in a while but the one time I was really spooked happened in late 2000. I was lying in bed, about 2 am when I heard footsteps approach my bunk and stop behind me, between my bed and the wall. The first thing I thought was that I had slept through a call but then I saw that my LT was still asleep and I noticed the radio was quiet. I could feel someone standing beside the bed and as much as I didn’t want to I slowly turned and looked to find that there was no one there.

#14 Firefighters Share Their Scariest Paranormal Encounters #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits

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sparklingichigo · 3 years ago

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Drama Intensifies

Part 9

Okay, back to Solomon and Ichigo. So far so good nothing is happening between them just sleeping soundly until the bolster falls. Oh wow, Solomon and Michael did jinx this. But before that let's get back to where they got back.

Ichigo: Oh boi that's a ride!

Solomon: Yeah!

Barbatos: I'm glad you two return safely^^ Did you get any help?

Ichigo: Well grandpa did say he'll come here to search for me since he can read the future and everything.... so yea...

Barbatos: There are two possibilites. Him appearing in time or appearing too late. Let's all hope he appears in time.

Suddenly all three of them see a suspicious figure behind them. There's also the holy sword coming from the sky. Both Solomon and Ichigo are shocked by this until they see Michael coming into the halls of the castle.

Ichigo: Michael?!

Michael: Hello to you too, Ichigo.

Barbatos: It's very nice to meet you again, Michael. What brings you to the castle?

Michael: I've seen something really horrifying from the dark realm. It seems to be the person I just stabbed was a decoy. They're disguising as Reika in order to kill you two.

Solomon: Kill us? Why would they kill us?

Michael: I've been informed by the grim reaper himself that she has this desire to kill Ichigo but turns out the shadow king wants you dead as well, Solomon. Based on what I heard, they seem to be trying to get rid of you, Solomon, and Haruka since all three of you are the keys to their loss.

Ichigo: I see...

Solomon: Then what do you suggest we do?

Michael: Stay in Celestial Realm. Until everything is cleared or at least until Simeon and Haruka return.

Solomon: Didn't I get banned for 3 months?

Michael: And it's already four months, Solomon.

Solomon: oh...

Barbatos: I also saw the future and the reality in which you stayed in devildom will cause your death so I suggest you go to the celestial realm with Michael. I let the house of lamentation know that you two are gone and they must not tell a soul.

The two nod and off they go to the celestial realm. Now here they are sharing a room and bed that night. Unconsciously dropping the bolster and end up cuddling together.

Solomon: [blinks awake] o-o

Ichigo: [sleeping soundly]

Solomon: [chuckles slightly] I never notice you actually look adorable asleep like this. It's nice to finally see you looking peaceful like this [fix her bangs that's falling to her face]

Solomon suddenly feels his heart beating quite fast due to such a view. Sure he's not loyal in the first place but he's in an open relationship with Asmo so he's sure Asmo would let him court Ichigo but will Beel let him? Just as he's thinking he hears Ichigo muttering some words of magic in her sleep.

Ichigo: O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes! (Dragon summoning magic)

Solomon: Heh, as if the dragon will appear. Now I know why Beel likes you a lot, Ichigo [pats her]. Never thought I of all being would fall for your charms. Oh well, sweet dreams^^

The next morning, Ichigo feels something wet is hitting her and when she did wake up, she finds Solomon drenched in holy water and there's Luke and Michael praying for him.

Ichigo: What's happening....?

Luke: He tried to touch you this morning!

Ichigo: Ew! WTF!!

Solomon: No I didn't!

Michael: Lying to an angel, how bold of you [shows footage he gets from Solomon's memory of him trying to kiss Ichigo at 3 am]

Ichigo: Damn, Solomon! I get it you're horny but don't use me like that!

Ichigo: [accidentally gets shot and feels burning in her skin] Ouch-

Luke: ...

Michael: Luke! She has demon blood! Spraying her with holy water would just kill her!

Luke: ;-; aaa I'm sorry! I don't mean to! I meant to shot it at Solomon's wandering hands!

Michael: [sigh] I guess you'll be sleeping on Luke's room for the next night.

Luke: [nods] It'll be safer with me! Not with this suspicious human! >:(

Solomon: Hey! [offended noises]

Ichigo: Stay away from me you perverted sorcerer! [moves away and goes behind the angels]

Yes, Solomon, she's a loyal person. She prefers Beel anyway, so no. Please don't court her. Anyways back to Haruka's world, here she is eating breakfast with her family and Simeon.

King: Hmm...Cyrstalia, I think we should find you a partner soon. I'm getting old and not anyone can inherit the throne. Perhaps a prince or someone from a noble family.

Haruka: [laughs nervously] I'm not interested in dating anyone though... I can rule the kingdom on my own and even if I want to marry someone must this person be from a noble family?

King: Of course! You're a royal, aren't you?

Queen: My dear, stop that! She can choose who she loves to be with her. Besides she's the one ruling the kingdom not the other way around!

Queen: Crystalia, my dear, just find someone that you truly love, okay? I don't want you to suffer and be with someone that you don't love.

Haruka: Of course, mother.

Well I know what you're thinking. Simeon is her boyfriend why doesn't he have a say in this? I mean they're royals and her father is really protective so exposing your identity would be really dangerous.

King: Hmm, how about Cloud? You used to be close to him, aren't you?

Haruka: I don't feel any romantic feelings for him though... besides, I already have one person in mind.

King: Really? Is he around?

Haruka: I'll tell you when I'm ready, father...

King: Alright.

Now back to these two, this chaotic duo. The two of them end up eating breakfast with Michael and Luke in such an awkward situation. Ichigo ends up sitting beside Luke out of awkwardness and that means Solomon needs to sit beside Michael. Poor guy....

Solomon, internally: Okay that night was a mistake. A horrible one plus I ain't dying because of the twins and Asmo coming after me that's just insane.

Just as he mentioned twins, he heard the door knock and speak of the devil, it's Beel!

Solomon: Beel?!

Michael: ?? Beelzebub, what brings you here?

Beel: Oh well... Angel Uriel gave me access and Barbatos told me that she's-

Before he can even finish his words, Ichigo went straight in and hugs the heck out of him.

Beel: It's nice to see you too, Sugar^^

Ichigo: Honeybear!! ;-; I miss you a lot!

Beel: As I was saying, Barbatos told me that she's here so I came along...

Solomon: .... that'd just expose her locations-

Beel: Ah, don't worry^^ Barbatos just tell them that I'm somewhere in the human world for a mission. They also told me that Reika is coming to kill you guys...

Solomon: One of the reasons why we're here.

Michael: Correct, Celestial Realm can only be accessed with demons if he has an invitation considering Uriel gave you one that means you can stay for a while. Either than that, you'll be considered an intruder and be thrown back to Devildom, or probably Hell who knows, it depends on Angel Rhamiel since he's the one in charge of that. But do come in Beel, we have plenty of food for you^^

Beel: What a coincidence! I'm actually a little hungry! Come on, sugar^^

Ichigo: Eum, okay!

The breakfast proceeds with Beel this time sitting beside Ichigo and Luke moving so Beel and Ichigo can sit next to each other. Their lovey-dovey-ness makes Solomon more guilty because he technically almost ruined such a beautiful and healthy relationship.

Michael: Feeling guilty now, I see...

Solomon: What...?

Beel: Oh? Did he do something?

Michael: It's nothing^^ It'd be such a disgrace if I expose him in front of a guest. Anyways, have you heard the news about Shadow King trying to take over all 3 realms?

Beel: I did, Levi is preparing the navies from the ocean to help us. It might turn into a big tsunami and all. I'll be also helping since I have lots of underlings and all. Well all seven of us do have each of our underlings for this since we're technically the 7 lords of hell.

Michael: True, I suppose they're against the union of all 3 realms considering they're attacking Celestial realm as well.

Beel: Shadow King has always been enemies with Diavolo so no wonder he's gonna destroy his plan.

And so, Michael and Beel end up discussing what they'll do as Luke, Solomon, and Ichigo just eat confusedly because it's army stuff they have no idea off. Okay, maybe Solomon understands what's going on but he's a human so the angel and demon system is a bit confusing for him.

Beel: Speaking of which, is there a room I can sleep in?

Michael: Hmm perhaps Ichigo's room and I'll move Solomon to Luke's room?

Luke: Why can't she just sleep in my room?

Beel and Solomon: No!

Ichigo: ....??

Michael: [sigh] Perhaps that's a good idea. Ichigo, you'll be moving to Luke's room.

Ichigo: That's great! Right, Luke?

Luke: Yeah! Sucks to be you two! [laughs]

That was it, Ichigo ends up in Luke's room which is also Simeon's room so she's technically using Simeon's bed or vice versa while Beel ends up in Solomon's room. But we'll return to that soon, for now, let them rest peacefully^^

#obey me fanfiction #roleplaybased #mymc #obey me solomon #obey me beelzebub #obey me luke #hahaeveryoneisasimpforichigo

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shadowgeist-stars · 3 years ago

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Vitam et Mortem: Divine Pride

A small gift for Pride Month before June ends. I probably should've come up with this earlier, but hey, I hope you enjoy it regardless.

Bridget had wanted to show Emily her new favorite part of June for years since they first began. After all the time they spent together for the last five or six centuries, she found it quite fun to introduce the otherwise reclusive Mother Nature to all the things she otherwise ignored among the mortals.

But this particular celebration wasn't just a joyous occasion for herself. Many lost spirits and even deities from all over the world rejoiced at the celebration of their own way of love and life.

From the gods of ancient Mesopotamia, to the far-flung rainbow serpents of Australia, to the hidden deities in China and Japan, to Bridget's own neighboring Loas and other divine friends in the Americas. The jubilee expressed by the immortals could only be matched, let alone surpassed, by that of the humans. Finally, all of the unfortunate people who lost themselves for the sake of their own hearts wouldn't have died in vain. All of the poor children close to that edge had something to look forward to.

"Come on, Emily, it's this way!" she called, leading her companion by the hand. "I promise you'll love it!"

Mother Nature chuckled, following the winged girl as quickly as she could. "This is the most excited I've seen you in the past few centuries. Have you met another holiday spirit?"

Bridget shrugged. "Not exactly. But I think you'll especially love it. It can't be much further now."

They stopped when they reached a crowd of people down the road.

Marching through the street was a parade of celebration. Flags of many bright color combinations littered the area. Some were blue, purple and pink. Some were pastel pink and blue and white. But a great many of the flags and all-encompassing banners -- and there were so, so many of them -- were all the colors of the rainbow.

"Bridget, my dear… what on Earth is this?"

Before her eyes, the rainbow painted itself over Bridget's otherwise black cloak. Strips of each color encircled her long cloak in luminous, vibrant hues. Shades of deep bright pink and fiery red orange sought out her shoulder cape, imitating one of the proudly-waving flags in the parade with black between each stripe. Emily soon learned exactly what it meant, as many couples in the parade embraced one another without fear or shame.

"It's a celebration of people like us," the redhead explained, no less than sheer jubilee on her face. "You once showed me how many animals are able to love in the same way we do. And according to the older gods, mortals who were the same way never had such a chance to be themselves since before the Dark Ages. Now that they have that chance again… isn't it beautiful?"

Emily did remember showing her all that. From birds of all kinds to various cats and other mammals to even insects and fish, and a whole lot more. The colors around her and the light in Bridget's eyes and all over her cloak… it truly was a sight to behold.

"It's wonderful," she replied simply. "Absolutely gorgeous. I've never seen anything like it."

They joined the parade like it was the most natural thing in the world. Following families and children greeted the two, as did many more immortals who began to appear. The children were laughing and dancing together with the other immortals, sporting their own flags.

"Lovely day for a parade, ladies," greeted a man in a multicolored tribal outfit framed with various flowers. "I'm certain I saw someone handing out Sapphic flags. Just watch for the usual, ahem… intruders."

"Thanks so much, Xochipilli," Bridget thanked the stranger. "I'm sure Emily would love that."

He smiled. "Never thought I'd see the day that the infamous Mother Nature would appear here. I'll tell the others; all of your Loa friends are bound to be nearby, and they'll love hearing about this."

Emily was confused by the names. "Who was he talking about?"

"My Voodoo-related associates," Bridget explained. "Many of them like both men and women, so they'll almost definitely be sporting pink-purple-and-blue flags like those over there. Though it takes a trained eye to know who’s who with the outfits they wear.

“Xochipilli is Aztec, and one of the few gods in that group with a decent amount of common sense. Back in his hayday, he was the god of games, the arts, and flowers, as well as the patron of people like a lot of the mortals here. Really nice guy, but I wish I could say the same about some of his friends.”

Emily chuckled. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Are there others like the ones you mentioned?”

The redhead nodded. “Lots of others, all over the world. They’re all probably having a blast at parades on their home turf just like this one. Oh look, there’s the flag Xochi was talking about!”

The flag in question was actually quite darling. It had two pastel pink stripes around one that was white, with a pretty little violet directly in the center. The person beside the girl handing such flags out was handing out flowers of all kinds.

Bridget went for the flower person, taking a violet before flying up to plant it above Emily’s ear, adding on a kiss on the cheek.

The swell of warmth in her chest from the gesture caused the violet to spread into a crown on her head.

The Grim Reaper giggled. “Now it looks even prettier. It suits you!”

Emily sighed at her reaction, but eventually couldn’t help a smile. At least until she noticed the white-robed and white-winged people hovering above a different crowd. They glared at the celebration as they stood guard over the yelling people holding some… rather rude signs.

Her beloved noticed her expression. “What’s wrong?” Bridget followed her gaze, lifting off the ground a little for a better view.

Angels. And a whole lot of their own downline.

“Oh, for the love of vultures…” she muttered under her breath as she pulled her scythe out of her shadow. “Ignore them, Em. They should know by now that they can’t do much of anything without getting people upset.”

“Is that… normal of them?” asked the dark-haired woman.

“Very,” the redhead replied with a sigh, leading Emily away from the protestors. “Their minions love to say that living the way we do isn’t natural and that it’s corrupting their children. All because they like to listen to the one who commands those angels. We just call them the usual intruders. I think I’ve already told you how troublesome they are to my fellow death spirits.”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” She noticed how the blade of Bridget’s scythe shined with iridescent colors. “Hm, even your weapon appears to have gotten into the spirit of the celebration.”

“There’s a reason for that, actually.” With a snap of her fingers, Bridget unveiled a slew of visiting wandering souls in the broad daylight. So many of them floated around in groups, like the other immortals in the parade had called them here. Many bore dark scars that only occurred among souls who sought their own destruction in life. “These are all of the people in just this area who lived the same way as all of these mortals, in worlds that didn’t allow them, or hearts that no longer wanted to beat.”

Emily gazed upon each spirit, seeing the joy and peace on each and every spectral face in the procession. “This is far more than the joy of the living... it’s also a comfort for the dead.”

Bridget could see the angels daringly lean towards the ghosts from above their followers, and firmly tapped her scythe against the ground. All of the ghosts turned their attention to the Reaper, and to those she glared at. The protesters faltered, as if perhaps they had seen her standing there. Either way, they knew better than to test an emissary of death with her albeit passive army, so she’d count that much as a win. So did the ghosts, who peacefully returned to their own mingling.

Fingers found their way into soft, owlish feathers. “Where did you learn that trick?”

Bridget’s smile returned with a chuckle. “The Valkyries have shown me how they command their soldiers a few times. Angels are a pretty popular overarching reason as to why the ghosts around here have perished. It's just a matter of setting off the alarm. They know better than to trust what killed them."

A couple of the children seemed more than a bit intimidated by the parade's protesters, regardless of their dropping momentum. "Come with me, Em. Forget the angels and their little friends. This is a time for celebration."

Mother Nature was quite willing to comply, her leaf-bearing winds gently guiding the children away from the scary people like large, caring hands. As they went on with the parade, the two eventually grew more cheerful again. More immortals dropped by to meet them, such as Nibo, one of the Loas Bridget mentioned earlier; Oua Oua, a higher-ranking Loa who led the children, also said hello. Several "Voodoo" figures made appearances, really, and all of them offered nothing but coos and congratulations.

It certainly made it a far more lively experience than Burning Man, where they usually wandered about largely unseen. But oddly enough, it wasn't quite unpleasant. Emily enjoyed meeting so many wonderful divine friends. Seeing Bridget's multicolored stripes grow brighter, and her hair shining in the sun like fire, against eyes so pale silver in the daylight they almost looked pure white, was a simply mesmerizing experience.

Near the end of the parade, Emily had discovered a work of art made entirely from flowers; an entire wall of words shaped with roses of every color. Red, orange, yellow, green, even blue and purple. She used her power to grow out a bouquet of separate lavender roses, with a little help from Xochipilli. After which she gently wove each flower into Bridget's lovely wings and hair, pale and beautiful against her bright red locks and dark gold feathers. Bridget was delighted at the gift; something she knew Emily would most certainly do.

"Now you look even prettier,” she said warmly, parroting the reaper's words. “It suits you.”

The look she got in response was so full of affection… Emily could feel it taking something else from her chest aside from her breath. Bridget floated to her eye level, cupping the taller spirit's face between her hands.

"I think you deserve a thank-you for it."

With that, she leaned in for a kiss.

Emily’s heart filled with a familiar, welcoming fire at the soft and warm touch of Bridget’s lips, yet entirely new and exciting. A wild and joyful tune, yet sung in the tone of a lullaby. Miniature earthquakes rattled through her body, and she felt like she was floating. Her hands started flexing and lifting up on instinct, until they dug into the soft down between the reaper’s shoulders, pulling her closer. The flower-decorated wings swung low, the ends of the joints resting on her sides.

A moment meant to last forever.

“Ah, young love. Truly a beautiful thing.”

“It’s like something straight out of those romantic fairy tales.”

The two voices startled the two from their reverie. Bridget sank to the ground with a face as red as her hair; given the fiery heat that went from her heart to her face, Emily probably wasn’t much better.

“Lundy! Limba! You ruined the moment!” scolded Èrzulie Dantòr, batting the two men away with dark-skinned hands. “Out, out, and away, boys, before you ruin their mood any more! Shoo!”

Bridget giggled at the sight of the Loas. “I take it you enjoyed that, Emily?”

Mother Nature cleared her throat, smiling down at her sheepishly. “I suppose I did. Though I… can’t say I expected to… Will there be other parades like this in the future?”

“Of course!” She took her hand as they prepared to return to the realm they shared. “It’s an entire month out of every year that celebrations just like this will occur. Why? Do you want to go to another one?”

Emily chuckled, mustering the courage to kiss the top of her head. “Perhaps…”

To see such colors like those still lingering on the Grim Reaper’s cloak… To feel such childlike glee she hadn’t experienced in millennia… Mother Nature could hardly wait for the next adventure outside of her fog.

#pride 2021 #pride month #rise of the guardians #emily jane pitchiner #grim reaper #mother nature #rotg oc #lgbt history #wlw #sapphic

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goodfortune-au · 4 years ago

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Good Fortune (Soulmate AU) Chapter 14: Games

In the coming weeks of March going into April, there had come the next wave, the next vital stage of his attentions and the days that Angel had started to look forward to the most. These were nothing like the voices in her head, the phantom hands stroking her skin, or the experience of finding him on her favorite TV channel. Angel had spent such time these days simply pining after him, waiting for him to worm his way back into her mind, distract her, take her away from all her worries and doubts. To tell the truth, this wasn’t much different from the days of before, all those days spent patrolling the TV for the Derry Children’s Hour and all the time she spent sleeping in the hopes of stumbling across those delicious dreams once more, but now that she had tasted the true sweetness of his presence, there was simply no turning back now. Yes, Angel had truly experienced something she’d never had the pleasure of experiencing before, that is, the love and touch of another living, breathing thing, and now she wanted more. She wanted more, and knowing that the time was ripe to do so, Pennywise was more than delighted to offer it to her. It had begun one warm April afternoon, when the Losers had come to bless Angel with their blithesome, whimsical company. A conversation about the perils and pitfalls of pre-pubescent life at school eventually dissolved into listless boredom, and then Angel had saved the day with a simple deck of cards. They took to it immediately, all sitting in a circle around the coffee table. It was Angel, followed by Bill, followed by Eds and Richie, followed by Stan. The TV is chattering quietly in the background behind them.

“Alright, host goes first, and we’ll move in clockwise.” Angel had announced. She laid down a blue card inscribed with a three.

Bill is thoughtful for a moment, rifling through his cards and finally he sets one down on top of it. Blue seven. Eds places down a yellow seven and Richie grumbles before drawing a few cards out of the deck in the middle. He finally places down a yellow five and Stan counters with the same number in green. And so the cycle continues, the silence progressively growing more and more tense, just waiting for the first shoe to finally drop. It comes back around to Stan again.

“...Sorry, Anj.” Stan says with a wryness in his voice, as though he wasn’t really sorry. He theatrically sets down a card and a death knell practically descends over her head. “Draw four.”

She gasps dramatically. “You little bastard!” She draws four cards out of the deck with a leisurely chuckle, and then places one of them into the middle with a flourish. Reverse card. “Your turn again, Stan the man. This way you can’t betray me a second time.”

“Fine by me, now I get to betray Richie.” Stan says with a devilish smirk. Skip turn.

“Oh come on!” Richie wails. “I had a good one!”

Eddie snickers and places down a green nine. “Sucks to suck, doesn’t it Trashmouth?” Bill places down a green two.

“Can it, wheezy, or I’ll sic the hounds on you next go around, I've got some good cards.”

“Oh no you won’t.” Angel says with a wag of her finger. Another reverse. The entire party flares up with a chorus of controversy and uproarious laughter. Bill snickers and puts down a second green two, then Eddie follows with a wildcard. “The color is red.”

“Yes!” Richie pipes up with a triumphant shriek. To the horror of everyone, he places down a red skip card in the middle. Stan stares at him silently with contempt.

“Nice one, idiot, now we know what color you have the most cards for.” Eddie says, his tone snide and condescending as he shuffles through his own hand.

“Yeah, and now the color is yellow.” Angel announces, placing down another wildcard.

“NO!” Richie howls. The room flares up again with laughter.

They continue in their childish game, taking one round into the next and then a third and a fourth after that. Bill was a silent and unassuming winner, taking home the gold in the first two games and Stan and Angel taking home the third and fourth. As time goes on everyone is growing increasingly bitter at one another, a cloud of competitive loathing settling over all of them as they fight to best the next player. Angel could sense the tension growing in the air, tension surely unavoidable in such a high stakes game as this, and couldn’t stop herself from becoming consumed in the heat of it as well. She’s sitting crosslegged on the couch, leaning forward in her anticipation for the next move, waiting to see what pandemonium surely awaits with the placement of each new card. After a while, though, they all fall into caustic silence. The clock ticks insistently overhead. The chatter on the TV seems to grow louder in the increasing absence of sound. Then the matter-of-fact words of a news reporter gradually intrudes in on their collective thoughts, and before they know it grim conversation is born from the quiet.

“Who knows who’s doing it?” Eds had said. “I hear about this shit constantly, but they never seem to catch anyone.” He sets down a blue four. “Your turn Bill.”

Bill puts down a green four. “Yeah, it’s... It’s ruh-really weird. T-two kids from a grade down went m-m-missing in the last month. The p-police don’t even have leads on them, and it's been weeks.” He says quietly. Angel feels her stomach start to roil with something unpleasant but she ignores it. She puts down a green six and doesn’t say anything.

“It feels like the police don’t even care.” Stan adds, placing down a card of his own. “I mean, they say they’re looking for the missing people, but my dad says that’s just a bunch of bullshit posturing.”

“Really, Rabbi Uris said that?” Angel asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well,” Stan says sheepishly. “Not in those exact words.”

“I don’t know, man, it just feels like things have been different lately.” Eddie says, placing down a reverse card. “Things haven’t really been the same since... You know, ever since...”

Ever since Georgie.

They all fall into discontented silence. Bill is the quietest of them all. The TV continues on behind them, unphased.

“...Hey, uh, can we get a fuckin’ change of scenery in here?” Richie breaks the silence loudly. There’s an uncharacteristic nervous edge to his voice. “I hate the news- it's, uh, it’s killing my buzz, know what I mean?”

They all immediately agree. Angel picks up the remote. “Good idea.” She says uneasily. She starts to flip through the various available channels.

“Your turn again Angel.”

“Oh. Uh...” She interrupts herself to place a card into the middle and then refocuses her attention back on the screen. There’s a baseball game on Channel 4, a hokey soap opera on Channel 10, a couple dull historical documentaries on Channels 14 and 15... Yawn. She continues. Even Channel 27 was nothing but static. She sighs and gets up, disrupting the game briefly to pluck a movie off the shelf instead. She slides her choice into the VCR slot and lets it play, comforted by the familiar sound of product-placement ads she’d heard a thousand times before. Everyone else seems instantly placated by the change of tone in the room too. The Paramount Pictures logo flashes briefly over the screen, and then the sound of a radio host announcing the beautiful weather in the city of Chicago cuts in sharply over the silence.

“Ferris Bueller?” Richie mutters absentmindedly, his eyes flickering up to the TV as he rifles through his cards. “Good choice, Anj.”

“...Ferris? Ferris? Tooooom!”

Two well-to-do parents are fussing over their apparently sickly child. “What, what’s wrong?” His father asks.

“What’s wrong ? For Christ’s sake look at him honey!”

He’s laying in bed, eyes wide as saucers, staring off into space. His father says his name and his spacey stare rolls lazily upward. He seems dazed and fatigued but it’s clearly an act, his voice child-like as he addresses them from under the covers and dramatically plays up his imagined illness. His theatrical performance is laughable and thin but somehow they miraculously buy into it anyway, even insisting he stay in bed as he makes meek attempts to sit up. “I have a test today,” He says, in intentionally weak protest. “I have to take it. I wanna go to a good college so I can have a fruitful life.” His mother adamantly refuses out of concern. “Honey, you’re not going to school like this now.” Cynical big sister arrives in the room, rightly skeptical of her brother’s supposed ailment but is nonetheless dismissed by her family anyway.

“I’m okay,” Ferris says after she’s gone. “I’ll just sleep. Maybe I’ll have an aspirin around noon.”

After not much deliberation, the parents both agree to let him stay home, telling him they’ll check on him and to call them at work should he need anything. He hams it up even more, buttering them up with weak praise, lauding them for being such loving, caring parents, and they both bid him an affectionate goodbye. They start to leave the room, and his mother tells him she loves him before starting to shut the door behind her. There’s silence. After all is well and the boy is alone in his room, he cautiously sits up in bed. He listens to the door close, and then his eyes dart to the center of the screen. He’s smug.

“They bought it.”

The game continues on as though it had never been disturbed. The unpleasant conversation of before is nothing but a distant memory now, their minds now engrossed in the intense heat of competition once more. A fifth game turns into a sixth, and the better part of an hour passes over their preoccupation. Though the kids seem to have forgotten the grim topic of the disappearances, Angel is less fortunate, and whether she likes it or not, thoughts of it all are starting to stew in her mind again. It was true, Angel had been able to dodge these ruminations lately as a result of her lovesick euphoria, but they had all been buried in a shallow grave rather than six feet under. It was hard to ignore the unease creeping up when she was reminded of everything she’d heard and experienced, and then slowly but surely those thoughts would come rising to the surface again for her lack of delight. She didn’t like thinking of it, of any of it. If she’d had her way, she would happily keep her head buried in the sand with Pennywise and never let her mind linger on any of it ever again. But no such luck unfortunately. The only thing worse than being aware of such strange and ominous dealings was the frustrating knowledge of knowing there was nothing you could do to stop them. Angel had given up a long time ago on any foolish notion of ending whatever force of evil lurked within the town, not that she ever truly had had such a notion in the first place. No, Angel was more than aware that she was fairly inconsequential to this town, even as an apparent fascination for an esoteric guardian angel, and that there was little chance at all she might have any sway over its cosmic fate. But it didn’t stop her from feeling guilty about it all. It was such a futile and helpless feeling she couldn’t control.

Angel pushes it from her mind and tries to become consumed in the game again. In the process her mind starts to wander to other places, and she wonders where Pennywise might be now. He hadn’t been around much in the last few days; though of course, when he wasn’t whispering in her ear or monopolizing her attention on the TV, he was present in other ways. He would leave her gifts and notes just as he had done before, and they were more affectionate now, more personal. He’d leave her things that specifically catered to her interests. Special inking pens he’d conjured up from god only knows where, little pinback buttons and squares of fabric perfect for patch-making, her favorite candies from childhood... She thought it so sweet that he was trying so hard to keep her interest. It was refreshing and new and she, so enamored with him, leaned into the attention wholeheartedly. Pennywise knew it to be important to keep laying on the charm, knew it was crucial to continue in his courting behavior, but he had held off on continuing to be there with her in person, at least for the time being. He wanted her to long for his touch and his presence, wanted her to want him there, holding her, keeping her within the unwavering security of his protection. The time was coming for him to make his return, however, and the reunion would be so sweet, so delightful, the beginning of a new stage in their budding relationship. He had been so patient in the weeks following Valentine’s Day, and now he simply couldn’t wait to be with her again. He would come back to her, and she would welcome him with open arms.

“Oh, you motherfucker.” Richie breathed.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off had finally reached its third act, and now focused on a conversation between the eponymous character’s girlfriend and best friend. They walk through Chicago’s crowded downtown thoroughfares during a lively parade, discussing Ferris and his whereabouts, seeming to have lost him somewhere in the crowd along the way. They’re meandering through hundreds of people trying to find him, the chatter around them loud and boisterous as they make their way down the congested street. The kids paid little attention to the movie, focused instead on the happenings within the fascinating yet frustrating world of Uno. Angel finds herself having forgotten about Pennywise and everything else for the time being, having gotten absorbed in the game herself once more. Bill had a tally of three games won now, Stan with two, Rich with one, Eddie with four somehow, and Angel with two, but the group had now forgotten how many games they’d played, having gotten lost in it for hours. They were playing through the deck for the umpteenth time, and this one had been a real nail biter so far. So many twists and turns, flimsy alliances turned inevitable betrayals, and obscenities shouted at one another that it was truly a sight to behold. At one point Mayor Jello had sauntered into the room, gotten a good, long look at the unfolding commotion, and promptly slinked back out to attend to his own matters.

“You can’t stack draw fours!” Richie had exclaimed incredulously. “That’s against the rules!”

“Nuh uh.” Angel informs him, reclining back on the couch. “House rules. Stacked draw twos and draw fours are totally free game.”

“Yeah, Richie. Read ‘em and weep.” Eds says smugly.

“Fuck that shit!” He’s appalled. “I refuse to honor three stacked draw fours!”

Psst.

“You can’t just refuse, dipshit!”

“Like hell I can’t! I’ve got seventeen cards already, it’s not fair!”

“You’re being a sore loser, Rich.” Stan sighed.

Psst. Hey.

They continue to squabble amongst themselves. Richie is adamant and will not budge, and everyone else is needling him to simply honor it and move on.

“Okay then, if you pussies get to stack draw fours, then I get to do this.” He throws down a blue reverse card.

“Hey, you can’t do that!”

“Sure I can. If you get a pass on breaking the rules then I get a pass too.” Richie says with a shrug. “Draw twelve, asshole.”

“I’m not drawing twelve, Richie!”

Psst.

She finally hears it. Her ears perk up.

Angel.

While they’re arguing, she feels a shiver run up her spine, and she turns to face the source of the sound. The TV. The movie is still playing, Alan Ruck and Mia Sara still journeying through downtown Chicago, the crowd still chattering on in an endless chorus of white noise. A voice starts to address them from a P.A speaker; one familiar, smooth and lilting, but nothing at all like Ferris’s.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re such a wonderful crowd. We’d like to play a little tune for you. It’s one of my personal favorites, and I’d like to dedicate it to a very special girl who doesn’t know just how special she is. Angel, darling, look at me.”

She stares hard, her whole world dissolving into static around her. The camera shot falls on a parade float in the center of the screen, but instead of Ferris dramatically lip syncing the words to Danke Schoen on the stage, Pennywise has bafflingly taken his place on the screen somehow. She’s warm now, she can’t believe her eyes as he walks among the costumed dancers, miming the words and playfully gesturing with his hands toward the center of the screen. He was singing to her.

Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen

Thank you for all the joy and pain

Picture shows, second balcony was the place we'd meet

Second seat, go Dutch treat, you were sweet

Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen

Save those lies, darling don't explain

I recall Central Park in fall

How you tore your dress, what a mess, I confess, that’s not all

He turns to face her completely now, and the movie continues on without him uninterrupted. The children don’t seem to notice his voice, or his presence on the TV. They simply proceed in their heated contention. It's just him and her.

“Hello, sweetness. It's so nice to see your lovely face again.”

Warm phantom hands cup her hips now and she has to resist the urge to gasp. He’s firm but affectionate.

“Uh uh, precious girl. Keep it quiet, would you? Wouldn’t want them to catch on to us, hmm?”

She gulps with a nod and holds her breath as those hands start to wander up, over her clothes, toward her cotton-clad breasts.

“Yes... I’m sure you’re not ready to have that conversation, are you? Wouldn’t even know how to explain it... Oh, look at you, your face is already all red. Cute little Angel. Cute cute cute!”

His hands ghost delicately over her breasts and go to her collarbone, stroking sensually there with one feather-light finger until she’s squirming. He cups her cheek now.

“Oh, darling... How good your skin feels underneath my fingers… Did you like my song? Did you find it as lovely as I find you? Oh, hold on- I think I have another one coming up.”

You had better watch me.

Richie smacks Eddie’s cards out of his hand and the argument flares up again. Angel doesn’t even process it. She’s off in her own world now, and his touch is so titillating that she feels that tingle start to work its way from her belly all the way between her legs again, even as Twist and Shout comes on over the loudspeaker. Pennywise is lip-syncing the words to the upbeat number now, shimmying and dancing on the parade float as he pretends to sing into the microphone. All the while those hands are continuing to grope at her body, lewdly venturing over her curves while a marching band spiritedly plays along to the tune. They follow the beats of the song with brassy enthusiasm.

Well, shake it up, baby, now

Twist and shout

Come on, come on, come, come on, baby, now

Come on and work it on out

Well, work it on out

You know you look so good

You know you got me goin' now

Just like I know you would

Pennywise is bolstered by the excitement of the crowd and the sheer look on Angel’s face, the way she can’t keep her eyes off him and his on-screen antics. A small flash mob starts to form in a plaza and they mime the words too as they dance down a small flight of concrete steps. The entirety of the parade seems to have congregated around the float in a circle now; the parade-goers are all caught in their own rhythm, moving in different fashions but all in tandem at the same time as they sing along. And all the while Angel is staring, her heart pulsing restlessly inside of her, ignorant of the kids’ growing dissent amongst one another.

Well, shake it up, baby, now

Twist and shout

Come on, come on, come, come on, baby, now

Come on and work it on out

You know you twist, little girl

You know you twist so fine

Come on and twist a little closer now

And let me know that you're mine

That feeling inside of her belly is only growing more and more as she watches him. The way he struts and sashays across the stage of the float, the way he performs so electrically that it riles up the whole crowd; she can hear the bells on his suit jingling with every one of his movements, the sound ringing in her ears as she fights to maintain some semblance of normalcy and composure. And all the while his eyes keep flickering back into hers, reminding her just who he was singing to, just who he was doing this all for.

Who she belonged to.

“Angel, tell Richie he’s being fucking ridiculous!” Eddie demands, and suddenly she snaps back into focus.

“You’re the one who’s being ridiculous! Now you’re telling me you can use a fucking skip card on yourself?”

“Yeah, I figured if we’re all breaking rules, why not?”

“That just passes the draw twelve onto Bill! He doesn’t deserve that!”

“Oh, so I do deserve it?”

“Guys, for the love of god, shut up!” Angel practically roars, her assessment of the situation all suddenly caught up again.

They all fall quiet. She sighs a labored sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. When she glances at the TV screen out of the corner of her eye, she notices the movie is back to normal. No Pennywise miming the words to Twist and Shout, no saucy side glances or teasing little gestures, just Ferris amid the cheering parade crowd. She can’t feel his hands anymore either.

“You know guys,” She says with another heaving sigh. “It's getting late- I think you should probably be heading home after this game.”

“Okay but-”

“Richie, just take the damn loss and draw twelve, I’m not gonna watch you two bicker and argue for another three hours.”

He sulks. “Fiiiiiine.” He draws his cards, angry cloud of chagrin palpable in a three foot radius around him.

The game continues. As they slowly make their way through the rest of the deck, Angel finds her thoughts wandering back to Pennywise; wondering where he had gone, if he might come back, finding that she missed him and his touch, not that it was at all surprising. The children have come to a stiff truce and are now quietly placing their cards into the center pile, leaving her to continue stewing over his whereabouts. To tell the truth, the sight of him was such a pleasant surprise that she’d gotten a little… Excited. She hadn’t seen him in days, had only kept correspondence with him through the gifts. He hadn’t even been talking to her all that much; the last time she’d heard his voice was on Tuesday as she had been drifting off to sleep, and though she hadn’t dreamt of him, she could still feel his presence keeping her warm throughout the night. But after that, nothing. If not for the gifts, she would have thought that he was abandoning her again, would have sent that familiar panicky dread roiling up in her gut at the idea of being left behind, but thankfully there was no such feeling of alienation. There was only this delicious feeling of want and desire, bubbling up inside of her as she watched him dance and perform; just for her, only for her, making her feel special. It was a feeling that only seemed to become more apparent as the days went on, this delightful little feeling that made her start to lose her grip on reality. She starts to get lost in that wonderful madness, vacantly placing cards into the pile with every turn, silently contemplating the scenario of his return and finding that a blush was starting to stain her cheeks again at the thought of him. His tall form, his striking eyes, those massive hands; towering over her, looking into her, pinning her against the wall-

“Dirty, dirty, naughty little girl.” His voice whispers directly in her ear. “You’ve got company over, you should control yourself.”

She almost gasps but she restrains herself. She can hear the smile in his voice, can almost see him wagging a finger at her.

“...Need to wait, little thing, need to be patient.” The phantom hands are back at her waist, slowly trailing down to rest at her hips again. Soft and gentle, comforting and sweet. It drives her mad.

“Reverse card. Angel, it’s your turn.”

Suddenly she’s not paying attention again. She’s whining silently, she’s screaming at him in her mind and that only seems to please him more. His voice evokes a shit-eating grin now.

“Wouldn’t… Want to rush things, would we? No, no… We should take our time, we should savor it all…”

Those hands are wandering lower, lower, ever so slightly…

“Angel?”

Her heart is thundering against her chest. She swallows hard, staring off into the space at her feet as she sits, rooted to the spot. He chuckles in her ear as he watches her squirm, clearly delighted at her embarrassment. “Orrrrrr…” He whispers. Her heart stops.

“Angel, are you okay?”

“Maybe... Just maybe... We should throw all that caution to the wind, be bold, adventurous. Maybe I should just wait until they leave. Maybe I should wait until you’re all alone, and then I’ll come... I’ll back you up against the wall, corner you with no escape like a pretty little mouse. Tell me, would you like that?” His hand trails inward, his voice raspy and sonorous in her ear, and her breath hitches in her throat when it brushes up against the tender spot between her legs.

“How about it, pretty girl?”

How about it?

“P-Pennywise…” She breathes.

"Dude, she’s zoned out.”

“Angel!”

She snaps out of it.

“What? What?” She’s pressing her hands to her hot cheeks.

“You spaced out.”

“Are you okay?”

“...What’s P-P-Pennywise?”

She shakes her head quickly. “Sorry, I…” She finally processes the last question and feels her cheeks getting hotter again underneath her fingers. “Nothing, no one.” She clears her throat and thumbs through her hand, placing a red six into the center pile. But his voice is still there, calling to her, teasing her, needling her, just trying to get her to break.

“...Hey Angel,” he breathes huskily. “Wanna hear a poem I wrote for you? It goes like this- Roses are red, violets are fine, you be the six, and I’ll be the--”

Stop. Stop. She tries her best to look normal now but she’s starting to sweat profusely. They continue in the game; there’s a palpable uneasiness settling over all of them but each and every one of them just tries to ignore it. Red nine, red four, blue four, blue skip; blue seven, green seven, wildcard yellow, draw four. Angel is trying her best to ignore him, ignore his little games and rhyming; ignore the pleasure building inside despite her greatest attempts to fight it off, ignore her embarrassment and the way she could feel them all staring at her. The day was long now and she wanted them to go so it could finally be over. She places down another card.

“Oh ho ho, I can see how flustered you are, darling! Poor girl, poor little pet… Be careful now, they’re starting to worry…”

She’s so frustrated that she can hardly breathe. Her face feels like a furnace. She can’t even look them in the face now as she continues laying cards down into the middle of the pile; she can only keep her eyes rooted shamefully at her feet as she listens to the clock tick judgmentally overhead. The minutes crawl by at a snail’s pace, but thankfully the game is nearing its end. Pennywise continues his teasing though, content to torture Angel with his words and devilish sing-song as she fights to maintain her thinly-veiled facade. Stan appears to be pulling ahead, he’s about to call Uno but then-

“Pennywise and Angel sittin’ in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N--”

“OKAY!” She cries out suddenly. They all jump about ten feet off the ground. She immediately processes her outburst, and now she chokes, she struggles to explain herself. “It’s uh…. It’s getting late guys. I think,” She swallows. “Think you should all be getting home.”

“Jesus Christ, are you okay? Your face is on fuckin’ fire dude.”

“I’m fine!” She insists. “I’m just… Not feeling good. But I’ll be okay, I just need to sleep.”

“Angel-”

“Talk soon?”

She practically pushes them all out the door, and they leave behind a mess of Uno cards amid their protest. She reiterates that she’s fine and then they all hesitantly bid her goodbye from her stoop, further unnerved when she doesn’t even reply. She shuts the door, she takes a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. All of his teasing had gotten to her more than she cared to admit; she couldn't help it, no one had ever shown her such attention before, especially not... That kind of attention, not unless they were trying to be insulting. She found it facetious, vulgar in a way that was amusing and fun, though she'd be lying if she said the time and place could not have been any more inappropriate. The worries of what the kids must think is slowly seeping into her brain and she feels her face getting red all over again. What would they think if they... If they knew? It's not as though it were anything bad, she just... Wouldn't know how to explain any of it. How he had romanced her with all of his gifts, the way they'd met... The things he was saying. Oh god. They were privy to a lot of dirty jokes, sure, (Lord knows Richie was incapable of working anything but blue) but she simply couldn't divulge such intimate details of her own romantic courtship like that, they had no business in it. She's sure they wouldn't understand anyway, that they might misconstrue his intentions and try to convince her that he was bad news or something. Children though they were, they were much more mature than most of the adults in this town, and they were not immune to being overprotective of her. She tries not to let her concerns get to her so much, not right now. Now, all she could do was simply splash cold water on her face, put all the Uno cards back where they came from, and leave this mortifying ordeal behind her. She takes another deep breath and sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose and rubbing her face tiredly. She counts to five and when she turns around she has to bite back a breathless shriek.

#pennywise #daddywise #chapter fourteen #games #it 2017 #it chapter one #pennywise x oc #pennywise x angel #good fortune

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speedybooksandcreativeheaven · 4 years ago

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The Temptations of My Family

Part 3

Story Summary: Sometimes all connections soon break eventually. Harold Anderson the CEO of Anderson Toy Factory had a secret, he sold his own soul to study and perfect demon magic. It soon took all of his free time studying the effects of the magic leaving their son, David to grow up without a father figure. When David was a small boy he was shocked when he found his father badly beaten due to the demon magic. Since that moment, he made a vow that demon magic would never touch him or his family. Fuelled by rage, David makes sure to protect his daughters from his wrath, as he claims that bad things happen with magic. Sadly, he can't control everything as he kicked out his first born, Kayla due to spending time with their grandfather learning demon magic. Soon enough Kayla becomes head of the household as she is left with five attractive incubi to take care of and her innocent sister, Mika.

Word Count: 2,173

Trigger Warning: Past is in italics

Its been a couple of minutes since Mika stormed back inside the party, leaving Kayla alone to gather her thoughts. Her fists were balled up as her heavy breathing was the only thing that was keeping her warm as the cold breeze whistled through the night. She shook her head as she should have known that Mika is going to be innocent with everything going around her, she was pleasing father because she is scared to follow her own dream. To see Harold Anderson’s Toy Company, fail. She shudders as she try’s to ground herself as she lifts her hands up to view a large black ball that was circulating with dark demon magic in her right hand. She was so focused during the fight that she couldn’t hold back her magic.

Her angry expression soon turned into fear as she was muttering to herself. “No, no, no, no. Not now! I don’t need this!” She is pacing on the grass as she was so focused on her hand that she didn’t see Sam observing her from the back deck afar.

He stood on the deck overlooking and overhearing everything. The breeze was allowing the incubi inside to control his rage energy on Mika. He could understand Kayla’s anger at her sister for taking her fathers side, what really ticks him off is that Mika believes in this so-called curse. He rolls his eyes at the thought as he notices a small form become closer. He looks to see a pissed off Mika as she glared back at Sam when her shoes clunk on the wooden floor.

“Tch. Daddy’s girl.” Sam scowls at her as she bumps into his shoulder on purpose.

He pretends not to notice her presence as she stops at the glass door to put herself back together. She grabs a tissue out of her bag as she cleans herself up. After five minutes, she sighs before taking a deep breath and opening the door. She walks in with her head held high as Sam gave a disapproving smirk after the door closed. It takes a second for Sam to let his golden eyes go back to his normal forest green colour as he sighs and starts to walk towards Kayla. He’s hoping to be her so-called knight. This time he will be the one to make her feel better, not like James.

Kayla was so lost in the moment that it wasn’t until she could feel the grass move from someone approaching her as her senses were improved from her studies. Sam sighed when she didn’t even look up to see his face, he decided to be playful to let his large black shoes hit her small silver flats.

“Doofus..” Sam trailed off as he tried his best to comfort her, “Is everything alight?” his forest green eyes met her beautiful brown ones as he carefully touched her face, rubbing it as she was hesitant to lean into his touch.

“Is everything alright!” she yells dramatically at the sky, “No, Sam! Everything is terrible!” she spat back pulling away from him, “Mika thinks that she all that but she so clueless to see that father is manipulating her! He is using his own fear of misunderstanding demon magic to persuade Mika to follow her like a lost puppy! He’s using her to his advantage and what was worse that he belittled me next to the company big wigs!” she went on a rampage not caring as they were on a small patch of grass away from the company that is facing the quiet lake front.

As Sam watched her pace back and forth he noticed that with every insult that she was throwing towards her father and sister that her long straight brown hair started turning pitch black. Strand by strand until it started to float on its own. He could feel some sort of dark demon magic encasing her form almost as if she didn’t see it. He tired to reach her, to calm her down but when he saw her brown eyes turn black and a large clear dome encased her and growing towards him. He started to panic as his only mode of defence was to scream her name in hopes that she would snap out of it but to no avail. He ran inside the factory to get James since he studied dark demon magic in the past and he needed help, even if he needed it or not.

Inside the dome, Kayla could feel her form drop into something cruel, dark as the magic circled around her outfit to change into a black short dress with white demon symbols encasing the dress. She is screaming for help, but she only hears her echo’s that surround her. She falls down towards the grass as she desperately trying to fight this thing. She cowers at the edge of the dome as she sees the demon in dripping black smirking down at her. She remembers that the last time this happened was with her grandfather and she hurt him. Kayla swore that she would never use this magic again, but it was like it had a mind of its own.

Soon enough, Sam got James to come outside to witness what he saw; Sam was running so fast that as he stumbled when he reached James carrying a plate of drinks. He was going to scold him but with the look of fear on his face, James asked him what was wrong. They stopped on the deck to see the impossible, Kayla was singing a dark melody as everything the dome touched started to die on its own command. The dome was still intact as James just stood still for a moment taking everything in. He then turned to Sam with an angry scowl on his face.

“Sam! What happened! Is that really Kayla inside that dome causing this!” he barked as Sam tried to defend himself.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but she was really pissed off and then that thing!” he pointed to the dome as it continued to cause damage, “It took a hold of her whole spirit, it was really scary man!”

James sighed as he took a scan of his surroundings, “Come on! We need to get everyone! We need to stop this thing before anyone says anything.” He rolled up his sleeves as he and Sam took off back inside the part to grab his brothers before running towards the lake where the dome was taking Kayla.

By the time they reached her they were miles away from the party as they all were catching their breath. There feet were clunking on the wooden boards as they were on a dock. Damien was the first to recover as he used his mind reading to see what was going on within her head. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he could see the black dome almost in reach of him. In that moment, he wanted to hold her, be her knight in shinning armour. He didn’t care about his brothers, or hell even himself. He vowed that his will do anything in his power to save her. He heard Damien gasp quietly as his brothers all turned towards the youngest as he was receiving a direct memory from her past. His brothers nodded to each other before they all held hands as they were transported to a new location.

The boys all land inside the mansion to see Harold in all of his glory as they figure that they were in a basement of some kind. His salt and pepper hair was still shinning as if it was the first time that saw him. Standing beside Harold was a younger version of Kayla. Her soft brown waves framed her face as she was looking with a curious eye as she was in her lesson. The boys looked confused as to what was going on, but they were broken from their thoughts as Harold was parsed facts about the demon chemical that was in front of them.

“Now this chemical here my young apprentice is very dangerous, if you even think about a bad thought or action towards any living thing the demon Samael will come and take over your body.” Harold warns her.

“So,” Kayla looks back at him, “What makes this Samael guy so bad?” she questioned him as she tilts her head to the side.

Harold sighed as he explained, “Samael, or he is better known as the Grim Reaper... He is a fallen angel that fell from heaven that takes pride on his ability to seduce anyone, accuse anyone, and when he is provoked he can destroy people and turn them against each other. He has no boundaries and he usually gets what he wants.”

“That sounds terrible! Why would the demon world have a chemical that would do that?” she slams her hands down on the table as she backs away, almost in fear of the object. Harold tries to calm her down as he heard something crash at the far end.

“The demon world can be a dangerous place; their magic can be full of wonders.” Harold quickly grew a beautiful pink rose in his hands, to show the beauty that magic can hold despite her fear. “This magic in the wrong hands can cause destruction, terror, and fear.” Looking down again, the once beautiful pink rose that was full of life was wilting away. Tar black was dripping onto his hands as he could feel another presence in the room. He shook his head at the thought as he guided the girl back towards the table to witness someone standing at the far end. Without missing a beat, Harold quickly threw the chemicals as he told Kayla to hide in the corner as he took care of the intruder. She could hear the screams as they echoed around the stone walls in pain. He suited up as he was ready to face whatever got down there, but his granddaughter poked her head out see the intruder laughing as he walked around like he owned the place.

Standing in the dark corner of the room the demon steps forward into the dim light as Kayla notices his long slender fingers covered in a black like tar substance. Black markings surround him as his curved horns glimmer in the light. She could sense his nightmarish magic around the room as his red menacing orbs glance around the room. She couldn’t lie as his magic is wickedly powerful as she held onto the table in the corner for dear might. His laugh is heartless as he sets his gaze onto Harold as he takes his stride to face him head on.

“Well, well, well, is this how you welcome an old friend? By blinding them. Harold you have become weak. You didn’t even sense my presence before it was too late.” He fiddles with his markings as he dismisses his hand from him, “Anyways, it’s been a long time, since I have seen your face old friend. Time hasn’t been the nicest towards you has it?” Samael coldly states as he sighs around the room, “Ah! Still using this old shit.” He laughs as he purposefully tosses the many test tubs and beakers on the floor causing an explosion.

Harold sighs as he casts a quick clean up spell to clear the area, “Are you finished?” He asked in annoyance as he raised his eyebrows at the demon.

Samael chuckled as he rounded the next corner to see a trembling Kayla with her brown eyes staring wide at him as she has never seen a real demon up close before. Harold snarls at him as he get closer to her. He would never forgive himself if anyone in his family got hurt because of his hobby.

“Don’t you touch her! Samael your fight is with me remember!?” He yells as he stalks his prey.

“Oh,” his gross tar filled fingers ran through the girl’s soft brown hair as he sighed at the touch, “You have a lot of unreleased anger, have you?” She nods at his words as if he was controlling her, “Well, with my help we are going to take that anger out in a very fun way.” He gives her a sadistic smile as he continues, “We are going to have some fun together you and me. Okay sweetness.” He cooed at her head nodding as he was able to cast his spell to invade her mind with nothing but a simple touch and sweet words.

Samael was grinning like a mad man as he was able to see Kayla’s whole life in front of him. Every core memory from when she was small to a growing young woman that she was today. He smirked as he finally had a human to explore his power on others.

Damien opens his eyes as he looks to James with a hopeful gaze, “What are we going to do Reastreo?”

#the temptation series #seduce me #seduce me the otome x reader #seduce me the otome #seduce me x reader #James Incubus #orgininal female character #erik incubus #Sam Incubus #Matthew Incubus #damien incubus #Seduce me x OFC #james x reader #sam x reader

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melviships · 5 years ago

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Illusion of Sunlight (Ginkka)

Word count: 2,504

Pairing: Ginko x Torekkā

Content warnings: Some talk of things being a dream or the afterlife but are very much real, idiots messing with mushi, mysterious origins, near death experiences, smoking, love at first sight

The inn bustled with life in the wee hours of the morning. Winter had blanketed the mountain in thick, white snow and made the inhabitants blanket themselves in thicker kakebuton. Only the warmth of the hearth in the living area could make them stir from their beds, the scent of boiling broth enriching the air with the promise of fatty meat. It was a sea of dark hair as each visitor took their share of rice and soup. A shock of white moved amongst the wave of people as a man with braided, colorless hair took a sip of his tea. His gaze wandered over to where a group of men chattered loudly.

“A place in the mountains…where it’s still spring? That seems too good to be true.”

A man with a finely trimmed beard barked back,“I’m telling you, man. I saw it. There was this patch of green and the scent of flowers and everything.”

“Oh yeah? Why didn’t you bring any flowers back then, huh, Hiroshi-kun?” An older man sneered over the rim of his cup.

“You said it first. It was too good to be true. That kind of thing can’t be trusted. You heard about it from the mushi-shi. ‘If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is and you shouldn’t go messing with it.’”

The white-haired man jumped to his feet and joined them at their spot on the floor.

“Excuse me. Where did you see this?”

Hiroshi blinked at the stranger. “Huh? Uh, a pretty long trek eastward. Don’t tell me you’re gonna go look for it.”

“Of course I am! I’m not going to let this opportunity pass me by. Ah…just think of the paintings I can make…!” His face tilted towards the ceiling with an expression of such rapture two of the men looked upward to see what he could be so enthralled with.

“Yo, you’re that traveling painter, aren’t you? I heard about you from the innkeeper. Made that wall scroll with the cranes, right?” The other man with them piped in, pointing at the long horizontal scroll spanning across the entryway. Images of red-crowned cranes swooping down towards banks of snow adorned the tan parchment, life-like enough to make one think they were staring out the window and witnessing the birds’ descent themselves.

“I am. That piece bought me a season’s worth of nights here.” He chuckled and bowed his head slightly. “I’m Torekkā. Nice to meet you. Pardon me for intruding on your conversation.”

“Impressive…well, we can’t stop you. Don’t go dying out there, Torekkā-san. A talent like that is worth keeping alive.”

“I’ll do my best!” Torekkā rummaged through his worn pack, producing an even more worn rolled-up map. “Now then…can you show me where you might have seen it…?”

“Oh, yes, I think it was somewhere around here….”

The trek had been a long one, but nothing any more strenuous than what Torekkā had already experienced. He searched amongst the stark trees and piles of white for a sign of prospering life. Then, there, out of the corner of his eye- a flicker, a hint of color, a silent movement- the flapping wings of a butterfly. He darted towards the flying insect with worrying speed.

“Yes, yes, yes- keep on flying little butterfly.” He followed after it and in his haste, caught a whiff of something sweet and floral. The butterfly fluttered into the branches of a blooming tree, causing the artist to halt. “Flowers…flowers-!”

There was no hesitation as they dove into the mass of green leaves and pink petals. They nearly forgot what they came for until they felt their inrō skim over their side. They grabbed at it, unhooking it to produce a pencil and a piece of parchment. Walking through the patch of paradise, they scribbled a few quick sketches of the butterfly and the outline of the blossoms against the snowy mountains. They squatted down to draw out the details of a lizard before it skittered off and up a tree trunk; a giggle bubbled out of his throat. “Hiroshi-san…you were a fool to not check this out for yourself.”

Torekkā could tell the springtime was the sign of a mushi at work; there was no way this was a natural phenomenon. Of the many strange things Torekkā had witnessed, none had quite captured such a sense of calm and ease. It was warm like sunlight on their face, a golden hue streaming through their strands of hair and heating them to their core. The euphoria of it all made them feel light-headed.

Or perhaps, it was the change in the air. The scent shifted to something…off. What was once vibrant and thrumming with life, was now filled with an underlying sense of dread. Rot and decay- cold and unfeeling. Something foul was at play. That warmth ebbed away and left them chilled to the bone. Their body jolted and their knees buckled.

“What…what is this…!”

“Stop! Get away-!”

Torekkā jerked his head to where he heard the voice, but all he saw was the ground as his body fell into the bed of grass. His body felt heavy, frozen in place and wracked with violent shivering.

“The butterflies…”

They swarmed his vision, covering his body as his eyelids slid closed. The last thing he could register was the warm weight of hand wrapping around his face, cupping his chin to lift his head as he fell into a dreamless sleep.

“You’re awake.”

“…huh.” Torekkā felt the crust in the corners of their eyes as they blinked open slowly, greeted by a vision far greater than any stretch of blossoms. The man before them lifted a cigarette to his lips. The motion barely shifted his white bangs from his cheek as he tilted his head. For a moment, the artist wondered if it was all a part of a dream. Mushi could cause dreams. Surely, such an angelic man couldn’t be real. “Am I…dead?”

“Hah. You flew too close to the sun back there. Tangling with the likes of mushi like the Usobuki is dangerous.” His face lit up with his teasing tone. There was no sunlight coming in through the screens; yet, his touch felt so warm as pressed the fingers to the side of Torekkā’s neck. It burned hotter than a boiling pot. The artist flinched and the man snorted. “You’re alive, although you could have been in some real danger if I hadn’t intervened. That was a stupid move back there.”

The artist breathed out, his cheeks flushed. “I…wanted to paint…the butterflies.”

“They may look like butterflies, but that’s another way they draw you in. Appearing as something familiar to draw your attention away from how false the idea of a spring in winter is.”

“I knew it wasn’t really spring…of course, I did. But I couldn’t drag myself away from capturing something so majestic. People need to see it. I needed to see it.”

“Well, you saw how that turned out. Ugh, I thought the kid was bad…” He worried the strands of hair between his fingers before stretching his arm over his lap. “I understand that mushi can be something to admire and cherish, but you have to be careful with them. They aren’t your friends.”

“…you’re a mushi-shi, right?”

“Yes. I’m Ginko. I came here to help with the exact thing that was trying to eat you.” His smirk did nothing to reassure Torekkā. It only made them pale in the face, unapparent by their already white complexion.

“Eat…me?”

A woman’s voice chirped up. “Ginko-san, you didn’t tell me that!”

“Okay, that’s an exaggeration, sure. They weren’t going to actually eat you, but they were feeding off your energy. It’s the same idea.” Ginko groaned and looks to the side. “I was hoping you’d take it more seriously if I explained it in a grim manner.”

“Either of those descriptions are pretty grim…!” She gripped the boy in her arms tightly.

“Just don’t go messing with them anymore, alright? You had your fill of Usobuki and they’ve gotten enough from you. They might not kill you out right, but it’s best not to let yourself get to that point. Leave them be.” The mushi-shi looked at the child and the man with a stern expression.

They both sighed. “Understood…”

“Mm.” Ginko placed the cigarette on his lips as he stood. “I’ll have to leave soon now that everything is sorted out. Miharu, you and I will have to have a little chat before I go.”

“…okay.”

“W-wait! Ginko-san, that’s what you said your name was, correct? Can we talk too?”

“I was planning on it. But not until I’ve had a word with Miharu. Is that alright…?” Ginko trailed off as he waited for the man to give his name.

“Torekkā.”

“Torekkā-san, sit tight. Don’t go running back to the Usobuki while I’m gone.”

“Yes sir…”

“I’ll be back soon.” He gave a short breath of a laugh as the woman looked at him expectantly. “Don’t look too worried, Suzu. I’ll bring him back safely.”

Suzu went red to the ears and merely nodded as Ginko left the house with Miharu. Torekkā peered over at the woman and stared for a long moment before she met his gaze.

“…is there something you wanted to say?”

“Are…you two close or something?”

“A-ah, no, nothing like that. Ginko-san…only visited us twice now. He can’t stay for long.”

“So he’s a traveler too…”

“Yes…”

“Suzu-chan, can you…tell me anything else about him?”

“I suppose, but why…?”

He rose from the futon, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Color me curious. I…have an interest in mushi myself.”

“Oh. Um, well, there isn’t much to say…he’s just been helping me out with my brother, that’s all. Ginko keeps to himself for the most part…”

“I see…so you live alone out here with your…?”

“Brother.”

“Right…”

The two of them kept the talk small, Suzu not appearing to be as open to Torekkā as she was with Ginko. Before Ginko returned, she inquired if Torekkā was planning on staying there.

“Ah, sorry, but I…have to make my way as well. I’m looking for something.”

“I understand. You’re welcome to stay for a bit longer, if you’d like. We don’t have much, but I’m sure Miharu would be happy to have someone so similar to him to talk to.”

“Heh, I would too. However, I have to keep going. I can’t stop now. Even if the mushi did pause my journey, it’s just another step in the right direction. Leeching energy…I’ll have to make note of that.”

“Hm?” Suzu’s brows pinched together.

“It’s nothing.”

“We’re back.” Ginko spoke casually, the volume of his voice raised just enough to get their attention. “Torekkā. You wanted to talk? I have some questions for you.”

“A-ah, yes. That’s fine. I have plenty myself…!”

“Hurry up then. I can’t stay much longer. Spring is starting.” Ginko did not hesitate before stepping back towards the door. Torekkā scrambled to grab their bag before pursuing him. As they stepped outside, their lips parted in awe. Winter was melting away to reveal soft dirt and budding flowers. The sight had them reaching for their brushes until they heard the mushi-shi’s steps crunch at the earth.

“R-right, so you’re a mushi-shi. That means you can see all the mushi. Can you-” Their question choked off as Ginko took the man’s braid in his hand.

“This isn’t a symptom of the Usobuki as far as I know. Were you always like this?”

“H-huh? U-uh-uh, uh yeah. I’ve been…like this…” Their face darkened as he looked at their feet. “…as long as I can remember.”

“Mm. You’re carrying a drifter mushi, aren’t you? Is that why you went after the Usobuki?”

“No! Ah, it wasn’t anything like that. I really wanted to paint the false spring. That’s all.” They looked up as Ginko pulled his hand away again. “Do you know what it…might be?”

“No, sorry. I’ve seen some mushi that can cause something similar, but nothing like this. This is unfamiliar territory for me. I can try and see if I can find anything in my records, if that’s what you wanted to ask.”

“While I appreciate it, that’s not what I wanted to ask of you.”

“Oh? What is it then?”

“Can I come with you?”

“Hah?”

“I’ve been fascinated with mushi my whole life, before I even knew I had one. I want to learn about them. Please. Teach me. Take me with you.” They stared into Ginko’s eye, desperately trying not to focus on his soft lips framed by faint facial hair.

Ginko gritted his teeth and took a drag, eye darting away from the man’s persistent ogling. “I can tell what you want to know, but I don’t know about you all that well. You can come along. Just know you’ll have to go-”

“I can help you! I’m a painter. Wait, let me show you some of my work.” Torekkā pulled the tattered pack from his back and dug into it, the sound of crumpling paper making Ginko cringe.

“Hn, I saw the sketches you did from where you fell. It’s nice work, but I can draw the mushi just fine- …huh.” The artist thrusted a stack of parchment into his hands and Ginko’s eye widened a fraction at the shock of color and texture presented in the pieces. Scenes of mountains, sea, and forest; birds pecking at seeds on stone, leaving remains of the shells; insects nestled in between wide leaves, spots where they chewed away at them not spared from the depiction- mushi tangled around fingers and faces and tree limbs captured in perfect portrayal. Ginko’s wide fingers traced along the illustration. “You made these?”

“Of course.” Torekkā huffed. “I’m a painter.”

“This is…something else entirely.”

“I might not know much, but I can give you this in exchange for knowledge of the mushi.”

Ginko glanced up, eye moving from the artwork to the artist, brow raised. “This isn’t your first time proposing this, is it?”

Torekkā stiffened, hands settling at his sides. “No. It isn’t.”

The mushi-shi studied the papers again, humming as he tidied them into a neat stack. “…alright. You can join me. On one condition.”

The painter perked up, lips curling into a small smile. “I’m listening.”

“Let me do the talking. I think your previous attempts failed because, well, no offense, you are terrible at sales pitches.”

Torekkā gasped and folded his arms, his lips pulled into a pout. “Rude!”

“Don’t get upset. I think your work can speak for itself. I’ll be sure to help it tell its story in a more…flattering manner.”

“You better! Hmph. I’m starting to think you aren’t as nice as Suzu-chan said you were.”

“…say what now?”

“Nothing!” Torekkā took Ginko’s arm with a smug grin. “Lead the way, Mr. Mushi Master.”

#WeMetInTheFalseSpring #melviships writes #finalllly posting this #thanks to Wendy and also my OC server buds for giving me some feedback!#y'all make this machine run!#(evil noises) queue queue

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wafflewarriors · 5 years ago

Text

The Not-So-French Mistake

Chapter 12: It’s Hierarchy Not Hierarchangel

By the time the sun had perched over the horizon again, Sydney was far away from everyone. She caught her breath against a humble oak tree. Its branches swayed in the wind and the tall grass danced. There were splinters in the base of the tree from old age and a rough environment.

She sat in a field—a bleeding sea of vibrant yellows—and plucked the rubbery stem of a lanky dandelion, brushing the tips of her fingers against the oily, golden surface. It sprung upward, mussed up like ruffled hair, and once the weed was thoroughly traumatized, she flicked it into an open patch of grass only to repeat the process. She threaded her fingers in the grass and pulled their roots from the loose dirt, and squashed measly ants that crossed her path. A helicopter seed flew past her nose and crash landed into a tall blade of grass.

She started a sickly fire from damp wood and a clump of dry grass and sticks. It wasn't very helpful. The wood shriveled and darkened and she poked at the fire, disturbing the ashes. It wouldn't last long. In fact, it only lasted half an hour. The small hissing flames were replaced by tendrils of wispy smoke. And the sky had now darkened with rolling clouds. She knew it would rain soon.

Without much visible light to aid her, she turned to sound. There were already sharp cries of raccoons. Frogs croaked in the mud and ate at the biting gnats and mosquitos. The itchy, tall grasses were already dripping with dew. The sky was dull with rain and day had turned cold.

There were bird conversations above her, and she eavesdropped, listening closely to the twittering and tweets, the trills and songs, and the flute-like whistling. A chickadee dropped from the sky in a flurry of fluttering wings. It carefully pecked—one, two, three—and then stilled, listening with a panicked hop before flying away.

She stilled.

A shadow had crept behind her.

While Dean was an extraordinary hunter, that had to be impossible. He was on foot. How had he pinpointed her exact location? She had covered her tracks and she had left no clues. She looked to the ground in defeat. She just couldn't escape this man.

"You still have an agreement to fulfill."

That was not Dean.

She turned to face a slender, young businessman. His clothes were wrinkle-less and his hair was slicked back. Preened like a crow. His wings were solid black—not like Castiel's, who had wings like a Starling, reflecting blues and purples—but oil-black, like a demon's eyes or black mold. He was the complete opposite of Castiel, who eyes were warm and kind.

She got a bad vibe. "I didn't agree with anything."

He sent an unnatural smile her way. His eyes were cold and he would twitch randomly, as if half-possessed. "Oh, you did. Remember the hotel? You're promise started there."

She narrowed her eyes. "That was another angel."

His tone was hollow. Devoid of anything. "He has been demoted. The contract remains with me now."

"Contract? Again, I didn't agree with anything."

"Following through with our instructions was enough for the divinity."

"Divinity? You guys abandon God or something? You give up on him? Wow. Are you really worshipping another deity?"

"She is superior."

"She?" When they didn't respond, she shook her head. "Of course. She had to be evil. ‘Cause you angels have no sense of morality whatsoever."

There was a bit of a pause before, "You still have an agreement to fulfill."

"Yeah, yeah. You keep saying that. The note? Dean has the note. I didn't even get to read it."

His smile was more intimidating than it was friendly. "The note? Ha! The note meant nothing. All the note did was lure you into our trap." He breathed heavily now, completely entranced in his own words. "There is another. He is stronger than us. Stronger than the Divinity. And he protects you. But when we lured you in, his protection broke. It's why you had visions. He was trying to warn you. He was trying to protect you." He grabbed her hair, yanking at it so that her neck was exposed. "But he failed."

This guy was like the stereotypical villain. Monologue and all.

There was another fluttering sound. And another. And... another. Soon it was all she could here. Not like that of small birds, but large wings made for angels. She was most certainly outnumbered.

She whipped around. And while her hair still remained painfully in the angel's hand, she could see what she was up against. She wished she hadn't looked.

A crowd of angels stood before them.

In fear, she reached out to the only thing that might help her now: the strange connection. The one that had hurt her multiple times. The one they said was more powerful. The one they said was making great efforts to protect her. She reached out and asked for aid.

The angel's other hand reach out for her forehead—

●●●

Castiel was on his knees. Blood stains had bloomed throughout the room. His blood? Their blood? Sam's blood? It didn't matter anymore.

Selfishly, Castiel grieved that he was alone and useless.

"Enough of that." A voice told him scoldingly. "What have the Winchester boys done to you? Your self-loathing is deafening."

The angel jolted, blue eyes burning with every negative emotion the intruder had ever seen. Cas looks at him, speechless, for a solid ten seconds. "...Gabriel?"

And oh boy, his voice is so small.

The archangel scoffed. "Hey, what's that look? What am I, chopped—" Golden eyes scanned the dead bodies until he caught a familiar face. His mouth opened, but he couldn't find any words. He took a few heavy steps forward, looming over the corpse.

"Aw, Sam."

Sam's eyes were closed and his body was left twisted like a ragdoll, blood pooling around his still-warm body. It was a grim sight. And as much a Gabriel picked on the Winchester boys, this was a tragedy. He glared at the body, hating the symbolism. "Nope, we can't have this." He aggressively snapped, and a light washed the room in white, blinding even Castiel.

●●●

Dean expressed his fear through anger, so when he heaved a machete at the thick weeds and brush, anyone who knew him well knew he was panicking. There was nothing but the faint thrum of crickets to tell him Sydney was not there.

She had just run—sprinted—gone like a startled animal into the forest. She was so fearless and strong— and because of it, he forgot she was fragile.

He rested his hands in his pockets and then stilled when something crinkled. Slowly, he pulled out the note from the hotel room

He hadn't looked at it in too much detail, last time. He's been thinking about too many other things. It was folded with seven different paper clips, as if the person writing it had thought 'hm, shiny' and put them all on. The inside was no better. The words were written in purple ink. That wasn't very sinister. Had a four-year-old been tasked to write this?

However, his feelings changed as he scanned the note.

'You shouldn't have meddled.'

Well, that couldn't be right. This note was from before, when the angels had a task for her. But there was no task, just a threat in its place. Unless they anticipated this. That the seizure would happen, or that they would forget about the note.

And suddenly he realized something. They knew exactly where she was, didn't she? The carvings in her ribs could hide her from angels as long as she was midden from angels. They could find her just fine they followed her team and then her.

The town had been a trap. The unsuspecting people had led the angels right to her. Somehow, the angels had known the Winchester brothers would help the town, and somehow they knew she would be a natural leader. They knew there would be search teams.

That room. The hotel room she first appeared it. It was their base, wasn't it? He should have followed his instincts. He should have burned the place to the ground.

He had no doubt she was there, right now. And he wouldn't make it. The town was miles away. It would take him another day to trek back.

He wasn't going to make it.

Bark flew as he stabbed an innocent tree with his machete.

Tags:

@queen-bubble , @rosaren2498

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maggiemaybe160 · 6 years ago

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The Valentine’s Date

Also on Ao3

Sam is staring at Cas, open mouthed, trying and failing to contain the slight shock and complete thrill that Castiel had just told him that he, the angel of the lord, was in love with his brother, human and hunter heroici. He had said it flat out, sitting across from Sam at the small kitchen table in the bunker. Dean was in the shower, safely out of earshot.

“What?” Sam finally says, making sure he heard Cas right.

“I am in love with Dean,” Cas says again. “Of the Winchester variety. As in your brother. What are you not understanding?”

“I’m understanding. I just didn’t know angels could… you know… love ,” Sam grins. “Why are you telling me, though? Why don’t you just tell him?”

“I can’t tell him. I need it to be something he can’t misunderstand. I need to tell him in a way that he can’t pretend it isn’t real. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way.” Cas’ hands are pressed into the table top, his fingertips white with the pressure.

“He loves you,” Sam says gently, watching the angel’s anxiety. “He’s just an idiot.”

“What do I do, then?”

“Valentine’s Day is his favorite holiday. Holiday of love. Take him somewhere nice or keep him here and make him a nice dinner. Take him on the best date you possibly can and tell him how you feel,” Sam suggests. “He’s never really been taken care of.”

“He deserves to be taken care of,” Cas says softly. Sam’s heart melts, watching the angel’s unguarded demeanor.

“Figure out what you want to do. I’ll help you in any way I can, and I’ll make sure I’m not around,” Sam promises and Cas nods.

Thursday, February fourteenth, Dean walks into the bunker from the garage, putting the keys to his beloved Impala back into his pocket. He stops when he hears music playing. It sounds like Led Zeppelin.

Instead of rose petals on the floor, there are full, long stemmed red roses leading further into the bunker from the garage. Dean picks up the first one and checks it, suspicious. Was he intruding on something? Was this for him? From who?

He takes a few carefully silent steps and picks up the second rose. He is walking along the wall, following the flowers and collecting them as he walks toward the library.

The light in the doorway is flickering as if lit by candles instead of the few table lamps they had. The music is louder and is definitely Led Zeppelin. He thinks it might be the mixtape he’d given to Cas. Was Cas on a date using his mixtape? His stomach flips and he thinks of running back to his car and driving far from this bunker and this night.

He swallows and is vaguely aware of the fact that his hands are clenching the flowers too tightly. He sighs through his nose, steeling himself. He steps through the doorway.

The library has been transformed. He had been right. The table lamps are gone, replaced by hundreds of candles. The table in front of him only has two chairs pulled up. There’s a white tablecloth thrown over the table and a water-filled vase in the center of it. There are place settings for two. Fine china and silver utensils with napkins folded into roses in the center of their plates.

Folded in front of one plate is a paper with one word: Dean.

He puts the dozen roses into the vase with shaking hands and takes a slow step away from the table. He walks back to his room, feeling embarrassed and confused. He opens his door and closes it, leaning against it for support.

He realizes his heart is slamming in his chest and he’s breathing rather quickly. He swallows and slows his breathing. His green eyes open after a moment and land on a suit that is laid out on his bed with another single card.

“Wear this and go back to the library.” It was written as if Cas had known that Dean would retreat to his room immediately.

Dean opens his door again and peaks out, but doesn’t see or hear anything besides the soft Zeppelin. He closes it again and thinks about locking himself in. He had to be dreaming. He pinches himself and scowls when he doesn’t wake up.

“Fine, I’ll wear the damn suit.” He picks it up and stares at it before actually changing. He wants to know what the fuck is going on.

He pauses by the mirror before leaving and tries to fix his hair. “What if it’s Cas?” Dean whispers to his reflection. He shakes his head, telling himself that his heart is wrong. It would never be Cas.

He makes his way back to the library and stops dead, his heart jamming itself in his throat. Cas stands at the table in a matching black suit. His hair is still a mess, just the way that makes Dean’s stomach fill with butterflies. His blue eyes are soft and open, willing to let Dean in. The light is reflected in them and Dean chokes.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dean,” Cas says. He moves around the table and pulls Dean’s chair out for him. Dean can feel the blush in his cheeks and he can barely move his feet.

“What is this, Cas?” Dean replies, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

“This is someone who cares deeply for you, taking care of you.” Cas sits down opposite Dean. This is the first moment he realizes that the plates that had been empty before are now filled with food and the napkin roses have been moved to the side. He unfolds his rose and spreads it over his lap, his eyes on his hands as he smooths the fabric.

“Did you make all of this?” Dean asks, picking up the burger that seems rather out of place for a candlelit dinner.

“Yes. I’ve been practicing for months,” Cas confesses, picking up his own burger and taking a bite.

Dean almost chokes. “How long have you been planning this?” Cas only smiles and shakes his head.

The burger is the best tasting Dean’s had in years. The flavors aren’t overwhelming and delight his taste buds. Suddenly, the meal choice doesn’t seem so out of place.

“The mixtape?” Dean says after a few more bites. It’s Cas’ turn to blush. Dean didn’t know Cas had the ability to blush. “This is all wonderful.”

“You deserve it.”

“Dance with me?” Dean regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. He closes his eyes against the impending rejection and recoils internally. He was just being shown appreciation. This wasn’t a date.

Cas takes Dean’s hand and stands up. Dean’s eyes open in shock as he’s led just a few steps away.

“I admit, I didn’t learn how to dance,” Cas says sheepishly. His eyes are locked with Dean’s.

“Nothing fancy,” Dean promises, his voice barely over a whisper. He can’t force his heart or voice back to normal as he stands this close to Cas. Dean pulls Cas gently toward him, their hands clasped together. With his free hand, he put Cas’ remaining hand onto his shoulder. He hesitates before putting his hand onto the angel’s waist. His breath caught and his eyes snapped up from Cas’ waist to his eyes.

“Future reference, never dance to rock music like this again,” Dean breathes. Cas nods and they begin to dance very slowly, more there to press together and stare into each other’s gleaming eyes than to actually dance. The steps they dance are repeated so slowly, it doesn’t resemble the waltz at all. They spin slowly, their feet moving beside the others in a way that looked as though it had been practiced for years.

Dean’s head bends so their faces are right beside each other’s. Their breath mingles between them. Their cheeks brush, lighting fireworks in both of them.

“Cas,” Dean breathes. His thumb runs over Cas’ gently.

“Dean,” Cas answers just as softly. “I have to tell you something.”

“What are we doing?” Jack asks Sam.

“We’re giving Cas the chance to tell Dean how he feels,” Sam smiles. Jack pales and whips around, stopping Sam in his tracks.

“What?”

“Cas wanted to tell Dean how he felt on Valentine’s Day,” Sam says, his smile fading as he sees the anxiety in Jack’s eyes.

“No!” Jack yells. “Take me to the car!”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t have time for this!” Jack yells, and suddenly he’s gone.

“You love me?” Dean asks. Their feet have stopped moving and their arms have fallen from their dancing position. Their hands are twined together between them.

“No, I’ve said that before.” Cas furrows his brow and looks at their hands. “I am in love with you.” Dean doesn’t answer, his chest swelling with pure happiness, elation, joy.

“I need you to hear it,” Cas says, his hands tight on Dean’s. “I need you to know it even if-”

“I love you, too,” Dean says so fast the words all seem to run together. “I love you, Cas.”

“No!” Jack yells, crashing into the library. Dean and Cas’ hands fall from each other’s, both of their faces turning the color of the roses on the table.

“Jack, what are you-”

“Cas sold himself to the Empty!” Jack yells over Cas. Dean’s heart crashes and breaks. Cas looks from Jack to Dean, his eyes pleading and desperate. “If he finds true happiness, he will die.”

Dean’s eyes, which had been unguarded throughout dinner and their dance, are suddenly dark. His blush is gone, replaced with the grim pale skin of someone who’s recently died. He takes a step away.

Without thinking, Cas reaches for his hunter and Dean immediately winces, flinching to keep out of the grasp of his angel.

“Dean,” Cas pleads. His arm is still reaching, his fingers extended as if Dean might come back to him.

Dean’s eyes are stuck on Cas, begging for none of it to be true. He swallows hard and clenches his jaw. He feels like he might puke.

Cas’s heart shatters in his chest, his eyes still locked with Dean’s. He can feel himself shaking. He can still feel the kiss that had been about to happen. He can feel Dean’s cheek on his as they danced. The music is over, but the tape is still his. It’s a gift. You keep those.

“Dean, please,” Cas’ voice breaks and Dean shakes his head sadly. His tears finally spill over and he turns and walks away. Away from Cas and the candlelit dinner. Away from their dance and their whispers. Away.

Cas falls to his knees, his chest physically aching as Dean retreats.

It’s the next morning and Dean is alone in the kitchen of the bunker. There are no remnants from last night’s dinner. If there were, Dean would have gone back to his room, coffee or no coffee.

“Morning,” Sam says with an easy smile, oblivious to the pain that has taken over Dean’s chest and spread through him like a monster.

“Mmm,” Dean answers, sipping his coffee, letting it scald his throat.

“How was last night?”

A brick lands in Dean’s stomach.

“Nothing happened,” he answers. His legs move. His chest hurts. He needs to get out of this freezing kitchen. Why is it so cold? He’s walking toward the door.

“But...wait,” Sam turns around and Dean stops walking. “But, he loves you.”

“He loves everyone,” Dean snaps. His words are bitter and he knows they aren’t true anymore. He knows, but he has to lie to himself. He has to lie to everyone.

“You love him,” Sam is grasping because he knows, but Dean shakes his head a little.

“He loves everyone and maybe I don’t love anyone. Not anymore,” he lies to his brother and to himself. Dean scratches his head and leaves before Sam can figure out another question to stab Dean with.

“Are you mad?” Jack is standing behind Cas who hasn’t spoken since the previous night was ruined.

“No, he has a right to know.” Cas’ voice is soft and Jack almost wishes he would yell. “I had a right to die.”

#Destiel #destiel fic #Happy Valentines Day #angst fic #fluff and angst #supernatural ficlet #spn ficlet #im sorry #dean winchester #castiel #dean x castiel #cas #love confession #maggiemaybe160

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edogawatranslations · 5 years ago

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Danganronpa Kirigiri (3) - Chapter 2, Part 3

Table of Contents | Previous: Chapter 2, Part 2

As we walked, Lico once again brought up a serious topic out of nowhere.

“The two organizations pursuing Rei Mikagami today are a Chinese intelligence agency and a scientific investigative unit of the Russian army.”

These absurd statements no longer caught me off guard; I had fully accepted that the abnormal had become our new normal.

“You’re awfully informed about all this,” I commented.

“It’s my duty to relay you detailed information.” Lico turned around and flashed an innocent smile. “Both organizations have dispatched two unarmed individuals to Japan. Neither group is much of a threat, since they don’t use weapons when active outside of their home countries. The Russians especially; they belong to a team developing supersoldiers, which means they’re more so occult researchers than fighters.”

I quickly scanned the area. From what I could tell, there wasn’t a Russian in sight. The only people around were cheerful women roaming the mall with multiple shopping bags dangling from their arms.

“The three assassins pose the bigger problem,” Lico continued. Despite the grim topic, his expression didn’t change one bit.

Assassins...

We were intruding on their work. To reach Rei Mikagami, we couldn’t simply ignore them and walk on by.

“The first assassin is a woman of unknown nationality who goes by the name of ‘Copycat.’ As you may guess, she specializes in copycat crimes. She disposes of her targets by mimicking the M.O. of a serial killer active in the corresponding country or state, allowing her and her clients to fully escape suspicion, since the victim ends up tossed into the unrelated string of cases. Because of this, her work has mostly been attributed to other killers. Fortunately, this method prevents her from haphazardly killing someone. She acts deliberately and typically refrains from taking offensive measures.”

With the steady stream of information flowing from his mouth, Lico was giving Google a run for its money. His appearance already seemed rather other-worldly, but his information processing capabilities were all the more superhuman.

We rode the escalator one floor up to another women’s clothing department.

The ludicrous conversation continued in the perfectly average location.

“The second assassin is known as ‘Night Flyer.’ He’s rumored to be a Romanian of small build, but nobody has confirmed his identity. His killing style of choice is fairly standard: he approaches and shoots his target with a pistol equipped with a silencer. He’s inclined to be hot-headed, so consider him fairly hostile. Multiple people have witnessed him in the past heading to the nearest airport after completing a hit and flying off in a private jet, hence his nickname.”

“Is he friends with the first assassin you mentioned?”

“No, all of these assassins work alone. They see each other as rivals chasing the same target, so it would be fortunate for us if they took each other out.”

“What do you know about the third?”

“He’s Japanese. He doesn’t go by a particular nickname, but he’s an alumnus of Hope’s Peak Academy: the former Ultimate Rock Climber, Tsurugi Hitomoshi. After graduating, he spent some time abroad and made a name for himself conquering treacherous cliffs. At some point, he turned his climbing into a performance art, scaling historical monuments and buildings such as the Eiffel Tower and Angkor Wat, which caused backlash and eventually led to him being exiled from the climbing community. Only the criminal underworld is aware of his current activities as an assassin; he’s known as someone who can appear anywhere and eliminate anyone with one finger. He can easily bend the barrel of a rifle with one hand. I’ve also heard that he once crushed the heart of a police officer through a bulletproof vest with his bare hands.”

An assassin trained at an elite school. This was one gathering I didn’t want to have any involvement in.

I pitied Rei Mikagami, who had to deal with all these killers chasing after him. I guess prominent detectives were always roped into political schemes or conflicts, almost like how scientists around the world were killed or abducted during World War II for their work on weapons programs.

Someday, even Kyoko might be forced to serve someone for their personal gain. Or perhaps, she already has been...

While walking down the halls, Lico continued the conversation as if casually chatting about the weather.

“By the way, before the two of you arrived, I spotted a woman who fit the description of Copycat entering this department store.”

“Wh-What?” Suddenly sensing bloodlust in the air, I braced myself for action.

Nobody around looked particularly suspicious. Ladies clad in clothes from nearby stores were bustling about, as usual.

“You gotta tell us these things sooner! What did she look like?”

“She had on a coat with a red hood, kind of like Little Red Riding Hood. Blonde hair. She was rolling a small travel suitcase behind her.”

“Sounds like an easy to spot get-up, even from a distance. If we see her, let’s stay on our guard and avoid getting too close.”

“Avoiding her won’t get us any closer to Rei Mikagami,” Kyoko said. “We should follow her. We won’t make any headway without taking risks, right?”

“Yeah, but...”

Forget the possibility that we might have to fly into the face of danger—was this risk worth taking in the first place? We weren’t even sure Rei Mikagami was waiting at the end of this rainbow. None of this was rooted in certainty; it was almost like we were actually making plans to catch a ghost in a mirror.

“Yui,” Lico said, stopping in his tracks.

“Wh-What is it? Do you see one of the assassins?”

Lico pointed at a store in front of us. “There are swimsuits for sale up ahead.”

“Way to go, kid!”

I rushed forward, dragging Kyoko behind me. But my legs suddenly froze up.

Right as I was about to enter the shop, a red hood crossed the path in front of me.

I shot a glance back at Lico to confirm. He responded with a quick nod.

There was no mistaking it; that was Copycat.

We casually started tailing her. Thankfully, we were able to do so discreetly by blending in with the flocks of customers roaming the floor.

The red-hooded figure didn’t seem to have noticed us. Her left hand, which was noticeably white, was dragging a small bag. She wasn’t particularly tall, and her body was fairly slender. Her coat resembled a poncho. Two cat ear-like protrusions stuck out of her hood. Although the hood covered her head, I could see her blonde hair swaying to and fro as she walked.

“For an assassin, she sure sticks out like a sore thumb,” I whispered to Lico. “I didn’t think she’d look so frail and slender.”

“You don’t need strength to kill someone,” Lico replied with an angelic expression on his face.

After we followed after her for a while, she turned into a narrow passageway and went through a door labeled “Employees Only.”

The three of us huddled together beside the door.

“A staircase for employees... Where is she going?” I placed one hand on the door.

“Don’t,” Kyoko said, grabbing my arm. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Do you hear the grim reaper’s footsteps again? Don’t worry, I’m not gonna chase her too far. I wanna at least figure out if she went up or down.”

I slowly pushed the door open.

All of a sudden, a slender arm shot through the doorway and grabbed onto my wrist.

“Eek!”

The arm pulled me through to the dim stair landing on the other side. Standing adjacent to the door was Copycat, who was restraining me from behind. From far beyond the door, I could hear the cold, lifeless muffle of a storewide announcement playing over the PA system.

Why didn’t I listen to Kyoko?

I felt a sharp object pressed against my throat.

While slowly raising both my hands to signal my surrender, I snuck a glance at Copycat. Her face was white, reminiscent of a stunning European lady, and she had on a pair of thick high-index prescription glasses. A thin layer of makeup covered her face, enough to possibly be covering up any freckles. Her furrowed eyebrows and troubled expression seemed to suggest that she was more of the shy, introverted type. Did she have on cat ears because of her nickname, Copycat? Or was it because she was a fan of cosplay?

She started uttering some words in a foreign language and loosened her grip on me.

It was then that Lico burst through the door.

“Yui, are you alright?”

“N-Never better...” I stammered out, giving my best effort to sound composed even as I could no longer freely move my body. “Do you have any idea what she’s saying?”

“She’s asking, ‘Who are you?’”

Lico began conversing with Copycat. I had no clue what language they were speaking, but Copycat’s voice gradually grew calmer. Lico’s disarming smile was super effective.

It was then that I noticed—Kyoko wasn’t here.

“Hey, where’s Kyoko?” I asked, trying to interrupt Lico and Copycat’s chat. However, neither of them paid my words any mind. They were engrossed in their conversation.

Even though I was the hostage here, I felt like chopped liver.

“What are you two even talking about?” I asked.

“She’s asking who my favorite manga artist is,” Lico replied. “Let’s see, I would have to say—”

“You’re really having a friendly chat at a time like this?”

Was Lico successfully persuading her to lower her guard?

No... She was an assassin. And the way things were, she could easily kill me at any moment if she desired. I’d had a run of bad luck recently, but this was my first time being taken hostage by an assassin.

What should I do?

I had no knowledge of self-defense and no weapon by my side.

I thought about praying to God, but at the last second, I changed my mind and decided to pray to Kyoko instead.

Kyoko, please save me!

—Click.

A metallic clinking sound echoed out, causing Lico and the assassin to cut short their discussion. Noticing an abnormality, Copycat turned around, but by then, it was already too late.

Clamped around Copycat’s hand—the free wrist she hadn’t used to restrain me—was one end of a pair of handcuffs. The other end was secured to the handle of her bag.

As if having appeared out of nowhere, standing one step below the landing we were on was Kyoko. She was focused intently on pulling the bag down the stairs.

Copycat let out a yelp and rushed forward in an attempt to grab her bag, and as she reached out towards it, she released her grip on me.

The next moment, the bag began tumbling down the stairs. Copycat, linked to it by the handcuffs, plunged down along with it. The bag must’ve been much heavier than it looked, as the slender and light Little Red Riding Hood with cat ears was swiftly pulled down to the lower landing.

Piercing shrieks filled the air as she fell, but before long, her body slammed against the wall of the landing one floor down. She squirmed on the ground and feebly groaned.

“Yui, are you okay?” Kyoko ran up to where I was standing.

“Y-Yeah, I think so. How did you get over there?”

“I took a different staircase down and made my way up from below.” Kyoko puffed out her chest and placed her hands on her hips to make a sort of superhero pose.

Her quick thinking saved me again. Without her by my side, I would’ve met my demise many times over.

A fountain pen rolled up to my feet. That must’ve been the object Copycat held against my throat.

The three of us regrouped, made our way down the flight of stairs, and surrounded Copycat. She hadn’t lost consciousness, but since her whole body took a beating, she was lying down, unable to move.

I unzipped her bag. Inside were a scrapbook of newspaper clippings about serial killers, a few publications detailing cold cases, and a mountain of Japanese manga and doujinshi. No wonder her bag was so heavy. There were also a couple of passports stuffed inside. I couldn’t tell which one was real, but then again, all of them may have been forged.

There was nothing that resembled a weapon among her possessions. The fountain pen was probably the most dangerous item she had with her.

“She’s the kind of assassin to kill her target only after having conceived of a detailed plan,” Lico explained. “Her goal today was likely only to scout out her mark, so she wasn’t at the final phase of carrying out the hit yet.”

“Thank god she’s type A,” I sighed in relief.

“Would you like me to finish her off?”

“N-No, that’s okay.” I laughed nervously. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Are you sure? As long as she lives, innocent people will continue to die. Don’t forget, she’s an assassin.”

“That has nothing to do with why we came here today. We’re here to track down Rei Mikagami, and nothing more.”

Lico stared at me for a few seconds, but didn’t press the issue any further.

“I can’t find anything about Rei Mikagami in her things,” Kyoko reported, standing next to Copycat’s bag.

“Lico, did you get any information out of her?” I asked.

“She apparently doesn’t know anything about Rei Mikagami’s identity. The reason she came here was because she was informed her mark would appear on the rooftop plaza of this department store at four in the afternoon.”

“Why didn’t you say that sooner?! That’s exactly what we needed to know!”

Rei Mikagami will appear at four!

I checked the clock on my phone.

3:55 PM.

“Shoot, it’s almost time.”

“Shall we head up?” Lico suggested, still magically calm.

The rooftop plaza was located above the ninth floor. I imagined the struggle running up all those stairs, but we’d arrive with time to spare.

“Yeah, let’s go,” I replied. “Kyoko, come on.”

“Give me one second.”

Kyoko crouched down next to Copycat’s body and unfastened the handcuffs.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Retrieving these handcuffs. They’re kind of a memento.”

“Oh, from back then...”

Kyoko stuffed the handcuffs into the pocket of her uniform. So that was where she’d been hiding them all this time.

We abandoned Copycat on the landing and started rushing up the stairs.

Next: Chapter 2, Part 4

#dr kirigiri #danganronpa #kirigiri #danganronpa kirigiri #light novel #novel #translation

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myhauntedsalem · 5 years ago

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14 Firefighters Share Their Scariest Paranormal Encounters

The weirdest part of the fire was the 911 call. The callers wife was in the background screaming, “you f**ked him off now, look he’s gone and burned the place down”.

1. Guardian Angel

Our firehouse isn’t haunted, at least not on a regular basis, but one of our engines is.

2. Mr Jones

3. Jesus Christ

4. Steve

Next thing you know, he’s toned out to a ‘sick call’ that after his arrival was deemed a shooting. Nothing happened to him, but the point was made.

Several such incidents have occurred. Whenever something big is about to happen, a unit door opens and shuts or a bay door opens etc. We always know.

5. The Phantom Handprint

They tried everything that they could, but they could find no way to erase the strange handprint. It seemed to be etched into the glass!

Finally, on the morning of April 18, 1944 a careless paper boy tossed the morning edition at the fire house and shattered the window where Frank’s handprint had been.

It happened exactly twenty years to the date of when Frank Leavy died!

6. “You F**ked Him Off Now”

7. Footsteps

8. The Station in The Woods

9. The Hose Tower Hanging

I too have heard of the strange noises that occur inside many of our firehouses.

10. The Old Capt.

11. The Ouija Board

12. The Indian Arrowheads

13. The Fortune Teller

The really scary part was when a friend of a friend stopped by the firehouse with her kids for a tour. This woman practices tarot card readings, fortune telling and the like. She had never been in the firehouse before and had never known about any of the instances in the firehouse. After the tour she asked me if the firehouse had “guest appearances” often. I thought she meant the kids and said that we often have children take tours of the place. She corrected herself and asked if we had ever seen ghosts, I said, maybe-I’m not sure. She described our misty figure from head to toe exactly as he appears and said she had seen him. Do I believe, probably not much more than I had before that day but I don’t doubt anything.

14. Standing Behind Me

#14 Firefighters Share Their Scariest Paranormal Encounters #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits

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