#i wish they sold motivation in little bottles

[max-the-silly-guy]

God dammit I hate art block so much like fym I can't draw anything cause I end up losing motivation and staring at the canvas after drawing a single line for the next hour or two only to erase said line afterwards cause i didn't even draw it properly

[steddieas-shegoes]

this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation

chapter 6: spend the rest of my life with what could have been rated e | start at the beginning on AO3 Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰🧰

The next few days with Steve went by too quickly for Eddie to even process everything he was feeling.

Steve had other plans while he was there and Eddie still had to work, so they didn’t spend all their time together despite how badly they both wanted to. Life felt normal, but with an undercurrent of incoming change.

Every moment they had together was cherished, though. Mia hogged quite a bit of Steve’s attention, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. He was constantly enthralled by her, sitting on the floor to play with whatever toy she wanted, singing and dancing along to her favorite songs, keeping her busy while Eddie made dinner or a bottle for her.

Eddie watched as Mia stole Steve’s heart as much as Steve had stolen theirs.

On the day Steve left, Mia woke up cranky, almost like she knew that it wouldn’t be a good day.

She immediately started asking for “Mama”, and Eddie was doing his best not to cry about how little time they would have before Steve had to go back home.

He was having breakfast with the Hendersons and Max, then stopping to say bye to the Sinclairs and Wheelers before making his way over. Eddie had arranged for the morning off, agreeing to close up to make up for his late arrival.

Mia wouldn’t let Eddie set her down in her chair or on her mat, and he’d barely slept the night before, and he was trying to stay calm and not panic about Steve leaving again.

This time was different, he had to keep reminding himself of that.

When Steve finally showed up, Eddie immediately handed Mia to him and sat down on the couch, head in his hands.

He felt the couch sink next to him and listened to Steve whispering to Mia.

“What did you do to him, princess? It’s only 10:30 in the morning and he looks like he wants to go to bed.” Steve’s hand fell on his knee, squeezing once in silent comfort. “You alright, baby?”

Eddie nodded, and he already knew Steve wouldn’t believe him, but he didn’t really feel like going into everything now and ruining their last few minutes together for a while.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie looked up and over to where Mia was curled against Steve’s chest, her face buried against his neck. He felt a sting behind his eyes as he fought tears.

How was he supposed to do this? Sure, things were different this time and eventually, he’d be with Steve again. But right now, that felt too far away.

“It’s just a month and then we’ll see each other again, right? We can do a month,” Steve said softly, rubbing his hand across Eddie’s leg. “And then soon enough you both will get to be with me all the time.”

“Yeah,” Eddie took a deep breath. “I wish it could be now.”

“I know, love. I know.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Mia let out a small snore and disrupted them.

“Is she asleep?” Steve whispered, eyes wide. “How?”

“Neither of us slept great last night and we both got up earlier than we should’ve,” Eddie shrugged, placing his hand on Steve’s.

“Is it the teething again?” Steve kissed the side of her head. “I thought that got better once the tooth popped through the gums.”

“I think we both just don’t want you to go.”

The tears Eddie fought all morning finally fell, comfort in knowing Mia was asleep and wouldn’t see the only reason he decided to let it happen. He knew it would probably happen again tonight when she was in bed, and he was in bed wishing Steve was in his arms.

“Oh, baby,” Steve sighed, pulling Eddie against his side so he could rest his head on his the shoulder not occupied by Mia. “If I could bring you both with me right now, I would. I’d pack your bags myself.”

“Maybe I could talk to Rick, see if he needs anything sold. If I get some extra income-“

“Absolutely not.” Steve’s tone was harsh, but his hand on Eddie’s shoulder was still light, thumb tracing along his shirt. “What would happen to Mia if you got caught? Hopper doesn’t have the pull needed to get you off a felony drug charge.”

“I know. I wouldn’t do it,” Eddie didn’t even know why he suggested it. Wayne would kill him, and there was way too much of a chance that he would get caught and he couldn’t do that to Mia. “I just don’t wanna be without you.”

“It’s just for a bit, right? You’re gonna visit soon enough and then you’re gonna make the move soon after that.” Steve kissed the top of his head. “And we’ll talk on the phone so much, you may get sick of me.”

“I doubt that,” Eddie pouted.

“Are you pouting? Oh my god, you’re pouting!” Steve tried to hide his laugh, but ended up letting out a strangled noise that made Mia squirm against him. “I don’t even have to see your face to know it looks exactly like Mia did last night when you tried to give her the green bean baby food instead of the carrot.”

“Shut up, that’s not what I look like.”

Steve nudged him off of his shoulder and looked down at him. “Uh huh. Just as I suspected. Adorable.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but smiled, didn’t want to tarnish their last few minutes with a bad attitude.

“I’m gonna go set her in her crib and be right back.”

Eddie nodded and watched Steve slowly get up and walk towards their bedroom. He could hear him whispering, but Mia didn’t wake up, content in Steve’s arms.

When she woke up, she’d be a nightmare. Hopefully, Wayne wouldn’t hate him too much for it.

Steve was wiping his eyes when he came back, not looking at Eddie as he straddled his lap and wrapped his arms around his neck. He let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t wanna leave,” Steve whispered against his neck. “Wanna stay right here in your lap and kiss you whenever I want.”

“What about my job?” Eddie smiled to himself, full of sadness, but trying his best to stay strong for just a little longer. “Mia’s diapers won’t pay for themselves.”

“I dunno, maybe we could potty train her.”

“From the couch? At her age?” Eddie laughed. “I love you.”

Steve pulled back and looked at Eddie. “I love you, too. I’m waiting for you. Don’t get in your head, okay? Promise me.”

Steve knew him well. He’d already been in his head enough, and once he was alone, he knew he’d be back in it, spiraling about how much he missed Steve and how much Steve probably didn’t miss him.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Steve said fiercely, as if Eddie’d spoken the last part out loud. “It’s gonna be awful not having you with me. But I’m gonna focus on the endgame. I’m gonna get Mia’s room ready and look for open positions you can take nearby and start babyproofing the apartment. Robin already bought stuff for the cabinets because apparently our apartment is a death trap to a baby.”

“Robin said that?” Eddie had to admit, it was weird thinking about Robin panicking about his child. She really wasn’t the motherly type, and he didn’t think she’d be super chill about having them in her home.

“She’s actually pretty excited. She said she’s never changing a diaper, though.”

Eddie barked out a laugh. “I wouldn’t have expected her to. That’ll be your job.”

He expected Steve to laugh it off, maybe joke about changing his mind. He didn’t expect him to smile fondly and nod.

“Yeah, that can be my job. Whatever you want me to do, I’m happy to do. I’m in it for the good and the not as good.”

Eddie let out a sob. “You’re ridiculous.”

It was soft, endeared.

So was the look Steve gave him in return.

“I wanna be there for both of you, whatever you need, or want. I’ll do it.” Steve kissed him softly. “I’ll always do it.”

Their lips met again, this time harder, a physical reminder that the clock was ticking and Steve had to go. Eddie let himself cry, felt Steve’s tears mix with his as they tried to devour each other, neither wanting to separate for anything, not even breaths.

Eddie couldn’t let him go, couldn’t watch him walk out the door. He knew it was cowardly, but he needed Steve to be strong for them both and be the first to step away.

Luckily, Steve did.

He pulled away, but kept his eyes closed and ran his hands down Eddie’s arms. “If I don’t look at you, it won’t hurt so much, right?”

Eddie huffed, unsure if he was actually laughing or just holding back another sob. “I don’t know, I kinda wanna look at you every possible second.”

Steve’s eyes opened at that, tears pooling and making his eyes that much prettier. “I have to go.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“But you know it’s not like last time.”

“I know.”

“And you know I love you and I love Mia and I’m not abandoning you and I will call you as soon as I’m home and probably every day for the next month.”

Eddie smiled, nodded. “I know.”

Steve leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth, smiled against his skin. “Gonna miss you every second.”

Eddie closed his eyes and nodded. “Already miss you.”

Steve backed away.

He was being strong for them both, had to be. Eddie wasn’t gonna be able to push him out the door.

He opened the door and Eddie pretended not to see the tears falling, pretended the sob he heard come from Steve was just a laugh that got caught in his throat.

Eddie’s vision blurred as Steve stepped out of the doorway.

“Steve?”

Steve froze and turned fully towards him. “Yeah, baby?”

“It’s just for a little bit.”

“I know.”

“I love you. Mia loves you.”

“I know.”

“Be safe driving home.”

“You’re my home.”

Eddie snorted. “That was cheesy. Call me when you can so I know you’re okay.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you.”

Steve closed the door and Eddie dropped to the couch, letting out another sob.

He listened as Steve’s car started and idled for a minute, then two. A part of Eddie wanted him to shut his car off and come running back inside, tell him that he wouldn’t leave without them and they’d figure it out. Eddie would pack their things and he’d follow Steve back to his apartment, Mia babbling in the backseat. He’d find a job immediately and everything would be perfect.

But the reality sunk in as he heard Steve’s car backing out of the gravel drive. He had to have a real plan, one that kept him and Mia safe and fed and cared for, one that he wouldn’t regret going through with.

He stood up, wiped his eyes, and got ready for work.

- - - - - - -

Steve called. Of course, he called.

He called almost the moment he got through his own door, which was conveniently when Mia had realized that he wasn’t coming over.

She was too young to understand why she could hear him but not see him, but it was better than nothing.

He called every night at roughly the same time, managed to work it out that he could take his 15 minute breaks at work at roughly that time when he had a shift. He’d apparently told his boss all about Eddie and Mia, all about their plans, and his boss was very happy for them.

They had to fit a lot in in such a short call, and Steve always wanted to reserve at least a couple minutes for Mia, telling her silly stories and trying to have a conversation with someone who couldn’t say anything except “mama” and make babbling noises. Eddie found it endearing as hell and wouldn’t dream of interrupting them.

Every couple of nights, Steve would call Eddie when he got home from his shift, after Mia was in bed and Wayne was either asleep or at work.

Eddie would pull the phone into the bathroom, keeping the door cracked so it wouldn’t damage the cord. He would usually try to whisper whatever filthy words he could while Steve stripped his cock and whimpered into the phone. Sometimes it didn’t take much, sometimes Steve begged him to take it slow. Eddie’s hand always found its way to his own cock on those nights, savoring every whine and moan Steve let out as Eddie talked about everything he’d do when he got his hands on Steve.

Wayne caught on after a few times, giving him a gentle reminder that the noise from the bathroom carries directly across the hall to his room and he’d just appreciate a heads up when he’s gonna be having certain discussions with Steve. Eddie blushed, nodded, let him know he’d try to keep it to the nights he was working, apologized for anything he might have heard.

He put in for a few days off to visit Steve, started preparing for what he’d need to bring for himself and Mia. He figured it might make things feel more real if he brought a few boxes full of things in preparation for the move. Wayne agreed and brought home a few boxes from the plant so he could figure out what he could do without having here for a bit.

The time passed faster than he expected it to.

Mia kept him busy, work kept him busy, and trying to figure out his and Mia’s entire future kept him very close to a crisis.

Sooner than he realized, he was shoving boxes and borrowed luggage into his van and getting ready for his drive to visit Steve.

Wayne was getting Mia changed and saying his goodbyes, insisting on giving her a talk about being on her best behavior and enjoying the big city.

Eddie knew he just wanted to try to hide any tears from him.

“All packed and ready!” Eddie called out as he entered the trailer.

“Mia’s ready to go,” Wayne said as he came around the corner holding her. She was dressed in an outfit Steve sent last week, a onesie with guitars all over it he found at a record shop not far from where he worked. It was a little big, but bigger was better when it came to baby clothes. Mia outgrew everything so quickly, he was tempted to just keep her in diapers until her growing slowed a bit. “Did you already grab her bag?”

“In the front seat.”

“And the box of diapers I left on the porch?”

“In the back.”

“You grabbed the extra formula too?”

“Wayne.” Eddie smiled at him. “I got it.”

“I know you do.” Wayne sighed and kissed Mia’s head before handing her over to him. “Just not used to you not being right here.”

“I know. We’ll be fine though, won’t we, princess? Gonna have so much fun with Mama.”

Eddie had started referring to Steve as Mama to Mia, mostly because she was so insistent on calling him that. Also, it made Steve stutter and probably blush a bright red.

“You be safe. Say hi to Steve for me,” Wayne hugged him, his fingers squeezing his shoulder tight.

“We’ll call when we get in so you know we’re safe.”

“I’ll be waitin’.”

Eddie knew he wasn’t kidding; He’d probably be sitting right by the phone all morning waiting for the call.

“You know, you could maybe invite Hop over or something to keep you busy. He’s been bored with Joyce gone to visit Jonathan. Play cards or whatever it is you old folks do in your spare time,” Eddie gave him a teasing smile, a wink, and turned to leave.

Wayne grumbled something under his breath, but Eddie left it. He wanted to get on the road.

Steve was waiting for them.

- - - - - - -

Steve had warned him that parking would probably not be an easy task when he arrived, but he hadn’t expected this.

He’d been to Chicago and Indy plenty of times in the van to know it wasn’t the easiest fit along the sides of the street, but it was always manageable. Not today.

This was the first sign.

When he finally managed to find a parking spot almost at the end of the street, he decided to leave everything except the diaper bag for now, and hopefully a spot closer to the apartment would open up later so that he could bring up the boxes and luggage.

He got Mia out of her car seat, shouldered the diaper bag, and locked up the van.

Her eyes were wide as she took in their surroundings, people walking along the sidewalk, taller buildings than she’d ever seen on both sides of them, cars honking as they drove by.

He could hear children yelling in the distance, maybe a few blocks over, and someone was dumping trash in a dumpster in the alley directly across from them.

It was damn near overstimulating for him, and he was slightly worried that it would be too much for Mia, especially after napping for most of the drive.

She let out a giggle, and then babbled while smacking her hand against his shoulder.

“Oh? You like all the noise and people? Look, that man is wearing a red coat. You see his red coat?” Eddie read once that pointing out obvious things for babies helped them understand the world better, so he made it a point to do so when they went out. Even back in Hawkins, he always made sure to point out colors and shapes, pointed to simple words on boxes, and animals when they passed them in the car. “I bet he’s nice and warm in that thing.”

Mia kept babbling as Eddie walked up the street, a bit more nervous about the amount of people walking around than he expected to be.

If it were just him, he wouldn’t mind, probably wouldn’t even notice.

But with Mia so vulnerable in his arms, all he could think about was every worse case scenario.

Before he could spiral too much, Robin yelled out to him.

“Eddie!”

“Robin!” He walked faster to close the short distance to the building she was standing in front of. “Mia, look it’s Robin!”

Mia stopped babbling and took in Robin, who seemed very nervous to be in the presence of a baby, and maybe a little nervous to be in the presence of Eddie.

“Hi, Mia.” Robin waved, which was better than what Steve said she would do: offer a handshake. “You’re actually super cute.”

Eddie snorted. “Don’t inflate her ego too much, Robbie. Steve already spends too much time hyping her up. She’s gonna actually think she’s a princess soon.”

“Wait until she sees her room,” Robin muttered, probably trying to be quiet enough for Eddie not to hear her but failing. “Steve is gonna be back any minute. He forgot to grab something at the store and had to make a quick trip. I can let you guys in, but I have to run to class.”

Eddie nodded. If he didn’t know that Robin was just a fast-paced, rambly type of person, he’d think she was trying to avoid him.

She led them through the front door - unlocked, a sinking feeling settling in Eddie’s gut - and up two flights of stairs.

“It feels like a haul at first, but it gets a lot easier going up and down,” she said as she unlocked the door to their apartment. “It’s the only real exercise I get.”

When the door opened, Eddie’s eyes zeroed in on his worst nightmare since having Mia: a balcony.

He couldn’t explain it, it’s not like he was ever anywhere that would have one, but even just the thought of her falling off the porch would send him into a panic attack. It’s just the thought of Mia falling from something, getting hurt or dying because he took his eyes off of her for one second, he couldn’t handle it.

He immediately felt his breath leave his body, his chest heaved trying to catch it, and his legs went numb. The couch was close, so he sat down, holding Mia close to him so she couldn’t possibly crawl away.

Robin didn’t notice at first, made a comment about making himself at home while she grabbed something from her room.

“Eddie?” She was standing in front of him, worried eyes searching his face while her hands hovered near Mia like she would take her if he needed. Maybe she would. Maybe she was that worried. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t know there was a balcony,” Eddie whispered, surprised he even had a voice at all with how terrified he was.

“Um, yeah. We don’t really use it, and it stays locked if we aren’t on it, but sometimes it’s nice to enjoy some fresh air.” She still had her hands hovering, ready to hold Mia or comfort Eddie, maybe both. “It’s locked right now, do you wanna check?”

God, Steve really lucked out with Robin Buckley, didn’t he?

He nodded and handed Mia over to her. If he wasn’t so panicked, he probably would have laughed at the looks on their faces: Robin petrified and Mia silently judging.

He walked over to see the lock in place, pushed down and pulled up on it as hard as he could, pushed against the glass to make sure it wouldn’t collapse, and sighed.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

His heart rate was slowing down, he was able to see more of his surroundings without a haze.

“Yeah. Sorry. I just worry.”

Robin nodded, like she understood, but she probably was just humoring him. “I get it. We’ll keep it locked while you’re here, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

She smiled reassuringly, and he took Mia back before things could get awkward. Mia seemed grateful, tucking her head into Eddie’s neck and curling her fists into his shirt.

“You okay if I go? I can wait if not. Being late for class wouldn’t even phase my professor. Pretty sure she’s extremely high all the time.” Robin covered her mouth. “Sorry, should I not say that stuff?”

Eddie snorted. “She’s too young for it to matter yet, it’s fine. But I’m okay. Get to class!”

“You’re awful good at that.”

“I heard it enough,” Eddie shrugged.

Mia sighed against him, like she was sick of what was happening. She remained quiet though, surprisingly shy.

“Okay, I’m heading out, then. Bye Mia!” Robin waved and booked it out the door.

Eddie sighed. “Well, princess, should we look around? Get to know the place?”

Mia moved her head back to look at him, but didn’t babble or do anything else to acknowledge him.

He decided to do it anyway, figured she would probably become more interested the more they looked around.

The shared space was small, similar to the trailer in everything being more open. The living room was basically a couch, coffee table, and small television with a table next to it for a VHS player and a record player. The VHS tapes and records were piled up next to the table.

Eddie gulped. Mia would knock those over within seconds if he set her down and turned away from her.

That was just a small thing though, they could move them to a place she couldn’t reach.

He turned and saw the dining area, smiling to himself over the highchair that was sitting in the corner, clearly used but sparkling clean like someone had scrubbed it with every cleaning product sold on shelves. The kitchen was a little cluttered, but clean, and all of the sharp objects were put away in cabinets or high enough that there was no way Mia could reach them. He tried to open the cabinet under the sink and was met with a child safety lock and the same happened when he tried to open the cabinet next to the fridge.

He let out a breath.

This would be okay. They’d clearly thought of some things and maybe just needed Eddie to figure out the other stuff. That was one of the reasons he was here, right? To find what they would need to make this work.

He opened the fridge and saw tons of Mia’s favorite fruits and vegetables. The cabinet by the fridge had a can of her formula and some of her favorite baby food flavors, along with the rice snacks and Cheerios she liked to snack on while Eddie made dinner.

Steve had clearly thought of so much, he couldn’t really blame him for forgetting about stuff that seemed relatively harmless on the floor.

He bounced Mia in his arms as he walked down the hall, passing by the first door on the left. He had no interest in going in Robin’s room, even though he was a little curious.

Maybe later.

The next door on the left was the bathroom, and Eddie was pretty sure he was gonna cry. The cabinets had the same child safety lock on them, and the toilet lid has a special latch that would require two hands to unlock it. The baby shampoo and soap that Mia used was on the side of the tub, as well as a few bath toys. There was a toothbrush for Eddie on the sink, and hair ties on a hook hanging by the basket with a hairbrush and hairspray.

There was a note on the mirror that he knew wasn’t for him, but he couldn’t help reading.

Pick up bows for Mia Crib liner? Might not need Batteries for baby moniter

Eddie sniffled, not realizing that tears had come to his eyes while reading the note.

“He loves you so much, princess.” Eddie knew Steve was giving this everything he had, and couldn’t imagine how much money he’d spent to try to make this perfect and feel like home for them. “We’re lucky.”

He heard a door close downstairs, but assumed it was just a neighbor, so he walked across the hall into what was going to be Mia’s room.

He let out a gasp at how perfect it was.

The crib was white with light pink sheets and a hand-crocheted blanket in the corner, a small stuffed rabbit in another. The wall behind the crib was painted with a mural of a castle, a dragon flying in the sky, a princess painted in front of the castle with dark curls and a bright smile. There was a rocking chair next to the crib, and a changing table across the room. He opened the top drawer to find plenty of diapers and wipes, diaper cream, and a few pairs of socks and plain onesies. The next drawer down had some more onesies, but colorful and many with cute patterns. The bottom drawer had shorts, pants, and overalls, and what looked like a couple of dresses.

There was a small bookcase, possibly even built from scraps of wood by Steve himself, in a corner, filled with a few cardboard books. He’d look at them closer later, but he already knew Steve put thought into each and every one.

The rug in the middle of the room was also crocheted, matched her blanket, and Eddie felt safe setting her down and letting her move around a bit. He saw the toybox at the same time she did and smirked.

“Go ahead, Mia girl. Those are yours to play with,” he said before sitting in the rocking chair.

He watched her scoot her way across the floor quickly, reaching into the shallow box, and pulling out a plastic key ring set just like she had at home. She’d used it more as a teething ring lately, but her excitement was palpable.

She kept pulling out toy after toy. Normally, Eddie wouldn’t let her have all of her toys out at once, wouldn’t want her to be overwhelmed, but this was a good exploration. He could put some of them away in a few minutes.

He heard the front door open and Steve call out to them.

“In Mia’s room!” Eddie yelled back.

And for some reason, that’s what did it, what made this all feel so real.

And he wasn’t entirely sure that it was all positive.

He looked up when Steve came in the room, his beaming smile lighting up the room.

Mia noticed him immediately. “Mama! Mamamamamama! Uh uh uh!” She scrunched her hands into fists and threw her arms up, rocking on her knees to try to get him to pick her up.

He gave in immediately, wouldn’t ever let her think he didn’t want to hold her.

“Princess! I missed you so much!” Steve’s voice was shaking, Eddie could hear the emotions pouring out as he planted kisses all over Mia’s head. “Do you like your room?”

“Stevie, you didn’t have to do all this,” Eddie said, tears in his eyes at how excited they both were to see each other. “This must’ve cost a fortune.”

“We thrifted most of it, and I made the blanket and rug. The bunny was a gift from my boss. I really only bought the diapers and some of the clothes. I told you I’d take care of it.”

Eddie had to let himself have this. He had to accept that Steve wasn’t doing any of this to show off, or buy their love, or make it impossible for him to leave. He was doing it because he loved them, and he wanted them to be happy and comfortable here.

Steve set Mia down, who seemed pretty content with going back to her toys after getting so much attention from Steve.

He made his way over to Eddie and leaned down, placing his hands on the armrests of the rocking chair, bracketing Eddie in.

“I missed you even more,” Steve said quietly, leaning in to peck his lips softly.

Eddie took it, wanted it to be more, but knew it couldn’t yet.

“You guys settle in okay? Hope you haven’t been here too long.”

“Nah. Just kinda walked around the place. Most of the stuff is still in the van that’s parked halfway back to Hawkins,” Eddie half-joked.

Steve frowned. “You couldn’t find parking?”

“No,” Eddie frowned. “I’ll move it later when something opens up.”

“I had to grab stuff for dinner or I would have been here when you got here. I assumed spaghetti would be okay?”

Eddie nodded. Exhaustion was settling in as he crashed from the adrenaline of…well, everything.

“You okay?” Steve asked, kissing his forehead before pulling away and looking over at Mia. “If you wanna go rest in my bed, I can watch her for a bit.”

Eddie didn’t want to waste any time he had with Steve, even if he was ready to fall asleep, but it was hard to turn down a nap in Steve’s bed.

“Okay. Wake me up to help with dinner?” Eddie yawned.

“Sure, baby.” Steve sat down on the floor next to Mia, reaching for a ring for the plastic ring toy. “Mia and I are gonna hang out and have a chat.”

Eddie made his way to Steve’s room, barely paying attention to the board hung up in the hall with polaroids and pieces of paper. He barely even noticed anything about Steve’s room other than the bed, which was surprisingly big and surprisingly soft. It smelled like Steve, and Eddie didn’t even have time to process any thoughts before he was asleep.

- - - - - -

When he woke up, he could hear music playing and Mia giggling.

A noise he loved to hear, especially when he knew that Steve was the one making her laugh.

He got up and walked to the kitchen, smiling when he saw her sitting in her high chair with some rice snacks on the tray, Steve standing at the stove stirring a pot of noodles.

“You two having fun without me?” he asked, making Steve jump.

“Scared me, Eds.” Steve smiled at him. “We’ll have even more fun now that you’re here.”

Eddie hoped that was true.

He felt out of place for some reason, like he was a guest in a life that Steve and Mia lived. He’d never quite felt like that before and something in his brain was telling him get out, to go back to Wayne and what he knows before he ends up hurt.

He did his best to ignore it though, smiling at Mia, kissing Steve on the cheek.

They had dinner like a family, and Eddie washed the dishes while Steve brought Mia to the bathroom for a bath before bed.

They both tucked her in, kissed her forehead.

Steve whispered that he was grabbing batteries for the baby monitor in the morning, but they could leave the door cracked open tonight in case she cried for them.

Eddie knew he was being quiet.

He also knew Steve desperately wanted to say something about it, but probably didn’t want to risk ruining their entire weekend.

They went into Steve’s room and got undressed, climbed into bed, faced each other.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Steve asked, rubbing his thumb along Eddie’s cheekbone.

“I-“ Eddie didn’t quite know. He had a sense of wrongness, a sense of sadness, but had no idea why it was hitting him now, here.

“Baby, you can tell me. Is there something missing? I went through the list, but we can always get whatever you need. I mean I may have to save up for some of it, but I-“

“Stevie, I don’t think I can move here.”

Steve’s face fell immediately.

Eddie’s heart dropped in his stomach as he realized that he meant it.

He didn’t think it was just fear, either.

Something was telling him it wasn’t the right thing to do.

“But-I don’t understand,” Steve admitted, his voice small.

“I don’t either. I just have this feeling, this thing in my chest and my head telling me that I shouldn’t. And it’s nothing you’ve done wrong or forgotten to do, I promise. It’s so wonderful. You’ve done more than I could have ever asked for.” Eddie paused, tried to figure out how to phrase this next part. “I had a panic attack when I saw there was a balcony. And I know it’s locked and she’d never be able to get out there on her own, but in the back of my mind, all the time, I’ll be wondering if she somehow is the one baby who can undo window locks. And I’m just thinking about how walking down the sidewalk with her felt like I had to use all my energy just to stay alert enough to protect her. I can’t do that all the time, I can’t live my life constantly at the highest level of stress.”

He could feel tears falling, but somehow managed to say everything he needed to.

Steve was crying, his hand gripping Eddie’s hips, hopefully leaving bruises that would stay with Eddie for days, weeks.

“Baby, this neighborhood is safe. I promise. I even looked into the daycares and school ratings and they’re all good. She would never be alone anywhere and you know I’d protect her with my life just like you would-“

“Stevie, I know. I know all of that.” Eddie kissed him fiercely, tried to make him understand. “But knowing it and processing it are two different things. I know I can’t live like that.”

“I can’t go back to Hawkins.”

Eddie nodded. He knew that.

He knew neither of them could do what the other wanted.

“So what do we do?” Steve sniffed, covered his mouth as a sob left him.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

Steve shook his head. “We can’t just give up. I can’t not have you.”

Eddie could agree. He couldn’t imagine being without Steve now, couldn’t imagine Mia not having him, not even having a chance to be a family.

But he had no idea how to fix this.

“I don’t know how to have you, though.”

Steve blinked at him a few times before sitting up and moving to the edge of his own bed.

“We should sleep on it.”

Steve’s voice was broken.

Eddie had caused that.

Eddie hadn’t been able to suck it up, try it out for the weekend.

Eddie was running before the race even started.

“Yeah. I guess we should.”

[adviserbylove]

Why I love Toma

A few days ago, my Toma novel came in the mail. I'm currently trying to do translations scans, but...it's my first time + my app sucks ass. However...I need to come clean. Rather, I want to start from the beginning. I've always been a Toma lover. He was the first LI I picked when I first played Amnesia Memories back when I was 18. While I was a little edglordy teenage girl back then, who was barely an adult, I thought "Ooooooo, so hot. I love a yandere that is so obsessed with me 🥵". Now, I'm in my mid twenties. A cage meme (idk, apparently it was 'cage day' a while back :P) brought me back to my Toma simping era. He was forgotten after 2 years-ish, and until I saw that one meme, I got nostalgic and watched a play through of his route again. I don't own a switch, so I also watched a play through of his Later x Crowd route, along with the Drama CD's....

Oh man....

A little about me to understand this. I grew up with an abusive older brother. I won't go into detail about what happened between us since it'll get dark really fast. He was never there for me nor my younger brothers. I was the second oldest after him, so I was considered a 'big sister' throughout my whole life. I have a special someones among my tumblr circle here that calls me "Big sis/Mama Sadie". The big sister label never left me, and even though I enjoy making my loved ones feel special and taking care of them, I look back to my dysfunctional older brother + shitty parents. And I just wish someone would've taken care of me in return

Being an older sibling is fucking draining at times. I absolutely adore my younger brothers irl + the people here that call me big sister. Sometimes, I feel like cracking cause it gets too much. I absolutely hate being comforted in return. I hate talking about my feelings if they go down a negative light. Eventually, I snap and it's not pretty. A side of me is seen that I do not others to see. You never just bottle up all your feelings like a bottle of champagne, and everyday it's being shaken? And when something forcefully pops open that cork, everything just sprays out? That's me

I initially thought Toma had a cool jacket, so I picked him first, lol. I started to get obsessed with how possessive he was over the MC and how 'wanted' I felt. It doesn't make it any easier seeing how he was so sweet to her, but that was swept aside by my horny 18 year old ass. Replaying his route, I started to see his caring nature shine more. He was so sweet, too sweet. And yet...I felt myself getting sucked in. He got me, I admit. Taking her shopping, buying her a new phone, letting her have his bed....it was so wonderful (at first). When he lied about being the MC's boyfriend, I was starting to think it was obvious that he lied. Saying he 'only saw her as a younger sister' and 'you should say this to another man' was off putting, especially considering he said we are a couple. So it was obvious he was a liar. And, while I was skeptical, I still went along because I thought he was very complex and was intrigued by his motives

The slow descent into madness is what sold me. Seeing him snap was looking into a mirror. Looking at another me lose their mind every time they fail to keep their loved ones blissfully unaware of the danger around them and failing to protect them from it. Seeing Toma looking through the cage bars at a locked up MC was almost seeing an extreme version of the worst of me. But yet...I felt so much security with Toma. No, I'm not saying I want to be locked in a cage. But seeing the lengths he went to to make sure her safety was first, how he was pushed into a stressful mindset, which caused him to lose himself...he was so real into his madness. It's understandable it was bone chilling, but I was more afraid of not having a happy ending with him. He pushed himself to the bone, seeing MC go outside alone when three attempts were made to kill her. I have yet to translate the novel, but I do know it beautifully displays his own anxiety + paranoia. How the build up to the cage happened and how Toma ate away at himself in the making. Ukyo even said he rarely sees Toma get happy endings. He never got to be selfish all his life when he was practically raising Shin and MC since birth basically. I almost felt bad for him ya know...if he didn't freaking lock me in a cage and not bother to even give me the damn tv remote

Another Amnesia Memories blog made a post about how they saw themselves in Toma when they were going through a hard time in their life. When I was 18, things got rocky for me since I just moved away from a toxic family life. Seeing Toma and how he was never left me. Because I understood his fall into madness. I wanted to reach out through the cage bars screen and just reassure him that it's okay. He'd most likely just say "I don't deserve hopes + dreams" like he did in that one CG, but I would just break into tears if I had to hear that again. Most people will disagree...but I want him to be happy. It's why his Amnesia Crowd end scene makes me so happy, I'm close to overwhelmed tears. He's finally happy....he's not pushed to the brink of insanity where his anxiety takes over and he fears even himself...he can relax while still being the naturally protective older brother he was meant to be....he can have his happy ending with his beloved heroine

It doesn't make what he did right, but seeing him crack and fall into desperate times was sickening to me. It was disgusting to see someone so caring and kind towards the MC struggle all by himself. Shin is right...don't carry this burden alone, Toma....I, oh so, desperately wanted to be there for him. Ik I was the one getting harassed in your route, but still. I absolutely adored how you tried, and even when it lead to some very questionable methods...you still cared. Beneath all the insanity...you still cared. You still loved the MC, and you loved her to the point where you couldn't see clearly. I never want to see him break pass the point of losing himself, that he loses control. Someone being madly obsessed with keeping me safe is both comforting and unsettling. I adore Toma, but....was this my inner most thoughts? Wanting to be relied on that I would break like this? Wanting to be the one doted on for once? Of course I don't lock ppl in cages + drug them, but I resonate with wanting to be relied on + keeping loved ones safe, sometimes to a scary degree if something drastic happens to them. And sometimes...I wish someone would just take care of me too. Seeing this laid out in front of me was scary, but not because Toma's route is more seen as horror than an actually romantic route. More so that I related to him. The villain the both Shin's and his own story

While Toma should be in jail irl, in fiction, I can handle the consequences he faces in the sequels. Having Shin beat him up + MC locking him in the cage and handcuffing him (canon masochistic!Toma???/j). He knows he did a terrible thing and wanted to repent for him. He loves the MC to such, his head hurts and he loses all sense of control. There isn't anything he won't for her, but he learns that he cannot do anything against her will ever again like that. He's resentful and hates himself for it, and that speaks volumes to me

No wonder after years of forgetting Toma, I never actually....'forgot' him, you know? I want to spend the rest of my life seeing him happy, being happy with him. He means so much to me, I honestly forget what my life was like before I played his route. I mean, I would honestly love to forget everything that happened before 18 in my life, but still. Even if I didn't notice after that 'Toma hiatus', he always had a special place in my heart. Heck, he was always on my kin list for the last 5 years! I didn't know what selfshipping was until I was around 23-24(?). Toma was a f/o before I even knew what a f/o was

I don't think you'll ever find even a Toma fan admitting Toma is a good person. Amnesia Memories is not about creating 'prince charming' like green flags (in fact, you'll see fans admitting all of these guys are red flags :P). But Toma is still someone that was there for me...that actually felt went through a lot with me. He looked after me when I was trying to get my life back together when I was living away from family. It was a foreign feeling, but I welcomed it despite the glaring warning signs that his route put up. I never hated Toma, even before the sequels shed more light on him

Later x Crowd is honestly just a fluffy bonus for my selfship with him. I'll continue to be happy with Toma, because I want to see this bastard be happy. I don't think I can ever go back to how my life was before I met him. I'm thanking a very old friend of mine that has drifted apart from me. Because if she never recommended Amnesia to me, I would have never met Toma. Thank you, Laura. And thank you, Toma. For being my comfort character...for being there for me....for seeing at my worst and still loving me....for accepting me...

[dungeonaspects]

Campaign Idea: The Heart of The Forest

"The lifeblood of the world has been drained to its last drops, once the heart fails, so do we."

The History

The heart of the forest was a secret for eons, the paths obscured by the will of nature. Within ancient texts and hidden murals the secrets of the heart can be discovered, its powers laid bare only to those that truly searched for answers.

From the heart the cure for all diseases and ailments can be found, age can be reversed, limbs regrown, lives saved. Many perished searching the world for the heart, even more gave it up as a fairytale. Yet one group succeeded, led by a great archdruid.

An avatar of a god had been struck down by a blight that ate away at their divinity, to maintain balance in the world the adventuring party persuaded the archdruid to guide them to the heart. It took many months and many trials to find, the twisting trails of the forest arduous even for the ally of nature.

The hearts guardian would not let them pass, so the party let their desperation take hold. They murdered the guardian, like a common animal. The druid was enraged yet the paladin struck them down, refusing to let their deity die over some beast.

And so the party cut into the heart, taking the oozing blood and feeding it to the god who convulsed before the blight receded, their grandeur returning. The god was grateful to the adventurers, granting each a wish within their power, one was wealth, another a weapon of great power, the third a guarantee from the god that when they die they will come to the gods realm, and curiously the last.

The final wish was for the party to leave the forest safely, recognising that without the druid they would likely die in the twisting forest. The god smiled and exerted their will, straightening the fractured paths and hidden trails. A single road led out the forest, perhaps a three day travel.

With that the god left, the party was met back home with a heroes welcome and accolades. They are now a story passed down in generations, the saviours of the gods.

The Hook

What happened next was where things took a turn. The god thought little of their actions, so grateful to be alive that the simple act of letting their protectors get home was without question.

Yet without realising they had broken an enchantment that nature itself had wrought, a protective defence around the very heart of life. The heart sat open to the world, a road now cutting through its maze-like home where any could wander through.

And so people did, some looking for the secret elixir to save their loved ones from death, others looking to save themselves. But then there were those that sought to make coin. Once a merchant company caught wind that the elixir was real they sent a convoy to the heart, the owner beseeching the king to sell them the "useless land" that was the obscure and impassable forest. The king sold it to the merchant company for only one-hundred gold.

The company threw out the commoners that had begun to settle there, before long palisades and guard posts were built around a huge complex that began to envelop the heart. From here the merchant company could bottle and sell the blood of life.

Sold for excesses of ten's of thousands of gold the company built a fortress around the heart, one so well fortified and manned that even the surrounding kingdoms feared the formidable force. It has been almost two centuries since it was first built, the same merchant leader standing atop a monopolised supply of eternal youth, selling it to the opulent to live forever as young and healthy.

However the price had just jumped to two-hundred thousand gold for a single mouthful, the rich elite now struggling to get their hands on the life-giving elixir. And what's worse, the regular users who cannot get their hands on the elixir have begun to age quickly and... mutate. Their hands ending in claws, their hair being replaced with black oozing vines.

But the true kick in the teeth for the kingdoms instead of the kings and queens are that the lands are dying, forests are blighted, crops are failing, even the bounty of the sea is dwindling. The heart of nature may be enduring its last fluttering beats, and the rich simply wish to squeeze the last few drops from it.

Some Ideas

While this is uncomfortably topical I do feel like it could be a good basis for a campaign. You must fight back the figurative (and maybe literal) corruption found within the land to give life to the source of life itself. Will you see the worsening world devolve into chaos as the rich (and often those in charge) fall to madness, could the earth turn to dust?

In terms of motivation players have a few different routes, the selfless:

"I wish to save the world and make it whole again"

The atonement:

"My god/family caused this, I must fix it"

The need:

"My (family member) is dying, and getting hold of that elixir is their only hope"

The selfish:

"That elixir can line my pocket, it can't do that if it's run out"

Or it can be a mixture of the above, someone employed by the merchant company to fix the problem, promising them an endless supply for their dying mother and riches if they resolve the issue. And of course I'd love to hear about different motivations you can think of, these are just a few off the top of my head.

As for how you resolve the issue that's up to you, there's always the mcguffin idea, an artefact that can heal it. But I like the idea that the heart needs straight up power to repair, and the lives of the sentient races are drops in the ocean, it would need a god. The party will need to convince a god to die to save the world.

This can go as smoothly or as rough as you like, you must complete some tasks for the god to "tie up some loose ends", or you need to overpower the god then drag their avatar to the heart and sacrifice them to it. A bit hardcore but will certainly make the players question how right it is to take a life (especially one that could be a good aligned god) to save the world.

We may all know the pragmatic answer but a divine being bound in golden rope, kneeling next to the drained pond below the mutilated heart, and one of you needs to kill the weeping deity, that's gonna be a gutpunch.

I would talk with your players about how dark you want it to go, since this can go in a rough direction. If everyone wants to participate this can be an intense emotional rollercoaster, just make sure in session 0 you know what may make everyone uncomfortable.

Art by Jakob Eirich

Words can't really describe how I feel about this picture, there's something ancient and foreboding about it, but I get this feeling of peace looking at it. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel, but damn do I like it. Thank you

[priscilla9993]

Killian Jones and Alcoholism

This is mainly a summary of things relating Killian/Hook to alcohol/rum. It was done for a college paper and is very long, therefore it’s under the break. To warn you, it is going to be mainly Wish Hook based since I needed to narrow it down and it was easier to show how he handled alcohol as a recovering alcoholic. Enjoy!

The character in question for this case study is Killian Jones, well known by his more colorful moniker of Captain Hook, as portrayed from the ABC TV show Once Upon A Time. He lives in a region of a fantasy realm known as the Enchanted Forest. He used to be a Royal Navy Lieutenant with his older brother Liam, straight-laced on being good and not getting into trouble in any way, especially after getting somewhere in life and no longer subjected to being an indentured deckhand like when their father abandoned them as kids. During a daring quest to Neverland to find some medicine for the king, Peter Pan said they had been tricked to bring back a poisonous plant called Dreamshade, meant to be used as a weapon against unsuspecting enemies. Killian was wary, ready to denounce his service to the king, but his brother was willing to have faith in a noble king and country. With one swift motion of the plant’s prick hoping to prove otherwise, Liam began dying and realized his mistake. Recruiting the help of Pan and some magical water, Liam was cured but soon died in Killian’s arms on the voyage back to the king, the price of the magic being death if Liam ever left Neverland with the water running through his veins. His brother’s death made Killian vengeful at his king and country as his brother had been noble until the very end and everyone else was corrupt, playing noble, proving to him that the world was at fault. From that day on, he took over the ship and decided to be a pirate named Captain Jones, pursuing freedom, and throwing away all he’s ever known because being noble didn’t serve justice. This starts his life of thievery, promiscuity, and never-ending drinking. His coping solutions to deal with his emotional pain only gets worse when he loses his hand, first love of his life, Milah, and his honor after losing a duel against Rumplestiltskin, a coward turned into a powerful Dark One; which leads him on a path of revenge to kill the Rumplestiltskin, “the crocodile”, to avenge Milah and his pride. This leads him to makeshift a hook for a hand and him going by the nickname of Captain Hook, leaving the last piece of his past behind and never letting himself be vulnerable again.

Throughout the series, whenever he or someone in his vicinity is having a rough time, his solution is to pour out some alcohol and drink his feelings away, acting like an egotistical flirt rather than expressing himself and wallowing in misery. His choice of alcohol happens to be rum, a hard liquor. The acute symptoms he has in the show are the loss of judgment, a reddened face, confusion, potentially heightened sexual desire, and sometimes blackouts/unconsciousness. There are multiple times where he’s in a tavern, pouring doubloons into drinks for his crew, rum for himself, and flirting with women/barmaids to have a nightcap with. From here on, I will refer to him as Hook unless stated otherwise. On one occasion of his usual proclivities displaying or implying such symptoms, Hook tries to seduce a woman named Emma. She manages to use his habit of drinking to her advantage, making him jolly and willing to take her back to his ship for the said nightcap; her actual objective was being a distraction while his future self did recon for info on how to get back to their timeline in a Back to the Future sort of way. He continues heavily drinking on the way back with Emma without a care for his health. As soon as the plan goes awry with Hook seeing double, Emma not realizing Future Hook was still doing recon, he gets knocked out for good measure and partial jealousy. Future Hook justifies this, saying his past self was “asking to be knocked out, will wake up upset, and blame the rum.” The lines construe how frequent the drinking was for his future self to determine Hook’s ill-mannered disposition while drunk. 

Eventually, in a parallel way that stems from drunk Hook, is a feeble and spent pirate coined as “Wish Hook”. I have and will be focusing on this iteration for the whole of the paper, but what was written before was his younger self’s background. Wish Hook is the same guy as Hook, but years older down the line, differing paths from Future Hook as he never found love again with someone like Emma and had let his grief and alcohol from more recent negative events consume him. Wish Hook had lived out most of his lifespan, having been a sober father, but cursed to be poisoned any time he drew near his daughter after a witch encounter. Haunted by his regrets and somber circumstances, he turned back to an alcoholic, spending his days eased by rum. His body and actions in this form show the physical and mental effects of chronic alcohol consumption. About ten years or less had passed between his younger self and he had become an experienced middle-aged man with a complicated history, yet he looked far older than his years and decrepit. Without a doubt, by looking at him, people could assume he was an old drunk, his liver and heart having gotten fatty and overworked from the alcohol catching up to him. His belly was rotund, his hair disheveled and gray with streaks of white, his stance crumbling to nearly falling over with each step, and clothes dirtied with filth and old rum stains. Wish Hook still had a flirty and dramatic personality to cheer himself up and mask his turmoil, rum making him courageous and numb, while his actions told another story. He didn’t have sexual desires or try to provoke anyone by that point, just wanted to drown himself in alcohol. His words typically came out slurred, his movements sluggish and unrefined, and he had low problem-solving skills when it came to formulating a plan based on anything other than motive.

In the Enchanted Forest, alcohol like rum is not hard to come by as long as money is involved. Killian Jones/Captain Hook as a pirate drinking rum all the time did not affect him negatively socially or career-wise. If anything, it boosted his status and reputation. For him to be mingling in bars asking for expensive hard liquor and fine women to spend time with was a pleasantry. Bar owners got money, the crew got free alcohol, the women got paid, and he got to immerse himself in pleasure rather than thinking about trivial or serious things. Hook was the life of the party as a pirate captain, seen as a person with good tastes and great to have a fun time with when it came to alcohol. However, when it came to settling down and being a father later on in his life, Wish Hook reserved himself back to his more vulnerable side, caring about how his alcoholism could affect his parenting or child’s perspective. There are moments like that where he’s introspective and wants to do better by others that look up to him or who he cares about. In the show, when he is parenting, there is never a time where he has a bottle or flask of rum stashed nearby or is drinking. Wish Hook deems alcohol as the problem when it affects his judgment or his perceptions on how he could hurt the way people he loves view him. Love in any form brings him back to his core of being the best person he can be.

Killian Jones’s problem originates in nurture rather than nature because his alcohol problems started after he needed a reliable coping mechanism to lean on to deal with grief and anger. Although both nature and nurture influence him, for argument’s sake, nurture has the upper hand. Growing up, his father was a person he looked up to and wanted to be like, but that changed when he found out his father was a criminal who sold him and Liam to pay a route for a selfish escape. What little of his parents shown on-screen left betrayal or sadness in him, not the desire to drink. His parents weren’t clear on alcoholics or drug users as far as it goes. The only things he inherited from nature were probably his mischievous personality, temper, looks, and a high tolerance for alcohol. Living on a ship and being a poor deckhand, Killian didn’t seem to be the kind of guy to squander his savings on alcohol or other frivolous means. However, he would be on a ship constantly surrounded by adults who drank with a captain who cared more about money rather than morals, feeling squandered by his oppressed freedom and building resentment for authority. Without his brother steering him on track, Killian was no more than a young man with impulsive rebellious nature. When Liam went to get them navy papers to earn them their freedom from Captain Silver, it took Killian an offer of temptations from Silver, as much alcohol as he could drink and a bet on his money, for him to fall hook, line, and sinker; no pun intended. Alcohol and gambling meant a reprieve from thoughts, a chance at earning more than what he had before, and the same social standing as the other men aboard the ship. Perhaps, as much as he wanted to be strong as his brother, one good force cannot shield against all of the negative parts of society and adulthood. From Captain Silver, Killian got his first taste of alcohol and his desires did the rest, leaving him blackout drunk and penniless for Liam to find. As he grew older and slowly became Captain Hook, there was nothing about pirate life, being an adult, or people to keep him from drinking. He needed people to talk to, who supported him and he could feel vulnerable in front of, but the few people he trusted in his life were dead. As anyone knows, pirates steal treasure, so they’re not exactly the forgiving or down-to-earth types. Instead, rum became the solution to drown or fuel his emotions, being the substance of celebration and de-stressor.  

Hook’s rum/alcohol addiction would fall more on the dependence spectrum rather than abuse. What had started as a small reprieve to the woes of life became a daily saving grace when he was wracked with loneliness or anger. He depended on the rum to mask his disposition of physical pain from his missing limb as well as emotional pain having experienced love and loss. Abusing alcohol meant that it would put him into dangerous scenarios, have little to no commitment to change his habits to improve his health, and he’d put off important social aspects. If it was alcohol abuse, Hook wouldn’t try changing his habits when he sees it affects others or his relationship with those he loves. Sure, he spends most of his life binge drinking and making merry with the tides of life, but when given the chance and support to abstain from alcohol, he takes it in a heartbeat. For Wish Hook, the thought of being a father who abandons his child or messes up under hazy judgment didn’t add up to him. With the birth of his daughter, Alice, he made a vow to stay with her as long as he could and to be the person he thought she could be proud of. Nevertheless, when he had lost purpose in life by something he had no control over (via death, distance, or curse), his first reaction was to either turn back to alcohol or solve his problems. Sadly, after he had spent a couple of years looking for a cure for his poison heart curse, he gave up hope and chose to go from sobriety back to alcoholism, into a form of regrettable self-destruction. Hook knew that it was not the way to go about life but he felt he had no other choice and had nothing left to lose, leading him to further prioritize and depend on rum to continue living. He built a tolerance to it, needing a copious amount to get drunk, and potentially suffering withdrawals from it after getting in too deep. From the state he was in by the time he gets old and portly, being a nearly homeless drunkard, it can be assumed that he spent most of his days looking for money to acquire more alcohol so he could feel okay.  

Finally, by the end of the series, Killian Jones had managed to go through all the stages in the Stages of Change Model. He was in the Precontemplation stage as a pirate and Captain Hook as he didn’t see a problem in his daily rum and alcohol festivities, making no commitment to change his ways. By the time he gets to be Wish Hook and becomes a father, hesitant about settling down, he could be in the Contemplation stage. He’d want to do something about his alcohol problem and not be stuck relying on it but doesn’t know how to go about it or why he should, therefore staying stagnant to change. When he has his daughter, Alice, in his arms for the first time, we see him in the Preparation stage, planning to give up his ship, sea life, status, and most importantly, rum. Hook gives himself time to think of why he would do so and how he’d commit to it, eventually telling his crew the news. By the time he is taking care of her, he has already taken the actions needed to wean himself off alcohol and apply himself towards abstinence, taking him through the Action and Maintenance stages. There is a relapse back to the Contemplation stage in the paragraph before when he becomes poisoned and loses hope. Even so, the silver lining is that he had made the hard journey back into the Maintenance stage with the help of Ariel detoxing him and others giving him a magical second chance of bodily time renewal, sparking the hope to reunite with Alice and find a cure for his poisoned heart.  

Plans go awry on this end as we get to his final iteration as he is teleported and cursed into our modern day and age as Detective Rogers. Although his memories of what happened in the past as this persona are fuzzy, he is shown to stick to his renewed alcohol abstinence and maintains that in many ways, just like when he was Wish Hook. His habits become integrated as a function rather than a hindrance as part of the Maintenance stage. As Rogers, we can see him frequent bars such as Roni’s or Flynn’s Barcade when he is invited out with others. He is shown to let others know what to get him, as a regular or not, something non-alcoholic. This usually shows up as sparkling water or regular water with a lemon slice in it. His friends and work partner continue to support his sobriety through friendly acceptance and never forcing him to drink alcohol along with them. Rogers is tempted by alcohol again when he believes a missing girl from a cold case, one he was responsible for since he was drinking on the night she went missing, is dead. He sits on a park bench alone grieving, a full bottle of rum next to him, ready to drink. As Rogers gives it a whiff, he is disgusted at himself for getting back to this state again and slams the bottle down on the bench in frustration, not even having taken a sip. He came too far that doing so again would be meaningless and would get him nowhere. Even though he is in situations full of temptation, he makes huge strides to not relapse and maintain his sobriety, with the hopes that it will eventually lead him back on the right path of happiness and belonging. Fortunately, his actions have positive consequences that ring true when the curse breaks and he gets reunited with his daughter and has the strong support of friends and family. In conclusion, Hook is a flawed human being that is more complex and his struggle with alcohol/rum is just a part of him, one he will never lose but continues living with.

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #11

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Delicious Recipe

I would soon be at an age where I could envision my 50’s. My only daughter was a college student. I didn’t think of myself as too much of a passionate clerk, but I was fond of my current job at a mass retailer. Said shop was on the line of so-called “luxury supermarkets” in a way, so it had many products that weren’t available at supermarkets in my neighborhood, which meant stocking shelves was a hassle, but it was fun to look around. It had things such as assortments of high-quality cheeses or pouches of cold soup called vichyssoise. Since the shop was within walking distance of one of the largest stations in Tokyo, its clientele was diverse and there were many first-time customers, but on the other hand, that was exactly why it was so easy to remember the face of repeating customers.

“Hmmm...”

The young man glaring at the syrup shelf for a while now, who seemed old enough to be a university student, was actually a regular customer as well. Said regular – who stood out like a sore thumb in this shop, which had an overwhelming elderly customer base – always asked for simplified receipts. The name on them was “Jewelry Etranger”. Must be from a jewelry store. I believed him to be about as old as my daughter.

He was pacing back and forth in front of the shelf. Even though he usually came to buy snacks such as youkan and cookies, he was groaning in front of the cocktail syrup shelf today. Was it for private use instead of an errand? While I was staring at him, our eyes met, and with an apologetic face, he came over to my counter. There were no other customers.

“Hum, excuse me.”

As I welcomed him with a “yes, what might it be?”, he asked for a strange piece of advice.

“I want to make melon soda.”

“Haa.”

“The kind that you can quickly make into cream soda, with vanilla ice cream floating on top...”

“Haa.”

Then wouldn’t it be all right if he just bought the melon-flavored shaved ice syrup and carbonated water over there and mixed them in the appropriate proportions?

Before I could say this, he cut off, a crease rippling between his brows as he furrowed them, “I want it to be tasty. Very tasty.”

“Haa.”

A tasty melon soda. A very tasty one, no less. What kind of melon soda would that be?

I fumbled around my memory for the latest experience I had with a melon soda. The last time I had gone to a fast food was when my daughter was about ten years old. It had already been quite a long time. But I didn’t think there were any revolutionary changes in taste since then. It was carbonated, green and simply sweet. It didn’t have the same variety as tea or coffee. As if pressed with a stamp, melon soda was just melon soda. It was different from those confusing flavored-tea leaves.

He had actually already bought the melon syrup, he told me. But no matter how he changed the proportion of carbonated water, it didn’t have enough of a punch to it.

“I did some research at bars about how different the taste was from the melon sodas that we drink out there, but I kind of couldn’t tell... I think it might be best if I mix it with something. That’s why I’m looking for syrup, hmmm...”

With the exception of standard syrups for shaved ice, all syrups we handled were meant for cocktails. Bottles of vivid colors, in flavors such as apricot and mint, were lined up there. But I didn’t know whether any of them could be the secret ingredient for melon soda. The prospects were dim.

For starters, why had he decided to make something so troublesome by hand? To the point he was thinking of purchasing a bottle of syrup that was by no means cheap.

Of course, I didn’t say such things in front of the customer, but as if seeing through my hesitation, he smiled, as though a bit embarrassed. “No, hum, I have a friend who likes cream soda. She will be coming to the shop I work at one of these days... so I wanted to surprise her. Ehehe,” he laughed, looking happy.

I would guess that I did nothing but blink silently for a moment. It was an astonishingly good motive. I didn’t know what kind of friend she was or what kind of shop she would be visiting, but if nothing else, she seemed to be someone important to him.

If it were me, that would probably become a memory to last a lifetime.

A secret ingredient for a sweet juice. What suddenly crossed my mind was a time when my daughter was still little. A time when she caught a cold. I once made her a sweet juice when she didn’t want to take her medicine. I had a memory of being troubled as she was reluctant to drink water, saying it was painful. This had happened either in September or October, so there was still some leftover shaved ice syrup from the summer in our fridge. Making sugared water using it as colorant apparently gave it a special vibe, so she cheered up and drank it. Was it just sugared water? Hmm, if I wasn’t mistaken, in order for it to feel refreshing in the mouth, I had added—

“Ah, lemon juice.”

“Eh?”

“Mr. Customer, I’m not a bartender or anything, so I might be giving a wrong guess, but...”

Lemon went surprisingly well with sugared water.

As many cocktail recipes had lemon juice in them, I believed it strained the flavor that tended to unilaterally turn into “sweetness”. I didn’t think there was freshly squeezed lemon in the melon sodas of fast food shops, but if he was in pursuit of tastiness, wasn’t it a possibility?

When I told him this, he looked at me with a happy face, bowing his head with a “thank you very much”. And so, when he was about to leave the store without buying anything, he came back as if remembering something, lining up in front of the register and buying a package of specialty cookies from a certain place. When I was about to make the receipt, he told me he didn’t need it today, so I could tell it was his own pocket money.

“Really, thank you so much,” he said with an uplifting face, and this time, he exited the shop for good.

I didn’t think the suggestion I gave him warranted such consideration, and yet, what a proper child he was. His mother certainly must be happy to have a son like that, I thought, but afterward, I changed my mind, as he might surprisingly not be like that at home. My daughter, too, was an unfettered general at home, but the boyfriend that she discreetly brought over at the end of the previous year said some dreadful things about her, such as that she was a “refined young lady”. I thought they wouldn’t last for long, but it seemed they were still dating. It might be that people possessed many sides, just like those stylistic syrup bottles. Like the gemstones sold in jewelry shop. And he had showed me a wonderful, brightly shining side of his.

As a clerk, I wished from the bottom of my heart that his peculiar act of hospitality would go well.

   On Thursday morning, while I was extremely busy with stocking items, someone called to me with an “excuse me”. Even though I wished people wouldn’t talk to me at times like these, I couldn’t let it show on my face. When I turned around with a “yes, what might it be?”, my facial expression froze up. A blond, blue-eyed man was standing there. He was such a beautiful man that you’d end up asking yourself if it was okay to be breathing the same air as him. My face stiffened. He was speaking in fluent Japanese.

“Do you have canned cherries?”

“Eh, hah—aah, cherries?”

“Cherries. I need them urgently,” he said with a sour face.

Whatever might be the situation that required such a pretty young man, who looked like he had fallen from Heaven, to purchase canned cherries, it was beyond me. Anyway, with a manner of walking that looked like a frantic penguin, I guided him to the canned fruits corner and bowed with an “it’s this way”. He smiled as if relieved, leaving me floored.

“Much obliged.”

You’d think of it as an ordinary expression, but it was difficult to describe this with any word other than “bombshell”. His smile was like the glowing summer wind. As a result, you’d find yourself wondering about even unnecessary things, such as if this person had lived a life full of hardships. Was he an actor? Could be a model. His beauty was so removed from this transient realm, so I couldn’t think he was someone from the same world as myself. If a person like him were playing the hero in a tragic drama, I had the feeling that the audience would be a bit turned-off. As in, wouldn’t the role of charismatic villain suit him better? After a brief moment of escapism from reality, I came back to my senses and returned to stocking the items.

Once the checkout of the canned cherries was finished at the register, the elegant man left the shop while cursing someone’s carelessness with an “honestly, that heedless guy,” using a word that even a Japanese person seldom would.

At that moment, for some reason, the figure of that regular customer boy suddenly surfaced in my brain. The one who had told me he wanted to make melon soda. The kind that could quickly be made into cream soda, with vanilla ice cream floating on top. Melon-flavored soda aside, if you wanted to make a cream soda, the cherry was the last thing you should forget - that was what I had always been thinking, but unfortunately, he hadn’t showed up in the shop yet ever since then. Well, someone who had been so obsessed with the melon flavor probably wouldn’t do something like forget about the cherry, but there were instances such as the blond Onii-san of today. If he ever showed up again, I would make sure to mention the cherries.

On that day’s afternoon, I finally gave it a thought, and just as I was going home, I went into a family restaurant for the first time in ten years, and while tasting an awkward embarrassment, I ordered a cream soda. I had actually been wanting to drink it all this time ever since I saw him. My first cream soda in a while had the painfully sweet flavor of childhood.

[minaminokyoko]

A Love Letter to ‘Knives Out’

Disclaimer: This isn’t even a review. This is literally just me freaking out about what a great movie I just bloody watched and I just need to vomit words everywhere about it. Sorry in advance.

I think the best thing ever is I went into this with zero information. I remember seeing the original trailer months ago, but it wasn’t detailed. Just the short one of the premise, and to be honest, I’m not really into Whodunits. Clue is one of the exceptions and Castle is the only detective-related thing I’ve ever liked and followed religiously (up until the final godawful two seasons), so I have no predisposition to even care about murder mysteries. But then Rian Johnson dangled the juicy carrot of Chris Evans playing against type (because we all know the man is a sweetie and I can personally vouch that he’s great at hugs) and so I decided to add it to my watchlist. Then the reviews came pouring in that it was great, which surprised me, and so I decided to take a leap of faith to see if the hype was real.

Oh God, was it ever.

Y’all know me by now. I’m a hard, cynical old bitch. It’s tough to impress me, but fucking hell, I really loved Knives Out.

It’s not that it does anything new; it’s that it is a fresh, creative spin on tropes we’re used to and it’s also the strong performances that just make it a delightful film. It’s kooky and dark and offbeat. It’s charming. It’s wonderfully political. It’s irreverent. This is the niche kind of writing that I adore. It’s why I’ve loved shows like Frasier or movies like Snatch. I love the interwoven mess between the plot and the characters and everything coming to light in a big explosion.

Spoilers down below for my talking points, naturally.

I want to start with Marta, simply because I love how this movie framed the character as innocent, but not stupid, useless, or weak. I love that she had a great relationship with Harlan. I love that Harlan didn’t have any evil ulterior motives. It was simply a man who looked around and realized that he thought he was providing for his family but all he really was doing was supporting selfish, downright cruel people. That family basically just siphoned off of him and had the entitlement complex that is currently killing this country right this fucking second. It was very satisfying when he left them nothing and gave Marta the money and the choice of what to do. The final shot of the movie is genius.

Which segways into probably my second favorite thing about the movie: the commentary about the entitled upperclass versus the working class immigrant. The whole Trump debate during the party made me groan because we all just wrapped up three holidays, so I know that people were having to go home for the holidays and listen to the broken-ass logic of their Trump supporter relatives. Especially since they dragged Marta into the bullshit conversation. I LOVE the writing of having this girl who busted her ass, who listened, who was a genuinely good person, still being able to be a good person in the end after one hell of an ordeal. I loved how the movie poked all kinds of holes in the fake narrative of inheritance and immigration and patriotism. Fuck that. This country isn’t some holy land. This country was stolen from the people who were born here and then they built a fake fucking pedestal on top of the mass graves and proclaimed it theirs. Fuck that revision history and fuck the people who believe these lies. This movie is so satisfying because it’s a giant middle finger to those people and it’s a reminder that the future is these hardworking, kind people who care about society and they are the ones who have earned all the good things this country has to offer.

I also love the examples of bigotry and microaggressions that were more subtle. The WASPs in this movie don’t even realize the backhanded compliments and the truly insulting shit that they do since they’re so entitled. For example, Richard handing Marta his plate while he was arguing for Trump. That’s brilliantly done. He thinks of her as a servant while he pretends she’s on equal footing: saying one thing and yet his actions prove the opposite. There’s also Meg’s comment of “we’re his REAL family,” showing that those bastards all will smile and welcome you until the second you cease to be useful to them and then they show you just how truly ugly they are beneath those “civil” masks. When the will was read, it was the exact shitshow we all knew it would be. That was a great representation of the upper class. It’s not about being loud and racist; it’s all those subtle, hideous things they do to suppress people of color and the working class so they can stay on top where they think they belong. This narrative is powerfully woven in that regard and I really needed to hear this story in today’s climate, especially since we just started 2020 today, which could be the end of everything all over again. I applaud the writing. As a woman of color, I see this kind of shit every single day, especially now that I work in higher education, so I really hope it opens more eyes to the shit that not only immigrants but working class POC deal with on a daily basis. I likened it to Zootopia, where you came to the movie for one reason but then you were served an absolutely piping hot side dish alongside the entrée. Well done, Knives Out. Well done.

I need to give a nod to this powerhouse cast as well. I forgot Michael Shannon was in this movie so seeing him made me giddy, as I’ve always liked him since he’s so damn sinister. He’s a great antagonist actor and I almost wish he’d been given more to do. Jamie Lee Curtis did great as well.

But y’all know what’s coming. I mean, look at my profile picture. You know I have to stop and talk about my future husband’s performance.

Chris Evans as a villain.

Not only that, but Chris Evans as a GREAT villain.

Oh, God, pass me the cigarette.

We all knew from his work in the MCU that the man can act his fine America’s ass off, but boy, did I really like his role here. I compare it to Chris Hemsworth in the godawful movie Bad Times at the El Royale, because while that is one of the worst movies of the decade, it was extremely smart in casting Hemsworth in the villain role. Why? Because it sold the believable factor. Chris Hemsworth is so handsome and charismatic that he COULD in fact be a creepy ass cult leader. You take one look at that man’s chest and tell me you wouldn’t fight a smelly hippie to jump in his bed. Damn right I’d be in a Chris Hemsworth cult. Point being, Chris Evans as the handsome but cruel Hugh was phenomenal. I really enjoyed seeing everything unfold. He did such a great job. It’s all the more satisfying knowing that in real life, he’s the cutest, sweetest goofball on earth. I’m so delighted he took this role because he knocked it out of the park.

Which brings me to my next point.

I’m gonna be a basic fangirl bitch for a second here. Just hear me out.

I’d LOVE an alternate ending to this movie where Hugh didn’t do it.

I know, I know. That’s super basic and dumb and I know part of it is because I just wanted to like Hugh anyway, but it actually would be a great piece of storytelling if you changed the ending.

In this premise, Marta really did mix up the bottles and accidentally killed Harlan. Well, what I would change is that Hugh really did have a benevolent epiphany and he decides to come back to stick it to his shitass family and he figures out what Marta did and decides to help her so she’ll slip him his cut. Then the rest of the film is Hugh and Marta trying to cover the rest of their tracks so that Blanc doesn’t piece together Marta’s accidental crime. Over the course of helping her, Hugh gets to know her and they become friends, so by the time they pull it all off—mind you, I’m ambiguous in this AU, I’d be fine if the detective works it out but lets them cover it up or if they actually manage to just destroy all the evidence so he can’t convict her and he admits defeat—he’s now invested and doesn’t accept the money when she goes to pay him. Bonus points if he falls in love with her during the cover up. It’s not necessary, but I saw a couple little sparks, so I think it would be very cute if Hugh and Marta hooked up to protect each other from the horrible family and build their own empire together. But that’s me.

Trust me, this movie is brilliant as written. It doesn’t need that alternate ending. But I have to admit it got my mind churning about what a fantastic character arc it could be if Hugh hadn’t been the bad guy and he and Marta learned things about each other and formed a friendship. I’m a writer, it’s kind of a hobby, sorry. I hope I’m not the only one who thought that, but we’ll see.

I’m so glad I started 2020 with this film. It’s a rare gem. I can’t wait for it to get on DVD, because I am gonna snag it asap and watch it again. What a romp. It’s also gratifying in a petty way that J.J. Abrams went out of his way to undo Rian Johnson’s work in the Star Wars franchise and it’s backfiring majorly critically speaking meanwhile Knives Out is getting bomb ass good reviews, so good for you, Rian. Your revenge is at hand. #TEAMPETTY

I can’t recommend this hard enough. If you love murder mysteries or if you just love Clue-style quirky black comedy, please see Knives Out. It’s worth every red dime, to quote the movie.

Kyo out.

[cupidsmusings]

The Chained Goddess

Description: Eisuke Ichinomiya had it all. Money, power, and looks. He wanted for not. Some wondered how he did it. How was he able to accomplish so much at such a young age? Rumors that were joked amongst some of the wealthy individuals that knew him were that he sold his soul to the devil. They were almost correct in that aspect. It was not a devil he sold his soul to. He hadn’t even sold his soul to anyone. He was just lucky enough to find a rumored vase and rich enough to purchase it.

Rating: PG-13

Series: The Chained Goddess

Chapter 2: While the Master’s away the Goddess will play.

Couple: Reader insert, but unsure who the love interest is yet

Author’s note: Due to future chapters, most of them will become R rated for NSFW content. For now, though it’ll continue to be PG-13 ^^

A giggle here and a small inquiry there, she traveled through what was a new world to her with eyes alight with wonder. Women were permitted to higher learning, which had been rare, almost unheard of before she was trapped inside the vase. She was still unused to how they wore such revealing clothing. And there was no odor on anyone. It was as if they were all rich enough to acquire expensive oils to mask their stench.

“Hey, Eisuke,” she whispered as she hovered behind him. “When did women start to get an education? It seems that a decision was made while I was imprisoned that allowed women to attend to their schooling like men.”

“Usually only wealthy women could get an education at first, as I’m sure you’re aware. Or were you trapped even before then?” He waited to respond to her when he pulled out his cell phone, an interesting device that one, too bad he wouldn’t let her hold it. Something about “not trusting her”. When she shook her head he continued. “Well as time passed countries allowed more and more women to attend university. Now it’s the norm for that to happen.”

“Interesting….Interesting.” She nodded her head, her eyes honing in on the phone pressed against his ear. “What are the subjects they teach now in… University.” What an odd word. University. To be honest, she could care less about the subjects, but it was best to keep him talking so she could snag his phone from him while he was too preoccupied talking to her.

As he talked she made hums to let him know she was listening. All the while she floated from his left side to his right so she could grasp the phone with ease. Her fingers inched forward and right when she was about to graze the pretty piece of technology the contraption was pulled away from his ear and hidden in his jacket pocket. As she stewed to herself she paid little attention to who Eisuke was talking to. She wasn’t asking for much. She merely wanted to observe it. Wanted to call someone. Wanted to send someone a text. Wanted to play with it.

“Oh really. Thank you.” Eisuke laughed.

That was when she removed herself from her sulking state and floated around the girl that was talking to Eisuke so she could get a better look at him. He was also smiling. Ew. Forced smiles were so boring. She floated back over to Eisuke and sat on his right shoulder.

“Your smile is not reaching your eyes. It is very creepy.” She said and laid her chest across the crown of his head in an overdramatized fashion. “Try thinking of something that actually makes you happy. Your smile will not appear so creepy then.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a class to get to.” He excused himself with a politeness that was dripping with borderline annoyance.

The girl seemed not to notice and just gave him a charming smile before she walked in the opposite direction.

“Your input isn’t needed.” He almost growled. “A servant shouldn’t speak to their master that way anyways.”

“I thought I was your assistant?” She asked and floated in front of him.

Her legs reached towards the sky and her head dangled upside down in front of his own.

“You don’t seem to have the discipline to be an assistant. You’re actually no better than an untrained dog.” He scoffed as he began to walk up the steps to the building his next class was in.

“I feel as if you are trying to insult me.” She mused allowed.

Was he insulting her just because she pointed out a flaw? Oh was this a masculine pride type of scenario. She had dealt with that before. Many of the gods were prideful beings after all.

“My apologies, master. I did not mean to upset you, master.” She said and straighten her body to right-side-up.

Was that a good enough of an apology? Sometimes it took more for a god to forgive her, but gods were known to be more prideful than humans.

“I can’t tell whether you’re mocking me or not.”

“I am being genuine.”

“And here I thought a goddess would be more prideful.”

“An assistant, oh I am sorry, a servant, does not have the right to be prideful.”

He squinted at her then and studied her. Which was honestly odd because this was the first time he’d ever done so. One would think he would have begun his studying of her when she was freed from the vase.

“I don’t think you’re mocking me, but I also don’t think you’re taking the entire thing seriously.” He sighed and climbed even more stairs that would take him to the third floor of the building.

“Oh, I am not.” She told him flagrantly and flew to the top of the stairs. “I just thought it would be best to quell your male pride. I am very aware of how much pride means to a male.”

“You’re actually very rude, you know that.” He told her as he brushed passed her.

Well, brushed through her was more like it. While she was in this form she was more so a ghost than a living being.

“Rude may be I, but you are a man that would throw me away if given a better deal.” She hummed as she floated after him and oh my, the smirk he sent her way sent a thrilling jolt through her body. Her tongue swiped at her bottom lip as she felt her heart pulse in suspense.

“What could be better than a genie in a bottle?” He asked her, his voice low and husky.

“Why I do not believe there is anything more fruitful for a human to obtain.” She responded with her own little smile that spoke of her amusement.

He continued to smirk at her, but his was far more wicked than her own.

 It was later that night when she found herself alone in the apartment she’d have to learn to call her own. She wanted to join Eisuke on his little outing but he had refused and ordered her to remain home. Well, technically he said in a stern voice that she must, “Remain here and don’t even think of following me.” What a rude human! Like she wanted to follow him anyways.

She flipped over from her stomach and onto her back so the ceiling could be the recipient of her annoyed glare. He was amusing sure, but he thought himself so important. It wasn’t that she wanted to follow him but that she wanted to further explore the new world which she had missed grow to such a modern society. She positioned herself so her head hung over the side of the bed. Her gaze now glued to the vase that was placed on a dresser. The thought of seeing the magical chain caused the golden energy to form. Another chain formed on her wrist and outstretched across the room, through the wall to ceiling window and outside to the city below. He was out there, her master, having so much fun while she lay there bored.

“He never ordered me to remain still like some doll.” She declared as she shot up into a sitting position.

He may have ordered her to stay there but he never told her that she couldn’t do what she wished while inside. Mischief danced across her irises as she got her to her feet. What could she do that would cause him turmoil? His face was very endearing when he was glaring in irritation. A shiver skittered down her spine and her insides quivered with an unknown emotion.

With pep in her step, she exited the room and entered his office so she could get a hold of the computer, a device Eisuke had never given her permission to use but never ordered her to reframe from touching it. She took a sit in the wing-back chair and had a little fun spinning herself around and around and around and around. Around she went, laughing joyously to herself, that was until she found herself too dizzy to perform the act anymore.

“What a fun piece of furniture.” She mused aloud to herself as she focused her gaze to steady.

The room no longer tilting this way and that, she focused on typing in the password that would gain her access to all the delicious fun she would be able to give herself. With honing her godly powers onto knowing the password, she was successful in typing it incorrectly her first try. She had never taken note of how Eisuke was able to use the thing, but how hard could a small electric box be?

Not very hard, actually. With just a few random clicks she was able to make it onto what must have been the InterWeb. She was originally going to browse the internet without any clear motive until she found something interesting. It was an advertisement, with words scrawled across it in pretty pink letters, “Looking for fun? Why not give us a call and let us have fun with you”. Oh? She let her head lull to the side as she contemplated the intriguing invitation. Entertainers were just what she needed. It would also be best if they stayed late enough for Eisuke to walk in on them all having fun.

She dialed the number that was written across the add and when a voice sounded from the receiver she almost leapt out of the chair. It would indeed take some getting used to such a device.

“Hello, I would like to request some people from your establishment.” She was direct and to the point and waited with excitement as they asked her how many she wished to join her in her night of fun. “Three is fine.”

When the call ended she shot up from the chair and glided to the front entrance. What kind of games would they play? Hide-n-seek was a rather fun one she enjoyed playing with her father. She let her gaze roam over the apartment in her mind’s eye and it was large enough for such a game. Perhaps the human race had invented other such fun games? If so she couldn’t wait to try them.

As she stood in the corridor pondering what games had been invented since her imprisonment a loud ring broke her from her thoughts. They had arrived! She made sure to have her feet firmly planted on the floor. It wouldn’t do if they all left once seeing a bizarre woman floating above them. No indeed. She skipped to the front door and opened it up with a charming smiling.

“Good evening!” She smiled as she ushered them inside.

“It is my first time using such a service so I am not privy to what we should do. I was thinking perhaps we could play a game of hide-n-seek until we can think of another game that would be more fun.” She told them as she showed them to the living room. She gasped as a thought raced across her mind and she clasped her hands together in excitement. “The winner could pick the next game, yes? A little competition is good for such games!”

Now she truly was excited! It had probably been centuries since she played such games. She wouldn’t even use her powers and would play like a genuine human. It wasn’t even much of a challenge to her. She was amazing at hiding. Her father was never able to find her and he was King of the Heavens!

“Hide-n-seek?” One asked.

He was the tallest of the three, but not the most well-built. The most well-built was probably the shortest of the three. The one with the best face was the man of average height.

“Yes!” She nodded enthusiastically.

“I don’t think she knows what the advertisement was really for,” Small-guy stated and looked at the other two with a look of amusement but a hint of exasperation flashed across his eyes before he looked to her. “Did you think the advertisement meant that we would actually be playing board games together?”

“Board games?” She mumbled and tilted her head to the side, her lips pursed. “Never heard of such things before. Are they fun?”

“You’ve never played a board game?” Average-guy asked, dumbstruck.

“I do not believe that I have.”

The three looked to one another, all perplexed. Was it really strange that she had never played a board game? These board games sure must have been a favourite amongst humans.

“Let us play hide-n-seek first!” She declared. “The winner can decide what game to play next. If any of you wish to play a board game you may suggest it then. But how to decide who is the seeker?”

Her eyebrows furrowed in thought as she looked to the three men in front of her.

“I’ll be it…. I guess.” Tall-guy stated rather awkwardly.

What an adorable human.

“Any room in the apartment not up for grabs?” Short-guy asked as he cracked his knuckles.

“Nope! Every room is fine to hide in!” She informed him and readied herself to go hide once tall-guy started the countdown.

Once he uttered the number 50 she raced for her hiding spot. Hide-n-seek must have been just as much fun for them as it was for her because they had played it none stop since their arrival. It truly was fun. Too bad they had all started to run out of hiding places, for now, she and short-guy were sharing a hiding spot in a closet.

“I didn’t want to say anything at first,” Short-guy started in a whisper. “But you really don’t know what we actually do, do you?”

“What do you mean?” She asked her voice also in a low whisper.

That was when he moved closer. His fingers, coarse and warm, lightly played with her smooth ones.

“We’re more so entertainers of the… Sexual sort.” He purred and pressed a feather-like kiss on her collar bone.

Oh. Oh!

“My apologies! I honestly had no inclination of that kind.” She apologized.

“We could play a different kind of game while we’re here.”

“Does this game have any lewd undertones?”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He started, his voice low, husky, and very alluring. “But I really want to.”

She had never done anything of that nature while in the Heaven’s. Her father had forbidden such matters. It wasn’t as if he was purposely trying to keep her pure, but more so that he did not think anyone suitable for her. Now with the opportunity to try something so daring with someone whose profession was that of pleasure, she couldn’t think of a better opportunity. She draped her arms over his shoulders and dipped her head down to whisper in his ear, in a way that she hoped was also alluring, “I would not mind at all.”

It must have been the correct way to seduce someone because the smirk he gave her sent her skin scrawling in delight. He pressed her against the wall, which pressed the primly pressed suits to scrunch up behind her. Both his hands gently cupped her face while he brought his lips close to her own. So close were they to kissing that when light from the bedroom broke the darkness she realized that they were still in the midst of hide-and-seek.

“Looks like we were found.” Short-guy chuckled, which garnered a giggle from her.

“Yes, I do believe we have been.” She hummed and stepped around him when he pulled back to give her room to do so.

A figure stood in the doorway that was not of the one that was the seeker. The contrast from the light outside the closet made it hard to see who it truly was until she reached closer to him.

“Eisuke!” She all but shouted with glee. She was so excited in fact that she didn’t pick up on the flare in his eyes or the irritated downturn of his lips. “Guess what we’re playing!”

“Seven minutes in heaven?” He asked, rather exasperated.

She again didn’t catch on to the heavy glare that he swept over her and to how that glare hardened when it landed on short-guy.

“No silly,” she laughed and skipped forward. “We were playing hide-‘n-seek. Would you like to play as well?”

“What I would like is for the last remaining gigolo to leave my home.” His words were harsh and it was then that {Name} took note of his less than pleasant mood.

“Gigolo?” She mumbled and tilted her head to the side in thought. “Is that what sex workers are called now and days?”

Short-guy gave a shrug and a lazy smirk her way. “I know when I’m not wanted. Too bad though.”

The wink he sent her way had her legs feeling of jelly.

“Yes. What a disappointment.” Was Eisuke’s bland reply.

She, being the ever so gracious hostess, walked him to the front door. He turned to her once he stood in the hallway outside the apartment.

“If you ever need me, you know where to call.” He gave her a wolfish grin. “I wouldn’t mind treating you to a good time…”

The door was promptly slammed in his face before he could finish his sentence. Her eyes traveled from the hand that was placed against the door to the face of its owner.

“I do not see why you are so angry. I had nothing to do and it was not as if I knew they were “gigolo’s”. I simply thought they were entertainers.” She explained to him and opted to float in the air once more.

He merely arched a brow at her before he walked passed her. She, of course, followed him. He walked into his closet and looked over the clothes they had crumpled and it was then that she took notice of the few pieces of suit shirts that had fallen off their hangers and were now strewn about the floor.

“Did you two fuck in my closet?” He asked as he picked up each shirt.

“What a vulgar thing to say. But, no, we did not have sex in your closet. We were close to kissing each other though. It is too bad, he looked like he would given me a wonderful kiss.” She assured him.

“Fine. Get rid of these clothes that both you and he touched.” He ordered as he practically shoved his way past her.

“How would you propose I do that?”

“Burn them. Toss them in the trash. Use your imagination.”

She more so heard than saw him shut the master bathroom door. Despite how normally he shut the door, it still gave the sense of him slamming it. Was it really wrong of her to invite people over to entertain her? It was his fault for leaving her alone. She looked down at the clothes before she let her gaze move to the ones that were barely hanging onto their hangers. With a dramatic sigh, she snapped her fingers and watched with mild satisfaction as the clothes disappeared into nothingness.

[xathia-89]

A Lesson in the Biblical Sense

Big thank you to @thequeenshuntress for proofreading this. I was nervous about unleashing things back out. And thank you to everyone for being patient, I now get to enjoy a four to six week wait on the outcome of yesterday’s assessment. 

“Lady Hampton!” A curt voice attracted the woman’s attention from across the marketplace. A young man made a path through the crowds of the gathering. His eagerness to get to her was suggesting that he had been actively looking for her, and his robes put her inclinations towards him being a Catholic priest. Though his youth was something of a surprise as he approached. Evelyn kept a small smile on her face, she knew that Sebastian would have heard her title shouted and would likely be trying to keep tabs on her as well. They had both been shopping for the food for the shelter, while Sebastian was then also mulling over dinner for the evening at the mansion. She had attempted to cover her status with a modest dress, but the way she carried herself was ingrained and would often give her away. 

“Can I be of assistance, Father?” Her smile was polite and pleasant, there was no need to be hostile straight off, but she couldn’t just let her guard down around anyone. Her basket was carefully placed in the crook of her elbow, and she had already purchased some root vegetables which would come in handy as projectiles should things turn sour. 

“I wished to discuss your shelter,” he was a little out of breath, suggesting that he had exerted more energy than usual in his coverage of the market square to ensure that she didn’t leave. 

“I’m not certain what interest my shelter could hold for yourself,” it was taking everything in the woman to remain civil at a glance, the religious were usually the ones petitioning against her work. She was becoming sorely tempted to shout for Sebastian as she pulled the basket in front of her. A physical barrier against the male. 

“I mean no offence, Lady Hampton,” the priest gently replied, he had apparently sensed that she was used to attacks regarding it, holding both of his hands up in a surrendering motion. “I was just hoping to discuss it with you so I can understand your motives, I have only heard about your work from the more unscrupulous sides of my parish.”

“Then maybe we can be civil about it, and discuss it over dinner. My benefactor will be attending,” her smile was lethal, and her tone was crisp. It was an ultimatum, rather than an offer. “He may also be able to help you in your understanding.”

***

It wasn’t the first time that Evelyn was dressing herself up for the main course of a dinner. Sebastian knew what would impress at any occasion, and he was becoming a master at styling her curls delicately. He was delicately placing the ornate headband amongst her tresses, ensuring that the gems would be sparkling and not sunk underneath her dark green locks. It was the first time she would be dining with a clergyman in regards to her shelter, but she couldn’t rule out the fact that he would be angling for her hand in marriage. 

“Monsieur Le Comte wouldn’t allow for it,” Sebastian interrupted her inner monologue, drawing attention to his unusually emotive face with a coy smile on it. “He would marry you himself rather than allow anyone else to even entertain the idea.”

“I fear that one day he may have to entrap us all in this mansion and its grounds permanently because of the attention my work brings, and that would mean William as well. And I like that idea even less than the constraints of a traditional marriage that the Church would have you believe is the only good place for a woman to be.” 

Le Comte had insisted on arriving at the restaurant early, and for once Evelyn hadn’t been able to slow Sebastian down to her usual pace. Which meant that she was on his schedule. He didn’t pass her a smile when she was presented to him in the entrance hall, but merely just offered his arm to her so that she could be escorted to the waiting carriage.

The restaurant staff were falling over themselves to seat the pair, but then the surprise of being told that they were waiting for a Father Berger to join them. It stunned most of the conversation around them as well, as minds jumped to conclusions before Evelyn politely coughed to break the spell woven over their frozen waiter. The pureblood was on edge, ordering a bottle of the finest champagne for the table out of automation and to get some space from the prying gazes of everyone around them. 

It was only the third time that Le Comte could recall Evelyn asking for his help, and that was what was making him feel so on edge. The woman wasn’t breaching the silence as the waiter returned with an uncorked bottle of champagne, pouring it into the crystal flutes that had appeared on the table in the meantime. Evelyn was acting like the noblewoman she was, a role she loathed to fill, but even she had to admit there were occasions it came to hand as the waited for third party finally arrived. 

“Apologies for keeping you both waiting,” the human male was a surprise to the pureblood. Evelyn hadn’t said how young he appeared, and the cleanly pressed robes added to his sharp image that he liked to present to the world. His faith was clearly displayed around his neck as he took the empty seat opposite the male vampire. “Good evening, Lady Hampton. I wanted to thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I appreciate that you had no reason to comply with my request.”

“You wished to understand my motives, and you appeared open to learning,” Evelyn replied curtly, ensuring to keep the barrier up to stop him getting close to her before turning her attention to the pureblood next to her. “Monsieur Le Comte de Saint Germain, my benefactor-” 

“I believe it is seldom that I step in now,” Le Comte interrupted with a hollow smile, demanding that the priest look at him. “You keep it going under your own means and are doing more than just meeting the requirements to keep the shelter open. It is merely a title given to me because people never wish to believe that a woman could manage anything as well as, or better than, a man could play in your position.” 

Father Berger chuckled, stopping a waiter from filling his glass with champagne, and resting some water instead before offering his hand to the pureblood. “It is rare to hear such passion spoken about another’s work. I feel as though I am possibly intruding.” 

Le Comte squeezed the human’s hand harder than strictly necessary in a display of dominance before the meals were brought out for them. 

“You wished to discuss the complaints you had heard from some of your flock?” Evelyn was being polite and forcing the conversation back onto track, reminding the two men about the reason for their meeting.

“Yes, I understand from what I have heard is that you take in women and young children, but you exclude men and are renown for turning out young boys because you state that they are a threat. You break up marriages, and claim all sorts of vile things about the husbands,” the Father explained, picking up the correct cutlery from the assortment in front of them as he was prepared to cut into his lamb. “Yet, the bible teaches us that marriage is a sacred bond between one man and one woman, and that with the blessing of our Lord that they should be fruitful and multiply.” 

“Yet in Ephesians, it states that the husband should give up for his wife as the Lord did for us,” Evelyn was glowering a little at the man. “The state these women come to me is as a battered and bruised wife, they have not been treasured as Peter teaches us. They are abused as the weaker gender, and their husbands believe that they should dominate and terrorise their family to maintain their status.” 

It made the pureblood smile. Her Father had been keen to use the bible against his daughter, and she knew that book more than most would. It was something that their new ‘friend’ was also not missing, a warm smile at the challenge from the female as they politely tucked into their food. 

“Corinthians also states that a married couple are to give their bodies over to each other, they are to be devoted to their marriage,” the Father had plenty to go on it as he sipped at the water. “And Hebrews teaches us that marriage is to be honoured by everyone as well. Not just the two involved directly, and then Mark states that what God has joined together should not be separated by anyone.”

“Colossians says to never be harsh with your wife, I have had to treat more than just a little harshness to these women I receive. The bible may say many things, but your flock are the reason I have to keep my shelter open. If they loved them so, I would have no need to be here,” Evelyn reminded the man. “I may be interfering with the Lord’s work, but it is only out of my own devotion and love for my fellow beings that I act. Corinthians teaches us that love is kind and gentle, but nothing of what I have seen could be classed as anything but the devil’s work.” 

Father Berger was enjoying the cutting edge of the female’s mind, Le Comte knew better than to intervene when Evelyn was feeling as threatened as she was in the moment. Her cerise gaze was fixated on the young man, determined to prove her own worth in her own terms to him. He was merely present as society demanded. 

“The bible says many things I think you will find,” Evelyn continued, apparently going unchallenged. “A daughter could be sold as a slave according to the bible, but we have agreed that this is a level of savagery that we should be above as a country. No one should own another being for them to be worked to death. Why should a woman be forced to stay with a husband because they are married, when he is treating her akin to his own personal slave? She is expected to endure his temper and beatings because they have a so-called sacred bond that is endorsed by God, and society believes in this for some reason. If we are to use the bible as the basis for our laws and arguments, then we should also be repeating back at the husbands about how they should be treating their wives.” 

“I must admit, your knowledge of scripture does surprise me. I have yet to see you step foot inside a house of our Lord of any faith,” Father Berger was enjoying himself far too much.

“My father insisted it was my studying as a child because I was to devote myself to making him happy only. My life had no other purpose to him, I had killed his wife off if you asked him, which did free him from committing adultery, but that meant he was then burdened with my upbringing,” her smile was empty and devoid of any pleasant emotions. “He was far from pleased when I had begun to dictate verses back to him about how I should be treated as well.” 

“Your motives are admirable,” the human nodded. “Would you be requiring any assistance in your works?” 

“I do not allow men onto the grounds. I would hate for any of the women to be at risk of an abusive family finding her again, so I simply do not allow any man of an age to be able to throw a punch onto the grounds. Which is where the complaints arise, I believe,” she was already mentally closing the door on the man, that much was evident in her voice and eyes. 

“There have been several occasions I have been required to send my butler and coach searching the streets of Paris for her as well,” Le Comte broke his silence, sipping on the champagne languidly. “Because she is hunted down to be beaten by the husbands. All for the fact she is protecting the women from the treatment that she is now subjected to at their hands, and they believe themselves worthy of complaint because they show up to your Church to listen to God’s words.” 

“I would like to open my Church to your users as well. I would like to give your residents a chance to share God’s work, and I would be willing to ensure that it is a private session where no outside individuals could partake in,” the Father paused, weighing up the possibilities and logistics. 

“There is an old shed on the outskirts of my grounds, perhaps a similar shelter could be built on the outsides of the railings, and it could be better purposed, then it would allow for those who wish to attend to do so in safety, since the railings would keep any unwanted out as well,” she proposed, putting her cutlery to the side on her plate. 

“That sounds like an appropriate compromise for both of you,” Le Comte commented, relaxing a little. 

***

True to her word, the women of the shelter were more than a little keen to transform the shed that had been derelict for as long as anyone could remember. They enjoyed the challenge and refused to even let Evelyn help as the small group who wanted to create the space for worship barreled their way through the task. 

Father Berger had been spending his time addressing those with complaints after it was seen that he was making a space on the other side of the railings to shelter him from the extremes of weather. It drew a lot of attention, and it became clear that the door would require frequent replacement from the offset as many saw it as a chance to shelter from bitter and harsh weather when the streets were being unforgiving. 

The first session was a success, many of the attendees were more out of curiosity to see who had agreed to work with Lady Hampton on such a case. The young priest was charismatic, even the vampire had to admit that as she watched everyone filter out in the evening light. It was agreed that the worship would be held on a Tuesday evening, Sunday was too tight for him to dedicate and Evelyn had insisted on being able to set a slot for the daily routine of her shelter. It was warming her to see so many regulars attending as the sound of the door opening attracted her attention. 

“Lady Hampton, I am surprised to see you here,” Father Berger was all smiles. “I assume that I am doing an adequate job?”

“Yes, those who wish to attend your sermons are encouraged to, whilst those who fear religion are not forced. The only complaints I have heard are that we need to enhance the shelter to deal with wind, but the women are already thinking around that, and I have been banished from helping,” she smiled. 

“How is your husband?” The question caught Evelyn off guard, and she began to choke on air. 

“H-husband?” She asked, her eyes watering as she tried to stop herself coughing. 

“Yes, Monsieur Le Comte de Saint Germain,” Father Berger smiled. 

“We are not married or committed to each other,” she laughed, managing to finally get herself under control. 

“But do you not live together?”

“We live in the same mansion when I am not here, yes, but there are also eleven other individuals present who reside there.”

“That must make life interesting,” he chuckled. 

“Just a little indeed, thank you, Father,” she inclined her head slightly, before going to follow the last woman inside. 

“Are you sure I couldn’t interest you to attend the next session of worship?” 

“I believe it would interrupt everyone else’s enjoyment. I would be merely interrupting you constantly.”

“Then I must invite you to dinner again, I enjoyed our conversation,” Father Berger smiled. “And I have no intention of marriage, the Catholic Church does tend to frown on anything but celibacy.” 

“Then may I suggest you allow me to host you a dinner at the mansion, I am not the only intellectual who may enjoy jousting with you,” Evelyn replied. “I’m not certain that they would appreciate me meeting you outside of the mansion without one of them present until you have been given their approval.”

“It sounds as though they believe themselves your family.”

“They are. We deeply care for each other, and always ensure that everyone else is safe,” the woman replied with a nod and a smile. “I will send an invitation to your residence, and have the boys suitably chastised to your visit.”

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Rise and Falls [4] PAIRING: Arthur Morgan/OC REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: Ida O’Donnell, no more than a petty thief, realizes that her life really comes in a series of firsts, and some unfortunate seconds and thirds. WARNINGS: None. NOTE: Here’s the fourth part of this and much earlier than expected. I was pretty motivated this weekend, and I’ve managed to plan some things out more so hopefully things might be coming a little more consistently if life and writer’s block allow! ALSO: since this is a series, I do have it posted on A03 for people who want to read the next chapters I post or missed a couple, feel free to ask for the link!

Ida’s first impression of camp was how big it was compared to what she had been told all those years ago by Dutch, and she couldn’t help at how impressed she was about how quickly they managed to pack it all up. 

Tents became poles and boxes, things being tucked and stacked away in caravans to head off into who knows where. She certainly didn’t, not completely. She’d heard about Dutch needing to move on from a failed investment out in their current part of the country, some debate between him and Hosea about where to go next. Toward some mountains, further into the heat and out west, Ida wasn’t sure and she tried not to pry into their conversations. 

She had been stationary for most of her life outside of the short bit she had managed to break away from the family. She could still see the figure of her father, stumbling over some of the rocks of his home when she had mentioned heading out on her own for a while. 

“Family’s all ya got, girl, and you’ll realize that soon enough when ya come crawlin’ back ‘ere. All we ever damn well needed and it’s gonna be on MY terms on if yer gonna be seein’ that again after all this.” 

The memory put a bitter feeling in her gut, but she didn’t get to linger in it long before Grimshaw had come up behind her, voice stressed and harsh. 

“Free ride’s over, missy! Time you get to work, there ain’t no time for standin’ around!” 

Much as the tone made her want to snap back at her, Ida found herself once again grateful to not have the distraction, so she just gave her a tight lipped (barely there) smile before nodding and heading toward where Tilly was working on packing up the wagon she had been sharing with them. Really, they had the place in wagons by the time Dutch decided they were going to head out toward some trading post Hosea was talking about. 

Blackwater, New Austin. 

Actually riding out toward their destination was another thing Ida had never really experienced. A group this big, moving around without much suspicion? Well, she had her doubts. She had rode out with her brothers every now and again, but it was rare for the whole family to actual leave home. Her father had made that known throughout her life, either too drunk or angry at them to stomach a ride with them all. 

So, Ida really was all too happy to ride along back on Tyrant, giving the horse the chance to move his legs and get some energy out. She was nervous about him, admittedly, and it didn’t mix all too nicely with her irritation over how this whole thing was pulling all her thoughts about her family to the surface. It felt that ever since she had agreed to join them, it opened up a gate to let all of that through and she was growing exhausted. 

However, for once, Tyrant seemed to relent to being ridden for the most part. There were a few shifts and almost tantrums, but for the most part he hadn’t decided to kick her off his back wholly for once. Really, he seemed like a sturdy horse, keeping up behind one of the wagons easily enough as Ida tried to keep up with the conversations that faded in and out around her as people moved up and down the line. 

It was busy but lacked chaos, it was something to watch in her opinion. 

The whole thing was new and much like she had learned through pick pocketing, you tend to learn quite a bit by just letting people move about you. She could see the hopefulness with the other women, Ida trying her best to give an opinion when asked but for the most part she wasn’t sure where they were going to end up. Wasn’t her place, she figured, considering how recently she agreed to ride with them all. She didn’t see Arthur, Dutch, or Hosea much, the three of them leading out in front with the wagon and seemed to be in conversation about something. 

Despite the uncertainty about the whole thing, she found herself just taking in everything as she leaned against the horn of Tyrant’s saddle and kept her eyes around herself as they continued to ride. 

“Goddamn bastard ‘f a man…” 

Abigail was all clenched teeth and harsh tugging against the thread and needle she had all but almost tore apart boxes to get to, the camp not settled by any means as Dutch had declared at their small stop in order to sort some things out. With weather and location permitting, they had stopped for a day or two, Ida wondering if it had to do with the newcomers that had appeared along their journey. A woman they had found along the road, and a man that Dutch had found at one of the local saloons before they had left. 

Ida figured she should consider herself among the two of them, considering her being yet another recent addition. Still, she had given an answer and she didn’t see much of a reason so far to change her mind on it. 

However, it appeared there was still no shortage of drama as Abigail had saught them out after a while, her young son in tow, who now took up drawing in the dirt with a stick as his mother seemed to be taking some aggression out on some unfinished project that she had found among their things. 

“He’s bein’ a drunk fool…” Tilly supplied around a small sigh, Ida keeping her head down as she just continued to listen as she worked on repairing a blanket for Tyrant’s saddle. 

“Oh, I know. It’s nothin’ new,” Abigail returned, “Just wish he’d not have to carry on like that in front of the boy, he’s broken his heart enough.” 

Ida found her gaze lifting toward Jack who was sitting on the ground, his back to them as he seemed to have his attention on what he was making in the dirt. Initially, she had been rather surprised to see a child wandering freely among them, most people greeting him like family. No doubt he had it rough in an environment like their current, but she hadn’t seen too much of his father. John, as she’d been introduced, but she had yet to really talk much with the man. 

It was a big group, it had her struggling to keep names and faces together, much less trying to form bonds with people who she had yet to know the personalities of. Though, it felt like the women had welcomed her in enough, outside of the distant Molly but...well, she had a feeling that was a different thing on its own. 

“Y’all do me a favor,” Abigail continued after a pause, Ida turning her gaze toward her a moment, “Don’t go runnin’ off to get married anytime soon, it’s not worth it.” 

Despite herself, Ida found a bitter scoff escaping before she felt eyes on her. She glanced up to some curious gazes, realizing that had been louder than she intended. 

“Oh, I’ve been down that road,” she explained, “I agree, it’s not something I’ve been looking to approach again.” Anytime soon. 

“You were married?” Mary-Beth asked from where she had been sitting behind them on a box, Ida not really enjoying the door this conversation was opening. Still, she spoke up…

“Well, no, but almost,” she replied, “Some men don’t need drink to act like fools. There’s...a story to it all, but it’s not one I enjoy going over, but I can say I can relate to the frustration. I was...sold on one idea presented to me when the reality was not even close to what I had been believing.”

“I can certainly understand that,” Abigail stated, shaking her head as she glanced back down at what she was fiddling with in her lap. 

“Oh, you’re both so cynical,” Mary-Beth stated, “Well...I guess I can understand why, but there’s nothin’ wrong with hopin’ for somethin’ better.” 

“It’s not some romance novel, Mary-Beth,” Karen stated, Ida shrugging. 

“It’s not her fault,” she replied, glancing over at Mary-Beth, “I suppose there’s nothing wrong with hoping for something better, but I know I’m not really hoping for it in that part of my life. I’m more hopeful about where it is we’re traveling to.” 

“Does this mean you’re stayin’?” Tilly asked, shifting so she could meet her gaze as Ida glanced over at her, “I mean, I noticed Miss Grimshaw pressing a little harder on you than before.” 

“I suppose,” Ida stated with a nod, “She told me...the free ride’s over, much as she made sure it didn’t really feel like one, but...well, I told Dutch and Hosea I would ride with them to this new town. New town, new opportunities.”

“Well you better be gettin’ used to new towns,” Karen stated, making Ida let out a short chuckle. 

“They were looking to hang me in the previous one, so it’ll be better than that regardless of how this turns out.” 

Would it? Well, time would only tell. Still, she had made some sort of decision regarding where she was wanting to stay, it wouldn’t do much use to doubt it completely. Still, she was a bit of a doubter by nature, considering how she was raised. Gut feelings had kept her alive thus far, the rest was left to turn over in her head with indecisiveness. It was something to work on, but…

Well, she never had such a wide range of company before. It was hard not to feel overwhelmed in some way. 

Still, she was hopeful about her situation, which was a first in a long while.

 As exhausted as she felt, it was hard not to really take a bottle when it was offered. 

Spirits were high, if not a little impatient, but Dutch moved about the space with confidence and his ambitions for them all were not hard to miss. He seemed to be happy with their direction, the uncertainty gone and it allowed for people to relax some. They’d be moving again within a day or so, Ida taking that statement as fact and found herself trying to keep her mind on that and not the feelings and memories the situation brought about, not to mention the earlier conversation with the other women. 

It wasn’t hard to take a bottle when it was offered. 

Still, it also wasn’t hard to fall into similar spirits as the people around her, sipping on the beer as she listened to the stories and songs. In moments like this, it was easy to forget that they were a group of outlaws, but she figured she didn’t have room to judge with all she had done. Really, it was rather enthralling to listen to the stories, believable or not. All she really had were the ones her brothers and father liked to boast about, and her own but...well, she had a hard time sharing as it were. 

She watched the faces around the campfire that had been set up, taking in the expressions and conversations. Ida found her gaze lingering on one of the more familiar faces, not having seen Arthur much throughout the move but she couldn’t help but watch as she seemed to be joking (or mocking) something Sean had mentioned. She had seen the odd amused look or chuckle tossed her why when they would have the chance to talk before, but the grin on his face this time was different. 

He looked relaxed, but tired at the same time. It was something that had her stare lingering for a moment too long before she caught herself, letting out a small sigh through her nose and finishing off her beer. She could feel something twisting in her chest and gut, Ida doing her best to shove the feeling down. 

Bidding a good night to Karen, whom she had been sitting beside, she made her way toward the wagon again where Abigail lay asleep with Jack at her side, the earlier conversation echoing in Ida’s mind as she let out a sigh. 

If only she was better and shoving aside her thoughts, it felt like in the dust of the wagons it kicked up more than just dirt and sand. 

Useless thoughts, anyway.

[selfship-uncharted]

The Fugitive part XIV

part I - part II - part III - part IV - part V - part VI - part VII - part VIII - part IX - part X - part XI - part XII - part XIII - part XIV

A/N: So sorry for the delay, had to finish some commissions, also holidays and didn’t have much time. A/N2: English is not my first language. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OC (Claire Russell) Warnings: might contain spoilers from chapter 3 and on Words: 2,964 Tags: @asiramhera @missdictatorme @zoilalove213   @avast-you-dirty-dog @lowkeyofsassguard

Special thanks to @asiramhera for being my beta-reader. Tons of love for you!

Claire woke up alone in Arthur's bed, she didn't realize when he left or what time it was. She got up to see the photo of that young woman in its place but the letter that was there last night wasn't there anymore. She had a bad feeling about it.

Lazily she got up and went outside. The gang members were doing their chores or taking a rest but there was no sign of Arthur or his horse.

The voices of Tilly and Mary-Beth caught Claire’s attention. She got near the girls who were knitting and sewing. They were talking about Arthur and a woman named Mary.

“Who is Mary?” Claire couldn’t help but ask fearing about the answer.

The two girls were startled by the sudden interaction. They exchanged looks but neither of them said anything. They looked back at Claire with an apologetic look.

“Oh! You don't know who dear Mary Linton is?” Karen appearing from nowhere rested her weight on Claire's back, pressing her big breast against her, wrapping the ginger girl in her arms, holding a bottle of whiskey. “And we thought you were so close to our Arthur and you don't even know who Mary Linton is. Poor girl!” Karen mockingly caressed Claire cheek who was getting uneasy of all that physical contact. “And what a bastard is Arthur Morgan.” She took a long sip from her bottle like that was a toast.

“Karen, please!” Mary-Beth stood up trying to free Claire from Karen's embrace. “You are drunk, again, and saying inappropriate things…”

Karen released Claire in a sarcastic laugh. “She will soon join me when she sees her little Arthur is not as hers as she believes…”

Karen went away tottering to one side and the other. The three young women saw her with pity in her eyes. Since Sean’s death, she drank too often.

“So, who is Mary Linton?” Claire asked again losing her patience.

Mary Linton was Arthur's first love, they met when they were pretty young but they were ready to marry each other. She broke his heart when she gave in to his father's wishes and married another man, richer and cleaner, legally speaking.

Many years had passed and now Mary, being widowed sent letters to Arthur who after all those years has stayed single and kept her photo on his tent.

A sarcastic smile drew on Claire's face when she grabbed the hay bale for the horses. She felt even more ridiculous when a tear ran down her cheek.

“Geez, Claire, don't be stupid…” She let fall down the bale on the ground and dried her tear trying to convince herself there wasn't a big deal.

“What a pity to see a beautiful lady crying.” She turned around startled seeing Dutch in front of her. “What's the matter, sweetheart?”

“Oh, nothing…” She dismissed him.

“Did someone do something to you?” He asked getting closer. “If someone is bothering you don't hesitate to tell me.”

“It's okay, really, nothing important.” Dutch was extremely close for Claire's taste.

“Don't underplay the matters, if that made you cry it must be important.”

“I… I don't really want to talk about it…” she said fearing he could get angry.

“It's okay, darling.” Dutch smiled at her removing a lock of ginger hair from her face to the back of her ear. “Just want to make sure you are all right, with us.” Dutch eyes were intensely staring at her making her uneasy. He suddenly gave her more space. “I hear you went hunting with Charles and Mrs Adler.” Claire nodded. “They said you did well. Mr Pearson was happy with what you brought him.” Dutch took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, he took a deep puff from it, slowly exhaling the smoke between his lips. Claire just stood there not knowing what to do or what to say, that man, Dutch Van der Linde made her anxious, it was difficult for her to tell what he was thinking. “Say, Claire, 'cause I can call you Claire, right?” Claire slowly nodded. “Or do you prefer Mrs Cornwall?” Claire froze in her place, unexpectedly Dutch knew of her real identity and wasn't sure if that was good news. If she remembered correctly Arthur told her she said her father’s surname to Dutch, he also believed in wasn’t a good idea to talk about her relationship with Cornwall.

Dutch took another sip of his cigarette and raised his eyes to her again smirking, happy to have caught her off guard. “Don't you worry, Claire, I trust you. Because I can trust you, can't I?” He threw the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it not taking his eyes from her like he was trying to send her a message.

Claire gulped and pressed her lips. She took a deep breath and tried to recover herself. She crossed her arms in front of her and eyed him.

“That depends on how your trust is of use for me.” Dutch looked at her surprised, he didn’t expect that comeback. Claire held his stare not willing to give up.

Dutch burst into laugh. “What are you doing with Arthur?”

“What do you mean?” She asked confused with the sudden change of subject.

“You are romantically involved, right?” Dutch eyed her waiting for her reaction.

“I guess…” Claire looked away, the name of Mary Linton came back to her mind. It also was the first time someone asked her about her relation with Arthur, relation which she ignored the current status.

“How a beautiful young smart Lady like you is with him?”

“Are you implying he is not smart? Or that… I might be using him?” Claire narrowed her eyes.

“I don’t know, what would you say?” Dutch shrugged his shoulders and leaned his head to her trying to play the innocent.

“What do you want from me, Mr Van der Linde?” She finally asked losing her patience, she wanted that riddle to be over as soon as possible.

Dutch smiled at her widely but still didn’t say any word.

“What do I have to do to trust me?” She sighed defeated.

“I want you to talk me about that Cornwall information you were going to give to Arthur.” His smile disappeared from his face standing in front of the young girl a few inches of her.

***

Dutch let her in first in the big living room of the abandoned manor. A wooden table stood in the middle of it with some chairs. Micah was sitting in one of them resting his feet on the table reading the newspapers.

Micah folded the papers when he saw Claire and Dutch entering the room.

“Ah, Mrs Cornwall!” He exclaimed with false surprise. He threw the newspapers in the table for her to see. A photo of herself with her married name was in one column announcing her disappearance. The news said Mr and Mrs Cornwall were attacked by criminals while having their morning walk. They badly beat Mr Cornwall who was still recovering at his house from the injuries and took Mrs Cornwall away, still the motive was unknown since a ransom wasn't on demand. The police were trying to find clues about the whereabouts of Mrs Cornwall, they didn’t lose faith they would find her alive.

Claire tried to not show any kind of emotion while reading it, especially feeling Micah’s gaze studying her.

“What do you want from me?” Claire set aside the newspapers like it didn't affect her in any way.

“We know that bastard of Cornwall has a lot of money.” Started Micah walking in front of Claire. “We want it.”

Claire sighed and took a step back, she didn't like Micah Bell and to have him that close repulsed her.

“We know you were going to give Arthur some information.” Continued Dutch.

The young lady leaned on the table crossing her arms in front of her. Micah impatiently walked around the room.

“What do I gain in return?” She eyed the gang leader.

“Insolent bitch!” Dutch raised his hand to stop Micah who was ready to jump on Claire.

“Protection.” He answered leaning on the table by her side, nearly touching her shoulder with his. “Safety. A family. Freedom.” That last word he said it whispering to her ear making her shiver. “I guess you don't want to go back with the Cornwalls…”

His insinuation got her right away. Of course, she didn’t want to go back to Theodore. And after what happened, it was not the best idea. Theodore would take revenge on her, for abandoning him, humiliating him and letting him be beaten by a buffoon… how he called him.

Claire studied Dutch’s face, but he didn’t show any emotion or any of his thoughts. He was serious, so if she didn’t help them, Dutch might just take her back to Cornwall, and she wasn’t sure Arthur would be able to do anything to stop him.

“Okay…” she said defeated. “Before leaving that house I heard the Cornwalls talking about a cargo from the Oil Field to be sold at Saint-Denis port. For how they talked I can say it was quite secretive and it got a lot of money involved.” The two men observed the ginger girl with attention. “Sadly, I don’t have more information, but…” she did a little pause eyeing first at Micah who was going to protest and then back at Dutch who was just staring at her waiting for what she had to say. “I might know someone who can help me with that.”

“Who?” Micah asked impatiently.

“I’m not gonna tell. Especially not to you.” She spat out.

Micah stepped quickly to her and grab strongly her neck with one hand. Claire couldn’t breathe, she grabbed his wrist trying to free herself by digging her nails in his flesh but his grip was strong, his eyes full of hatred.

“Micah!” Dutch ordered him to let her go.

“She is playing us, Dutch! Don’t you see it?” Micah slowly raised Claire onto the tip of her toes while she fought him.

“Micah, let. Her. Go.” Dutch repeated not very nicely.

Micah groaned but obeyed.

Claire fell on her knees coughing to recover her breath when Micah released his grip. Dutch held her by her shoulders to help her stand.

“I’m sorry for this incident, Mrs Cornwall, my friend here has no proper manners.” Dutch apologised to her being suddenly formal.

Claire touched her neck which was burning from Micah’s fingers pressing against her skin seconds ago.

Dutch accompanied her outside the stance.

“About that contact of yours…” insisted Dutch.

“I will deal with it…” She replied in a cough.

“Good.” Dutch nodded. “And again, I’m so sorry.”

***

Arthur arrived late at night at the camp. He could hear some of his friends singing around the bonfire to his favourite songs. He got close to them and was ready to start singing too when he spotted Claire holding a beer and dancing with the other girls.

“But, what is a Ring-dang-doo?” Claire asked bumping into Mary-Beth having troubles to walk straight when everyone started to sing the chorus of the song.

Mary-Beth looked at her and giggled covering her lips.

“You are such an innocent creature…” Karen’s arms wrapped her in an embrace holding her from behind. The blond woman then whispered the lyrics to her ear while her hand started roaming to Claire’s body. “Soft and round like pussy cat, got a hole in the middle and split it in two,” Karen’s hand stopped at the crotch of Claire’s pants and with no shame, she squeezed it making the ginger girl bend forward protecting her delicates. “That’s what you call a Ring-dang-doo.” Karen burst into laugh when Claire fell on the ground with her legs closed and she joined Karen with a loose laugh.

“You ladies, surely know how to have fun, don’t you?” Claire lifted her eyes and found Arthur who was offering her his hand to help her to stand up.

“I ain’t need your help, ya old man!” Claire slapped his hand leaving Arthur confused.

Claire wanted to drink from her bottle but it was already empty.

“It’s empty!” She complained. “I need more beer!”

“You need to go to sleep.” Mary-Beth crouched by her side and help her stand up. “She is been drinking all afternoon with Karen.” She explained to Arthur. “Something must be bugging her but she doesn’t tell us.”

When Arthur tried to get her she moved away protesting. “Don't wanna go with ya, grumpy old man!”

“Maybe… this morning… we told her about Mary…” Mary-Beth dedicated to Arthur an apologetic smile like she felt responsible for what Claire made her want to get drunk.

“But… what…?” Arthur couldn’t formulate the question, he didn’t find the words but Mary-Beth understood Arthur’s doubts. How could Mary affect Claire in any way?

“Oh come on, Arthur, she clearly has a thing for you.” Those words took Arthur by surprise. Did Claire really feel something for him? No, it couldn’t be, why she would?

“No, I don’t!” Claire clumsily protested holding Mary-Beth tightly. “I love Mary-Beth, not that grumpy old man.”

Arthur bit his bottom lip feeling like he messed it up this time. He bent forward and load Claire like a sack of potatoes. “Time to go to bed.” Before going to the manor he turned to Mary-Beth. “Thank you, Mary-Beth.” He said for her taking care of Claire.

“Put me down, ya old man!!” Protested Claire kicking in the air and punching his back.

“No way. You’r comin’ with me.” Arthur held her tighter to prevent her from falling on her face. “You’ve drunk enough for one night.”

Arthur walked to the front door but with the movement, he made Claire even dizzier.

“I'm gonna puke…” She said but the warning came too late.

Arthur rapidly let her on the ground but she already had vomit on his shirt.

“Jesus, kid! How much have you drank?” Arthur patted and rubbed her back and held her hair like he did not so long ago. Then he noticed, there was little light but he clearly saw the marks on her neck. “Hey, what's that?”

“Nothing...” she set his hand aside.

“What's the matter, Claire?” He asked worriedly.

“Nothing…” she repeated wrapping herself in her own arms.

Arthur made her look at him by gently turning her face to him. But Claire once again pushed away his touch.

A groan escaped him, bothered and impatient. He took her in his arms despite her protests and carried her to his room.

“Put me down!” She tried to push him away but his grip was strong.

“Yes, I know ‘grumpy old man’” He replied annoyed.

He left her on his bed where she curled herself between the sheets giving him her back.

Arthur looked at her, troubled, he felt like she didn’t want him there, near her, he felt rejected. Of course, why would she want him near? She was young, beautiful and graceful, while he was old, ugly and grumpy.

The sour smell from his shirt disturbed him. He needed to clean himself, he went to the door.

“Where are you going?” She asked suddenly turning at him seeing him go.

“This grumpy old man needs a change of clothes and a place to sleep.” He answered bitterly not looking at her.

“Don’t go, Arthur!” She called him but the cowboy already left.

Claire let herself fall on the cushion feeling stupid for being the one who pushed him away. She turned to face the wall to hide her tears. Her head was aching, her throat was sour, she felt dizzy for all the alcohol she drank and she felt extremely stupid and helpless.

Minutes later Arthur came back in the room bringing with him a glass of water for her, but when he saw she was sleeping he left the glass on the night table beside the bed. He removed his dirty shirt and threw it on the floor.

“Why is it that everywhere I go… I feel… trapped?” She whispered in a trembling voice.

Arthur looked at her back surprised of hearing her, he slowly sat on the bed trying to look at her face. Her eyes were locked on the wall in front of her, dried tears traced her cheeks covered with freckles. Arthur, slowly and afraid, removed a lock of hair from her face to the back of her ear, this time Claire didn’t push him away and Arthur could release the breath he was holding.

Claire took his hand to bring it to her lips and kissed it softly.

Arthur didn’t dare to say a word but he was worried, he wanted to know what was bugging her, especially after what she said.

“He knows…” she bitterly added. Arthur looked at her not understanding what she meant. She sat on the bed to face him not releasing his hand but she felt tired and the alcohol didn’t help her to speak straight... “Dutch knows... he called me…” She rubbed her eyes trying to find the words. “In the newspapers… there was a photo… of Mrs Cornwall…” Arthur finally understood. “Dutch wants information…. About… you know... I… before…. Before coming here… that damn cargo... “

“It’s okay. I understand.” Arthur held her against his chest. “We will talk about this tomorrow.”

Arthur’s jaw tensed. He felt angry with himself to have been away when all that happened. He didn’t think Dutch would know about her at least, not so fast.

“Where have you been?” She asked in a murmur burying her face in his chest. “I missed you…”

“Closing old wounds…” He whispered but she was already asleep to hear his answer.

[lovebunnie]

fr the poem questions: all of them >: )c

jared... only for you...

the tyger – are you a taker of calculated risks or do you enjoy playing with fire? would you rather ask for permission or forgiveness?

i am a major rule follower, i am not at all adventurous and i like to stay in my comfort zone. my life is a mix of staying true to my comfort zone and doing what I feel is right, first instinct. 

i carry your heart with me – do you believe in fate? what’s your secret to living a good life?

i tend to not believe in fate, it tends to make people not take responsibility for their actions and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth; predestination takes away humility from us. and i wouldnt say that im currently living a good life, its getting there but more often then not i would not describe my days as ‘happy’, more so just another day. but to make a day not outwardly bad, i firmly believe in having a really good breakfast in the morning and taking a shower at night. both of those really make my days better.

i wandered lonely as a cloud – what does nature mean to you? where do you feel most at peace?

nature for me is what comes to us instinctively and what we turn to for comfort in trying times. i feel the most at peace either at summer camp or in my bedroom with my cat :3

blackberrying – what were your early years like? do you miss being a child?

my early years were very happy, i was a very happy and funloving child. it was a time where i wasnt told about any of my family drama so i lived in blissful ignorance. i definitely miss being a child, all the way up to about 7th grade. its just been downhill from 8th grade and on.

ode to a nightingale – how do you feel about your own mortality? do you believe in life after death?

my mortality is something of a burden i carry with me everyday, a reminder that every minute is precious and this is the only life i get, i have one shot to not fuck it up. i dont believe in the afterlife, the concept of death is something that if i think too hard about then itll fuck me up.

hope is the thing with feathers – what gives you hope? what would you tell your 10-year-old self?

hope comes from those news stories about good news, like charity donation goals being hit and remembered anniversaries and flower bouquets in public, there is good in the world and sometimes its hard to find but its always there. to my 10 year old self, i would tell her to not hold too tightly to those around you, and that life constantly changes so dont get too attached or comfortable because itll prevent you from growing in the future.

the road not taken – do you find it hard to make decisions? what regrets do you have?

its really hard to make decisions because i always assume that my ideas are wrong or bad so if someone else takes the lead, i cant be blamed. as far as regrets, i wish that in my past, i just put myself out there more. i couldve spent highschool actively seeking for possibilities instead of sulking and wishing they came to me. they dont ever, you have to find them.

still i rise – what's your relationship with yourself like? what are your best qualities?

i have a bad relationship to myself; if i admire one trait about myself, the other traits must be less than. for example, if i think i look nice one day, then i remember abt my grades or my writing and how much i hate both of those. i can never be fully at peace, it will never be enough to sate my psyche. my ‘best’ qualities depend on the day, right now i think i have nice eyelashes.

howl – can you express yourself freely? do you feel smothered by societal norms?

i struggle everyday to be my genuine self. its not so much societal norms but my own mind; i want to look nice but i dont want to attract too much attention. i want to be remembered but not for how good my ass looks or whatever. my biggest fear is that people see me as something desirable but only sexually so i want to dress how i feel but i cant because im terrified of the gaze of men on my campus.

the raven – are you in touch with your feelings? how would you describe the relationship between emotions & rationality?

im extremely in touch with my feelings. i can acknowledge when i am angry or sad or happy, even if i dont know why. i allow myself to feel my feelings and then let them pass, i hate bottling those things up. between emotions and rationality, i use my emotions 9 times out of 10. i ask myself, ‘what do i want?’ and the first thing i come up with, i know is what i truly want to do. 

sonnet 116 – how do you define love? what qualities do you look for in a significant other?

i think love is everything; its the warmth of hanging out with familiar people, its when people remember facts about you, its a meaningful hug and its ‘this reminded me of you’. its different for everyone but i feel love in everything i do. in a significant other, the biggest thing is being able to make me laugh, if youre funny than im sold.

to autumn – what's your favorite season and why? what cherished memories do you associate with that season?

my favorite season is winter because it has lots of holiday warmth, good food, pleasant childhood memories, and comfortable clothing. also i love snow. i have very vivid memories of a blizzard in maryland when i was 11(?) years old, my neighbor tied a sled to the back of his ATV and dragged us around the cul de sac, it was so much fun!!

the waste land – do you like big cities? if you could choose any place on earth, where would you settle down?

i love big cities, they evoke so many feelings of love and the atmosphere being surrounded by people makes me so happy! if i could live anywhere, i think it would be san francisco, i love the city and the weather and the public transportation!!

o captain! my captain! – what are your aspirations in life? what motivates you?

in life, i want to give a tedtalk. i would also love to publish a book but i dont like what i write so if i ever did, id end up hating the book anyway in a year or so. i want to teach people the joy of public speaking and i want to give kids the joys i had given to me by my teacher when i was their age. my motivation comes from, this has to be done and if no one else will do it, it might as well be me. i have the passion and everything else will follow after that.

she walks in beauty – what's your aesthetic? how would you describe the relationship between inner goodness & outer beauty?

id describe my aesthetic as lovecore, i love the color pink and red and hearts and flowers and teddy bears and dresses and sparkles and valentines day and i love everything stereotypically ‘cute’. and i feel there is no outer beauty without inner goodness, if someone has bad intentions or a rotten core, their outward appearance will reflect.

one art – how do you deal with loss? do you write diary entries, poetry or prose?

thankfully i have not had to go through tremendous loss in my life but when i feel an emotional loss or general low point, i tend to move towards art, aimless doodling to take my mind off of situations. it centers me.

work, sometimes – how does your favorite weather make you feel? what is happiness to you?

my favorite weather makes me feel SO happy, all smiley and giddy and like things are going to be okay, just for one day, i will make this a good one. happiness to me is comfort and joy, its something that makes you laugh until your sides hurt and its art that you look at and feel. happiness isnt a huge moment, its little moments scattered throughout the days.

acquainted with the night – do you think there's such thing as the right time? what’s your outlook on the world?

no, i dont like to set things off for the thought of there being a right and wrong time. time isnt real and we only have so long on earth so there is no time but the present. go get that tattoo, ask them out, eat that snack. my outlook on the world is that there is a lot of bad shit but there is also a lot of good shit you will never see but it important nonetheless. you cant change the world in a day so you might as well take it one day at a time, working everyday to make it as good as possible.

if – do you daydream a lot? are you volatile, or do you stay calm when conflicts arise?

i love to day dream, it helps me determine what i really want and its a lovely distraction when the goings get tough. i try to avoid conflicts in every situation possible but if i were pushed, id either accept my mistake and apologize and work towards a better future; or i would tell the other person how im feeling and what i can do to help them feel better.

what would i give? – do you cry often? if you could change anything about your past, what would it be?

things make me sad but rarely enough to cry, things more so tend to weigh me down then break me. i let the sadness take me however it sees fit. and if thats to cry, so be it. if i could change anything about my past, i would just say that you will only get this chance to start over in a new state once, the years will go by quick so to TAKE OPPORTUNITIES WHEN THEY SHOW THEM SELF TO YOU!!!!!!

[carolightpenvenys]

DEADLY NIGHTSHADE CHAPTER 6

Chapter 6: poldark  matter

It had truly been a traumatic morning for Caroline Penvenen.

She’d ambitiously worn a white pantsuit, to have coffee spilt down it from shaky hands. Today was the day she had to interview the Poldarks. Dwight had recused himself from the interviews so it was going to be intense. She had a niggling feeling they were innocent and this was pointless but the more ruthless side of her wanted to find something, anything to help solve this case. The envelope from the donor was not enough and she was starting to feel the pressure from her boss.

She was scribbling furiously on her notepad. Demelza.Ross. Sam. Will any of them know anything? It seemed unlikely as they really did seem like the wholesome family they seemed.

“Detective? There’s someone from the morgue here.” An officer was at her door, too early for her liking.

“Oh.” Caroline sighed in relief. “Let them in.” She hadn’t seen Dwight since Monday and it was Thursday now, probably the longest time they’d spent apart since the case began.

But, to Caroline’s dismay, a young, green looking girl was at the door in a white coat.

“Um, hello.” Caroline was taken aback. “Are you lost?”

“Oh no, Detective Penvenen. I’m Dr Rosina Hoblyn- I’m taking over from Dr Enys when he leaves the morgue.”

She looked thoroughly too young to be a doctor. “And where,” Caroline’s voice was a little uneven. “Is Dr Enys today?”

“Oh, he’s at the morgue. They just got a body in. But I believe he’s signed all the responsibility for this case over to me.”

Caroline was shaken. “Is that so?” This made no sense. She hadn’t had a text since Monday and wasn’t he supposed to be leaving after this case had ended? “When will Doctor Enys be leaving?”

“Oh, in about a week I expect.” Rosina replied innocently, but Caroline’s lips were pursed.

“Interesting.”

“Anyway, I thought I’d pop in and give you my number, in case you need any info about the body- I’m just a call away.” She popped a note on Caroline’s desk but Caroline was too taken aback to take any notice.

“Thank you, Dr Hoblyn.” She stuttered. “I look forward to working with you.”

Rosina left with a cheery wave but Caroline was left less than cheery. She felt like a used wet wipe. “What the fuck.” She whispered to herself.

And she was almost blessed that she was then interrupted by another officer at the door. “Your first witness is here, Detective.”

“Thanks.” She said weakly. She didn’t have time to think about this. She would bottle this up and never think about it again. She cleared her throat, put her hair in a ponytail and walked towards the interview room where Demelza Poldark was waiting with a huge grin on her face.

POLICE INTERVIEW WITH SUSPECT:

MS DEMELZA POLDARK (SISTER OF DRAKE CARNE (DC), POSSIBLE WITNESS): DP

DET. CAROLINE PENVENEN: CP

CP: Good morning, Ms Poldark.

DP: Morning! I’m excited to finally meet you.

CP: Um, could you tell me your whereabouts on the night in question between 5pm and midnight?

DP: I was at home with Drake, Sam and Ross. Sunday is family day!

CP: So I’ve heard. Do you hear often of Morwenna Whitworth?

DP: Not since her marriage. Osborne Whitworth is a monster though.

CP: Could you expand on that?

DP: I just have a sixth sense about it. Trust me there.

CP: Unfortunately your description will not hold up in a criminal case so if you know anything I would tell me or another officer immediately.

DP: I like you, you get to the point. But unfortunately I got nothing on them. But Drake really loved Morwenna you know.

CP: Did he have intention to marry her before her eventual marriage to Whitworth?

DP: Yes- but he has not a penny to his name really. I can see why her family were so keen for her to marry Whitworth.

CP: What makes you say that?

DP: Well George has limitless ambition but I’m sure you know from financial records, the Chynoweths have been in financial trouble for years- even before Elizabeth and George married.

CP: I actually didn’t subpoena the family bank account but I take this accusation seriously and look into it. You wouldn’t suggest that Morwenna was somehow sold to Whitworth?

DP: No, these rich families aren’t stupid. But the remaining Chynoweths are all women and they need them to marry safely. Someone with finances.

CP: Thank you Ms Poldark, you have been most helpful.

DP: The pleasure is all mine.

END OF INTERVIEW

Caroline filled out paperwork to subpoena the Chynoweth family bank account, and thought again to the monthly £1000 for Rowella. She sensed there was a more serious side to this case that she was yet to uncover, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Bring in Ross Poldark please.” Caroline took a sip of her water.

POLICE INTERVIEW WITH SUSPECT:

MR ROSS POLDARK (BROTHER IN LAW OF DRAKE CARNE (DC), POSSIBLE WITNESS): RP

DET. CAROLINE PENVENEN: CP

CP: Detective Poldark, could you tell me where you were between 5pm and midnight on the night in question?

RP: I was at home and all my family could vouch for me.

CP: Any unusual activity from Drake Carne at all?

RP: I don’t think so. He always goes to the shop at around 7pm to buy some last minute dessert but I’m sure the cameras in the shop could pick that up.

CP: This is interesting as he told me he was in the house all night,

RP: Ah. It’s part of the routine though, so he probably thought nothing of it.

CP: Are you sure he was at the shop that night?

RP: Well I didn’t go with him, but he returned home with a chocolate trifle, earlier than usual.

CP: And what time would you say that was?

RP: Around half seven.

CP: How far is the Whitworths from yours? If you know?

RP: I’ve never been but I believe it’s a fifteen minute drive, but Drake always walks.

CP: Thank you Ross.

END OF INTERVIEW

Caroline submitted another form for security tape footage, but wondered if she’d reached a dead end here. She still had one interview left, but she really didn’t expect much of it at all.

POLICE INTERVIEW WITH SUSPECT:

MR SAMUEL CARNE (BROTHER OF DRAKE CARNE (DC), POSSIBLE WITNESS):SC

DET. CAROLINE PENVENEN: CP

CP: Mr Carne, could you tell me where you were on the night in question?

SC: I arrived at the house at 6pm, just in time for dinner.

CP: So a possible time bracket for the murder stretches into 5pm, could you tell me where you were then?

SC: I was at Church. I guess the congregation, but more importantly, the Lord, can vouch for me.

CP: Ok Mr Carne. Did you detect any unusual activity in your brother that night. Allegedly you two are very close.

SC: We are. (He clears his throat).

CP: Mr Carne, you haven’t answered the question.

SC: I’m afraid if I answer I might make my brother a suspect.

CP: I do advise if you know anything now, to tell the police.

SC: I feel I must tell you as a duty to the Lord.

CP: Whatever pleases you.

SC: Drake didn’t go to the shop that night. He never does. I mean, who takes half an hour to go to the shop that’s less than a five minute walk from the house. He just pops in on the way back.

CP: Where does he go every Sunday, Mr Carne?

SC: To Morwenna’s house. He’d climb up to her window all Romeo and Juliet style and speak to her.

CP: And you place him there the night of the murder?

SC: I don’t know where else he could’ve gone. You can’t blame Demelza and Ross, they know nothing of it.

CP: You’re allowed to state if they do, Mr Carne. You’re not under oath.

SC: I am, to God. That, is all I know and he was back earlier than usual.

CP: What time?

SC: 7.26pm

CP: Thank you Mr Carne, that will be all.

END OF INTERVIEW

Caroline sighed as soon as Sam Carne had left the room. She now had someone at the scene of the crime, from an outside household during the timeframe of the murder. The only problem that prevented Drake being the perfect suspect is that he had no motive. Why would you kill someone you loved that deeply? It made no sense.

She wished she had someone to bounce ideas off. She hadn’t been assigned a partner yet, despite being given this huge case. She realised she’d been using Dwight like a partner this whole time, never really asking what he thought of it all. Maybe this time apart had bought her back to what she did best. Solving a fucking crime.

But she’s already allocated time to go and visit Dwight in the morgue. She could disguise it as wanting to see Rosina.

The morgue was a mere ten minute walk, what could go too far wrong?

She packed her bag up and disguised it as her lunch break, setting a reminder to get Drake Carne back in. She was about to place it on her desk but already lying there was-

Another brown envelope, identical to the first. “Holy-” She picked it up. Whatever lay inside was folded into quarters and she opened it to find an A2 set of blueprints.

“What the fu-” It was blueprints of an extravagant garden, unlike any of the houses she’d searched. They’d have to have been rich to afford to maintain it, but it was only after a whole ten minutes of looking that she saw it.

The deadly nightshade bush.

In the corner, there was a creeping bush of deadly nightshade. Caroline scribbled on her jotter, folding it away quickly Have we just found the garden of the murderer?

She put the envelope in her bag for safekeeping, knowing she had to get away from this case for at least an hour or so.

She walked as fast as her Yves Saint Laurent heels would allow straight out of the precinct and over to the morgue building. Yet as she opened the door, she was suddenly hit with a wave of uncertainty. Was it really her place to come here anymore? Surely Dwight had distanced himself for a reason. She crept closer and closer to the doors of the main theatre, but suddenly she heard voices.

“Oh, by the way, I met Caroline,” A familiar female voice. Was that Demelza Poldark? “I kind of don’t know if I want to be her best friend or if I want to marry her or if I want her to stand on my throat. I don’t know what it is about a powerful woman.”

She then heard the familiar sound of Dwight’s laugh and she hated how warm it made her feel. “Caroline is confusing, to say the least.”

Caroline’s heart sunk a little but he continued. “That’s why I feel if I’m going to ever leave, I have to separate from her- otherwise it could get too personal.”

Ok, now she wanted to fucking sob. Any future she’d ever fantasised about with Verity had just been thrown back in her face. She felt nauseous and like she needed to leave, but she felt rooted to the floor.

“You’re an idiot Dwight,” Demelza replied in a sing songy voice, and Caroline was kind of annoyed at her flippancy but happy that someone was in her corner. “Girls like her don’t just come around.”

“Don’t you think I know that Demelza?” She had never heard Dwight sound like this before- she was absolutely shocked. “I’m sorry.” He apologised. “But I’ve got to put myself first.”

Before she could hear anymore, someone said her name. “Caroline?”

She whipped her head around to see Rosina. Literally the very last person she wanted to see. “Oh hey,”

“Are you lost?”

Caroline almost wanted to scoff. Her? Lost in the morgue? Please. But she had to think of something. “Nope. I’ve actually come to see you.” She said with (completely false) confidence.

“Well,” the young woman smiled, “Come on in then.”

[lovemesomesurveys]

When’s the last time you went shopping? A couple weeks ago. How many Sweet 16’s have you been to? I haven’t been to any. Pen or pencil? Pen. What’s your favorite beverage? Coffee, duhh. Have you ever played The Sims? Yep, plenty of times. I go through spurts where I’m hooked and play non-stop and then go forever without playing. I haven’t played since early last year sometime.

Is your current hair color your natural hair color? Well my roots are growing out a lot, but no it’s not completely my natural hair color. I really need to get my hair done soon. I wish she could come do it at my house, ha.

Are you more artsy or athletic? I mean out of the 2 I’d say artsy since I do like to color. That’s as artsy as it gets, though. Are any of your friends vegetarians? No. Can you run a mile in under 7 minutes? Nope. Do you know how to play any instruments? Not anymore. I used to play some piano, but it’s over 10 years now since I last played and I’d be so rusty. What’s your favorite shampoo/conditioner? I use a salon shampoo for red dyed hair. Are you a fan of the Grand Theft Auto series? No. Do you like the beach? I love the beach. Do you have your license? Nope. Where’s your cell phone right now? Near me on my bed. What was your best subject in school? English. I did fine in everything but math, but I really enjoyed English. And your worst? Math. Would you ever have plastic surgery? No. Did you hate the book “The Lord of the Flies”? No. Do you consider yourself lazy? Yes. It’s more no motivation or energy to do anything due to crippling depression, but yeah. Do you or did you have a curfew at one point? Never had to have one because I wasn’t one who went out as a teenager. I was such a homebody. Ha not much has changed. Do you know what BMI stands for? Body mass index. Is there someone on your mind right now? No. What’s your relationship status? Single. Do you peel the wrappers off of plastic bottles? Nah. When’s the last time you showered? Yesterday. Name a country you can’t wait to visit. Sweden. Do you have any siblings? Yeah, two brothers. How old were you when you had your first kiss? 16. What do you think is the youngest age someone should lose their virginity? I’d say 18. Have you ever played Super Smash Brothers? Yep. I love Mario. When’s the last time you purchased a CD? I have no idea. Yearsss ago. What do you like on your sundaes? Strawberry syrup is good enough for me. Have you been blessed with the ability to cook and/or bake? Nope. Have you done anything productive today? Not even a little. How old will you be in 3 years? 32. Have you ever bought anything on eBay? Yeah, a few things. How about sold anything? No. Have you ever watched the show Jackass? Yep. I used to be really into it, more so the Jackass crew. Especially Johnny Knoxville. Do you want kids at some point? No. Pick a crazy color you wouldn’t mind putting in your hair. I like the red I’ve been doing for the past 4 years. I don’t want any other color. Have you ever been diagnosed with a mental disorder? Yes. Do you believe in abstaining from sex until marriage? For me, I’m waiting until I’m in a committed relationship with someone whom I’m in love with. Someone I feel comfortable and ready to take that step with. What time did you go to bed last night? Not until almost 5AM. Have you ever been in a hot tub? Yeah. How old is your current cell phone? I just got it for Christmas. What is your sexual orientation? Straight.

[fuzziekins]

It used to be so easy for Marianna. If only she could go back to that time….

She was open. From a young age she knew she was ‘different’. She didn’t experience crushes like her classmates. When asked who she likes or thought was cute Marianna would say she didn’t like anyone and proceeded to make up a silly story about someone. Everyone seemed to enjoy that. And, although she didn’t have the word for it at the time, no one seemed to mind or care.

She was confident. She knew what she was good at and unafraid to hide it. Math? Her hand always went right up. Basketball? Even if she wasn’t very tall she could speed past her opponent without a problem.

She was comfortable. Marianna was who she was. She felt there was no need to change nor would she want to. There was hardly, if ever, a need to lie about anything or cover something up. When everyone else was trying to fit in or give into peer pressure Marianna would never follow the crowd.

She had talked to her friends about bottled emotions before. For the most part she assumed it to be a lie. Or perhaps an exaggeration. When one friend spoke about saving up to buy some courage to talk to his crush, Marianna attempted to talk him out of it. She said he didn’t need to buy it; it was inside of him all along. A couple of weeks later her friend strutted right up to the crush, tapped them on the shoulder and said he liked them. It was such a drastic change from the shy, sensitive, pessimistic guy she knew.

Marianna continued to see such instances over the years.

In college she met a premed student who was miserable. They didn’t want to be a doctor, rather an engineer. A few days later they practically danced into class, overjoyed to be in the medical field.

At her first job after college Marianna had a boss who was preparing to be a father. Surprisingly he wasn’t nervous at all. That in turn made his wife more afraid. The boss couldn’t understand why; he wished so badly he could relate to her. Instead of therapy, the boss went out and bought some fear. He became as freaked out about his wife - even about the labor.

The older she got the more she saw people relying on these emotions. Surely though, they weren’t real. They were forced. Not genuine. It was like all of these people were lying. They were giving up a part of themselves. Marianna swore she would never be like that. That she’d never resort to it.

That is, until her mother passed away. 

It came out of nowhere. No one could have predicted it. Maybe that was why it hit her so hard. Maybe that was why she felt so broken. Maybe that was why she gave up. She couldn’t focus on her job. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to anyone. She barely left the house. How could this happen now? She was still so young. So inexperienced. How was she supposed to continue living without her mother? The one person that was always there. Who encouraged and supported her. That she could talk to about everything.

A few months passed since the funeral. A distant cousin came to check on Marianna. She knew something was wrong. That Marianna couldn’t go on that way. This cousin, too, had gone through a devastating loss. She recommended the bottled emotions. Supposedly it was the happiness she bought that got her through, until she found real happiness. Before, Marianna wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But now? Truly, what did she have left to lose?

So she went to the mall, the nearest location that sold those things. Emotion Potions, the store was called. How uncreative. She arrived early, shortly after the store opened so there were no crowds.

“Good morning,” the pleasant saleswoman greeted. “What can I help you feel today?”

She sounded genuine, but somehow it still felt so fake.

“I…I don’t know,” Marianna confessed softly.

The associate pursed her lips, pausing. “Hmm…you seem like you could use some happiness. I can offer you a trial size for half off. Try it for the week.”

Marianna shook her head solemnly. “I don’t think anything can make me happy right now.”

“Don’t worry, you don’t need happiness specifically,” she promised. “We have plenty of options that can lead to happiness. I’ve got some motivation that can get you up and going in no time. Or, if you’re more of a creative person, we have a sale on inspiration this month. It’s a bogo!”

It remained unappealing.

The woman clicked her tongue. “You’ve got it pretty bad, don’t you?”

“I mean…. I just lost my mom. So….” Marianna confessed.

“Oh! I’m so sorry to hear that!” the associate gasped. “I didn’t realize it was that traumatic. If I had known…”

“It’s fine. You couldn’t have known,” Marianna sighed.

The blonde leaned up against one of the displays. “Do you want to talk about it? It’s ok if you don’t. But I’m not exactly busy right now.”

Marianna shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “I guess….” She paused. Was she really going to talk to this stranger? Let everything out? Sure she…whatever her name was…seemed understanding. But did she really care? Would it be worth to actually share with someone? Marianna shifted her gaze to the name tag. Eloise. Her stare was unchanging. Marianna took another glance at the woman. Eloise had her head tilted, flecks of concern twinkling in her eyes. Maybe…. What harm could it really do? What else did Marianna have to lose at this rate?

“It happened so quickly. We were in the store…. I went to another section for two minutes….” She hesitated and looked down, arms folded across her chest. “Then…I heard a scream. I ran back and…and she was down. Surrounded by people. And….” She shook her head. “And it was too late.

Eloise grasped her chest, hand hovering over her heart. “I’m so sorry…. I couldn’t even imagine…. That’s definitely an experience.”

“That’s one word, I suppose,” Marianna sighed.

“And your family? Are they…?” the blonde wondered.

Marianna shook her head. “Some distant relatives. They’re scattered. But…it was just her.”

Another pause ensued.

Eloise let out a breath, muttering to herself. “I picked a good day for some empathy.”

Marianna glanced up. “What was that?”

The employee blinked. “Oh don’t worry about me! I’m just talking to myself. You have a lot more on your plate.”

Any other day, any other time, Marianna’s suspicions would have risen. Today? Let alone recently? She just didn’t care anymore. “Oh….”

Eloise licked her lips, her bright nails lightly tapping against the table. “You know what?” she spoke after a minute. “I’m going to find something for you. On the house.”

“You don’t have to…” she started.

Eloise held up a hand. “I insist. And I’m even going to give you my card and a coupon. If what I give you helps, come back any time. Use my name. I’d be a fool to let you continue on this way. I want to help.” She signaled Marianna to follow her to the back. Extra storage, no doubt. Surely that proved to be an understatement. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of bottles. It wasn’t until that moment Marianna realized why others relied so much on this method. Maybe, just maybe, there was something to it after all?

“So!” Eloise’s voice broke through Marianna’s thoughts. The blonde was already climbing a ladder, looking through the stash. “Tell me a little more. Please. Are you back at work? Can I get you a pinch of focus for it?”

“No, I…no I’m not,” she sighed.

Eloise nodded and relocated to another shelf. “Do you have any close friends? I’ve got some extra courage around, if you need help talking to them.”

“I’d rather not/ They have their own problems. Kids and families and all…” Marianna answered.

“And you? Do you have a partner to lean on?” Eloise inquired.

At that, even Marianna couldn’t fight back her typical reaction. “Please. I’m aro. And anyway, boys have cooties and girls are catty.”

“Well you’re not wrong,” Eloise shrugged. She continued shifting through the bottles until she came to a halt. She blinked, tilting her head to glance at the customer below her. “Wait…you’re aro?”

Marianna groaned. “Yes. It’s a word. An actual thing.”

To that, her eyes widened. “Of course! It’s perfect!”

For once, a distracting response. Marianna blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Eloise jumped down. “Aromantic! Of course! Why didn’t I realize?” She pushed the ladder, leapt onto one of the steps and rode it down the aisle. Once she stopped, she climbed to one of the top shelves.

Marianna put her hands on her hips. “If you got a problem with it…”

“I don’t!” Eloise called. She continued while moving some jars out of the way. “Aros don’t feel romantic love right? But the love they feel for everyone else in their life is so powerful they don’t need romance! If your mom was your best friend and the person you shared all that love with, then you have a void. What’s all that love good for if you don’t have anyone to share it with?”

“So what, you’re gonna give me a love potion?” Marianna asked doubtfully.

“No,” the employee scoffed. She jumped down and returned to her client. “As if! This is a romantic feeling. Specifically, attraction.”

Marianna took a step back. “Wait…are you trying to change me? You can’t just take my orientation away!”

“Attraction affects everyone differently. Just like how people can show happiness or sadness differently,” Eloise explained. “All this is gonna do is let you redirect that love you lost to someone else. It’s meant to help you get through this hardest time. It’s not going to replace or get rid of anyone or anything.”

“And how would you know?” Marianna questioned with disbelief. 

There was a moment of silence. Still, Eloise’s face remained the same. Comfortable. In so few words she seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. Then, with a gentle stare, she offered the bottle to Marianna.

“You don’t have to take my word for it. You can try it or you can dump it. Either way, it’s yours now. And I really hope you can find what you’re looking for.”

Marianna stared at her. She looked at the bottle, taking in its appearance. It looked like a regular perfume bottle. The liquid inside was salmon colored. There was a faint aura surrounding it…maybe a scent of lavender? Marianna couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She tapped her fingers lightly against the glass and, when she looked up, Eloise was gone. Marianna’s hazel eyes skimmed the storage room. It was just her.

Her gaze returned to the attraction. Curious, she twisted the cover. A nozzle was revealed underneath. Was it a spray? Did it work like perfume? Or did she work it like a can of whipped cream? She tilted her head. Marianna did often rely on her mother a lot…. When she had no one else, she still had her mom. She didn’t realize how empty she could feel otherwise. How alone.

Was Eloise right? Was it really a replacement, albeit a temporary one? Would it really not change who Marianna was? Would it help? Would this pain, this hole, be fixed that quickly? And then she could move on with her life? It sure seemed to work for everyone else so far. Could it have been possible they were right all along? That Marianna was the one missing something?

There was only one way to find out.

[huntertales]

Part One: It’s Like I Don’t Even Know You Anymore. (Family Matters S06E07)

Episode Summary: Dean becomes suspicious of Samuel’s motives. Sam, however, isn’t sold on the idea that their grandfather is doing anything wrong, leaving the reader stuck in the middle of who to trust. When the reader and the boys go along on a hunt with the Campbells, things go terribly array.  Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 6,114.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

“What else do you want me to say, Dean? I said I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry?”

Your jaw clenched in frustration as you rolled your eyes for what felt to be the fifth time in the span of a few minutes since coming back to the motel. Dean stood behind his little brother after he dragged the unconscious body from the car and insisted on treating his own flesh and blood like he was some kind of monster. You crossed your arms over your chest and remained silent, watching as Dean tied the ropes secure enough so the man wouldn’t retaliate before your eyes wandered up to inspect Sam’s face. His was bloody and swollen, you could see the skin starting to turn a reddish hue from the bruises that were beginning to form.  

You prepared yourself for the worst outcome when Dean found out the truth about what had been going on between you and Sam. What you weren’t expecting was the actual scenario that played out not that long ago. It seemed you weren’t the only one harboring a dark secret. Dean admitted to not having the best view of his little brother. He had expressed his worries when you and Sam started hunting again like old times. But you wouldn’t have expected them to escalate to the point where he was almost tempted in murdering the young man from how odd he was acting. The man's resentment and anger towards his brother had been building for weeks now. And your confession was the straw that made Dean snap.  

"Yes, I am! Do you want me to say it in French?" You shouted at him in frustration. Dean didn't find your sarcasm the least bit amusing when his cold stare only got worse when he moved to the small kitchen area to grab himself a beer. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and try to calm down before you made this argument escalate even more. "Look, I know what I did was wrong. I should have told you about me and Sam."

"What you and Sam chose to do in your free time is none of my business, sweetheart. After all," Dean slammed the fridge shut and twisted off the top to the beer. He leaned against the sink and brought the bottle to his lips, but it couldn't hide his grim smile. "Both of you always had a close, creepy friendship. It was only a matter of time until you moved down the ladder.”

“I don’t like him like that!” You argued with him, throwing your hands up in the air for an added effect to show your frustration other than in your voice. “What I did was wrong. It was stupid. And for the thousandth time tonight, I’m sorry. But it doesn't change how I feel about you. Sam and I are still friends. That’s it.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Dean muttered underneath his breath as he took another sip of his beer. You furrowed your brow from what you heard him say. “You’ve been lying to me nonstop since we started hunting again. Give me one good reason why I should trust you.”

“I was lying to you because I was trying to protect you from getting hurt. And I know it was stupid of me to do.” You said. You let out a sigh from the lack of progress you were making with him. Dean scoffed at your excuse as he rolled his eyes, you gave him a dirty look from his reaction that he had every right to have. “But you’re no better. Don’t forget, you did a lot of crap from me when we came back from hell.”

"Don't bring that crap up." Dean said. "That has nothing to do with this."

"It has everything to do with this! Do I have to remind you about all the lying you did to my face when we came back? How you pretended that the torture you inflicted on me didn't happen. You didn't take any of the blame for starting the crap show that has been our lives." You said. You pointed your finger at him, jabbing the air each time you brought up the painful history between the both of you. “So don’t you dare turn your nose up at me.”

“At least when I got out of hell I went looking for you. I didn't let you worry for a year about what was happening to me. I didn't force you to chase dead ends that lead nowhere.” Dean said. You watched as he put his beer down to the table and slowly started to take steps, closing the gap between the both of you. Suddenly he was standing merely inches from you, forcing you to look into his eyes, and see what you put him through over year during your absence from him. “I really don’t care about what you and Sam did. I’m more hurt at what you didn’t do. You ran away. You forced me to live out a life that didn’t fit me. All I wanted was you. I still do.”

“I want you, too.” You whispered to him. Sorry was on the tip of your tongue again, yet you didn’t say it this time. The truth was what he really wanted to hear. Your lips stretched into a faint smile as you outstretched your arm to lightly grab a hold of his hand. “I only thought about you when I was with Sam.”

“And I only thought about you when I was with Lisa.” Dean admitted. You were about to give him a bigger smile as your finger brushed against his skin you suddenly desperately needed. But in the last second, he slowly retracted his arm from your grip, making you realize the sweet moment that was building between the both of you had ended. You gave him a confused look, he stared at you with a pained expression. He suddenly remembered the conversation he had with Lisa just the other day. About how the both of you only lead each other down a path paved with nothing but misery. Maybe she was right. "I...I can't do this, Y/N. Not again.”

Your brow furrowed tightly as you forced out a chuckle, “Look. I'm not suggesting we kick it off like nothing happened. I know we have a lot to work through. But I'm sure with some time—"

“No. You don’t get it. It's not what you did. It's what you didn't do. You lied, Y/N. You...You really hurt me. That's all what we do to each other." Dean said. Your expression began to slowly change, into one that read of building anger. "I can't do this now."

"Okay...If that's what you want. Fine." You began to slowly back away from him as you nodded your head in agreement. A hint of regret attempted to cross your face, but you were used to hiding your emotions. You turned around in your spot, suddenly needing five minutes away from everything. "Call me when Cas—Oh, dammit!"

You felt yourself nearly jump out of your own skin when the angel Dean had prayed to just a little while ago suddenly was standing in front of you. You cursed underneath your breath when Cas managed to take you by surprise every time he came out of thin air. The angel stood there with a blank expression as he nodded his head at you, greeting you in his usual gravelly monotone voice. You and Dean didn’t waste a second in shifting your attention to the still unconscious Sam when Cas wondered what happened tonight.

You and Dean told the angel everything; from the pagan goddess who could force people into telling the truth that accused Sam of being a monster, to how Sam stood by and watched as his brother helplessly get turned by a vampire. You even admitted to a few incidents that you noted of while you were hunting with him alone. From the few times that he almost got you killed to the emotionless behavior he’d been having. You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at the young man lying unconscious in the chair. You would be the first one to admit of coming out of the cage with some rough edges around your personality. But Sam had come back as a completely different person.

“You’re right. He looks terrible.” Cas agreed when you mentioned about how Sam was an awful shape. You looked away from the young man and to his brother, causing the angel to wonder if Dean had been responsible. The glare that settled on your face left him to speculate. “Dean, did you do this?”

“Of course he did.” You muttered, rolling your eyes. “How else do you expect men to react?”

“Cas? Y/N?” Sam’s voice broke your concentration away from his brother and back to him when he slowly started to come back around. It took him a split second to realize that he wasn't back at Veritas’ home, but tied to a chair in the motel room he was sharing with his brother. “Let me go.”

The angel bent down to inspect Sam, what for, you weren’t quite sure of yet. He grabbed ahold of the hunter by his head and stretched his eyelid up to watch as the pupils began to dilate from the overexposure to the light. “Have you been feverish?”

“Have you?” Dean questioned his brother in a demanding tone when the man didn't answer right away.

“No.” Sam said. “Why?”

“Is he speaking in tongues?” Cas turned his attention to ask his next question. You gave him a slightly confused look before shaking your head no. “Are you speaking in tongues, Sam?”

“No. What are you…” Sam trailed off for a moment when he began to figure out what was going on here. And why all of you appeared so on edge around him. “Are you diagnosing me?”

“It’s for your own good. We’re just...trying to figure out what’s wrong with you, Sammy.” You reassured the younger man with a small smile. But your nerves were being tested when the older Winchester grumbled about how Sam better hope the angel could get an answer. Your expression faded once more as you looked over at Dean. It seemed all his sorrow he showed you before had disappeared. It was now replaced with a paranoid hunter, waiting for just about anything to go wrong. “You're not helping, Dean. Will you just back off?”

“No. I can't ‘back off’, Y/N.” The older Winchester argued with you “You think that there's a clinic out there for people who just pop out of hell wrong?”

“I wish there was. Because far as I can remember, hell was a cakewalk compared to what Sam and I went through.” You said. You let out a sigh from how hard your voice turned, defending not only the younger Winchester, but shining some insight to a time in your life you forbid anyone to ask you about. “You don’t even know the half of it. Sam’s the product of what we came back from. And I don't know about you, but I want to figure this out before jumping to the conclusion of killing him. Because if there’s something wrong with him, who’s to say I came back in one piece.”

Dean’s cold expression began to warm up slightly from the point you had made. Neither one of you took the chance to discuss what happened in the cage since you came back. He tried once, back when the both of you were reunited again, but you quickly shot him down with an excuse. He didn’t think about trying again, until now. The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he decided right now wasn’t the time to cut open old wounds. He moved his attention to his brother.

“Cas asks you a question, you answer.” Dean said. He pointed a finger at the young man like he was trying to discipline a small child who forgot about the rules. “You got it?”

“Sam,” Cas checked the younger Winchester’s heartbeat for half a minute to see if he could find any sort of change in the rhythm from what was happening, but it remained steady. The angel knew what his next question would be. “How much do you sleep?”

You and the two men directed your attention to Sam, who suddenly fell silent. He shifted around in the chair and looked around the room before turning his gaze back upon Cas. “I don’t.” Sam answered. You looked at him a bit funny, not sure how you could have missed this one. “Not since I got back.”

"And here I always pictured you as a cuddler." Your remark caused Dean to give you the least bit amused of a look. Cas grew a bit confused, wondering what you were talking about. "Why didn't you tell me? Didn't it occur to you that something might be off about that?"

“Of course it did, Y/N.” Sam said. “I just never told you.”

Silence fell between the four of you as Cas moved to the other side of the younger Winchester, a look that made you suddenly feel uneasy settled in the angel’s expression. “Sam...what are you feeling right now?”

Sam scoffed at the question. You expected him to answer with pissed, angry, peeved at the lack of respect and integrity he deserved. But it was more of an observation to how he was feeling from what his brother did to him. “I feel like my nose is broken.”

“No, that’s a physical sensation. How do you feel?” Cas asked him again. Sam tried to answer with what he was thinking, but the angel stopped him. “No. Feel.”

“I…” Sam opened his mouth, but he was left speechless to answer such a question that would have been so easy to if he were himself a year ago. But his mind was blank. “don’t know.”

but there was one more test he wanted to do before coming to his final conclusion. Your brow furrowed tightly when you watched as the angel began to undo his belt and yank it off the loop of his pants. He folded it in half and instructed the younger Winchester to open his mouth. He placed the leather between the man’s teeth. It was for precaution for what was about to come.

“If there’s some place that you find soothing, you should go there,” Cas warned him. Your face dropped when you realize what he was about to do as the angel rolled up his sleeve. It was the exact same thing he did to that kid who sold his soul to Balthazar. Instead of looking for a mark, the angel needed to find a trace of a soul first if his speculation was correct. “In your mind.”

Cas didn't give a proper warning before he slipped his hand inside the young man's chest, inspecting what he could in little time as possible so the pain he was inflicting on Sam wouldn't last too long. Sam tried his hardest to be trooper as he braced himself for the worst. But the pain that radiated through his body was nothing he felt before. You knew you couldn’t intervene on this moment, much as you desperately wanted to make the noises stopped. Dean looked away from his brother to see a look settled in your face and your actions subtly changed.

You swallowed when Sam began to yell on the top of his lungs and groan in pain when the belt he tried biting onto slipped out of his mouth. Your brow furrowed slightly as you crossed your arms over your chest, your fingers sank deep into your skin to keep yourself from ripping Cas’ head off his neck. But it was how your eyes glazed over with fear and your breathing came out more labored that made Dean worry. For a second you were brought back to the cage. To a place where time was meaningless. It was nothing but endless darkness, endless pain. The noises sounded like they went on forever, but thankfully, Cas stepped away after a few seconds.

Sam was finally allowed to catch his breath when the angel finished his business. He walked across the room so his back was turned on the young man, but Cas turned his head slightly to give you and Dean a solemn expression. Dean didn't waste a second when he asked Cas if he found anything, the angel shook his head. You wondered if this was good news you wanted to hear.

“I’m afraid not. Physically, Sam’s perfectly healthy. It’s his soul.” Cas explained what the problem the four of you were about to face. You and Dean looked at each other, the both of you shared the same worried expressions, unsure of what to make of the findings when the angel gave it to you. “It’s gone.”

"....Gone? How is it gone? How the hell does one lose their own soul and remain alive? I've had horsemen who ate souls. We've sold our souls. Hell, I had two different souls in my body at one point. Not fun, by the way. But from what I know, you can't lose a soul like that!" You snapped your fingers to prove a point, but you were just getting yourself flustered at trying to make sense of what you were hearing. “Let’s...take it from the top. Like we’re five. What do you mean he’s got no—”

“When Sam was resurrected…it was without his soul.” Cas said. You let out a breath from what you heard and looked over at the younger Winchester for a moment. The idea of him having lost something important as that made your heartbeat in nervousness. You quickly looked back at the angel when you asked him where the man’s soul could be. “My guess is it’s still in the cage with Michael and Lucifer.”

“So is he even still Sam?” Dean wondered.

“Well, you pose an interesting philosophical question.” The angel noted.

“Then just get it back.” You commanded at Cas, thinking it could have been easy as just asking him. Your expression hardened when the angel mumbled your name. “You pulled Dean out of hell no problem.”

“It took several angels to rescue him, and he wasn’t as well-guarded. Sam’s soul is in Lucifer’s cage.” Cas said. “There’s a difference. It’s not possible.”

“Something pulled us out and left an important piece of Sam behind. And I don’t give a damn how complicated it is. We have got to get it.” You said, your voice growing harder. It’s been over a year since you came back. A year where Sam’s soul was subject to endless torture. And more if you didn’t act quick enough. “There’s got to be a way to get it back.”

“So, are you guys gonna untie me?” Sam’s question made you look away from the angel to see that he was curious to see how long the three of you were going to stop treating him like some kind of prisoner. Dean answered with a blunt no. “Listen, I’m not gonna—”

“Sam, how am I supposed to let you out of this room?” Dean asked. He slowly approached his little brother with caution, not sure how he could trust the person in front of him from all the stunts that he pulled.  

“Dean, I’m not some psycho. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I was just trying to stop those vamps.” Sam tried to explain his reasoning behind his actions that looked sloppy and selfish. Neither you or his brother fell for the truth he was finally speaking for the first time. But he didn’t care. He needed the both of you distracted as he worked through the rope. “I’m sorry. It won’t ever happen again. Please let me go.”

The older Winchester scoffed, “You got to be kidding me.”

“What’re gonna do, keep me locked up?” Sam asked.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Dean muttered underneath his breath, rolling his eyes as he began walking away from the man again.

“Okay, fine. Look, I get it. I get it, Dean. I was wrong. But, I’m telling you, I’m trying to get right. It’s still me.” The younger Winchester said. Dean narrowed his eyes on the man, knowing his actions told a much different story. “It is. So just let me go.”

“No way in hell.” Dean said, ignoring his brother’s pleads.

“I didn’t want it to come to this.” Sam mumbled. The younger Winchester easily worked through the rope that kept him once tied securely to the chair and got himself up. You scoffed and gave Dean a told-you-so look. Sam had learned a few tricks from their grandfather, one of them was about getting out of situations like this. But his words weren’t meant to be threatening. “You’re not gonna hold me. Not here, not in a panic room, not anywhere. You’re stuck with the soulless guy so you might as well work with me. Let’s fix this.”

“I’m gonna be watching every move you make.” Dean warned his younger brother. But the man didn’t seem to impose on the idea, he nodded his head in agreement. That didn’t stop Dean from shooting the man an easy look before asking for Cas to clean up his beaten brother with a broken nose. It only took a simple touch to the forehead before Sam was healed, as if nothing happened. “All right, if we’re gonna figure out what happened to your soul, we need to find out who ganked you and Y/N out. You say you don’t know.”

“No idea.” Sam admitted, you shook your head from the lack of answers you could give.

“Then we start a list. If it’s so hard to spring someone out, who’s got that kind of muscle?” Dean asked. You always put your money on Cas, or even God himself, but the two didn’t lend you a helping hand when you needed it the most.

“I don’t know.” Cas said. He thought to himself about the possibility of who could have do this, but when the angel was finding himself drawing blanks, he turned his gaze to you and Sam. “You two have no memory of your resurrection.”

You and Sam looked at one another for a second, wondering if the both of you had kept this kind of information from one another, but you didn't seem to think Sam would lie about something like this. And if you did know, you were hell bent on kicking their ass for doing a sloppy job. "We woke up in a field. That's all I remember.”

“No clues? None?” Cas asked.

You were about to shake your head again to answer the angel’s question, but you slowly looked over at Sam again, suddenly remembering you weren’t the only ones to have been brought back from the dead. This helping hand that pulled you from the buried depths of hell that not just anyone could get to. And this stranger was capable of pulling someone out from their heaven. You thought being brought back from the dead was a sign that good karma was working in your way of giving you a second chance. But why, out of anyone, would this stranger bring Samuel Campbell back from the dead as well? Your eyes narrowed suspiciously as you mumbled that you might have one.  

+ + +

You and the boys didn’t waste a second packing up your belongings when you found your first lead to figuring out who pulled you out from the cage and left Sam’s soul behind. If you had to be honest, you didn’t like the Campbell family. All of them were born and raised in the hunting life. While they were learning how to properly hunt and kill monsters, you were playing with your Barbie dolls and being a good little girl. You had a hunch a few of them looked down at you for who you were. And the reputation your mother carried around when she didn’t follow to raise a third generation hunter properly.

They thought with a little over five years of experience and stopping the apocalypse wasn’t good enough. However, you proved yourself time and time again about your extensive knowledge you gained from doing research for the Winchester family. And it helped that you were trained by the two men who were raised by an ex marine and Bobby Singer, the hunter who had been doing this just as long as Samuel had. And the only man you’d take orders from. You and Samuel had seemed to agree to keep one another at arm’s length and keep mutal respect of not to overstep the boundaries. You only stuck around and helped hunt with them for Sam’s sake.

When you arrived at the compound, you were greeted to the sight of almost every available hunter working diligently. It seemed you and the boys were left off the invitation list to tag along in the next vampire hunt. Machetes were being sharpened and syringes were being pumped full of dead man’s blood. Whatever was going on, you had a feeling this was going to be a big one. You looked away when Christian, your least favorite Campbell, greeted Sam with a grin as the two men embraced in a quick hug and a slap on the back. You gave the man a tight smile to try and appear to be polite.

“Hello, Newman.” Dean greeted the man. “Where’s the man?”

Christian pointed a thumb over his shoulder, signaling the way to Samuel's private office that most people would need a personal invite to head down the hall from the man himself. But you weren't in the mood for being polite when you brushed past Christian and head straight down the hall, the boys following behind you. You didn't knock and wait for permission, instead, you ripped open the door and stepped inside, taking the older man by surprise. You caught him staring at a photograph that he quickly put face down on his desk. You had a feeling of who it was, but you didn't care. You were here on more important matters.

“Come right on in.” Samuel mumbled, not the least bit happy about what you did.

“We need to ask you a few questions.” You said. Samuel looked at the three of you with a concerned expression when he asked what was wrong. “The day you got back, what happened?”

Samuel's expression changed slightly from the suspicious question that seemed to have come out of nowhere, “We’ve been over this, Y/N.”

“Well, recap it for our wingman.” Dean said.

The sounds of ruffling feathers signaled Cas’ arrival when he appeared in your sight. Samuel turned around in his chair to see the angel he heard so much about. “This Castiel?” The man asked. A smile began to creep at the ends of his lips at the sight of a real life angel standing in front of him. “You’re scrawnier than I pictured.”

“This is a vessel.” Cas explained to the hunter. You rolled your eyes when he took personal offense to what Samuel remarked on. “My true form is the size of your Chrysler building.”

“All right, all aright. Save the bragging for the ladies, Cas.” You mumbled. “So, Samuel, you said that you were dead. And—”

“And, pow, I was on Elton Ridge. Don’t know how, don’t know why.” Samuel explained his story, but all of you didn’t seem to believe him the second time around. “I got nothing to hide, guys.”

“You mind if Cas here double-checks?” Dean asked.

Cas rolled up his sleeve and got ready to conduct his second search for the night. You and the boys were prepared for the vocal reaction that Samuel gave. But it seemed the hunter was quite the yeller. Suddenly the door swung open when Christian thought you were trying to kill the man instead of having an innocent talk like once thought. Before the man could pull the trigger, the boys managed to calm him down and explain the very unusual sight he stumbled upon.

“What the hell?” Christian demanded.

“Angel cavity search.” Dean tried to explain.

“I’m fine, just give me a minute.” Samuel reassured his nephew. But from how he was hunched over in pain told the younger man a different story. Christian wasn’t comfortable leaving the man alone in the same room as you three, but he listened to his uncle’s order when the man told him again that everything was fine. When the door was shut again, Samuel let out a breath as the pain began to fade. “What the hell was that about?”

“His soul is intact.” Cas told all of you.

“What? Of course I have a—” Samuel wasn’t sure now why the hell the three of you were really here and how it was seemed necessary to know if he had a soul. He got his suspicion when he looked over at you and Sam, the both of you looked uneasy to hear the news. “What’s going on, guys?”

“Whatever dragged me out left a piece behind.” Sam explained to his grandfather. The man’s face didn’t seem to change all that much. It almost seemed like it was a bit of a relief. “Did you know?”

“No, but I—I knew it was something. You’re hell of a hunter, Sam...but the truth is, sometimes you scare me.” The older Campbell admitted, shaking his head at the honest opinion he had kept over the past year about his own grandson. “So, what’s the deal here? How do we fix this? How do we get his soul back?”

“We don’t know yet.” You said. “But we have to.”

“Well, I’m here to help, of course.” Samuel said. “What leads are you working on?”

“A bunch of dead ends, and you.” The younger Winchester answered.

You gave the older hunter a small smile from his encouragement to help and support from what he said next. Your eyes moved away from the hunter when you noticed Cas had grown eerily silent. The angel appeared to be deep in thought as he stared out the window to the night sky.

“Y/N, boys. I have to get back.” Cas said. You furrowed your brow in frustration when you realized he was leaving suddenly. You asked him why he was bolting so quickly, this was the time you needed him the most. The angel gave you a look, as if you should have known he was currently facing his own troubles. “I am in the middle of a civil war.”

“You better tear the attic up, find something to help Sam.” Dean said.

“Of course, your problems always come first.” Castiel nodded his head, making sure to keep his promise to the older Winchester. You couldn’t help yourself but look at the angel as a strange feeling began to fill the pit of your stomach from how he was acting. You prayed for months after you got out for help, or for even a simple hello to know that he was alive. But when Dean told him to do something, the angel didn’t even bat an eye. “I’ll be in touch.”

The angel disappeared from your sight when you blinked again, leaving without saying a proper goodbye like always.. Samuel took a moment to digest what he just witnessed and tried to process about how he felt about this Castiel. “I would have asked him to stick around for a beer.” The older hunter mumbled.

“What’s with the book club outside?” Dean asked.

Samuel walked across the room to grab what appeared to be a small metal box and placed it on his desk, “Putting together a hunt.”

“That’s a lot of guys for one hunt.” The older Winchester remarked.

“You found him, didn’t you?” Sam asked his grandfather when he had a hunch for what might be going on here. Dean found himself growing confused as your face dropped when you realized who his brother was talking about. “He’s got a lead on the Alpha vamp.”

“Do you?”

“Maybe.”

Samuel wanted to play guessing games, but when you gave him a serious look, he nodded his head as the ends of his lips grew into a victory smirk.

“How’d you track him down?” Dean asked.

The older hunter reached inside his duffel bag he’d grabbed just a few moments ago and pulled out a machete, “We’re good.”

Dean scoffed at the pitiful answer, “That’s all I get?”

“When’s the run?” Sam cut off his brother when he had a question of his own. A smirk of began to spread across his lips at the thought of tracking down the big monster. Samuel grew quiet for a moment as he dropped his gaze to his desk. He shuffled around a few things and mumbled that the hunt began at dawn. “And you didn’t call me or Y/N? Why?”

“Because of me.” Dean answered his brother’s question. He knew well enough that him and his grandfather didn’t get on the right foot. While Samuel wanted to get to know his oldest grandson better, Dean was hesitant. And now when it came to the big stuff, Samuel only wanted the people that would listen to his every word without backlash. “You don’t trust me, do you? Especially when it comes to big game like this.”

“That’s not true.” Samuel said, trying to defend his actions.

“Okay. Well, then we’re in.” Dean agreed. He was tagging along and making plans without even trying to compromise with Samuel. His grandfather grew hesitant from the shift of power as he began to try and change the situation. “So you don’t trust me?”

“No, I just don’t know you.” The older hunter said. “Not like I know Sam.”

“All right. You call the plays, one hundred percent. I’m here to listen.” Dean said. You looked at the man and scoffed quietly from the dramatic shift in personality. He didn’t like anyone being in charge except for himself. You asked him since when did he take a backseat. “Big Daddy Bloodsucker? I ain’t gonna miss that, Y/N. But this is Samuel’s deal, okay? I get it. I’ll follow your lead. I trust you.”   

“Okay. I’ll see you kids at dawn, then.” Samuel said. You nodded your head and decided to see yourselves out so the man could continue on his packing for the upcoming hunt. You followed behind to the door when the boys headed out into the hall and making their way to the exit. You were about to join them when Samuel called out your name, asking if he could speak to you for a moment. You were a bit confused, but you agreed, motioning to Dean that it’d be a second, all before you disappeared back into his grandfather’s office. “Can I ask you a funny question?”

“Sure.” You agreed. “What do you want to know?”

“When Castiel checked me and Sam to see if we had a soul...did he check you, too?” Samuel approached his question with a bit of caution in his tone. You looked at the hunter with a bit of a confused expression, wondering why he wanted to know such a thing. “To make sure that even if it was normal looking? You know, not black? I’m just asking out of caution. Considering your previous history.”

“Are you asking me if I’m still a demon?” You wondered. You scoffed at the audacity to suddenly pull this out of thin air. “Because if so, I haven’t shown any of the typical signs. And unlike Sam, I went to the cage with some protection. Cas figured that I’m good as new. I’m human.”

“Good. This is a big one, Y/N.” Samuel said. “I need you on the top of your game. I know how these kind of things can...wear you down. Trigger an episode.”

You nodded your head slowly, mumbling that you always were when it came to situations like this. There was no way in hell that you were going to miss out on an opportunity like this. You joined the brothers once again when Samuel started packing up his belongings again. You left the compound feeling a bit confused as to why he would have asked such a thing. Little did you know that he was hoping to hear Castiel didn’t touch your precious little soul.

[Next Part]

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