#nice trick too by making all the other characters have short family names to throw u off

[toerrishumansodontbeone]

Hey tumblr, watch this:

For the whole duration of the radiant emperor series Ouyang is referred to by his station or family name. We never learn his own actual name. Nobody ever calls him by it, not even himself.

[dmagedgoods]

aAAAUUUGH 1 and 2 for the BG3 act 1 ask thingy, tell us about your Tav tell ussssss

Ohhh nice! Thank you so much! Let’s start at the beginning, very good idea. 👀💕 1. Tell us about your Tav! Name, class and subclass, race, pronouns. Do you have a headcanon for where they're from? Their family? Are they a Dark Urge? Or did you choose an Origin Character? Was it an easy decision? (1) I usually have the most fun with games if I throw in one of my main OCs. Therefore, Dark Urge was not an option for me. (Not for round one that is, I may try it later though 👀). This time I picked Rowley. He’s been with me for around 11 years already and, to my own surprise, works greatly as Tav. Most games don’t allow enough unhinged madness or don’t have the needed kind of humor to play as him, but BG3 really hits the right tone to imagine him. I also didn’t have to change a lot about his story to make him fit the universe and premise. Rowley is a rogue and an assassin from Baldur’s Gate, half-elf, he/him. Originally, he was born in Red Larch. He and his twin brother are the sons of a human father and an elven mother (forest elf). She was a seamstress and dressmaker, their father a gambler and small criminal, and taught Rowley all his tricks at a very young age, mostly because the boy proved useful to him and had a natural talent for cheating, and lying, and theft. Rowley’s twin brother, on the other hand, was treated cruelly. Their father viewed him as worthless because he lacked Rowley’s talents (to get him money). His brother was calm, more withdrawn, drew, sewed, and wanted to become a dressmaker like his mother. His father often beat him and used him as an outlet for his aggression - the reason for a growing fierce hate Rowley developed against their father (and mother who never stepped in). When things became worse during their teenage years, Rowley took his twin brother and fled with him to protect him. 2. Was there something about the character creator that just couldn't capture your Character? Please tell us about their hair, facial hair, tattoos, piercings, disabilities, their trans or intersex body, or anything else you're comfortable sharing. There is a lot the creator wasn’t able to capture about Rowley and I only went for the face that came the closest. The flair is right (and I’m glad), details aren’t. His scar is wrong, his face appears a little too juvenile and the small character model isn’t tall enough while the tall character model too bulky for him. I would need something right in the middle. Anywayyy, here is a little description of him: Rowley is tall (183 cm) and lithe, fast, and dexterous, his body athletic though lean. A long scar leads from the corner of his upper lip upwards across his right cheek. There are more scars on his back, arms, hands, legs and almost every body part. He has sharp features, attentive eyes, the tip of his nose goes slightly upwards, his lips are relatively thin, but his mouth seems to be a touch too wide for his face. His insolent grin became his trademark. Furthermore, the scar makes it appear somewhat asymmetrical. His eyes are of a cold, stormy gray. He has short, straight hair, but it’s long enough to look wild and unruly. The dark ashen-blonde tone is cold but can look warmer in the sunlight. During missions and exploring, Rowley likes to wear leather: black coats with broad shoulders and cords and laces and belts and buckles, usually boots and gloves (sometimes fingerless). His style is practical but extra. In his spare time, he wears loose shirts with wide sleeves, mostly white, sometimes in bright colors, and dark simple pants. When the occasion allows it, he goes for more fancy fashion choices, eye-catching pieces fitting for a noble but casually worn and just the slightest bit loosened in this way or that to break with the etiquette. His ears are pierced in many places. He wears necklaces and bracelets of silvery metal and dark leather. His posture is confident and casual, very relaxed. He often has a provoking grin or mischievous smirk on his lips. His movements are smooth and graceful.

While he knows how to stay unseen when he wants to - and highly enjoys it -, he also likes to get attention by creating chaos or acting provoking and disrespectful. Here is a picture of him made in the game in comparison to the one I drew of him recently:

[mountswhore]

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 — mason mount

if you have any requests, just ask! i’m all ears. if you wanna know who i write for, check this post.

admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Mason adores everything about you. But to be particular, he adores your compassion. Even before you guys had gotten together, and were just friends of friends at a party, he’d watch you take care of some of his teammates who’d had a little too much to drink. You’d be jumping between getting to know Mason and assisting someone to the bathroom to throw up. It was hard for him to hold back a giggle as he saw you take your heels off, excuse yourself politely and run after a drunken Grealish.

body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Again, he loves everything about you. But if he had to choose, it’d be your eyes. They’re the first things he notices when he comes home from an away game, full to the brim with tears as you shout out how much you missed him. In the middle of a sleepless night, when the outside lighting makes your shiny eyes visible, he’d get lost in them. During a match, whether it be for the National team or Chelsea, the second he is on the pitch he would notice you close to the goal, in perfect view to watch him score. They’re what he looks into just before he kisses you, and he melts watching your eyes as you speak to a friend or family member, seeing them talk with your mouth.

cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Mason’s favourite pastime is cuddling, outside of his career, of course. He’ll get home from training and you’ll be cozied up on the couch, practically inviting him into your warmth. He enjoys the cuddles with you on top of him, your head in his neck and his arms tightly around your back. But he loves laying his head on your stomach, smoothing his hand over your thighs as you massage his shoulders lightly. He loves cuddling you, but he’s a sucker for being cuddled. It’s a trick to get him to doze off pretty quickly, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

He’s a busy man, but when it came down to seeing you and wanting you, he made time. He wanted only the best for you, so it was a fancy restaurant, being driven around in his nice sports car, treating you to whatever you wanted. He’d soon come to realise that both of yours ideal date is ordering a Chinese, playing a few fifa matches, and watching a comedy together.

emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Due to your compassion, you’d often spot when Mason was feeling down, angry, or just upset. So keeping it from you rendered useless. Now, if he’s ever in a shit mood, for any reason, he’ll find you and talk to you about it. You always end up making him feel better too, and giving him a different perspective on it. He couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend.

family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

If there was one thing Mason will not shut up about, it’s having children. Even his mates tell him to have a day off. You secretly find it cute, that he’s so ready to become a father and thinks of you as a suitable mother to his children. But Mason knows you’re not ready, with his career at the height it is right now and your age, you think kids aren’t on the cards right now, but you’re definitely wanting a few. Mason is absolutely okay with waiting for you, as he always mentions that there’s nobody else he’d rather do it with.

gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Mason gets a bit too excited when it comes to your birthday. He’ll go all out on gifts every year, topping the one before, and dotting them around the house in places you don’t look. Like the boot of his car, the electrical cupboard, the back garden shed, he’s thought about it strategically. And his giddy attitude is never something you question, you usually pass it as his excitement for an upcoming match or just that fact it’s your birthday soon. It would take everything in him to keep it a secret, almost spilling a few of your gifts. He’d accidentally asked you to grab his cleats from the boot of his car, immediately stopping you once the door was open. And you were none the wiser.

holding hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Whenever you’re both out with yours or his family, it is quite a large group, which usually meant a large outing. And being significantly shorter than him, he likes to hold you close. As you walk down a busy street, he won’t let you out of his sight, even if you’re talking to his mum, he’ll hold your hand tightly or have an arm around your shoulder. His family always thought it was cute, questioning why he does it. And he always responds with a joke, to hide his sloppiness. Something like, “she’s too short, can’t let her get lost.”

injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

If you came home through the front door limping, he’d be all over you. Carrying you to the kitchen, observing the injury, calling the shots on what you need to do for the evening. Which usually consists of having a bath, resting in bed, texting him if you needed him. It was adorable, despite it being just a twisted ankle from the gym or something.

But on a serious scale, if you came home bawling your eyes out after an awful encounter, that’s when Mason loses all of his silliness and smiles. He’s cradling you on the floor of the living room, talking over what just happened and how you felt. He wouldn’t leave you for the rest of the evening, always making sure you’re feeling better and giving you tight squeezes before he goes to get you anything.

jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Being an avid tiktok user, you’ve seen quite the pranks on there. And mason not yet having a tiktok, made it perfect to carry these out. You’d often spend hours on the phone with Declan, another avid tiktok user, sending prank ideas back and forth. Mason was quite the gullible person, either that or you were a brilliant actress, so your pranks were always going smoothly. And posting it to tiktok, you’d read through the flood of comments together, laughing about how deflated he looked when you swerved him from a kiss, or how in shock he looked when you told him the tower of Pisa had finally fallen over. It was a laugh you had every day.

kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

It varies. If Mason is tired from training, the kisses would be soft and almost non-existent, it would just be Mason’s face incredibly close to yours and then moving away a few seconds later. In any good moments, he’s always reaching for a kiss. The second he sees you after a win, his lips are on yours and aren’t leaving any time soon. Mason’s favourite type of kiss is the kiss you give him every night. It doesn’t lead anywhere that often. But it’s a deep kiss, it’s saying you love him without actually saying it. It always leaves Mason in a haze, going to bed with a love struck smile on his face.

love (how do they show you they love you?)

Mason shows he loves you in many ways. His love language is acts of service. So waking you up in the morning before work with a tea, bringing you into the shower and washing your hair for you. Attempting to make you breakfast, driving you to work, letting you choose dinner and he pays, driving to the local supermarket if you’re in dire need of something. He couldn’t do this everyday with his schedule, but whenever he could, he did.

memory (favorite memory together?)

By far, his favourite memory of the both of you was your first time at Wembley. You were shaking in your shoes at the amount of people in the stadium, but Mason managed to get you the closest seats to the pitch with your family. It was the game he scored two goals in, rushing straight over to your side and blowing you kisses. You soon settled in to the crowd, cheering with everyone else. He’d rush over at half time, giving you a quick kiss before leaving you again. And Mason brought you back to the changing rooms to meet the team, keeping you close to him at all times.

nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Mason’s worst fear is losing everything he has now. He’d be happy to admit he has everything he wants in life, an amazing career, a lovely list of family and friends, as well as someone he will soon have as a wife. He’s had a nightmare that he’d lost you before, the police broke the news to him and he woke up crying, holding you close for the rest of the night.

oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

It’s not so much of a thing now, but it definitely still happens. Before you were together, and Mason was still in the wooing stage, every time he spoke to you, he’d stutter. You found it adorable and took your time with him. You’d never rush him or look away bored, you’d just look into his eyes with a small smile and it’d make it worse. He’d trip on all of his words, trying to compliment you or ask you out. Even now, sometimes if you’re looking extra pretty or he’s just in a really lovey mood, he’ll slip up on his speech every now and then.

pet names (what do they like to call you?)

His go to pet names for you were baby, honey, and sweets. They just randomly caught on one day and never disappeared. But they make your stomach do flips every time you hear them.

quality time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Being in your company was enough for him. But it’s the mundane things he loves the most. It’s a weird one, but food shopping. For you, it’s an hour of stress. Manoeuvring past other shoppers, trying to find everything on your list, do your back in as you put everything on the belt, and pack in in record time. But for Mason, he’s following you round in a haze. Like a cartoon character in love. Asking if he can get some stuff, which you always agree to, and seeing you in conversation with random shoppers. Finally getting back to the car with the shopping littered in the boot and back seat, Mason’s hand stays in yours as you rest in the passenger seat.

rhythm (what song reminds you of each other?)

You have a shared song, and Mason vows for it to be your wedding song. Easy by Ella Mai. It’s slow, it’s something you both slow danced to when you were drunk out of your minds in your own living room. The party was over and the song just randomly started playing, a frown on your face as you look up at your boyfriend. It wasn’t his usual taste, which is why it was so random. He told you, “I heard it for the first time the day after I met you. And I thought it was so good. So now it reminds me of you.

secrets (how open are they with you?)

The only thing he keeps from you are your birthday gifts, or big surprises for you. And even then, he’s so eager to just tell you. But he shares even the littlest things with you — like Declan falling over at training, about how he shooed away a bunch of girls when he went to buy dinner. You both trust each other and Mason will tell you every last detail about his day if he could.

time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Mason knew almost instantly you’d be his girlfriend, even joking to Chilly that you’d be his wife someday. And you were an oblivious person, so you were none the wiser to his plays, which is why it took a few months to get together. Mason always comments that if you actually noticed he was flirting, you’d have been together within a few weeks. But now you laugh it off after having been together for so long.

upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He drops everything to help you when you’re upset. A bad day at work, an argument with a friend or family member, or even just a day where the world is against you. He can usually tell by your quiet demeanour, giving him tired answers, and not wanting to cry around him. He’d catch you in the bedroom, flopped onto the bed and huffing. He’d join you, rubbing your back as you go off about your day. He’d listen to it for hours if it meant you were okay, but he’d just run you a bath and tell you he’d be back with dinner shortly.

vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

1000%. He’s the one to tell your family that he’s surprised he bagged you. He’s always saying you’re out of his league, posting you on his Instagram all the time. Showing you off to his friends and family, sending them pictures of the two of you dressed up nice. They all find it adorable — and they know just how much Mason loves you.

warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

It’s on sight. If another man does so much as graze your shoulder, he’ll be on it for you. On the pitch, he’s okay with some confrontation, but anything regarding you, he’s not having it. You’re his and he would beat anyone who questioned it.

Usually, if it’s just a quarrel with a friend, he’ll listen to your side of things and give you some words of encouragement. But if it’s really nasty, he’ll be stepping in and having words. He has a lot of patience, but won’t let you be stood on.

x-ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Like a book, now. But when you were first dating, you hid your emotions well. At least, you thought you did. All it took was one touch from mason, and you were crying like a baby in his arms about your horrible shift. You thought you held up a tough front, but staring up at his eyes, as he looked back at you with concern laced among his features, it told him how you really felt. Now he knows the telltale signs, and he’s there to help.

yes (how would they propose to you?)

Mason thinks about this question a lot. He wonders it in the shower, making you your morning tea, during his downtime at training. He’s even scrolled endlessly through a bunch of rings, asking the opinions of his mum and sister. The question had come up between the two of you, and you’d said how you’d felt about marriage. You wanted it, but big events for a proposal were detested by you.

If it was up to Mase, he’d take you on holiday. Buy you a gorgeous summer dress, take you to the beach and declare his undying love for you. But he’d take a small proposal in bed at 2am, too.

zen (what makes them feel calm?)

As mentioned before, Mason was a sucker for domestic things. Watching you do the shopping as he trails behind you was his idea of spending good time together. But getting home from a long day of training, and smelling whatever dinner you’d concocted for the evening. It was as if your front door was the very gates of Heaven. No matter what happened during the day, the second he smells his dinner and greets you happily, nothing is ruining his mood.

if you guys want me to turn some of these into longer requests, just ask! i’m in the mood to write for mase🥺

[headinthestaticsky]

The Dusk Calls for me: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 12

AUTHORS NOTES: None of the characters in Twilight belong to me. All rights go to Stephanie Meyer.

We’re heading into the Finale of book 1 folks... I have so many ideas for book 2... it’s going to be great. Hopefully!

“You get ready, you get all dressed up

To go nowhere in particular Back to work or the coffee shop Doesn't matter 'cause it's enough To be young and in love.”

Love by, Lana Del Rey

Bella was finally going to meet the Cullens officially. All day before I had left to go down there she paced, looking like she was going to be sick. All of the Cullens were cooking Italian for Bella. The only person who I was worried about was Rosalie. She was furious at Edward for even dating her, and when he went public with her... it set her over the edge. Emmett was chopping up lettuce and other vegetables for her while Rosalie begrudgingly held a bowl for him to put it in. I was sitting in the living room with Jasper, he was concentrated on reading some books. It was always entertaining to watch vampires read so quickly.

“Is she even Italian?” Rosalie asked.

“Her name is Bella, Rose... she has to be.” Emmett replied.

“Emmett... you thought I was french just because my name is Fleur. That food was really good though... not like I am complaining. I said.

“Okay I admit I messed up there but, I have to be right about this one.”

“Whatever you say Em.”

“Shut it short-stack.”

“At least I don’t hit my head through small doorways.”

He glared at me jokingly and then rolled his eyes.

“Rose, tell her to stop bullying me.”

“I’m sorry I can’t do that... it’s too funny to listen to.” Rosalie said.

“Ugh, I feel betrayed.” Emmett said, his hands going toward his un-beating heart.”

Rosalie smiled, it was soon dropped though. She must’ve kept thinking about Bella.

“She better eat this.”

“Don’t want to sound gluttonous here but... I was totally eat if she doesn’t.... it’s her lose.”

“Stop trying to make me laugh.”

“I will never stop my attempts to make you laugh.”

“Woo, get a whiff of that, here comes the human!” Rosalie said in a sing-songy voice.

Esme smiled widely, she quickly wiped her hands before making her way over to Bella.

“Bella, we’re making Italiano for you.”

“Bella, this is my Esme my mother for all intents and purposes.”

Emmett raised his hand and waved at Bella with a knife in it. Bella and Esme exchanged a bit of Italian.

“Hello again Bella, hope you’re well.” Jasper said.

“Hey, Jasper... hope you’re well too.”

“You’ve given us an excuse to use the kitchen again. We usual make meals for your sister when she stays over.” Carlisle said.

“I hope you’re hungry.” Esme added.

I could see a nervous look on Bella’s face, I probably should’ve told her they would cook for her. 

“Y-yeah absolutely.”

“She already ate.” Edward said, a tinge of attitude in his voice.

Rosalie stood there, anger was all of her face. She smashed the bowl she was holding in her hand.

“Pull back Edward, you’re throwing her to the wolves!” I thought.

“Damn Rose... remind me not to piss you off again.” I said.

She had to bite down a smile.

“Perfect...” She said.

“It’s just because... I know you guys don’t eat. I didn’t want to put you into any trouble.”

“Of course, that is very considerate of you.” Esme comforted.

“Just ignore Rosalie, I do.” Edward said.

“Yeah, let’s just keep pretending that this isn’t dangerous for all of us.”

“Look, I would never tell anybody about you guys... Besides, Fleur knows and you trust her.”

“It’s because I pick up a good energy from her... I know I can trust her with anything I tell her. She’s not a backstabber, she’s told me some of the stuff you’ve done. I’m sorry but, it made me sick the way you use to treat her. I hated seeing how upset she got telling the things you and your mother said to her”

My eyes widened before looking down at my legs... maybe me being here just reminded them of some of the things I told them. I wasn’t being much help to Bella right now. Jasper sensing my nerves rising, calmed them down. My uncomfortable mood slowly simmering down.

“Rosalie, stop... don’t worry Bella, she knows you wouldn’t say anything about us to anyone.” Carlisle said.

“Well, the problem not is, you two have gone public now so...”

“Emmett.” Esme interrupted.” 

“No, she should know. The entire family could get implicated if this ends badly.”

“Badly, as in... I would become the meal.”

All of the Cullens in the house except for Rosalie and Esme started to laugh. I heard a few thumps before I saw Alice and Dean enter the room.

“Hi, Bella... I’m Alice.” Alice jogged toward Bella, giving her a hug.

“Hi.”

“Gosh, you do smell good.”

“Alice what’re you.”

“Don’t worry... Bella and I are going to be great friends.”

Dean looked like he was struggling to say something. I could tell he was uncomfortable to be around Bella right now.

“It-it’s a p-pleasure to meet you.” He said.

“Don’t mind Dean, he and Jasper are our newest vegetarians.” 

“It’s okay Dean, you won’t hurt her.”

The expression on Edward’s face made me want to laugh.

“Okay well, I’m going to show her around the house.”

“Okay.” Bella mumbled.

“I’ll see you soon.” Alice said.

“Okay.” Bella said again.

“So cute!” Esme gushed.

“I know!” Alice said in agreement.

“I think that went well.” Carlisle added.

“Rose, clean this up... now.” Esme said.

I leaned back into the couch, sinking into it. Jasper put his arm around my shoulder. “What an interesting visit.” I thought to myself.

Another day came and went by, Bella and I were on our way to the diner. It had been so long since I had been down there. I was in the passengers seat of her truck. I thought since we were going to the same place, we should probably drive in the same vehicle... During out drive she started talking about how Edward had been watching her sleep for months.

“Are you serious Bella? That’s kinda creepy.”

“I’m sure you have Jasper in your room with you at night.”

“Yeah but, he always asks me before he goes in there. We plan stuff like that out... He should be coming later tonight actually.”

“Okay... you have a point there.”

When we arrived at the diner and got out of the truck Mike approached us...

“Hey, you and Cullen huh? I don’t like it... I mean he looked at you like you’re something to eat.”

Bella and I looked at each other and smirked... he had no idea how correct he was in that statement. We walked past him and entered the dinner, dad was already waiting for us.

“Hey I hope you two don’t mind I ordered food for you guys already. I got you Bells a Spinach Salad and I got you a burger Fleur.”

“Yeah that sounds good.” I said.

“Good picks dad. Even though, you should get a salad like me next time... cut back the steak.” Bella said.

“Hey, I’m as healthy as a horse.”

"Hey , Chief, the boys want to know... did you find anything by Queets river today?"  The waitress asked.

"Yeah, we found a bare human footprint... but it looks like whoever it is is headed east... the Kisap County Sheriff is gonna take over from here."

 "Okay, I hope whoever it is... they get them fast." The waitress then walked away, a group of men started talking within there group.

I turned around hearing something outside, Mike was doing something to a poor bush outside. I nudged Bella, trying to get her attention.

“Hey, someone’s flagging you outside.”

“It seems that Newton boys got a big smile for you.” Dad added.

Bella looked, and then turned back around, her face looked horrified.

“You can join them if you want.” I said smirking.

“Shut up you jerk... Mike is a good buddy though.” She said back.

Dad face flushed slightly... as if what he was going to say next was embarrassing.

“W-what about any other of the yahoo’s in town?”

“Dad... we aren’t going to talk about boys are we?” Bella said, her face starting to turn red too.”

“I guess not... with you at least.... How is everything going with you and Jasper, Fleur?”

I looked up confused, how did conversation about Bella’s relationships get turn into one about mine.

“It’s going well.”

“Good, I noticed you’ve been spending a lot more time with him lately. That car ride you took was a long one.”

“Oh yeah we drove out for a while... we looked at the stars... it was really nice. He told me I seemed stress and just decided to take me somewhere.” I said, I looked down at my hands while smiling.

Dad seeing this smiled too.

“I always liked that boy, you got yourself I good one.”

“I know I do.” I said finally looking up at him.

“I was only bringing up boys with you Bella because... I feel like I leave you alone too much.”

“I don’t mind being alone dad, I’m like you in that way.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Timeskip: Later that night.

I was in my room, thinking about what dad had said earlier... He found a bare human footprint in the woods. Could it of been the same footprint of the woman who’s body I seemed to be suck in during my dreams? Or could it of been someone else entirely? The wind from my open window got harsher for a second, I then heard a familiar soft thud on my floor. I turned my head, locking my eyes with his.

“What’s going on in that head of yours love?” Jasper asked

“Just thinking of something my dad said earlier...”

“What is it?”

“My dad said he found a bare human footprint down at Queets river today... He said it was heading east. Have you guys found anything yet?”

“No, we haven’t found anything, it’s starting to get frustrating. Have you had anymore dreams about those vampires?” 

“Nope... if it is them though, I have a feeling that print was just a trap to throw them off course.”

“I do too... hey, my family and I plan on playing baseball tomorrow, since Edward is inviting Bella... I thought you could come too.”

“Yes, I would love too, watching Emmett climb and crash into things is my favorite part of the game. That and all those tricks you do with the bat.”

“It’s a plan then, I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” I pecked his lips before getting comfortable in my bed, I was still a human... I needed some sleep. I laid there, Jasper behind me holding close.

“Tomorrow is going to be a fun day.” I thought to myself, before drifting off to sleep.

[plumoh]

[SK8] at all times, at all sides

Rating: T

Word count: 7409

Summary: Kaoru is shaped by the choices he makes and the people surrounding him. And through the years, Kojirou was there in one way or another.

Note: AO3 link. This was posted a while after Kaoru’s birthday, as a character study of sorts, birthday by birthday. I make the assumption that in the present day, Kaoru and Kojirou are 27-28 years old.There is a brief mention of alcohol at age 20, and Kaoru is a bit drunk at age 26.

15.

Kaoru gets two additional piercings on his left ear on his fifteenth birthday.

The first one, at what is considered a normal place for an earring in the middle of the earlobe, was done as an impulsive act of brashness to show off to his friends at school at the beginning of the year. He likes the attention. The family name attached to him makes people gasp when they see him with holes in his ear, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t bring him some sort of satisfaction. It’s kind of ridiculous and entirely too stiff an attitude to be offended by some nails stuck into someone else’s skin, as if it changes who he fundamentally is. Besides, piercings are cool.

So Kaoru gets two additional piercings, a helix piercing and another one in the earlobe, and Kojirou whistles.

“You sure your parents won’t cut off your entire ear for that?” he asks, his gaze appraising Kaoru’s new look.

“I’ll live with only one ear, then,” Kaoru answers, shrugging. “What do you think? I look cool, right?”

Kaoru gestures to his ear, grinning and looking at Kojirou expectantly. He knows that he must be acting like a child who got permission to eat a second candy after dinner, but it’s his birthday and he feels he can be excited for what is, essentially, a new approach to his lifestyle. He paid for these piercings with his own pocket money (and money earned through foolish bets and challenges, and he’s thankful that most skaters are stupid).

Kojirou hums, his face pinched in intense concentration. Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“That’s a yes or no question, Kojirou.”

“Let me give you a complete review of your new fashion style, impatient bastard,” Kojirou says.

“I don’t need a complete review! They’re just piercings!”

Kojirou always takes forever when asked to give his opinion on any topic, be it about his younger brother’s latest baseball game or the best suited color for a piece of garment Kaoru’s mother has decided to wear for an important meeting. It’s utterly unnecessary and a waste of time—Kaoru isn’t asking Kojirou to write an essay about his piercings.

“Just answer the question,” Kaoru says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, if you like your piercings so much, maybe show them off more?” Kojirou sighs. “I don’t know, you have more hair than any human being is supposed to have. It hides the piercings.”

Kaoru snorts. “Complain to my mother about that.”

But Kaoru entertains the idea.

16.

Keeping his hair long is a simple matter of preference. There is no rule in his family stating that its members should have a specific length of hair, so why not? Very few boys and men have it this long, and Kojirou always asks him why he bothers taking care of such a useless physical feature when all it does is getting into his way when he skates. Kaoru admits he does have a point, but he likes his hair.

Kaoru is currently tying it into a ponytail, lazily skating on the sidewalk around their neighborhood. Kojirou is skating at his side eating an entire soda flavored Garigari-kun popsicle, shoving it into his mouth and crunching into the ice because he likes having brain freeze.

“Hey, it’s your birthday next week,” Kojirou announces, like it’s the most thrilling event of the week. “Did you plan something? Wanna go explore some new skating areas?”

Kaoru flips his hair over his shoulder and shrugs. Kojirou is looking at him curiously, almost intently, and that makes Kaoru raise an eyebrow.

“Nothing special, but it’s also on the same day as some renown calligrapher from Tokyo visiting our studio. So yeah.”

“All the way from Tokyo? That sounds important.”

“Maybe. I didn’t really pay attention.”

Simply thinking about all the formal procedures that will take place in his house and the fact he will have to be on his “best behavior, please, Kaoru” is pissing him off. He’s not interested in hearing about the works of this supposedly famous and talented calligrapher bestowing upon their modest family his knowledge and wise advice. Kaoru doesn’t even know why he still attends the calligraphy lessons when he’s pretty sure he’ll go into computer science or something. His parents are always on his case about maintaining his posture and improving his strokes every day, and at some point Kaoru started obeying to make their noisy demands stop. He doesn’t genuinely hate the art itself; he simply thinks that his time is better spent elsewhere. What does calligraphy have when computers can do much more fascinating stuff?

Kojirou is nibbling at the popsicle stick, eyeing him with that critical look he often gets when he considers throwing paper balls at Kaoru in class, or when he thinks that Kaoru needs a snack to calm down, like some fucking animal he’s trying to tame—Kaoru hates that somehow, food always works.

“You want to ditch?” Kojirou asks as neutrally as possible, but Kaoru hears the sympathy in his voice. Which is appreciated, but unnecessary.

“No, I was actually thinking of scandalizing my parents by cutting my hair and having it cropped short,” Kaoru says with a half-feral grin. “Like, strands of hair sticking everywhere and impossible to make it look presentable.”

Kojirou almost stumbles on his skateboard, even though it’s a straight line and he wasn’t even pushing with his feet on the concrete.

“What?! But you never shut up about your hair!”

“You fucking liar, I only ever say I like having it long!”

“Yeah, that still makes it stupid! Why would you cut your hair if you like it long?”

“Because hair grows again?”

“Not as fast as you’d think, if you even thought about it before blurting out you want to get a bowl cut.”

“Disheveled and rowdy haircut, not a bowl cut, you idiot!”

They make a turn at the corner of the street, expertly avoiding a kid walking her dog and dodging the woman carrying groceries behind her, not without getting scolded for skating in residential areas (or skating at all) but those are words that go in one ear and exit in the other. Kaoru smiles to himself and kicks into the ground to get more speed, jumps and flips his board in the air before landing on it again with minimal risk of smashing his face in the concrete. He lifts a fist in the air with a whooping cry.

“Oh hey, that was a good one!” he exclaims, giving Kojirou a radiant grin.

“You mastered this trick long ago, why are you so excited?” Kojirou grumbles.

“Because it felt nice, that’s all. Be happy about the small things in life, that’s what you keep saying.”

“Sometimes I feel you’re purposely throwing back my words at my face only when it’s convenient for you.”

“I always listen to you, even if it might come as a surprise.”

Kaoru laughs, spinning his board and continuing on a straight line, ahead of Kojirou. Today’s weather is pleasant and he can’t wait for the end of the school year at the end of the week to go skating all day. It will come with more calligraphy practice, but at least he will have time for his other hobbies too. And if he can’t focus on anything at home, he can still go to Kojirou’s place and bother him all day.

“Then don’t cut your hair!” Kojirou shouts, catching up to him.

The lines on Kojirou’s face are weird, all upset and a bit worried, and that’s not an expression Kaoru is used to see when they’re talking about haircuts, of all things. Maybe when they’re doing their geography homework or when they’ve spent one hour practicing tricks and got more bruises than actual results, but not hair.

“What’s up with you?” Kaoru asks, slowing down. “It’s just my hair. It’s a good prank.”

“You’re going to look like a bird’s nest for at least three months, you okay with that?” Kojirou retorts.

“That’s not the worst thing in existence. And if I recall, you told me last year I should show off my piercings more, so having short hair would effectively do that.”

Kojirou groans and drags a hand across his face, almost looking defeated.

“Just style it in a way that makes your piercings visible, then,” Kojirou adds. “You… have nice hair.”

Kaoru blinks. Kojirou looks straight ahead, his posture stiff, determined not to turn his head in Kaoru’s direction.

“I have nice hair,” Kaoru repeats.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to cut my hair because it looks nice?”

“Yes.”

“That might be the most honest compliment you’ve ever said to me.”

“Shut up, I’m never complimenting you ever again!”

Kojirou speeds up, but not before Kaoru catches a glimpse of his reddening ears. The situation is starting to make even less sense, but seeing Kojirou so flustered over nothing is piquing Kaoru’s interest and his lips stretch in a wide grin. Kaoru joins Kojirou in their less-than-recommended skating speed.

“Okay, but you’re being weird!” Kaoru shouts over the sound of their wheels scratching against the ground. “Was that an offer to style my hair?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Kojirou mutters.

“You’re the one who suggested it, you can’t drop the topic!”

It’s almost comical to see two teenagers loudly arguing about a pointless subject while skateboarding and avoiding any obstacles they come across, as if being on a board is the same as walking. Passersby shoot them quizzical looks and a lot of adults are clearly not approving their noise level.

They end up skating all the way to the playground near the elementary school of the neighborhood, where a few kids are playing while their parents are watching over them. There is a skating park farther away, but people are already using it and Kaoru doesn’t like skating with people not part of their crew unless he’s looking for a fight. So they keep skating around, at a lower speed because colliding with children won’t exactly look good on either of them.

“Fine, keep being stubborn, you asshole,” Kaoru grumbles. “I’ll get another piercing.”

Kojirou finally jerks his head towards Kaoru, his expression a lot less constipated and more curious. “On such a short notice?”

“I’ll find a way. And even if I can’t get it done before my birthday, it will still be infuriating for my parents.”

Kaoru taps at his lower lip, not missing the way Kojirou’s eyes follow the movement with rapt attention.

“I wanted to get a lip ring, anyway,” he says.

There is something simply enthralling in a lip ring—the light catches on it, and people are immediately in admiration when they see it. Not everyone has the guts to get one, after all.

Kojirou slowly nods, tearing his gaze away from Kaoru’s face.

“If you want,” he says. “I don’t see any problem with that.”

“You’re so weird today.” Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“You’re the weird one, obsessed with piercings.”

“You just wish you could be as cool as me. Race you to my home!”

“Damn it Kaoru, stop cheating!”

Kaoru ignores Kojirou and launches himself at full speed to make his skateboard pivot and turn around, going back from the way they came. Kojirou is still yelling at him.

Kaoru doesn’t manage to get his lip pierced before his birthday, but he does sweep the left side of his hair behind his head and keep it in place with a hair clamp, leaving his earrings in plain sight. To the calligrapher’s credit, upon seeing who the supposed Sakurayashiki heir is, he makes only the vaguest noise of shock before getting into business. Kaoru smiles all throughout the visit.

17.

Kaoru’s seventeenth birthday remains one of the most special days of his life.

He got gifts, snacks and high-fives from various people whom he cares more or less about (the crew bought a cake but Kaoru only got a thin slice of it because they are greedy bastards), while Kojirou bought him a book on AI that was way too expensive even if he has a part-time job salary (Kaoru wrestled him to the ground when he recognized the book).

Adam takes them skating in a place they’ve never explored before.

It’s beautiful. Exciting, captivating and alluring, making them use all their senses to turn at the right time, to ride down a hill without losing control, and to feel the full path reverberated through their bodies in shock waves. Skateboarding is fun, but this is on another level entirely—it’s like sliding on the edge of a cliff, giving heart palpitations but also an intoxicating feeling of a game that needs to be beaten, whose ending is all worth these efforts.

The three of them are skating as if wings sprouted on their back, uncaring of the world outside of their little bubble of thrills. Kaoru watches in fascination as Adam seems to fly across the track, smooth in his skating and unconcerned with the bumpy road. The wind seems to be an inconsequential factor in his descent in the slope, moving along with it and never straying far from the road. It’s subjugating, it’s beautiful, it’s freedom.

“Watch where you’re skating, idiot!” Kojirou yells right next to him, startling Kaoru out of his reverie.

Kaoru crouches low and makes a sharp turn, avoiding a rock that would have sent him sprawling. He straightens and keeps going at a controlled pace, glaring at Kojirou.

“I know what I’m doing!” he grunts.

“You almost smacked that wall with your face,” Kojirou points out with a glare of his own. “Stop getting distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” Kaoru snaps back automatically.

But the look Kojirou is giving him is indescribable, so foreign on his face and even more so as it is directed at Kaoru. There is something brewing in the air and Kaoru doesn’t like it, doesn’t want a chasm opening between them because of a stupid argument, but he doesn’t even know what made Kojirou so irritable in the first place.

Adam is waiting for them at the end of the path, watching them arriving at a sullen pace with a raised eyebrow. Kaoru stops right in front of him and plasters a smile on his face, much more eager to talk about they’ve come here for.

“That’s an amazing place! Skating here is so fun, we can make a challenge out of a lot of things in this mountain.”

“Yes, the turns are different and there are many slopes that we need to be careful of,” Adam agrees, smiling. “I truly believe we can accomplish a lot, if we do it together. I want to create a special race here for skaters to push their limits.”

Adam looks at Kaoru, then at Kojirou—the glint of mischief and of confidence reflected in his eyes is the same as the one that pulls everyone in his orbit, making them give their all to become the best. It’s a look that Kaoru feels inextricably drawn to, enamored with the unbridled possibilities he imagines behind words that promise a paradise of freedom grander than anything they’ve ever known.

“You both have skills that will be useful to establish this race,” Adam continues. “People are following you and your skating is among the best. I said before that you guys were special, and I mean it.”

Kaoru does not preen, but the shivers that course through his body as Adam opens his heart are ones that feel pleasant, almost addictive. His grin splits his face in two.

“You can count on us, we’re going to create the best skating race in existence,” Kaoru assures. “Right, Kojirou?”

“Yeah, of course!”

Kojirou’s earnest tone is almost a relief—he’s clearly as excited about this race as them, and Kaoru would have been seriously worried if that wasn’t the case.

For the first time, the joyous expression on Adam’s face seems to be born out of sincerity plucked from the deepest corner of his heart. It suits him; it makes him look even more radiant than usual. Kaoru can’t look away.

“It’s decided, then,” Adam says. “The three of us, inaugurating the “S” race. Together.”

On that day, when Kaoru turned seventeen and his mind was filled with nothing but skateboarding, he thought that this is what belonging felt like.

18.

Sitting perfectly straight, legs tucked under him, Kaoru picks up a brush, dips it into ink he has carefully ground, presses it against the sheet of paper and splashes black trails all over it. The ink drips outside of the frame and stains the tatami floor of the study he hasn’t bothered to protect, littering everything in dark, angry marks that resemble the work of a child throwing a tantrum.

There is no word, no poem written on his paper. Half of the inkstick is grossly used up, its tip almost falling apart, like it wasn’t deemed worthy of being respected as one of the treasures of calligraphy. Kaoru is filling the paper with nothing but emptiness.

It’s not even rage moving his arm like a possessed demon. It would have been easier to deal with, if it was rage; handling it requires minimal effort, as he can mindlessly let his heart wreak havoc upon anything his hands come into contact with, or he can scream all the grievances he’s bottled up to clear the space occupied by unpleasant thoughts. Rage is physical, in and out, and Kaoru’s had years of practice getting rid of it.

But this is not rage that nudges him in the direction of destroying a perfectly good piece of paper with expensive ink and an even more expensive brush, tarnishing their quality and the noble use they are destined to. It’s cold and quiet resignation, trapping him in his own mind as he lets himself be selfish one last time and act out in childish anger.

Kaoru’s eighteenth birthday is spent alone, grieving his dream of ever cutting ties with family traditions. He hasn’t touched a skateboard in months and he hasn’t tinkered with his AI program in even longer. There was no point anyway—Kojirou has other things to focus on, and Adam left.

Kaoru was a fool to think he was strong and resolute enough to follow a path that is not written with the same deep ink as the one he’s used all his life.

20.

“You can legally drink now, congrats.”

“Great. I can sip my alcohol in the presence of guests and pretend I’m enjoying their company when all I want is getting drunk.”

“That’s not very professional, soon-to-be Sakurayashiki-sensei.”

“You’re one to talk, I bet you’re consuming way too many beers at those parties. Has gaining muscle mass made you lose brain cells?”

“Hey, you four-eyes, that was uncalled for!”

There is something moving behind Kojirou, a door opening and someone poking his head inside, and Kojirou turns his head to rattle off a few words in Italian before facing the camera again. Chin resting in his palm, Kaoru is watching with a raised eyebrow Kojirou’s roommate rummage through Kojirou’s dressing, before retreating back into the corridor.

“Does he make a habit to walk around your shared apartment half-naked?” Kaoru asks.

Kojirou laughs, waving his hand. “He was looking for a clean shirt, he forgot to do laundry yesterday. I told him he could borrow one of mine.”

“I’m surprised you still find shirts your size with the way your body’s taking the shape of a gorilla’s.”

“Just admit you’re jealous of my perfect muscles.”

Kojirou makes a show of flexing his bicep and Kaoru snorts.

“Yeah, I’m so jealous of that gorilla body that is unnecessarily big.” Kaoru deadpans.

“Believe it or not, it makes skating a lot more fun too,” Kojirou adds with a smile. “More power in the legs to do tricks.”

Kojirou looks...satisfied with the direction his life is taking. Kaoru is happy for him—studying abroad in culinary school and discovering a whole new culture seems to be the change of pace Kojirou needed. Sometimes Kaoru wishes he could also skate in the places full of pipes and curvy roads that Kojirou shows him, but he has to make do with the familiar tracks he’s skated on all his life.

“I upgraded Carla to calculate distances faster and to automatically record what she sees,” Kaoru says with a hint of smugness.

“Your AI having a girl’s name will never stop being weird,” Kojirou groans. “Why haven’t you chosen something normal like “Ghost Voice” or “Robotico”?”

“An AI is not a robot.” Kaoru pinches the bridge of his nose, already tired of having to repeat this for the umpteenth time. “Your Roomba is a robot. Carla recognizes many more things than the shape of your apartment.”

“Then program Carla to clean my apartment too.”

“Carla isn’t a vacuum cleaner, you dimwit!”

“That’s a big shame, maybe you should also create an AI cooking for you!”

Kaoru opens his mouth to reply something scathing, then snaps it shut. On the screen, Kojirou frowns.

“Don’t,” Kojirou warns.

“We have enough resources and data to program an AI that creates recipes from a list of ingredients,” Kaoru says anyway. “If we implement it into a robot, with the correct code and careful adjustments, then maybe it will be a decent cook.”

“If you start making a cook AI I don’t want to heart about it,” Kojirou mutters.

Kaoru rolls his eyes. “Do you think I have enough hours in a day to focus on another project? Carla already requires my full attention.”

There is no need for him to say that calligraphy practice is what he does most of the day, if he’s not attending courses on speech or on business. It’s his life now; he chose to become the next Sakurayashiki calligrapher and he can’t back down now. Not that he’s ever fully considered leaving calligraphy behind for one of his better, more interesting hobbies—and this was exactly the problem. He never untied his hands from the string tethering him to a brush.

“You always want to work on something, so I’m expecting anything from you when you’re bored,” Kojirou says with a smirk.

“Maybe my next project will make gorillas like you shut up.”

Kaoru is twenty years old, discovering every day new aspects of himself in a professional environment, but one thing that never changes is the comfort of simply existing as himself when he talks to Kojirou.

22.

Kaoru spends a couple of years simmering in feelings he doesn’t acknowledge.

He isn’t someone who takes the time to reflect on his own feelings, negative or positive. They simply happen and he decides on whether to act on them—which has been true since he was a child, throwing tantrums when he didn’t like the task he was asked to do, kicking someone he didn’t agree with as a teenager, and deflecting when answering journalists’ questions that would force him to look deep into his heart. He lives in the moment and tries very hard not to burden himself with useless thoughts and regrets he can’t act upon.

He doesn’t dwell more than necessary on his choice to inherit the family calligraphy studio, because it will lead to nothing productive. He has perhaps harbored ill feelings towards calligraphy in the past, but they’re not so visceral he can’t execute the job he’s been trained for since he could hold a brush. Sometimes he thinks he could have rejected everything he’s been taught and disappoint his family for the rest of his life, but he immediately chases the thought away and decides that suffering through a successful career of calligrapher appears to be a small sacrifice compared to the headaches that would have come with removing himself from the Sakurayashiki studio.

He’s a full grown adult, by society’s standards. He shed his sweaters for yukatas and took off his piercings with reluctance, feeling like he ripped off a part of himself that’s been with him forever to fit into a mold he’s accepted as his new normal. Those were remnants of his old, carefree life that he abandoned, and it’d be preposterous to wish for things to have gone differently.

At least he has his AI—a new spin to a traditional art that is resistant to change. Carla is efficient, impressive and shocks people into admiration; Kaoru has upgraded and improved the code as many times as it required, making her compatible with every device in his possession so that she could accompany him in all his tasks. Skating became a game of precision, detail and finesse, aiming for perfection beyond what the average mind would think of. Calligraphy is enhanced and magnified, the digital aspect adding beauty in an art that is almost exclusively done by hand. Incorporating technology in his otherwise boring job undoubtedly made his days easier and more fun.

Kaoru isn’t dissatisfied. He can do better, but he could have done worse. However, if there is one thing that makes him antsy it’s the realization that he’s seeing less of Kojirou with each passing day, and he would have never thought it would leave a growing ache in his chest every time he thinks about it.

They have their own lives to live. It’s part of growing up—and he hasn’t completely lost his best friend yet.

25.

They have been wandering the streets of Paris for exactly ten minutes and Kaoru is already starting to regret his decision.

“It’s not that hard to read a map,” he seethes, trying to grab Kojirou’s phone.

Kojirou lifts the device higher and turns his back on Kaoru, stubbornly keeping his eyes riveted on the screen.

“I’ve got this, stop distracting me,” Kojirou says.

“The metro station is right there, let’s just change itinerary, stupid gorilla!”

“You want to take the metro when we could explore the city on foot?”

“The probability of getting shitted on by pigeons is way too high for my liking.”

This gets an undignified snort from Kojirou, more amused than mocking though Kaoru knows not to assume when every one of his words can be thrown back at his face later on.

They do end up taking the metro. They can go anywhere in Paris by bus or metro, making it extremely convenient to find their way but it gets overwhelming really fast—the metro lines seem to be full of people at all hours of the day, according to Kaoru’s extensive research before their trip, and they are nothing like the monorail they have back in Okinawa. Most passengers are focused on their phones, while others are taking a quick nap, which is not that different from what they’re used to.

“It can’t be worse than the Tokyo rail lines,” Kaoru mutters as they’re being shaken by the train doing a particularly sharp and violent turn.

“You’ve never been to Tokyo,” Kojirou replies with a raised eyebrow.

“I did last year for a meeting.”

“And that single trip was enough for you to get the full experience of the infamous rush of Tokyo’s Yamanote line?”

“I wasn’t saying I used the Yamanote line, imbecile. All trains are crowded. I think you wouldn’t have been able to squeeze in with your gorilla body.”

“At least I’m not at risk of going blind when someone knocks off my glasses by pushing me around in a crowd!”

“I always carry a second pair of glasses with me to avoid this kind of incident!”

It’s probably a good thing that this line of metro makes the same level of noise as a tractor revved up at full power, because their arguing is by no means quiet and people are starting to stare at them. But as soon as Kaoru glances at them, they avert their eyes and pretend they weren’t gawking. Typical.

March weather is terrible. Their trip lasts one week, and there is an equal number of sunny days and of cloudy days, with high probability of rain. It shouldn’t be normal to have a changing weather so unpredictable that it makes planning for their day a real pain in the ass. Kojirou is already complaining about the sun beginning to leave space for clouds at merely eleven in the morning, and Kaoru silently agrees with the sentiment.

The food is good, at least.

“Reminds me a bit of what restaurants looked like in Italy,” Kojirou says around a mouthful of beef. “Maybe I can draw inspiration from those recipes.”

“It’s not Italian cuisine,” Kaoru points out. “Unless you intend to make a mixed menu.”

“Of course not, but the flavors can be useful.”

Kojirou is examining his piece of vegetable like a scientist observing an experiment under a microscope, as if it could give him the secrets of its cooking time or the spices used for it. Kaoru lightly kicks him under the table, and Kojirou hisses.

“Stop being weird and eat your food.”

“Do you really have to hit me every time you want to make a point?”

“I’m not hitting that hard.”

The other way around is more likely to happen; Kaoru won’t ever admit it but he doubts that Kojirou feels more pain than Kaoru does when he hits him. Those muscles are ridiculous and entirely unnecessary, honestly.

They take pictures at the landmarks and get mad at the long lines and narrow their eyes at the price of various food and drinks they stumble upon. They’re not short on money, but drinking a cup of café au lait at twice the price of what they can find in regular coffee shops doesn’t leave a good taste in their mouth. Kojirou uses the knowledge from his time in Italy to make educated guesses on whether they’re paying something at an unreasonable price or not—he looks a bit too smug doing so but Kaoru lets it slide for once and allows him to play the role of the brain for this specific aspect of their trip. Kaoru can at least trust Kojirou’s judgment when money is concerned (even if his intuition can be skewed sometimes).

“It’s only because it’s your birthday trip that I’m putting up with your need to visit museums,” Kojirou says, waving at the multiple pamphlets they gathered after three days of sightseeing.

“Having some culture ingrained in your mind is nothing but beneficial for you,” Kaoru retorts evenly.

Kojirou rolls his eyes, clearly not interested in that conversation, and gets up from his bed of their hotel room. It’s past midnight but they’re still wide awake. Sharing one room would be awkward or embarrassing for a lot of people, but Kaoru has known Kojirou half his life and it would be ridiculous to feel self-conscious now, when they’ve seen each other in various states of undress and wakefulness. Perhaps the only complaint Kaoru will voice that he didn’t have when he was thirteen is that the older Kojirou gets, the louder his snoring is (as if the noise level grows with the wideness of his body).

“Hey, Kaoru.”

Kaoru looks up from tomorrow’s schedule displayed on his phone to come face to face with a giant box of pastries and Kojirou’s bright grin. Kojirou is holding the box one-handed, slightly bent forward, like he would a tray to present his dish to his most loyal customers.

“Happy birthday, four-eyes,” Kojirou says on a light tone.

“Must you call me names when you’re wishing me happy birthday?” Kaoru scoffs, but he eyes the pastries with unconcealed interest.

They went to a bakery in the afternoon for a snack, buying a croissant, a pain au chocolat and a pain aux raisins because they apparently lack self control when it comes to cheap baked goods—but for some reason Kaoru missed the moment Kojirou acquired this box of pastries.

“It’s past midnight,” Kaoru reminds him.

Kojirou shrugs. “We’re grown adults and on holiday, I don’t think it’s much of a problem.”

“There are six different pastries in this box.”

“Nobody’s saying we should eat all of them right now, moron. Save some of them for tomorrow.”

They end up eating three pasties, one half each, while arguing about the pros and cons of buying smaller portions of different sweets over getting an entire cake for a birthday, as well as the point of starting celebrating said birthday at midnight instead of simply waiting for morning. They’ve had these conversations before, at Kaoru’s or Kojirou’s birthday over the years, but it seems they never grow sick of repeating the same arguments even when the topic is stupid.

It’s like a well-oiled machine; pushing on one button always leads to the same result. Kaoru and Kojirou argue because this is what they’re used to do, a response at their lips even before they hear the end of the other’s sentence. What comes out of their mouths takes the shape of banter but Kaoru, even though he usually ignores it, notices how at ease he is in these moments.

Kojirou invited him for this trip even if he didn’t have to, and bought pastries to share at midnight like they’re holding a small party. His face is illuminated by his generosity and his big heart that finds a way to carve itself in his eyes.

“Let’s go skating tomorrow afternoon, it will be fun,” Kojirou suggests, mischief and plain desire to have fun glimmering in his gaze.

And Kaoru can’t say no.

They brought their boards, like they did when they traveled to Los Angeles. It might sound like a waste of space in their luggage, but nobody has a say in what they consider fun. Kaoru had to change Carla’s battery for her to fall under airport regulation, which was a hassle on short notice (Kojirou dropped a plane ticket on Kaoru’s lap a week before departure, and Kaoru shoved back money at him but it somehow ended back in his hands after a few minutes of jostling) but definitely worth it, because there’s no way he will skate with a lower quality board.

On March 27th, when Kaoru turns twenty-five years old, he almost resorts to a more physical solution to win petty squabbles against skaters in another country, a behavior he was prone to display when he was seventeen. But he’s an adult who is traveling for leisure and isn’t foolish enough to ruin the trip by punching someone when he can skate away and show off with a few tricks involving exact calculations and perfect angles, so this is what he does—after Kojirou, admittedly, forced him to remain calm, as though he was his impulse control when Kojirou is just as quick to rise to a challenge.

Maybe the difference is that Kojirou isn’t a cocky bastard like Kaoru is. Debatable, but Kaoru won’t deny that he loves the feeling of achieving something flashy or impressive. Getting into trouble for it is always worth it, especially if Kojirou is there to live it with him. It’s never the same without Kojirou—they might bicker and have more arguments then actual conversations, but Kojirou’s a warm presence enveloping him in a tight hug he can never quite shake off.

The trip to Paris isn’t half-bad, and it’s full of memories with the person he trusts the most.

26.

Kojirou is very, very still when Kaoru finally stops fighting with himself and leans his head on his shoulder, completely wasted after drinking too much wine at this event gathering too many important people to talk to and drink with. The taxi is silent and all he can hear is the screech of the wheels on the asphalt.

“Rest until we reach your home,” Kojirou says, something akin to laughter in his voice.

“Hm.”

Kaoru registers the words coming out of Kojirou’s mouth, and judges them acceptable before closing his eyes and letting himself be rocked by the car drive. In his drunken haze, when he called Kojirou to be picked up, he forgot Kojirou lent his car to his little brother; remembering such an essential detail would have saved them a lot of trouble, but Kojirou called a taxi and is now sitting with Kaoru in the backseat instead of going back to his own home. What an idiot.

Kojirou helps him into his apartment, grumbling as his elbows hit the walls and his feet get caught in stray shoes in the genkan that Kaoru eventually wanted to sort out and put away. They manage to get to the couch, and Kaoru collapses on it without grace and lets out a long groan, draping an arm over his eyes.

“I’m not drinking at this sort of event again,” he complains.

“That’s your fault for not limiting yourself,” Kojirou sounds unimpressed. “You always say you’ll stop drinking but you keep doing it.”

“Half a glass with each guest is customary. Beyond that is called showing off.”

“So you’re showing off, stupid four-eyes.”

“Shut up, gorilla. I have something to prove.”

Kojirou’s sigh is filled with such apparent exasperation that Kaoru immediately realizes how petty and ridiculous he just sounded.

“On the day of your birthday, to top it all,” Kojirou says. “Do you need babysitting?”

“You are not going to babysit me,” Kaoru snaps. “I’ll just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, and you’ll start bitching tomorrow morning because you forgot to drink water and take a shower.”

“I’m not that incompetent, you giant brainless idiot.”

Kojirou doesn’t deign responding to his insult and slides behind the kitchen counter. Kaoru drops his arm and watches him rummaging through the cabinets with too much confidence for someone who doesn’t live there. Kojirou comes back with a glass of water and two slices of bread that Kaoru usually eats in the morning when he’s too lazy to make breakfast.

“You probably didn’t eat much, since your robophile brain was wired on ingesting wine.”

“I just said I don’t need your help,” Kaoru mutters.

Kojirou ignores him and deposits the items on the coffee table. He then sits down next to Kaoru, causing Kaoru to shift further on his side of the couch because of his needlessly big body.

“Do you have to sit so close to me?” Kaoru grumbles, leaning forward to snatch the water and the bread, pretending that his world didn’t start spinning as he did so. He takes a few sips of the water.

“Your couch isn’t large enough.”

“It’s your body that’s not average size, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re suspiciously coherent for someone who says he’s drunk.”

Kaoru shrugs, foregoing manners as he speaks and munches on the bread at the same time. “My mind is clear, my thoughts aren’t confused in the least.”

“Right. What time is it?”

Kaoru looks at the time displayed on his TV box, sitting on the stand pushed against the opposite wall of where they’re sitting. He squints at the numbers, slightly blurry despite his glasses still resting on his nose. He has no idea what time it is.

“Eleven forty-seven,” Kaoru announces.

“No, it’s twelve forty-seven,” Kojirou snickers. “Finish that, take a shower and go to bed.”

“And you’re going to stay here and take up space in my apartment?”

“Well, if your event hadn’t run for so long, I would have spent some time with you anyway since it’s your birthday. So I might as well stay until you fall asleep.”

Several things get jumbled in his head at that moment, and Kaoru stares at Kojirou in disbelief. There’s something funny and warm happening in the pit of his stomach.

“You have nothing else to do,” Kaoru asks, or accuses—he doesn’t know how his voice comes across.

“Just go to sleep, Kaoru.”

Kojirou takes the empty glass from Kaoru’s hands and puts it on the table. He then tugs Kaoru upright, holding his wrists in a gentle and careful grip, as if Kaoru will break if he’s not handled in the most delicate manner. Half of the second slice of bread is lying abandoned in the plate, but Kaoru doesn’t particularly mind as he realizes, with strange clarity, that this isn’t unpleasant to be taken care of like this. Kojirou is smiling at him with his most genuine expression, and Kaoru has to look down to avoid his gaze, embarrassed and fulfilled and relieved all at once.

28.

It’s been a long time coming, Kaoru thinks as his fingers tangle in Kojirou’s hair and he brings him closer, always closer to him. The night is warm and too uncomfortable for a spring day, but the heat twisting his stomach is from something entirely separate. His lips meet Kojirou’s endlessly, like this act alone will make him absorb whatever Kojirou is willing to give to him for safekeeping. It’s the first time they’re kissing and yet it feels like they should have been doing this for years now, hiding under the shade of a tree or behind a rocky wall to share a private moment together, in a pocket of time that will burst only when they decide to drop all pretenses.

He knows it’s been a long time coming, because Kojirou is laughing against his lips, and when Kaoru cracks an eye open he sees how open and fond Kojirou’s face is. Kaoru immediately wants to close his eyes again and to stop noticing how luminous everything has become.

“We’re so dumb,” Kojirou says.

“You are stupid, for holding back all those years,” Kaoru retorts.

“Yeah, now it’s my fault for being considerate of your feelings towards me.”

“If you believed for one instant that I’d cut ties with you, then you’re more foolish than I thought you were.”

Kojirou still has hi arms wound around Kaoru’s back, and when he shrugs he presses Kaoru closer to himself. There is no anger and no regret in his eyes or his posture, as though nothing in the world would strip him of the bliss he’s currently being filled with. Kaoru finds himself drunk on the sight.

“I didn’t think that, no. I was just too scared of doing anything that will cause a shift in our relationship.”

The words sound strange, once Kaoru hears them spoken out loud. Kojirou is the one constant in his life that never changed, a shadow at his back and a light guiding him. They’ve both seen each other at their worst and their best, tending to bruises and squeezing a shoulder in comfort or riling each other up as part of their routine. Kojirou is an entity that exists at Karou’s side, full of familiarity and overflowing with kindness that doesn’t need to be voiced.

Kojirou is stupid for ever having hesitated or doubted the strength of their bond. But Kaoru is stupid, too, for simply taking what Kojirou was offering without ever giving back properly.

“We’re never having this conversation again,” Kaoru warns, tugging at Kojirou’s hair and pressing his forehead against his. “I trust you, Kojirou. I always have. This isn’t going to change.”

Kojirou is clinging to every one of his words, looking at Kaoru with the most enraptured expression he’s ever shown. Like this is a dream that cannot be real. Kaoru scowls.

“Don’t look so surprised, gorilla. That’s not a secret.”

“I’m not surprised, I’m simply enjoying that you’re saying it at all,” Kojirou laughs.

“You never say anything pleasant about me either.”

“You’re the one who barges into my restaurant and half the time demand dishes that aren’t even on the menu, and I still cook them! I’m being nice enough!”

“What else would you do in a restaurant, muscles for brain ape?”

“I don’t know, cook a dish I have the actual ingredients for?”

Kaoru’s lips are pulled upward despite everything, his heart as light as ever in Kojirou’s presence. The ease surrounding them remains the same, electric veil sealing them in their own brand of intimacy they wouldn’t trade for anything else.

It feels effortless, then, to switch to a less barbed attitude but still retaining playfulness. Kaoru brushes strands of hair out of Kojirou’s face, and Kojirou runs a thumb under Kaoru’s eye.

“It’s my birthday at the end of the week,” Kaoru whispers, locking eyes with Kojirou. “Take me somewhere nice.”

“Bossy as ever,” Kojirou sighs, though his voice sounds like contentment and bliss contained in a space called home.

Kaoru smiles.

[poetic-emptiness-fanfic]

Something There

The name of this fic is from a song Something There from Beauty and the Beast.

Characters: Hande Kuura, Reidunn & Lydik - Reidunn and Lydik belong to @vikinglumberjack

The first meeting of Hande and Lydik!

No content warnings.

Words: ~4 000

Hande enjoys spring: it's that time of year when nature comes back to life after months of slumber. A smile creeps across her face while she's walking towards the marketplace, not only because of the warmth or budding flowers and leaves, but because today she will meet her best friend after a long time. Reidunn has returned from her months-long journey to Longyearbyen, so of course they had to arrange a meeting.

It doesn't take long for Hande to spot the redhead from the crowd. She starts to wave at her friend whose face turns to meet Hande's eyes. They both smile to each other and Hande takes the huldra into a warm hug.

”Dunna, welcome back! I've missed you! How was your journey? Any news from your family?”

”Takkâ, Hande! I've missed you, too! It was fine, sometimes the weather was a little stormy on my way back home, but I was happy to see my family again. They're all fine, thank you for asking! They sent their love to you – they had hoped you would come with me again.”

”I'm glad you didn't experience anything too harsh on your way home! I would've loved to come with you, but you know how it is: Nadia needs me with this mental health clinic project,” Hande chuckles before she continues, ”That's what you get when you say an idea out loud and the Countess actually ends up liking it.”

Reidunn pats her friend on the shoulder, reassuring Hande it was great, that Vesuvia is going to have an important institution thanks to her. The magician quickly brushes it off, changing the subject to Longyearbyen. The huldra decides to indulge Hande this time, and tells about all the things she's done during her stay at her childhood home. They keep sauntering the marketplace until they stop at Selasi's bakery to grab some pumpkin bread. They're sitting on a table, enjoying the warm weather and each other's company.

”So, Dunna, it seems that you haven't just come back to Vesuvia. What have you been up to, or have you just rested after the journey?”

”I've tried to rest, yes, but I also had to make some arrangements. I need to make some space to my new roommate.”

”Oh, you have a roommate now? That's so nice! How did you end up with this situation?”

”He's a friend of mine. I haven't seen him a while, but when I was at Longyearbyen, he approached me and asked if he could come with me to Vesuvia.”

”How neat! What's his name? Is he a Fosna?”

”His name is Lydik. No, he is not a Fosna. He's a fae – a Nøkken, actually.”

Hande's eyes widen and her posture becomes stiff. Reidunn has a Nøkken as a friend? One of those scary, human-eating water creatures? For all of her life, Hande has been warned about them, how they lure their victims to the water to drown them. She also knows some people in Hjalle who have lost their loved one to a Nøkken. And now there's one living in Vesuvia...

Lost in her thoughts, Hande whispers, ”Näkki maalle, minä veteen...¹”

”What is it, Hande?”

Hande turns her gaze to Reidunn, still a little absentminded, ”Oh, it's a Forestian spell, to banish a  Nøkken from water if you're going to swim.You need to throw a stone into the water while saying those words and then a creature needs to go to the shore and can't go back unless you let it return with another spell. I... Why do you have a Nøkken as a friend? They're monsters, they've only caused harm in Hjalle – I've heard too many stories of disappeared people whose steps lead to water and not back. People didn't even find their bodies to bury...”

”Oh, I'm so sorry to startle you, Hande! I forgot how that could be upsetting for you. But it isn't what you think, Lydik isn't like that! Actually, he saved my, Guivi's and Bilzi's lives when we got lost as children.”

”Oh?” Hande looks surprised, but also intrigued, ”I didn't know that could be possible. How did it happen, may I ask?”

Reidunn starts to tell about her adventure with her siblings and how Lydik had taken them under his wing. How he had showed kindness to the children by entertaining and protecting them during the night. The huldra can see her friend relaxing a little, although the magician still looks astonished.

”Wow, that really is something else,” she says, ”I've never heard of a Nøkken who has saved human lives instead of taking them. Sorry, Dunna, it seems like I judged too harshly.”

Reidunn reaches for Hande's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, ”It's okay, Hande. I should have warned you first.” The huldra seems to think for a moment and then smiles to her friend, ”If you want, we can go to my place. Lydik's there so... I've told him about you and I think it would be nice for you to meet.”

”You have?” Hande sounds surprised. She gives a little smirk for Reidunn and adds, ”I hope you've told only good things, and haven't frightened him by telling that I'm a Nøkken discriminator.”

The huldra bursts into laughter at Hande's latest remark. Reidunn is also relieved – she doesn't want to upset Hande, and it could be troublesome for Lydik if her best friend would decide to dislike Lydik without actually getting to know him. The duo raise from their seats and head to Reidunn's home.

***

Reidunn lets Hande enter first to her herbalist shop-apartment. The magician is greeted by music – fiddle music, to be exact. Hande stops in her tracks, starting to listen the sound that comes from upstairs. A melody is swaying and gentle, and has lots of short glissandos in it. The magician can hear a tuning of an instrument differs from her own violin: it sounds warmer, raspier and more ”homemade”. A shy smile rises on her face and she closes her eyes, taking in the whole experience.

Hande's friend can hear the music, too, which fills her mind with worry. Oh no, it's Thursday! Reidunn approaches the magician quickly, fearing she'll be traumatised after this incident. Before she's reached Hande she becomes a little baffled: Hande isn't walking towards upstairs. The huldra slows down and circles to meet the face of her friend. The magician's eyes are still closed, taking in the pleasant melody. Reidunn can see how Hande picks out the tune with her fingers against her thumb, like it's the fingerboard of her violin. Reidunn relaxes immediately. Phew, Hande isn't in trance. The huldra decides to wait for the song to end before she'll speak, for she doesn't want to startle her friend.

When the song ends, Hande opens her eyes and smiles at Reidunn, ”That was beautiful. How did you do it?”

Reidunn thinks for a moment before she opens her mouth, ”It was... Hande, don't freak out, but it was Lydik.”

Realization hits Hande and she feels dumbfounded. It the Nøkken is playing the fiddle, then why...

”Why am I not in trance?” Hande places her hand on her forehead, as if to feel if she has fever. The magician had no idea about this ability of hers. Reidunn seems as much surprised as her but then answers, ”I am not sure what may be the reason of this, but it seems like you're immune to Nøkkens' music.”

The magician, still a little confused, ponders out loud, ”I guess quite a few can do that – maybe it's related to families that have had magicians in their bloodline? There's nothing special about me in addition to that...”

Reidunn looks at her friend, giving her a wistful smile, ”That is a rare ability, I've never heard of anyone who is able to resist Nøkkens' playing. Not any human, at least.”

Hande isn't sure what to say – this ability of hers has taken her completely off-guard. The magician decides she doesn't have the time to muse about it too much – she will have time to think about it and ask from her family later. Now she can see the humorous side of this incident and chuckles to Reidunn, ”That kind of hospitality, eh? Trying to trick unsuspecting guests with his beautiful playing! How rude.”

The huldra looks a little confused, not sure whether her friend is joking or not. Her tail swishes nervously before she answers, ”No, Hande, it isn't a trick. I just brought a friend home. I'm sorry, it's Thursday and for some reason Lydik plays instinctively on Thursdays, and I didn't realise to warn you.”

Hande approaches her friend, hugging her lightly, ”It's okay, Dunna. I was only joking. How could you know he's playing right now? Besides, this was spontaneous visit, so Lydik doesn't know I'm here, either.”

Reidunn relaxes, her tail calming down as well. The huldra can't help but admire Hande's abilty to see humorous side of situations even soon after she has been nervous or baffled because of them. ”Would you like to meet him?” Reidunn asks with a warm smile on her face.

Hande answers her friend's smile with a smirk, ”Weeell, maybe this once. And if something goes wrong, I can always incant him inside of a water orb!”

Reidunn lets out a giggle and leads Hande to upstairs. Lydik is still playing his fiddle, apparently unaware of the company he's going to get. Hande is still a little nervous, but her curiosity is taking over – it's not every day you get an opportunity to meet a fae, after all. She waits behind Reidunn when the huldra knocks on a door that apparently leads to Lydik's room. The fiddle playing ceases and Hande hears a low grunt behind the door. Reidunn turns to Hande, ”For your information: Lydik can't speak, but I can interpret his communication to you. He understands what we are saying.” Hande nods after which Reidunn opens the door.

Lydik has put his fiddle away and turned to see the comers. Whatever Hande has expected to see, it wasn't this: a thin creature almost twice of her height with green skin, only loose pants covering his body. The Nøkken has yellow-green, wavy hair with twigs poking out of it, straight nose, elf-like ears and green, glowing eyes that reminds Hande of alligators.

A yelp, ”Ei perkele, hän on pitkä!²” escapes from the magician's mouth while she instinctively takes a step back towards the door. Her back hits the door and her brain catches up with her reactions. Don't be stupid, startling because of his height! There's nothing he could drown me with, and besides, why would he try to kill me, Reidunn's friend.

Hande's body is filled with embarrassment. ”I... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to... I... I just got a little startled of how tall you are. I don't know why, but I get this stupid inferiority complex every time I am near someone who's much taller than me...” she stutters, trying to meet the Nøkken's eyes despite of their huge height difference.

Reidunn observes the situation a little worried: she can notice how Lydik has tensed a little, probably willing to hide, and now also Hande is nervous and starting a tangent in order to hide it.

”It's not because of you, it's completely on me... I've never met a Nøkken before and half of my family has always warned me about your kind... Reidunn told me how you helped her when she was a child, I really don't have anything against you, I'm so, so sorry...” Hande continues her rambling, unable to stop the flood of words. Her mind races, like she's on the back of a kelpie, unable to get off while the creature gallops towards the water. Great, now I'm thinking of horses...The last thing I need to do now... The magician starts to wringle her hands and she wants to do is to flee the scene, but she feels like her feet are glued on the floor.

Lydik is watching this new acquaintance in confusion. He isn't sure what he's supposed to do. He can sense the woman is nervous, even a little scared, but isn't sure if it's because of him, or like she claims, because of her. He glances at Reidunn pleadingly and the huldra goes to comfort the woman, who still hasn't stopped her nervous talking.

”Hande, it's okay. Just breathe,” Reidunn says calmly while rubbing her friend's back. Her best friend's voice helps Hande calm down – she feels safe, accepted. Reidunn has always had this skill of making Hande feel comfortable, since the beginning of their friendship. She is Hande's pillar of strength, always there for her, like Hande is for Reidunn. Little by little tha magician's breathing stabilizes and she's able to collect her thoughts. It doesn't make her feel any better about her messing up, but at least she's stopped rambling.

”Well, that was awkard... I'm so sorry, I don't know why I get this nervous in new situations... It seems like I'm socially rustier than I used to be,” Hande raises her gaze to meet Lydik's eyes once again, ”Please, let me try again: My name is Hande Kuura and I'm delighted to meet you.” Hande places her right hand above her heart and bows at the Nøkken in order to greet him.

Lydik is still a little confused, but his body relaxes. He glances at Reidunn who is still by Hande's side. The huldra gives him a nod – it's okay now, even Lydik himself can sense the woman next to Reidunn has calmed down. He cocks his head, but then he gives Hande a small smile while mimicking the magician's gesture. After his greeting he pews at Hande.

The magician looks questioningly at Reidunn, not sure what that sound means. ”I think Lydik is trying to say he's also delighted to meet you. Pew is a friendly sound,” Reidunn interprets.

Hande answers to Lydik's smile. ”I heard you playing, it was beautiful,” Hande says sincerely after a moment of silence. The Nøkken's smile turns into a friendly grin, revealing his sharp teeth. The magician doesn't get startled by that, ironically enough.

”You look different than I imagined,” Hande states looking pensive.

Lydik cocks his head again. This time Hande realises he's asking a question. She thinks for a moment, but then decides she can say her thought out loud, ”Well, to be honest, I expected to meet a huge pile of alga with scary eyes,” she gestures to his direction with her hand, giving the Nøkken a bashful grin, ”This... It is a positive surprise. My expectation would have been way too creepy for me to handle.”

Lydik looks at Hande for a moment, but then he starts to chuff. This yellow-haired woman is funny indeed. His chuffing increases which creates a confused look on Hande's face. The Nøkken notices that and approaches a shelf nearby. He starts to tap some kind of rhythm onto it with his finger. Reidunn follows him carefully while Hande's confusion seems to increase.

When Lydik stops, Reidunn nods and turns to face her friend, ”Lydik used Morse code. He said that he would've thought that sharp teeth would be more creepy than some algae with eyes. He found your remark funny, by the way: that chuffing noise means he's laughing.”

Hande chuckles, surprised by the fact Lydik is laughing at her sayings. ”Morse code, you say?” the magician asks creefully, ”I need to learn that, so I can understand what you're saying.”

A realisation hits Lydik who starts to look confused once more. Still by the shelf, he starts tapping, looking at Reidunn questioningly.

”Oh yes,” Reidunn exclaims, ”Lydik asked how you're fine although he played, Hande,” the huldra turns towards Lydik before she continues, ”Well, it seems like that Hande is immune to Nøkken music. It didn't affect her at all, and Hande didn't even realise at first it was you who was playing.”

Hande nods in affirmative, ”I don't know how, but it seems like Reidunn is right about my immunity”. Lydiks turns to meet Hande's eyes. He looks like he's impressed. Once again the Nøkken taps and Reidunn interprets, ”He says: Woah, I've never met someone who could do that.”

Hande lowers her gaze to the ground, feeling embarrassed for the attention she's getting. In the hopes that Reidunn will indulge her, she tries to slightly change the direction of the discussion. ”Well, your playing did affect me, though. Like I mentioned before, it was very beautiful. I just wanted to stay and listen for a while. I play a violin myself, so it's nice to meet someone who can also do that,” she says wholeheartedly with a friendly smile on her face.

Lydik's impression brightens and he gives Hande a wide smile with some cheerful pews. He places his hands in front of him and then he draws his hands to the opposite directions in the air: his left hand upwards and right hand downwards. The Nøkken's fiddle and bow appear in his hands from thin air.

Hande smiles at Lydik looking impressed, ”That's a neat trick! I have to settle for a case and then glare at anyone who almost kicks it.”

Lydik chuffs and then gestures to his instrument, asking if Hande wants him to play again. The magician's smile softens when she replies, ”Please.”

Lydik lifts his fiddle onto his shoulder. He doesn't need to think for long what he wants to play. The song is faster than the previous one, something one would dance to. Most of the time Lydik concentrates on playing, but from time to time he glances towards the women in his room. Reidunn is swaying with the music and Hande taps the rhythm with her foot. The Nøkken notices Hande's face is lit up with a pure delight, not an empty smile what those people in trance would have. He finds it fascinating, intriguing even, and he wants to play even better because of that. Lydik really likes seeing that look on Hande's face.

After the song ends Hande starts applauding, Reidunn following suit. Lydik is confused, because he isn't sure why the women are clapping, but judging by the smiles on their faces, it is something positive. He smiles a little sheepishly and makes his instrument disappear once again.

Hande notices Lydik's confused expression and hurries to explain, ”Oh sorry, I'm so used to doing this I didn't realise it might be new to you. People start to applaud to a person if they've enjoyed their performance, usually something related to music, but it can be dancing, a speech or something like that. You really are playing well, thank you for this performance.”

Pleased with himself, Lydik grins widely to Hande. A chuckle escapes Hande's mouth, but it's a kindhearted one, so neither Lydik or Reidunn thinks anything of it. The magician seems to think for a moment, before she opens her mouth again, ”Lydik, have you made your fiddle yourself?”

The Nøkken nods in affirmative and Hande's face lits up again, ”That's wonderful! Unfortunately I can't make violins, but my uncle Paavo – he's the brother of my mother – has made mine. From what wood are your fiddle made of?”

The room is filled with Hande's questions, Lydik's tapping and Reidunn's interpreting. The atmosphere is completely relaxed which fills Reidunn with relief – she has been a little nervous when she noticed that her friends were uncomfortable, but now that they have warmed to each other, both of them are able to show their best sides which the huldra enjoys to watch. Lydik's expression grows brighter and brighter, now that he's able to talk about one of his passions with someone who actually understands the details.

After Hande has learned that Lydik has used Nøkken magic to make his fiddle waterproof she starts to wonder about differences between Nøkken and humans in general. The magician keeps eyeing Lydik curiously, trying to determine what kind of skin does the Nøkken have. Only if she could touch it... No, it's not appropriate to touch others! But what if I ask permission first? No! Hande tries her best to listen Reidunn, but she's buzzing with curiosity and it gets harder and harder to contain herself. She must know.

Before Hande can decide whether to open her mouth or keep silent, Lydik's eyes lock on hers. Ugh, he must've sensed I was ogling... She gives him a bashful smile which the Nøkken answers. Feeling a little more courageous, the magician blurts, ”Can I touch you?”

Reidunn turns to watch Hande, looking extremely surprised. Lydik's smile turns into an expression of confusion once more which causes Hande to wince. ”Ugh, sorry... That came out wrong... I meant to ask, if I can touch your skin, to try how it feels like? It seems like the texture of your skin is different from human skin... Of course you don't need to let me if you don't want to, my curiosity just took the best of me...”

Before Hande can start another ramble, Lydik holds out his arm to her, smiling encouragingly to her. Hande holds her tongue and glances at his arm, a little hesitant. ”Are you sure?” the magician asks to which Lydik only nods. Slowly Hande reaches out her right hand towards Lydik's arm. She lightly strokes his hardel with her forefinger a few times. ”I didn't expect it to be this soft,” she states absentmindedly, ”It feels like a skin of a lizard... Interesting...”

Sensing Lydik's pretty intense gaze on her, Hande becomes extremely self-conscious and lets go of Lydik's arm. The magician clears her throat and thanks Lydik for letting her inspect his skin. Then she looks like she just rememberd something and exclaims, ”How rude of me! I kept touching you like a test subject, but didn't offer the same for you. If you want, you can touch my arm.” While saying the last sentence, Hande holds her arm to Lydik in turn.

Lydik isn't quite sure what Hande meant with ”test subject”, but he touches Hande's arm, mimicking her previous movements. The magician's skin feels smooth under his fingers and only soft arm hair offers some texture to it. Lydik notices how the hair on Hande's arm rises up and her muscles tense up a little, so he stops stroking, cocking his head once again.

”Oh, it's okay. I just am not used to new acquaintances touching me,” Hande says bashfully, ”To be honest, usually I don't like being touched at all, if the person is not a close friend of mine or a family member. I was ready to make an exception because of my intrusiveness.”

Lydik is still watching Hande, feeling a little puzzled about how to response to her latest remark. He didn't feel the woman had been intrusive, she has asked permission. This has been the first time someone has asked permission to touch him before doing that, except for Reidunn. Hande has been nervous, yes, but she's also been kind and friendly to him, even though she has learned to fear his kind, if rightfully so.

Lydiks smiles at Hande and gives a clumsy pat on her shoulder with some pews. Reidunn swallows up a giggle and states, ”I think Lydik tries to say he likes you, Hande.”

Hande answers Lydik's smile. ”Thank you, Lydik,” she says sincerely, but after that her smile turns into a mischievious grin, ”I think you're okay... for a Nøkken.”

Everyone stays silent for a moment, but then Lydik starts chuffing which causes Reidunn and Hande to burst into laughter, as well. The atmosphere is full of warmth, and it looks like a magician and a Nøkken have found a friend from each other.

TRANSLATIONS:

¹ ”A Nøkken onto the ground, I into the water...”

² ”Holy shit, he's tall!”

[auxiliarydetective]

1, 5 und 6 für die fanfic writer questions?

~ sehr-wohl-die-herrschaften ✨

You didn't specify for what story, so I'll be answering this for my ao3 Harry Potter fanfiction. Sorry not sorry, even though this is a D3F blog. I'll try my best to answer the question for D3F too, but I can't make any promises that they'll be good.

This will be a long post, so I'm placing a cut.

1. If you had to create a soundtrack for your story, what songs would you choose? Why?

Okay, das ist meine Lieblingsfrage aus dem gesamten Post, also THANK YOU SO MUCH! Tatsächlich plane ich das innerlich schon ein bisschen mit, während ich schreibe, wenn ich mir Playlists zusammenstelle.

Die Drei ??? - Auxiliary AU: Aus irgendeinem Grund habe ich Jelena schon immer mit Billie Eilish verbunden. Keine Ahnung warum, aber das hat sich einfach in meinem Kopf so festgesetzt, und weil die Geschichte aus Jelenas Perspektive ist, wird also mindestens ein Billie Eilish Song vorkommen. Womöglich ist der erste Song von ihr, an den man bei Jelena denkt "bad guy", oder "you should see me in a crown" oder etwas Ähnliches. Gute Idee, aber nicht ganz. Billie Eilish steht bei mir oft eher für Jelenas emotionale Seite. Also wäre ein Lied im Soundtrack "i love you". Ich glaube, die Titel erklärt den Sinn dahinter schon ganz gut. Andere Lieder wären "Woman" von Kesha, "Brother" von Kodaline und "Chasing Cars" von Snow Patrol. Ein sehr obscures Lied ist das "Whack World Medley" von Citizen Queen. Keine Ahnung wieso, aber die Vibes stimmen irgendwie. Natürlich wären auch ein paar russische Lieder drin. Angemessene Covers von Kalinka könnten sowohl als Hintergrundmusik zu einem kleinen Kampf, als auch die Musik von einem Flashback sein, je nachdem welche Stelle man nimmt. Es gibt aber ein paar perfekte Lieder, die definitiv rein müssten. Pianistec auf YouTube hat die Drei ??? Intros gecovered. Perfection. Eins davon ist sogar auf Spotify. Sollte in jede D3F-Playlist rein.

Harry Potter time! Obviously, Harry Potter already has a soundtrack. But that would take away all the fun, so... First of all, "Woman Like Me" by Little Mix. It fits the sassy personality and later persona Asteria takes on. Fitting to that, "Teen Idle" and "Oh No!" by MARINA. You can interpret your own reasons into that. "Battlefield" by SVRCINA for Deathly Hallows. "Line Without a Hook" by Ricky Montgomery for the relationship between Percy and Asteria, but it's not meant in a romantic way. "The Night Is Still Young" by Nicky Minaj, maybe for a victory party after a quidditch game, or just for a nice evening with Fred and George. "8TEEN" by Khalid for... something. Just. I like it. "High Enough" by K.Flay for something that I can't tell you what it is without throwing spoilers everywhere. Let's just say the kind of twisted vibe is fitting for it. Could be more twisted. It gets more twisted if I tell you that the song would not be about a person in that case. It wouldn't be about a twisted version of being in love, but about an obsession. A mania even. That's why it fits. Arctic Monkeys in general also would fit the story. "Judas" by Lady Gaga. "Everything At Once" by Lenka. It sounds innocent, right? Well, in this case it's about wanting to be perfect for everyone at once. "Mr Loverman" by Ricky Montgomeryfor Asteria's heartache in later years of the story. "Positions" by Ariana Grande and "Detention" by Melanie Martinez for the vibe. "Put Your Head on My Shoulder" for a cheesy slow dance between Fred and Asteria because obviously they would. But THE most important song of all, which is why I saved it for last: "Arsonist's Lullaby" by Hozier. No explainations given, you'll have to read and find out yourself.

5. What makes your main ship so compatible? Or, what makes them so incompatible? What do they see in each other?

Mein main ship im Auxiliary AU ist tatsächlich Peter/Jelena, auch wenn das eigentlich gar nicht so rauskommt. Peter und Jelena passen zusammen, weil sie sich ergänzen. Man könnte auch sagen, Gegensätze ziehen sich an, aber sie haben auch was gemeinsam. Peter ist ängstlich und vorsichtig. Jelena ist ziemlich rücksichtslos und aggressiv. Man könnte meinen, dass das absolut nicht zusammen passt. Tatsächlich sorgt das aber für eine relativ gute dynamic. Wenn Peter Angst hat, passt Jelena auf ihn auf und wenn Jelena etwas Unvorsichtiges tun will, hat Peter vergleichsweise gute Chancen, sie davon abzuhalten. Peter bewundert Jelena für ihren Mut, macht sich aber auch ständig Sorgen um sie, weil sie so unvorsichtig ist. Jelena findet Peter richtig liebenswert, wenn nicht fast schon niedlich. Sie hat es sich als Ziel gesetzt, ihm endlich mal die Aufmerksamkeit zu geben, die er braucht, und sich um ihn zu kümmern. Deshalb sieht man die beiden oft zusammen und Jelena hält seine Hand, wenn er Angst hat. Das geht mittlerweile schon längst ohne Kommunikation.

Actually, the story doesn't have a main ship. Or at least it's hard to name one and I don't want to say something wrong because I don't want to claim knowing anything about what polyamorous relationships are like and what you call which kind of relationship. Essentially, Asteria, being the main character, is in a relationship with both Fred Weasley and Oliver Wood, though she only starts dating Fred when Oliver has already graduated and the two of them are just friends. I guess I'll answer the question for both relationships and try to keep it short.

I'll start with the relationship that has been going on longer, which is Oliver/Asteria. Oliver loves Asteria for her sense of right and wrong and for the fact that she might just be the only person on the entire planet not to get annoyed or bored when he rambles about quidditch for hours on end or spends a lot of time training or at practice. He's amazed with her understanding for his passion. Asteria, on the other hand, thinks it's exactly his passion that makes him so wonderful. He's not afraid to show it to literally everyone. She also thinks it's adorable how he gets so excited over it every single time someone mentions the subject, no matter how many times he's talked about it before. She never gets tired of listening to him. Another big reason for her to love him is how he reacted to her illness (I won't say here which illness, read yourself). She just thought it was the sweetest thing ever. He also makes her feel safe, which is rare.

Now, Fred/Asteria. A dangerous relationship. A Weasley and a Malfoy. Both of them know that and it's a big factor why others might deem them incompatible. But, actually, they go very well together. Fred and George are the biggest pranksters of the entire school, everyone knows that. Asteria, on the other hand, is a trickster. She breaks almost as many rules as them, but she does it very sneakily. Nobody has ever caught her. Asteria is amazingly good at lying and deception and she enjoys tricking people. So while Fred does the big pranks that are just for fun and sometimes also for revenge, Asteria tricks people mostly for revenge or to follow along with her view of right and wrong. Fred admires Asteria's abilities when it comes to rule-breaking and trickery, but also her craftsmanship and inventive mind. He's essentially forgotten that her last name means that they should be enemies and has completely detatched her from her parents in his mind. Something else he appreciates is that Asteria grounds him and gives him advice when he's about to do something that he'll most likely regret in the future or that will have major consequences. Asteria admires Fred as a person, but also for what he represents through his family - love, acceptance and protectiveness. The kind of family Asteria wishes she had. Fred cheers her up when she is down and makes her worry less. Unlike Oliver, he doesn't make her feel safe. At least not in the same way. But that's exactly what she loves about Fred. He's unpredictable and wild, something that Asteria's childhood was very much lacking. He's supportive of everything she does that other people would call her mad for. Whatever "crazy" or "stupid" thing she wants to try, he does it with her or has already done it and can show her how to do it right. But no matter how dangerously crazy their adventures get, he watches out for her. They're a chaos couple, but also very intimate. Lots of people are confused that their relationship can be both chaotic and calm at the same time.

6. How do you feel the environment your character(s) grew up in shaped them as a human? How does the environment they’re in now shape them currently?

Jelenas Vater ist sehr streng und emotional eher distanziert. Das hat sie natürlich beeinflusst. Einerseits hat sie es sich zum Ziel gesetzt, Regeln zu brechen. Sie ist ein Rebell, weil sie diesen Käfig, in den ihr Vater sie gesetzt hat, hasst. Gleichzeitig hat sie aber ihre emotionale Distanzierung von ihm. Als Kind hat sie natürlich immer noch versucht. Kinder sind eben deutlich emotionaler. Aber spätestens mit dem Tod ihrer Mutter war ihr Vater emotional gesehen nur noch eine Steinsäule und Jelena ist selbst emotional kalt geworden. Sie ist es einfach nicht mehr gewohnt, mit irgendwen über ihre Emotionen zu reden. Musik ist ein sehr großes Medium für sie was das angeht. Es hilft ihr, die ganzen aufgestauten Emotionen einfach rauszulassen. Ihr extremer Beschützerinstinkt und die Einteilung von Leuten in Gut und Böse kommt vom Tod ihrer Mutter - und womöglich aus Filmen, die sie in der Richtung nach dem Tod beeinflusst haben. Schließlich ist es in Filmen normal und sogar gut, dass der Hauptcharakter böse Menschen bekämpft, verletzt und womöglich tötet. So ähnlich verhält es sich mit Jelena. Sie selbst zögert nicht, jemanden zu verletzen, wenn er ihr oder anderen droht. Aber wehe jemand kommt ihren Freunden zu nahe. Seit sie mehr Zeit mit den Jungs verbringt, hat sie sich definitiv zum Besseren verändert. Sie hat endlich jemanden, mit dem sie über ihre Emotionen reden kann - zumindest theoretisch. Die Jungs haben es auch geschafft, sie zumindest etwas aus ihrem aggressiven Kampfmodus zu holen und ihr dabei geholfen, den Tod ihrer Mutter endlich richtig zu verarbeiten.

Growing up a Malfoy will always shape a character. But that's especially the case with Asteria because of her illness and the fact that she's two years older than Draco. This means that she was born during the First Wizarding War. Her illness was clearly visible and known at birth, so she immediately became an unwanted child. This was always a big factor in her childhood at Malfoy Manor. She was locked in the manor for most of her childhood and whenever she went out, she had to take potions to make her appear normal. Still, she had her parents' blood purist beliefs, so she thought this was the right thing to do, even if she suffered under it. However, she soon breaks out of these prejudices during her first two years at Hogwarts, seeing with her own eyes that blood status does not matter. Hermione finally gives her the final push in her third year. Now, Asteria has practically turned fully against her parents and is taking Draco with her, even when he is still mostly trying to keep up his snobbish bully persona. This position of hers becomes stronger and stronger as she becomes close friends with Fred and George and starts dating Oliver. It's hard to say where "growing up" ends and where "currently" starts, so let me just say: Asteria is under constant influence from the outside and inside, wether she wants it or not, especially with Voldemort's return. Things spin wildly out of her control.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Chapter 2 of my Lawlight story, “Queries” (rated M). https://archiveofourown.org/works/29342865/chapters/72072144

During the Yotsuba arc--after L and Light have begun some relationship, that had just started as L trying to trick relationship out of Light--it becomes clear that Light is having some hallucinations because of brain tumors.

And this will lead to L questioning everything he'd thought he'd decided about Light's character, and Kira later eventually wondering if he should or shouldn't be spending some of his remaining time as he is.

Naturally, Light's coming back to headquarters didn't sit well with everyone… or anyone for that matter. And while L was glad that technology had progressed enough, that Light could easily give himself chemo while he worked... a lot of times, wires from said machine attached to Light would get tangled up, or something else would go wrong with it, and Light would swiftly have to go to the hospital. But Light was figuring out how to deal with that. He was a genius, L supposed.

But Light wasn’t the only one trying to logic out everything new in his life. L wondered where his own conscience was in all of this... Surely, he should have been sympathizing with Light, if he actually cared about him or whatever his heart was telling him.

He also should have been trying to accommodate Light here, to the best of his ability… but L wasn’t doing that. And he felt nothing, except for a strange kind of ire against Light. No, Kira.

"…Light-kun, if I found Kira and he was ill, with only a short amount of time to live, would it be inhumane to sentence him to death?"

And of course, Light punched L in the face for that little gem. And when he did, the detective thought it was a very good thing that the two of them were in the kitchen right now—where no one could see them—and that they barely wore the handcuffs anymore, otherwise L would have gone flying once more.

"Ryuzaki, you bastard! Is that really what you think of me? I bet a cruel part of you wishes that I was Kira, so he’d really suffer in his death, huh?!"

Well, there really was no denying it, was there? L thought, as Light’s hand that was now attached to L’s shirt—holding him up—somehow went down said article of clothing to somewhat arouse L, even as they fought.

“Yes. No matter who Kira is, I think he deserves something like that, for all the lives he’s so carelessly thrown away. Even if he is you, Light-kun, Does this make you still want to sleep with me? Does it make you want to kill me?”

In the back of L’s mind, where his conscience did still exist, he couldn’t fathom how he could ever be so cold to someone who was dying: someone who he even felt something for, which was a rarity in and of itself.

L was probably even lying here—since he truly wouldn’t want Kira to suffer, because otherwise he’d be just like that man in his desire for just desserts. But L still couldn’t help but to try and get a rise out of Yagami Light. He just loved the little games that they played…

But Light seemed near crying now, and so the game suddenly wasn’t very fun anymore. And L found himself near putting a finger into his mouth and biting his nail to the quick in punishment for this.

“Ryuzaki, you’re the worst. Honestly, the worst! I’m not Kira, but I could still see why he would want to target you. I can’t believe I ever thought I lov-

“Anyway, I guess being cutoff is how you get the job done, huh L? So, what did I expect? …And we’ve been here long enough. We should go back and join everyone now, before anyone suspects anything.”

Though Light was presumably calm and not furious now, he still made a show of throwing away L’s strawberry cake for good measure. And L thought about switching to another persona for it: mayhap the one where he acted all too innocent. He easily could have looked at the fallen cake in faux-confusion with a finger pressed to his lips, couldn’t he?

But he did not. Since for whatever reason, L had activated his ice queen personality and he seemed hellbent on staying there. "Light-kun knew when he began our 'relationship' that it was all a game. I find it hard to understand why he’s so upset now. And why should we go back to the task force now, when we haven’t even done anything for them to be suspicious about? I say we have some fun, and give them just that.”

“Ryuzaki, what are you talking abou-” But Light’s words were cut off, when L unzipped Light’s fly, released his cock, and then leaned down to try and give the teen the best blowjob he’d ever performed.

L would have liked to believe that his doing this was some sort of minor way of making up for how he’d been treating Light… even though all he was doing was continuing to toy with the boy’s feelings, just like the monster he’d always known he was.

…

After the two’s “bathroom break”—and they were wearing the handcuffs again, to explain why they’d had to leave together in the first place—L and Light diligently got back to work.

And then Light did the worst thing he ever could have done, in L’s book, in finding something important before even he did.

Though L ended up discovering this in a very untraditional way. Light had collapsed in front of his computer monitor, that held the glorious information he had clearly just uncovered before he passed out. And L saw this info just when he’d been going to check on his boyfriend and call the paramedics in for him… he did not do that now.

It seemed that Kira's power had been moved to the Yotsuba group, if the data Light-kun had uncovered meant anything. Most interesting.

And L knew that the old Kira would have been expecting him to follow this lead as soon as he came upon it.

And so he did, long before he even thought about going to the hospital after Soichiro had finally gotten Light there.

…

Eventually, L did find himself walking into St. Luke’s International, pushing open the worn door as if it were his destiny to do so. (And of course he was here, the back of L’s useless mind told him now, since he clearly loved Light.) And L was beginning to think that he should just take up residence at this place.

Light looked horrible… L saw when he reached Light’s room. Worse than he ever had—with red puffy eyes, pale skin, a runny nose, and an utter weakness about him as he struggled to keep his eyes open. And it was that, that that made L drop the façade he’d been wearing for so long, and actually care.

And he started off that act of caring, in deciding to sit on Light’s bed, by his side, like any significant other might do if their loved one was sick. …Fortunately, Light’s family was out at the moment, buying him “something better than hospital food”, so they wouldn’t see this rather intimate act.  

"Light-kun... no, Light. I know you find the ‘kun’ honorific childish… I want you to know how substantial the information you found today is. Thank you for doing your part."

Light gave L a searching look then. And if L was a lesser man, he might have gotten into a name calling fight with Light over it, for his having just hurt him in his attempt to be kind.

“…You know I don't believe your recognizing my contributions for a second, right Ryuzaki? I knew it was a game to you, the moment we began kissing. Of course I did. And it will be even when we finally do have sex, I know. If anything, I think you're just trying to assuage your guilt here, by complimenting me... But even so, I know that’s a lot coming from you. So, thank you."

Outside the window, a frost had begun to set in. Its icky fingers drifted closer to L’s person, and he thought it was one step closer to turning L into death, like he always knew he was. Because what else could he be, if he always destroyed everything so thoroughly like this? And it was in seeing such fault in himself, something that he couldn’t bear, that he decided to try and put blame elsewhere.

It was just with the certainty at which Light had said all of that, that L found himself wanting to fuck Light into the headboard to try and make some kind of point. Or to just kiss him delicately, to let the boy know he was wrong about his guesses… and that really, he was the thing that L now treasured most in the world.

L did neither of those things, but instead decided to try and continue being nice. Didn’t they say to kill them with niceness, or something like that? If that was the case, L would prove that he had the higher body count than even Kira.

"Light... I want you to forget the way I've been treating you lately. Let's go back to the way we were. I’ll even find better ways for you to work on the case while being sick."

Light sighed at that—nearly knocking his heart monitor off, as he flexed a finger—and L was lost. Shouldn’t someone as ambitious as Light—ambitious as Kira—leap at an opportunity like this, and try to take advantage of L with it?

Instead, Light just seemed bone tired. "I'm on my deathbed, Ryuzaki, and you're still playing games? I can’t believe you! But I still want us to be together, so I guess I’ll listen to tht… reluctantly."

And if L was poetic—and he was certainly anything but—he’d say that right now, Light was cleanser on an overly drawn canvas. And if L looked at him—though he very much desired not to, because he didn’t want to be overcome by his own emotions—he would have even said that Light himself looked like a drawing of perfect angles. And he didn’t at all have the entanglements that L usually hated in a person. Light was simply as he was… even now, while somehow lost in his own charade, Yagami Light was still Yagami Light, and L couldn’t help being moved by that.

Though he shouldn’t have been, since it was clear that Yagami Light now cared about L too much. And that had never been part of the plan. It was far too dangerous. And yet, here they were.

And L didn’t know if it was for these cursed feelings he had, the investigation, or for hate that he found himself asking the next question: "Do your doctors have any new suggestions for you, Light?"

“…They’ve suggested radiology for me, Ryuzaki.”

L had figured that his friend might say that. And when he did, it made him hunch down and think, drawing away from the bed that he’d been sitting on for a good fifteen minutes now. If he were in Light’s position, he honestly wasn’t sure what he’d do. Did he care about his life so much, that he would risk what that might do to him? Or would he let his suicidal tendencies get the best of him again? …

Maybe L did know. And if it came down to it, Light could do that, too.

And just as L thought that, it began thundering outside. And if he didn’t have such good control over his facial reaction to things, he would have laughed.

But now was not a time to be happy. No, here she should have been worried about his lover for a number of reasons, so Light deserved L’s candor now. And L gave that to him. “I wouldn't do it, if I were in your position, Light-kun. Zapping your cells with lasers sounds more dangerous than using drugs to me …But then again, I'm not in your position, am I? So, who am I to say, really? Do what you think is best, as I’m sure you always do."

"…If it weren’t for some sort of grace, maybe you would be in my position, L.”

And at these words from Light, L couldn’t help but to laugh bitterly. This was the most Kira-like thing that Light had ever said. But L was going to leave it alone... for now. Since he had a heart within his chest, after all, if he looked hard enough for it.

“Ignore everything I just said… Get radiology treatment, Light. If they think it will save your life, do it. And then come back to me, when you can,” and L walked away then, deciding to leave Light to his family for now. Since they all deserved to be together when Light was dying, didn’t they?

So, leave the situation, he did… and L tried to ignore the horrid feeling that he was forsaking his other half as he did so.

…

But though L had laid his heart on the line for Light there, Light had apparently taken to heart L’s first words—and didn’t follow his later advice, to try and save himself—and that had L biting his nails, as Light became even more sickly when he returned this time.

And if Light didn’t look like he was about to have his life claimed my a reaper, L would have thought that Kira was doing all of this on purpose to garner some sympathy from him. Who knew? Perhaps he still was. But L had begun to doubt that, as his feelings for Light grew.

.…And it pained L, more than he would have liked to admit, to see the person he still had some sort of relation with every night, hurting this much.

But even then, L still tried to keep the game between them going somewhat. Because even if this Light was no longer Kira, L knew he still longed for the thrill as much as he did. So, he poised a question to his boyfriend now.

"Light-kun," L started, popping a cherry into his mouth and then tying the stem with his tongue. "…What if you don’t have cancer? I'm not doubting the severity of your illness, no, but perhaps you were misdiagnosed. Some of your symptoms do line up with Parkinson’s, I think. And doctors make mistakes countless times… though I don’t mean to frighten you."

But frightening Light was exactly what L did. Or made him angry, more like. And Soichiro too, for that matter. He seemed like he would have been quick to jump to his son’s aid, if Light wasn’t a much better smooth talker himself. "Yeah, that would be so much better, Ryuzaki. I'd just die later—and suffer more—and end up quadriplegic. I think I'll pass."

The truth was, that a part of L almost hoped that Light would have Parkinson's. Because despite what Light was saying… there was a chance that he wouldn’t get so ill with it. At least not fast. But since Light would still die with that, L was close to suggesting that Light just might have Chron’s, but he thought he’d be doubting Light’s strength far too much, if he said that. And just after he’d promised he would be nicer, too. So L kept these thoughts sealed.

"I apologize, Light-kun. It's only a three percent possibility, after all. But I thought I should still say something to try and help you, on the off-chance that I’m right."

And it must have been the grim subjects that caused Yagami Soichiro to bring up something that L never would have expected. And that was truly something.

"Ryuzaki...” the man said, “it seems to me that you and Light—our brightest workers here—haven’t been making any headway, because of Light’s condition. I hate to say this...  but the Yotsuba group is only killing their own rivals, and there can't be as many of them as there are criminals in the world. So, the killings aren’t like before... Maybe we should give up and let them continue, so I can take my son home and let him rest. I say this all as a concerned father."

Though L certainly understood why Soichiro would ask this, L would admit to feeling let down by the chief here: it was like how pretty much everyone in L’s life disappointed him, besides Wammy… and Light, annoyingly enough.

But if L had a son, mightn’t he feel the same way about him that Soichiro did about Light now? He tried to focus on that. "Yagami-san… While I, of course, will continue looking for Kira, neither of you are required to do the same. Yes, Yagami-san: go and rest and be with your family; I cannot thank you enough for your service. You too, Light."

L was searching for a strawberry at this point, not giving the situation as much as attention as she should have been—partly because he was disassociating, and because he was sure Light would say no, he guessed—that L felt like he’d been hit by a bus when Light soon agreed (Matsuda-san, too, if his words to Light of “But you’ve come so far!” meant anything.)

"Th-that may be best, Ryuzaki," Light admitted, with a pensive look in his eyes. And L whipped his head to stare at his boyfriend in astonishment. All his calculations had told him that Light—that Kira—wouldn’t even abandon the case for even his own life. So, did this mean that he was wrong about Light, and about him being Kira, too?

L wanted to beg Light to stay for two reasons, but he had to pretend he had the moral high ground here. And so, the tired detective did. “Don’t antagonize them, Matsuda-san. If the two of them want to leave, they're certainly allowed to do so. However, Light-kun, I must suggest you stay one more night for surveillance purposes."

And there was a needy tone to L’s voice, that he prayed the task force didn’t notice. Honestly, L didn’t know if he was wanting Light to stay to examine him one more time, or so he could get laid. Perhaps both.

But whatever L was feeling, Light have must been experiencing it, too. For he looked at L with shining eyes and decided his fate. "...One more night then, Ryuzaki. I can handle that much."

And L chose to give a discreet smile, and not think on how their parting would be such sweet sorrow.

...

Later that night, when the two of them were trying to express whatever it was that they felt for each other, it was Light on top of L. And the two of them were close to having sex: moreso than they ever had been by far. Light was just about to enter L; and the fact that Light was still waiting and teasing him was truly torturous… but really, L knew that they should probably stop here. Light was getting tired. And if they became this intimate with each other, wouldn’t it make everything worse?

So, L gently pushed Light off of him, indicating that he should retire, and gave him a quick kiss with all of his apologizes laid bare in it.

And then, truly shockingly Light gave one himself. “…I'm sorry for everything too, Ryuzaki. Please don't leave me, if you can manage it. I know you’re somewhat agoraphobic… but can’t you take some time off the case to come and see me?”

L gave that much thought, as he snuggled into Light—smelling his fine-shampooed hair—and wishing he never had to let go.

The truth was, that L didn’t see it within himself to do that. He was too set in his ways. And if Light was dying and wasn’t Kira, it was probably best they never saw each other again.

But still… L didn’t exactly want to break Light’s heart right now, so perhaps to choose his words carefully…"Light… your leaving is alright. Don’t feel bad about it.," L tried to placate his first ever friend, while placing a kiss to his neck that also showed that they weren’t just friends, didn’t it? "You've done more than enough for the case, and for me personally. So as much as I would like to continue where we left off just a moment ago… it’s probably best for your own sake, if you begin packing right now.”

But that seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Light was less rested now, and he sat up to glare at the storm outside, as if it had personally offended him.

Finally, there were these words from Light, before L was about to joke about getting out a lie detector to unearth the truth from him. "...I wouldn't be leaving, Ryuzaki, if I thought I could offer anything to this investigation. But I'm too sick to now. And... because you’re the best detective in the world, and think it wasme… I'm now afraid I used to be Kira. So maybe my leaving is a just an excuse to get away and protect you from myself."

"…Or your staying here, if you chose that, could offer some wonderful insight into Kira. Since even if you aren’t him, you’re quite good at profiling him. But I understand why you have to leave, Light: like I said, don’t worry about it."

Deep down, L knew that he was only being nonchalant because he believed no one could ever really love him—wasn’t that why he was so clearly pulling away from Light’s embrace now?—but he refused to give that truth any thought, and rather chose to be “selfless”. Even wearing a smile on his face, and everything.

“Hey, Ryuzaki… you know I’d never leave if I had another choice, right?”

And L hated this guilt within Light: absolutely despised that he’d made this perfectly normal boy—who was not Kira, at least not right now—fall in love with him, just so he could study what he believed the mind of a serial killer to be.

But near instantly, as he still felt very guarded, Ryuzaki tried to push back this notion that he’d caught feelings too, because the great detective L was above that, wasn’t he?

Squeezing Light close to himself now for a very selfish thing that L wanted to pin their whole “relationship on”, L found himself speaking once more. “Of course I know that, Light… Do you what must to protect yourself. But if you and Chief Yagami ever want to return, just give my one mobile a call.”

L let himself be pulled into another kiss by Light then. And they did more than that, too. Light was astonished by how sweet their coupling here actually was… but he knew it wouldn’t last.

…

A Month Later

To say that L found absolutely no leads after two of his best workers left the investigation, would, sadly, have been an understatement.

The Kira Countermeasures Force had assumed that Higuchi was the third Kira, of course, but when they had brought him in for questioning… he’d denied everything and had seemed out of sorts with himself, and like he’d lost his grip on reality entirely.

This was all been brought to light when Watari was torturing the man (something that hadn’t set well with L’s people at all); and then the murders had started up again. And L wasn’t sure if it was due to the second Kira, a new Kira, or somehow Higuchi still. Though L doubted that one, since these killings didn’t match the ones he had done before. Criminals were back to dying like live stock, and so L surmised that the second Kira was back in action again. And so, he needed to bring Amane Misa back into the fold.

L had been forced to release the girl when all the “evidence” he had had against her had gone nowhere, and her manipulator had left the building. So, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to this call…

Speaking of Yagami Light… L knew that he was not the first Kira at the moment. Light was undergoing massive treatments for his health, and the hospital seconded this. And Soichiro himself kept giving L updates about Light… not that the man was entirely trustworthy, as he was clearly biased where his son was concerned, but L knew he could probably be believed in this case.

As for Light himself… he kept sending L risqué texts, which proved to the detective that he hadn’t entirely lost his sense of humor, which was good L supposed.

And he was embarrassed to admit that the texts left him wanting Light, and to be with him again post-haste.

And, yes: he’d even decided that he preferred the feeling of Light inside of him, then what he thought it would feel like to be inside of Light. So, he wouldn’t fight the boy about that again, if and when he got back. But none of this was important now. No. The task force breathing down his neck was what was.

“Ryuzaki, what’s your plan to get Misa-san here? You haven’t convicted her of anything… and you tortured her last time; and she won’t want to see you without Light-kun here,” Ide whispered right next to L, bringing him out of his stupor. And he’d startled L so thoroughly, that the man was lucky that he hadn’t used his Capoeira skills on him.

“He brings up a good point, Ryuzaki,�� Matsuda allowed, as he cleverly put more sugar cubes into L’s coffee, so that it was practically swimming in them. What an irreplaceable part of the team Matsuda was, L thought now. And as such, L thought he could probably reward his team with some info here that they wouldn’t have ferreted out themselves.

“The plan, as it were, is to not be so brutal this time. I will not get a warrant for Misa-san, and will instead invite her in for a lovely chat with Light’s best friend and see what happens.”

“…Do you really think that will work, Ryuzaki?” Mogi-san asked what all of them were wondering, but so unsurely that L didn’t instantly berate him for doubting his superior. “Do you think that Misa-san can overlook what you did to her so easily?”

Watari, as if sensing the tension in the air, came in right then to offer the men smokes. And everyone took one, except for Matsuda (because he was still quite childish in L’s mind. He had expected nothing else), and L, who only liked the taste of sugar.

And as it happened, L thought about quipping that they all might die of cancer before Kira could ever to them—and L was about to send a glare Watari’s way for his choice here—but he did not.

Instead, L just spoke the truth that had become crystal clear to him. “I think you all forget how much Light-kun means to Misa-san.”

And as he always was, L was right.

Just a day later, he found himself sitting across from Misa like he had during her and Light’s disastrous date months ago (the bruise on L’s cheek stung from the memory of it), and she seemed altogether more put together and nervous than she ever had been before. And L zeroed in on that, like a shark would blood in the water.

"Err, what did you want to talk to me about, Ryuzaki? I wanted to go see Light! Have you heard that he may be going into remission already?!"

“I had heard, Misa-san,” L admitted, finding himself slightly grinning even though he didn’t want to and he thought he’d schooled himself better than this “And I may be more thrilled about that then anyone... But important things must be discussed, so-”

“Exactly, Ryuzaki! We have to talk about the important things! I know you brought me here that creep Higuchi, but I’d rather talk about how you and Light are friends!”

This was… suspicious to L. Though, to be fair, anything Light or Misa did was suspect to him. But it was like Misa had developed a conscience and was wanting L to be Light’s friend, so the two of them wouldn’t have to kill him. Perhaps L could work with that.

L leaned forward, steepled his hands together, and thought deeply. “I understand that that’s important, Misa-san… but Higuchi. You wanted Kira to be stopped because Light-kun was working on the case before, yes? So why do you hold back now?” Misa’s lovely golden eyes flashed then, with a kind of emotion that L couldn’t entirely decipher. And even though L thought he was most certainly gay, even he was captivated by them and all the pent up things there. “Stop talking about Higuchi, Ryuzaki! You think Light is Kira. We all know you do. And you’ll never stop doing so… So what if I was prepared to tell you you’re not wrong, per se, if you keep being his friend?” L felt his throat drop into his stomach; and his eyes no doubt flashed in the way that Misa’s just had. It- it couldn’t be this easy, could it?

Had Light done something to upset Misa for her to betray him like this? …But was it a betrayal? Misa still wanted L to be Light’s friend, so how did that work?

“…Misa-san, are you saying-”

“I’ll never say it again or testify in a court or anything like that… but work with me, Ryuzaki, and I’ll work with you.”

Yes, L could definitely do this.

He reached across the chasm, took Misa’s hand, and shook it.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Never say never - Chapter 6

So, here’s the next instalment of this little romcom story...

°6° ~Victoria~

“But, I insist upon apologising to the other people in attendance, again.” Victoria hated apologising, but Martin had been right in telling her off about snubbing people who had done her no harm…this far.

Knowing that it would make Martin laugh, she snatched up a bowl of peanuts and held it in her palms like an offering.

As expected, the man beside her doubled over in hilarity, holding his sides as the wheezing grew painful. The polite but confused looks of his friends and colleagues seemed an endless well of amusement to him.

“Ah, thank you.” Hiddleston took up one of the nuts gingerly and shoved it into his mouth as if it had been a ritualistic offering indeed. “See? The tamest of…beasts.” Martin whispered into her ear, and she was tempted to pat the golden hair on the man soothingly.

Following the other man’s example, Armitage also picked a nut and ate it, keeping his eyes questioningly on her face.

“Look pleased, girl, smile at them.” Martin said in a hushed voice, nudging her in the side gently.

Victoria was almost sure that she was grimacing, her teeth bared awkwardly, but she had never been good at smiling on command and this fraught situation was, unfortunately, no exception to this shortcoming of hers.

“So, tell us, what did you refer to when you called this a “nerd-fest”?” Martin prompted her gently to speak, seemingly understanding that direct exhortations would get him nowhere with her. It was, in general, always best to come at a petrified Victoria sideways, starting a seemingly inconsequential conversation and letting it flow from there.

“There are literally dolls of you.” Victoria scoffed, moving her hands vaguely in front of her body in an imitation of how a child would play with a doll. “Not soft though, hard plastic…” Her hands sunk back, she was making a fool of herself.

“Dolls?” Liza hooted gleefully. “Well, I’ve also seen the theatre productions.” Victoria said, just a moment too late, her voice tinged with resentment again. She hated being caught unawares and being goaded into saying stupid shit.

“No, you tell me more about the dolls.” Liza was having fun, but her expression was devoid of malice or ill-will.

“Liza, I have seen those funny movies with the costumes and the creatures and…” Victoria sighed, she didn’t remember the names and she was already at a disadvantage here. She felt caught and put on the spot amidst these people who, naturally, knew those movies so well, down to the very lines of the characters.

“And did you like them?” The good beast, Tom as he had introduced himself with a smile, was grinning at her warmly again. Yes, she could see what Jenna saw in him, he seemed to radiate warmth and a polite friendliness.

“Oh, yes, very much. It was a bit…sad though.” Victoria shrugged. She was not ready to explain to a bunch of strangers that she didn’t like seeing bad family relations and vicious fights, as her reality had enough of those to last for a lifetime.

Liza looked at her questioningly, but after a moment, she understood. She had seen Vic pick up on the most random things, but strained family relationships and weird homosexual undertones were always amongst the things that moved her most. Also, like most soft-hearted, even though Vic was equally hard-headed, women, Victoria hated untimely deaths.

Maybe, her plan would work after all. All she had to do now was to draw back and hope that Armitage had a tad of charm on his own. He had taken the peanut and he was giving them his best constipated smile.

Waving discreetly at her wife, she withdrew, pulling Jenna along with her, much to the chagrin of the young woman.

“That is one good-looking man.” She sighed under her breath and Liza turned around, scanning the room for the person her wife’s employee might have meant by those words. Martin followed them discreetly, coaxing Benedict along with the promise of more cakes and sandwiches (and a prime vantage point to follow the developments of their plan).

“Where are you all going now? What?” Vic called out, distress in her voice. “I’ll be right back; you stay with Armitage.” Liza grinned suavely, physically shoving Jenna along as she dug her heels into the carpeted floor.

Victoria blinked, looking up at the man in front of her until she could feel herself grow slightly dizzy.

“Oh darn it! That’s it. I’m done trying to be pretty.” She cursed under her breath, opened her tiny clutch bag and fished out a pair of gold-rimmed, round glasses that she put on resolutely. Unfortunately, she could not suppress the gasp.

“Oh Saints.” She sighed under her breath as the slightly blurry surroundings became sharper instantly. She had known that these were dangerous men, but she had believed that her myopy and the artistry of the editors had embellished them considerably; suffice it to say that she was shocked to find that she had been wrong.

~Richard~

They had left her alone with that woman. Not entirely alone of course, Hiddleston was still hovering around, but Martin that treacherous weasel had followed the cakes and the gentler women, leaving him stranded with this surprising creature whose eyes made it quite hard for him to find something relevant to say.

She blinked owlishly up at him until he thought that she’d go cross-eyed. To his surprise – another one – she usually wore glasses and when she put them on, an obscene sound of pleasure escaped her half-open lips.

Again, she called to the Saints, pushing the glasses up before they had even had the chance or the time to slip, which told him that she wore her glasses more consistently than him and probably had done so for a long time.

She had made an inane comment about no longer attempting to be pretty, before putting on her glasses but that made no sense at all to him, as her glasses were beautiful and, in a strange way, so was she.

Obviously, pushing up her glasses was a habit or a tick as she did it twice while looking at him as if he was a painting in a museum rather than a real, living, breathing person. Then again, he stood nearly as still as a statue under her forbidding, critical gaze that roamed over his face with detached curiosity.

“Hmmm, how do you find the 1971 Armitage then?” Hiddleston stood next to her, eating peanuts, and joining her in her intense study of the immobile man facing them. No doubt, he deserved the attribute of “stony” now, Richard thought, dismayed to be the butt of the joke after all. He had known that had been a risk and he had walked right into it.

“1971?” She asked absent-mindedly, throwing a quick questioning look at her interlocutor before returning her gaze to him, and Richard flinched a little bit. Why did that man have to lead with his age when talking to a woman that young?

“A collectible, I’m sure.” Hiddleston purred, his voice laden with affectation which made Victoria chuckle again.

Hmmm, if it made her laugh rather than growl and spit, he would be standing there and be mocked for a little while longer, Richard decided. She looked like she needed a laugh.

“Not quite an antique.” Victoria opined, but Hiddleston was quick to reassure her: “Almost though. It’s been wonderfully preserved.” Again, that pealing, throaty laughter resounded, and Richard’s own mouth curled into an indulgent smile.

“This deserves to be in a gallery.” Victoria murmured, her voice devout and strangely vulnerable.

“I am right here; I can hear you.” Richard interjected, without much hope to break up their little game.

“AAAH, as you can see, Ma’am, it is unfortunately haunted. It can tell the time…if you hang it opposite a clock that is…” Hiddleston was quick to take Richard’s intervention in his stride, giving himself an apologetic expression that amused Victoria greatly. “Haunted? A piece of art so young?” She expressed her doubt and suspicion.

“Yes, yes…It’s looking for a good home though, a nice attic or a cellar maybe…” Hiddleston was waving his hands around Richard’s face as if to dazzle Victoria by the speed of his movements, an old trick salespeople used to distract from the inferior quality of their wares.

“I have a home, thank you, Hiddleston. I am not a piece of junk to be sold for 50p in a yard-sale.” Richard growled.

Her face grew grave, and he wondered what dark thought had crossed her mind to make her smile die on her lips. Immediately, he regretted having cut short their fun. He really was the grumpy, old sad sack he never wanted to be.

~Victoria~

When Tom spoke of attics and cellars, Victoria was immediately reminded of the stately house her father had raised her in. She could imagine a man like that one living there, she could picture a painting of a man such as that hanging in the great hall over the fireplace or high above the broad staircase winding its way to the two separate wings of the manor.

He had a skin like the Italian marble that had been so ridiculously slippery and that had made her afraid to take a fatal tumble down the very same staircase. Many people had told her that the idea was ludicrous and overly dramatic, but she knew it to be possible. Her mother had died that way.

Yes, there had been a bottle of bourbon and some prescription drugs in the mix as well, but the fact remained that her mother had fallen down the staircase and died on the spot from a broken neck. Father had replaced that patch of marble, but its veining was different, and they all hated that marred, ugly square that stood out like a sore thumb.

Thinking of her childhood home invariably made her sad; but she couldn’t deny that Richard Armitage would have fitted better into the décor than the little girl she had been.

He would look terribly imposing on the steps of the stairs or sitting in the huge armchairs in front of the roaring fire in the library. He would not be swallowed by every piece of furniture, he would not look out of place in the huge copper bathtub, and he would certainly not blend into the dark corners of the much too spacious rooms when the main lights were turned down. Maybe, she would have to get a painting of him and try to sneak it in to see if her father would even notice.

“Would that he were a painting.” She murmured, a desperate note sneaking into her voice that Tom picked up on immediately. There was pain in this woman, and he could see the gooseflesh on her arms as she tried to keep still. Evidently, she was on the verge of breaking into another run, unable to cope with something that distressed her, a thing that escaped his notice though…which frustrated him, as he really wanted to help her.

“So, you prefer the theatre to the cinema?” He asked, hoping it would be the right path to choose.

Victoria took a deep breath; this was what Liza and Angie had aimed for, for her to meet new people and talk about herself again. “I don’t know, I’ve only been to the movie theatre a few times before. It was a long time ago though.”

She could remember the smell of popcorn and of anticipation as the room grew dark and the screen lit up like a window to another world. Even then, she had been consumed with an absurd fear to be among so many other people; terrified of what they might think of her if she was to gasp or cry at the wrong moment, so she stayed immobile.

The man who would marry and divorce her within 10 years had thought that she had hated the experience and hence had not asked her to go to the cinema often afterwards. Maybe, if he had believed that she liked it, he would have taken her instead of other girls and this shared hobby would have strengthened their bond rather than frazzle it.

Victoria coughed, she had said too much already, and her heart was pounding. She was not ready for this.

“I’m sorry. I have to go home. I’m not feeling well.” She uttered hastily, turning to leave.

She was a terrible person; she had tried to make things right and all she had managed were fits and starts, broken off conversations that would leave a stale taste on the silver tongues of these men.

“I…can’t.” She stammered to no-one in particular as she waved at her friends and vanished before they could make their way back through the room to keep her from leaving like an absurd perversion of Cinderella.

She wanted to say how sorry she was, she wanted to thank them for their kindness, but she just couldn’t…so, she ran, her feet drumming against the pavement and her dress soaking up the moisture of the ground as she made for the next corner to catch a cab.

By the time she arrived home, her chest was heaving frantically, and she was crying with panic and distress.

When she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, Victoria had to admit to herself that she was irrevocably broken. She had had the great honour to meet people so fascinating and charming that many a woman would have torn out her own throat to be in her shoes and yet, she had not been able to shake the ghosts haunting her every breath, dogging her every step, spoiling her every pleasure.

Whatever Angie and Liza had thought they could achieve here, it would not happen, it never could.

~Richard~

That woman was utterly confusing. There were threads of a vibrant, quick-witted, funny person shining through behind a veil of confused anger, but somehow, they couldn’t get a hold of her.

In his mind, he could not reconcile the words he had read on the pages with the wide-eyed distress on her face; there was such a difference between the person he had imagined her to be and the person she had turned out to be in reality.

Now, it was true that his own taciturn demeanour had not been exactly conducive to drawing out the parts of her she was obviously hiding from the world, shielding them like deep wounds or fragile saplings.

Hiddleston however… that man was charming and even he had not managed to make her let down her guard for more than a few minutes at a time.

“What the fuck have you done to her?” Elizabeth stormed over, dismay writ plain on her face.

No, she had been angry before, she has bloody screamed at YOU, Richard thought, you cannot blame us for her leaving…but he still felt responsible and a tiny bit guilty. If he had been a little more open, she might have felt less insecure.

She has made it very clear that she’s afraid of you, he reminded himself, and you have done nothing to assuage her fears. No, you’ve given her your crooked, sharp-edged smiles that must indeed have looked like a predator baring its teeth at her more than the shy warmth he wanted them to convey.

“We were nice, all was well until Armitage gave her one of those cold, snide smiles.” Hiddleston shrugged and Richard felt weirdly hurt and betrayed even though he could hear that it had been a joke. Cold, a thing he had been called much too often and that made him despair within his own heart. He had not chosen his face and even after 50 years of life, he could not outrun its angular repulsiveness.

She had not known him well enough to be prejudiced, maybe, she would have been able to find warmth where others saw ice, but he had not managed to make her see. Also, Hiddleston had not been a great help.

“Awww, Richard, come on!” Martin sighed, disappointed, as if he was pursuing some ulterior motive Richard ignored.

[spn-safeandsound]

01. The Beginning

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x01; Pilot

Word Count: 10,001

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore, dirty thoughts

Author’s Note: Here is the first chapter of my Supernatural rewrite! I hope you like Julia! Just know that more of her personality is shown the further we go along. Let me know what you think. Don’t forget to reblog and like!

Masterlist in Profile Description!

Throwing the damp motel towel on the dresser, Dean wandered over to the bed he didn't plan on using to zip open his duffel of clothes. He quickly pulled on one of the last clean pairs of jeans he had and a black t-shirt that he sniffed to make sure didn't stink. He had only managed to slip the necklace Sam gave him years ago over his head when there was a knock at the door.

Dean paused, narrowing his eyes over at the door covered in chipped red paint. He had just paid for the room and didn't plan on staying more than a couple of hours. He didn't think that gave anyone much time to know that he was in town. Besides, the only two people he knew in Palo Alto didn't even know he was there.

He grabbed his gun and held it cautiously behind his back, peeking through the peephole. He didn't see much, just the top of a girl's head. And then the girl stepped onto her tip toes and waved at him, knowing that he was watching her.

"Trick or treat!"

Dean pressed his lips together and set his gun back down on the table. He opened the door and set his unimpressed expression on the younger woman, who smiled sweetly at him.

"What are you doing here, Julia?"

Julia Petersen didn't drop her smile as she slipped past him into the motel room. Dean rolled his eyes, already exasperated with her, and shut the door. He looked her up and down as she paced around the room, studying the furniture with a curious gaze.

She was dressed in a black t-shirt with a ridiculous cartoon ghost on it and khaki shorts that made her legs seem longer than they actually looked. When she turned toward the bathroom, he got a look at her ass and almost groaned before controlling himself.

This is Julia, he reminded himself, cute little Julia who is six fucking years younger than you.

"Julia."

"Right," Julia shook her head to focus and turned back to Dean. "I was looking for some candy but I guess someone's not in the mood for Halloween."

"Halloween's stupid."

"Yeah, I know," Julia rolled her eyes and wandered over to his duffle bag. "All you Winchesters are the same."

"Woah, hey," Dean rushed toward her and pulled her hands away from his clothes. "Keep your hands to yourself, Junior."

"Sorry, I forgot about the weird boundaries you have," Julia gave him an innocent smile and sat on the bed.

"They're not weird. Everyone has them."

"Not me."

"That's cause you're crazy," Dean playfully snapped at her

"That's true," she conceded. "Uh, what was your question again?"

Dean sighed impatiently. It had been almost a year since he had seen Julia and he was already getting annoyed with her. He wouldn't say that she was annoying all the time but she was a kid. A kid who never stopped talking, was always distracted, and the human embodiment of sunshine.

"What are you doing here," he repeated. "and how the hell did you find me?"

"Oh, I tracked your phone," Julia informed him. "and I'm here because Dad left me a message to find you."

"Luke told you to find me?" Dean asked thoughtfully.

If Luke had asked his youngest daughter to find Dean, he probably knew about his dad being missing. Why else would he want Julia to find him? She was already with Sam so it wasn't like she needed protection.

"Yup."

"Well, what'd he say?"

"He said that John was missing and that you needed my help to find him," Julia informed him, scratching her cheek nervously. He caught her tell, having experience from over the years.

"You're lying," he pointed out; she pouted. "Seriously, Julia. Come on."

"I'm not lying about that," Julia stated honestly. "but...I did kind of have a bad feeling."

"What kind of bad feeling? Like you ate something bad for lunch or you forgot to do your taxes?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

Julia's smile slipped from her face. "The kind of feeling where I knew I needed to find you. My dad's message just confirmed it."

Dean appraised her, pressing his lips together. When she was growing up, Julia had bad feelings all the time. There was one time that she knew that her older sister, Beth, had broken her arm and when he used to indulge Sam and Julia and play hide and seek with them, she would find him every time without fail. It was common knowledge that she had some kind of sixth sense but no one really talked about it.

"Okay," he accepted her answer. "Is that it?"

"That's it," Julia nodded, a smile back on her face. "What time were you going to talk to Sam? I wouldn't wait long because we're going out tonight. Well, maybe it would be best if you waited to talk to him until after he was drunk. He might be more likely to hear you out. It's gonna be hard to convince him to go with us but—"

"Hold your horses, Junior," Dean cut her off. "I already had a plan."

"And that is?"

"Private."

Julia fixed him with an unimpressed stare. "If you break into my apartment I'm gonna kill you."

"I won't break into your apartment," Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm not a heathen."

Julia hummed, giving him a doubtful look.

"Okay, anything else you needed?" Dean sighed.

"Nope," Julia jumped up from the bed walked toward the door. "I'll be packed and ready by the time you come to get us."

"Sure thing," Dean nodded sarcastically. "Now leave."

"Oh, one more thing—"

"Nope. Bye," Dean gently pushed her out of the room and shut the door before she could finish what she was going to say.

"Dean!"

-

-

Julia heard the crash out in the living room and sighed, shaking her head as she finished shoving a pair of boots into one of her duffle bags. She had warned Dean not to break into the apartment and he had said he wouldn't but he lied to her face. She had to start getting better at detecting lies, especially if she was gonna be trained to be a hunter.

She was actually excited to go on the road with Dean. She had wanted to be a hunter for a long time. It had been years and her father still hadn't trained her like he trained her older sister, Abby. He had told her to get an education, which she did, and then they'd see. Well, it was now that time and she was itching to learn everything.

Her family had always been in the business of hunting supernatural creatures. Her father's side, the Alexanders, was a well-known family in the world of the supernatural as they had a special talent for getting rid of demons. Her mother's side of the family—the Petersens—were famous, too, though not for the same reason.

Her mother's family owned Petersen Sports Co., a sports store that catered to regular citizens who needed soccer balls and football pads but also to hunters who needed salt rounds, holy water, and all the guns and knives they could buy. The secret hunter part of the store also provided ways to get ahold of other hunters and provided lawyers in case something went south during a hunt. It was a family business, with her older brother Levi as head of sales, Beth and her husband—Taylor—as lawyers for the company, and her Aunt Maggie as CEO.

Either way, she was a bit of a legacy. And, since Abby was the only child out of the four who had gone into the hunting business so far, Julia had to step up.

Julia finished packing by setting her backpack on top of her other bags and left the room. As soon as she entered the hallway, she ran into Jess, Sam's girlfriend and one of her closest friends.

"Jules, I think Sam's fighting off a robber," Jess said hurriedly, cheeks flushed. "Should we call the police?"

"No, no, it's fine," Julia hurried to assure her. "Sam and I were expecting someone."

"At one in the morning?"

"...Yes," Julia laughed awkwardly. "Come on, I'll show you."

Jess nodded and by the time they entered the living room, the fighting between Sam and Dean had stopped. Julia flipped on the lights in the living room, illuminating the Winchester brothers so she and Jess could see them clearly.

"Sam?" Jess called her boyfriend's name, looking wearily between him and his older brother.

"Jess, hey," Sam sighed and introduced her to Dean. "Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica."

"Wait," Jess paused, giving Julia a curious look; Julia nodded. "your brother, Dean?"

Dean grinned sleazily at her, his eyes flitting up and down Jess' model figure. She wasn't dressed the most modestly but it was nighttime and Julia's usual pajamas showed just as much skin.

"I love the Smurfs," Dean complimented her, gesturing to the low-cut top Jess was wearing. "You know, I gotta tell you, you are completely out of my brother's league."

Julia rolled her eyes while Jess gave him an unimpressed smile. "Just let me put something on."

"No, no, I wouldn't dream of it," Dean shook his head coyly. "Seriously."

"Dean, stop being a creep," Julia sighed, smirking at the annoyed look he sent her.

"Mind your own, Junior," he snarked at her and then addressed Jess again. "Anyway, I've gotta borrow my brother and this dwarf here—" Julia scoffed in offense. "—to talk about some private family business. Nice meeting you."

"No," Sam objected, walking over to Jess' other side, wrapping an arm around her. "No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her."

Dean looked over to Julia and she shrugged, giving him the choice of whether or not he would divulge what was going on. He must have decided that he would just tell Sam anyway because he gave in.

"Okay," he nodded. "Um, Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

"So, he's working overtime on a Miller-Time shift," Sam shrugged, not worried about his estranged father. "He'll stumble back in sooner or later."

Dean pressed his lips together and looked at his feet for a brief second before looking back at Sam. "Dad's on a hunting trip," he elaborated. "and he hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam's face went blank like it usually did when Julia brought up their families and what they did for a living.

"Jess, excuse us."

-

"What did Dean mean by his dad being on a hunting trip?" Jess asked as Julia tied her hair up in a messy bun and packed her toiletries that she had almost forgotten. "Sam seemed pretty upset about it."

"Well, John Winchester had always been a fan of hunting," Julia sighed, scratching her cheek. "Big game, as far as I know. Usually he gets drunk and passes out for a few days before heading back home."

Jess made an indignant noise. "Charming."

"Yeah, no kidding," Julia agreed, giving her an amused smile. "That's John, all right."

"Poor Sam," Jess sighed as they moved back to Julia's room; Julia made a noise of agreement. "So, why do you have to go with them again?"

"My dad called earlier and asked me to," Julia informed her. "I found Dean earlier today and it seems like he's really concerned."

"Well, how long are you gonna be gone?" Jess' eyes scoured over Julia's two duffle bags and backpack. "You're packed for a long time."

"I'll be back by Christmas," she assured the blonde. "and Sam will be home in time to make his interview. I'll make sure of it."

Jessica sighed heavily but nodded, knowing that Sam would probably give in and go with his brother and Julia for the weekend.

"Just be safe, okay?" she requested. "For me?"

"Course I will," Julia gave her a quick hug and grabbed one of her duffle bags, along with her backpack. "I'll send Sam up, okay?"

"Okay," Jess nodded. "Bye, Jules."

"See you later, Jess."

Julia left the apartment and made her way down the stairs, through the gate, and to the parking lot where she assumed Dean parked. She spotted the two giants across the lot and quickly approached them just as Dean was convincing Sam to listen about the case John was hunting.

Dean nodded at her in greeting and grabbed her bag, dropping it onto the concrete before unlocking his trunk. He pulled up the flap that hid the weapons underneath and began rummaging through the various guns, spell ingredients, knives, and other things necessary for hunting.

"Where the fuck did I put that thing?" Dean mumbled, looking for something.

Julia and Sam exchanged a pointed look, knowing that Dean was a slob for the most part, and waited patiently for Dean to grab whatever he was looking for.

"So, when your dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Julia asked him curiously.

"I was working my own gig," Dean answered. "Some voodoo thing down in New Orleans."

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?"

Dean gave him a pointed look. "I'm twenty-six, dude," he located a manila folder and pulled it out of the trunk, grabbing some papers that he had printed off. "All right, here we go. So, Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California."

"About a month ago, this guy went missing," he continued, handing some of the articles to Sam and the rest to Julia. "They found his car but he vanished, completely M.I.A.."

Sam scanned the article on top of his pile. "So maybe he was kidnapped."

"This article is from April," Julia spoke up, showing Sam the articles she had been going through. "And this one is from December of '04."

"There's one for '03, '98, '92," Dean added. "ten of them over the past twenty years. All men, all same five mile stretch of road. It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough, but," he pulled a recording device out of the trunk. "then I get this voicemail yesterday."

He pressed play and John Winchester's voice came out of the small speaker. "Dean...something big is starting to happen.  I think it's serious. I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may...Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger."

"You know there's EVP on that?" Sam looked to Dean.

Dean smiled, pleased. "Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?"

Sam shook his head while Julia chuckled.

"All right, I slowed the message down, ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got..." he pressed play again.

It was a woman's voice this time. "I can never go home."

Julia shivered at the creepy voice while Dean looked at Sam expectantly.

"Never go home," Sam repeated thoughtfully.

Dean nodded and set the recording device back into the trunk, along with the articles he had collected. He threw Julia's bag in, shut the trunk, and leaned on it, giving Sam his version of a guilt trip and puppy-dog eyes.

"You know, in almost two years, I've never bothered you or asked you for a thing."

Sam sighed, quickly giving in. "All right, I'll go. I'll help you find him."

Dean smiled happily.

"But I have to get back first thing Monday," Sam informed him, turning away to walk back to his apartment. "Just wait here."

"What's first thing Monday?" Dean called after him

"I have an interview," Sam told him.

"What, a job interview?" Dean shrugged. "Skip it."

"It's a law school interview," Sam said proudly. "and it's my whole future on a plate."

"Law school?" Julia saw that Dean looked a little impressed.

Sam nodded. "So, we got a deal or not?"

Dean didn't say anything but Sam got the gist that he agreed with him. Julia told him to bring down her last bag as he ran off to the apartment stairs, getting a wave of confirmation in return.

"How many damn bags do you need, anyway?" Dean asked Julia as she turned toward him with a happy smile.

"Three," she told him simply. "Clothes, shoes, toiletries, books, schoolwork, computer."

"Jesus Christ," Dean sighed as he stood from his position against the Impala's trunk and started walking to the driver's seat. "You're in the back, shortcake."

Julia grumbled, already annoyed with the short jokes, and slipped into the backseat. She pulled her pillow into her chest and snuggled into it, getting ready for the long drive to Jericho.

-

The breeze was cool and welcoming as they stopped at a gas station, just outside of Jericho, California. It was still early in the morning, around seven, but all three of them were already up. Dean was inside, getting some things to eat and drink while Sam went through Dean's cassette collection and Julia read through her emails.

"Did you see these, J?" Sam asked her, sorting through the cardboard box the cassettes were kept in. "He's got cassettes. I don't think he's heard of a CD before."

"Uh, Dean doesn't like change, remember?" Julia shrugged. "It's not really surprising he has every old white man's collection of music."

Sam laughed and continued his search. Eventually, Dean came out of the gas station, carrying a plastic bag of goodies he had scored.

"Want breakfast?" he asked them as he started pumping gas.

"No, thanks," Sam mumbled.

"Oh, did you get the—?"

"Cherry cheese Danish and apple juice," Dean cut Julia off, slipping them through her open window.

"Thanks!" Julia immediately tore open the Danish, taking a large bite out of it.

"So, how'd you pay for that stuff?" Sam asked cautiously. "You and Dad still running credit card scams."

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro-ball career," Dean excused himself, finishing with the gas. "Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah and what names did you write on the application this time?"

"Uh," Dean slipped into his seat. "Burt Aframian and his son, Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal."

Sam scoffed. "Sounds about right," he shook his head. "I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

"Why?"

"Because they're cassette tapes," Julia spoke up, finished her breakfast with a sip of apple juice. "And then there's the music itself."

"Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica," Sam listed the tapes he had been through. "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock."

"Ooh, good one," Julia giggled.

Dean gave them annoyed looks, not liking the fact that they were gaining up on him, and grabbed the Metallica tape from the box. "Well, house rules, Sammy," he put the tape in the stereo. "Driver picks the music, shotgun—and backseat—shut their cakeholes."

Julia rolled her eyes while Sam gave Dean an exasperated look.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," he reminded Dean as the tape started, not fond of his childhood nickname. "It's Sam, okay?"

"Sorry, I can't hear you!" Dean said loudly, a cheeky smile on his face. "The music's too loud!"

Julia laughed and leaned forward so her chin rested on the seat between the brothers. "Don't worry, Sam, you weren't chubby when you were twelve."

Sam gave her a flat look. "Thanks, J."

Julia winked at him and leaned back in her seat. While Dean drove closer to Jericho, Sam took the time to call the hospital and the morgue in town to see if there was anyone matching John's description. It was only when they were five miles out of town that he got off the phone.

"All right," he sighed. "so, there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or the morgue. So, that's something, I guess."

Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded. Julia shut her Bible, as she had started to reread Romans for her New Testament class, when they came upon the bridge that went into Jericho. There was what looked to be an abandoned car, a cop car ahead with its lights on, and a couple of police officers milling about.

"Check it out," Dean pointed the scene out to Sam and Julia.

He pulled to a stop at the side of the road and leaned over to the passenger side of the car, opening the glovebox and pulling out a box. The box contained numerous fake FBI badges with Dean and John's names on them; Dean picked a federal marshal badge out of the box and smirked at Sam and Julia.

"Let's go."

Julia didn't think that plaid and jeans—and in her case, a t-shirt and shorts—were the best clothing they could be wearing while they pretended that they were agents of the law. She didn't even have a badge, nor did Sam, and they were all kind of young to be federal marshals. Nevertheless, she got out of the car and followed Sam and Dean over to the police officers on the bridge.

"All right, first lesson," Dean quickly looked back at Julia. "Stay quiet and observe."

Julia fought the urge to roll her eyes and smiled brightly at him, acting like she was zipping her lips. Dean sighed heavily and continued on, giving Sam a pointed look that Julia caught but didn't react to.

As they got closer to the bridge, they saw that the officers had search and rescue down in the river, looking for the missing man.

"No sign of struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints," one of the officers told his partner. "Spotless. It's almost too clean."

The other officer nodded. "So, this kid, Troy, he's dating your daughter, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"How's Amy doing?"

"She's putting up missing posters downtown," the first officer informed him, shaking his head.

"You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean announced their presence, raising his voice so the officers could hear him.

The second officer looked toward them, straightening up so he stood taller. "And who are you?"

Dean held up his badge and quickly closed it before the officer had a good look. "Federal marshals," he gestured between himself and Sam before pointing back at Julia. "Intern."

"You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?" the officer asked suspiciously.

Ha! Julia thought. I knew it.

Dean chuckled. "Thanks, that's awfully kind of you," he walked over to the victim's car. "You did have another one just like this, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right," the officer confirmed. "about a mile up the road. There have been others before that."

"So, this victim, you knew him?" Sam asked him.

The officer nodded. "A town like this, everybody knows everybody."

Julia noticed Dean gesturing for her; she left Sam's side and walked around the car where he was standing. He pointed into the car, mumbling for her to take a look to see if she found anything.

She did as she was told, searching the front seats and dashboard of the car as best as she could while not touching anything. She didn't see anything particular; no blood, scratches in the leather, or dirt on the floorboards. Like the officer said, it was spotless.

"Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?" Dean spoke up.

"No, not as far as we can tell."

"So, what's the theory?" Sam wondered.

"Honestly, we don't know," the officer shrugged. "Serial murder, kidnapping ring..."

"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys," Dean commented with a scoff. Julia looked over at him in shock while he winced, Sam having stomped painfully on his foot.

"Thank you for your time," Sam told the police officer with a gracious nod.

Julia hurried to his side as the three of them started walking hurrying off the bridge. Once they were a few feet away from the Impala, Dean took the opportunity to slap the back of Sam's head.

"Ow!" Sam hissed. "What was that for?"

"Why'd you have to step on my foot?" Dean retorted.

"Why do you have to talk to the police like that?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam and stepped forward, cutting him and Julia off so they couldn't walk any further. "Come on, they don't really know what's going on," he stated. "We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad, we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves."

Julia's eyes swept past the brothers, wincing when she saw three older men walking toward them. She cleared her throat loudly, getting Dean and Sam's attention; Dean whipped around to face the men himself.

"Can I help you three?" the man who looked to be the sheriff asked them sternly.

"No, sir, we were just leaving," Julia shot them a dazzling smile. The sheriff almost melted in her presence while the FBI agents walked past Sam and Dean to go question the police themselves.

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully," Dean nodded at the agents as he grabbed Julia's arm and pulled her past the sheriff; Sam followed them. "Nice work, shortcake."

"I have one of those smiles, I guess," Julia shrugged sheepishly as she slid into her seat.

Dean scoffed. "I guess you do."

-

-

Dean, Sam, and Julia walked through the town square, searching for the girl they overheard the police officers talk about. Amy was her name and she was the victim's girlfriend who was hanging missing posters up over town.

It wasn't hard to find the girl, especially in a town this small. The police officer had been telling the truth when he said that they knew everyone around here.

"I bet that's her," Dean pointed to a young brunette hanging up posters outside of a post office. They approached her carefully, trying not to scare her off. "You must be Amy."

Amy had to be only a couple years younger than Julia and around the same height. She was dressed in dark clothing and had dark make-up on like she was taking grieving to a whole other level.

"Yeah," the girl confirmed.

"Troy told us about you," Dean went with the easiest story he could come up with and introduced himself, Sam, and Julia. "We're his uncles—I'm Dean, this is Sammy—and our little sister, Julia."

Amy gave him a skeptical look and started walking away. "He never mentioned you."

Dean quickly followed her. "Yeah, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto."

"So, we're looking for him, too," Sam took over; Amy stopped walking to look up at him. "and we're kinda asking around."

"Hey," a girl Amy's age walked up to her. "are you okay?"

"Yeah," Amy assured her.

"Do you mind if we ask you a couple questions?" Sam asked her politely.

It wasn't hard to say yes to Sam's puppy-dog eyes so Amy agreed to answer some questions for them. They settled at a nearby diner and on the walk over, Dean quietly answered some of the questions Julia had for him. He informed her about what kind of questions to ask people—like whether they noticed any cold spots or anything strange that occurred around them.

He had to admit, despite her ADHD, Julia was a quick learner. She soaked the information in like a sponge and it impressed him a little bit.

"I was on the phone with Troy," Amy informed them once she and her friend were settled at a table with Dean, Sam, and Julia. "He was driving home. He said he could call me right back and..." she hesitated sadly. "He never did."

"He didn't say anything strange or out of the ordinary?" Sam took over the questioning, seeming to have a better response than Dean did.

"No," Amy shook her head. "Nothing that I can remember."

"I like your necklace," Julia suddenly spoke up, pointing to the pentagram around Amy's neck.

Amy sadly smiled down at the charm. "Troy gave it to me," she sniffled and laughed a little. "Mostly to scare my parents with all that devil stuff."

Julia grinned at her. "Actually, it means the opposite," she corrected her, recalling some of the information she had learned in one of her classes. "A pentagram is protection against evil. It's really powerful if you believe in that kind of thing."

Dean pursed his lips at her, unimpressed with her change of discussion. "Okay, thanks, Unsolved Mysteries," he snapped at her, earning a frown in return, before addressing the girls, "Here's the deal, ladies, the way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So, if you heard anything..."

Amy and her friend exchanged hesitant looks that Dean caught.

"What is it?"

"Well, it's just—" Amy's friend, Rachel, started. "I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk."

"What do they talk about?" Sam and Dean asked at the same time.

"It's kind of this local legend," Rachel sighed. "This one girl, she got murdered out on Centennial, like, decades ago. Well, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes and whoever picks her up—well, they disappear forever."

Dean and Sam exchanged knowing looks. Not all myths were based on fact, but most of them were. If there was a local legend around town, there had to be some truth to it—even if some of the details were blurred.

-

-

It was nighttime by the time Julia, Dean, and Sam headed back to the bridge on Centennial Highway. After getting some information at the library about the so-called hitchhiker the girl was talking about at the diner, they headed there to take a look around. The bridge was much spookier at night, especially once they found out about this mysterious hitchhiker.

The article they had found was about Constance Welch, who committed suicide at the bridge in the eighties. She took a dive into the river and drowned only an hour or so after both of her kids died in the bathtub. Her husband had said that she just couldn't handle her grief.

After Dean parked the impala on one side of the bridge, the three of them walked the length of it. Julia bit her lip nervously as she looked around, hoping that this spirit wouldn't just appear out of nowhere. Then again, she wanted the training, so some of her nerves were from anticipation.

"So," Dean walked over to the ledge of the bridge, looking down at the black river below. "this is where Constance took the swan dive."

Sam nodded and leaned against the railing beside him. "So, you think Dad would have been here?"

"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him."

Julia wasn't assured by Dean's statement. "What now?"

"Now we keep digging until we find him," Dean informed her, his eyes darting toward Sam. "It might take a while."

"Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by—" Sam started to remind him but Dean cut him off with a nod.

"Monday," he recalled somewhat sourly. "Right, the interview."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I forgot," Dean lied. "You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just gonna become some lawyer and marry your girl?"

"Maybe," Sam shrugged. "Why not?"

"Does Jessica know the truth about you?" Dean started to goad him, irritated and a little jealous that Sam could leave hunting so easily. "I mean, does she know about the things you've done?"

"No, and she's not ever going to know."

"Well, that's healthy," Dean's tone was dripping with sarcasm. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are."

Dean turned and started walking away, knowing that he pushed his little brother's buttons. He was right; Sam started following him at an angry pace while Julia hovered nervously at the same spot by the railing. The conversation was none of her business and even though she was definitely going to eavesdrop, that didn't mean she was going to interrupt.

"And who's that?" Sam stomped after Dean.

"You're one of us."

"No," Sam's voice was sharp as he caught up with his brother, staring down at him with a glare. "I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life."

Dean paused to confront him. "You have a responsibility to—"

"To Dad and his crusade?" Sam scoffed. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like and what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone and she isn't coming back."

Dean lunged at Sam, grabbing him by the collar and pushing him against the railing on the other side of the bridge. Julia gasped softly and started to rush over, practically feeling the rage in Dean's veins.

"Dean!"

There was a long pause as Julia gently touched his elbow. Dean calmed down a little bit and quietly warned Sam, "Don't talk about her like that."

He roughly let go of Sam's collar and brushed off Julia's hand, turning to walk back to the Impala. He stopped in his tracks, seeing a woman dressed in a white dress standing on top of the railing of the bridge, her skirt blowing in the wind.

"Sam, Jules..."

Julia gawked at the woman as she looked over, made direct eye contact with both of the Winchesters, and jumped down into the river. Dean, Sam, and Julia took off running to where the woman jumped, hearing no splash and seeing no one down in the river.

"Where is she?" Julia asked loudly, her nerves wracked.

"I don't know," Sam shook his head, his eyes still searching the water below them.

The sound of an engine roaring caught their attention. Julia looked over, her eyes widening in horror when she saw that the Impala had started up with no help. She looked over at Dean in confusion, sincerely hoping that it was just a carjacker and not the spirit messing with them.

"What the fuck?"

'Who's driving your car?" Sam asked Dean.

Dean simply reached into his jeans and pulled out his car keys.

"Oh, no," Julia whimpered.

Whoever—or whatever—was in the Impala pressed on the gas. The car sped forward, going way too quickly, and started driving toward them. Sam grabbed Julia's arm and urged her to run as he and Dean took off running.

Julia ran sometimes when she had the time but that was nothing like running for your life. She had adrenaline pumping through her veins as she sped up to keep up with the brothers, almost overtaking Dean. The car was too fast, however, and they had to jump.

Dean vaulted over the railing and dove into the river. As Sam jumped, too, Julia ran behind him and, before she could even process what she was doing, grabbed his arm to keep him from falling.

Sam looked up at her in surprise as she grunted, half of her body practically hanging off the railing so she could keep him from dropping into the water below.

"Oh, my God, you're so heavy!"

Sam scrambled to reach up, grabbing the bottom of the railing so some of his weight was relieved from her. He easily climbed up with Julia's help; once he was back on his feet and Julia was wincing at the strain in her muscles, they looked into the river to see if Dean was okay.

"Dean?"

"Dean, are you alive?"

"Dean!"

"Are you okay?"

"Dean?" Sam and Julia chorused together.

They heard an annoyed groan before, "What?"

"Hey, are you all right?" Sam called down to him, relieved that his brother hadn't drowned in the nasty-looking river.

Dean crawled onto the muddy bank and made an 'okay' gesture. "I'm fucking super."

Julia broke into a relieved snicker and Sam chuckled, growing amused and joining in

They didn't stay at the bridge long after Dean pulled himself off the bank and walked back up to the highway. He didn't waste time waving the other two into the car so they could drive back to town and get a motel room for the night.

Once at the closest motel, Dean took a few minutes to check out the Impala for any damage.

"Everything okay with Baby?" Julia asked him tentatively, wrinkling at the horrible smell wafting off his muddy hair and clothes.

"Yeah, whatever she did to it seems fine now," Dean sighed and shut the hood. "That Constance chick, what a bitch!"

Sam smiled at him, amused. "Well, I guess she doesn't want us digging around," he commented; Dean scoffed in agreement. "So, where's the job gonna take us now?"

Dean huffed and threw his arms into the air, frustrated. At the same time, Julia gagged, the smell coming from the mud covering Dean making her feel nauseous.

The brothers looked at her expectantly and she shrugged, covering her nose. "You should take a shower," she advised Dean. "You really stink."

Dean glared at her. "Thanks for that, Junior."

Julia gave him a sweet smile as he rolled his eyes and Sam chuckled. Dean pulled out his wallet and started toward the motel office, Sam and Julia dutifully following after him. Once at the front desk, he threw his credit card on the counter.

"One room, please."

The old man working the desk gave Dean a reluctant look-over and then grabbed the card, reading the name on the front. "You guys having a reunion or something?"

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I had another guy, Burt Aframian," the man informed them. "He came and bought out a room for the whole month."

Julia looked at Sam and Dean, surprised, while Dean made an expression that told her that he was thinking he should have known his dad would rent out a room. Sam quickly made an excuse that they were coming to check on their father while Dean paid for another room.

Once they had their room key, the three of them went straight to the room that John rented out, picking the lock. Sam yanked Dean into the room after him and Julia and firmly shut the door.

Julia looked around the room, her eyes wide. The room was an absolute mess that made her skin itch; there were clothes all over the place, numerous papers taped to the walls, and old food sitting around. Dean turned on the lamp closest to him so they'd have more light to look around, picking up a half-eaten burger on the table below it.

He sniffed it curiously and silently gagged at the rank smell while Sam and Julia stepped over the salt ring on the floor to get a better look at the walls. "I don't think he's been here for a couple of days."

"Salt, cat's-eye shells," Sam listed as he looked at the salt on the floor. "He was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in."

In the back of her mind, Julia remembered that salt was like a barrier for all sorts of supernatural creatures, but at the moment her focus was on the papers taped to the wall. There were a bunch of articles about the disappearances over the last decade, as well as some local lore that he dug up.

"What have you got here?" Sam walked over to her.

Julia wrinkled her nose as Dean came over to take a closer look as well, and said, "Centennial Highway victims."

"I don't get it," Dean mumbled. "I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities...There's always a connection, right?"

Julia gave him a questioning look. "So, what do these guys have in common?"

Dean shrugged at her and Julia frowned, looking back at the profiles John had made for the victims.

"Dad figured it out," Sam spoke up, having moved across the room where more papers were taped on the wall.

"What do you mean?"

"He found the same article we did," Sam gestured to the wall where the article about Constance Welch was taped. "Constance Welch, she's a woman in white."

Dean smirked as he looked back at the victims. "You sly dogs."

"What's a woman in white?" Julia wondered, her eyes darting between Sam and Dean.

"It's a sort of phenomenon," Sam explained to her. "They're spirits that have been sighted for hundreds of years in dozens of places. They're women who had husbands who were unfaithful so they suffered from temporary insanity and murdered their children. They take their own lives afterwards and become cursed, killing any unfaithful man they find."

Julia winced but mentally stored the information in her head until she could write it down in the journal she brought with her. She'd been cheated on before but she was never angry enough that she would take a life—let alone a child, if she had one.

"Wow," she breathed; Sam nodded in agreement.

"All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it," Dean spoke up.

"She might have another weakness," Sam suggested.

"Well, Dad would want to make sure," Dean insisted, crossing the room to stand next to Sam. "He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?"

"No, not that I can tell," Sam's eyes brushed over the article on the wall. "If I were Dad, though, I'd go ask her husband if he's still alive."

"All right," Dean nodded in approval. "Why don't you, uh, you guys go to the room and see if can find the address. I'm gonna get cleaned up in here."

Dean started toward the bathroom but Sam soon stopped him. "Hey, Dean?"

Dean looked at him expectantly.

"What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad," Sam said sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

Dean held his hand in the air, stopping Sam from speaking further. "No chick-flick moments."

Sam laughed and nodded. "All right, jerk."

"Bitch," Dean mumbled in reply before heading into the bathroom.

Julia furrowed her eyebrows and walked over to Sam. "Your brother has some serious issues dealing with emotions."

Sam scoffed. "No kidding. Come on, let's go."

He turned to leave but paused when he saw a picture stuck in the full-length mirror. He pulled it out of the frame and smiled softly when he saw that it was him, Dean, and his dad more than a decade ago, sitting on the hood of the Impala.

Julia took a peek at it. "Were you born in plaid?" she joked, sensing that he needed a little cheering up; it worked and he smiled slightly. "You look happy."

"We were," Sam sighed as he pocked the picture.

-

It was noon the next day when Dean finally woke up and started moving, having caught more than his usual four hours of sleep. He went straight into the bathroom, ignoring the happy greeting Julia sent him, and got ready for the day.

Julia rolled her eyes at the grumpy man and went back to her laptop, reading the website that Sam had showed her. There was a lot of information about women in white that Sam hadn't touched on earlier and she made sure to record it in her journal so she could look back on it later if she needed to.

It was while Sam was listening to a message from Jess he had missed earlier that Dean came out of the bathroom.

"Hey, I'm starving," he informed them as he slipped on his hand-me-down leather jacket that was a little bit too big for him. "I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You guys want anything?"

"Nah," Sam declined, continuing to listen to the message.

"Aframian's buying," Dean tried to tempt him but Sam shook his head. Dean sighed and turned to Julia with raised eyebrows. "What about you, shortcake?"

Julia bit her lip, thinking about what she wanted to eat. Dean subtly checked her out while she decided, enjoying the pajama shorts and cotton tank-top that she was lounging around in.

"A turkey club?" she smiled up at him.

Dean winked at her. "Coming right up."

Julia's heart raced and her smile fell as he left the room. That man was just too gorgeous for his own good. Dean was attractive, everyone knew that, but Julia had a crush on him when she was five years old and he was an awkward-looking preteen going through puberty. Luckily the crush went away by the time she was in high-school and Dean was a very legal adult. If she wasn't careful, though, she'd be sucked in again.

Her phone rang only seconds later. It was Dean.

"Yeah?"

"Five-oh," Dean warned her quietly; she stiffened nervously. "You and Sammy take off."

"What about you?" she asked worriedly.

"They kinda spotted me. Go find my dad, all right?"

He hung up and Julia stood up, quickly grabbing a pair of joggers to pull up over her shorts. "Sam, the police are here," she informed him hurriedly, grabbing her laptop and sliding into her backpack. "Let's go."

"All right," Sam nodded and stood up. "Come on, there's a window in the bathroom."

Out in the parking lot, Dean smiled charmingly at the police officers approaching him. "Problem, officers?"

"Where are your partners?" one of the officers—the one they spoke to the day before—asked.

"Partners?" he played it cool. "What partners?"

The officer nodded over at his partner and gestured to John's room and their room. The partner made his way over to John's room first, which relieved Dean. It'd give Julia and Sam more time to get away without being noticed.

"So," the first officer looked back at him. "Fake US Marshal, fake credit cards...You got anything that's real?"

"My boobs," Dean stated matter-of-factly, flashing the officer a cheeky grin.

The officer didn't like that very much. He called over his partner and grabbed Dean, hauling him over to their cruiser. He was slammed down on the hood and cuffed behind his back but he didn't care. Sam and Julia got away and he hadn't committed any crimes—yet—so they didn't have anything on him.

He was processed quickly when they got to the station and sat in an interrogation room while the officers gathered evidence from John's room. It was an hour later that the sheriff came in, holding a box of things they had taken.

"So," the man grumped, sitting the box on the table in front of Dean. "you want to give us your real name?"

"I told you. It's Nugent," Dean insisted cockily. "Ted Nugent."

The sheriff gave him a flat look. "I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in here."

"Are you talking like, misdemeanor kind of trouble or squeal-like-a-pig trouble?" Dean asked smartly.

"You got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo," the sheriff informed him needlessly. "Boy, you are officially a suspect."

Dean scoffed; this guy was an idiot. There was no way that Dean was gonna go down for these murders since all they had were a bunch of printed out pictures of the victims. That's not actually enough evidence to do anything.

"That makes sense," he snarked at the man. "cause when the first one went missing in '82, I was three."

"I know you got partners," the sheriff was deterred. "One of them is an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So, tell me, Dean—"

Dean paused when the sheriff said his name, a cocky look on his face. The older man grabbed a book out of the box and threw it on the table in front of him. It was his dad's journal.

"—is this his?"

Dean's heart sank in his chest at the sight of the familiar, leather bound journal. His dad never went anywhere without it. Everything they knew about the supernatural creatures they've come across was recorded in those pages, along with a lot of personal information that Dean didn't like to be shared. Information about his mom's death and the way he grew up wasn't something he wanted random strangers to know about.

The sheriff recognized the look on Dean's face. "I thought that might be your name," he acknowledged, walking around the table so he could open the journal. "See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out—I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy."

Dean stared passively down at the pages he flipped through, the pictures of his ancestors, his mom, him, Sam, and their hunter friends filling some of the plastic sleeves inside.

Finally, the sheriff stopped on a page toward the back. "I found this, too," he pointed at a page with Dean's name and coordinates. "Now, you're staying right here till you tell me exactly what the hell that means."

"It's my locker combination," Dean lied easily.

"Bullshit."

"I'm not lying," he insisted. "It's from years ago, when I was in high school."

The sheriff, rightfully, didn't believe him but Dean wasn't budging. He didn't know where the coordinates led to, but it had to be something important. Something that police officers or anyone who didn't know about John or the things that go bump in the night needed to see.

He questioned Dean for an hour, asking about many things. After a while, he veered the interrogation away from the coordinates and asked about his dad. He asked about Sam and Julia, too, but Dean insisted adamantly that he was alone. The sheriff didn't believe him but he didn't give a flying fuck—he wasn't a snitch. He enjoyed riling the old man up, too, seeing his face turn red with frustration and anger.

"I don't know how many times I gotta tell you," Dean sighed when the sheriff asked him about the coordinates again. "It's my high school locker combo."

"We gonna do this all night long?" the sheriff asked him grumpily.

A deputy poked his head into the room. "We just got a 9-1-1," he informed his superior. "Shots fired over at Whiteford Road."

The sheriff looked over at Dean. "Do you have to go to the bathroom?"

Dean gave him a weird look. "No."

"Good," the sheriff pulled handcuffs out of his belt and locked Dean to the table before leaving the room, the door shut firmly behind him.

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled the paperclip he had been eyeing from his dad's journal. He quickly set himself free and grabbed the journal, slipping it into his jacket. He waited until all the police officers left and then escaped, having the time to whistle a little tune.

"Finally," he heard a sigh as he walked out of the building. "I'm been waiting for ever."

Dean gave Julia an impressed look as she walked over to him, her arms folding across her ample chest. "You did that?" he pointed back at the station with his thumb; she nodded with a grin. "A fake 9-1-1 call. Impressive and very illegal."

"You're welcome," Julia beamed at him, pleased with his praise. "Come on, Sam went to question Joseph Welch."

"Ah," Dean nodded and walked by her side as she lead them to a car parked on the curb a block down. "Did you steal the car, too?"

"Sam taught me."

"He taught you?" he gave her a skeptical look. Even he had a couple lessons before he was successfully jacking cars. Julia was good but she wasn't that good.

"Okay, he stole it for me before taking off," Julia admitted. "but I paid attention."

Dean hummed and slid into the driver's seat, starting up the car. He asked Julia to call Sam as he started driving toward Joseph Welch's house and she did it without protesting.

"Hey," Sam answered quickly.

"You taught Jules the fake 9-1-1 call?" Dean greeted him. "I'm proud, Sammy."

Sam laughed. "Well, you're welcome."

"Listen, we gotta talk."

"Tell me about it," Sam sighed. "So, the husband was unfaithful. We are definitely dealing with a woman in white and she's buried behind her old house. That should have been Dad's next stop."

Dean sighed in frustration. "Sammy, could you shut up for a second?"

"I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet."

"Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you," Dean stated. "He's gone. Dad left Jericho."

"What?" Sam's voice stiffened while Julia looked at Dean in shock. "How do you know?"

"I got his journal."

"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing."

"Yeah, well, he did this time."

"What's it say?"

"Ah, same old ex-Marine shit," Dean grumbled. "when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Coordinates. Where to?"

"I'm not sure yet," Dean admitted.

"I don't understand," Sam said, frustrated. "I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?"

Dean stiffened when they heard the tires screech on the other line. It sounded like Sam had stopped very quickly.

"Sam? Sam?" Dean asked frantically.

Sam didn't answer, though, and the call quickly died out. Dean tossed Julia her phone and stepped on the gas, speeding up toward the address listed on the article about Constance Welch's suicide.

"Do you think he's okay?" Julia asked him nervously.

She was worried to death about her best friend and from Dean's reaction, he could be in seriously danger. She knew Sam was faithful to Jess but maybe the spirit didn't care. Apparently some of them didn't follow rules.

"I don't know," Dean said tightly. "We just got to get there fast."

"Okay."

"You know how to shoot a gun?"

"Of course."

"Good."

They pulled up to the old Welch residence, spotting the Impala parked right out in front. Dean and Julia jumped out of the car they stole and ran toward it; Dean handed her one of the spare guns he kept in his jacket—thankful that the police didn't do a body search—and used his own to shoot out the driver's window where the woman in white was straddling Sam.

The woman in white disappeared but promptly became visible again. Julia shot without thinking, her bullet disturbing the spirit. Sam took the opportunity to start the car and speed into the house, going through the front wall.

"Oh, my God!"

"Jesus Christ, I hope he didn't hurt my car," Dean mumbled furiously as he and Julia ran into the destroyed house.

"Sam?"

"Here!"

Julia ran over to the driver's door. "You okay?" she asked, ripping the door open; Sam nodded. "Can you move?"

"Yeah," Sam breathed as Dean rushed over to them. "Can you help me?"

Dean reached in and practically pulled Sam out of the Impala, getting him to his feet. Julia wrapped one of Sam's arms around her shoulders and allowed him to settle his very heavy weight on her as Dean stepped in front of them in case Constance came back.

Constance sure didn't look very happy with them. She threw down the portrait that she was looking at and waved her hand. A heavy dresser flew toward them, painfully pinning them to the wall.

Julia squeaked in pain as she was pressed against the wall. She was officially unable to move and unable to get away from the pain that the furniture inflicted on her stomach. Dean and Sam tried pushing the dresser away from them but it wouldn't budge.

Then the lights in the house started flickering and water started pouring down the staircase. Two creepy-looking child-ghosts appeared, getting Constance's attention. She stared at them in horror and a deep sadness.

"You've come home to us, Mommy," they whispered in unison.

Julia shivered, creeped out.

The children appeared behind Constance and promptly hugged her, causing her to scream. Her body flickered for a few seconds before all three of them burst into a weird fire that had Julia turning away and disappeared.

With Constance's spirit gone, Dean and Sam were able to move the dresser away from the three of them. Julia sighed in relief now that the pressure was gone and wrapped an arm around her torso. She was pretty sure she had bruised a couple of ribs.

My first hunting injury, she thought proudly.

"So, this is where she drowned her kids," Dean assumed, looking at the spot where the three spirits appeared.

Sam nodded. "That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them."

"But I fought we had to burn her corpse to kill her?" Julia spoke up, kind of confused.

There was only so much she knew about hunting but she thought you got rid of ghosts by salting and burning their corpse. That didn't happen here.

"Sometimes you can find a spirit's weakness and that can take care of them," Sam informed her.

"In this case it just happened to be her kids," Dean added, clapping Sam on the shoulder. "Nice work, Sammy."

Sam laughed loudly and grinned at his brother. "Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you," he mocked him. "Where were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

Dean gave him an offended look.

"By the way, J, nice aim," Sam added, just to tease Dean further.

"Thanks, S," Julia grinned at him before sticking her tongue out at Dean.

"Children," Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "I'm working with children. And another thing," he warned Sam. "If you fucked up my car, I'll kill you."

-

It was almost midnight by the time they arrived back at Stanford. Sam had successfully found where the coordinates that John left them led, a place in Colorado, and had turned Dean down when he offered to drive there now, wanting to go to his interview. Dean was visibly upset but he didn't argue.

Dean pulled up the apartment and parked in the lot. Sam slid out of the car and grabbed his bag from the back before leaning down to talk to Julia and Dean through the window.

"Be careful, J," Sam poked her in the forehead. "Listen to Dean, all right?"

"I will."

"And call me."

"Yes, Dad," Julia playfully rolled her eyes at him. "Say hello to Jess, would you? Love ya."

Sam winked at her and then turned to Dean, his face falling when he saw the sullen look on his brother's face. "Call me if you find him?"

Dean nodded.

"And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?"

"Yeah, all right," Dean agreed easily. "You know, we made a hell of a team back there."

Sam smiled, his dimples popping out. "Yeah. Be careful."

Dean nodded and pulled out of the spot he had parked in. He quickly drove away from the apartment building and Julia assumed it was because he didn't want to dally and be sad about Sam's departure.

"You all right?" she asked Dean.

"I'm fine," Dean answered gruffly and changed the subject. "So, you survived your first hunt. How do you feel?"

"Good," Julia grinned. "Yeah, it was—"

She paused, scrunching up her nose as she got a bad feeling. She couldn't explain it and it felt different from the one she had about Dean but she knew something was wrong.

Dean gave her a worried look when she stopped talking. "You okay?"

"No," she shook her head. "I have a bad feeling."

As if the universe was agreeing to her statement, the radio glitched out. Dean looked at the dash, noticing that the clock had stopped working. He quickly turned the vehicle, his heart starting to race, and started driving back to Sam.

By the time they got there, the apartment was in flames and Jess was dead.

(Gif is not mine)

[capisback]

character A hasnt seen character B for years. they're both villians in a superhero AU and they reminisce about the old days where they worked together or had a common interest in killing a/the hero/s. They don't use their real names, just their villain names. Maybe they're secretly into each other, who knows. Go wild babe. i imagine they meet on top of a building and suprise eachother.

Nothing ever changed in the city Melusine called home. Once, a long time ago, she’d hoped it would. She’d thought maybe she could change it with her own two hands. Take it, and twist it, and make it new, better, make it a city she and her family could live in without – well. Everything that came with being different.

As she stared over the monotone greyscale cityscape, given colour only by the setting sun, she thought of how foolish she’d been.

She’d started being a Villain at seventeen. Young enough to hold such naïve hopes for herself and the future.

Melusine sighed, kicking her legs, which dangled over the skyscraper’s edge, back and forth. She sounded like an old lady, and yet she wasn’t a day over twenty-six.

Pigeons scattered up from the lane right below Melusine, a luxury car speeding past as if it owned the street. She briefly considered sending a bubble down, trapping the car inside, and letting it and its driver stay suspended for an hour or twenty-four.

Gravel ground under someone’s feet, behind her, to her right, and she instantly summoned five paralysis bubbles to her fingertips. She whirled around, poised to throw, but stopped short, almost frozen, when she was met with a familiar – albeit a little different – figure.

“Vougn?”

“Méduse?” Vougn all but gaped at her, posture and features openly displaying her shock. “Is – Is that really you, Méduse?”

“Vougn”, Melusine breathed.

“Méduse!” Vougn launched herself towards Melusine so fast, that Melusine, out of reflex (and necessity, she later realised, seeing as she’d been about to be tackled off a skyscraper), threw a bubble towards Vougn, trapping her inside.

“Hey!” Vougn whined. “This isn’t what I call a warm ‘Nice to see you again’!”

“Sorry.” With a flick of her fingers, the bubble dissolved. “Reflex.”

“Hmm, good to see you’re still sharp, even after all this time.”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

“Please”, Vougn laughed, walking up to Melusine this time. “How long have you been a Villain for? Ten years? And I haven’t seen you for the last four of them, so sorry if I’m pleased to see you haven’t gotten rusty in your old age.”

“Har har”, Melusine said with a fond roll of her eyes. “I’m old, laugh it up.”

“Awww, don’t be like that, Méduse.” Vougn shoved her shoulder, seating herself next to Melusine. “If it’s any consolation, you look just as pretty as when I last saw you.”

Heat flushed across her cheeks and nose, and she quickly turned to look back at the city, away from Vougn.

“You don’t”, Melusine said loudly.

“Aw, I don’t?”

Melusine’s face, rather than cooling down, became a tad bit hotter at Vougn’s teasing tone, and she turned her face away to the left even more.

“You look even prettier”, she said, only a bit clearer than a mutter. And it was true. Vougn had changed overtime. Cropped her dirty blonde hair to just beneath her chin, where it had been a long braid when she and Melusine had had their partnership, and she’d changed her colour scheme to a fetching black-and-red.

“Hmhm~”, Vougn hummed, victorious, teasing grin clear in her voice. “Thought so.”

“Your personality’s terrible, though.”

That shocked a laugh out of Vougn. “Well! That’s what I’m known for!”

“What a pity to be both beautiful and a bastard.”

“Oh, Méduse, if you keep complimenting me like this, you know how we’ll end up?”

Ah, well, that didn’t help Melusine’s long-held (and previously dormant) crush get out of overdrive at all.

“Locked in battle?” she tried, hoping her voice wasn’t several pitches higher than usual.

“Yeah. Taking down our very own Superhero together.”

“You mean Draft?”

“Him, and whatever other hero we want.” Vougn sent her a cheeky, dreamy grin.

“That does sound nice, doesn’t it?”

If only it was something they could do – something she could do. But she hadn’t been able to realise something that big for a long time. When they’d started out, she and Vougn had been a great team. Draft had been a bit of a novel hero then, too, and he’d been so much fun to toy with. Too bad that Heroes got actual training, while they had to figure it out for themselves. Really gave the Heroes a very unfair advantage, and the Villains didn’t get enough credit for their actually quite impressive feats. Not that anyone was going to praise a Villain.

“Remember back in our first year?”

The sun dipped below the skyline, rays of gold, molten sunshine illuminating them through the haze hanging over the city.

“I remember all our time together, so you’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

Melusine chuckled. “The first time we captured Draft? Got him to spread my sticking bubbles all over the city. He was so upset.”

“Oh, oh, yes”, Vougn chortled. “Of course! God, and when we hung him by a rope at the edge of that gargoyle? I lit a fire under him, and he got right to begging! ‘Buh-buh-buh-lease’! He was so pathetic!”

“He is! And he’s gotten such a big head now, despite only having some so-so wind powers. Borea has amazing control over it, and the tricks she does are amazing, but you don’t see anyone complimenting her.”

“The fate of being a Villain, I’m afraid.”

“And who names themselves Draft? Who let him name himself that?”

Vougn sputtered a laugh. “It’s probably the best he could come up with since he’s so damn daft!”

“Oh my god”, Melusine laughed.

“Right?” Vougn wiped at her eyes. “What would you have called him?

“Probably just Daft, I think that’s perfect.”

“It checks out, for sure, but really. If you had to give him a proper Superhero name, what would it be?”

“I don’t know…” Melusine twirled her hair around her finger. “Something cool? Like, let’s see… Zephyr?”

“Oooh, sounds fancy. What’s that from?”

“It’s the Ancient Greek name for the western wind.”

“Oh, man, that would’ve been so much more intimidating than Draft. Can’t believe I have to regularly beat up a kid called Draft and not Zephyr.”

Melusine bit back her laughter as she tried for mock-sympathy. “Oh, no, poor Vougn. Having to kick ass and not even having someone cool to beat up. However will the number three villain recover from this injustice?”

Vougn sniffed and wiped away an imaginary tear. “Thank you, it’s really hard.”

“How is it, though, being a big time Villain? Everything you hoped for?”

Everything fell silent for a long moment. Melusine was struck by the weariness of Vougn’s expression, the tired curve of her back.

“Well…” That bitter, breathy laugh shouldn’t come from someone like Vougn. She was upbeat, bright, and sometimes a little too much. She wasn’t quiet, or reserved. She wasn’t bone-tired and disillusioned. Not the Vougn Melusine remembered.

But then again, neither was Melusine the one Vougn remembered. The world had changed them both. Maybe too much.

Melusine, too, was tired.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you”, there was that cheeky tone again. Both a relief and a painful sting, since it was so obviously strained, an attempt to divert from her inner turmoil. “How are you holding up? I see you’re still rocking that jellyfish aesthetic.”

She motioned to Melusine’s blue-and-white, puffy (and jellyfish-frilled) skirted outfit.

“I’m getting kind of tired of it, actually.”

And of everything that came with it.

Maybe she and Vougn still made a perfect pair, after all.

“Oh. That’s too bad. I think it suits you.”

Melusine cracked a smile. “Thanks.”

They settled into a long silence. Dusk rapidly caught up to the time. The long shadows cast down on the city below disappeared into the dark. Only they, up on their skyscraper, were privy to the beauty and the setting of the sun, and the movement of the Earth.

Her grandmother loved dusk. Le Crépuscule, she always said, refusing to use the English word. Her grandfather had once told her he’d had to bargain with her to keep from naming their little crafts-and-herbs store that. She had to admire her grandfather. Her grandmother was a hard woman to bargain with.

“You know”, Vougn said. “When I first got these powers, I never imagined I’d turn out like this.”

She let fire dance across her fingertips, the bright orange flickering and casting a warm glow between them.

Melusine huffed, bitter and understanding. “Me neither. They always tell you you’ll be the hero, don’t they?”

“Yep.” Vougn popped the ‘p’. “But, hey, they also say everyone’s the hero of their own story, so I guess they’re a little right.”

“No, they’re not.”

“No, they’re not”, Vougn agreed, and snuffed out her fire.

Melusine closed her eyes and tilted her head back, face towards the clouding sky. This, this, was nice. Calm, quiet. Peace. She wanted that. No more battles, being yelled and cussed at, no more injuries and long days and late nights.

She wanted a life. A proper one.

“Vougn”, she said, softly. “I’m quitting Villainy.”

“What?”

Melusine looked back at Vougn, surprised by the disbelief in her voice, and even more at the distress on her face.

“I’m quitting”, she repeated, firm and resolute. “It’s not worth it anymore, Vougn. All of this, it’s just – ” She sighed. “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to.”

“But – but you had such big plans!” Vougn stumbled over her words. “Weren’t you going to change things?”

“And where have I gotten with that?” She looked at Vougn with earnest sorrow. “Tell me, Vougn, how have I changed anything? How will I ever change anything? We’re not the heroes of this story. At least, not me. Maybe you still have a chance. But I’m done, Vougn. I’m – I’m so tired.” She choked on fresh tears.

“Méduse…” Vougn hesitantly reached for her, hand hovering in the space between them.

Melusine clasped that hand tightly with her own two.

“Will you remember me?” Her throat was raw. Her feelings clawed, sharp and unbidden, up her chest. “When I’m gone. Will you at least remember me?”

Vougn swallowed thickly, frozen for a moment, but then she placed her other hand, gently but firmly, a promise and a reassurance, over Melusine’s.

“How could I ever forget you?”

Melusine let out a wet laugh, her smile wobbly.

The caress of Vougn’s thumb over the back of her hand was gentle, comforting.

“Méduse”, Vougn’s voice was soft. “I just – I want to –” She frowned, struggling. She tried again. “Will we ever meet again?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Me, too.” A pause. “I’ll search for you.”

Melusine smiled, soft, and for the first time in a long while, hopeful. “I’ll love to see you try.”

[monstersdownthepath]

Spiritual Spotlight: Grandmother Spider

True Neutral Goddess of Weaving, Illusions, and Family

Domains: Charm, Community, Darkness, Luck, Trickery Subdomains: Curse, Deception, Family, Fate, Night, Thievery

Faiths of Golarion, pg. 11~15

Obedience: Spend an hour weaving something clever and useful that you will use to better your community, incorporating the stories or symbolism of Grandmother Spider. This can be any sort of “weaving,” such as weaving blankets, clothing, or tapestries, or “weaving” a tall tale, elaborate story, or confidence game that teaches someone a valuable lesson. Benefit: Gain a +2 sacred or profane bonus on Bluff and Perform (oratory) checks and on saving throws against illusions.

Aww, how cute! Spending an hour each day crafting a cute little doodad for for your... ... Wait, your community? Adventurers don’t have a community! Oh no!

Nah, kidding, that’s not too much of an impediment unless your DM is especially pedantic. Just making something useful to drop off at the next civilization you visit, or even just for your party members, will likely count for the purposes of this Obedience. Just make sure that whoever receives your gift actually needs it, because otherwise you’re not only not bettering your community, but you’ll likely look like a loon. Also, the fact you can ‘weave’ some tall tales gives you an excellent in-character excuse to actually write little short stories and vignettes to convey moral lessons and share them with your party. It’s an excellent roleplaying moment and can sharpen your skills as a writer and storyteller!

It also means you’re very hard to disarm. Even bereft of materials or bound by rope and chain you can compose your stories in your head to connect yourself with Grandmother Spider, and it also means keeping yourself hidden from unwanted attention (such as that from Asmodeus and his followers) is pathetically easy. Your physical weaving must bear the Grandmother’s markings, but enemies of your faith can’t exactly see your stories as they’re being composed, unless of course you’re writing them down in-character.

Sadly, this benefit is pretty wimpy. Bluff is nice, and a bonus to saves against any and all illusions is pretty sweet, but this bonus is only half as powerful as benefits typically are. I can appreciate you becoming better at actually telling the stories you’re creating, though! It’s cute!

Boons are gathered slowly, typically obtained when a given character has 12, 16, and 20 hit dice. Unlike fiend-worshipers, servants of the Eldest, and devoted of the Empyreal Lords, characters worshiping Neutral gods do not have catch-all classes… but Neutral-aligned characters can enter the Evangelist, Sentinel, and Exalted Prestige Classes earlier than Evil characters, classing in as early as level 6 (they need +5 BAB, 5 ranks in a single skill, or the ability to cast lvl 3 spells); entered ASAP, one can gain the Boons at levels 8, 11, and 14.

———-

EVANGELIST

———-

Boon 1: Charming Sort. Gain Sleep 3/day, Eagle’s Splendor 2/day, or Glibness 1/day.

Good news! Entering Evangelist as early as possible means that Sleep is still useful against encounters you may face, knocking out up to 4 HD of enemies in a single cast and keeping them in dreamland for 1 min/level. Bad news! It’ll struggle to remain viable once you’re up another two levels, because at that point, the DM may begin throwing meatier and meatier encounters after you. It’s certainly a good spell to keep as backup, though, at least until you reach into the 11s and 12s and so on, though by that point you likely have more efficient ways to knock foes out of the fight.

Like avoiding one in the first place. Glibness is, one could say, a strong spell. A +20 to Bluff checks to convince someone what you’re saying is true is usually enough to counteract the penalties you’d normally suffer from, and in fact is exactly enough to cancel out the -20 penalty you’d take trying to convince someone of an impossible lie (beware of telling lies that are instantly disprovable, though). With an absolutely endless 10 min/level duration, Glibness will let you lie your way halfway into a dungeon, and not even magic that forces the truth from you is a guarantee since it must first pass a caster level check against a DC 15 + your caster level to do so. 

That being said, I wouldn’t advise trying to use it to, say, convince the local king that you’re the true heir to his throne, because at that point the court wizard (there is always a court wizard) will likely catch on that something’s wrong and club you over the head with Dispel Magic... especially if this is the second time you try doing something like that. Still, though, it’s a spell whose usefulness is difficult to understate or undersell, especially since Grandmother Spider already prompts you to be deceptive. Eagle’s Splendor’s comparatively paltry +2 to your Bluff is basically nothing when compared to it.

And the best part is that, unlike Sleep, it’s useful at every level!

Boon 2: Storyteller: You gain the Bard’s Fascinating Performance class feature and a number of rounds of Bardic Performance per day equal to your Charisma modifier + your Hit Dice. If you already have Fascinating Performance, your HD is considered to be your Bard level for the purpose of your Fascinating Performance’s save DC and your Bardic Performance rounds per day.

AAHHRUM-hum! Stay a while, and listen.

The save DC to avoid becoming Fascinated is 10 + 1/2 your HD + your Charisma modifier, by the way. You also start with ((HD x 2) + 4 + Cha mod) rounds of Performance! For those of you who’ve never played with or against a Bard, this means that you can now hypnotize entire crowds of people at once, provided they can see and hear you (and aren’t immune to mind-affecting effects, natch). While any immediate threat to your listeners’ person breaks the fascination effect, it does mean you’re the unrivaled king/queen/royal of distractions among your party. You can technically walk into a room and immediately capture them in your web, because so long as combat isn’t initiated and your party doesn’t do anything especially suspicious, any enemy that fails the save is transfixed for however long you can maintain the performance.

While the second part of this ability--merging your total HD together to make sure your performance scales even as you multiclass--seems good on paper, it’s entirely redundant due to the Evangelist’s Aligned Class ability, which merges the Prestige Class and your base class together anyway, earning you an amazing net gain of one (1) additional HD and meaning this ability doesn’t really exist. HOWEVER, if you’re NOT going into Evangelist and are instead keeping the Deific Obedience feat while multiclassing into a different combination, the primary benefit here is that it continues to tick your rounds of Bardic Performance up, one of the most important scaling abilities Bards have. Sadly you get no access to the more advanced performances, but that’s the sacrifice you make to serve the Grandmother.

Also, if you’re remaining a pure Bard, this ability indeed does not exist at all. oof.

Boon 3: One With The Night: You gain darkvision with a range of 30 feet, or extend your existing darkvision by 30 feet. You need only half the normal amount of sleep or rest each day to avoid becoming fatigued.

...

really

I don’t want to be nasty to dear Grandmother Spider, but with such an ominously named ability, you’d be lead to believe it grants some form of invisibility or somesuch. Not so; it merely grants you darkvision, something you’ll either have or have easy access to by level 14, and while needing only half as much rest to keep yourself running is nice, it’s severely underpowered compared to most final Boons.

Especially since the rest of your party likely requires their full 8 hours of sleep anyway, so it can be difficult for you to find a way to make use of your extra hours. I suggest taking up crafting, to be honest; you’re doing it anyway, may as well craft magic items too! Especially potions, some of which can be crafted in just 4 hours!

Despite that, though, this is still a disappointing and tragically weak Boon, especially compared with everything else Grandma gives to her followers...

———-

EXALTED

———-

Boon 1: The Weaver: Gain Silent Image 3/day, Minor Image 2/day, or Borrow Fortune 1/day.

I’m not going to comment on Borrow Fortune, as it’s just a plain terrible spell. You can reroll a single d20 at the cost of causing Misfortune (roll twice, take lower) on yourself on every single roll you make for the next two rounds. No thanks!

SIlent and Minor Image both fill a similar niche, one that greatly rewards creative thinking. Their enormous areas of effect (four 10ft cubes + one more cube per level) lets you cause some serious shenanigans. Silent Image alone can be used, among other things, to create fields of statues, walls where there weren’t, the image of several siege engines or monstrous backup soldiers (in case an enemy is viewing you from afar), thorny or hazardous barriers, impossibly deep ‘pits,’ and other such hazards that can make your enemies hesitate to approach you. I especially enjoy the possibility of squeezing your party against a wall and then projecting the image of a wall in front of you to hide from pursuers--it’s an old trick, but an effective and reliable tactic!

Minor Image allows your projections to make noise, meaning “summoning” illusory monsters, fires, machines, or other such things becomes far more viable. Even in combat, an enemy suddenly having some horrifying monster appear in front of them can make them pause when they can’t be sure it’s an illusion. Since spell-likes have no components onlookers can be more easily convinced that what they see is real, especially if you mime casting a more dangerous spell. You can even have your illusions pop up in your wake without moving an inch! The applications of these spells are limitless for people who enjoy playing tricksters and deceivers, and both of them have their advantages (Silent Image, mainly, being usable one more time each day), so pick the one that works best with your shenanigans!

Boon 2: Inspired Illusionist: Illusion spells from the Figment and Glamer subschool that you cast last twice as long, as if affected by Extend Spell. They cannot be affected by the Extend Spell Metamagic feat. In addition, the following spells are added to your spells known: Silent Image, Minor Image, Major Image, Hallucinatory Terrain, Persistent Image, Project Image, and Screen.

All of those spells are figments and glamers, of course.

Mmm, free feats! Sort of! It’s not really a feat, but imitates one, doubling the duration of your illusions to give them some serious staying power. While you’ll rarely need an illusion for such a long time, some spells require you to concentrate on them to maintain their effects but have a small window of time where their effects sustain themselves when you lose concentration, typically just 2 or 3 rounds. Doubling this time means anything you conjure in combat will likely stay in place for its duration, allowing you to ‘fire and forget’ your figments and concentrate on ones that will actually cause pain.

Alternately, this will let you mix your illusions with other spells you cast to make it even more realistic!

Also, note that while most projections are figments, glamers include such treasures as Disguise Self and Invisibility, as well as all of its offshoots (Greater, Mass, etc). Doubling the duration of Mass Invisibility without needing a higher level spell slot can absolutely trivialize some stealth missions, letting you and your party stay hidden until everyone is in position. Invisibility already lasts for a full minute per level, and doubling that just makes it ridiculous.

ALSO also, free spells! They’re added right to your spells known list so Oracles don’t even have to worry about giving up their precious spells known slots! AND they’re some of the best Illusion spells you could ask for! If only she gave you Mirage Arcana... Oh, it does bear mentioning that the spells are added to your spell list; they’re not spell-likes! In fact, it’s up to the DM whether or not your illusory spell-like abilities are actually affected by this ability, because normally you need the Extend Spell-Like Ability feat to do so, while this ability only replicates Extend Spell. Something to discuss!

Boon 3: Willful Weaver: 3/day, you may use illusions to mimic certain Conjuration or Evocation spells, as if using Greater Shadow Conjuration or Shadow Evocation.

I love Boons like this, because they’re powerful! But I also hate Boons like this, because they’re difficult to talk about! It’s like someone handing you a toolbox filled to bursting with whatever you could ask for and then telling you to describe the functions of each one and what sorts of problems you could solve with it. Rather than going on for eighty paragraphs about it, I’ll simply cover two or three spells each one can replicate, and leave the rest up to you! And always, always remember that spell-likes can be cast without components, meaning that even if you’re tied up or at the mercy of a villain, you can still call for aid from the Plane of Shadow.

Greater Shadow Conjuration lets you mimic any 6th or lower Conjuration (Creation) or Conjuration (Summoning) spell from the Wizard or Sorcerer spell lists, such as Wall of Iron, Summon Monster VI, or Acid Fog. Creatures who succeed on the Will save needed to see through the illusions only take 60% of the damage the spell would normally deal, or are only affected by the special effects and abilities of the spell (or creature it summons) 60% of the time. If the poor fool fails its Will save, however, it treats the conjured creature or item as if it were completely real. Note that Greater Shadow Conjuration does not require any components of the original spell, letting you replicate spells that normally have costly components for free!

Shadow Evocation can mimic the effects of any 4th level or lower Evocation spell from the Wiz/Sorc list, such as Wall of Fire, Fireball, or Resilient Sphere. Sadly, it’s much more gracious with people who manage to see through it; people who succeed on the Will save to see through the illusion take only 20% of the damage they would have been dealt, and have only a 20% chance to be affected by any non-damaging effect it may have. This is in addition to whatever reductions may be in place if they succeed the save against the original spell, as well. Failing the Will save makes them treat the spell as real, of course, and as with GSC, your illusory replication requires no components, letting you throw around spells you’d normally hesitate to because of their price tag.

Now THIS is how you do a Boon! Excellent! Now, lets see about the Sentinel...

———-

SENTINEL

———-

Boon 1: Trapper. Gain Animate Rope 3/day, Web 2/day, or Spiked Pit 1/day.

Animate Rope’s a bit niche here, and it’s competing with Web, so unfortunately it’s going to have to get pushed off the table a bit. Its uses out of combat aren’t particularly astonishing, and its uses in combat are done better by Web in almost all situations, anyway.

Few things can gum up a pitched battle than a huge swath of the terrain suddenly being replaced with an impassable tangle of sticky fibers, grappling anyone who fails a Reflex save and becoming difficult terrain and partial cover for all creatures who succeed. The fact it needs to be anchored between two points means it can’t be used in every situation, but more often than not, combat scenarios you get trapped in will likely have plenty of spots to hang your webs from. Two walls count as anchor points! As does a ceiling and a floor--your Web doesn’t need to be places horizontally!

Spiked Pit is a nasty spell, conjuring a 10x10 extradimensional hole that’s 50 feet deep, lined with deadly spikes. One can think of it like a pseudo Save-or-Suck, capable of taking any foe that fits inside the entry hole out of the fight for its entire duration if they aren’t good at the whole climbing bit. The DC to scale a Spiked Pit is 20, and few creatures--especially humanoids--will actually bother putting the ranks in Climb they’ll need to make their way out with any sort of expediency. Not to mention, the spines will be clawing 1d6 chunks per round out of any creature that remains in the pit; it’s not much damage, but it’s damage they cannot avoid taking so long as they remain in the conjured hole.

Plus, you can throw more people into it! 50ft is a lot of storage space!

One niche spell, and two really good area control spells. The Grandmother certainly blesses her Sentinels!

Boon 2: Net Master: You gain Net Adept as a bonus feat, ignoring its prerequisites. If you already have Net Adept, you instead gain a +1 sacred or profane bonus to attack rolls with a net. In addition, if you are wielding a net one-handed and have nothing in your off hand, you gain a +1 shield bonus to AC.

As with the case of Ahriman, if you’re truly the kind of person who wants to use your god’s sacred weapon, you likely already have the feats you need to make it effective, especially since Net Adept can be taken as early as level 1.

Net Adept lets you use a net as a melee weapon with a 10ft reach, meaning you possess an huge threat radius (for a player)... with a weapon that deals no damage. Don’t get me wrong, nets are handy! They tangle and impede anyone you hit with a ranged touch attack, potentially tethering them to you until they manage to escape, but there’s only so much you can do with just a net on its own. While this ability encourages you to avoid wielding another weapon to get that free AC, a net is best used with something small and stabby/large and crushy that you can malice your trapped target with. A bludgeoning instrument is especially useful here, as it’s less likely to actually tear at your webbing while you slowly render your tangled foe into a fine paste. The +1 AC usually isn’t attractive enough to give up when compared to actually doing something about your snared victim. 

Being a Net Master does mean that you’re amazing at keeping anyone from getting away from you. with people trying to flee your 10ft reach drawing your Attacks of Opportunity and getting snagged for their troubles... But, again, you can be a Net Adept as early as level 1 compared to this ability coming online at level 11 at the earliest, at which point all this ability really does is give you +1 to your attack rolls with nets and encourages you to not wield a weapon in your offhand. Not a good look! Unless you plan on taking people alive, of course, but pfffpt, who does that?

Boon 3: Binding Strike: Upon confirming a critical hit against an enemy, you can choose to entangle the enemy in sticky webs rather than dealing any extra damage. This acts as Hold Monster, with a caster level equal to your HD. You may use this ability a number of times per day equal to your Charisma modifier (min 1).

No saving throw, by the way! Confirming the critical hit is good enough in this case, the monster ending up smashed by the effect even if they’d normally have sky-high saves. Hold Monster lasts 1 round/level, essentially meaning whoever you hit with this is out of the fight for good, especially if you or an ally can follow up with a coup de grace afterwords. Its uses per day are unfortunately tied to Charisma, a stat the Sentinel will likely have little use for, but knowing you’re going to get this ability ahead of time allows you to plan for it! Don’t dump Cha!

Unlike with Yhidothrus’ second Sentinel Boon, it can be quite easy for a Sentinel of Grandmother Spider to justify giving up the juicy extra damage of a critical hit for a secondary effect, since this secondary effect more or less deals infinite damage--in that whoever’s hit by it is gone for over a minute. LIKE the Ravager Worm’s Sentinel Boon, though, Hold Monster simply fails to work against a lot of enemies you’d often really like it to work against; once you hit the middle-high levels, you’re likely to start facing threats from less human adversaries. Constructs, Dragons, Oozes, Plants, Undead, AND Vermin outright ignore this ability, a full 6 of 13 creature types! (and one common creature subtype--Elementals!) While you’re likely to be facing mostly Humanoids or Monstrous Humanoids, the fact this ability falters against such a huge number of different foes can be discouraging.

And piling on top of all of this, again, is the fact you have to land a successfully confirmed critical hit to see it come into play at all, something that’s entirely luck-based. When it lands it’s GLORIOUS! But if the dice are against you, you may never see it when you really, really need to. I’m not a fan of Boons that trigger randomly!

Looks like the Exalted win this round!

You can read more about her here.

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC:  In This Town...

---

“Party City Red Hood, huh?” Jo quipped with a grin, reacting out and tapping the front of the red bike helmet the other hunter was wearing. “Or, I’ll pay that it’s a step up from that.”

There was a chuckle from somewhere behind the full helmet before he reached up and pulled it off, exposing a black domino mask across his eyes. “You’re one to talk. What are you supposed to be - Sandra Dee?” Dean’s lips quirked up into a smirk as he ran an eye over her for a moment before grinning roguishly. “Surprised you’re not running about being Batgirl.”

The blonde smiled in return, doing a little twist and bob that swung her circle skirt and petticoats about herself, before sticking out her tongue. “Sorry Deano, wasn’t lookin’ to run about in spandex tonight. I’ve gotta be able to move after all-”

“You can in that wide a skirt?” “It helps push customers out of the way at least.” “That seems true enough.”

“Speakin’ of - two beers and some fries for you and Sammy?” Jo asked cheerfully as she spotted the taller man moving to claim one of the booth seats near the doorway to the upstairs. “Tell him I’m sorry we don’t have any salads on the menu these days.”

“Oh no, you have to be the one to break that to him.” Dean smirked in response, fumbling around before throwing a few twenties on the bar top. “Guessing that’ll-”

Jo turned about back to him as she poured two beers for the both and placed them down beside the money before raising a brow. “Yeah, I’ll start a tab for you boys, but you know-”

“Nuh uh, Jo,” The surprise of hearing the other brother’s voice managed to startle both hero and bartender as Sam popped up beside his brother. His usually freed hair was tucked down under the deer stalker on his head, and he seemed to have appeared out of the crowd with the same sense of theatric timing and clairvoyance as his chosen costume would as well - though without the jacket that was thrown over the table saving it for them, it was hard for most to work out he was the famed detective instead of simply a hipster for that year. “I know we’re family, but this is still a business. And business?”

“Is business.” Dean finished in unison with his brother, jostling the other’s shoulder for a second as they both stared down the blonde’s chagrined expression until she finally reached a hand out to take the notes. “That’a girl! Start us up a tab, would you?”

“Sure thin’. I’ll swing round with those fries, and maybe I can ask Grey to bring  something healthier from home if you guys need.” “Don’t worry about it, Jo. It’s Halloween - time for candy and alcohol.” “Surprised to hear that from you, Sam!”

The taller of the brother’s shrugged a shoulder before delivering a foppish grin back. “Hey, it’s better than some of the Halloweens we’ve had. I figure I deserve a treat.”

“Right on.” Jo giggled back, smiling and giving a short wave as they turned towards their table before slipping the notes into the cash register beside the other barmaid with a grin and a quick debrief on the brothers’ tab before turning to more customers.

---

“Well, well, well, I’d say look what the cat dragged in - but I had nothing to do with it.” The sultry tone did wonders for the joke as the two girls slid into the free edges of the booth.

The Winchesters had been there for the last half an hour, going through a few plates of fries, exchanging a few pleasantries with Harry when he’d come rushing down from upstairs to help behind the bar as the dock crowd slowly gave way to the assorted collection of dressed up college students. The influx seemingly marking the change of clientele that made the space more and more friendly to the sisters’ arrival.

“Say what now?” Dean asked with a grin as he lifted his arm naturally to rest across the back of the booth seat, though he was glad he’d left his helmet beside himself. It gave enough space that he didn’t feel too cramped by the new arrivals. Running an eye over the skin tight black dress, that appeared to him to be more sheer-than-not fabric and left a lot of skin and the lace bodice underneath visible above the skirts ruffles, he couldn’t quite work out what she was supposed to be. He let out a laugh as he caught the shadow’s eye, raising a brow. “What are you supposed to be anyway? Didn’t know Victoria’s Secret Model was a costume option or I’d have cracked out the panties.”

Shada let out her own laugh before pointing a purple manicured finger towards the two little eats attached to the top of her head. “I’m a cat. Dah.”

“I’m pretty sure the joke is that you’re supposed to be a mouse.” Sam quipped from his side of the table, a warm smile directed across at the other for a moment. “I mean, you were going for a Mean Girls reference weren’t you?”

“A what now?” “It’s... It’s a movie. Ask Jo sometime.”

“You and your chick flicks.” Dean laughed, turning to rib as his brother. “Surprised you picked Sherlock when you had so many other options to choose, Fabio.”

Before Sam could respond, the blonde beside him chirped up with a confused look upon her face. “What’s a... Fabio?”

The taller hunter let out a bit of a laugh, and slid the fries plate a little closer to the younger girl as he caught her eye dipping down to look at them curiously, before replying. “Dean here’s just mad he doesn’t have the flowing locks or the six pack to be him. He’s basically the poster art on any romance novel from the eighties.”

“Oh! Like the novels big sister reads?” “Yes, just like those, Ombre.” “Ah, tre bien! You do have the hair for that!”

Shada let out a laugh as the younger shadow had been chewing on a fry before exclaiming happily at working out the reference. It was bemusing to watch the enraptured way her little sister reached out a hand to tug on the loose locks popping out under the ear flaps of the hunter’s hat and the confused and them equally amused look that crossed the man’s face at the innocent gesture.

“Who are you both supposed to be then?” She asked conversationally as she turned to run a disproportionately assessing eye over each hunter. “I am unfamiliar with both your choices.”

Sam smiled back as he picked up a fry, chewing quickly before replying quietly. “I’m being Sherlock Holmes. And please don’t tell me if you don’t know who that is. Your brother already pranked me with that-”

“Oh that sounds just like him.” The brunette shadow laughed, shaking her head quickly when she noticed her sister’s mouth open to voice her confusion. “He’s being a fictional detective, Ombre. A very famous one.” As the other snapped her mouth shut before picking up another fry decisively instead, she figured she’d have to talk to her brother about what other tricks and taunts he’d played on the hunters and to leave some for her. Quirking a curious brow at the man beside her, Shada waved her hand for him to answer her instead.

“Red Hood, at your service.” Dean said with a smile, dropping his hand to pick the helmet off the seat between them for a moment before resettling it. At her blank look the cocky smile drooped slightly and he coughed uncertainly. “He, uh... It’s a comic character. Batman series? Jason Todd? He was a Robin?” At the continued blank look, Dean finally gave a shake of his head and ran a hand through his hair mussing it before smirking widely. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to educate you sometime.”

“Perhaps you will.” Shada didn’t stop the flirtatious tone as she batted her eyes enough to turn the hunter a bright pink before laughing as the dark haired barmaid came hurrying over with a new plate of fries as well as what looked like two fruity drinks. “Um-”

“Jo sent these over, says Grey’s running late. Harry said something about stopping by when it calms down.” The barmaid spoke rapidly, the words a rapid fire as she seemed to be glancing about the space rather than making direct contact. As she turned back from looking towards the bar to look at the motley crew accumulated in the booth, there was a second before a wide, friendly smile grew across her face. “Oh hey! Nice Alice costume! I was thinking of that but Ha- I wanted to go for something a little more musical-theatre that Classic Lit. Okay, sorry, give us a shout if you need anything else!”

As quickly as Sophie had appeared, decked out with bright green skin all over as she had been and the comfortable black dress, she disappeared away again - only noticable by the black witches hat weaving between the crowds of drunken patrons.

“Oh, she liked my costume. She’s so nice!” Ombre’s smile was wider than it had been since she had met up with Shada to get ready, all bright white teeth and crinkled eyes, as she looked about the booth. “I like her!”

“Sophie’s lovely.” Sam replied with an amused smile before nodding his head. “And she’s right, that’s a lovely Alice In Wonderland, Ombre. It’s very accurate too.”

“Merci beaucoup, I adore Alice! I love my socks so much.” “Socks?” “The little frills! Along with all the à fanfreluches - frilly - skirts.” “Ah, I see. Well, it’s a very pretty costume.”

“Merci, merci, merci!” The blonde’s grin was so wide and bright it was almost blinding before she clapped her hands happily.

The group lapsed into a moments quiet as each either had some of their drinks or ate a few of the french fries or onion rings that had just been delivered to the table before the conversation turned towards other things as usual - games, or their mutual friends, or Dean’s attempts to explain just who the Red Hood was as the black cat would look more and more confused hiding her smiles.

---

“Yoo-hoo! Guess who made it to the East- wait...” There was a pause as the red haired woman did a spin as she bounded towards the bar. “ Jo - this isn’t on the East coast is it. What is this area even called?”

“We’re in the Midwest, Charlie.” “Uh uh uh - tonight I only answer to my witch name-” “Oh! You’re dressed as Willow!” “Of course. What did you think I was?”

“Some 90′s grunge femme lesbian?” Jo grinned as she ran an eye over the extremely dated clothes the other was wearing, with her bright yellow bucket hat, oversized jean overalls and the colorful yet somehow dull rainbow sweater underneath. “So, I guess, accurate costume.”

“Har har, very funny.” Charlie jibed back with an eye roll, drumming the black painted nails on the bar top. “Who are you supposed to be? Scarlet Witch has red hair, though I suppose it’s sorta blonde in that latest trailer. And her dress is red.”

“Ugh, no and don’t get me started on corporate America, not tonight when I have to keep the masses libationed up.” “Very true, though at least you seem more comfortable than Hermione over there.”

Jo and Charlie both turned to look to see where Sophie was struggling to do the most comfortable bend and pour technique on the bar taps from her height while also not have her Elphaba hat fall off. There was a split second before the black hat went tumbling to the floor and the barmaid had to pick between grabbing it before it’d get beer soaking into it or sticky patches from the floor or drop the patrons glass. The glass won out, and it was another few seconds before the witch got her hat back - now with a few extra dark patches that would likely pick up any dust or crumbs that comes in its path.

“Pity.” Charlie said with a sigh as she turned back to the blonde. “Where’s the rest-”

“Over in the back corner, I’ll take you - gotta drop off another round of drinks anyways.” The bar owner smiled as she raised a brow. “Tequila sunrise, right?”

There was a beat before the redhead found herself fluttering her lashes with a grin. “Oh, Jo, you know the way straight to a woman’s heart don’t you. Such a pity you’ve got such a pretty boyfriend already.”

“Sorry, Charlie, been there, done that, not signin’ up for the newsletter. Gimme a second, will ya?” “Sure thing!”

As soon as the cocktail was ready, Jo plated up the round of drinks for the small hodge-podge group of hunters, shadows and hunter-adjacent arrivals in the back corner, and ducked out from the end of the bar, bringing the researcher over with her.

“Squish up you lot - the party just arrived!” Charlie exclaimed happily as she bounced down into the seat beside the blonde shadowgirl who was gesticulating wildly about some story or other. “What’re we all talking about? When are the rest of the boys due?”

“Ed texted Harry about thirty minutes ago to say Spruce lost one of his bolts, so they’re going to be about ten more.” Sam replied with a grin, somehow shimmying his frame further down the bench and around to make more room for the newest arrival. “And what’s taking Grey so long, Jo?”

As Jo slowly set down her tray and started handing out the array of drinks, her brows creased into a tiny frown and everyone bit back a laugh at the borderline pout on her lips. “All the trick or treatin’ kids in the neighborhood are freakin’ Nana out. So Grey’s stayin’ put for another hour until it dies down and she calms down.”

“That’s a shame,” Dean remarked, though the flash of a grin on his face didn’t match at all to the words before he shrugged and added more genuinely with a serious look. “No, actually, that’s a bummer. It’ll be... nice to catch up more.” There was a pause as he drank a sip of his beer before he finished quietly. “Truly. Hope he gets here soon.”

“Thanks. Okay, you guys are set, I’ll be back ‘round with another lot soon.” The blonde gave a bounce which flounced the skirts of her outfit a little before she span on her heel and clicked away in the pink heels to deal with the still onslaughting group of customers.

“Really Dean?” “What Sammy?” “Don’t be a dick.”

“Yeah, that’s not cool, Deano.” Charlie remarked with a smirk as she took a sip of her drink - the tequila and orange juice one of her favorites - raising a brow back at him. “Besides, it’s much more fun annoying Jo when she’s in a good mood than bad. So wait until Grey shows up and then we can tease the both of them.”

That got a round of laughs from the table as a whole, and the redhead felt a surge of pride noticing the way Dean turned to genuinely apologise to the scowling dark haired woman before asking Ombre to start her story again from the beginning.

---

“Who ya gonna call?!” “Ghostbusters!” “Fuck yeah!”

The shouts coming from the trio as they emerged from the stairway brought about a round of laughs from the group as all three men moved towards the group.

“Well, better than calling on the last group - what’d you used to call yourselves?” Sam asked jovially as he shifted another time and held a hand out to shake each of the three men’s hands as they sat down, before resting it over the top of the bench seating spanning behind both blonde and redhead.

“Facers, Losechester, the Ghostfacers. You know that.” Ed snapped back with a smirk as he slid into the space beside the dark haired woman at the table and ran a quick eye over her before grinning wider. “Hey, surprised you’re not dressed up in a bright purple Sombra this evening, Shada.”

“Well, I do enjoy simplicity.” Shada replied with a smirk of her own, picking up her drink and shuffling a little further down the bench as Spruce tried to fit in. Glancing at the small sliver of space left, she turned back towards the hunter that had yet to have to bunch down. Batting her lashes and tapping a manicured finger against the top of his red helmet between them, the girl’s lips twitched into a knowing smirk. “Oh, Dean, you’ll have to make some more room. Or else I might just think you’re scared of little old me.”

“Don’t worry Shada, if he won’t move you can always use my lap instead.” Ed’s quip was met with an immediate scurrying from the hunter to shove the red motorcycle off the bench seat and between his feet with a slightly unfocused scowl towards him. “Oh too bad.”

“Awww, sorry Ed, looks like I’ve got some more room.”

“Can you three stop flirting and move the fuck over so I can sit down?” The last of the Ghostbusting trio growled out as he raised an eyebrow at all three and got laughed at by Harry, Charlie, Sam and Ombre on the other side of the booth. It took a moment for Shada and Ed to shuffle enough, packed like sardines and the brunette girl sitting almost partway into the hunter’s lap at the other end before there was enough room for Spruce to slip in. “Oh thank god, the sweaty drunks were getting boring.”

“Hey guys, another round?” Sophie’s voice suddenly appeared, and the green girl was smiling brightly at all of them as she set down her tray and started handing out drinks. Though there was a second as Harry reached for one of the glasses at the same time that their fingers caught, and if she hadn’t been covered in green paint everyone at the table was sure that she’d have turned bright red. “No, no, Harry, you’re off for the night! Please, let me.”

“Oh come on. You’re being run off your feet-” “Yeah, but I’m being paid-” “-And you don’t need to dote so much-” “Of course I do!”

“Oh my god, you two are such doux amours!” Ombre’s voice finally cut through the bickering pair, catching Harry and Sophie’s attention to confused looks. There was a second before the blonde waved her hand happily across Charlie towards them. “Harry, Harry, don’t forget to kiss your girlfriend goodbye if she is having to work!”

The round of laughter that followed that statement in the face of the bright red that colored the researcher’s face and the stammering from the green-faced barmaid. There was another round of laughter when Sophie actually dropped the glass in question, and Harry floundered quickly with napkins to try to clean up the spilled drink.

“What’d I say?” Ombre asked quietly, her eyes darting about the laughing group and blushing herself until Spruce lent across to give her hand a pat. “What did I-”

“It’s fine, Ombre.” Spruce grinned wickedly back as he plucked his own beer from the tray while Harry and Sophie were awkwardly attempting to mop up the drink but not touch one another. “Harry’s not gotten around to asking Soph yet. You’re just a little early.”

“Oh. Okay!”

“Dude!” Harry hissed the words out across the table, glaring at the taller man before blushing under scrutiny further. “Don’t-”

“It’s okay, Spangler. You’ll get there eventually.” “Dude, not the point.”

“I... I’ve got to get back to help Jo.” Sophie stammered for a moment, glancing around at the group as she pressed the tray up against her chest and rushed away while Harry thunked his head onto the table top.

There was a pause before a hand fell on his shoulder, Sam leaning past the two girls between the both of them, to pat his shoulder a few times. “That’s rough, buddy.” The words sounded genuine, but the laughter that started up at the table from Harry’s groan and the wicked grin on the hunter’s face as everyone turned into ribbing the researcher about his unfulfilled crush.

---

The crowd in the bar was winding down - the cheap drinks advertisement Jo, Sophie and Harry had devised doing exactly what they had planned in encouraging an influx crowd of youngsters earlier in the evening that would chase out the dock crews and hunters for the evening, and then as the hour got nearer to midnight the crowds would slowly filter out to the hipper, more aesthetic or club-like spaces around town as the three hours of cheap base spirits faded off. It was strategic - not only to make sure the bar would be shadow-friendly for most of the evening, but also to capitalize on a large influx and then giving both Harry and Jo the opportunity to enjoy the later hour with friends.

It took until almost 11 for the door to finally open and the last of the remaining large group of friends to arrive.

“I hate this holiday.” Grey seethed harshly as he made his way towards the booth and looked around in surprise at how squished and yet uncaring the group was. “Hey, what’d I miss?”

“Grey!” “Brother, finally!” “Hey man, how’d it go with the dog?” “Did you bring the puppy, brother?”

“No, I didn’t. Bloody Trick or Treaters kept freaking Nana out with the screaming and laughing.” He sighed quietly as he glanced to the side and pulled a seat over towards the end of the table, tugging with a sigh on his tie. “They all finished about two hours ago but she was so worked up I couldn’t leave.”

“Did you have many people stop?” Charlie asked, raising a brow at him. “I put up a big sign back at home that I only believe in giving out edibles so I suspect a lot of angry stoners that I wasn’t home.”

The shadow gave the other a disbelieving look for a moment before raising an eyebrow right back at her. “There’s a lot of children along the road, and being near the school means a lot of visitors. Went through about fifteen bags of candy before I decided enough was enough.”

“That’s far too much sugar to be giving out, brother.” “Oh really?” “Yes, really.”

“Well, I suspect Jo will be sad there isn’t any leftovers when we get home.” Grey smiled gently across at his sister, not even blinking at her choice of costume or lack there of, before doing a double take at noticing her sitting almost fully in the hunter’s lap and the way Dean was simply talking across her back towards his brother and the blonde shadow. “I see I missed more than a little trick or treating here too.”

“So many treats, you know.” Shada rebutted with a loud laugh. “I’m just embracing my choice of costume.”

“Oh?” “Cats must sit on laps, right?” “Ah.”

“Don’t worry man,” Ed spoke up then, giving a huffed laugh. “Dean lost a bet an hour back, he’s only got another five minutes before she’s got to get off.”

“Only if he remembers to ask though, or wants me to.” “Oh I’ll want you to, you foxy minx. You keep stealing my drinks before they get to me.” “Shush, Dean, chairs can’t talk.”

Blinking a few times at the array of banter, Grey simply shook his head before pushing back to his feet. “I’m going to go get a dri-”

“Doctor!” The squeal came high and clear over the subdued murmur of voices and lowered but atmospheric volume of the jukebox in the corner, and Grey found himself letting out a laugh as he turned to see a flurry of baby pink skirts and blonde hair spinning about behind the bar before scurrying from around the end of the bar itself. “Oh about bloody time!”

“Sorry, time got a little away from me.” Grey chuckled as he replied, pushing his chair a little back as Jo finally came bounding up to his side and threw an arm around his waist with that dazzling smile he loved so much. “You know how it is-”

“Oh of course, the man with all the time in the universe can’t keep a single track of it.” “That’s exactly how it is.” “Very wibbly-”

“-Wobbly.” He finished with an equally wide smile, tucking a strand of hair back behind Jo’s ear before leaning in to press his lips to hers in a click of teeth at just how wide their smiles were before they were kissing properly for the barest moment and he pulled back. “Sorry it took so long though, pretty one.” Grey said quieter, leaning down to whisper against Jo’s ear. “Nana was scared on a scarey night and wanted her mommy.”

“No problem, hunny, we’ll be home sometime tonight and I’m sure she’ll be okay until then.” Jo replied sweetly, pecking his lips a last time before turning towards the table as a whole. Her whole face shifted from the wide grin into a sneer. “Well now, can you guys tell who I am yet?”

There was a moment before Harry and Spruce had looks change from confusion at Jo’s dragging the table out of their conversations before they started smiling and nodded, with awkward laughter between them. It took another moment before Ed and Sam followed suit, with Ed crying out sharply “Oh! That makes so much more sense than Betty Draper!”

“That guess was so fuckin’ bullshit, Ed.” “Well it’s not our fault your couples-stume only makes sense together!” “It’s not my fault you clearly aren’t a fan enough to recognise this on sight.”

“Jo, stop being mad,” Harry shook his head smiling up towards the couple and playing mediator like he had been all night between Jo and others when the question on who or what exactly she was dressed as had come up. “Besides, it’s cute that it needs Grey here to make it work for both of you.”

Grey raised an eyebrow in confusion and looked down at his gym shoes and then further up towards his brown, pinstriped suit and the skinny tie in confusion that it might not be clear who he was, but then he felt the same looking at Jo in her quasi-beehive hairstyle and the flouncy baby pink dress and blue jacket that pulled her waist into a tiny point before the poofy nature of her skirts. He thought it was obvious who they both were, and that the blue tipped screwdriver poking out of his jacket pocket was really unnecessary for anyone to know the star-crossed lovers they were dressed as that night.

“Anyway, I’m off duty for the night now - but if Sophie needs a hand you and I might need to pitch in, Harry.” “And with closing down once us lot are done and she’s gone home for the night, I know.” “Oh actually, I had mentioned once we call last drinks to the rest of the kiddies here at one that Soph’s welcome to stay and hang out a little while. You don’t got a problem with that do you Harry?”

If Jo’s question sounded been innocent, the wicked twitch of her lips gave away any chance of innocence and any thought there wasn’t any intent behind it, which got a large laugh from Spruce and Charlie at Harry’s spluttering before Grey found himself getting pulled into the good natured teasing.

---

The night was a bit of a blur but in the way in which a night of good conversation, good companionship and good feelings was lost.

Shada eventually returned to sitting on the bench but a lot later than she was expected to, and at one point had her cat ears joined by the black domino mask that covered her smokey eyes but made her smiles seem a little more wicked and flirtatious as she batted her eyes out of the darkness.

Sam and Spruce found themselves eventually sitting beside one another and discussing in depth the problems with higher educations toll upon students and the pressures of achieving grades. They were both surprised to learn that’d both been pre-law, and that neither had felt the push to continue through the loss of either girlfriend in Sam’s case or friend in Spruce’s. And then that they both found bananas disgusting.

Charlie and Ombre spent an inordinate time standing up after it was found out that the tall blonde knew nothing of dancing - and the string of dance favorites that were set up on the jukebox for the two, and then three when Sophie had scared the last of the customers out of the bar and joined them both, made for an amusing range of background music.

Dean slowly got drunk on his beers but kept to himself for the most part, simply content after a while to rub at the small of the back of the girl on his lap with a thumb and listen to her and Jo’s talk about some shopping spree or birthday or something coming up. And once he was a free man again, turned his attention back towards his beer and the odd conversation he was pulled into.

Grey was pleased to find himself moved onto the booth seating after a bit beside Jo, hands held together in her lap or an arm around her waist, as he spent until the wee hours talking with Ed and Harry or even Dean about anything and everything so long as he had the warm presence of his sunshine pressed up against his side.

Nothing could go wrong so long as he could just look out the corner of his eye and see that smile in an instant. And when they got home, he was sure they’d have their fluffy baby curled up on the end of the bed to make that feel just as warm as sitting in the warm atmosphere of friendship there.

---

[nataliedanovelist]

(I did not draw this, my friend, @missinspi, drew this for me) (https://www.deviantart.com/missinspi)

Wanna read fics with this OC in it?

For a fic close to canon Gravity Falls (season 3?), read this.

For an AU about Stan and Ford getting a new neighbor at seven-years-old, read this.

Miscellaneous Oc Asks

@cityandking created a (relatively short) list of random, weird, hopefully interesting OC asks. Feel free to specify a character or just send a couple of questions, and then share it around!

What six CD’s would your OC keep in their car? Is it just a taste/preference thing, or do any of them have particular significance? I can’t think of any particular CDs, but as far as artists go... Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, Queen (or in the Gravity Falls world, the band called King), ACDC, a disk full of instrumental piano music, and a Dolly Parton CD her friend Madeline Ingrid probably gave her.

What does your OC smell like? What does your OC wish they smelled like? Coconut butter, japanese cherry-blossom perfume, and occasionally disinfectant (she works at a hospital). She tried every hard to smell nice, as most women do, and if she feels like work is ruining that, she might use her favorite “stress relief” lotion to help overpower the smells of rubber gloves and baby spit up.

How aesthetically-oriented is your OC in their clothing? Their living space? Their general presentation? If their look™ is mismatched, is that on purpose? Hephzie has a plain, easy-to-follow fashion sense: blue-jeans with t-shirts for casual events, jeans with blouses for nicer days, and occasionally a sweater for the winter. She also has a small love for boys’ clothes; she won’t shy away from mens’ t-shirts or button-ups if they feel nice and look OK. Her living space is relatively tidy (having grown up with grandparents who needed clean floors to avoid falling) but she’s not a clean freak. Her living space is very artsy and mitch-match, having friends all over the world and she loves learning about different cultures. She might have a rug from India by her bed, but a quilt from Ireland on her bed and a small statue from Hawaii on her dresser. With a bunch of hand-me-downs and mis-match tastes, her overall aesthetic is old and comfort.

What one word would you use to describe your OC’s vibe? Chill.

What’s one mundane thing that would throw them off-kilter? Why? Nuclear families. She grew up with her Grandma and Grandpa on her mother’s side. She never knew her father and her mother abandoned her at a hospital, not even waiting to see what would happen to Hephzie. So Hephzie values family very much, but she sees no reason why blood should be the most important factor in the definition in “family”. The idea of a “normal” family, one with two parents who are married and in love, siblings, and occasionally cousins and aunts and uncles, is like a dream to her. It’s nice, but not for her.

What kind of AU is your OC best suited to? What kind of AU would be the worst? Is there any AU that would be, objectively, just really funny? Hephzie is in 2 AUs: one pretty close to canon Gravity Falls, and one in which she grows up as neighbors to Stan and Ford. Both AUs are very interesting and I love seeing how she responds to each scenario, but I think the more “tragic” of the two is the canon-like one. I’ve toyed with an AU of her becoming a singer and I can see it going either two ways: either she crumbles under the pressure and gets into drugs and overdoses, or she flourishes and uses her money and power for good, like feeding the hungry and helping the homeless find homes.

If your OC could pick a different name, title, or pseudonym for themself, what would they pick? Why? Have they ever been given an alternate name/title, and how do they feel about it? Well, her birth name is Alicia-Sarah Hephzibah Fisher Cece, but she HATES the name Alicia-Sarah and only goes by Hephzibah/Hephzie. In one AU, she legally “fixes” her name.

If your OC were playing D&D, what would their race and class be? What backstory tragedy™ would they give their character? Does that reflect their own life in any way? Be honest. Okay, because a certain extra-special person in her life loves D,D, & More D, she plays, too. She’s an woodland elf, a healer, and has very little interest in her character, but she likes the storytelling and the praise she gets if she manages to heal a wizard with pointy-ears and fluffy brown hair named Rokuro the Righteous.

Star Wars or Star Trek? A certain boyfriend of hers likes Star Trek better, but she likes Star Wars better. It’s been a bitter rival since the beginning of time.

If your OC is from a fantasy world, where in the real world would they come from? If your OC is from our world, which fantasy world would they most want to live in? Bonus: Would you ever write/RP them in that world? Hephzie grew up on Irish folktales (her grandmother’s family is from there), so she would love to meet færies and see magic and meet a selkie. Screw being a mermaid, she wanted to be a selkie! And... no, don’t expect a fic about this.

What plant, animal, and color does your OC feel like today? A Venus Flytrap, a mongoose, and the color dark-green. It’s been a rough day but she’s keeping a level head.

If your OC were a superhero, how flashy would their costume be? Also, what would their superpower be? Does this go with their costume at all, or are they all about fashion? #Can’tFightCrimeIfYouAin’tCute Well... in the canon-like AU, she’s kinda a superhero already, so... think something like a knight’s armor on the arms and legs with a maroon cape. Power would be healing, but she can also fight hella well with a sword and bow-and-arrows. And she’s never cared about looking good, she just wants to survive the war...

Does your OC thrift? Buy designer? Where would they shop irl? GOODWILL FOR THE WIN!!! She and her friends called it “treasure hunting” in high-school and it stuck. She loves it, and when a certain somebody came out with a song about it, she was livid (even if she was fifty-something years old).

Is your OC superstitious? If so, what superstitions do they believe? If not, what do they think of superstitious people? She’s constantly around the supernatural and abnormal... and loves it. She thrives off of what is different. So, superstitious?... Hm, she isn’t paranoid or afraid; she welcomes it with open arms.

Is your OC religious? Do they want to be? Have they ever been at some time in the past? How complicated is their relationships with worship/the gods/the church/etc? Her grandparents took her to church growing up and she loved the music. Her grandmother was the choir director and her grandfather played the piano, and she had “the voice of an angel”, so she happily sang in church, but she kinda stopped going to church when she went to college, but if you ask her she’ll tell you she’s a Christian. She says it just makes sense to believe in a god; there’s too much that science can’t explain. She also likes studying Buddhism, Islam, and Judaism to learn more about other people and cultures.

Hardwood, tile, or carpet? Hardwood. But she will NEVER say no to a fluffy rug.

What’s their go-to parlor trick? Are they actually that good at it, or do they just enjoy it? Do people tell them they’re good, even if they aren’t? How do they handle criticism? I can’t really think of a good parlor trick. She has a lot of talents she keeps on the down, like singing and stand-up comedy (don’t ask). On another note, she takes criticism overall pretty well.

If your OC could request one boon from a god, what would it be? The extermination of a certain three-sided demon.

Favorite comfort food? Do they enjoy junk food or are they more of a foodie? Can they cook? What’s their favorite thing to cook? OREOS are HERS! DON’T TOUCH THEM UNLESS YOU WANNA LOSE A HAND! She also secretly loves watermelon (doesn’t like to tell people this) and her comfort food is either hot tea or hot chocolate. Something to warm her hands. And no, she can’t cook; she burns everything. EXCEPT, she can brew coffee and she’s a pretty good barista (was one during college).

Any major theme(s) or conflict(s) in your OC’s life? How have they dealt with that? Are they aware of it, or do they ignore it? Did you design them with such theme(s)/conflict(s) in mind, or did they evolve naturally? Loyalty is a huge one for her. I think so many people have forgotten what it means to be a true friend and what real loyalty looks like. You’re willing to go far and wide for the people you care about because you want to, because you get fulfillment out of doing the right thing. Hephzie will have your back, no matter what. She doesn’t care what race, background, gender, sexuality, religion, she doesn’t give a shit. If you’ve got her, you’ve got a loyal friend. IOne thing she struggled with - and is only semi-aware of it - is loneliness. She finds it suffocating. It’s slight PTSD from losing so much in her life, and she’s not terribly clingy, but she’ll wallow about it and sink into depression if she feels abandoned or alone. She NEEDS that reassurance that she is not a freak and not alone and that SOMEONE would care if one day she was gone. This evolved naturally when shaping her backstory and realising it needed to have realistic consequences.

If they could steal one major piece of art with no consequences, what would it be and why? Bonus: how would they pull off the heist? Anything Bob Ross. Loves that guy. And she’d probably just recrute Stan to help her with either blackmail or her “Please, for me?” line.

Now it’s YOUR turn!

[6ninaph9]

Climbing up the temple (a short sceen)

I’ve been feeling kinda shit about the plot and worldbuilding of my book, so I went back to the reason I write in the first place: the characters.

So here, have some ‘Clementine just being Clementine’, cause writing that makes me happy, and maybe you’ll like it too!

~Nina PH

It was a slow day and that hated it.

For most people, slow days are good in the temple: no battle, no cleaning duty, no exam to study for. While everyone else is laying back and relaxing, I just can't seem to do the same.

I walked to the sleeping quarters through the empty hallway. I don't like hearing my footsteps in the hall in the middle of the day. The day is supposed to be active, the halls buzzing with people. I like the clamor of conversations as people walk by me, of a hundred feet hitting the wooden floor as they all go their own separate way. Today everyone was sitting around in the gardens, talking, eating sugar, and playing card games in small groups, like they themselves were flower bushes growing underneath the cool shadows of the trees. Now there were only two feet in my ears and it was driving me insane.

I entered the sleeping quarters and took in a deep breath of the refreshing air. The windows were partly closed and the blindfolds shut down, keeping the room cool, almost chilly in comparison to the heat of the outside world. It felt alien to step in this secret pocket of existence, like walking into a new undiscovered cave, filled with darkness and mysteries demanding your attention. But no, it was the same old boring sleeping room and my eyes didn't need to wait to get used to the lack of light as muscle memory sat me down on my sleeping mat.

The room was empty, except for me and the sleeping bundle under the blanket. My blanket. I kicked him in a friendly fashion: »Max! Wake up!«

He groaned and kicked me back: »No.«

»Oh come on,« I stole my blanket from him, letting the cold air shake him awake. My plan was unsucesefull: underneath mine, he was still tightly holding onto his own blanket, bringing it over his head to try to escape me.

»Nothing is going on. I want to do something.«

»I'm not stopping you…«

»Let's go spar.«

»No.«

»Max!« I shook him, trying to rip the blanket away from him, but he held on to it like it was his family honor. »You can't just nap through the entire day.«

»Watch me,« he yawned.

He left me no choice: I got up and with my full force half-fell half-jumped on him, shoulder first. Even if this wasn't going to work, the noise he made alone was entertainment enough. It sounded like a deer that swallowed a blader ballon and was trying to vomit it back up. Max did not find it as hilarious as I did.

»How can you be so cruel? To wake me up at such an unhuman hour…« he squeezed his voice from underneath me.

»It's 16:45 and you've been napping for 3 hours.« I got off him, mostly because his knee was sticking into my shoulder blade. Max is a terrible pillow.

He slowly sat up, able to breathe again: »That's still 5 hours too little…« He rubbed his eyes: »Can't you bother Pietar with your boredom?«

»He's busy with work…«

I didn't check in his office before coming to Max. I didn't have to. A beautiful summer day without a single cloud in the sky, perfect to take a break from daily work and hustle? Where else is Pietar going to be but locked up in his office, buried under a mountain of papers he doesn't actually need to file till another month. I'd bet all my money, of which I have non, that his office window is locked closed, making the air inside smell that all too familiar odor of sweat mixing with dust and oily stale ink. I was not going there, no thank you. I was bored, not desperate.

»I'm busy too…« his hand grabbed for the blanket, but mine was faster, throwing the warm fuzzy fabric on the other side of the cold room. He groaned and slumped right back on his matt: »I was having a particularly nice dream.«

»The brunet?«

He smirked: »The ginger one with freckles.«

»Oh, you hoe!«

»That's my middle name, baby.« He threw his arm over his eyes, blocking out the light that wasn't really there: »You can join me. We'll be hoes together.«

I lay down next to him: »As much as I love being a hoe with you, no. I can't just lay around and do nothing. I'm not made like that.«

»Have you ever tried?«

»Why would I try if I already know it sucks?«

He sighed, every air particle escaping him filled with annoyance and disappointment in me: »Than just… do something while doing nothing.«

»… Dude, saying stupid stuff is my thing, not yours.«

»I mean while relaxing occupy your mind with something. Make a plan of how to get Pietar out of his office, draw a map of the temple grounds. At Astis, you love numbers so much, just count to 100 in your head. Most importantly,« his face turned to mine, his eyes slim from sleep: »do it in silence.« And he turned back away from me.

I stared at the ceiling for a while, thinking. No, I wasn't counting to 100! Neither was I planning to drag Pietar out of his office. I've tried it before, but if I haven't managed it in the last 13 years, I wasn't gonna succeed now.

Drawing the map part… That I could get behind. The problem was, a map of what? I already have more than 20 of them. I've drawn the temple gardens, all the floors and rooms, Pietars office alone counted about half of my map collection. There was no place inside the temple walls I haven't sketched and measured and calculated in size. I know every inch of land inside the walls by heart. But… outside the walls…

I stood up over him: »Come on, get up.«

»Hmgg…« he grumbled. How can a human fall asleep so easily?

»Come with me!« I started pulling his arm up.

»Why? What?«

»We're gonna climb.«

»That's… the opposite of what I told you to do!«

»Trust me, you'll like it.«

»There's climbing involved: I will not.«

»You'll still get to sleep.«

He sat up, his eyes skeptical: »If this is a trick, I'm gonna kick you in the kneecaps.«

»Deal!«

I walked to the window, opened them and shoved the blinds up, letting light and heat take over the room. Max very slowly, his feet dragging on the floor, more in bored defiance than actual tiredness, approached me. I jumped on the window sill and slid on the outside wall of the temple, still looking through the window at him: »You coming?«

»… We're climbing on the temple?«

»Yeah.«

»… You lied to me. Give me your kneecaps.«

I laughed: »Come and get my kneecap,« and started climbing up.

The stones were hot, the wall absorbing all the heath and shooting it back into my hands. No one ever climbed in the summertime. No one ever climbed on the temple any time, but even the climbing rocks right outside the temple were in this time abandoned and silent. I presume it's exactly because of the heat of the stone. I never minded it. The walls being hot or freezing cold didn't make it harder, it just made it more interesting. I was already at the next floor by the time Max even got his footing on the outside wall, overanalyzing every next step and position on the stones.

He yelled up at me: »If I fall and die you're gonna have to explain to my parents what at Astis I was doing climbing up a building!«

»You're not gonna fall!« I turned around, waiting for him to catch up. I held myself in place with one hand and foot, letting the other two limbs relax in the open air. The Red Sun shinned harsh on my face but I loved it. The small beads of sweat on my arm disappearing just as quickly as they appeared, stolen away by the still, windless air. My muscles tense and under pressure, held me locked to the wall 15 meters above the dry dirt. If someone were to fall, they'd go even farther, rolling another 30 meters down the steep hill the temple is set on, only stopping when their body would crash in the swamp. They probably wouldn't survive it.

I smirked at the thought. Me? Falling? Yeah right.

Max finally climbed face to face to me. His limbs were almost digging into the walls, arms tense to the point you could see his veins popping out. His face was turned forward with his body shaking at even the thought of moving a centimeter away from the wall. He eyed me up and down and squinted his eyes in annoyance. »You look like a sail on a boat.«

»Thank you.« I knew he didn't say it as a compliment, but what can I say, I enjoyed being better than him at something.

And he wasn't wrong, I was a sail: free in the open air, ready to take on the world and travel to places no human has been before. Or, in my case, just to the rooftop.

»Hey snail, I thought you wanted to go back to sleep quickly.« I climbed on, Max not able to keep up.

He grinned weakly: »I could beat you to the top! If I wanted to…«

»Keep telling yourself that!« I jumped to the next stone that poked out slightly, probably giving Max a tiny heart attack because I was moving so 'carelessly'. I wasn't careless, I just knew how to do it.

Left hand to the left, leg locked to the right, the other one put up- nope, not that stone. »Watch it, this one is shaking!« The stone above? Yes. Past Pietars window, completely shut closed and blinds down – called it! And one more pull up with my right hand and, voila! My butt was on the edge of the roof.

When Max got in reach I offered him a helping hand. He cringed as the sweat of our hands mixed together, his hands shaking from discomfort while I pull him up and next to me. He quickly let go of my arm and wiped it in his shirt, still breathing deeply.

After he caught his breath he looked at the view in front of us: »Wow…«

I smiled and followed his eyes. Green colors, dark and bright and those turning into yellows, covered the land all to the horizon, the fields lined on one side by a thick forest, on the other by the mountain range. We've been to the fields countless times, but being up here, where you could see how far they stretch, in constant motion either by the wind or small animals hiding in the grass, it stopped being just a piece of land to walk on. It was alive and grand and sitting here, I understood why the gods loved our world. One glance at it explained it better than any book or monk could.

A blue stream splits the land in two, the fields of our and of the east temple, and ends up in the small lake in between our and their hill. I didn't bother looking at their side, ours was much prettier. From up here, you couldn't hear the gurgling of the water, but I liked to pretend I did. The thought of going anywhere near that death puddle was deeply disturbing to my stomach. I'd much rather experience the falling-down-while-climbing situation than have to step in a half meter radius of that thing. But the sound of a tiny stream rolling over shinny stones… I've never heard it. And in all of Maxes books, they described it so beautifully.

So I sat on the warm roof tiles, my feet dangling in the air, pretending to enjoy what I imagined the flowing water sounded like.

Max had laid down much further away from the edge, spreading his arms and legs wide, eyes closed, taking in the warmth: »This is nice…«

»Oh, so you might say that the climb was worth it?«

»Your kneecaps are safe,« he smiled: »for now.«

So we spend the slow day on the roof, Max napping and stretching, his skin getting even tanner, if that's even possible, and me enjoying the sight beneath and around me. I tried to take in every detail, to remember distances between landmarks, to calculate what proportions I would choose to fit it all on a piece of paper, yet not making it so small that the charm and complexity of the land would be lost in it.

The Red Sun touched my cheeks, like giving me their blessing to immortalize in ink the world they have created.

I smiled. This will be a fun map to draw.

[smutandfluffohmy]

Sixth Sense Supers

From: Smutandfluffohmy Character Parings: Stark!Reader X Peter Parker Warnings:LONGGG, major Endgame spoilers! Request: Yoo i love your work and i just reaally need to see you use prompt 60 "we finish the same way we started, together" with Peter Parker and Stark!reader in Endgame's final battle. Spoilers in case you haven't seen it but the reader didn't get snapped and when Peter comes back he wasn't expecting her to be there, tells her he loves her and then tries to stop her from joining the fight, thus she replies with the prompt and you can finish however you like, but i would like a bit of angst. Tysm❤❤❤❤ A/N: Shout out to @n0rthern-litez who had to put up with me running this fic through her,love ya x!! Also I saw Far from home & I’m still not over my bbys 💕

You were Tony’s older daughter and all your life you wanted nothing more than to be a miniature version of Iron Man or even better, a miniature version of Tony Stark. You tagged along with your dad whenever you could which wasn’t often at all and even if you did you stayed cooped up inside the jet. Your life was filled with excitement but you were always looking at it from far away always out of touch and always too far for your comfort.

After years of training and your father making a special suit for you, you were allowed into the battle field alongside the other avengers and their new prisoner Loki who was there against his will.

“I heard the story about the snake I thought it was pretty funny.” You whispered leaning towards Loki afraid someone would yell at you for talking to Loki.

“You like that one? Well I have plenty of more stories just like that.” Loki said giving you a genuine smile as he later went on a whispering rant about all of his best tricks. You listened intently to every word he said and Loki was glad that someone could finally appreciate his tricks.He wasn’t fond in any way shape or form about humans but he decided to make a small exception for you.

“Do you want some tea?” You whispered to him as you looked around the jet making sure nobody was looking your way.

“Milk and three sugars.”Loki said to you as he sat up a bit straighter,you nodded and made your way to make the tea. “Please” He said coughing a bit, the word wasn’t foreign but the sincerity behind it was new for him. Putting the kettle on you got out a mug that you thought Loki might like and made the tea walking back carefully making sure not to spill any, setting the cut of tea in front of him.Loki brought the cup to his lips and blew gently on it. Time passed,Loki sipped his tea between telling you stories that he thought you might like.

“We’re here!” Cap called out and with a jump you got snapped out of your conversation with Loki. “Time for you” Steve said pointing at Loki” to come with us.” he said which made Loki roll his eyes and finish off the last of his tea.

“Can I come?” You said eagerly already gathering up your stuff not waiting for an answer.

“No you can’t.” Your dad said sitting you back down on the chair with a frown.With that they left you alone in the jet sitting down on the chair with your hands balled up in front of you. You traced the lining of your bag absentmindedly with a big huff you got your iron suit on.

“I didn’t come here to sit around.” You grumbled and made your way out of the jet going out to find your family. New York seemed so gloomy even without any clouds hanging over head the sky still felt heavy and dark. Explosions rang all around you, buildings collapsed and everytime they did you winced thinking about all the damage.Fires seemed to spring from nowhere and everywhere, looking frantically around you for any family faces or a glimpse of a costume but you always seemed to look the opposite direction.

Through the loud noises of screams and chaos you could hear faint yells of what seemed like a negotiation, you flew towards the noises. There stood everyone arguing with creatures you have never seen before, a wave of fright an uneasiness draped over you. ‘Stop it Avengers aren’t scared’ you thought to yourself swallowing your fear down your throat you headed towards everyone else. Clint was shooting his usual arrows at the aliens while everyone did their own thing you’ve seen a million times but it didn’t fail to impress you.

The fight continued on and it all seemed to go on in a motion blur, lasers passed by you in flashes and you continued to help as much as you could.The laser shot you, you weren’t sure where but you felt the bolt run through your body. Wincing over in pain you tried grabbing onto the area that hurt but everything hurt and it hurt bad. You felt cold but hot at the same time and it was a new sensation you didn’t know how to handle, you wanted to cry out for help but you felt like you were choking on the words that you couldn’t say.

Your body temperature dropped and you felt yourself freeze, touching your face to wipe off the snot that was coming out of your nose feeling it stone cold. You wished you would’ve dresses warmer, you wished you were standing in the beach, you wished so many things that couldn’t come true. Looking down at your hands that were quickly turning different types of colors that you knew your fingers shouldn’t be.

“Let me help.” Loki said as he slumped down next to you, for a moment his helmet looked like a halo and you wanted to reach out to touch it.

“You stay away from my daughter!” Your dad yelled, you could hear the pain in his voice.

“I’m trying to help her! Brother come and help me!” Loki called out to Thor who obliged and slumped down next to you and his brother. Your eyes were failing you, they felt heavy and your body felt numb, you felt yourself drift to sleep and you let yourself.

“Hey hey honey don’t go to sleep.” Your dad said taking off your helmet as he pushed your hair out of your face, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m so cold.” You murmured trying your hardest to move your body, to try to get as far away from that spot.

“I know but just hold on a bit longer.” Your dad said his grip tightening around your suit, you couldn’t feel his touch but you don’t think you were even able to if the suit was stripped away.

“You have to move aside Stark.”

“I won’t leave her!” Your dad pleaded.

“We can save her but you have to move aside.”All the voices started melting together, your eyes were too heavy to keep them open and you let yourself close your eyes just for a second. Drifting off into a dreamless sleep, your body feeling hot feeling like hundreds of ice cubes being poured into your body all at once.

You shot up in a fright in a cold sweat, the moon light spilling into the room as rain hit the windows.Looking down your lap you saw machines hooked up to you, your fingers looked like they were dipped in black paint, veins being more prominent than you ever remembered them to be. You leaned back down trying to understand exactly what was happening, trying to remember exactly what was the last thing you remembered but everything was blank.

“Hey hey kid you’re awake.” Your dad exclaimed rushing over to your side.

“Yea I think I fell on my head while fighting.”

“No you were dead for an hour.” Loki said from the other side of you bed, he was looking through a magazine but his body was rigid and tense with worry. “We had to bring you back, you have God ummm” Loki said discarding his magazine trying to find the correct word.

“Juices. You have God juices flowing in you.” Thor said with absolute certainty as he nervously paced back and forth at the foot of your bed. You knitted your eyebrows together not knowing entirely what he had just said, Loki sighed and rubbed his temples trying his hardest to keep it together.

“No there is none of your “God juices” inside of my daughter.”

“What my idiot brother means is that you have the energy of the Gods of lightning and trickster bolted through you while you were dead. Not only did we revive you but you may have a bit of God energy in you, umm we never do this so you may have some side effects.” Loki said to you trying to avoid the daggers your father was throwing at him.

“Oh my god I’m frankenstein.” You said sitting up on the bed looking at the people around you. Your eyes traveled from everyone's faces and it landed on a boy you couldn’t quite place, you knew him but not sure from where exactly.

“I know you.” You said whispering to yourself and pointing at the boy who looked at you in surprise because you were talking to him. Everyone looked from you to the boy in deep confusion, Loki looked at you trying to understand what was happening. “What’s your name?” You asked, it was rude that everyone wasn’t introducing this new person.

“Pietro. Pietro Maximoff.” He said simply as if still confused why you were talking to him.

“Nice to meet you Pietro, so what’s your power?” You said your eyes lighting up with excitement, you did always love learning about new powers and new people. “I don’t have any but I think tha-”

“Did you say Pietro?” Wanda said gripping the side of your bed, her voice getting shaky.

“Yes I did?”

“Y/N he’s my brother. He’s my brother that has been dead for years.” Those words echoed through your mind ‘dead brother’ they rang inside your ears ‘dead’.

~Some time later~

You could see dead people but not in a simple way like ‘the six sense’ where you could tell who was alive and who wasn’t. Your life was filled with deaths and people that never left. Dinner seats that were left empty were always filled, faces of people confused as to why their place wasn’t set or why their loved ones wouldn’t talk to them. You saw dead people all around New York and you couldn’t tell who was actually there, being the only one that could see them made you frustrated beyond belief. You tried bringing someone back from the death but they were rotten and confused like they were walking through a dream, feeling every missing bone every open wound so you vowed never to do that again.

You thought you were a psychic that got the short end of the stick but it was worse, so much worse you had the power to bring back the dead. Their voices filled your head day and night with people crying out in grief or with endless request to bring them back to the land of the living.

“Hey are you okay?” Peter asked taking you out of your trance, you looked up at him with a warm smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine just thinking.” You said looking at Peter trying to ignore the dazed pilot that was walking around dripping wet.

“Cookie for your thoughts?” He said holding a cookie out to you scotting closer to you.

“I’m just worried about fighting Thanos.Think you can grow those extra six limbs and eyes? ” You scoffed

“I think I would just be a spider at that point. Your friendly neighborhood spider? I don’t think that would work.” He said scrunching his nose as he actually thought about it. “Would I be a spider with a Peter head or w-”

“Ahh, isn't it the sixth sense supers.” Bruce said smiling brightly at the two of you.

“The what?” You asked not knowing if you actually wanted to know the answer.

“Well you know you see dead people and the spider senses.” Bruce said pointing at you laughing slightly at his own joke.

“Hey Banner some help here please!” Clint called out as he struggled with some things he was holding, as they slipped and dropped around him.

“Hmm the sixth sense supers.” Peter said scotting closer to you “I like it, I’m like your sidekick.” He smiled at you and held your hand under the table.

“Yea right. More like I’m your sidekick.” You said playfully pushing him

“Hey 3 inches apart! I will throw you into a black hole Parker.” Tony said pointing at Peter then at you, he loved both of you but wished you guys wouldn’t be as close as you were just for his poor old heart.  Peter gave him a nervous smile and scotted a bit farther away from you, your dad nodded slightly trying his best not to crack a smile and continued on to what he was doing.The ship giving a slight rumble, intuitively you looked at the young man that gripped on tightly to a chair looking around wondering what he was doing there. The deep gash on his leg exposing some bone you wondered to what or who he was tied to, to make him be right here right now.

“Don’t worry I would rescue you from the black hole.” You smiled brightly making yourself look at Peter who had a small blush creep on his face. You knew you didn’t have a functional heart, a real one, one that wasn’t made by your dad but you swore you felt your heart flutter every time Peter smiled.

“When this is over we should go check out the astronomy museum.” Peter said scotting closer but then scotting back when he saw Tony pass by a hallway.

“You know you can just look outside dork.” You chuckled motioningly vaguely at the windows that had their curtains drawn, we were in the middle of space but nobody seemed to care.

“Yea yea but i meant stargazing which you can’t really do in New York. Be-because of pollution.” He said whispering the last part, nervousness seeping into his voice. You and Peter knew each other for years but you two were often stumbling over your words and face grow hot with embarrassment.

“Okay it’s a date.” You said to him, trying to keep your voice from shaking. You wondered if your dad felt his “heart” skip beats whenever he saw mom and you wondered if he wondered if you felt the same about Peter.

“Time to go everyone.” Steve said urging everyone to follow him.

“I got your back.” You said to Peter as you got up and followed Steve with Peter close next to you, both of you trying to avoid bumping into things surrounding the hallways.

“I got yours.” Peter said walking beside you before getting dragged my Clint ahead of you “Hey Y/n if aliens put eggs in my chest and I eat you I’m sorry.” Peter said as he walked backwards to look at you and motioned to his chest area. You groaned and urged him to turn around.

Once the fighting began, everything was happening so quickly but so slow, you had to see the anger of the living and the crying faces of friends and family tied to the living as they begged and pleaded for them to stop. Your head pounded with cries of anger and sadness not wishing what the dead thought about their loved ones and how they got there.

You saw everyone around you collapse and turn to dust crying out and reaching out for help that never came.Friends and family that you loved disappearing like they were never there at all, you wanted to reach out to grab them, to grab anyone but you were too scared they would break under your touch.

“Y/N I don’t feel so good…”  Peter said, your world came to a halt at that very moment. You grabbed onto him, your grip on his suit tightened ‘not him not Peter’. His face fell and you could see the pain painted on every inch of his face.

“You’re good, hey hey you’re fine.” You said as Peter began to turn to dust in front of your eyes.You were left bewildered holding fist fulls of dust that used to be your boyfriend,collapsing in a mess of tears and wailing. “I can fix you I can fix this.” You murmured gathering the dust that was once Peter.

~five years later~

People started showing up a wide smile spread over your face, you couldn’t name everyone and there was now too many people to tell who was alive.

“Please no.” You whimpered your blood running ice cold your shaky legs trying to back away. “Please someone tell me they can see him. Please.” You whispered, not wanting to call out, not wanting to make this seem any more real if it was whispered there was a chance this wasn’t real.

“Hey hey hey I’m real. I mean of course I’m real I meant that I’m alive.” Peter said reaching out towards you to touch you, you stumbled backwards in the midst of war you didn’t care where you bumped into you just couldn’t face the truth. You swallowed the hard lump and reached out to touch him, your fingers traced his cheeks holding back from sobbing.

“You’re really here.” You said bringing him into a hug, squeezing him tightly into the hug relief washing over you.

“I would never leave you. I love you but you have to get out of here it’s not safe.” Peter said breaking the hug and looking deep into your eyes, a mixture of relief and agony mixed up in his big brown eyes.

“No way we finish the same way we started, together.” You said pulling him in for a kiss, both of your faces flushing hot and red, it wasn’t your first kiss but the last one seemed a lifetime away almost like it wasn’t you but someone else. Your heart skipped beats and fluttered and for a moment you were worried you would short circuit.

“I think I got a plan.” Peter said as he quickly ran it by you, you hung onto every word he was saying missing his voice and how he knitted and raised his eyebrows whenever he talked. The way he talked with his hands all the time, you missed this you missed him.

“Okay.” You said nodding at Peter wanting to stay there with him but wanting to go to see the stars with him even more.

“Ready?”Peter said giving your hand one last squeeze, nodding the plan setting into motion.

“Aye Barney!” You yelled out to Thanos who snapped his head towards you a confused look spread across his face. Thanos was distracted just long enough for Peter to swing past him unnoticed, someone called out bringing attention to Peter. Your half baked plan failed miserably as you saw Peter start getting attacked.

‘Think think think Y/N THINK!’ you thought to yourself searching frantically around the battlefield. Your eyes locked onto a man with a squid head who was just floating around on the side of the enemy. ‘Okay here goes nothing’ you thought as you began running towards the man or thing or whatever it was

“Aye batter batter swing!”You yelled swinging a piece of wood at the squid man who fell to the ground with a thud. His face twisted to one of anger as you felt a tight grip on your throat that lifted you off the ground “Kinky really but you can’t kill the dead.” You said smiling to nobody in particular, the grip tightened more feeling your neck start snapping under the pressure a white light filling every inch of your vision.

The thing that was strangling you dropped your limp body, the white light merged into images of you, your sister and your parents sitting down in a meadow with a picnic set up. The summer sun surrounded you “Hey room for a couple more?” a voice called out, turning your head to see who it was you saw Peter along with your Aunt Wanda, Natasha and your uncles Thor, Loki, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Bruce and Scott all walking towards you four.

“You made it!” You said smiling up at the people that were standing over you, Peter leaned down to your level brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You have to wake up.” Peter said but not in his own voice, his mouth mouthed the words but a much harsher and deep voice came out.Before you could say anything you gasped up for air and the white light that filled your eyes went away as soon as it came, and you were back again in the battle.

“Told you you can’t kill the dead.” You said jolting up from the ground wasting no time to get back into battle. Calling for people that were long dead to help you and everyone else. Ordinary and extraordinary people joining in to help take down the enemies, you really couldn’t kill the dead, after this was all done you made a note to help as many people cross over as you could.

The battle went on and it was all a motion blur, you jumped from your own body to other people helping them out and back to your own body.You couldn’t place exactly who was dead and who was alive but regardless of that your enemies punches still bruised you. In those moments you wanted to turn off your abilities, to only worry about fighting the living and not the dead as well. A man, a normal looking man stood in front of you a gun pointed at you.

A normal gun nothing about it was particularly special, at that moment surrounded by chaos and death you didn’t mind actually dying. Finally putting your mind to rest, not seeing people with deep wounds walking around confused in the streets, it was wicked even thinking it but if for one moment you could feel the warmth come back to your body you wanted it. No more heavy blankets or boiling showers to make your skin feel like it’s back to normal, finally putting balance back into the world.

The gun fired, your shirt stained with blood, perhaps it was fake and you just wanted it to be actual blood pouring out of your body actual foggined clouding your mind. Perhaps you just wanted to convince yourself that you were real and not just a thing, a robot that your father filled to the brim about anything and everything, nothing and something all wrapped up in a nice bow. You fell the ground not wanting to leave them behind but not wanting to be the next step of your powers into turning into the actual God of death, you couldn’t think you could bare seeing people that were only dead day in and day out.

“Y/n stay with me please. Please don’t leave me.” Peter said his cheeks already stained with tears as he clung on to your hand.You wanted to die but not here not now, opening your eyes you looked up at him.

“I can’t die,who’s going to bring the necromancer back to life?” You said trying your best to laugh, as you heaved over and coughed up blood shaking your head wanting to shake your thoughts into place. You let your head fall to the side and instead of smiling faces you saw your dad slumped over, his suit banged up and dirty, all the energy and color that usually surrounded him was gone it was all gone.

“Wait what’s happening?” You asked but you didn’t wait for a response you just reached out for him, ignoring the shifting broken ribs moving inside of you and you stretched trying to go to your dad. You tried giving him all your energy every last drop of energy you had just to save him, but everything failed and all the power that you could feel course you stopped. They stopped cold in their tracks and the one moment you needed your powers they failed you, you failed him.

“I tried bringing him back Peter I really did but I couldn’t” You said whaling trying to reach out to grab your father’s hand but hundred of volts of what felt like electricity ran through your body causing you to curl back into your body. You wanted to rip out this part of you and put it into your dad, a deformed and decaying body part but a part that would bring him back to you.

“It’s okay Y/N it’s okay there wasn’t anything you could’ve done.” Peter said scopping you up into his arms letting you cry into his shirt. You wished you could trade traces with your dad, your dad that laid there leaning against a rock dead his mouth hanging open and his eyes devoid from anything.

“That’s what I do! That’s all I fucking do and I failed! I want my dad! I want my dad.” You said crying, clinging to peter’s suit

“Hey hey hey Peter hands off my daughter!” You heard a familiar voice call out which made your head snapped towards the voice, ignoring the pain that shot through your body. You saw your dad walking towards you and Peter and for a moment your heart stopped. His suit looked clean and pressed making him stand out from the dirty and hellish scene around him, you wanted to call out to him but you couldn’t do that to Peter, to mom, to your family. His hand spread out in front of him, his eye catching a glimpse of it making him recoil it back to his side pretending like he didn’t see that. “Oh wow I guess I’m dead now huh?” He said giving out a nervous laugh looking around the long faces of everyone there.You simply nodded, unable to speak and even if you did you didn’t know what to say.

“He promised to take care of you if anything were to happen to me.But now you have to promise that you’re going to take care of him. Please just take care of each other, I won’t be able to do it anymore.” Your dad said as he nervously rocked on his heels trying his best to not break down crying, not for his own sake but for yours.