#no obituaries were written that week

[kindred-spirit-93]

aight part 2 (theyre all long aha im sorry XD) enjoy

BRIGHT

the pain in my wrist was excruciating. i could barely keep my face straight. slightly out of breath and with chiron on my heels (i felt guilty for ages after that. it really wasnt all that bad, but i was grateful he cared i suppose. but mostly guilty.) i reached the infirmary in one piece, aware of my surroundings but only just.

i think it was the strong smell of disinfectant that i registered first. the early morning light pouring in from the windows, and the soft sound of music, specifically a string instrument, and light chatter followed. too bright was all i could think of. even brighter than it was outside.

it was all well and nice, but i was bleeding and really wanted to collapse in a dark corner somewhere. and maybe sleep forever, i thought darkly. i all but physically swatted the notion away. brood later, i told myself firmly. i was feeling quite helpless and turned around to see if there was anywhere i should go, a first aid station or something. anything.

instead, i met another patients eyes. she was standing not too far away from where i was, nursing a very bloody nose. i didnt mean to look for too long, but good grief that was more blood than i thought a nose could spurt. i hope it wasnt too serious.

i flinched when someone lightly tapped on my shoulder. a blond young man in a white coat extended a hand. his left to be specific. i blanked, completely forgetting why the hell i was here in the first place and instead frowning at the stranger who wanted to shake my hand of all things. and his left hand? what was the world coming to?

whether it was the blood loss or my usual scatterbrained self, it took me a solid minute to realise that the stranger, who seemed to be in a good mood (how can anyone smile this early in the morning?) wanted to see my hand and evaluate the damage. not shake it. how i graduated top of my class i will never know.

FUZZY

looking back, our friendship was unlike any other ive ever had. never taking a single pattern or conforming to a single mold, but branching out and blurring lines into something soft and warm and comforting.

she always laughed when i compared it to soup, calling me a heathen for preferring it out of a mug, to which i replied with a pillow to her face. with her i felt a happiness i thought id never feel again.

we bonded a lot over music, which is a given with any child of apollo, but in my case i was exploring what i liked while she relaxed by singing along or playing something of her own.

it was a particularly rainy day and we were stranded, so to speak, in my room. i had borrowed chirons gramophone and my favourite jazz records, and breakfasted on cakes and tea. oh what i wouldnt give to relive that morning again.

she was at my desk writing in her journal and i had decided to practice some stitches while sitting at the foot of my bed. it was maybe an hour later i got up to stretch and thought to break the silence. i tried to call her but the only noise that left my throat was a hum. she hummed in response a moment later and i chuckled. we transcend language i joked to myself.

the rain pattering on the window, the low humming of whatever love song was softly playing, the comfortable silence that had blanketed us. the fuzzy warmth was enough to make me cry. instead i took a moment to articulate everything i was feeling. content. bittersweet. safe. nostalgic. home. finally at peace. alhamdulillah.

PRETTY

the air was crisp, not enough to warrant an extra layer, but cool nevertheless. i checked my reflection before leaving and was quite taken aback. why you could pass for a functioning member of society i teased. rolling my eyes at my antics i left without a second glance.

i dont avoid mirrors per se, but i dont seek them out either. i saw a lot of mama in me, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, her features, her death glare. and the similarities only became more apparent with time. i was still me of course, but at a certain angle i was an exact copy. and it hurt, despite the pride that came with it.

my aunt had insisted on buying me something for my birthday, so i meekly accepted (as if i had a choice) and picked out something slightly more special than id typically wear. and by special i mean embroidered sleeves. im too practical. just like a certain someone, i thought fondly. mama would have liked it too i think. although the tag said it was grey i only saw mint. and she liked green so that was that.

come day of the dance, a one time thing thank God, i started to have second thoughts. it was much too late of course to back out, but i entertained the thought anyway. i was going to be in the vicinity of people. a fate worse than death indeed. why did i ever agree to this?

sadly my wallowing in self pity had to be cut short. i could do feelings later, for now there was work to be done. not the best approach i know, but what can i say, im extremely practical.

i was a liitle early, chiron had said hed arrive soon. i cleared my throat, the chatter died down, and all eyes were on me. shit. "good evening everyone!" a few grumbles greeted me back.

"chiron will be here momentarily, uh, but before that a few words." my gaze swept the entire hall. demigods dressed in their best and looking for a night of calm and fun after an extremely rough storm. my heart went out to all of them. "tonight is a celebration for all that you have achieved thus far in your journeys, be it in camp or out, in loving memory of those we lost along the way, and of course to strengthen bonds and forge new ones." God why was everone holding their breath? how i havent i been pelted with tomatoes yet?

"being a demigod isnt easy, nor will it get any easier, but the least we can do is make the most of what moments of peace and happiness we are given." my gaze once again swept the room, settling on no one in particular, but i had a few in mind.

"from my heart of hearts i wish each and every one of you the best in life wherever and whatever it may be. take care of yourselves and of each other, and never lose sight of whats important to you."

i flinched at the sudden roar of applause i was faced with. was dionysus standing behind me with barrels of 'sparkling grape juice'? nope. apparently it was still only me. i never wanted to be curled in my blankets and as far away as humanly possible from the limelight so much in my life.

chiron thankfully had arrived just as the noise died down, and i recited the last of what i rehearsed for the night before he took over. "since tonight is a break for everyone, i am keen for everyone to have a good time, but fair warning, too much 'fun' and youll be dealing with me." chiron was busy examining the ceiling, a small smile on his face.

"im taking the infirmary shift tonight and unless you want an obituary in your patient records you will behave." dead silence. good. they were all too young for alcohol and it wasnt allowed in camp, but i trusted no one. "that said, have fun." there was a whoop and some cheers. i grinned at their enthusiasm.

....

the rest of the night went smoother than a hot knife through butter. it was a great success and everything went as perfectly as it could. the hard work had payed off and i was extremely happy and morbidly embarassed as campers greeted and thanked me on their way out.

one of the earliest couples to leave were a certain nico and will, but not before saying hi. will had stammered something about being the prettiest, much to nicos disgust. i studied the floor with great detail in attempt to shove down the unholy shriek of laughter threatening to escape. nico told me what had happened with persephone over breakfast once and i exhaled my coffee through my nose.

and then he straightened up as if remembering something. i noticed it immediately and was grateful i prepared myself before hand. "about tonights shift.." he started.

"i will see to everything i promise you have absolutely nothing to worry about". i cut him off before he could come up with an excuse to overwork himself half to death.

"but-"

"absolutely not. you will take tonight and all of next week off, its been arranged. now go enjoy what time you have left before curfew. its till midnight today only as a treat." will was not having it, and it was quite funny. he seemed to argue the concept and not the case, but i couldnt be sure, nico was half dragging him out already.

"shan't. im head medic and i wont be going against schedule. you cant make me" i raised my eyebrows in amusement. using titles are we? this was too good. there was no way he was serious.

but he was. were going to have to work on that later, i thought grimly. i sighed. nico sighed. the world took a collective sigh.

"right, listen here solace." nicos smirked and will looked mortified. reality was finally settling in. i nearly felt sorry for him. but i didnt.

"you arent going against schedule, i already said id arranged it before hand. kayla and austin insisted on a few extra days off for you and who was i to resist?" he muttered something about treason and treachery. and i held down a smirk.

"and besides," my eyes glinted for emphasis. a child of hades thing if you will. "my camp councellor's orders are equal to your own and its very well within my power to override them when i see fit." will gasped and nico grinned wickedly. i gave him some time to recover and turned to nico, asking if hed gotten my last batch of pastries. he said he did and compared them to his nonna's baking. the highest praise i could ever hope to recieve. tonight couldnt get any better if it tried.

"of course i wont make you do anything, but i suggest for your well being and mine that you comply and enjoy some well earned peace and quiet." i gave him a rueful smile, and on cue nico tugged at wills sleeve and let his best puppy eyes do the the rest. i gagged and he gave in to defeat. or was it despair? i forget which.

peer pressure really does work wonders, i thought while waving them off. grinning, i wondered what diana would have made of the pair.

the END thank frick this was exhausting but so much fun omg. heres what i had in mind for hilal lol (its giving wattpad ;-;)

if youre still here thank you sm for reading, i hope i didnt outdo ebony dark'ness dementia raven way with the descriptions lol

thoughts and comments are welcome! ill be taking a break for 2 weeks ish and will resume maybe then bc i have exams. see yall :)

Find the word

Thanks @winterandwords here!

Rules: post excerpts of your WIP that include the given words!

Wow, I'm finally doing this game where I just have one tag to go through! This shouldn't be nearly as long!

I'll ignore I don't say again like that to make it rhyme

Rain - from The Secret Portal Part One (Maddie POV)

As we came closer, I could see a chunk of metal about two feet in diameter. Only, it didn’t seem rusted at all. We’d talked about how oxygen reacted with metals and rusted them in science class, and I found it super cool but couldn’t remember if all metals rusted or not. This was either a normal occurrence or something irregular, and I didn’t know which one it was! Wait, maybe it had something to do with rain…. Does it rain here? Is that important!? Agh, it bothered me that I couldn't remember.

Mainly coming from me realizing a beginning of year sixth grader may not know this part of chemistry.

Pain - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

I tried to sit on the grass to contemplate everything when I hit something hard. I cried out in pain and shot up, rubbing the now-sore spot—feeling awkward even though no one was around. I turned to see what I hit and jumped when I saw millions of colors shoot up from the ground. I looked around and watched the endless field disappear from view.

Did you know in the previous draft, Lexi hit her head? Ouch.

Drain(ed) - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Ash POV)

With the couches, kitchen, and center of the living room all taken, all the kids were forced to sit in the corners. Hannah was practically in the hallway standing next to Reyna and Adrian’s daughter Rachel. Mikey was with Rachel’s brother Hunter sitting under the kitchen counter. And I stood in the corner with Amanda (Hunter and Rachel’s middle-sibling), and Charlie (Aurora and… Randall’s daughter). I felt trapped as the overload of conversations weighed on my ears. I had to focus my attempts to remember everyone’s name and relation all day, and I was drained. It didn’t help that I had to suppress my telepathic abilities, lest I go insane. My brain felt itchy. Too much information, almost.

Ash having an extended family gathering over here and is not enjoying it.

Again - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Maddie POV)

I rocked back and forth on my feet. Kelsey and Hye-Jin were running later than usual. I yawned to myself as I fiddled with Wilfredo in my hands. My tongue ran over my teeth, and I wished once again March would come sooner so I could get my braces off.

Wilfredo is Maddie's amigurumi tiger!

Alright that was a lot shorter. I miss this. I feel free.

Tagging @frostedlemonwriter @finxi-writes @sleepywriter00 @squarebracket-trickster @bookish-karina

+ ANYONE ELSE

Your words: swallow, forget, game, transition

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

[raaorqtpbpdy]

God Only Knows

Everyone knows AU, but Wes doesn't know that everyone knows, and neither does Danny, because even though everyone knows, everyone also knows better than to acknowledge it.

For the prompts:

Everyone knows the connection between Danny Fenton and Phantom. To keep their town's hero safe, everyone pretends to be oblivious. Only this one kid doesn't seem to have gotten the memo. [From @vigilant-insomniac], and It's like Santa, the students of Casper High think. You know he's fake, just your parents playing pretend, and if Danny wants to play human, well. Who are they to ruin the fantasy? [From @uniasus]

This is a take on Wes I've never written before, despite having written quite a few Wes fics, and it was a lot of fun, I hope you like it : )

Read also on AO3

[Warnings for mentioned injuries, threats, and implied bullying]

Danny Fenton was dead. Everyone knew that.

After an accident in his parents' lab, he'd been rushed to the hospital and declared dead on arrival. He had an obituary in the paper, a grave. His death had even been announced over Casper High's PA system, and there had been a moment of silence, and all the science classes had done lessons on lab safety so that what had happened to him might not happen to anyone else.

Then, a couple weeks later, Danny Fenton was back at school like nothing had happened. Hanging out with his loser friends, going to classes, eating at Nasty Burger. Like he was still a regular kid. Except that beakers slipped through his fingers, and he kept walking through vending machines, and falling through the floor. Sometimes all or part of him would turn invisible, or he'd start floating a few inches off the floor and his friends had to pull him back down to earth.

Every time, he would look around in a panic, like he was hoping no one saw, and every time, those who had seen pretended they hadn't. It was Santa Claus, the Casper students reasoned. You knew he was fake, just your parents playing pretend, but it made them happy when you pretended with them. If Danny wanted to play human, well... who were they to ruin the fantasy.

Besides, no one wanted to be the one to remind him that he'd died.

Then the school was attacked by a ghost, and another ghost appeared to stop her. It was the ghost of a 14-year-old boy, wearing a Fenton Works jumpsuit. There was no mistaking that Danny Fenton, the dead kid attending their school, was also the dead kid protecting it.

But after a couple of days, it was clear that Danny himself still thought it was a secret, so everyone else silently agreed to let him keep thinking that. He'd been through a lot, and they didn't need to make it harder on him. Even Dash never brought it up—and he kept bullying Danny, for being week and unpopular, just to keep up the illusion that nothing had changed.

When out-of-towners started poking around, asking questions, everyone kept the secret. The strangers were clearly ill-intentioned, wanting to capture Danny for some reward. Even if he was deluding himself about still being alive, Danny was a good kid who protected the town. The least the locals could do as thanks was act oblivious to keep him safe. They were used to pretending, anyway.

Except this one kid didn't seem to have gotten the memo.

"Uh, yeah, I have some information on the ghost!" Wes called out to the Guys in White nosing around their school.

Kwan grabbed him, covering his mouth and dragging him around the corner before the Guys in White could see who'd called out to them. He felt something slimy on the palm of his hand and let go of Wes with a noise of disgust.

"What the hell!" Wes demanded.

"Did you just lick me?" Kwan asked, wiping his hand off on his jeans. "Gross!"

"Dude, you dragged me down the hallway! What gives."

"You were gonna spill to the Guys in White. You can't do that!"

"Just 'cause no one around here believes me, I'm just supposed to give up?" Wes frowned, crossing his skinny, freckled arms over his chest. "Somebody has to know that Danny Fenton is Danny Phantom, I mean come on, it's obvious!"

"But if you tell the Guys in White, even if they don't believe you, they'll investigate him, and who knows what they'll do," Kwan pointed out. "Hasn't Danny been through enough? I mean," Kwan glanced around and lowered his voice before adding, "he died. Do you really want to make things harder on him after that? Don't you think he deserves a break?"

"Exactly," Wes hissed. "He died. He's a ghost. Ghosts are bad—and why are we whispering?" he added at a normal volume.

"You know that's not true," Kwan argued, keeping his voice low, despite Wes' complaint. "Phantom protects us."

"From ghosts that come through a portal he opened!"

Kwan flinched. Saying Danny had opened the portal was kind of misrepresenting the reality of the situation. Sam and Tucker had reluctantly told the story of Danny's death in the weeks he was gone, and it had been spread around pretty thoroughly before he came back. Everyone at school knew that he'd stepped into that portal and been completely fried. The portal turning on wasn't the part most people focused on when it was always immediately followed by 'while Danny was inside it'.

"I don't think you can blame him for that," Kwan said. "It was an accident."

"One that has yet to be corrected," Wes replied, his anger not fading. "Him fighting the ghosts doesn't stop them from attacking. If he really wanted to protect the town, he'd destroy the portal and stay in the Ghost Zone."

"What about the Fentons?"

"Who cares if the Fentons lose their precious portal when it's endangering thousands of lives!?"

"And you don't care if they lose their son, either?" Kwan demanded.

"So you do believe me!"

"You're a dick, Weston." He'd never called anyone a dick before in his life, but it seemed to apply here. "I don't care what you think, but if you try to hawk your theories on any of the ghost hunters around town, I'll make you regret it, and I'll bring friends, too. I've got a lot of them."

To drive home his point, Kwan shoved Wes against the lockers and glared before walking away. Gosh, that was so aggressive. Kwan hoped it had been okay. He didn't like doing it—he didn't even know if his face could hold that expression long enough to intimidate anyone—but if it kept Danny safe, that was what mattered.

At least Dash would probably be proud of him for it. Dash was always saying he needed to be more assertive to people couldn't push him around. Metaphorically, of course. Literally, Kwan was six feet tall and 190 pounds, even as a freshman, so there weren't many people who could physically push him around as it was. He didn't join the football team for no reason.

Thankfully, it did seem to work. Kwan had his friends—and he did indeed have a lot of friends, since he was a very friendly and likable guy—keep an eye on Wes until the outside ghost hunters declared the hunt a bust and skipped town. He didn't know whether Wes had noticed or not, but either way, he hadn't tried to expose Danny to them again.

Too bad that didn't last. A few weeks later, Wes went directly to the Fentons.

"No one else will believe me, but your son is a ghost!" Wes told them. "He's Danny Phantom!"

Jack and Maddie both froze. They knew.

They knew, and they had both agreed to pretend they didn't. They shot at Phantom, always aiming a mile wide, and shouted threats, and loudly declared their hatred for ghosts. They knew how it made Danny feel, but they also knew he still loved them. They were willing to do whatever it took to keep their son around, and they feared that if he were ever to tell them he was a ghost, it would be because he was moving on and they'd never see him again.

"Why... that's ridiculous, my boy!" Jack declared, a slight waver in his booming voice. "Our son can't be a ghost!"

"But it's true!" Wes insisted.

"Don't be silly!" Maddie cut him off before he could start listing evidence. She knew all the evidence. "I think we'd know if there was a ghost living under our own roof."

"But—"

"You should keep your utterly ridiculous theories to yourself, because you sound absurd," Maddie said. "Now, if you don't mind, my husband and I have very important ghost hunting to get to. Don't you have homework to do or something?"

Wes growled and clenched his fists in frustration but left them alone nonetheless. Clearly, he wasn't getting anywhere with him. And he wasn't getting anywhere at school, to the point where Danny had stopped getting anxious and had started openly antagonizing him about it. Didn't anyone else in Amity Park have eyes, he wondered.

But in truth, he was the one not seeing, because he didn't see that everyone else was on the same page about Danny being a ghost, and he was the one being left behind.

"Hey, Wes-toenail!"

Wes rolled his eyes as Dash stormed up to him with a disappointed-looking Kwan in tow.

"Jazz Fenton told Sam Manson, who told Kwan, who told me, that you tried to tell Fenton's parents about your stupid conspiracy theory!" Dash sneered at him.

"It's not a conspiracy theory," Wes said. "There would have to be more than just one person involved for it to be a conspiracy theory. A conspiracy theory would be like if I claimed everyone in town was working together to hide the fact that Fenton is Phantom," he was too busy rolling his eyes again to notice the look Kwan and Dash gave each other, "but you're not, you're all just a bunch of sheep."

"And you're a... a..." Dash struggled, grasping around his thick head for a comeback.

"A blackberry bramble!" Kwan finished for him.

"A blackberry bramble!" Dash repeated firmly, then turned to Kwan with a confused look. "A blackberry bramble?" he repeated again, this time questioningly.

"Prickly, invasive, and impossible to get rid of," Kwan explained. "Sam and I also talked about her garden."

"Oh, that's nice," Dash then turned back to Wes, hardened his expression and said. "You're like a blackberry bramble, and no one wants you around."

Wes raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Why do you even care? I thought you hated Fenton."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want him dead again," Dash pointed out. "His parents are ghost hunters, and they're always shooting at Phantom. What do you think they might do to Danny if they actually believed your bullshit theory?"

"Get rid of him! Because he's a ghost! You know, the creatures constantly attacking our town and putting us all in danger?"

"The fact that you actually seem to believe that is why nobody at school likes you," Dash told him plainly. "That, and your general annoyingness."

"Why do you all care so much about protecting a loser like Danny Fenton?!" Wes shouted, loudly enough that it attracted the attention of everyone else in the hallway not already listening, and he threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "So he died, so what? It's the fact that he's still around that's the problem. Everyone seems to agree that they want ghosts gone until I bring up Phantom. A ghost is a ghost is a ghost, and all ghosts are dangerous, even the quote-unquote 'good ones.'"

He was breathing heavily when he finished his outburst, and suddenly aware of at least a dozen sets of eyes on him.

"That's enough, Wes," Kwan said after a beat. "Danny hasn't done anything to you, or anyone, and it's not fair for you to keep doing this, trying to expose him or... or whatever it is you're trying to do. You'd better cut it out. If this is a joke, no one's laughing, and if you're serious, then you're trying to take a real person away from his friends and family because of your own biases, and that's messed up, dude."

"Yeah!" someone down the hallway piped up. Micah, Wes thought her name was. She'd spit on his shoes when he tried to convince her of his theory.

"Enough is enough!" her friend agreed.

"You lay off Danny, he's already been through it this year already!"

Soon enough, every student in the hallway was chiming in their agreement, and Wes scanned the crowd, mouth agape, offended and outraged. When he turned back to Dash and Kwan, they both wore hard expressions. It looked weird on Kwan's usually jovial face, but it was clear they meant business.

"Whatever," Wes grumbled. He grabbed his math book out of his locker and slammed the door shut with a metallic bang. "You've made your point. I'll stop."

"Will you actually?" Dash insisted, raising a skeptical brow. "Or are you just saying that to get us off your back?"

"I will," Wes confirmed. "I don't need the entire football team and then some making my life a living hell. As long as Fenton keeps his distance from me, I'll do the same for him."

The warning was passed from Kwan, to Sam, to Danny, and in short order, Danny and Wes started avoiding each other. They barely so much as crossed paths anymore. Wes, begrudgingly, stopped trying to expose Danny, and Danny stopped teasing him for his failures, and it finally seemed like Amity Park's ghostly hero could go on protecting the town in peace.

But things weren't always what they seemed, and one day, there was a fight. At first, it seemed like a standard ghost fight, Danny Phantom versus some vampire-looking asshole.

Based on the banter, it sounded like this wasn't their first encounter with each other, so the civilians of Amity Park tried their best to stay out of the way and let Danny do his thing. Parents calling their kids inside, the group of teens passing by ducked into the alley, the one riding the opposite way on his skateboard crossed the street to hide with them, safety in numbers and all that.

Then the tide of battle turned, and all of the sudden, Danny was losing, badly. The enemy ghost had started coming at him with powerful blasts that broke through his defenses and left him reeling. Danny howled as he hit the street, hard, and in a flash of white light, his appearance changed from hero to dweeb, and regular old Danny Fenton laid unconscious in the road.

"You can never truly best me, Daniel," the enemy ghost said, but he didn't have time to monologue.

The teens in the alleyway had a plan, and they were coming to the rescue.

Sam Manson somersaulted into the street, Fenton Wrist Ray™ already armed and at the ready, and she laid down cover fire at the enemy ghost while Dash and Kwan ran out to grab Danny and drag him to the alleyway where they'd been taking cover.

"Guess you can't tell me I'm crazy now," Wes said, smirking triumphantly as the two jocks put Danny down gently on the ground, propping his head up on Paulina's folded up jacket. "We all saw him turn into Fenton, that's proof."

"Will you shut up, Wes?" Paulina snapped while Star checked Danny over, trying to assess his injuries. "We knew that already."

"What do you mean you knew?"

"Everyone knew, the whole time," Paulina reiterated with a derogatory scowl. "It's like, super obvious."

"Then why did you all treat me like I was crazy?" Wes demanded.

"Because you are," Star said. "Not 'cause you think he's a ghost—because, like, duh—but 'cause you kept trying to tell everyone. Some things should stay secret you moron."

"Why you even wanted to constantly remind the dead kid that he's dead, I'll never know," Paulina added.

"Plus, you constantly trying to expose him was putting him in danger," Kwan said. "Phantom is a hero, and you were trying to get him killed."

"He's already dead!"

"Yeah, we know," Sam jeered at him as she returned to their cover. "Everyone knows. But you're the only person in the whole town who's being a dick about it!"

"Hey, that's the same thing I told him a couple months ago!" Kwan told her, delighted. "I never called someone a dick before, but I did, 'cause he was being one."

"Good job calling him out, Kwan," Sam said, sounding genuinely satisfied. "It's good to hear that you're being more assertive and standing up for yourself and others."

"That's what I said, too!" Dash noted. "God, it's so weird that I actually agree with you on stuff now."

"Can we get back to the fact that you guys all knew the whole time that Fenton was a ghost and nobody thought to clue me in?" Wes said, looking around at the rest of them incredulously.

"Clue you in the Danny was a ghost?" Sam asked sardonically. "I thought you knew."

"No, that it was apparently common knowledge and you all just felt like making a fool out of me!"

"You wouldn't have looked like a fool if you'd just kept your fool mouth shut," Paulina pointed out.

"You—"

Wes was cut off when Danny groaned into wakefulness and everyone's attention instantly snapped to the ghost boy.

"Mn... ugh," Danny took a shaky breath and blinked his eyes open, quickly widening in shock when he realized how many people were leaning over him. "Uh... hello, citizens," he said, putting on a voice in the hopes they wouldn't recognize them. "Please, step back and stay away from the—"

"Danny," Sam said, "You changed."

"Huh?" He looked down at his hand and gasped. "I mean, I have an explanation for this. I was uh... being overshadowed?"

"It's okay, dude," Kwan told him. "We're not going to tell anyone. This'll be our little secret. Right, Wes?"

They all looked pointedly at the redhead, who opened his mouth to protest, and closed it again, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Yeah, okay," he relented, though his left eyebrow was nevertheless twitching in irritation. "Our secret."

"We just wanted to get you out of the line of fire before Plasmius took things too far," Sam told him. "You know I've always got your back."

"Thanks," Danny said. "All of you."

They gave him their smiles and their 'you're welcome's while Wes griped and grumbled and left the alleyway with his bike to finish riding home. Plasmius had flown off shortly after Sam started shooting at him. He was content in his victory over Phantom, and didn't feel the need to fight a powerless child like her, so the coast was clear for the rest of them to leave as well.

Sam said goodbye to Kwan so she could walk Danny home while the rest of them resumed their walk to the mall. Sam had been planning to split off before they got their anyway, she was just taking the opportunity to chat with them—mostly Kwan, whom she'd accidentally befriended during Danny's brief stint of popularity earlier in the year (his 'goth' poetry was awful, but they'd bonded over gardening and a love of animals)—since her house was on the way.

"You gonna be okay, Danny?" she asked, as they walked arm in arm so she could catch him if he stumbled. "You don't have a concussion, do you?"

"Maybe?" Danny said, squinting uncertainly. He shrugged. "I'll be fine. I always am. I'm still just amazed how lucky it was that the A-listers and Wes, of all people, were willing to keep my secret. It's gonna be all over the school, tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Oh, I don't know," Sam said vaguely. "Kwan's a decent guy, at least. I'm pretty sure they'll keep their word."

Danny scoffed in disbelief, but didn't voice an argument. The rest of the way to Fenton Works, the chattered about whatever topics came to mind, just to keep Danny from falling asleep in case he did have a concussion, and when Sam dropped him off at home, she held off her mournful expression until she had turned away so Danny didn't have to see it.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

That lil house, between your legs, where all my dreams wait

A Sarge & lil Mama fic -the Proposal

Summary: Elvis informs a certain girl of his dreams that she’s gonna marry him…she’s got some concerns and conditions, one includes him making sure his babies will fit in her lil house

Warnings: Umm, the mild usual with this universe? Themes of breeding, housewife and innocence kink, ill informed consent regarding a pussy inspection and said pussy inspection and descriptions of a vagina (ok, it’s Elvis being a creep and looking up her skirt on her request, but made cute ok?) mentions of Gladys’ death

-February of ‘58 timeline change

“It’s been decided.” is the first thing out of his mouth that morning as he strides up to Elaine where she stands in the shade of her father’s porch.

She’d been over at Graceland all day yesterday and the evening, too, -most days here lately- trying to make him eat, trying to keep him company, trying to get him out of his mother’s closet. It had been in the reverse order of all that, but she had done it. She was the only human that Private Elvis Presley would take orders from, though he reckoned she didn’t guess that. Sweetly, softly, efficiently, she’d gotten him out and gotten him calmed down and gotten him fed. Probably would have put him to bed if he hadn't given her a weak smile and told her to run on now, he wanted to discuss something with her father.

And now he’s here on her porch, looking like maybe he did sleep after all, judging by the rumpled state of his usually pristine hair. It’s growing out a little since they shore him of his prized locks. She thinks he looks better this way, prettier and sweeter without the gel and the sulk. He looks older, too, the way his arms bulge from push-ups and bootcamp, highlighted by the way they bracket the porch posts as the heavy weight of his gaze flicks over her.

“What’s been decided?” Elaine asks him from the gloom of the porch, squinting at his looming silhouette as it’s outlined by the white, bright, February sun.

She’s unable to recall a single loose end regarding the funeral arrangements he had charged her to oversee. It’s over and down with. Miss Gladys is six feet below the sod in Graceland’s backyard and the fans and family have been hosted with impeccable hospitality by herself, the obituaries and memorials written, the flowers preserved as long as possible. Elaine noticed a few petals had started to fall from the Peace Lilly spray when she was over yesterday. She’d picked them up hastily, hoping he didn’t notice that even those were dying. The decisions are all over and done with, he’s due back to the army in a month. And she’s back to teach and produce at RCA.

“It’s been decided and don’t you go objectin, it’s for the best.” he repeats insistently, but his jittering leg gives away the bold act. He’s nervous, she realizes.

“What is it, Elvis?” she asks, voice soft and encouraging as it’s been all week.

“You’re gonna marry me,” he says, “talked it over with your daddy an’ everything, it’s settled. Graceland hasn’t got a mistress no more, and you belong there. Saw it all week, you’re perfect for it.”

He informs her -not asks, ask would imply some free will on her part- like it’s her required duty to the nation or something. Marry him. Like taxes or the draft.

“You outta your ever lovin mind?” she whispers, genuinely worried he’s snapped under the weight of his publically analyzed grief. She’s seen how useless Vernon has been in comforting him, she knows how lonely it gets when one’s mama isn’t there to comfort you for her dying on ya. Elaine really feels for him, she does.

He was there for her when it happened to her, so she’s been there for him. But she knows this can’t be more than a half baked idea.

“I’m dead serious.” he growls, his ferocity taking her aback, she shifts her weight from foot to foot and eyes him warily, “I told ya, it’s all settled, your daddy said yes, you ain’t got anythin to object to.”

“Don’t I just?!” she laughs, “Elvis, you’re just sayin this cause I’ve been with ya during these last few days, and you’re hurtin and you’re lonely and it’s understandable and I’ll be there for ya, always. But you just had a girl, and this’ll pass sure enough. You’re Elvis Presley, your life’ll go on after this. And, and I-well, I’ve been wanting to get married and I want babies and I’ve wanted it for awhile now. I’ve waited on ya to help me like ya promised but I won’t be played with, I won’t! Not even by you. Not even when you’re sore.”

“You want babies?” he asks, his voice low and a sweaty hand leaves the porch post and cups her cheek, calloused fingers digging into her scalp when she goes to pull away, “I’ll give ya babies.”

“I’m being serious, Elvis!” she complains, neck craned away from his assessment of her lips. She never jokes about children, and she won’t let him.

“So am I.” his soft, boyish face looks hopeful suddenly, and rather capable. “I’ll give ya babies, far more than most men could manage.”

“How?” she whispers, his persistent sobriety throwing her into confusion.

“How?” he repeats, copying her quiet tone, distantly hearing the faint squeak of the porch swing chains as the breeze lazily rocks it.

“Yes,” she hesitantly goes on, “how do you know you can? How does anyone know if they can?” It’s something that's bothered her for awhile now. The idea of marrying a man who fails to give her children like Mrs. Myers husband down the street. Five years married and no kids, it’s the talk of the neighborhood. Or those starlets who manage to never have a child and disfigure their waists, no matter the amount of masculine company they keep.

Elvis cocks his head to the side, a puzzled glimmer in his eyes as Elaine’s bashfully inquiring eyes plead with him to understand her burning curiosity. And when he does -fully understand her naïveté, that is- he feels his cock twitch beneath his belt.

“Wellll,” Elvis draws the word out and she is swaying towards him now, that boiling hunger to learn coiling her tight as she hangs on to his every syllable, “I’m pretty confident, it’s just a thing that a man can tell, ya see, it’s a guess, but an educated one. But, we could make sure.” he’s winging it at this point, and shaming his heavenly mother while he’s at it, but he can’t seem to stop himself, not now that he knows he’ll be her teacher and her claimer if he can just make her agree, “We could check and make certain I ain’t overpromisin’, make sure the furniture fits the house, if ya get my drift.”

She doesn’t get his drift. That’s plain to see by the quizzical furrow of her eyebrows and the gape of her plump mouth as she tries to make sense of his euphemisms. Clever and bright Elaine Phipps looking a bit dumb as she blinks up at him in the shade of her front porch makes him smirk wickedly.

“You want children?” she asks, instead of taking him up on his offer just now.

“Most certainly do, we talked bout this before, Elaine.”

“You were complainin bout Anita, back then. Anything to find fault with her, doesn’t mean ya like children.” she crosses her arms and it pushes up her girlish bosoms, pale and promising beneath her gingham check house dress. He’s gonna make those bigger, so plump they’ll spill over that merely adequate neckline.

“Look here you got it wrong, Anita and the rest, they were nice gals, yeah?” he concedes, but it’s just to launch his next explanation, “But they weren’t mama material, ya see? My mama, she told they weren’t fittin, and she told me you were. Just as all the twiggy boys and sleek doctors and the artists fellers ya hang round, they either want your money or they’ll only make decent beaux -but they ain’t gonna make good daddy’s. Mark my words.”

“And what, you don’t want my money?” she teases.

“Now, ‘Laney honey, I’m the one who makes ya your money.” he laughs, tweaking her nose with his fingers and she bats his hand away with a giggle. “And conversely ya own my voice, you’re on my label as a producer, right next to your ole man.”

“Speaking of,” she grows earnest, “ya know Sam Cooke? Signed onto RCA right after ya?”

“Yeah, what of ‘im?” he frowns, impatient this conversation has gotten derailed from its original purpose -to the topic of another man, and a swanky one at that, “You gonna marry him?” he balks.

“No, no! though if he asked…” she winks and he squeezes her waist in warning, feeling the soft flesh give under her girdle from his pressure. That’s how it’ll feel to hold onto her when she rides him.

“What bout him?”

“So, he’s gonna start another record company,” she looks so earnest and invested in the topic he has to let her go on, “one where the artists will have control and rights to their music! And he’ll stay at RCA in the meantime but he’s tryin’ to find supporters and other to join him, a few have already this first month. And, well -“

“What?” he asks again, and it makes her lashes flutter as she gets shy under his stare, “Ya want me to join?”

“Well yeah! Though I doubt Parker would let ya. But that isn’t what I was gonna tell ya.” she bites her lip, “My point is, the point is -that Sam has offered me to be a producer! I mean -Elvis! We’re talkin Cooke, Redding and Smokey and well Burke and- lord it would work for you! But the point is, I’m gonna be doin that, I’m thinkin of taking him up on it.”

“Now hang on a second.” he shakes her gently by his hold on her waist, “One minute you’re objectin to marryin me cause I’m ‘Elvis’ and you say that as if babies an’ me don’t go together like cookies and cream -and now here ya are all talkin bout hangin with cool cats and producin and climbin the laddeh. Which ya want honey? Thought you wanted to be a mama?”

“I’m just saying,” she stamps her foot in the little bit of floor space his crowding has given her on the porch, “You’re talkin bout marryin and Graceland havin a missus and meanwhile you’re gonna be gone across the ocean! How’s that make any sense? Ya don’t need a wife for that, I could be house sittin for ya just as well, while producin with Cooke in the meanwhile and when you get back, I’ve no doubt you’ll fall in with some starlet or other. See? There, fixed. Sensible plan now. And I agree to it, yer welcome.”

“Little girl, yer not hearin me at all.” he raps his knuckles against her oh so sensible yet silly head, her startled indignance the cutest thing he’s ever seen, “I want me a woman to marry before God, to give my children to, to raise those children to a right legacy, to help me make a change for good in all this mess. And I want that to be you.” he articulates the last sentence clearly and prods his index finger against her chest, like the finger of fate marking her out for this.

“Elvis i-“she shakes her head adamantly, and he thinks it must be a little hard for her to understand that his every daydream, every evening prayer, every midnight spill into the sheets these last two years have been about making a family outta her. But she will get the vision, she’s gotta. She has to. Or else. Else he’ll do somethin rash and unchristian if she doesn’t relent to bind herself to him before he goes back to Fort Hood.

Somethin real rash, like wring her neck or admit he’s a goddamn slave for her. Embarrass them both. She probably can tell, the way he’s gripping her and nearly salivating over such close proximity to her lips and body and everything. He has to remember his mama, has to remember how to treat the gal she pointed out to him in the manner befitting a new Mrs Presley.

“You want babies? Hmm?” he’s breathing in her exhales he’s so close, as she’s bowed backwards as he leans in, her little head almost bumping her fathers front door in an effort to keep their lips apart, “I’ll give ya babies. You wanna make good music? The best in music is holdin ya right now, baby. You wanna make a difference? I know ya do, ya want power and ya want security and money and ya want love, don’t ya? Way I see it, I’ll give ya that. Better and more of it than anyone. Sensible plan, ain’t that what ya called yours? Well, here’s one, damn sight more sensible than yours and tryin all this solo.”

Her pretty lips are puffing with each labored breath she takes to steady herself and her eyes track over his face intently, and he knows she weighing the pluses and the minuses, his fame verses money and his moods over his devotion and his appetites over his loyalty and anonymity over influence. The hands she has pressed to his chest to keep them apart soften with each passing moment.

“But -do ya even love me, Elvis?” she asks, a note of something very sad but a little hopeful lingering in her voice. Like she’s mourning the fact that she’s considering this for all the reasons that make her so wonderfully practical, but the girl in her can’t help but wish for a little romance.

A gust of a breeze whips her hair around her in a swirl of brushed out curls and her eyes sparkle even in the porch’s shade. He cups that precious, brave little face in his hands and presses her against the screen door, neighbors and street traffic be damned

“Oh honey,” he gushes then, cool demeanor abandoned and all that lovely passion she adores in him coming out at last, “I have for a long while now. And I can’t think of a stronger way of showin ya than to give you my babies. To make a life with you, give ya mama’s house and my name. Please say yes, Elaine. Please, please I need ya to say yes.”

“Oh Elvis,” she breathes, feeling him hold her and promise to her and want her is every bit as naturally compelling of obedience as that night of the funeral, but she never once imagined it as his wife, “I just don’t wanna be alone Elvis,” she tries to make him see her true fear, “I’m real honored by this but, but I’m so lonely and I want all this so I won’t be! And you’re gonna be gone. Gone to Germany and then gone to make music and movies and-“

“I’m gonna take ya with me! Always, always together, I swear!” he closes the distance and presses his lips to hers firmly despite her lack of response, “I need me a wife, Elaine,” he pants against her mouth and she can smell the spearmint of his gum, “I need a good woman, and you’re the one mama pointed out to me. Shouldn't of put it off so long but I-I was a fool. I need ya with me everywhere I go, don’t send me across the ocean without you! Don’t, you wouldn’t be so cruel, please baby, please!”

He’s not sure how it happens but he’s slumping down the length of her body, hands sliding along the gorgeous outline of her and suddenly he’s on his knees, painted boards hard against his knees, begging like a groom oughta, his face is pressed to her womb. This womb he’s got such plans for and such right to and he has to make her see that in his head they’ve been married for years already. “I’ve taken care of ya, haven’t I?” he begs her to remember, “You trust me to take care of ya, to love ya, to cherish you, don’t ya, Elaine?”

The kicker is she does. And she’s not sure why she worries more is needed. All she wants right now is to be needed, and the crying, grieving young man clinging to her right now needs her badly. She runs her fingers through his hair soothingly and likes the way that makes him shudder. “Will you always need me, Elvis? Really? Even when good times come round again?” she asks what really worries her.

He pulls his face away and looks up at her, lips puffy and his dark lashes clumped from tears, “Always, Elaine, always.”

“And you’ll give me Graceland?”

“Yeah, course baby, you’ll be my wife, it’ll be yours!”

“I mean...legally, you’ll give it legally.” she doesn’t ask this time, she’s stating conditions.

“I-I-if it matters so much, sure. What’s some more papers?” he laughs. “Why?” he adds with a flicker of dread.

“You won’t divorce me if I’ve got Miss Gladys’ house, will ya?” she explains and has the audacity to grin.

It hurts deeply that she still doesn’t get just how badly he wants her for all eternity. “Why you talkin bout divorce, honey?” he asks wounded.

“So many people get them.” she says mournfully, “And mostly entertainers.”

“That's cause they marry icy bimbos and are selfish bastards.” he states, rising up to his own two feet again, the topic back on safe ground -ground he has the upper hand in. “See, darlin, there’s plenty of men who want wives, and cause the wives want children they tell the poor girls they want kids, too. But they don’t, so once the wives have got the kids they move on. Real dastardly thing to do and more common than you realize. And with your money and your looks, you’ll have a line of such good for nothin bastards linin up with fake promises. You understandin me?”

“Yeah.” she swallows thickly, knowing he knows far more about all this than she does.

“So it’s important to marry someone ya trust, right?” he prods.

“Yeah.”

“More so than even someone ya love, dontchu think?”

“I suppose so.” she nods, care creasing her face, “You don’t mind that I don’t love ya Elvis?” she asks worriedly, “Because I am really fond of ya, and I enjoy you I just -I don’t think I love ya.”

“I’m willin to bet that’ll come.” he says solemnly, “And I’m willin to put in the work to make it grow. Just as I will our babies.”

Her face softens at the mention of the longed for babies. A smile even plays around her mouth, beginning to plump up her cheeks. “Will ya check, then?” she whispers.

“Check what?” he asks, absently thumbing the beautiful line of one of her collarbones.

“If it’ll work.” she blushes, ignorance both emboldening and shaming her all at once, “Make sure we can make babies for sure, you and I.”

“Gotta do that before you say yes?” he laughs, disbelieving and feral at the prospect.

“Yes, it’s important to me, Elvis.” she remonstrates against his humor. “Most important thing of all.”

“A-a-alright, I-I-I’ll check.” his mouth runs dry at the prospect of seeing, smelling, maybe even wetting his fingers in that place he’s wrung himself dry imagining night after night and morning after morning. And the fact she’s asking, offering -under ill informed pretenses as it is. “Can’t do it out here.” he whispers, the depravity of his taking advantage like this actually taking a toll on his bravado.

“Come in then,” she whispers in turn, though from a different motivation, “but be quiet, daddy’s still sleeping, ya kept him up so late.”

She opens the creaky screen door with painstakingly slow care, and the large wooden one, too, with its familiar stained glass windows. It is cool and dark without a lamp on or blind raised inside their den, she’d barely gotten dressed and come downstairs to start breakfast when she heard his car peel out in the front drive.

She spins around just short of the coffee table, her circle skirt swirling and swooshing tantalizingly, no stockings on yet as she wasn’t prepared for guests.

“Where should I….” she trails off as she surveys the different flat spots upon which to perch for this examination, her devout ignorance of the socially condemned nature of it all giving her a chipper confidence that Elvis finds throbbingly attractive in an unschooled virgin.

His voice sounds gravelly and about three octaves deeper than usual when he croaks out, “Anywhere's fine -how bout here…” he picks her up by her waist to sit her on the high top, Oriental imported side table, a gift her father gave her mother as an anniversary present.

It’s taller than the couch and it lets her legs dangle apart naturally. He could easily take himself out and slide right into her at this level. It makes him dizzy when he hears her shaky exhale as he seats her, belying a real, deep seated nervousness on her part that he’ll find some abnormality with her that will crush her dreams. The fact he’s certain she’s not as nervous over a red blooded boy lifting her skirt and looking at her bare cunt makes him so painfully hungry to devour her that he has to gnaw on his bottom lip to keep from groaning. -And taking advantage of what’s not yet his. For his mama's sake, for his mama's dream of this, he’s gotta keep ahold of himself and refrain from anything God might find fault with. For them to be punished with barrenness because Elvis couldn’t hold back before the proper time would be too cruel. He can’t do that to Elaine or himself. He’s gonna be the man in her life, has already been so for awhile now, and he’s gotta do right by her. He thinks this even as he gives her lips another peck and sinks to his knees to give her pussy an inspection that is as futile as it is arousing.

He rubs at her thighs over her dress soothingly, though by her quick breaths he suspects she’d rather he hurry and give a verdict. Her eyes that have been turned towards the staircase, making certain father is still asleep, drop to his face expectantly.

“Here I -let me, I should probably-“ she says determinedly and suddenly she’s pulling at her skirt, the thin fabric sliding from beneath his palms as she lifts it and then he’s holding onto warm flesh instead as she gathers the fabric to her waist.

He chokes on his own spit at her innocent brazenness and has to glance away for a moment from the blood stirring sight of graceful thighs bracketing plain white panties, a wet patch visible on the crotch and a few stray wiry curls sneaking out from the seams at her groin.

“You ok?” she asks, and the genuine concern in his voice tells him that the agonizing need he feels is visible on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just so goddamn pretty.” he admits, truth the only thing he can manage to blurt and it serves him well.

She looks relieved and gives him a pleased smile and chooses to spread her legs wider. So wide in fact that she has her heels propped on the sideboard beside her hips. Who needs stirrups for an examination when a girl can bend like that? Bend…oh god he can’t wait to bend and bury and dump inside her…

Elvis has never wanted to dive face first into a muff so bad in all his life. The wedding is gonna have to be next week. He can’t wait longer than that, he doubts he’ll sleep a wink until he knows what she tastes like.

“Can you tell like this?” her soft voice reminds him he gave her a fucking excuse for this perverted cock tease torture and he reels through the options of backing out now or pushing this a little further. “Or do you need to move these?” she voices the second option for him, the barrier of her panties implied if not mentioned.

“Yeah, gotta look at the lil house.” his voice comes out wavering and wrecked, “Lemme just-“ he tentatively raises his hands to her precious place and hooks his fingers to the cotton panties and pulls them to the side.

She’s so goddamn pink. Glistening and swollen like she’s been freshly teased. Something about him excites her, without her even knowing. Her curls are sopping wet, they slick up his fingers as he holds her apart, and in their strands they’re trapping the most delicious essence he’s ever smelled in his entire life. She hasn’t shaved, she hasn’t primped, she hasn’t stretched herself out, she’s exactly as God made her and he’s the first man to see it.

It causes him to whimper, long and gut wrenched, his whole throat throbbing as he wiggles on the floor.

“Oh…Jesus.” he wheezes.

“What?” she demands peering down at him, and she’s the authoritative one here, now that he’s all but humping the floor in his delicious misery of viewing Elaine Phipps’ perfect, unused cunt. “Will it work? Is something wrong?”

“No no no.” he garbles out, one hand slipping from her slick folds and gravitating to his own lap out of natural instinct, crushing his twitching bulge into submission, “You’re perfect, Elaine, absolutely perfect.” he wants to cry, maybe because he's so horny, maybe because he loves her so damn much. He’s really not sure, nothing makes sense except that he was meant to live inside that perfect little haven of hers that is honest to God trickling before his very eyes. His thumb involuntarily swipes up and spread it to her clit, making her buck towards his attentions.

“It’s achey, Elvis, it’s always achey.” she informs him, “Does that mean anything? Is it wrong?”

And he knows she means wrong as in humanly abnormal, not morally incorrect. He’ll never let her know anyone would think differently. As long as he possibly can he’ll keep her eager and unabashed.

“Nah honey, nah that’s a good sign.” he breathes heavily, still stroking that dribbling, untried place, “Means you’re fertile, means you’re ready for a baby. It’ll keep achin till ya have one in ya.”

“Oh.” her mouth rounds childishly and she nods as if this were a sudden epiphany.

“We should give ya a baby, then, shouldn’t we?” he prods now that he’s got her attention and her arousal.

“I’spose so.” she agrees, tentative, her lip drawn between her teeth, still contemplating this marital bargain with the fabric of her hem crushed in her palms. “Your babies’ll fit?” she asks once more for good measure.

His babies. She’s no idea it’s his cock she should anticipate. “Yeah, perfect fit. Don’t think anyone else’s would.”

“Oh….good.” she lets out a massive sigh of relief she has been holding in for most of her teenage years.

“Gotta marry me, first.” he reminds, swirling his thumb faster and she keens a little before remembering her father upstairs, “I can’t go round givin babies to someone who ain’t my wife, ya know.”

“Alright.” she agrees to marry him in a soft whisper, her hand coming to cover his own tenderly as it works between her legs, stalling his distracting movements.

“What’s that?” he asks again, breathless with hope.

“I’ll marry ya Elvis, if you’re sure we’ll work.”

“I’m sure.” he swears, watching the way her pink hole flutters, “I’ll give ya a baby and fix the ache, darlin. Won’t have to fret over anything again your whole life.”

The floorboards upstairs creak and Elvis nearly yelps in shock, so far gone was he in their own little world he’d forgotten that he’s got her spread bare in her father’s den. He stands up abruptly and pulls her skirt down gently, making her proper again.

Wedding night. He’s gotta wait till the wedding night before trying anything, or even explaining the mechanics of it, he thinks. He doesn’t wanna spook her, and he wants to have her stuck with him before he drops that final little detail about the necessity of a man going inside and blowing his load in order for the miracle of life to occur.

Yeah, that’s not something you tell a skittish little girl who just barely agreed to marry you for your mansion and security.

He’s pulled from this scheming by the feel of her arms winding around his neck, drawing him forward gently and to the immense relief of his battered heart he realizes she is about to kiss him. It’s a sweet kiss, gentle and tentative and growing in surety as she decides she likes it, and it’s the loveliest one he’s ever had, made so by the relief that she must care for him somehow, even if it’s no match for the insane obsession he harbors for her. It’ll do, it’s a seed he can water and grow.

“You’ll stay for breakfast?” she asks him as they pull away, drowsy and a little cross eyed from how long they’ve smooched.

“Love ta.” he murmurs, pulling her off the table and drawing her close so he’s holding her to him, swaying gently and savoring the feeling of his soon to be wife as she nestles into his chest.

Father comes down shortly after.

“It’s settled, sir.” Elvis informs him, a respectful title tacked on to a declaration that leaves no room for argument from either of you, “She’s agreed. And I’m the happiest of men.”

Most fathers might tell him, “congratulations” or “welcome to the family” or if it were someone besides Elvis Presley they might venture a “be true to her.”

Father says not a word, all advice and remonstrance and conditions already expended on this headstrong young man the night before. He surveys the young people as they embrace with a genuine smile on his lips and a world of melancholy in his eyes. Elaine wonders if he is mourning the loss of his own bride, or mourning her future as Elvis’.

For Elvis, though, that day is remembered as the most joyful and blessed of days when he lucked out and snagged the loveliest creature living. And how he came to eat French toast and cantaloupe beside her father without having washed his hands.

[mothmanssweetsucculentass]

I’m still in love with the idea that BEN/Ben can’t physically kill a person. I dunno how actually common that is in the fandom, but I remember seeing a lot about this trope for Ben years ago.

Cause imagine how terrifying it’d be to go up against some of the other freaks, the ones that can physically cancel your subscription to life. Like sure it’ll suck being decapitated or eviscerated by a redroom figurehead or strangled by a brainwashed puppet of a monstrous entity, but at least you’ll die fairly quickly.

With Ben though? It’s gonna keep you alive on purpose just to fuck with you in the worst ways possible.

This fucker has an incredible mastery over technology, so of course one of the first things BEN (the AI created by Ben) will do is ruin all your relationships technologically. I’m talking sending horrible messages to your coworkers and boss, nudes to everyone that isn’t your partner, sending shit you’d never say from your profiles, and you can’t even deny you were the one sending that shit because the receipts are all there on everyone’s devices except yours.

You try to sleep as an escape, but that’s not safe anymore either. You have countless nightmares of various scenarios of your own demise. Drowning infinitely, falling into an abyss as everyone around you watches without a care. Being sacrificed as twisted figures of children in grotesque masks chant and cheer for your end. You wake up, or at least you think you’re awake, until suddenly the environment around you starts twisting and warping like your dreams.

You can’t tell what’s real and what’s in your head anymore. Have you lost sleep, and are now operating on sleep deprivation fumes? Or have you been in a deep slumber this whole time, one that cycles you through horrible realities that all end with your name as an obituary by the end of the week?

Eventually it’s too much. The taunts from whatever is doing this to you become too much. It ruined your life after all, so what good is it still worth living for? However you choose to take yourself out of the equation, Ben will be there, watching, deriving nothing but satisfaction and enjoyment from the scene of it all. Most choose simple ways to go, easy, painless. Ben loves it when they choose more complex ways of suicide. His favorite obviously being drowning.

Not to mention the fact that in my AU, Ben created all the other digital creepypastas. I know people like to associate Smile Dog with Jeff, but the thing is literally a cursed chain mail image that haunts people in their nightmares. That has Ben written all over it. Sonic.exe, Godzilla NES, any and all Pokepastas, it’s all Ben. If it exists in technology, Ben had a hand in creating it. He can’t be everywhere at once, and he certainly can’t hone in on multiple people at once. His form of murder is an art, dammit, and he has to dedicate himself entirely to breaking someone into offing themselves. Of course, being able to only do one poor shithead at a time was really inefficient, thus the creation of the BEN AI and the other technology pastas exists.

I feel like this trope for Ben is so heavily underutilized, we need more manipulative, 5head genius mind game player Ben in the fandom.

That, and my version of Ben is physically the weakest. Out of all the undeads, his body is the most frail, and he doesn’t have as much control over his physical form as the rest do.,Besides, gamers are also the weakest among society, everyone knows that, and Ben is no exception. Don’t skip leg day next time ghost boy

[nesnejwritings]

INEFFABLE

subtitle - DEAN IN THE WATER pairing - Dean Winchester x Original Female Character ( eventual ) warning(s) - canon violence, possible descriptions of drowning, near drowning, water anxiety word count - 10,716 ( damn, i beat the last one lmao) summary - when the four hunters encounter a possible lake monster and Dakoda is forced to confront her biggest fear

a/n - sorry for the late update! i had major writer's block but i finally got chapter three written out. this has been vaguely proof read by myself but please let me know of any grammatical mistakes.

SERIES MASTERLIST

DAKODA AND DEAN sat side-by-side, scanning over their own individual newspapers as they scoured for their next hunt. Damien sat across from them, his head laid down on his forearms that he had crossed on the table. Dakoda looks over at Dean’s newspaper over his arm, reaching over and tapping a finger on a particular obituary that had caught her attention. Dean flicks between the paper and her face before scanning the article she pointed out, humming with a nod as he circled it with the pen he had in his other hand. 

Both Dakoda and Dean’s attention is snagged when an attractive waitress comes up to the table, their gazes flicking up from the papers in their hands as she comes to a stop beside their table. 

“Can I get you anything else?”, the waitress asked, looking between Dean and Dakoda, mainly focusing on Dean, who grins around the pen in his mouth. Dakoda rolls her eyes with an amused huff, looking away from the waitress as Sam approaches and sits down. 

“Just the check, please.”, Sam speaks up before Dean could open his mouth, looking to Damien who he had sat down beside, nudging his arm slightly. Dakoda snickers when Dean drops his head as the waitress walks away, clearly finding amusement in the man’s annoyance. 

“You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while.”, Dean tells his brother once he’s picked his head back up to look at the other Winchester, “That’s fun.”, he tells him as he points at ‘Wendy’ as she walks away, short shorts adorning her lower body. Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head, looking away from his brother. Dakoda frowns lightly with concern, sitting back in her chair and lightly nudging Dean’s leg with her foot, jutting her chin towards his newspaper. 

“Here, take a look at this, I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.”, Dean tells Sam, sliding the newspaper over, tapping his pen against the obituary he had circled, bringing his brother’s attention back. 

“A funeral?”, Sam questioned, his brows furrowed in confusion as he internally relayed the information, thinking. 

“Yeah, it’s weird, they buried an empty casket. For, uh, closure or whatever.”, Dean nods, leaning against the table as he looks at his brother, looking at the notepad he had and placing it down over the other newspapers the four of them had gathered. Damien lifts his head up and takes the paper from in front of Sam, reading over it himself. Dakoda glances at her brother, tilting her head as she takes in the light bags beneath his eyes, reaching a hand over and gently tapping his arm to grab his attention. When Damien lifts his gaze from the paper, she gives him a look that said ‘You okay?”, he nods but she wasn’t convinced. 

“Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them.”, Sam tells Dean, staring at his brother. Dean looked back to his brother, leaning back in his chair slightly, fixating a scrutinizing look on his younger brother. 

“Something you want to say to me?”, Dean asked, a cool smile on his lips that Dakoda knew was fake. She rolled her eyes and leaned her head back, not wanting to hear another argument between the two again, “Guys, come on. Don’t do this, not in here at least.”, she tries, nudging Dean’s knee with her own.

“The trail for dad and Javier. It’s getting colder everyday.”, Sam points out to Dean, inadvertently bring Dakoda and Damien into the argument at the mention of their dad too. 

“That’s why we’re still looking, Sam.”, Dakoda defends, her jaw clenching with tension, “Exactly. So, what are we supposed to do?”, Dean asked, his voice mixing with Dakoda’s since they spoke at the same time. 

“I don’t know, something. Anything.”, Sam tells them, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning back away from the table. Damien looked between Dean and Sam, then to Dakoda. 

“You know what? I'm sick of this attitude. You don't think we wanna find Dad and Javier as much as you do?”, Dean scoffed, settling a disgruntled look on his face as he stared across the table at his brother, “That’s not what he’s saying.”, Damien cut in, butting into the conversation like his sister had. 

“We’re the ones that's been with them every single day for the past two years, while you two have been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad and Javier, but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?”, Dean levels with Sam, leveling a stare at his brother, the two men falling silent as they share a loaded look before Sam breaks it by rolling his eyes. The waitress ‘Wendy’ walks by, distracting both Dean and Dakoda who stare, Dakoda more subtle than Dean before Damien reaches over the table to smack her upside the head with a hissed, ‘Focus.’ 

Dakoda rolled her eyes at Damien before she stands from her seat, catching the confused look on her brother’s face and seeing Dean’s head turn to her to give the same look. She tapped her front right pocket where her cigarettes sat with her lighter, a look of realization dawned on their faces and they nodded. 

Dakoda left the diner and moved to stand beside her Mustang, pulling her pack of cigarettes out and her zippo. She pulled one out and placed it between her lips, tossing the pack through the window of her car before cupping a hand over the flame as she blicks the zippo open and lights it. She shoves the lighter back into her pocket, taking a long drag off the cigarette and holding it between her index finger and middle finger. She looks up and sees a woman walk in front of her, across the parking lot towards the diner, her gaze trailing over the attractive woman subtly. 

She flicks the end of the cigarette as she takes in the appearance of the other woman, tilting her head with a soft hum, admiring the woman’s long legs, flowing deep brown almost black hair, and the way her jeans hugged her curves. Dakoda quickly took another drag and tossed the remaining to the side, making her way over to the woman, who stopped at the sound of footsteps. 

“I saw that bike you rode in on, and I just had to say, it’s beautiful, What model is she?”, Dakoda told the woman, striking up a conversation. The woman smiled, glancing down before back up, tier height difference made obvious. 

“She’s a Harley Davidson, VRSCO.”, the woman responded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Dakoda hummed softly, nodding her head with an approving nod.

“I’m Dakoda, and you are?”, she asked, her Texan accent slipping out, something she usually hid.

“Diana.”

– THE CARLTON HOUSE, DAY

THE COMBINED rumbling of Dean’s ‘Baby’ and Dakoda’s ‘Honey’ rolled up to the Carlton House, Dakoda stepped out of the classic Mustang after cutting the engine. She looks around, taking in the view of the lake, a dock stretching out over the edge. Her nose is scrunched when she turns to look at Damien, leaning her forearms against the top of the car.

“I still don’t see why there needs to be four of us here, don't you think it’s a bit too intimidating?”, Dakoda asked, tilting her head and furrowing her brows, “And Dean and Sam aren’t intimidating anyway?”, Damien asked, a deadpan expression on his lightly tanned face. Dean’s head popped up behind Damien as he emerged from the Impala, Sam’s popping up a second later on the other side. 

Dakoda rolled her eyes but conceded, moving to the back window, reaching in and grabbing two fake badges from the small box beneath the diver’s seat. She tossed one to Damien once she straightened back up, the four hunters making their way up to the front door of the Carlton House. 

The Hernandez woman steps up to the door, the three men standing just a foot behind her as she knocks. 

“Will Carlton?”, Dakoda asked once the door opened, a young man standing on the other side with a confused look etched into his expression. Dakoda gave a sympathetic look before she gestured to herself, “Agent Fisher”, she spoke professionally before gesturing to Dean, Sam, and Damien, “Agents Ford, Hamill, and Prowse. We’re with the US Wildlife Service.”, she told Will, the four flashing their badges before tucking them back into their pockets. Will nods and leads them around, now facing the dock where an older man sits on a chair at the end. 

“She was about a hundred yards out.”, Will tells Dean and Sam, the two hunters being the closest to the grieving young man. Dakoda stares at the lake’s edge with an uneasy expression, keeping her distance purposely and ignoring Damien’s knowing look, “That’s where she got dragged down.”, Will continued, gesturing out to the lake with one hand, drawing Dakoda and Damien’s attention back to him. 

“And you’re sure she didn’t just drown?”, Dean asked, his brows furrowed as he kept his gaze on Will, fighting the urge to check on Dakoda. 

“Yeah. She was a varsity swimmer.”, Will told Dean, gaze flicking to Sam who seemed to be writing something on a small notepad as if taking notes, “She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as she was in her own bathtub.”, the grieving brother told the two hunters closest to him. 

“And there wasn’t any signs of distress? Splashing, shouts?”, Dakoda questioned, forcing herself to keep her gaze on the Carlton boy and not on the lake. 

“No, that’s what I’m telling you.”, Will pushed, crossing his arms over his chest, a look of grief and confusion seemingly a permanent part of his expression. Dakoda nodded, a look of sympathy crossing her features.

“Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?”, Sam asked, picking up where Dakoda left off, his mouth tugging into a frown at the corners.

“No. Again, she was really far out there.”, Will told them, looking back over to the docks where the older man sat. 

Dakoda swallowed harshly, shifting her gaze back to the lake, her pulse picking up slightly as she watched the light waves crash over the shoreline. She had tuned out of the conversation, her gaze fixed on the dark water, unable to drag her gaze away from the edge of it. 

The Herenandez woman’s attention is snapped away from the water when she feels a hand snag her shoulder, her eyes snapping to see Dean who had grabbed her. She saw his concerned look and gave him a brief nod, reaching up to give his hand a squeeze before she walked off back to her Mustang briskly. 

– POLICE STATION, DAY

Dakoda, Damien, Dean, and Sam walked into the Police Station, the two Winchesters speaking with the Sheriff, Jake Devins. 

“Now, I'm sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?”, the Sheriff questioned as he allowed the four of them into the bullpen of the precinct, “And why did they send four of you?”, he asked, offhandedly as he looked at all four individually. 

“That’s what I said.”, Dakoda murmured under her breath, grunting when Damien’s elbow connected with her ribs which she covered with a cough and straightened up. She sent a glare at her brother before following the Winchesters as Sheriff Devins led them to his office at the back of the precinct. 

As the four of them were led into Sheriff Devins's office, he gestured for two of them to take a seat, Dean jumping into one before Dakoda could take a step and throwing a childish wink at her over his shoulder. Sam gestured for Damien to take the seat beside Dean, choosing to stand beside Dakoda instead. 

“There are no Indigenous carnivores in that lake.”, Sheriff Devins exasperated at them, moving to stand behind his desk, “There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person, unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.”, he continued as he settled a scrutinizing look at the four of them. 

“Yeah”, Dean laughed, sounding fake to the other three hunters, “Right.”, he cleared his throat, ignoring the looks he received from his brother and Dakoda, Damien not even bothering and keeping his gaze on the Sheriff. 

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still-”, he sits down behind his desk, folding his hands on the desk’s surface, “We dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.”

“That’s weird, though, I mean, that’s, that’s the third missing body this year.”, Dean spoke up again, shifting in his seat slightly. 

“I know. These are people from my town. These are people I care about.”, Sheriff Devins told Dean firmly, gaze flicking between him and Damien then to Dakoda and Sam who stood them, “I know.”, Dean nodded, swallowing as he caught the Sheriff’s gaze. 

“Anyway…”, Sheriff Devins trails off, sighing as he sat back in his chair slightly, “All this, it won’t be a problem much longer.”, he told them, “What do you mean?”, Dena asked, confused, Sam’s expression mirroring his brother’s. Dakoda rolled her eyes discreetly, feigned annoyance mixed with real annoyance on her face, mirroring Damien’s. 

“Well, the dam, of course.”, the Sheriff told them, having expected them to know, narrowing his eyes slightly, “Of course, the dam. It’s, uh, it’s-”, his sentence gets cut off when Dakoda placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Of course, Sheriff, the dam is crumbling, so it’s being drained, correct?”, Dakoda tilted her head with a feigned smile on her lips, “Yes, and the feds won't give us the grant to repair it, so they've opened the spillway. In another six months, there won't be much of a lake. There won't be much of a town, either. But as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that.”, the Sheriff told them, nodding to Dakoda, “Thank you, Agent.”, he told her. Dean nodded, a false smile spreading on his lips before tilting his head back to glare subtly at the huntress beside him, earning a wink in return and a smug smile. 

The sound of tapping on the Sheriff’s office door caught their attention, all five gazes in the room snapped over to see a woman with brunette hair peeking her head in, “Sorry, am I interrupting?”, the woman asked, a sheepish look on her delicate features. Dakoda perked up as she looked at the woman, Dean and Damien getting to their feet out of respect, “I can come back later.”, the woman continued as she stepped further into the office. 

“Gentlemen, Lady, this is my daughter.”, the Sheriff introduced, now standing behind his desk as he gestured to the woman. Dean stepped around his chair and held his hand out, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Dean.”, the eldest Winchester introduced as he shook the woman’s hand. 

“Andrea Barr. Hi.”, ‘Andrea’ introduced herself back, returning Dean’s smile before her gaze shifted to Dakoda who sidled up beside Dean, “Hi. Dakoda.”, the huntress introduced herself, a charming smile tugging at her lips, her head tilting ever so slightly. Damien inaudibly groans behind her, pressing a hand to his forehead in exasperation as he sees what his sister was doing. 

“They’re from the Wildlife Service. About the lake.”, Sheriff Jake told his daughter whose mouth formed an ‘O’, gesturing to the four in front of his desk. Dean and Dakoda’s attention is dragged from Andrea when a young boy walks in around Andrea, “Oh hey there. What’s your name?”, Dean asked gently, receiving no answer as the boy turned and walks back out without speaking, Andrea followed behind him with a soft sigh. 

“His name is Lucas.”, Sheriff Devins says from behind the four hunters, they can see Andrea giving Lucas crayons from a box, bent down to his level as she hands them off. 

“Is he okay?”, Sam asked, concerned for the young boy, Dakoda’s face was pinched in sympathy and worry, pulling her gaze from the mother and son to look over at the Sheriff.

“My grandson’s been through a lot. We all have.”, the Sheriff tells them as he makes his way to the office door, “Well if there’s anything else I can do for you, please let me know.”, he spoke as he showed the four hunters out of his office. Dakoda and Dean walk out a step ahead of Sam and Damien, Dean pauses beside Andrea as he opens his mouth.

“Thanks. You know, now that you mentioned it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?”, Dean asked, looking to Andrea with a slight head tilt. Dakoda bit back the snort that threatened to escape, looking away to look out the window of the precinct. 

“Lakefront Motel. Go around the corner. It's about two blocks south.”, Andrea answered as she straightened back up to look at Dean, gaze drifting slightly to Dakoda unnoticed before ending on Dean.

“Two–would you mind showing us?”, Dean asked, shrugging innocently with a half smile, Andrea laughs lightly and glances down before back up, “You want me to walk you two blocks?”, she asked Dean, tilting her head slightly. Dakoda couldn’t help the snicker that fell from her lips, turning completely to cough into the corner of her elbow to hide it from Dean. Sam looked ready to leave and was annoyed at Dean’s attempt at flirting. Damien jabbed a finger into Dakoda’s ribs, earning a glare from the huntress but there was still traces of mirth dancing in her deep brown eyes. 

“Not if it’s any trouble.”, Dean told Andrea, ignoring Dakoda and Damien behind him as he focused on the woman in front of him, “I’m headed that way anyway.”, Andrea told him before looking to her father, “I’ll be back to pick up Lucas at three.”, she told Sheriff Devins. 

Dakoda split from the group, choosing to meet them outside the precinct, her thoughts drifting to the woman she met at the diner a day prior, ‘Diana’. There was something oddly familiar about the woman, a chill went down Dakoda’s spine as she thought over the conversation she had with ‘Diana’ who seemed to unconsciously know what she was going to say before she said it. 

Before Dakoda’s thoughts could fester, the sound of the police station door opening cut through her jumbled thoughts. She turned to see her brother, the Winchesters, and Andrea walk out with the woman leading the way. 

The huntress smiled and nodded at Andrea, falling into step beside the woman as she led the four hunters down the street. Dean walked on Andrea’s other side, just a step behind her.

“So, cute kid.”, Dean complimented to Andrea, Dakoda trying and failing to hide her amusement from Dean who shot a glare behind Andrea’s back. Damien looked to Sam with a feigned annoyed look, ‘Children’, he mouthed at the Winchester behind Dakoda and Dean’s backs. Sam nodded in agreement, knowing Dakoda and Dean were both childish and immature. 

“Kids are the best, huh?”, Dean remarks, looking back to Sam when he feels his brother smack his arm, giving a ‘What?” look at him. Dakoda has a clenched fist pressed to her lips to hide her laughing but her shoulders are giving her away as they shake lightly, which becomes harder when Andrea just ignores him. Andrea leads them a bit further down the street, the front of the ‘LakeFront’ motel coming into view as the group comes to a stop just across the street from it. 

“There it is. Like I said, two blocks.”, Andrea told Dean, gesturing to the front of the motel, “Thanks.”, Sam and Damien murmur to her, Dakoda still struggling to control her laughter but has calmed down just a bit and nodding her own thanks to the woman. 

“Must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”, Andrea addressed Dean directly, tilting her head with a scrunch of her nose as the man gaped at her in shock. She looked to Dakoda whose face visibly read her clear amusement, smiling a bit bashfully before she began to walk away from the four hunters, “Enjoy your stay!”, Andrea called over her shoulder. 

Dakoda waited for Andrea to be a fair distance away before bursting into laughter, grasping a disgruntled Dean by his shoulder as she cackled, earning a few stares from bystanders who passed them. Damien and Sam pushed them towards the motel, Dakoda eventually sobering up and wiping at her eye as if there was a tear. 

“‘Kids are the best, huh?’ Jesus, Dean, you are so lucky you are pretty.”, Dakoda teases and imitates his voice poorly, reaching up to grasp his jaw with her thumb on one side and two fingers on the other side, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Like you could do better.”, Dean told her but not slapping her hand away and rolling his eyes instead, his lips slightly puckered due to her light grip on his jaw. 

“Dean, you don’t even like kids.”, Sam told his brother in a matter-of-fact tone, walking beside Damien, “I love kids.”, Dean scoffed, grabbing Dakoda’s hand from his face but keeping ahold of it as they all walked to the office of the motel.

“Name three children you even know.”, Damien butted in before quickly adding, “And don’t say me, jackass, I’m twenty years old.”

Dean pauses, Dakoda stopping with him as he releases her hand, putting his hands in front of him to seemingly count on his fingers, thinking intently. Sam and Damien roll their eyes before walking away, Sam waving a hand at his brother dismissively, “I’m thinking!”, Dean calls after them, re-grabbing Dakoda’s hand to pull her along when she starts laughing again. 

– LAKEFRONT MOTEL, MOTEL ROOM

The Hernandez siblings and Winchester brothers were in the motel room they had paid for, deciding on just one for this hunt to save their money despite Dakoda offering to pay for both with money she had been saving since she was fourteen but she was denied and they settled on all four sharing the one room. Damien was lying across the couch that would pull out to be his bed, and Dakoda was sprawled across one of the queen size beds she would share with Dean which is something they’ve done since they were kids, Dean was going through his duffle bag, and Sam was going through articles on his laptop. 

“So there’s the three drowning victims of this year.”, Sam voices aloud to the other three, “Any before that?”, Dean and Dakoda ask at the same time, their gazes snapping to each other before Dean tosses a t-shirt at her face from his duffle. Dakoda huffs and snatches the clothing item from her head and launches it back at him, his hand reaching up to grab it mid-air before it could hit him. 

“Uh, yeah.”, Sam nods as he flicks through the opened browser on his laptop, “Six more spread out over the past thirty-five years. Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it's picking up its pace.”, the youngest Winchester tells his brother, showing Dean the article and scrolling through. 

“So, what, we got a lake monster on a binge?”, Dean asked, glancing at Sam but continuing to go through his duffle bag, as if looking for something.

“This whole lake monster theory, it just bugs me.”, Sam told them, scrolling through the different obituaries, “Why?”, Dean asked as he walked over to read over his brother’s shoulder, Dakoda had stood up and went to Dean’s duffle. She dug through it before pulling something out, it was the button-up he’d been looking for. 

“Loch Ness, uh, Lake Champlain, there are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but here, almost nothing.”, Sam voices as he scrolls through the Tribune Homepage, “Whatever it is out there, no one’s living to talk about it.”, he scrolls down to the comment section of one of the articles. Dakoda seems to spot the same thing as Dean as she comes to stand beside him, making a whistle sound while Dean points it out.

“Wait, Barr, Christopher Barr. Where have I heard that name before?”, Dean asked, scratching his head slightly as he thought, “Christopher Barr, the victim in May.”, Sam murmured as he clicked on the article connected to the comment. Dakoda narrows her eyes as she thinks before she slaps Dean’s shoulder, “Isn’t that Lucas’ last name?”, she turns her face to him and tilts her head, handing him the flannel she’d still been holding.

"Uh, yeah.”, Sam nods to Dakoda’s question before scrolling through the article, “Christopher Barr was Andrea's husband, Lucas's father. Apparently he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned. Two hours before the kid got rescued.”, he read the page aloud, his lips pursed in sympathy. Dakoda looked down and shook her head, “Poor kid.”, she murmured as she walked over to where Damien was taking a nap, smacking his leg lightly, “Wake up, little brother.”, she told him, frowning in concern when his eyes shot open and he inhaled sharply as if waking from a nightmare. 

“What- what’s wrong?”, Damien asked, looking up at Dakoda before shaking his head out as if shaking off thoughts. He swung his legs over the side of the couch as he sat up, putting his head in his hands and rubbing his face slightly, “Why’d you let me fall asleep?”, he asked his sister, glancing over to see Sam and Dean at the motel table with Sam’s laptop.

“Well, for one, we found out Lucas’ dad was the drowning victim earlier this year in May. For two, you looked dead on your feet, kid. I know you’re having nightmares, you can talk to me about them, ya know.”, Dakoda told him, bending at the knees slightly to crouch next to the couch so she could make eye contact with her little brother, “I’m fine, Koda, if I want to talk then I’ll talk but not yet.”, Damien told her, shaking his head at her before he stood to his full height, towering over his big sister. 

Dakoda sighed but accepted the answer, not wanting to push him, walking back over to Dean and Sam, “Maybe we have an eyewitness after all.”, she caught what Sam was saying as she approached the table, “No wonder that kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over.”, Dean told his brother, Dakoda moving to stand across from him, her jaw clenched as she heard him and dragged her gaze up to meet his. They stared at each other for a brief moment, understanding passing between the two before they broke the eye contact. 

– PARK, DAY 

Dakoda, Dean, Sam, and Damien slowly approach Andrea who sits on a bench in the well-packed park, the sun is above them and there is a light breeze that sends a chill down Dakoda’s spine. 

“Can we join you?”, Sam asked, his hands tucked in his pockets to protect them from the chilled November breeze, Andrea looked up to see the small group before looking back to her son briefly, “I’m here with my son.”, she told them, a clear attempt to dismiss them. Dakoda and Dean both look over at Lucas, “Mind if we go say say?”, Dakoda asked, walking away with Dean, without waiting for a response. Damien stayed behind with Sam, choosing to stay and speak with Andrea a bit. 

Dakoda and Dean walk over to Lucas, Dakoda sits on the bench beside the boy while Dean crouches in front of her and slightly between her and Lucas so he can reach the little toy soldiers.

“How’s it going?”, Dean asked, the boy didn’t look up from his drawing, not responding. Dakoda’s lips tug into a small frown, “Those are nice drawings, Lucas.”, she compliments softly, letting her gaze trail over the crayon drawings.

“Oh, I used to love these things.”, Dean spoke up, holding one of the toy soldiers and imitating gunfire and explosions with his mouth before tossing it aside, standing slightly to sit on the bench on Lucas’ other side, “So crayons is more your thing? That's cool. Chicks dig artists.”, Dean comments, looking up and grinning when he heard Dakoda chuckle under her breath before looking back down to examine the drawings Lucas had done, “Hey, these are pretty good. You mind if I sit and draw with you for a while?”, Dean asked, picking up a crayon and a slip of paper, “I’m not so bad myself.”, he muttered as he brought the crayon onto the paper. Dakoda watched as Dean drew on the pad of paper, tilting her head in curiosity to see what he’d draw.

“You know, I'm thinking you can hear me, you just don't want to talk. I don't know exactly what happened to your dad, but I know it was something real bad. I think we know how you feel. When we were your age, we saw something.”, Dean told Lucas, referring to himself and Dakoda, looking up to meet the woman’s gaze. Dakoda gave a slight nod, shifting her gaze to look back down to his drawing when he started speaking again.

“Anyway. Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or, uh...or believe you. I want you to know that we will. You don't even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake. Okay, no problem. This is for you.”, Dean had finished the drawing, holding it out to Lucas, it was stick figures. 

“This is my family.”, Dean tells the young boy before he begins pointing to each person and reading them off, “That’s my dad. That’s my mom. That’s my geek brother. That’s me. And that’s my best friend and her brother.”, he flicked his eyes up slightly when he pointed out the stick figure that represented Dakoda. Dakoda let a smile tug up the corner of her mouth, “All right, so I'm a sucky artist. I'll see you around, Lucas.”, the Winchester spoke, setting the drawing and crayon down as he stood up from the bench. Dakoda watched the man leave before looking back to Lucas, taking a deep breath.

“Look, Lucas, I’m sorry you had to see what you did on the lake. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk. I’ll tell you something, I didn’t speak either, not for a long time. So, you express yourself in any way you have to, kid.”, Dakoda told the young boy before she stood back up, making her way back to the adults, having missed the first part of what Dean had said.

“What are the doctors saying?”, Sam asked, looking to Andrea as Dakoda approached, “That it’s a kind of post-traumatic stress.”, Andrea told them, looking between the four hunters, glancing back to Lucas, then back in front of her, “That can’t be easy. For either of you.”, Damien told Andrea softly, standing on Sam’s left side. 

“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just...when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw…”, Andrea crossed her arms loosely over her chest, hugging herself. A brief pause fell over the group as they soaked in the information, Dakoda looked down at her booted feet for a moment then back up to meet Andrea’s gaze.

“Kids are a hell of a lot stronger than they’re given credit for.”, Dakoda told Andrea, standing on Dean’s right side, her hands stuffed into her leather jacket pockets.

“You know, he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish-”, Andrea is cut off when Lucas walks up, holding a drawn picture in his hands, “Hey sweetie.”, his mother greets, Lucas holding the picture out to Dean without looking up. 

“Thanks. Thanks, Lucas.”, Dean tells the kid as he looks at the drawing, Dakoda gazing past his bicep to look at the crayon drawing herself, it was of the Carlton House. 

– MOTEL, DAY

Dakoda and Dean sat on one of the beds in the motel room, waiting for Sam to get back from his errand, Damien was sitting at the motel table with his laptop in front of him. Dakoda was stretched out over the top of the thin duvet, her head on Dean’s lap while he leaned back on his hands as they made idle conversation. 

The silence of the motel room was broken when Sam walked in briskly, the door shutting behind him loudly, “So, I think it’s safe to say we can rule out Nessie.”, he told the group inside, Damien looked over with a confused look etched into his expression, “What?”, he asked, closing his laptop.

“What do you mean?”, Dean asked, sitting up as Dakoda moved out of his lap to sit up straight too, “I just drove past the Carlton house. There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead.”, Sam told them as he sat down on Dean’s other side, a disgruntled look on his face.

“He drowned?”, Dean asked, looking over at his brother questioningly, “Yep. In the sink.”, Sam answered, clearly unnerved.

“What the fuck?”, Dean and Dakoda voiced together, “So you’re right, this isn’t a creature. This is something else.”, Dean followed up, leaning forward slightly, his elbows on his knees.

“Yeah, but what?”, Damien asked, standing from the motel table to make his way over, “I don't know. Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water...water that comes from the same source.”, Dean theorized, Dakoda shook her head at the mention of demon, “Nah, not a demon.”, she told them in a matter-of-fact tone, standing from the bed and running a hand through her hair.

“The lake.”, Sam told them, Dean nodding in agreement, “Yeah.”, he muttered, thinking of what this could be. 

“Which would explain why it's upping the body count. The lake is draining. It'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time.”, Sam told them, thoughts racing.

“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere.”, Dean offered up, standing as well, “This is gonna happen again, and soon.”, he said as he moved to sit on one of the armchairs across from where Sam was sat. 

“And we do know one other thing for sure. We know this has got something to do with Bill Carlton.”, Sam told them, looking over at Damien and Dakoda briefly then back to Dean, “Yeah, it killed his two kids, he has to know something.”, Dakoda spoke up, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And I've been asking around. Lucas's dad, Chris—Bill Carlton's godson.”, Sam informed them, Damien scratched the back of his neck as he thought over the case, “Let’s go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.”, Dean told them, standing up and grabbing his leather jacket. 

Dakoda immediately shook her head, “Uh, I’m going to pass. You and Sam go ahead, me and Damien are going to take another look through the news archive,”, she told Dean, swallowing harshly at the thought of going back to the lake, using doing more research as a way to hide the fear coursing through her. Dean examined her facial expressions, already knowing what was wrong and nodded, “Okay, let us know what you find.”, he told her before he left with Sam.

– SWEENEY HOUSE

The rumbling of Dakoda’s Mustang pulled up outside a yellow house, a white picket fence running along the edge of the yard in front of it. She stepped out of the classic vehicle after cutting the engine, looking around as she closed the door with Damien on the other side doing the same. Dakoda spots Dean and Sam as they walk towards them on the sidewalk, Dean had called her a few moments prior to have her and Damien meet at this location. 

“What’ve you got?”, Dakoda asked Dean once they were close enough, “When we were at the Carlton place, we didn’t get much from Bill himself, think he’s hiding something. I also realized the picture Lucas drew at the park was of the Carlton House, so we headed to Andrea’s place to see if I could get through to Lucas again.”, Dean told Dakoda and Damien, clearing his throat before continuing, “Well I did, he drew another picture.”, he pulled a piece of paper with a crayon drawing on it, handing it to Dakoda. She looked at the picture of the yellow house, a white church in front of it, and the red bicycle with a boy standing beside it. She made a ‘hmph’ sound and nodded, handing it back, “Let’s see what’s up with the yellow house.”, she told them, jutting her head towards the house beside them. 

The four of them had approached the yellow house, introducing themselves to the elderly woman, Mrs. Sweeney, who lived inside and following her as she led the four hunters through the house, coming to a stop just inside the living room. 

“We’re sorry to bother you, ma’am, but does a little boy live here, by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle.”, Dean inquired, as he stood in front of the woman, Dakoda on his left, Sam just behind his right shoulder, and Damien standing just behind Dakoda. The woman took a deep, shuddering breath and looked down, “No, sir.”, she told Dean, shaking her head as she picked it back up with her eyes closed, “Not for a very long time.”, she told him, seeming close to tears as she opened her eyes to look at Dean and Dakoda who were closest to her. 

“Peter’s been gone for thirty-five years now.”, Mrs. Sweeney told them, leading them over to a side table where a framed black and white photo of Peter sat on the surface. Dakoda felt her heart clench at the look of grief on the woman’s face, the heartbroken gaze in her eyes.

“The police never—I never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared.”, Mrs. Sweeney told them, gazing at the picture for a moment before turning to the four hunters. Dakoda catches Sam pointing out a set of toy soldiers on another table, recognizing them as the same toys Lucas had when she had last seen him and Andrea at the park. 

“Losing him—you know, it's...it's worse than dying.”, Mrs. Sweeney continued, wiping a tear from beneath her eye with her fingers, Dakoda thought on her feet and grabbed a nearby box of tissues she had seen and offered them to the elderly woman.

“Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?”, Dean asked, interjecting as much of the sympathy he was feeling into his voice, “He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up.”, Mrs. Sweeney told them, Dakoda gave the boys a look before leading the elderly woman away to give the woman some room to breath with all the trudged up memories. 

Dakoda made sure Mrs. Sweeney was alright before she walked out of the kitchen and met the other three at the front door, Dean telling her about the photo he and Sam had found of Peter with Bill Carlton. Dakoda sighed internally as she realized they would have to go back to the Carlton House but someone was in danger and she was determined to suck it up. 

The four of them leave the Sweeney house in their respective vehicles, driving back to the Carlton House quickly and parking side by side in front of the lake house. 

“Mr. Carlton?”, Dakoda called out for the man with Sam, the four of them approaching the house and looking for any signs of the man. 

The sound of an engine starting cut through the otherwise still air, the four of them moving around the side of the house. Their eyes land on Bill Carlton in a boat, moving out onto the lake’s surface.

“Hey, check it out.”, Dean commented before the four of them broke into a run towards the dock, screaming for Bill to stop and turn around. 

“Mr. Carlton, stop!”, Dakoda shouts, making it to the end of the dock, adrenaline having distracted her mind from her overwhelming fear of the water albeit temporarily. Bill ignored them as he continued further out over the water’s surface, the water abruptly rose and flips the boat aggressively. It and he vanish from sight. Dakoda had jumped back into Dean when the boat had shot into the air, her back colliding with his chest. The four stand on the end of the dock, seemingly in shock at what just happened. 

Dakoda realizes where she is and sharply inhales, reaching for Dean’s hand and gripping it like a lifeline. Dean realizes what’s wrong and wraps an arm around her shoulders, walking back to the shore carefully and whispering words of reassurance in her ear to keep her calm. 

– POLICE STATION, A FEW HOURS LATER 

Dakoda, Dean, Sam, and Damien walk into the police station ahead of Sheriff Devins, Andrea is sitting beside Lucas just beyond the opening of the bull pen.

“Sam, Dean.”, Andrea greets, surprised before looking to Dakoda and Damien, “Dakoda, Damien.”, she gives a surprised smile, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”, she told them as she stood from her chair, a bucket and bag of takeout food in her grasp. 

“So now you’re on a first-name basis. What are you doing here?”, Sheriff Devins questioned Andrea, his demeanor softening slightly at the sight of his daughter, “I brought you dinner.”, Andrea told him, lifting the takeout container and bag.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I don’t really have the time.”, Sheriff Devins told his daughter, removing his outer coat as he stood in front of her. Andrea looked behind him, making eye contact with Dakoda then Dean briefly before looking back to her dad, “I heard about Bill Carlton. Is it true? Is something going on with the lake?”, she asked, Sheriff Devins looks around slightly before sighing.

“Right now we don't know what the truth is. But I think it might be better if you and Lucas went on home.”, Sheriff Devins told Andrea, glancing to his grandson briefly. 

Dakoda and Dean are startled when Lucas looks up, whimpering before he lunges off his seat, his hands grasping their jacket sleeves and tugging repeatedly.

“Lucas, hey, what is it?”, Dean asked, bending to the kid’s level alongside Dakoda who looked concerned, “Lucas, honey, what’s wrong?”, Dakoda asked, her brows furrowed in worry when he continued yanking on their jackets and whining. 

“Lucas, it's okay. It's okay. Hey, Lucas, it's okay. It's okay.”, Dean tried to soothe the upset boy, able to free his arm and gently cupped the side of Lucas’ head. Andrea rushed over and gently grasped her son’s shoulders, calling his name before she was finally able to pull Lucas away from Dean and Dakoda. She led Lucas past them and out of the police station, Dakoda and Dean watched with worry etched into their expression. 

Sheriff Jake Devins throws his jacket down and stalks into his office, running a hand over his head, his other propped just above his utility belt. Sam and Damien watched him go before they tapped Dakoda and Dean’s arms to grab their attention. The four walk into Jake’s office and stand in front of his desk, Dakoda and Dean taking the seats this time while Sam and Damien stand behind them.

“Okay, just so I'm clear, you see...something attack Bill's boat, sending Bill—who is a very good swimmer, by the way—into the drink, and you never see him again?”, Jake asked, gesturing with his hand as he sat on the edge of his desk, facing the group. Dakoda and Dean look to each other briefly before nodding, “Yeah, that about sums it up.”, Dean tells the Sheriff with a nod, flexing his fingers on his thighs. 

“And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake? And what you're describing is impossible? And you're not really Wildlife Service?”, Jake tells them, having caught onto their lie, Dean blinked in surprise as he looked at the Sherif. Dakoda’s eyebrows raised in shock, leaning onto the arm of the chair, “That's right, I checked. Department's never heard of you two.”, Jake told them, crossing his arms, Sam and Damien are just as shocked behind Dean and Dakoda. 

“Now, wait, Sheriff.”, “See, now, we can explain that-”, Dakoda and Dean start at the same time but are cut off, “Enough. Please. The only reason you're breathing free air is one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton's disappearance. Or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again.” Jake tells them flat out, his tone firm and leaving no room for arguments. 

Dakoda clenched her jaw and nodded, “Yeah, yep, door number two sounds great.”, she told the Sheriff as she stood up, dragging Dean with her with a hand on his upper arm.

“Door two sounds good.”, Sam agreed, preparing to leave like Dakoda was, “that’s the one I’d pick.”, Jake told them, gesturing to the door with one hand. The four quickly leave the police station, hurrying down the street to the Lakefront motel so they could check out and get their vehicles. 

Night had fallen, Dakoda was behind the wheel of her Mustang, ‘Honey’, with Damien in the passenger seat. She had her phone flipped open with Dean and Sam on the other line with the speaker on, Damien had a map in his lap and a small flashlight in his hand. 

“Green.”, Sam’s voice came through the flip phone’s speaker, cutting through Dakoda’s racing thoughts, “What?”, Dean’s voice came through after, Dakoda refocusing on the red taillights of the Impala in front of her.

“Light’s green.”, Sam’s voice came through again, Dakoda watched as the Impala began moving right, following behind and realizing Dean was thinking the same thing she was. 

“Isn’t the interstate the other way?”, Damien asked, lifting his gaze from the map when he realized the two cars were turning right, “Yeah.”, Dean and Dakoda voiced together, driving down the highway.

“But Dean, Koda, this job, I think it’s over.”, Sam speaks up again, his voice coming through Dakoda’s phone, “I’m not so sure.”, Dean told Sam, voice heard through the phone’s speaker.

“Yeah, I don’t think this is over yet, there’s something we aren’t seeing.”, Dakoda held the phone up as she spoke to Dean and Sam, “If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest.”, Sam tried to reason with them.

“All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt?”, Dean asked Sam, continuing down the road, “But why would you think that?”, Sam asked, confused by Dean and Dakoda’s need to go back.

“Because Lucas was really scared.”, Dean told Sam, “You saw his face, Sam, Damien, Lucas was terrified of something.”, Dakoda backed Dean up, remembering the terrified look on Lucas’ face back in the police station. 

“That’s what this is about?”, Sam asked, his voice dripping disbelief, “I just don’t want to leave this town until we know the kid’s okay.”, Dean told him, sounding firm in his decision.

“Who are you and what have you done with our siblings?”, Damien teased, speaking up and hearing Sam snort in agreement.

“Shut up.”, Dean and Dakoda chimed together before the phone call ended as Dakoda shuts the flip phone. 

The Mustang and Impala arrive at Andrea and Lucas’ house, the four of them exiting the cars and looking around.

“Are you two sure about this? It’s pretty late.”, Sam told them, the sky was dark, seeming about midnight, if not later. The four of them move to the front door, Dean reaching up to ring the doorbell. It doesn’t take long before the door is ripped open by a terrified Lucas, the boy breathing heavily as he looks up at the four hunters on his doorstep.

“Lucas?”, Dean asked, brows furrowed in worry, “Lucas!”, Dakoda called, crouched beside Dean, their worry skyrocketed when the young boy darts away from them so they all follow immediately. 

Water is trickling down the stairs as the run up them, Lucas was pounding his fists against the bathroom door, water flowing from beneath it. Dean urges Lucas over to Sam before kicking in the bathroom door, Lucas latching onto the eldest Winchester’s arm. Dakoda bursts into the bathroom, moving quickly to the bathtub and shoving her arms in. She wraps her arms around Andrea’s torso, pulling with all of her strength to pull the woman out. Andrea is pulled back under but Dakoda keeps pulling, Damien sliding in behind her and wrapping an arm around his sister’s waist to pull her while she had Andrea. 

Dakoda finally manages to pull a gasping Andrea out, the two women collapsing back onto the tiled bathroom floor, Damien jerking away to give them space but snagging a towel. Dakoda takes the towel from her brother and wraps it around Andrea, moving out from under the other woman and helping her sit up. 

It’s the following morning, the sun slowly rising above the horizon, Dakoda and Dean are searching through a bookshelf of notebooks and scrapbooks while Sam and Damien sat in front of dry and dressed Andrea. Dakoda was focused on the bookshelf, tuned out of the conversation between Ndrea and the other two hunters. 

Dakoda’s brought out of her thighs when she sees the scrapbook Dean had pulled out that says ‘Jake – 12 years old’ on the front, his hands flipping through it briefly before closing it. He made a look at Dakoda and the two walked over to where Andrea was sitting with Sam and Damien. 

Dean flips the scrapbook open to a specific photo titled ‘Explorer Troop 37’, pointing out the kids in the photo, “Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?”, he asked the woman, holding the scrapbook open. 

“What? Um, um, no. I mean, except that's my dad right there. He must have been about twelve in these pictures.”, Andrea pointed out her dad to Dean, Sam, and Damien leaning over to take a closer look, Dean sighed and leaned his hands on the table, “Chris Barr’s drowning. The connection wasn’t to Bill Carlton. It must have been to the Sheriff.”, he explained to the other three hunters, Dakoda standing beside him as she thought over the connection and nodded in agreement, “It has to be both, it would explain why it also went after Bill’s kids.”, she spoke up from beside Desn.

“Bill and the Sheriff–they were both involved with Peter.”, Sam said in agreement with Dakoda, nodding, “But what did they do?”, Damien asked, looking up from where he was sitting beside Sam.

“What about Christ? My dad–what are you talking about?”, Andrea questioned, looking between the four hunters in confusion. Dean looked to the side and saw Lucas, the boy staring out of the window blankly, “Lucas?”, Dean called out softly, “Lucas, what is it?”, he asked the boy when he didn’t get a response. Lucas doesn’t answer and moves to the door a foot away from him, opening it and walking outside. Dakoda straightens up, Dean doing the same before the adults follow after the young boy. 

Lucas leads the group several feet away from the house, Andrea trying to get her son’s attention before the boy comes to a stop, looking at the ground before looking over at Dean and Dakoda, his gaze moving between them. 

“You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there, okay?”, Dean suggested to Andrea, who listened and leads Lucas back to the house. Dean and Sam leave to grab shovels from the Impala’s trunk, Dakoda and Damien staying to keep somewhat of a lookout. 

When the Winchesters come back, Dakoda takes the shovel from Sam to help Dean dig, wanting to keep her mind and hands busy and off the lake not that far from where they were digging. 

The two dig until Dakoda’s shovel clanks against something, her back is to the Barr house. She steps back with Dean, “Peter’s bike.”, Sam breathes out as he looks down at the red bike Dean and Dakoda unearthed. Damien’s gaze snaps up when the sound of a gun being cocked echoes, Dean and Sam’s following as a voice echoes behind Dakoda. 

“Who are you?”, Jake asked, his gun aimed at the four hunters in front of him, Dakoda tensed further when she felt the shaky barrel of a gun press against the base of her skull, her jaw clenching as she forced herself to remain still.

“Put the gun down, Jake.”, Sam orders, holding his hands up along with Damien, “How did you know that was there?”, Jake bit out, pushing the barrel against Dakoda’s head lightly, Dean’s eyes narrowing when he sees Dakoda’s eyes squeeze shut and the muscle in her jaw tick. 

“What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake and then buried the bike? You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.”, Dean snapped, angry at Dakoda being held at gunpoint and angry at what Jake and Bill had done to Peter. 

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”, Jake snaps back, his grip tightening on his gun, keeping it pressed to the base of Dakoda’s skull. Damien looked like he wanted to throttle Jake, the angriest he’s gotten in the last few weeks aside from Jessica’s death.

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty-five years ago. That’s what the hell I’m talking about.”, Dean ground out, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, feeling helpless to Dakoda’s situation. Andrea ran up, seeing her dad holding a gun to Dakoda’s head, “Dad!”, she shouted, coming to a stop a few feet from the group, her presence giving Dakoda the chance to dart to Dean’s side.

“And now you got one seriously pissed-off spirit.”, Dean told Jake, wrapping his hand around Dakoda’s wrist when she stopped beside him, “It's gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love. It's gonna drown them. And it's gonna drag their bodies God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter's mom felt. And then, after that, it's gonna take you, and it's not gonna stop until it does.”, Sam tells the Sheriff, sounding significantly calmer than the other three. 

“Yeah, and how do you know that?”, Jake asked, keeping his gun raised, “Because that’s exactly what it did to Bill Carlton.”, Sam calmly told Jake, keeping his voice steady.

“Listen to yourselves, all of you. You sound insane.”, Jake tells them shaking his head in disbelief.

“I don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us. But if we're gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake.”, Dean gruffly snapped, watching as Jake blinked, his grip faltering slightly. 

“Dad, is any of this true?”, Andrea questioned her dad, staring at Jake, “No, don’t listen to them. They’re liars and they’re dangerous.”, Jake told her, keeping his eyes trained on the hunters.

“Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me.”, Andrea pushes, trying to catch her father’s gaze. Jake does as she said, looking over at her, “Tell me you–you didn’t kill anyone.”, she pleads with him, hoping it wasn’t true. Jake looks away from his daughter, telling her everything she needs to know.

“Oh my god.”, Andrea shuddered, staring at her dad in shock, a twinge of disgust and disappointment lingered in her eyes. 

“Billy and I were at the lake. Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time, it got rough. We were holding his head under the water. We didn't mean to. But we held him under too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank.”, Jake confessed, Dakoda taking a step back as she looked at the sheriff in disgust, shaking her head. Dean and Sam share a look briefly, communicating silently, “Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake. But, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost? It's not rational.”, Jake tries to reason with his daughter. 

Dakoda’s attention is snagged by movement in her peripherals, turning her head and seeing Lucas at the end of the docks, his hand reaching towards the water. She takes off in a sprint without saying anything, ignoring the surge of fear at the thought of being near the water. She heard Jake yell Lucas’ name and knew the others had seen what she had. 

“Dakoda, no!”, Dean shouts as he breaks into a sprint, Dakoda ignores him as she pushed her legs faster, her heart stuttering when a hand reaches up and grabs Lucas by the wrist. She watched as the boy disappeared beneath the water’s surface, her boots slamming into the wood dock as she pushed herself faster, “Koda, stop!”, Dean shouts again, Damien echoing as he ran just behind the eldest Winchester with Sam just behind him. 

“Why, what’s wrong?’, Andrea asked as she ran onto the dock with the others, “She can’t swim.”, Damien tells Andrea, his voice breaking off into a scream as he watched Dakoda launch herself off the dock and into the dark water below. 

Dakoda sank through the water, instinctively holding her breath, her movements jerky with inexperience as she forces herself to open her eyes. She pushes her arms as she shakily moved through the water, her lungs burned as she hadn’t gone back up for air. She finally spots Lucas and pushes toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her legs kicking desperately as she fights against her own inability to swim and the spirit of Peter Sweeney. 

Confusion sparks through her mind when Peter’s grip abruptly vanishes, but she didn’t waist time she didn’t have. Her lungs burned, black spots dotted her vision, her body jerking when she was forced to inhale a mouthful of water just as she felt a pair of arms wrap around her. 

Dean had spotted Dakoda and Lucas, wrapping his arms around her and the boy, pushing himself back to the surface where Sam carefully took Lucas and Damien helped Dean with Dakoda. Dean laid Dakoda’s body against the wood dock, his hands interlocking over her chest as he began chest compressions. He did two rescue breaths, tilting her head back and plugging her nose while pressing his mouth over hers to breath twice. He made it halfway through the second set of compression when Dakoda came to, rolling her onto her side as she coughed up a mouthful of water. 

Dakoda is pulled up into Dean’s lap, her back against his chest as she breathes heavily, her chest heaving. She feels Dean’s hand brush her hair out of her face and his cheek press to the side of her head, his other arm wrapped around her shoulders across her collarbones. 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Koda.”, Dean grumbled into her ear as he tightened his hold on her, “I know, but I had to try.”, she breathed out, hearing him huff irritatedly but nodded, “You’re my best friend, I can’t lose you, so don’t pull that shit ever again.”, he told her grumpily before helping her stand. 

Two hours of Dean fussing over Dakoda, Damien fussing over her as well, Dakoda changing her clothes and drying the wet ones at the local laundromat. The four of them stood in the parking lot of the laundromat, getting ready to finally leave town, Dakoda stood beside Dean as she fumbled with her keys, unintentionally mirroring Dean who was doing the same.

“Look, we’re not gonna save everybody.”, Sam told Dean, reminding Dakoda what they told her about Jake, how he’d sacrificed himself to save his grandson from Peter. 

“I know.”, Dean muttered, Dakoda tossing her duffle bag into the trunk of the Mustang before walking back to Dean and Sam, Damien already standing beside the two. The four of them look over at the sound of Andrea’s voice saying their names, seeing her walk up with Lucas, who was carrying a large plate. 

“We're glad we caught you. We just, um, we made you lunch for the road.”, Andrea told them, looking down to Lucas who was carrying the tray of sandwiches, “Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself.”, she told the group of four. 

“Can I give it to them now?”, Lucas spoke up making Dakoda’s eyes light up a bit, surprised the boy was speaking, “Of course.”, Andrea nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to her son’s head. 

“Come on, Lucas, let’s load this into the car.”, Dean told Lucas, reaching to wrap his hand around Dakoda’s wrist to drag her with them. Dakoda rolled her eyes fondly but allowed herself to be dragged over to the Impala, engaging in the light conversation between Dean and Lucas. 

Dean had opened the door to the front passenger seat, placing the tray of sandwiches onto the seat towards the middle before taking a seat himself, Dakoda leaning her hips against the back passenger door.

“All right, if you're gonna be talking now, this is a very important phrase, so I want you to repeat it one more time.”, Dean told Lucas, Dakoda chuckling fondly as she crossed her arms loosely over her chest, “Zeppelin Rules!”, Lucas told Dean, “That’s right, up high.”, the Winchester grinned, holding his hand up to which Lucas slapped his palm against his with a grin. 

“You take care of your mom, okay?”, Dean raises his brows at Lucas slightly, smiling at the boy’s verbal agreement. 

Dakoda looks over to see Andrea approaching, assuming the woman will go to Dean but is surprised when the other woman stops in front of her. Her breath hitched in her chest when Andrea kissed her, breaking the kiss before Dakoda could respond, “Thank you.”, Andrea murmured to Dakoda before looking at a shell-shocked Dean, pressing a quick kiss to the man’s cheek before she stepped back with Lucas. 

Dakoda scratches the back of her neck, thinking for a moment before looking over at Dean, a grin slowly spreads on her lips, and nudges his shoulder, “Move your ass, pretty boy. We’re burning daylight.”, she teased, walking backward for a moment before turning on her heel to get to her own car. She can hear the sound of Sam laughing as he slid into the passenger seat, Dean walking around the back of the Impala to the driver’s side. 

Dakoda started up the Mustang, putting it into drive, following behind the Impala. As her car passed Andrea, she sent a smile at the woman out Damien’s window before looking back out of the windshield and taking off just behind Dean.

taglist - @dianawinchester03 @quarterhorse19 ( comment or reblog if you want to be added )

AUTHOR'S NOTE - Thank you to my bestie for allowing me to introduce her OC/YN character into Ineffable.

[doctorcanon]

I cant sleep so modern!linked universe hc time.

- Rusl buys Twilight a dna/ancestry thing for his 20th birthday.

- having been adopted into the Ordon family since the age of 15, the gift doesn't go over well at first.

-However after some deep conversations, Rusl explains that he promised Twilight birth parents that he'd do this if anything happened to them.

- Still Twilight procrastinates and after some cajoling from midna, finally does it a year later for his 21st birthday.

- at his party, a small family dinner at the Ordon home with Zelda, Illia and Midna in attendance, he lays the envelope on the table and says "before I open this, I want you all to know that what ever I find in here that you are all my family and I love you all."

- the first thing in the envelope is his genetic information, some basic stuff he already knows, some stuff he doesn't and somethings Zelda remarks he should see a doctor about. Apparently he's actually 65% Karariko as Renado predicted.

- the second thing is copies of his mother and father's Service Papers. Both served in the military; one as a murse and other as an officer. Both died of burns and smoke inhalation after rescuing several of their fellow tenants when the apartment above theirs caught fire.

- the third thing is a list of public records. His father was originally from Hateno and an only child save for a half brother who died a few years later. His mother, from kakariko, had two much younger siblings. Sheik and Link.

- while there are some records of a custody battle Shiek and Link were separated in the system after the death of their mother. There is an obituary written by Twilights mother with a picture of her and her three children. There's no further information about Link or Sheik.

- Until one last little page slips out, A wedding announcement from 10 years ago. Announcing the joyful union of Malon Lon and Link Kokiri. He's seen this before.

- in fact, Twilight sees this exact newspaper clipping framed in his old boss's office. He visits at least twice a month. He even jokes with him the it was the only proof the guy could actually smile.

- The Lon Lon Family owns their aptly named Lon Lon ranch but he reports to Malon's husband directly when it came to the horses. Especially Epona. He just saw the man last week, for crying out loud!

- He has an uncle. And he's already known the man for 5 years now. They thought it was just a funny coincidence that they had the same name.

- Illia says its fate. Zelda assures him that this can't be an accident. Midna presses his cell phone into his hands. Rusl tells him that its his decision and that they'll respect whatever that may be.

- He calls first, of course. He only works at the ranch on weekends these days anyway. It would be weird to just show up to his shift and just go "hey, do you know im your nephew?"

- he asks if Mr Kokiri would like to talk some time under the guise of needing some advice. Under all the grump and sarcasm, Kokiri really is a saint and easily says yes, asking if Twilight is okay since he sounds stressed.

- the next day, Twilight stumbles into his boss's office with all the papers in his hands.

- "if you need advice about school, you've come to the wrong place, kid."

"No...uh sir this ain't about school. Yet. But uh...do you recognize this picture?"

- he sets down the obituary with its photo of his mother, grandmother, Sheik and Link somewhere in Karariko. Kokiri studies it but otherwise seems clueless. "No, sorry, I dont."

- "Well according to these papers," Twilight sets them on the desk and spreads them out so he can see. "This is my mom. And this is you. Her brother. I think...I think you're my uncle."

[wordsbyrian]

Anymore - So'Hara x Reader

Summary: R is the lead singer of a punk band and performs a song that's half apology-half regret. Request was So'Hara x Famous!Reader from an Anon

A/N: I don't know if punk bands count as famous but I know for a fact that my music taste is different than most people in the woso world. This is based off the Menzingers' song 'I Dont Wanna Be An Asshole Anymore', they're one of my favorite bands but they aren't very mainstream.

It isn’t unusual for you to find yourself standing on a stage in front of a large crowd on a Thursday night.

You’re the lead singer of a punk band, it’s literally what you get paid to do.

What is unusual is for you to be spending so much time searching the crowd looking for people, your girlfriends specifically.

You guys are in the midst of a pretty big argument and admittedly you haven’t spoken to them in a couple of days (yes it was that bad) but they had promised to be here tonight. Plus, you sent them a text with the address this morning and had gotten a thumbs up in response, so you were pretty hopeful.

At least you were until now because your set is about to start and they’re nowhere to be seen.

Taking a deep breath, you shove that to the side and launch into your first song, strumming your guitar hard and pouring your soul into the words.

It isn’t until you're finishing the fifth song of your set that you see them standing in the back of the small room.

Letting the final chords ring out, you push your sweaty hair out of your face and begin to speak into the microphone.

“Thank you, guys, so fucking much,” you say, smiling widely, “We know how hard it is to get to shows in the middle of the week when you have work the next day, so we really appreciate each and every one of you for being here.”

You stop for a moment, letting the crowd cheer while you try to catch your breath.

Laughing a bit at their enthusiasm you continue, “Now, obviously, we have a lot of songs left to play for you tonight but I figured right now would be a good time to debut an unreleased one, here live in DC.”

You try to keep speaking but are cut off by the crowd’s cheers.

“Bit of backstory, that last song Obituaries was written at the start of my relationship when I was afraid of well, fucking things up,” you explain when they calm down. “This next one is so new that there isn’t even a demo version of it yet because it was written a few days ago when I fucked this up. This is ‘I Don’t Wanna be an Asshole Anymore.’”

Taking a step away from the mic, you turn your back to the crowd, using the moment to silently check in with your bandmates before you start playing again.

When you turn back around, you manage to make it through a majority of the first verse before you look at them again.

“I’m always making a mess, always stumbling out the door but,” you sing, staring directly at them, “I don’t want to be an asshole anymore, woah, baby, baby, I’ll be good to you.”

There seems to be something magnetic about singing an apology to the women you wrote it for and although you find it hard to do, you manage to stop staring at them long enough to sing most of the rest of the song. They really only need to hear the last few lines anyway.

When you get to that part of the song, you stop playing guitar putting both hands on the mic in an attempt to ground yourself.

“You’re the only lovers that I’ll ever miss, ever been hopelessly in love with,” you sing leaning forward slightly, looking at them, “Look at this tangle of thorns, I don’t wanna be an asshole anymore.”

Between both the sweat and the light assaulting your eyes, it’s hard to make out exactly what the looks on their faces could mean but it’s impossible to miss the slight smiles on their faces.

Later that night, after the concert has ended and as you and your bandmates load your gear back into your cars, you hear a very familiar pair of voices calling your name.

Turning around you’re greeted by the sight of both Kelley and Emily walking toward you at a slightly hurried pace.

“Uh, hey,” you say once they’re standing in front of you.

It’s slightly awkward but the three of you haven’t really spoken in days and you don’t know what to say.

The tension is thick and you don’t know how to break it but luckily you don’t have to.

“So,” Emily says, trying to step into your personal bubble, completely undeterred when you continue moving backwards until you collide with your car. “You wrote us a song?”

“I mean technically, I’ve written you loads of songs, you just heard a new one tonight.”

“Whatever, Y/N,” she says leaning into you, “It’s just as sweet as it was the second time.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Kelley laughing at the inside joke as she comes to stand next to you.

“I think this one might fall into the same category as the first song though,” Kelley says, slipping her hand into yours.

You look down at your joined hands then at where Emily has her body pressed against yours then back again, a confused look plastered on your face before you speak.

“I have no idea what’s going on right now,” you tell them.

“About what?”

“Are we not in the middle of a fight,” you say, brows still scrunched together.

Kelley laughs again and so does Emily as she lets her hands move to grab you by the waist.

“Y/N/N, you’re an idiot,” Emily says with a slight squeeze, “It was barely an argument, much less a fight.”

“You called me an asshole and told me to get my shit together.”

“But we didn’t tell you to leave,” Kelley says softly, “We told you to get it together because it was the fourth time in three weeks you came home with a bruise on your face.”

Honestly, you don’t know how you’re supposed to respond to that, you do have a tendency to blow things out of proportion, especially when you feel like you’re being attacked, so you respond the only way you can.

“Oh.”

It feels as though everything from the last couple of days is becoming much clearer and the thing that’s become the most obvious is that you need to stop going to the bar with your drummer Dylan, who is a professional instigator.

“Oh, indeed.”

It’s then that you’re interrupted by none other than the instigator himself trying to get your attention.

“You coming out with us,” he shouts across the parking lot when you look at him.

With the help of your new found realization and the prospect of being able to sleep in your own bed instead of on his couch tonight, it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to shake your head at him before redirecting your attention to the women next to you, both of whom looked shocked.

“You’re not going for post-show drinks,” Emily asks.

“I think I need to spend less time with Dylan,” you say, “He’s always getting me in trouble. Plus, I haven’t really seen you guys in a couple days.”

“You get yourself in enough trouble without his help,” Kelley says with an eye roll, “But we wouldn’t be opposed to you hanging out with us instead.” She pauses for a moment, leaning up to kiss the side of your jaw. “We’ll see you at home.”

With that she pulls her and away from yours, taking one of Emily’s instead and begins dragging her towards the car they came in.

“Wait,” you call after them, “Can’t I get a real kiss?”

“Maybe when you get home,” she calls back.

[elliemarchetti]

Obsession

Forget about proof reading to enjoy this entry for @jilymicrofics’ prompt 26

Prompt: Revolted

Words: 540

The whole England had been living in terror for months. There was a serial killer on the loose, and as sad and inconvenient as it was, the police had no lead to follow to catch him. He left no fingerprints, the targets had no connections to each other, the modus operandi always changed and even the victimology was inconsistent.

The first were the Bones, a normal family, made up of the paternal grandparents, a couple around James’s age, and their children, Yvette and the newborn Victor. The killer had broken into their house at night and suffocated them in their beds. They were found by the neighbours, who had gone to warn them that some imbecile had nailed a dead snake to their door.

Angus McKinnon had been attacked just a week after, while he was working in his field. He was stabbed so many times and in so many places the coroner struggled to pinpoint the actual cause of death. The detectives had linked the murders thanks to the dead snakes left on both scenes, a real signature, the likes of which they had never seen in person, only in textbooks and simulations. Not that the information had helped them prevent the Wingers’ murder.

Nicholas and Susan had been caught by surprise during a picnic, killed with two precise gunshots no one could hear, so far from civilization, aside from their six-years-old son. Talbott, who had found them and had to explain what happened with the limited language and understanding he had of the situation, had been saved only by his insatiable curiosity, which had pushed him to enter the thicket while his parents arranged the food.

Out of habit, the youngest member of the unit started to scribble the names of the deceased in death order in his notebook. He believed it was important, when carrying out a job like his, not to forget that the victims weren’t just files but real people, and even more important was not to forget anyone when the number of bodies in the obituary began to grow. So he choose a new page, and in his ramshackle handwriting, he listed first and last names what would soon only be on documents and tombstones. Larry Bones, Iris Bones, Linda Bones, Yvette… A wave of panic washed over him as he added the last letters. The initials of all the names, written in the specific order only a few knew he used, spelled out his wife’s maiden name.

He barely realized he had jumped up from his chair and rushed towards the telephone that lay unused in a corner submerged of papers on his desk. He dialled his home number, and it rang once, then twice, the sound cheerfully mocking him. It could only be a coincidence, nothing worthy of running to his car to make sure his beloved was okay, but the sensation in the pit of his stomach told another story.

“Lily…” he began, before she could even say hello, when she picked up, but it was a male voice that interrupted him, making him nauseous, revolted at the thought of what could have happened.

“Too late,” were the assassin’s only words, and Jamed could’ve sworn he’d heard that voice somewhere before.

[always-outlander]

Easter Eggs and Spoilers for 7x03 below the cut! 

The Big House

The big house burns - and we learn that Arch Bug had been hiding a secret right beneath Jamie and Claire’s nose. But what I found especially interesting about this storyline (and even more so when I first read the books), was the discovery that their obituary was written in error, and why.

Claire and Jamie remark that it is not January at the time that the house burns down, and it’s clearly not even Fall in the show (in the books the house burns on December 21st). Claire also makes a comment about how newspapers never get anything correct, which is comical considering Jamie’s previous profession as a printer.

In the epilogue of A Breath of Snow and Ashes, we discover that the news of their deaths was reported by a reader of the local paper in Wilmington, and was used to fill a page beneath General Washington’s address to the troops. Spoiler territory, but it was actually Tom Christie who heard of the big house fire and wanted to put a formal obituary in the paper to honor Claire and Jamie. We see that Tom is very much still alive in the preview for this week’s episode, so that will cover the rest of that storyline.

But back to the book epilogue. The printer admits that he was told the news of their deaths in December, but printed the date as January because he had set the page in a specific font which had been missing the November and December slugs, and would have had to type it out in separate letters (which he did not feel was worth it, since after all, they are dead).

1980’s

Back in the future, we are in Inverness with Fiona and her husband and daughters. We briefly see Jemmy and Fiona’s kids playing in the yard, with Mandy in the bassinet and implied to be recovering from her heart surgery. The year is 1980 but it’s implied they have been there for a little while now - I know a lot of people were confused as to why there was such a time jump. Claire and Jamie are in 1776, and while Claire always says she went back 200 years, we will soon learn once Roger begins writing his book on time travel that it’s not exact every time.

There, Fiona gives Bree and Roger a mystery box which had been delivered to Reverend Wakefield’s former address and kept by the bank for over 200 years. In the books, Claire and Jamie deliver this chest to a bank in Edinburgh once they arrive back in Scotland so that one day in the future it would be delivered to Jemmy. So to ensure that no one else would ever open the box at that time, they gave strict instructions that it not be opened by anyone other than the name on the top, and used Jemmy’s full name (presumably so that no other Scot with a similar name could claim it as theirs). We see them writing those letters in this episode to Brianna and Roger, updating them as to what has happened and their journey to Scotland.

In the books, the end of A Breath of Snow and Ashes is Bree reading the letter and line “we are alive”, then the book ends. I like that we don’t have that cliffhanger here and can see this storyline unfold right away as it is one of my favorites from the books. In this moment we were able to get excerpts from a few more letters which are taken directly from An Echo in the Bone, and can see how Jamie and Claire had both taken turns writing to the McKenzie’s.

In the books, the box includes letters, two books, and Sawnee, Jamie’s toy snake from his brother. In the show, they included a musket ball which we saw them making out of the stolen French gold in the episode. Another difference is that in the books, the letter is written on December 31st, ten days after the fire. In the show, it’s written in April.

Bree and William

In Echo in the Bone, the opening scene takes place with Bree and Roger still in Wilmington, and standing with William watching Stephen Bonnet tied up in the harbor (obviously this has been rearranged in the show, since the Bonnet storyline wrapped up in Season 5). It is on the shore that she meets William, and William meets Mandy and Jemmy as well. Then we cut to Lallybroch in September of 1980, where Bree and Roger are continuing to read the first letter from Claire. Having been so immersed in the show, it’s easy to forget how many storylines they have moved around from the books.

Like the books, Roger points out that Bree’s matches are in fact the thing that caused the fire of the Big House while reading Claire’s letter. He points out that in trying to prevent their deaths they had succeeded, and changed the future. This is reminiscent of Claire and Jamie’s journey to France and how their attempts to prevent an event were likely the very thing that caused it.

Ian and William

Back at the Big House, Claire, Jamie and Ian are going through the rubble in search of anything they can recover. Amongst the items are a few of Claire’s books, Jamie’s old tartan, and a piece of the french gold. Young Ian is also able to recover the portrait of William that Lord John had given Jamie.

In the books, Ian had been suspicious of William’s parentage the first time he met him as a child back on the Ridge when he and Lord John had visited. He had recognized his stubborn nature as one that mirrored Jamie’s and his mother’s, but never made mention of it to Jamie. In the show they took this opportunity to have Jamie and Ian share that really lovely moment. You can tell what a relief it has been to Jamie each and every time someone else learns of this secret he has been harboring. And Ian has such a huge role in Jamie’s life as his only true remaining family to be with him now. I really think John Bell is the perfect Young Ian.

French Gold

Arch Bug and Jamie have their inevitable confrontation where he admits that he had been taking it back from Hector Cameron bit by bit each time he was sent to River Run. For backstory and a refresher, Jocasta Cameron (Jamie’s aunt) was married to a man named Hector Cameron, who we briefly saw in a flashback during season 4. Hector, his brother in law Dougal (Jamie’s Uncle), and a third man (who we now know was Arch Bug’s Laird, Malcolm Grant) had the gold and intended to use it to support the Jacobite cause and aid Charles Stuart’s rebellion.

When Hector Cameron and Jocasta fled Scotland after the rising, they took their share of the Jacobite gold with them and used it to fund River Run. It was during that journey that Hector accidentally killed he and Jocasta’s daughter, Morna. Arch felt that the gold was misused and Hector was a traitor to Scotland and the cause. He felt it was his duty to take it back, and in doing so he stole from Jamie’s family. Jamie terminates Arch’s employment at the Ridge and releases him of his oath to him.

In the books this moment is substantial because the Bugs are less of background characters and we have seen how much they mean to the Frasers. The show isn’t able to capture that properly, and even more so with Mrs Bug. It isn’t until An Echo in the Bone where Mrs. Bug returns to the Big House in search of the remaining gold where she is mistaken for Arch and is killed by Ian. She was a grandmother figure to Ian whom he deeply loved and appreciated so this was heartbreaking in the books. I suspect in episode 4 we will see Ian and Rachel meet and perhaps by the end of this first half of season 7 we will have Arch return. In the books he goes after Rachel a few times, as Ian is in love with her. William is the one who saves her a few times, and I’m looking forward to him and Ian interacting with one another for the rest of this season.

Return to Scotland

Back on the Ridge, time has passed (as made evident by Claire’s hair). Jamie and Claire discuss where they might set out to build another house, and they share a conversation about where they would like their body’s buried should either of them be killed which is direct from the books. Jamie tells Claire that he wishes to first return to Scotland, as he had promised Ian and Jenny that he would return young Ian to them. With the war looming, it is now or never. They agree that they should go and begin making plans to travel back across the ocean to Lallybroch.

In the books he does not admit that to Claire right away but instead says his reason for returning is to fetch his printing press. The Ridge is no longer a safe place for them while there is so much unrest regarding Malva and now Mrs Bug. Claire thinks they can go live with Fergus and Marsali in New Bern, and it is then Jamie tells her he wishes to bring Ian home and have him avoid the war.

That night, while in bed, Claire can hear Jamie praying. In the books, he leaves their room and goes to a small pool or water near their cabin to pray, and Claire finds him there only to pick up on him praying to God to let him be enough. I enjoyed how this scene was shot in the show better, to be honest. And rolls perfectly into the following morning when Jamie tells Claire of his most recent dream.

The frequency of Jamie’s dreams of the future seem to be increasing, and this time he tells Claire that he saw the McKenzie’s. They were walking up to a house, and looked happy. He is able to tell Claire the name of the woman speaking to them both, Fiona, which Claire knows she had not shared with Jamie before. He also tells Claire that Jemmy was trying to talk to him through a box he’d never seen before, and she tells him it is a telephone.

To hide what was left of the French Gold, Jamie uses some of it for musket balls and the remainder he puts into a chest. He and Claire then return to a cave that we find out he used to come to with Jemmy. Inside the cave, Jamie shows Claire the remains of a Spanish man who died there. This is later important in Jamie’s cryptic letter to Roger and Bree which reveals Jemmy holds the key to finding it. The storyline with Jemmy in the future gets very interesting, and I feel like the cliffhanger for the end of this first half of the season might be his kidnapping.

A New Knife

Back on the Ridge, Jamie and Claire share a scene straight from the books where he gives her a new knife for their journey. There are lots of direct quotes from the books, minus a few dirty comments from Jamie. The two blood the blade and call back to the iconic line from their wedding, “Blood of my Blood” with a reworked version of their theme song.

I loved this parallel to their wedding, where Claire was not given a choice to share her blood and partake in this act. Now, we see her blood her own blade willingly and choose Jamie once again. The theme of Echo and the Bone is definitely heavy on Jamie’s self worth and Claire choosing him over and over again. Their strength as a couple will be needed more than ever this season, so I like that they are reinforcing that with these scenes.

Lallybroch

At the end of the episode, Bree and Roger drive up to Lallybroch. Ironically they were filming at when I was in Scotland last year and my tour was cancelled because they ended up extending filming due to rain. While there, Bree explains to Roger how much he would have loved the house in its hay day. They cut to a shot of Bree sitting on the steps looking through the gate like Claire had back in season 3 imagining Jamie there. Worried they are trespassing when another car arrives, they learn that the property is actually up for sale. When we see them in the future again in the books they had already purchased it, so I liked getting to see this scene in the show. The house is so central to their storyline and feels like a strong return to seasons 1 and 2. When Jamie and Claire go back to Scotland this season the two couples will be at Lallybroch simultaneously across time and I think that will be incredible to watch.

Wilmington again

Claire and Jamie travel to Wilmington (doesn’t it feel like they just left and were only home on the ridge for a long weekend) and along the way Claire spots Adso. She knows she cannot take him with her and sadly leaves him in the woods to live out his life at the ridge. She has a moment where the reality of their home being gone again hits her all at once and they have a really touching scene where she sees the stake that Jamie first put down in season 4 when they arrived at Fraser's Ridge.

She asks Jamie if they will make it back there one day, and he admits he never thought he’d see Scotland again but the Ridge is where they are bound, so they will. This ties back to his conversation with Bree where she tells him that the freedom gained in this war is worth fighting for, so Jamie knows he must take part. To wrap a nice bow around the episode, Claire says to him that he will always be enough for her, and it was the sweetest moment as the two ride off towards their next adventure in Wilmington as they prepare to travel to Scotland.

A good episode, pacing is still quite quick, but I’m enjoying this season a lot.

[pawseds]

Interview with Claretta Tedyono 4: The Game is On

TORONTO, 2011: “Speaking of your new album, we've witnessed 'Metamorphosis' in your career since childhood. Is this related to the album's pieces?"

C: Yes. Bruch was my debut. I burned wildly with Ysaÿe 3, died, and reignited when playing Tchaikovsky for my now-husband. That’s why I chose that piece for my concert. And Claire de Lune was arranged by my best friend for my wedding. Interpreting these past pieces as my current self is as much of a metamorphosis as the pieces are to me.

“Critics did note your big change in playing.”

C: But the biggest changes were undocumented, really. Most of my life has been written by others: reviews, articles, reports. Yes, they make up who I am, but I've evolved past that. Hidden in between those written lines is so much passion, music, and joy I thought I've lost. I’m done grieving the life written in my obituary. I won't let that be the end of my story, not when I finally have accompaniment to my music. That’s what I hope to share through my album.

---

This handout is loaned from EPIC. Below is a part of Section 5.

S: This is Officer Syahputra. It’s 11 March 2009, a week since Operation NANARLUK’s conclusion and Tedyono’s extraction. She was abducted in Operation SHOCKBOARD, became Strata’s former Head of Security, and is the only known surviving V’Zerth host.

C: And is your fiancé.

S: …okay, I’m restarting this recording.

C: [laughs] Why?

S: I mean, this is gonna be government property!

C: It is a fact, though.

S: True, but I don't want people to think I’m unreliable because…

C: You’re anything but. That's why you're here.

S: Well, I promised to always watch your back. And I didn’t want you to be just another headline, another statistic…

C: If you're about to apologise, don't. It's your job. But don’t restart the recording. It’s been a year of being The Mission or the Head of Security and... I’m so tired of archetypes. Just let me be. And let me be yours.

S: ...I really missed you, Claretta.

C: Me too, Finan. Me too.

Originally for the TopOC contest on Instagram in 2023, in which each rounnd prompt has a drawn and written segment. I decided to make all the written segments connected to each other.

First | Prev Read more about the TTRPG campaign she came out of!

[azaablue]

and if this is how i started my "5 years after aang's death" fic...

Excerpt from Republic City Times  BREAKING NEWS: THE AVATAR IS DEAD November 14, 131 AG  Avatar Aang, 43, has passed away. In an official statement from the United Republic Council, the Avatar had been battling a long illness for some time, and had informed all world leaders of his condition as it progressed. Sources close to the Avatar say that he was surrounded by friends and family, including prominent leaders in our new Republic: Councilman Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, the Chief of Police, Toph Beifong, General Suki of Kyoshi Island, and Fire Lord Zuko. Avatar Aang, the lone survivor of the massacre of the Air Nomads, the hero of the Hundred Years War and founder of Republic City, is survived by his wife, Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, 45, and their three children: Lieutenant  Bumi of the United Forces Navy, 23, Master Kya, 21, and Master Tenzin, 17.  The Avatar and Master Katara’s son, Tenzin, is now the only living air bender.  Representatives of the family have asked for privacy at this moment and those close to the Avatar have declined to comment. The Avatar’s obituary, written by Master Katara, will be published in the coming days. There will be a funeral where the public may pay their respects next week.  While it is nontraditional, all of us at Republic City Times are wishing the Avatar’s family the deepest condolences. Many of us here at the paper owe our lives to his heroic efforts and all of us are able to write freely without fear of prosecution in the Republic because of his work. Thank you, Avatar Aang. You will be deeply missed.  Any efforts regarding the search for his successor have not been announced. 

Excerpt from Republic City Times  BREAKING NEWS: NEW AVATAR FOUND IN THE SOUTHERN WATER TRIBE December 14, 135 The White Lotus has confirmed that the new Avatar has been found in the Southern Water Tribe. In the four years since Avatar Aang’s death, which was commemorated last month with a number of celebrations across Republic City, an elite team selected by world leaders has been hard at work searching for the next Avatar. Though we were braced to anticipate at least a decade of waiting before the Avatar would be announced, the search was officially declared over just after midnight.  Currently, the world knows little about the new Avatar, and according to sources close to the White Lotus, this may remain for several years. Through the White Lotus, the new Avatar’s family has asked for privacy, and will not be disclosing their identities for sometime. However, given public research into the Avatar cycle, it is likely that this Avatar is a girl around the age of four.   Avatar Aang’s family has declined to comment on this matter, but is reportedly going to meet with the White Lotus in  the Southern Water Tribe the coming days, along with Councilman Sokka, Fire Lord Zuko, General Suki, and Chief of Police, Toph Beifong. People across the world can breathe a sigh of relief tonight knowing that the Avatar cycle has continued, though our solace is not without its complexities and hesitations. We have only known a world with one Avatar, the one who led us into an era of peace. To many, it feels like tonight the sun has finally set on the age of Aang. As a new dawn emerges, it is rational to be worried for what the future holds. To say that she has big shoes to fill would be an understatement. Even so, recent polls have stated that many Republic City residents are cautiously optimistic.  All of us at Republic City Times would like to be the first to say, welcome the world, Avatar. We can’t wait to see what you’ll do. 

it would have more ofc, but beginning and end of first chap????? idk im procrastinating other stuff bare with me ty

[lauvra]

I shot guns in a videogame. I abstained from sex and masturbation. I quit caffeine. I wrote your last words, painted over them then turned them into an acrostic poem. I smoked one cigarette every ten minutes to fill a rental apartment with smoke and my lungs with tar. I sugar-soaped the walls and moved into the crawlspace of a place by the beach. I ushered the wrong people into forgiveness and said far too much to curious folks who didn't care. I wouldn't watch romance in movies or hug men. I danced in gay clubs and bought drugs. I walked on the opposite side of the street from the bar. I screamed while my friends apologised to strangers, laughed and corrected chairs in my path of destruction. You messaged a day later, asked how I was doing, "fine," I said. I drank coffee 'til 2am and sold my car. I leaned over the rooftop facing Luna Park, looking for you in happy strangers on the street below. I put the link in bio. I took on debt to move farther from you but ended up in a studio beside a skate park. Yikes. With each move I refused to let others carry your painting, fearing they'd damage it. I tanned, stretched, lifted iron and listened to subliminal sleep tapes for self esteem. I quit smoking and stopped answering calls. I caught planes not caring whether they'd land. I underlined text in A Lover's Discourse in Prahran square. I bought a piano and passed you in the rain. I convinced myself I caused the earthquake. I had a second ocean baptism and got a new job. When I panicked in the second week, my boss said I had stuff to resolve. I watched milestone fireworks and felt nothing at all. I grew sharp claws, painted them cherry red. You walked past me standing with a friend, caught the wrong end of context. Karma, I guess. I lived by your perception and treated everybody with suspicion. I got a gym membership and therapist. He dropped me, said "maybe you aren't ready to change yet". I touched a petal on every roadside flower and thought about something you said. Mouthed thank-you in silence at pedestrian crossings remembering, "they can't hear you!" I got a new job and two cherubs tattooed on my forearm. They did not bring love. Cops checked my welfare again. I went on a date to a jazz bar, then an open mic poetry night and fled before the end. I wrote you bad, I wrote you fair, I wrote you real. I had sex with a divorcee. I sang sad things and sought religious experiences at gigs. I met with a deployed American soldier thinking maybe he'd kill me, a mercy, then didn't give him an opportunity. I searched up, beneath and inside. I bought a gold ring to feel a little like you at the end of each day. I wished the non-follower view was you, knowing it wasn't. I got a new job, moved to the other side of the city and said I was free. Two weeks later you tagged down my street. My bad, another Goliath mishap. I brushed my hands against the paint, drank four bottles of wine in a week and wrote in recollection. I moved once more. Quit the workforce. I had Penny's teeth cleaned, mine pulled and stumbled through the city in a borrowed jacket. I wondered what exactly you were afraid to say under general anaesthetic. I forgot I, then remembered again. I put a painting in an exhibit, got a new therapist and joined a support group. I've walked you off, taken over a thousand showers, laughed, cried, scowled, searched obituaries and whispered sorry too quietly for the wind to carry. I've read, turned you into art, prayed for and ignored you, envied people you moved onto, forgiven but still can't walk past the stranger I loved on Rose Street without my knees weakening. But really, when I write to you it's another brick wall spoken to. It's as Steinbeck once said: money removes the charge of insanity. At least I gained one penny for my grief. It was real for me but you were right, we have nothing to say to one another. I've felt, thought and written it all. You were more precise: "All good, I'm out."

[killed-by-choice]

Arlin Dela Cruz, 19 (USA 1992)

In places where abortion is legal, forced and coerced abortion is disturbingly common. One of the most heart-rending cases of forced abortion and the consequences that follow is the death of 19-year-old Arlin Dela Cruz.

The day started out like any other. A group of peaceful protesters and sidewalk counselors were standing outside of the Hillcrest abortion facility in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. A car pulled up and two middle-aged people got out.

Then the two passengers opened the back door of the car and forcibly pulled out a terrified teenage girl, who was visibly crying. The young girl saw the protesters and tried to go to them for help, but the two adults grabbed her by the arms and began to drag her towards the facility.

The Hillcrest facility’s escort offered no help to the sobbing girl. A Pro-Life protester called out to the escort, saying, “Can’t you see she doesn’t want to do this? I can’t step on your property, but you can help her. You’re pro-choice, right? Can’t you help her?”

The escort gave the peaceful protesters a malicious smirk and held the front door open so that the two middle-aged people could forcibly propel the girl through the entrance. She disappeared through the doors as she struggled in vain to get away.

The next time the protesters saw the girl, she was on the news.

The teenager, identified as high school senior Arlin Dela Cruz, had disappeared from her home on October 15, 1992—only 3 weeks after the abortion. Searchers discovered her corpse hanging from a tree in the woods behind her house. She had tucked her favorite stuffed animal (a stuffed bunny) under her shirt for comfort before she killed herself. Arlin’s mother discovered a suicide note Arlin had written saying that she wanted to be with her baby.

Had Arlin never been dragged crying and struggling through that door, she and her baby could both be here today.

https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/59520839/arlin-n-dela_cruz

https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:QV2C-X6XC

Find A Grave Index database, FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:QV2C-X6XC : 10 September 2021), Arlin N. Dela Cruz, ; Burial, Harrisburg, Dauphin, Pennsylvania, United States of America, Blue Ridge Memorial Gardens; citing record ID 59520839, Find a Grave, http://www.findagrave.com.

The Patriot-News (Harrisburg, PA) obituary published on October 22, 1992

[cyberphuck]

Did your school have an "Every 15 Minutes" week or "Drunk Driving Kills" week or similar, where a handful of students were selected to be "dead" and would still attend school but no one could talk to or acknowledge them?

[earthdoves]

september reading

disclaimer when i say reading what i mean is that i Have Been Reading and may not have finished yet.

pax romana ★★★★

i got this as a gift for someone and liked it so much when reading that i went and downloaded an epub of it online for myself too. good gift for the classical studies student in your life. there is a glossy color page spread in the middle of it and many photos of sources 😍

seven deadly sins ★★★★

this book was easy to get into with my basic knowledge of the sport and an engaging read. i also go crazy for a 'seven deadly sins for seven wins'. some reviewers have pointed out that they heard way too much about walsh's own life in this book but i didn't have a problem (person who loved amis' koba the dread voice... yeah...) cheating in sports and the omerta of silence is an interest of mine.

a big enough god ★★★★

haven't finished reading this yet but we are off to a promising start! i'm always interested in reading seminal texts from the past century and see how well they hold up and what value they retain in the present (published in 1994).

one of those mothers ★★★

took it out as part of my library's two week bestie loan program. have to admit that i've been lacking in appreciation and reading of nz authors which is something that i am working to rectify... not much to say about this book other than that it is solid 3.5 stars for me. i had some issues with the way the dual timelines worked (the twists of the past timeline being revealed had me going 🤨 idk about that.... if that had happened 9 months ago!! i think i would still be thinking about that in my present timeline????) but overall this was a good book if you wanted to pick up and read something in one sitting. did have some fun with the author's crawl in the "gutters of the [white nz] middle class" too.

koba the dread ★★★★

rip martin amis sorry it took some great obituaries and thinkpieces written about you post mortem for me to decide that i should start reading you. fascinating book. if you hated walsh injecting in parts of his life into seven deadly sins you might not be able to enjoy this book either. however when your father is kingsley amis i think you definitely have a right to be injecting in stories of your relationship with him and life.

fake accounts ★★★★

i have not finished this book!! this and 'the list' were two books that i saw in store and had down on my tbr, so glad that i am making a start on it 🫡. oyler's long sentences and use of multiple clauses gives me hope for myself in the future. may we all have bright careers ahead of us.

[wizard-news]

NEWS FOR THE WEEK

19/3 the year of the Viscous Squirrel

--

Summary of Breaking News for the Week

M.M. returns and makes monologue at various wizards, searches for Watts Millenis. Interview with M.M goes poorly. several obituaries written and ready to be released in event of death. Various revelations.

--

BIG FISH FIGHTS FELONS

Clarkii Kelp

A large fish found in the CaSolovi river has become a vigilante figure, appearing in shadows to fight crime. One of the villainous scoundrels that encountered this fish said that it "Put me off the idea of crime forever. I mean, I got beat up by a fish."

The fisherman who found this heroic creature said that "I had no idea how much this humble, humongous, fish would change our lives forever."

--

WEDNESDAY STOLEN

Gamping the Amphibious

The Lost-Day Thief returns! Several more wizards have now lost their valuables accompanied by their Wednesdays. Not only that, but the investigators hired to find this clever bandit have been found with no memory of the entire previous week! We ourselves have sent our investigative division with special equipment to seek out this sly stealer, but so far they haven't found anything.

--

THE TREE OF DOOM

Cam CamCam

The Tree of Doom, a superweapon devised by a very nasty druid by the name of Zu Bradford, has been unveiled at this year's Evilcon event, winning a variety of prizes and accolades.

--

FOCUS ON THE COMMUNITY

Sto the Cavorting, head of the vampires union.

When I first became a vampire I thought, "Oh, I'm a terrible member of the awful damned!" Do you know why this was my first thought when I was turned? Because of the terrible anti-vampire sentiment that runs through wizard society. Now tell me, is it healthy for a fresh vampire to think that they're an unnatural creature of evil? No! The amount of depressed, hungry vampires is a natural consequence of this vitalism that is propagated among the living. We're not all shadowy aristocrats, we're people just like you. Only difference is that we can't stand sunlight and thirst for the blood of the living. Big deal. Accept vampires for what we are. Save an un-life.

--

HAUNTED HEADS OUTBURST OBSCENITIES

Varnish Dran

Hovering, decapitated heads have been floating around various small towns and loudly spouting various swears and insults to anybody within hearing range. Three people have been deafened and seventy-four have been highly offended. If you see these bodiless bothers, cover your ears and report it to your local WIZARD NEWS outpost station. We would like to have a chat with these furious fellows.

--

RUNAWAY INTERN FOUND

Ahno Nimus

We have successfully located our missing intern, Batalor the Blue, and retrieved the artifacts that were stolen. No further intervention is required, and Bat has been sent along on their merry way.