#years of playing chess with his dad and sister paid off :')))))

[diwns]

impress with ultimate chess prowess 🔓

[artyandink]

we could be more | dean winchester | 8

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

THE USUAL SUSPECTS

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : ROLLING IN THE DEEP - ADELE

“Miss Ivonne Rainer.” A dude with black hair and green eyes stepped into the room, holding a case file. He was around my age, well built, and judging by the confidence, high up in the precinct. He was also, now that I mention it, sexy. “You’ve got a very chequered past, by the looks of it.” 

“I’m not playing chess, mate, so just cut to the chase.” I retorted, tapping my watch. “You’ve got 48 hours, so why not tell me your name so we can move things a bit quicker?”

”Detective Sergeant James Rhodes.” He showed me his badge. 

“Where’s the bad cop, eh?”

”With Dean Winchester. Good cop’s with Sam, and the even worse cop is with you.”

”I feel special. Flattered.” I smiled sarcastically. “Why are you holding us?”

”Your buddy Dean is being held on charges for suspicion of murder.” 

I frowned, leaning forward. “Murder?!”

”You sound genuinely surprised. You should’ve gone to acting school.”

”Who could he have murdered?” 

“We’re getting onto that.” He replied, opening a file and giving me a once over with a hint of red on his cheeks. I smirked a little, leaning back in my chair. “Let’s just look through your file first. I’ve got a lot of research on you, Ivonne. You’re 27, born in ‘79 in Jersey to Michael Rainer and Audrey Rainer neé Singer. You went to a good primary, got a score of 174 on your LSATs, an almost perfect score on your SATs and scored a full ride to Princeton on the course of economics while trying to help your younger sister Quinn battle cancer, which ultimately failed.” I gritted my teeth. “But, here’s the catch. One year after your admission, you were forced to drop out due to your father’s untimely death, a murder which was never solved. Do you want me to continue?” 

I stayed silent. 

“Tough crowd. About a month after your father’s death, you were the centre of an open and shut case eight years ago in which your brother Carter descended into insanity and killed your family by sticking knives into their throats, and also killed your mother’s unborn child. However, in defence, you shot him after he tried to do the same to you. You were proven innocent after a CCTV recording placed Carter as the killer of your sister Lily and your mother. You went off the grid, but then conveniently seven or eight years later, you were kidnapped by your boyfriend Xavier Jackson, but you broke free, wrestled for his gun and shot him twice, killing him. Your witness? Sam Winchester.” 

“You done relating my life story?” I scoffed. “I’ll admit it, you’re cute and this macho, intimidation act is as well, but if you’re aiming to take me out to dinner after this, you’re gonna have to take a step back and reassess the situation.” He looked taken aback, and I nodded. “I’ve met people like you before, Serge, and I know exactly how to deal with them.” 

“We’re here to discuss Dean Winchester.”

”And so far all you’ve done is relate something that isn’t important and check me out.” I smirked. “Get on with it, will you?”

”Why I listed every bit of your family history is because one thing doesn’t add up.” He put down the file. “How you ended up with the Winchester brothers. You have no connection to them. Your family had no contact with the Winchesters. So how did you end up with a man who’s charged with assault, murder and grave desecration and his brother?” 

“I found them.” I frowned, pulling out my dad’s journal. “Read about John, Sam and Dean Winchester, knew I had to find ‘em. I had a stalker after me. Not anymore, but Dad’s journal knew that they could help me and they did.”

”What about Tony and Karen Giles?”

”Anthony Giles was a friend of John Winchester.” I explained. “I went with Sam and Dean once they found out that he was dead, throat slit with no trace of any bad things happening in Giles’ life to make him do such a thing.”

“There you go.” Sam gave Dean and I a cup of coffee while Dean handed Sam a paper while I dried my hair with a t-shirt. I was wearing a baggy black cashmere jumper with jeans, my necklace around my neck as usual.

“Anthony Giles.” Dean stated. 

“Who’s Anthony Giles?” I asked, leaning in with my hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

“He’s a Baltimore lawyer. Working late in his office, check it out.” 

I read the paper, raising an eyebrow. “Room was clean, throat was slit… but no DNA or prints.”

”Keep reading. It gets better.” 

“Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant.” Sam muttered. 

“So either someone tampered with the tapes, or…” 

“There’s an invisible killer.” 

“My favorite kind. What do you think, Scully? You wanna check it out?” 

“I’m not Scully. You’re Scully.” 

“No, I'm Mulder. You're a red-headed woman.” 

“You two are idiots, more like.” I sighed. “Let me dry my hair, then we’ll head out.” 

“C’mon, Beanie,” Dean laughed, “you look good with wet hair.” 

“Then again, it doesn’t feel great in cold air.” I winked. “Maybe next time.” I rifled through my box of IDs, buying my lip. “Who are we today?” 

“Insurance investigators.” 

“I’ll get my suit from the Mustang.” 

“But, if you think about it, Dean couldn’t have murdered Tony, being at my house, right?” I asked. 

“You’re right.” He nodded. “Tell me what happened next.” 

“We went to see Karen, to help her keep herself together. And boy, she was fallin’ apart.” 

Karen Giles sat on her sofa, sniffling and wiping her nose on a tissue. “Insurance. I totally forgot about the insurance.” She whispered, holding back the fifth wave of tears. 

“We're very sorry to bother you right now, but the company is required to conduct its own investigation. You understand.” Sam pressed on, and she nodded. I forgot to mention, we were insurance investigators. 

“Sure.” 

“So, if you could tell us anything you remember about the night your husband died.” I asked, sitting down next to her. 

“Uh, Tony and I were just supposed to have dinner. He called and said he was having computer troubles and that, that he had to work late. That was it.” Karen recounted, and I nodded. 

“Do you have any idea who could have done this to him?” 

“No, like I told the police, I… I have no idea.”

”Did Tony mention anything, you know, unusual to you? In the days before his death?” Dean asked. 

“Unusual…” 

“Yeah, like… strange?” 

“Strange?” 

“Y’know, like… weird noises, visions-“ I cleared my throat, stopping Dean. 

“He had a nightmare the day before he died.” She whispered, and Carl wrote it down on my flip notebook, and I was loosely holding the pen to give an impression that I was writing and not a magic pen. 

“What kind of a nightmare?” Sam frowned. 

“Uh, he said that he woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed, he blinked and she was gone, I mean, it was just a nightmare.” 

“Did he say what she looked like?” Dean asked. 

“What the hell difference does it make of what she looked like?!” 

“Our company’s thorough, Mrs Giles.” I smiled, stepping in to save Dean’s butt. Again. “We’d like to get a detailed description of the days prior to the incident so then we can make a good analysis. As many details as you can spare, if that’s ok.” 

“Yeah.” She nodded, calming down, while Carl wrote down ‘good job’ on the paper. “He said she was pale, and she had dark red eyes.” 

“Thank you for your time.” I gave Karen a side hug, giving her my fake calling card, but had my burner phone number. “Call me if you need anything.” 

“I told Karen to call me if she had any problems and then we set off.” 

“Doesn’t explain why you broke into Anthony Giles’ office.” He persisted.

“Okay, look, Karen called us later, said that there was some stuff that she wanted from Tony's office, but the police weren't letting her in- like, a picture of the two of them in Paris, and some other stuff. She gave us the key. It wasn’t a break in.” 

“Hey. Anthony Giles' body was found right about here.” Sam gestured. 

“Throat slit so deep, part of his spinal cord was showing.” I read out, sitting at the computer. 

Dean whistled. “What do you think? Vengeful spirit? Underlining vengeful?” 

“Yeah, maybe. I mean he did see that woman at the foot of his bed.” Sam shrugged. I found something at the printer, whipping it out. 

“Take a look at this.” I showed it to them. It had the word/thing ‘danashulps’ written all over it. “Dana Shulps.” 

“A name?” 

“A name that’s everywhere.” Dean chuckled. “Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” 

Sam checked the desk, shining his torch down. Then he breathed on it, revealing the word Dana Shulps. “Well, I think we’ve crossed over to a whole new level of weird.” 

“Tell me about it.” I typed quickly, trying to crack the password to Giles’ computer.

”Maybe Giles knew her.” Dean suggested. 

“Or it’s the name of our red-eyed mystery girl.” Sam shrugged. We went through available files, I scoured the internet, hacked into police databases, but… 

“Nada.” I grimaced. “No girl name Dana Shulps ever died a horrible death or even existed. The surname Shulps isn’t even a name.” 

“So what now?” Dean groaned. 

“I’m a few clicks away from unlocking Giles’ laptop.” I clicked my tongue. “There could be something in his personal files.” 

“How long?” Sam asked. 

“Fifteen minutes, give or take. Carl, lend a nib.” Carl started helping, while I counted down the seconds until-

There we go.

“Seriously?” Sam sighed.

 Dean’s fart noises.

”Your story checks out.” Rhodes nodded, closing the case. “But fact remains that Dean was found at Karen Giles’ murder scene.”

”Fact remains that Dean Winchester saved my life.” I frowned. “On multiple occasions, won’t specify which, and if that warrants anything, it warrants a hell lot of respect and favours. Come on, Serge. You’re smart, it’s obvious. You’re probably the type of guy to take one look at who you’re dealing with and say whether they’re guilty or not. And you’ve taken a long, hard look at Dean. At me, maybe even Sam. Give me your honest opinion. Do you think any of us are guilty?”

”No.” Rhodes admitted. “Facts don’t add up. Dean wasn’t holding a weapon when they found him. He wasn’t present at the murder of Tony Giles. No prints, no DNA, just him conveniently at the scene. But I’ve got nothing else to work with, unless something else is at play here, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was because a murder isn’t that clean cut.” 

“What if it was something else?” I shrugged. 

“What are you suggesting?” 

“At the crime scene, we found two words written over and over. Dana Shulps.” I showed him the printed paper. “Help me figure out what this means. If you find Dean guilty after this, go ahead, arrest him, put him on trial and get him in prison with a lifer, but for now, consider the fact that he’s innocent.”  

James sighed, conceding. “Fine, but it has to look like I’m interrogating you.” 

“Not so much of an even worse cop, huh?” 

“I bend to reason. Now, Dana.” I wrote down the name, staring at it. 

“Best thing I’ve got is an anagram.” I shrugged, tapping a pen on the table. 

“Scramble it, then?” We both wrote down the words in different ways, switching things up, thinking, until I got something. 

“Ashland sound familiar?” I asked, and he nodded. 

“Ashland’s a street name.” A woman knocked and walked in, and she looked to be in her late forties. Her badge read ‘D. Ballard.’ 

“Detective Ballard.” Rhodes’ demeanour switched up, turning to Ballard with a smug air. Wow, that was quick. Smoother than butter. “How’re things going with Sam Winchester?” 

“Story matches Dean’s. How about Rainer?” Ballard replied. 

“We’re getting somewhere.” He smirked, glancing back at me. “Miss Rainer and I were having an intense heart to heart, but story still matches the other two’s. Though, I have to say, tough customer. Not sure Pete would be able to keep his cool for long if he had her.” 

“I doubt it too.” She nodded. “Keep at it, we can only hold ‘em for 48 hours.” She left, and Rhodes switched again, turning back to me with an easy smile. 

“How’d I do?” 

“You lie almost as well as I do.” I grinned. “Am I turning a good boy soft?” 

“Cut the bad girl act, Rainer.” Rhodes chuckled. “Yeah, I have to admit, I was checking you out, but I can look through a guise if I see one.” 

“Again, flattered.” 

“You’re a hard case to crack, aren’t you?” 

“I like to give people a challenge.” I wrote on the paper. “Get this to Dean and Sam, any way you can without being spotted. They need to know.” 

He took the paper, standing up. “I hope to God that you’re right, Rainer.” He left, leaving me to contemplate all my life decisions.

”Trust me, I hope so too.” I sighed.

Rhodes came into my room later, looking grim.  “I got you a ticket out, but Dean’s decided to confess. You might wanna come watch.” 

“Confess to what, though?” I asked, picking up my leather jacket and putting it on. 

“That’s what I wanna find out.” We went into the interrogation room, where they were setting up a camera. 

“Beanie.” Dean grinned upon seeing me. “Are you ok?”

”I’m doing fine.” I nodded.

”Your boyfriend decided to confess, sweetheart.” One detective smirked. “Speak directly to the camera, and state your name for the record.” 

Dean faced the camera, a smug smirk on his face. Wait, I know what he’s going to do. “My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius.” Here we go. “I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women. And I did not kill anyone. But I know who did. Or rather what did. Of course it can't be for sure, because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory was that we're looking for some kind of vengeful spirit.”

”Excuse me?” Ballard scoffed. 

“You know, Casper the bloodthirsty ghost?” Dean shrugged. “Tony Giles saw it. I'll bet you cash money Karen did too. But see, the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason it's trying to tell us something. But communicating across the veil, it ain't easy. You know, sometimes the spirits, they, they get things jumbled. You remember ‘REDRUM’. Same concept. You know, it's, uh, maybe word fragments... other times, it's anagrams. See, at first we thought this was a name, Dana Shulps. But now we think it's a street. Ashland. Whatever's going on, I'll bet you it started there.”

“You arrogant ass.” Detective Sheridan hissed. “Tony and Karen were good people, and you're making jokes.”

”I’m not joking, Ponch.”

”You murdered them in cold blood just like that girl in St. Louis!” 

“Oh, yeah. That wasn't me either. That was a shape-shifter creature that only looked like me.” Sheridan lost his temper, hauling Dean up by his collar and slamming him against the wall. I was going to step in when Rhodes held me back, other officers jumping in to help.

”Pete!” Ballard gasped. 

“That’s ENOUGH!” Rhodes yelled, stopping everyone. “I’ll cuff him myself, just go return to your jobs. Rainer, you stay with me.” Everyone left, leaving Dean, Rhodes and I alone. 

“Well done, you locked me up.” Dean grimaced as he looked down at the cuffs now around his wrists.  “Whatcha gonna do, gloat?”

”Ask you two if this Casper thing is real.” The answer took Dean aback, and he blinked at Rhodes, wondering why. “I talked to Rainer. The facts don’t add up, and a spirit seems most obvious when it comes to a murder with no prints or DNA.” 

“Beanie, you sly fox.” He chuckled.  “She can talk her way out of anything.”

”Long story short, yeah, it is.” I nodded. “Shifter is real too, all of the likes of it are.”

”So, Ashland?”

“Street name.” Rhodes nodded.  “Why this spirit is trying to tell us that, I’m not sure.”

”The girl died there.” Ballard stepped in, and Dean sighed, rolling his eyes and opening his mouth to speak. “Can we make this quick? I'm a little tired, it's been a long day, you know, with your partner assaulting me and all.” 

“I want to know more about the stuff you were talking about earlier.” She gulped. 

“Time Life. Mysteries of the Unknown. Look it up.”

”Let’s pretend for a moment that you aren’t entirely insane.” 

“Mhmm.”

”What would one of these things be doing here?”

”A vengeful spirit? Well, they're created by violent deaths. And then they come back for a reason, usually a nasty one. Like revenge on the people that hurt 'em.” 

I noticed something on Rhodes’ wrist, and I took out, pushing up his sleeve. 

“Where did you get these?” I asked.

”These weren’t there before.” He gulped, looking freaked. Ballard pulled up her sleeve too, showing the bruises. 

“You two saw it, didn’t you?” Dean frowned. 

“How did you know?” Ballard gasped. 

“Because Karen had the same bruises on her wrists. And I'm willing to bet that if you look at Giles' autopsy photos he's got 'em too, it's got something to do with this spirit, I... I don't know what.” He paused, staring at Ballard’s stunned expression as she turned away. “I know. You think you're going crazy. But let's skip that part, shall we? Because the last two people who saw this thing? Died, pretty soon after. You hear me?” 

“You think we’re going to die.” Rhodes breathed. 

“You need to find Sam.” Dean urged. “He can help, and so can Ivonne.”

”You’re giving up your brother.” Ballard stammered. 

“Go with Beanie. She’ll find Sam and they can help figure this out. You can arrest him if you want, or you can let him help you.” 

“Lead the way, Rainer.” Rhodes agreed, and I immediately walked out of the door, both of them following.

I knocked on Sam’s door at the motel. “Jim Rockford? It’s Tabitha from room service.” Sam opened it immediately, spotting the two behind us. “They saw it. This is James Rhodes and you know Detective Ballard.”

”Get in.” We all got inside, and Sam hugged me before turning to the other two, holding their wrists. “These showed up after you saw it?” 

“Yeah.” Rhodes nodded. 

“You know, I must be losing my mind. You're a fugitive. I should be arresting you.” Ballard shakily told us, but we shared a look. 

“Fine. Arrest Sam, then.” I shrugged. “After we save your life. For now, just trust us to do this, ok?” 

“She’s right, Diana.” Rhodes vouched, and she conceded. I gave him a thankful smile, pulling out Sam’s folder of crime scene photos and booking photos. 

“Okay, great. Now, this spirit. What did it look like?” 

“She was, um, really pale, and her throat was cut, and her eyes, they were like, this deep dark red? It appeared like she was trying to talk to me. But she couldn't. It was just... a lot of blood.” Diana stammered. 

“Alright.” I showed them the photos. “I’m gonna flick through these one by one, and you’re gonna tell me if you recognise her.” I went through the photos one by one, and then Rhodes cleared his throat when I stopped at one. 

“That’s her.” He nodded. 

“Yeah.” Diana agreed. 

“Claire Becker? Twenty eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago.” Sam frowned. 

“But we don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after us?” 

“Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?” 

“Pete, Diana and I did.” Rhodes gulped. 

“Did you bust her? Any of you?” I asked. 

“I did, but I got her a shorter sentence than she was going to get.”

“It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn't find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body.” 

“What?” Diana coughed.

“Well, we gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest.” Sam explained.

”Of course it is.” 

“You guys go and have a glass of water. Keep an eye on each other. Ivy and I need to talk.” The other two went into the room behind us so Sam and I could have a chat.  

“Rhodes seems to be taking it well.” I smiled. “Ballard, not so much.” 

“I think Rhodes is taking it well cause of you.” Sam smirked, and laughed when I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think I don’t see the sparks. Dean would’ve already commented on it.” 

“He’s a man of the law.” I sighed. “I have more fake IDs than I’ve had birthdays.” 

“Maybe that’s the danger of it. Forbidden love-“ I slapped him across the head with a piece of paper. “Ow, okay, okay!” 

“You better not mention to this to Dean.” 

“I think he knows.”

We walked into an abandoned warehouse, my gun drawn just in case. 

“A firearm?” Rhodes scoffed.

“It’s licensed, so untwist your boxers.” I smirked. 

“So what exactly are we looking for?” 

“We’ll let you know once we find it.” Sam informed, then we split up, searching for a possible place to hide a body. I scaled the wall, knocking on it to try and find a bit of hollow wall that I could bust open-

“Sam!” I heard Diana yell, sounding scared. “Sam! James! IVONNE!” All three of us came running back, and we found Diana alone. 

“What happened?” I asked. “Did you see Claire?” 

“She, she was here.” 

“Did she attack you?” Sam questioned, looking around. 

“No, she was just… reaching out to me. She was over there by the window.“ There was a shelf blocking the window, so Sam and Rhodes got to work and moved it, revealing the word ‘ASHLAND SUP’. 

“I’m guessing the SUP started the word supplies.” I grinned, then followed the reflection to a wall on the other side. “Sam, did you bring the sledgehammer?” Sam held it up, so I took it and started cracking a hole the wall. I peered in, and nodded. “Yep. There’s something here.” Sam joined me and helped me tear the rest of the wall open, revealing Claire Becker’s body.

“God.” Rhodes breathed. 

“Something about this is bothering me.” Sam frowned. 

“You’re digging up a corpse.” Diana pointed out. 

“Digging them up is pretty par for the course. But why would a vengeful spirit lead us to her corpse?” We bent down to take a look, and Diana reached out, touching the necklace. 

“Does it mean something to you?” I asked. 

“That necklace. It’s rare, custom made on Carson Street.” She pulled out the same one from her neckline. “I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me.” 

“Now this all makes perfect sense.” Sam nodded, piecing it all together. 

“What does?” Rhodes frowned. “Apart from Pete killing Claire.” 

“Claire’s not a vengeful spirit, she’s a death omen.” I explained. “She’s not killing people, she’s warning them that they’ll die by the same hand she did. You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is.“ 

“Detective, how much do you know about your partner?” Sam asked. 

“Oh my god.” Diana gasped. 

“What?” 

“About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product.” 

“Someone like a heroin dealer. Someone like Claire.” 

“I’m going to make a phone call, find out where Dean is.” Rhodes stood up, pulling out his phone and walking to another corner. “If we’re right, he could be next.” 

“Did you bring the Mustang?” Sam asked me, and I held up my keys. 

“Yeah.” I nodded, then turned to Claire’s body. “We’ll catch him.” 

Rhodes came back, looking freaked again. “Pete just left with Dean. Said he had to be transferred and just took off. He’s not answering the radio, either.” 

“We need to cut him off.” I grimaced, cocking my gun. “He’s in a county vehicle, so we need to access the lo-jack and find the route. Let’s go!”

I was driving with my pedal to the metal, with Diana and Sam in the back and Rhodes at the front with me. 

“Tell me.” Rhodes turned to me with a smile. “How does a girl like you end up in a job like yours?” 

“What do you mean, a girl like me?” I chuckled, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re smart, quick on your feet, obviously good with a gun. You got almost perfect scores on your LSAT and SAT, got into Princeton, practically a shoo in almost anywhere. You could’ve been great on the force, instead you’re hunting the impossible.” 

“Hunting the impossible seems like a better option, in my opinion.” We reached the GPS location of the county vehicle, appearing behind Sheridan just as he was about to kill Dean. 

“Pete!” Diana yelled. “Put the gun down!”

”Diana?” Sheridan gasped. “How'd you find me?” 

“I know about Claire.” 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” 

“Put the gun down!” 

“Oh, I don't think so. You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster.” 

“Why are you doing this?” She asked. 

“I didn’t do anything, Diana.” Sheridan lied, while I flicked down the safety pin on my gun. 

“It’s a little bit late for that.” 

“It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice.” 

“You had a choice, Pete.” Rhodes frowned. “Instead you killed an innocent woman. Then why Tony and Karen?” 

“Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything.” He reasoned. “It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked.”

“How many more people are going to die over this, Pete?” 

“There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just, just one more dead scumbag.” 

“Hey!” Dean barked, but backed away when the gun was turned on him. I rolled my eyes, ready to pounce, but with a gun trained on Dean it wouldn’t be wise.

“No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you.” I gave Diana a look, but she put her gun down. “Thank you. Thank you.” Sheridan turned to Dean, but then Diana quickly picked up her gun, shooting Pete in the stomach and making him fall, giving Dean time to roll out of the way. 

“Then why don’t you buy me another necklace, you ass?!” She hissed, before she was tackled herself, and Sheridan got up, instantly going for the gun, facing off Rhodes and Sam. However, Claire showed up behind Sheridan, making him turn around and gasp in horror as she smiled, giving me time to pull the trigger and shoot him in the back. He fell to the floor, more permanently this time, and Claire gave me a nod before disappearing. 

“Hell of a shot.” Rhodes breathed, glancing to me. 

“Thanks.” I smiled. We gave Diana time to mourn her partner, then she came back to us. 

“You doin' all right?” Sam asked, concerned. 

“No, not really. The death omen Claire, what happens to her now?” 

“Should be over. She should be at rest.” 

“So, what now, officers?” Dean asked. 

“Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally. I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed.” Rhodes explained. 

“You’d take care of that?” I smiled. 

“I hope so. But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you. Unless... I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.” 

“You sure?” Sam blinked. 

“Yeah, they’re sure, Sam.” Dean urged. 

“No, I mean, you could lose your jobs over that.” 

“Look, we just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night.” Diana sighed. “Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for the three of you right now. Get out of here. I gotta radio this in.” 

“Do you know where my car is by any chance?” Dean asked. 

“It’s in an impound lot on Robertson’s.” She gave Dean a look. “No. You’re not stealing it.” 

“Of course not.” I smiled, patting the boys on the shoulder. “We’ve got my Mustang, and we’ll improvise. We’re good at that.” 

“Clearly.” Rhodes grinned, and Dean and Sam shared a look. 

“We’ll meet you at the car.” Dean smirked, dragging Sam with him. Diana had slipped off, leaving me and Rhodes. 

“This’ll be one heck of a story to tell.” 

“I bet.” I laughed, storing my gun in my arm holster. “Just leave out the part of the death omen and people won’t call you insane.” 

“That sounds best.” He chuckled. “You’re a really hard case, Rainer, you know that, right?” 

“I’ve heard. Well, I’ve better get going.” I smiled, then pulled my car keys out of my pocket. I stared at them, then raised an eyebrow. “Wait, I have my keys. If I have them, how are the boys in the-“ My focus was thrown off course by a pair of lips on mine, an arm wrapping around my waist. I dropped my keys because of the impact, forgetting about them and cupping the nape of his neck, the other arm hanging loosely around it. I could feel his smile, tilting his head-

“HAUN HAUN! YOU GOT THE GIRL, OUI OUI?!” I pulled away, turning to where Dean was. 

“DEAN WINCHESTER, I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” I yelled, then stepped back from Rhodes. “Sorry about them.” 

“Nah, you’re good.” He picked up my keys and gave them to me, kissing me again quickly and then my hand. “It’s gonna take a lot to forget you, Rainer.” 

“Don’t worry about that, Serge, nobody can forget me.” I handed him a note with my burner cell number. “Call me sometime. If I don’t pick up, I’m hunting another demon. And, uh, call me Ivy.” 

“Then call me James.” He took the note, pocketing it. “I’ll lead the cops off your trail. Just go, and don’t die, cause those two will need your help. You’re a smooth talker.” 

“I guess that solves the mystery of why I joined them in the first place.” I smiled. “See you around, James.” 

“You too, Ivy.” I walked back to the Mustang, unlocking it and getting in. 

“You boys are idiots.” 

“I like him the best.” Dean smirked. “Cool dude.” 

“Yeah, we love a rogue officer.” Sam teased. 

“Shut up, you two.” I groaned, flooring it and waving goodbye out of the window to James, who was watching me leave. 

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[citrus-simp]

Hope everything is okay. I just wanted to say I love your writing and both blogs :) if you ever do open requests again, and even if you do you don’t have to write this. But how about a drabble of levi and his wife who have 2 sons and 1 daughter named Kutchel who is 3/4. Levi loves all his kids but kinda has a soft spot for kutchel🥺 and sometimes her brothers exclude her from play n are mean to her so she comes up to him trembling like “why won’t they play w me daddy”. Cue levi. Rest is up to u.

{AN}-> first of all, thank you so much for the love and support and of course for reading my work! And yes I am doing better thank you for the wishes! I am and ULTIMATE simp for papa Levi!

=================================

"I'm home" Levi called out as he slipped out of his work shoes and hung his blazer

"Dad! Look what I won today at practice!"

"Dad look at the grade I got o my test today!" your sons yell as they ran to their father holding up objects for him to look at.

Your eldest Liam who was 8 showed him what his football coach gave him, at practice. He had done very well and had gotten a button that said MVP on it, he was very proud of himself. Eli, your younger son who was 6, wanted him to know how well he was doing in his classes. He was top of his class and loved to show you both how hard he worked

"Congrats to both of you, I'm proud of you both for working so hard," he said ruffling their hair, gaining a big smile from them both

"Welcome home, Levi" you popped in with Kutchel in your arms, pecking Levi's lips. Your youngest and only daughter, Kutchel. She was 3, and definitely had Levi wrapped around her little finger.

The thing was, not only was she named after his mother, she looked so much like her! Of course, she had certain things from you but her eye shape, and nose were from his mother. Unfortunately, Levi lost his mother before Kutchel was born. It took a toll on him, all the things she had done to care for him, her sacrifice, everything.

He felt as though he was never able to repay her. Next thing you know about a year later, you found out about your pregnancy, with your first girl. The day she was born, Levi felt something he never had before. It was almost like he had completely healed from his loss when he looked at her.

"Papa!" she reached out for her father to take her, which he gladly did

"Hey there princess," he said kissing her chubby cheek "what did you do today?"

"Me and mama went to the park and I fed the birdies," she said with a rosy smile.

"Oh look at you doing big girl things! I'm so proud of you princess." he smiled at her and raised her above his head. Her brothers watching a bit disappointed from a distance.

Did they hate their sister? No. Their parents taught them to respect and love their sister, which they did. But at their age, jealousy was something big among siblings. Seeing how their father would be more affectionate towards their sister made them feel different. They saw that their father would gravitate more to their sister than to them. Or he would put her first before them when asked to spend time with them.

Of course, you had noticed this way before time. You had asked him when you were pregnant with Eli that he wouldn't have favorites and love all your kids equally. You knew that could make a bad relationship with his kids and between siblings so you wanted to avoid it. Sometimes you'd step in and try to give your sons the same praise, but of course, they still wanted their father's attention.

"Liam why don't you go and find a nice place to put that MVP button in your room, like a trophy" you try and lighten the mood "and Eli, I'm sure I have a frame for that test of yours" thank the god it actually worked as both boys run in different directions for each of their own things to do.

"Levi, did you see the boys' accomplishments?' you ask

"Y/N, I know where you're going with this. I paid attention to all of them, Liam is doing great in football, and Eli is practically a genius," he said putting down Kutchel

"*sigh* I know I just-"

"Want no one hurt I know, well how about you meet me in the kitchen and we can talk it out alright? Kutchel sweetheart, why don't you go and play with your brothers while I talk with mommy okay?" he said ruffling her hair

" 'Kay!" she said running up the stairs to where she'd find her brothers most likely.

"And what would this talk be about?" you ask raising an eyebrow as his hands found your waist

"Oh just about how I have some time to kiss you properly~"

>

" 'iam" Kutchel said as she enters his room, Eli in the same as they played together "can I pway with you and E-i?"

"No Kutchel, go away" Liam sneered "we don't play with babies"

"I'm not a baby!" she pouted

"Go away Kutchel, you're not smart enough to play this game either way," Eli said motioning to the board where he and his brother were playing chess "Maybe dad wants your company" Eli may be smart but he also got his father's sassy mouth

"B-but I wanna pway with you" he pouted trying not to cry as she sniffed

"Kutchel just go away, ugh you're so annoying when you cry"

"Yeah, and only babies cry."

"I-I not...a-a baby," she said as tears pooled in her eyes, of course, they would tease her playfully at times but this time Kutchel really did feel hurt

"Whatever, the only reason gives you so much attention is 'cause you were a mistake and he doesn't want you feeling bad" Eli sneered without thinking

"N-not true!" she stopped her feet as tears started to fall from her eyes, but she just couldn't handle any more ridicule from her brothers and left.

Meanwhile, you and Levi were in the kitchen caught in a makeout session when you heard a certain someone crying "Papa, mommy!"

It wasn't a regular call, she sounded hurt and heartbroken causing you both to separate quickly

"Kutchel, sweetheart what happened?" you ask as you kneel down and she crashes into your arm and lets out all her tears. Levi kneels beside you and strokes her back trying to comfort her some more

"P-papa, why won't 'iam let me play?" she asked her father as she peaked from your shoulder "T-they say I was a mistake.." she sniffed and you swore you could see the fire in his eyes. You stood up with Kutchel in your arms as Levi shot up and walked towards the stairs

"Levi! Levi, keep your anger in control, don't you dare-"

"Y/N, I won't do anything brash, but they can't say crap like that. I for sure didn't raise them this way. Just watch Kutchel, I'll talk to the boys"

Levi would NEVER lay a hand on his kids, but you didn't want him scolding either. However, they couldn't just say what they wanted to their sister thinking it was okay. Especially to the point of her crying.

"Come on baby, let's go watch the birds outside okay?"

Meanwhile, Levi is now knocking on Liam's door "Liam, Eli, come downstairs" he said while taking the lead waiting on them. He sat in a chair in front of the sofa and watched his sons take a seat. They looked like they knew what happened...

"Is there something you want to tell me? Like why Kutchel came to us crying? Asking if she was a mistake?" he said with a firm voice but not yelling at them. But enough to let them know he was very serious about the situation. Eli started to fidget with his fingers while looking down in his lap. Liam keeps eye contact with his father trying to keep a straight face.

"We didn't want to play with her so we said that so she'd leave..." Liam said

"That doesn't justify calling her a mistake. All three of you are here because your mother and I wanted you and we were happy as hell to have all of you."

"Even if you wanted all of us, it's not like you love all of us the same" Eli said crossing his arms

"Eli, that isn't-"

"you always put her first. Even if we come to you, whenever she comes you act more affectionate and happy with her just existing"

"We always have to do something just to get your attention...it sucks dad..." Liam added, "why can't you just love us how you love her?"

Levi was honestly hurt. He didn't want this to happen. He loved his sons to the moon and back. Maybe it was true that Kutchel got more attention from him but it didn't mean he didn't love them

"Boys, do you remember grandma?" Levi asked relaxing his posture a bit. Both boys nodded "Well, your sister looks a lot like my mother, it's why we gave her that name. I think I got attached to her in a way to cope with losing her. But I never want you to think I don't love you." he said kneeling in front of the two children

"The day you were both born were two of my happiest moments. You know I cried the first time you walked to me, Liam? And the day you told off Hanji made me laugh, Eli" he shared with them "I love Kutchel, but I also love you both to the end of my days. But I am sorry." he apologized opening his arms for them.

Hopping off the couch they have a warm group hug

"Alright, you two. I apologized but you still have some apologizing to do with your mother and sister," he said taking their hands and walking to the back porch where you sat with Kutchel

Levi clears his throat "You and Kutshcel have some visitors" he said with a nod to his hands

"Oh? What would these visitors like to say?" you ask in hope of a good outcome

"We're sorry we were mean to you Kutchel" Eli started

"Yeah, we didn't mean it, really. We were a little jealous but we never meant to hurt you. We love you" Liam followed

Kutchel pouted, not making eye contact "Really?" she asked

"Really really." they both offer a smile Kutchel jumps up from your arms and runs to hug her brothers. Walking over to Levi you kiss his shoulder and say

"Guess you'll be getting a reward for this accomplishment~"

===============================

[chudleycanonficfest]

Four Little Sips

Day 28, Post #2

Title: Four Little Sips

Author: JohnMcHacker

Pairings: Harry/Bill/Charlie (platonic), Harry/Ginny (romantic), Gryffindor Quidditch Team (platonic), Fred/George/Ron (platonic), Ron/Hermione (romantic)

Prompt: In Vino Veritas

Rating: PG

Trigger Warnings: Alcoholism, Referenced death, Language

Note to admin: Thanks for organising, this is my first time submitting, sorry if I'm late or if it doesn't meet requirements. I have also posted to the AO3 collection.

* * *

You see, Harry had never really had anyone just a few years older to look up to. Alright, there was Hermione, but they were classmates and best friends and at roughly the same place in life, it wasn’t the same.

That summer of 1998, in the wake of all that pain and death and sorrow, the Weasleys pulled together and pulled him in with them. On a few occasions, this meant having a few drinks with Bill and Charlie, in various nondescript Muggle pubs in the vicinity of Ottery St Catchpole.

“Just because Kingsley cut you some slack doesn’t mean you have to take the offer,” said Charlie. “You’ve spent your whole life fighting Voldemort, one way or anoher. You deserve to take a break. Live a little. Or else, what have you been fighting for?”

Harry thought of several memorable sunlit days, and found he couldn’t really disagree.

“Or at the very least, know why you’re putting your life on the line, once again,” said Bill. “Well, alright, you were the Chosen One, you had your job to do then. But now that that’s over, you ought to think twice why you’re risking your neck on your own account.”

“Well, I think I’d be good at it,” said Harry. “And someone has to do it. The Aurors are short-handed and too many of Voldemort’s thugs are still out there.”

Bill shook his head, munching a handful of chips. “That’s not good enough. Merlin knows I’d love a crack at the bastards myself. But your neck’s not just your own now, Harry. Ginny has a say too. That’s part of what being together means.”

“Muggle birds ain’t bad,” said Charlie, nodding at a trio of pretty college-age girls gathered round a table across the pub. They caught him watching, giggled, and winked in reply. “Don’t limit yourself to witches. But if you do, don’t mess ‘em around, play fair, and come clean as soon as you can.”

“The most important part of my relationship with Fleur is trust,” said Bill. “We don’t have secrets, and she trusts that I won’t suddenly run off hunting Death Eaters or dragons or Hor... whatever. And I trust her not to do the same.”

“Family’s what it comes down to,” said Charlie, draining his glass.

“Family,” nodded Bill. “Your first responsibility.”

“My shout,” said Harry, because that was something else they had taught him was right, to stand his round, and he went to the bar to get the drinks. When he returned, they had moved on to other important matters.

“Free advice, Potter, take it or leave it,” said Charlie, tapping the side of his nose, “women; you’ll never go wrong if you please ‘em first, know what I mean?”

“Oi! That’s our sister you’re talking about!” snapped Bill, trying not to laugh.

“So what? She’s got fi... four of you looking out for her. Maybe I just want to see fair play.” Charlie winked at Harry. “Let me tell you about what I call ‘wandless magic’, and trust me, it is magic.”

“That’s it, you’re done, Perce is my new number two, it’s you that Mum and Dad should disown...”

“There’s more where that came from, Harry. You want to know how to beat Ron at chess? He can’t play gambits worth a damn. Stick with me, I’ll show you something called a Smith-Morra, aye?”

Advice, experience, honour, laughter. Maybe this was what it was like to have older brothers, thought Harry. It filled a hole in him he never even knew he had.

* * *

Oliver would never have allowed it, but Angelina Johnson was a more fun-loving kind of Quidditch Captain. She passed the word around quietly, and so the five Gryffindor players above the age of sixteen met in the changing rooms fifteen minutes before Potter and the younger Weasley were due to arrive. Of course it was the Twins who’d acquired the goods, however they managed it. Fred produced the bottle of Ogden’s from somewhere under his robes with a flourish, and George grinned toothily as he conjured shot glasses from thin air.

“Alright, I know it was my idea, but just the one, got it?” warned Angelina, pouring the drinks herself.

“Aye aye, Captain,” said Fred. George sketched a sloppy salute her way.

Katie Bell was practically trembling with excitement and nerves. “Oooh, this’ll be my first drink ever,” she said, holding up the glass of amber liquid to catch the light. “Are you sure we won’t get caught?” she asked, looking around as if expecting McGonagall to burst out of a locker at any time.

“Course we can’t be sure,” said Alicia Spinnet. “That’s part of the fun!”

Angelina looked round at each of them, and shouted “For the Cup!”

“FOR THE CUP!” they chorused, and knocked back the Firewhiskey.

Two years later, the three Chasers were standing at the bar of the Hog’s Head, but they had Oliver back now, and Angelina knew somehow that that was important, they were going to go to Hogwarts and find Fred and George and Harry and reunite the whole Team, and it meant she had to do this. She leaned over the counter, rummaged through the grimy bottles and found what she was looking for.

“You’re mad!” said Oliver incredulously.

“Probably,” said Alicia cheerfully, “but we did this every match and still won the Cup, didn’t we? Sixth-years and above only, of course, we had standards,” she said, catching Oliver’s outraged look.

“Don’t tell me you’re going into a real battle and don’t want a drink, Oliver,” said Angelina calmly as she poured, and that was that.

Alicia and Katie and Oliver looked at her expectantly. Angelina searched for the words, and found there was really only one thing suited to the occasion. “Fuck Voldemort.”

“FUCK VOLDEMORT!”

And they did.

But oh God, the price they paid.

  * * *

The Leaky was too well-known so they usually frequented a tiny hole-in-the-wall further down the street. The clientele was younger and the enchanted jukebox played muggle hits as well as the Weird Sisters, Mega Maggots, and the Bent Banshees, and that was perfect for the Twins. Perhaps half the entire current range of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes had first been dreamed up in this pub.

“Alright, alright, what about this, George? Prank greeting cards.”

“You’re crazy, Fred.”

“Cards that won’t stop singing. Howler cards. Exploding confetti cards. Exploding firework cards!”

George finished his beer and signalled to the barman for another. The barman hesitated, then poured as George slapped a handful of Sickles on the counter. “Confetti yes, fireworks, I dunno,” said George. “Cheers, Fred.”

“It’s brilliant I tell you. Mud in your eye,” said his twin brother, and they drank. Then, quietly, Fred asked: “How’s the family?”

“Same old. They’re doing well. You should see the sprogs, it’s a hoot,” snickered George. “Ron and Gin and Harry and good ol’ Hermione, sneaking around trying not to get caught shagging like rabbits. God, the sights I’ve walked in on...”

Fred chortled along with George, and he finished the pint. The bell over the door jingled and new customers came in, but the twins barely glanced that way.

“Speaking of which. About her... you should do something about it, George,” said Fred kindly. “I see all the signs and I know you do too. She’s waiting on you. Go be a gentleman, Georgey-boy, go on.”

George sighed. “Not you too. Look, I get enough of this crap from Bill and Charlie, alright?”

“You two need each other. Besides, it’s too quiet around the flat.”

All at once, George’s face crumpled. “You don’t get to say that. Not you. Not you! YOU don’t say that!”

Fred said nothing, he only smiled, and walked away. George turned his head quickly to follow him, but as always, Fred slid out the corner of his eye and was g...

And then it was another Weasley brother standing in front of him.

This time, it was Ron they’d sent. Good old Ron, lanky and solid and biting his lip in sympathy as he came to find his older brother sitting alone at the bar hunched over a half-empty glass. On the counter beside him was one untouched full pint, the frothy head long since evaporated.

“Come on, George,” said Ron gently. “There, I’ve got you. Let’s get you home.”

* * *

She was a girl made of facts and reason.

That was just the way she was wired.

“Dutch courage,” she said to herself, eyeing the glass of probably cheap plonk as if it was poison. Which technically it was.

“What’s that?” asked Ginny.

“Dutch courage,” she repeated. “It’s a muggle term, meaning the confidence gained from drinking alcohol, according to the Cambridge English Dictionary. Although,” she amended, “it’s derogatory to Dutch people and we probably shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind in case I meet anyone from Orange Tulip Land,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes. “You certainly don’t need that sort of thing, Hermione, you’re one of the bravest people I know!”

Probably just hyperbole, thought Hermione, as that would be quite something, given that Ginny hung around with Aurors and Quidditch players and her boyfriend Harry Potter, or ‘His Excellency Most Spiffing Chosen Boy Who Lived To Kick Voldemort’s Arse’ as George called him. She picked up the glass, sipped it carefully, decided she quite liked the taste of Chateau Diagon Alley or whatever this was, and had a bigger swig.

Here’s a fun fact: it takes 6 minutes for the brain to react to alcohol.

Six minutes later, she didn’t think she felt any different. Warmer perhaps, but the New Year party was in full swing and Hermione thought maybe it was just the ambient temperature rising from all the people circulating, moving, dancing, talking, laughing.

Fun fact: drinking is ‘fun’ because alcohol lessens tension, eases social interaction, and reduces inhibitions.

Hermione sat in her corner and nursed her glass and knew she wasn’t really a social drinker, or any kind of drinker, or even at all ‘sociable’ to begin with. She envied how effortlessly Ginny and Bill and Parvati and everyone else were visibly enjoying themselves; Hermione would honestly prefer a nice book, a pot of peppermint tea, and perhaps with the company of...

Breathless from joking with Aurors and Obliviators and Patrolwizards and friends, Ron flung himself down beside her and threw an arm around her, and Hermione’s stomach fluttered pleasantly. “Alright there, Hermione?” He followed her gaze towards the wineglass. “Not poisoned, is it? Cause that’s no fun, believe me.”

Fact: I want to say I...

“That’s not funny, Ron, you could’ve died,” chided Hermione, although she couldn’t help giggling. “No, I just... it’s Dutch courage.”

“What’s that?” Hermione told him about English soldiers and gin and bravery, and the way he looked at her as he listened made her feel warm all over. “Nice. You know everything, Hermione,” Ron said admiringly.

“Not everything,” said Hermione wistfully. “I don’t know how to have fun at parties. Well, maybe that’s one more thing I do know now,” she joked lamely.

Fact: I...

Ron laughed at her probably atrocious attempt at humour, and said “Rubbish party anyway. Too many plonkers just wanting to be seen with heroes like Harry and Neville” (characteristically, Ron excluded himself from that category, Hermione observed) “and they’re only here because Kingsley said they absolutely had to be. I’d much rather have a quiet night in at home with you, Crookshanks, a nice fire, maybe a...”

No, I don’t know everything, thought Hermione. But I know this fact. “I love you, Ron Weasley.” And she grabbed him and snogged the hell out of him, ignoring the catcalls and cheers that rose all around.

Was it really the Dutch stuff, or was it all her own self, after all?

To be continued...

[capricities]

Chapter 2

(Happy Reading! Here’s the masterlist cc:)

In a world where everything is at the touch of your fingertips, where you can have access to information from all across the globe with a push of a button, it was no surprise that the world soon found out about his Sobo’s unfortunate death.

Sobo’s death spread like wildfire, with multiple people from around the world sending their condolences, both half-hearted and not. Sobo’s wake was equally as full, with several families paying their respects, from world leaders to other oligarchs and matriarchs.

Several faces came and went, most of which Yuu barely even recognised —with the exception of the Shroud’s once again, he really liked them, though their appearance to such an event when they were manifestations of the god of the underworld was questionable at best. He was glad Hatsuko was doing most of the talking, even though he had to occasionally interact with one of the more —for lack of better term— stuck up and bratty types. 

The wake would only be held for one day before they cremated her body. They mainly passed their condolences to the head of the clan, his Sofu, who hadn’t left his wife’s body. His Sobo was laid in a bed of chrysanthemums, and if Yuu didn’t know any better, he would have assumed she was just asleep.

It was sad to know that only death could bring the entire Eshima clan together. Most of which were probably waiting for the release of Sobo’s will apart from actually weeping and grieving. It was rather vile and twisted, but it was the family dynamic, had been for centuries.

Yuu ended up staying in the corner of the room, sitting beside an already sleeping Kalim, who arrived a few hours later. He only interacted when someone asked —just as Hatsuko had instructed, and only during his mother’s insistence— and honestly, preferred talking to Kalim. But he couldn’t do that when said boy was off in dreamland.

He was tempted to walk around, maybe he’d be lucky enough to meet another person his age? Maybe he’d bump into a few people he’d met before. He just...wanted to leave this place. It was suffocating if that made sense, even though nothing was keeping the air from his lungs (He never was good at describing his emotions). He carefully repositioned the sleeping Kalim into a more comfortable position —which was essentially anything that didn’t strain his neck— and motioned for Jamil.

Jamil nodded as he approached Kalim, who had immediately cuddled into Jamil the moment he sat down beside the young Al-Asim. Yuu could feel Jamil’s soul leave his body. Being Kalim’s retainer must’ve been a lot of work, and they were the same age!

Yuu scanned his surroundings for his sister. She would stop him from doing anything, from talking, playing, running out to get fresh air…and he really needed that. He slowly sidled out of the room, following a few people out with him (it was by luck that there were people leaving, it was some family from the Rose Kingdom he never really talked too).

As he stepped onto the cement pavement, feeling giddy that he managed to pull it off, he ran towards the foyer which overlooked the oceans of the place. It was tradition to let the family lay with the elements related to their sign. Since his grandmother was born on the year of the water dragon, it sort of made sense why the wake was being held by the ocean.

 Yuu leaned on the railing as he stared at the way the waves crashed against the rocky shore --no one ever said the beaches here were covered in fine white sand-- watching the way the seagulls dove into the ocean, successfully catching fish, squawking in delight.

He brought out a hand and outstretched it towards the ocean, letting the magic within him flow out as he visualised a bunch of snowflakes. He closed his eyes and pursed his lips as curled his hand into a fist before opening it once more. He opened his eyes and smiled to himself as he succeeded. A small flurry of snow surrounded the boy.

“Sobo...may you rest in peace.” He whispered as he shaped around the snowflakes into the silhouette of a dragon, turning his hand into a fist once more. Slowly taking shape of the all too familiar sign, he moved his hand to make the dragon slither around him. “May you guide me-” The flakes of snow stopped haphazardly, suspended in the air before Yuu could finish his sentence. 

Yuu blinked as the dragon slowly disintegrated, turning into...sand? Yuu rose a brow as he tried to create the dragon once more but frowned as it turned into sand faster than before. He turned around and met the gaze of a familiar lion, who was deadpanning at the Eshima.

“Minors can’t use magic in public places without a permit, it’s against the law.” Leona yawned as he brought his hand down, placing it on his hips. Honestly, the kid was going to get in trouble if he didn’t do anything.

Yuu decided to ignore Leona’s warning and focused on asking about his magic instead. “Was that elemental magic? Earth right! C-can you teach me how to-” Yuu rambled. His magic was cool, even though it did stop him from casting his own.

Leona sighed. “It’s my unique magic...” He trailed as he set his gaze anywhere but the curious 8-year-old. 

Yuu perked. Hatsuko had told him about Leona’s unique magic is dangerous, but what was so dangerous about that! It was cool! Amazing! Powerful! Maybe Hatsuko was just jealous since she didn’t have her own unique magic yet. “That’s so cool!”

Leona felt his soul leave his body. Did he really not get it? He could kill with his unique magic and he calls it...cool? Just what world was this kid living on? He sighed, bringing a hand to massage his temples. “It isn’t cool, it’s dangerous. I- I hurt someone with it, and people hate me for it. Everyone does.” He stated, remembering how he had used it on his nanny. 

Yuu paused before raising a brow up. “Did you mean to hurt them?”  He asked curiously. Crossing his arms on his chest.

Leona tilted his head, his ears twitching slightly. “Well no-”

“Then why are they so afraid. It’s not as if you wanted to do it. You don’t seem like the guy who’d hurt someone.” Yuu stated matter of factly.

“It isn’t that simple herbivore-”

“How is that not simple, a while ago you seemed like you had perfect control over it. And you said it yourself, it was an accident, which means it would’ve only happened if you just manifested it.” He shrugged. “They’re just being idiots since they’re scared of it. It’s rare to have magic like that after all.”

Leona sighed for what would be the umpteenth time. “You don’t understand.”

“Well, I don’t understand how someone can be so dumb. It was manifesting. You wouldn’t know how to control it. And then they blame it on you for being unable to control something so foreign. That’s wrong.” Yuu said.

Leona blinked, his tail swishing against Yuu’s leg. “Unique Magic manifests during your most desperate time. Keep that in mind, herbivore.” Leona said as placed his hand on Yuu’s head, lightly ruffling his hair.

Yuu huffed. “Eh, your magic is still cool, and my point still stands. You sound like Jamil-san. Always being so…pestic” He announced. 

“Pessimistic.” Leona said with an amused chuckle.

“Yeah that. ” Yuu declared as he brought his gaze to his shoes.

Leona’s ears perked at the sound of other footsteps, the characteristic tap of heels against the concrete in a strict pattern. A sound distinct, yet masked. Leona was aware that he may have overstayed his welcome, or at least with how much he was allowed to be near the kid. 

Leona removed his hand from Yuu’s head. “I have to go.” 

“Ehhh, but I still want to ask more about your unique magic.” 

Leona paused. “Your naivety is going to get you killed one day.” He sighed. 

Leona had put a good amount of distance between him and Yuu, and Yuu was confused as to why he had done so. He turned his head and the realisation hit. Right..Hatsuko didn’t like him talking to Leona...or anyone except Kalim, for that matter. But he still wanted to talk to him.

Hatsuko approached her brother, head held high, glaring at Leona but not quite at the same time. A rather intimidating aura surrounded her. “Yuu, the ritual is about to start, as the next heir, you need to be there.” She said as she patted his shoulder, a hint of venom in the way she stressed the word heir. 

Yuu felt afraid of his sister, a feeling he hadn’t felt since last year. Leona’s presence was a bit comforting, but they weren’t close like he was with Kalim, so his anxiety was evident. He silently nodded, head downcast. “Yes, niisan.” He said weakly, not wanting to protest to an evidently mad Hatsuko.

Hatsuko smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. She took her brother’s hand and gently tugged him. Yuu hesitantly followed. His eyes still trained on the floor. Another meeting cut short, once again. 

Yuu turned to look at Leona, who was looking at him with a small smirk on his face. “Next time, I’ll teach you how to play chess.” Leona mouthed, hoping that his simple message could be received. 

Yuu smiled before turning back to face forward. All he understood was “next time” but that was enough to give him a bit of hope. As he followed Hatsuko obediently, he couldn’t help but wonder. 

When was next time?

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Kalim yawned as he sat up. Jamil had shaken him awake, saying something about how they were going to start some eulogy or something. Kalim rubbed his eyes as he took in his surroundings. Everyone was seated now, but he could still hear their faint whispers, the murmurs, and the incessant chatter.

“Ryoichi is missing, isn’t that kind of disrespectful considering he’s the first son.”

“Maybe that’s why his son is the next heir.”

“Skipping a generation, he must’ve done some pretty bad things.”

Kalim didn’t understand what they were talking about, then again, he never paid attention. Most of the time he was just there, happily going on about his day, pestering Jamil. Talking with his dad’s multiple wives. Generally just being him. He never really heard about rumours like this.

“It’s a rumour, but they might divorce.”

Jamil looked at Kalim, who was visibly saddened at what he was hearing. Jamil usually let these rumours go through one ear and out the other, so he sort of expected Kalim to do the same. Maybe it was because he cared about Yuu. They were pretty good friends after all.

Jamil already knew that the world he and Kalim were seeing was just a sliver of what was really there. They were just scratching the surface, and quite frankly, Jamil didn’t want to know what underneath.

Asks are highly encouraged! You can even submit a post if you want. Once again, I hope you enjoy reading. I’ll be able to post again in about a week or two cc:

[leechonspeeddial]

Midnight Shift: The Serpent at Burger King - A Seduction of Kevins Summary: The Devil comes disguised as everything you want, Alice Cullen comes with fondue fountains and Bugattis. wc: 1.7k Read on ao3

There was one simple lesson I learned from a young age and quickly internalized while living as a Cullen.

Never play chess with a psychic.

You think a mind reader is a problem? No, you just have to add on geographical distance and then you're back on an equal playing field; as long as you keep apart, you can use your best strategies and winning is still possible. A psychic though, there is no distance you can go to be hidden from their sight. Once they get their teeth in you, your odds at winning are – for a lack of a better word – shit. So, as I held Alice's gaze at our local Burger King, I reminded myself this one very important rule.

Never play chess with a psychic.

Too late.

If you did find yourself playing chess with a psychic, the best course of action would be to become irrational and flip the board. You might not win, but neither would they and you'd save yourself the effort. I took a deep breath and assessed the situation. There were currently five humans with ten pairs of working human eyes at the restaurant; flipping the board would be disastrous, either people would die or they'd bear witness to vampiric activity. So that's out of the question, next strat.

Though Alice had gotten used to reading around the blind spots caused by me, she hadn't totally mastered it yet. My best choice was to act without thinking and take over the conversation as much as possible. That, well, that I could manage no problem.

"Well, well, well. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Assistant Manager?" I addressed Gay Kevin, hoping to also neutralize Jasper. Mr. Emotional Roofie was another obstacle here, trying to goad my coworkers so that they emotionally overwhelm him was my best shot. "Showing up two hours late to your shift with no warning?"

Gay Kevin looked exhausted.

"Please, not in front of the customers," he sounded embarrassed. Not Kevin snorted and took the interruption as an opportunity to make Milkshake boy his drink and get away from Alice. Meanwhile, Straight Kevin hopped over the counter and directly headed towards the old fries – if we didn't do our duty to eat them, they would be thrown out.

I also took notice of the guy that came in with the Kevins; he was shorter than Gay Kevin but slightly taller than Straight Kevin, he had thick black hair, but more importantly, he carried a video camera with him. He observed us, brown eyes full of amusement, and I sincerely hoped he was a vlogger.

"They aren't customers," I chirped with a predatory smile.

"I am a one though," Milkshake boy frowned. I waved him off.

"You're Not Kevin adjacent. You don't count," Gay Kevin looked increasingly irritated despite Jasper's attempt at giving chill vibes. He crossed his arms.

"So, what's this? You decide to throw a party while I was gone?"

I was about to retort when Alice interrupted me. I glared.

"There IS a party involved, but not here and not right now. Alice Cullen, nice to meet you, I'm –"

"Resentment's sister," Alice scrunched up her nose but nodded.

"Yup! And I came here to personally invite you, other Kevin, and Not Kevin to Nessie's party"

"You said you were born on 9/11," Straight Kevin's said accusingly with a mouth full of fries.

"It's not a birthday party," Alice tried to clarify, only to be drowned out by Not Kevin.

"You were born on 9/11?" I turned to address him and realized he was making Milkshake boy a chocolate shake, ruining all the hard work I put into my performance. Today was definitely not my day.

"I mean, yeah, but not like 9/11 9/11. I'm only 16," Not Kevin nodded but then his eyes widened as a realization seemed to hit him.

"Oh fuck. I forgot that was 20 years ago…"

"I wasn't even born 20 years ago," Straight Kevin added and it seemed to act as a punch to Not Kevin's gut.

"God, you guys are babies. I remember my parents picking me up from kindergarten early and being glued to the news for the rest of the day," Gay Kevin's statement also appeared to have a negative effect on Not Kevin, making him look even more miserable. Camera man looked like there was no place he rather be. Alice, well, she looked endlessly irritated.

"I feel so old" Not Kevin whispered, shell-shocked.

"You are old. What are you, like 50?" Not Kevin glared at me.

"What's 9/11?"

I blinked. Everyone went quiet and stared at Milkshake boy, who looked very confused. No one spoke for a full beat.

"Jack's 19 and, uh, Canadian," Not Kevin shrugged helplessly and said as if that explained everything. He handed the kid his milkshake.

"Hey, I thought there weren't any Oreos –"

"ANYWAY," Alice said loudly and we all looked at her, "it's not a birthday party. It's more like a celebration of Nessie's first job. Our family would love to have all of you for dinner"

"She means that we'd love to have you at the event. Not that we want to eat you for dinner," Jasper added unnecessarily and made me want to face palm. So, I did.

"I wasn't worried about possible cannibalism when she said it, but now I am," Straight Kevin took a wary step away from Jasper. Alice rolled her eyes.

"There will be plenty of free food and you can take as many leftovers as you want with you," Straight Kevin seemed to seriously consider this.

"I'm in," Alice handed him a pink envelope and smiled. Fuck.

Improvise.

"Speaking of customers. We have one right now," I pointed at Camera man, "so we can't deal with you right now," I tried to push Alice out the store but she held her ground.

"I'm also not a customer," he shrugged, "I came for the rats"

Shit.

"Tài…don't do this" Gay Kevin pleaded.

"My hands are tied. I promised my audience," so he was some sort of vlogger. This was admittedly the only good thing that has happened today.

"See, he's not a customer. I can stay," I groaned at Alice's smug tone.

"Technically, you're both loitering. So, neither of you should stay"

"I agree with the Assistant Manager"

Alice and I stared down at each other while Camera man and Gay Kevin had a silent conversation with their eyes. For the next while, the only sounds that could be heard in the restaurant were Straight Kevin loudly chewing, Milkshake boy slurping, and Olivia Rodrigo's drivers license playing on the speakers.

Suddenly, Not Kevin snapped his fingers, drawing our attention to him.

"You know, it occurs to me that since both Kevins are finally here, I can take my break. Come on Jack, I'm taking you home," he quickly made his way around the counter and grabbed Milkshake boy. "I'll make sure to call if I'm somehow two hours late," I smirked at Alice as her eyes narrowed. I greatly encouraged any action that made her look like that.

Milkshake boy tilted his head and didn't let himself be dragged out of the joint. I had half a mind to help Not Kevin.

"But dad said to –"

"Your dad will be ok with this as long as you don't set the house on fire. Again" Milkshake boy frowned.

"It happened once. I said I was sorry"

"Yeah, yeah. Come on bud, time's ticking"

Finally, that seemed to get Milkshake boy moving and heading to the door.

"Don't forget your invite!" Alice called out.

"We're good," Not Kevin responded with a hand on the door and the other pulling the teen along.

"Did I mention there will be a fondue fountain?"

Not Kevin hesitated by the door and I could only feel horror as my stomach dropped. Not Kevin was weak for cheese and cheese related by-products.

"Chocolate or cheese?"

"Both," I held my breath. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fucking fair.

"Shame, I'm on a diet"

"You aren't –"

And they were both gone before Milkshake boy could finish calling out Not Kevin's blatant lie. I fist bumped the air and stuck my tongue out at Alice, fully intending to gloat over this minor victory.

That is, until I saw Alice smiling.

Fucking psychics.

"What's got you so smug," I snarked, hoping to get a hint of whatever vision she just had. She smirked and I could tell she could see right through me. So much for not playing chess with psychic.

"I had a sudden revelation that everything will be alright," her eyes twinkled with mischief and, not for the first time, I was very jealous of Edward. Why the fuck did he get the mind reading powers? Tactile thought projection was so stupid and useless the majority of the time.

"You're so fucking annoying"

"I prefer the term persistent," I'd prefer if she was set on fire. "Which reminds me, hey boys"

Camera man and Gay Kevin stopped doing whatever the hell they were doing and paid attention to Alice, who was holding up one her dumb little pink envelopes.

"What do you say, a chance to eat fancy rich people food and see some fancy rich people cars," Camera man turned to Gay Kevin.

"Babe"

"Is this like, appropriate. Professionally speaking," Gay Kevin scrunched up his nose trying to figure out the etiquette of this weird ass situation.

"I'm more than happy to take you guys on a spin in my brand-new Bugatti"

"Babe"

"Why does this feel like bribery?" Gay Kevin narrowed his eyes at Alice, he seemed incredibly suspicious.

"Because it is," I growled and attempted to set Alice on fire with my stare.

"And I fully admit it. I just want to throw a good party, and guest are a very important part," she stretched out her hand towards Camera man, "think about it, that's all I ask"

Camera man and Gay Kevin shared a look, and Camera man grabbed the envelope. Ugh.

"Wonderful! Remember to R.S.V.P., we'll leave you to it," she waved and grabbed Confederate hubby.

They walked away and I could hear Alice speak, her voice far too low for human ears, but just the right volume for me.

"There's been a change of plans, we're meeting up Esme"

I scowled. I knew it was bait, I knew Alice wanted me to hear her, and it was driving me insane. Why would they need to see Esme? Why would Alice want me to know this?

I fucking hated my life.

[me-myself-and-my-fos]

Platform 9 3/4

Pairing: Percy Weasley x Nicole Weasley

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Nic and Percy take their daughters to King’s Cross for a new school year

A/N: More of me writing instead of working on assignments and also introducing our fankids

King’s Cross Station was filled with muggles just as it was every year. The Weasley family paid no mind as they headed to their destination, pushing the trolleys along. Molly checked her wristwatch, red curls falling in her face for a moment before she tucked the stray hairs behind her ear. She readjusted the glasses on her face and looked over at her little sister.

“Hurry up, Lucy, we’re going to be late!” She barked at her sister. The owl in the cage on Lucy’s trolley let out a noise, unhappy with being woken up.

“Molly, we have twenty minutes before the train leaves. We’ll make it, sweetheart,” Nic said to her daughter as she walked beside Lucy.

Molly was still young but already so much like her father. She had the Weasley signature curly red hair, along with her father’s eyes and freckles. Her nose was only something she could inherit from her mother, along with her mother’s love for muggle pens. It came as a surprise to Nic and Percy when their oldest daughter was sorted in Slytherin, but it made sense given she was as ambitious as her father and had a knack for being resourceful in any given situation. She also had a talent for being tricky, able to slip the truth out of anyone with ease. Percy saw a bright future for Molly in the Ministry.

The younger of the two, Lucy, was nearly the spitting image of her mother with curly dark brown hair, although during the summer the light gave her curls a bit of a red tint, and once again her mother’s nose. She had brown eyes with spots of green, as opposed to her mother’s true hazel color. Lucy was starting her first year at Hogwarts and was incredibly nervous. Her sister didn’t help.

“This year’s different, mum. I’m a prefect! I have to be there early to patrol the train.” Molly insisted. Nic looked over at her husband and gave him the ‘she’s just like you’ look he was all too familiar with. Percy shook his head with a soft smile as the four continued towards the platform.

“We wouldn’t be late if you hadn’t been polishing that stupid badge,” Lucy mumbled.

Molly’s head snapped towards her sister. “Excuse me, but being a prefect is not only a serious responsibility but an honor, and–”

“Oh look, girls, Platform nine and three quarters,” Percy interrupted, saving Lucy from the lecture she would have no doubt gotten from Molly. “Molly, why don’t you go first.”

Molly tore her glare away from her sister and headed straight for the wall between platforms. She disappeared into the wall and Nic smiled down at Lucy.

“Do you want to go by yourself?” She asked Lucy.

Lucy stood for a moment as she thought. She nodded. “Yes.”

Nic stepped away from Lucy and Percy grabbed his wife’s hand. They watched as Lucy took a deep breath and ran towards the wall before disappearing.

“She’s a natural,” Percy whispered. Nic smiled at the very obvious pride on his face. She kissed his cheek.

“Best not to keep them waiting,” she said, pulling him towards the wall. They rushed through and saw the busy cluster that was Platform 9 ¾. Lucy stood close by, hands gripping her trolley tightly as she had waited for her parents to run through. Meanwhile, Molly was already heading towards the train.

“Keep up, Lucy!” She shouted back at her younger sister.

“I’m coming!” Lucy rolled her eyes and pushed her trolley as she started to follow Molly.

Unlike most students at the platform, Molly was already wearing her school uniform minus the robes (She had insisted she’d put on the robes once she got to the train). Her green and silver tie was tightly secure on her neck and she smoothed out the sweater she wore. Molly stopped her trolley close to a section of the train that wasn’t heavily occupied and Lucy stopped next to her. The family of four loaded the trunks and owl cages onto the train, but Molly held tightly onto her ginger cat, Ginger.

Nic kissed the girls on the heads, checking over to make sure they had everything. “Wands?” Molly nodded, and Lucy held hers tightly in her hand before slipping it back into her pocket. “Good, okay, lunches? I packed you girls something to eat. Lucy, do you have your sweater from Gran?”

“Yes mum,” Lucy replied. “It’s in my trunk.”

“Good,” Nic pressed another kiss to Lucy’s hairline.

“I should get onto the train soon,” Molly said, surveying the students. She recognized plenty of students from her year and her house. Her face became bright red when she saw a boy from Hufflepuff, another prefect. He was a year above her but Molly knew him because his sister was her best friend.

Lucy pulled away from her mother’s smothering of affection in time to notice the boy. She grinned mischievously. “Molly, is that the boy you fancy?” She asked her sister loudly.

Molly glared at Lucy. “Shut up, loud mouth. He’ll hear you!”

“That’s the point,” Lucy giggled.

“Girls,” Percy warned. This past summer they had started getting arguments so much easier than usual.

“Watch Ginger for me,” Molly ordered her sister, putting the cat into Lucy’s arms. The cat purred as he was held, and Lucy happily stroked his fur. “I can’t carry him while I monitor the train.”

“Say goodbye to us before you go,” Nic insisted. She hugged Molly tightly, giving her a few kisses on the head. Molly groaned in embarrassment but allowed her mother to continue. When Nic finished, Percy hugged Molly tightly.

“I’m proud of you, Molls,” he said, reminding her. Ever since her sorting into Slytherin, she was deathly afraid of disappointing her parents having not been sorted into Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. A reminder from her parents every once in a while went a long way for her. Percy pressed a quick kiss to her head before letting Molly go. She waved goodbye to her mother and father as she stepped onto the train, and Percy swore he saw her wipe away some tears.

Lucy stood cuddling Ginger as she watched students load onto the train. Nic ran her fingers through Lucy’s hair.

“Are you excited for your first year?” Nic asked.

Lucy shrugged. “Bit nervous.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be brilliant.” Percy told her. “You’ll have your sister to look after you, even if you’re in different houses. Your Uncle Bill and Uncle Charlie looked after me when I started my first year.”

“What if the Sorting Hat can’t sort me?” Lucy asked.

“It can. The hat always can. Don’t be afraid, okay? I was a hat stall. It took seven minutes for the hat to decide whether I was a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff.” Nic told Lucy, giving her shoulder a squeeze of encouragement. Lucy nodded, a look of determination coming over her features.

The whistle blew to the train, signaling the train was leaving in 5 minutes.

“You should get going soon,” Nic kissed Lucy’s head.

“Before you go,” Percy smiled. “Is there anything you’re forgetting, Treacle?”

She stood there for a moment as she thought before shrugging. “I can’t think of anything.”

Percy pulled her glasses from his jacket pocket. “You almost forgot your reading glasses.”

“Oh!” She took them from him and put them in the pocket of her sweater. “Thanks, dad.”

Percy pulled her into a hug, a little longer than one he had given Molly, and kissed her head. “We love you so much, please write to us. We’ll see you soon, okay?”

Lucy nodded, smiling up at him. She waved goodbye to her parents before getting onto the train and finding a compartment. She sat down by the window and looked out of it, Ginger sat in her lap. She waved at her parents one last time before the whistle to the train blew. As it did, Percy put a hand on Nic’s waist and pulled her close. They waved to Lucy as the train started to leave. Once they couldn’t see her anymore, they stopped waving.

Nic wiped away a stray tear and looked up at Percy. “The house is going to be so quiet without them.”

“It will be,” he agreed. “But we’ll keep busy. We can bring back lots of things we did before the girls were born.”

They started to head in the direction they came to leave the platform.

Nic nodded. “Playing chess to see who makes dinner, trying new recipes for the bakery and making an unhealthy amount of sweets that we send to your family.”

Percy laughed and kissed her head. “That and more.”

That night, dinner had just been finished and Nic waved her wand, the dishes cleaning themselves. Percy was upstairs in his office, working on something last minute for the Ministry. It was the last bit he had to do for the night and then he promised Nic a relaxing evening. She was about to leave the kitchen when she heard a screech and saw an owl perch in the window. It had a letter from Hogwarts.

She quietly summoned a sickle and gave the coin to the owl before it flew off, leaving her with the letter. She opened it quickly and read through it. Nic couldn’t help but let out a squeal of excitement before hurrying up the stairs. She swung open the door to Percy’s office and he jumped in his seat.

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly.

“Nothing’s wrong, we got a letter from the school. Lucy’s been sorted,” Nic told him, barely about to contain her excitement.

Percy stood from his desk and shook his head as he smiled. “You scared me, darling. What has she been sorted into?” He asked, hugging her waist.

Nic grinned, showing him the letter. “She’s a Gryffindor! Just like her father.”

Percy kissed her head. “That’s fantastic. I’m so proud of her.”

“I can start making the house cookies for her and Molly now,” Nic grinned.

“I hope you make more, because once any of our nieces and nephews find out you made them they’ll start sending owls to us. And then my parents and brothers will want some.” Percy laughed.

“I know how it goes for us, Perce. Luckily for you, your wife is a very talented baker who is proficient in it both the magical way and muggle way.”

“Don't tell mum, but I do prefer when you cook the muggle way,” he whispered it, a secret between the two of them despite their empty home.

“I know,” Nic whispered back, kissing him softly.

[youaresimplycomplex]

Lady of the Orc [part 1]

“It is your duty to me and country”

“But why him!?”

“Because I have said so. Now I won't hear another word about it.”

“But Farther -”

“Not another word”

At that he turned and left Ashlynn alone in her room. He slammed the door so hard it blew out the candle. Now only the moon shined any light onto her life. She went to the window to stare at the sky. The pale almost full circle hung in the sky. It's haunting beauty only made her mood worsen. The injustice, the terrible fate now laid out before her.

Ashlynn's father, an ever shrew and clever man, has decided that the latest treaty should be signed with her marriage. Now her opinions being a middle daughter of a minor Duke have never been grand. She had an two brothers, one barley a year her elder but still he would have her father's title. Then her other brother, the youngest, has already been on several military campaigns and proven himself capable. Ashlynn was a young prodigy but no one noticed. She was taught the courtly arts of dance, speech, and reading. She outwitted even her father in chess and backgammon several times. She also read much on war and it's winning. Yet at every turned she has been berated for not being proper and well behaved.

Now her father wanting to make peace and appease the brutish orcs to the west, has offered her hand to their chief's son. He had tried to clear them off a plot of land so that humans could farm there instead. He had thought this more peaceful sec of Orcs easy pickings for his well trained knights. They had found a tougher foe then they had hoped. The campaign against the orc lands had been an embarrassing loss for their little providence. Peace had to be made with them. This naked act of aggression, might lead to raids on human lands in retaliation. Her father had reluctantly paid reparations and written promises of peace down. Then he had offered Ashlynn to an orc. She knew why her dad did this. It was finally his chance to be rid of the insolent child, but still it felt like betrayal to her. She slept poorly that night, dreading what was to come.

Ashlynn had a week of drowning depression. Her fate seem like an inescapable horror. She thought to run away but she could never figure out what to do once outside the walls. She knew of only here, she had barley left this castle. She thought to just refuse but her voice meant nothing to her father and what if the orcs grew reckless waiting on a bride. She seemingly could make no choice that wouldn't end in disaster.

She was lamenting in bed when her brother decided it best to pay his dearest sister a visit.

“So how our resident orc whore doing?” he said with smile she couldn't see but could hear. He had held his position of eldest over her most of her life. She spent years taking his verbal abuse.

“Shut up and leave me be Nathan.” burring deeper into her pillow fort of despair. He sighed falsely and sat onto her bed.

“You should be happy that dad finally found someone as ugly and stupid as you.” something in her snapped at that.

“We'll both be far more beautiful than you and whatever hag you end up.” she salty spat back. She was already being married to an orc not much she had left to lose. Nathan lost his footing a second but came back smugly with, “Oh foolish sister, you haven't even seen an orc.”

“I don't need too to know that one would be a better sight than your hideous face,” she said as she sat up.

Her brother always thought himself smarter than Ashlynn. A leftover from their childhood when he could tell her all the things he was learning. She used to listen with aw and wonder. She had long out paced his studies now but he still insisted on slowly explaining the obvious to her. Often incorrectly but who was she to correct him. She always consoled herself with the thought he'll learn when his ignorance when gets him killed. He had begun to sputter in shock at her assessment of his horrid visage. He could take insults about as gracefully as a headless chicken. And like a headless chicken he ran out of the room with no clear direction.

She sunk back into her bed and found his words sinking in. It was true she had never seen an orc. She heard the stories though and they we're all terrifying. Green beasts twice as tall as normal men. Able to eat knights in full plate. Strong beyond belief and dumb as a rocks. The barbaric tribes knew only blood and war. Ashlynn knew that these tales were mostly stories. Fiction had taken to them like moss but she still feared what truth lay under it.

‘And what of my face,’ she thought, ‘It's not like sutors are lining up at the castle door.’ She pondered this for a time but it just sunk her deeper into her misery. She had never thought herself as ugly but also never as beautiful. She liked herself well enough and that's all that really mattered. She had assumed that sutors thought her brash and unbehaved like her father. Now though she wondered if she was so ugly to others. If her looks keep her from marriage not just her attitude.

“Guess it best then to be married to an orc,” she said sadly to herself, finding sleep again.

A knock at the door woke her.

“Delivery my Lady”

It was one of the maids

“Come in” she said rousing from her night of nightmares of yet to come. She sat on the bed as young maid came in with some sort of package. It was something wrapped in rough leather and tied up with rope.

“Who is it from?” she asked puzzled by the package as it was placed in her hands. The maid suddenly got shy,

“ Well it's from... you know…”

This continued to puzzle Ashlynn.

“No I don't,” she said flatly “please tell me who it's from.”

“Oh it's from… well,” she looked shy and then full of pity, “ It's from your husband to be.” The silence hit the room hard. Ashlynn slowly looked at the package with new frightened eyes. “Thank you. You can go,” she said off handley. Once she heard the door shut she gently pulled at the rope that held the leather together. Inside was necklace, a letter and something covered in feathers the likes of which she had never seen. She examined the necklace first. A worn leather string held a small wood carving of bear. Was she supposed to wear it? She took the letter next, opening it in hopes of explanations.

Dear Lady Ashlynn,

I am Varbuk son of Varungad, and I am the orc to which you have been promised to. I am happy to have our union bring peace to both our lands. I can only hope you share in this joy. I want to apologise to you, I have come to understand that you were not asked about this. My father assures me this is normal among humans but I still feel this a slight to you. It was my hope that we could talk and get to know each other before the banquet. Things have not turned out that way. This letter comes with a couple of gifts. The first is my bear totem, it keeps me safe and gives me luck so I hope the bear protects you as well. The second is a cloak made from the feathers of an owlbear. I hunted the beast and made the cloak from its feathers myself. I know these gifts can not replace a proper proposal but please take them anyways.

Sincerely,

Varbuk the Ever Will

Ashlynn sat for a long time reading and rereading the letter. She was in complete shock. First of all orcs are apparently able to write and when they do they are peace loving sweethearts. It was too much to be believable but there it all was. Then looking over everything again her eyes landed on the cloak of owlbear feathers.

She scrambled out of bed though she did not know why she felt such haste. She threw on her new cloak with a fever. She looked at herself in mirror. The cloak was completely covered in the grey and black feathers. The cloak was secured with a talon or claw and the brim of the hood had the beak of the beast it came from. With the hood up she looked like a terrifying fairy tale witch. It was dark twisted, macabe, and she actually liked it. She was surprised how much she liked looking scary and dark.

The dark sorceress feels reminded her of a time when she had begged and pleaded for a magical education. The art of magic could be taught to those smart enough to learn it. It was common for children of Noble birth to learn wizarding. Like in most things her brother had convinced her father that she wasn't smart enough to get magic. She knew he was only upset because he couldn't wrap his head around the all the spells wizards tried teaching him. Ashlynn picked up a hair brush and began to wave it like a wand. She pretended to be a dark witch casting curses on her brothers.

Then as she wandered back to bed she saw the letter and remembered where this cloak came from. It was off her as fast as she had put it on. She threw it onto the bed hard but immediately regretted it. She picked it back up to see if it was damaged but it seemed fine. This orc who had sent her these gifts seemed sweet and trying hard to help ease her into this new turn of life. Which is more than can be said for everyone else. Her brother called her a whore the other ladies at court had laughed, been disgusted or only knew pity for her. She had heard whispers that many were happy to see her go. She looked back at her cloak and got a wicked idea.

_________________________________________

The banquet hall was an array of splendor. Everyone seemed happy, and jubilant. Bards played away as the party was in full swing. Though one thing was off Ashlynn was absent. Varbuk was worried, the servants had continuously reassured him that she was just getting ready. But it had been hours now where was she? The young orc had never had the chance to meet her and was concerned that she might have fled. Humans rarely tolerated Orcs and to marry one seem to be a short straw in fate's hands for most.

His mind began to swirl with anxieties. Would she hate him, throw up at him on sight. Most humans at this party had been giving him a wide berth. Mostly the ladies of the court. He definitely felt like an outsider. He had agreed to this union because her father had been so insistent. Then a loud creek came from the large double doors. In came a shorter humanoid figure draped in a familiar cloak. Valbuk heart fluttered suddenly at the sight of his future bride wearing his gift. Everyone else was not so at put at ease. Gasps and murmurs floated through the crowd. Valbuk wasted no time though as he made strides across the hall to Ashlenn.

“Lady Ashlynn I am to assume?” he said boldly

“Yes and you are Varbuk?” she said not looking at him. Her voice was deeper than most but still soft. Varbuk got down on one knee and reached for her hand. She did not stop him raising it up and gently kissing it.

“I am my Lady.” He said looking up into her eyes. It was the first time he had saw her face. Her eyes were emeralds wreathed in wavy blonde-red locks. Her face was in a unreadable blank expression. Though prominently around her neck was his first gift. Under it was an vibrant green dress. Varbuk was touched on how she wore his gifts and amazed at how beautiful she looked in them.

_________________________________________

Ashlynn felt the eyes of everyone on her. She had decided that if they were going to be rid of her then she was going to go out looking badass. Before she saw him she could feel Varbuk's stride ponding on floor. She didn't bother to raise her eyes to meet his. She could tell he was tall. His outfit was simple and unfancy. Cloth shirt and trousers with a leather belt free of weapons. When he bent down to kiss her hand she got to see his face. His hair seemed longer than hers, the shining black dreadlocks tied back behind him. A short chin strap beard warped around his face. His two white tusks popped against his summer leaf green skin. They meet eyes and his eyes were a warm amber. She had to admit he was handsome he seemed rugged and worldly. Ashlynn was jealous of that freedom to explore.

More footsteps came hurtling towards the pair, theses were much lighter.

“Ashlynn what are you wearing!?” Ah her father was here. She turned to the thin duke to speak but Varbuk's booming voice beat her to the punch.

“Gifts I sent her doesn't she look magnificent in them.” She saw the struggle play out across the long face of her father. He needed to play nice with the orc but really thought she shouldn't be wearing such ghastly garb. Diplomacy won out in the end as he weakly gave a, “Yes.”

The Duke slunked back to the large dining table and sat at it's head and called for dinner. Varbuk stuck out an elbow, inviting Ashlynn to take hold. She took him up on the offer. As they walk she could still feel the glares of disgust and hate but she didn't care. They always cast her as the villain so she was going to live up to expectations. Varbuk arm was thick and muscled, in fact most of him was. He stood a foot taller than everyone here and towered almost two feet taller than her. There was two other orcs here one older man and a woman. Both were huge in their own right. Valbuk must have noticed her looking and said,

“That's my father and mother.”

“Oh that's nice they came out with you” Ashlynn said trying to make small talk.

“They want to make sure that this peace goes well.”

“Doesn't everyone?”

“Yeah I suppose so,” he chuckled. She could feel his voice pull from deep in his chest.

“But do you?” Valbuk continued.

“Do I what?”

“Want this peace to go well?”

“Of course I do. Our people need peace.”

“Yes but do you want this? Want to marry an orc for the sake of your people?” No obviously not that was her answer, right? Why did that answer seem so far away. Like getting all these orcish gifts on made her forget that answer in her room.

“I, uh …” was a she got out before they were at the table being interrupted.

“Ah the lovely couple please take a seat.” A servant pointing to their chairs at the table. Varbuk pulled out one for her. She sat in it as let Varbuk push her in. He took the seat right next to her, smiling that warm smile of his.

The rest of the court and guests took their places. Valbuk, and Ashlynn sat at the end near her father. Valbuks parents on the other side situated between her brothers. The Duke stood and made a speech about peace and the coming together of stuff but he was using his boring voice so Ashlynn paid little attention. Everyone seemed enraptured by the speech though. She keep glancing at Varbuk, his question still lingering in her mind. Did she still want to run from this orc? He had been nothing but kind and generous with her. The stories she heard wrong on everything except their skin tone. Her mind was storming with these questions when on one her glances she saw something. It was a raised dagger behind Valbuk's back. Something awful dripping off the blade.

“WATCH OUT!” She shouted. Without a thought she grabbed the servants wrist trying to hold back the blade. The man was stronger then her but she had bought Varbuk enough time. His much stronger hands grabbed the servant and lifted him up like he was nothing. He stood up then he tossed the would be assassin like a rag doll across the room. The deadly blade landing near Ashlynn's feet. A similar struggle played out at the other end of the table as Varbuk's parents easily fended off Ashlynn's brothers. During this the Duke had made a break for it. He called out as he ran for the guards. Ashlynn knew this was going to be trouble.

She grabbed Varbuk's hand,

“This way!” She pulled him behind her as she ran. She knew these hall all too well. With a glance back she saw all three orcs on her tail. She was running on autopilot as she dodged though hall after hall. Down one way, left here, right there. Her nerves were tingling then she came to when she was running to. She released Varbuk's hand then set to work on the wall.

“What in the Nine hells just happened!?” Varbuk said gasping for air. Ashlynn had a good idea what happened.

“My father just tried to cut the head off the snake.”

“What!?” said the older man almost shouting.

“It's an old technique where you lure an enemy leader under peace terms then kill him and scatter the remaining army.” She kept scanning the stone bricks of the wall.

“Ashlynn your foot” Varbuk said solemnly

“What about it?”

“It’s bleeding.”

She looked down and saw a dark stain on her foot. Then it hit her, the dagger the servant had must have fallen on to her foot then to the ground. She hadn't even noticed. She looked back at the wall with renewed fear. She found what she was looking for. A brick marked with a bird carving. She pressed it and the wall shook as the secret passage way opened up.

“This leads to a the stables at the edge of the city. We need to move quic-” she was light headed and then stinging in her feet was getting worse. Then she fell but she was caught in Valbuk's arms. He lifted her up and carried her bridal style.

“It's going to be ok we're going to get out of here.” Varbuk voice cooed at the weak Noble in his arms. Then she blacked out.

[searchingwardrobes]

Priceless: 2/?

Here it is, the next chapter (finally) of Priceless! And in this one, CS finally meets and interacts. This is a dark fic, I won’t lie to you. However, part of the reason I am telling it in first person is because that way the worst aspects are portrayed second hand through Killian. In the movie, it shows things from the women’s point of view at times, but I won’t be doing that. If you have any questions about this fic’s content, please feel free to private message me. Those who know my writing style know that I do my best to be sensitive and tasteful even when handling dark subject matter. Having said all of that, the movie Priceless inspired this fic partly because it leaves you with hope at the end. And also because Joel Smallbone’s character is so much like Killian! So I hope (ha!) people will give this a chance.

Much thanks to my beta, @xhookswenchx for holding my hand as I try something new as a writer!

Summary: Desperate men can find themselves in places they never thought they would go, but for Killian Jones it would finally force him to be the hero his daughter always thought he could be. The job was simple: drive the truck, don’t open the back, don’t ask questions. But Killian Jones has never followed instructions very well . . .

Rating: M for mature themes

Trigger warnings: This fic is about human trafficking, so there is non-con, rape, prostitution, sexual exploitation, and violence, some of it involving a minor. It is NOT portrayed as romantic or sexy, just to be clear, but as the horrific human rights violation that it is. On a fandom note, there is also Knightrook in this, but Alice’s mother is Milah, not Gothel.

Words: 2,000 and some change in this chapter

Part of Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom Com: Second Edition. There is also the original series from a couple of years ago. They are all kinds of movie aus, not strictly rom coms. I just thought it was a cute title until every other reader started “correcting me” lol ;)

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615 @kday426 @thislassishooked @teamhook @shipsxahoy @shady-swan-jones @tiganasummertree @bethacaciakay @artistic-writer @jonesfandomfanatic @cat-sophia @hollyethecurious @thejacketandthehook @dassala @branlovestowrite @allofdafandoms-blog @flslp87 @pocket-anon @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @winterbaby89 @onceuponaprincessworld @let-it-raines @wellhellotragic @wellhellotragicwrites 

There were three young women in the back of the box truck. They were filthy and the stench that rose from them was almost unbearable. Liam and I were horrified to see the buckets they had been forced to relieve themselves in. Empty boxes and wrappers were all that remained of their food supply. Their large bottle of water had also run out. We reached out our hands, gesturing for them to get out, but they were hesitant. Finally, the smallest one eased forward, taking my hand for me to help her out. Her hand was tiny in mine, her wrist fragile, and I wondered how old she was. The other two finally followed, and even though it was night, they all blinked at the harsh glare of the streetlights.

“Are you injured?” we asked them. “Sick? Are you okay?”

But all they did was stare at us silently. The tallest one, whose blonde hair was braided messily over one shoulder, spoke in a language neither of us recognized.

Liam and I exchanged glances. “I’m sorry,” Liam told them, “we can’t understand you.”

“We didn’t know you were back here,” I added, wanting desperately for them to know we meant them no harm. But did they even know what I was saying?

“Are you okay?” Liam repeated slowly.

Thankfully, all three of them nodded their heads.

“Can you understand English?” I asked.

Three nods again.

“Can you speak any English?”

They all shook their heads this time, though the youngest one, a red head, seemed to hesitate and glance at the others first.

“What are your names?” I asked.

“Elsa,” the tallest one said, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Anna,” the red head told us with a bright smile.

“Emma,” the last woman said. I noticed that though she was also blonde, her eyes were a light jade green while the other two had blue eyes. Her blonde hair hung messy and loose, yet her beauty still took my breath away. Why was I transporting these women?

“Did someone force you into this truck?” I asked.

They all shook their heads, and I let out a relieved breath.

“Killian,” Liam whispered, grasping my arm, “we need to get back on the road before another vehicle comes along. This looks really bad.”

He was right, so we shut the back of the truck and had the girls squeeze into the cab with us. The smell was worse with all of us crammed in together, but there was no way I was letting them travel further in such horrific conditions. If I had known . . .

Emma was pressed right against me, and Elsa was next to Liam on the other side. Anna was wedged between the two blondes. We were all quiet for a long while until Emma gently touched the inside of my forearm. I flinched slightly, and she snatched her hand away.

“I’m sorry,” I told her, “you just startled me, that’s all.”

She reached out again tentatively and lightly touched my tattoo with one slender finger.

“Oh, it’s a chess piece – a knight. I like to teach my daughter Alice how to play. The tattoo reminds me to try and be a better man for her.”

I gripped the steering wheel harder as my jaw clenched. Thoughts of Alice were never far from my mind.

Emma leaned over and began talking rapidly in that foreign language to her – sisters? I could definitely see a resemblance. She had the same hair color as the blonde, obviously, but their eyes were also similarly shaped. Emma shared the same nose and light dusting of freckles as Anna as well.

There was a truck stop ahead, and I bought tokens so the girls could shower. Their clothes would be more difficult, but I searched the small convenience store anyway.

“This is worse than I thought, little brother,” Liam spoke low over my shoulder as I searched through a rack of cheaply made tie-dye sundresses.

“I’d say Emma and Anna are a small while Elsa is a medium, right?”

“Killian, are you listening me?”

“Why am I asking you? I’m the one with a daughter.” And a dead wife, but I refused to think about Milah.

“I’m serious! What are going to do about those girls?”

“I’m doing all I can do, Liam,” I snapped. “There are worse things than illegal immigration. We of all people should understand. Remember how hard it was for Dad and us when we first came here? The red tape? The confusing laws?”

Liam wearily rubbed at his eyes. “If we get caught - “

I shoved the dresses at Liam’s chest. “Then we don’t get caught. Now go pay for these and give them to the girls. I paid for the showers.”

Liam stomped off, looking frankly ridiculous carrying the bright colored dresses. If our situation wasn’t so serious, I would have laughed.

*************************************************

The beauty of the two blondes was even more striking once they were showered and in fresh clothes. Even the red head was pretty, though she was obviously very young. She looked even more so, and incredibly innocent, with the two braids she had plaited her wet hair into. We took them into the truck stop restaurant, knowing they had to be famished. Emma’s stomach growled to confirm it, and a pretty blush stained her cheeks. A waiter approached us with menus in his hand.

“Can I have a hamburger please?” Anna blurted out. “And a chocolate milkshake?”

“Anna!” Elsa admonished.

“But what about the tattoo?” Anna argued, and Liam and I widened our eyes at her perfect English. “Emma said -”

“I said it might be a sign we can trust them,” Emma snapped, also in perfect English.

“You could talk to us this entire time!” Liam exclaimed.

“I’m sorry,” Elsa told him, her voice calmer than her sisters, “we were afraid. We were told not to talk to anyone.”

I ushered them quickly to a booth, noticing the waiter’s suspicious gaze. We slipped into the seats, the sisters on one side, and Liam and I on the other.

“Hamburgers and fries all around,” I told the waiter.

“And chocolate milkshakes,” Anna added.

I smiled at her, then addressed her sisters, “And the two of you?”

“It’s always a yes to chocolate milkshakes in our family,” Elsa laughed.

Her laugh was delicate, and my brother’s face visibly softened at the sound of it. He seemed to be mesmerized by her light blue eyes, and I had to kick him lightly in the shin to give the waiter his order.

Once we were alone, I leaned over the table, my voice low. “Why aren’t you supposed to talk to anyone?”

“The man who arranged our passage,” Emma explained, “told us to stay quiet in the container and when we were transferred to the truck, not to speak to anyone.”

“Container?” Liam asked.

The sisters explained, finishing each other’s sentences and talking over one another as siblings often do, about how their parents died when Anna was a baby. Emma had been seven, Elsa nine. Their Aunt Ingrid had taken them in, but she was young and it was a huge burden for her to care for three small children. The bank would no longer help her, so she took loans from a business man in the tiny Eastern European town they hailed from. All three sisters were here to work to pay off their aunt’s debt.

“What kind of work?” Liam’s brow creased with concern.

Emma dragged a french fry through ketchup. “He has a hotel and casino just outside of Vegas. Elsa and I will be maids in the hotel, and Anna will waitress in the restaurant.”

“But Anna will also keep up her studies,” Elsa cut in.

“Homeschooled by my sisters,” Anna grumbled, “lucky me.”

“How long until the debt is paid?” I frowned at the thought.

“Four years,” Elsa answered softly.

I watch my brother clench both fists. “That isn’t right!”

“We weren’t about to let Aunt Ingrid lose her home,” Emma argued. “She didn’t want us to do it, but how could we turn our backs on her after all she’s done for us? And by the time the four years are up, the people we’re working for will have gotten us student visas.”

“We’ll have so many more opportunities here in the US,” Elsa finished her sister’s thought.

“I’m going to be a singer,” Anna told us, “like Taylor Swift.”

“How old are you?” I asked.

“Sixteen.”

She was just as young and innocent as I had guessed. I couldn’t help but think of my Alice.

***********************************************************

Once again, a long, straight ribbon of highway stretched seemingly endlessly before me. This time, however, I was wide awake. Liam was slumped against the passenger side door, snoring softly. Elsa had been the first to fall asleep, and Liam hadn’t minded at all when her head lolled onto his shoulder. Now, in his sleep, he had slipped his arm over her shoulder, and her head was pillowed on his chest. Knowing my brother, he would be mortified with embarrassment when he woke up. Anna had chatted endlessly at first, as if she were making up for all the miles she had been forced to remain silent. Now the truck was quiet, Anna’s head resting on Emma’s shoulder. Only Emma and I were awake.

“She’d been saving up a lot to say.”

Emma laughed softly and shook her head. “Actually, that’s normal for her.” My eyes widened, and Emma laughed even more.

I had already gathered that Elsa was reserved, Anna a chatterbox. Emma seemed to fall somewhere in between. She exuded confidence, yet small talk seemed difficult for her.

“You know,” I said, flashing her a flirtatious grin and a wink, “most men would find your silence off-putting, but I love a challenge.”

Emma rolled her eyes, yet her lips curled into a small smile nonetheless. Silence fell between us again, and I felt no pressure to fill it. Emma laid her head on top of her sister’s with a sigh, and I wondered if she too would fall asleep. My phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket, and I swore softly under my breath as I fumbled to retrieve it.

“Sorry,” I whispered, hoping I hadn’t awakened anyone. I looked at the screen, and my heart leapt. “I have to take this,” I apologized to Emma, who had sat up again, a questioning look in her eyes. “Hello, Starfish,” I said into the phone.

“Papa!” Alice cried. “Guess what Tiana taught me today?”

“What?”

“How to make beignets. She said I’m a natural.”

“That’s wonderful love, you’ll have to make them for me when I come see you next time.”

“When will that be, Papa?” I could hear her sadness even over the phone and imagined her frown and tearful eyes. Liam said she was just as expressive as I always was.

“As soon as I possibly can. I’ve got a job, a very important one, that I have to finish first.”

“What kind of job?”

“Well,” I said hesitantly, shifting in my seat, “I’m driving all the way across the country. I’m in Colorado right now.”

“I want to see Colorado! Take me with you next time!”

I chuckled at her enthusiasm; she was always planning trips for us to take together. “I should do that, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes, you should,” she said solemnly.

I suddenly had a thought, and even though I knew Liam might be angry, I couldn’t let it go. “I tell you what, Starfish, I’ll take a different route home and come see you in New Orleans.”

“Really?!” She squealed. The sound of it warmed the deepest places in my heart.

“Yes, really, and in the meantime, you can call me whenever you want.”

“Okay. Can you send me a picture?”

“Of what?”

“Las Vegas is this big city of light in the middle of the desert. I’d like to see that.”

“Okay, done.”

“But you have to be in the picture, Papa,” Alice admonished, “because pictures without people in them are no fun. You can look that up on Google.”

I chuckled. “That is an excellent point, little love.”

“Ugh, Tiana says I have to take a bath.”

“Well, you better get to it.”

“Love you, Papa!”

“Love you too.” I hung up, and just like every time I ended a conversation with my daughter, regret washed over me. I wanted us to be together again so badly, it was a constant ache.

“How old is your little girl?” Emma asked me softly.

“Eight.”

She nodded. “You’re a good father.”

I clenched my jaw. “I don’t know about that. I keep failing her.”

“But you love her. Enough to try to be a better man.” She reached out and gently traced my tattoo again, this time her touch was like an electric current tingling across my skin. “That’s how I knew we could trust you.”

As the miles slipped past, I found myself telling her everything: about Milah, and Alice, and the accident. In turn, she told me about losing her parents and how Ingrid had stepped in wholeheartedly. She told me how their favorite family activity was a run-down local amusement park where Ingrid taught them how to beat every single carnival game. How she read every single Harry Potter book out loud to them in front of the fire on winter nights. And as the truck’s wheels ate up the miles through Colorado and into Utah, I won’t say I fell in love with her, or even that I started to fall in love, only that I began to think that perhaps I could. And that was something I had thought was impossible since I lost Milah.

[changesxnight]

1-50 Steve Randle for the the excessively detailed headcanons

What does their bedroom look like?- messy as hell- he never makes his bed - his desk is the only thing that’s organized because that’s where he does homework

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?- playing football with the gang is his favorite - the gang just does athleticy things at least twice a week- any day that it’s sunny, they’ll go out and do something

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?- the kitchen is never busy at his house - but if somehow his father was making dinner for himself of course, cause fuck Steve, Steve would just go out to eat or to the Curtises’ house

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.) - the office at the DX is a mess, no thanks to Soda- so he tries to clean it up- he’s usually a tidy guy but laziness overpowers his will to clean - there’s a method to his madness - for example, his clothes aren’t in his closet but rather on a chair in his room but he’s meticulous about where the groceries and dishes go  

Eating habits and sample daily menu- he eats when he’s hungry - which is all the fucking time - he loves burgers and fries - will never admit how much he loves milkshakes

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time- he loves to go bowling with Dallas- and play pool. they’re both amazing at the game - if he’s not blowing off smoke with Soda, he’s messing around with Two-Bit and/or Dallas

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging - milkshakes - he doesn’t care about indulging. he works too damn hard to not treat himself well

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?- he lives with Dick Randle - what do you think - Evie thinks he’s mentally ill but he doesn’t wanna hear it - “I already knows there’s something wrong with me” “Steve, that’s not what I said!” “but it’s what you meant, isn’t it?” - half the gang is traumatized by their parents’ actions can you guess which three

Intellectual pursuits?- he wanted to join the math club but didn’t cause the gang would never let him hear the end of it- could totally go to college but didn’t have the money - he’s insanely smart and would win the spelling bee or geography bee if he wasn’t so ashamed of being smart - he’s a genius. but he’s a greaser. those two things shouldn’t go together, as his father would tell him. so Steve’s always kept his intelligence a secret - teachers hate this though because he’ll get As on his homework and then randomly choose answers on the test and end up with a C

Favorite book genre?- he loves to read, surprise surprise - like Soda has almost caught him with a book at the DX a million times - like now, Steve just reads with the owner’s manual in front so it looks like he’s reading about cars - Soda’s like “hey buddy…what ya doin’? you know everything about cars, more than I do.”- he prefers non-fiction or really old stories - Mythology and lore are his favorites

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?- a closeted bisexual - he doesn’t have a problem with anyone who doesn’t cause him harm so if someone’s gay and a decent human being, he’s fine with them

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.) - his nose is chronically broken - he’s allergic to crying, jerks and bullshit

Biggest and smallest short term goal?- biggest: win a game of chess against Ponyboy because the cocky son of a bitch…- smallest: doing inventory. it’s so boring

Biggest and smallest long term goal?- biggest: own his own auto body shop. or marry Evie - smallest: get through high school. it’s easy but it’s taking forever. senior year sucks  

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress- clad in denim 24/7- if he’s not in jeans, he’s not Steve Randle - he doesn’t mind his uniform. he wears it proudly because he’s paid to do what he loves

Favorite beverage?- we all know he loves beer - but he also loves coffee

What do they think about before falling asleep at night?- he thinks of Evie and of his mother. would they’ve gotten along? of course they would’ve. would Dad be a different man if Lily died and Mom lived? what would life be like with his sister? what would life be like with his mom? - the “what if"s torture him

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?- if he got sick, his father wouldn’t take care of him - so he tried his damnedest to not get sick- he’d get colds on purpose cause he knew he could defeat them- but let’s say strep throats was going around school. he’d avoid everyone like the plague. he doesn’t have that kinda money to buy antibiotics

Turn-ons? Turn-offs?- turn ons: confidence, standing up for what you believe in, musicians, just Evelyn Green in general… - turn offs: nothing this horndog will find anything sexy

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?- he’d probably start doodling - or write a love letter to Evie because he loves her more than words can say. xxx ooo xxx

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?- he’s actually very organized- he couldn’t stand a mess but he got used to messiness since Soda can’t keep anything in one place

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?- he loves history - he’s amazing at math shh don’t tell anyone - and of course, English class

How do they see themselves 5 years from today?- at 17, he wants to be married to Evie by 25. she’s the love of his life - again, he wants to have his own auto body repair shop that he shares with Soda- he wants to be stable and away from his father. maybe even emancipated from his dad

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?- marry Evie - open up his own auto repair shop- have a family and be a good dad- be financially stable - die happy

What is their biggest regret?- after years of his father convincing him he killed his sister, he regrets that- as he gets older, he regrets not applying himself in school- he’s very smart and pays attention. he does his homework but never hands it in. he aces his tests but because he doesn’t do his homework, he averages out with a C

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?- Soda is clearly his best friend- aside from him, I think Two is his other best friend - he’s his own worst enemy

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)- if Evie is there, he gets her out - if a dog is there, he gets them out - if Ponyboy is there, he gets them out - basically, he makes sure that everyone is safe before he worries about himself

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)- numbness and drinking to keep the numb feeling - he just loses it - angry and fighting - he can’t process his emotions

Most prized possession?- either his switchblade or his car

Thoughts on material possessions in general?- he’s not very religious so he doesn’t have that “why gain the whole world and lose your soul” mentality- he’d love to be rich. never have to worry about money or paying bills or anything - he isn’t a hoarder but he definitely has possessions he couldn’t live without and doesn’t see any harm in it

Concept of home and family? - if it weren’t for the gang and Mr. and Mrs. Curtis, he wouldn’t know what family is - Evie is where he feels at home

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)- with Soda or Dallas or Two, he gives too much information - around people he doesn’t fully trust, he barely gives any information out at all

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?- like Dallas, he loves to bowl and play pool- he considers homework a waste of time so he doesn’t do it - he doesn’t consider reading a waste of time, per se, but he loves it and won’t ever admit it

What makes them feel guilty?- thinking about his mother and sister- it’s my fault. I fucked up. I didn’t protect them. - his father is an evil, twisted man that can’t take responsibility and now Steve is more mentally fucked up than anyone could ever believe

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?- he tries to be analytical, thinking of Soda, Evie and the rest of the gang - he doesn’t do anything too stupid because he doesn’t want to die - but sometimes he’s impulsive and does what he wants in the moment

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality? - type a- he takes his work very seriously, whether it’s for school or auto body repairs - he’s an organized leader, when given the chance - feels and fights violently and aggressively  

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?- sex- coffee - hot showers

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?- well after a lifetime of being told he’s a murderer, Steve hates himself - but he also hates his father - he hates being oppressed by Socs and wants to fight back (and does)

How misanthropic are they? - he only truly hates his father and Socs

Hobbies?- aside from cars cause that isn’t all Steve does - he’s on the football team - he loves to go fishing and bowling with Dallas - badass at pool, taught by Dallas Winston himself - pulling pranks with Soda is the best - he’s a champ at beer pong

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?- he loves going to school and he loves to learn. but he hates the peer pressure, he hates the stress and he hates the judgement - he’s learned a lot on his own and from his friends; he has to, he’s a greaser.

Religion?- introduced to Christianity by the Curtises - but after Mom and Dad 2 died, he’s been losing his faith - now he’s just angry at God and doesn’t know what to do- and when he reads the Old Testament, it seems like there isn’t a single thing he and God can agree on

Superstitions or views on the occult?- claims he’s not superstitious but totally is - except he picks and chooses which he follows and when it’s convenient - stays away from black cats but walks under ladders like it’s no big deal

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?- deeds, for sure- when it comes to the people he loves, especially Evie, he can’t form a coherent sentence while making eye contact - so he writes what he truly means - and shows how he feels through actions

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?- a hardworking, loving woman. he wants someone who’s earned what they have and they stand up for themselves. a woman who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or her voice heard. someone who isn’t too dependent or easily offended. a strong woman who’s been through some shit and is understanding- so Evelyn Rose Green

How do they express love?- aggressively and passionately - he’ll take Evie out on random dates, either it’s a romantic candle lit dinner at his place or just stare gazing in the back of his truck - he writes the most beautiful love letters - when he’s scared, he’ll try to act tougher. so when he senses danger, his grip on Evie’s hand gets tighter

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?- he’s always fighting, let’s be honest - it’s the only way he’ll feel anything

- he’s an honest greaser and he fights fair- but he always wins - fighting gives him this kinda rush that just can’t be replaced - he’s stealthy and always makes sure that he knows the terrain and uses it to his advantage - he likes to get hyped up before a fight but not so that his senses are outta wack

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not? - he’s only afraid of dying because he’s got people to take care of - but he also knows that getting into a serious fight could end fatally- so he’s smart with who he fights and who he keeps his mouth shut around

[shipaholic]

Omens Universe, Chapter 17 Part 1

So. What’s everyone else been up to?

Link to next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 17

Saturday

Armageddon dawned, with minimal fuss, in the village of Tadfield, England. Things wouldn’t properly kick off for a few hours still, so there was time for a lie-in.

Warlock Young, son of Deirdre and Arthur Young, was in his bedroom. He sat, bleary-eyed, in the morning light coming through the window. He normally refused to achieve consciousness before noon on Saturdays, but he had woken up early[1] thanks to the piping voices of other children in the street, so he had dragged himself up to glare at them.

Warlock was not Warlock’s actual name. It was certainly not what his parents called him. They called him young man - pun not intended. Mr. Young had never intended a pun in his life.

Tadfield had been, at one point, a wonderful place for a child to grow up, but that was before Warlock’s time. In the late aughts, a dual carriageway had barrelled into town like a runaway lawnmower through an outdoor chess garden. It had bisected the bucolic village, taking out the village green and the historic church. The shell-shocked remains now huddled for warmth by the side of the road. Motorists usually mistook them for a rest stop junction.

Warlock didn’t care about any of this. The only effect it had on him was that his dad wouldn’t stop banging on about air quality, of which he took daily measurements with a little metre thing that clipped onto the fridge.

Warlock hated Tadfield. Warlock hated most things. He especially hated the kids who had woken him up, ambling by outside his bedroom window. They were chattering, like always. A girl in a stripy top with red wellington boots, a boy covered in dirt, and a small bespectacled boy who looked like dirt wouldn’t dare to come anywhere near him.

They were in his class, and they thought they were a gang. Not a proper gang like the ones that smoked and threw bricks at each other. A stupid kid gang. Except, after they all sat through that earnest school assembly about knife crime, they started lowering their voices whenever they mentioned the word gang. Which was stupid, because no-one in their right mind would have thought of them as a real gang to begin with. All they did was hang out and eat ice cream and pretend to play with swords and cloaks and lightsabers. It was dumb, and Warlock did not want to be friends with them.

They were probably heading to the local park. If you could call it a park. It had nothing in it like grass or trees or equipment that wasn’t broken. Warlock’s mum always told him not to go there in case there were needles lying around. He rolled his eyes whenever she said that. He wouldn’t go there anyway, because Warlock didn’t like to go outside.

The girl stopped by the Youngs’ front garden wall to retie her ponytail. Warlock ducked to the side of the window in case she looked up and saw him.

“Come on, Pepper,” the boy with the grimy face said. What was he always so cheerful about?

She followed the other two past Warlock’s window and out of sight. Warlock watched them go with narrowed eyes.

He went downstairs. Maybe he’d visit the park. For unrelated reasons.

His mum had the news on. The newsreader was saying something boring Warlock didn’t listen to. His mum looked worried, though.

His dad was sticking his head through the kitchen window. “Funny weather outside, Deirdre,” he called back in.

Where else would the weather be? Warlock had the most embarrassing dad in the world. Although the light outside was a bit weird. He had paid little attention before, but the sky out of his window had been full of strange, metallic-coloured clouds.

Warlock snuck his faux leather jacket from the coat hook on his way out of the front. His mum called out something to him, but he shut the front door before he could take in what it was.

The wind tore into him like a knife. He almost forgot about the park and fled back indoors. Then he thought of the three kids and Pepper’s red wellington boots and glared. He shrugged into his jacket, wrapped his arms around his torso and stomped up the road, teeth chattering.

Everything looked a weird colour. He’d been right about the sky. There was a sort of swirling pattern on the ground, too, from the clouds.

Maybe Greasy would know what was up with the weather. He watched nature documentaries sometimes. Greasy Johnson was Warlock’s sort of friend. They bonded over liking to sit in their rooms looking up stuff on the internet that their parents wouldn’t approve of and hating all the other kids in their class. Greasy had prize-winning tropical fish. When he first went over to Greasy’s house for tea, aged six, Warlock almost made fun of the tropical fish, but decided not to, as even back then Greasy was already four times Warlock’s size and could definitely put him in a headlock. Warlock was glad now that he hadn’t said anything, because he thought the fish were pretty cool.

Warlock was called Warlock because he’d once played a warlock in the game he and Greasy had made up together that was not Dungeons and Dragons, it was way cooler, although it did feature heavily both dungeons and dragons. Warlock felt a bit bad that they hadn’t come up with a cool nickname for Greasy that would actually stick. Greasy had been Greasy since nursery, and there was no shifting it now.

The three kids in the park - the Them - and Greasy were kind-of rivals, which was another reason Warlock was happy to agree they were rubbish. Greasy, technically, started it by being, technically, a bully. Warlock didn’t hold this against him. He didn’t bully Warlock, and Warlock would probably turn to bullying himself if it didn’t require him to interact with other children.

He had arrived. The wind moaned in his face. He hoped it wasn’t messing his hair up too badly. He was growing it long, but he suspected some of it was already sticking up weirdly. He self-consciously tried to pat it flat.

The three Them were sitting in the broken cage thing. All children’s playgrounds had one of these. A climbing frame shaped like an egg, part-buried in the ground. It looked like a cage with a little door in the front. The Them were huddled inside it, faces screwed up against the cold. Warlock felt satisfaction at the knowledge that someone else was concluding they would have been better off staying home.

He skulked round the edge of the park. He kept the three Them in the corner of his eye.

Pepper looked over her shoulder when he wandered round the back of the egg-cage-thing. His heartbeat picked up for a second. She frowned, suspicious, and turned back.

Warlock casually, in a series of loops and doubling-back, sauntered towards the cage.

He stepped onto a rung one step off the ground and gripped with his hands near the top. Slightly elevated, he looked down on the backs of the heads of the Them.

Pepper and the boy with the dirty face glared up at him. The small boy glanced up, turned red and looked away.

“What?” said Pepper.

Warlock gave a shrug. “Nothing.”

He might have practised the careworn shrug and the bored ‘nothing’ in his bedroom mirror a few times. Ennui was a difficult thing to convey.

Pepper narrowed her eyes. Warlock tried not to be nervous. Pepper talked a lot in class about feminism and anti-war stuff and someone called Maya Angelou. Warlock didn’t take all of it in, but it was pretty impressive -

No. Scary -

Wait. Uh.

“What are you looking at, stupid?”

Oh no. He didn’t say that, did he?

No. Pepper just said it to him. Warlock blinked a few times, trying his hardest not to blush. This was spinning out of control. He was going to have to insult someone.

“Your dungarees make you look like Pippi Longstocking,” he sneered.

Pepper stared at him with contempt. Warlock cringed. That had been deeply, wincingly unfortunate.

“Who’s Pippin Longbottom?” the grimy kid asked.

“I think she’s Swedish?” the un-grimy kid said.

Pepper rolled her eyes. “She’s a literary heroine, and she’s got super strength and she can fly. So that’s not actually much of an insult. Not that I’ve read those books.” She turned slightly red herself. “It was on TV once. It was ok. My little sister liked it.”

The sneer in her voice hit home. This was going terribly. All the practicing Warlock did in front of the mirror wasn’t helping at all.

He rallied. “Well. Did you know you’re not a real gang?”

“’Course. Real gangs aren’t allowed. Because of the knives,” the small boy said, promptly.

Pepper gave Warlock a weary sort of look. “Why don’t you hang out with Greasy Johnson? Speaking of a gang. If you can call two people a gang.”

“I don’t just hang out with Greasy all the time. I know lots of people.” Warlock was aware this was largely a lie.

Pepper crossed her arms. “Oh yeah? What are our names?”

The other two looked up.

Warlock almost rolled his eyes. Of course he knew their names. They were in his class. He just enjoyed thinking of them as nameless because they were annoying.

He pointed at the two boys. “Billy-bob. Red Leicester.” He pointed at Pepper and grinned. “And Pippin Galadriel Moonchild -”

She was almost upon him before he could get to the end. He sprinted towards the gate and made it three steps before a whirlwind of eleven-year-old fury tackled him from behind and brought him crashing to the ground.

Warlock coughed and squirmed under Pepper’s knees wedged into his back. He hoped he wasn’t lying on any needles.

“Say that again -”

Warlock tried to throw her off and came up comically short. Pepper punched him in the back of the shoulder. He tried not to cry.

Pepper sat back up. He could hear the grim smile in her voice.

“Oh, look. Super strength, and I can fly.”

Something splatted on the ground nearby. Warlock hardly noticed.

The polite voice of the dirt-repellent boy drifted to them across the playground. “Er. Pepper?”

A couple more splats sounded. Pepper didn’t comment on them, so nor did Warlock.

“You’re ruining my jacket,” he said.

“Say sorry, then. Maybe I’ll let you up.”

Splat. Splat.

“Oh, wow, that’s weird,” the dirt-attracting boy said.

Pepper’s weight on top of Warlock suddenly went slack. Warlock still couldn’t push her off, but it was as if she’d got distracted from trying to wrestle him down. He wriggled for all he was worth. Eventually he got lucky, or she lost interest, and he tipped her off and scrambled up again, nursing a scraped elbow.

Warlock took in the slimy things lying all around the playground. They were piling up, everywhere. More of them were falling, landing in squishy heaps.

The other three stared into the sky, agog. Warlock joined them.

It was raining fish…

~*~

A fish landed on Crowley’s head as he rounded a corner on Regent’s Park. He tossed it aside. Nothing that disgusting would normally dare land on him, which confirmed the fish rain was the doing of the Antichrist, as if that had been in any doubt.

The cultural attaché’s residence came into view. Crowley felt like he hadn’t been back there in decades, while also feeling like he was slinking back into work in the same clothes after a dirty weekend. Which was about accurate, come to think of it.

The sky flickered and churned overhead. He was getting a bit sick of the Hollywood special effects. That’s what happened when you let Americans raise the Antichrist. He reached the gates. He looked round upon hearing the sounds of a motorbike and a woman screaming.

A pink scooter flew down the street. Two humans were upon it, both wearing day-glo cycle helmets. Both of their mouths were stretched in rictus gurns of terror. Only one of them was actually screaming. The man(?) at the back appeared so disturbed, despite the contortions his face was making, that his throat produced no noise. The woman driving was giving it a full-throated yell. Despite being eight feet off the ground and zooming towards Crowley at seventy miles per hour, the scooter was otherwise studiously obeying the laws of traffic. That was Crowley’s first clue that Aziraphale was involved. He looked closer at the woman and saw something he recognised in her.

The scooter slowed in mid-air and touched down with a degree of consideration for its passengers.

The man stayed where he was, clutching his heart and also a giant, lethal, trumpety-looking thing. The woman looked green.

She looked up, and something shifted in her face. In a familiar, beloved voice, she said, “Crowley!”

She unhooked the day-glo helmet and clambered off the scooter. She tripped towards him, moving as if slightly uncertain how to walk in heels.

Crowley sauntered to meet her in the middle.[2] “Hi, Aziraphale. Nice dress. Suits you.”

The woman Aziraphale had possessed had red hair, even though it was clearly from a bottle. Crowley decided to feel like he’d been given a compliment.

Concern gripped him. If Aziraphale had had to possess a human, that meant -

“Angel, where’s your gem?”

Aziraphale’s unhappiness shone out of a stranger’s face. “In Heaven, I’m afraid.”

Crowley hissed in a breath. His mind supplied him with images of Aziraphale’s gem passing through Gabriel’s large, indifferent hands. Being thrown in a vault or bubbled.

“They had hellfire. They were going to use it on me.”

Crowley swore. There had been a few times in his long life when reality had thrown him a curve-ball even worse than whatever he had already been thinking.

“They wouldn’t melt your gem?”

“Michael was interrogating me before I escaped. I imagine she already has.”

Crowley stared at the small, middle-aged woman in jewel tones and bold makeup, staring up at him with Aziraphale’s expression. He tried to process that this was the form the love of his life was stuck in, potentially forever.

A different person bubbled up and overlaid Aziraphale. She coughed.

“Don’t mean to disturb you gents when you’re having a catch-up, but if you don’t mind, can I just help the Sergeant down off the scooter?”

Crowley looked at the man with the big trumpet. He was clinging to the back of the moped like a seasickness victim too scared to disembark down the plank. When the woman threatened to help him, he glowered and inched sideways off the scooter until he was almost at a ninety-degree angle to the ground. He staggered off in a series of hops, hefted the trumpet, and barked:

“Ay, Mister Crowley. It’s been a while. Ay didnae know you were involved in this Antichrist job. Glad tae be of service.” He gave a nasty cough. “P’rhaps we can sort out payment later? The lads… ye ken how it is…”

Crowley stared blankly. It had been years since he’d spoken to his contact in the Witchfinder Army, but his mind supplied an angry, nicotine-coloured Scotsman. The years had already been unkind to him when they’d last met, and they appeared to have ganged up on him a few more times since then.

“Oh, yeah… hi there.” His eyes drifted to the trumpet. Its purpose still eluded him.

“Sergeant Shadwell is providing us with ammunition,” Aziraphale volunteered. “As you can see, he is armed.”

“Oh.” Crowley’s face cleared. He was still a bit lost, but the trumpet being a weapon of some kind made a bit of sense. It was smart of Aziraphale to think to bring it. Satan knew they were under-equipped. Crowley had tried to sneak a hellhound out with him, but almost lost an arm.

“And I’m Madame Tracy. Medium,” the woman said, brightly.

Shadwell gave a cough that sounded like “Hoor of Babylon”.

All right, then. This was the team Crowley was facing down the apocalypse with. He gave a grim nod.

“Er. Madame Tracy, was it?”

“Yes, dearie?”

This was going to be awkward. Crowley tried not to show it. “Sorry to ask, but - permission to hug Aziraphale?”

Her eyes went huge. She giggled and blushed.

“All right, just this once. You two!”

Her face shifted, and Aziraphale moved back to the surface. There was still a trace of the blush on his face.

He stepped into Crowley’s arms and buried his face in his jacket. Crowley held the smaller, perfumed, colourful frame that contained Aziraphale. Behind him, Shadwell’s glower grew more pronounced.

This wasn’t permanent. The angels could do whatever they wanted to Aziraphale’s gem. Today, either everything ended, or everything would be saved, the two of them included.

“Right then,” he said with grim determination. “Let’s go speak to the boy who controls reality.”

---

[1] 11:42.

[2] Moving as if uncertain how to walk, full stop.

(Link to next part)

[in-the-bookish-dark]

Dark re Union - RL

There’s a tree in front of it now. There are trees all over, running up and down the street. Leaves in summer and life standing by in the winter, waiting for the next spring to come and to keep coming. I think I even saw a couple of shrubs behind a bus bench a block over.

I saw pictures of it before I saw it face to face. Google Earth is a handy thing. I got pictures all up and down Union Avenue, and all over Pueblo long before my feet touched sidewalk. Well, before they touched sidewalk again. It had been twenty years and it’s been fixed up, not just the street but the building itself. The ironwork was stripped and repainted and all the brickwork repointed. It’s a boutique now. Women’s things. Accessories, and some cute little books about … I don’t know, fucking rainbows or something. Sorry, it’s nice, and I even told them that when I went in, but … it’s not their fault they don’t know none of that belongs there.

I know it wasn’t, but there are times when I think that place – that whole street - might actually have been in black and white when I went there as a child. I remember it in black and white, at least, like some old, old movie that was way too old for me to be in. Like one of those quarter movies my sister and I would go up to the Uptown and see. Movie, popcorn and a soda for a quarter, like in olden times. At night, it became a different theater. They’d have the kids’ matinees in the afternoon, and then at night, they’d have X rated movies. Two separate realities. Mostly.

Back then, it wasn’t a fancy women’s boutique. It was a beer joint called Al’s Tap Room. They had pool tables, and other tables where old guys would play pinochle or dominos, and sometimes the odd chess game. There was no wine or hard liquor, just beer, and a cooler case where you could buy a Coke or Nehi for your kid if you brought one in. Old style neighborhood tap room where it isn’t unusual to see a guy bring his kid along, that’s the demographic. Was the demographic. These days, the vintage soft drink case, where you paid your dime and then navigated your bottle out of the little maze, would’ve gone for fifteen thousand dollars and would be stocked with wine or premixed artisanal cocktails or some such. They also made burgers and dogs, and you could have chips to go with, but again, that was back then. No burgers and dogs in the boutique.

There was a little pastry shop directly across the street. I could’ve crossed there. Traffic was light. I took my time, though to go down to the crosswalk, then back up the street to it. Given my luck, some overzealous cop would’ve arrested me for jaywalking, and that would’ve messed everything up. I took a little café table on the sidewalk and sat with coffee and a Danish. Back then, this place was a little appliance repair shop. All changed. I’d change too, if I’d seen what you saw, I said under my breath. To a building. I watched the front of the boutique. What I expected it to do, I don’t know. Something subliminal, maybe, a little flash like in horror movies where you see the killer’s face for a single frame.

I drank my coffee. It was heavy and sludgy, and left a bitter residue. I tried the Danish. It didn’t belong. Too sweet. Not like the calories were going to matter, but hey. I slid it off the plate and into the garbage and walked off down the block. I went south, toward the river and the bluffs. I was glad of the light jacket I’d brought. The temps were in the sixties, but I was cold. I’d been cold since I parked, and the coffee had done little to warm me.

When I got to the bridge, I considered continuing up the sidewalk to the library. It was just another couple of blocks, really. I thought about the day I’d "promoted" myself from the Children’s Collection downstairs to the main library above. I felt like I’d be nabbed at any moment by library cops, and forced back downstairs, away from all the power and danger of the grown up books. I’d slip through the stacks like I was looking for somebody, then I’d grab books and park in a back corner. I just decided one day that I was going to have all that grown-up power for myself. I think I was actually a little disappointed that nobody chased me away. I was nine and I had my bold, defiant speech all set, and never got to use it.

A nostalgic trip to the library would’ve just been a diversion, though, so I walked as far I needed to in order to see the water in the river - what water there was - and then turned back. When I was a kid going over the river to the library, that was a dizzying height, though it was probably no more than thirty feet. Still, it was a wide open, and I was afraid the slightest breeze might blow me off the bridge. No more.

It was only then I noticed music coming in from somewhere – had to have been over somewhere on the Riverwalk. I only caught bits of it, but it sounded Irish, even though St. Pat’s day had already come and gone. I had wondered if Al’s had been bulldozed to make way for part of the Riverwalk. I couldn’t remember exactly where it had been, but it – obviously – was still there, closer to the train station than to city hall.

I was stalling, still stalling. I’d been stalling since I’d parked, really. I’d been stalling since arriving in town the day before. Actually, I’d been stalling for years. But I was close now. Closer than I’d been in a long time.

I would have stayed up on the bridge who knows how long if I didn’t have to put up with the wind gusting around the bluffs, or the little individual gusts that accompanied each car coming down the hill.

I zipped my jacket and turned back. No more stalling.

It was time to go. I told myself, "Sure it’s a very nice place, and I’m sure the people who work there are very nice. It’s a shame, but it can’t be helped. Lotta things can’t be helped. They happen to you and you didn’t have anything to do with it."

My cell buzzed. I dragged it out of my coat pocket just in time to see the missed call. Angela again. Twice today. I sat at a bench at the end of the bridge and just texted her, "Sorry, in a workshop at the moment. Conference going great. Call you later. Xoxo"

Liar.

I figured she’d understand, though, when she got the email.

All the preliminaries out of the way, I returned to the building. It was a really nice boutique. There were several purses I thought Angela would really like. I wandered around for a while, making chit-chat. Weather, home towns, how hard it is to shop for a wife, only in town for the day … random stuff. I thought, "Hey, I can ring these things up first, arrange to have them shipped, and she’d get them" but I knew that was stupid. And she’d hate them and never wear them. Maybe from another place. Not here, not now.

I took a purse and a belt and some stockings up to the counter for appearances sake, then as I fished around in my pockets for my wallet, I just asked, casually, if I could use their restroom for a minute.

She pointed me back past the other side of a curtain. "Just straight back" she said. "Past the stairs, and just at the end on the right. It’s just one for everyone." she said. That was different. The "one for everyone" was the same, but the location wasn’t. It used to be at the back and down the stairs. You’d go through the store room then, and it would be right next to the furnace.

At least they wouldn’t get their one restroom messed up.

The stairs had been refurbished. They were nice and solid and quiet. The store room, old store room, was roomier. Less clutter, just a/c filters and such. Where the restroom used to be was a utility room. Reuse the water connection, sure.

I closed the door. There was no latch or lock, but that was fine. Why make it hard for them? I’d be done soon enough. I laid a little board across a mop bucket, one of those rolling kinds, then took off my coat. Probably wouldn’t make much of a mess.

It dawned on me at that point that I hadn’t really taken a breath since I stepped into the room. My pulse was pounding and I’d been pretty much holding my breath. The last thing I needed was to pass out and ruin everything.

Out there in the store room was where Felix had touched me the first time. Just a brush, really, like it was an accident. I didn’t want to make myself sound stupid by saying anything. A month or so later, two or three visits later, he starts talking to me, always down there when I’m coming out of the restroom. "Hey, I can tell the way you play chess, you’re a pretty smart kid – that’s a pretty mature playing style." Things like that. Yeah, I wanted to be smart and grown up, especially if it meant I was smarter than those old drunks up there. He seemed okay, too. Good personality, always interested, always asking questions and complimenting people, y’know? And he always had girls stopping by to see him, to bring him lunch and things like that. The old guys were always giving him a hard time about how many girlfriends he had, but they were also buying him beers for being a stud. Jealous, right?

His dad owned the place, and sometimes Felix would make me a cheeseburger just for the heck of it. Maybe a slopper, which made me feel great, ‘cause that’s how the coolest grownups in town ate their cheeseburgers.

All this was replaying in my head while I settled myself. I had a whole clonopin with my coffee and I was still struggling to get my breathing and pulse under control.

It was only after we were "buddies" that he started suggesting some games we could play while everyone else was playing "their stupid pool games." Everybody does it, he said, but they’re embarrassed, and they hate to talk about it, but it was cool just between the two of us. We just wouldn’t say.

A lot of times, we’d just sit down there and talk, always as I was leaving the restroom. Baseball, fishing, girls, whatever. I was only eight, but the stories he told about girls made me excited. Maybe it was just being trusted with "inside stories." Not all, though. He’d even show me pictures of girls he had sex with, some of them Polaroid pictures with their tops off. Not all. Most were snapshots safe enough to develop at the drug store.

After we’d talk, I’d go upstairs, and sometimes my dad would notice I’d been gone a while and I’d make up some story and he’d say "Ah, ok. Don’t wander off, though, pal" and he’d go back to his beer and pool.

Only one time, though, did Felix talk me into taking down my pants. It was a dare and I fell for it. With my pants around my ankles and my tighty whities on display, he walked over and said, "Tell me if this feels good. This is what a girl can do for you" and he cupped my penis through my shorts. I panicked a little, then I realized it was starting to grow and get hard, so then I panicked a lot. I fell backwards over a case of paper towels and scrambled to pull my pants back up.

I said "I gotta go up!" and started walking fast toward the stairs, and he got in my path.

"Hey, I’m sorry, David, I didn’t mean anything by it. Y’know? I was just showing you. Let’s forget it happened, right? No harm, no foul. Really, man, you were acting like you wanted to, and I was just going along."

I slipped past him, and just before I reached the door at the top of the stairs, he hollered up. "I’m not one of those guys. I like girls! Ask anybody."

I still don't know why I bothered, but I stopped and yelled back, "I know!" then went out.

Once I was in the back room, I just froze. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t say anything. It was just such a big mess, and maybe it was me, maybe I tricked him some way into thinking I wanted him to do that, and there was no way anyone was going to believe that Felix had touched a boy between the legs.

I went back out and just sat down where I’d been. He came up maybe a minute later, eyeballing me the whole time. It didn’t take him too long to figure out that I hadn’t said anything.

Dad and I went home a little while later.

The next time we came in, about a week later, Felix was out on vacation, his dad said. Fishing up around Estes Park, he thought. Said to say "hi" to me.

Now, I understand that he was getting some space, a running start, in case I decided to tell on him after my dad and I got home. If the next time he called home, his dad said "David’s father wants to kill you" he'd know not to come back. If his dad said, "David says hi back" he'd know he was in the clear.

He was there the next time we went in, and he was still watching me, but seemed relaxed. After that last time downstairs, though, I always made sure I’d gone to the restroom before we left the house.

Eventually, months passed and Felix and I were kind of buddies again and he was bringing me extra Cokes and a slopper every now and then, and everything was forgotten.

His girlfriends still came and went. I had always watched them because they were fun and attractive. I watched them even closer afterward, though, wondering what they knew and whether he ever did anything unusual with anyone but me.

Nothing, not as far as I could tell, anyway.

A whole year went by and the incident became just a strange little thing that happened. One of those "who knows what really happened" things inside your own head. One of those "I must’ve misunderstood" things that we all probably have.

I started using the restroom there again. It had been over a year, and everything was fine. Nothing happened. No more long chats in the basement.

Until the one time.

I was coming out of the restroom, and he was in the store room by the stairs.

"Hey, buddy." His face was saying something it had only said once before. I realized right then that the other time hadn’t been a misunderstanding, though everything since had been.

I’m not gonna … there’s no need to go into detail, and it was all a blur anyway, and it’s all too late. Way too late. He took a fistful of my collar, said "You and me, we’re gonna play a game" and made me go back into the restroom. The whole thing only took about ten minutes, and I never ever said anything to anyone. Not to a friend or a priest or my parents, or a girlfriend or therapists or anybody. In a way, not even to myself, even though sometimes I would have nightmares. Even then, it was something that was happening to another little boy and I was trying to stop Felix.

The reason I came down to the old restroom – the former rest room - though, the reason I sat myself down on the mop bucket and board, and the reason I decided to shoot myself, was that I’d found out almost a year ago and ages too late, that Felix had been arrested for a series of rapes and disappearances. The news said they were police were starting with six rapes and three disappearances. Two boys and seven girls, so far, and they were asking other people to come forward. For weeks, I was excited that justice would happen in the long run, and then came more news. There were three more cold cases that were tied back to him. Within a few days after that, he managed to hang himself in his cell. Snuck away is what he did.

I was all broken up for a long time about what had happened down in the restroom, but I worked through it, mostly, by the time I was out of college. Then all of this new stuff came up, and after reading the stories, it occurred to me that I might’ve been the first. I looked at the dates and they were all after me. All the known dates, sure, but … every single one of them happened later.

I spent months thinking maybe I coulda stopped him before he got started. Maybe I coulda told someone. Maybe I coulda known how to. Eventually, a plan came to me, one that would stop the maybes. That’s how this trip was born.

The clonopin was kicking in and working great. Once I’d gotten to that point, I didn’t have any more anxiety. I was just calm and sad. I was ready to write an ending for one of his stories – the one with me.

I reached into my coat pockets and took out my cell phone and my 22.

One thing at a time. Calm. That’s how it was. I unlocked the phone and pulled up email, then drafts, and then I skimmed the email I’d written for Angela, explaining it all. I scrolled back up and hit send. I’d wanted her to know, but not to know too soon.

I was going to put the phone down right next to me, but thought maybe the gun would fall and it would break it, or maybe blood would get all over it, so I slipped it back into my coat.

I put the gun barrel in my mouth. Carefully. You want to point it upward, the internet said. Don’t make yourself a vegetable by blowing off the wrong part of your brain. It has to go right up into your head. They say the 22 is great for that because it’s less likely to exit, which means it can just bounce around and do lots of damage. Perfect for me. Nice and thorough, and maybe less messy than others.

I took a really deep breath, really deep, and then two more quick breaths and held it all for a moment, and I could feel it taking effect as I exhaled, even as I was blowing the odor of gun oil all over the little room. Vagus nerve stimulation is what it’s called. You can look it up. Great for calming, fighting depression, stimulating digestion – all kinds of things.

I did it one more time. Deep, hold it, then breathe it out slowly.

I pulled the trigger.

The hammer just snapped down. No bang, no blast, no blood. That’s the problem, you see, with rimfire cartridges. You get a lot more misfires than with regular center-fire cartridges. I had six shots, though. What were the chances they’d all misfire?

I took my deep breath again and let it all out, slowly. Everything was still on track.

I pulled the trigger.

Again, snap. No bang, no blast, no blood.

I thought about getting angry, or at least desperate. I thought about firing off the other four shells in rapid succession, but I just didn’t have the energy for an outburst.

Plus, my phone was buzzing, which was an enormous distraction at that point. I couldn’t process both, so I put the gun back in my coat pocket and took out the phone.

Angela.

I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there, but it was long enough for her to get the email, read it twice, and go into orbit. It was long enough for five missed calls, however long that was.

The buzzing stopped. I waited for it to start again. I’d just answer. She needed to know.

Then it dawned on me that she was probably now calling 911 for a city that I wasn’t even in, and trying to get someone to go looking for someone about to kill themselves someplace where nobody was.

I dialed and it rolled to voice mail.

I dialed again and it rolled to voice mail.

I dialed again, and she grabbed it on the first ring. Her throat was tight and her sinuses were filled with mucus.

"Hi ... hi, Angela ... "

"No … No … I'm ..."

"No, I stopped myself. I won't. No, I promise I won’t."

"It’s just … well, I don’t know if I can say it better over the phone than in the email, y'know?"

"I know … it wasn’t fair."

"I’m sorry this happened."

"I’m … yes … my flight is still scheduled for this evening. I might could move it up. Yes, I will if I can."

"Sure, you can meet me there. That would be good."

I said "Yes" a lot, and "No" a lot, and "I’m sorry" a lot, and I agreed to a lot of things before we got off the phone. They weren’t all easy things, but in the long run, they were all good things.

I managed to escape the basement and slip out the back door of the building without anyone noticing.

The rest of the day went smoothly – and according to the new plan.

[joshuacorners]

Josh Corner- an intro

Hey gang it’s Em taking on my second trash character so hit me up or like this and i’ll come to you

kk so first things first Josh is a hybrid of Ben Wyatt (Parks and Rec) & Josh Lyman (West Wing) & Dan Egan (Veep) & a dash of Regina George (basically a politically serious young adult who’s a stressed-out human disaster that sometimes borders on not having morality to get the job done) 

Josh is the oldest and the wittiest son of Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, Michael Corner (lil’ scheming asswipe of a man)

Michael has worked tirelessly to secure his place in the ministry, at the expense of spending time with his family. Michael is, admittedly, a bit of a shit person and a shitty dad. Josh’s never saw his parents interact romantically. She was more of a partner-in-crime. HiS mom always took care of the kids, homeschooled them and all that, but then would have late night strategy sessions with her husband once they went to bed.

That being said, Josh was raised sitting quietly in his father’s study, listening to him talk politics and strategy. Josh grew up listening to his mother read the news paper out loud to him every morning. 

Josh had an older sister (Julia) who died in a fiendfire accident when he was eight. He was present for the accident. It’s not something he talks about about nor was something that was well publicized at the time. It’s all still a bit sketchy. Again, Josh won’t talk about it. 

As Josh grew up, he sort of became his father’s pride and joy. He’s Michael, literally. He can outsmart anyone in the room. Life is a big game of chess for Josh. But he tries and hopes to use this strategic mindset for the forces of good. Not just for the power that took hold of his father.

Was the mastermind behind his father’s reelection campaign last year. Got no credit for it. Not bitter tho because he knows he’s going places. 

His mother died of some unspecified wizarding illness last year while Josh was out campaigning with his dad. The funeral was turned into political leverage for Michael and also helped along the win.  

Okay lets be real Josh thinks he is the chess master but shit always gets out of hand like the boy is always in over his head.

Being his father’s pride and joy Josh often has to leave school on the weekends to be at his father’s political shit. #unitedfamilyunitedfront

Josh probably has lackeys and sketchy friends out the wazoo he always knows a guy. 

Super klutz. Could never play quidditch. Falls often. Should be forced to wear a hazard sign around his neck. 

he’s ain’t no lie baby bi bi bi and v. proud of it

Writes like he’s running out of time

Is gaining a bit of a drinking habit that should be checked 

Connections:

How is ‘in cahoots with’ not an relationship option on facebook? - Basically this is someone who can intellectual keep up with Josh, helps him stir the pot, occasionally cleans up his messes. Josh really needs this person to keep him sane altho he won’t admit it.

On again off again? Unhealthy codependent, sometimes together, sometimes not. Arguing one minute, making out the next. It’s all very disgusting (open to any gender) 

Legit ex- like Josh probably has tried dating people but it always ends up going to shit for various reasons. He’s always stressed out, too busy, is kind of a pain in the ass to deal with when he’s running off of 3 hours of sleep every night. 

The man needs a friend like please someone put up with him

One night stand- Imma be real with you. Josh’s professional life is grand (for a 18 year old). His personal life has got to be a shit show like. He has probably had several of these, takes them to breakfast the next morning, and then never speaks to them again. 

Lackey- idk why anyone would want to subject themselves to being a Josh lackey it probably has social benefits and health insurance though so

subset of lackey Josh probably also has an assistant lbr I hate him to much. The position is probably paid plus social benefits 

Also I’d be down if anyone ever wanted to apply as a younger sibling. At some point in the near future imma post it up as a wanted connection but until then.

[roguelioness]

Amaryllis Trevelyan

Origins Parents: Bann Trevelyan [father], Seraphine Trevelyan [mother] Siblings: Paulette Trevelyan [twin sister], Gerald Trevelyan [brother] At the time when she attended the Conclave, Amaryllis Trevelyan was the youngest of Bann Trevelyan’s children. Amaryllis and her twin, Paulette, came by their powers at the same time when they were ten years old. They had been horseriding, and when Paulette was thrown off her spooked horse, both girls reacted instantly; Paulette by freezing the poor horse, and Amaryllis by causing the ground to burst into thick grass. When they reached home, they told their mother what had happened, and Seraphine did her best to hide the girls’ new-found powers from their father. Unfortunately, this did not last for long, as their younger brother Gerald spied on his sisters one evening and found them creating ice sculptures out of nothing, and, frightened - and having been taught that mages were evil - ran to his father. Bann Trevelyan immediately arranged for Templars to take away his daughters, disowning them as they were dragged away from the only home they’d known.

Seraphine tried to protect her daughters from their father and the Templars, but she was unsuccessful. She died a year and a half later from a broken heart. Gerald, knowing that he had played a part in both his sisters’ capture and thereby his mother’s death, lived with the guilt of his actions for the rest of his life.

Amaryllis was sent to the Circle of Ostwick, and her sister to the Circle at Kirkwall. Paulette was abused by Ser Karras during her stay in the Circle, dying from her injuries as a result. Though Amaryllis was informed that Paulette had died in ‘an accident’, she knew the truth, having been informed of the truth by the spirits in the Fade. 

Circle of Ostwick Knowing that the best and brightest in the Circle of Ostwick were granted more freedoms, Amaryllis swore to be the very best. Magic, and control of her powers, came naturally to her, and she underwent her Harrowing at the tender age of sixteen. She was the youngest Enchanter, and was both respected and envied in equal measure.

She quickly befriended the Knight Commander and the Knight Captain as the two men felt very fatherly towards her, and this afforded her a great deal of protection in the Circle. She learned how to be craft and cunning, and how to use her charm and wit to get what she wanted. Her skills she used to aid the other mages, especially those who had garnered the unfortunate honor of catching an errant templars’ eye. She did her best to protect those weaker than her, and was widely considered to be next in line for the position of First Enchanter. 

The Conclave Having lost a sister to the templars, and having seen - and experienced - first hand just how cruel they could be, Amaryllis had little faith in the templars. She was eager to bring about a resolution between the two sides, however, wanting to avoid more bloodshed, though she was determined that the mages should be allowed to have greater freedom.  She wholeheartedly believed that mages could rule themselves, and that mages should be taught to not fear their power so that they could control it better.

She was puzzled and dismayed by the Anchor, especially because it garnered her the title of ‘Herald of Andraste’ which she did not believe to be true. Her curious nature pushed her to investigate the mark, and in this task she was aided by the elven apostate Solas.

Relationship with companions Cassandra Pentaghast - she had little trust in the Seeker, quietly believing that the woman had failed in her duty to oversee the Templar Order; but after spending more time with Cassandra, and discovering that she was honest and good, and eager to do the right thing, Amaryllis dropped her guard and began to forge a friendship with the Nevarran. They ended up bonding over the grief of losing a sibling, and their friendship deepened when Amaryllis accidentally discovered that Cassandra was a fan of Swords and Shields - a series she herself was rather fond of. Cassandra approved of Amaryllis’ ability to plan carefully before undertaking a task, though the Seeker disapproved whenever she used underhanded means to gain support for the Inquisition. 

Iron Bull - Amaryllis was one of the few people who trusted Bull right from the start. She got along incredibly well with the Chargers. Though she knew that he was a Qunari spy, she believed that his men’s loyalty to him said a great deal. In Haven she would spend her evenings at the Singing Maiden with Bull, who taught her how to play chess in exchange for drinks. This eventually turned into a ritual of sorts, and when Amaryllis finally won a game against Bull, he celebrated by throwing his tankard of beer over her. When the Qunari approached with the prospect of an alliance with the Inquisition, Amaryllis refused to sacrifice the Chargers, and told Gatt to tell his seniors that “[his] name is Iron Bull, NOT Hissrad!”

Blackwall - She greatly respected Warden Blackwall, and during their travels learned to appreciate his wit, and his stories. However when the truth of his deception came to light, she couldn’t bring herself to trust him again. She had him smuggled into Skyhold, and set him free on the condition that he join the Grey Wardens after his service in the Inquisition.

Vivienne - Amaryllis despised Vivienne, especially after Madame de Fer insisted that they were both alike in nature. She informed the Iron Lady, rather icily, that even if they were both well-versed in the Game, she played to help other people while [Vivienne] was only interested in herself. In Skyhold, however, there was first a unspoken truce between the two women, which eventually turned into a friendship of sorts. Amaryllis spent a great deal of time with Vivienne after Bastien’s death, just sitting and listening to the older woman talk about her relationship with the Duke.

Solas - She got along excellently well with the elven apostate, the two being very pro-mage. Though Amaryllis was confused by Solas’ preoccupation with the Veil and the Fade at the beginning, she eventually found it fascinating, and soon began to study in in earnest. It was thanks to Solas’ many tales of what he’d seen in the Fade that she studied to be a rift mage. She developed feelings for him, but knowing that he wasn’t interested in her, forced herself to cast them aside, and accept his friendship instead. She did all she could to help his spirit friend, and though she understood his anger towards the mages who had inadvertently caused Wisdom’s death, she would not let him kill them for she knew their only crime was ignorance.

Dorian Pavus - Amaryllis developed an instant friendship with Dorian. Though the two argued frequently, it was always good-natured. They were very much alike, believing in doing the right thing and not the easy thing, and valuing loyalty and kindness. They would often curl up in a corner of the library, a bottle of wine between them as they pored over leather-bound tomes late into the night. It was Dorian who helped her get over her automatic distrust of Cullen, and he engineered many scenarios where she and the Commander were thrust together. Amaryllis was furious at Dorian’s father, and had to be held back from punching the man in the face. She staunchly vowed to stand by Dorian’s side no matter what, and though tongues wagged in the keep about the Inquisitor’s suspiciously close friendship with a mage from Tevinter, she paid little heed to them.

Varric Tethras - She was excited to meet Varric, not just because she was a huge fan of Swords and Shields, but also because of his friendship with Hawke. She tried to question him, discreetly, for any information regarding her sister’s death. He found out about it eventually, and after she told him everything she knew, used his spy network to put the pieces together. It was Varric who brought a measure of peace to Amaryllis when he informed her that Hawke had killed the man responsible for her sister’s death.

Sera - Amaryllis found Sera to be a breath of fresh air in the otherwise serious-and-stodgy Inquisition. Though she did think the young elven woman was a little immature, and though she found Sera’s dislike of mages distasteful, the two nevertheless became fast friends. They would play a host of pranks on everyone, especially Cullen, though when Amaryllis started a relationship with the Commander she stopped playing as many pranks on him. She appreciated Sera’s concern for the ‘little people’, having once been that person herself. The two spent a great deal of time on the many rooftops that Skyhold offered, eating good cookies and throwing the bad ones at the nobles Amaryllis found annoying.

Cole - Something about the young lad drew her, and by the time they were all settled in Skyhold Amaryllis had firmly adopted him under her wing. While Varric was his honorary dad, she became his honorary mom, much to the annoyance of Solas who insisted that the spirit lad did not need parenting. When the time came for Cole to choose which path he wanted to walk down, she guided him to become more human, believing that it truly was what the young lad wanted the most. It was one of the times she questioned whether she had made the right decision or not. When he entered a relationship with Maryden she was happy because he was happy, though in private she threatened the bard with something ‘worse than death’ if she ever hurt her boy.

Romance Amaryllis despised Cullen at the beginning because she blamed him for her sister’s death. They had many arguments, but their worst was the one before she left to help the mages, where she called him a ‘mage murderer’ who was only too happy to see all of ‘her kind’ dead. After facing Alexius, and seeing how dangerous magic could be, she thawed enough to apologize to the Commander when she returned to Haven, though she still considered him to have turned a blind eye to the suffering of the mages in Kirkwall.

It was Varric and Dorian who helped her soften; Varric told her how Kirkwall had had many blood mages, and how Meredith had been driven insane by red lyrium. Varric also helped her gain some closure by informing her of Ser Karras’ death. Dorian opened her eyes to Cullen’s actions, and how the Commander was not the same man as he’d been as Knight Captain.

It started off as contriteness, their relationship, with both parties hesitant and wary about the other. But soon Amaryllis was penning notes to Cullen when she was away, and it became easier to talk to him in person. From there, their friendship grew deeper as they began to deeply care for and about the other, and it was an easy, effortless step to fall in love. Though Amaryllis had never considered herself particularly religious, she began to thank Andraste each evening for giving her something she thought she’d never have - true love.

Major decisions Mages or Templars - Sided and allied with the mages, because she considered herself to be one of them. Hawke or Stroud - Left Stroud in the Fade, even though she believed the Wardens would have greater need for him, because she owed Hawke for avenging the death of Paulette. Grey Wardens - Chose to ally with the Wardens, believing that they would be needed on the small chance that Corypheus triggered a Blight. Halamshiral - Reunited Empress Celene and Briala, because she did not trust Duke Gaspard, and because she thought that it was the best way to benefit the elves. She recruited Florianne as an agent, and placed her in Leliana’s unbreakable grasp. Temple of Mythal - Completed the rituals, both because they made her curious and because she trusted Solas’ advice. She was awed by the Sentinels, though aggravated that they seemed indifferent to the threat of Corypheus, though she did ally with them. She drank from the Well, not trusting Morrigan enough to give her the knowledge that the Vir Abelasan had.

Trespasser Amaryllis was incensed by the claims of the Exalted Council, and angered by how quick they were to dismiss her deeds, knowing how much blood had been shed for the nobles who had barely lifted a finger to help. She and Bull laughed at the Viddasala when the Qunari woman tried to get Bull to join her side, and chose to release Ataashi, having great respect and fondness for dragons. When she met Solas, she was heartbroken and devastated, and couldn’t believe that the man she’d considered such a close and dear friend was not just not who he seemed, but that he’d also been the cause of everything. Though she knew what he intended to do, she still considered him a friend, and promised to show him that there were other paths he could take.

The loss of her arm grieved her greatly, but it was made easier knowing that Cullen, her husband, would always be there by her side. She chose to disband the Inquisition, believing that it would be needed in the days to come, even if it was overrun with his spies. She felt confident that by searching for new people, ones who Solas did not know, she could find a way to get him to see the light.

When introducing her mabari, Sir Barks-a-lot, she’d joke that when she first came across him, she’d been “disarmed by his charm and good looks.” Everyone groaned at the bad pun, but Varric included into his book anyway.

[starlingsrps]

graham williamson char. dev.

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: graham caleb williamson

REASONING: eh, nah.

NICKNAME(S): not really? graham isn't very nicknameable.

PREFERRED NAME(S): graham, dad.

BIRTH DATE: july 4, 1985

AGE: thirty four

GENDER: male

PRONOUNS: he/him

ROMANTIC/SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  heterosexual

NATIONALITY: american

ETHNICITY: caucasian

CURRENT LOCATION: holly point, ga

LIVING CONDITIONS: p good - he and his late wife bought a craftsman bungalow right before bea was born and it was supposed to be their years long project. things have gotten done and he's still working on it but it's mostly for the resale value than anything else.

TITLE(S): no.

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: chicago, il

HOMETOWN: naperville, il

SOCIAL CLASS: middle

EDUCATION LEVEL: bachelor's degree in marketing

FATHER: robert williamson, 65

MOTHER: gillian williamson, 65

SIBLING(S): christine moss, 30

BIRTH ORDER: oldest

CHILDREN: beatrice, 6

PET(S): mini goldendoodle named max who belongs to bea until it's time to take him out in the middle of the night.

OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: christine's husband, ryan.

PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: julie reilly, deceased. graham and julia were together for fifteen year, from sophomore year of high school when his family moved to holly point, until her death in a car accident four years ago. more on julie later, i gotta think more.

CURRENT RELATIONSHIP: like he's tried (mostly because his sister traps him) but he's yet to meet anyone he wants to bring home to meet bea.

OCCUPATION & INCOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: furniture designer/builder/general carpenter

CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: he loves it. until julie died, he was working elsewhere, but with the settlement from the various lawsuits (and lord were there lawsuits) he started a business and it's going pretty well.

PAST JOB(S): paralegal

SPENDING HABITS: responsible. with the settlement, he set up a savings account for bea's college, paid off the mortgage, and started building furniture.

MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: he kept julie's engagement ring and wedding band for bea.

SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: p good, p good.

OFFENSE: he's got this hammer.

DEFENSE: hammer?

SPEED: medium. like he can keep up.

INTELLIGENCE: he's pretty bright, likes to read, but can be kind of slow on the uptake sometimes.

ACCURACY: like he kind of has to be good at this shit.

AGILITY: good

STAMINA: endless

TEAMWORK: quietly bossy

TALENTS: he's dedicated and loyal and has his shit together.

SHORTCOMINGS: he's very, very internal. like he doesn't let a whole lot slip.

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, a little conversational spanish

DRIVE?: yes

JUMP-STAR A CAR?: yep

CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: yep

RIDE A BICYCLE?: yep

SWIM?: yes.

PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: nah.

PLAY CHESS?: nope.

BRAID HAIR?: yes.

TIE A TIE?: of course.

PICK A LOCK?: no.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: luke mitchell

EYE COLOR: blue

HAIR COLOR: blonde

HAIR TYPE/STYLE: short, reasonably touseled.

GLASSES/CONTACTS?: glasses usually.

DOMINANT HAND: right

HEIGHT: 6'1

BUILD: athletic

EXERCISE HABITS: he runs and lifts a bit - he kind of needs to be in good shape for his job.

SKIN TONE: fair

TATTOOS: i think probably something on his upper arm but i've yet to determine what

PIERCINGS: nah

MARKS/SCARS: various freckles and moles

USUAL EXPRESSION: pleasant

CLOTHING STYLE: jeans and a t-shirt. cleans up well when he must but he'd rather not.

JEWELRY: nope. his wedding band is sitting in the same box with julie's rings. he took it off to do the dishes one day and just never put it back on.

ALLERGIES: nah

DIET: reasonable - he's trying to set a good example for bea.

PHYSICAL AILMENTS: —

PSYCHOLOGY

ENNEAGRAM TYPE: 2 - the helper

MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful good

TEMPERAMENT: melancholic

MBTI: ISFJ

MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: frankly, he's got some ptsd from how julie died. he saw a therapist for a few months to help him process.

SOCIABILITY: introvert

EMOTIONAL STABILITY: steady

PHOBIA(S): eh, nothing too life altering?

ADDICTION(S): nah

DRUG USE: nah

ALCOHOL USE: not too often but he's a beer guy when the time comes.

PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: nah

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: steady

ACCENT: neutral

HOBBIES: working on the house, whatever bea wants to do.

HABITS: working out after the morning drop off, always carrying a pencil

NERVOUS TICKS: none too notable

DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: bea, always bea.

FEARS: he's very protective of bea.

POSITIVE TRAITS: supportive, reliable, creative, loyal, hard working, practical

NEGATIVE TRAITS: shy, internal, self denying

SENSE OF HUMOR: pretty much anything tbh

DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: only when alone

CATCHPHRASE(S): nah

FAVORITES

WEATHER: winter when it's a little rainy and gloomy and he can work comfortably in his garage

ACTIVITY: building things, hanging out with bea

ANIMAL: dogs

BEVERAGE: water

BOOK: he and bea are reading the hobbit right now

COLOR: blue

DESIGNER: please don't make him shop. christine buys all of bea's clothes and sometimes, he thinks about asking her to just buy his too.

FOOD: barbecue.

FLOWER: daisies?

GEM: geodes are pretty cool

HOLIDAY: bea's birthday

MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: driving

MOVIE: raiders of the lost ark

MUSICAL ARTIST: the black keys

SONG: "yellow ledbetter"

SCENERY: the ocean

SCENT: fresh wood

TELEVISION SHOW: fixer upper.

VACATION DESTINATION: he's not much for vacations - too much of a homebody.

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: getting bea raised right and making it to the age of eighteen without her getting a lip ring or something.

GREATEST FEAR: anything happening to bea. anything bad at all.

MOST AT EASE WHEN: blasting music and building things.

LEAST AT EASE WHEN: he has to talk about himself.

BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: he's kept both himself and bea alive and functioning on his own.

BIGGEST REGRET: nah

BIGGEST SECRET: i'm bad at these!!!!

TOP PRIORITIES: bea and then everything else.

[toomanysurveys9]

It’s Thursday at noon. Where are you usually?: home. as usual. lol. until i find a job. this time i’m only taking it if i’ll like it. Which shampoo is in your bathroom right now?: sauve. cheap stuff. Honestly, if you could have anyone in the world, who would it be?: i’m happy i have jacob.. most of the time. ha. What are you listening to right now?: girls are watching trolls. Do you watch MTV anymore?: not really, no.

How do you feel about your hair?: i wish i could change it. maybe i will at some point.

What time do you wake up for school?: i don’t have school anymore. wyatt usually wakes me up no later than 9:30 to get up for the day. What DVD is in your player right now? don’t have a dvd player but the land before time is in the playstation. Last two numbers in your phone number?: 42. What side of the bed do you sleep on?: the right side closest to the window so i can have wyatt sleep by the wall so he doesn’t fall off the bed. Do you like roller coasters?: i do. What do your parents look like?: honestly, i’m not in the mood to do a lot of descriptions of people right now.. What are your plans for Friday?: as far as i know, i don’t have any. What do you usually order at Taco Bell?: cheesy gordita crunch. sometimes i randomly really want one.. usually when it’s “that time of month”. Have you ever sat all the way through Gone with the Wind?: i don’t think i’ve ever even seen a little bit of it. Do you ever type ‘kik’ instead of 'lol’?: i have done that before. Do you know how to play chess?: i know the basics, but i’m not very good at it. What’s on your mind right now?: that i wish we had our own place. or was able to get our own place. Do you want to take something back that happened in the last week?: well, my brother hates me right now for god knows what and told me to delete his number... evidently i pretend all the time when it comes to jacob. and i’m not jacob’s favorite person either. Do you eat a lot of fast food?: more than i’d like to right now. we don’t have room for much food here... when we move, that is going to change. wyatt will not live off of fast food. How many people have you kissed in this year?: romantically, one. i’ve kissed more people than that though in a non-romantic way. Were you happy when you woke up today?: i was in an okay mood, although i was pretty exhausted. wyatt got a little confused a couple times last night about the time it was and thought it was time to play. How about now?: i’m in an okay mood. wyatt is making me happy, however, i wish i could shut my brain off a bit. Have you ever streaked?: no, i haven’t. Are you an understanding person?: for the most part, i think so. What was the last movie you saw in theaters?: i don’t remember but i’m being dragged to watch pitch perfect 3 by my mom and sisters tomorrow.. Do you eat candy on a daily basis?: definitely not. Does it make you happy to get letters?: it used to. i don’t remember the last time i got a letter though. Who was the last person to text you?: vanessa (jake’s mom).

What are you looking forward to this summer?: adventures with wyatt. he’s going to be older this summer and might enjoy things more. Do raisins belong in cookies?: i don’t really care. but they’re not my favorite. Walking into a party, what’s the first thing you notice?: i look for familiar faces i can stick with. Are you currently taking a science class in school?: not in school.

Kiss on the first date?: it’d depend how the date went i would imagine. Would you rather have chicken or steak?: hmm. probably steak, although i enjoy chicken quite a bit too depending how it’s cooked. What’s one thing you’ve learned from a good friendship gone bad?: sometimes people just drift apart as you get older, no matter how hard you try to keep it going. sometimes friendships just aren’t meant to be a forever thing. Who was the last person you took a picture of?: wyatt. as usual since he’s been born. lol. Would you ever donate blood?: i have several times but it makes me almost pass out, so jacob and my mom don’t let me anymore. Have you ever felt replaced?: story of my life. Have you ever been asked out?: yeah. jake asked me out. Are you good at telling jokes?: not even a little. i tend to be more funny when i don’t mean to than when i try to be. Have you ever driven without a license?: in parking lots. Do you wish you had smaller feet?: kind of, yeah. i feel like my feet are kinda big.. but that’s just like every other aspect of my body though. Have you ever had a best friend who was of the opposite sex?: yeah. kinda regret it. When ordering sushi, what do you get?: i don’t eat sushi. Do you write in cursive or in print?: i primarily write in print because my cursive looks like a child is writing and i don’t like it. lol. Who was the last person you sat next to?: erin is on the other side of the couch... What were you doing at 10am?: starting to wake up. don’t judge. wyatt went to bed late and got up a couple times to play. lol. Are you different now than you were six months ago?: probably. What was the last beverage you spilled on yourself?: that i spilled on myself.... i don’t remember. that was spilled on me.. soda when we went to texas roadhouse.. wy got my cup and spilled it all over. lol. How old will you be in ten months?: i don’t want to think about that. i’ll be 25... Do you think you’ll be married by then?: i am married already. i’ll probably still be married then. Was yesterday better than today?: not really. both days have been a little blah. What does your last text message say?: the last text i sent was telling jake i couldn’t find his snow boots but we could look in the other storage together when he gets off work if he wanted. last received text was vanessa thanking me for getting storage paid (it’s in her name). What month is your birthday in?: september. Can you live a day without TV?: easily. When was the last time you saw your dad?: last night. How many pets do you have?: two. although cocoa is getting a new home in early spring because she has been trying to start fights with phe and my mom’s dog, and she did attack my mom’s dog when we first got in this trailer and that resulted in a lot of money to the emergency vet.. How many houses have you lived in?: too many. i am determined that wyatt will not be raised that way.. How many city/towns have you lived in?: three. Do you prefer shoes, socks, or bare feet?: socks or bare feet. Relationship status?: married. What is your favorite color?: black, blue, or gray probably. What are you doing for your next birthday?: i don’t know. i still have quite awhile. Do you like coffee?: occasionally but not often. Do you like iced tea?: no. tea hurts my stomach. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?: most of my personality. Do you know how to play poker?: i’ve played before but i don’t really remember. What were you doing at twelve last night?: trying to get a little boy to go to sleep. Do you smile a lot?: i guess so. Have you ever had a life-threatening injury?: i’ve had life-threatening medical things, but not necessarily injuries.. What do you want to be when you grow up?: i still don’t know. ha. Do you like flying or driving?: driving. flying scares the hell out of me. Do you know how to drive a stick shift?: i do not. What is your favorite thing to spend money on?: wyatt! Do you wear any jewelry daily?: not really right now. Who got you the jewelry you are currently wearing?: i’m not wearing any jewelry right now. i’m always afraid of my engagement ring scratching wyatt. Who is the funniest person you know?: jacob i guess. How often do you remember your dreams?: pretty often i suppose. What is your ringtone?: same one dean winchester has. Skim, 1%, 2%, or whole milk?: 2% or whole because that’s what everyone else here drinks. Are you mad about anything?: i’m frustrated. not really mad. about life. What time did you go to sleep last night?: too late. lol. i don’t know what time it was exactly. Where did you last sleep besides your own bed?: i don’t remember. i mostly sleep in my own bed..