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rena-rain · 5 years

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Miraculous Hogwarts AU (First Day)

“Adrien.” Gabriel Agreste called out his son’s name as he was about to step onto the train. Adrien turned to be greeted with his fathers hands on his shoulders and steel-colored eyes boring holes into his soul. He received no further warning than that before being pulled into a rare, rare hug. Adrien froze for a second then relaxed into the embrace.

Far too soon Mr. Agreste pulled away. “Be good, son.”

“I will, Father.” He gave him one last smile then stepped onto the train.

He opened a door behind which sat a small girl with pink ribbons in her black pigtails. She wore muggle clothing and sat curled up in her seat, staring out the window. An unusually red tawny owl was perched on her knee.

“Hey.”

His voice made her start. “Um. Hi.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“Sure, yeah. No! That is I don’t mind, I mean - go ahead?” The girl’s cheeks went pink and she seemed to shrink into herself even more. Adrien guessed she was a muggle-born; she was alone, clearly nervous, and seemed pretty out of her element.

He smiled and took the seat opposite her. “Thanks. I’m Adrien, by the way.”

“Marinette. Nice to meet you, Adrien.” She put her feet down and stuck her hand out. He shook it.

“Likewise, Marinette. So, are you excited to finally see Hogwarts?”

“I guess so. This is all so new to me I don’t really know what to expect. My parents are, well, they don’t have magic, you see.” So he was right. “I guess you grew up waiting to go to Hogwarts, huh?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“I thought I heard some other kids talking about houses? I thought we were going to live in a castle.”

Adrien grinned. “Houses as in groups inside the school. A house is kind of like one big team, and they compete against each other. You get sorted into a house depending on your personality.”

Marinette’s eyebrows scrunched together in concern. “The professors separate us then pit us against each other?”

“I - I think it’s more like having a place to belong even on the first day of school. Each house is named after one of the Hogwarts founders: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Everyone in my family has been a Gryffindor for generations.”

Marinette hummed thoughtfully. Before she had a chance to respond, another girl opened the compartment door. She wore muggle clothes too, but the button-down oxford and jogging pants combination clashed so that it was clear she grew up in witch’s robes. She had rich red-brown hair, soft ochre skin, and a cute mole above her right eyebrow that made her look permanently sassy. She had an owl cage tucked under her arm and dark-rimmed glasses threatening to slide off her nose.

“Oh, thank god, all the other compartments are packed. Can my friend and I join you?”

Adrien looked to Marinette, who said, “Of course. Are you a first year, too?”

“Yep. I’m Alya - one sec.” She leaned out the door into the corridor. “Nino! I found a place!”

She sat down, and another boy came in right behind her. He was already wearing black wizard’s robes. “Thank you so much, dudes. We barely got on the train before it started moving.” He held out his hand to Adrien, who was closest to him. “I’m Nino, by the way.”

He shook it, smiling. “Adrien. And this is Marinette.” Marinette gave a shy little wave.

“Whoa, sweet bird, dudette. I’ve only seen a color like that a few times before!” Nino switched seats so he was closer to Marinette and held out a finger. “May I?”

“Sure.” Nino stroked the owl’s head delicately. It closed its eyes contentedly.

“She likes you.”

“What’s her name?” Alya asked.

“I’ve been calling her Tikki. Is that a dumb name for an owl? I’m sorry this is all new to me.”

“Nah. I once heard of an owl called Pigwidgen. You said new? Are you a muggleborn?”

“Uh, yes, yes I am.”

“Well don’t worry,” Alya wrapped an arm around Marinette’s shoulders, making her smile. “We’ll get you all caught up, right boys?”

They both responded in the affirmative. Marinette respondes, “Adrien’s been telling me about the Hogwarts houses.”

“Oh yeah? Have a guess where you’ll be sorted, pretty boy?”

Adrien sighed. Alya’s face and voice were good-naturedly teasing, but he’d long since tired of that nickname. “My whole family’s been Gryffindors for generations.”

“Dude same for mine and Hufflepuff.” Nino gently shoulder bumped him. “Maybe we’ll break the pattern.”

Alya snorted. “Nino if you’re not a Hufflepuff I’ll eat my wand.”

“Why’re you so sure?” Marinette asked.

“Hufflepuff is the most inclusive house. The founder only wanted her students to work hard and be fair, and Nino’s scolded me for taking some of his ice cream.”

“If you wanted a double scoop then you should have bought a double scoop!”

The compartment door slammed open, startling them all. A girl with brand new, jet black robes, red earrings, and a high blonde ponytail posed in the doorway. Unfortunately, Adrien recognized her as Chloe Bourgeois, and old family friend.

“Adrikins! Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking all over for you. Sabrina and I have a compartment farther up the train. Let’s go, no need to hang out with these losers.”

Marinette folded back into a ball, making her body as small as possible. Nino glowered, and Alya crossed her arms. “Watch who you’re calling loser, you brat.”

Chloe gasped. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Chloe - ” Adrien tried. But she interrupted him.

“My daddy is the Minister of Magic, for your information!”

“Oh who cares?” Startled, Adrien looked to see Marinette clasp her hands over her mouth, apparently just as surprised by her outburst as he was.

Chloe sneered. “If you know what’s good for you, you should. He’s the most powerful wizard in Britain.”

“Most influential, maybe,” Adrien said.

“Et tu, Adrikins?”

Marinette huffed. “Just get out of here. No matter who you are, you don’t get to talk to us like that!”

“Ugh. I’m over this dumb compartment. Let’s go, Adrien.”

Adrien glanced between his oldest - and only - friend, and the three kids who’d been friendlier with him in five minutes than Chloe had in five years. “I think I’m staying. You go ahead.”

“Fine.” She huffed off and the compartment door slid shut on her wake.

Alta crossed her arms. “That girl’s a piece of work.”

“She’s a lot.”

“Let me guess: she’s sweet once you get to know her?”

Adrien thought for a second then shook his head. A faint call in the corridor from the sweets trolley witch reached his ears and he jumped up. “Trolley’s coming, you guys want anything? My treat.”

Marinette and Nino started.

“Oh no you don’t have to”

“I’ve got a little pocket money here”

“Are you two seriously turning down free candy? Guys, he’s offering!” Alya looked perplexed.

Adrien opened the door. “I’ll just get a bit of everything.” He was out before they could make any more protests. Adrien figured they should introduce Marinette to as many wizard of sweets as they could.

As it turned out, Marinette loved the licorice wands but was appalled by the Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

“Why on earth would anyone want a glass-flavored sweet?” she exclaimed. Adrien hid his chuckle behind his hand.

Alya shook the box, peering inside. “It’s about the dare. And pranking your siblings. I convinced my little sister that a dirt-flavored bean was chocolate. I swear, she was so mad, pink sparks burst out of her ears.”

“Speaking of,” Nino scooped up a couple chocolate frogs, tossing one to Marinette. Adrien had just stuffed his fourth into his mouth. “You gotta try these, they’re the best chocolate in the world and they come with collector cards!”

Besides the ribbeting noises while she swallowed, she seemed to like the chocolate frogs a lot more. She examined the that came inside. “Ooooh, I’ve heard of her! I got Morgana. She was a real witch?”

“As real as a salty ghost,” Alya replied. Marinette gazed in wonder at the card in her hands. Adrien gathered his chocolate frog cards and held them out to her.

“Here, you can have mine, I don’t collect them.”

Her face flushed. “Oh. Oh! Um, th-thanks Adrien that’s sweet really. I mean, that’s really sweet, thank you.” She grabbed them from his outstretched hand and huddled back into her seat. For the thousandth time Adrien cursed his heritage. He didn’t want a cute, nice girl getting nervous around him just because of how he looked.

Marinette was rifling through her chocolate frog cards. “There are witches and wizards on here from throughout history...some are even still alive...why are they all wearing the same thing?”

Nino frowned. “Huh?”

“Look at the chocolate frog cards, the robes hardly change at all. Isn’t fashion a thing in the wizarding world?”

“Of course it is,” Alya said. “It’s just not as finicky as muggle fashion.”

“The clothes just never change...that’s so odd...”

“Wizards are very traditional,” Adrien explained. “Magical artists and designers tend to focus on preserving our cultures and histories.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean you can’t accessorize a bit,” Marinette pointed out. “There’s so much potential here. I wonder if I could get a dress form at Hogwarts...”

She pulled a sketchpad out of her purse and began drawing. They were rough, quick sketches, but Adrien could tell the moves were well practiced. With a few strokes of a...not a quill, what’s that writing thing called?...whatever it was, a few quick lines and he could see the clothes she imagined like a projection from her mind.

Adrien noticed Marinette worked with the tip of her pink tongue sticking out the corner of her moth. He decided he definitely wanted to be her friend.

Adrien had been called up first for the sorting, and had been sitting with the deliberating old hat on his head for ages. Marinette checked her watch. Six minutes had gone by. “Is this normal?”

“No.” Alya sounded fascinated. “If the sorting takes longer than five minutes we call it a ‘hatstall.’ It’s supposed to be incredibly rare.”

“I wonder which houses he’s deciding between.”

“I don’t know. That boy’s hard to get a read on.”

Her watch was approaching the six minutes and thirty second mark when she heard the hat boom out its choice. “HUFFLEPUFF!”

Alya snorted. “Chloe does not look happy.”

Marinette watched Adrien find a place among his new house mates. They hugged him and ruffled his hair and the lines of his robes became yellow. He already seemed to glow with an alluring, metallic shine, but the big smile on his face made him ten times more beautiful. Marinette shook herself when she realized she was staring.

Chloe Bourgeois got sorted into Gryffindor after a comparatively brief stint on the stood. She proudly and happily strutted to her table as scarlet dripped down her robes.

When it was her turn, the hat blocked Alya’s vision and the hundreds of eyes staring at her. A rumbly voice spoke in her ears. Or was it directly into her mind?

“Mmmm, interesting, I sense fire in this one. Very brave, very stubborn, very noble. But you are a cunning one, as well; I sense great ambition in your heart.”

Alya’s chest clenched. That sounds like a Slytherin thing. But you said brave...

“Little fox, you would thrive in Slytherin or Gryffindor. You straddle a line of values. Ahh, I see you’re another Cesaire.”

You remember sorting my sister?

“And your father. You have their passion in your blood. You all are deeply magnanimous. But you, oh you’re so very clever and resourceful. I’m inclined to place you in Slytherin, if you have no objection...”

...I don’t.

“Very well. Welcome to the house of SLYTHERIN!” The sorting hat shouted the last word to the whole hall and was lifted from her head. She slid off the stool and walked to the table applauding raucously. As she sat and older students shook her hand and patted her back, she watched in wonder as the trimmings of her robes shimmered and turned emerald green.

“Oh, yes, I know precisely where you belong.”

Is it Gryffindor? Marinette dreaded the notion of living in the same place as Chloe Bourgeois.

“I can see your dreams, young lady. You may look all sugary sweet to the outside world, but you’re scrappy. You hunger for your destiny.”

All this was news to Marinette, but she didn’t protest as the hat called out “SLYTHERIN!”

In a daze she found a seat next to Alya. She nudged her. “Girl that was fast. You wore the hat for maybe five, ten seconds?”

“It was very adamant I be sorted into Slytherin,” Marinette confused. “Yours took longer.”

Alya pinched her thumb and forefinger so they were a centimeter apart. “I was this close to joining the Gryffindors.”

Marinette smiled. “Well, I’m glad we’re in the same house.”

They watched as one by one the other first years got sorted. As Alya predicted, the sorting hat barely touched Nino’s head before it bellowed out HUFFLEPUFF! He scooted next to Adrien and gave him a big hug. He looks good with yellow on his robes, Alya thought.

Ko-fi

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rezdogsyonder · 5 years

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Need (3)

Pairing: Professor!Rogers x Reader

Summary: The professor realizes just how mich he wants you.

Warnings: stalking, mention of blood.

A/N: This part will mostly be in Steve’s point of view. Kinda. I’ve decided reader wears glasses and idk why I wrote this, this way.

**********

**********

‘Why am I doing this? I shouldn’t be doing this.’ Steve thought as he kept following her from a safe distance.

**********

He wasn’t following you at first; he stayed back in his office for probably an hour...or three. He didn’t keep track. He needed to turn in a book, a history book for revision, and comparison. He is writing his own book, telling what actually happened while in the Howling Commandos.

By the time Steve got to the library the sun was setting, and it was a complete ghost town inside. Only spotting two people on his way to his destination. One of them being a janitor. The top floor of the library is where he needed to go, it’s where the special collection is kept. Normally these kinds of books aren’t allowed out of the library, but being older than most of the books in their library has its perks.

Putting the book back in its respective place, and about to return the checkout card, that is when I sees you once more. Hiding out in the back corner, at a table that is covered in notebooks and colorful pens and highlighters. Looking so deep in focus, biting your lip, and flipping through papers only to turn back to your notebook.

Hair tossed up in a messy bun. Glasses hanging at the end of your nose. You look at little bit more disheveled than what he remembered from a couple hours ago. White V-neck t-shirt under a navy blue cardigan. You looked beautiful.

Deciding to stay, Steve began to look through more history books, encyclopedias, and records that would help with his little project. If he was going to stay he might as well get some work done too.

He sat at a table across a very long isle from you. A seat that made sure he could still watch you, without you seeing. If he had, to he could just scoot his chair forward and he would be out of sight.

Steve is there for another 40 minutes or so before he sees her putting all of her notes away. He quickly stacked everything and put it all in his bag, then walking out before she sees him. Waiting by the entrance for you.

‘Why is she out this late? Doesn’t she know this is a dangerous city?’

Then he realized. He shouldn’t be here, he could get fired.

‘Why am I doing this? I shouldn’t be doing this.’ Steve thought as he kept following her from a safe distance.

He was going to turn back, he really was, but she just seemed so vulnerable. How far does she live? ‘I’ll just make sure she gets home safe.’ He decides, but he truly know that now he’s hooked, and he’s not going to stop.

And he didn’t. He not only followed her home but he found out what apartment she lives in. First floor, not very safe, at least the windows to her home are high. Less of a chance of robbery. He also saw her roommate, he recognized her from the coffee shop. Watching her clean up her room Steve realized something.

He’s got it bad.

**********

He held himself back from following her again. Not really by choice. He didn’t see her at the library again. He also avoided the cafe she works at. Not wanting himself to get too close, too fixated. It has been three weeks though, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep himself from you. Of all of his classes, yours was his favorite.

You have his class twice a week, every Tuesday and Thursday. Both scheduled at 4:30. He has kept his distance and she has been nothing but a model student.

Steve needs a teachers assistant, and he thinks he’s already found her.

**********

The essays Steve had assigned are finally almost done being graded. Deciding to leave yours last. When he was done going through, your essay was nearly perfect. Maybe he was biased, but he really thought that you’re paper deserved an A.

A grade he rewarded to only six other people. He was going to write an A when an idea struck him.

He grabbed his red marker and marked the paper with a C, writing “see me after class”.

He smiled at his plan and quickly filed it into the bottom of the stack of essays to hand back as students began filing into his classroom.

It’s Thursday.

**********

You got to Mr.Lee’s class 15 minutes early as per usual. You like being a little bit more than punctual. This was one of your favorite classes to be in but to be honest you’d be glad when it’s over. Math made sense to you but it took work. A lot of work.

Last class, there was a test and you were dying to see how you did. Mostly because he said that this test will be just like the mid-term and a good chunk of the final. You tried really hard, going to the library more often than usual. Well, it isn’t a big accomplishment, you only go the the library once a week. For like 4 hours, but still.

You’re practically bouncing in your seat all class period, since the average score on the test for this class was 82% Mr.Lee thought that we can have a reward. It’s his top priority that his students are understanding his material, and that’s why you like this class.

We are currently watching a movie and those who wanted to leave could, but they would have to wait longer to view their score. You stayed because you worked too hard to wait any longer.

But finally the end of this class was drawing near, and Mr.Lee just checked his watch and was pulling out a big stack of papers. Trying to stay calm just in case your score was bad, and why did this class have to be so big?

He was finally get to you, and he set your packet face down on your desk. Did he put the other students tests face down? You weren’t even paying attention. Now that you have your test, you can leave the class.

Pulling out your phone you call a familiar number, “Wade?” You met him on you way to a book store last year, he actually saved you from being mugged when you thought it was a good idea to take a shortcut through a back alley.

“My common sense it tingling,” you hear him the material of his mask being moved around, “What did you do this time Y/N? Something that shows you’re intelligent I bet. That’s the main trope of your story’s character.”

“You know you don’t sense sometimes, but maybe! I took a test the other day and I’m scared to look. I was hoping a call to you would help calm my nerves.”

“Would an in person meet and greet help?”

“What do y—” you couldn’t finish your sentence before a body landed in front of you on the sidewalk. You let out a loud shriek, then you heard a voice.

“Holy fuck knuckles! That shit hurted.” And you realized who it was.

“Fuck I hate you sometimes.” You sighed.

“I’m hilarious so don’t hate. And that was about as much fun as a sandpaper dildo,” he sits up at looks at you, “wanna kiss it better?” He says gesturing to his backwards foot.

You bend over and turn it back around, despite his cry of pain. Then you offer a hand so he may stand.

You looked down, “ah shit you got some blood on me.” It was only a drop, probably the size of a quarter on your white boyfriend cardigan. Wade pokes his arm and draws a smiley, using the dot on your sweater as an eye.

“Gross.” You smiled.

“Hydrogen peroxide will get that out.” You nodded and began unbuttoning it to take it off. Leaving you in your baby pink cami that was tucked into your high waisted back jeans.

“So... Wanna see my score?” You held out the packet.

“Ah... mhmm... yes.” He mumbled through his mask as he flipped through the pages. “Y/N I’m sorry to have to tell you this but it looks as thought you’ll have to drop out.”

You hit him, “Shut up, let me see.” You snatch it out of his hand before you finished your sentence. By it before you look at your score you smiled at him, “I guess your ‘inperson meet and greet’ did help.”

93%. You were struggling in that class and this will surely boost your grade back up. Squealing you jump at Wade, hugging him. He twirled you around.

“Celebratory chimichangas?” He put you back down and began walking, knowing you’d follow.

“Yeah actually I have roughly an hour and a half before my next class.” You said you you looked down at your phone. “Where should we go?”

“There’s this beautiful woman that has a restaurant somewhere that way.” Wade said point in a general direction.

You didn’t really believe him but two blocks in the direction he pointed was a small restaurant. You wouldn’t have noticed it if Wade hadn’t pointed it out. The lady that ran it was a sweet little old woman.

The food was great, and Wade was able to keep you occupied the entire time. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed before there was only 5 minutes before your next class started.

“Oh SHIT! Fuck IM LATE!” You scrambled pull out your wallet, but end up spilling everything. Wade starts to help you pick up everything that fell out, he stood up with five of your notebooks.

“I paid ahead of time. Sorry read ahead in the script. But let’s go!” He waved at the little lady behind the counter. “Goodbye, my princess.” And blows her a kiss.

“Come on we have to run, slow ass.” he starts pulling you to go faster.

“Jesus, I’ve never been late before. Oh my god.” Starting to get out of breath. About a block and a half closer.

“Really? Never would have guess that.” He says sarcastically. You two are back on campus, and you need to pass two more buildings.

“There! It’s right there,” you say running faster, you get to the front of the building. Wade hands you back your notebooks. You lean over trying to catch your breath.

“4:28. Why was it so important to be on time to this class?”

“Well turns out Mr.America is also Mr.Punctuality.”

“Cap is your teacher? I better skedaddle before he try’s to cut off another arm. Goodbye sunshine.” He taps your nose. “Boop.”

“Bye!” You waved and headed inside, going to the second to last classroom on the left.

You check the time again 4:29, you weren’t late. But it looks like the teacher is going to be. All that worrying for nothing. Not knowing that you were the reason for his tardiness.

**********

Mr.Rogers did show up for class but was about five minutes late. Other than that class went on like normal, you took your notes and worked. Used to the feeling of somebody staring at you, you didn’t want to know who thinking that acknowledging them will encourage them.

‘Wow she looks so adorable, pink suits her well.’ He thought as he watched her, but he began to grow angry as he realized that these boys were looking at his girl.

It was nearing the end of class, so he began passing out the essays. Saving yours for last. Today’s class was small, most students skipped his class once they realized that he wasn’t going to talk about Captain America or the avengers.

Once he got to you he placed your essay on your desk face down gently. He felt a little bad, turning around quickly so he didn’t have to see the disappointment on your face.

You forgotten about the essay, but you thought you had done well when you turned it in. You were having a good day, but this just ruined it. A big C on the corner of your paper. You felt tears beginning to well in your eyes but you blinked them away before they could fall.

You look at the clock and there is 2 minutes left, but the professor dismissed everyone already. You begin packing your stuff up, when you feel a little chilly. Sighing you pull out your cardigan and look at the smiley. Maybe you’ll call Wade again after this. You put it on hoping people will think it’s just a cute little design.

The class was now empty and you walk to the office connected to this classroom. It was more plain than you’d expect, and a lot cleaner too. Almost every other professor’s office you’d been to had been a complete mess. He was sitting behind his desk.

“You said to see you after class?” You say timidly. He gestured to the seat in front of his desk, and you take a seat.

“Yeah let me see that,” he holds out his hand and you lean forward to give him your paper, “I just needed to talk to you.” He crossed out the C and wrote an A right next to it, and stood up.

“What did you need to talk about?” You felt a little better with an improved grade, but a nervous pit in your stomach began to form. We’re you in trouble? He walked around and leaned against his desk in front of you, handing your paper back.

“I have been needing to choose a TA for the semester, and I was wondering if you would like to fill that position?”

“Oh my gosh really? I would love to! What would I need to do?”

He smiled, “Well, regular TA responsibilities like grading, tutoring or mentoring students if and when they need help, stuff like that.”

“Wow, thank you for this opportunity.” At this point you wouldn’t be able to stop smiling.

“It’s no problem. This job will suit you, I can tell.” He sighs and rubs the stubble on his face. “But, you will have to sign a few papers.” He slid walked back behind his desk and pulled a small packet out of his desk drawer. “This isn’t what you would sign with other teachers, but I’m sure you’re aware of my previous profession.” You nodded. “This is just protecting my privacy and it’s basically saying that you won’t do anything that would take away that privacy.” He slid the papers over to you, then putting a pen on top.

“Yeah, okay.” You didn’t read through it before signing, as Mr.Rogers just explained it to you. You put the pen down. “What now?”

Yes, what now? Steve thought.

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elizabethrobertajones · 6 years

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14x03 watching notes

Just finished watching and said, out loud and to no one: “Awww Jack.”

(This is not a spoiler, he’s just so sweet.)

Hallo, I am watching from bed despite having 3rd hand inherited a 2nd monitor over the weekend so theoretically my watching experience would be back to giant comfortable side-typing glory.

But comfy.

Easily accessible stuffed toys because Bobo Fucking Berens in Dabb era has made me cry more at this dumb show in the last couple of years than I cried in the previous ten.

Expectations: it's our Dean episode to make up for no Dean until now, and also Jody is there to see Sam's beard, and also Cas continues to be party!Cas, and Jack's shirts get darker and darker.

Side note: I think I was rushing out the door before I could talk about our lil Nougat of Denmark properly last episode where he was all, so we're killing my uncle then, and Cas was all D: D: D: D: D: who raised you. (Dean. Dean did. In this regard the boy is his father's son.) This, of course, is another Shakespearean irony than is being returned to Dean via Jack.

The point of this focus is very much to show Jack vs Cas mindsets on it when we're getting Dean returned to us, and I assume considerably more nuance is being added to the story. But for now, Jack being ready to kill his father to kill his uncle because his father was ready to kill him to kill the ghosts he saw of his enemies in Jack is more than enough of a pile of tragedy level angst to be working with.

I just need it to be clear that as far as I'm concerned, Jack is working in a completely different genre from EVERYONE ELSE around him, and the fact that it's the protagonist of a tragedy is fairly alarming, as it's a mindset that Sam, Dean and Cas have hurdled over since season 5/6 and though Dean still assumes he'll die bloody, he is at least capable of dreaming of a happy ending, and a lessening of the angst load has allowed that. Their personal stakes in the story are dwindling, in a sense, while Jack has showed up with like FOUR FATHERS and an evil uncle, which is so much potential family angst Shakey would have exploded. "Wait you can just addeth extra fathers thence addeth extra angst!?!?"

Yes my dude, yes.

*hits play* *Sam ruggedly cocks his pistol* You're stealing this whole shtick from Dean and I think it is time for the angst that you were the one dramatically cocking a gun and being the yes reductive heteronormative blah blah penis of the dynamic while Dean was not there to do it.

Oh no we immediately start with more Jack angst recap and aside from everything I just said I remembered that Bobo personally murdered me in 13x03 with the Jack n Sam stuff and here we are a year later.

Mr Stark I don't feel so good

THE BEARD EXCHANGE IS LITERALLY THE OPENING SCENE. BOBO I LOVE YOU. Thank you for breaking the tension and immediately drawing attention to how Sam has been busy and miserable. I think 14x01 set up well that every time he even had a moment to sigh his phone would ring again, and hence the beard appears as Sam eskews personal grooming and comfort in exchange for finding his brother. Jody is gonna draw attention to it at some point too because we have the promo shot of her nice peach fuzz-ing him, and I sincerely hope this is bookends to the episode and the next episode Sam is clean shaven with no comment except Jody prodded him in the face, and let me tell you only Bobo has me fantasising about the narrative framing of an episode like this.

God i'm a nerd

Anyway more seriously, this exchange coming out of the blue has a clear motive: Dean is up and about, still so freshly de-Michaeled he's in a waistcoat (and LORDY the only other scene he was in a waistcoat? 7x12's ending scene where Sam turns into such a moron in Jody's presence he's waving blushily at the door still AFTER SHE HAS GONE). Complaining about not being able to eat and sleep might be a sense of hyperbole to catch given the lack of elapsed time, but it also warns us that this might be how Dean reacts to being un-Michaeled. Or would he not, given he's up and about and snarking like his old self? How damaged will he be and how much can he repress into snark? He is playing off the very idea that this experience will have been damaging to his psyche and of course Michael did a ton of stuff which was expressly tuned to BE damaging to his psyche, then punched a mirror and shattered Dean's reflection for extra emphasis.

So all this question of how Dean is doing is loaded into the very opening line before he's even taken off his waistcoat, or of course, had enough time to truly eat/sleep/develop massive tells of the psychological trauma he may or may not have taken.

Obviously the show wouldn't be the show if he were fine, so I'm taking it as a question posed.

Then of course it slides into Bro Banter to prove it's Dean, remind us JUST how much we missed this snarky genre savvy fucker, and to make Sammy smile.

Also we're mocking Jared for being friends with that one Duck Dynasty guy who Jared's fans insist is the least awful of the bunch and also who you end up hanging out with when you're most embedded in the Texan stardom scene rather than living in Hollywood or whatever.

(God imagine being famous and from Atlanta and sticking true to your roots and you end up with the Queer Eye guyses as your BFFs instead)

Listen Bobo showed his socialist party membership card on twitter, he has no fucks to give about waving his politics around and I love him.

"If you're going to ask if I'm okay, you don't have to" (I am making fun of your beard, what more do I have to give you, bro?)

Buddy, I have been watching your face for over a decade and you have the sad tired pink eyelids of a Dean who is both tired and miserable.

Oh NO Dean walks into the main room expecting his comfy quiet library and war room full of 3 trusted family faces, and finds the bustle of Boss Sam's operation. The upcoming noise of these people before he turns the corner is an immediate warning that we should have expected this as dramatic irony for Dean's comfort levels from the start, and now he's back, well.

Panicked eyes.

He needs quiet recovery with his peeps, not alarming sudden change. A rug pull immediately after possession is a terrible thing to deal with. I've been wondering if this is a full reverse of season 6 for Dean - from the trustability of the hunter compound to the fact he lives in it, to the Samuel running it. But the effect is the same. Dean comes back from quiet time off to a change he can't handle and Sam in a new position in a family/hunter heirarchy. In this case, not Samuel's soulless goon, but a fully bearded Boss Sam King Of Hell Sir who Runs Shit competently in a way we the viewer trust implictly as Sam having Done Well, and also that the AU peeps might be a bit rough or untrained in some ways but 100% reliable in that they really do have no ulterior motive and every reason to think of Sam as an AU Moses who popped up and walked them to another land of safety and comfort.

Like, Dean, welcome back, you have Hamlet, Moses and Mobby to deal with. Cas seems to be the same as you left him, though. If somehow, impossibly, squintier.

"Right, Chief told us"

GOD I MISSED JENSEN'S MICRO EXPRESSIONS

You know how Michael sucks? No micro expressions. Guy doesn't have an anxious bone in his body.

This little bundle of neuroses I have chosen to love is full on having a meltdown on the other hand.

"Dean? Is it really you?" "Hey kid"

HUG. THE. BOY.

I suppose this is better than last year when he had a hug from a shapeshifter and had to wait to episode 6 for a hug from his father, but REALLY this season has been tormenting me with how bad Jack feels and even a hug from his gramgram isn't enough to satisfy how he should have been hugged by Sam, Cas and now Dean already this season.

We're only on epiode 3 and he's already got more hugs than he had this point last year. Deep breaths, Lizzy

Children need a lot of cuddles to affect their development into sensitive people okay? Dean got a lot of hugs up to age 4 and Sam basically did not, and he's an awkward moose and Dean is snuggly. I want Nougat to have the same development into a sensitive lad because he has EIGHTEEN FUCKING PARENTS AND NONE OF THEM HUG HIM

CAS HEARD 'DEAN' FROM ACROSS THE BUNKER, ARRIVES IN A BLUR

GOOD NOUGAT, HUG DEAN.

But like, dude, Cas just showed up at a run and made the gooiest eyes at Dean who made them back, and now you're officially cockblocking, so naff off, kid

I watched with prayer hands and Cas just got gooier and Dean got sulky he didn't get a Cas hug and this is officially the worst. Bobo, you let me down, my guy.

I mean no, Cas's gooey eyes were

...

Cas doesn't do gooey eyes. He squints. Squintily.

Who is this guy

Lol Mobby aren't in the episode because they stayed back to clean up - Sam gets stammery to Jack. Is he scared to imply they're maybe banging because he finds it weird but everyone else present is an even worse audience to announce this to for one reason or another (historically coped much better with the concept of dad sex when discovering adam and also didn't drive the car off the road into a ditch on finding out mary banged ketch), or is he trying to protect Jack from the concept of Michael leaving a pile o dead bodies for one reason or another, knowing Michael is his rage button?

He was the one who dealt with Jack trying to stay back in the AU to fight Mikey instead of just coming home.

"Speaking of clean up, I need a shower" *gestures vaguely* *Cas opens his mouth like why did I have a reaction image here? Do you want -* *closes mouth* *dean leaves*

Guys. You fucking suck. Go take a shower together and work things out.

"Still okay, I promise" *bisexual finger guns at Cas*

cut to: Cas squinting after Dean like "is he implying something"

"..."

"I really feel like he was trying to communicate something to me"

"..."

"I have no idea what Dean just hinted loudly to me twice in short succession and now that he has gone to shower I guess I will never know what he was attempting to communicate to me"

"Where's Nick?" "Hopefully not in this episode. Let's just say he needs some time because he's in a dark place and hope that's ALL we have to say about him"

Oh no. "Sam. Dean. How is he really?"

Cas has a one track mind.

But then we get the shot of Dean opening his door and they're still talking about him over the top of it, but it's that same shadowed shot of himself silhouetted in the doorway, the inner darkness represented by his room... Sam went into his and stripped himself of the tools in his pocket but before he could sleep, Jo called and set them all off again with the next lead.

Now Dean opens his door and turns on the light so we can see his inner self in a moment of peace and privacy, but essentially with a voice over about how he's super not okay.

Just how we left it. You can't even tell that for the last 2 episodes/3 weeks Cas has been coming in and snuggling your pillow every time he's not in a scene because where the fuck was he inbetween scenes in 14x02

God I have missed lingering shots of Dean's room, equating his inner space to his inner feelings. *paws lovingly at the shot* Dean's room all tidy and orderly and as he left it, yet feeling somehow very very empty and off-kilter in an unfamiliar way because he hasn't been here for so long.

It was all serious then guitar music started playing as Dean started stripping

and look

I saw the promo pics

you saw the promo pics

some person in the audience is like... why are we lingering on Dean getting undressed alone in his room while guitar music kicks up?

Is this what all that winking and finger gun action was about?

(Dean didn't wink but I took a lil break to chat with Mittens and the moment has evolved into him gurning at the door for like a minute trying to remind Cas that this means he joins him in the shower in 5)

"Fuck this shirt in particular"

I still think it was the audacity of wearing a bow tie that dragged Dean to the surface last episode

I love how Dean changes from this plain white t-shirt which is completely clean and shiny, into his normal dark dark brown shirt between scenes. I hope he got to shower. Whatever happened, this scar could have said "Ha ha ha I'm behind you", and he would have finished stripping down right to the skivvies then started fresh with his own boxerbriefs before freaking out and rushing to show the others.

But yeah, he's PISSED and embarrassed about Michael. You don't throw a guy's shirt on the floor like that unless you feel SERIOUSLY used, and here we end up with a creepy sort of STD metaphor, complete with the visual similarity to the clap: https://www.giantmicrobes.com/uk/products/clap.html

Bad fling, Dean?

Poker!witch gave Sam the clap in the episode which was totally not a metaphor about Sam getting the clap then beating poker!witch at his own game like nearly 20 episodes before he was possessed by Lucifer then beat him at his own game.

"Do the whole vulcan mind meld thing" Listen, James T Kirk, you can't just MAKE yourself one of the most iconic slash pairings of all time by comparing - wait

wait a minute

*Checks slash history books and sees them as a dictionary definition or two*

Anyway.

Dean's so eager for Cas to jump into his head. Just, like. Again. We all said it but immediately after that shirt throw? It REALLY emphasises that Dean sees Cas in this transcendant way to being used by an angel that got in his head. And left an STD mark on his arm. He can just immediately think, well, that sucked. But here's MY angel and I'm just gonna rev myself up and present my head for inspection and this isn't even a thing I'm concerned about. Hit me, big guy.

Oh come the fuck on Bobo.

I didn't have time to hit pause to have a heart attack about Cas putting his hand over The Scar, the one on the wrong shoulder, to get a clearer reception, because there's a HISTORY in scars, okay? They leave a mark and to the discerning poker and prodder like Cas that history can be read in the mark... And Cas sees... Michael being stabbed by a spear. Not just, like. Seeing Michael being stabbed by a spear, mind you. He sees it in a Bobo episode in a way wildly reminiscent of Patience seeing Claire/Kaia getting stabbed by a VERY SIMILAR LOOKING SPEAR and getting her Wayward introduction that way, when the whole Dreamhunter thing ended up being a massive Destiel parallel and Kaia getting stabbed already mirrored CAS getting stabbed by a spear (Michael's, natch) in 12x12, never mind the other stuff.

So Bobo has just built up a Destiel Dreamhunter sandwich, with Destiel nonsense either side, complete with bonus shoulder scar imagery, and a nice gooey dreamhunter centre.

Bobo, if you hadn't noticed, is really really really really reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally bitter he isn't off writing Wayward Sisters and hanging with his girls.

There's still a bunch of stuff to add up here, about why and who and how it all connects, which would involve dragging in these other spear-y episodes to assemble the full picture, so I'm just gonna hit play now I'm recovered from the shock :P

Oh dude it was a hooded figure who even LOOKED like bad Kaia and tbh at this point I'd say maybe even was?

Like, how many pronged spears are out there anyway and Jody's dealing with it so is it local? Did Michael pop up on Kaia like hey so you and I are both from alternate universes, what do you wa - OW FUCK JESUS FUKKIN CHRIST -

"Dean, who was that?"

Dean recognised her, and Cas was mind-melded enough with him to know that Dean did... Good grief I can not handle Dean and Cas existing on an emotional plane.

It's enough to mean they're the ones who call Jody with a tip off for HER rather than months of them asking her to help THEM.

Introducing us back to the Wayward world - South Dakota mug, and a text that Claire is a little angel who has been training her gals and even did the laundry.

I'm so happy

Eyebrow raise

God, Kim Rhodes is the most beautiful woman on the whole show and that's saying something considering, like. Ruthie. Lisa Berry. Something about the way she uses her face is so full of intelligence and humour that I am HELPLESS in her presence

God damn I want that fabled Girls' Night episode. Billie comes along too on a night off.

Rowena calls her up for chats sometimes these days, they're actually really good pals.

Sam you fucking moron you can't even finish a sentence in her presence. Just slap Dean on his WOUNDED arm and throw the ball to him.

Everyone leaning over the phone... This is the closest Cas has ever come to Jody.

"Jody, that's the good news."

Jody recognises that gravelly voice and snaps to holyshitanangel attention. "What's up?"

The implicit thing here is that Cas and Jody know each others' voices and are on at least chatting acquaintance. I would like to think they're invited over for beer at the same time but we have no proof..................... yet. This is Bobo on a "fuck you" rampage so I'm just, like, gonna wait see.

Bad Kaia has been going around ripping heads off things. DAMN, GIRL.

Considering the placement of the pronging was ~random~, in the sense that she can meat fork you anywhere, that means the placement of it on the meat of Dean's arm where the handprint once was on the other is even MORE significant in a metaphorical sense, of writing about "the scar" in the way of giving it a mystical property tied into the wider framework of all these relationships and events at once. The amount piled onto a simple stabbing is unbelievable, and the use of the scar as the vector for all this is definitely the byline of the episode given the title and all. It's brought Kaia back to us, given Jody the clue she needs.

And more dramatic irony that Claire was just asking to help, and Jody was like DEFINITELY HUMAN, SO ALL MINE. HAHAHA. And now we know, no, it's not all "human", it's bad!Kaia and that makes her CLAIRE'S.

I keep stopping to seal clap

it's 7:20am

Cas is packing up to leave with them!!!

And Jack looms blurrily into the background in his darkest t-shirt yet. And he's been RAPIDLY cycling through them.

In a sense this is good laundry practice, in order that you have a full load of lights followed by a full load of darks.

Metaphorically, however, this is BAD.

Jack sounds pissed they're all wearing jackets and packing bags, and he's wandering around in an over-sized dark grey t-shirt (one of Dean's? AUBobby's? It doesn't look like his standard fare which fits his body, this makes him look SMOL), with no idea we were off to kill the wizard.

Let's be charitable and say he wants to meet Jody and hang out with Kaia again.

But more likely Bobo is once again messing with Jack's inherent darkness in his presentation, especially as right now, once again while Jack is being The Sweetest Little Cookie, meeting his grandparents for ice tea and looking through the family photo album with misty eyes, he is ALSO Prince Nougat of Denmark and this is causing some serious darkness slippage because, well, revenge. Revenge is bad, kiddo. Don't need a ghost of your dead father (hey Dean's back) to tell you that.

The accusatory tone is enough to warn us that Jack's not doing so well and I'm going to assume drags Cas away from a mission with Dean followed by cooldown eating pizza and watching flicks with the girls.

"Kaia's killer is in Sioux Falls" Buddy. "He, she or it can hurt Michael" BUDDY.

I suppose they're bringing Cas because Bad Kaia kicked their asses and they assume Cas is the same height as her pet/metaphor for Kaia's inner fucked-up-ness so he can probably fight it??

"Michael's my enemy too! I fought him. For MONTHS." JACK sweetie. You can't just go around like, having an enemy list. And comparing it with your collective fathers' list.

The line about bringing Kaia into it and being responsible for what happened to her is good, though. Jack's got a social consciousness and that is lovely because he keeps doubting his goodness but when it comes down to it he wants to meet his grandparents and feels bad that Kaia got dragged into things and killed.

Of course, not realising this is Bad Kaia, they're all off to get MORE revenge on that thing that killed her.

Aw, Dean, no, don't point out how smol he is. He's wearing a huge baggy shirt to emphasise it already.

"I didn't - I didn't MEAN to be a dick" Whoops. Well, you were. You also missed the part where Jack went from smol precious child to angsty teen.

Fun fact: Hamlet was supposed to be like 18 or whatever, but because a famous actor wanted the lead role but was like, idk, 50, Shakey bumped up Hamlet's age a lil so he could get away with it, making him more of, like, a giant manbaby who is still functionally a teen in all ways except he keeps getting portrayed by middle aged men.

So, of course, we have our one and a half year old Nougat who is a 29 year old actor now getting into his terrible teens, and if that isn't the funnest nugget of trivia...

... then you are not as much of a nerd as I am about irony, coincidence, and neat overlaps of thingies.

Point is: get me a version of Hamlet where the other expected actors are adults of course, but Horatio and Hammy and his squad are dumb teens.

Lol Bobo just randomly introduces a cool lady hunter who is dragging a random victim of a hex down into the bunker to be healed by an angel. That poor girl is going to have a story to tell.

A lot just happened in a few seconds but at least Jack, who has stormed off for his nth teenage sulk of the season, now has a Cas trapped in the Bunker with him.

Dean n Sam gonna get their asses kicked by Bad Kaia

honestly is this just a ploy not to keep Cas where Jack is, but to keep Misha away from stunt fighting?

Anyway Dean communicates most of the above to Cas silently, and tells him that he should stay with Jack and also heal this girl and they have the most married eye conversation about what needs to be done, which is wonderful that they've been having these silent conversations all Dabb era but this is definitely the wordiest so far. I mean one of their more recent was just "Dean I can hear that cowboy music in your head" "what cowboy music?"

DEAN DOESN'T EVEN LOOK THRILLED TO BE DRIVING BABY AGAIN.

Sam mostly looks concerned he's hitting 80mph

I don't know anything about American speed limits but this is an alarming speed to me because in the UK 70 is usually like, the Most, and we don't have enough long straight roads that when there's no speed limit it's ever really recommended to go super fast because you will flip your car and die because all our roads are one and a half car length wide and extremely wiggly. And our motorways are congested enough you're more likely to be in a traffic jam than top speed anyway :P

I love that Dean measures people by their favourite Spice Girl. Hey Dean the 90s called, they want their pop culture relevance back.

You gay icon you.

(I'm reminded of 12x07 and Bobo and a similar conversation where Dean listed off all his manly manly historical faves)

Dean thinks Cas can handle it back home :')

"Something huge happened and you won't really talk about it!"

Okay Sam, he's traumatised and that's surface text.

You do realise the entire massive subtext is his repression and yet another metaphor for some huge queer experience and that this is the same conversation as 10x04 when he was grumbling into his chin about being embarrassed about what he did with Crowley? You realise that right?

Stop poking him about it, he'll talk when he's ready to open up. In the mean time he's feeling used and ashamed that this fling didn't go as planned after the whole first flirtation with waving his wings around and killing Lucifer where it all seemed fun to embrace his ~true self~ and have a crack at being a Flaming Michael Sword.

Also of course, we might just take him on his word that he really does NOT remember most of everything that happened because if he was truly repressing that much he wouldn't have been so gung ho for Cas to read his mind earlier but this mood pre-dates that so even if he remembered everything when Cas poked his brain, which seems unlikely as Cas saw it too, the wider sulk about his Clap Scar is more than just this.

It's a common experience, though, that Dean is repressed and moody, and Sam barrels in there trying to make him talk about it before he's ready, so the pressing is in character, regardless, that Sam doesn't trust that Dean is telling the whole truth and that there's some huge secret he's holding back.

The best part of queer subtext is that whether there is one or not it works - if there isn't, it's a metaphor for the obvious. If there is, same as above but the metaphor is concretely attached to whatever Dean is not telling Sam, and that in turn then becomes a part of the queer subtext, offered up on a platter to tell us more about how Dean is handling his post-possession shame of being, essentially, roofied after thinking he'd agreed to a consensual fling with a dude on his terms of entry and no strings attached, no walk of shame like he did when he was undressing earlier.

Poor guy can not catch a break. Shoulda hooked up with Aaron when you had the chance so your first time having a dude in you wasn't such a big deal, but just a nice booty call to keep in your phonebook. Now it's all Crowley this, Michael that...

"We need to deal with it." "Okay, I'm literally going EIGHTY to deal with it"

Dean, that's.

that's not therapy

"How can I be running from something when I'm RACING towards it" "I don't know, it's kinda your thing"

Sammy boy you have been trapped in the same car as Dean for way too long. Your analysis is getting deep. Deep deep cuts. Leave him alone.

I mean this is a guy who dealt with a gay panic by hooking up with Crowley and singing karaoke for him so.

"I just *need* you to talk to me. Slow down."

Oh SAM you said a good and interesting combo of words there. Dean, go 70 instead of 80, give us some time to feel this out because I've been FREAKED and, for you, you got a time skip but I lived it all real time and it SUCKED, and I'm hurt too by this. Reminder: our family does not do well with LOSING each other, and this is every conversation we've ever had post-thinking that happened, and I did things responsibly and grew a beard and became Boss of a bunch of peeps and also King of Hell but we'll talk about that later... Like, slow down. I have my issues too. There's 2 of us in this car and you can't go 80 and time skip to the end of this conversation either. Not when I have 3 weeks of angst packed into it.

Also: classic Sam projection. Trying to get Dean to open up because HE has pain he wants to air, instead of just bringing up how he felt, he tries to get Dean to open up, and when this continues, as always, not to be how Dean deals with things, Sam gets upset because it never gives him the opening to talk about his shit until it's an argument...

You could have just started the convo, sorry about the beard, I really mean it when I say I haven't had a moment to myself for 3 weeks, it's been HELL and funny I should mention Hell, er, did you know you can kinda just declare yourself king these days... heh

At least he's using racing metaphors about wanting to catch up and also, like, catch up

Dean responds to the sport metaphors

Dean is like nah call Jody we're almost there. I skipped ahead.

Look, I'm delivering you to your boo, what more do you want?

Jody smiles at the sight of them in a way which is almost as revolting as Cas smiling at seeing Dean again

Hugs!

Send Jody to the Bunker to HUG OUR BOY

"How'd you do it?" "What, me vs some assbag archangel? Who would you pick?" "You, every time."

And this, guys, is how Jody is never, ever patched into their angst, because they present a narrative where Dean just kinda chucked off Mikey and sent him packing and it's all cool and he's a hero.

Jody has at multiple points threatened to beat Dean into submission in order to hear a true version of how he's doing and he has so far not given in and sat at her kitchen table with a box of tissues to sob through his crap, but I hold out eternal hope like the fool I am.

Anyway it's also telling RIGHT AFTER that last conversation where Sam was probing Dean so intensely, that this is the version of "I'm fine" that Dean is going with, and even though Sam KNOWS there's more to it, this is the wall Dean is projecting, even to him. Even when he knows Dean is freaked by it and doesn't know all the details.

Jody goes up like 18 pitches "Heeey I liiIIIiiike it!" she squeaks, forcefully tweaking Sam's beard because "nice peach fuzz" is too understated both for Jody and the volume of facial hair Sam has produced without comment until Dean came back and Jody showed up.

Dean has never been so offended in his life

*Jody continues giggling to herself while Sam desperately looks for a normal conversation*

AHAHA "I haven't been home since I talked to her........... I may be avoiding her"

Yeaaaah, bringing up that it's not just a normal human beheading and weird stab mark, but ALSO a KAIA-RELATED ONE maaay be... too much.

i'm going to be honest I've been so thrilled about everything I forgot to check what cast is flashing up on the screen

Anyway there is very much a subtext to Jody's avoidance of telling Claire what's going on that she knows how much she loved Kaia and how much of an issue this is - even if it's gonna be for revenge, because they don't know it's Bad Kaia - this is something where Claire's feelings make a MESS.

Bobo gets in Sam's serial killer thing, Dean is staring into the void like am I still even here or am I in hell. Is this a hell that Michael conjured. Mikey. Hey. Mikey. I figured it out. We're done here. Let's go back to regular torture. Michael. This is the bad place. Michael.

Dean stomps off into the woods because waiting for daybreak means being stuck in the same room as Jody and Sam flirting for a few hours.

Jody firmly pokes Sam in the chest with a map.

Sam.

A raven caws in the background, and Jack is wearing layers, the darkest shirt yet, a thick corduroy jacket in the style of early Sam, and is packing a bag.

He wrote a note and his handwriting is as disgustingly adorable as I thought it might be.

Alex wrote "Jack" with a cutesy backwards K in an autograph for someone who requested it at a con and I thought that was a cute detail but not how Jack would write and the real story - and I assume like with others they made him write it in character - is much more nuanced. His letters are competently shaped like he knows exactly how they should be, but shakily written, like he's not used to holding a pen, because, well, he isn't. He's not developed the muscle memory for it, just as he hasn't for fighting and all the other stuff, because in may ways he IS still a smol toddler with no life skills. His capital letters are huge and precise, like he knows he has to write them big, but disproportionate - putting so much emphasis on the titles of the people around him, the capital letters a metaphor for their influence on him. There's something clearly unconfident about writing and yet for all that obviously written by someone intelligent enough not to make basic errors of backwards letters and other things. He knows exactly how he is SUPPOSED to do it, but the execution is shakey, and disproportionate and generally looks unschooled and painfully revealing of his entire state of being.

Is this the scene where Bobo said out loud to an empty room, awww Jack.

I've been dreading that since the hiatus.

Maybe I should dig up that post and use it as the title for this one.

Triss is gonna die, Jack stopped by the stairs up out the Bunker in the war room, heard and saw Cas moving around, then in a fit of conscience or missing him already or something, stopped by to open the door and look in.

They have DEFINITELY expanded the Bunker set, in the sense that they've attached extra rooms to it or Wanek has sat down and made some parts more standardised, because they've shown off the corridor connections in every episode so far, and in this one we're seeing a never-seen-before connection which actually explains what is behind that window and how it fits. I mean, I'm pretty sure we've seen this particular room a few times, window and all, but never actual connections which show connected sets, so much as scenes starting or stopping there with no transition.

"She's been enchanted" "Like sleeping beauty" Jack says with awe "Awwwwwwwwwww" Lizzy says with awww

I honestly can't tell which moment Bobo said "Aw Jack" out loud about because we're getting such a series of them

Anyway, Hamlet, the great procrastinator, is distracted away from his mission to kill his uncle.

Not sure about the overlap of hearing things from the other side of a wall but I mean at least he's not going around stabbing people so

Jack also seeing all the important work they do for other people, even randos, and Cas getting involved in huntery business, distracted from emotionally nurturing him because of sleeping beauty there, and phoning rowena, doing the work to unknot a spell...

If we get Cas doing spellwork I'm gonna die, it's been Too Long.

Cas [squinting]: "Are you going somewhere?" Sleeping Beauty: "ooooww" Jack: "No."

Hon, that was so suspicious you are lucky this is Cas and not one of your other dads.

But. Aww Jack to an empty room.

"If I get a vote I'm team stick together" Jody remembers 9x19

Also Sam remembers bad!Kaia kicking their butts. They're on her natural territory

she is the Predator.

Sam keeps LOOKING at Jodio.

Look, I just

Cas keeps looking at Dean, Dean keeps looking at Cas

Jam won't stop looking at each other

That head is a Warning.

Come no further, mortals

I think Bad Kaia lives here

Vampires.

they really need to figure out how to biologically identify them except for teeth because they really come up against a lot of dead ones

"I brought tissue samples home, Alex ran them underneath the microscope"

Look, girls supporting girls, I knew what they needed to do before they did it lol

Dean: I was stabbed here

YAY I went frame by frame before the reveal and that is Kaia's face in there, the hood less spooky than before and more open to reveal her

Dean: bout to be stabbed here again

Dean finally has the moves to take on Bad Kaia after a season or two with the new stunt guy

but then her hood falls back and he's STUNNED

Now everyone is stunned

I think they've been using the Wayward Sisters Bad Place soundtrack for this but I'd have to check

the music is so very different and I'm not good at music ear thing

Cas: *eye twitches violently* Me: Cas why are you having trouble with this line Cas: "... marked.................... 'gross stuff'"

Cas, internally: Why did I marry into this family

Future MoLHunter 100 years later: "Man, this place is sweet, but the filing system is balls to the walls." Other Future MoLHunter: "Babe, you did not read the Winchester Gospels before your initiation?" F MoLHunter: "There is a drawer here marked 'hands of god' and the only thing in there is a pair of chopsticks and a ladel" OF MoL Hunter: Okay I will give you that. -

Me out loud to an empty room: aww Jack

He's so concerned about Sleeping Beauty, and he can't do anything about it but he's curious.

Maybe he CAN fix her and this is how he gets a lil power back.

I hope so because awww Jack being so concerned about her.

This is a Good Procrastination From Revenge

Hamlet, take fucking notes

"Is that your dad?" "One of them, yes." Aw Jack

Aw Bobo

Jack's flipping around on family - he's accused them of talking about nick/Lucifer as his father, he's disowned everyone but grampa and grammy Kline, and now he's fondly thinking of his three hero dads

He's really struggling to work out his place and what sort of family set up he belongs to and to be fair, he has so many fucking options and all of them are somewhat disastrous or tragic, so he's 100% in his right to be fuckin confused.

On the other hand Sleepy Beauty has no context so she's gonna assume Cas is gay married with a kid Jack's age and that's like, not untrue.

"My mom... but she probably hates me" "Why?" Jack says, horrified at the entire concept that a mom could hate a child, because, well, Kelly's love was COSMIC for him "because I left," she anvils

"I was sick of being treated like a kid, and i thought I could make it on my own" Oh boy. She's just expositioning how Jack feels and immediately telling him if he leaves he'll fall in with a witch, who curses her with an AGING spell which will make her old before her time.

I feel like there is probably... a metaphor........... in here...............

Also a reverse of Dean's aged down curse, because the girl and her other victims were hansel and greteled.

I had a sudden whim a couple of nights ago to see aged down Dean and current Jack hang out. Bring back Dylan Everett to go play basketball with Jack out on the front step.

"Gave us all nice things," she says, clutching at a HUGE EVIL EMERALD PENDANT AROUND HER NECK

Jack.................................

Is that cursed

"She said having us there kept her young" She put her own age into that locket

dang I should get a bonus point for bringing up poker!witch before he was relevant

I'm always curious about the show's implications about witches maintaining their youth by sucking it from others, because almost every witch we've met who had a focus on age was doing it for that reason, whether it was eating children or playing poker.

And we have a 300 year old witch chilling around who we don't know anything about when it comes to immortality, except that she has it and she bestowed it on Oskar so it's clearly a spell she can do rather than an inherent trait of reaching a certain level of magic practitionery.

"Then it started taking me too. Even faster than the others!" yeah because she killed the witch so she probably has to suck poor sleeping beauty dry in order to regenerate and skulk away and start over somewhere

PS: Sleeping Beauty is really doing an amazing performance here. I 100% am in Jack's shoes of being horrified and wanting to protect her

"Cas is going to fix this. I promise" Sweetie! Have you ever called him Cas rather than Castiel before? It seems weird. He even wrote castiel on the letter

Sam deducts Michael's entire plan off the clue that Alex couldn't detect the vamps in her sciencing, and based on having been attacked by super werewolves.

But why is Michael cleaning up these people?

Unless he's taking threats off the board who would be too cool and powerful and may challenge him...

"Doesn't change the plan" "but Dean - "

Dean walks off

Dean has no time for Sam suggesting maybe this is something awful because of Michael that Dean might know about or else be weirdly intimately connected to because of his weird Michael-based condition.

We have no clue what's going on and Sam doesn't like that and Dean's powering through and Jody is hovering in the background like WOW I can see why you leave me out of all your dumb main plot angst normally. Never done me one of these MAIN PLOT ones before. Can we go back to normal MotW where you're low key angsting in the subtext about whatever currently ails you?

Jody slaps Sam on the lower back

lower, babe. Lower.

Cas does magic, boom purple smoke!

Aw no she's still withered.

Jack, take her necklace off and smash it

because you did the good work of a hunter and talked to her and through being kind discovered what was wrong with her

Jody has a phone provider that gets her signal in the wilderness

"Claire's been doing so good, but anything connected to Kaia... she's a powder keg"

"FIRST LOVE STRIKES QUICK, AND TO LOSE IT LIKE THAT"

okay no Jody didn't shout it, but Bobo did.

ILY Bobo

I'm like 0% surprised but I am guessing other people who had been less trusting are throwing a complete party to have it textually confirmed like that. I felt like Bobo's intent especially when he went on the record in that stream AND he had been saying already that he shipped it right after Wayward Sisters, that he never ever meant to be coy about Dreamhunter, and confirming that Claire was madly in love with Kaia was a top priority on his fuck you list since he didn't get to write the show he wanted in order to work on this naturally.

Sam nods like fair enough, happened to me with Jess, but uh wow okay no i did not - yeah okay yeah

"He's not ready for this case" "maybe he needs it"

Jam jam jam jam

I mean

Yeah mature adults discussing issues together and working out how they feel about Dean rage-hunting Bad Kaia

hey look it's that one cabin that has been in like every episode of the show in the same way that one little stoney valley was in every episode of BBC Merlin

Has she lost her spear??

Dean, that was RUDE, you're so horrible to all these versions of Kaia

That zoom up on his face is one of the top 10 Dean Is Not Okay zooms of the show

So not like "bad cas" or "new bobby" are Dean's definitions for AU peeps - no word on what Charlie is to him, maybe because AU Charlie is a real issue for him to define as he couldn't help treating her like his Charlie.

But Bad Kaia insists that she is to Kaia what she is to me - they're joined in a different way. A way that back in Wayward Sisters was implied to be a dreamwalking connection of a very different sort, something anchoring our Kaia to the bad place and their connection was... weird.

"That was an accident. I was trying to kill the blonde" She's remorseful about killing Kaia but upsets them even more by reminding them that she was out for Claire instead.

How about we kill no one, bad Kaia

Oh no, Michael keeps sending monsters after her... Now she sounds like the original Kaia just because she's got "always more" things out for her. I suppose Michael learned of her through Dean, found her, and either wants to stop her or capture her because she has universe-crossing dreamwalking abilities, and woooow that will be useful to him.

NOOO SLEEPING BEAUTY DIED. THIS IS REALLY BAD. JACK COULDN'T SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE HEEEEEEEEEER

waaaaaaaaaah

Stop fuelling Nougat having an interesting dark arc about his entire self and purpose and let him just hang around the bunker and watch TV and eat nougat and be hugged. Can we not just have a son who is okay and nothing is wrong with him?

Oh no even the random hunter (did I really catch her name as Brunhilda or did I imagine that?) is crying at Jack crying over Sleeping Beauty dying. Cas is contractually obliged not to cry or do complicated stunts but he looks miserable too.

Oh, jack figured out the pendant?

But can they actually save Sleeping Beauty?

Sam as usual getting in before I can - "Break her!??!?"

don't you dare hurt Kaia any more, she's already told you what she knows, Michael hurt her, you punched her out with the same face and then threatened her a bunch. She might be a snarky monster-hunting feral woodland weirdo but she's still Kaia-like and you have a history of being completely horrible to Kaia-like girls when you're in a bad place.

And it turns out Dean just wants the spear that pronged him, to figure out what it did and how to hurt Michael with it. To go on his own revenge mission that he denied Jack because, guys, we are now in competition for who gets to have the angsty anti-Michael revenge mission. Jack and Dean literally competing to be most angsty about it.

Jack is being considerably more productive even if Dean solved the Kaia mystery.

But yeah. Revenge sucks you guys.

Dean you need to eat a snickers and take a rest.

smiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirk because fuck you Dean for always hurting me and the other Kaia who is probably also me.

Jack is being much smarter.

The smartest cookie.

Who needs powers when you are a good cookie.

"She wasn't cursed. This was."

GOOD COOKIE.

I vote Jack gets to kill Michael. Dean has lost his Michael killing rights.

"You're no different from him. Threats, violence, anything to get what you want." "I am nothing like him."

Hon.

"Yeah you are. And you always have been."

I don't know if Kaia knows or if she's pulling a gambit, but acting like a mystic know it all and reading Dean stone cold in a villain way sure did take some of his rage away into that good old Dean self-loathing and fear, which was one heck of a good chess move regardless of if she can magically read him or not.

No I don't think Dean is these things but Michael is a means of exploring Dean's "blunt little weapon" sort of mindset that he has suffered from because of John's upbringing all this time, and Michael emotionally mauling Dean to the point of being a non-functioning worst version of himself who threatens Kaia (AGAIN) really is an on the nose way to display the sort of trauma that Michael tore into his psyche.

Crap I need to go to yoga, but this is too good to rush so even though I don't have much left, I will be back for proper notes in a bit!

Him smash magic glowy thing with hammer

just like i told myboy to do!

Cas's hair is ridiculously spiky.

"What happened?"

YOU MADE NOUGAT FEEL GOOD ABOUT HIMSELF THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED

Aww jack to an empty room

Sam I have been gone for hours. How have you not tackled Dean to the floor and apologised to Bad Kaia

"I saw what you did to her, when you got angry. You shoved your gun in her face." To be fair, at the time Dean had also been emotionally mauled by the feels bear because Jack gave him a vision of Mary being tortured in Hell-equivalent and he was also fucked up beyond belief.

Kaias really are seeing the worst side of him all the time.

Bobo likes breaking Dean

That was enough to make Dean let go

Also to ask a really good question about how she knows!

I'm way more curious about Kaia than Dean yelling at her :P

Then she points out that he's angry and impatient because he's scared, like, duh, but sometimes he needs to be reminded that he can have "weak" emotions like that because he wants to be all tough and on the case and instead he's freaked out because Michael has messed him up completely. Like. Stay home. Help the boy with lore or something. Take a pyjama day.

Wheee full flashback!

The early evening light gives it a Bad Place colour tinge, which is awesome.

I can't believe Mikey shows up in his hat but not his jacket.

He says he's BORROWING Dean here. Hm.

Also, what I suspected, that he sensed her around and was just curious. Probably having a "what the fuck that's KAIA!?" from Dean inside him and being like Kaia huh? Time to chat.

Mikey do you literally not have your own version of that fuck off huge spear they stabbed Cas with a couple seasons ago, or do you just collect cool spears?

There's something more than usually terrifying about his face in this conversation.

And he now says there's a war coming and thinks something weird like Bad Kaia might appreciate being on his side.

Oh boy.

"Wild one" that's so cool

Michael really has some great lines for being a massive pillock

Omg he fight good too

AAH this is Kaia's memory and she's psychically implanting it in Dean's head

"Stop!" he says, clearly not enjoying watching himself beat up Bad Kaia and, like, realising exactly how awful it looks to do this when he has to watch himself from the outside and for all we know feel her pain too.

Of course Dean being desperate to get the spear to fight Michael could come across with a blur of ambiguity of Michael being desperate still to have it, whether to stop Kaia using it or because he just really wanted it and doesn't like being told no.

The concept that Michael just disappeared from Dean still lingers.

So many fights with a whole bunch of people this season. Maybe just because there's so many friggin characters

"Now you're in trouble" *Bad Kaia literally leaps through a window to avoid dealing with this* I love her

NICE STAB

thanks for saving Jody

Well that was quick

Also you're badass and terrifying and I think Claire might fall in love with you too >.>

"I'm used to it" Oh babe.

She literally raised herself in a terrifying doomy forest so

I mean at least this world has dry crackers and beans. SCORE

Jody has got a LOT of thinking to do about how to phrase any of this to Claire.

"So there's a feral Kaia living in the woods outside of town"

Awww Sam offering her a lift to the hospital

Bobo wants us to remember 9x06 and Dean having to tend Cas's broken hand maybe

Sam. Hug her right now. RIGHT NOW.

Nope Jody just looks really tormented

She's in a reverse Jack position - one mom to 3 hunters instead of one kid to 3 hunters :P

Hey look it is Jack and one of his fathers.

"Jules is off!" Hey look Sleeping Beauty was called Jules. Nerdylittleshit doesn't read these notes however so she will never know that I decided this character was named after her :P

Cas apologises for not being there for Jack, because it took this long to realise he's the father who's always at work while others have taken the stereotypically maternal role to Jack, Cas just gets to be the cool strong father who is usually dead, captured or just busy saving people and too busy for Jack as a result.

"It's okay," Jack says, sounding considerably more emotionally balanced about it than he had in 14x01 when everyone was neglecting him

"Today you PROVED that you have the mind of a hunter. And the heart of a hunter" Raised by the best, bitches!

Awwww Cas wants to be a hunter with Jack! They can get a terrible car and hit the road and do an easy case and bond as they go and eat crappy food at diners and

Jack develops Nephilim Flu in response to having a nice moment with a father because he's so unused to being treated with full attention.

Cas: *squints*

"Must be getting my first cold!"

I have a cold too Jack! Awww!!

Cas is going to make him some soup. This is too sweet. I don't even have words for any of this it's just gross. My teeth hurt.

Jack I swear to god if you stopped your revenge quest and it hurt you so bad inside you're about to cough up a lung I am going to LA to kick the writers' asses in person so if you dare be even the slightest bit consumptive

Oh thank god the scene changed before he coughed blood into his hand

Awww and then Dean admits Sam was right, while still being the one driving on the way back.

I wonder if they filmed these side by side. "Dean slow down" "Sam you were right"

"What Michael used me for" Ouch, hearing him say it like that... Sad sad thoughts.

He just wanted to skip ahead and have it all done because revenge makes you feel SO much better.

"Dean... you did what you had to do" Okay it's even worse hearing someone else justify it rather than hearing that phrase come out of someone's mouth. At least when they say it about themselves they're just in a bad place. I don't even know if this is a pavlovian response I'm having but really flipping it around to have Sam say it is a validation - Sam certainly thinks things are better off with a dead Lucifer and would have a favourable bias, because it got the job done and whatever Mikey is up to at least it's not Lucifer doing it. Because even if Lucifer were doing the exact same things it would just be intangibly but clearly worse.

"It wasn't a blink, being possessed."

Dean says to Sam, who has been possessed by an angel twice and when it was Gadreel, for almost as long as Dean was Michaeled

Dean's so freaked out because fighting the drowning sense of being possessed was so horrifying and made him feel so weak and useless and he didn't even win that fight, Michael just bailed and let him have it back. With the "I own you" hovering over him.

It certainly reeks of being haunted by a bad relationship. The sense the nasty abusive ex hovering around outside the place you work every night...

"And it's all on me, man" No it isn't, he got through because Lucifer told him how.

Well I mean if you wanna go cosmic consequences, yeah it is because Billie done told you not to go universe hopping and that's several billion dominoes you messed around with doing exactly that

But despite how I spent all of season 13 SHRIEKING at you not to do it while knowing full well you did, and how this is technically your cosmic hubris for doing that, I also don't actually blame you on a personal level, Dean. Just, like, so you know once I get back to the shrieking. Because ow you are very sad and in pain and if Nougat wasn't coming down with Nephilim Flu in the other scenes I'd basically rank you No 1 for wrapping in blankets and feeding soup.

You're still in the top 10. Jodi had a pretty bad day too :P

Oh COME ON JACK

*starts packing my bags for the ass kicking*

Aww Jack to an empty room

Um EXCUSE ME HOW MANY CONSUMPTIVE TISSUES HAVE YOU GONE THROUGH?

GO FIND YOUR FATHER RIGHT NOW

HAVE YOU BEEN DOING THIS FOR THREE WEEKS?

Well no wonder you've been in a panic to get Michael killed.

SHEESH.

Dean's back and he's gonna kick your ass because he remembers when Sam did this in the Trials and he is very very anti consumptive family members.

#Asks #rape mention cw #for thematic parallels to the whole Michael-ing thing #because consent drama and angels as per usual #14x03 #season 14 spoilers #my stuff

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sleepyfan-blog · 5 years

Text

The Moonlight Carnival

anon request that tumblr munched.

fandom: none

warnings: references to gore, body horror, smoking, horror elements, circus, cursing

This was very different than other requests I’ve gotten, but a fun writing exercise. I really hope that you enjoy this, anon.

“Maman!” Lucette called out, a small pout on her face, waggling the end of the fat cigar that had smoldered out in the grey, foggy afternoon. The cold damp had soaked into everything - little droplets of water having condensed onto the thick goggles that the young zombie liked to wear on her head. Her black beret was similarly soaked and some of the frills on her long, black dress had flattened somewhat. Her long, dirty hair (long since stained by the gunpowder that she so loved to play with) clung together in clumps and patches, but none of this mattered to the little girl as she skipped over to her mother, gently tugging on the vampire’s dress “Maman, my cigar went out!”

Leonne smiled indulgently at her beloved daughter, gently reaching out and patting her, glad that the magical sigil continued to glow at least. It proved to her that this fog was not of a natural make, at least. She pulls the cigarette out of her mouth, blowing a bit of smoke out from between her lips as she does so as she lights her daughter’s cigar, and murmurs “Find Vivian and bring her into the main tent, alright? I need to talk with Zosme and Liam… Oh, and do check to make sure that Miss Eloise will be coming for her shift - but that she will need to be on guard. I don’t like the look of this fog. It’s dreadfully suffocating.” She twirled the end of her cigarette holder for emphasis, knowing with long practice how to spin it without causing the cigarette to go spinning out of the holder.

“Yes, maman!” Lucette responded, happily running off to go find her friend, finding her softly blue-glowing form as she drifted from one side of the encampment to the other “Vivian! Vivian, maman says that we have to stay inside.” She grinned widely at her dear magician friend, her crooked, yellow-stained teeth flashing a little in the dim, grey light, her milky-white eyes reflecting her surroundings.

“Hmmm…? Oh… Alright.” The young ghost nodded, drifted after her more lively friend, a small smile appearing on her face as the pair of them made their way into the spacious main tent.

Lucette wandered over to where her cannon was, gently patting it and humming softly, closing her eyes for a couple of moments as she recalled the the many time that she had flown through the air, rising high, high into the sky, her hair streaming behind her, her arms outstretched as she felt as if she could fly, before tumbling down, laughing and screaming with delight as she rocketed back down to earth, uncaring of the splattered mess that she’d make, content to wait until Maman and the others found the scattered pieces of her body. She heard a faint splash from the beautiful, glass tank that Zosme and Liam performed in - finding the way that they flew in the water to be pretty… But water put out her precious fire, and was therefore something that she didn’t like very much. She ran to the water’s edge and called out “Zosme! Zoooosmeee~! Maman really wants to talk to you, something about the fog being weird…”

The tall, slender selkie breached the surface of the water at the sound of the little girl’s voice, and sent her a small smile, a flash of needle-sharp teeth briefly seen before she spoke, her voice beautiful and lilting, as if Zosme were singing just a little (it was such a pretty sound, almost as lovely as the sounds that Lucette’s cannon made as it fired her into the sky! Or into the crowd, which was really funny, even if most of them really didn’t appreciate her guts getting blown across them) “Very well, does she want to talk to Liam as well?”

“Uh-huh! Where’s the cellphone that we use to talk to Eloise at? I don’t remember where Maman put it…” The little zombie asked, frowning for a moment before shrugging. If she needed to remember something, she would!

“It’s on the highest stand of the bleachers, near the lights, so that it can stay charged, little one. The two of us will go speak to the Ring mistress about this supposedly concerning fog. Do not worry, for no weather will scare us away!” The siren promised, gently pointing out where the phone was before setting off in the direction of her boss.

Liam - her lovely Selkie boyfriend - walked hand in hand with her as the pair of them made their way through the dense fog towards Leonne, nodding politely to the vampire. “The young ones are inside - Vivi is practicing one of her card tricks, and I believe that Luci is checking to make sure that her cannon is in working order again. There is definitely something strange about this fog… And perhaps a bit unfriendly, but as we are merely wandering travelers, so long as we do not tarry here for longer than necessary, I believe that we should be safe… Perhaps tag Luci with a locator spell so that we can find her pieces a bit faster?”

Liam shivered a little, squinting a bit, squeezing her hand a little bit and muttering quietly “I think that we should push for a modest crowd, nothing too big. We’re still in the newer territories for The Gentry to try to claim but…” The selkie shivers a little bit, a quiet warble in the back of his throat as he presses closer to his beautiful, badass girlfriend “This reeks of some sort of portent and I’m not about to get pulled into some bullshit quest, or tied down to some scheming being who’s hidden my coat somewhere.”

Zosme growled a little, her eyes flashing with protective wrath “As if I would let someone make you a meek little house-husband, my love. I would sing them to a slow and miserable death, until they are begging we take your coat back before drinking full and deep their life’s blood, giving you their still-beating heart as a prize.”

Leonne nodded, a concerned frown appearing on her face “Duly noted - and I suppose that we should angle for a mainly human crowd, despite how… Judgmental they can be?”

“Yes.” Both Zosme and Liam responded at the same time, nodding in unison.

“Ah, well. It can’t be helped, and I’d rather not have to deal with any of territorial nonsense. I’m not part of a coven for many reasons, the rules that come with being part of a group being one of them.” The Ring Mistress responded with a sigh. “Patrol the grounds until ten minutes before your act begins. Contact me if we have company.”

Siren and Selkie nodded in understanding, this small, travelling circus was very much their home, and they would defend it from anyone who would seek to tear apart their rag-tag little family apart with ridiculous and irritating notions of what beings like them could or should do.

Eloise sighed as her phone rang. She had just caught the last of the fish that Zosme needed for food, had swung by the blood bank for Boss, found some unusual teas and a couple dozen macarons for Luci, and managed to talk the spectral proprietor of the unusual candy and pastry shop to let her purchase some spectral sweets for Vivi. She even found those sea-being friendly chocolates that Liam had begged her to try to find, as a surprise for his girlfriend. Eloise had a couple of hours before she needed to head back and had decided to crash at a hotel to catch some much-needed sleep and was just about to check in to a comfortable place to nap that had this neat time-dilation spell on it that would allow her to get a full eight hours of sleep well before she had to get to work. Was it spendy? Yes. But Eloise was going to be up all night taking tickets and handing out food to the customers and wanted to make sure that she was going to be ready for opening night. Unless it was her parents, demanding that she come home from the circus. In which case she’d just ignore it and sign in. But no, it was the boss. “Hey boss, what’s up?” She asked, yawning a little.

“Miss Eloise, have you noticed the fog today?” Leonne asked without preamble.

The human blinked a little, utterly confused as she walked out of the hotel doors. Unless the weather had changed in the past five minutes, it had been a warm, sunny day. This had not changed “Uh… Boss, I’m not sure where you are right now, but it’s clear blue skies and warm, bright sun. I figured you’d be indoors because of the light bothering your eyes.” That’s how she’d been taught how to talk about her boss’s vampirism in public. Then again, people could get really weird about a lot of things, and Ellie had long since learned how to roll with the punches.

“Non! The fog rolled in shortly after you left in the morning to get us all something to eat… Come back to us, please. Something strange is happening, and I fear we may need to pack up and head elsewhere. Or at least change locations.” Leonne responded, sounding as startled and confused as Eloise felt.

Damn, and she’d already started the word of mouth campaign, spreading throughout the city about the circus. Eloise didn’t understand why Mrs. Leonne wouldn’t let her post about the circus online, but none of them were particularly fond of human gadgetry - and talking about a zombie in a circus could draw the wrong sort of people. Lucette was a sweet, intelligent kid, and the last thing that Eloise wanted was for some dumb asshole to try to kill her for being an abomination… Or worse. “Yes boss. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll text you when I’m about ten minutes out.”

“Good. Travel safely.” Leonne acknowledged before hanging up.

Sure enough, as soon as Eloise hit the side of town that The Moonlight Carnival was set-up in - perfectly legally, mind you. They had all of the permits and zoning requirements as needed per city, county and state laws… There was a fog wall. Thick as anything and looking very much like a physical barrier. There were also beings in neat, black and white pinstripe suits patrolling the perimeter looking incredibly official and intimidating. Despite everything that she’d been taught in school, the human moved closer to the group, catching the…

Moonstone lotus pins that each of them wore above their left breast pockets, just above neatly folded blood-red handkerchiefs that were probably silk or something equally expensive. Eloise cursed quietly to herself as she pulled out her phone, looking up where the nearest public rose garden was, walking with purpose away from the patrolling beings, doing their best to seem unconcerned by what they were doing so long as they didn’t go after her.

She stepped lightly over the barrier of salt-stones and garlic plants, across the fast-flowing water and into the public rose garden, heading straight for one of the ovals (carefully maintained so as not to turn into circles as an unwitting invitation to the fae) and called her boss.

“Eloise, are you alright? I cannot hear you.” Leonne asked, concern in her voice.

As if she was really ten minutes away, Leonne could hear her heartbeat, if the vampire so chose. “I sought sanctuary in a rose garden. Sorry about that, but The Gilded Lotus has cordoned the half of the town that the circus is in. I’m not sure if they’re after you or someone else, but you all should really clear off. I saw a dozen of the smug fuckers patrolling the fog-barrier, so whatever they’re after, they really want it.”

“Merde. Stay there until I call you again. I dislike the noisiness of this city and I don’t feel like putting on a show tonight. I’ll inform the others of that.” Leonne responded with an irritated growl underlining her words.

“Yes boss.” Eloise answered back. This wasn’t the first time they’d skipped town because of local bullshit, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

#my writing #gore tw #body horror tw #smoking tw #horror tw #circus tw #vampire #zombie #selkie #siren #ghost #cursing tw

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sixth-light · 6 years

Text

uncommonsockeater

replied to your post

“Coming to the realization that the Nightingale I’m writing for the...”

Prompts? .... Abigail, ghost tour heckler? All quail before her withering contempt?

roisindubh211 replied to your post “Coming to the realization that the Nightingale I’m writing for the...”

Abigail asks Peter questions because he's her big cousin who's into weird stuff and probably won't rat her out to her folks

Accountability check: I wrote 1200 words of the arranged marriage AU today while waiting for someone to get back to me so I could submit a revised paper I’M NOT GETTING DISTRACTED FROM MY FANFIC GOALS

(I am but. manageably.)

“...Sir Henry died over a hundred and twenty years ago,” said the tour guide, “but –“

“Hang on,” Abigail said, pitching her voice to the tone that had brought looks ranging from resignation to terror to the eyes of her schoolteachers. “This place wasn’t even built until after the First World War. What’s this Victorian bloke doing haunting it?”

The guide, who was a white guy called Simon probably not too much older than Abigail was herself, had smiled politely when she’d opened her mouth. By the time she was done, the smile had gone a bit thin.

“I think you must have got it mixed up,” he said, with a chuckle. “Look around at this Gothic Revival -”

“They didn’t just all down tools one day in nineteen-oh-one and start on Art Deco buildings the next,” Abigail said. “My cousin’s an architect, he goes on about this stuff.”

That wasn’t exactly true but Peter had done his degree, right, it was just that jobs were hard to get. His tours were way better than this one, too.

Simon’s eyes narrowed, although he managed to keep up the smile. Some of the other people on the tour – all tourists as far as Abigail could tell, mostly white and a few East Asians – were starting to look uncomfortable.

“Look, do you want to hear about the ghost of Sir Henry or not?”

“I just think if you’re going to tell ghost stories they should be real ones,” Abigail told him. She meant it, too.

“As I was saying,” he said, loudly and firmly and making eye contact with everybody to draw them back in, “this building was occupied by an advertising firm before the Second World War, and the copywriters used to report -”

Abigail stopped listening and edged towards the back of the group, trying to look appropriately abashed. Nobody looked at her; they wanted to pretend she hadn’t said anything. Which also meant, she was betting, that when someone eventually noticed she was gone, ten or fifteen minutes from now, Simon the tour guide wouldn’t be interested in finding out where she’d gone to. He’d think it was good riddance.

She sidled down a hallway, tried two doors before finding one that was unlocked, and settled in to wait in the office inside. Nobody even walked past the door – they hadn’t noticed she was gone. Perfect.

She gave it half an hour before she went back down to the main foyer. Peter had done a ghost tour for a couple of years – he’d given it up for strict history because he said it got too many people who took it seriously – and Abigail had asked him about this place. One of the things he’d told her, or more like let slip because she was pretty sure he didn’t know what she’d been planning, was that there were security cameras but they weren’t infra-red or anything. And ghosts didn’t show up on camera, not the real kind, so as long as she didn’t turn any lights on she’d be fine. Now it was just a case of waiting until her ghost – the real one, not whatever that story had been – showed up. She sat down in one of the less-comfortable-than-they-looked chairs to wait.

Twenty minutes later, she thought she heard something – a door creaking – but when she strained to listen, there was nothing else. Then she thought she heard people talking quietly, but that went away, too.

That was the worst bit about ghost-hunting; you got worked up looking for things and started to hear things that weren’t there. Real ghosts, Abigail had found, were not subtle at all, and didn’t require any special equipment or concentration or anything like that to see them. They were just...there.

She shifted a bit, because her left leg was starting to go numb, and then sprang to her feet when the door across the foyer from her opened – not the main one – and a torch flashed right into her eyes. Her left leg gave out, prickly with pins and needles, and she stumbled, putting up a hand against the light. “Aaaaaahhh!”

“Well, that’s not a ghost,” said a sardonic female voice. “I’m disappointed.” Abigail couldn’t make out anything else after half an hour in the dark; she could barely see figures behind the torch, let alone details.

“Excuse me,” said a second voice – man, very posh, in a way that made Abigail hopeful neither of them was the building’s night manager, but not very hopeful that they’d accept her back-up excuse of having got lost from the ghost tour. It sounded more like a voice that was going to tell her to wait for the police to be called. It was, all things considered, probably a good time to make a bolt for it.

“Hold on,” said a third voice, and the torch dropped; Abigail blinked, trying to focus at the same time as she tensed to turn and run. “Abigail, is that you?”

“Peter?” She turned back. “What – you don’t do the ghost tour anymore!”

“No, I don’t,” said her cousin Peter, sounding baffled. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s for a story,” Abigail said, shrugging like it was totally normal to be found in an office building in central London at quarter to midnight by her cousin who did walking tours and – who were those other two people, anyway? “What are you doing here, then?”

With the torch directed at the floor, now, she could see that the woman – whose expression was about as sardonic as her voice had been – was tall for a girl and wearing a black hijab and a very cool leather jacket. Posh Voice was a white man in a three-piece suit carrying an actual cane, which would have made him a good candidate for the ghost she was trying to interview if he hadn’t obviously been not a ghost, and instead a real person studying her with a frown of mild confusion.

“I take it you know this young lady?” he asked Peter.

“Yeah, this is my cousin Abigail, she’s studying journalism,” said Peter, like a complete traitor. “For a story, Abigail, really? What the hell?”

“I am!” Abigail insisted. She could live with Peter thinking she was breaking and entering; she wasn’t going to tell him she was here to interview a ghost. He’d never let her live it down. He probably still remembered when she’d tried to tell him about the ghost on the train tracks, five years ago. “Come on, why are you here? You don’t do the ghost tour anymore.”

“Favour for a friend,” Peter said. “The night manager still remembers me, and there’s two law firms in this building so they’re not thrilled about warrants...does he know you’re here?”

“I –“ Abigail was already figuring out how to answer that when she processed the rest of that sentence. “Wait, warrants?” She took a step to the side, so the chair wasn’t blocking her path to the side door. It was probably futile with Peter right here and telling all and sundry she was his cousin, but still. She turned her attention to Posh Voice and the hijabi woman. “Are you the filth?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Posh Voice. “May I ask what sort of story you’re following up?”

“It’s for a class,” Abigail said quickly. “I’m a student.” She had a flash of inspiration. “I was supposed to meet someone, but I guess they haven’t shown up.”

“Mind telling us who that someone is?” asked the woman in the hijab. She looked familiar but Abigail couldn’t remember where from.

“I wouldn’t want to reveal a source. And you haven’t told me who you are.”

The woman made a hmph noise and looked away, like she was trying not to laugh. Which was just insulting, really.

“Quite right,” said Posh Voice, and showed her his warrant card, which said he was Detective Chief Inspector Thomas Nightingale. Abigail made a show of inspecting it like she’d seen Peter do once when she’d come with him on a research trip and someone had made a fuss about them being there, but she didn’t know what she was looking for, really. It was just a way to gain a second, and see how Peter was taking this. He looked exasperated, and slightly suspicious, but not really worried. So maybe it would come out alright, if she could just persuade them to go away, somehow.

“Okay, Detective Inspector Nightingale,” she said. “And you are?” she asked the woman.

“Detective Sergeant Sahra Guleed,” said the woman. “Hey, that’s where I’ve seen you – you live on the same estate as Peter’s parents, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” said Abigail.

“Yeah, all her life,” said Peter. “You’ve probably seen her round. Sahra lives near me,” he explained to Abigail. “So she’s fine, and Inspector Nightingale’s a friend of mine, so – look, you shouldn’t be here, it’s nearly midnight. How about I walk you out?”

“I can find my own way out,” Abigail said, trying to look dejected. “It’s fine.”

“Ms - Abigail,” said Inspector Nightingale. “As Sergeant Guleed said – would you very much mind telling us who you were intending to meet? In general terms. I won’t ask for a name.”

“A guy,” Abigail said, figuring she could work with this. “Who had some things to say about…a cold case.”

“It wasn’t, by any chance,” he said, “John Geraldson?”

Abigail tried really hard not to react to that but she wasn’t sure she succeeded. “Uh…who’s that?”

Peter narrowed his eyes. He’d known her way too long. “Abigail. You know a few years ago when you told me about that thing, near school, on the train tracks…is it like that?”

“You didn’t believe me then,” Abigail said, and knew she sounded bitter and was annoyed at herself that she did. “Why are you asking about it now?”

“You changed your mind and said you were joking,” said Peter. “I thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt.” He paused. “Also, fine, I didn’t believe you then, but I’ve had reason to change my mind since. So. Anything like that?”

“Are you telling me,” Abigail said, incredulous, “that these are the ghost police?”

“Wow,” said Sergeant Guleed. “That’s actually worse than anything I’ve heard down at Belgravia.”

“In that case,” said Inspector Nightingale, “perhaps -”

That was when the ghost threw the chair Abigail had been sitting in across the room, so things got a bit complicated after that.

Because it was after midnight they retired to an all-night caf and Peter bought Abigail a Coke, which was frankly the least he owed her.

“It’s that annoying time when I really want a drink but it’s too late to start,” he said, looking around. Inspector Nightingale made a noise of agreement.

“You’ll live,” said Sergeant Guleed, not very sympathetically. “Besides, you can’t tell me Abigail’s old enough to drink.”

“I am so,” said Abigail, which made her sound like she wasn’t but was one of those things you had to push back on. “What, you want to see my ID?”

“Sure,” said Sergeant Guleed.

“She is, not that it matters right now,” said Peter. “Was that an exorcism, then?”

“Not really,” said Inspector Nightingale. “More like a red card. Although hopefully it lasts for longer than eighty minutes.”

“Now I’m going to have to go to a library and do research,” Abigail said, still feeling aggrieved. “You could have let me talk to him.”

“He didn’t seem to be in the mood,” said Sergeant Guleed. “In my extensive experience of ghosts.”

“Three months is rather more extensive than anybody else on the force at present,” said her boss. “So I’d say you’re qualified to make that judgement.”

“Oh, fantastic,” she said, and eyed Peter dubiously. “Have I thanked you again lately for getting me into this?”

“Every time you see me,” said Peter. “Abigail, look - I’ll put you in touch with someone at the British Library, I bet she’d love to help. She’s friends with Mum. And she knows all about ghosts and – all about ghosts, so you can just tell her the whole story.” He paused to take a bite of his kebab. “Isn’t this all a bit excessive for a first-year assignment, though?”

“It’s not just for the assignment,” Abigail explained. “I mean, it is, but sometimes I can publish things online, and sometimes I even get money for them, and that’s gonna look way better for my portfolio than just assignments.” Especially when there were people who had parents who worked for newspapers and things and got their stuff in them. She had to try harder, that was all there was to it.

“What sort of website was going to publish a story with a ghost as an interviewee?” Inspector Nightingale asked, like he was just curious, but his eyes were sharp.

“I wasn’t going to put that in the story,” Abigail said. “Then all you get is, like, really terrible tabloids. I was going to figure out where I was supposed to have found things out after I found them out.”

“That doesn’t sound like great journalism,” said Peter.

“I wasn’t going to write anything that wasn’t true.”

“Ghosts,” said the Inspector, “are not always reliable witnesses, anymore than humans are – in fact they’re often worse.”

“Yes, but they’ll talk to you, and sometimes people won’t,” said Abigail. “Talk to me. And I know nobody else is out there interviewing ghosts, so it’s something I’ve got they don’t. Totally worth it.” She paused to sip her Coke. “But Peter just said ghosts and, so tell me, Inspector Nightingale. What’s ‘and’?”

“How about,” he said, “we won’t discuss and, and we also won’t discuss breaking and entering.”

Peter made a noise of protest at this – at least he was good for something.

“I didn’t break and enter anything,” Abigail said, not breaking eye contact with Inspector Nightingale. “I paid to go on a perfectly legit walking tour which had permission to be in the building, and I got lost on the way out.”

“Oh, Jesus,” said Peter. “Was that Simon’s tour? Were you heckling him?”

“Only at that last stop,” Abigail said. “So he wouldn’t be sorry I was gone.” She sniffed. “He was totally making everything up, anyway, it was embarrassing just listening to it.”

“It’s embarrassing knowing he’s in business, is what,” said Peter, “but I’m really disappointed in you, Abigail.” He paused for emphasis. “You should have heckled him at every stop.”

“Then he would have asked me to leave early,” Abigail said, but she grinned at Peter, and he grinned back, so at least they were all right and he wasn’t going to tell on her to her dad, which would be the worst, or to his mum, which would be the same thing except he could claim he hadn’t. Even Sergeant Guleed made an amused noise.

“I’ll accept there’s an argument about the legalities,” said Inspector Nightingale, and he was smiling a little bit too.

“So,” Abigail said. “And what?”

“She’s very persistent,” said Peter. “Fair warning.”

“A family trait, I see,” said Inspector Nightingale.

“She also did see you do sort of an exorcism,” said Sergeant Guleed. “I think it might be faster if we came clean.”

Inspector Nightingale sighed. “Ghosts, and – I’m a wizard.”

He said it very matter-of-factly, as if he were saying I’m a policeman or lovely weather today. Abigail took a moment to consider it.

“Why are you hanging out with a wizard policeman?” she asked Peter. She glanced at Sergeant Guleed. “Two wizard police officers.”

“They have a very interesting library,” said Peter. “And he’s right, we are a very persistent family.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Abigail said, and sat up a bit straighter, and decided that, even though it was nearly one in the morning and she had class tomorrow – today, this might be something worth being persistent about.

#uncommonsockeater #roisindubh211 #rivers of london #historical tour guide peter #abigail kamara #peter grant #tumblr fic #my fanfic #also nightingale and guleed but like #not enough that I feel I should tag them #writing this actually HELPED me with a plot hole for the arranged marriage au #so really it's winning all around

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taintedkibou · 7 years

Text

beauty & vice - part five

[can be read on Ao3 as well] [part one] [part two] [part three] [part four]

“Mi-shi-ma.”

Mishima recognized the cheerful voice, but he only saw a blur before he was pushed into the dark tool shed. The wood was cracked and splintered, letting in slivers of light. Not enough to see his attacker. “Kurusu…?”

“Hmm?”

Mishima shuddered at the warm breath ghosting across his neck. “Wh…What are you doing?”

“I tripped.” The soft chuckle that followed the obvious lie was far from innocent.

‘Bull!’ Mishima took a shaky breath, releasing it slowly. “I already told you, I’m… I don’t—I’m not scared of you!” No, that wasn’t right. The door creaked open before he could correct himself, flooding the small space with light. Mishima would describe the look on Akira’s face as hauntingly terrifying, but he felt no fear, just as he’d been told.

Akira licked his lips, a wolf circling its prey. “I always knew you weren’t. I need your help, Yuuki.” He slipped an arm around Mishima’s shoulder, keeping just an inch of distance between their bodies. “What do you think happened to Kamoshida? Do you really believe he had a change of heart?”

“Yes,” Mishima blurted out without a second thought. “Because—” He emitted a sharp cry of pain after biting his tongue.

Akira’s fingers gently squeezed Mishima’s shoulder. “Because…?” he prodded.

“I set up an unofficial site. I meant it as a joke, but people have taken it seriously.” Apprehension forgotten, Mishima dug out his phone and pulled up the proof of his efforts. The mobile layout had a color scheme identical to the one chosen for the “calling card” delivered to Kamoshida. Tapping a few links, Mishima held the higher for the other to get a good look. “A few names were left by people suggesting their hearts needed changing. Those same people came back later to say that it happened!”

Akira chuckled softly as Mishima bounced in place.

“I wanted to show you and Sakamoto. You guys seemed interested in Kamoshida’s case. But… I guess you already found it.” Mishima peeked up at the brunet with shy admiration. “I’m not sure how you do it—”

“All in due time,” Akira interrupted, giving Mishima’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ve had my eye on you for quite a while now, but Ryuji thought you were still innocent. I’m really glad I don’t have to give you a roundabout explanation.”

“You needed my help…?” Mishima reminded him.

Akira’s eyes shone. “Yes. I’m taking Ryuji with me to take care of a few corrupted hearts tonight, but I need you working on a bigger project.” He used his free hand to pull something from his jacket’s pocket.

Mishima gaped at the note dangling in front of him. It was an original “calling card”, but the recipient was not Kamoshida. ‘Which means…!’

“If you’ll make a few copies of these for me, it’ll really be a great help. There’s also something else, but... it can wait until the end of the month.” The contemplative look on Akira’s face vanished, replaced with exaggerated glee. He was indeed glad for Mishima’s help, but with all his brand new toys, he had to put on a show. Leaning down, Akira pressed his lips to Mishima’s cheek, feeling it slowly grow warmer. “Don’t get caught, okay?”

“Yes,” Mishima rushed out, slowly accepting the “calling card”.

Akira gave Mishima another “good luck” kiss on the afternoon of May 31st. Which may have been a mistake on his part, but he had no intention of taking it back. This one was on the lips. The short brunet became frozen in place, the stack of papers almost slipping from his hands. They were smaller than Kamoshida’s, printed on a firm cardstock. Akira used his index finger to hold them in place, waiting for Mishima’s brain to come back online.

“Stop doing that!” the smaller teen hissed, drawing himself away.

Akira plastered on his best smile, “I can’t help it. I love teasing cute boys.”

Mishima’s eyes grew impossibly wider, the calling cards rustling as he trembled. “That’s not… funny. Anyway… I need to go.” He pointed over his shoulder, unable to take his eyes off Akira’s smiling face. “If I stay too long, they’ll figure out the camera is on a loop.”

“They won’t,” Akira argued. “You’re too smart for that.”

Mishima was already backing away with slow, calculated steps. Akira’s smile was blinding, made worse by the afternoon sun shining high above his head. Mishima had no interest other than the weird friendship they already had, but this person was toying with his emotions in a horrible way. With a quick bow, he disappeared to complete his task.

Humming softly, Akira headed in the opposite direction.

—

Sir Madarame Ichiryusai, a great sinner of vanity whose talent has been exhausted. You are an artist who uses his authority to shamelessly steal the ideas of his pupils. We have decided to make you confess all your crimes with your own mouth. We will take your distorted desires without fail.

The argument between the thieving artist and staff member meant nothing to him. Akira’s main focus was Madarame’s body language. Of course Madarame would be upset; his evening was being threatened. No. Akira needed another sign that the Shadow was on full alert. Madarame’s previous stomping came to a halt and he appeared almost relaxed despite the threat looming over his head. That was what he was looking for. Akira browsed through the exhibit, slowly making his way to the exit. Once outside, he tried not to skip back to where the other two waited.

Ryuji straightened from his slouched position immediately after spotting him. “Well?”

“He read it,” Akira hummed. “Since he’s not at the house, let’s enter the Palace from there. Less chance of being caught.”

“This ends tonight,” Yusuke told them, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Ryuji grinned, bumping shoulders with his boyfriend. “We’ll show ‘em.”

Akira trailed behind the couple, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It did nothing to hide the excitement brewing in his eyes or the wild smile still spreading across his face. It was now or never. The sooner they ended things, the more time he would have to play with his favorite boys.

xxx

Even though they entered with a mission to complete, Joker decided to test his new ability one more time. He started them from the bottom floor where Shadows were somewhat weaker. The creepy zombie chicken whined at him and Joker lifted his hand to his mask. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what he'd felt last time. Fear. Rage. Protect what's mine. He ripped the mask free. Apsaras remained and Succubus joined her. Joker let out a breathless laugh. "The power of thought really is amazing."

Skull shared in his excitement with a loud hoot, and Fox reprimanded them both in a stern voice.

Luckily for them, bullets were Onmoraki’s weakness. A few shots from Joker downed the creatures, leaving them vulnerable to an all-out attack. Pleased with the results, Joker marched forward.

After making their way to the central garden, the small group took a break in the nearby safe room.

"How do you remember their weaknesses?" Yusuke inquired, katana flat on the table they sat at. Ryuji leaned back in his chair, eyes locking on their leader.

Akira brushed his hair from his eyes, using his mask to conveniently hold them back. Ryuji smirked at the action. "It seems pointless to just say I remember. I think the Persona I can summon tells me. I carry everything we've faced off against so far, so they remind me what hurts them." He sighed deeply, lowering his head. "It sounds stupid."

"It does," Yusuke hummed, never one for mincing words. "But considering all that I've seen—everything that I'm experiencing... I'm willing to believe you." He reached across the table, covering Akira's gloved hand with his own, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You are very strong. Joker."

Akira inhaled sharply and Ryuji righted his chair with a laugh, "I was wondering when that perverted side of you would make an appearance."

Akira opened his mouth to argue, but was silence by a sharp squeeze to his hand.

"If I recall, Ryuji..."

Ryuji's smug grin melted right off his face and he sunk deeper into the chair to hide from Yusuke's voice.

"You were the one that provided Akira with an oral service all because—and I quote—you wanted to shut up him up." Akira looked across the table, smirking at the blond's embarrassed blush. "We're all perverted," Yusuke sighed, slowly removing his hand from Akira's. He folded both arms over his weapon. "Maybe that's what drew us together."

A moment of silence followed, hanging thick and heavy in the air. Joker slammed his hands down onto the table, pushing himself up out of his seat. "We won't get anywhere moping around. We don't have long to go.” And with that, they took the quickest route—traveling through safe rooms—to make their way to the to the highest level traveled.

—

Fox would have enjoyed racing through a landscape similar to M. C. Escher’s Relativity print, had it not been for the annoyingly bright gold surrounding them—blinding them—at every twist and turn. In addition to the maze that was the room itself, another riddle soon barred their way, and it came in the form of Madarame’s most famous painting.

The “Sayuri” was his specialty. Fox knew every detail about the painting and helped guide Joker towards the right path after eliminating the fakes, though they were all probably counterfeit.

After freeing themselves from the maze, the trio of rogues rushed down a hallway of insurmountable vanity. Madarame’s portrait lined every inch of the walls. Skull faked throwing up as Joker pushed the heavy double doors that would lead them to their destination, and the Treasure.

Chaos greeted them in the Main Hall. Skull walked into Joker’s back when their leader stalled, making him aware of the blaring alarms. He stepped out from behind him, surveying the area. The oversized display area was surrounded by guards, all running back and forth with no apparent destination. Looking up to the rafters Madarame’s Shadow screamed at, Skull saw human-shaped silhouettes, but then quickly reminded himself that the Shadows of a Palace always appeared humanoid until their masks were ripped off.

Madarame only noticed their presence when Fox called out to him. “Meddlesome vermin,” he growled. “They’re everywhere!” He stretched out his arm to the guard on his left. “Is this what you’re looking for?” Tucked beneath the masked Shadow’s arms was a golden frame. Madarame smirked, eyes aglow, as he stared down his nose at the small group. “I suppose I can grant you a gift before you die—a glimpse of the genuine “Sayuri”…!”

Fox took a step ahead of the others, moving closer to the man he’d once called his foster father. “Genuine…?” The painting he’d treasured for most of his life really was… fake?

Madarame nodded at the Shadow and the guard moved forward, flipping the golden frame into an upright position. Gone was the gentle plume of lavender smoke that covered the bottom half of the painting. It revealed that the subject of the painting cradled a baby dearly in her arms. The reverent, caring look on her face was for the baby she held.

Fox’s eyes widened behind his decorated mask. He’d known Madarame helped his mother, but had still been too young to remember her before she passed. In a fit of rage after not delivering a painting on time, his mentor had spat at him: “Her skills and talents were quite astonishing. That’s why I decided to look after her. The only reason I took you in was due to my ties with your mother! You belong to me! If you have even a fraction of the talent she did—” A conversation he had never shared with Ryuji, for fear that he would’ve killed the real Madarame.

The painting, however—Fox could practically feel the love emanating from it. A mother’s love. “Mom…!”

It was a surprise reveal, even to Joker, but he left the theatrics to Skull. The blond released a loud, drawled, “hah?!”

Madarame’s condescending look returned as he gave them another long-winded explanation. “Indeed it is. This was painted by your mother. It’s a portrait of herself. A woman who knew her death was coming painted her last wishes for the son she would leave behind.”

Skull stepped forward, electricity crackling beneath his boot, eyes alight in rage and a desire for destruction. “You stole something that personal?! You’re lower than scum!”

“Call me what you wish!” Madarame’s Shadow roared. “Your mother and the artwork she created—they’re all my works of art! That goes for you as well, Yusuke! I’m going to reap you for the sake of my future.”

Gaze unwavering, the katana wielder stared at the golden figure directly across from them. He chose to ignore their enemy addressing him as a personal object. “I’ve heard that you destroy your “art” once they outlive their usefulness… Did that include my mother as well?”

With all the research done, that thought never once crossed Joker’s mind. Her death was the result of a seizure. Madarame proved him wrong. “—if I don’t call for help and leave her be, I could obtain her painting with no strings attached.”

Joker moved on instinct, reaching out to cover Skull’s trembling fist with a hand. His actions were also to ground himself. “You’re a thief, and a murderer.”

Fox inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. There was no point doting on the past. Even if Madarame wasn’t the foul man standing before them, his mother would never have received proper health care. He could now tell himself her life was better; peaceful. That still didn’t excuse Madarame—Shadow or not. “Thank you, Madarame,” Fox chuckled, hand resting leisurely on the hilt of his sword. “You were kind enough to share the truth with me.” The blade was eased out of the scabbard. “It’s unfortunate that every reason for me to forgive you has disappeared without a trace.”

Having been looked down on, Madarame’s Shadow threw another temper tantrum. His features distorted as they expanded, and the trio of vigilantes found themselves staring at five separate paintings.

“Now you think you’re art?” Yusuke scoffed, fully unsheathing his blade. “You’re a despicable fiend who wears the skin of an artist.”

—

Battling Madarame was tedious and frustrating. Every piece of himself was weak to different attack types. The mouth regenerated on physical attacks; the eyes, to elemental skills. The nose was the easiest to drop. The right eye went next.

Skull was aiming for the left eye when something suddenly washed over him. It felt like spider webs clung to every inch of his body and he brushed madly at his arms. That’s when he noticed the black of his outfit was even darker than before. It was almost as if he were covered in shadows.

Something about Shadow Madarame's sudden “attack” on their teammate didn't sit right with neither Fox nor Joker. Skull swung his arms to get rid of the dripping black ink. His hair was as pitch black as the rest of his attire. "What the hell was that...?" Skull muttered, spitting ink after it dripped into his mouth. He faced the floating pieces of a face, eyes narrowed behind his messy mask. "What the hell did you do to me?!"

The left eye regarded him briefly before the mouth soared down to attack. Skull held up his pipe in defense, but the bulky frame still bowled him off his feet. He knew for a fact that he was strong enough to take a hit and keep moving—some of his own attacks required a sacrifice to his health—but now he felt weak where he was sprawled. The frame reared back, only to snap forward, the mouth open wide. Skull jerked, feeling the teeth cut through his clothes and sink into his flesh. And then the pain was gone. He looked to Fox first, an apology in his dark eyes, before turning to stare pleadingly at Joker.

Fox's katana clattered to the ground after slipping from his fingers. Joker couldn't look away from the empty eyes that continued to stare blankly at him. Skull's body fell lifelessly to the ground after being released, a dark liquid pooling with the previous ink. Joker watched the blood spread, growing brighter and brighter the further it flowed from the ink blotches.

"Ryu...ji?"

Fox's voice sounded distant in Joker's ears. Red, red, red. Skull was dead, all because of him! No. He turned to stare at the paintings that were now melting into a puddle of ink. From it rose a figure. Madarame. Ryuji would never get up again, so why should he? Joker saw red, and then... darkness.

—

"...ra. Akira! Stop! Akira, snap out of it!"

Joker blinked away the darkness, squinting when the gleam of Madarame’s Palace assaulted his eyes. Madarame lay at his feet, cowering, something dripping onto the ground near him. The source was his glove, stained black. The only thing black in this world was the ink this charlatan artist produced and Joker hoped he tried to rip out the Shadow’s heart.

Shifting his gaze from the sniveling creature, Joker found Fox sitting in the pool of ink and blood, Skull cradled in his lap.

Joker bared his teeth in a silent snarl directed at Madarame, but Fox's desperate voice stopped him from lashing out.

"He's not going anywhere. Joker, I need you to think. There has to be a way to... to wake..." Fox tightened his arms around the lifeless frame. "I can't live without him."

Joker took a step back, closing his eyes in thought. If they took him from the Palace in his current state, there would be no bringing him back. 'Bring back... revive!' "I'm so stupid," the trickster sighed. He opened the right side of his jacket and reached into the darkness. A small bead was held between his fingers when he removed his hand. "Arsene." The gentleman Persona appeared in a flurry of feathers and dark laughter. "Keep an eye on him."

Madarame whimpered and covered his head.

Joker hurried to where Fox sat, taking a knee near Skull's head. He cradled it gently, slipping the bead past his lips. He whispered an apology after having to force it down his throat, drawing his hand away with the hope that it worked. The diagonal rips in the blond's outfit slowly began mending themselves, working their way upwards until Skull drew in a sharp, shuddering breath. His mask pushed aside, Yusuke clung tight to his lover, breathing in deeply the unique scent that was Ryuji and the leather of his outfit.

Skull ripped off his mask, wide eyes staring up at Joker. "Did I...?"

"Don't," the brunet hissed. Pixie materialized at his shoulder. She fluttered down, pressing a kiss to Ryuji's forehead, before disappearing once again.

Ryuji was very familiar with the winged Persona and knew she aided in his recovery process. After three failed attempts to free his right arm, he pushed at Yusuke’s shoulder with his left. "Oi. Let me go."

"Never," the artist whispered, voice barely audible where his face was buried against Ryuji's chest.

"You have to." Ryuji ran a gentle hand over the dark locks. "This is your fight. He's your demon. You need to face him, one last time."

Yusuke ducked out from beneath the hand, placing a kiss to its palm, and reluctantly released Ryuji. He pushed himself back onto his feet, reaching down to offer Ryuji assistance. Another gloved hand appeared beside his, courtesy of Akira. Ryuji grinned and accepted both, springing up when they pulled him.

—

Even in his last moments, the Shadow spouted nothing but nonsense to Yusuke.

“No one cares for true art… All they want are easily recognizable brands!” Madarame’s Shadow tripped over his own feet and fell, still holding tight to the original “Sayuri”. Yusuke calmly strode up, each step slow and deliberate. “I’m a victim in this too! Wouldn’t you agree?!”

Never had Yusuke felt such a strong urge to raise his hand against someone, but he buried the dark desire, and stopped his advances right at Madarame’s spread feet.

“The art world revolves around money after all,” the Shadow babbled on in explanation, hoping to be spared. “You can’t rise up without any money…!”

Akira dug his heels in after wrapping both arms around Ryuji. The blond still managed to drag him several feet as he snarled at the vain creature. “Why are we listenin’ to your bullshit?! You belong in the depths of hell then, because none of the money you own is yours! Yusuke is suffering because of you! Some of your former students committed suicide after you ruined their lives!”

“Ryuji.” Yusuke smiled placatingly over his shoulder at the blond.

Ryuji calmed, only to snap at Akira instead, hissing ‘pervert’ even though he made no attempt to remove the arms around his waist.

“That’s why… Yusuke, you should understand! Being a poor artist is truly miserable!” Madarame clutched “Sayuri” protectively against his chest. “I just didn’t want to return to that life!”

Yusuke’s eyes burned a deadly silver as he stared down at the sad excuse for an artist. His kick to dislodge the painting was light. Once it was out of harm’s way, he pressed the heel of his boot against the Shadow’s neck. “Don’t you dare speak of the world of art.” Each word was laced with ice and the promise of painful death. He shifted his stance, forcing Madarame to tilt his head back as he put more pressure into his foot. “You’re done for, along with this abomination of a world.”

Ryuji found himself sharing in Akira’s excitement—the brunet practically rutted against his back. This was a Yusuke whose company he could definitely enjoy.

Yusuke removed his foot, only after leaving Madarame with the strict order to confess all his sins and crimes. As the Shadow caught his breath, he stooped down to collect the “Sayuri”.

"There are others like you," Madarame hurriedly stated, pushing himself into a more upright seated position.

Akira stepped out from behind Ryuji at that reveal, a wary look darkening his features. “Who?”

“Does it matter…? I had to increase security, because everyone kept trespassing!" The sudden surge of anger left Madarame feeling hollow and he sighed softly, his posture crumbling, along with his form. “Sayuri” was gone. He had no Treasure to keep the museum open. As more of his form melted away, the Palace began falling around them.

“Yusuke!” Ryuji shouted, holding out a hand. Akira stood ahead of him, warily eyeing their surroundings as more and more of the building continued to fall.

Yusuke rushed ahead, ignoring Madarame’s pleading cries behind him.

xxx

In the time that he'd known him, Ryuji had no recollection of ever seeing Yusuke cry. The tall brunet had one arm wrapped around Madarame's Treasure and his free hand clutched the end of Ryuji's school jacket. His head was lowered, but Ryuji could hear the soft sniffles. Akira stood several feet away, hands in the pocket of his school slacks as stared in the opposite direction gave them their privacy.

"Yusuke." Ryuji pried the hand from his clothes, only to have Yusuke latch onto him instead. He smiled. "Hey. C'mon. We're going back to Akira's. I already told my mom. We'll talk about everything—" His gaze cut to Akira's profile. "—tomorrow."

Yusuke wordlessly nodded. With a deep breath, he raised his head.

Ryuji couldn't hold in his laugh and received a chastising frown for his efforts. "Because your face is the same even though you were just crying!" He used their joined hands to pull Yusuke in, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "My cyborg boyfriend." Yusuke didn't reprimand him for his actions of public display, which was all the proof Ryuji needed that he was exhausted. "Akira. Let's go."

Akira looked away from Madarame's house to assess the couple. Yusuke leaned against Ryuji's side, trying his hardest not to be obvious how much he desired the contact. Ryuji masked his worry behind a wide grin. Akira thought his mask to be perfect, but now he wasn't so sure. These two were a force to be reckoned with. They were putting cracks in his facade.

With a small smile, he shortened the distance between them. Akira clapped Ryuji on the shoulder as he passed to take the lead. They were going to his apartment after all.

—

Yusuke released Ryuji after they crossed the threshold of Akira's apartment. Safe room. A small smile tugged at his lips at the comparison and looked around for somewhere to set “Sayuri”. Akira's hand covered his and Yusuke was surprised he had no objections when the painting was pried from his fingers.

"I have a workroom," Akira told him. "It'll be safe in there."

Yusuke nodded. He felt unsure of his emotions, considering everything that took place in that horrid Palace, and feared that his voice would betray him, so he remained silent during preparations for sleep. When Akira pulled out the futon, Yusuke tugged at it until it was released. He took the brunet's hand instead and led him into the bedroom.

Ryuji was sprawled diagonally across the bed. Despite their previous argument, Akira now realized his mistake; he was too invested in this couple. Instead of “Ryuji”, he saw “Skull”, bleeding out on the Palace floor. Akira felt his mask develop another crack and fought to free himself from Yusuke's hold.

"We're all scared, idiot," Ryuji sighed. He sat up, pushing aside the covers, and spread his arms wide. "Unless you're a shitty sleeper that rolls a lot, there's enough room here for all three of us."

Akira took a deep breath, exhaling it slow enough that his mask could repair itself.

Yusuke put all his efforts to waste, shattering it with the softest kiss against his lips. "Thank you," he whispered.

Ryuji grinned at Akira's bewildered expression. It really was great seeing the bastard knocked down several pegs. He hopped from the bed and swooped in, easily lifting the troublesome transfer student onto his shoulder. Akira protested as well as flailed, glaring up at the couple after being unceremoniously tossed onto the bed. His temper was ignored and Ryuji climbed over him, settling at his back. Yusuke turned off the lights before slipping in in front of Akira. His hand ghosted over the slender hip, curling around Akira's back.

“I was going to congratulate you on not getting hard because I picked you up," Ryuji mumbled against the nape of Akira's neck. “But I can hear your heartbeat."

"He's not." Yusuke's ankles were tangled with Akira's, his leg conveniently trapped between the other's thigh. He could feel no stir of arousal.

“I’m angry, that’s why,” Akira spat. "This seems very unfair." A lie. Anger was the only emotion he could conjure to hide his nervous excitement; Akira was quite content with his current predicament.

“Life’s not fair, idiot.” Ryuji hummed and threw his arm over Akira's waist, chin hooked over his shoulder. "Go to sleep, pervert."

Akira had no idea how long it took before he managed to fall asleep, but he had the fleeting thought that he felt more at home trapped between these two boys than he ever did in his family house. It was only after burrowing his way against Yusuke’s chest and having Ryuji’s arms tighten around him that Akira felt his subconscious slip away. Even if he didn't dream tonight, it wouldn't matter; he was living it.

[part six] (end game...)

#p5 #persona 5 #p5 protagonist #kurusu akira #sakamoto ryuji #kitagawa yusuke #ryuji x yusuke #ryukita #akira x ryuji #akiryu #pegoryu #akiryukita #pegoryukita #dark undertones #fanfiction #my fiction #fic: beauty & vice

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