#ah well ah well it is still unfinished after all id have a lot to think about still

[hello-mojo]

[Ok so the following is a story, (Rise Above This was was a working title) I was working on this completely on my own and I was quite excited about it. I actually had tried to plot out the progression and main plot points, and a few other notes for things I needed to look up and research to mesh the timelines a bit better. I hadn't gotten around to it though and now... well I don't know if I'll ever bring myself to write fanfiction anymore. I loved this story premise though and had such Hope's for it... ah well. The first chapter was completed but there was supposed to be so much more.. Frances having accidental magic and then getting sick and Healer Harry to save her... ah well. If you like the fic let me know, if you want to adopt it, comment.

Oh one other thing... not all the songs are actually nirvana songs, there's a pearl jam song used too but I was looking for songs in the right genre that seemed to work for the plot. It's all fair in fanfic right?

Anyhooty... I doubt I'll post the stories that were completed on my main profile as I orphaned them and they can still be viewedon archive just look up my old. Penname CagedNTorn.

For unfinished stuff I had oh let's see... 3 different charlie/Draco fics I was working on, one that was all but complete... I had a draco/spike crossover fic, plus there was the sailormooon/Harry Potter crossover... that was actually a Drarry fic too, there were a bunch of things that I'll likely never finish. So I'll post them by and by.

Do let me know if there's a better place to post the plot bunnies that are up for grabs.

Now I've blathered enough so here's the first chapter of Rise that can be adopted if someone is interested in finishing it.]

Rise Above This

Draco was backstage at the place he was playing that night.  He sat tuning his guitar wearing ripped jeans and a white long sleeve thermal t-shirt with thumb holes burnt in and also a mohair sweater he was particularly comfortable in.   Western Washington state was wet and cold pretty much all the time.  

This didn't really bother the English man though as England had similar weather.   He'd grown his hair out and had it cut shaggy and it hung in his eyes perpetually now but he didn't care.  It drove his mother nuts whenever she came to visit.  

Narcissa still hadn't quite gotten the hang of blending in with muggles but she was getting better.   She was sitting nearby chattering about her trip to France.   She was wearing faded bluejeans and a fitted corset top that she'd bought in paris.  She also had a posh cashmere sweater on where most of the kids were wearing flannel and converse sneakers, just like Draco. 

She had her long blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail.   Draco smiled at her as she nattered-on about wines and the latest runway fashions.  At least he still had her.  Pansy was floating around somewhere too, probably flirting with someone.   

"I just don't understand why you have to look so scruffy though darling.   You have such a lovely face!  Can't you at least comb your hair back?"  Narcissa was saying.   Draco rolled his eyes at her but gave her a shit-eating grin.  

"Because I like looking scruffy.  It pisses off the establishment.  Even if it didn't, I'd still do it.  Hiding myself away is comfortable."  Draco said, handing his guitar to a stagehand.  

"Besides, this grungy war refugee look suits him.  He's ridiculously hot."  Pansy stated with a grin as she sidled up to accompany Narcissa out front to watch the show.  Draco could already hear the crowd cheering as the lights went down.  Draco and the 2 other blokes, 1 squib and one muggleborn, all cast outs of the wizarding world lined up off stage.   They formed a circle and everyone put a hand in and they shook them, clapped and cried out their chant.    

"Music and ass, gas or grass.  We're here for a good time, not here for a long time.   Lets do this!"  Draco led the chant the guys all cheered and then took the stage.  Dave went first and started a drum beat, Krist was next and began the base-line.  Then Draco, carrying his electric guitar, went to the mic.  He never looked at the audience.   He wasn't here for them,  not really.  He was here for himself.   Because he had something to say.  Even if no one really understood him or interpreted his messages clearly.  

"Come as you are, as you were

As I want you to be

As a friend, as a friend

As an old enemy

Take your time, hurry up

Choice is yours, don't be late

Take a rest as a friend

As an old memoria."   

He strummed the chords and sang the song not really looking at anyone.  He was trying quite unsuccessfully not to think about a certain messy haired brunette.   

After the war he'd had every single door slammed in his face.  Even the most menial of jobs wouldn't hire him.  Potter had kept his word and put in a good word for him and his mother but the blonde on stage really didn't know why he'd bothered.   No one in the Wizarding world wanted him or any other Slytherin around.   Dave was a muggleborn Slytherin in the year below Draco and had also been chased out.  

"Take your time, hurry up

Choice is yours, don't be late

Take a rest as a friend

As an old memory."  

It was hard not to think of Potter when he sang this song because it was about him, at least mostly.  There was always a thinly veiled anti establishment opinion mixed in. The fans loved it though and he didn't really mind.  It’s not like Harry would ever show up and hear it.  He was too busy still saving the world,  having babies and whatever else it was that heros did.  Not Draco.  His long shaggy hair hung in his face as he sang the chorus, and shook his head.  Just one word.  Memory.   His best and worst thing.  His respite and the source of his nightmares.  

He finished off the song and they hit a heavy chord progression into the next song.  

"Load up on guns, bring your friends

It's fun to lose and to pretend

She's over bored and self assured

Oh no, I know a dirty word"  

The kids surged forward jumping up and down and shaking their heads as they raised their fists in the air and sang along.  

Draco had worked with Dave to put his thoughts on the war into muggle terms.  He thought they'd done pretty good honestly.  Even if they hadn't,  the teenagers in Seattle and California couldn't get enough.   He screamed the chorus and the kids screamed it with him.  

"With the lights out, it's less dangerous

Here we are now, entertain us

I feel stupid and contagious

Here we are now, entertain us

A mulatto

An albino

A mosquito

My libido

Yeah, hey, yay"  

Five years ago Draco had left the wizarding world and his mother behind.  Narcissa was more than able to take care of herself.   Draco wasn't concerned about her in that respect.   His father had been a lot of things but stupid had never been one of them.  Misguided certainly,  but not stupid.   

Luscious had moved money around in various accounts all over the world.  He'd taken Draco with him on nearly all of his business trips.  Draco had had many private tutors growing up and could speak French, English, Russian and German fluently.  He could read in several languages.  His father had insisted.  Draco learned to balance a ledger when most kids were learning to ride a bicycle.   

When the ministry had seized their accounts in Gringotts,  they hadn't even seized a tenth of the true fortune.   Draco hadn't needed to work.  He'd wanted to.  However no one would let him.  So he'd packed a duffle bag of casual clothes,  taken his muggle id and cards and left for America.  He'd covered his accent fairly well he thought, and if he came off sounding like a stoned southerner at times… no one pointed it out.  

He met Dave hanging around kings cross station panhandling.   The two 18 year olds decided to strike out together.   Draco and Dave were sitting together at some boardwalk in Seattle, Washington when Draco flipped his skateboard and saw a kid playing guitar near-by.   He'd been hooked from the first chord.  He'd bought them instruments and they taught themselves to play.  

"I think you'll all know this next one."  

Draco hit the distinctive chords and the kids in the audience squealed with delight.  This was more personal,  more singing than the growly screaming.   More about his feelings than anything else.   He hid in his hair not seeing anyone.   In his mind he tried to be back in that skatepark with scraped knees, just him and Dave.  

"What else should I be?

All apologies

What else should I say?

Everyone is gay

What else should I write?

I don't have the right

What else should I be?

All apologies."

He sang the words not looking at his mother, not caring about her reaction to that statement.   He'd forgotten she hadn’t heard this particular song before.   Well she had to find out sooner or later he supposed.   

"I wish I was like you

Easily amused

Find my nest of salt

Everything is my fault

I'll take all the blame

Aqua seafoam shame

Sunburn, freezer burn

Choking on the ashes of her enemy."  

Draco finished the song and the kids were crying out various songs they wanted to hear while cheering and clapping.  Draco loved it.  He lived for it.  They only had one more song to play.  It would end the show on a high note before the next band took the stage.  The next song he was about to play was about a lot of things.  Various parts of the war, Tom Riddles beginnings, the discrimination in the Wizarding world,  his own parents a bit.   In hindsight, Draco realized that he likely should have adjusted the set list a bit when he'd found out his mother was coming to the show.  'Too late to do anything about it now.' He thought to himself.   Maybe they'd finally have a real conversation for a change.  He set his guitar in a stand nearby and took a deep breath.  

"At home

Drawing pictures

Of mountain tops

With him on top

Lemon yellow sun

Arms raised in a V

And the dead lay in pools of maroon below."  

He shook his head, hiding in his hair and not seeing anyone.   Only Dave and Krist, only his guitar.   The kids screamed and jumped and sang along.  Draco thrashed around stage with them, just the microphone cord wrapped around his hand.  

"Daddy didn't give attention

Oh, to the fact that mommy didn't care

King Tommy the Wicked

Ruled his world

Tommy spoke in class today

Tommy spoke in class today" 

The guys backed him up intermittently on the chorus and the base thumped throughout the song, a steady heartbeat.  Draco couldn’t let himself worry about hurting his mother's feelings.   He sang what he needed to say.  He knew nothing was ever simple.  There were at least two sides to every story and a variety of contributing factors.   

"Clearly I remember

Pickin' on the boy

Seemed a harmless little fuck

But we unleashed a snake

Gnashed his teeth

And bit the recess lady's breast."

Draco knew the words painted a vivid picture.   He didn't care.   Maybe people would learn that bullying others for shit beyond their control was stupid and had far reaching consequences.   There were certainly a few chapters in his story that he'd like to rewrite.   

"How could I forget

And he hit me with a surprise left

My jaw left hurting

Dropped wide open

Just like the day

Oh, like the day I heard."  

There was no possible way he could make up for some of the shit he'd done.  He knew that.  He tried to just pass on the lessons.  Hoping that if he could even reach just one person,  it'd be worth it.  Exile in the muggle world.  They weren't so bad really.   Their fashions were quite fun, and much more functional than robes.  He missed making potions, doing magic.  It was a particular skill set that he was good at.  There was no place in the muggle world for magic.  He had to be even more careful now that they were getting really famous.   People were always watching him.  Hiding in the bushes, trying to sneak into his hotel room, everyone wanted pictures of him to sell to the press.  He couldn't risk anyone seeing him perform magic.  He did little things like casting stasis charms or heating up a hot beverage,  or casting a cooling charm on himself and the guy's.  He knew his mind was spiraling away from the uncomfortable conversation with his mother that he was anticipating after this.  

"Daddy didn't give affection, no!

And the boy was something that mommy wouldn't wear

King Tommy The Wicked

Ruled his world

Try to erase this (try to erase this)

From the blackboard." 

He knew his parents had loved him.  They had been very cold, and reserved in all things though.  His mother could be formidable when she wanted to be and his father was doting yet terrifying.   That was something about Tom Riddle's life that Draco had been able to understand.   Feeling alone, as if no one cared, no one understood you.  He knew how cruel kids could be,  because he had been the one leading the mockery in his day.  

He'd never once thought about what it might feel like on the other side of it.  Until he'd been on the receiving end of such mockery, ridicule and unfairness did he begin to re-think his actions as a snotty young man.  The crowd was going wild.  

Draco stood as the lights came up and he bowed with the guys.  They all smiled and waved to their fans.   Off stage, he saw his mother standing with Pansy.  Narcissa looked a mixture of hurt, worried and angry.  A reporter from MTV was there, shoving a microphone in his face.  Draco smiled his small smile,  just a turning up of the corners of his mouth really.   He answered all of the questions asked in a rare and rather lengthy interview,  glad for the temporary reprieve from his mother for the moment.   

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar set of green eyes and messy black hair, accompanied by none other than Hermione Granger and a regular. Analese Taylor was no stranger to Draco. She had been a fan since the band's boardwalk skate park days. Now that they were famous, she was their number one fan. The way Granger was clutching her arms, the strong resemblance between the two women, Draco could slap himself for not realizing what was so familiar about the girl. She had to be related to Granger, no other explanation.

Before he could really panic about the three familiar faces another familiar set of arms was thrown around his knees and a very delighted

"Daddy!" Rang through the room as his daughter Frances threw her arms around him. Draco glanced around for his soon to be ex wife. He spotted her nearby with arms crossed, looking furious. He sighed deeply as he scooped his daughter into his arms. The child was his whole world outside of his music. Draco glanced back towards Potter and Granger as his wife stormed over as the press and other onlookers were cleared out by Pansy.

[kendrixtermina]

Further reactions to "The book of lost tales":

I appreciate that Idril canonically wears armor and does swordfighting.

I feel like I can actually imagine adult!Idril much better now like in armor and with open hair, distraught but ready to fight while babby Earendil does not yet realize the danger...

My first thought is that Earendil was probably cute in that baby chainmail. My second thought is OUCH, Idril and Tuor always made sure their growing baby had fitting chainmail cause they felt the apocalypse might get them at any moment. Imagine that, imagine them having the baby armor fitted every year or so :(

Its fun how much of the basic structure already exists but most of what you'd consider the main characters doesn't exist or is scattered across various minor roles The only Prince anywhere in sight is Turgon - Except for Team Doriath, theyre all accounted for. I suppose Maeglin is kinda there in name only with vaguely the same role & motivation, but looks personality and background all did a 180 since. Luthien is still pretty much "princesd classic" at this point, not quite the fearless go-getter from the final version - markedly this version tells Beren that she doesnt want to wander in the wilderness with him whereas the final one says she doesnt care and its Beren still wants to get the shiny so as not to ask this of her and also for his honor.

I mean in the finished version Id consider the 3rd and 4th gen royals to be the main characters (well, alobgside Team Doriath and the varioud human heroes) and theyre hardly here. Imagine the silm with no Finrod!

Feanor had no affiliation with the royal family whatsoever, and is also generally less super. He's just the guy who won the jewelsmithing competition, not the inventor of the whole discipline. Still seems to have been envisionad as a respected member of the community who gets called to the palace for crisis meetings and is listened to when he stsrts giving speeches. From the first he already has the backstory of going off the deep end (or at least growing disillusioned with Valinor) after a family member is killed by Melkor and theyre still the first to die, but its just some other rando unrelated to the royals

The situation regarding the humans is different - instead of Melkor leaking their existence, its Manwe who explains that the other continents were supposed to be for them eventually. So Feanor goes off on a tirade about weak puny mortals comes off as a more of a jerk unlike in the final version where Melkor barely knew about the humans and described them to the Noldor as a threat. On the other hand in this one, also very much unlike in the finished product, Melkor dupes even Manwe into being unfair to the elves as a whole. In this the final version is a definite improvement, both Feanor and the Valar come off as a lot more sympathetic and though still deceived he's partially right in some things at least, so you have more of a genuine tragedy rather than a simple feud

There is something to the idea of Commoner!Feanor tho. I guess some of this survived in his nomadic explorer lifestyle and how both his wife and mother (who arent mentioned here) eventually were the ones to get that background of being not especially pretty ladies who are not from the nobility but got renown, respect and acclaim for their unique talent and contribution to society, with each having invented things and Nerdanel also being renowed for her wisdom. Hes sort of an odysseus-like Figure in that sense. I suppose later developements necesitated that Maedhros & co. have an army not just a band of thieves, which means they needed to be nobles/lords. That said this being a society where artisans are very respected and half the lords have scholarly/artistic pursuits going, the gap was probably not as big to begin with as it might have been in say, medieval England. Esoecially since Nerdanel's father had been given special honor by one of the local deities and that the social order might have been a very recent thing in Miriel's time. One might speculate that the first generation of Lords started out as warriors during the great journey, or perhaps just Finwe's friend group.

Also found that bit intetesting where the Valar have to deal with the remaining political tensions and effects of Melkor's lies on the remaining population in Valinor... - i guess with the change of framing device it was less likely for news of something like this to reach Beleriand. That, or the existence of Finarfin and his repentance made this go smoother this over in later cannon

Turgon's go-down-with-the-ship moment reaaly got to me. Im half tempted to write a fic where his wife, siblings and dad glomp him on arrival in Mandos. I dont care that none of them exists yet in this continuity i want Turgon to get hugs

I love all the additional Detail that got compressed out in the shift from fairytale-ish to pseudohistoric style especially all the various Valinor magic insofofar as it is compatible with the final version - particularly love the idea of the connection between the lamps and the trees that is now integrated into my headcanon forever

Its actually explained what the doors of night are

If I had not already read unfinished tales or volumes X to XII where this is also apparent, this is where I would say: Ah so the Valar were supposed to be flawed characters. Manwe has an actual arc; by the time he sends Gandalf he finally "got" it. I think in the published silm the little arcs of Ulmo and Manwe are mostly just lost in compression/ less apparent when only some of the relevant scenes got in but not all

It occurred to me way too late that the "BG" chars are the most consistent because theyre at the start and most stories are written from beginning to end. Finwe doesnt get a dedicated paragraph of explicit description until HoME X but my takeaway was that he's described pretty much like I always imagined him anyways/ same vibe I always got from him... charismatic, thoughtful, enthusiastic, sanguine temperament, brave in a pinch but at times lets his judgement be clouded by personal sentiment (though that last bit is more apparent/salient as a character flaw once he became the father of a certain Problem Child) ...i guess this would be a result of jrrt having had a consistent idea of him in his head for a long time.

This means Finwe's still alive at the time of the exodus which is just fun to see/interesting to know... Interestingly he sort of gets what later would be Finarfin's part of ineffectually telling everxone to please chill and think it over first while Feanor simply shouts louder (which is consistent with his actions before the sword incident in later canon where he initially spoke out against the suspiciozs regarding the Valar) - but its not exactly the same, he's more active than Finarfin later in that when "chillax" availed nothing he said that then at least they should talk with the other Kings and Manwe to leave with their blessing and get help leaving (This seems like it would have been the clusterfuck preventing million dollar suggestion in the universe where Feanor is related to him and values him) but when even that falls on death ears he decides that he "would not be parted from his people" and went to run the preparations. I find it interesting that the motivation is sentiment/attachment (even phrased as "he would not be parted from [his people]" same words/ expression as is later used for the formenos situation), not explicitly obligation as it later is for Fingolfin (who had promised to follow Feanor and didnt want to leave his subjects at the mercy of Feanor's recklessness )

Speaking of problem children. It seems the sons of Feanor were the Kaworu Nagisa of the Silmarillion in that originally all they do is show up at some point and kill Dior as an episodic villain-of-the-week. And then, it seems their role got bigger in each continuity/rewrite... probably has something to do with the Silmarils ending up in the title later making it in the sense their story that ends and begins with them. They have zero characterization beyond "fierce and wild" at this point, though in what teetsy bits there is we already have the idea that Maedhros is the leader and Curufin is the smart one/shemer/sweet-talker, though not the bit where Maedhros (or Maglor, or anyone really) is "the nice one". Which I guess explains why "Maglor" sounds like such a stereotypical villain name.

"The Ruin of Doriath" was purportedly the patchworkiest bit of the finished product, but I never noticed and it actually left quite an impression of me upon first reading, the visual of Melian sitting there with Thingol's corpse in her arms contemplating everything thinking back to how they met... she had the knowledge to warn him not to doom himself but couldnt get him to understand it because he doesnt see the world as she does.... After reading this though I wish there was a 'dynamic' rendition that combined all the best bits like, youd have to adapt it to the later canon's rendition of the dwarves, have Nargothrond exist etc. But i mean that just makes Finrod another dead/doomed relative of Thingol's whom bling cannot truly replace, like Luthien and Turin. In the Silmarillion you could easily read it as just an "honoured guest treatment" but here and in unfinished tales I get the impression that Thingol actually did see Turin as a son.

Already you see the idea of trying to make the stories all interconnected but there is less than there will be (the human heroes aren't related yet and there is basically no Nargothrond, which is later a common thread for many of the stories - a prototype shows up in the 'Tale of Turambar' tho complete with half baked prototypes of Orodreth and Finduillas

O boi im not even through yet

[arazialotis]

A Girl Called Mike - Part 2

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Word Count: About 3500

Summary: The reader disguises herself during hunting jobs as a man named Mike and has met up with the Winchesters several times. They are unaware of her true identity. Feeling they know and trust Mike, they agree to invite the reader to the bunker.

Click Here for Part 1

Warnings: Language, Violence

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

Special thanks to @misguidedconqueress for the suggestions, feedback and for putting up with me! :)

----

“Listen, there’s something I feel like I should tell you.” You started and paused, the next words not coming out of your mouth. “This place is sick. You bring all the babes down here?” You raved, keeping up the demeanor.

“Not quite, only a few close friends know about it. We keep it pretty private.” Sam stated.

“Ah, too bad, I could totally see a pole right here.” You showed them between the war room and the library, kicking yourself mentally for taking it too far.

Dean hit Sam's shoulder with the back of his hand. “Not a bad idea.” He agreed with a chuckle.

“Respectfully so.” You cleared your throat. “So, uh, for the Vodnik, I can go through any of these books?” You asked Sam.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll help you out.” Sam responded.

“No, I don’t want to be a burden.” You said.

“It’s okay, he gets off on it.”  Dean rationalized.

“I’m sure there is something more important for you to be doing.” You started again.

“Other than looking for another case, not really.” Sam insisted.

“Well, while you two nerds continue your sleep over, I’m going to grab some grub.” Dean joked and left for the kitchen.

“So, you got a system in place here?” You asked Sam.

“Yeah, some chronologically, others geographically.” Sam explained.

“This thing seemed to have an accent. East European.” You hypothesized.

“Okay. That gives me an idea of where we could start.” Sam concluded, grabbing some books off the shelves and handing them to you.

Not soon after you had started flipping through the pages, Dean came out with burgers and beer that no diner or bar could ever come close too.

“Oh my god,” You said with your mouth full. “This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Dean soaked up the praise, but downplayed it instead of gloating. “Ah, it’s nothing, just ran over to Applebee’s.” “Yeah right, this is amazing.” Had your mouth not been full of food, they might have noticed the change in your tone. However, you did notice and quieted again.

A few more hours passed and Dean pulled up Game of Thrones on his laptop.

“You know, if you didn’t play so much poker, you could probably afford a big screen for this place.” You teased, having several times wiped the floor with Dean’s deck. An unexpected advantage about living a lie you thought.

“Hey, don’t get to confident now. That’s my strategy. Boost your confidence so I can take it all away.” Dean countered.

“Mike, check this out.” Sam interrupted. You leaned over the table to get a better look. “This Czech myth is a small creature with human and frog-like features. It dwells in ponds or rivers and drowns anyone who comes to their territory. Unlike the Vodyanoy, the Vodnik can survive a few hours on land and even will help fisherman for a pinch of tobacco. Salt water is said to be poisonous.” Sam roughly translated.

“Well, I didn’t use any salt water. But I did tie it up in a cabin for a while. Perhaps being out of water too long did it in?” You thought out loud.

“Could be.” Sam looked up at you and paused.

Your eyes widened; concerned your wig was crooked or facial hair was peeling, but Sam just stared into your eyes.

You slid back down into your chair. “Does it say anything else?” You coughed, trying to distract him as you felt your fake features hoping all was still in its place.

“Umm, yeah. It captures the souls of the drowned and… stores them in it’s underwater liar…. In… porcelain cups.’ Sam translated and grabbed the computer from Dean to make sure his interpretation was correct.

You sighed and rubbed your temples. “Looks like I am going for a dive.”

“Nah, how bad could an eternal tea party be?” Dean joked.

“Yeah, cups are what you’re looking for.” Sam confirmed having translated it again.

“Alrighty then.” You pushed your chair back and stood up. “Thanks for everything, I’m sure we’ll run into each other soon.”

Sam got up confused. “You’re leaving now? You can stay and rest before you head out.” He offered.

“I’ll be back, but I wouldn’t be able to rest knowing I have unfinished business.” You explained.

Sam gave you a firm shoulder hug, “Well, you are welcome any time. I mean it.” “And when I finally find somewhere to settle down like you old men, I’ll invite you over for a barbecue or something.” You envisioned.

Dean came up for a bro hug and patted you on the back. You were concerned you let your hand linger too long on the back of his shoulder. “Seriously, anytime. But we are sending you a bill.” He teased.

“Later.” You ended heading up the stairs.

Finally, out of sight from their bunker, your ripped off the wig and facial hair convinced it had been a longest period of time you had gone in character. Driving back into the town, you decided to go as yourself not wanting for locals to recognize you as you had made your rounds only a few weeks ago. Not to mention the disguise would not hold well underwater. You stopped at a bigger city before you hit the town in order to find a scuba suit, renting it out would cost all your poker winnings but you really couldn’t think of a better solution.

You lied to a group of fisherman about a lost wedding ring and in return they warned you about drownings and disappearances. You could hardly resist letting them know the issue had been taken care of but thanked them for the warning, and convinced them you were an experienced driver which was another lie. After hours of searching and going through a few oxygen tanks, you came across an old cabinet. You used your hunting knife to pry it open and bust the lock. Sure enough, inside were porcelain cups with lids on top. You lifted up the lid on one and out came a bubble containing a blue orb that floated towards the surface. You recalled the number of drownings you had traced and counted a few extra containers. There must have been unreported cases. You released all of them and the last few cups were empty. Satisfied, you returned to the surface and checked into a local motel to recuperate.

For a few hours, you allowed yourself to be pampered. You treated your hair, used perfume, shaved your legs, and even painted your toenails. You thought about going out for a drink, but decided not to on account of not wanting to deal with men like Dean. You sighed at the thought of him. How did a womanizing ass occupy all your thoughts and desires? Perhaps the thought of having the unattainable or wanting him to realize he was searching for something that only you could satisfy. Your thoughts turned darker, perhaps it was being with someone so experienced. Your thoughts wandered to imagining his lips pressed firmly against yours, his calloused hands holding your waist and guiding your hips.

You felt a heat start to rise up in you and quickly turned on the tv, trying to break the cycle of your thoughts. You hadn’t been intimate since before the night the demon… Well, that thought surely broke your desire. Flipping through the stations you paused briefly on The Big Bang Theroy but continued flipping once the commercial came on. You switched past a news channel, but then immediately backed up finding it again. The news anchor described a murder in which the victim was decapitated and body was mutilated. The police were not releasing any details but had a line open for tips.

The town was only two hours from here. You thought it might possibly be a hunter taking care of a vampire problem but you wanted more information. You pulled out your laptop to look further into the police system. Sam had taught you some basic hacking skills and with smaller towns you usually could find a way into their database. You were able to pull up the case file and were shocked by what you saw. A lot of information had been left out of the news clip. Yes, the victim had been decapitated but by simply saying mutilation they left out a good chunk of the details. The head of some type of bird of prey had been sewn? onto the neck of the victim. Had you not been used to gore you would have been sick. Well, there ain't no rest for the wicked, you thought knowing you would be heading there first thing in the morning.

Another day came and back as Mike you were. Yes, the process was long and somewhat annoying but it was much easier to get information, be treated seriously, and not looked down upon (in a figurative sense) in his skin. The only problem that came was you never fully looked right in a men's dress suit. If you wanted it tight and professional it would not hide your figure. Trying to go with a baggy suit just made you look like a child playing dress up in their father’s sports jacket. So you just usually went in casual wear which could make playing FBI difficult but it didn’t deter you.

When the coroner asked about it you responded. “New policy, dress for your day, not that it’s any of your business but I don’t need a cadaver soiling my Brooks Brothers.” You said with a confidence that wouldn’t be questioned.

The coroner pulled out the victim's body. He had already removed the bird's head but kept it in the same compartment.

“No ID?” You asked.

“Not yet,” The coroner confirmed. “Police are cross-checking missing persons report.”

“And no head? Human head, that is.” You continued to question.

“Nothing. I have been assured the crime scene and outlying perimeters have been thoroughly swept.”

“Other than the mutilation, anything stand out as weird?” You asked.

“Yes, the time of death and decapitation don’t add up, I reran my tests several times.” He said confused.

“What are you saying?” You inquired uneasily.

“The body was technically still alive while the bird's head was being sewn on.” He reported.

The doors opened and a familiar voice sounded Mike’s go to fake identity. “Agent Dallas.” You looked up seeing Dean enter the room and Sam following behind both in their suits. “Violating the dress code again I see.”

“Dry up.” You responded again in the confidence you earlier presented. “I outrank the both of you combined. Glad to see you finally decided to show up.” It had been a similar routine you had conjured whenever you ran into each other on a case unexpectedly.

“Our flight was delayed.” Sam explained. “Can you give us a moment?” Sam directed at the coroner.

“I’ll catch them up to speed.” You assured him as he left the room. “So what? You two just can’t get enough of me huh?” You teased.

“Don’t get so full of yourself Mike, just making sure you aren’t slacking on the job.” Dean playfully bantered back.

You coughed away a blush, your thoughts from last night resurfacing. You reminded yourself, this was just the way dudes talked to each other. This was not flirting or tension in Dean’s eyes. Sam started inspecting the report and body.

“So what are you thinking, witchcraft? Occult?” You asked Sam.

“It seems… almost.. Egyptian.” Sam hesitantly said. “Ancient Egyptian deities were hybrids of different animals, mainly human bodies with animal heads.”

“We had a run in with one awhile back.” Dean soberly remarked remembering their case with Osiris.

“Of course you did.” You rolled your eyes, almost annoyed they have literally hunted practically every supernatural thing in the book.

“But this doesn’t seem to be a god itself, it’s almost as if someone is trying to create one.” Sam theorized, unsure of himself.

“Back to my theory of cult or witchcraft.” You interjected.

“I still think we should get a ram’s horn just in case.” Dean suggested.

“Yeah, it couldn't hurt.” Sam agreed.

“On it.” Dean called dibs.

“I'll look into some texts, see what deity this could be, it may give us some more clues on who or what we are dealing with.” Sam purposed.

“And I'll sweep over the crime scene. Maybe something was missed.” You decided.

“Alright, meet back up for lunch?” Dean asked.

“Plan.” You decided and headed off.

The body had been discovered in an abandoned storage facility, but apparently it was a place for local junkies to hang out. It was placed next to a small river and you really hoped you wouldn’t have to go diving again to look for the missing head. The gates of the property had been marked with police tape but it was easy to sneak around it. The pavement was overgrown with grass and weeds. Most of the units were unlocked and open, some containing boxes of junk. You went to the office in the far corner where the body was actually found. It was locked and sealed with police tape. Luckily, you had brought cutters expecting this.

Inside, it was dark and musky from years of sitting. Police had cleared what they thought had been evidence and dusted for prints. You doubted if anything would come of it. The papers that had been left behind appeared only to be old bills, budget records, and policy updates.

You headed to the manager’s private office. The old wooden desk was where the body was found, you recognized the scene from the pictures online. There was dried blood, feathers and candle wax. Trying to find something that was missed, you looked through drawers but they had been cleared out. However, down on the base of the desk, it looked as if though someone had carved in hieroglyphs with a pocket knife. As you did not see these in the police report, you snapped a couple of pictures and forwarded them onto Sam. You also scrapped off a substance from one of the shelves into a plastic bag. It might be possible to send it to the county forensics department, but it was highly unlikely they would get back to you before you and the scooby gang had the problem taken care of.

You completed your sweep of the office and still came up headless. You figured you would check the remainder of the storage units and any dumpster that may still be lying around. Walking through the maze of units, you kept your hand close to your gun ready to draw at any moment needed having the suspicious feeling you were being watched. As you turned a corner, you nearly jumped out of your skin as you almost literally ran into Dean.

“Jesus man, give a guy a heads up.” You vented, catching your breath making sure your low tone was correct.

“Losing your touch? You would have caught me snooping around five minutes ago if you were on your game.” Dean poked fun at you.

“And what about you, Ram’s horn?” You asked skeptically.

“Not my first walk through a synagogue.” Dean gloated. “Thought you might need a hand?”

You caught Dean up to speed on what you had and had not found.

“There was a stuck locker around that block,” Dean pointed. “With your help we could pry it open.” He thought.

And he was right, with a hammer you were able to pry a crowbar underneath the door and get some leverage as Dean forced it up. After the dust settled, Dean took out a small flashlight to get a better look inside. Metal shelves were lined with jars containing fluids, unknown substances, organs, and animal parts.

“How did they miss this?” Dean asked confused referring to the police.

He stepped into the unit and tripped some unseen trap, you grabbed him quickly upon hearing the click and pulled him back out before a canvas fell from the ceiling revealing several snakes and a human skull. You hid in Dean’s chest from the fright.

He chuckled nervously. “Don’t like snakes, Indy?”

 You realized your mistake and regained your composure brushing your clothes as if to unwrinkle them. “You think that’s our vic?” You asked nodding in the direction of the skull.

“I’d say it’s a high probability.” Dean tested the waters by stepping closer.

A cobra out of the bunch noticed Dean’s advance and raised itself as it hissed and widened its hood, fixated on him.

“Dean,” You whispered. “Step back slowly.” You instructed as you slowly took off your outer jacket.

Dean listened as you took your jacket reaching it as far away from you as you possibly could. You shook the jacket up and down encouraging the cobra to fixate on it instead of Dean.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean whispered.

“I saw it on the crocodile hunter once.” You explained causing Dean to roll his eyes.

You continued shaking as the cobra was now spitting and striking at it. With it completely distracted you threw it as far as you could into the unit and the cobra chased after it. You motioned for Dean to slowly start backing up. Once a safe distance away you gathered your thoughts.

“I honestly can’t believe that worked.” You confessed breathless to Dean.

“You and me both.” He agreed. “Well gives us a place to go next, pet stores, the zoo.” He started.

“Yeah, no way that thing was from around here.” You concurred.

Dean felt comfortable enough to turn his back to the unit, where as you were still watching it as some of the snakes began to slither out. “And neither is that guy.” Dean responded. You turned around to see what appeared to be a man in an Egyptian robe and wearing a blue mask that sported a long snout and erect ears of some unidentifiable creature. “Unless I forgot it was Halloween again.” He said seriously.

“Always, with the jokes.” You whispered quietly to him as the figure watched you unmoving. “You don’t happen to have that horn on you?” “Nah.” Dean admitted.

“Alright, plan B it is.” You said lifting your gun and firing in its direction.

It calmly walked out of sight around the corner of the unit block. The both of you ran after it but came to an empty row of blocks. Dean signaled for you to start clearing the open units and to meet at the end as he headed the other direction. Your heart raced as it always did with a chase. You moved quickly through the units.

You stopped at one as the sun shone partially through it, highlighting the body of a falcon. The blood looked fresh, causing you to wonder if there was another victim here. Out of the corner the form took shape and struck you between the ribs with it’s blade. You were caught off guard; the pain not settling in yet, just the pressure.

“Mike!” Dean yelled, running to you.

The creature took notice of Dean and withdrew the blade, which is when the pain hit. You keeled over as Dean started shooting at the figure. It seemed to not notice raising the knife to strike a blow to the head. But one of Dean’s bullets finally found its mark. The beast looked down at it’s chest and vanished around the metal. The bullet drop to the floor with a clink.

You tried your best to stifle the scream coming up but couldn’t contain the pain. You sounded a low cry.

“Mike?” Dean asked trying to assess the situation.

You furrowed your brow and grunted, trying to find the focus to speak without ruining your disguise.

“Come on buddy, we got to get you outta here and patched up.” Dean instructed.

You pulled your hand away from the wound and saw it was covered in blood, a lot of blood. You put your hand back over it trying not to panic. “Ah fuck…” You hissed. “I’m… good, had worse.” You stuttered.

“Come on,” Dean encouraged. He wrapped his arm around your waist trying to hoist you up. You used your good arm to grab onto his shoulder to help him pull you up. “I’m not leaving you out here alone, just have to make it to the impala and I’ll patch you up.”

“Seriously, I’m okay….” You gasped for another breath. “I can do my own patch work.” Your brow started to sweat as the pain increased from the movements. He slowly helped you walk down the rows.

“Now’s not the time to be the brave soldier, Mike.” Dean ordered.

You started to panic with each step, and not just from the pain. If Dean got anywhere near this wound, there would be a least two things he would be bound to notice.

---

Click Here to Continue at Part 3

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[disguts]

non important

I’m thinking about the name shit again

without being prompted at all I keep thinking about Conductor C

no ones really interested in my conductor canon and I feel like all I can really say about it is just stuff I found in the tag, since it’s... someone’s OC, for an unfinished fangame, but

I consider myself more of a fictive of Conductor E, but maybe it’s more of a kin with that? Kin of my future self. I sometimes consider GG like a non-kin ID too.. it’s all the same character though, in a way, but GG is a lot like CC, and honestly my formation personality lines up so well with the low-information CC, so it’s hard to tell really, but

ah, I’ll just.. cut the abbreviation.. 

Train Conductor Charlie < Boat Conductor William ( Killed by Willy after eating family and many Elsen )

TSE Charlie > William Afton ( I was dead before that but I’ll count it )

Grue Charlie ||| Maxwell / William Carter  ( ongoing? always balanced? I don’t know )

My only real connection to the DSverse was that it was how my host saw the conductor and honestly my forming in this way was all in Timing, rather than any actual connection to the character, and aside from identifying as a grue DSverse is only a vague comfort item to me, but maybe I should explore it or at least care about it more, since it’s always felt important to keep in my three-way name Bullshit I have going on...

I feel like I bring up this naming .. thing, too often, like it really doesn’t matter as much as my brain seems to imply it does, and I’m not sure what to do about it. I think the only time I even went by Charlie was during the brief period of time when I was really identity confused, when I was ‘a fictive of a noncanon version of purple guy’, before the book came out and matched my memories. I’d probably never be comfortable with the name anymore, but lately ConductorC keeps floating up to my thoughts and I’m not really sure why.

Maybe it’s coping. Maybe it’s all this anger I’ve had badly suppressed to deal with recent problems. I don’t know. It’s probably this song not helping though:

I’m still not comfortable with the phrase ‘train wreck’ because, well, because of CC / GG I guess, I still feel like a damaged train means it’s time to panic. that I’m about to die. It’s entirely irrational, I’m not even attached t oh god this thought process is really fucked up and weird to people who don’t know the conductor stuff I am so sorry if you read this far

[selenelavellan]

Unfinished Stories

So, I have a few never-gonna-finish-or-edit-them or too short to stand on their own pieces and I wanted to post them in order to clear them and move them around in my folders, so...here we go. AU is listed before each story, and some end abruptly. Enjoy <3.

Reincarnation AU

Felasel drops his stack of files and papers onto the conference table where Selene is already seated with an echoing 'BANG'.

"Alright," He starts "So, this man has his fingers in a lot of our partners pots, so to speak. He's been angling to get a meeting with us for a few years now, and his portfolio is finally extensive enough to bother."

"What does he do?"

"Sales, mostly."

Selene flips open the first file cover with a frown "We don't need sales people."

"He disagrees," Felasel shrugs "If you hate him, we never have to meet with him again, but at least I don't have to listen to my assistant complain that he's left me 5 messages in a day again."

Selene merely makes a skeptical noise in return, but her skin turns cold as the salesman enters the room. Dressed in a fine suit, with a nauseatingly familiar head of orange hair, cut short this time around, but that same smile that had tricked her so long ago.

"Hello there!" he grins :"I had no idea this company was run by such beautiful elves! No wonder you are in such high demand."

"Ugh," Selene mutters with a roll of her eyes.

Felasels head whips around in surprise at Selenes unprofessional reaction, before he extends a hand to the salesman 

"I'm sorry about that. She hasn't had her coffee yet," he lies. "I'm Felasel Lanuris, and that's my associate, Selene Lanuris. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well" he smiles as he shakes Felasels hand and turns to face Selene "My name is Haleir, in case you hadn't heard it yet," He tells her with a wink.

"I have heard your name all too often, I assure you," She grumbles back, not even bothering to rise out of her seat. 

Haleir blinks as Felasel releases his hand, and tries to shake off Selenes abrasiveness. "Ah, were you the young woman I left all those messages with then?"

"No. I run this company, and I promise you that if I had received any messages from you, you would not be standing here now," she growls, fingernails elongating where her hands are clasped in her lap.

Felasels eyebrows crease, as he politely asks Haleir to step out of the room, closing the door behind him and turning to Selene with arms crossed.

"You haven't even heard his pitch yet."

"And I don't need to to know we will not be doing business with him."

"...Someone you know?"

Selene sighs. "We dated. Before I met your father, and before your father threw him through a window."

"What happened?"

Her nails drum thrice against the wooden table before she simply states "My concept of 'consent' when I was younger was not very good."

Felasels eyes flash, an echo of extra accross his face as his head whips towards the closed doorway "I'll kill him myself."

"Unless you find evidence he's still pulling the same or similar crimes in this life, there's no point," Selene dismisses. "I'd rather just keep him as far away from us as I can."

Felasel nods, pressing a button beneath the table for security and indicating towards Haleir with his head as they ascend the stairway.

Ghost Hunting AU (x)

Serahlin and Adannar(both mentioned) belong to @scurvgirl

Dirthamen, Mythal, and Lath belong to @feynites

Ana (mentioned) belongs to @lycheemilkart

Selene let out a heavy sigh as she tied her hair high upon her head.

Today's the day.

The state had sent the notice a week ago; “Your Match has been found. Please report to the main office in Denerim,” with an appointment time that is about...two hours away, now.

Snagging her bag off of the hook, Selene exits her apartment, locking the door behind her to meet her government mandated partner.

–

They stick her in a waiting room. Which is...worrisome.

Serahlins partner had practically tackled her to the ground at the door when they were matched. Which was unconventional, sure, but they seem happy enough with the arrangement. Selene's pretty sure Adannar is planning on proposing soon, even.

Ana never mentioned being stuck in a waiting room when her own partners were found, and she ended up with two.

Maybe something's wrong?

Selene is fidgeting with the strap on her bag, worrying it through her fingers when the door opens, and an older woman with sharp eyes and grey hair enters.

She closes the door behind her.

“Oh, hello!” She stumbles, practically knocking her chair over in her haste to stand “I'm Selene, it's nice to meet you.”

“That's very kind of you child, but I am not your partner,” the woman informs her as she pulls out a stack of papers, and a pen.

Selene raises an eyebrow at the woman, skeptical.

“So...are you with the company, then?”

“Something like that,” she smiles, though it doesn't quite reach the womans eyes. “Why don't you tell me about yourself. Your paperwork claims you are a fighter, is that correct?”

“Yes, that's cor-”

“But I can also see that you are Dalish. I was lead to believe that the Dalish do not fight their ghosts.”

Selene fidgets a bit more and sits back into her seat. “Well, that's true, yes. Our Keepers typically handle all of our ghostly encounters.”

“So that makes you rather redundant, wouldn't you agree?”

“That's-that's not really-”

“So you have no experience actually encountering ghosts? No training in how to defend yourself, or your partner? Wouldn't signing my son over to your care be something like a deathwish, then?”

Selene frowns, straightening up in her seat. “That's not- my heritage has nothing to do with my capabilities. Most fighters don't have any experience until they're matched. I'd keep-wait, did you say your son?”

“I did,” she answers, turning the stack of papers towards Selene with a pen sitting on top. “You will need to sign these papers and agree to our terms before you will be permitted to see him. We have an appearance to maintain, and I will not tolerate sloppy work marring my families name.”

Selene flips through the paper, sighing. It would take her weeks to decipher all of this without Serahlins help. “I have to meet your son within the allotted time, or we both go to jail for treason,” she attempts.

“Then I suggest you sign quickly.”

Selene sighs, and grumbles as she signs through the appropriate paperwork while the woman watches.

She gives a Selene a smile as the paperwork is shoved unceremoniously back towards, tucking it under her arm.

“Welcome to the Evanuris family,” the woman states and walks back out of the room.

Selenes brain short circuits for a moment.

What.

What.

She doesn't have much time to process before a man walks into the room. Tall, and handsome with a square jaw, dark hair, and stunningly blue eyes. She startles and practically leaps out of her chair.

He pauses when he sees her.

“Hello.” Selene squeaks.

“Hello,” he nods back. “I hope my mother did not give you too much trouble.”

“Is she going to kick off all of our encounters? Because I'd like to get some notice next time, if so,” Selene jokes, attempting to ease some of the tension out of the room.

“She will not. There was a dispute when my match was found. My brother had wanted to meet you first, but...My mother was more suitable.”

“Right. Sure.” Selene nods, because she probably shouldn't insult her partners family immediately after meeting him. She holds out her hand “I'm Selene. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Evanuris.”

He eyes her hand for a few moments, before taking it in his own. “Please call me Dirthamen. It is a pleasure to meet you, as well.”

She smiles at him.

Another woman steps into the room, in a pencil skirt and button down blouse with pink curls that cascade down the whole of her, and a name tag that reads simply 'Lath'.

“Are you two ready?” she smiles.

Dirthamen nods, and Selene swallows as she leads them out of the room.

They follow her down long hallways filled with unlabeled doors, as she explains their next steps.

“First you two will need to forge your scythe, to allow Miss Selene a weapon to fight with. Scythes vary from person to person, they're a symbol of your devotion to one another. Some couples have issues getting their energies to coincide, and there are various methods you can use to forge your creation.”

High School Rivalmance AU

“There's no way that's right,” Selene squints through the frames of her glasses.

“You've been dethroned,” Melanadahl nods sagely.

Selene huffs, and nudges him gently in the side with her elbow before striding out of the classroom, hand gripped tight around the strap of her bag while he follows alongside her.

Second.

She got the Second highest grade on the test.

Selene has had the best performance in every mathemagical course she's taken since she managed to squeeze her way into this stupid elite school. It's the only way she can prove she's supposed to be here, that she isn't some pity case for the school to boast about, or some number for them to check off on their 'diversity' reports. Her written exams have been perfect, her practice exams have gone off without a hitch, and she hasn't lit anything on fire in over 6 months!

The nerve of her teacher.

“Should I start carrying a fire extinguisher?” Melanadahl teases as she continues her path through the halls to their instructors office.

“No. I just need to find out what happened,” she grumbles.

Knocking three times on the door, their instructor bids them entry and Selene doesn't bother taking a seat as she demands “My grade is wrong.”

One grey eyebrow arches over their teachers face as he glances up from the pile of papers beneath him.

“Your grade was fine. You're doing exceedingly well.”

“Someone outranked me.”

“Yes, that happens.”

“Who was it?”

“The point of using student ID numbers rather than names on that list, is to protect them in situations like this, you know.”

Melanadahl snorts, while Selene's fist tightens.

“I didn't make any mistakes.”

“You rounded incorrectly on your written exam.”

“The actual answer was 3.049! The nine rounds the four to a five, which rounds the zero into a one!”

“You only needed to round to the hundredths, not the tenths.”

“The instructions on the test said differently.”

Their instructor lets out a long suffering sigh as he leans back in his chair and slings his arms over their rests. “Fine, then I will adjust that in your scores. He still outranked you in the practical.”

“My practical was flawless, you said so yourself!”

“His gestures were more solid than yours, as was his focus.”

“That's a load of nug shit, and you know it,” she argues.

Their instructor rubs gingerly at his forehead. “Selene, sometimes people appear who are better at things than we are. Whether it's a product of their upbringing, private tutelage, or simply natural talent. You will have a far better life if you strive to better yourself from their presence, rather than fight against them. Now, I have 5 other classes with tests that need to be graded. Please see yourselves out.”

Selene opens her mouth to argue again, but Melanadahl drags her back out into the hallway before she has the chance to speak.

“He's right you know.”

“Oh, et tu, Melanadahl?”

He shrugs, before leaning onto the tips of his toes and whispering “I know who beat you.”

Selenes head whips towards his “Who?”

“The new kid. Dirthamen Evanuris.”

“...There's a new kid?”

Melanadahl just lets out a laugh “You've met him!”

“What? No I haven't.”

“You have though,” he points out “In the library, after school on Monday? He was the guy that nabbed the Magical Applications for Trigonometry in Warding book from the other side of the shelf. You chased him down!”

Selenes eyebrows scrunch together before she recalls the blue eyes on the other side of the book case, and dark hair walking away before she had darted around the corner and asked (very politely, she insists) to borrow it instead. He hadn't argued with her, just seemed sort of...stunned? And handed it right over.

Guess he didn't need it anyways, really.

Stupid perfect-score-on-his-practical-getter.

“Oh,” she admits.

Melanadahl teases her for the rest of their walk back to his home for their usual Thursday study session, Selene slipping her shoes off as she enters and follows him up the grand staircase towards his bedroom. As they reach the hallway, Selene rushes to press herself up against the wall as two dark blurs go rushing past them, landing in what she's pretty sure would be best described as a 'jumbled heap' at the bottom, skateboards clattering to the ground.

“Nah, the one at my house gets better air,” Complains the blonde one.

“Whatever man. The others should be here soon, you ready to practice?” Melanadahls brother intones as he stands and brushes off his pants.

“Yeah, I guess-” The blonde ones eyebrow raises as he notices Selene and Melanadahl at the top of the stairs and lets out a lewd whistle “You should wear a skirt next time! Give us something to look at!”

Selene rolls her eyes while she and Melanadahl both jointly flip him off.

“Your younger brother is fuckin' rude,” The blonde elf complains to Enastaren.

“Not my fault, that's on our parents.”

They both laugh over that and wander off to the oversized garage while Melanadahl lets out a groan and walks with Selene to his room.

“I hate that guy,” he grumbles.

“Who is he?”

“Falon'din Evanuris. Your competitions twin, from what I understand. He's been hanging around Enastaren a lot this week. They're doing some 'rock band' thing together.”

“Your brothers taste in people hasn't changed, I see.”

“Listen, he hit on your dad one time-”

“And I'm still not gonna let him live it down,” she reminds him while shrugging off and unzipping her bag to begin their studies.

–

The next day in mathemagics class, Selene does keep an eye out for Dirthamen, though. She finds out he actually sits a couple seats over from her, and never speaks unless called on. As the class draws on, she also notices he tends to favor traditional pencils to mechanical ones, keeps three different notebooks out at all times (One scrap, one work, and one graph), and has a tendency of staying unnervingly still while he's thinking something through.

And also his eyes are piercingly blue, and maybe his jawline looks pretty good, and the school uniforms blazer actually suits him pretty well.

But that's all secondary, of course.

Melanadahl groans when she tells him about her discoveries at lunch “Don't do this to yourself.”

“Do what?” Carina asks as she plops down next to Selene with her lunch bag.

“Selene's got a boner for the new guy because he did better on a test than she did,”

“Ooooh,” Carina nods “Is that all it takes? Because I kick your ass in chemistry, Selene. You wanna catch a movie this weekend?”

Selene throws her hands up in frustration while Carina takes a bite out of her apple, staring up at her from beneath her own square frames.

“Are you serious?” Selene finally asks.

Carina shrugs “Depends on if you say yes.”

“...Yeah, alright. Are you paying?”

“Sure,” she agrees with a grin.

“Woah, woah, woah! What about me?” Melanadahl pouts.

“You have enough significant others, and Selene deserves someone who can treat her special,” Carina points out.

Melanadahls pout deepens.

“Plus I don't put out,” Selene states bluntly.

“Oh. Well, then  I don't care,” Melanadahl finally settles before taking a bite out of his salad “You two do whatever makes you happy, just don't phase me out of the group.”

“Deal,” Selene and Carina agree in unison.

–

The movie actually goes...weirdly well, Selene thinks.

Carina found a small theater showing slightly older movies for cheaper prices, and buys both of them tickets for some cheesy sci-fi movie they enjoy. Selene takes her to a local coffee place that gives her a discount because she helps cover breaks sometimes after school in exchange for their wi-fi password.

They've been friends for a little over a year already, but there's still a lot she didn't know about Carina. Like how her parents fled Kirkwall after their debt to the Carta was technically paid off, or that she has an extensive collection of horror stories and movies, or that her favorite color is midnight blue. Carina ends up asking why they always study at either her or Melanadahls house, and never Selenes, and she has to explain that her parents aren't usually home, and she also, technically, doesn't have a key to the apartment ever since she enrolled in this school. But the fire escape leads right past her window, so she can get in and out that way on her own, and her scholarship gives her a stipend for transportation and uniform pieces and things that she budgets into food or things that she needs.

Carina just shakes her head, while Selene tries to change the subject.

They hold hands on the walk to Selenes apartment building (and Selene tries not to be awkward when she goes to the bottom of the fire escape instead of the actual entrance) when the sun starts to set, and Carina stretches up to kiss Selenes cheek before they part, and thank her for the date.

“Are we....dating then?” Selene asks. She hasn't really done this before, and she's not sure where to go from here.

“Think on it,” Carina suggests “We can be, if you want to do this on a regular basis, or we can just have had the one good date and leave it here.”

Selene nods, and rocks on her feet before bending over to place a return kiss to the dwarfs cheek. “Thank you,”

Carina smiles, and sends Selene off with a wave before leaving.

After crawling through the window, Selene kicks off her shoes and flops back onto her mattress.

Dating could be nice. She likes Carina, certainly. And they get along. But with school, and her studies...maybe this isn't the time for it?

Especially not with someone around and looking to push her out of her top spot.

Resolving herself, Selene sits back up, and pulls out her practice books and some paper, and gets back into her usual routine of study.

--