#and then there's... whatever the hell cuckoo is supposed to be

[konakoro]

Dan Stevens is in 3 movies this year and he's chomping on the scenery in each one like a starving dog given a slab of meat and bless him for that

[waitingandwishing]

(Cross posted on tumblr and AO3)

Prev - Next Chapter

"What's with the baby powder?" Y/N asked, walking out of the bathroom after changing into a white blouse and brown pants.

"It'll help with the itching." Five said as he shoved baby powder down his shirt.

"What itching? There's itching? What the hell is going on here?" Luther asked as Five shoved baby powder down his pants before his face turned into shock, "You do have a plan."

Five exhaled sharply, " Well, it's a desperation move, but... Since our brain-dead siblings are incapable of meeting a simple deadline, I got no choice." He said, grabbing his blazer and pacing through the living room.

"No choice about what?" Luther asked as Y/N came up next to him.

"I have to find myself." Five flicked his watch open before closing it and shoving it into his pocket, "I just arrived in Dallas 15 minutes ago."

"Should I be worried about you?" Luther asked.

"His past self that joined the Commission is here to make sure the president is assassinated." Y/N said.

"Oh! So, wait, you're old self is out there." Luther realized with a smile.

"Precisely." Five exhaled.

"What, just walking around Dallas?" Luther asked. Clearly, he thought a time traveling assassin should be more discreet.

"Walking around Dallas with a briefcase that can get us home." Five said as he started to stretch and Luther gasped.

"Oh, my God. Five, you're a genius." Luther said.

"However, there are two significant problems with this plan. Problem number one: I am a trained assassin, arguably the most dangerous assassin in the space-time continuum. If I know me, I'm not going to react kindly to bumping into myself." Five said, pacing around the room, "Problem number two, and this is the real fly in the ointment here: you're not supposed to exist in close proximity to yourself in the same timeline. The side effects can be disastrous."

"Side effects? What sort of side effects?" Luther asked.

"You never said there were side effects, Five." Y/N crossed her arms.

"Well, according to Commission Handbook Chapter 27, subsection 3b, the seven stages in paradox psychosis are... Stage one: denial, two: itching, three: extreme thirst and urination, four: excessive gas, five: acute paranoia, six: uncontrolled perspiration, and seven: homicidal rage."

"Homicidal rage?" Luther repeated, shocked. Y/N and Luther both shared eye contact thinking the same thing. Five's homicidal rage was already big enough, what would happen if the last side effect hit him?

"Yeah." Five sighed.

"Jeez, I don't know. This maybe isn't such a good idea." Luther said, now doubting the plan.

"It's a Hail Mary. But what choice do we got, Luther?" Five asked.

"I don't know, you already seem a bit squirrelly if I'm being honest." Luther said and Y/N nodded.

"He's right, you're acting a bit more..." Y/N twirled her finger on the side of her head, "Cuckoo."

"Look, Luther, Y/N, I'm gonna need you to help me get through this one, all right?" Five said, going over towards them and placing each of his hands on one of their shoulders, "I... I need a spotter."

"A spotter?"

"Yeah."

"What is that?" Luther asked. "Like, a wingman?"

"In case the paradox psychosis gets too severe, I need you both to help me stay on task, all right? So, whatever happens, whatever I say, we need to get that briefcase." Five said. "Okay?"

"Okay." Luther said and Y/N nodded before placing her hands on his shoulder.

"Five."

"What?"

"Just breathe, we'll be fine." Y/N said and Five sighed.

"Well, if worse comes to worse, we use you against him." Five said and Y/N did a double-take.

"Excuse me?"

"We'll just 'kill you' and then he'll be in so much shock that we'll take the briefcase." Five shrugged.

"I... Don't think that's how it works." Y/N frowned.

"Wait, so... Are you two are together? Since when?" Luther asked.

"A few days ago, be happy you're the first to know." Y/N said before turning to Five, "Just remember to breathe. Now, c'mon, let's go."

Five and Y/N started to walk away before turning back, "Luther! C'mon!" Five shouted and Luther nodded, chasing after them.

_____________________________________________________

"Well, there I am." Five spoke as they walked into an Irish pub.

"Why don't we just grab the briefcase and run?" Luther questioned looking between Five and Y/N. Though she wasn't paying attention as she scrunched her face at the pub.

"Out of all the places old you could pick, it was an Irish pub?" Y/N muttered.

"We're trained to guard these briefcases with our lives." Five continued. "Plus, it's the inherent paradox where this gets tricky. I'm endangering my existence just being in the room with myself."

"Huh... What do you mean?" Luther questioned.

"Luther, try to keep up before I kill you." Five said. "If old me doesn't travel back to 2019 like he's supposed to, the whole thing unravels itself. I cease to exist. You got me?"

"I get you." Luther spoke, smiling nervously.

"So our best chance is to talk with him, to reason with him. He'll understand. Trust me. I know myself better than, uh..." He sighed, itching his neck. "Better than I know myself."

"You just itched your neck." Luther pointed out. "That's stage two of paradox psychosis."

"No, I didn't. I didn't itch my neck." Five replied defensively.

"Denial is stage one." Y/N commented.

"I am fine, okay?" He spat walking over to his older self. "Let's stay on task, shall we?"

"Wait!" Luther spoke, grabbing a hold of him. "Maybe I should go first."

"Why?" Both Five and Y/N questioned.

"Well, you'll freak him out. Bumping into your own tiny doppelganger? He will lose his shit. Just let me break the ice."

"That's actually smart Luther, well done buddy." Y/N spoke, patting him on the back with a nod.

"Okay." Five agreed.

"Okay." Luther spoke walking over to the older/younger Five as Five stressed out.

"Hey, you okay?" Y/N asked, putting a hand on Five's shoulder.

"Just stressed about meeting myself, you know. The usual." He chuckled nervously.

"Hey, it's okay. Worse comes to worse, you kill me and we're all good." Y/N smiled, "Just remember to breathe, you're going to give yourself a panic attack."

Five nodded, letting out a shaky sigh before breathing in slowly with a slight smile. "All right."

Luther spoke, calling us over as Five jumped us behind one of the wooden beams before peaking out. "Hey there, stranger."

They had all sat down at a table, Luther next to visual grandpa and Y/N sat next to mental grandpa. "Well..." Luther sighed as both Fives stared each other down. "This is nice, isn't it? The four of us, together like this."

"No." Both fives spat.

"I, for one, think Luther has a great mindset." Y/N grinned, taking a sip of her drink.

"Somebody explain to me how it is that I'm having a pint of Guinness with my younger self." Other Five questions still staring down Five.

"Older, actually." Five corrected. "I'm you, just 14 days older."

"I have pubic hair smarter than you." Other Five spat, making Y/N chuckle at the remark. "How's that possible?"

"Don't encourage him." Five turned to Y/N before turning to Other Five.

"I can explain. You see, one hour from now, on the grassy knoll, before the president is killed, you break your contract with the Commission. I already know you're thinking about it. All those years in the apocalypse, we never stopped worrying about our family. Well, today, you are going to do something about it. Today, you are going to attempt to time travel forward to 2019. However, you are going to screw up the jump and end up in this twip of a body, trapped forever, small, pubescent." Five explained.

"Okay, how did Y/N end up as her younger self too? She died... And even if I was to believe you, what am I supposed to do about it, not jump?"

"No, no. I need you to jump. If you don't jump, I cease to exist." Five sighed. "And Y/N did die, this is an alternate version of her. Anyway, what I need from you is to jump correctly."

"I'm listening."

"The first time through, I got the calculation wrong. That's how I ended up in this body. But now, I know the correct calculation." Five spoke, eyeing the other Five intensely.

"What is it?"

"I'll be glad to tell you..." Five smiled evilly, both of them were sweating profusely now. "In exchange for that briefcase you're holding under the table."

"Yeah, yeah, so you go back to 2019, as planned, but this time with the right math, so you remain a full-grown man. In exchange, we get that briefcase that you no longer need." Luther explained looking to Y/N to see if he got it right, she gave him a smile and thumbs up.

"Timeline restored, paradox resolved." Y/N smiled and the other Five seemed to... Freeze. It's probably been a while since he heard her voice. She still had the same smile he remembered.

"Everyone goes on existing happily ever after." Five spoke, making the other Five's head snap back to him.

"That's quite a bit to take in." Other Five spoke a little dazed.

"What do you think?" Five questioned knowing he had confused the fuck out of him.

"I think..." The other Five sighed. "I need to piss."

"Oh." Luther spoke as the other Five walked away to the bathroom. "Well, besides the flop sweat, I think that went pretty well, am I right?" Luther spoke, wiping Fives face with a towel.

"No, no, there's something... Something doesn't feel right about this." Five spoke, slapping Luther's hand away.

"What do you mean?" I spoke kinda concerned because of how much he was fidgeting.

"I don't trust him."

"But he's you."

"Exactly." Five spat.

"But this could be stage five of paradox psychosis." Y/N rationed, "Acute paranoia."

After Luther went to go talk to the other Five, Y/N suddenly stood up and Five turned to her with confusion. "Something wrong?" Five asked and Y/N nodded.

"I just felt something weird." Circe said, "Like... A shift of atmosphere or... Something changed." She said, breathing harshly.

"Hey, hey, hey. What happened to breathing?" Five placed his hand on Y/N's.

She slowed her breathing and nodded before sitting down and taking a sip of her drink, "I-I dunno, I guess all of a sudden I'm paranoid?" She chuckled slightly, "But still. I'm... Just... There's an anxious feeling I have."

Five nodded, squeezing her hand and she squeezed it back before the other Five came back with Luther. "We good?" Five questioned when the other Five came out of the bathroom followed by Luther.

"We're good." Luther repeated with an almost nervous tone making Y/N eye him suspiciously.

"You got a deal. We gotta hurry. Kennedy's en route. Less than an hour until showtime." The other Five spoke.

"Why are you so anxious to get going all of a sudden?" Five questioned, standing up slightly. "Weren't in a hurry before." Five spoke also suspicious of Luther and other Five's sudden eagerness.

"Relax." Past Five spoke. "You're getting paranoid."

They all exited the pub and started walking down the street, Five yelling at everyone around them as Luther and other Five talked to each other. Y/N sighed to herself before hitting his arm.

"We need to get the briefcase. No one else here matters. Focus." Y/N said and Five groaned.

"Hey brother, Y/N. How you guys doing?" Luther spoke as he stood next to Five smiling awkwardly.

"He's gonna kill me, isn't he?" Five spoke as they walked down the stairs.

"What? What, him?" Luther laughed nervously. "He's gonna kill you? Yeah, right. That's ridiculous."

"You know, you're a terrible liar, Luther." Y/N spoke up as he laughed nervously.

"You're a worse liar than you are a spotter." Five added.

"Okay, whose fault is that? What good is having a spotter if you won't even listen to him?" Luther admitted putting away his fake smile.

"So you admit you're conspiring against me?" Five spat.

"Do you admit that you're suffering from paradox psychosis?"

"All I'm suffering from is bracing clarity about you and your murderous intentions."

"Look, it's not like he's gonna "kill you" kill you. He just wants to kill a, um..." Luther sighed trying to find a word. "Version of you."

"But he is that version, Luther." Y/N grimaced.

"Hey, I don't love it, either, but he's actually got a pretty good plan." Luther said as they reached the end of the stairway and started walking on the road.

"What? The one where you guys off me and then jump to 2019 to save the world?" Five spoke. getting more and more angry.

"Yeah- Wait, how did you know that?"

"Because I'm him, and that is exactly what I would do if I were trying to kill me!" Five yelled, clarifying for his stupid monkey brain.

"Okay, all I know is we've got one Five too many, and you're the one acting like a maniac." Luther spoke between Five and Y/N.

"Luther, you shouldn't have said tha-"

"Maniac? Luther, you have seen nothing. If you want a maniac, I will show you maniac." Five said, leaning into Luther as his face turned red.

"Okay, as your spotter, I think the best thing I can do for you right now is put you out of your misery." Luther spoke.

"Okay, Luther, listen. I know your feeble mind only responds to age and authority, so listen very closely. Yet again, you are experiencing daddy issues, this time with your own brother, which honestly is making me a bit crazy. But remember this." Five sighed. "I'm 14 days older than him. I have seniority here. So it is me you should be listening to, Luther. I'm the daddy here !"

"How's it going?" Luther smiled nervously at the people walking by hearing Five's whole speech. "Five, please, you're being unseemly. Look at you." The three of them started walking again, picking up the pace to match past Five's. "I admit there is a possibility that I may not be in my fully... Right mind right now."

"Okay, good."

"But whatever he's got, the other ones got it too." Y/N pointed to the other Five.

"You three quit grab-assing. We're here." The other Five spoke as we walked over to a grassy area with a fence overlooking the grassy knoll. "This is my favorite part." The other Five spoke, getting his gun ready. "The calm before the storm."

"Look. The briefcase." Five spoke about jumping before Y/N put a hand in front of him to stop him.

"You won't be able to get there in time."

"Of course I will. This is our only chance." Five spoke.

"Hey, uh, just remind me... What was the final stage of paradox psychosis again?" Luther questioned.

"Homicidal rage." Five spoke nonchalantly.

"Right." Luther laughed before he realized what that meant and his smile immediately dropped. "That's great. Five, listen to me. I-" Before Luther could finish or Y/N could stop him, Five jumped.

"No. No! Y/N couldn't you have used your whole power thing on him?" Luther spoke looking at her.

"I’m entertained!" Y/N admitted, watching Five try to take the briefcase. "And he caught me off guard!"

"Oh... shit." Luther spoke as Five failed to get the briefcase and the other Five was now holding a gun to his head.

"Bad idea, shit-heel." He yelled.

"Stop it! All right? The both of you. Pull it together." Luther yelled grabbing the gun from the other Five which made him jump slightly. "Now, Kennedy is gonna be coming around that corner any minute. Okay? So, everyone, let's just take a deep breath... Now, we're all family here, okay? So can we all just try to get along for a few more minutes?"

"You want it?" Five spoke looking at the other Five. "Go ahead." He replied.

"What's that?" Luther spoke looking to all of them before one kicked him in his crotch. "Shit."

"Now... Where were we?"

As Luther grabbed his crotch in pain, Y/N watched both Five's fight as they attempted to kill one another. It was quite entertaining actually, she was kind of glad she let them do it. 

They did this for a while until Luther finally didn't feel pain in his crotch and spoke up. "Would you please-" Luther tried to speak before getting kicked in the stomach by both Five's. "Hey!" Luther yelled. "I'm getting really sick of this!"

After a while, Five and Old Five teleported in front of each other again. "Getting tired yet?" Other Five spoke.

"I can do this all day."

"Guys, this has to stop." Luther yelled.

"Eat shit, Ape Man." They both yelled as they spatially jumped towards each other creating some sort of explosion.

"It's alright Luther." Y/N spoke from behind Luther as she patted his back.

"Hey! Assholes!" Luther spoke, grabbing the gun. "I'm done listening to you both." He yelled pointing the gun at them. "I'm in charge now."

"Now, Luther! Shoot him!" Past Five yelled.

"No! Luther, shoot him!" Current (?) Five yelled.

"Shoot him!"

"No, Luther, shoot him."

"Luther, shoot him!"

"Luther, shoot him."

"Now, Luther!" Past Five spoke as Luther aimed the gun at current Five.

"Luther..." Current Five pleaded.

Y/N straightened as her hands raised slightly, "Luther, what're you doing?"

""I'm sorry, buddy." He spoke keeping the gun on Five before he hit the other Five in the head knocking him out. Luther was thrown away as Y/N gasped.

"Sorry!" Y/N shouted and helped him up, "You're just really convincing!"

"Uh... That hurt..." Luther sighed.

"Ever think you should be an actor?" Y/N asked with a sheepish smile.

"Open the portal!"

"Don't even think about it." Luther spoke, aiming the gun at Past Five who had just awoken from his slumber.

"Into the vortex you go, asshole." Five spoke pointing at the portal in front of him.

"Fine! But give me the math. So I don't end up looking like Tiger Beat over here." He yelled.

"You stand next to the vortex and I'll tell ya." Five spat. Looking into the portal, Y/N saw all of them.

"Why do I look so much better in 2019?" Y/N mumbled, looking to herself.

"Go! Closer!" Five yelled.

"This is close enough! Now give it to me!" The other Five replied.

"It was a typo."

"Typo?"

"We put the decimal in the wrong spot in our proof of the existence of a bound for the number of limit cycles of planar polynomial vector fields of fixed degree. We wrote down five-point-seven. It should be..."

"... Zero-point-five-seven. Son of a bitch. I knew that didn't look right."

"All right... I guess this is it."

"This is it. Go."

Out of the portal came an extinguisher that Klaus had thrown hitting Luther in the head. "No!" Five yelled as the other Five went to get the briefcase.

Y/N grabbed it trying to get it before the other 2 did. Instead they both snatched it from her grasp. Fighting over it.

"Five! It's shrinking!" She yelled.

"The crowd yells.... And there's the president of the United States."

"We did it!" Luther yelled after he had kicked the other Five into the portal cutting the briefcase in half.

"The briefcase, you idiot." Five yelled.

"What? Hey, you know what? A thank-you for preserving your existence would be nice."

""A thank-you."" Five mumbled in disbelief.

"And here they come. The presidential car is moving out..."

"Guys! Here he comes!" Y/N yelled as she looked over the fence.

"Look, there's Dad." Luther spoke pointing to a man with a black umbrella. "What do we do?"

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah."

"Oh, shit. Diego." Y/N widened her eyes. Diego tackled a man not realizing it wasn't Dad and behind him he heard shots.

"KLIF bulletin, from Dallas, three shots reportedly were fired at the motorcade of President Kennedy today, near the downtown section. This is a sad time for all people. We have suffered a loss... that cannot be weighed..."

[fresh-prince-of-denmark]

Analysis of the Devil Ending: Who Died and Left Aristotle In Charge of Ethics? (Pt 5)

Hello and welcome back to me over-analyzing everything in Cyberpunk. If you haven’t read my other posts, please read those first! (V’s Mikoshi Poem, Johnny’s Mikoshi Poem, The Sun, New Dawn Fades).

This part took me a lot longer to complete. Not because it was particularly long…it was just painful. Jesus Christ. I hated every second of this ending. That shit hurted.

There were a few shards located at Arasaka’s estate that I chose to skip, as I did not find ant that were unique to the location. The three the game seemed to want to draw your attention to were actually not scattered as shards, they were spoken-word. The only shard I was able to find was a portion of The Odyssey. The other two pieces of literature are In Kyoto, which is quoted to V by the guard to takes her to the hospital room, and (what I believe to be) a reference to Plato’s The Allegory of the Cave. This section is going to be super theoretical. Like, more theoretical than the rest. So bare with me please.

Let’s start easy. This is the poem that the guard quotes at V as he leads her out of the operating room:

In Kyoto,

hearing the cuckoo,

I long for Kyoto

(By: Basho, translated by Jane Hirshfield)

Ten words. What could ten words amount to? The saddest goddamn words you’ll ever hear, dammit.  This poem is a feeling more than a concept. Ever feel homesick when you haven’t gone anywhere? Lonely when you’re around other people? That’s V. This was supposed to be a victory, supposed to be what they wanted. But now Johnny’s gone, scorned and betrayed, and no one they calls seems to even be able to give V the time of day. This was supposed to be a victory, their way of going back to the way things were, getting their life back, going home. But we can never go back, can’t ever erase our experiences, what we learn, how we grow. As Misty says, we should not fear change in of itself, but who we might change into. This just goes to show what happens when we betray ourselves by rejecting our own growth: all that’s left is bitterness and sorrow.

The next day when V wakes, you can pick up a shard containing a section from Chapter 8 of The Odyssey. Now, I’m not too familiar with the Odyssey. In fact, I hate the Odyssey. So if anyone wants to jump in here and add something more intelligent, I’m all for it. The Odyssey is the tale of Odysseus, who has been trying for ten long years to return to his wife and son after the Trojan war. Odysseus is basically listening to a bard remind him of all his Trojan War trauma, and begins to weep, at which time time people start questioning what’s up with this guy:

Say what thy birth, and what the name you bore,

Imposed by parents in the natal hour?

(For from the natal hour distinctive names,

One common right, the great and lowly claims:)

Say from what city, from what regions toss'd,

And what inhabitants those regions boast?

So shalt thou instant reach the realm assign'd.

In wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind;

No helm secures their course, no pilot guides;

Like man intelligent, they plough the tides,

Conscious of every coast and every bay,

That lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray;

Though clouds and darkness veil the encumber'd sky,

Fearless through darkness and through clouds they fly;

Though tempests rage, though rolls the swelling main,

The seas may roll, the tempests may rage in vain,

E'en the stern god that o'er the waves presides,

Safe as they pass, and safe repass the tides,

With fury burns; while careless they convey

Promiscuous every guest to every bay,

These ears have heard my royal sire disclouse

A dreadful story, big with future woes;

How Neptune raged, and how, by his command,

Firm rooted in a surge a ship would stand

A monument of wrath; how mound on mound

Should bury these proud towers beneath the ground.

But this the gods may frustrate or fulfill,

As suits the purpose of the Eternal Will.

But say through what waste regions hast thou stray'd

What customs noted, and what coasts survey'd;

Possess'd by wild barbarians fierce in arms,

Or men whose bosom tender pity warms?

Say why the fate o Troy awaked thy cares,

Why heaved thy bosom, and why flowed thy tears?

Reading this made me feel just how tired V must be. All this fighting, all this war, and for what? Much like Odysseus, V has been through hell and back (literally, depending on how you see it). And it never seems to end. V has been fighting for so long, yet there’s always something more; the tests the doctor gives her are endless, and they’re always being asked to do more, over and over again, with no results or end in sight. Odysseus is teetering on despair; nothing he does seems to do will ever be enough, just like V. The world will just take and take and take. It’s exactly what V’s poem asserts in Mikoshi; the world cannot be fixed, and resistance is futile. You can’t change how corporations rule the world, and as a protestor states on the TV in the hospital room, the rich have no boundaries or morals, and we are powerless to stop them from taking whatever they want. They can take not only our souls, but our bodies, devour them in order to prolong their own lives. Johnny would, of course, disagree. Even a slap in the face to The Man is better than submitting to a corpo-leash, even if that is the easier path. And in fact, he may be right, since it seems taking Hanako’s offer is the conformist path, and the only one that leads to Saburo coming back.

But Johnny isn’t there anymore to walk the rebel path at their side. No more guardian angel to whisper when they it most to never stop fighting.

There’s a lot more we could go into here with the Odyssey; comparing Arasaka to the story of Polyphemus and the cave, talking about themes of passion vs. commitment, yadayadayada. I hate the Odyssey so that can be someone else’s problem tbh.

The final piece is what the doctor asks V to read as one of their tests. Now, on surface-level, this is foreshadowing if V will choose to stay in their body, or be turned into an engram. It’s laughing at them, really, both pitying and mocking the fact that they believe they have a choice, since either way they’re once again at the mercy of the rich and powerful:

“And it was a sight to behold, he said, how a soul would choose its life; sometimes pitiable, sometimes laughable at times wonderful and strange. For in most cases, the souls made their choice according to the habits of a former life.”

I couldn’t find where this was from, or if it was a quote from anything. But googling it does bring up Plato’s Allegory of The Cave, which I thinks tracks pretty well. I found a quote from this chapter of Plato’s The Republic, which is strikingly similar in meaning. For the sake of my sanity, lets assume that this quote is referencing this one from Plato:

“And he will count the one happy in his condition and state of being, and he will pity the other; or, if he have a mind to laugh at the soul which comes from below into the light, there will be more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him who returns from above out of the light into the cave.”

If you’re unfamiliar with the allegory of the cave, it’s a philosophical discussion from Plato’s The Republic. It’s about how human perception is limited, and so true knowledge comes from the self via philosophical reasoning. Much like humans imprisoned in a cave with only shadows as their entire world, we cannot imagine the true world outside the cave until we leave to see it for ourselves.  Those who are freed from this limited reasoning have a duty to go back and free others, subjecting them to the full experience of awakening; both the pain and the triumph it entails. V starts out with a limited perception of things; a surface-level world, never stopping to see the bigger picture, until Johnny comes along and encourages them to question the status quo. In all other endings, V accepts this enlightenment. They challenge Arasaka, and try to follow Johnny’s legacy and Stick It To the Man. Yet if they accept Hanako’s offer in an attempt to return to “the habits of a former life,” they are rejecting this new understanding, refusing to leave the cave and live in ignorant bliss. This, I believe, is where Johnny’s true feeling of betrayal comes from: not because he’s being shredded, and not because he thinks V doesn’t know any better. V learned and changed just as much as he did, and this growth was something they were able to gift to one another. Johnny is proud of his change, proud to be someone trusted by V, proud at a second chance not to fuck things up. When V gives him control to go with Rogue to Arasaka, he’s ecstatic to prove himself worthy of that trust, to prove that he’s changed. Yet V, the person who aided in that change, is now actively ignoring and rejecting their own growth, and thus is betraying themselves. By not using their enlightenment to actively oppose the status quo and rebel, they are choosing the side of the oppressor by default.

Some of her last words if you choose not to sign the contract are to Goro, “You have no idea how good it feels to be free.” But the truth is, V is not free, and now they will never be free. By walking the path they have, they are choosing willful ignorance, stubbornly clinging to the darkness of the cave because it is easier to convince oneself that they are not a prisoner at all than it is to leave the comfort of one’s chains. Either way, they are caged, even if the bars the rich and powerful build around her are clear instead of solid. Her so-called freedom (and knowledge) is pure illusion — shadows depicted on a cave wall.

[lilblog-asatreat]

Prompt: Clock maker; pocket mirror; uninvited guest arrives

(Prompt from Roll-A-Prompt Writing Journal Boxed Set)

(Also, got a couple of names from the fantasy name generator)

Dusk falls over Raven's Roost as the last rays of sunlight give way to the oncoming darkness of night. The shadows of buildings grow longer and darker across the quiet stone streets of the Craftsmen's Corridor, and they hide a few people with gaunt faces and dirty rag clothing as they scurry out of sight between buildings, hoping to find a place to rest outside of the watchful eye of the militia. Apart from them and a single militia wagon that slowly passes by, there is no one out on the street tonight. No one except a tall, muscular human man with sideburns longer than his beard who steps out from under a shadow and cautiously creeps his way up the street. He makes it to a little shop with a worn sign on the front proclaiming the establishment to be called Shadowpeak's Timekeep, and he knocks softly on the door.

When no one answers the door, the man knocks a little louder and more insistently. A few moments later, the door opens, revealing a short gnomish man with a long, graying beard and a sour look on his face. He shakes his head irritatedly and ushers the man inside before closing and locking the door behind him.

The shop is full of different styles and structures of clocks left out on display, ranging from tall, grand grandfather clocks to simple, humble wall clocks to goofy looking cuckoo clocks and everything in between. A small broom leans against a short, messy desk with different gears and screws and other odds and ends scattered next to a till that has seen better days. The gnome walks to the desk and leans against it, and he crosses his arms and stares intensely at his uninvited guest.

"Well, Burnsides, is there a reason your risking both mine and your neck for being here after curfew?"

"Yeah, uh, actually, there is, Xalver. I need to talk to you about something important and hopefully get your help with something I'm working on." The man identified as Burnsides says.

Xalver pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Magnus... Look. I may not get out much anymore, but word does still get around and gets to me, and I'm sorry, but I can't join whatever little revolution you've got cooking up with some of the other folks around here. I just can't, and honestly, you need to disband this notion that it's going to work before you get yourself and whoever few other people you've got backing you up killed. It's not worth it."

Magnus crosses his arms. "If we don't do something, people will die anyway. People are dying. Right now. Because of Governor Kalen and his friends and his policies. I just walked past at least five people on the street who are homeless and starving, and I bet you at least three of them will get caught after curfew in the next week and will be incarcerated. The only people we are allowed to see when we are sick or dying are Kalen's rich as fuck friends who he has designated as the 'only qualified healers' in town who don't do shit and charge an arm and a leg for it. Every month, debt collectors come knocking on our doors asking for even more money than before because of some new tax law, and our businesses are going under. Me, Julia, and Steven are barely keeping ourselves afloat with Steven's savings, Julia just reported that Annie's quilting business officially went under yesterday, and I saw you arguing with the debt collector last month because you weren't going to have enough money to feed your family." Xalver winces at that and looks away. "This has to stop. We have to do something. I'm not saying it's going to be easy. I'm not saying it isn't going to be risky. But we are all miserable and starving and losing our homes and livelihoods for some buttwipe who thinks he can have it all and then some."

Xalver looks back at Magnus. "Yeah, ok, shit sucks right now. Believe me, I get that. But what the hell do you think you're going to be able to do about that? Are you going to kill Governor Kalen? Are you going to teach him a lesson ghost of Candlenights past style about the true meaning of love and how to care about people? What the fuck is it that you think you're going to do to make his reign of terror come to an end?"

Magnus smiles. "We'll run him and his friends out of town! If we make enough hell for them, they're eventually going to leave because it wouldn't be worth trying to stay here if, say, the Governor's manor burns down and if we jail break all of the prisoners and start a riot and start chasing him and his lackeys through the streets-"

"The militia will kill you," Xalver says flatly.

Magnus' smile falters. "Yeah, that's why we're going to have people who can fight back. Like I said, this isn't going to be easy, but with enough people supporting us... we outnumber them! Everyone in Raven's Roost, if we can get the majority of the people on board, we can win this!"

"If you get the majority of the people on board to die? To risk their and their family's lives? Over something with no guarentee will actually work?" Xalver grabs his broom and storms behind the counter. He shoves it in a corner before starting on scooping up the stuff on his desk and stuffing it into various drawers.

Magnus sighs and moves to stand by the desk. "Did you miss the part where I said we are dying anyway?" Xalver stops momentarily to glare at him before going back to stuffing his drawers more forcefully than before. "Look. If we don't do anything about it, Kalen is going to continue stepping all over us, and he's going to end up wiping out all of the sick and the poor first. Then he's going to go after all of the people he's made bankrupt, and he's going to make them work directly under him and work them into the ground. And there's no chance of stopping him and potentially saving the lives of our neighbors or the next generation. If we do do something about it, there is a chance of us failing and all of that still happening, but there's also a chance that we'll succeed. Realistically, we won't be able to save everyone, but we can very well try, and the community as a whole will be better off for it."

Xalver slams a drawer closed so hard, it rattles the desk, and a small, silver, circular device falls. Magnus quickly catches it before it hits the ground and examines it closely. The outside is intricately designed with a stylized L on the front with a backdrop of gears and wires. He opens the clasp, and there's a mirror on the inside of the top half. The bottom half looks like there might have been a mirror there too at one point, but it was taken out and in it's place is a picture of a gnomish woman standing next to a young gnomish girl with one hand on her shoulder. The girl looks a lot like the older gnome behind her and a bit like Xalver.

Magnus closes the pocket mirror and hands it to Xalver who takes it and places it back on the desk. "That's Loriza's, right?" Magnus asks softly.

Xalver rubs his eyes tiredly and groans. "Yeah, she must have left it out here on accident."

"How old is she now?"

"Seventeen. She was supposed to start at this prestigious artificing school in Neverwinter next year, but..."

"You no longer have the money," Magnus finished for him.

Xalver picks up the pocket mirror again and opens it, staring at the picture hidden within it. He thumbs over it gently and sighs. "I don't want to die on her and leave her alone in this mess, Magnus. When her mother passed... It was so sudden and unexpected, and for the longest time, she was paranoid that I would kick it too and she'd be alone. I'm the only one she has, and... I'm failing her. I can't give her the life that she deserves. I-" he lets out a short sad laugh. "I haven't even told her yet that I don't have the means to send her to school. This is one of the things she's wanted the most out of her life, to study at this school and become a world renowned artificer. And I've saved up as much as I could, but I've had to dip into that savings time and time again just to keep us alive and to keep the business running, and... I can't do it anymore."

Magnus walks around the desk to stand next to the smaller man, and he squeezes his shoulder gently. "We can still make her dream happen. We can fight to give her a chance at a better life, and I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure you get to still come home to her, but I need your help. Please." He adds softly.

Xalver stares at the picture for a few moments longer before he sighs and closes the mirror. He sets it back down on his desk and turns to face the taller man. "Ok. What do you need me to do?"

[atlascas]

DEANCAS FIC REC

(last updated 7/1)

FINALLY. this is like. just a place for me to rec and write excessively abt the fics i've been reading lately. it won't be organized but it WILL be very earnest and i'll keep it updated as i find/remember more. also i have obnoxiously high standards when it comes to fic so these ARE the cream of the crop, if u will. the god tier. the s tier. 

very loosely organized into "newer fic" and "classics." these are subjective categories. do what you will

✨ = new fic on the list

💖 = in my brain rent free!

CURRENTLY READING

these are the fics that i’m currently reading! may or may not get recced. usually i read the first couple paragraphs/lines and if i like the writing it gets bookmarked and put on this list.

lazarus needs a robe of scarlet thread by herrosesneverfall, 90k, canonverse au. dean starts getting stigmata. when i was getting back into spn there were a LOT of religious fics flying around bc that was the Hot Topic of Discussion. this was one of them

Three weeks ago, Dean woke up in a pine box. He thought dealing with the nightmares was going to be the most difficult part of his new life after Hell, but at least they were something he could understand. Something he could deal with. Something he deserved.

Then he began having agonizing visions of crucifixion. Wounds appeared on his body out of nowhere. Wounds that refused to heal and coated his skin with the sickly sweet smell of roses.

Stigmata are said to be the marks of saints, but Dean is not a saint and the wounds are only the beginning.

kingdom come by ahurston, 8.7k, coda to 15x18. cas gets to go home. im gathering all the s15 fix-its to my heart and holding them close

Cas wakes up on the coast of Maine. He makes his way home.

hunger by ellispark, 10.8k, s13 au. dean grieves cas, post s12 finale. perfect writing perfect awful heartwrenching characterization so far on dean’s end especially towards jack. nuanced emotional writing

Dean takes his meal and throws it away, plate and all. He's not hungry. How can he even begin to eat, knowing what he kept from Cas — what he kept from both of them?

They could have had something, and now all Dean has is this gaping, empty hole in his stomach, in his chest, and he has to learn to breathe and eat and move around it.

the law of equivalent exchange by awed_frog, 60.8k, canonverse. cas loving dean in all permutations of humanity, throughout time.

“And what’s the point of it?”

“Of love? There isn’t one. Loving is its own purpose.”

NEWER FIC

“newer” just means “i discovered it in 2020/2021 after coming back to spn fandom” so it very well could have been published before 2015 but really who’s checking. not me that’s for sure.

💖 so says the sword by komodobits, 85k, s4 au. cas guards the michael sword in the beautiful room. this is easily the MOST obvious rec on this entire list but it was the first fic i read when i got back into spn this year and jesus christ it set the bar sky fucking high. the way they create a coherent mythology out of the mess that is spn canon is incredible.

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’

Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

assimilation by komodobits, 5.6k, coda to 12x01. mary meets dean and cas and they go to find sam. such good character studies of all three of them. the best mary pov fic i’ve read

Mary always thought you were supposed to be able to tell. That you could just look at someone and know they were – you know. One of that sort. It’s not supposed to happen to her son.

cuckoo and nest by komodobits, 10k, ambiguously canonverse. dean and cas navigate relationship anxiety. cute, in character, and their relationship is realistic and the conflict well-written and emotionally nuanced and really really really good. 

For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental.

It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless.

💖 one white lie by komodobits, 11k, au. cas panics when trying to ask dean out and has to fake being a jehovah’s witness. it’s adorable and hilarious and it’s been ages since i actually got butterflies at a kiss in a fic but this did it. it did it. it felt like someone swaddled my soul in a cashmere blanket and kissed me on the forehead

Castiel takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t need to run through what he’s going to say – he’s already planned and edited and rehearsed it a thousand times. He is going to ask Dean Winchester out to dinner. If it’s not too forward, he’ll say, perfectly charming. You see, I’ve seen you around the neighbourhood and you always seem so earnest and I’d really like to get to know you bette— The door swings open, and Castiel panics.

He intends to excuse himself. He means to apologise and come back some other time. However, in a moment of blind fear, what comes out of his mouth instead are the words, “Could you spare a moment for Jesus Christ?”

a crash course in someone else’s history by annie d (scaramouche), 11.5k, set during s6. cas comes to as his s4 self without any memories of the past two years and has to figure out what the fuck is going on. it’s kind of like so says the sword. you’ll know it when you get to it.

Castiel is captured inside a trapping circle of holy oil set by Dean and Sam Winchester. The brothers call him "Cas", claiming that he has amnesia and that he is obligated to help them take down Crowley to atone for his betrayal of them. It's the strangest story Castiel's ever heard, and one he doesn't have time for because he's only just raised Dean from Hell and has work to get back to.

💖 cas and dean’s adventures in gardening by ahurston, 19k, post-canon au. a series featuring dean and cas living in the bunker, human. cas is very into plants. i read this yesterday actually and it made me smile SO much it’s just so lovely and sweet. i’m also a sucker for any fic where cas has a garden. he deserves a fucking garden okay

In this post-God world, everything is different. A little quieter, a little softer. Cas grows a garden, Dean cooks, and they take care of each other.

tall grass by aeli_kindara, 57k, post-s12. dean and cas live in the bunker on their own, and cas grows a garden. i did say i love fics where cas has a garden. plus domesticity, plus some good case fic, PLUS dean and cas’ relationship is so gentle and good

“I think we should have a garden,” Cas says.

Dean looks up from his beer. He hasn’t had that much to drink, but Cas still has a vague look of unreality about him, a splash of living color that doesn’t fit in the bunker’s echoing stillness. Dean didn’t hear him coming. A lot of the time, Cas is so unobtrusive it feels like Dean has the bunker to himself, with Sam away.

Dean shakes his head to clear it. “A — garden?” he repeats.

in a week by renrub, 2.3k, post 15x18. cas is in the empty. dean saves him. this is genuinely the best “dean pulls cas out of the empty” fic i’ve read so far like conceptually this entire thing just fucks. when cas is cycling through the barn scene. god. SO well written

Castiel is outside a barn covered in sigils. He frowns. This isn’t right. This has never been something he repented for.

i won’t even wish for snow by annie d (scaramouche), 5.6k, college au. cas goes to the winchesters’ for christmas. honestly scaramouche fics belong in the classics section bc she’s like an og deancas writer but whatever. mistletoe! banter! good in-character au! this fic’s got it all

It’s the third year that Castiel’s spending Christmas with his best friend’s family, and he expects it to be much like the previous two. Then mistletoe happens.

convenient husbands by annie d (scaramouche), 39k, canonverse au. cas is a phoenix, dean is a hunter. they get married and have a sick psychic bond. unexpectedly fluffy considering how the fic starts and i love the banter so much and dean/cas’ relationship gets fleshed out and organically developed it’s very cute

"It's only temporary, right?" Dean says. "Just until you're healed up, and then we'll never have to see each other again. So what do you say, Castiel, do you want to marry me or not?"

cinderwings by bendingsignpost, 181k, cinderella au. cas goes to a masquerade ball to save his people from an eternity trapped in a void. he meets prince dean. i can’t tell u how much this fic drew me in - thru good worldbuilding, but mostly thru cas’ social awkwardness. like it works PERFECTLY to his advantage in this fic and reading how expertly he manipulates social situations w/o any fucking idea what he’s doing is both hilarious and inspiring

Under the cover of a masquerade ball, Castiel has five nights to recover the key to his people's freedom. The world has changed greatly in the six centuries since their banishment into the void, but the task isn't impossible. Unfortunately for Castiel, this is going to involve talking to people - especially the Knight Prince who has taken an interest in Castiel and his "costume" wings.

as the crow flies by bendingsignpost, 3.4k, au. dean and cas go on a roadtrip. cas has wings! it’s so dreamlike and meandering and the slowburn is so good. honestly it reminds me of stevebucky/stevesam post tws era roadtrip fics if ur hip LMAO

Cross country road trips with Cas are the best.

long-term relationship by bendingsignpost, 2.7k, au. dean and cas have a Serious Conversation about their relationship.

Castiel says, budging over to make room for Dean on the couch, “I thought we should have a serious talk about our relationship.”

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

“Uh, Cas... you know we’re not dating, right?”

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers, 7k, ambiguously canonverse. dean is trans. dean and cas are fucking and lowkey hiding it from sam. perfect character study PERFECT trans dean fic it’s so fucking well-written 

“Hey,” Dean said. “I’m not ashamed of you, okay?”

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

“I understand you mean it,” Cas said. “But I don’t think it’s any better if you’re only ashamed of yourself.”

💖 the love story of the runner up by margo_kim, 4.7k, ambiguously canonverse. cas tries dating other men. bear with me here. this is an outside pov fic from an oc named miguel who is WONDERFULLY characterized and very endearing like i find outsider/oc pov to be on Thin Fucking Ice bc it always ends up as fandom/author self-insert but miguel is his OWN MAN. he gets his own lil arc and everything. dean and cas are concentrated perfectly crystallized versions of themselves and the little glimpses we get of them are amazing. ALSO i wrote like 9k of an spn vent fic (basically the same premise but w an oc named marcus) back in like. freshman yr of hs. so when i first opened this fic i was like what the fuck someone’s been in my google docs. very weird experience 10/10 regardless

“So you saw a white man in a trench coat pop out in an alley,” Paul says, “and you thought, what, ‘I want to see where this is going’?”

“If you get hung up on details like that,” Miguel says, “it will take a very long time to get through this story.”

For a very weird era in his life, Miguel dates an angel who is in love with another man.

sunshine by northernsparrow, 8k, set during s13. dean and cas have a long conversation about their Profound Bond. the description left me off-balance (it really. really truly says “dean is straight in this fic” like okay bro WEIRD hill to die on) but it pulled through w the relationship study and reassurance and snuggles. a sweet fic

One-shot with a single conversation between Dean and Castiel, set in a late-S13-ish world. Gabriel, Cas, Sam & Dean are all living in the bunker together, Gabe's been cracking certain jokes, Sam's found a certain book, Cas is injured and isn’t healing... and it's all making Dean wonder if his angel friend might have some sort of a "bond" with... somebody? Whatever that means.

Maybe it's time for a talk.

💖 still life by catchclaw, 16.5k, post-s8. cas, newly human, goes to live on his own for a while. he and dean maintain a relationship thru the phone. this is LITERALLY the only first person fic i fucking respect okay like i was skeptical! i really was! but the pov is PERFECT and also my man kevin tran is in this fic and i love him and miss him very much. oh and cas going off to explore humanity on his own..............perfect arc. very much in character we love that for him

Dean'd always thought that falling in love was a capital letter kind of thing, an Important Event you carved into the calendar of your life and never, ever forgot. But with he and Cas, it wasn't that simple.

it’s mostly cowardice, and bad timing by ferritin4, 1.6k, pre-canon. actually this one is just a dean study it’s not deancas but i spent an entire night looking for it and i need someone else to read it too. dean is smart!!! SAY THAT

Dean gets his GED.

a list of reasons the bunker shouldn’t get a sofa by lizbobjones, 5.6k, set during s12. sam and dean and mary and cas haul a sofa back to the bunker. cute domesticity and fluff

Let me count the ways that this is a terrible idea.

no kingdom to come by domesticadventures, 16.8k, canonverse. dean and cas deal with being stuck in quarantine in different ways. this is the one and only quarantine fic i’ve read and it’s really good lmao. dean and cas’ relationship is so organic and tentative in this one

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

Cas looks up from where he sits on his bed, hair still damp from the shower, frowning as he places a finger on the page of his book to mark where he left off.

There are a million things Cas could say here; Dean has rehearsed them. After lunch, his restlessness had given way to a vague panic, a dread that matched his every step and crept along with him from room to room. Eventually, he had returned to his bedroom and spent the rest of the afternoon pacing back and forth, playing out all the possible scenarios. When Cas asks him Why? or Are you being serious? or when he sighs and says, in that way he has, Dean, he knows exactly what he’s going to do. He’s going to shrug casually, like he isn’t invested in the answer, like he isn’t desperate for an outlet, and say, Why not? He’s going to raise an eyebrow and say, What, are you not interested? He’s going to crowd into Cas’ personal space, he’s going to shove himself right up in there and whisper Cas against his ear.

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

till the juice runs by deathbanjo, 8.4k, canonverse. it’s like dean’s being cursed to have bad hookups with men. SUCH a funny fic and the deancas tension is so simple and sweet and GOOD. plus cas is so enjoyably characterized here he’s so human and worn in and experienced in his own unique way. perfect use of rowena too

Apparently whoever drew up the venn diagram of Dean’s sex life decided the circle labelled ‘good sex’ and the one labelled ‘sex with men’ should be kept far apart.

turn of the year by kototyph, 3.9k, canonverse au. sam and dean get stuck out in the middle of nowhere on the winter solstice. what i wouldn’t give for a full 80k of this verse actually. also i went on a kototyph binge after reading shut up put your money where your mouth is and they have a SOLID spn repertoire

Fifteen minutes later, Dean gets back in the car with empty hands and ice in his fucking eyebrows. “Get the map out,” he says through chattering teeth, sticking numb fingers under his arms.

Sam holds up the battered 1995 Rand MacNally they keep in the side pocket, turned to a page of uninterrupted green. “We’re going to die,” he announces.

💖 bullets in the gun by kototyph, 4.9k, canonverse au. cas is a cop (i know. still) who gets kidnapped by dean in an unfortunate turn of events. GOD this fic is SO FUNNY. cas’ canny and strategic escape attempts render him a very active VERY funny pov character plus the hate attraction to dean is PERFECTLY WRITTEN VERY BELIEVABLE. dean’s kindness also shines thru even as he literally holds cas hostage like!!!! PERFECT characterization. both of them are so LIKABLE here. if you read anything on this list read this

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m going to need to borrow your car.”

as you will by kototyph, 1.8k, victorian au. cas endures a proposal mishap. it’s cute it’s funny it’s sweet!

"No?" Castiel echoes, dumbly.

and if i was looking too? by kototyph, 2.6k, au. cas is undercover where dean works. this fic is just so cute like. bird angels.................

There are some things Castiel hasn't told Dean, and there are some things he doesn't need to.

the most important thing by northernsparrow, 94.5k, s10 au. amnesiac cas raising claire until he comes across someone familiar. claire is so well characterized here i really loved her arc thruout this fic. she just wants her dad back and u can’t even blame her the author rlly does an amazing job creating realistic and heartbreaking motivations for her. oh and dean and cas (esp cas characterization!) are sweet in this but honestly the highlight IS claire for me

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car? (Canon-divergent from S10E11, when we first met Claire again and Dean was still struggling with the Mark of Cain. Takes places several months later).

there’s only one sure thing that i know by blinkiesays, 20.3k, post-s5. dean goes to help cas out in ohio and they end up building a home together. i love the writing it’s rlly funny and sweet.

Dean doesn't even get halfway through explaining before Bobby starts laughing. When he lets himself think about it for more than five seconds, Dean can almost see Bobby's point: he's faced down demons, witches, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, angels, and Satan himself and now he's been defeated by the God damn Midwest.

💖 to an angel, love and worship are the same thing by geminisage, 10.3k, post s15 fix it. dean grieves cas - and then cas gets brought back back from the empty. i didn’t have this in my bookmarks so i MISSED it the first time around on this list but this was another one of the fics i came back to spn fandom to. it’s so fucking unique?? it actually reads like spn like i think fic tends to soften dean/cas up and makes them more emotional + emotionally intelligent than is ever shown in the show. here the dialogue/characterization adheres RIGOROUSLY to their communication in canon in that dean’s not overtly emotional, and cas is very reserved. they have to negotiate their relationship exactly like they would in the show. it’s all clipped conversation and anger and hurt and (warning btw) LOTS of internalized homophobia on dean’s end but it’s SO worth it. dean navigating his [GESTURES VAGUELY] everything is compellingly written, emotionally true, and PERFECTLY characterized. cas characterization also amazing like u rlly feel the quiet devoted bittersweet love. ok this was long clearly it’s a good fic go read it now

Just as Dean knew they would, the weeks do stretch into months, and then into a year. Grief never gets easier, Dean knows from experience, but you do get better at it. After all, you can get used to anything.

the violin house by teh_helenables, 8.5k, post-s5. dean and cas build a home after stull. so slow and lovely and sweet and gentle. i need to put this here so that i don’t forget it tbh. it’s very much dean as a war wife cas as the husband away on the front

The Apple Pie Life is a slow process, but Dean and Cas are getting there—until Cas is called for battle and Dean is forced to wait.

💖 muscle memory by komodobits, 18.9k, au. amnesiac cas wakes up three years in the future with dean in his kitchen. komodobits DOES NOT FUCKING MISS!!! i CRIED at the end of this i had NO INTENTION OF CRYING the rest of the fic isn’t even SAD i just had to sit there at the end of it w tears dribbling down my face. INSANE work of art

Dear Castiel,

Hello – it’s Castiel. This must all seem very confusing, and I’m sorry for that. Dean says to tell you that this isn’t some kind of ‘time-travel stunt’, although I’m sure that won’t be your first thought. I know it wasn’t mine. I’ve told Dean to leave now, as this is my notebook and I want everything in it to come from me – or rather, from you. I know you think it's the fifteenth of January, 2010, but it isn't. At the time of my writing this, the date is the fourth of October, 2013. Dean Winchester is your boyfriend of a year and a half, and you no longer work at the library, and in early 2010 you were hit by a car and hospitalised. I’m sorry.

a.k.a the 50 First Dates Dean/Cas AU where Castiel wakes up on a day just like any other, except that three years have passed without his knowing, and Dean Winchester is in the kitchen wanting to marry him.

don’t forget the experience points by annie d (scaramouche), 10.8k, au. cas is sam’s work friend, and he and dean get to know each other. genuinely an adorable fic. i adore cas’ characterization in this it’s snarky AND awkward AND confident in a way that i absolutely believe he would be if he had 30 yrs of human life under his belt

It's because Dean was an awesome brother than he took such an interest in Sam's new friend. No, really. What happened afterwards was mostly an accident.

actus fidei by manic_intent, 5.6k, canonverse au. dean’s a priest, cas is still his angel. i was HOOKED from the description alone like That’s Everything I Love in One Sentence. Cool!!!!!!!!!!!!

On the very first time that Castiel manifests in front of Father Dean Winchester, he gets as far as "Rejoice, for you are blessed-" before Dean shoots him with a salt-loaded shotgun.

not with a bang but a yelp by strange_estrangement, 1.4k, canonverse. team free will leave yelp reviews. this isn’t d/c actually it’s just a crack-ish fic but the formatting is cool and the references are SO funny and so well done

What happens when you visit dozens and dozens of motels every year? You leave Yelp reviews.

the courtship of combat by bendingsignpost, 18.2k, medieval a/b/o au. cas is politically coerced into fighting in a courtship melee for prince dean's hand, and he teams up with two unexpected allies to do it. I KNOW HOW THE ABO THING SOUNDS but i swear it's done well - it's by bendingsignpost so ofc he puts his own spin on the premise. im absurdly into it. PLUS jack is in it!!!!!!! it's technically an unfinished series but the first part is so good just on its own

When pressed upon to mate for a political alliance, Commander Castiel dares to refuse his king. As “I do not wish to mate at all” is clearly the wrong thing to say, Castiel takes the other path and lies. “You must know my affections lie elsewhere, my king.”

King Michael studies Castiel’s face long and hard. Then, with a nod, he snaps his fingers, pointing to Castiel. “The Winchester omega.”

“Yes,” Castiel says with no real recollection of who that is.

The ruse of an unavailable omega works well enough, right up until that omega is no longer unavailable. Then, with what seems to be his entire nation cheering him on toward victory, Castiel must enter the melee to win his mate. Backed by allies, training, and his own natural talents, the only question is how well he can contrive to fail.

four letter word for intercourse by bendingsignpost, 194.7k, au. dean calls a sex hotline. OH BOY solid characterization excellent plot/premise like bendingsignpost is so good at turning absurd premises into realistic, believable fiction. also sex hotline fic is usually a BIG turn-off bc of the power dynamics/one-sidedness of a relationship based on sex work but. BUT. bendingsignpost does it well! it’s not weird at ALL i started reading and was immediately reassured abt its intentions and its plot direction

As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties.

What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right?

(It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.)

the tunnel of love by xylodemon, 21.4k, post-canon. case fic! dean and cas have to kiss on a loveboat to solve a case >:)

"We might," Cas starts slowly, pausing like he's choosing his words. "We might have to kiss."

Dean just stares at him.

when you have a future. by firebog, 17.6k, post-s8. dean and sam and cas learning to be human post-apocalypse. reminds me of robotmango’s writing! it’s kind of eccentric and very very sweet and funny.

Sam closes Hell. Castiel closes Heaven. The heroes save the day. There's no Heaven or Hell waiting to cause the next big disaster. There's no more end of the world. There's only a squirmy feeling in his chest that feels a lot like freedom. So, now what?

(Things I promise you in this fic: dog poetry, rabbits, and fluff)

six inch heels by alitneroon, 2.3k, canonverse. dean does drag! excellent fucking character study. prose is fantastic

Dean does drag on a whim, and ends up in way over his head.

sharing is caring by gateskeeper, 2.5k, canonverse. five times dean and cas shared something and one time they didn’t. look. sometimes u just need some saccharine tropey fluff. it’s VERY well written

Sam knows that Dean and Cas have shared a lot together, but ever since Cas became human permanently, it seems like they've been sharing a lot more. 

Or: five times Dean and Cas shared something special and one time Dean refused to.

💖 empty spaces by schmerzerling, 60k, au. dean has to take care of his dying father, and takes up running to cope. that’s just the beginning. HEAVY trigger warnings for ED (specifically anorexia) and suicidal thoughts. there is a happy ending, but dean has to fight to make it there. god. okay. this is a dark fic. it’s also one of the most well-characterized fics i’ve ever read. dean’s spiral is excruciatingly accurate and written with the kind of wry compassion that comes from either extensive research or extensive experience. it’s also completely immersed in dean’s perspective - dean’s relationship w his dad, dean’s relationship w food scarcity, etc. it’s incredible. it’s kinda scary. it’s deeply sad. cas is explicitly autistic and it’s ALSO incredibly accurate and loving, and makes cas so true to his canon self. ugh. and i burst into TEARS at some of the accompanying art, which is so sparse and lonely and beautiful. 100/10 experience one of the best fics i’ve read this year

Dean is fine. The way he sees it, things are simple. He had a house and a family and food in his stomach, and now he doesn't. And yeah, that's a downer, but he's not going to let that stop him from being fine, because he's in control of the situation. He definitely doesn't need anyone to save him. And it's not like the weird guy with the nice butt from down the road is the knight-in-shining-armor type, anyway.

broken road by thegeminisage, 109.6k, 14x13 au. dean makes a wish and gets more than he bargained for. a lot of “john comes back” fics are kinda short on nuance, which this author has talked about a lot - and oh MAN does this fic deliver on nuance. john’s abuse is absolutely present, but his pov makes him a complex character instead of a flat caricature for dean to reject. and the way this fic resolves really makes it clear that the priority is dean’s emotional well-being over all else!!! this isn’t about dean taking the path fandom thinks he should take w his abuser (killing john, punching john in the face, etc), this is abt dean coming to terms w his abuse and finding his own emotionally satisfying way of resolving it. also dean and cas are in an established relationship and it’s very slow and sweet.

A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean's head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.

It's been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they're living with angels. John doesn't know angels are real, he doesn't know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn't know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean's plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.

Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can't answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end. 

home is not a place by imogenbynight, 6.8k, post-s11. human cas struggles with belonging, and dean struggles with their relationship. this reads a lot like komodobits’ cuckoo and nest, but it’s its own sweet little thing. they watch movies!!! very cute 

In which Dean is the oblivious one for a change.

love: a retrospective by xylodemon, 40.7k, post-s12. dean tries to deal w cas’ absence after s12 and reflects on their relationship thru the years. this was written before s13 aired, so - no spoilers - but jack plays a different role than he ends up playing in canon. it’s kinda fun seeing ppl’s theories pre-s13 tbh. makes me VERY glad that they took jack in the direction they did in show. anyway this is THEE definitive “they’ve been fucking all along” fic

Pretending Cas is just his friend has been the only thing keeping Dean's head on straight for years. He never realized how much doing that depended on him making himself scarce in the morning ─ not until Cas came back and moved into the bunker.

✨💖 if it all fell to pieces tomorrow by spocklee, 37k, post-s15 fix-it. cas gets broken out of the empty - and he immediately makes a break for it. new fave fix-it!!!! the writing is so understated and so straightforward - SO in character for cas tbh - that every single emotional beat feels like a PUNCH. and there are so many amazing character moments it made my chest seize the fuck up!!!!! perfect characterization perfect relationship moments perfect cas/jack parenting moments. the yearning over the phone is OFF THE CHARTS and spocklee makes the most of that tension!!!! PLUS old canon characters get to make fun appearances!!!!! i cannot recommend this shit enough

After the Empty, Cas has to spend some time alone. Orpheus tries to convince Eurydice over the phone that it’s okay to turn around now.

✨ before and after breakfast by spocklee, 10.5k, post-canon. dean and sam and cas tackle a monster of the week case with unexpected consequences. perfect pov perfect relationship moments SUCH GOOD TENSION. again this writing style just lets the tension dial up to 1000% every word is meaningful and it makes my chest hurt!!! spocklee SHOULD have blown up during the spn renaissance and i STAND by that

The monster of the week is a ghost who hates meat, alcohol, and feeling yourself. Guess who it is during the commercials.

CLASSICS

isn't it cool how every person has diff fics they consider "classics?" anyway these are required fucking reading. if u've been around these will prob be old news.

💖 asunder by rageprufrock, 23k, au. dean and cas go to sam's wedding. i reread this once a year like a religious ritual.

Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. (Matthew 19:6)

💖 the girlfriend experience by rageprufrock, 15k, set during s5. dean teaches cas how to be human. mostly the sex part. literally the gold fucking standard of s4-5 era deancas fic and for deancas fic in general, personally

While it's not like Dean hasn't had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.

okay, cupid. by orange_crushed, 4.5k, au. dean tries to sign up for an ok cupid profile and has a revelation. as soon as i put this entry down i realized this entire fic rec was an exercise in futility, because if i could i'd literally just rec everything orange_crushed/robotmango has ever written. still one of THEE best authors in this fandom. go read all her fics. i’ll put the highlights here

"The dating thing?" Dean frowns. "Online dating is for weirdos. Robots. Dudes hanging out in their basements."

"You hang out in your basement."

"I have an air hockey table down there,” Dean says, icily.

💖 pwp: pie without plot by orange_crushed and majorenglishesquire, 82k, post-s8. sam and dean and cas quit hunting for a little bit to open a bakery. this is my comfort fic. i love it so so much.

he is in the kitchen with flour on his hands and an apron and there is flour on his forehead and cas leans across the counter and wipes it off with his thumb and dean says "thank you" and cas says "you’re welcome" very seriously and later dean makes apple turnovers and he only ruins them a little and sam realizes it’s not a real hunt like four days into it and he lets dean stay undercover for like a week and a half or longer maybe way longer because he is such a good everything

💖 la cucina by orange_crushed, 4k, post-s8. dean gets into cooking for a newly human cas. it's so gentle and loving and kind and makes me tear up every time. YES food is a comfort item and expression of love for dean. no i don't want to talk about it

Dean turns around and Castiel is picking through the jars, turning them over carefully to read the labels, totally engrossed. Dean watches him.

"Is there," Dean says, "uh, anything in there you like?" Castiel looks up at him and then back at the apples, sitting in a basket on the counter in their golden skins, ripe and pretty. Castiel smiles up at Dean.

"I don’t know yet," he says.

today, your barista verse by orange_crushed, 13.6k, coffeeshop au. a series of short sweet lovely fics where cas is a barista and dean is a smitten customer. literally the only coffeeshop au i respect

"Is that-"

"My number," says Dean, because he's a fucking champion, he's cool, he's collected, he's Captain Smooth of the USS Smoothtania, that's right. He is definitely not leaning against the counter for moral support. Cas doesn't looked seduced or impressed, though. He does not look like a dude who just met Captain Smooth and wants to ride the loveboat. He looks puzzled.

fata morgana. by orange_crushed, 6.6k, post-s9. dean is the king of hell. bela and cas team up to find him. bela pov. yeah you fucking heard that right BELA POV. BELA AND CAS!!!!!!!!!! makes me lose my mind i love everyone in this stupid desolate fucking hell wasteland.

The endless asphalt and broken road, the empty land and piles of human garbage, the unwanted ends of life, the cracked toys and broken screens and burning cars and gravel. Dean Winchester is the king of hell.

"Oh," says Bela.

That changes certain things.

💖 gran fury. by orange_crushed, 5k, pacific rim au. sam and cas pair up in a last ditch mission to save the world. permanently damaged me at age 15 and i've never recovered. major fucking angst warning.

They sit in silence and Castiel passes him the bottle. There’s not much left to say. Sam takes a gulp and it burns going down, like the cheap shit it is. He holds the bottle up against the light. He can see the Fury through it, distorted like a funhouse mirror. She’s a tomb but Sam loves her. Loves everything that’s left.

"To the end of the world," he says.

"To the end of the world," says Castiel.

💖 shut up (put your money where your mouth is) by kototyph, 24k, au. dean and cas get drunk married in vegas. dean renovates cas' house. this fic is SO MUCH BETTER than i remembered/expected and the entire series is fucking adorable go read it RIGHT now

Dean's done some pretty stupid things, but getting drunk-hitched in Vegas to a colleague he barely knows might just take the cake. His surprise husband, Castiel, is a little weird but likable despite that, and Dean figures they’ll go back to Boston, get a quiet annulment, and go their separate ways. Six weeks later, he’s still married to one of the strangest, most genuine and definitely most dangerously lov-- likable guys he's ever known. Dean doesn't know why or really even how it’s happening, but it’s getting harder and harder to remember that he has divorce papers to file.

not part of the plan by annie d (scaramouche), 338k, arranged marriage au. cas is slated to marry a noble from the winchester house. things spiral out of control. if you’re looking for an extensive well-developed political au, this is fucking it. i love reading about political machinations so this was FASCINATING to me. 

Castiel's spent most of his adult life keeping his head down and staying out of trouble. This is a deliberate choice on his part, because as a cousin of the King, he'd rather stay unimportant and forgotten. This changes abruptly when King Michael decides that he has a better use for Castiel: he is to be wed to a noble member of the neighboring Republic, as part of an agreement between their two nations.

Castiel knows he has to obey, but that doesn't mean he won't rebel in what small ways he can. Unexpectedly, his actions end up having far-reaching consequences.

💖 all things shining by askance and standbyme, 142k, au. sam and dean and cas go on a hunt that's not really a hunt, and against all odds good things happen. it's beautifully written and has scenes that literally make my heart leap out of my chest with joy and awe it's just WONDERFUL it's a wonderful fic. incredible mythology too omg i found that the authors actually created the myth the entire story is based on - like they don’t pull a random one from history, they made one up THEMSELVES. they even self-published it on amazon if ur curious

Something in the world is waking up.

It isn’t long before it’s brought to the attention of the Winchesters and Castiel: miracles are spreading across the country, the paranormal seems to be shrinking back on itself—and it all has something to do with the missing prayer book of a traveling preacher who died over a century ago.

Dean is convinced it’s all the lead-up to another Apocalypse; Sam and Castiel aren’t so sure. Regardless, it sends them out on a less-than-typical road-trip, following the Mississippi and remnants of a very old story that seems increasingly to call to them. And along the way the trio learn much more about themselves—and the consequences and origins of love—than they’d ever have anticipated.

💖 broadway musical by griftings, 12.4k, crack. romcom where cas is supposed to play matchmaker to dean and jo and well. you know. it actually made me cackle out loud when i read it again so you know it's still good. absolutely one of the funniest fics i’ve read

This is the day that marked the Holy and Blessed Union of Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle.

The merging of prominent bloodlines is always a grand occurrence, but breeding pedigree hunter families like Winchester and Harvelle is something to be rejoiced. It is also something to be meticulously planned, which thankfully the Host is very good at.

Or, the romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general.

the five people you meet in heaven by chevrolangels, 22k, ambiguously canonverse. dean dies and goes to heaven and meets five people from his life. NOT a post-finale fic but still horrifically sad. i remember sobbing hysterically when i first read this so

Heaven is white.

Well. Isn’t that fucking stereotypical.

Dean isn’t really sure how he got here. Or even why he’s here. And hell, for all the times the Winchesters have died, he thinks he ought to know the drill by now. But what he doesn’t know is when most folks go, they find something different.

There’s a system God put in place. That when you’re gone (for good), there are a couple things you gotta do first. There are five people waiting for you.

They are the five people you meet in heaven.

any port in a storm by microcomets, 53k, post-s8. dean and cas go on a haunted cruise for a case. you know what happens next. also the art is by anobviousaside and it's gorgeous

The angels have fallen, leaving Castiel graceless and Dean with, well, more of other people’s problems. When a string of couples goes missing on the east coast, Dean and Cas decide to investigate—and find themselves trapped and hunted on a couples’ counseling cruise. Although battling monsters at sea is dangerous enough, sorting through emotional baggage proves to be far more deadly. (And, in which Cas embarks to find his missing grace and Dean is put out. Not necessarily in that order.)

a turn of the earth by microcomets, 95k, pre-canon au. cas is on the run from the empty and crash lands in dean's life. at one point he punches john in the face. a fucking beautifully written character study of pre-canon dean, honestly.

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Frigging fantastic.

(Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

unfinished duet by microcomets, 5.8k, canonverse. sam observes dean and cas throughout the years. i remember this breaking my heart back in 2013!

Sam watches Dean and Cas over the years and notices a few things. (Or, Dean and Cas unscripted.)

💖 ergative/absolutive by glassedplanets, 8k, college au. dean and cas are best friends who meet in an astronomy class. i'm never not thinking about this fic it's so sweet and the friends to lovers is so soft and believable

He really shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this about his best friend who literally just broke up with his girlfriend, but he knows he’ll blame it on sleepiness in the morning. He always does.

a certain light by flightagain, 24k, au. cas works at the gas n sip. dean is a customer. this author’s writing style is so lonely and heavy but it’s very lovely

Castiel works at the Gas-n-Sip. There are half-price nachos and flickering lights, there are office-workers and werewolves stopping by for snacks. Dean is a frequent customer, and his office might be haunted.

the one thing you can’t lose by majorenglishesquire, 5k, ambiguously canonverse. dean can pull cas around and it’s adorable. character study-ish. very sweet.

You know what I like a lot? The thought that Dean can just tug Cas anywhere at any time and Cas, who can lift tons without effort, who can demolish things with the light of his grace, who has battled and gone to war, has defended and broken, will just let Dean do it.

brother lover by twentysomething, 4k, set during s4/s5. dean’s jealous of sam and cas’ budding relationship. this fic is so tropey but it does it well and it’s funny as fuck

However- and it doesn't happen a lot- they have to invoke 'I saw her first.’

his fucking kids by 8sword, 3k, canonverse au. dean and cas raise claire and emma together. yes, claire novak. yes, emma of 7x13 spice girls fame. this was the first kidfic i read for spn i think. obvs written before jack or claire actually came back into the picture but it was the TEMPLATE of kidfic for me for ages

Jesus, the school should just have a parking spot labeled, “Reserved for the Novak-Winchesters,” because Dean’s getting sick of having to cruise around the parking lot looking for a spot every time he gets a call from the principal about Emma.

💖 what has eight tentacles and isn’t allowed to eat pie? by annie d (scaramouche), 16k, post s8. dean gets turned into an octopus. another fic that was SO MUCH BETTER than i remembered i fucking love when that happens. it isn’t even about dean being an OCTOPUS like NO. NOT EVEN. it’s ACTUALLY about the bunker and building a home and a community and a family and about PHYSICAL COMFORT and you can actually feel the world expanding at the end of this fic like a gusty sigh of relief it’s SO WONDERFUL. kevin is in this fic. ellie is too and i had to look her up but THIS is her!!!! danay garcia u were too hot to stay on this show but i love you and miss u

Dean watched an anime porn about this once, but real life turns out to be way less interesting.

Or, the one where Dean gets turned into an octopus.

💖 a beginner’s guide to communing with the dead by suspiciousflashlight, 77k, canonverse au. dean is a cop who summons a powerful entity to help him solve a cold case. oh my god i can’t believe i didn’t put this on here i love this one so much. the writing bowls me over it’s so confident in its worldbuilding like you’re IMMEDIATELY plunged into dean’s pov (FLAWLESSLY executed throughout the fic btw) and you just learn about the world as you go!! and it’s such a fascinating world!!! i love the magic i love the typical bureaucratic red tape procedures i love normalizing the supernatural. i ESPECIALLY love monsters as normal people in a society. at one point there’s this exchange

“Monsters,” says Cas finally. “Beyond the Wall there are monsters.” “You mean, like, vampires and djinn and stuff?” Cas shakes his head. “Those aren’t monsters, those are just people.”

those lines have stayed with me for years. i think about them every time i rewatch an episode of spn.

Maybe it's the little girl whose disappearance turned into a murder, and whose murder turned into a cold case, and who has now apparently decided to move in with him. Maybe it's the unacceptable hole left in his life when his dumb best friend and partner in (the prevention of) crime decided to go and get himself killed. Maybe it's his brother, whose high-profile career and fantastic girlfriend and first-child-on-the-way are steadily leaving Dean in the dust. Pick one. Pick all of them. The why doesn't matter so much as the what, and the what is this: Dean is pretty sure he's going completely, certifiably insane. Sure, he hasn't started wearing all his clothes inside out, and he still showers on a regular basis (anyways, that's not crazy, just a little eccentric); but there's no getting around the fact that he just threw away his life, his career, and his reputation by dragging out his mom's old necromancy book and summoning a Class A Forbidden Entity to his attic. A cranky one, too. With horrendous bed-head.

dean’s list by almaasi, 3k, canonverse. dean makes a list. short and sweet. i read this so much in 2015 that it literally got engraved into my brain line by line and rereading it caused synapses to fire that havent felt anything in years

Dean writes out a list of men he would go gay for. Sam has a suggestion to make.

💖 the path of fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, post-s8. dean and cas open a charming bed and breakfast in vermont. no, literally. another CLASSIC. i think about the food in this fic all the time...........maple bacon baked french toast......the cinnamon rolls.....it literally sounds so good

After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years.

long nights in cold months by pyrebi, 2.3k, au. dean’s an insomniac and cas works at walmart. i forgot i had this fic ALSO basically memorized. holy shit. pineapple in the fruit aisle.....................anyway it’s short and sweet and the “plot” resolves in such a satisfying way

When you're an insomniac, you get used to the "what the hell are you doing up, man?" look. Dean just hopes the guy who's stocking the shelves will stop giving it to him long enough to help him find some damn pineapple.

incredibly single & ready to mingle by imogenbynight, 3.6k, au. dean and cas meet on facebook. short cute au!!!!!!

Sam uses Facebook like the social media junkie he is. He's befriended literally every person he's ever had a conversation with since he got an account, which means that approximately—Dean checks—eight hours ago, he shared this horrible photo with something in the vicinity of nine hundred people. The caption below the picture reads “incredibly single & ready to mingle ;)” and roughly half of them have liked it.

Dean has never been so embarrassed in his life.

💖 unknown quantities by xylodemon, 8.5k, post-s8. after a post-case tryst, dean has to figure out his and cas’ relationship. human cas fics hold a special place in my heart. funny AND good dean pov AND a misunderstanding that i actually think works!!!!!

No one ever tells Dean anything.

(or: Dean Winchester and the not-relationship crisis of 2014)

[dastardlydandelion]

Please post the sickfic prompt turned corpse disposal. 😂

sure! that one’s p bloodless, i can post that one. 

ao3 link 

content warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced spousal abuse, minimally described fresh dead body, illness description 

Billy isn’t sick.

Billy doesn’t get sick. He really doesn’t. Hasn’t had so much as a cold in years, albeit he’s claimed one as cover here and there whenever coke overuse made him maybe sorta sniffly and Neil started to eye him up like he might be suspicious.

Billy isn’t sick.

If he’s feeling achy, well, he’s just sore because Neil laid the belt on him pretty hard two days ago after he got sent home from school midday Monday, written up and suspended. If he’s coughing, well, it’s just because he’s been smoking more than usual. Neil’s been stressed out lately, so that means Billy’s stressed out too.

“No,” his father says sharply when Billy takes a seat at the breakfast table.

And Billy blinks at him, confused but careful.

“You’re not going to sit with us and cough all over the food like a human biohazard. I raised you to show more courtesy than that.” Neil gives him a stern look. “Go back to bed.”

“I’m not even—“

“Go back to bed, Billy.”

Billy hears the warning heighten in his father’s tone. He doesn’t argue. He hauls himself back to his bedroom and it’s whatever. He wasn’t really hungry anyway.

* * * 

Okay, so Billy is sick.

He got himself suspended because he felt something coming on. He knows his body. He was feeling off kilter and sluggish, uncomfortable in the chest when he inhaled too deeply. So he put his boots on the desk in history class and flipped the teacher the bird when she asked him to sit properly. Even went the extra mile and sneered, told her to blow him when her jaw hit the floor.

He figured it’d buy him enough time to recover without having to call in sick, or get in trouble for skipping class. A suspension was one indiscretion and only likely to invoke one punishment. Skipping multiple days would’ve been multiple indiscretions and more likely to invoke multiple punishments.

In retrospect he should’ve just called in sick because the whole point of avoiding that route was avoiding having to admit it, but he can’t really hide it. Whatever he’s got came on hard and fast, doubled-down by Monday evening. It hasn’t gotten any better. Billy feels bad all over, the cough is near constant, and he’s shaking with chills. Puts his leather jacket on before he buries himself under the blankets and still can’t get warm.

And the coughing, ugh, the fucking coughing. Billy knows he’s being loud. He tries to hold it in but he just can’t. Spasm after spasm squeezes his lungs until they’re aching for air. His chest feels like it’s full of swamp muck and all he can do is ride it out, clutch at his ribs until he makes it to the oxygen on the other side.

Billy should get up. He should make himself get off his ass, go buy some cough drops or at least refill his glass of water. He’s going to make it happen. He’s definitely going to make it happen…just maybe not yet.

He never really gets around to it. Spends most of the afternoon slogging through coughs and trying to get comfortable even though it doesn’t really matter which way he tosses or turns, he’s still cold to the bone, chest stabbing with every burdened breath. The day drags and Billy catches snippets of the other members of the household moving about, knows it’s evening when Neil sticks his head in.

“I dug this out of the cabinet for you,” he announces, holding up a blue container. “Vapor rub. It’ll calm your cough down. Help you sleep.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

His father pads across the carpet, sets the container down on Billy’s nightstand, right within reach. He hovers uncertainly, eyes narrowed. Opens his mouth to say something and maybe he does, but Billy doesn’t catch it, snapping upright to bury another flurry of coughs into his closed fist. It’s a forceful fit and before he knows it, his father’s thumping him on the back. He’s probably trying to help but the heel of his hand connects with one of the bruises the belt buckle left and Billy can’t stop himself before he flinches.

Neil retracts his hand, leaves without another word. Billy rakes in breath at the coda of the coughs, air scraping against his roughshod throat. He goes as deep as he can even though it hurts, snatches the container of vapor rub.

Billy begins to unscrew the lid and notices some of the ointment is crusted under the lid. It flakes off. This stuff looks old. Billy checks the date on the label. Sure enough, it’s been expired for close to a year.

He throws it across the room in frustration, watches it bounce off the wall. Lies back down and pulls the covers up to his chin.

At some point Neil bangs on his door and demands he cut out the racket, probably thinking Billy rebuffed his generosity. Billy’s too exhausted to bother explaining the shit’s expired. Instead he turns his face into the pillow and smothers his fits into the fabric, hoping it muffles the sounds.

* * * 

Sometime later Thursday morning, Susan knocks on his door. Billy contemplates pretending to be asleep. Really, he wishes he was. He’s feeling pretty rundown but he can’t seem to get more than a wink before he wakes up coughing.

But if he doesn’t answer it now, she’ll probably just bother him later. So Billy plods to the door and pulls it open.

“What?”

“Um,” Susan begins eloquently, blinking at him as she fiddles with the thin object in her hands. A thermometer.

“Neil tell you to do this?”

“N-No, but, uh. It’s probably a good idea to check your temperature. No offense, Billy, but you don’t sound so good and you’re awfully flush…”

“If I cared, I’d check myself,” he snorts irritably. “Try to stick that under my tongue and I’ll break it in half. Save your mother hen shit for Max.”

With that, he slams the door in her face. They’ve no love for each other. On infrequent occasions Susan will forget this and make some half-assed attempt to get closer to him. Billy’s always quick to remind her where they stand. It doesn’t take much.

Afternoon rolls around without Susan bugging him anymore. Billy isn’t a big reader but he doesn’t feel up to much else between increasingly productive coughing bouts that leave him hacking up gross, greenish globs into his small wire mesh trashcan. So he flips through some music magazines and the book he’s supposed to read for english class until he gathers enough energy to kick himself into gear.

He didn’t bother changing out of his clothes yesterday so he doesn’t need to change now. Just sprays himself with some cologne, figures he probably smells because he’s sweating nonstop. Discomforting drenching cold sweats like getting caught outside in icy rains, an experience Billy was blissfully unfamiliar with until Neil decided to leave sunny California behind.

He browses the small medical selection at Melvald’s, grabs a couple bags of cherry flavored lozenges  and a bottle of cough syrup. Covers a couple fits with the crook of his elbow on the way to the counter. He swallows the gunk that comes up because there’s nowhere to spit it into and scrunches his nose in disgust, feels like freaking slime sliding down his throat.

It’s the town cuckoo who rings him up. Or that’s her reputation anyway but she doesn’t seem particularly nutty to Billy. Hell, seems less weird than Susan does when she’s doing shit like talking to the spiders she takes outside.

“Time to go, Little Creepy Crawly,” she’d singsonged last week, shaking a daddy longlegs out of her tissue on the front porch. “Go be free.”

“You need fucking friends,” Billy had told her after the fact. Sound advice, he’d thought. Susan only ducked her head and disappeared into the next room.

Town Cuckoo gives the amount. Billy digs through his wallet and comes up two dollars short. Ugh. Fucking brandname linctuses. Shit’s a ripoff but there was no generic equivalent on the shelf.

She tells Billy it’s on the house, forehead crinkling just a bit as she studies him, eyes all melty with sympathy. Screw that shit. Billy isn’t anybody’s charity case. He gives her a pointed glower as he stamps a five down on the counter, takes the two bags of lozenges, and leaves.

He eats through half of the first bag until his throat tingles with menthol and artificial sweetness, and actually manages to sleep for a few solid hours. He knows it’s been hours because when he wakes himself coughing, it’s dark out. Nighttime.

Billy curls inward with the spasms, tries to catch his breath between stabbing pains. This sucks so much. He’s hacking up more gunk. Attempts to rub some of the discomfort from his heavy, congestion leaden chest to no avail.

He just keeps coughing and coughing and he knows before long, Neil’s going to get in his shit about the noise so he forces himself to throw off the covers. His bruises are still healing. He doesn’t need any more.

Billy crams his feet in his boots and drags himself down the hall. To his surprise, Susan’s sitting at the kitchen table. She’s crying. The sobs wrack her whole body the way the coughs wrack his and her cheeks are blotched cherry red just like his lozenges, tear tracks shining under the kitchen light. It throws him, really. He’s lived with Susan for years and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her cry. She just. Doesn’t show much emotion at all, let alone displays like this.  

Billy watches it the way he’d watch a car crash. Susan doesn’t even notice him until he’s coughing again. He curls his fist around his mouth, muffles them as best he can. Fumbles for his car keys when he’s made it through to the other side.

“Where could you possibly be going?” Susan asks, her voice thick, like there’s a bubble in her throat.

Maybe Neil hit her. Billy’s seen it so he knows it happens sometimes even though he’s pretty sure it’s not often. Not like how Neil hits him. Or hit his own mother. Susan is probably Neil’s favorite, obedient like a well trained dressage horse following all of his cues. Isn’t anything like his own mom who defied Neil like a wild mustang he couldn’t tame, who went braless and smoked hash with the hippies, screamed her lungs out at Neil in furious harpy volumes and called him names no matter how mad it made him. Who did her best to give back as good as she got even outmatched, even if it made him madder, throwing things or fists or swinging Billy’s Little League bat.

Susan is submissively behaved and tepid tempered, always wears her bra under the clothes Neil buys her in the fashions he prefers her in. Susan speaks softly and sweetly, never stays out unscheduled and doesn’t smoke anything at all, always smells like floral perfumes and lotions, never ever, ever like cigarettes or marijuana or other men’s cologne. When Neil hits Susan she goes slack and sloth and silent, and does not lift a finger to fight. It is the only thing she and Billy have in common.

“Nowhere,” he answers. “Gonna sleep in the car before Neil gets on me about making noise.”

“Billy, it’s too cold for that…besides, Neil isn’t going to wake up yet.”

“How do you know?”

What, does Susan think she’s a fucking fortune teller now?

Sure enough, she doesn’t have a straight answer for him. She stumbles over syllables that don’t shape into sentences and the last thing Billy feels like doing is indulging her.

“Pfft. That’s what I thought. By the way, you’re ugly when you cry.” Billy glares at her until she turns away, timid, bowing her head. He heads out to the Camaro, gets in the driver’s seat and pulls it back.

Yeah, it’s cold out but he can’t get warm inside under the blankets anyway. Neil’s already in a bad mood. He’d only barked about the racket last night but his father’s bite is worse than his bark and Billy knows better than to expect a second warning.

* * * 

Friday morning, the frosty air scrapes Billy’s throat raw and makes him cough so, so hard. He’s beyond done with this shit, fuck everything. He takes shallow breaths to avoid the pangs of going too deep. The coughing still brings up gunk he spits out and he can feel the congestion crackling in his chest like thick, goopy molasses drowning his lungs, sticking between every rung of his ribcage.

It’s actually. Kind of. Beginning to concern him.

Is being sick normally like this?

Billy hasn’t been sick in so long, he seriously doesn’t know. But it’s been days and he’s not feeling any better. He feels worse. He really does. Breathing has become a grueling travail. Even to his own ears, his exhales sound wet and ratty. The coughing was a nuisance when it first came on but now it’s just downright exhausting.

But.

Well. He’s gotta be okay. He’s too young to be like, seriously sick. It’s probably just one of those things where it’s going to get worse before it gets better. A lot of things are like that, right?

Everything gets worse before it gets better. He’s fine. He’s definitely fine.

Billy goes inside. Everyone’s at the breakfast table and he doesn’t take a seat because he’s a biohazard and Neil already looks dour. Susan’s pouring him coffee. Max nibbles at a piece of toast. She has a cut on her cheek that wasn’t there when Billy saw her yesterday. Doesn’t look bad, just a simple scratch stretched under her eye, but when he peers closer is that…is that a bruise?

Yes. It’s pretty small. Faint. He would’ve missed it entirely if the thin red thread of her cut wasn’t so stark against Max’s pasty skin.

He’s smart enough not to ask in front of Neil. He doesn’t say anything. Gets the juice from the fridge and pours himself a glass. He’s two sips in before he has to set it aside, covering his mouth as another fit takes hold.

Neil is glaring when he makes it through. Right. Don’t cough around the food. Billy isn’t even sitting with them but whatever. He’s not gonna poke the bear. Heads off to Max’s room and waits.

Eventually she comes in to get her backpack, frowning at his presence. “What’re you doing in here?”

“What happened to your face?”

“Geez, Billy, you sound terrible.” Her nose crinkles.

“I asked you a question, Max.” Billy impatiently twirls his finger, slightly annoyed. He already knows he sounds bad, doesn’t need to be reminded.

Max turns away from him with a shrug, starts stuffing her textbooks into the bag. “I fell on the pond yesterday when I was playing with my friends. Where I fell…the ice wasn’t smooth. It was rough and it scratched.”

Billy narrows his eyes and measures her up. It isn’t a particularly unlikely story. But he wants to be sure.

“You’d tell me if it was Neil, right?”

“…of course I’d tell you if it Neil.” Max looks up from messing with her stuff and faces him with clear resolution in her gaze. “Neil hits you all the time so if he hit me, you’d be the first person I’d tell.”

Billy keeps his eyes on her as he goes over what she said. She doesn’t look like she’s lying. She doesn’t sound like she’s lying. Besides, Neil’s striking hand probably would’ve left a bigger bruise and he can’t place anything on it that would’ve scratched her skin like that. Neil’s fingernails are short and blunt, smoother than Billy’s, which get jagged when he bites. He doesn’t wear rings beyond his wedding band, and his is smooth silver, no shiny rock cut in the middle like Susan’s.

“Alright,” he concedes, turns to leave.

The coughing fit hits heavy, like a wrecking ball to the chest. Billy hangs onto the doorframe with one hand, covers his mouth with the other. It’ll pass. It’ll pass. It’ll pass.

Christ, he’s sick of being sick.

It passes. Billy keeps his grip on the doorframe as he works on drawing in air.

“You okay?” Max asks from behind.

And he can’t actually answer that just yet, still catching his breath.

“You sound really gross, like you’re literally dying.”

“I’m not…I’m fine…even run you to school, if you want.” Billy relaxes his grip on the doorframe and turns back to her.

“Oh.” Max perks up at that, eyes bright. “Yeah, can you?”

She lowers her voice as she adds, “I’m mad at my mom. I don’t really wanna ride with her.”

Billy doesn’t ask what for. It’s probably something stupid. Susan getting after her for not zipping up her coat or touching yellow snow or some other dumb shit. He’s too tired to care, really.

“Sure I can, s’what I just said, isn’t it? Finish getting your stuff together, bus leaves in five.”

* * *

Billy does’t go home for a long time. After dropping Max off, he just sits in the parking lot for awhile, rests his head against the steering wheel while the heat blasts from the vents. He’s got it all the way up and he’s so sweaty his hair’s plastered to the back of his neck, but he’s still freaking cold.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this.

Or.

Okay, maybe he does.

Eventually he pulls out of the parking lot, drives around listening to music just to be doing something. Winds up in another lot, an empty lot, where the rumor is they’re going to build a mall next year. Billy hopes so. Hawkins is mind-numbingly boring. Sometimes he just wants to scream about it, set fire to the fucking cornfields and scream at the top of his lungs.

His lungs aren’t really up to screaming right now though. Neither is his throat, really, tender from coughing spasm after coughing spasm tearing it up. Billy doesn’t know if he’s even been this sick.

He’s even considering bringing it up to his dad, maybe even. Asking Dad for help. And that.

That means he’s either desperate or delirious, and neither is a particularly reassuring thought.

Fuck.

Billy despises the fact it even crossed his mind. He can’t go to Neil. He won’t. That’s stupid. Neil would probably just dig him out some more expired vapor rub. Definitely wouldn’t take him to a doctor, at least not until the bruises heal. Maybe he’d compromise and get him the cough syrup Billy didn’t have enough cash for…

Between musings, Billy finds himself squeezed in another fit that pummels his chest like invisible fists. It’s so bad he’s left battling for just a breath of air, so forceful for one very scary second he’s even worried he won’t get it. That the coughing will go on and on, and he’ll never take another breath again. That they’ll find his body right here in the empty lot where maybe the mall will be one day.

Except the coughing eventually does subside and Billy does manage to get some air. But the fit spooks him a little. Takes enough out of Billy that he decides he’s probably going to have to go to Neil. Shit.

He puts it off as long as he can. Doesn’t even go home until he knows everyone is done with dinner. To his surprise, Neil isn’t watching tv. Billy heads down the hall. The light is on under Max’s door. The light is on under the master bedroom door too. Billy hesitates before knocking.

Does he really need to go to Neil?

Maybe he was exaggerating when he was worried earlier. Billy’s hand retracts from the door. It's promptly clamped around his mouth for what must be the hundredth time. He’s hacking hard into his palm, chest throbbing.

He doesn’t actually mean to open the door. But he grabs the knob for support and jerks when the metal is shockingly cold under his fingers. The next thing Billy knows, he’s stumbling over the threshold.

Susan whips toward him, eyes as wide as dinner plates and mouth frozen open in horror. At first Billy thinks it’s him. She’s so disgusted she’s horrified by him and his biohazard germs and any second Neil’s going to pick his head up from the bed and bark at Billy for intruding without so much as a knock, and then—

Then his eyes fall to the long bloodied baiting needle in Susan’s suddenly trembling hands.

“S-Self d-defense,” she quavers, backing away, that needle outward in her shaky, shaky hands almost like she thinks Billy’s going to advance on her. “It was s-self defense, B-Billy, I had to.”

Because Neil’s still motionless, facedown on the bed even though his son’s still coughing, making a racket and expelling biohazard bacteria in his very bedroom. He’s still coughing, fuck, his eyes are watering, but they aren’t so watery he can’t see what’s right in front of him. Billy plants a hand down against the dresser and tries to breathe.

“Self defense,” he rasps at the end of the fit, blinking at the acupuncture kit open inches away from his hand on the dresser.

“S-Slightly preemptive self defense,” Susan amends, swallowing. “Make no m-mistake, I had to. I had to, he— he was right on the verge of a b-blowup. You know your father, Billy.”

That is true. Billy knows his father well. He doesn’t speak to Susan as he shuffles up to the bed. Gulps down some of the gunk in his throat, grazes his father’s cheek with his fingertips. There’s blood welled up in a hole at the base of his skull but he’s warm, kinda, so maybe Susan didn’t kill him after all. He moves his fingers to feel for a pulse.

It isn’t there. Neil’s dead? Neil’s really dead?

“Dad?” he tries. It comes out a hoarse squeak. He clears his throat and tries again. “Dad? Dad, c’mon.”

Billy jostles his father’s shoulder. It yields no response. The bare skin is still warm, deceptively so. There’s not so much as a flicker of life beneath it.

“Holy shit,” Billy gasps.

Susan presses back against the wall, eyes still very wide, clutching that baiting needle so tight her knuckles are blanched. Her hands shake and shake.

“What are you going to do?” she asks in a whisper.

“What am I going to go?” Billy echoes. “I— I don’t know! What are you going to do? Call the cops?”

Because even if her self defense was preemptive, to use her description, maybe it’d still fly. Billy has bruises. Maybe Susan has some too hidden under that deep cranberry dress.

“Cops?” Susan’s mouth tightens as her head gives a firm shake. “Of course not. Don’t you know what police are like? Your father would’ve fit right in.”

Billy considers this as he coughs, stuffing them into the sleeve of his leather jacket. He can’t say his own experience with the law has ever been positive. And Neil was a security guard. What’s a security guard if not a wannabe cop?

“You planned this,” Billy heaves out when he’s done coughing.

“I’m….I mean, y-yes, but I—“

“What was your plan?” Billy interrupts. “Where were you going to go from here?”

“I didn’t expect you to show up,” Susan says, soft and frowning.

“I live here,” Billy points out and he laughs. Strange, strained laughter peals out of him until it triggers another bout of coughing because. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“Oh, Billy…do you want some water? Maybe you should sit down.”

“Where?” he rasps between coughs. “Next to my dead dad?!”

“Keep your voice down,” Susan urges, waving the needle like a conductor’s baton. “Max is still awake.”

Billy wipes the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. Stares at Susan as he does his best to take even breaths.

“You’re wheezing.”

“You’re deflecting,” he fires back. “What are you going to do?”

“Um, uh…chop him up,” Susan admits quietly. “I’d p-planned to chop him up.”

“That’ll make a mess,” Billy blurts out, blunt.

“Messy, yes, but it’s the easiest way. I can’t exactly carry him.”

Billy touches the small of Neil’s bare back, skims his fingertips between hair thin acupuncture needles. He probes at the small of his own back, winces when dull pain pulses through the bruise. His throat is thick with something other than phlegm and his heart is racing rabbity fast. In this moment, Billy makes a decision.

“Not by yourself.”

Susan gapes.

“Where we taking him?” Billy asks.

“I…I honestly didn’t have an exact location mind, but farther away. Not here in Hawkins, the town is too small.” Susan swallows again and tugs at her sleeve. “I planned to bag his parts in pieces and drive a few hours out and spend the night disposing of the bags in different areas.”

That makes sense, he thinks.

“Sometimes I go to this gay bar about two hours away. Pretty big dumpster in the back.”

Billy tries to hit it at least once a month, if he can save up enough of his allowance for gas. Sometimes he collects enough chump change from idiots at school who forget to close their lockers, and isn’t above duping people outta their dough by turning on the charm, either. His interest in girls isn’t exclusive, he finds a helluva lotta guys interesting too. It’s just nice to get out of fucking Nowheresville even on the nights he doesn’t end up fooling around with anybody.

Susan looks absolutely bewildered.

“Gay bar,” he repeats slowly. “You know. Pride pub, homo hub?”

“I know what a gay bar is, Billy. Why on earth are you going to one?”

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’m secretly a drag queen bingo champion,” Billy scoffs in annoyance and it turns into a cough. The one sets off a fit.

“Billy, um…I don’t, um. I’m not judging your preference in partners or your private life, but you’re too young to be going to the bar. Any bar. It’s not legal, you’re a teenager.”

Jesus, he can hardly breathe. He feels like he’s going to fall over. Maybe he actually should’ve sat down next to his dead dad.

“Oh dear. I’m— I’m going to get you some water.”

Billy doesn’t fall over. He has good stamina. He’s hard to knock over, prides himself on that fact. He makes it through the fit upright. His chest is sore from the stabbing and he’s a little dizzy, perhaps from fatigue or breathlessness, but he’s steadfast.

Billy accepts the glass Susan holds out to him upon her return. Her fingers feel like icicles as they brush his and he suppresses a shiver. Takes slow sips and finds a little relief. Eventually sets the glass down on the dresser when he’s done.

“Technically, it’s not me who goes to the bar. You’re right, I’m not twenty-one yet. But Jason Scott on the other hand, well, he’s twenty-five.” Billy fishes his wallet out and frees his fake ID from its fold. “Looks pretty legit, right?”

Susan silently studies the piece of plastic and worries her lip between her teeth.

“But we don’t actually have to go into the bar to put my dad’s body in the dumpster anyway. I mean, going inside would really be a pretty bad idea…”

“Indeed it would, but I’m glad you showed this to me. It wouldn’t be smart to put Neil anywhere you or I associate with at all. But if you’re not actually associated, it’s an option.”

“It’d take less time than the way you were gonna go about it. Cleaner too.”

Susan nods her agreement. “However, I still might…mm, Billy. I’m not sure if you’re going to like this. But in order to prevent him from being identified, I think I’m going to chop off his head…and his hands. Well, perhaps those I’ll just burn with the clothes iron, um. Either way, his fingerprints need to be destroyed.”

Billy’s gut lurches as he soaks it in. It sounds logical. He can’t deny that, but something about the idea of his dad’s decapitation doesn’t sit. Kinda gives him the heebie-jeebies. And that’s weird. That’s really weird because he’s okay with everything else.

Well.

Okay, maybe he’s not okay with it, but. He understands it. It’s Neil. Of course he understands the bruises she may or may not be hiding, the fear in her heart regardless.

“Do you have to chop his head off? Can’t you just smash his face in?”

“I considered that,” Susan says, nodding again. “Those cast iron lion bookends on the shelf are nine pounds each. I weighed them this morning.”

Billy likes the sound of that better. Neil is going to be dead and disfigured either way. He’s not sure why it makes a difference. Maybe it doesn’t, really. He thinks he might have a fever. Maybe the fever’s just getting to him, making him a little loopy and pulling his thoughts in less than rational directions.

“I could do that part,” he offers. It’d probably take him less time to bash Neil’s face in than it’d take Susan. He has more physical prowess, after all, more power to put behind the blows.

“Are you up for that?” she asks, eyeing him skeptically.

“Yes,” he snaps, somewhat defensive. He’s sick but he’s not helpless.

Billy’s claim isn’t undermined by the brief bout of coughing that overtakes him. He halts the reflex to clutch his ribs. Not now, not in front of her. Especially not with what they have to do.

“There’s two bookends,” Susan points out, seems a little nervous as she watches him cough. “We could take turns.”

With that, she disappears from view. Billy hacks some more gross globs into his hand and for convenience’s sake, just wipes it off on his jeans. When Susan comes back, she has one of those big black contractor trash bags. Spreads it out on the bed beside Neil’s form.

They roll him together and Billy doesn’t know what to make of what he feels when he actually sees his father’s face, features devoid and dead. Very, very dead. Tears do not sting his eyes. They just well up watery because he’s coughing again, battling for breath again, so, so wrung and exhausted, lungs like sodden sponges sopped with sputum.

Then he’s holding the bookend, cast iron artistically sculpted, the maned king of the jungle bearing his teeth in a roar. Billy looks at his father’s dead face and hesitates for only a heartbeat. When he brings the heavy object down, he puts all the force he can muster behind it and it makes an utterly atrocious noise Billy will never forget, but—

Some part of him has always wanted to do this. For that part of him, it is the only thing he’s ever truly wanted. And when Susan takes her turn Billy watches her face and realizes, oh, going slack and sloth and silent with the taste of Neil Hargrove’s hand isn’t the only thing they share at all.

* * * 

They wait until late to don gloves and roll Neil up in the shower liner. They stuff him in the bed of his own truck for transport. Billy takes the torso end because it’s heavier, Susan hefts him under the legs. Billy drives because he knows the way even though it’s the last thing he feels like doing.

It goes mostly okay. He only has a paroxysm bad enough to make him pull over once.

Susan reaches across the seats and rubs his shoulder. Billy’s too busy getting his breath to shrug her off.

“I’m sure you’re not going to love this idea, but I think it’s time to see a doctor. This could be bronchitis, Billy, or even pneumonia.”

“Pneumonia isn’t real,” Billy grouses tiredly. “It’s like the boogeyman. Just some story old people made up so their grandkids wouldn’t play in the rain and track mud all over the house.”

“Uh…um.” She blinks owlishly, forehead creasing. “No, that’s not quite accurate…”

“I’m screwing with you, Susan.” Because that’s easier than conceding to her.

It would’ve been one thing with Neil. As fucked up as things were, Neil was his dad. Neil was supposed to take care of him.

But Susan. Susan is different. Susan is mostly Max’s weird mom who displays about as much emotion as a mannequin whenever she isn’t (wasn’t) dancing on Neil’s puppet strings or talking to the spiders as she shakes them free from soft tissues. Albeit tonight is a game changer. They’re very literally partners in crime now.

“We could even go to the ER after this,” she suggests uncertainly, wary edge to her tone.

“That’s for emergencies. I can wait.”

“If you’re sure.” Susan hums in her throat and draws her hand away.

They have good timing. The bar’s been closed for almost an hour by the time they get there and all the cars have cleared out. Billy backs up to the dumpster so he and Susan can stand on the bed and lift Neil in that way, rather than having to drag his deadweight out and struggle to raise his cumbersome bulk up over the side.

He doesn’t want to be out here any longer than he has to. Whole thing gives him the heebie-jeebies. He feels like a cop is about to pull up any second now and frankly, it’s cold as fuck. He’s cold as fuck.

Not as cold as the unearthly chill that seems to pierce through the plastic liner when Billy lifts his father’s trunk for the second time tonight.

“Do you feel that?” he irresistibly asks Susan, watching her adjust her grip on Neil’s legs and searching her face for the eeriness he’s feeling.

“Feel what?” Susan asks, frowning.

Death itself? Billy doesn’t know.

“Nothing, it’s…just cold, I guess.”

“Oh, Billy, I think you have the chills.”

And he knows he does but it’s not the same thing. He doesn’t comment any more on it. Together they get Neil up on the metal rim of the open dumpster, push him over. Garbage crunches and crinkles beneath his deadweight. Billy feels another coughing fit coming on and manages to suppress it until he gets back inside the truck.

“Do you want me to drive home?” Susan asks.

“No. I know the way better, it’s easier if I do it.”

“You could, um. I mean, you could direct me if I get a little turned around. You’re looking pretty tuckered out.” It’s dark but Billy can hear the frown in her voice.

“Alright,” he sighs out. “Fine.”

Because she’s not wrong. He’s drained at this point. Shoving his dad’s body in the dumpster spent the last store of energy he had. He and Susan swap places. She doesn’t have much trouble once she actually gets back on the main road.

“Thank you,” she murmurs eventually. “If I had to do this myself, I’d still be in the middle of it.”

“Yeah…sure thing, I guess.” She killed his dad. No big deal. Billy blinks, isn’t sure what else to say.

“…so, um…you like the fellas, huh?” she asks, voice light and not a bit unkind.

“Uh-huh." He shrugs. "Guys, girls, I mean, I'm not that picky. A hole’s a hole, a mouth’s a mouth, fingers are fingers.”

Susan chokes on a scandalized gasp and Billy gets a chuckle out of it, even as it turns into a cough.

“That’s, uh. T-That’s certainly crude.”

And it’s funny really, that Susan seems more creeped out by a boorish comment than she did by holding his dead dad’s corpse legs.

By the time they get home, Billy’s so beyond spent he knows he can’t even make it to his room. Doesn’t bother to try. Collapses on the couch cushions without attempting to take his boots off. Smothers what has to be the goddamn millionth round of coughs into the throw pillow.

When he picks his head up, Susan’s standing there, fiddling with the thermometer again, fretful expression on her features. Oh, fuck it. Fine. Billy bites the bullet and takes it from her, begrudgingly jamming the thing under his tongue.

[alley-catz-vs-daybreakers]

Know Your Enemy: Side AC vs DB Pt. 2

A night out in Chuuko soon turns to one of disaster for two rivaling teams destined to collide. As they meet face to face, pride seems to intervene.

Seiichi: *whispers* Uuugh! Is this joker for real!

Seiichi: We were supposed to find someplace to eat! Not do whatever this is!

Woman A: It’s such an honor to meet you Hiroshi-sama!

Woman B: I can’t believe it’s him! We’re big really fans! 

Hiroshi: Fufufu, the pleasure is all mine fair ladies. ~ It is quite the honor to meet all of you this fine evening. ~

Woman C: Woooow~ He really is like a prince! 

Woman D: I think I’m in love! 

Seiichi: Are you kidding me?! Oi Hiroshi! C’mon let’s just get outta he—

Younger Woman E: Hey! You’re Seiichi Asagao aren’t you? 

Seiichi: ! ! ! 

Younger Woman A: I’ve seen him around before. He’s a real cool street artist.

Woman B: Wow really! Hey can we get your picture?

Seiichi: I-I-Uh! T-That’s not really a big deal! There’s way too many girls here! [quickly puts his hood up]

Woman D: Huh? Are you ok? You’re all red?

Younger Woman C: Wait, if the rest of the Alley Catz are here then Emiko must be too! 

Woman C: Really! Where is she! 

Seiichi: That’s it! I can’t take much more of this!

Hiroshi: Now now, everyone settle dow—HGH! Oi! Seiichi! What do you think you’re doing?!

Seiichi: Run! [pulls him along and they start running]

Woman A: Hey where are you guys going!

Woman C: They’re leaving? Wait for us!

Crowd: [squeals and chases after them]

Seiichi: DAMN YOU HIROSHI!

Hiroshi: Just shut up and run!

——————————

Natsuki: Nope. We’re not going in that direction.

Haruto: Eh? Why?

Natsuki: Going over there increases the risk of us bumping into more of those crazed women.

Haruto: (raises brow) How do you know? We’ve never even been here before.

Natsuki: (Sarcastically) Look at the buildings, taller buildings are subject to hold more people, as impressive as they may look, I am not willing to get trampled for that sake of your instant gratification dearest brother of mine.

Haruto: Then what do you propose oh smart one?

Natsuki: (thinking) It wouldn’t hurt to simply have a look around.

Haruto: (grins) Sorry to burst you bubble man, but I don’t think you’ll find any critters to dote over in here.

Natsuki: I will wack you.

Haruto: [hands in surrendering gesture] Gotcha. Just sayin’.

continue walking

Haruto: . . .

Haruto: Hey Natsu?

Natsuki: Hm?

Haruto: Don’tcha think Ko-chan looked kinda lonely? 

Natsuki: Not sure. As long as he has what it takes to bring us through the matches, then he’s fine.

Haruto: (grins) Don’t worry, I got plenty of energy to carry all of us through!

Natsuki: I’m not worried, and keep in mind you have your dance rehearsal in a few days.

Haruto: Thanks for the love bro.

Natsuki: (Turns away with a slight blush) The curses of being older. . . at least this is uncommon.

——————————

Crowd: [squeals 😆]

Hiroshi: Well this is certainly exciting isn’t it!

Seiichi: This is all your fault you crazy Womanizer! If they want you they can have you!

Hiroshi: It’s not just about me now!

Seiichi: Who cares, keep running! Here! [skids across the sidewalk] Around this corner!

Hiroshi: Right!

[they quickly turn and keep running as the crowd passes them]

Hiroshi: Did we lose them?

Seiichi: I don’t know! But I’m not gonna stooo-aaah! Hey!! [trips]

Haruto: ACk!

Natsuki: Oh. It’s you two

Seiichi: Aaaagh~ whaaat? O-Oi watch where you’re going freak, we got places to be!!

Hiroshi: Enough Seiichi, they’re gone. Now since you clearly lack manners, I shall be the one to ap—oh. Why it’s only the little mocking birds from before.

Natsuki: And what exactly do you mean by that? You showy rooster.

Seiichi: Rooster? Pffffffft—!

Hiroshi: [smirks] Hmph. Nothing at all. And do shut up Seiichi.

Haruto: Okaaayyyyyy. Maybe we should save our breaths? Even I don’t wanna see Ko-chan upset.

Seiichi: Ko-Chan? Oi, ain’t that the beanpole that was creeping around Emiko earlier?

Haruto: Hey! Ko-chan doesn’t creep!

Seiichi: Tch, you sure? Looked more like a prideless pervert to me.

Hiroshi: Hmmm, you have a point. The boy appeared to have no sense of dignity at all. 😏

Haruto: What the hell?! How can you say that about him?! Kosuke’s not anything like that, you edgy teen and fancy pants!

Natsuki: Let it go, Kosuke can defend himself. On the other hand, I’m  not so sure about Harajuku’s own childishly ditzy leader being able to lift a finger.

Seiichi: Oi! Emiko’s way stronger than that piece of scrap you guys drag around! I’m sure you’ve heard about her on the streets yea?

Hiroshi: Seiichi. That’s enough.

Seiichi: What?! What do you mean that’s enough! I’m not done yet!!

Natsuki: Listen to your guardian. Let’s go Haruto (turns to leave)

Hiroshi: As expected. C’mon Seiichi, let’s leave the dog and his master alone. I don’t think he can keep him at bay for very long. He might run off into the street and get lost.

Seiichi: Tch, whatever.

Haruto: Owowowow! Natsu! My wrist! My wrist!

Natsuki: (mumbling). . . What. . .?

Natsuki: What the FUCK did you just call my brother?!  Mic activates

Natsuki: 

Shut your little mouth you fucking sick tick! As if it wasn’t torturous to listen to your shtick You’d better run off, because I’m at my limit. If you dare say word, then I’ll make you go squish!

[loud blasts sound]

Seiichi: Whoa! Ha ha!!

Hiroshi: H-Hgh!! Now we’re having fun!!

Hiroshi: You ready Seiichi?

Seiichi: Oh you don’t have to tell me twice old man!!

[Mics activate]

A disheartened little cuckoo tainted by dull and fatuous laws! Watch as he flies into the fray of deadly smiling jaws~

Jabber Jabber Jabber with your self-centered blabbering! Your idiocy’s a crime against our kaleidoscopic society!

Now that’s going too far.

Says you, sadist Ladykiller.

On the brink of insanity! Drop dead on Harajuku’s toxic thriller!

Haruto: (huffs) Guess we’re throwing hands. You good Natsu?

Natsuki: Just start.

[Mic activates]

Just a fair warning here, close your eyes! You don’t haveta listen, but you will go blind!

I don’t play with minds, just physical suicide! Coming from a nut house, you’ll be tossed to the side!

Now where to start? Should we just strike the heart?

Go for an arteriole, watch them lose their fake twinkle.

Seiichi: Agh!! Damn!

Hiroshi: Aaaah!!

[the dust clears, Seiichi & Hiroshi appear somewhat unfazed]

???: Another fight? Just what do you men think you’re doing?

Haruto: (whispers) Huh? Natsu whose this big busted lady? Ow!

Natsuki: (hisses) That’s Kadenokoji Ichijiku. Show your respect!

Bows

Seiichi: S-Sh**!! It’s the crazy lady!!

Hiroshi: Watch your tongue!

[they both bow]

Ichijiku: Hmph. Both your Divisions hold a very small record in outbursts such as this. Although I can’t say I’m surprised coming from such barbarians.

??? + ???: R-right! We’re so sorry ma’am!

Seiichi + Hiroshi: Emiko??!

Haruto + Natsuki: Ko-chan!/Kosuke. . .

Ichijiku: I hope I make myself clear. Since you two were not here to witness the event I can’t particularly say all of you are at fault. But if I hear one whisper of a fight between your Divisions outside of the battle you will all be disqualified!!

Ichijiku: And. I expect better leadership from you young lady. This is what happens when you surround yourself with pigs.

Emiko: . . . Yes, ma’am. . . .

Ichijiku: Speak up!

Emiko: Y-Yes ma’am!

Kosuke: R-right. . .

Ichijiku: Now. Leave the premises immediately. Before I change my mind. [she walks away]

—End—

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Crucible (part two)

[UK Tour; Carrie AU 2]

Part 1

Word count: 9240

TW: Child abuse, blood, the r-word again, emotional manipulation, minor implied sexual content (as in: one paragraph and nothing actually happens), underage drinking, vomit

------------

-Eve Was Weak-

  “Jesus watches from the wall,

But his face is cold as stone

And if he loves me,

As she tells me,

Why do I feel so alone?”

Mulaney looked up from the notebook, which is studded with doodles of crosses and stars and hearts, and set his gaze on the teenager sitting across from him. Her arms are crossed over her chest again and she’s leaned back in her chair, jaw set thoughtfully. She’s got some sass, but was one of the easiest, most well-mannered people he’s spoken to for questioning before. Plus, she made the examination more fun with her snarky comments, which were even able to make his stoic partner who ran the camera, Madeline, chuckle or smile from time-to-time.

  “Any speculation as to who the author is?” 

  “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say Joan Seymour.” Katherine Howard said. That sass mentioned before slipped back into her voice, edging her words in a way that made Mulaney huff out an amused breath.

  “What do you suppose she’s trying to say?” Mulaney questioned.

  “Probably, ‘help me, my mother’s insane.’” Katherine responded.

  “Interesting.”

Katherine raised her eyebrows at him, sniffing. She’s poised and waiting.

  “Do you consider yourself anti-religious, Katherine?” Mulaney asked.

Katherine snorted a light laugh. “No.” She said. “I just think some people take it too far, that’s all.”

  “And you disapprove?”

  “Look--” Katherine uncoiled her arms and sat up straight. At Mulaney’s side, Madeline quirked a brow at her change in stance, intrigued. “I’m all for believing whatever it is that you believe, but you say ‘religion’ to me, and I’m thinking da Vinci’s Last Supper. Jesus looks sad. The apostles look miserable. I don’t want to go to that party!”

Mulaney blinked at her logic. Katherine looked back at him, then turned her gaze up thoughtfully. She drummed her pointer fingers against the tabletop.

  “Shouldn’t religion be more like Dogs Playing Poker?” She said.

  “Dogs playing…”

  “Poker.” Katherine finished for Mulaney. “I can’t tell you what any of the apostles are doing in The Last Supper. But I can tell you that the little white bulldog is holding an ace under the table.”

Mulaney unsuccessfully tried to smother a smile. Katherine caught it, grinning.

  “See?” She said. “That’s fun! I’m engaged! There’s wonderment and awe! That other stuff is just all ritual and punishment. And it’s way too weird and way too serious.” She leaned back again, studying Mulaney and Madeline’s expressions. “What? It is!”

------

Jane Seymour was a woman of many faces, and not in the mentally ill sort of way, although some people assumed she may have been harboring multiple personality disorder within her wretched brain. She had many masks to wear, some cold and stoic, others sinister and wicked, and a few that may have even been sweet and nurturing. When she was at the local laundromat she worked at in town, several customers reported how she would “look at them like she was assessing their souls”, like she was judging whether or not they deserved to go to heaven. She thought most of them were Godless and muttered about it constantly, regardless of if they could hear her or not. She simply did not care.

Many people thought she would never delve into the sexual world of intercourse, what with all her screws loose that warded away most men and her extreme devotion to Christ, so it was quite shocking to hear the screams that erupted from the Seymour bungalow May 13th, 2005. Police were called, but had to wait to get a search warrant, so they, along with several neighbors, sat on the curb for hours, listening to the piercing cries that split the street in two. By the time police finally burst into the house to locate the struggle, they thought they were too late when they reached the master bedroom, which was covered in blood. But then they saw the woman rocking back and forth on the soaked bed, holding a tiny red baby with tufts of whitish hair to her left breast and everything clicked into place.

Several believed this woman was not fit to raise a child for obvious reasons, but police had no right to take a baby away from its mother, so the infant stayed and grew up in the house she was born in. It wasn’t like there was any place she could go, anyway. Jane’s husband was nowhere to be found. 

Henry Tudor is--was--had been a mountain of a man. His arms were like truck tires, round and firm to the touch. He had broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and a huge body to go along with his already giant frame. Coppery gold hair framed his head and his bright sapphire blue eyes struck a stare that could put someone six feet under. Every single aspect of the man’s body boasted of an indestructible juggernaut.

And yet, he hasn’t been seen in fifteen years.

Rumors bubbled up. They always did. Some speculated he ran away to avoid the burden of taking care of a child or to simply get away from his insane wife. Others, mainly rowdy teenagers itching for drama, said Jane killed him and sacrificed his body to the Lord. Because of that, stories of the Seymour bungalow being haunted were created, although there was no proof of anything of the sort. Because they weren’t true. But Jane Seymour had been out to kill.

Her girl-spawn had barely been a few months old at the time. She laid in her homemade crib, gurgling and laughing, staring with strange blue eyes up at a mobile that was made for her. Jane crept up to her and aimed a knife for her throat.

Henry stopped her.

  “You shall name her Johanna,” He had rumbled, easing Jane’s hand back to her side. “Joan for short.”

  “Like Joan of Arc.” Jane had observed.

  “Yes,” Henry had said.

  “Hm.” Jane had peered down at the wriggling little beast. “I suppose that does make it slightly less Godless.”

  “Yes,” Henry had said again. “Wait and see.”

And then, he was gone, disappearing into the night and never coming back.

Jane should not have let him stop her.

The child, of course, did not know this.

Joan slipped through the front door, but not without noticing a few neighbors peeking avidly out of their own windows, ears pricked. The whole neighborhood, possibly even the entire city, was always so interested in every little detail of the Seymour family’s lives. At least a few of them actually had the decency to duck back inside when they saw her coming up the sidewalk. One didn’t even notice her, it seemed, because he was still staring when she disappeared inside, while another was only pretending to not snoop while she fussed unnecessarily over her rose garden. Joan shot the flowers a sharp look, willing them to burst out of the ground and bite the lady’s nose off, but the front door closed behind her before she could see if anything happened. From the silence outside, she assumed nothing did.

(damn stupid woman wish she’d just go blind)

The smell of cinnamon was drifting through the entrance hallway. Maroon and orange (never red) candles were lit up throughout the downstairs area; Mama always preferred their warm glow over the harsh fluorescence of the overhead lights. Mama’s favorite radio station, WORT Radio, could be heard playing from the kitchen, along with the sound of singing.

Mama’s singing.

  “Jesus, possess me!

Sweet savior, be my shepherd

Bless each endeavor

Till I finally join you forever”

A giddy tingling sensation zipped up through Joan’s spine. She always loved the sound of Mama’s singing. Her voice was so silken and honey-slicked, like the gentle croon of an angel. Joan said she should join a gospel, that she would be the best singer in the entire group, but Mama would always wave this off with a dismissive hand and a chuckle.

Joan ventured further into the house, feeling lighter and lighter with each step. She entered the lounge, where a Black Forest cuckoo clock clucked peacefully on the wall. There were many religious pictures and crucifixes in here, but Joan’s favorite was the photo of Jesus leading a herd of baby lambs through a beautiful flowered field. It radiated so much innocence, unlike all the other paintings of punishment and hellfire and sin. It was hung up beside the huge wooden cross with reddened edges over the unused fireplace. Joan did her best to never look at that decoration in particular.

Weaving around the brown felt couch and two moth-eaten velvet throne chairs facing each other, Joan glided into the kitchen. It was an old kitchen indeed, with an oven that squealed like a dying pig when opened and a sputtering gas stove, but everything worked perfectly fine for the two of them.

Two…

  “Fly me free of temptation

And the flames of Hell's devastation

Then He will take me

And wash me in the river

I will make celebration

In the joy of final 

The might of final 

The fire of final Salvation!”

There was Mama, singing along to the song playing from an old radio on the counter, her back to Joan. 

She was a moderately sized woman, but had a strong, corded neck and incredibly muscled hands from years of working at the local laundromat. Honey blonde hair framed her face, which was quite beautiful in a weird, overzealous religious way. Reaching brown roots slithered like snakes from her scalp, with only a few white hairs visible. Despite being in her forties, her complexion was more weathered by hardship and discipline than age. Piercing golden brown eyes flickered when she finally noticed her daughter standing there and a smile broke out on her pale pink lips.

  “Mama,” Joan said breathily, unable to bite back her giddy grin. 

  “Ah, Joan,” Mama said, “there’s my sweet girl.” And then she opened her strong arms out wide and Joan darted into them instantly, nestling into her embrace. Mama smelled like honey and laundry detergent. “You’re home early.”

Joan felt her lower stomach twinge and she leaned a little closer into Mama’s chest. She would keep her mouth shut about the incident at school for now. Mama was in a good mood; no need to go and mess that up.

  “School--ended sooner than usual.” Joan said, internally wincing. She hated lying, always fearing that she would be struck dead the moment the fib rolled off her tongue, but she would correct herself and tell the truth soon.

Mama hummed. “I see.” She pulled away and turned back to the counter, where she had been shaping bread dough with her wolf-like hands. “Dinner won’t be ready for awhile.”

  “That’s okay,” Joan said. “I can wait.”

Mama hummed again. Joan fidgeted anxiously behind her.

  “Is everything alright, my darling?” Mama asked, concern in her smooth voice.

  “Yes, Mama,” Joan answered. “Just-- umm-- may I go shower?”

Mama chuckled. “Of course, dear.”

  “Thank you, Mama.” Joan gave her another quick hug, then scurried up the creaky wooden stairs to her room.

Filthy. She suddenly felt so filthy. She had showered barely an hour ago, but grime seemed to be crawling all over her. Would Mama be safe from it? Was it bad that she touched her?

She tried to remember what Miss Aragon had told her. About this being…

  “Normal.” Miss Aragon said. “It’s perfectly normal, Joan. Every girl goes through it.”

Joan whimpered. The spattered mess between her legs had been wiped away by Miss Aragon, a humiliation she would never be able to live down, and she was now fully dressed again, but her clothes felt too tight, especially around her groin. It felt like there were eels alive and writhing inside of her. She squirmed on the grey couch she was seated on in Miss Aragon’s office, a place where most students were forbidden to go into.

  “My skin feels weird,” Joan whispered. “I-I’m hot…”

Miss Aragon frowned. Joan looked up at her with shiny, wet blue eyes and a glazed expression.

  “It hurts,” She croaked.

  “I know, sweetheart.”

  “What did I do?”

  “What?”

Joan shifted uncomfortably. Guilt surged through her, along with another painful sensation in her lower stomach. She whimpered again.

  “What did I do?” She asked again. “D-did I sin? Is this my punishment?” Miss Aragon looked baffled, and Joan wasn’t sure how she should feel about that. 

  “No, no, Joan,” Miss Aragon said quickly. “You didn’t--you didn’t sin.” She made a face, like those words tasted funny on her tongue, but it disappeared quickly. “You’re a very good girl. All women go through this, like I said. It’s completely normal.”

  “But--but I’m bleeding!” Joan cried woefully. She could feel drops of blood squeeze slickly out of her vagina and she cringed. “You shouldn’t-- it’s not-- I-I’m gonna bleed to death!”

Miss Aragon is frowning again, and Joan easily recognized it as a frown of pity. That’s the expression most adults wear when they look at her. 

  “You aren’t, Joan,” Miss Aragon said patiently. “It’ll stop in a few days.”

Joan squirmed again, wanting it to stop now. She looked up at Miss Aragon helplessly.

  “What did you do?” She asked. “To get yours? How did you sin?”

Miss Aragon sighed and Joan instinctively shrunk away. Instead of being struck, however, her coach eased an arm around her shaking shoulders and pulled her in close against her side.

  “Oh, Joan…” She murmured, stroking her wet hair. “You poor, poor girl…”

Miss Aragon had then gone on to explain the process of the strange word called ‘menstruation’, telling her how she would bleed for four to seven days at a time every month for basically the rest of her life. It sounded awful. How could God curse females with such a horrible bodily function?

The sharp ache in her lower stomach returned like a tug on her small intestines. She put her hand between her legs, but drew no blood (this time). A new feeling rose in Joan’s sore chest, a yearning, an ache. She felt suddenly cold, as if the sun could no longer warm her. This was it, then, the change was here.

Would she still be Joan after it was all over? When she shed the last of her “uterus lining”, as Miss Aragon had said, would she still be herself? Or would she be someone new?

Would being someone new be all that bad?

Joan swiped some looser, fresh clothes from her dresser and then scurried her way into the bathroom. She didn’t want to turn on the lights, so she lit a few candles instead, letting their warm glow fill the small space.

With muscles that were weak with fatigue, she slowly began to undress herself. First her overalls, then her white and baby blue flannel, her cream colored bra, and finally her underwear. The puffy sanitary napkin--a “pad”--that Miss Aragon had put in for her was spotted with large dark red, almost black stains that looked like gross bodily jelly. It was wilting already, so she carefully removed it and replaced it with one of the many others she had been given, remembering how Miss Aragon had told her to always change them whenever she got the chance or she may get sick.

After throwing away the pad she wadded up with toilet paper, Joan stepped into the bathtub and cranked the faucet handle.

Showering was agony.

Although the hot water had offered her a brief respite from the deep, otherworldly chill that had settled into her body, there was no escaping the pain. Each beating droplet against her limbs felt like a fresh wasp sting stabbing into her muscles and the flesh on her stomach, taut and uncomfortably bloated, pulsed and throbbed with agony every time she moved.

Like before a few minutes ago, like at school, she reached between her legs, and it came back sticky and red.

The smell of the blood was pungent and unnatural. It was nothing like real blood at all. It was more like the rot from her deteriorating insides as her sin caused her to rapidly decay. It made her feel sick, so she stuck her hand under the spray of liquid fire shooting out from the shower head and didn’t pull it back until all the blood was gone.

The smell remained on her hand.

Joan scrubbed vigorously between her legs, which seemed to be permanently stained. Crimson would smear across her pale flesh each time her vagina bled again and she did her best to wipe the trails away with an itchy sponge. By the time she finally gave up, her inner thighs felt chafed and raw.

Joan took to just watching the water and beads of soap run down the slightly rusted drain. Slowly, she sat down, knees bent up to her chest, legs spread slightly. Red drools down the floor of the shower to join the suds down into the pipes.

This reminded her of a time when she was eleven and was violently ill in the shower. She remembered looking up, slumped heavily over the rim of the tub, still in all her clothes, and seeing Mama in the doorway. She had been shaking her head, but had a morbidly amused glint in her eyes. Then, chuckling darkly, she was saying, “You shouldn’t have gotten--”

  “--drunk,” Said Joan, her fists clenched determinedly at her sides and her heart hammering in her throat.

The figure in the armchair in front of her turned to look at the doorway and squinted up at her for a moment as though trying to figure out who she was. And then it sagged back into the chair with an air of disappointment. Like it had been expecting someone else, someone better.

Joan stared back through the thick mop of white-blonde hair that had started to hang in her eyes lately because she’d been too lazy to cut it.

She was eleven and standing in the doorway of the house she’d grown up in, feet squared in her tattered shoes (she hadn’t gone and gotten herself a new pair in awhile, though she was long since overdue) and jaw set grimly.

  “...You're what?” Said the figure slowly, her weathered, thick-knuckled hands clutching a periwinkle embroidery and a shiny sewing needle.

  “I’m drunk, Mama,” Joan said again, feeling a thrill that was equal parts excitement and terror run through her from head to toe as she said the scandalous words. She watched those dark eyes apprehensively, dimly aware through the buzz of alcohol that she was shivering.

Later, on nights when she had nothing better to think about (there would be a lot of nights like that), she would dramatize this event in her head. She’d think about what might have happened if she’d been yelled at, or sent to her closet, or even slapped across the face and sent sprawling. It wasn't that she did this to feel sorry for herself, or to pretend that it had been worse than it actually was.

The truth was that all of those outcomes were things she wished had happened more than what actually had.

From the worn-out old armchair, the figure stared at her a moment longer, before simply shaking its head in silent apathy and looking back down at the embroidery.

  “This is why God has left you,” Said Jane Seymour, dismissively.

And then Joan had trudged off, disappointed by the lack of reaction. Usually her Mama would throw an absolute fit over the littlest things she did, but the night she drank alcohol was barren of any dramatics.

An hour later, she would violently heave up all the whiskey she ingested from her system in the shower. It burned more than it did on the way down and made her cry helplessly for her Mama, who knelt by the bathtub and stroked her hair like she was a dog while she threw up all over herself. Mama had cradled her head against her chest when she was finished, mouth and chin still dripping with vomit, and told her what an evil little imp she was in a voice like sweet caramel.

Joan shook her head, scattering droplets across the shower walls and curtain. She looked down and saw a small sea of blood rippling around her feet. Her nose curled in disgust and she backed up further against the back of the tub.

Minutes passed. Joan’s mind was fuzzy and blank for most of the time she sat in the water and her own blood. Her vagina began to hurt at one point and throbbed steadily with her beating heart. 

When it was eventually time to get out, she found that the heat of the water had soaked the energy right out of her, and it took everything in her to get dressed again instead of just curling up naked in a corner of the shower and passing out.

The cuts splattering her figure, those that hadn't scabbed over yet, were gooey and red, the flesh around their edges white and puckered from the water. They burned faintly as she stepped back out of the shower’s steamy shelter and into the cold air of the rest of the house.

The light from the candle flames cast her gaunt features in harsher contrast when she peered into the mirror. Her hollow cheeks nearly became empty holes and her sunken eye sockets were black caves. Still, the shiny blue of her eyes was visible even in the cavernous puncture. The fire’s glow reflected off the stygian liquid steel of rolling droplets over her emaciated frame. 

The sight of the deathlike girl would send anyone but Mama screaming into the night.

------

  “Good news, Kitty!” 

Anne came out of nowhere, flinging her arms around Katherine and causing her to jump. They staggered, nearly falling right over, but managed to stay upright in the crowd of students leaving the school. Katherine laughed.

  “What can it be this time, Annie?” She asked, shifting her backpack onto one shoulder after Anne pulled away.

  “It turns out we are going to college together after all!” Anne declared, smiling widely. “I just got the text last period!”

Katherine felt a surge of happiness go through her, but still couldn’t help but tilt her head. 

  “Wait-- I thought the Royal College of Music turned you down?”

Just saying the school’s name sent flutters of joy and excitement and awe through her. She still couldn’t believe that SHE, Katherine Howard, got accepted into THE BEST music school in England. Maybe even the entire world!! She couldn’t wait until she got to explore the castle-like campus and fulfill her dream of being a real performer, and although she had hoped that her dear cousin and best friend would be a part of that, she didn’t actually think it would have happened.

But here Anne was, shrugging nonchalantly with a radiant look in her dark brown eyes.

  “Yeah, well,” She waved a dismissive hand, “Daddy pulled a few strings and now I’m in.” 

Katherine couldn’t help but chuckle knowingly when her Uncle Thomas was brought up. She could only pray for the poor soul at the Royal College’s administration board that must have met the other end of his needle-sharp words.

  “We get to be roomies together!” Anne said. “Isn’t that great or what?”

  “It’s AMAZING!” Katherine declared, hugging Anne. “I can’t wait!”

The sound of a car broke their embrace and the two of them, along with a few other students in the courtyard, turned to look at the shiny dark blue Ford Mustang honking at the curb. The driver’s side door popped open a second later and a gorgeous young woman, probably twenty or twenty-one, with lush olive skin and curly brown hair came sliding out. She lowered her electric blue Burberry sunglasses and hickory brown eyes swept over the crowd of high school kids in disdainful amusement.

  “CATHY!!” Anne cried gleefully. She launched herself at Catherine Parr and the two immediately melted into a heated kiss. Katherine sputtered a laugh.

  “Classic Anne,” Maria said, coming up beside Katherine with Maggie and Bessie. “Always can’t wait to jam her tongue down her lady’s throat.” She’s elbowed in the ribs by both Katherine and Bessie for that, making her snicker. “What? It’s true!”

  “Come on,” Maggie said, and they all crossed over to the couple. “Alright, children! That’s enough PDA!”

Anne parted from her girlfriend to stick her tongue out at Maggie. Cathy chuckled and turned her gaze to the others.

  “Hello, kids,” She said languidly. 

  “Hey, Cathy,” Katherine smiled at her. The other three greeted the other woman as well. “How are you?”

  “Bitchin’ good,” Cathy rumbled, her lips twitching upwards. The lipstick coating them was a dark red color; Katherine believed it was called “Nibble” if she remembered correctly.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Anne suddenly said. She perched on the hood of the Ford Mustang and spread her hands out in front of her like she was about to tell a grand fairytale. “Can you guys believe the stunt in the shower earlier?”

Like that, Katherine’s good mood dropped away and icy guilt slammed into her once again. It made her feel so stupid, as all her friends burst into giggles around her, enjoying the funny memory while she just felt sickened by them. Why couldn’t she be more like them?

  “What?” Cathy looked at all of them in confusion. “What happened?”

  “Oh, Joan Seymour happened,” Anne told her. “Sixteen fucking years old and that stupid retard just stood there having her very first period.”

Katherine winced at the use of the slur. Why did it suddenly hurt to hear? She hadn't cared when Maria said it earlier in the pool. Was she just now realizing that it was wrong to say?

  “I think she’s fifteen, actually,” She said.

  “Who cares?” Anne said. “Doesn’t change anything! I knew when I was 9!”

  “Wait--” Cathy said, and then she exclaimed, “Gross! In the shower?”

  “Oh yeah!” Anne nodded her head enthusiastically. “Blood was just dripping down her legs!”

  “All the blood ran into my stall!” Maggie joined in excitedly.

  “And she sat in it!” Bessie added.

  “All while squealing like a fucking pig!” Anne chortled. “WEE WEE WEE WEE!!!”

  “Anne, enough!!” Katherine shouted over all the laughter. “Stop it! It’s not funny!”

Anne looked at her and then said, “Hey, you guys! Stop! Stop! Kit is right. It’s not funny.”

All the giggling died away instantly. Katherine breathed out a sigh of relief--

  “It’s fucking hilarious!”

--that was quickly replaced with a sharp intake of breath.

Anne slung an arm around her shoulders. “Aww, sweetie!” She nuzzled her cheek with her nose. “There’s a runt in every litter! A nobody. And our nobody,” She chuckled darkly, “is Joan.”

------

The smell of freshly baked bread hit Joan’s nose when she walked down the stairs and her stomach growled so loud it caught Mama’s attention in the kitchen. Her face flashed dark red, her blush bright against the pale backdrop of her white-blonde hair, and Mama chuckled in amusement.

  “Someone’s hungry,” Mama said.

  “J-just a little…” Joan stammered shyly.

She really, really was, though. She skipped lunch because she had left school and hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which had just been two pieces of plain toast, but she felt like she was starving. Like it’s been a lot longer since she ate anything. She set her hands on her lower belly and wondered if hunger was another bitter side effect of menstruation.

  “Joan?” Mama noticed the way she was holding her stomach. “Is your tummy alright, darling?”

Joan felt an intense flash of fear 

(she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows)

lance through her and she inhaled sharply. She nodded, dropping her hands limply to her side.

  “I’m okay, Mama,” She said. “Just hungry.”

  “Dinner will be ready soon,” Mama told her. Joan could smell the casserole in the oven and her stomach growled again. “Why don’t you go wash your hands and set the table?”

Joan nodded and hurried to wash her hands off in the kitchen sink before retrieving the plates and utensils from various cabinets. She took them to the dining room, a dimly lit room filled with more crosses than anywhere in the entire house. A huge iron one hung above the table, where Jesus’ petrified face of agony could always leer down at her when she was trying to eat. The only other decoration was a wooden picture frame laying face-down on a small shelf. Joan glanced at it and remembered the last time it had been filled by...

...a photograph of Mama’s wedding.

It had been a bright and sunny day, with white clouds floating over the wedding ceremony. In the picture, the newlyweds were standing on the top of the stone stairs leading to the chapel. Above their heads was a tall arch decorated with beautiful white roses, handpicked by the maid of honor. The bride and groom held each other’s hands, the picture of matrimonial bliss. 

This was the first time Joan actually saw what Daddy Henry looked like. Mama didn’t talk about him very much, and when she did, it wasn’t ever in a good way.

But these two in the picture looked so happy.

Daddy Henry’s wedding tuxedo had to be one of the largest ever designed. He was herculean, with a behemoth body and golden blonde hair. Dazzling sapphire blue eyes stood out brightly in the photo, so much like Joan’s own. He had a massively wide smile on his bearded face, grasping his bride’s hands in his own huge ones. 

Mama was in a beautiful white gown gown that hugged her every curve, with sterling silver feathers sewn into the sleeves and into the frills of the wedding dress. Her lips were painted ruby red and were curled up into a blissful smile as she leaned into the wall of muscle that was her husband, her hands lost within Daddy Henry’s colossal grip.

...Were these really her parents?

Joan had found the photo hidden behind one of Jesus’s birth when she accidentally broke the frame while playing. She was ten at the time, and itching for mischief, so she hid the photo from Mama, despite all the questions she wanted to ask. 

It had been a complete accident that Mama found out she had it, when she saw it in her room after she forgot to put it away.

For a long time, Mama didn’t speak after she found the photo. She just gripped it tightly and stared at it with wide, bulging eyes.

  “Where did you find this?” 

Joan flinched at the edge in her voice. Trembling, she stuttered, “I-I broke a picture frame a little while ago. You didn’t notice, so I picked up the broken glass so that we wouldn’t get hurt. I found it behind the picture of baby Jesus.”

Mama took several deep breaths that did little to calm her. Joan swallowed thickly.

  “M-maybe it could help us look for him?” She said timidly.

Turning abruptly, Mama stormed out the bedroom and downstairs. Joan ram after her, crying, “Wait! Mama!”

Mama strode into the lounge and began roughly throwing firewood into the fireplace. Joan skidded to a stop behind her, her eyes wide.

  “Mama!” She shouted. “Stop! We have to find Daddy!”

But Mama didn’t stop. She just kept tossing in wood until the fireplace was full, then moved to dousing the logs with an alarming amount of lighter fluid. Joan lunged forward and grabbed her arm as she lit a match and flicked it in. The flames roar to life instantly, illuminating the cold look in Mama’s golden eyes.

  “No.” She hissed, and then threw the photo into the fire.

  “NO!!!” Joan screeched.

She threw herself at the fireplace, dropping to her knees and shoving her hands into the burning logs. Flames licked at her skin and she howled in pain, but didn’t pull back until she grabbed the smoldering remains of the photograph. It disintegrated in her fingers and she wailed in anguish right before Mama grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her backwards.

  “What are you doing?!” Mama cried. Her eyes are even wider now, and Joan saw that she was scared. The smell of burned flesh hung heavily in the air.

  “That was going to help us find Daddy!” Joan yelled, tears running down her cheeks. Her hands hurt so badly. Pink and scarlet criss crossed together over her charred skin. “We were gonna find him and he was gonna come back!!”

  “No he wasn’t, Johanna!”

  “WHY?!”

  “BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING KEEPING HIM AWAY!!”

In an instant, the scalding hot blood in Joan’s veins turned to ice-water. She started to comprehend the implication of Mama’s words, and the tears came out from her eyes faster and faster. She wilted like a daffodil, crossing her burnt hands in front of her chest and grabbing her arms, squeezing them tightly as she bowed her head and doubled over on her knees. The crown of her skull cracked against the hardwood, sprawling her hair like a waterfall of white-gold all over the floor. 

  “No… No… No...” She wept again and again.

  “He doesn’t want you, Joan,” Mama said ruefully. “He didn’t even want me.” She took a deep breath, sadness etched in the grooves of her words. “He doesn’t want either of us.”

Mama knelt and took Joan into her arms, rocking her slowly. Joan tried to grip onto her, but just let out a pained wail when she moved her hands.

  “Mama!” She cried. “Mama, it hurts! It hurts!”

  “Oh, my poor baby,” Mama said sadly. “Shh… It’s going to be okay, my darling angel. It’s going to be okay, Joan…”

  “...Joan? Joan?”

Joan jolted, backpedaling into her mother, who looked concerned. Mama gently cupped her cheeks.

  “My dear angel,” She murmured, “what’s wrong?”

(tell her tell her tell her)

Joan swallowed thickly. “S-something happened at school today. Something terrible...”

Mama frowned and brushed a loose strand of hair out of Joan’s face. “Terrible things are the Lord’s way of testing us, Joan.” She said wisely.

  “I know, Mama, but the other girls--”

  “You aren’t like the other girls.” Mama cut her off.

  “But I am, Mama! I am!” Joan said. “I never thought so, but--”

  “You aren’t, Joan. You aren’t. You’re special.” Mama’s lips twitched slightly. “Special.”

  “You aren’t listening to me, Mama…”

  “I’ve heard all I wanted to hear, now finish setting the table, please.” Mama said. She glided past Joan and went back into the kitchen to check on the casserole. Joan slowly laid out the plates, then looked over her shoulder.

(tell her tell her tell her)

  “Mama, in the showers today…”

Mama whipped around instantly, her eyes suddenly lit up like hot coals. Joan thought she might have seen a flicker of fear somewhere in there, too.

  “What have I told you about showering with the other girls?” Mama said.

  “I know, but--” Joan floundered.

  “What have I told you?” Mama shouted.

  “It’s a sin! It’s a sin!” Joan gave in.

  “And as such--”

  “But Mama--”

  “It is--”

  “I STARTED TO BLEED!!”

Silence.

Stillness.

The platter Mama had been holding slipped from her fingers and shattered against the wooden floor. White and blue pieces exploded out in every direction. A few chunks cut Mama’s slipper-clad feet and ankles, and blood slowly began to bud out like blooming roses in May, but Mama did not move. Or flinch. Or even blink. She just stared very intently at Joan like she was hoping she would burst into flames if she leered hard enough.

And then, her face did something strange. It twitched, like all her expressions were falling off one by one, so it looked like a mask for a moment. Then, the skin rippled and creased and wrinkled, and her soft features were eroded away by furious and sinister ones. A sick white light ignited behind her golden brown eyes, like twin lightning bugs of insanity inside the sockets. Joan backed up against the dining room table with a whimper.

  “Mama, I started to bleed in the showers and the other girls-- they laughed at me and called me names and threw things at me!” She said woefully. “I was so scared, Mama! I thought I was dying!”

Mama’s face twitched again, and this time her head jerked a little with it. The veins in her neck bulge out of the flesh and pulsed monstrously. Her eyes suddenly looked a lot less golden brown and a lot more brown-red.

  “Mama, why are you looking at me like that?” Joan asked softly, quaking.

  “The curse of blood,” Mama said quietly. There’s an awful, dry chuckle edging her words. Joan blinked like an oblivious pure white heifer about to be sacrificed to God.

  “Mama, you’re scaring me…”

Mama’s entire head twitched this time and then, a split second later, she’s striding across the kitchen with her right hand held high. Joan didn’t have any time to react before she was backhanded across the jaw by pointy, spike-like knuckles. She yelped out in pain and shock, tottering sideways and careening right into one of the dining table chairs. Her body unceremoniously crumpled into it, and she and the chair both crashed to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

  “You’re a woman now,” Mama said above her. Her eyes are wide and gleaming, but there’s no emotion in them. “Pray to heaven for your wicked soul.”

  “Wh-what did I do?” Joan stammered, rolling over onto her back. She could already feel her jaw welling up with a fresh bruise. “M-Miss Aragon said it’s something all girls go through. Even y--”

Mama hit Joan again, and blood splattered out in a bright red line across the floor. Joan whimpered sharply, tears of pain springing to her eyes. Her tongue instinctively flicked out against her newly busted lip and it stung in response to being licked.

  “And God made Eve from the rib of Adam,” Mama said like she was in a trance. “And Eve was weak and loosed the raven on the world. And the raven was called Sin and the first Sin was the Sin of Intercourse. So the Lord visited Eve with a Curse and the Curse was the Curse of Blood.” She leaned down to Joan and her words were suddenly washed with potent venom, “Say it, woman.”

  “No, Mama--”

Joan was struck a third time. Smears of her blood are left on Mama’s knuckles.

  “Say it!” Mama bellowed.

  “No!” Joan cried. She turned sharply and scrambled away, but Mama pursued her and delivered a kick to her ribs that sent her sprawling on her back.

  “And Adam and Eve were driven out of the Garden and into the World and Eve found that her belly had grown big with child.” Mama droned on. She lifted her foot and pressed it down on Joan’s stomach, pinning her to the ground. Joan yowled in pain when a cramp seized her at that very moment, deepening her anguish even further. “And there was a second Curse, and this was the Curse of Childbearing, and Eve brought forth Cain in sweat and blood.”

  “Mama!” Joan sobbed. The tears were flowing free without resistance, now, and creating small pools on either side of her head. “Mama! Stop it, please! Listen to me!!”

But Mama did not listen. She just leaned down, applying more pressure to Joan’s poor belly, like she was hoping to make all the blood come out now. Joan threw her head back and screamed in pain.

  “And following Cain, Eve gave birth to Abel, having not yet repented of the Sin of Intercourse. And so the Lord visited Eve with a third Curse, and this was the Curse of Murder. Cain rose up and slew Abel with a rock. And still, Eve did not repent, nor all the daughters of Eve, and upon eve did the Crafty Serpent found a kingdom of whoredoms and pestilence.”

  “Mama, listen!!” Joan yelled. “Stop! It wasn’t my fault!”

  “And Eve was weak,” Mama said flatly. “Say it.”

  “N-o!” Joan squirmed underneath her mother. Her hands, rough and scarred permanently from the burns she got five years ago, flew up and grabbed Mama’s leg. Two of her fingernails jabbed into one of the cuts on Mama’s ankle she got from the glass and Mama jerked away with a hiss.

  “You vile demon!!” She screeched.

Joan fled as quickly as she could, but Mama went after her, just like last time. Just like all the other times. 

(if i had a nickle for every time she made me cry in here...)

Her wrists are seized and they both fall to their knees on the floor in the lounge. The impact rattled Joan’s frail body and she could feel more blood drip out onto the sanitary napkin in her underwear.

  “Mama, let me go!!” Joan cried frantically. She struggled, but her Mama was much stronger than she was and was able to restrain her. Mama’s body hunched over her, her belly pressed against her rigid spine, practically crushing her frail daughter. “Please! Please, Mama! I’m sorry!!”

  “Say it, woman,” Mama whispered harshly in her ear, her words biting like serpents.

Joan sniffled and, with words that were thick with blood from her busted lip, choked out shamefully, “And Eve was weak.”

The grip on her wrists loosened slightly. Mama’s hot breath tickled her ear when she breathed out a dark laugh. A sloppy, halfhearted kiss was pressed to her temple.

  “Good girl,” Mama whispered breathily. She leaned back and twisted Joan around so they would be facing each other, but did not release her child from her ironclad grip. 

  “Mama, why didn’t you tell me?” Joan asked. Her icy blue eyes are filled with tears and sorrow, so much sorrow. “I was so scared, Mama. I thought I was dying!”

Mama shook her head and looked up ruefully. She squeezed Joan’s hands together and exclaimed hugely, “O Lord! Help this sinning woman beside me here see the sin of her days and ways!”

  “Stop it, Mama--” Joan squirmed uncomfortably.

  “Show her that if she had remained sinless the Curse of Blood never would have come on her!” Mama brayed on.

  “Mama--” Joan whined. “Mama, please stop! I don’t understand! What did I do?” She squirmed harder. “Mama, let me go!!”

Mama shook Joan violently, then drew her in close, eyes flashing. 

  “Ask for forgiveness of your sin.”

  “No, Mama.” Joan said, swallowing thickly. “I didn’t sin, you sinned. You didn’t tell me and they laughed.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Darkness overtook Mama’s features like the black clouds of a thunderstorm. Her face twisted with disgust, and she suddenly looked like she hated her child with every inch of her being. She dug her fingernails deep into Joan’s brittle wrists.

  “I did not.” She hissed lowly. “I did not--sin.” She carved off chunks of Joan’s flesh with her nails. “Go to your closet and pray.”

Joan stiffened, her eyes bulging hugely in her skull. She whimpered and shook her head, shrinking down into herself.

  “No, Mama,” She whispered fearfully. She could see her prayer closet from the lounge, the door fitted underneath the staircase. It was cramped and dark and hot in there, just how Mama liked it for her. “D-don’t wanna go…” She couldn’t look away from it.

  “Pray.” Mama said. “Ask for forgiveness.”

  “Please, Mama,” Joan begged, looking up at her mother desperately. “P-please don’t make me go. I-I don’t wanna go. I’m sorry!”

But Mama’s uncaring look of hatred did not change, and inky black dread poured out through Joan’s organs like a thick, dark oil spill. Her breathing began to hitch and pick up, but Mama didn’t seem to care about her worsening panic attack.

  “Please, Mama,” Joan wheedled hoarsely. “I-- I’ll bring the Stones again!”

This time, it was Mama’s turn to look scared. But then it morphed into intense enmity and she began to beat Joan senselessly towards the closet.

  “You monster!” She howled. “You spawn of the devil! Why must I be so cursed?!”

  “The Stones!” Joan yelled as she was kicked and hit and slapped. She rolled to the side, but Mama beat her back down to the floor, slowly getting her closer and closer to the wretched, evil closet. “I’ll bring the Stones, Mama! I’ll bring the Fire!” 

And then a powerful kick drove into her belly and her words pitched into a shriek of agony. 

  “MAMA!!” Joan screamed. “MAMA-- MAMA, STOP!! IT HURTS!! Y-YOU-- IT HURTS!!!”

Mama grappled onto Joan’s arms and began dragging her across the floor to the closet. Even with the sharp, unbearable pain in her stomach, Joan fought her, kicking and struggling and screaming bloody murder, but it was futile. Mama shoved Joan into the prayer closet and slammed the door shut, locking it tightly.

   “NO!!” Joan shrieked. She threw herself at the door, causing it to rattle heavily on its hinges. “Mama, let me go!!”

  “Pray, little girl!” Mama ordered. Madness curled from her lips like poisonous vipers. “Pray!”

  “Please, Mama!!” 

But Mama did not let her go. Her footsteps retreated somewhere into the house and Joan sunk to the floor, weeping. Panic started sticking to her lungs like black tar, making it harder and harder to breathe. 

Mama was so angry… What if she never let her out? 

Dread sped up her thoughts, racing through her veins, filling her with desperation. 

No one would even hear her screams, her last dying words, her final prayers…

She began to wheeze, the thick, musty air brushing against her lips. The oppressive stench of her own fear and blood and piss from other times in the closet burned her nose.

Would the neighbors notice? Would they even care? 

Pain lighted in her belly again as her chest contracted with her heavy breaths. 

Would her teachers, so quick to look away from her black eyes and limping figure, even call and ask where she was?

Joan began to scratch on the door, the frame, the hinges, scrambling to escape, her instincts pitching her action into a fury of movement. 

What would they say when her body was finally discovered, a rotting corpse hidden in the darkness of a closet made for holy purposes? Perhaps she would be the talk of the town, even more than usual. The poor Seymour kid, whose Mama went mad after her husband left and God could no longer satisfy her. Who killed her only child, slowly starving her tiny daughter to death one evening while she sewed a new blouse for a customer at the laundromat and listened to her religious music.

Joan’s fingernails scratched harder, grazing the wooden confines of her holy coffin. She could feel the warmth of her blood as the nails began to tear and break, smell the copper of her panic, leaving thin lines of crimson as she clawed frantically.

What if she didn’t starve to death? What if she suffocated? Could that happen? No, she’d read about that before. There was enough air filtering in here, probably. She’d die of dehydration first. Already she could feel her throat constrict, dry and callous, an arid lining of flesh. Spots of light pricked her vision. Tears ran down the side of her bruised face, mingling with the sweat now coating her skin. She felt clammy and cold, yet suddenly too hot, as if in a fever.

  “Mama, let me out!” She begged coarsely, the words scratching at her throat.

She could take the hitting or yelling or cursing. Anything but this. 

  “Mama…” 

Joan slumped to her side, shuddering. She looked up and gazed around at the horrors that littered the closet. There were so many paintings of Jesus’s death, all in great, graphic detail. When she was little, they used to give her awful nightmares about evil men nailing her to a cross or Jesus’s bloodied body chasing her through a ruined dreamscape, welding a wicked-looking crucifix made of barbed wires and yelling at her to join him on his cadaverous crucible.

They still gave her nightmares, she hated to admit.

The dead eyes of Christ bore down on Joan’s pathetic, shaking frame. Jesus’s face was contorted into the same expression of disgust and pain as Mama’s had been, like even he knew that she was the worst thing to ever grace God’s green earth. She curled into a tight ball on the floor, not wanting to meet his scornful gaze anymore, and began to pray through her haze of tears.

------

Moonlight cast silver streams on Anna’s smooth, glowing skin, making her look like a goddess of the night above Katherine. Her soft touch sent pangs of pleasure crackling through Katherine’s body like lightning bolts of lust, soothing her mind of all its worries with her warmth. Everything felt good and okay and wonderful again when Anna was with her, holding her, talking to her, loving her. She thought that nothing could possibly bring her down when her girlfriend was there by her side.

And yet, she still couldn’t get the image of Joan Seymour’s naked body covered in blood on the floor out of her head.

Katherine sighed heavily and Anna pulled back, blinking.

  “Am I really that bad?” She said, then looked at her fingernails, inspecting them closely. “I thought I got them down to the perfect length this time…”

Katherine managed to laugh. “No, it’s not you, you big silly,” She nudged her playfully. “It’s--something else…”

Anna tilted her head. “What is it?” Worry flashed across her expression and Katherine couldn’t help but feel a flutter of love flap in her chest. She loved when her girlfriend got like this, all concerned over her, even over the littlest things. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” Katherine said. She pushed herself up into a sitting position with a sigh. “It’s just-- I did something...not good today.”

  “Oh no,” Anna gasped. “Not good?”

Katherine shoved her. “I’m serious!”

Anna laughed slightly. “I know! I know!” She said. “Come on, tell me about it.”

They got dressed and stepped out of Anna’s red Jeep so Katherine could get some fresh air that would hopefully help her tell the shameful story. It was a warm spring night and they were parked on the side of a small grove that had a trail that led to a hiking trail and some camping grounds. Katherine ducked under a tree that was wrapped in blooming vines of pink-white dog roses, pale ghost petals shivering in the breeze. Anna came up beside her and they both sat on a low-hanging branch that was practically grown for the purpose of sitting and telling your girlfriend about the awful bullying you participated in today.

  “Did you...hear about the Joan Seymour incident today?” Katherine eventually choked out hesitantly.

Anna actually thought for a moment, as if a fifteen year old girl getting her first period and thinking she was dying hadn’t been the talk of the entire school.

  “Vaguely, yeah,” She finally said. “I don’t get into that kind of drama, though. I tend to stay away from it, you know?”

Katherine did know, and that sent fear ricocheting through her body when she remembered it. Of course Anna didn’t like discourse- she’s told her several times before! How could she be so stupid?

Anna peered at her closely, and she knew it was too late to turn back now.

  “What does Joan Seymour and her period have to do with you?” Anna asked her.

Katherine swallowed thickly. Fear pounded heavily at her brain, fear of Anna breaking up with her when she told her and leaving her all alone--but didn’t she deserve that? What she did was horrible. She didn’t deserve a girlfriend after harassing a poor little girl, ESPECIALLY when she herself was eighteen and technically an adult.

  “I--” Her words caught in her throat for a moment, but Anna’s patient, loving gaze made them all come tumbling out. “I was in there. With her. In the locker room.” She lowered her head in shame. “I--yelled at her with everyone…”

Anna just looked at her for a long time, moonlight glinting in her caramel brown eyes and making them look like they were glowing. Then, she sucked in an impressed breath and said, “You’re right. Not good.”

Katherine felt a cold slicing of fear slash through her, but then Anna’s grave expression shifted into a thoughtful smile. She ran a hand down an ivy-coiled section of the tree and mused, “I kicked a kid in the ribs one time.”

Katherine blinked at her. 

  “I did!” Anna said, then shook her head and chuckled at the memory. “Reed Mulligan. Big white kid who’ll probably grow up to be a robber or something. Anyway, he beat the shit out of me once in Year 7. And then, in Year 8, he picked on the wrong kid and got his ass handed to him. Everyone ran when he dropped to the ground, but first I gave him a good kick in the ribs. Felt terrible about it afterward.” She peered at Katherine closely. “Are you gonna apologize to her?”

Katherine snorted dryly. “Did you apologize to Reed Mulligan?”

  “Hell no!” Anna said. “But there’s a big difference, Kat.”

  “There is?”

  “This isn’t Secondary School anymore.” Anna said. A flurry of snowy pink petals swirled down from the tree and over their shoulders. “What did Joan Seymour ever do to you?”

------

The prayer closet lock clicked and the door creaked open after seven long hours. Joan stopped crying for her Mama after the first hour and fell silent for the rest, not even asking to eat or go to the bathroom. Probably because she was asleep, curled up into a little ball on the floor, pillowing her head with her arms. Mama knelt down to her, setting one hand on her shoulder and raking the other through her white-blonde hair. Joan’s eyes shot open instantly, and they seemed to glow in brilliant shades of blue in the candlelight.

  “Did you finish your prayers, little girl?” Mama asked.

Joan nodded.

  “That’s my good girl,” Mama cooed. She kissed Joan’s cheek, saying nothing about the dark indigo bruise bloomed on her jaw. “It’s time for bed.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Joan whispered. Slowly, she uncoiled from her position on the floor, shaking out her numb limbs as she did so. Mama watched her with a sharp eye as she rose to her feet.

  “Joan?”

  “Yes, Mama?”

Mama took a deep breath and stood up, practically towering over her little daughter.

  “I know I sometimes do things that I can’t explain,” She said, “but know that my feelings for you never change. Even--if you have sinned.”

Joan winced, but she shook her head and managed to smile wryly up at her mother. 

  “Mama, you don’t have to say that,” She said. “You love me. You don’t need to ask for forgiveness from me. I know you do what you have to.”

  “Yes,” Mama said slowly, nodding. “We have no one except each other, Joan.”

Joan shivered. Her heart ached fiercely in her chest, and she so badly wanted to believe that that wasn’t true, that there was someone out there who wanted her, but she knew that was just wishful thinking. Fifteen years, and the only person who didn’t throw her away was her Mama.

  “I’m the only one who cares about you.” Mama said. “No one will ever love you except me.” She cupped Joan’s cheeks and looked at her with maddening adoration and love flickering in her eyes. “You will always be a monster to everyone else.”

And Joan nodded, knowing this would always be true, and whispered, “Yes, Mama.”

[irondadfics]

Do you have any where peter gets de-aged?

Not only do we offer de-aged Peter:

close to my heart, never to part by parkrstark 

During patrol one night, Peter comes across something that leaves him and Ned dumbfounded. The next morning, Ned is dropping off a now two-year-old Peter at Tony’s. Not only does he have to figure out how to turn him back, but he must watch him. Tony wonders what he’s supposed to do with the now toddler-Peter for the next two weeks…until he slowly starts to wonder what he will do without this boy after the two weeks are over.

Age Regression was Impossible… Right? by chvotic 

He didn’t see anything at first, getting ready to turn around and examine the area behind him when he saw it.Tony had done a double take when he saw it, wait, not it, a child. There was a child sitting in the far end of the alleyway, his small frame visible in the shadows. He couldn’t be more than two years old, the small body curled up on it’s side in Tony’s direction.Or, in which, Peter is de-aged and Tony bares the responsibility of looking after him.

Spider-Baby of mine by wolfypuppypiles

Tony never considered himself a father to anyone, but when Peter is hit with an alien weapon and de-aged that’s exactly what he needs to be.

Pint-Sized Parker by flyingonfeatherlesswings

Tony is called away from a meeting to deal with a now toddler-aged Peter Parker, who went snooping around in Stephen Strange’s spells.

That Time Peter Was De-Aged by Supernaturalislifeforyouandme

Peter just wanted to go patrolling, but some weird guy doesn’t want him to.Insert a weird serum and some bad choices, and you get one de-aged Peter.Who is lost.

Our little peter by Pepperonyforever

Peter gets deaged by Loki and aunt may is out of town beacause of some work.The avengers and some of the others cue in and take care of toddler peter while searching for Loki.But there is something’s that peter have ever told anyone not even tony.lots of hurt/comfort. Peter and tony father-son relationship with lots of pepper in it.

Tony Stark’s Domination of the Childcare Industry by EtherMorlon

From high-tech armor for fighting terrorists to an AI, Tony Stark can build it all. So, of course, when he acquires a mini, one-year-old Peter Parker after a misfired spell by a rogue sorcerer no one was surprised when he took the childcare industry by storm. Honestly, he was just trying to make life easier for both Peter and himself.

Just Another Wednesday by NanixErka

When a bizarre being wants Stephen’s cloak, it decides to use Peter to get to him - what no one is expecting is for this cuckoo bird to do…. whatever the hell it is he didNow Stephen has to both rescue Peter, and reverse a spellWhat a wednesday

Baby Peter by Verenakitten 

Just pure Irondad and Spiderson fluff!orPeter gets deaged and Tony takes care of him.

You also get de-aged Tony! 

Aliens really are out to get you aren’t they? by Some_sort_of_trash

Neither Peter Parker nor Tony Stark are known for having the best of luck. To normal people, an alien targeting specifically one person is enough to make you wonder if maybe you have done something to piss off several galaxies. Peter? He’s just glad that at least this turn of events is cute. Weirder things have happened.ORTony is temporarily turned into a toddler for a glorious 48 hours and Peter takes it upon himself to take care of him. 

Candy Stealer by im_squidward

“Hey! That’s mine! I worked hard!” Tony exclaims as he balls his little hands into fists and starts to hit Clint who exaggerates the nonexistent pain the hits leave him. “Is not easy being cute with a mask on!”“Sharing is caring, child. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?”*[or the one where Tony’s magically de-aged (‘cause why not), Peter’s a great big brother and Clint steals candy from little kids]

[ckret2]

Rodorah (Rodan/Ghidorah) and related MonsterVerse fic masterpost

Formerly “Rodorah and Ghidorah-centric fic masterpost” but at this point I’ve added a lot of fics that are part of the same continuity but not about Rodorah or Ghidorah, so.

Right now, only the Rodorah fics are a single connected storyline; but the other fics are, in my mind, in the same continuity/running on the same headcanons as the Rodorah fics, and so contribute to them.

Newly-added fics are marked in bold. This post was updated June 25, 2020. (Check the original post for more fics if it’s been a while!)

Rodorah fics, in chronological order, separated by lot arc:

How Cute (AO3) (Ghidorah’s perspective; Ghidorah & Rodan’s first fight/meeting)

The Things He Knew But Hadn’t Been Taught (AO3) (Rodan’s perspective; Ghidorah & Rodan’s first fight/meeting)

But Tomorrow, The World Will End (AO3) (Ghidorah’s perspective(s); only one of the heads has developed a crush on Rodan; one is neutral; and one is furious about this. Set during the flight to Boston.)

Nausea & Numbness (and the Slim Possibility of Happiness) (AO3)(Ghidorah’s perspective(s); during their final showdown, Ghidorah sacrifices a certain victory and yields to Godzilla in order to protect the injured Rodan.)

Translating Titans (AO3) (Madison, Ilene, & Mothra’s perspectives; when the battle ends with Ghidorah’s surrender, Monarch & titans alike struggle to figure out what just happened—and what’s going to happen next.)

Now What? (AO3) (Ghidorah’s perspective(s); While flying “home” with Rodan, Ghidorah realizes they’ve got absolutely no idea what to do with their lives now.)

Three Eggs in a Cold Volcano (AO3) (Rodan’s perspective; Rodan tries to figure out why he and Ghidorah are so different from each other. He still hasn’t been told that Ghidorah is a different species, much less an alien.)

Once upon a time, they met an alien (AO3) (Ghidorah, Ni’s perspective; the reason why Ni is so furious that Ichi’s decided to pursue his crush)

Conversational Pteranodon 101 (AO3) (Ghidorah’s perspective(s); to get Ghidorah into his nest, Rodan teaches Ghidorah his language. By throwing rocks at them.)

Gold Gilt on Molten Basalt (AO3) (Ghidorah’s perspective(s); Ghidorah takes a flight to burn off their excess crush-on-Rodan energy, fails, goes home, and finally cuddles with Rodan.)

Weird (AO3) (Rodan’s perspective; being cuddled freaked Rodan out. He goes to Mothra for help sorting out what the hell just happened.)

Machine Maker Music (AO3) (Ghidorah’s perspective(s); while Rodan’s visiting Mothra, Ghidorah goes to Boston to scavenge a speaker and give humans the stink eye.)

Antarctica (AO3) (Ghidorah & Rodan’s perspectives; Ghidorah decides to leave Earth after figuring out Rodan isn’t nearly as into them as they are into him; but Rodan is into Ghidorah enough to try to kick their ass into staying.)

Godzilla Recycles (AO3) (human perspective; a look at what the hell humanity is making of the soap opera going down on Isla de Mara; and Godzilla & Mothra discuss how to deal with the temporarily-pacified three-headed alien menace.)

Conversational Pteranodon: Intermediate Level (AO3) (Rodan perspective; while stuck in Antarctica together due to Ghidorah’s injured wing, Rodan decides this is a fine time to have another language lesson. He still thinks throwing rocks is a fine instructive tool.)

The Toughest Lizard On Earth (AO3) (Ghidorah, Rodan, & Godzilla perspective; Ghidorah’s mildly drunk, chilling on a boat that’s gonna take way too long to get back to Isla de Mara, and bothered more than anything else by the fact that he’s got no idea how to insult Godzilla.)

The Glorious Resurrection of Bouvet Island (AO3) (Rodan perspective; instead of going home, they stopped on what was supposed to be a tiny volcanic island but is actually a glacier on a dead caldera. Rodan wakes the volcano up, passes out from the cold, and is rewarded with the tenderest of cuddles.)

A Bird in the Hand (AO3) (Ghidorah, San’s perspective; San’s slowly starting to catch up with Ichi in developing a crush on Rodan. Unfortunately, it’s because Rodan reminds him of Gigan.)

Mafic (AO3) (Ghidorah & Rodan’s perspectives; during the flight home to Isla de Mara, Rodan decides it’s absolutely crucial he teach Ghidorah about which lava tastes best.)

No Tongue, No Teeth (AO3) (human & Rodan perspectives; Rodan decides that if he and Ghidorah are courting, then he needs to explain how courting works in his species—and meanwhile nearby Monarch employees are desperate to know what they’re talking about.)

You Made That? (AO3) (Rodan & Ghidorah perspectives; Rodan makes a globe to help teach his alien guests about Earth’s landmarks; Ghidorah makes a radio to find out what the hell humans are up to. They’re very impressed by each other’s works. Also Ghidorah thinks the globe is a courting gift and absconds with it.)

The weight of the world on your shoulders (AO3) (Ghidorah’s perspective(s); after a long delay, they finally take an official vote to see if all three of them agree that they want to stay on earth with Rodan.)

Volcán [Scene 1] (Rodan’s perspective; how Rodan finally falls in love with Ghidorah: in song and dance. Note: all the scenes are in one post so it’s only linked once, but each scene is listed separately on this list based on where they fall in the chronology.)

Day Tripping on the Ring of Fire (AO3) (Rodan & Mothra’s perspectives; Rodan teaches Ghidorah to navigate the Ring of Fire, and decides they need more friends. Mothra would be a great buddy for them. Right? Right.)

Volcán [Scene 2] (Rodan’s perspective; how Rodan finally falls in love with Ghidorah: in song and dance.)

Just a Flesh Wound (Rodan’s perspective: Rodan comes home after a fight. Ghidorah’s prepared to murder whatever injured him.)

Gold Skin, Black Blood, and Stone Bones (Rodan, Ghidorah, & Xilien perspectives: 60% Rodan helping a hungry Ghidorah find some edible gold, 40% flashbacks to why the Xiliens made him need gold in the first place.)

Home Is Where Your Shackles Are Anchored (Ghidorah perspective: Rodan asks Ghidorah about alien planets but only really wants to know about the volcanoes; somehow he ends up declaring Ghidorah an honorary earthling.)

Volcán [Scene 3] (Rodan’s perspective; how Rodan finally falls in love with Ghidorah: in song and dance.)

Related fics, in chronological order:

Specimen 1, Specimen 2, Specimen 3, Monster 0 (AO3) (unnamed Xilien dorat breeder; backstory, the “birth” of Ghidorah and the moment they gained the strength they’d need to escape)

STAND UP AND TRY AGAIN (AO3) (Ghidorah’s perspective; backstory, shortly after being “born”/made by very cruel aliens—set during the timeskip in the previous fic)

Gold Skin, Black Blood, and Stone Bones (Rodan, Ghidorah, & Xilien perspectives: 60% Rodan helping a hungry Ghidorah find some edible gold, 40% flashbacks to why the Xiliens made him need gold in the first place.)

Ghidorah & Gigan Crash the Opera (Gigan’s perspective: Gigan takes Ghidorah to the opera. Things go awry, multiple times, mainly because they’re jerks.)

The Fissures Between Flesh and Metal (AO3) (Gigan’s perspective; he rambles to a bartender about his relationship with Ghidorah while he waits for a hacker to dig out the info he needs to let him follow Ghidorah across the galaxy.)

Cuckoo (AO3) (Mothra’s perspective; Godzilla’s species leaves its eggs in other species’ nests to prevent them from being predated by MUTOs. One day Mothra hatches from an egg to find a second one sitting next to her and a dead Godzilla outside her nest—and that’s how she got a brother.)

Armor & Fuzz (Battra’s perspective; what happens when one of Mothra’s eggs hatches, remembering all her past reincarnations... but he isn’t Mothra himself. Connected to Cuckoo.)

Heartbeat Heartbeat Heartbeat (AO3) (Ghidorah’s perspective; a random fight with Godzilla sometime before getting trapped in Antarctica)

Like Lover and Owner and Worshiper (AO3) (Ghidorah & unnamed Monarch employee; set from the time Monarch finds Ghidorah until he escapes; sleeping Ghidorah telepathically latches on to a human’s admiration. May or may not be canon to the other fics, but the description of Ghidorah’s empathic abilities IS canon across fics)

Hazard Pay (AO3) (Human perspectives; while Ghidorah is in Boston, a bunch of demolition workers find themselves on an unexpected break. ... And persuade Ghidorah to do their job for them. Set during Machine Maker Music.)

Isla de Rotten Fish (AO3) (unnamed Isla de Mara islander; the islanders coming home struggle to clean up their island. Rodan helps them out. No mention is made of Ghidorah in the fic, but otherwise can be canon to the rest of the series.)

Hybrid Cultivar (AO3) (scientist working for Jonah; while trying to cultivate Godzilla cells found in Ghidorah’s decapitated head, Dr. Shiragami instead creates an odd human/rose/Godzilla hybrid. Surely this won’t end badly.)

Monarch Flips Out (AO3) (human perspective; Monarch Outpost 56-B reacts to Rodan making a globe and Ghidorah making a radio. They didn’t know titans could do that. Set during You Made That?)

A Hundred Eggs & One Survivor (AO3) (Mothra’s perspective; Mothra wants to know why Rodan visits so often. Turns out he’s wildly projecting his personal issues onto her. Set during Day Tripping on the Ring of Fire.)

Her (Word A) and His (Word B) (AO3) (human, Ghidorah, & Rodan; Ghidorah asks a simple question and Rodan gives a baffling answer—which mainly serves to demonstrate how poorly humans, aliens, & titans can understand each other.)

The Butterfly [Dream/Effect] (Mothra & Chen family perspectives; Mothra meets with one of her shobijin lineages and discovers they’ve been searching for her for centuries.)

Violet/Violent (Dr. Shiragami perspective; Biollante’s hit plant puberty and Jonah thinks it’s time to change her from lab mascot into weapon. Sequel to Hybrid Cultivar.)

Heal Our Wounds (Serizawa perspective; Mark & Maddie visit Serizawa in the hospital; Serizawa and Mark talk about Ghidorah’s potential new place on Earth.)

I’ve started writing daily drabbles. Ones that fit in this continuity will be listed—although I’m gonna play faster and looser with precise facts & details in drabbles than I do in full fics. Listed in posting order.

Six Volcanoes (AO3) (Godzilla’s perspective; Godzilla finds his route home blocked by an island that didn’t exist a few weeks ago and a bunch of Rodans.)

Reincarnation (AO3) (Mothra’s perspective; Mothra discusses reincarnation with a Hindu woman. She’s relieved to learn humans can reincarnate.)

How to Worship Moths (AO3) (Mothra’s perspective; after coming home to Infant Island after several centuries, a local asks her about how they used to worship her.)

[N S F W] How to Have a Threesome (When You Don’t Have Any Friends) (AO3) (Ghidorah’s perspective(s); it’s a three-headed dragon getting himself off, idk what to tell you.)

On Second Thought, You Can Keep That Nest (AO3) (Tiamat’s perspective; another titan tries to steal Rodan’s turf. She wasn’t expecting Rodan to be a badass. Or backed up by a space dragon.)

Suffocation (AO3) (Ghidorah, San’s perspective; he used to have nightmares after being stitched together, but now being awake feels the same.)

Discount Apocalypses (AO3) (Ghidorah’s perspective(s); the bar fight where they met Gigan.)

Subaquatic Shortcuts (AO3) (Godzilla’s perspective; Manda is very distressed he can’t win a race against Godzilla.)

Sooner or later these will all be cross-posted to my AO3. I take writing requests and tips on Ko-fi.

[clownsgobeepbeep]

World Where Pumpkins Bloom

And now, part 11 of my story! Hurray!!!

Tbh the next part is kind of when things get...good? X3 Gah I hope stuff here is good both writing and story wise heheh, I feel that I may have rushed with the editing so I pray it’s decent

Tagging @grotesquegabby and @post-itpenny because there’s the slightest mention of some of yours uwu

Part Ten /// Part Twelve

“No, no, no! I said that no cake right now! The cake is going to be rolled in when we start to sing!”

“Jells, take a breather and just relax.”

“How am I supposed to relax when they can’t follow simple orders!?”

“You’re starting to sound like Mama Carol.” mentioned Cosmos who had been standing next to his sister who impatiently tapped her foot, both watching as two men rolled the large cake back and away into the kitchen where it came from. “How about you take a break from this? I’ll do the telling around here and you can go change into your costume.”

“It’s too early for that and knowing you, you’ll either get extremely angry or be too chill about things.” Jelly walked away from her brother who then ran after her, walking alongside her. “Ugh! That table is not in the right place!”

Cosmos stopped walking and turned to the table, waving a hand before the table moved with his movements into what he could assume was the correct place. He then followed his sister once again, watching as she walked to the center of the circus they were inside. Right in the center was the main stage, their cousin Cuckoo standing on it as they did their own leading.

“Cuckoo,” Jelly called out to the ringleader who turned to her with a smile. “Where did you put the section for the gifts?”

“That would be right over there Jelly.” Cuckoo motioned to an area that was already adorned to the theme of the party the D’Vitt family had been working on for the past few days. “Jelly, may I recommend something?”

“You may not.” Jelly sweetly smiled at Cuckoo before turning on her heel, Cosmos having parted away. “Do not tell me to sit down and relax.”

“I was actually going to recommend that you lay and rest, but alright.” Cuckoo laughed to themselves as they walked beside Jelly. “Although I must ask, where do you want the cake to go once the moment arrives?”

“I’d say right on the center, which is why I ordered that platform so that we wouldn’t struggle.”

“Ah yes, of course.” nodded Cuckoo. “And may I ask, where is James?”

“He’s at home with the boys. James is practicing the heart warming speech he has for Ula.” Jelly playfully rolled her eyes. “He’s acting like he’s giving her away at her own wedding. I mean, it’s just Ula’s twenty-first birthday which to humans is like becoming an adult and it’s almost like...I’m giving her away at her own wedding…”

“Jelly.”

“What am I going to do Cuckoo?” Jelly turned to the ringleader who attempted to contain a laugh. “Cuckoo, what if my little girl leaves home? What if Schrader asks for our blessing and proposes to her? Tonight!? What if-”

“Jelly, Jelly.” Cuckoo took hold of Jelly’s shoulders to stop her from rambling any further. “Take a deep breath, and think about what you are saying.”

Jelly followed as Cuckoo instructed,releasing her air which was then followed by a sigh.

“Oh Cuckoo...even as a so-called Elder I act like a paranoid human.” Jelly tugged at her hair. “I’m just glad-”

“Mom?”

The pair soon turned to look behind, a smile gracing Cuckoo’s features as Jelly’s showed a sign of subtle, mixed emotions.

“How do I look?”

“Oh, Ula.” Jelly whispered before going towards her daughter who was now in the circus, a pink dress hugging her body as she wore it. “You...you look…”

“Absolutely stunning.” Cuckoo finished for Jelly. “A flower who continues to bloom fantastically.”

“Thank you.” Ula grinned at Cuckoo before giving them a hug. “And thank you for allowing us to hold our party here.”

“Ula, you are family.” Cuckoo carefully pat Ula’s hair, making sure not to mess it up since they knew she had just gotten it done. “There is no need for thank you. Now-”

“Isn’t it too early for you to be in your costume?” Jelly interrupted before biting her lip. “We wouldn’t want your dress getting ruined. Where’s Schrader? He’s not wearing his suit, right? Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be seeing these things! And-”

“Mom.” Ula was the one to now place her hands on Jelly’s shoulders, smiling at her anxious mother. “Please, just relax. I know you want everything to go well, but I just need you to chill.”

“I will chill,” Jelly cleared her throat. “Once you leave the circus and go hang out with Richard. You two are supposed to be at the pier, having a good time while we finish everything up.”

“But mom-”

“No buts! Now go to the pier and have fun.” Jelly shooed Ula who rolled her eyes with a laugh. “And you don’t come back until it’s time!”

“Alright, alright. I won’t come back.” Ula waved at her mother as she walked away, Jelly giving a sigh before Cuckoo placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I know you think she looks as if she were to be married today-”

“Cuckoo, what the hell are you talking about?” Jelly removed Cuckoo’s hand before making her way towards a table. “You’re cuckoo, Cuckoo.”

“Oh Jelly. It is not like I am the Elder of Time or anything.”

“Whatever Cuckoo. Just go and lead the ring or whatever it is you do.”

_____________

“Ula, you’re gonna be laaate!”

“How is she going to be late if she got ready way before us?”

“And it’s her birthday party!”

“Yeah!”

“Boys,” spoke James as he stood in front of a mirror and slipping into a leather jacket. “It is us who will be late if you do not put your shoes on.”

“But daaad!” whined one of his sons. “I don’t wanna wear shoes.”

“Vincent, please.” James turned to the triplets who all sat on their parents’ bed. “Your mother is already waiting for us at the circus. I feel awful about not being there earlier. Now where is my comb?”

“I think I saw Biollante with it.” Hector shrugged as he swung his legs around, slicking his hair back which was being held down by a nice amount of gel. “Maybe they already ate it.”

“Biollante never had it.” came the voice belonging to Ula, everybody turning to the doorway where she walked in with a comb in hand as she was followed by Biollante. “You left it in the kitchen.”

“Oh, Ula.” James gave a bit of a sigh before approaching Ula with a smile to gratefully take the comb in her hands. “Whatever would I do without your darling?”

“Pfft, I dunno.” Ula slightly shrugged before  looking over at her brothers with a smile. “Um, anyways, I just got  a text from Schrader.”

“Is he near?”

“Oh yeah.” Ula nodded as she read the text messages. “So I think I should be leaving now.”

“What about us?” Davy threw himself backwards so that his back was on the bed. “We wanna go in the fancy limo too!”

“Boys.”

“Yes dad.” the triplets all replied with a sigh, their eyes turning over to their sister who gave a small smile.

“Oh! I think that was the door.” Ula pointed behind her after hearing the doorbell ring. “I should go now.”

“Oh, alright.” James nodded before following his daughter out of the room and to the living room where Ula unlocked the front door. “We will see you at the party then.”

“Mkay.”

“Take care and make good decisions.”

“Okay.”

“And-”

“Dad.” Ula interrupted James. “I’m just going on a limo ride and gonna stall until everything at the party is ready. You’re gonna see me there. It’s not like I’m going to prom and you’re staying here at home worrying about nothing.”

“I…” James remained silent before nodding, giving Ula a smile before carefully hugging her in a tight embrace. “I am very sorry I have been treating you this way. I just worry about you.”

“I know, but I’m here.” Ula snuggled into the hug, hiding her face. “I won’t leave you, dad.”

“Alright.” James nodded before finally letting go of Ula, the two smiling at each other before she finally opened the door to revel Schrader in his suit. “Schrader.”

“Mr. Mendax.” Schrader replied with a smile before glancing over at Ula who grinned ear to ear, so he offered an arm. “Miss D’Vitt.”

“Alright dad, we’ll be leaving now to head to the party later.” Ula kissed James’ cheek before accepting Schrader’s arm. “See ya!”

“See you.” James gave a bit of a wave at the pair as they headed away and into the vehicle parked in front of the house, neither noticing the suspicious glare that was now on James’ expression.

“So, what did you do the entire day before coming to pick me up?” Ula turned to Schrader after they both sat inside the limo, her eyes soon widening in surprise when she felt him kiss her all of a sudden.”

“I’m sorry.” he apologized with a laugh once he pulled away. “You just look so beautiful.”

“I look like this every day.” Ula gently hit Schrader’s shoulder before he shook his head. 

“Look like you’re going to a school dance to get a kiss from your destiny lover? I don’t think so.”

“Whatever.” Ula rolled her eyes before snuggling into Schrader who wrapped an arm around her. “So, we picking up the guys?”

“Yeah, right before we actually go to the party.”

“How long will that take?”

“I don’t know; I just know there’s a certain time we need to be there and it’s not exactly soon.”

“Huh.” Ula tapped her chin for a moment, then removing Schrader’s arm before making her way towards the end of the limo where there was a window that allowed her to see the driver. “Hey, how long till we go pick up our friends?”

“About an hour or so.” the driver answered. “Your mother instructed me to give you and your boyfriend either a leisure ride or let you stop wherever you wanted during that time. After that, we pick up your friends and head to the party.”

“Huh. That sounds pretty nifty.” Ula blinked in surprise before turning to Schrader who was too busy looking through the drinks. “Is it possible for you to take us to a restaurant or something like that?”

“It is. What do you have in mind?”

“I need you to go to this address.” Ula presented the driver with a note she had written earlier. “We’ll just spend some time there, maybe until the hour’s over.”

“Sounds great, I’ll take you there right away.”

“Thanks.” Ula nodded with a smile before heading back to where Schrader was seated, the latter casually drinking from a soda can. “Find anything good?”

“I’m surprised I found some Dr. Pepper.” Schrader proudly presented his soda before drinking from it again. “Anyways, where are we headed?”

“Oh, just somewhere nice. Hopefully it’s not crowded or anything.” Ula innocently grinned before Schrader gave her a look. “I know you’ll like it. Just make sure you don’t drink a lot of Dr. Pepper so you can have another drink over there.”

“We’re not going to a bar or anything, right?” Schrader laughed before wrapping an arm around Ula again.

“Of course not, you know I hate those places unless it comes to the good food.” Ula winked before her eyes turned to the driver who was too focused on the road. “I think you’ll like the place. Good food...if I remember correctly.”

“I trust you.” Schrader kissed the side of Ula’s head before looking out one of the windows. “Is that it? A 1950’s diner?”

Ula turned to look out the window as well, nodding with a small smile.

“It sure is.” she fluffed her hair and fixed the accessories in it before the vehicle made a stop, so she approached the driver’s window again. “We’ll be getting down now, I’m not sure if you’d like to come with or want to order something.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll wait here for the two of you. Just take your time.” the driver gave her a reassuring smile. “Go have fun.”

“Thank you.” Ula waved at the driver before she was helped by Schrader out of the vehicle. “Okay. Let’s go get our table.”

“Right.” he nodded before the two made their way to the front door, Schrader opening it and walking in after Ula. “Wow, it’s really not crowded.”

“It’s perfect.” Ula took hold of Schrader’s hand before leading him all the way to one of the booths in the back. “And this booth is perfect.”

“And why is that?”

“It just is.” she reached her hands out to hold Schrader’s again. “I really want a milkshake right now.”

“I think there’ll be plenty at the party.” Schrader looked around the area before turning back to Ula. “But, it’s nice being here. Just the two of us.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Ula nodded. “Nothing like a corny 1950’s date while we dress the part and drink from a single milkshake with two straws.”

“Sounds like the perfect date.” Schrader also nodded before his thumb rubbed on Ula’s knuckles. “You look so beautiful.”

“And you so dashing.” Ula replied. “I love you.”

“Nah, you don’t.” Schrader chuckled out before leaning over the table to plant a kiss onto Ula’s forehead. “But I love you.”

_____________

Once the appropriate time had gone by, the skies had finally grown darker while still having a bright orange coloration to them. Beneath the skies was the circus belonging to Cuckoo who wandered around said tent, a warm smile adorning their features as they greeted guests that arrived.

Cuckoo however also made it their job to keep Jelly at bay, keeping an eye on her as she was put in a “time-out”. After greeting yet another few guests, Cuckoo turned to the table where Jelly was seated, and she directed an insulting motion towards them which merely made them laugh.

“Are you really that upset?” Cuckoo questioned the woman who refused to look at them, turning to face the opposite side with her arms crossed.

“I’m not talking to you.”

“Jelly, you knew I would most certainly not allow you to rush around the circus with stress on your mind.” Cuckoo chuckled as they sat in a chair next to Jelly’s. “Did you not take me seriously?”

“I kind of thought you were joking, yes.” Jelly still did not look at Cuckoo who pat her shoulder. “But let me tell you, you won’t be able to stop me once Ula gets here.”

“Alright, that I can agree on.” Cuckoo nodded before turning to the side, their smile widening. “However, I will resume welcoming guests and attending to every other detail after you have finished greeting Ula.”

“Whatever.”

“So, you might as well take the opportunity.” 

Jelly finally turned to Cuckoo with a frown and a rather confused one. Her nose twitched at the new scent that made her look to the entrance before clasping her hands with a gasp and brightened expression as a new guest arrived.

Cuckoo turned as well, now spotting that new ‘guest’.

“She’s here!” Jelly excitedly exclaimed before her expression turned into one of terror. “She’s here!”

“Jelly-”

“Where’s James!?” Jelly jumped up from her chair before spinnin on the spot, then gasping upon finding her husband standing right in front of her. “Jamie!”

“Jelly, she’s here!” James exclaimed in a whisper as he motioned to the entrance of the circus.

“We need to go to her.” Jelly grabbed his wrist before dragging him through the crowd of applauding party-goers who all now focused on the spotlight on Ula and Shrader. “I already saw her earlier, but she looks so beautiful!”

“You saw her before me!?” James asked in shock before his wife waved a hand at him, both finally stopping once they neared their daughter.

“Ula!” Jelly waved her free arm while slightly bouncing in place, this obviously catching the attention of Ula and Schrader who went towards them. “Oh, look at you two!”

“Mom, dad! Everything looks great!” Ula exclaimed before she was embraced by both of her parents. “I can’t believe you guys did all of this!”

“Anything for our tiny clown.” James booped Ula’s nose after the three parted away. “Schrader, you also look nice. The slicked hair suits you.”

“Thank you.” Schrader bowed his head momentarily before turning to Ula.

“And wow, mom.” Ula laughed as she looked her mother up and down. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear pants, especially such tight ones!”

“They look good, huh?” Jelly showed off her legs.

“Very.” James nodded before he got a small slap from Jelly on the arm.

“Alright you two, now that you and your friends are all here you should go and sit down. We’ll make some announcements later and such, then we can get to dancing.” Jelly grinned in excitement with some soft clapping. “I am so very excited.”

“Me too!” Ula also clapped before taking Schrader’s arm and locking hers into it. “Well, if you guys don’t mind, Schrader and I are gonna go dance!”

“Sounds good.” Jelly nodded, then nudging James’ side before he also nodded.

“Yes, we do not mind at all.” James smiled at Ula who also nodded, then rushing away with Schrader. “I hope they do not ditch the party.”

“Ula would never do that, especially after how hard we worked on making all this happen.” Jelly planted a peck onto James’ lips before walking away, surprisingly in a calm manner.

As James was left alone, he gave one more suspicious look at Ula and Schrader who were already on the dance floor. Soon enough, James made his way out and towards his wife.

_____________

“So,” Ula breathed out as she slow danced with Schrader, her head bowed down as she looked at their feet. “How are we gonna do this?”

“Well,” Schrader shrugged before pulling Ula closer as he also spoke quietly. “We gotta get their attention.”

“I think I know how to do just that.” Ula added before finally looking up at him. “We’ll have to wait just a little longer.”

Time had gone by, hours having already passed as the pair felt that the party was never ending. They had decided to join each other in yet another slow dance, this one being different from the rest that had been filled with loving gazes ad kisses here and there.

“I just…” Ula sighed. “I feel so numb right now.”

“I know, I get it.”

“I’m scared Schrader.”

“There’s no reason for you to be scared.” Schrader forced a comforting smile upon his features as he brought a hand up to Ula’s cheek. “I’m...I’m here for you.”

“No...you’re not.” Ula shook her head, her eyes blinking away what she could tell were tears. “You can’t be.”

“Ula.” Schrader reached out to hold her hand. “Ula...I know this is hard to believe, but you have to believe me.”

“I want to...b-but how can you be talking to me?” Ula felt her lip quiver as she took her hand away from Schrader. “I, I’m so confused...how...I-”

“I know, I know. Just...let me explain everything.” Schrader attempted to calm her down.

Ula’s night had been going well. It had been fantastic, even after a small mistake that took place in a circus that in no way belonged to Cuckoo but was in fact their rival in their eyes. Yet now, Ula was seated back on the couch of her living room where she had left a slumbering Schrader who was now wide awake. She didn’t want to believe that just a few minutes ago she had been conversing with a cat, and one who told her quite the unbelievable story she did not want to believe. 

The cat told her to speak to Schrader, and that was exactly what Ula did...never expecting him too add on to the feline’s tale.

“How did you die?” Ula spoke before Schrader was able to, turning to him once she wiped away stray tears. “And if you’re really dead and not playing some fucked up joke, how is it that you’re talking to me?”

“Ula, I would never do something like that to you.” Schrader took her hands into his again. “I died after your birthday party. You were attacked by the daughter of...Ryder and Missy.”

“What?” Ula blinked a few more times, this time with even more disbelief.

“I’ll get to explaining that other part later. Right now, I just need you to know that their daughter killed me. Grabbed my own mallet and…” Schrader stopped himself, feeling a pain course through his head. “She...she smashed my head into bits and-”

“Are you here because you too got a favor from the Elders or something.” Ula interrupted with an empty tone, her face plain and numb as could be.

“Conllium, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this earlier?”

“I had to make sure I wasn’t suspicious. Couldn’t blow my cover immediately since there are eyes and ears everywhere.”

“So...you’re alive here...but dead in reality…”

“...yes.”

“And I have a boyfriend who’s not you because you and I broke up before that.”

“Yeah…”

“What’s his name?”

“Atlas.” Schrader breathed out, not even sure what emotions he was feeling in that moment. “You’re...you’re childhood best friends.”

“How’s he look?”

“He’s got dark brown hair, green eyes, glasses. Pretty damn tall but still shorter than me. Has antlers coming out of his head ‘cause he’s a deer dude.” Schrader gave a bit of a laugh, still trying to comfort Ula. “And if I do say so myself, pretty good looking guy. Guess you do know how to pick them.”

To Schrader’s surprise yet gratitude, this was enough to make Ula smile a bit.

“However, Dante and the twins say that he looks like a nerd. That’s their nickname for him.”

“They’re so mean.” Ula quietly giggled to herself, right before her smile faltered and turned back into a frown. “But if he was my boyfriend and I really loved him...how did I forget about him?”

“You didn’t forget him. You were forced to;you were forced to forget every detail of your life so that you could feel that you belong in this world.” Schrader stated before looking down with a sigh.    “Just how...you were forced to love me again.”

“Schrader-”

“That’s not important right now.” Schrader shook his head. “What matters is that I tell you everything about your reality, and that we figure out how to get out of here.”

“Schrader,”

“Maybe we need to-”

“Schrader.” Ula spoke louder before Schrader looked at her, realizing that they were still on the dancefloor. “Schrader,”

“Yeah?”

“Schrader,” Ula started again before placing both of her hands on Schrader’s cheeks, biting her lip as she blinked away tears she would not allow to escape. “You have such a beautiful smile.”

“Ula-”

“Please. Just, never stop smiling.” she continued before pressing her forehead against Schrader’s. “I love you.”

“No.” he shook his head after grabbing Ula’s arms, preventing her from leaning in anymore towards his lips. “You don’t.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Schrader released Ula’s arms and she lowered them, the latter biting her lip as she felt Schrader kiss her forehead.

“But even death, I really love you.”

“Ray-”

“Ula!~” Jelly’s voice sounded from the side, prompting the pair to turn and see just the woman approaching them. “Schrader! It’s time to cut the cake!~”

“Already?” Ula turned to look at the large clock in the circus, but shock came to her upon the realization that there was no clock in sight. “What time is it?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jelly waved a hand before grabbing Ula’s hand, dragging her through and off the dancefloor until reaching the bottom of the center stage. “Alright, now let’s get you ready Your father should be here any minute.”

“Jelly.” James was now heard, so the girls turned around to see James who smiled at them both. “Ula, ready to cut the cake darling?”

“Of course.” Ula nodded. “But I want Schader up there with us too.”

“Oh yes of course! We must have lost him on the way here.” Jelly chuckled before Schraer was finally in their presence. “There he is! Now let’s go up on the stage.

“Ready?” Ula whispered to Schrader who nodded, both holding hands rather tightly.

“I guess.”

“May I have everybody’s attention please?” Jelly spoke into her microphone she was handed, the music now stopping as everybody turned to her. “I believe that it is now time to sing Happy Birthday to the birthday girl.~”

Everybody’s attention was now on Ula who stood in the center, her siblings, parents and Schrader standing beside her. All eyes watched as from one side of the stage, two workers rolled in a table with a large cake that made Ula’s eyes widen and her jaw drop. The pumpkin at the very top was then lit up, right before everybody began to sing to Ula who felt her eyes swell with tears. Once done, Ula leaned in to blow the candle out before everybody clapped and Ula embraced her family, then being released as she was handed a large kitchen knife to cut the cake.

Cake slices were distributed to all the guests who focused on their new treats,. However, their attention was once again grabbed once a tapping into the microphone was heard. They all turned, as did Ula and those near her, everybody now staring at James who held the microphone and neared the girl.

“Lily.” he started before clearing his throat, a hand going up to slick his hair back despite it already being styled in such a way. “As your father, I have a few words I would like to speak to you.”

“Dad?”

You know I would do anything for you.” James gently squeezed Ula’s hand. “Lily, you...you have grown into such a beautiful, little lady.”

“Oh, dad...” Ula whispered, her eyes glancing down at  her thumbs which she twiddle, feeling a knot in the pit of her stomach. Besides that, there was a pain in her head just like every single other time something familiar struck her, and she very well knew these words had some kind of familiarity to them.

“What I am trying to say Lily, is that...I am so, very proud of you. Without knowing it,you gave me a chance to better myself and turn into who I am today. You allowed me to become your father, the father of a very talented, intelligent, beautiful, young woman who I thank for such acts of kindness.” James looked at Ula who bit her lip in order to prevent herself from showing too much emotion that she would have liked. “Anybody is fortunate to have you in their life Lily, I know I am. And as I mentioned before, you have grown into such a lady that I have grown to be very proud of.”

“Oh, dad.” Ula tried her hardest to hide what she felt, but even if she knew what she heard was all a figment of her imagination...it resonate deep within her. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“I only tell the truth.” James chuckled before using a handkerchief to softly wipe Ula’s eyes. “You deserve all the good in the world. You are such a strong and courageous one and you stand back up no matter how many times you fall. You are such an admirable lady Lily.”

“J...dad…”

“I just need you to know these things, just in case you ever forget darling. I am so glad that I was given the chance to this life, and especially to share it with you as you grow and continue to bloom into the wondrous flower that you are.” James smiled at Ula who accepted the handkerchief he offered to wipe her eyes again. “I know that the night is coming to an end, but I wish you a Happy Birthday.”

Ula then pulled herself away from James to wipe her eyes that finally poured out tears, right before she felt him pull her into a hug that she instantly returned. The girl buried her face into him until they eventually pulled away, James wiping her eyes once again.

“Thank you J...dad.” Ula wiped her eyes one last time. “That...that was very sweet ...I'm so glad...I...I don’t even know what to say….”

“That is alright.” James tucked a strand of Ula’s hair behind her ear. “You do not need to say anything.”

“No.” Ula shook her head before taking the microphone out of his hand. “There is something I need to say.”

Ula looked at both of her parents who each gave her smiles, awaiting the heartfelt speech Ula must have prepared. She then glanced over at Schrader who furrowed his eyebrows at her, motioning as if to ask what she was planning.

“Tonight has been wonderful, probably one of the best nights of my life.” Ula began, roughly clutching onto the microphone she spoke into. “But this is not my life.”

Jelly and James turned to each other, completely perplexed before Jelly stepped towards Ula who got away.

“This is just some illusion. It’s not real and I realize that now.” she told everybody before looking over at James. “You are...you are not my dad...you...you’re just a bunch of pure imagination.”

“Ula, what is going on?” Jelly whispered through grit teeth.

“My dad’s name is Lennie Blueblood and he’s the father of my siblings Davey and Cordelia. My pet is an alien axolotl named Mana, and he has a family of his own. My uncle Cosmos is married to a man named Vespers and they have three kids. My uncle Pepper is married to a woman named Belinda and they have kids like rabbits would. My mom’s best friend is my aunt Maggie who is married to Billy.My best friend is named Amaranthus and I couldn’t stand her when we first met, but I love her like a sister despite her being my cousin. And my-” Ula then stopped herself before looking over at Schrader again, though he made sure to turn away. “My boyfriend’s name is Atlas. That’s my life, my reality and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Ula…” Jelly pressured as she attempted to grab the microphone, Ula tearing her hand and the microphone away which made Jelly frown deeply.

“And now that I have everybody’s attention, I have one more thing to say.” Ula took a deep breath before finally speaking again. “Fuck you Cantarella, you useless piece of shit.”

In that moment, Ula saw as the lights in the circus all turned off to create a dark atmosphere that made her clench her fists. She felt as Schrader stood next to her and grabbed her hand, both then seeing as a series of pink lights turned on in the darkness.

“What’s with the pink lights?” Ula whispered before feeling Schrader securely dug his fingers into her arm.

“Those aren’t pink lights.” he took a step back, taking Ula with him as they realized the pink was everywhere. “They’re eyes.”

“I think it’s about time we ditch the party.”

“Yeah.” Schrader nodded before he and Ula made a run for it, jumping off the stage and kicking some guests on the way down before pushing through everybody that attempted to stop them. “May I ask what your plan even is!?”

“I just knew that we need to get everybody’s attention but other than that, my mind’s blank!” Ula exclaimed  before stopping in her tracks. “Wait!”

“No time for waiting!” Schrader grabbed her by the wrist in an attempt to drag her away from the crowd of pink eyed shadows that chased after them. “They’re going to get us!”

“No, wait! I need the cake knife!”

“Knife!? What for!?”

“I saw this in an episode of Batman: The Animated Series!”

“Ula!” Schrader groaned before picking her up, running even faster before they finally got out of the circus and lost the others. “I know this is all fake but this isn’t some hero television show!”

“I know, I know!” Ula replied, then whispering once Schrader hid behind a tree with Ula still in his arms. “But this stuff always works in movies and shows, I’ve seen it more than once. But there’s this episode with the Mad Hatter, and-”

“Ula…!”

“Oh! I’ll get the knife myself!” Ula removed herself from Schrader’s arms, hopping down and creating a rabbit hole in the ground which she jumped into. “Come on!”

Schrader searched the area for a moment, making sure nobody else was near, then jumping into the hole that lead him and Ula back into the circus. He remained silent as did the entire circus, the only sound being the music that ever so softly played quite ominously in the darkness.

“This way.” he felt Ula grab his wrist, the two walking over to the stage before Schrader helped Ula climb onto it. However, before he too was able to get on, the lights in the circus all turned on and Schrader was pulled back by arms grabbing him from every side.

“Schrader!” Ula exclaimed before rushing towards the cake, grabbing the large knife that she held close to her. Her eyes widened at the sight that was Schrader being held down by the hands of her parents and brothers that all glared at her with pink eyes.

“Oh shit…” she muttered once realizing that she was actually surrounded by pink eyes everywhere. “Oh shit, shit, shit.”

“Put the knife down.” commanded her mother in a distorted voice, her frown then turning into a sweet smile. “Please my little oyster, put the knife down.”

“No!”

“This is all but a grave mistake.” James commented as his nails dug into Schrader. “Please, let us love you.”

“No.” Ula shook her head as she now pointed the knife at them. “Fuck you.”

“Don’t you love us Ula?” the triplets asked with innocent voices. “We love you, big sister!”

“Fuck off!”

“Don’t speak to your brothers with such foul language.” Jelly frowned one again, pressing her sharp, elongated nails against Schrader’s throat. “Or I’ll kill him.”

“And we’ll especially kill him if you don’t stay with us.” the triplets nodded as their nails grew into claws as well.

“You have always wanted a father, correct?” James smiled at Ula who’s glare started to falter. “Here I am darling.”

“D...dad…” Ula started to lower the knife, then shaking her head as she slashed at the air. “You’re not my dad! Lennie is!”

At this, James gave a glare before turning to look at Schrader who struggled to get out of the family’s grip. 

“If you don’t stay with us, we’ll kill him.” James threatened, everybody then hearing as Ula gave a laugh.

“Do it.” Ula continued to laugh. “Do it, asshole.”

“Ula.” Schrader breathed out as he glanced down at Jelly’s and the triplets’ claws. “What are you doing?”

“Trust me.” Ula mouthed to Schader before her eyes went back to James. “Go ahead and kill him. I bet you won’t do it.”

James and the others scowled at Ula, then turning to Schrader before claws were dug and slashed into him. Ula made sure to turn away at the sight, not wanting to relive the memory of Schrader dying, even if she didn’t remember the first one.

“And now,” Ula shut her eyes as she gripped onto the knife very tightly. Her eyes opened for one last time before she glanced at James and despite her determination, Ula felt a twinge of pain in her chest.

“Goodbye.”

“Ula, don’t!” James exclaimed before plunging the knife right into her back, choking out a breath of air before she cut a straight line down.

[depressed-sock]

Can you hear me? part 2

Another Series based on a prompt and there will be Spoilers!!!. This time with Julia and my sidestep Luna Falso. Rescue au Set before heartbreak.

tw: canon-typical violence and mentions of blood

SPOILERS!

Don’t Give Up

Dr. Salena:

 It's a coincidence, a fluke, a twist of fate that has you grinning from ear to ear. The cuckoo's face was so easy to recognize, and when your people opened its suit to prepare it for surgery the markings confirmed your thoughts, erasing any hint of doubt. The hero Anathema had brought it to you and your team in hopes that you could save it. You will save it but not in the way she would ever expect or want.

 “Get them into surgery now!” you yell at your team, trying to turn your unbridled glee into professionalism. It’s hard to do but necessary considering the hero has decided to keep up with your crews every step.

 To think that this boring infiltration and data gathering will finally be over. You'll finally get to return back to the Farm with a prize worthy of praise. It's too bad the hero Sidestep has to die in surgery. You bite your lip, fighting back the laugh. How funny that the cuckoo decided to become a hero. It could have ran farther away, chose a life without the danger of being found but no...it chose to be a hero. A strange decision really but one you can't complain about.

  You break off letting them rush into preparation so that you can start your plan. “Initiate alpha 43,” your voice is hushed as you give the command to one of your underlings, who responds with a resolute nod. You’ll have to fake its death, make sure to mix up some papers and make it seem like its body was immediately sent to be cremated. That would make it easier, deny that the body even still exists.

 First things first, you need to make sure the hero stays out of the operating room she seems intent on entering. Your steps are quick, your voice sharp, “I’m sorry but only medical professionals are allowed into that room.”

 She turns facing you with confidence that tries to hide the worry beneath, “Too bad, I’m going.” She shrugs, with a grin that feels more like a challenge, “I need to be by her side.” Unspoken words; and you won’t stop me. You grit your teeth, She’s a nuisance that thinks she can do whatever she pleases because she’s a Ranger. Fine. You can adjust your plans, you can make sure that when it ‘dies’ it’ll feel like her fault.

 “Fine, it’s not my place to argue with a Ranger,” you say it calmly, with added precision, “But you should be aware that you’re putting them at greater risk.” She nods her head in understanding pushing the door open and you watch her back disappear as the door slams shut.

 “Maam?” your lackey looks between you and the door, unsure how to proceed.

 “Change of plans, make sure we have an accident during surgery,” you pause a moment a manic grin spreading across your face, “Use the acidic gas.”

…

 The surgery goes fine, though the hero doesn’t know that. She’s backed away leaning against the wall nervously wringing her hands, watching your teamwork. Is that a bit of acid dripping from her hands? Your grin is hidden behind your medical mask, your moving to signal your team, green gas wisps around the room, the cuckoo's vitals immediately appearing to drop.signalling all hell to break loose as an alarm sounds in the room and everyone panics.

 “We’re losing her!”

 “What happened!”

 “What the hell?”

 You turn on your heel fury contouring the parts of your face that can be seen. “You’re contaminating the room!” Your arm swings out pointing to the acidic gas feeling the room, “Get out before we lose her!”

 The hero looks completely terrified, easily obeying your command and rushing out of the room. She’ll probably feel so guilty when her friend ‘dies’, it almost makes you laugh. “Lock the door, we don’t need any extras walking in here.” Your lackey moves, quickly locking the door turning to await your command.

 “Dr. Salena? What’s going on?” ahh poor confused underling, it’s too bad a few of them got mixed with your team in the rush. So unfortunate.

 “The room’s been contaminated,” you pull the gun from your jacket, “And it appears that several people have died because of it.” A mess easily fixed as long as nobody sees the bodies before the cremation.

 The gunshots remain unheard as the alarm blares throughout the hospital.

….

Julia:

  “You’re lying,” you feel your voice break, it has to be a lie she… she can’t be...

 “I’m so sorry but your friend… she didn’t make it and the contamination also took the lives of several other people,” the woman adjusts her glasses, auburn hair messily tied into a bun as she looks at you sadly.

 “Contamination?” what could have been so bad that it caused- she’s not dead. Not until… not until you can see her body for yourself.

 “Your other friend, Anathema? I think that’s her name. From what we can tell right now she seemed to set off a chemical reaction with her abilities and-”

 You push past her, anger fueling your steps. Anathema was supposed to make sure she was safe, she was supposed to make sure Luna lived. And now?... now Luna’s… Luna’s something because of her. You find her, head in her hands, crying and you feel your anger peter out.

 “I'm sorry,” she sobs out, not moving her hands from her face. Nothing you could say would change what happened, nothing would bring her back. You find yourself faltering. Knees falling to the ground as you let out a sob. Luna’s gone… she’s gone because of you and no one else.

….

Unknown:

 You hadn’t meant to see, you just… you wanted to make sure she was alright...She was your hero and now… You watch as they kart her body down the abandoned hallway. People talking, laughing over her body. It hurts to watch… to know that she’s-

 Her body jolts forward against the restraints, she tries to scream but one of the men quickly put a hand over her face. His laugh turns into a scream of his own as he yanks his hand back, blood rushes down it and onto his arm.

 Someone punches her in retaliation, even as she starts to yell, “I’m going to fuc-” words left unfinished as she falls back onto the cot unconscious, a woman sighing as she removes a needle stuck into Sidestep’s neck. You hide back around the corner, hand covering your mouth to keep from screaming. She’s alive. SHE’S ALIVE! She’s- oh fuck she’s being kidnapped.

 You look again and they’re already moving back down the hallway, the man whose hand had gotten bitten complaining loudly, “We should just kill it.”

 “Be silent, it’s worth more than you could ever hope to be,” the woman says sharply, adjusting her glasses. “Get it out of the building before…” She turns her head, her eye’s meeting yours. Fear pulses through you as her lips twist into a sadistic smile, “Kill the snoop.” You turn and run, footsteps pounding behind you. You need to find the Rangers, they can help you and they need to know Sidestep’s alive.

[twodaysintojune]

Tricks or Drinks

@idabbleincrazy For Dabble’s anniversary, Supernatural, Debriel, warnings-none

Song: Faith, George Michael

Line: “Look, all I know is that I was not groped by an angel.”

Find me at AO3

The bar was really nice, woods well kept and paint nicely applied, an old cuckoo clock hanging at the middle of a wall between some other old fashioned artifacts. Nothing fancy but you could tell the owner cared for it like their newborn baby. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he wouldn’t have been able to hook up with a nice girl even with the best of lucks in there, Dean would have stayed a night. What the hell, maybe he would stay just for some drinks and enjoy the place.

The patrons themselves were also quite better dressed than the guys where they usually hanged, it was early but most were already enjoying their second drink. The barwoman addressed them immediately.

“Hello ma’am, I’m agent Collins and this is my partner Rossington”

Dean mimicked Sam’s motion and flashed his fake FBI badge towards the woman.

“We’re here to talk with the manager about the couple of bar fights that have been going on.”

“Aw, and here I thought for a second you had just rendezvoused from work.”

Both Sam and Dean sent the woman a set of awkward smiles while they asked once more for the manager.

“Down that tiny hallway you can get to his office, he should be there, hadn’t seen him going out of his hole.”

The brothers moved towards the hallway the bartender had signalled them.

“I swear to God Sammy...”

“It’s a gay bar Dean, it’s kind of easier to make assumptions in this place”

“Right, like not being in a gay bar had stopped other people from making assumptions on us before.”

“I’m telling you Dean, that’s your own fault.”

Dean glared at his brother but kept his thoughts to himself, they had reached the end of the hall the bartender had mentioned and looked into the tiny office. Because of the impression of a dingy hole in the ground the office gave, Dean was surprised to see that the owner didn’t look like a tiny little mouse but was simply the average joe.

They introduced themselves and began questioning him. What had brought them here had been almost an accident, they were just passing by the relatively big town in between jobs but overheard a pair of nosy neighbours talk about how the bar fights had started once more at the the ‘cursed’ bar. Sam, intrigued, began a small chat with the women and found out that despite being in a well located area the local establishment was constantly changing owners. Things always began to go sour after a week or two from reopening. Many different things could be marked as the culprit but it was still odd to see that while the rest of the bars around downtown were thriving, this well located place barely survived, no matter what name the business had.

This time, it had been a series of bar fights what was starting to give the bar a bad reputation. The owner was lumped over his desk chatting with the guys, you could tell he was feeling distressed about it but obviously didn’t know how to fix it. It hadn’t been one person or accident in particular the one that started the fights but they always started on Friday night around midnight. He could hold up his watch and see it happen, f it wasn’t a spilled drink it was a leering patron or someone slipping or a bad choice of words. Considering it was Friday, Sam and Dean asked the owner if they could come back later.

“Sure, no problem... You can also stay around now if you like, there’s not much buzz on this early anyways, could do some help to have you guys on display. First round’s on the house.” Despite the obvious objectification in the sentence, Dean could tell the guy was not trying to flirt with them. Something was odd and it took him just a moment to guess.

“Wow, wait a second, you’re not gay?”

The guy looked at him and chortled.

“Is it that obvious?”

Sam was now looking at the man surprised.

“Why would you have a gay bar if you’re not gay?”

“Well, to be honest, the gay bar was not my idea, it was my brother’s. He’s the one with the queer and the money, I’m just holding the front while he earns the big bucks at the big city to pay the mortgage.”

The guy signaled the bartender from the hallway and the woman immediately pulled two beers out for Sam and Dean while they parted with the owner, now demoted to caretaker.

“Well I gotta tell you man, a bar fight every week on the clock? There’s definitely something odd going on here.”

“So what do you think? Spell? Curse? Cursed object?”

“Ha! If it’s a cursed object then the whole bar should have to be cleansed. Good luck on finding a priest that will bless a gay bar.”

“Don’t be like that Dean, I’m sure we can find one. Not everyone in the church are against gay people.”

Dean just shrugged and gave a sip to his beer, after a moment he turned back to his brother once more.

“Something doesn’t add up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, all we know is that it happens in the bar but cursed objects only work one way, heck, even ghosts always have a MO. You heard the owner, it never is the same person or the same kind of accident.”

“If they are accidents… But yeah I get you, also no one has died. It’s just been small sleight of hand stuff.”

“Sleight of hand huh?”

The eyes of both brothers lit up with an idea.

“Like a trick, or a joke?”

“Do you think we could be dealing with a Trickster?”

“Maybe more of a prankster but it’s a start… What should we do? Do you wanna go back to the hotel and do some research?”

“Dude, we’re two hours from the thing, whatever the hell the thing is happens. I don’t want to stay an entire week if we miss our chance.”

“Well yeah but what can we do then? This is just a hunch Dean, we need to do some proper leg work.”

“OR… We could call an expert.”

Sam frowned a second before he realized what his brother meant.

“Dude, no. I don’t trust that guy. Besides, who knows if the idiot’s gonna show up?”

“Oh he’ll come alright, you just need to give him a good enough prayer.”

“He’s been gone for six months now, doing whatever the hell it is he’s supposed to do in Heaven. What makes you think he’ll show up now?”

“Oh come on Sammy, let’s call him, I bet you fifty he’ll come.”

Sam eyed suspiciously at his brother’s shit eating grin.

“Twenty.”

“Spoilsport. Alright! Twenty it is.”

Dean joined his hands and lent over the counter in silent prayer. A moment later, the front door swung open and in came Gabriel; dark polished shoes, tailored burgundy pinstripe pants and a tight oxford grey vest with a chain hanging from it towards an actual pocket watch, hair carefully brushed into perfect waves. Every head turned towards him the moment he stepped inside.

Gabriel looked around until he found Dean waving at him from the bar. Sam’s mouth was actually open in surprise, was this really the same asshole he had to deal with about the sugar intake at the bunker on a daily basis months ago? Frustrated, he pulled out his wallet, took a couple of bills and smashed them in Dean’s hand.

“Well colour me surprised, if I didn’t know you better I’d have sworn you were just trying to fool me when you told me to dress up and join you at a gay bar.”

“Seriously Dean!? You prayed to a goddamned archangel just to ask him to come hang around with you at a bar? A Gay Bar?”

“Well, if he had a phone I’d have called him.”

Sam turned his full bitchface on, it was more than enough time that he had given up the idea that his brother should leave at least some things sacred. Gabriel and Dean just laughed out loud. Soon enough, Gabriel was sitting by their side enjoying a beer and began to chat with them, about how everything was going on in Heaven, with Dean mostly but Sam was not complaining.

“I gotta admit Dean-o, your timing couldn’t have been better, I was this close of dumping everything and leaving for the Bahamas. Everyone is still so stiff I’m afraid I won’t be able to get the stick up their asses off in less than a century...”

The last couple of hours went by in a flash, the place slowly but surely filling up. Gabriel’s conversation was so entertaining even Sam had forgotten everything about the case. Almost by midnight, Gabriel spotted the juke-box and beelined through the now considerate amount of people towards it to select a song. A moment later, the chords of an organ that sounded really out of place in their current location was interrupted by the strings of a guitar. Dean realized quickly what song it was and began snorting. He liked Gabriel’s sense of humour.

Well I guess it would be nice

If I could touch your body

I know not everybody

Has got a body like you, uhh

Dean leaned towards Sam to tell him something when out of the blue he felt a hand behind him sliding down to grab his ass. Sam immediately realized something was wrong starting at his brother's features but he couldn’t see what was going on because of the angle he had in relation to Dean.

“Oh for the love of… Dude! Hands off!”

A guy that had apparently mixed his shots and was quite drunk leaned over Dean, oblivious to his complaint.

“Ssssthe problem baby? 'At ass needssssome attention...”

Dean was struggling to be civil about it but the moment the asshole groped his rear like he owned it he saw red and swung a fist towards his face. In a matter of seconds everything went downwards. Two of the drunk guy friends, most likely just as drunk as he was, went forward to punch Dean back only to be met by Sam and Gabriel throwing them back with equally closed fists. The last friend, about to charge all three of them in a rather adorable act of camaraderie was stopped on his tracks when the bartender slammed a baseball bat on the counter between both parties.

“Knock it off right now or I call the police!”

Dean, Sam and Gabriel stood there while the group of five was thrown away from the establishment by the security guy and the owner. The poor guy seemed bummed.

“I am so sorry agents, I really don't know what to do to make it up to you.”

“I know what you can do.” Interceded Gabriel quickly. “I want you to give us that Cuckoo clock”

Sam and Dean changed sights puzzled, the owner also looked funny at Gabriel.

“That old thing?”

“You got a problem with it?”

“No, no, it's alright. My brother's gonna missed it but there's no real attachment to it. You can take it.”

The owner quickly went to pull it off the wall and place it in Gabriel's hands thinking it would be better to act before he could back out of the offer. Once outside with a brand new Cuckoo in hand, Gabriel asked the guys to take them to any empty parking lot at the outskirts where he could work.

Soon enough, he was standing in a chalk circle, surrounded by some runes and proceeded to smash the clock against the concrete. And to the brother's surprise, out jumped a small man-like creature dressed in dark green.

The thing tried to run away as soon as it took hold of the ground but crashed against an invisible wall when he reached the chalk trace, falling backwards on the floor with a soft thud.

“And what kind of manners are those, running away from your saviour, O’Leary?”

The figure stood up a bit startled and turned around to face Gabriel with a face full of surprise.

“I cannae believe it… Loki? Is that really you?”

“The one and only. My fellow folk.”

O’Leary smiled from side to side and approached Gabriel with open arms.

“Loki my man! I had not heard from you ever since we parted ways a hundred and twenty years ago!”

Gabriel, currently posing as Loki, and O’Leary exchanged greetings and began to chat about what had been of them recently. This way, the brothers found out how the miniature man had been in that clock.

The clock, made with an iron frame, had actually worked as a trap. Constantly draining his energy and not allowing him to do more than a couple of tricks like making an object fall or place small illusions on people’s minds. Boldened by the lack of faith humankind had developed, he had been careless around a human years ago and next time he noticed the human had thrown him in there, asking for his gold. He used to come everyday to the attic where he had storaged his captive.

Every day this man came and asked him to give him all his gold, every day he answered no. For O’Leary it all turned down to a matter of time. Either the man got fed up or he got bored. Unfortunately for O’Leary, a third option appeared out of nowhere.

The man suddenly died. And meanwhile O’Leary waited. He waited a day, then two then a week, a month, five months. More than six years passed when he finally felt the presence of more humans in the basement. His jail-clock moved, he heard the conversation of these two people. The clock was going to be sold, along with many of the other items of the diseased.

O’Leary found himself in shock. He had been forgotten just like every other item that had belonged to this man. Before he could make himself known, the clock where he was trapped had been moved from a cart, to a train, to another cart to a ship. And from there all the way to the USA, where a random person had bought it online.

He tried to call out to someone, anyone but apparently no one knew his tongue and he eventually gave up. Then, after years of depressed silence, he made a plan. He’d use what little energy he could gather and make some chaos. Hopefully someone would catch up. Thankfully, it had been the boys and Gabriel.

As a token of gratitude, the Leprechaun gave each Sam and Dean a charm for good luck and a safe passage note in case they ever wandered into fae territory while Gabriel prepared a fae portal towards Ireland. Once the rift that O’Leary had used to go back home closed Dean sighed content.

“Well, that went quite different from our normal gigs but I really can’t complain.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, it’s actually refreshing for once… So what now? Wanna go back to the gay bar?”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not risking any of my body parts any more.”

Both Sam and Gabriel laughed at Dean’s expense.

“Oh come on Dean-o, that poor guy was hit straight in the face with a fae confusion spell. You cannot really blame him on his actions.”

“Look, you can say whatever you want but all I know is that I was not groped by an angel.”

Gabriel lifted up a hand while leering at him.

“That could be easily arranged.”

Dean glared at the archangel while Sam bursted out laughing.

“Don’t you even think about it. And you, you stop laughing and get on the car before I leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

Sam was still chuckling when he stepped onto the car. Gabriel already at the backseat. Dean was still up for another round of drinks but he was adamant on finding a different bar this time, one where his ass would not be under immediate peril, thank you.

[aterimber]

Hunter Helper

Request from CarmillaPoisonberry - ‘got another sick!fic in mind. Sick!Dean and Caring!Sam in the middle of a hunt. Taking place anytime after Season 6.

Requested: 14.07.14

Started: 17.11.13

Finished: 19.03.14

Words: 5,601

-------------------------

“Damn it,” Dean glared down at his cast and dropped his hand back to his lap, uselessly.

The damn thing made it impossible for him to scratch at his leg, making him go just the tad bit crazy. He knew he wasn’t supposed to scratch at it, the doctors told him that meant it was healing, but damn if he didn’t try. How is anyone supposed to ignore this itching for two weeks anyway? He’d got so desperate a few days ago that he tried to get a stick in there but it ended up snapping in half, so now not only did he have an unreachable itch, he also had half a stick sticking out from his leg.

I really didn’t think that through, the blonde tugged uselessly at the end of the stick, only ending up pushing it further into his cast. The bark added to the itching. Every time he shifted his leg, the stick would move ever so slightly and tease him by scrapping against his leg – too slowly to bring any relief. Great. He let out a sigh and flopped his head back against the couch.

He knew that he shouldn’t be complaining about his leg, considering Sam had the devil riding shotgun, and the world was ending…again.

When did his life go so downhill?

Speaking of the devil…

Dean craned his neck against the back of the couch, trying to see into the back hall of the cabin, “Sam?”

All that met him was silence, which instantly spiked his worry meter. If Sam decided to fly the cuckoo's nest, he wouldn’t even be able to go after him, unless he decided to cut his cast off. Which was a serious option if Sam did leave; there was no way he was going to just sit around if his brother was out walking around by himself.

“Sam?”

Still nothing. Damn it, he began struggling to get himself up off the couch, I swear to God, Sammy, if you left this cabin-

“Yeah, yeah, I’m right here,” The giant walked into the room, seeming shaken up about something, wringing his hands.

The blonde narrowed his eyes at his brother as he eased himself back down onto the couch, “Why didn’t you answer?”

“What do you mean?” Sam moved to help guide him back down, before sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

“I had to call you more than once.”

“So?”

“So, I can’t just spring up and go after you if you don’t answer. I need to know you’re safe.”

“Okay, jeez I didn’t realize you being injured meant I had to stay confined,” His eyes began wandering off to the right, in the direction of the kitchen, behind my head.

“Damn it, Sam,” he punched the cushion beside him, making the youngest jump, “You have the devil making you see who knows what, and I’m down a leg, this is serious.”

“Okay, sorry, I was…,” Dean didn’t miss the way his eyes focused on something behind his head again, “distracted.”

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing.”

That came out a little faster than necessary, “You wanna try that again?”

He finally turned his gaze back to his brother, “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Sam.”

“Dean.”

The brother’s stared at each other for a few minutes, before Dean sighed and Sam got up from the table, making his way into the kitchen.

Oh, that’s great, now he’s playing cops and robbers, the blonde leaned his head against the back of the couch again, doing his best to keep his eyes on him. If you’re seeing him now, there’s no way I’m leaving you alone, “What’re you doing?”

“Having sex.”

“Aw, dude, not on the table! And keep your special sauce away from the milk! I do not need that in my cereal.”

“Ugh, Dean,” Bitch Face Number Seven, looks pretty funny upside down, actually, “that’s disgusting!”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s having sex in the kitchen; I’m just giving you some parameters.”

He heard him let out a frustrated groan before padding toward one of the back rooms, that I can’t get to. Dean internally swore his brother for doing that - he knew he did it on purpose, wanting some alone time. But his alone time wasn’t just him, which was what Dean didn’t trust. He knew he was being a pain in the ass, but it’s not like he didn’t have a reason, and with his bum leg, he didn’t exactly have much else to do either.

He punched one of the cushions next to him again, “Shit!”

The blonde heard the creak of a door closing, and then… nothing. Not good.

“Sam?”

He ran a hand through his hair and grit his teeth, doing his best not to explode, why are you being such an ass about this? “Sam!”

“What the fuck do you want?”

Whoa, attitude much? “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Going to the bathroom! Is that okay with you Dad?”

Aaaand now you’re pissed. Great. “You sure that’s all you’re doing?”

“Oh, no, you’re right. I forgot to mention the person I dragged in here earlier to interrogate.”

How am I supposed to know what you’re doing if you don’t just tell me? Dean took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair, tugging at it out of frustration, you’re not this stupid, Sam. You know why I’m worried. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, I can’t believe I’m doing this, “…What’d he tell you?”

“Jesus Dean!”

He heard the toilet flush, at least he was telling the truth, before Sam reappeared, his hands shaking slightly.

“Ew, dude, there’s no way you washed your hands that fast,” the blonde threw one of the pillows at him, he won’t even leave you alone to go to the bathroom? Damn.

The younger sighed, letting the pillow fall to the floor before crossing his arms over his chest, avoiding his brothers’ gaze, “I’m not five, Dean.”

“You should still wash your hands, no matter how old you are, Sammy. C’mon, I thought I raised you better then that.”

Eye roll, well, that’s a step down from pissed, I guess, “Dean, look, I don’t need you to-”

“I got a hunt for you.” Bobby burst through the door, throwing a newspaper toward Sam.

Dean didn’t bother to hide the offended look from the eldest, “Anything non-leviathan related?”

“Are you ever that lucky?”

Sam’s eyes scanned the paper, stopping every second or third line to flick over to his left, hands twitching slightly, as if wanting to grab whatever he was looking at, before he returned to reading. He’s still here? Fuck… Dean gave Bobby a look, but the elder man either didn’t notice, or didn’t care anymore.

“So, Sam,” he noted the small jump at the sound of his voice, c’mon, Lucifer, at least give him five friggin’ minutes! “what’s it say?”

“What?”

“The hunt? Is it our kind of thing?” You can’t focus? No way are you leaving.

“Oh, right, uh, it just says a farmer couple went missing a couple of days ago, only thing anyone found was a swipe of black ooze on one of the windowsills. Claiming the couple just up and left for a vacation,” Sam threw the newspaper down on the table.

He walked back out of eyesight, now you’re just trying to piss me off, returning a moment later with a duffle slung over his shoulder, extending a hand to his brother to give him the keys. Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he shook his head. Sam huffed a breath and shifted his weight, giving his brother Bitch Face Number Four.

“No way Sam.” You really think I’m gonna let you go out on a hunt? After that?

“Dean, it’ll be quick, two, three days max.”

“No Sam, you’re not going alone, especially not on a Leviathan thing.”

“Hey,” Bobby cut in, “I can go with him, make sure he doesn’t get his head ripped off.”

“Oh c’mon Bobby, you can’t watch him,” Dean barely glanced at the older man.

“You wanna try that again, Son?”

“You’re reflexes ain’t what they used to be, half a second late, and Sam’ll be dead. Or worse.”

“Reflexes ain’t…?” Bobby huffed, eyebrows raising, “Is your cast cutting off the circulation to your brain or something, Boy?”

“Look, I,” he ran a hand through his hair in agitation, what is with everyone today? “that’s not what I meant.”

The eldest gave the blonde an expectant look.

Don’t make me say it, “Bobby, I just… If Sam’s going on a hunt, I’m going with him.”

“Since when don’t you trust me to watch the kid?”

“It’s not your job, alright?” You should already know this, why’re you making me spell it out for you?

“Uh, Dean?”

“Bobby, it’s not that I don’t trust you-”

“Dean-”

“I just – I’m going stir crazy here, not being able to leave, I need to burn off some of this energy, y’know?”

“Dean!”

“What?” He followed his eyes to the empty space where the youngest used to be standing, “Shit.”

He swung his cast leg off the couch and braced himself against the arm, getting ready to stand, “How the hell did he do that? You’re standing in front of the door.”

“There’s a back door at the end of the hall.”

I’m going to kill him, He hoisted himself up and gave a small laugh of triumph as he didn’t immediately fall back over, “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“Fine, next time I’ll give you a floor plan to the place,” he tossed his jacket at him before coming around to help.

“I got it,” the blonde swatted his hand away and thought of his next move, using the arm of the couch for support.

“He couldn’t have gotten far, he doesn’t have the keys to the Impala,” Bobby grabbed the crutches from the opposite wall and handed them over.

“Unless he hotwired it.” I swear to God, if you opened her up…

“We would’ve heard it start,” he yanked the door open and scanned the driveway for the vehicle anyway.

They were both half-way out the door when a creak from behind them made them stop and turn around.

“Uh, guys?” Sam came out of the back, shrugging his jacket on and took in the concerned look on their faces, “What? Did you decide I’m on lock down again?”

Dean moved as fast as he could back to the middle of room to hit his brother, “Don’t do that!”

Sam eyed his brother confused as he threw his duffle down on the small dining table, “Do what?”

“We thought you left for the hunt.” Bobby closed the door and helped the blonde back to the couch.

He made his way to the fridge, pulling out a couple of waters, “And neither of you realized I would’ve had to walk past you?”

“We thought you went out the back.” Dean flopped down with a sigh.

“There is no back way out of here.”

Dean glared at Bobby who just put his hands up in mock surrender and shrugged.

“My mistake.”

“Jesus, Bobby!”

“So,” the brunette stuffed the water bottles into his duffle before zipping it closed again and throwing it up on his shoulder, “can I go now?”

“No. You’re not going.”

“Dean-”

“No Sam. Let Bobby go. You can stay here and wait on me,” he gave his brother a thousand watt smile. No way am I letting you out of this house. Especially if you’re seeing Lucifer while you’re goddamn peeing.

Sam rolled his eyes and looked to Bobby, who was refusing to meet his eyes. Bobby sighed and snatched the paper off the coffee table before making his way back over to the door.

“I’ll call when I get there; let you know what I find.”

With that, Bobby disappeared out the door, leaving the brother’s alone. Sam made his way toward the back, rolling his eyes as he saw Dean tense.

He sighed and held up his duffle, “I’m going to put my stuff back.”

Dean waved a hand dismissively, letting him go before scrubbing a hand down his face, and letting out a deep sigh, fuck.

“Hey,” as soon as his brother got back into eyesight he hit him with another pillow, “go to the store?”

Sam caught this one and put it down on the dining table, “You sure I can do that by myself Dean?”

“No, but you’re here to wait on me, and me wants pie.” If you can do this by yourself, then we’ll see about letting you hunt. Definitely nothing Leviathan related, we’re starting you small. Salt n’ burns only.

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head but walked toward the front door anyway.

“Hey, don’t forget these.” Dean threw him the keys. Bring him back in one piece for me, Baby.

“Yeah alright.”

“And some skin mags?”

“Anything else, your highness?” Sam turned back to him, bowing slightly.

Dean tapped his chin as if to think for a moment, “Pie! Definitely pie.”

“When do I ever not get you pie?”

The blonde opened his mouth to respond but closed it wordlessly, good point. He craned his neck to look at the kitchen behind him, “We might need some real food too.”

“Okay,” Sam had one hand on the doorknob, not even looking at him, eager, aren’t ya?

“And water, we’re down to the last case.”

“Fine.”

“And-”

Sam rolled his eyes, turning back to his brother, “Yes?”

“If you wreck the car,” he smirked at his brother, “I’ll kill you.”

“Yeah, alright. Can I go now?”

“Yeah you can go. I’m warning you now; if you’re not back in ten minutes I’m coming after you.”

“Dean, the store is fifteen minutes away at least, plus time to actually gather everything-”

“Oh, yeah, alright Mr. Cocky, you get half an hour then.”

Sam held up his hands in mock surrender before finally getting out the door, closing it behind him. Dean heard the Impala start up and rumble away, eyes on the clock, so he could time him.

He was serious, if Sam wasn’t back soon, he was going after him - he wasn’t just going to sit around while Lucifer had him doing who-knew-what to who-knew-who.

Dean leaned his head back against the couch, closing his eyes, don’t make me come after you.

 --

  “Dean!”

Dean jumped, startled, and looked around, trying to place himself. He relaxed slightly as he spotted Bobby over him, wait…

“Bobby?” He cleared his throat as he heard the grogginess of it.

“Where the hell’s your brother?”

“Supply run,” he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and stretched, “Did you forget something?”

“Forget something? Dean, I’ve been gone four days.”

“What?” He was definitely awake now.

Bobby flicked the light on, making Dean shield his eyes from the light, “I came back from the hunt to see the door unlocked, the Impala gone, you snoring on the couch and a lack of your mammoth of a brother.”

Fuck, he struggled to his feet, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I got back yesterday, figured he was out on a supply run and waited to see if he’d come back. Gave the kid fifteen minutes from when I got in, when he didn’t show? I’ve been trying to wake you since.”

He is so dead. He started toward the door.

“Do you know where he went?”

“No, but I’ll start with the store and work my way up,” he reached into his pocket for the keys.

Fuck, I let him take the car! He banged a fist against the wall, “Can we take your truck?”

Bobby nodded, catching up to Dean, before running out the door. They climbed into his truck – needing to physically pull Dean half way into it first, which shaved off another couple minutes of catch-up time – before speeding off toward the store.

 --

 “C’mon Sam, I know you want to vent. Who better to listen than me?” Lucifer stretched his feet up onto the dash as they sped down the road, the youngest Winchester looking ready to explode, his grip on the steering wheel getting increasingly tighter.

“Leave me alone.” Sam pushed the palm of his left hand as hard as he could into the wheel.

Why can’t I just get some time to myself? Usually, Lucifer disappeared after a few minutes or he just hung around in the background, not really talking. But lately things had started to change - Sam would walk into a room to find him waiting there, actively trying to get him to respond, he seemed more in tune with the situation and would interject whenever there was a pause, and, perhaps the most annoying - the scar on his hand was pretty much useless.

“Don’t be mean, Sammy, I’m only trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“Oh c’mon,” Lucifer bumped his arm, “Tell me what’s bothering you about Big Bro.”

“It’s just-” he huffed, knuckles going white around the steering wheel, “He’s acting like I’m five. Like I can’t take care of myself. All the shit we’ve been through? And he just assumes I’m not able to handle this. I mean,” he pulled into the parking lot, “No offence but seeing you isn’t exactly the worst thing that’s happened to one of us, y’know?”

Lucifer nodded, “He has gotten more… controlling lately.”

“I know,” Sam got out of the car and made his way toward the entrance of the store, “I think it might be tied to losing Cas, but still…” he picked up a basket as they entered, pausing as Lucifer hopped into one of the carts, “… what’re you doing?”

“I’ve never rode in one before.”

Sam shook his head, replacing the basket, before making his way over to the cart, “You know they don’t go very fast, right? If you think riding in a car is slow – this’ll be ten times worse.”

Lucifer waved a dismissive hand at him before pointing to the doors, “Onward!”

Sam complied, making his way into the store pushing the cart, unable to ignore the thousand-watt smile the devil gave him.

“Don’t forget the pie, Sam.”

“I’m not gonna forget the pie,” he mentally cursed himself as a lady gave him a quizzical look as they passed, shit.

“What?” Lucifer turned to look at the lady, before turning back to the hunter, confused, “What’s wrong?”

Nothing, he turned down the produce aisle, throwing things into the cart occasionally.

“Ooohhh,” Lucifer nodded, “You don’t want to look crazy, got it.”

They turned down another aisle, Sam moving through it quickly, trying to find pie.

“Hold it!”

Sam stopped abruptly, glad the aisle was empty, “What the hell?”

Lucifer picked a box of Pop-Tarts up off the shelf, holding them out to show the hunter, “Can we get these?”

Sams’ brows furrowed in confusion, “Since when do angels need to eat? And since when do you like Pop-Tarts?”

Lucifer pet the box, “These are the best thing your kind has invented.”

“…Sure,” Sam held back his chuckle as the devil reached for another box, cradling both against his chest.

They continued shopping in silence for a while, before Sam doubled back on some of the aisles, scanning the signs above with frustration, “Where the hell is the pie?”

Lucifer pointed toward the back of the store, “Probably where it says Bakery?”

He stopped dumbfounded before shaking his head, of course, starting toward the back of the store.

He ducked as he heard a gunshot, before turning to the front of the store, eyes widening as he saw another him, “What the hell?”

“This is a robbery!” Clone-Sam yelled, firing two more shots into the ceiling, “Everybody down!” He made his way over to the cash, shooting some of the people in line, before throwing the cashier a bag, “Money, in!”

Sam was frozen to the spot, eyes fixed on the fake him, is it a shifter?

“H-hey!”

His head whipped around to the bakery counter, where a worker held their wall phone in his shaking hand, “D-don’t move!”

Shit, Sam quickly looked around, hoping for an exit.

“Psst,” Lucifer pointed to a door a few feet away.

Thank-you, he started toward it, doing his best to move as silently as he could, crouching down behind the cart. He stopped halfway, peeking over the cart at clone-him, who had moved on to another cashier.

“T-the police are on their way!”

Clone-Sams’ head whipped up at the yell, and, upon spotting the baker, his face twisted into an evil smile, “Good, tell them Sam Winchester says hi.” before shooting the man, eyes connecting with Sams’.

Shit, shit, shit, Sam continued toward the door, as he heard clone-him laugh. He turned just in time to see him jump up onto one of the counters, pointing his gun toward him, “Would’ya look at this? Seems we’ve got two of me!”

Fuck it, Sam stood, bolting for the door, bursting through it, as the alarm blared. He didn’t stop running until he reached the car, wrenching the door open before speeding away, “Fuck!”

 --

 “The Impalas’ not here,” Dean surveyed the parking lot from the truck, knuckles white around his cell, “Bobby, I don’t think he’s-” He cut himself off as he saw the older man come out of the front entrance to the grocery store, Sam in handcuffs.

Deans’ brows furrowed as he watched them get closer, his brother was smirking as they walked, like he wanted to get caught… Dean felt a boulder settle into his stomach as they reached the car and he winked, that’s definitely not Sammy.

 --

 “Yes!” Lucifer ran a hand through his hair, practically bouncing in the front seat, “Did you see that? Man, he was on fire!” His face was split into a giant grin and he turned to face the hunter, “There’s no way we can head back to the cabin now.”

Sam pulled the car off the road into an alley, eyeing the devil, “What’re you talking about?”

“Sam, everyone in that parking lot saw you get into this car. I bet there’s a BOLO out for it right now.”

“But… they would’ve caught me, I mean him… right?”

“You think whatever that was is gonna wait around for the police to show up and catch him? Or, isn’t it more likely he bolted not long after you did, and has a replica of the car?”

“Shit,” he rested his head against the steering wheel with a groan, “What am I supposed to do now?”

“C’mon Sam, what could be more fun then being on the lamb with the devil?” He clapped the giant on the shoulder before opening the door, “Come on, we gotta ditch this thing for a less conspicuous ride.”

 --

 “Where is he?”

Sam looked up, brows creasing slightly, “Sorry, what?”

“I said,” Dean took a few steps closer to his ‘brother’, hand tightening around his gun, “Where’s my brother?”

The giants’ expression softened and he smiled, gesturing to himself, “I’m right here, silly.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean dug his flask of holy water out of his jacket, eyeing the thing, “Then prove it.”

“Pfft, Dean,” Bitch Face Number Five – even that looked off.

He’d admit, the thing was pretty good at pretending to be his brother, but every so often, he would say, or react to something in a way that Sam just… wouldn’t. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he had a bad feeling that the thing in front of him wasn’t his brother.

The brunette sighed before grabbing for the flask, taking a big gulp of the holy water, pulling a face as he swallowed, “Ugh, dude, how old was that?”

The blonde replaced the flask before reaching for his knife, just as Bobby came back into the room.

The eldest looked to Dean, hand on his knife, “What kinda party am I missing in here?”

“Nothing,” Dean dropped his knife back into his pocket, “Hey Sam, why don’t you go fire up the grill for those steaks?”

“Sure thing!”

He waited until that thing was out of the kitchen before turning to the older man, “That’s not Sam.”

“C’mon, Boy,” Bobby dropped his voice and went to sit at the table, “What makes you so sure?”

“I don’t know,” he crossed his arms over his chest, “I just… it doesn’t feel like it’s him. He’s been acting weird ever since we picked him up at the grocery store.”

“Did you forget he’s got the devil riding shotgun? That’s gotta be doing a number on him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean scrubbed a hand down his face with a sigh, “He’s just… different.”

“It’s bound to change him, Dean. But we’ll get him put together, and things’ll go back to normal. Now,” Bobby nodded toward the window, “why don’t you go help the kid with the barbeque before he lights himself on fire?”

Dean followed the mans’ gaze out the window and saw Sam standing in front of the barbeque, sniffing the lighter fluid. The blonde sighed but nodded, before heading outside.

 --

 “They gone?”

Lucifer peeked back out the motel curtain before nodding, “Yeah, they’re gone.”

“Jesus,” Sam ran both his hands through his hair, “That was close.”

“Too close,” Lucifer made his way back to the bed and jumped on it, “I told you we should’ve kept moving.”

“And I told you that I needed to sleep.”

“Aw, come on,” he waved a dismissive hand at the hunter, “You could’ve slept in the car.”

“You mean the fire red convertible you stole? Oh yeah, that would’ve been a way better hiding spot.”

“Y’know…” Lucifer sat up, voice careful, “I could always just keep you awake.”

“It’s been four days, excuse me for needing some shut eye.”

Lucifer shrugged, “Just saying. We coulda kept driving.”

Sam stifled a yawn, raising his eyebrows at the devil, “Wait…what do you mean you could ‘keep me awake’?”

“Well…” Lucifer averted his gaze to the floor, “You wouldn’t exactly like it, but it could be done.”

“What is it?”

“You know.”

“No, Lucifer I-” he cut himself off before shaking his head, “Demon blood? You’re not serious?”

Lucifer was standing next to him in an instant, “Don’t you remember how much sharper you were when you were on it, Sam? You were stronger, had faster reflexes, barely slept – you were a machine. You had to be – you were set to be my vessel, after all. Only a person of the utmost strength can contain me.”

Sam shook his head and got up, “No. No way. Dean would ha-” his eyes widened in realization, “Shit, Dean! He’s gotta be going nuts!”

“Wha-?” Lucifer starred as the hunter moved to the bed, grabbing his duffle, “Where are you going?”

Sam threw his clothes into the duffle before zipping it, making his way over to the door, grabbing his jacket, “Home.”

 --

 “I knew it!” Dean punched the thing in the face again, heaving.

The thing just laughed, spitting black goo onto the floor, “What do you want? A medal?”

The blonde pulled out Ruby’s knife, plunging it into it’s heart, “Fuck you!”

“Dean!” Bobby dragged the hunter away from the thing tied to the chair, “That won’t do anything.”

“I don’t care!”

“Hey! We need him to tell us where your brother is,” Bobby gave the younger a pointed look, “Think you can play nice until we get that information?”

Deans’ lip curled in anger but he nodded, taking a breath.

The Leviathan chuckled as it watched them, “Better listen to Daddy, Junior.”

“You son-of-a-bitch!” Dean surged forward, nearly falling over his broken leg. He hobbled closer to the creature, bringing his head down so they were more-or-less eyelevel, “I’m gonna have fun figuring out a way to kill you.”

 --

 “Sam! Look out!”

Sams’ eyes shot open and he swerved the car back into the right lane, heart hammering in his chest, as the horn of the oncoming car faded, “Fuck!” He pulled the car over to the side of the road and rubbed his hands over his face, “I-I can’t drive, I’m too tired. Ugh!” He rested his head on the steering wheel, what am I gonna do?

“There’s still that other-”

“Jesus, Lucifer!” He shot the devil a look before reaching for the coffee cup, tipping it up as far as he could, trying to get every last drop of caffeine he could.

“That’s a phrase I don’t think I’ve heard,” The devil smiled before snatching the cup from the hunter, “Sam, come on. We both know what you need, and it isn’t more caffeine.”

“No, I’m not gonna-”

“I’m not saying you’ve gotta go full black eyes again. Just drink enough to keep you awake enough to drive you back to the cabin without killing yourself, and then that’s it.”

Sam debated for a moment, brain foggy from lack of sleep.

“C’mon Sam, you have enough self control to handle just one cup, don’t you?”

“I…” he sighed before nodding, “Fine.”

 --

 “C’mon, Dean,” the creature sneered at him, black dripping out of his mouth, “We both know you can’t hurt me when I look like this.”

“Oh no?” Dean twisted the knife sticking out of its’ chest, face falling slightly as it didn’t cry out in pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you waiting for this?” The Leviathan let out a cry of pain, before pointedly looking to the eldest, “Don’t tell me you taught him how to torture.”

Bobby glared, “Don’t worry. We got enough books to keep you busy for the next thousand or so years.”

“Ooohhh,” Leviathan-Sam smiled before turning back to Dean, “Let’s get started, then, shall we?”

 --

 “This doesn’t look good.”

Sam pulled up to the cabin slowly, noting the uncooked steaks on the barbeque and the open front door, “No, no it’s not.”

He got out of the car, gun at the ready as he approached the house, listening for any signs of movement. He made his way into the living room, eyes scanning the surrounding area for any sign of his brother or father figure. Feeling a sense of dread, he continued deeper into the cabin, feeling of dread growing as each bedroom he checked came up empty.

A whistle from Lucifer got him back into the hall, following the devils’ gaze to the floor, and the upturned carpet that revealed a trap door. This place has a basement? He opened the trap door and immediately heard his brother grunting, and it’s soundproof? He started down the steps as swiftly as he could without making too much noise. As he came down the stairs he saw his brother, getting choked out by what looked to be him.

Wait… what? He reached the bottom, and noted Bobby was laying on the floor, gash on his head preluding to why. He spotted the machete a few feet away and picked it up, before creeping up behind the creature, noting the black that was soaking the shirt it wore. Ah, his eyes met his brothers’, face melting into a relieved smile.

“Why’re you smiling?”

Momentarily stunned hearing his voice come out of the thing in front of him, he swung at its’ head with all the strength he had, the sound of flesh cutting filled the air before the head landed on the floor with a thud.

His brother dropped to the ground, cast making a dull crack as it hit the ground. Dean coughed a bit before propping himself up on his elbows, looking down at his freshly-freed leg, “Well… that’s one way to get a cast off.”

“Was that what I think it was?” Sam offered his brother a hand.

“Yep. Leviathan you,” Dean stumbled a bit before finding his footing and looking triumphant, “We picked it up at the supermarket.”

“And here I thought you could only get food there.”

The brothers’ turned to see Bobby sitting up, holding a rag to the gash on his head, “Whenever you princesses are done over there, I’ll just wait here… possibly bleeding out.”

Dean rolled his eyes before making his way over to the older man, “Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a bunch. You’re the one who picked him up, remember?”

Bobby shook his head, “You’re not gonna let me live that one down, are ya?”

“Nope.” The blonde swung Bobbys’ one arm across his shoulders before helping him up, moving toward the stairs, “How could you of thought that thing was Sam?”

“Well excuse me. It looked like your brother, talked like your brother, and recognized me, I’ll be sure to test him in front of the cops next time.”

Sam stood over the Leviathans’ body, eyes fixated on the eyes, it looks so real…

“Of course it does,” Lucifer perched himself in the torture chair, following his gaze, “They’re one of the oldest creatures in creation. Dad didn’t feel the need to skimp on their powers.”

Sam kicked the head a bit further away from the body, shifting his body weight from one foot to the other, one hand closing around the flask in his pocket, keeping his voice low, “Do you think he noticed?”

“Your brother?” Lucifer laughed and shook his head, “Not likely. Dean’s not exactly the sharpest crayon in the box. It’ll probably take him a while to notice. Just don’t go disappearing for long stretches of time and leaving a trail of bodies behind like last time and you’ll be fine.”

“Sam?”

The youngests’ head whipped up at the call and he started toward the stairs, “Yeah?”

“Where’s my pie?”

-----------------------------

Like the fic? Check out more here!

[nezzfiction]

ENMY Chapter 89 - Fourth Crusade (Part One)

Chapter Synopsis: The Kingdom of Vacuo is about to enter its most daunting challenge since its conception. Salem is launching the Fourth Crusade. A war to end some of Remnant’s greatest warriors, including Team ENMY. Assistance from Atlas is on its way, but will the Fleet arrive in time to make a difference?

Only one thing is certain. Whatever happens in Vacuo will echo the events to come for the rest of Remnant.

Series Synopsis: Team RWBY is disbanded, and Yang must find herself new allies. For her, that might very well be yesterday’s enemies. Joining up with the likes of Emerald, Mercury, and Neo, the four will comprise Team Enemy(ENMY).

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below

.

Fourth Crusade (Part One)

.

Well, I looked my demons in the eyes, laid bare my chest,

Said, “Do your best. Destroy me. You see, I’ve been to hell and back so many times, I must admit,

You kind of bore me.”

.

.

“Have you finished relaying the situation?” Temujin asked.

“Ran your people the basic play by play,” Emerald answered. “Cuckoos gone, some of their loved ones gone, hordes of Grimm, plus, a giant freakin’ butterfly making a beeline for us.”

“Moth.”

“What?”

“It’s a moth.”

“Right. Behemoth. I get it.”

“Have you modified their emotions?”

“Tweaked them just a touch. They were as angry as you wanted them to be and ready to war without it.”

“That will do. Wake them. And connect my thoughts to theirs.”

“From sweet dreams to full-blown nightmare. This is gonna be a scene.”

As the mental connection secured, Temujin stepped onto the balcony of the Hanging Gardens. She sat on her small stool, and took her familiar horse-fiddle in her hands. As she touched the bow to the strings, her throat opened and she drew strength from her diaphragm.

Another tragedy to carve in these old bones one last time.

One last burden.

One last sin.

Temujin bore her soul bare to the untethered sun and the desert’s hot air.

Answer me, one last time.

My Kingdom of Blades.

A low, soulful song reverberated into the skies above Vacuo. Its volume began low, but slowly and surely, its melody became a crescendo that shook the heavens. The citizens roused to its sound. The voice of their Great Khan, the voice of their Kingdom. It called them to arms.

I failed you.

I deceived you.

I betrayed the Code I set for you all.

But will you answer me once more?

If this is our end, will we stand together?

How will we march into the darkness?

With fear?

Or will it be with Wrath in our hearts?

A single command coursed through the minds of her people. A pure emotion of most unmitigated rage. A sweltering draught that drowned away their sorrows.

All across the city, the citizens of Vacuo stirred. They stood tall with their chests out. Their weapons drawn and raised high.

“An Eye for an Eye.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

Despite the conference room in Atlas HQ being something the size of a small theater, all its occupants were struck silent. None could watch the floating projection, and not be horrified by what was displayed.

Finally, a lone, timid voice spoke what they were all thinking.

“They’re doomed.”

The digital map zoomed out to show the Vacuo capital and its surrounding lands. Rounding to hit the city from the North and South were hosts of Grimm almost twice the city’s size A flood of red markers filled the edges of the map, but the more imminent threat was displayed by the monstrous Behemoth flying directly from the West.

Murmurs began flooding the room. Mutterings of disbelief and fear rose with a rising tide.

“How can that many Grimm be controlled?”

“If something like that attacked us, would the Aegis and Javelin System be enough?”

“We should order our Fleet back. Strengthen our defenses here.”

“It’s all over for them.”

A hand slammed loudly onto the table. Cinder’s furious gaze silenced the room and brought order to the staff.

“How far is the reinforcement Fleet?” she asked.

None made a move.

“How far are they?!”

They all jumped, and one officer rapidly tapped her tablet.

“Still a day’s flight, ma’am! Twenty hours estimated!”

“Is there any way to shorten the travel time for the remaining distance?”

“They could possibly cut down a few hours by traveling at maximum thrust. However, that would only be possible for a small portion of the Fleet.”

“…”

“It would be advised not to separate—”

“I know that!” Cinder shouted in exasperation.

“……Ma’am, I think we should consider withdrawing the reinforcements.”

The Black Queen offered no response to the suggestion. She remained quiet, studying the scales and balances in her head. There was a tough call to make in this. The future of Atlas, and more importantly Remnant’s, would hinge on the actions she took now.

We didn’t expect Salem’s resources to be so extensive.

Can Vacuo hold until the Fleet arrives?

Even with the little aces up our sleeves, the chances of victory are too low to entertain.

Initiating the fight with Salem backfired.

No, it would have been worse to wait. At least, the Cuckoos have been removed from the board.

Is the situation still salvageable?

…

The smart move would be to recall our forces.

By the time they arrive, Vacuo will likely be overrun to a point they cannot recover.

…

…

Team ENMY must be evacuated.

Cinder looked up to the officer-in-waiting.

“Sortie the light-traveling transport marked Swordfish ahead to retrieve—”

“Belay that order.”

Cinder turned in surprise to Weiss’ sudden interruption. Her surprise quickly transitioned to smoldering fury.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“We aren’t sure Vacuo is lost yet,” Weiss answered.

“With all due respect, my fellow Queen, Vacuo can’t possibly hold out against that,” Cinder motioned to the projection. “Not until reinforcements arrive, and even then, the chances of victory are too small to consider.”

“We need to contact Team ENMY.”

“We will give them the order to evacuate—and they will follow it.”

“Cinder…”

“…What?”

The Black Queen squinted, as the White leaned closer to speak loud enough so only they could hear.

“You know, better than I, the things Team ENMY is capable of.”

“I do,” Cinder nodded. “They can perform the impossible given the right circumstances. With adequate preparation and strong mental grit, they can and will perform outside expectation. But what Salem has brought to the board is completely out of their depth.”

“I want to hear what they have to report first.”

“And we shall, but do not hold out hope.”

“At this point, hope might be all we have.”

Cinder went quiet for a moment.

“I detest the idea of abandoning our allies more than you would believe, and this miscalculation frustrates me to no end—but we cannot afford to be stubborn at this juncture. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“I doubt we can outsmart the Witch, if that’s what we’ve been trying to do.”

“…”

“She’s had decades to prepare and plan and manipulate the variables, Cinder. We can’t win that way.”

Weiss’ words rung deep with the Black Queen. It was a thought she fought hard to abate, but seeing the might Salem brought live on the projection, Cinder could only face the truth. If this was a chess game, it wasn’t fair to begin with. The Witch had too many pieces from the start and moved several times before her first turn came.  

It was enough to dishearten anyone.

But that was not what Cinder saw when she met her coregent’s eyes.

“…What are you thinking?” she couldn’t help but utter, almost disbelievingly.

“I’m not sure myself,” Weiss shook her head. “I think we have a choice, Cinder. It’s the choice you and I have been dreading without really knowing what it was.”

“…”

“I can feel it. We have to make a stand here. We have to.”

“…Is that your head speaking, or your heart, I wonder?”

“Both.”

“Very well, Weiss. We will delay ordering the retreat.”

Weiss blinked in surprise.

“Really?”

“As I said before, your counsels are always welcome. No matter how naïve or ludicrous they may be.”

“Hmph!”

Seeing her fellow Queen pout brought a slight smile, as well as lighten Cinder’s mood. She turned to the adjutant and gave the following order,

“Mobilize all the light transports. Few reinforcements sooner are better than none too late. Have the rest of the Fleet maintain course. Inform Trafalgar and Ironwood of the situation and our decision.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” the officer saluted, and tapped at her tablet.

“And open a direct channel with Team ENMY in real time. Priority one.”

“Ma’am, it will take some time to construct a secure line.”

“It doesn’t need to be encrypted. I don’t care if Temujin eavesdrops on our conversation.”

“Yes, ma’am. Right away.”

Cinder breathed a quiet sigh and glanced at Weiss beside her.

“This is quite the gambit, my Queen.”

“You could have overruled me easily. You are, as you’re so fond of reminding me, director of all affairs military.”

“Indeed. But if I had to say…”

“I also think, a stand must be made.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

The throne room of the Hanging Gardens was instantly converted into a war room. Various communication equipment had been rigged around the chamber to coordinate their armies.

Ilia was busy giving sortie orders to the city wall’s hangars and garages to mobilize airships and other modes of transport. Nai had left earlier to join the battalion heading North. Minerva was dividing her students between those transported to the safety bunkers and those who would join the battle in the South.

Meanwhile, Temujin, the Rakis siblings, and Team ENMY had their attentions concentrated on the bigger picture.

“You’re sending an awful lot of your people to cover the armies at the flanks,” Emerald commented.

“Yes,” Temujin answered simply.

“But Behemoth was going to hit the city first. You want to take the fight to the other fronts, outside the walls.”

“Yes.”

“We were supposed to be locking down siege defense after we got rid of the Cuckoos.”

“We were.”

A tense silence filled the atmosphere.

“……You’re abandoning the city?” she whispered low.

Temujin didn’t give Emerald an answer. She rechecked how Vacuo’s military was being divvied up. It appeared none of the staff officers noticed how none of their forces were being devoted to Behemoth. The only way that was possible was if…

Emerald felt the stares of the Rakis siblings on her. Mouse and Knives were the most senior commanders just below Temujin. Minerva and Nai weren’t around, hands full with their own tasks.

“You knew you would have to abandon the city?” Emerald asked, remembering the Precognition Semblance the siblings had. “This was a future you guys saw?”

Mouse and Knives nodded slightly.

“So, what?! We went through with Operation Gun Dog for nothing?”

“It served its purpose. We also believed it might cause a deviation in the future they saw,” Temujin explained. “But it seems our gamble did not pay off on that venture.”

“Great! Thanks for clueing us in this late in the game. We knew Salem’s army wasn’t fucking around, but the wonder siblings didn’t see that big ass, Mothra-fucker coming?”

“The Witch did well to hide it. If you studied the material on our Grimm, you know Behemoth was outside expectation.”  

“Yeah, it’s only in its adult form seven days out of the whole year. It also works on a strict timeclock, so you spawn-kill it as soon as it hatches out of its cocoon, far away from the any settlement.”

“There were measures to exterminate it months from now. In the worst case, we would have waited until it exhausted its lifespan.”

“Looks like there’s a new worst case now.”

“It is near impossible to defeat in fair, open ground. If the brunt of our forces were used to counter it, there would be nothing left when Salem’s main army arrived.”

“FUCK!”

Emerald continued to trade glares from Temujin to the large moth taking up the monitors. Poisonous powders spread beneath the Grimm’s shadow. Its toxins carried into the gusts of its wings. Once in a while, a few scales would drop from its body, unrolling into giant, armored caterpillars.  

In addition to its other absurd traits, the Grimm possessed one other ability.

“You guys see any new visions of the future?” Emerald asked.

“…Yes,” Mouse squeaked out an answer.

“Let me guess. If you kept all your people behind the walls, and concentrated your attacks on Behemoth, it would’ve suicide bombed the city.”

Upon the Grimm’s death, it shed all of its scales, which caused an unfathomable amount of carnage in the surrounding environment. It was another reason the Vacuo military tried to lessen the damage by disposing it elsewhere.

“Salem won’t waste time. She’ll have it belly flop the city anyway,” Emerald bit her thumbnail. “That’s what I’d do. It’s too slow to wipe a good percent of a moving army, but it can level a lot of your standing fortifications. Salem’s trying to weaken the siege defense for the later game.”

“We have come to similar conclusions.”

“Any chance we can bring it down before it gets inside the walls?” Emerald continued to press.

“My sister and I foresaw something else, which our scouts have since then confirm.”

Mouse touched a nearby monitor and enhanced the image on the screen. Zoomed onto the back of Behemoth was a small army of Grimm. The groups seemed to be crowding something at their center like a shield wall. When the image was further enhanced, Team ENMY saw what was there.

A few of the Grimm Clan Leaders were identified. Camlann, Azkaban, and Combine were commanding their brethren from afar, while riding Behemoth’s back. The combination of area effects between Azkaban and Combine alone were enough to deter any real resistance. Their abilities were much more potent than the average Cuckoo or Daemontor, and their effect radiuses even wider so.

“…Crap. Then, what’s the plan?” Yang spoke up. “You guys do have a plan, right?”

Temujin looked to her goddaughter strangely, and sighed.

“A course of action is in place. Behemoth will be allowed to detonate within the city. After its death, our armies will retreat back behind whatever is left of the fortifications and initiate siege defense as planned.”

Yang threw Temujin an accusatory look.

“But the other citizens…!”

“Some will survive.”

“More will die!!!”

“Our warriors will fight all the harder.”

“You can’t be serious!”

Just then, Yang felt the oxygen empty from her lungs. She coughed violently from Temujin’s sudden activation of her territorial Semblance.

“I am deadly serious, my foolish goddaughter. It is the only way my people will survive.”

“By offering some of them on a silver platter…!” Yang forced her voice through. “I didn’t know you had such an ego…! I didn’t know you were so cold…!”

“You have no idea.”

“You’d sacrifice anything to win! What makes you so different from Salem?!”

“…Not much I suppose.”

“Bullshit!!!” Yang turned, and stormed from the throne room. Her team followed after.

Once ENMY was gone, Temujin bade a forlorn gaze to Knives and Mouse. Both were positively fuming and biting the edges of their lips to keep silent.

Good job holding back, you two.

We can’t have them staying behind, if they knew the truth.

Yang is right, though.

I would sacrifice anything to win…

Even myself.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

As Yang stomped angrily out into the hall, her team caught up to her—right as she punched a hole through the nearby wall.

“Yang,” Emerald said with a hint of disappointment.

“I know what you’re going to say, Em.”

“Yeah, well. I’m going to say it anyway. Temujin’s making the right call.”

“I don’t know about ‘right’.”

“Either some die, or they all die together. Minus one is better than minus a hundred. The math isn’t hard to figure.”

“Or, we can make it’s minus zero.”

Yang stared at Emerald meaningfully, while the team leader narrowed her brow in return.

“Yang…”

“We can bring down Behemoth, Em.”

“Not after the gas we just spent on Operation Gun Dog. Not in time, anyway.”

“We can do it.”

Emerald held her head like she was massaging a migraine.

“Do I have to remind you how this is supposed to work? We frontload our hand on Operation Gun Dog. THEN, we rest a tic to recover what we spent. And only after, do we actually get in on the real fight with Salem’s army.”

“Except there’s no time to rest, because Behemoth is going to cannonball the city! We’re the only ones with enough firepower and mobility to stop it!”

“Alright. So tell me, what happens when we burn ourselves down to the felt taking down Behemoth—which is a little more than an impossible ask, by the way? You think Salem’s gonna pass up the chance to ghost us while we’re catching breaths in-between suicide missions? We know a certain somebody won’t.”

“We have to, Em! Innocent people will die!”

“You and I both know the safety bunkers might hold up,” Emerald crossed her arms with a suspecting stare.

“We don’t know that,” Yang argued back.

“Some of them will.”

“A lot of them won’t!”

“Yang.”

“What?!”

“I should be asking you that.” Emerald stepped close to Yang’s face. “What’s with you? Since when were you so touchy about people dying?”

“Since always!”

“No, not when we had to fight on Dracul. Not when we were making enemies in Vale. And definitely, not when we were taking over Atlas. I mean, you did, but not like this. So, what gives?”

Yang gave Emerald a long, pleading look, before answering.

“…Because this was our chance to do some good.”

“…”

“Hehe…! Stupid me, right?” she chuckled sadly. “After all the shady things we’ve done, I just wanted to do some good—some actual, honest good. Save lives instead of being the reason people lost them. Guess I should’ve known better.”

“Yang.”

“I know, Em.”

“It’s not how our team does things.”

“Yeah. We’re the enemy. We attack. Protecting and saving people isn’t our rep.”

“I’m…sorry.”

“No. Nothing to be sorry about.” Yang gave a vague shake of her head. “I’ll get my game straight in a second. Just let me know when we’re moving out of the city. Till then, I’ll take a rest. Gotta refill the reserves, right?”

As the girl dragged her feet off with drooping shoulders, Neo braced her waist with a comforting hand. Together, they went to look for a private room. Emerald and Mercury were left alone in the hallway.

“…Don’t say anything,” Emerald said, after a time.

“What?” Mercury put his hands up innocently. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Stop. You go weak whenever Yang pulls that ‘puppy dog that just got kicked’ look.”

“More like, ‘you just kicked that puppy dog’s dreams’ look, but same difference.”

“UGH!”

“What are we gonna do?”

“What do you mean?! I just said what we were going to do!”

“Yeah…but what are we really going to do?”

Emerald glared fiercely at Mercury’s passively waiting demeanor. The staring contest lasted for a couple of unblinking seconds.

“AAARRRGGHHH!!! DAMMIT! FUCK!!!” the team leader vented her curses.

“You’re getting softer, boss.”

“And who’s fault is that?! Stupid, moral, nobility craphat. Annoying, blonde, bullshit, punchy…”

As Emerald continued to mutter endless profanities under her breath, her scroll gave a soft ring.

“Welp, saw this coming.” She coughed to clear her throat, before answering. As soon as the line went live, Emerald tried to make her tone as professional as possible. “Let me guess, we’re being ordered to ditch Vacuo?”

“…The matter isn’t finalized,” Cinder’s voice came from the other end. “There is no shame for you and your team to retreat.”

“Yeah, I’ll say. Shit’s not about to just hit the fan here, it’s going to—am I on speaker?”

“Yes.”

“Whole room?”

“Fortunately, only Weiss and myself.”

“Great.”

“Your report.”

“It’s bad, Cinder. Real bad. I know you probably have an idea, but it’s nowhere close to what we’re seeing here.”

“So, Vacuo is lost?”

Emerald thought for a moment.

“……These people are strong,” she gave an uneasy laugh. “I saw Salem’s army with my own eyes—it’s like signs of the freakin’ apocalypse! But these people, they want to fight. They will die fighting.”

“You cannot let their behavior influence your own.”

“I know, I’m trying to say something different. Cinder, Vacuo is worth saving. We shouldn’t abandon them. We need them on our side.”

“They are that valuable an asset?”

“They are. This alliance is the most important investment Atlas needs to make.”

“Sounds like a sales pitch. Tell me what truly whispers in your heart.”

“…” Emerald braced a hand to her chest. “Team ENMY is going to take down Behemoth.”

“So soon after your previous mission?”

“I know we were supposed to take a power nap before the next big fight, but you see that thing.”

“You intend to accomplish this by yourselves?”

“Temujin’s diverting all her forces to the North and South.”

“She plans to forfeit the city. A calculated choice.”

“We’ll manage.”

“This is reckless,” Cinder ended with a short pause. “What would you do if I ordered you from doing so?”

“……I’ll always listen to you, Cinder. If you tell me to take my team, and get the hell out of Vacuo, I’ll do it. I’ll drag Yang back, even if she hates me. You say the word, I’ll listen. Always.”

“…”

“But I’m asking you to trust me. Let me make this call. My team can swing this.”

For a moment, Emerald swore she heard Cinder’s breath stifle with emotion. A second later, the other spoke again.

“You are ordered to return to me,” the Black Queen commanded almost angrily. “Alive and in one piece—but at a time of your choosing.”

“I promise!” Emerald answered quickly. “I promise I’ll come back!”

“Hmph. You are aware any infidelity towards your Queen’s orders incurs the highest of penalties.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“So, how do you plan to perish the creature?”

“…”

“Emerald?”

“I have an idea.”

“So, speak it.”

“You guys might not like it.”

“……Speak it.”

Emerald took a searing deep breath between her teeth.

“We might have to use a couple of the aces we’ve been banking.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

A few miles south of the capital, Vacuo’s military made first contact with the Grimm army. The battalion was tasked with eliminating the enemy’s first wave and slowing their advance towards the city. A part of them knew it would be no easy task.

But they did not know how difficult it would be until they saw the head of the horde.

“My, aren’t these some familiar faces?” the cold voice lingered.

While countless Grimm smashed into the lines of Vacuo’s warriors, a smaller battle was waged in the midst of chaos.

“Tai!” Glynda called.

“I know!”

The head of a Grimm King Taijitu struck at Glynda and Minerva, trying to snap the pair of sorcerers in its jaws. But Taiyang was able to position himself in time. His hands gripped each fang firmly, and slid his feet to a stop. Tattoos covered every inch of his arm, signaling the activation of his Semblance.

While their vanguard held down the threat, Glynda and Minerva aimed a set of spells at the source. A storm of raining ice and flames fell before them. Their target, pelted with blizzardous hellfire.  

“Hm. That was much less than I expected,” the chilling voice came again.

Undaunted by the Magic spells, an enormous tortoise shell remained when the sand clouds dissipated. It was white, bony, and jagged.  And as the Grimm barrier cracked open, it revealed a dark silhouette underneath. Their arm still connected to the King Taijitu head grappling with Taiyang.

“It seems my Crusade will be easier than I anticipated,” Salem taunted. “I knew you would be lost without Ozpin—but I didn’t quite know how lost.”

She gave her arm a tug, and from atop the Taijitu’s skull, a scorpion’s tail sprouted. The stinger snapped towards Taiyang’s head, but the man was able to dodge the blow at the last second. The tip caught his collar, but even then, it only left a small mark on his reinforced skin.

“That all you got?!” Taiyang shouted.

“Typical,” Salem scoffed.

The Witch materialized a long, ornamental hairpin from her robes. Its end was decorated with an elegantly jewel-crafted butterfly. Then, without any hesitation, stabbed the point of the needle into her collar bone, matching the placement with the scratch inflicted on Taiyang.

At the same time, blood spewed both their bodies. The man let out a scream of panicked anguish before steeling himself enough to leap back to safety. His hand clutched the base of his neck, where blood dribbled between his fingers.

The Witch on the other hand, showed only indifference to the curse-inflicted wound. She continued to observe her three opponents without paying mind to the black liquid spraying out. Only after a few seconds passed, did Salem spin a web from her fingertip to bandage the gash.

Taiyang badgered himself for his carelessness and forced his wound close with his Semblance. Though it stopped the bleeding, the fix was only skin deep. Regardless, he took a fighting stance, showing he was ready to go, but a gentle hand rested his shoulder.

“Assist the others, Tai,” Glynda spoke with consolation in her voice. “Leave this to me and Minerva.”

“This battle will no longer take place within the confines of this realm,” the Headmaster of Shade added.

Taiyang wanted to argue back, but prior experience held his tongue.

“Yes, run along now, little lionheart,” Salem condescended with a brushing gesture.

“Only certain performers are allowed to share this stage.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“This is the best we could do, huh?” Yang asked.

“Yep. Everything’s zeroed on this spot,” Emerald replied.

“Couldn’t make it any farther out?”

“Considering all the last-minute strings we had to pull to make this puppet show dance, I’m surprised we made this much space at all. Let’s just be happy and take what we can get, shall we?”

On the farthest edge of Vacuo’s western wall, Yang and Emerald plopped down to take a seat. Their feet dangled off the side. Neo and Mercury joined them shortly. The four stared passively at Behemoth encroaching their position. They could see armies warring at the corner of their peripheries to the left and right.

Although they were aware of the violent events transpiring, and those to come, the team basked in the oddly-serendipitous moment of peace. For them, nothing would happen for the next few minutes. All manner of dangers were far or on their way. All they could do was wait. And likely, due to repeated instances of high intensity, even a few minutes of waiting was enough to bring a calmness to their nerves.

Neo pulled out an apple, and sliced off a few pieces with her sword. One by one, she passed the slips of fruit to her teammates. And the four munched on the small snack, while watching Behemoth beat its wings towards them. Nothing left, but to bide their time until the omen of destruction’s arrival.

“So, everyone around’s been cleared out?” Yang started.

“Yup. Zero possible casualties, except for maybe us. Just the way you like it,” Emerald replied.

“See? Doesn’t it feel nice to do the right thing?”

“Fuck the right thing. That’s not why I did this.”

“Oh? Then, why did you do it? I thought your self-proclaimed moral compass was broken.”

Emerald glared at her silently.

It is broken.

I mostly did this cause of you…

“Still, thanks for doing it.” Yang beamed with a warm smile. “I mean it, Em.”

Yang was about to pop another apple slice in her mouth, when Emerald snatched it midair. Taking it as some abstract price exacted, the girl didn’t make a fuss. Only taking replacement from Neo, who was performing her own magic trick of producing endless fruit out of thin air.

“Hey, Em?”

“Yeah, Yang?”

“Did Temujin seem…weird to you? You know, back there?”

“Temujin’s always weird.”

“Yeah, but… evasive.”

“Temujin’s always evasive.”

“You know what I mean,” Yang groaned. “Back when she told us she was abandoning the city, and even when we told her our plan, she just okayed it like it was nothing.”

“You prefer she argue with us? We practically handed her a ‘we’ll save your city for free’ card. Maybe, she just didn’t want to look a gift horse in the anus.”

“Uh, it’s teeth.”

“What is?”

“The saying. It’s ‘gift horse in the teeth’.”

“Oh. Mercury lied to me.”

“No, it’s definitely anus,” Mercury mumbled, stuffing more apples into his mouth. “That’s how you tell the horse’s age.”

“Okay! But you know what I’m saying,” Yang brought the topic back. “What futures did Mouse and Knives see? And what else aren’t they telling us? Temujin doesn’t seem the type, but she looks kind of like she’s given up. What else are they hiding?”

“Who knows,” Emerald shrugged.

“I know you’ve thought about it.”

“I got a few ideas, but nothing concrete.”

“This isn’t the time for our sides to keep secrets.” Yang let out an exasperated groan before popping another slice into her mouth. “Cinder and Weiss are ready to pull us out. Temujin has to know that. She needs to be open with us.”

“It’s not like we tipped all of our hand to her either. Still gotta play a few things close to the chest. Distrust goes both ways.”

“I thought we were in an alliance.”

“I think this is about as much two Kingdoms can trust each other without actually merging. And that’s without all the bad blood between Vacuo and Atlas.”

“We need to be on the same page, Em. Salem found a crack in our team, and pried it apart. What do you think she’ll do to two Kingdoms?”

Emerald paused, and then bit into the next crunchy morsel Neo handed her.

“True. If Vacuo somehow gets out of this intact, I wouldn’t put it past Salem to turn one of the Kingdoms against the other. You have an idea bouncing around that noggin? Or do you just like adding new problems to my ‘shit I gotta figure out’ list?”

“We need to have a sit down with Temujin. At the least, we need to hear everything the siblings predicted so far.”

“Yeah, she’s kept us in the deep dark about their visions. Not just us, but her own people, too.”

“And if we’re learning anything, whatever Temujin hides is worth finding out.”

“Emerald,” a voice came over the Enchantress’ mental link. “Are we ready to begin?”

“Yeah. Just about,” she responded, and got up.

At that moment, a number of transmissions reached Team ENMY’s communications.

“Alrighty. Time to set the world record for taking down a bunch of Nightmare Class Grimm in a row, maybe!” Emerald announced.

“All boss speedrun!” Mercury fake cheered.

Yang turned to Neo with a loving stare.

“Got my back?” she winked.

Neo smiled widely.

Yup.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

(An hour ago)

“Are we sure this is wise?” General Ironwood couldn’t help voicing his doubts. “We were supposed to wait until we were closer to attempt this.”

“Drastic measures, General,” Trafalgar answered, next to him on the bridge. “Sometimes, all we can do is take a leap of faith.”

“There are countless variables which can skew the accuracy.”

“That’s why it’s called a leap and not a step, or a modest crawl.”

Ironwood breathed a sigh, before speaking into the console.

“Alright, Penny. Permission to arm.”

“Armed and READY, Mr. Ironwood!” the girl answered with a chipper.

“Execute.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“……. What the hell are you kids thinking?” Qrow muttered his disbelief.

“I’m thinking we need your help to bring down Behemoth. Is the wax building up in your ears, grandpa?” Emerald replied.

“Don’t call me grandpa!”

“The other guy is definitely a grandpa. As a matter of fact, he’s the grandest of grandpas. So, you gonna help us or not?”

“I thought the plan was to surprise Salem with an ambush.”

“Plans change. Roll with it.”

Qrow breathed one of the most soul-draining sighs in his life, before centering himself to continue.

“Okay. So, let me make sure I got this right. You need me to use Titan’s power to help you kill Behemoth.”

“Yup!”

“But before that, you need me to stick my neck out.”

“You got it.”

“I immediately don’t like this…”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“I think I’m going to like this,” Raven gave a soft chuckle.

“I thought you would,” Emerald shared in the mental laugh. “Shouldn’t be a violation against whatever your contract is with Salem, right?”

“Only you brats could come up with something this sloppy and effective.”

“Compliment received.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

Out in the ocean separating Atlas from Vacuo, the acting reinforcements of the Atlesian Fleet came to a full stop. While the airships hovered as still as possible, their artillery battery raised to a high angle. Tapped into each vessel’s control system and calculating a complex aiming algorithm was a certain android.

“Coordinates fixed. Real-time calculations complete. Trajectory courses confirmed!” Penny cheered.

“FIRNG ALL ORDNANCE!”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

(Back to the Present)

Team ENMY turned their gazes eastward, where a flock of glistening projectiles soared towards their position.

“Whoa, that’s gonna be close,” Yang commented.

“Yeah, well. It’s supposed to be,” Emerald sneered, as she elbowed Mercury’s side. “You’re up, top gun. Make sure it’s not us that gets our ass fricasseed.”

“On it, boss.”

Mercury activated his Semblance and felt the surrounding atmosphere come under his control. His senses extended to the oncoming shells. Their trajectories mapped out in his mind’s eye.

Damn. Not a bad shot from fifteen-thousand plus kilometers away.

Just need to sharp it just a little…

Mercury adjusted the turbulence and atmospheric pressure to suit his needs. He played out the simulation in his head, and matched it to the present. Their “back-up” fire would land exactly where they wanted it to on the dime.

“Merc,” Emerald elbowed him a few more times. “Hate to interrupt your beautiful mind moment, but the big bad bug is coming up faster. Maybe, short the fuse on lighting this candle?”

“Sure, just gotta speed up the momentum on more than a thousand combustible Dust shells. No big deal.” The sarcasm exaggerated in his voice.

“I had to hallucinate a whole Kingdom. Don’t get cute with me about making the big plays.”

The crying flock of whistling missiles screamed across the sky ever closer. At the same time, the great shadows and winds kicked up by Behemoth brushed the team’s backs.

Despite being caught between an arsenal of hellfire and the largest Grimm ever recorded, ENMY showed no signs of panic. Once Mercury finished his modifications, he expelled a small sigh of relief.

“Nice,” Emerald smirked, while putting on the sunglasses she took from Coco so long ago. Yang, Neo, and Mercury were producing their own pairs, when she also took out her scroll. She then, held it out and struck a smug pose.

“Are you actually taking a selfie right now?” Yang asked in slack-jawed awe.

“I wanna send a picture to Cinder. It’ll also make a good memory.”

Without wait or permission, the rest of the team crammed into the camera shot. They made random faces, while throwing up a series of hand gestures and middle fingers.

Meanwhile, high-pitch whistling from the Fleet’s artillery was at the peak of its cries when they were suddenly muffled. Bellowing explosions cut the sound off with its own. Raining hellfire engulfed Behemoth’s back in clouds of inferno. It was a carpet bombing of a creature that could have been a small island onto itself.

“Sweet fireworks,” Yang grinned. “Did you get the shot?”

“Got it!” Emerald confirmed.

“I always wanted to help destroy something beautiful,” Mercury shed a single tear.

Neo threw her hands up, cheering with mute excitement.

Fire! Fire! Burn!

“Okay, okay,” Emerald called their attention. “I know that just made the inner pyros inside us cream, but we still got work to do.” She tapped her in-ear communicator. “You there, OG?”

“I’m here.”

Flying above the incinerating back of Behemoth, a black bird swooped down. Its feathers shed upon its descent, giving way to a human form. He aimed the landing of his dive before the intact form of Combine, Chief of the Cuckoo Grimm.

The parasitic bird gave a gross chirp, as it recognized its bodyguards were burned away by Penny’s fire bombing.

“This… really sucks!” Qrow complained.

Sweat dripped down his face. He could feel the life being siphoned from him, leaving his skin cold. If he didn’t possess the Old One’s longevity, he might have died instantly in Combine’s presence.

Azkaban was somewhere near, so Qrow couldn’t activate his Semblance to save himself. But if things went according to plan, he wouldn’t remain vulnerable for long.

…

“How much could I pay you not to save my brother?” Raven posed to Emerald via their telepathic link.

“Discount low five figures,” the quick answer came.

“That was a joke.”

“Was it, though~?”

From her cliffside in the Black Oasis, Raven gripped the hilt of her katana and went into a low iaido stance. Her senses attuned to the combination of Emerald and Neo’s information. There, she saw her brother’s back turned towards her.

“Now, don’t flinch, little brother.”

…

“Neo?” Emerald prompted.

The petite girl poised her estoc in a thrusting motion above her shoulder. A silver light gleamed in her irises. She made out the positions of three key figures: Combine, Qrow, and Azkaban, before sealing the sight into her blade.

Neo took a long-drawn breath, and then emptied her lungs of all its air. She concentrated a majority of her Aura into the ultimate technique she created herself, leaving just a little in reserve. It was the most powerful move in her arsenal, and she would only be able to perform it once for a long while.

The small swordswoman felt traces of Yang’s influence swell in her soul. A bright fire of her beloved’s sun licked heat on her fingertips.

Neo’s hand moved quicker than the naked eye could catch. The sounds of shattering glass only followed after the fact.

In the same moment, Raven freed her blade from its sheath. Her bloody double-slash was going to cut a blazing X across the sky and Qrow’s back. But at the very last second, the move collided with Neo’s.

It was a clash of ultimate sword techniques that resounded across the entire continent. A piercing blade of blinding, silver glass and a cross drawn by a sinisterly, crimson paintbrush cut the sky into pieces. The world itself seemed to tear briefly, like it was made of paper.

Raven’s attack was barely deflected enough from her brother’s back, and guided in the direction of Combine instead. Likewise, Neo’s thrust was diverted towards Azkaban. Both their blades struck their marks down, slaying the Nightmare Grimm with their god-like skill.

Hmph, Raven scoffed with an impressed thought.

Out of the four brats, she might be the one who grew the most in all this…

“Not that I’d tell her that.”

…

“Uncle Qrow!” Yang shouted.

“On it, kid!”

With Combine and Azkaban down, Qrow felt the burden on him lifted. He tapped into Titan’s ability, while harnessing his own Semblance. A pair of great scythes unfolded in each of his hands. A familiar green glow permeated from his body to envelope the burning Behemoth.

The Grimm’s flying motion slowed to a crawl. Time slurred in the space it occupied until the creature stopped just above the wall and Team ENMY. Wind, fire, poison, and intermingled with it, falling caterpillar Grimm froze midair.

Yang and Mercury stared up, before bumping their fists.

The Spring Maiden felt adrenaline rush her veins. A crystallized crown formed its halo around her head. Her eyes blazed with the fire of her Semblance. She watched lightning crack across her vision, outlining Behemoth’s multiple weaknesses caused by redundancies in its anatomy.

“Wouldn’t be easy if we could just strike one spot. We’re gonna have to hit them all.”

The pair rocketed into the sky.

Mercury and Qrow went to work first. The young man summoned a storm to carry him across the Grimm’s expansive mass. Every kick he delivered made the floating island shudder. Likewise, the veteran Huntsman used his Reaper’s Semblance to sow death from atop. Together, they layered a cacophony of craters and trenches into Behemoth’s exoskeleton.

And then, Yang rose to join them.

“Many search the meaning of the shape given to their soul,” she heard Nai’s words echo the depths of her mind.

“I am Poison.

I am a Weapon.

I have lived and learned to become the agent that destroys my enemies’ bodies.

What does your life embody?

What meaning does its shape give?”

Yang jumped from falling debris to falling debris, making her way to the belly of the beast.

For my friends, I’ll be their warmth.

When they are lost, I’ll be their light.

And for anyone who tries to hurt them,

I’ll be the banisher of their darkness.

Yang’s Ember Celica shifted its form. Pistons fired across her entire arm. It rumbled with all the power and force of a jet engine.

I am the Fight that Life brings.

I am Fire.

And I Burn.

The exact moment, the noon sun reached its highest crest, the Spring Maiden’s punch let loose a flame likened to the birth of a new star. A supernova erupted in the center of Behemoth’s stomach, scorching constellations across the vulnerabilities of its body.

The halting of time was no small feat, and Titan’s ability only lasted a breath before reality resumed. But it was enough for Behemoth’s annihilation to be realized.

“Alright! It’s gonna pop!” Emerald shouted. “Clear the area!”

Yang, Mercury, and Qrow escaped the burning wreckage’s vicinity, as the Grimm plummeted down. Its body decomposed into countless scales, which combusted on any contact. The repeated detonations and weight of its carcass drove a crag into the wall and a small part of the city.

…

Yang let herself freefall. Burning cartilage still flew around her. Much of her energy was spent, but not all of it, per Emerald’s orders. But there was no denying the weariness setting into her nerves.

“Well, that was a thing.”

She looked to the side, and saw Mercury speed down to Emerald. Their leader stood on what remained of the wall. Her Uncle was nowhere in sight.

*Sigh* “I really want this day to be over…”

Just then, among the falling scraps, Yang spotted an oddity. It was a little singed, but it stood out from everything else with its white-colored design and the way it spun sharply through the air.

Yang squinted her eyes, and saw it was a playing card.

The Ace of Spades.

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“Is this truly all the strength you can muster?”

Salem gave a wave of her hand, and the bright projectiles Glynda and Minerva cast her way dissolved into squirming maggots. As they writhed uselessly on the ground, the Witch made a claw with her hand. Her long nails thrusted in the direction of her opponents.

Suddenly, the sand beneath the sorcerers’ feet coiled like tentacles, pulling them into its embrace. Salem’s hand squeezed, and the prison of silt closed tighter.

“You’re spellcasting is rather rudimentary compared to what I’ve seen over the ages. But I suppose that is the folly of mortals. Not enough age to hone that wisdom, no matter the potential exhibited.”

“Then, perhaps another challenger is in order? One you can’t bully with your tricks.”

A crow flew down, before expanding its form into a man. He snapped his fingers once, and the “living sand” about to suffocate the sorcerers was dispelled.

Glynda blinked, not believing her eyes. The image of the man before her seemed to phase in and out of existence, as if their identity wasn’t solidified.

“Ozpin?”

“Apologies for the tardiness, Glynda,” the white-haired man with small glasses said. “There was an issue that required our assistance.”

“But, how…? What about Qrow?”

“Also, here,” the figure of Ozpin replied with a voice that was not his. “This body sharing thing is more complicated than it looks.”

The immortal’s body flickered between Ozpin’s visage and Qrow’s, and then another Glynda recognized as Beacon’s past Headmaster Myrddin’s. Reality bent, and several iterations blinked in quick succession. Some figures she remembered from historical texts, more of them she did not. The spinning of the forms continued until the image settled onto a small, hunched-back old man. He had the look of a retired farmer and had to use a cane to support him like a third leg.

“Titan…!” Salem snarled with rising furor.

“…Wicked,” the Old One spoke in a grounded tone. His voice was crass, but it dissipated into the surroundings like an earthquake. “Must we continue this vicious cycle?”

“Oh, it will not continue. Not for you.”

“So, it was inevitable. You and I must battle once more.”

“Immortal versus immortal,” the Witch gestured to herself, then Titan. A bloodthirsty Magic coursed her veins, making them pulse black across her pale skin.

“There can only be one.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

Yang was in no position to react. The playing card spinning outside her reach was practically a calling card for her death. All she could do was leave her fate to another’s hands.

…

Fortunately, those hands were the ones she trusted the most with her life.

The sound of shattering glass scattered pieces of Neo’s mirror portal into the falling sky. Her sword was held, outstretched. Its point pierced through the card as a bullet punched a hole through the same middle.

It should have been a perfect killshot. Yang and Neo read the trajectory, and it would’ve drilled right through Yang’s forehead, but Neo’s interference skewed its course.

“Shit!”

Yang whipped her neck as fast as she could, just in time for the bullet to tear a chunk of her hair off along with part of her right ear. Blood stained her cheek and a sharp ringing noise penetrated her eardrum.

“Hey, you. Can you hear me?” Emerald’s voice came from her comms, as Yang could see her leader smirking in the distance. She flipped her the middle finger.

“Told you she’d try.”

“Really, Em?! Now?!”

“Hey, you were the one who wanted to do this, despite my fair and wise warnings.”

“Can we save the ‘I told you so’s for later?”

“Say hi to her for me,” Emerald waved.

“WILL FREAKIN’ DO!!!”

Yang flashed an angry glare to Neo, who gave her a quick nod.

A second later, and her partner conjured a mirror for her to drop into. The portal pushed her into another, and then another, and so on. Each segment accelerated her into the distance.

Yang didn’t aim her fist. She knew Neo would do that for her. All she had to do was swing when the time came.

And at the last shuttle interval, she threw her fist.

Yang’s landing struck the terrain like a miniature meteorite. The target and source of her bullet wound was knocked off her feet, and onto her back. The shooter could have put up resistance, but the looming Spring Maiden erased any thought of that.

Instead, Inna Kao simply smiled.

“Hey, Yang.” She tipped her hat, still on the ground.

“Hey, Inna. Long time no see,” Yang replied unenthusiastically. “Em says, hi.”

“Oh? Tell her I said hi back.”

Yang did a quick sweep of her surroundings.

“No Bean?”

“Nah. I wanted to take my shot away from him just in case. Guess I made the right call on that.”

“Too bad. I wanted to see him.”

Inna stared at Yang for a while, before tilting her hat down.

“Heh… Well, you got me good. Don’t tell me ya’ll fixed that trap for lil ‘ol me?”

“It was Emerald’s idea. We’ve been ready ever since we heard you and Bean were around. We know we can’t underestimate you.”

“Shucks, Yang. Now, yer just makin’ me blush.”

Yang stared long and hard at the cowgirl.

“……I heard about your team. Sorry.”

“Yeah, well. I’ll be joinin’ them soon.”

“Funny thought that.”

Yang grabbed Inna’s rifle laying on the ground, and snapped it in half across her knee. It pained her a little to destroy someone’s personal weapon, but the bad feeling disappeared when she remembered she was missing part of her ear because of Inna. The gun would be repaired eventually. As far as she was concerned, they were even.

“Nothing to worry about if you don’t have your rifle,” Yang tossed the remains at Inna’s feet. “I’m done killing people, especially people I like.”

“…I can’t stop coming for you, Yang.”

“Yeah, you can. All you have to do is stop,” Yang shrugged. “But if you really want to keep trying, go ahead. I’ll be ready.”

“Hm hm! Told you, you’d be sorry, Inna,” Raven chuckled, as she stepped through her portal.

“Mom. Why am I not surprised you’re here?”

“Your little girlfriend actually matched my favorite move.”

“She’s a keeper.”

“I guess.”

“I’m totally telling her you approve.”

“I don’t. And another thing—”

Just then, Raven and Yang’s heads were flooded with an amalgam of information. Rather information, they were a bit like actual memories, but of events that had yet to occur. It was disorienting to say the least, but one thing was clear.

“Hey! Did you get that?!” Raven asked Yang.

“Yeah. What the hell was that, Em?”

“It’s the visions the Rakis siblings have been seeing. Don’t know why, but Knives was suddenly in a sharing mood. But after seeing what was in them, I think we can make a guess!”

“That vision…Temujin…!”

“That’s why you and Raven should get your asses back here on the double!”

“Mom!” Yang turned to Raven, and saw fear there like she never had before.

“Let’s go.”

.

X  X X  X  X

.

“Hm. They brought down Behemoth,” Temujin rubbed her chin with an even composure.

The throne room, which was once a bustling war room, was now vacant. The lone ruler of Vacuo sat on her chair with only the Rakis siblings for company.

“Any deviations?”

“With almost all our fortifications intact, more of Vacuo’s citizens will survive by the end,” Mouse answered.

“Haha… They are truly something. Troublemakers. The perfect enemy against Salem and fate.”

The old woman smiled ear to ear, before breathing a contented sigh.

“Everything else is proceeding according to script?”

“……Yes.”

A nearby monitor showed an endless replay of Team ENMY’s assault on Behemoth. Right before the artillery from the Atlesian Fleet struck, a wisp of dark mist engulfed Camlann, and seemingly warped it out of the area.

On a security monitor, three figures made their way through the Hanging Gardens. The colossal armor of Camlann was recognized. Beside the Grimm were Adam and Blake. It wouldn’t be long until they reached the chamber.

“You two should go,” Temujin said to the siblings.

“No,” Mouse refused shakily. “We won’t leave you.”

“You have to guide our people.”

“We won’t leave you!”

The boy now had tears streaming his eyes. He wanted with everything to overturn the future he and his sister saw. A future where the Grimm overran their land. A future where their closest friends died…

…A future where Temujin offered her life to further incite the rage of her people.

“Oh,” the old Faunus put a hand on Mouse’s head. “You know, I faced a lot of criticism for adding that Eye for an Eye thing at the end of the Code. Mostly from Minerva, but whatever.” she smirked. “Who knew it would be the strength our people needed in their weakest hour? Surely, not me.”

Gentle sobs continued to escape Mouse, as Temujin continued.

“No, definitely not me… But if the death of one old woman past her prime can be the rally cry of our Kingdom, I will answer my duty with a full heart.”

“…”

“Go. My time is over.” Temujin announced proudly. “This is goodbye.”

“We won’t leave you!!!” Mouse cried back.

Temujin scratched her ear in frustration, before turning to her other side.

“Knives. I entrust you with your brother. You know what must be done. The both of you must regroup with Nai and Minerva. Notify them of my death. The first waves of the Grimm should be dealt with by then. Fall back here with Team ENMY, and eliminate Camlann. Hold the siege until Atlas’ Fleet arrives.”

The younger Rakis made no move to respond.

“Knives? Did you hear me?! Knives!”

Temujin shook her shoulder, and saw the girl’s expression turn with surprise.

“Oh, right!” Knives answered with wide eyes. Her tone was different from her usual. “Actually, I agree with Mouse there. You really shouldn’t be so quick to sacrifice yourself.”

The elder Faunus was struck speechless.

“There’s a lot of people who would mourn your death, Temujin. They’d be heartbroken,” the girl continued. “I know one person especially!”

“Who…?” the old Faunus could only mutter. “Who are you?”

The girl with the appearance of Knives could only smile brightly.

“There’s always a way to change fate, as well as those who are willing to fight it. You said it yourself.”

“…”

“But they can’t help you if you don’t believe in it too,” Knives held Temujin’s hand in both of hers. “This girl loves you so much. She begged for a way to save you, even in her dreams. That’s how deep her resolve is.”

Temujin continued to stare blankly at the girl. Knives met her gaze, unabashed. The young girl’s eyes seemed to glint with a brighter silver than usual.

Then, Temujin remembered where she heard this speech mannerism before, as well as this unflinching determination.

“Summer Rose?”

[jojo-lity]

Heartlight

thank you for commissioning! a reminder that commissions are still open and don’t have to be halloween-themed, but exams are coming up so they may be slower or closed in the near future

pairing: jotaro kujo/oc word count: 2124 rating: sfw

ao3 link

It was midnight in Dio’s mansion. That wasn’t something Shiloh could tell solely from the stars or the exact shade of the sky- she hadn’t seen the sky in days. Her time was kept by a horrifically garish cuckoo clock that had been placed just out of her reach, emerging every half hour to taunt her with its grating shrieks. Not for the first time, she wanted to smash the thing to pieces, but she would take a hundred of them with her if it guaranteed she and Jotaro could get home safely.

Though her situation may have appeared more dire, having been shoved into a cage (why the hell did Dio have something like that?) in a vampire’s basement, she knew she was surprisingly safe. As long as she lived, and remained within Dio’s clutches, he could torture Jotaro with no effort at all. It was such an abhorrent, cruel, devious thing for him to do… she was almost impressed.

It didn’t seem wise to fall asleep, but there was very little in the way of entertainment to be found, besides plotting yet another escape attempt. She had gotten close once, unlocking the cage’s door with nothing but a hairpin, but the moment she had stepped out, she was back inside. Whatever Dio was doing to keep her there, it was too mysterious to find any exploitable weakness. She could only hope Jotaro would have better luck.

Hours passed, and she heard nothing but that infernal clock. Strange, usually one of Dio’s servants would have brought a meal by now. Had the worst happened? If Jotaro was to be defeated, she had expected Dio to finish her off himself, but maybe he really would just leave her to die. Well, that wasn’t happening. No matter how useless it was, she had to assume that escape was still an option.

Dio had taken her makeshift lock-pick, and anything else he could find that might have been used the same way, but he hadn’t checked everywhere. After another careful look around, she slipped off a shoe, delicately sliding out the hairpin hidden inside. She wasn’t worried about using up her last one- after pulling off this trick so many times, it was almost impossible to mess up.

Unlocking the door was easy. Unfortunately, there was little she could do about it creaking as it swung open. By the time she could silence it by grabbing it, there had been plenty of time for anyone nearby to hear it. Her heart raced when she heard footsteps almost instantly afterward, already heavy and only getting louder as they approached. If it wasn’t Dio, maybe she could convince them to help her. Just in case, she messed her hair up a little, putting on her best frightened expression.

As it turned out, there was no need. She instantly recognised the tall, broad-shouldered figure in the doorway, and it was someone who would never hurt her. Before she could run to him, he was already in front of her, staring her down with an intensity she had learned not to fear.

“You’re here.” That was all Jotaro said, and even those few words were strained. It was dark, so it was hard to see for sure, but he was clenching his fists with what looked like incredible force. “This is where he put you.”

“Sure, but I’m fine! See, not a scratch on me!” A quick scan over her arm revealed a rather long scratch, probably from her first escape attempt. “Except for that one. But that was an accident, let me tell you-“

“We’re leaving.” He turned back to the door, walking out much faster than he had walked in. She couldn’t really blame him, it was one creepy basement. “That bastard Dio won’t be a problem anymore.”

She didn’t hesitate to follow. “So you got rid of him? Because, good. What a jerk.”

“A jerk.” Just barely outside the door, he stopped and turned back around. “Do you not remember what he did to you?”

“What I remember is that I was with you guys, then somehow he got me and stuffed me in here. Oh yeah, and this clock wouldn’t shut the hell up.” With one hand, she pushed it over, smiling at the clattering sound of wooden casing and metal gears.

“…Right.” Maybe there was no point in telling her. Even just knowing she had been under Dio’s spell at all would crush her pride, let alone finding out what she had said and done. He was just grateful he had gotten the flesh bud out just before he disappeared, since Dio apparently hadn’t bothered with a second one. Maybe it only worked once?

“Hey, I’m…” She seemed to want Jotaro to look at her, but as soon as he did, her gaze dropped to the floor. “I’m sorry I got my dumb ass caught like that. Must have been a pain for you.”

He shrugged. “Whatever. You’re here now. Come on, the old man’s waiting.” Shiloh let him walk ahead, taking one last look at the room that had been her prison. Her fingers drifted up her face, until they stroked at a tiny, circular scar in the middle of her forehead.

Everything from that time was hazy, not because the memories had faded, but from the comforting, obscuring smog the vampire’s flesh had drowned her mind in. Feeling that way, it had been easy to let her body move in ways that she didn’t have to think about, use words that weren’t quite right for her mouth. One dissonant sensation at a time, like watching a movie frame-by-frame, it came back. She had attacked Jotaro. He hadn’t fought back, only defended himself, until that sharp pain in her head. Then he was gone, and she was hidden away in the basement, a secret until Jotaro had come and found her.

“Are you coming or not?” If the sharpness of his question was dulled by the slightest trembling in his voice, neither of them acknowledged it. They would probably have to go back to that place, to sort Dio’s belongings and try to make some sense of him, but they were happy to leave it behind for the first time.

—

It had been good to meet up with Joseph and Polnareff again, but seeing them alive and safe only seemed to remind her of those who weren’t. They were both so naturally exuberant, and they were trying that much harder to relieve any tension before it could develop. She needed a break from it. “Hey… could Jotaro and I talk privately for a moment?”

They hadn’t told anyone about their relationship, fully aware that it could distract from their mission, but both Joseph’s and Polnareff’s eyes flickered with understanding. “Go ahead, we’ll be right here when you’re done.” She didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing Jotaro’s sleeve, she led him just barely out of sight and earshot.

“So.” She clasped her hands together, the gesture slightly nervous. “I’m not very good at this, but… are you okay? Like, for real?”

She watched Jotaro blink, keeping an intense watch on his face as she waited for him to answer. Even after enough time had passed for his lack of response to be noteworthy, he remained silent, the smallest shifts in his body language being the only hints that he felt anything at all.

“Okay… you’re not talking. That’s fine. I guess you don’t have to.” Not far in front of them, a group of people got up and left, leaving their table empty. She wasted no time in making that her new destination, even if the chairs were a little small for Jotaro. “But I really do want to help you, and anything you can tell me would be a great start.”

He still wasn’t saying a word. She held the silence for as long as she could before it became unbearable. “I know… I know it’s hard. To think about it. To think about any of it, really.” She laughed, hoping it didn’t sound too carefree or too bitter. She was pretty sure she failed on both counts. “It was all just a screwed-up ride from the start, wasn’t it? And if not for you, then…” What was wrong with her? Her eyes were burning, the tension in her shoulders was forcing its way out in little vibrations, and neither of them stopped when she wanted them to.

She almost jumped out of her skin at the large hand cupping her shoulder. Jotaro’s face never showed much emotion at first glance, but she knew him well enough to recognise sympathy. “No, no, this is all wrong. I was meant to be making you feel better!” She laid her hand on top of his, intending to shove it away. His quiet sigh stopped her.

“Fine. I want them to come back. Is that what you want me to say?” He raised a hand to stop her mid-nod. “No. I keep thinking that they are back. That I’m gonna get home and they’ll just be there, or maybe this is a dream and we’re really still in India or wherever.” He had managed to maintain eye contact up until then, but at that point he looked downwards, using his hat’s shadow to hide his eyes. “It’s not like I knew them that well. But whatever they were doing with their lives, before this, it wasn’t over.” More and more of his huge body slumped over the table, the chain on his coat jingling softly as it was dragged across the marble-patterned surface. “It wasn’t supposed to be over.”

“I know…” There wasn’t much more she could think of to say. The reality of their friends’ deaths hadn’t fully registered for her, and much like Jotaro, it was too easy for her to believe that they were waiting with the rest of the group, just outside of her field of vision. “But we’re still here, aren’t we?”

It sounded weak coming from her mouth, and she wished she could take it back, but it brought Jotaro to lift his head just a little. “Yeah. We are.” He let it fall back to the table, producing a disturbing thud. “I was scared.” The words came out in a rush, slurred at the edges in what seemed like an attempt to make them sound like anything but what they were. “When you… disappeared. It scared me a lot. I thought I was going to have to k… come home without you.”

“Hey, hey, come on.” As soon as his head hit the table, her arms were searching for a viable hugging position, managing to partially lift his torso up and bring it a bit closer. His head came down to rest on her shoulder, a much softer and more welcoming place for it. “Once I was there, that loser couldn’t do anything to me. I mean, you saw me, right? I was already on my way out when you found me.” With some careful manoeuvring, she brought him up to face her directly. “Besides, if he couldn’t beat you, he wouldn’t have stood a chance against me.”

At that, a laugh broke out of his throat, too choked and fragmented to remotely resemble any of the few times he had actually reacted to something funny. But it was a laugh. “Yeah, there you go! Already staying positive, good on you!” She gave him another hug, simply because there was no reason not to.

In a move that was rare for him, but not completely unheard of, he pulled her even closer, until the pressure of their chests squeezed together teetered just on the edge of being painful. “So… now we just go home, I guess. Try to have normal lives.”

“Don’t count on that.” Her eyes sparkled as she tilted her head back, an expression that was instantly recognisable as her scheming look. “I should hope this’ll be way better than normal.” 

Before he could ask what she meant, she threw herself forward across their already-minimal distance, bringing their lips together into a kiss that was gentle despite the enthusiasm behind it. The tingling in her nose told her when she might have held it for long enough, but who needed breathing? The hint of purple she spotted under the table suggested that Jotaro might have been breathing through his Stand, just to keep kissing her for as long as possible, and that only made her want to kiss him even more.

Whether it was the growing need to breathe, or an aching neck from staying in the same position for too long, or just pure circumstance that made them break apart, that didn’t matter to her. It also didn’t seem to affect the slightly starstruck look on Jotaro’s face. “Hey, everything okay there?” Her laugh felt much more natural that time.

“Actually, you were right.” He leaned closer, lips still puckered just a bit. “Much better than okay.”