#and i apparently can’t figure out how to function under grief

[napping-sapphic]

Hiya, advance apology and warning that if you’ve sent me any sort of message or ask in the last few days or if you send me any in the foreseeable future that I’m not sure when I’ll be up to responding, life stuff happening and I’m absolutely miserable. I promise I’m not ignoring you if you try to get in contact with me! Just don’t have my head on straight at the moment and don’t really feel comfortable engaging. Sending everyone all my love and peace in the meantime

[alpines-bucky]

No one said Starks weren't a little dramatic

This is the first time I write Tony x daughter reader I hope you guys like it :)

Word Count: 2319 ( Things got a bit out of my hands while I was editing and eventhough it's edited I can't promise that there aren't any typos and I dtill wasn't satisfied with what I wrote but 🤷‍♀️Ig )

Warnings: Major character death, a lot of angst

Y/N loses her dad when he decides to save the universe with a snap of his fingers but when did anyone see a Stark not getting what they want? Let me answer for you, Never. ( AKA Y/N gambles with time and space and universes surprisingly there isn't any VA involved cause in my opinion they suck to save her dad but apparently there are always consequences)

Y/N had arrived at her destination albeit being a little late. She wanted to be there when the team tried to go back in time to get the Stones in hopes of saving aunt Tasha too but she had one and only shot at this so she had to make do with what she had. What she didn’t realise was she accidentally changed universes instead of going back in time.

The way she found out that the place she had arrived wasn’t when or where she intented to was Morgan, the little girl with big Brown eyes who had total control over her older sister the second they met. Y/N had to lay low and do her research before approaching them. But when she heard about Morgan she had to meet her before doing what she came to do. And that’s exactly what she did.

She found Morgan in a house by the lake with a woman who she assumed was Pepper.Her visit was short since she couldn’t afford getting caught by Pepper which would mean jeopardising the whole plan she had spent months making. She left a message for her dad before going off to save the man itself.

Her dad was fighting with Thanos when she arrived to the scene. The more she looked around the more it looked like the place she fought along with her dad and that meant one thing, she had to act quick.

‘’I am inevitable’’ Thanos said as he snapped his finger but nothing happened. Confused, he looked at his gauntlet to find that the Stones that were there a minute ago were no longer in their places. He looked around to see that Tony had them somehow.

‘’And I’m Iron Man’’ said Tony full of emotions as he was about to snap his fingers. He thought having all six Stones in his hands would kill him being a mortal and he was fine with it if that meant she could ensure his family’s security but he felt nothing. He thought he had died instantly but he found out that wasn’t the case when he got startled by an unknown voice.

‘’Oh, the hell with that!’’ said a girl who wore a similar suit to Tony’s. She seemed to appear out of nowhere. Which confused both man further.

‘’Who the hell are you?’’ asked Tony. Who the hell was mad enough decided to mess up the only chance of him stopping the big purple psycho of a man.

‘’Who do you think?’’ said the girl, winking at him confidentally but her eyes told a different story. There was sadness in them, grief and loss but it seemed like she was happy at the same time.What surprised him was the familiarity she carried but he couldn’t put his finger on it. So he searched her suit for some clues which led up to him finding the Stones. She was the reason he was not dead, she somehow got possession of the Stones.

‘’Kid, no!’’ yelled Tony. He attempted to get closer to her but she snapped her fingers before he could stop her. Everything stilled for a second. The other avengers thought Tony had done it as Thanos’ soldiers had started to turn to dust all of a sudden but when they found a girl that they’ve never seen before in the arms of Tony with fetal injuries they were puzzled. They gathered around Tony and the girl who struggled tos tay alive.

‘’I made it! I… I saved you, Dad.’’Tony was shocked at her words. He was processing what he heard as Pepper landed next to them and kneeled. They couldn’t Wrap their heads around what was happening but they both were not going to let a dying kid down for sure.

She had a difficulty breathing, she was in agonizing pain but she had a peaceful smile on her face. She tried to lift her hand but it pained her more, she whimpered. Tony sensed her intentions and put her hand on his cheek for her. He put his hand on top of her, gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘’Friday, what do we have?’’ asked Tony.

‘’3 to 4 degree burns from her right hand up to her face. Internal bleeding. Her lungs are collapsing... Life functions critical.’’ Answered the voice from both of the suits. Pepper grimaced, she didn’t know who this girl was but she had sacrificed herself for Tony, the man she referred ‘dad’. ‘’Who are you?’’ asked Pepper.

‘’I’m–‘’ she coughed, blood was pooling in her mouth. ‘’I’m surprised you couldn’t figure it out yet…’’ she let out a bloody laugh. ‘’I’m Y/N. Y/N Stark.’’ She said with her last breath. That shook the whole group to their cores. The girl wasn’t lying or confusing Tony with someone else. The girl who lied in his Tony’s arms nonbreathing was infact the daughter of Tony Stark. From the moment they realised the truth everything was a blur to the Stark Family and the avengers.

Y/N was Tony’s first daughter who had died in a cross fire 7 years ago. She was a teenager at the time. She would have been a few years older than Peter if she had lived. It was a wrong place wrong time type of situation, she had died on the scene. Tony had nightmares after that, his insomnia got worse. He had blamed himself although it had nothing to do with him. The guilt ate him alive day by day. He realised why the girl’s eyes were so familiar to him now, she was his Y/N/N. A grown, older version of her, but his Y/N nontheless.

He didn’t think he could recover from her death but losing her, seeing her die in his arms for the second time ruined him. He had no idea what was happening outside of his head, he was in a trance, he had stayed still looking at his hands where Y/N laid. Until his little girl, Morgan came up to him with a disk in hand and said ‘’Daddy! Daddy! A girl called Y/N wanted me to give this to you’’ That got everyone’s attention.

Tony told Friday to scan the disk and display whatever is in it. When he saw Y/N in front of her, he couldn’t stop the tears from falling and when she started speaking as if she could see her Tony lost it. He couldn’t hear her because of his own sobs, he didn’t even realised the rest of the avengers and his wife as they piled in the room when they heard Tony and Y/N’s voice. He had to stop the hologram a few times to gather himself. When he got control of his breathing, he built up his courage and displayed it all over again.

‘’Hey dad. I’m assuming since you are watching this I suceed. I’ve saved you.’’ She had to stop for a second to take a breath in to compose herself. ‘This time’ she said under her breath but Friday caught it.

‘’You are wondering how the hell I am alive. Well… For starters, I didn’t know that I was dead in this world which… makes you realise that I’m not from this world. I’m actually from what you call an alternative universe. Things got out of hand in my universe after… after you… Oh shit! This is too hard. I knew I couldn’t do this shit! I can’t even talk to my own god damn suit picturing it as my hypothetical dad without messing it up’’ that made a few people chuckle and a few others tos mile. The girl really was his father’s child after all.

‘’Okay I’m hoping you either won’t have to watch this or I can cut that part before giving it to Morgan. Anyways, I’m rambling.’’ Tony saw his younger self in Y/N which put a sad smile to his face. This was something he never got to experience before. To see her this grown up. To see a pieces of him in her.

‘’ So things went down hill after you did the whole ‘I’m Iron Man’ thing –which by the way I’m still mad at you about­- You… You died in my hands, dad.’’ She gulped. She had begun crying a while ago but now that she was talking about her dad’s death, she felt like the lump in her throat got bigger and bigger, suffocating her. ‘’ I was all alone for years! You were all I had and then within a second you were gone! I didn’t have anyone else!’’ She tried to calm herself. She wasn’t recording this to make him feel guilty or get answers she was possibly never going to hear. This was a goodbye. A goodbye she knew he deserved just like how she did from him.

‘’That’s why I made the decision to change it but I accidentally changed universes instead of going back in time. But this was my only chance, only shot at making it right. And then I found out that I had died in this universe and you had moved on. Good for you, dad. I’m really proud of you. You did what I couldn’t. It was a relief to know that you were happy and that you had a family now. I thought for a second that maybe the blip didn’t happen. That in this universe, you had a lovely life and I thought for a second maybe I could be in it too. Stay with you but that hope was shortly lived.’’ She gave a sad smile.

‘’And now I’m about to go to the battle field. Before I go, I have to say, I don’t know how if there is any way for me to stop you. I can’t take it all back but I will do anything to not let another girl grow up without her dad. And I ain’t going to let my own sister down. Oh, did you know that I always wanted a sister?’’ she chuckled making Tony’s heart warm. It has been so long since he heard his daughter chuckle the damn way he does. She stopped for a second to think ‘’Well, she has the Stark charm, that’s for sure. I only knew her for a few hours and she had me the second we met. I wish I could be there for her as her older sister. I would give anything to see her grow up but if that has to be for only one of us to see, I’d rather that be you because I’ve been there. I know how hard it is to lose your dad. I could see clearly what she would have to go through and the moment I realised that I knew what I had to do. I would stop you at all costs and since this reacording is being played I could sleep peacefully knowing she has you.’’ She smiled with tears escaping her eyes once again. Tony was full of emotions. His daughter he has been longing for years was right in front of him but way too far away at the same time.

With a sigh she started ‘’ You have people you can hold on to. I never did. Pepper, Morgan, Rhodey, the spider kid... Hold on to them Tony. Hold on to the team. Oh, speaking of the team, tell them I love them and I missed them so badly. I’m sorry. I thought I was going to have more time to talk And maybe if a miracle happens and we all can manage to stay alive I could tell you all about it but I have to go now. Have an old man to save’’ She saluted and looked around right where the broken team of Avengers were with longing in her eyes. She moved closer to the disk to cut the recording but decided against it the last second. Tony hung his head, his heart broke to hear the hope in her voice when he knew what already happened. He thought this was the end of the recording but he looked up when he heard her talking and she had turned to him and looked right at him as if she knew where he was stated. That sent shivers up Tony’s spine.

‘’I know you think I made the wrong decision but I saved you. I refuse to let you down once again. I refuse to see you die in front of me once again. I’m not sorry for what I’m about to do, I knew the consequences when I made this plan months ago. I’m only sorry because although I tried so much to have the future we always talked about with you, I won’t be able to, Tones. But Morgan will be. And I would give up anything for that little girl. And for you.’’ She said as she caressed the necklace Tony gave her when she was a child. She took the chain out of her neck and put it somewhere Tony couldn’t see. And Tony knew this was only a tape but he tried to hold on to his daughter, to stop her from going out there. His breath caught in his throat when his hands went through Y/N’s body. He fell to his knees.

‘’ But hey if it turns out that I, this badass manage to get both of us home in one peace one we can laugh our asses off as we watch me being the drama queen that I am… Well, no one said Starks weren’t a bit dramatic.’’ The heart Tony thought had broken to a million pieces broke further as he heard the tremble in her voice as she tried to put her brave face on. But she couldn’t hide it when one last tear escaped from her slightly swollen eyes as she ended the recording.

Why do I never have good endings? Cause I write in the middle of the night when I feel sad most of the time and it's easier to write sad than it is to write happy.

I hope you liked it. I would love to hear your thoughts on this one. I'd also like to discuss if you'd like the alternative ending that could be a happy one :)

[fruitlicense]

I have a theory about one of the reasons why Lupin left Tonks in Deathly Hallows - if you look at his past, Remus Lupin has never really learned to live without moving or running, so when the chance comes to settle in one place, he doesn’t quite know how to cope.

We start with when he’s bitten by Fenrir Greyback. Remus was just under five years old, so this is effectively the beginning of his life besides some hazy childhood memories. He’s a werewolf now, which he has to keep secret, so his life can never really be “normal” again. He and his parents move a lot, because they can’t let anyone close enough to find out. Remus’ early childhood is marked by movement and secrets, because if he’s not literally moving homes, he’s moving around the people he knows, eventually avoiding them altogether by becoming homeschooled.

When Remus goes to Hogwarts, he’s not moving as much in a literal sense, since Gryffindor Tower is kind of his home base now. However, he’s still sitting on a secret that’s a little too big for him, and as a result, he’s moving around his roommates, trying to balance being friends and keeping them in the dark. This is a constant for him - he can’t take a break from hiding his lycanthropy. It’s always in the back of his mind.

When the Marauders find out, I think it’s interesting that their acceptance is characterized by their willingness and ability to “run” with Remus in a sense. Part of their friendship is being the school pranksters, going out on secret missions with the cloak and Map to help them stay steps ahead of everyone else and run or hide if they need to. When they become Animagi, they literally change themselves to keep up with Remus as he runs. They’ve stayed by his side as a human, running around together to cause mischief, and now they can keep pace with him as the wolf as well. Their willingness to change something as intrinsic as the ways they move shows how much the Marauders care about Remus and about each other in general.

When school ends, the war hits, and Remus joins the Order of the Phoenix, the moving, running, and hiding become more literal and more pervasive in his life. He’s part of an illegal underground organization that’s fighting a supremacist terror group, and his colleagues are getting murdered around him. Post-graduation for him isn’t a time to go to college, find a job, or find a more permanent place to live. He’s fighting Death Eaters, jumping from safe house to safe house, and dropping off the grid for long periods of time to live amongst the werewolves (presumably - I don’t have much canon basis for all of this beyond what we know of the second Order and assuming it functions much like the first). As a marginalized group, the other werewolves don’t have jobs or homes either. The nature of the way their condition is treated in the wizarding world means that they always have to keep moving, or else risk injury, imprisonment, and/or death. At this point in Remus' life,  the rule is keep moving and keep your secrets or die. Settling in one place is a death sentence, as the Potters find out.

After Voldemort is defeated the first time, Remus has to deal with the fallout of the war and what it did to his friends and family, and he also has to deal with trying to create a life for himself. His demons have increased in number - he’s not just running from his wolfish side now. He’s got the ghosts of James, Lily, and Peter to reckon with, as well as the specter of Sirius Black. He has to keep moving from job to job and place to place, not only because his lycanthropy means long-term employment is hard to find and requires him to find safe places to transform, but also because he doesn’t want his guilt and grief to catch up to him. We can assume that he doesn’t have a steady income or place to stay during this time, and it’s very likely that he has been homeless for periods of time. When Dumbledore finds him in that cottage in Yorkshire, the way it’s described - “tumbledown,” “semi-derelict” - makes me wonder if it’s a squat instead of a home, and Dumbledore just catches him at a short stopping point.

When Remus returns to Hogwarts, he’s again in one physical place, but he’s still moving a lot. He’s hiding his lycanthropy from the students and possibly some/most of the staff, so his personal life is still full of secrets. In addition, his job as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor doesn’t really lend itself to a calm career. He’s teaching his students about defensive spells and Dark creatures, and since a lot of his qualifications probably come from his experience of the first war, his daily routine is permanently linked to his trauma. Most importantly, he’s also hiding a lot of his history from Harry, because the central threat in Prisoner of Azkaban is tied directly to his backstory. He’s still moving around in a more figurative way, trying not to stay still long enough for someone to pick up on his patterns and expose him. When his secrets catch up to him, he becomes more erratic, forgetting his Wolfsbane Potion and expressing willingness to kill Peter Pettigrew without a second thought, a departure from his usual cool-headedness. He’s back in the mindset of the war, dropping everything at signs of danger and covering his tracks to move on to a new place, and Sirius, now an ally and friend once again, is keeping pace with him. “Together?” “I think so.”

When Snape exposes Remus’ lycanthropy to the school, he has to start moving again. We don’t know where he is between leaving Hogwarts and joining the Order again once it gets restarted, but we can infer that he probably experiences another year of itinerant living as he jumps from job to job and place to place. When he does “settle” (comparatively), he comes back to Grimmauld Place, but he’s clearly in a war mindset once again, and half the time he’s on missions and not even present in the house. Just because he’s apparently the Order member most frequently there with Sirius doesn’t mean that he’s present all that much, because Sirius can’t keep pace with him anymore. He’s being blocked by Dumbledore and is physically and emotionally stagnant while under house arrest, and we know by now that Remus must always keep moving to survive.

Order of the Phoenix is a turning point for Remus. With Sirius’ death, he finally outpaces his childhood - the last person who he was close to as a young man is now dead. Remus is effectively the last living Marauder (at this point, I would argue that Peter Pettigrew’s betrayal has removed him from Remus’ list of people he cares about and who care for him). It’s also when he meets Tonks, and their relationship grows from one of coworkers to friends to lovers in unseen scenes during and between Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince. She’s kind of a weird choice if you’re picking someone to sort of settle Remus and slow his pace, since I wouldn’t describe her as mellow exactly, but the fact of the matter is that Remus’ growing relationship with Tonks is an obstacle to his habit of movement. She keeps pace with him at first as a colleague/friend like the Marauders did, but her pace changes with her feelings, and she wants Remus to slow down with her. Tonks is stubborn and adamant about what she feels, and in her outburst after Bill Weasley is attacked by Fenrir Greyback, we see that she’s not willing to let Remus try to breeze past his feelings for her. She plants herself right in the middle of his path, and he’s forced to either stop or destroy her as he tries to push past.

Here’s the thing - Remus doesn’t want to stop moving, and we see him resist it, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing to slow down. If we parallel his habit of movement with his lycanthropy (since they’re already linked), we can infer that just as being a werewolf has left him scarred and in pain, constant movement takes a toll on him. Just because he’s lived this way his whole life doesn’t automatically make it healthy. The secrecy and isolation don’t make him happy, and they are directly tied to how much faster he’s moving compared to everyone else - trying to outpace the ghosts. Tonks, in directly blocking his path, is essentially staging an intervention to bring him back to a speed that his loved ones can keep up with. He still has her, Harry, and the Order, just as long as he stops trying to convince himself he’s better off alone and outrunning the dead.

The problem with this is that, as physics tells us, it’s not easy to stop an object that has had a set path of motion for most of its existence. Remus isn’t used to slowing or stopping, and he’s antsy to run again. The things he’s been trying to avoid catch up to him - self-doubt and self-hatred about his lycanthropy and its effects on his life, the need for adrenaline and movement that the wars have acclimated him to. When he feels like it’s all too much to handle, he falls back into his old track of movement in a hunt for something known and familiar. Even Harry notices this, comparing Remus to Sirius and accusing them both of wanting to be daredevils. Remus is trying to get back to the pace he ran at with the Marauders, but Harry argues that that’s not the pace Remus’ family needs him to be at. 

The only way for Remus to be content is to copy what Tonks showed him how to do - stand his ground and face the ghosts head-on. He has to go back home and learn to live a slower life if he wants to have a family, and he does want that. When asked what he would say to Harry on Potterwatch, he makes it clear that he is thankful for Harry’s intervention, and his later joy at Teddy’s birth is infectious. He fucks it all up initially, but Remus does eventually come to the understanding that the way he was living - constantly moving to stay ahead of his secrets and regret - wasn’t sustainable. He’s willing to try, and I only wish we’d gotten to see the just-barely-a-month he got to slow down with Teddy and Tonks.

The Battle of Hogwarts, in a way, proves my point about movement. Remus is forced to drag himself out of family life and back into the mindset of the war, and in a very Marauder-like impulse, Tonks decides to join him at his pace this time. I won’t say they doomed themselves, because the battle required them to exist at the pace of war, and they didn’t have a choice if they wanted to keep their loved ones safe. However, it is undeniable that it is the running that killed them. The movement of war is deadly, and this time, it hit the people we were wishing the most to escape it.

TLDR: Remus Lupin has lived his whole life trying to outrun his personal demons, and his behavior at Grimmauld Place in Deathly Hallows was a deeply shitty reaction to feeling out of his depth when living a slower life.

Sources:

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/remus-lupin 

https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/werewolves

(Sorry this is so messy! I was excited to write it and put it on paper as if I was speaking it in a sort of tangled stream of consciousness. I hope I got my point across okay!)

[shadowturtlesstuff]

No secrets...

here is my how you get the girl cressworth. its kinda sad, i wanted to do happy but i cant apparently. the end is happy and i really want to do a part 2 in cresswells pov

The cold buries itself inside me, finding its way past my bones and gathering through me till all my thoughts are of the cold. Distracting me from what I am about to do, and I cannot figure out whether that is a good thing or not. I haven't spoken to the insufferable Mr. Thomas Cresswell for over six months, yet I am walking a familiar route to his door. I still haven't pieced together why I feel the need to see him tonight, instead of the morning but even if he shuts the door on me and leaves me to fend for myself against the rain it might calm my racing mind. He would be right to do so, after I walked away first. We were close, getting closer every day. Thomas had told  me his feelings plenty of times and I had brushed them off till I started to feel them too. I panicked and then made a mess of everything. We are both poor at expressing our feelings yet I had run from the thought of even trying, and now that I have been away I realized how important he is to me, not only as someone I love but as a friend. I miss his quick wit, his charm and dry humour that uncle doesn't think is appropriate half the time. I miss knowing I will see him and see his own smile at me. Knowing I could melt the cold heart of his with just a small comment is something I was proud of, yet began to fear slightly as it was too easy to see that smile. I had learnt that nothing in life is that easy.

I was wrong. Desperately wrong.

Now I haven't seen that smile in so long and I miss it. I miss the person who shares my humour and lets me face any challenge. I just hope he has missed me half as much as I missed him.  

My heels click against the cobblestone, my pace speeding up to match my racing heart. Thomas’s house comes into view as I round a corner and I suck in a sharp breath. Can I really face Thomas again? Tell him that I miss him?      

This is a worthless idea, a ridiculous notion that Thomas would want to talk to me now. I should leave now and get out of the rain before I become seriously ill and bed ridden by my father. The rain has drowned my skirts, my hair clings to my face. This was a fool's errand. I turn trying to swallow my embarrassment and resentment towards myself when I hear a door open. Shit. I refuse to turn and see if it’s Thomas’s and hope that it-

“Audrey Rose?”

Shit. of course luck would abandon me to this. I don't know what I expected to find when I turned back but it was not this. Thomas, my devilishly handsome friend, stands in his doorway eyes completely transfixed on me. We stand staring, the only sound surrounding us is the pouring rain and my own heartbeat which has amplified its sound so all of London can hear my fear. My anticipation, love and heartbreak and guilt. Words flood my mind but none surfice what I need to tell him and I open and close my mouth like a gaping fish. I’m sure the rain is helping reinforce me looking like such a fool. My mind repeats what an idiot I am and I begin to turn to save myself from further embarrassment.

“Come inside?” Thomas's voice fills the whole street, it sounds slightly panicked, as though he doesn't know what to say. I don't blame him. I showed up uninvited at his flat and haven't managed to look like a functioning human yet I debate leaving, even if I want to stay, but just as I make a step to leave I hear a broken please.

Once again we stare at each other, there are so many words between us that I consider that there isn't a right one to start with. Perhaps his ‘please’ is an effective start. It certainly captured my attention. The rawness of the plea makes me nod and walk towards him. I want to believe Thomas has missed me, that I meant something, but if that is the case, he should be more mad at me. So why invite me in? Why bother?    

“I saw you out the window and,” Thomas begins as I stop in front of him and wait in case he changes his mind, “I thought I was crazy at first but when I realized it truly was you I thought I'd save you, just like old times.”  

His tone is bittersweet, I wince because I am the reason it has a bitter-ish undertone laced with a hint of grief.

“Save me?” I look around slightly confused, there is no assailant chasing me, no murderer on my tail as far as I knew so what is he saving me from? My own mind, because in a way he has, or at least might.

“The rain. I know you hate the cold and no one wants to stand in the rain so,” he moves from the door and gestures inside. I look down at my dress, completely full of water and wince again.

“As you might guess, the rain has now used my dress as a sponge so if I enter your flat I will ruin it.” I take a step back, it is coward-ish but I can't ruin anything else for him, even if it is only water damage. It won't be the worst thing I've done to him.

“Wadsworth, just get inside.”

His flat is warm and makes me notice how cold I truly was. Immediately I begin shivering as Thomas gets towels, blankets and anything to warm me up.

We sit across from each other, I'm wrapped in blankets and holding onto a mug of coco for dear life as Thomas sits with one hand on his and the other tapping on his armchair. The silence is not as bad as I expected but it was never awkward silence that Thomas and I shared. Which reminds me of Thomas's previous words.

Just like old times.

Except not like old times at all. I have to say something soon and again there is no right way to start this. Sorry will not suffice or fix it, but it is still necessary. Hopefully it will mean something at least.

“I know this is unexpected and probably unwanted and it has been awhile since we spoke but,” I chance a glance at him and he is staring at his mug with an unreadable expression, I've no idea where I'm going with this speech but if I can get him to at least look at me it will be worth it, “but I've missed you and I've had time to reflect on my mistakes.”

“Wadsworth, I've missed you more than I want to admit. I spent everyday waiting to see if you would come back but now you’re here…”

He trails off, leaving me to guess what he is thinking, which is always difficult, but add my paranoia I can only expect he wants me gone. However, I wait in dreaded silence for him to collect himself and speak his mind.

“You’re here and I've no idea what I want.”

We both consider his words, it seems we are still both atrocious at understanding our feelings.

“I've figured out that I want you in my life in some way, any way, and that I was tired of running, of pretending and hiding. I was afraid, before, of what we were and even if we can never go back to that I- I guess I am not going to conform to my fear anymore.”

“I lost my mind when you were gone. I thought I had somehow pushed too far or interpreted things wrong, perhaps I had, but coming here and saying you missed me doesn't fix everything.”

“I understand the fear, Wadsworth but we were partners, no secrets, remember?”

He finally looks at me and I wish he hadn’t. His dark brown eyes pierce my already fragile heart. “I know.” I whisper, looking at my cup.

Once again I whisper I know. I knew this would only be the start of fixing things and I was grateful he was even letting me try.

“I know, no secrets,” I look at him and brace myself to confess my thoughts, “I am a fool for running, I know that now, but at the time I felt trapped, not because of you but what you represent, in a fashion, change does not come easy, but you made it feel so easy I hadn't realized the change and I had convinced myself long before you nothing was easy or fair. I was the difficult, unfair one, and I will forever be sorry, Cresswell, I would like to make it up to you but I understand if-” I let out a breath and attempt to say, if you don't want me to but I can't. It is selfish but I desperately want to make things right.

“No secrets,” Thomas says, almost to himself as he quickly stands then takes the seat right next to me, taking the coco and setting both mugs down. “You are a little insane Wadsworth,” he says with a hint of a smirk and I let the comment slide just because of that smirk, “We cannot change what has happened or fix it as quickly as we would both like but I've missed you too much to be mad. In the future we should be better at this, both of us. I never told you how petrified I felt either. My adoration of you caught me off guard. I thought I had some disease, much to Dacina’s amusement, and I considered running too but you were, are, intoxicating.” Thomas smiles at me, full of promise that I smile back. He is offering a truce of sorts through his own truth and I can't help but imagine Thomas trying to explain his feelings to his sister.

“No secrets, no running.” I offer back and he nods, taking my hand in his and absentmindedly making shapes as we sit in silence. Just like old times.

Except I ruin it with my shivers. I was so focused on Thomas I forgot I was still damp and cold.

“You know, skin to skin contact is the most efficient way of warming up, I wouldn't want you catching hypothermia when there is a simple solution.” he says, smirking fully and I roll my eyes despite my huge smile. There is the Cresswell I fell in love with.

“Scoundrel.” I remove my hand from his and place it under the blankets and nestle further back.

“I am indeed, but also a gentleman. You’re staying here till it's stopped raining. You can have my bed if you want, or the sofa. I can find some fresh clothes and dry your dress as much as possible.”

Thomas leaves the room too fast for me to formulate a sentence so I sit and mull over what has happened. It will not be like before, we have those elements but mixed with something new. I expected to fear that, but found myself excited instead. Thomas returns with a pile of clothes and sets them by me but i make no move to get them. I have only just gained some warmth and even though sitting in wet-ish clothes will be worse, I can't make myself move.

“Can you sit with me please? For a bit, then you can use your bed. I've imposed too much so the sofa is fine, thank you.” I watched him sit back in his chair and smile slightly. I missed all his little mannerisms, how he immediately sets his arm out ready to tap if he needs to. How his hair flicks down. I decide I much prefer his messy hair than neat. There is a softness to his features now that wasn't there when I first saw him tonight. He also looks tired and I consider that I should have picked a better time. Thomas is too kind to comment on that fact.

“You are not imposing Wadsworth. I will happily sit with you all night if you wish and thank you for coming. Albeit the timing is bad, you could have waited for better weather to prevent any illness but- I'm glad you came. I wanted to see you but I thought I was a coward and didn't want to face you if you didn't want to see me.”

His words hit me like a knife in the gut. We were both afraid, both controlled by our own insecurities that we both nearly never got to this stage. It is laughable at how ironic it was. Thomas and I were both convinced the other would not want to see us.

“You are right, we do need to be better,” I say and he looks over at me, “tomorrow, weather permitted, would you like to go to breakfast with me?”

“I'll make breakfast and if weather permits I'd be delighted to go to lunch with you.” Thomas tries to stifle a yawn and I ignore the tug of uneasiness that is screaming. This is too easy. Instead I lean my head back and revel in it, commit Thomas's adorable yawn to memory and agree to tomorrow's plans.

“You should go to bed Cresswell, we seem to have a long day planned tomorrow and i need to get out of my wet clothes.”

“Do I need to reiterate my method of warmth?” He asks.

“Need I reiterate what a scoundrel you are?”

“Yes, I enjoy your slight blush when you say it.”

“Goodnight Thomas.”

He stands and I watch him stretch slightly, walk so that he is facing me. Then he reaches and presses a kiss to my temple. “Goodnight Audrey Rose.”

The kiss lingers, a phantom touch that stays with me all night. Warms me enough to hold onto the hope that Thomas and I will be okay. Our spark will reignite just as, if not more, intensely than before.

@fangirling-again @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @ink-insomnia @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore @yikesitsmaddie @loveyatopluto @bookscressworth @androgynousdeputylawyershoe @fandomtakeover @throneoftsc

[karajaynetoday]

at the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them | ashton irwin

Hello lovely people! Because I’m apparently far too emo and angsty to function when it comes to my writing, I’ve decided to explore Part 2 of the first ever 5sos writing piece I posted on tumblr “it’s not the pain they’re getting over, it’s the love”. 

I’ve based part of this part 2 concept on the ode, which is a poem that’s recited at ANZAC and remembrance day celebrations here in Australia (is it blasphemous to use that as writing inspo? Soz if it offends you, I just love the ode so much). The poem is 4 lines that I’ve split into two parts and incorporated into the piece.

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

Read part one here, part three here

Trigger warning for death of a loved one following an illness (non-graphic). 

(This is a fem reader insert)

Word count: 1.6k 

You thought you’d have more time. Even though you knew the clock was ticking on your mother’s mortality, you just thought you’d have more time. But then again, no amount of time would ever truly be enough. Ashton had stayed around for the weekend, and you’d found each other’s arms again as you sat in the backyard and watched the sun set, but it turns out he had press and meetings in the city on Monday (the only way he could wrangle the sudden trip home was to coordinate at least some work things) so you tried to embrace it, despite knowing his company would be short-lived.

Your mother had loved her birthday party and seeing the faces of those she cherished the most, but it had also exhausted her, and come Monday morning you couldn’t convince her to move from her bedroom into the lounge where she usually spent her days, but you just figured she was more tired than usual. You managed to get your siblings out the door and out of your hair so you could tidy up after yesterday’s festivities, but deep down you could feel yourself becoming more and more unsettled about what was yet to come. It’s there, in the pit of your stomach. Every time you swallow, you feel it. But because you’ve got no choice other than to go on, that’s what you do. Push forward with your life, and push the feeling away.

Around lunchtime, your phone chimed with a text message from Ashton that simply read “Neverland?”, which had you grinning like an idiot. Neverland was what you called one of your teenage hideaways, a codename to stop your parents from figuring out where it was, and in your mind it was still a magical place where your hopes and dreams lived, and where your love for Ash and his kindred spirit grew and grew. In reality, it was a gathering of really old trees along a dried up creek bed behind your house, with a ripped and torn old couch you’d managed to push in from your backyard, but there was a part of your soul there, and you knew part of Ashton’s was there too, amongst the whispering leaves and the bark scratched deep with words.

You tried not to think too much about it, tried not to get too attached to the idea of spending more time with Ash, because you knew eventually he’d leave again and that distance would rip your heart into pieces once more. But you wanted to hope for more. A message here or there, or a phone call to hear his voice, or maybe one day a trip to see the world he told you about with bright, shining eyes all those years ago. Maybe with his hand holding yours, and those hazel eyes meeting yours, and just… more.

You were stuck in your daydream at the kitchen sink, idly scrubbing a cake dish from the party, when a loud beeping snapped you out of it. What was that? You’d never heard it before. Where was it coming from? You rushed out of the kitchen into the hallway, and then as you neared your mother’s bedroom the beeping got louder and louder until it was the only thing you could hear, and the only thing you could feel was the bile pushing up your throat. Opening the door, all it took was one glance and you knew. She was gone.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

You don’t know how, but you’d managed to dial the numbers of the people you needed to call. First, the doctors, who needed to come and make it official with their paperwork and time of death. Second, your siblings, so they could come home to you. Third, your mother’s best friend, who answered the phone on the first ring and came straight over to hold you in her arms while you bawled like a baby. Fourth, you thought about calling your mother’s best friend’s eldest son, but you couldn’t bring yourself to press the button. You’d only had him back for a day and a half. What a cruel universe it was, to put this scenario upon you. Instead, you sent a text. “She’s gone. Neverland at 6pm x”.

The next few hours passed in a blur of tears and paperwork and soothing cups of tea. Because it wasn’t an entirely unexpected event, soon enough family friends were showing up on your doorstep, offering warm casserole dishes with hushed tones and sad eyes, and you willed yourself into strong big sister mode, thanking them for their kindness and trying your best to soothe their grief. Your siblings sat quietly in different parts of the house, not quite knowing what to do with themselves. No one wanted to eat anything quite yet, and honestly you still had that sick feeling in your stomach. With a splash of cold water to your face and a few deep breaths, you pulled on a warm jacket before stepping out the back door into the cool evening air, and slipping through the gate unnoticed.

You hadn’t been to Neverland in almost ten years, but somehow your feet knew exactly which path you needed to take. Shuffling towards the familiar trees, you could just make out Ashton’s figure in the twilight, his head in hands as he sat forward on the dusty old couch that had somehow survived years of turbulent weather outdoors. He looked up when he heard your footsteps, and you could see the puffiness in his eyes. Fuck, would everyone look at you with such sadness for the rest of your life?

You felt the tears prick in your own eyes as you neared closer, and Ash stood and opened his arms to you. You throw yourself at him and like just a few days ago, you feel the warmth and the safety and the security and you feel the part of your soul that is set on fire whenever his skin touches yours, but before you can get any words out, the sobs come hard and fast. You’re babbling incoherently, and he’s whispering sweet reassurances into your ear, and pulling you down onto the couch so he can pull you into his side and rub small circles into your back. He’s using your nickname as he tries to calm you, and slowly you feel your tears start to slow and your breathing regulate. Sniffling, you settle your head onto Ash’s chest and close your eyes.

“What is it with this place and me crying my eyes out? Last time we were here, you told me you were going to London.”  You said quietly, wiping your eyes.

“That’s right… and you told me you hated me and that you never wanted to see me again.” Ash whispers, brushing your hair out of your face with a gentle hand.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, and that lasted all of 7 hours until I sat next to you on the bus the next morning and copied your homework.”

Ash laughed, and the sound brought warmth to your heart. Sounds cheesy, but you wanted to bottle it and hear it every day for the rest of forever. You were both silent for a moment, taking in the peacefulness of the night sky, and the hushed whispering of the trees that surrounded your little hideaway spot. You close your eyes, and breathe in. Breathe in the moment, breathe in Ashton, breathe in and breathe out all of the stress and anxiety and anguish and fear that was trying to push its way to the front of your heart and soul.

“We’ll remember her. I promise. We won’t ever forget.” Ashton says quietly, ducking his head down to meet your eyes. You smile sadly, reaching up to cup his cheek and brush your fingers over the dark circles under his eyes.

“I know. It’s okay. It’s just a lot, even though I knew it was coming.”

“Just because you expected it, doesn’t make it easier. Doesn’t mean you can’t be sad and confused and just be yourself for at least a little while. My love, you’ve had the weight of the world on your shoulders, but I need you to remember that you matter. So much. To your family and to me and I know that I’ve been gone and shit at keeping in contact and I’m so fucking sorry that I – “ You lean in and silence Ashton’s words with a soft kiss. He’s shocked at first, and then relaxes into, before pulling away and resting his forehead on yours.

“Are you trying to seduce me? Out here, on this couch?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You wish, Irwin. Just wanted to shut you up. I know my mother just died, but we don’t have to have emo hour every hour.” You chide in response, tapping his nose and earning a laugh.

You push yourself up off the couch and step over to the big tree beside it, reaching out to run your hands over the words carved into the trunk. Your siblings’ names, and Ash’s, his initials and yours in an arrow heart, and the word “remember” in the centre of it all.

You feel Ash step up behind you, and his head rests on your shoulder and kisses your neck softly. It’s another moment, like you had in the kitchen, where your heart breaks and bursts with love and a feeling of content at the same time, but for now, it’s enough. Enough to commit to memory, and enough to get you through until the sun rises for another day.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

Read part one here, part three here

[drarryangels]

heyy so my birthday is in 3 days (the 14th) and i was wondering if you could write something for then? i really love your writing and *most* stories (i’m still crying bc of the last two)! it could be literally anything, i just wanted something cute and that hate that’s actually suppressed love vibe totally cool if you can’t/don’t want to, just thought i should try 😅 thank you 💜

Oh my gosh happy birthday!! (I’m probably going to post this early because I wanted to work on this as soon as I got this ask and Tumblr won’t let you schedule ask posts as far as I know) So happy EARLY birthday!! Thank you so much and I’m sorry about the two most recent fics! (I’m actually not and your reactions gave me LIFE) Thank you for being the sweetest and I’m so so so happy to write something for you!

Also I’m sorry I couldn’t decide whether or not to write something angsty or fluffy so I wrote both. (the second one will be coming on your actual birthday)

I still haven’t figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do, Draco thought, spooning more eggs into his mouth. 

Harry was laughing across the table, giggling and snorting at something Pansy had said. Draco didn’t know what she had said, but whatever it was had Harry losing his mind. He looked so beautiful in this light. Rich sunlight was sparkling in and out of perspective through the windows and dust motes caught on and ruffled through Harry’s hair. 

Draco smiled down at his plate. He had made Harry’s hair like that. Wild and untamed, finger tracks imprinted through his curls from last night and this morning. Sex and kissing and cuddling. Just one tiny sign of the fingerprints all over Harry’s body that Draco had left there. 

Harry’s toes tapped over Draco’s under the table and Draco’s eyes flicked up to meet Harry’s green ones. Every time. Every time, Draco couldn’t help but lose his breath. Being in love with Harry Potter had that effect on him. 

Pansy kicked Draco’s knee under the table, and even though it stung, he didn’t have it in him to glare at her. He knew it was her way to say stop looking like you’re so in love you can’t function, but that’s exactly what he was. 

At first, their friends, even Harry’s who had only known about their relationship for a week, had teased them about being in the honeymoon phase. But while the rest of their friends lost their desperate need for public sexy times and shifted towards the old bickering of people who knew each other too well, Draco and Harry didn’t change. 

Harry’s hands had never stopped shaking in nervous anticipation after that first time after their eighth year graduation when they had kissed for the first time. It had just been a light, soft thing, but it made Draco’s heart stutter in his fingertips. Draco’s heart still did that when they kissed. Harry’s habit of lacing both his hands through Draco’s before they went to bed never faded away. Draco’s insistence to eat half of the food off of Harry’s plate for every meal never dissipated. 

They were still just as madly in love as they had been since always. It wasn’t a honeymoon phase because it wasn’t a phase. 

They’d been together for over four years now, and everything was still a surprise. Every move was still a gift. 

Harry stood up from the brunch table and kissed Pansy on the cheek. Draco knew they were leaving the restaurant, but why? Hadn’t they just gotten here? Harry might’ve had an Auror meeting. Maybe he was just heading out earlier. Harry came around the table and grabbed Draco’s hand and beckoned him to follow along. Pansy just grinned and waved goodbye. 

Draco trusted Harry, and so he followed him. 

There was no one outside when they walked past the host at the front door and out of the local brunch place they’d been eating at. The streets were completely empty. 

Draco turned to ask Harry what was going on, but when he turned, Harry was there pressing him up against the side of the wall with beauty captured in his eyes. He was so close that Draco could almost see his own reflection in the glassiness of Harry’s eyes, but there was no roughness of lust. Harry’s hands were gentle on his hips and his mouth was just barely brushing the corner of Draco’s mouth. 

“I miss you,” Draco whispered. Harry leaned back in confusion, and then it was over. 

Draco sat up violently and looked around. Their bed was empty and the sheets were soaked with Draco’s sweat and the mess of rolling he had done in his sleep. A sharp pull tugged his stomach down into darkness.

Draco flopped back into bed and closed his eyes tightly. I miss you. Draco wished desperately to go back to sleep. That was the only time he ever got to see Harry now.

“Dada?” a small voice came from the doorway. “Papa?”

Draco lifted his head and squinted in the darkness. For a second, he saw two tiny boys clutching onto each other highlighted by the light coming in through the door, and then the image cleared. Scorpius was hanging on to the door frame with one hand, and the other one clutching on to the knitted blanket Mrs. Weasley had given him last Christmas. The pull in his stomach yanked down again, and gravity swam underneath him.

“Come here, bub,” Draco said quietly. 

Scorpius waddled over to the side of Draco’s and Harry’s bed, now just Draco’s, and held his hands up for Draco to lift him up. Draco picked him and lied him down in the curve of of his body. Draco lifted his hand to rub through Scorpius’ curly blonde hair. 

“Where’s Dada?” he heard Scorpius whisper. 

Draco squeezed his eyes shut and glance over his shoulder at the empty side of the bed where Harry used to sleep before… 

“Gone,” Draco whispered back, a hot tear sliding out of the corner of his eye. “They’re both gone.”

“Gone where?” Scorpius rolled over to face Draco and wrapped his small, dimpled hand into Draco’s shirt. 

Draco opened his eyes and let the tears drip down his face sideways. “They’re just gone, bub. It was an accident.”

“Dada?”

“He went in the accident, too,” Draco choked out. Scorpius set his hand clumsily on Draco’s cheek. Draco stared into his little, pointed his face. His son. Draco never thought he’d get to say that. Never thought he’d ever have a son of all things. Much less, two! Two sons, twins. 

“Why didn’t Alby come home?” Scorpius asked, his voice so small, so stumbly and young. 

Draco tried to swallow it down. Tried to swallow down the heaving sobs and the grief that was trying to stab everything in him to pieces. 

“He’s gone, too,” Draco said. His body shook, he could feel it shaking as if it was the only thing that made him real. He could feel Scorpius shaking too, pressed up against him, and the only thing he had left in this life. 

It had happened so fast. Harry had gone out with Albus into Muggle London. Sweet, lovely dark-haired Albus with Harry’s dark skin and Draco’s moles. His son, his perfect son. And Harry, dressed like a haphazard mess, just like he always was. Draco remembered the morning like it was happening then, all again. 

The orange sweater Harry had put on. Draco had tugged at it, prodding at Harry and telling him the Chudley Cannons sucked, and so did neon orange. Harry had kissed his cheek and then swatted his hands away before picking Albus up and swinging him around the kitchen. He had bellowed, “Whose ready for a day with the Aurors?” Albus had shrieked and squealed, “Me, me, me!”

It had been take your kid to work day. Albus had insisted on going with Harry into the Auror office for the day, and Scorpius had wanted to go to Draco’s apprenticeship job at the upstart wand making shop in Diagon Alley. So that’s what they had done. 

Draco didn’t find out until 15:02 the next day that Harry and Albus had been on the bus that’s brakes had broken down and driven straight off the road, killing all the passengers within the first five rows of seats. Damn Albus and his need to see absolutely everything and everyone through the front window. 

Scorpius hadn’t been with him, he’d been at the Weasley’s for several hours, and the first thing Draco did was Apparate to where the bus had crashed. It was gone. It was already a day later, and they’d cleared the bus and bodies. 

So Draco went to the hospital. Wizards didn’t need any identification other than wands, and therefore didn’t carry any IDs. The authorities didn’t know what to do with a man with a long piece of thin wood in his pocket and the tiny boy with a snapped neck who had been in his lap. They took them to the hospital and waited for someone to identify them. 

They didn’t ask Draco if he knew them. 

Draco didn’t even have to really see them. He’d crashed into the wall, and then into the floor because his husband and his son. His husband and his son, and oh Merlin. He’d never wanted to see this. He’d never wanted to see anything like this in his life. Dear god, dear god, why had Harry gotten that phrase stuck in his head? Oh god, they were really, really gone. His husband, and his baby boy. Gone, dead, blue, identified. They carried Draco out, kicking and screaming, and took him to the mental ward. He Apparated out when they shoved him in the waiting room. The Statute of Secrecy meant shit. 

The next thing Draco did was go to the Weasley’s. He snatched Scorpius up in his arms from where he’d been rolling around with Victoire on the kitchen floor and hugged him so tight, Fleur had yelped at him not to suffocate Scorpius. And then Draco had sat on the floor and cried harder than he’d ever cried in his life, still holding onto Scorpius. 

There was talking and a lot of crying after that. Someone had to tell the Weasley’s. Someone had to call Hermione and Ron back from their work trip to America, advocating for magical creature rights. Someone had to go back and put the funeral matters in order. 

Draco went to say goodbye later. He’d never wanted to see anything like this in his life. His 23 year old husband with combed hair and pale skin and a tuxedo on. And three year old Albus, who was too small to even really deserve a coffin all his own. Draco held Harry’s hand and ran his finger’s through Albus’ hair, and it was all so wrong. So, so incredibly wrong. 

He took Harry’s ring off of his finger and put it on a chain around his neck. There was nothing to remember Albus by. He was a baby. He didn’t have any rings or material objects that would hold on to the memory of his soul. All he had was a blonde haired twin who’d gotten left behind in the world of the living. 

It had been a week. One week. 

And Draco lied there, holding Scorpius close in the abandoned stale dark of his bed. Draco lied there with his mouth open, and spit and snot dribbling, and wailed silently. He held onto Scorpius’ warm, breathing body, and cried into his waving hair. He rocked in bed and stared at all the empty gaps that were left in his life. 

I still haven’t figured out how to move on from this, and not be madly in love with everything that used to be mine. 

-

(Notes: Holy crap. I feel like I just ran an emotional marathon after writing this. I meant for this to be fluffy and then I sneezed and uh… This is honestly the only fic that I’ve cried about while writing. I don’t cry about my own fics. Woah, you just proved me wrong. I am so desperately sorry @holdmybook I promise I’ll write something sweet for the 14th)

[shittyelfwriter]

Stay Alive

Pairing: established Castiel x fem!reader

Word count: 3100-ish

Summary: After the events of a day that is a strong contestant for the worst of your lives, you and your partner take a moment to process some of the damage. Coda for 15x01 “Back and to the Future”.

Warnings: Angst that is consistent with the episode, mostly hurt/comfort

A/N: Obviously this episode wreaked havoc on my poor Cas loving heart. Was he a badass? Yes. Was he treated like shit? Also yes. Is the title a reference to the Hamilton soundtrack because while I was writing this I thought of the Stay Alive (reprise) and drew death-of-a-child parallels? Also also yes. I wrote this in half an hour, hopefully it’s not crap but the fire of my emotions really got me going and I went into a frenzy.

More of my writing (masterlist)

You saw the moment that Dean approached Cas from a distance. You’d just tossed your FBI jacket in the back of the Impala and broached the practical subject with Sam of finding something for dinner when you saw the few terse moments of interaction. You only caught the tail end of it, had seen rather than heard Dean say good, and then that was all. No comfort was offered, no physical reassurance, none of the warmth or solidarity you’d seen him and Sam exchanging earlier. Granted, they were brothers. Perhaps that just came with the territory. But you knew Dean was shunning Cas, you knew why, and you were internally furious with the man. You wanted to scream at him up and down the street for the way he was treating the angel, who had just experienced perhaps the most emotionally tolling loss of his existence, barring his falling away from Heaven and its tenets.

You’d lost Jack. Again.

Cas had lost his son, you all had, and here was Dean, still holding a grudge over Castiel’s head like a weapon. You knew that losing their mom was a hard hit. Mary’s death had been Jack’s fault, one way or another, and Cas had been protecting Jack. Dean was unwilling to forgive that mistake—if you could even be so bold as to call it that. Could protecting your child from the ire of another adult (and one likely to take aggressive action at that) really qualify as a mistake? It seemed like something any parent would do, especially when the matter of blame wasn’t really a clear cut thing.

Dean was grieving, obviously; and so far, he was coping with that by treating Cas like dirt and shunning him in all the ways that mattered. You needed to all pull together, to be a team in every sense to face what you were up against— dealing with three billion ghosts wasn’t going to be any sort of cakewalk, and then there was the fact that you were all hoping that Sam’s theory about Chuck dipping out of your universe were true, and that he wasn’t cooking up some fresh bullshit somewhere on Earth, under the radar.

But Cas was grieving too, and why Dean couldn’t see that and understand and maybe grant a little bit of mercy on the angel who had given so much to be standing at their side in the face of the wrath of his own father and creator was just a little too much for you to choke down. And to top it all off, a slap in all of your faces was the fact that as the gates of hell were opened, a demon had hopped skipped and jumped right into Jack’s still warm corpse.

And then Dean—and Sam, which made it suck even more—had insisted that Cas wasn’t allowed to chase the damned thing out. Nor were you, you were quickly told, when you’d bristled alongside your partner. To add insult to injury, the demon, who apparently went by Belphegor, was overtly cheery and made every attempt at camaraderie—which was just uncomfortable and grating, considering whose face he was wearing and under what circumstances. Both you and Cas were on edge every time he was around, but rushing away from what looked like Jack felt foreign, wrong. It was awful.

You weren’t gonna pick a fight with Dean, not today. Even though part of you wanted to chew the man out and give him a good piece of your mind, you yourself were exhausted. You’d been running on air for days, the only thing keeping you going had been fresh adrenaline and the need to keep moving. You had two days within the barrier Belphegor—if that really was who he was—had raised around the town before the real feds showed up. That was long enough to allow a few hours of rest, you figured, striding over to the angel before he could slink away from the scene feeling completely unwanted and alone.

You slipped your hand in his, and squeezed gently. “Hey.” It was a simple greeting, far too simple, but it was loaded with meaning. I saw. I know. I’m on the same page with you. You’re not alone.

A slight moment of hesitation later and he squeezed back, your heart warming at his attempt to reciprocate. “Hey,” he replied, voice even more gravelly than usual—a tell tale sign of emotional overload. His attention immediately focused in on you, as if grateful for a distraction from everything hurting him. “Are you alright?” He asked, other hand moving to rest on your arm, as he looked you over for any injuries he might have missed on his last visual inspection after the chaos had settled, anything he could heal. Anything he could fix, something he could make better for you. You offered him a small, watery smile.

“No,” you replied softly, and he knew you meant more than just a physical pain. He could see it in your eyes, the loss that he felt mirrored there. “But neither are you,” you added, a hand slipping up to his cheek, smoothing a thumb over his jaw. You saw that look flit through his eyes, the one that meant he felt like he didn’t deserve your sympathy, that he was beginning to believe that Dean’s anger was righteously placed upon him. Don’t do that, you prayed silently at him. Don’t you dare take his cold shoulder to heart. He’s hurting too. We all are. Give him time.

He drew a shaky breath, stepping into you, pressing closer like he needed the contact as reassurance. “I just…I can’t…” he fumbled for words, casting a glance over at the demon wearing your son’s body as a vessel, his expression distraught and angry and broken. You knew how he felt; it was a cruel taunt for Jack’s body to be walking and talking and filled with something so unholy when you’d lost him so recently—so recently, that you hadn’t even had a moment to slow down and process it.

“I know.” Your voice broke, tears filling your eyes. “I hate it too, Cas. I hate it so much.” You’d both lost Jack before, the first time he’d died. You’d grieved him, commemorated him, and you’d done it as a family. Now, it seemed that that wasn’t a luxury that would be afforded to him a second time, whether it be because Sam and Dean were too angry at his involvement in Mary’s death or the functionality of his body playing host to an unexpected freeloader. It was cruel, and impossible to fully come to terms with. You felt tears burning behind your eyes, a thick lump in your throat. He had deserved so much better.

You took a deep breath of your own, and a step back. “Come on, angel. I’ve got zombie guts on me and we’re gonna need to set up a base of operations. Let’s go.”

Whether it were just the example of a universal constant or instead the ever present influence of Chuck’s handiwork was unclear, but there was a motel just down the street from the high school where the rest of the town was holed up. It was just as mediocre as any motel you’d been in over the years, but it might as well have been the Ritz-Carlton because it was safe and quiet and had running hot water. Sam and Dean were wrapping things up with the locals and law enforcement and then making a stop wherever they could to scrounge up some food stuffs, and the demon—and more importantly, Jack’s body—would be with them until they got back. The only upside was that it left you with a short while alone with Cas where rude comments or just general harshness wouldn’t be flung at him.

Throwing the lock on the door and tugging yourself out of your jacket was thankfully routine, because you were barely even functional at this point. You felt like you were in a daze, like none of this were real; perhaps just a bad dream, wherein you were drained, completely and emotionally wrecked. Cas didn’t seem much better off, standing in the middle of the room like he didn’t know quite what to do with himself. You couldn’t blame him, but it still broke your heart when you saw him casting his eyes around, like a bird trapped in a cage. He wanted to run, to find something to fight, to get away from what he was feeling, it it wasn’t really what he needed. You knew him well enough by now to know that. Because as much as he wanted to escape it all, he didn’t want to be alone, either.

You tugged him by the hand when you went to shower, gently inviting him in with you. He didn’t need to, obviously, and it wasn’t going to be glamorous after the week you’d had, but it was a routine of your relationship, a little bit of constancy, normalcy. Being close was a comfort, one he needed too, and some privacy after all that had happened was welcome. You weren’t surprised when halfway through the shower your tears started free flowing. Even once you were clean, he just held you in his arms under the warm water, the two of you anchoring to each other in the middle of the storm. Nothing was said; neither of you were ready yet, your hearts too heavy. But by the time you’d pulled on clean clothes and tumbled into the shitty motel bed together, curling into one another like you couldn’t be separated, you found some.

“I know it’s stupid to say ‘it’s not fair’.” Your voice was soft, even in the quiet. His face was buried against your neck, breathing soft against your skin. He was holding onto you like a lifeline, like you were all that was keeping him tethered to reality instead of tumbling headfirst into his grief. Maybe you were, but he was doing the same for you. “But it’s not. And I hate it. And maybe we were never meant to win, or be safe, or be happy in Chuck’s story. But dammit.” Your voice broke, tears strangling you as you clenched your trembling hands. “I wanted Jack to have better than this. I didn’t want him to be just another person we cared about and lost, because he was so much more than that.”

“It’s my fault.” The words rumbled through you, and you felt your chest tighten. “I was supposed to protect him, and all I ever did was fail at it.” He let out a huff, a slight sardonic attempt at a laugh. “I lost him once and swore I’d never let it happen again, and I still failed.”

“No it’s not. It’s not your fault,” you countered, insisted. “It’s not. Do you honestly think there is anything we know of now that we could have done to protect him from Chuck? From God, himself? We were completely blindsided. We thought Dean was the threat.”

“We were wrong.” You knew Castiel had given up on his father a long time ago, but this was the kind of wound that took that to an entirely different level.

“I hate him.” You didn’t have to say who, you knew Cas could feel your intent. Chuck, God, whatever you called him he was a cruel, sadistic motherfucker and you wished you’d never had the misfortune of meeting your Maker. You could also tell, with the way Cas’ arms tightened around you, that he agreed, and that scared him a little.

“It should have been me.” Even though it wasn’t the first time you’d heard him say that, especially about Jack, it still it made your pulse skip a beat in panic. “If anyone deserved to die, like that, it’s me. I’ve done things to be worthy of my father’s wrath. Jack was”—his voice broke, and your heart shattered into even smaller pieces, fresh tears poring from the corners of your eyes—“Jack was so young. He was just trying his best. All of this, what he is—was—was so confusing, overwhelming. People tried to take advantage of him left and right.  Lucifer, Dumah, even Dean…” You could feel in his words how betrayed he still felt by Dean’s choice to try and lock Jack away. “He was just a child. He was meant for so much more.”

“That doesn’t mean it should have been you.” You felt him nuzzle deeper into your hair, hiding his face from the world. “Cas, listen to me. I would have taken a bullet for that boy myself, any day of the week. I would have gladly died to keep him here, with you.”

“Don’t say that.” You could heat the panic lacing his voice, even in a whisper. “Don’t you dare say that, don’t even think it.” He drew back enough to fix you with a pleading look, and you were shocked to see his eyes swimming in tears. “For a moment I thought that he was going to—you were standing right there, not even six paces from him and I was so afraid that he’d just snap again and you’d be…”

That he’d kill you, too.

You hadn’t even paused to consider he might have been afraid of that.

“Oh, Cas.” You took his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his. I’m sorry, you amended in prayer. I didn’t mean it like that. He kissed you back, desperate, hands grasping at your hips and pulling you into him. Like he couldn’t be close enough, like he needed you very, very near to be sure that you were still actually there. “When he said ‘story’s over’ I thought he was going to kill us all right then and there,” you confessed, when you broke for air.

“I thought he might, too,” Cas agreed. His eyes fell away from yours. “I almost don’t know what to do now that he’s just…left us here.”

“We’ll figure it out,” you told him, smoothing a hand over his shoulder. “We always do. We’ll find a way to get through this.”

There was a long pause, wherein he didn’t argue with you but he didn’t agree, either. When he glanced back up at you, there was a strange look in his eyes.

“Promise me something.”

“What?” You asked, concern grabbing at your heart as you hoped he wouldn’t ask something impossible. Something like don’t sacrifice yourself for me, because you didn’t know if you could stop yourself, if it came down to it.

“Promise me you won’t start to hate me, too.” It surprised you, but he seemed serious.

“Why on earth would I hate you?” You asked, bewildered and almost exasperated in your state of exhaustion. “I love you, Castiel. I trust you more than anyone, more than even Sam and Dean—especially with the way they’re treating you right now.”

“Because that’s what happens when I care about people.” He held your face in his hand, the gentle caress of his thumb serving to make you even more sleepy. “Maybe it’s because of what I am. Maybe angels really aren’t meant to love anyone, because it always seems to end badly when emotions are involved.”

“I think that’s just part of being alive, love,” you told him, your eyes fluttering closed as you leaned into his touch. Some part of your chest felt hollow with that familiar feeling of loss, but with him by your side, you didn’t have to bear it alone. “It’s not your fault. Life is just unkind like that sometimes, and people make choices that can hurt you.” You sighed, and looked up at him. “I’ve loved you long enough, through enough, to know that I’m not going anywhere, angel. If there’s one person you don’t have to worry about losing, it’s me.” You paused, and you could literally feel that you were both thinking the same thing. “Not by choice, anyway,” you added quietly. Death was an eventuality, you knew, but for tonight, you’d like to think it would come later rather than sooner—in spite of the odds of your current predicament, which didn’t seem to lend much to that hope.

But a promise was what he had asked for, not for you to defy fate. He nodded, seeming content for now with that answer. There was only so much reassurance could do for either of you at that moment, anyway. Part of you wanted to promise him that you’d get Jack back, that you were family, that you’d done it once before and you’d do it again. That the two of you together would move Heaven and Earth if you needed to, to fix this. But could you? Could you repair what had been done, when you were up against the Creator’s will?

It was all too much, far too much for your muddled, sleep deprived brain. You found your eyes kept slipping shut of their own accord, despite you willing yourself awake to keep your partner company. But he knew better than you did how exhausted you were, and he rolled over beside you, pulling you to rest on his chest, your ear over his heartbeat.

“We have just about two hours until Sam and Dean return with something to eat,” he told you, and you didn’t have it in you to argue. You reached for his hand as he pulled the blanket up over your shoulders the way you liked it. “Sleep while you can, and I’ll watch over you.”

You murmured your thanks, sending a wave of love his way in lieu of words. You felt his other hand cradle your head, a kiss pressed into your hair. As you drifted into unconsciousness, you thought you heard him quietly say something about protecting you at all costs, that you were the only thing he had left—but maybe that was just your exhaustion getting the better of you, one thought lingering in your mind as sleep rushed to greet you with the sweet promise of relief from your heartache.

We’ll keep each other alive.

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[blookmallow]

uhHH well i finished rusty lake roots... there are still many things i do not understand but wow that sure was. a lot 

-----

oh. ohhhh i was right 

albert did get into voodoo

i mean really if you have enough blood to write a sentence with it i think thats more of a “there is blood” scenario but i guess that’s just semantics really 

anyway uhhHHh that happened,

oH god what the fuck ok apparently mary’s dead now too

i dont know what killed her other than like, old age, maybe. shock?? could’ve been a heart attack if she. saw what albert did to his brother and ida 

:( 

the kid with the glasses Was emma’s son and she Did commit suicide in her grief when he went missing 

still dont know where he came from in the first place but nevermind 

what the hell kind of egg is that (the second thing. the first thing is a potato) 

oh

it’s. it’s that kind of egg, isn’t it. 

is that what that looks like???? i was under the impression human “eggs” are like, microscopic, like you can’t visually see individual sperm cells and i couldn’t really find a clear answer trying to look this up and got kinda freaked out about it anyway (pregnancy/uterus functions fuck me up sdfgggh) but 

APPARENTLY, AFTER MURDERING HER (AND HIS BROTHER) ALBERT HAS DECIDED TO HARVEST IDA’S EGGS FROM HER BODY AND CREATE HIS OWN FETUS SOMEHOW HIMSELF 

I DONT THINK THATS HOW THAT WORKS BUT UH. ALBERT???? WE NEED TO TALK 

god fucking damn it i liked him so much and wanted to understand him and i still think it’s heavily implied he was abused and/or bullied by his siblings and he’s definitely mentally unwell and definitely had some kind of rivalry going on with samuel, definite “wants what he has” situation but 

i guess “murdered his brother and his wife, apparently harvested eggs from her corpse to Make A Child With Her after she rejected him” is uuhhhh not really redeemable is it :’   ) god 

or im not sure if she actually rejected him or if he ever made any advances on her in the first place but. definite “she belonged to me/should have been Mine” possessive behavior ramped up to 11 

i still think he needed Help and maybe wouldn’t have turned out like this if he got help and had support from his family but my god what a. series of events that was  

also this guy keeps showing up everywhere. i dont know what he is but i like him even though he may be some kind of shadow of impending doom or a personification of death 

BIG fan of the implication here that i may in fact have been a ghost the whole time, subtly influencing the events of my own family destruction in an effort to sacrifice them all to resurrect myself 

is that what all this is. did all this happen because william was haunting everybody trying to get the pieces to revive himself. was this man willing to destroy his entire family line for the chance to live again 

oh FUCK THE KID’S STILL ALIVE 

HE DIDN’T DIE IN THE WELL HE’S JUST BEEN LIVING DOWN THERE THIS WHOLE TIME. OK

how did nobody hear him calling for help or anything... 

guess what

i fucking killed the hand again 

apparently albert also knows about this??? and never told anyone??? fucking why??????? he doesn’t seem to be Using the dude for anything, there doesn’t seem to be any reason to keep him down here unless it’s just some fucked up revenge thing on his sister 

also i dont think it was albert’s hand that i stabbed Again bc he’s not bleeding when he shows up but 

is he the one who has been keeping him alive?? why. what purpose is served in keeping him alive if he’s not using him for anything. if hes just trying to get back at his sister why not just kill the guy or leave him to starve down here. Albert What The Fuck Are You Doing 

hey buddy!!!!! its u!!!!

i was wrong it seems like mr. crow is not a voodoo curse victim but is actually probably the first vanderboom brother. the not william one. i forgot his name :’) and i still definitely think william’s going to become mr. owl

i found this picture later (it was shown before but i didnt remember) (also has. puzzle stuff on it but anyway) its definitely the same suit thats it isnt it 

i dont want to go searching for the pic of the other brother and the one of mr owl bc ill probably just find spoilers if i do that but Hm. hmm.

is this how the revival ritual works. do u become a bird. is that why everyone else at the hotel was animals too

that would mean the brothers have already done the ritual once though and would’ve needed a bunch of sacrifices to do it before so maybe not 

albert’s bizarre science experiment child seems to be living at the house now, which i was gonna say “how the fuck did he explain this to his family how is she just Here Now” but then i realized i think she and albert might be the only ones left now 

ida and samuel are dead, emma is dead, mary and james are dead, leonard isn’t dead but i think he might be... out fighting the war at this point 

also that dog is still here and i didnt previously question why the cup was called “cup with liquid” and not “water” and i really, really wish i didnt know the answer to that mystery 

try to guess how this dog provided liquid. the answer is not blood 

rose helped frank get out of the well, not sure if she knew why he was down there in the first place or that he’s her cousin, and. well 

:( 

sorry things had to be this way, bud

digs up my entire family’s remains to make one hell frankenstein skeleton

sure 

o fuck i did it i got all the things

i like how some of these are like “gouge out an eyeball” and then there’s like “cut off some hair” 

some of this family suffered more than others for this ritual, shall we say

theres probably Reasons for each of the parts though like, frank’s hair grew super long from his years in the well, so while the removal of a lock of hair itself wasn’t really a Sacrifice/suffering on his end its symbolic of what he went through

william’s the one being revived so it makes sense to use his heart

eyes could be... Too Late To See The Truth about albert or something, ida was a fortune teller so, Inner Sight or w/e, also a pair of eyes taken from a couple

emma died from her grief so we have her tears

james... died from drinking the elixir? so indirectly his tongue could symbolize that?? i guess???

rose means red, she was born through murder, she got her bio mother’s red hair, we have her blood 

albert could be seen as a mastermind behind a lot of these events, and a lot of this was caused by the mental illness he never got help for, so we have his brain

leonard lost his foot in the war

the only one i cant figure out is mary’s teeth, i have no idea what that one could mean unless she Did die of old age and “teeth falling out” is meant to symbolize that

theres.... three teeth and she had three children? i have no idea 

anyway DONT LIKE THAT AT ALL 

hm. unpleasant 

the other brother Confirmed to be mr. crow but its still possible mr. owl is Not in fact william but he could be talking about future william when he Becomes mr. owl, maybe 

this is such a mess ok so william was reborn as a baby, the grandchildren looked like they were consumed by the roots but we see rose holding the baby so at least she’s still alive (and probably the boys too if she is) 

and this process also created the seed which planted the tree so... william’s death and subsequent rebirth also created the family tree?? i guess?? so his family was brought to ruin one by one possibly through him influencing events from beyond the grave, all to revive him, which started the family in the first place, and there’s definitely a lot of... “all time is one/timelines can be altered” not direct Time Travel but just sort of. time as a nonlinear web that the original vanderboom brothers seem able to transcend 

hm! hm. theres still. so much i dont understand but i have at least one more game left im not sure if the other things in the bundle are related to rusty lake or just other things by the same developers 

[micklikethejagger]

It’s Thursday morning. It’s raining. Of course, it’s fucking raining. Why wouldn’t it be raining? It’s always raining when someone tells a sad story. The storm is a literary cliché that helps the reader understand the figurative storm that occurs within us; perfectly analogous to the psychosomatic symptoms that we feel yet somehow remain anonymous to the world. The rain that falls, the wind that blows, the thunder that screams; it’s easier to paint a picture with the phenomena of nature than it is to describe the human experience. But is this all human nature? Is it natural to feel an entire hurricane in my chest when the sun’s shining down? What natural process can describe the seismic wave that radiates through me, breaking my heart in ways I didn’t know still existed, and strikes me with debilitating loneliness while in the company of my dearest friends? Is there a name for the insatiable waters that breach their harbors and flood my face at the thought of the beloved? What can explain the rage and ferocity that thunder through me as a violent manifestation of the energy of chaos?

 Grief.

 I hear that ignorance is bliss. Unfortunately, ignorance is one of the many experiences that my childhood denied me. There’s peace in the credulousness of believing only what you can see and fearing only what you know. Or at least that’s my romantic view. Knowledge is the food of the soul. I guess Plato said that. I'd like a word with him because knowing has only ever functioned as a toxic paralytic rather than any kind of sustenance for my soul. Knowledge is an infinite rhythm of perceiving and brooding until we manipulate the puzzle to discern its foundation and solution. This has been treacherous while navigating sorrow because, apparently, sorrow has no solution. Sorrow is an unsolvable puzzle. Not like frustrating brain teasers that have trap doors and secret levers that amusingly lead to the solution after many trials—this one simply exists as an obstacle with no benign resolution. The relief that will come is merely a diminished frequency and duration of the intensity I feel. I’m also told there’s a benefit to being able to explain how I feel; a calming relief that comes from an unencumbered dialogue. I, however, fail to see how the vivid depiction of the source and symptoms of my pain should have a depreciating effect on their intensity whatsoever. Although the written form betrays the reader when conveying tone, I hope the use of context clues leads you to the unmistakable recognition that I feel little relief in this exercise. The loss of my beacon has forever left me faithless to no avail. Any release that I encounter is merely a gratuitous expenditure of rage at the expense of me and anyone so unfortunate to be found in its wake. To half of the world my monologue sounds like a babbling asshole using ten-dollar words to paint a sandpaper scene and to the other half, I’m dismissed as another commoner who can’t regulate the emotions that accompany life’s turbulent ebb and flow. This isn’t me. I’m not the guy that snaps under pressure. At least not historically. As of late, the manifest of my character is being corrupted. The features that I’ve come to admire are disintegrating and being dominated by a ghostly and aggressive combatant. The chimeric beast that now resides in this soul is belligerent and frightening. Should I welcome this beast a catalyst of change—as a snake sheds its useless skin when it’s time to grow—or condemn it as a toxic infiltration that should be thwarted on the spot? Either way, I fear that I don’t have the strength to face any kind of beast. I’m not the warrior that you always believed me to be—I’m defenseless and brittle on my own. It turns out that confidence and bravery come to any soldier wearing indestructible armor. And my armor was torn from me. Her unyielding patience that could tire any adversary; the inherent strength that gave you hope and conviction in any battle; the rigid morality that left no room for interpretation and kept you on a steady course; the unwavering allegiance that endowed you with the courage and tenacity to fight every fight. That was me. The confident one. The adventurous one. The one that took an extra step away from home because I always knew I had someone to catch me and pull me back in when the storms would gather. I had someone to save me. So many times, and in so many ways. I was salvaged from my circumstances and rescued from my decisions. “She was born of poor luck and poverty and raised by ignorance and Solitude.” Jane Austen wrote that but I often recite these words to mitigate my present-day struggle. I’ve had no one before. I entered the world ignorant of compassion and knew only of anger and fear. Battling these demons should not be a novel experience, but as it turns out, having and losing is much less straightforward that having none at all. Having something worth losing is a torture beyond words and that’s where the pain of this chapter begins.

[leviathiane]

something you learned this year, fics you wanted to write but didn’t, a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read, favorite fandom to read fic from this year

Shbfjxbfnc finally an ask meme that doesn’t got me rushing to figure out what emoji/number is what.. love u bitch....💫

Something I learned this year It’s.... embarrassing, but,,,, How To Bookmark On AO3. I literally. Spent the past few years not understanding it and as such bookmarking almost nothing. It took me writing my own stuff and watching people bookmark it to finally figure it out and I still forget it’s a real function (same with kudos... i still 90% of the time forget kudos exist and i can, in fact, leave them with literally 0 repurcussions)

Fics I wanted to write but didn’t oh you asked the worst question this is going to take a while ☠️ not including WIPs I picked up and either forgot or just having finished, there’s about 12 I flat out never got to and 7 I will EVENTUALLY get to that haven’t been started

The 12 in order(new to old, literally reading off my prompts doc) (with probably increasingly confusing short summaries):

-Angel!Ace post-marineford au (ASL centric)

-Awakened-DF!Marco, marineford canon divergent

-Shanks and the mystery of a blue bird who takes really good care of his skin, apparently

-Shanks finds Marco on a marine ship in chains and just kinda is like... mine now

-Pianist!Ace modern!au first meeting the Whitebeards (based off that one tumblr post about someone slipping piano requests under an apartment door)

-A series of sabo meeting the whitebeards while “undercover” to the point where he’s a common story among commanders every time there’s shore leave but no one connects him to Ace

-Canon divergent where sabo was picked up by marines instead of by dragon after losing his memories

-A series of outsider-POV to ASL antics in which ace survived marineford and they all visit each other to spar and hang out at the expense of literally everyone else

-Nsfw 3-parter between shanks, buggy, Mihawk, and Marco

-Post-marineford Marco And shanks dealing with immortality and the things we are forced to leave and are left behind by (nsfw ending) (...will probably still do this one anyway. It nags at me a lot and I have Emotions)

-A marcoace to do with mating dances and extended flight metaphors ahdbdjfnjdnf don’t @ me

-Canon divergent where instead of dying corazon pulled a sabo but became a marine again, memories gone, and trying to catch law gives him a migraine for more than one reason. law is along for the ride and traumatized.

A fic I read this year that I would recommend to everyone gah just... one? Just one? One fic? This is impossible. I’m not even gonna entertain that, have 3 and thats pushing it.

Labyrinths of the Heart by izabellwit - I was in this fandom for as long as it took to read this fic. Full of hopelessness and dark themes, self hate turned poisonously outward, slow mental health related haractet development. A Gen fic excluding canon ships, 200k+ and worth it. I cried over this fic probably every chapter if I’m being honest

Blue by kurikuri - KNY is a little too fresh of a fandom to have 100k+ fic classics just yet but this one made me reread a couple times within a month tbh.. full of complex feelings and hesitation, time travel mixed with trauma and grief both + a canon divergence hat throw everything sideways a lil. Very soft

Trapped in eternity by skyleaf19 - I think this one is already on my OP Friday fic rec list but I think about her a lot and the raw pain and slow descent into trauma from ace looping the last years of his life and losing everyone he loves over and over always gets me. I get .. concerningly excited reading this fic even the fourth and fifth time ahfbjfjcnd

Favorite fandom to read fic from this year oh this one is easy jshfushfifj it’s the One Piece fandom! So far in 2019 I’ve sifted throgh BNHA, one punch man, natsume yuujincho, KNY, deltarune, Sherlock, Merlin, Hannibal, teen wolf, supernatural, Pokémon, FMA, titanfall, DBH, legend of Zelda, mob psycho 100, rise of the guardians, undertale, and marvel (into the spider verse, Spider-Man, avengers, loki-centric, etc) fandoms for new content but, OP being one of my oldest fandoms both in terms of me being connected to it as well as objective age, there’s a whole gold mine of fics that I found much easier to navigate at a frankly startling speed lmfao. It’s been great! I literally, for one of the first times, can’t seem to run out of new AND old content

[leostudyblr]

studying sucks as someone with adhd/add

and that’s not talked about nearly enough! in general and in the studyblr community.

i’m making this “guide” (of sorts) to, at the very least, let adhd/add ppl who struggle in school know that they’re not alone!

(also, just for reference, for the rest of this post i will be referring to adhd and add people as just adhd, because that is the official diagnosis for both. just know that i’m not excluding y’all inattentive types!!)

btw: neurotypical/non adhd studyblr are allowed and 100% encouraged to reblog this post!

distractions. my mortal enemy

writing this post is literally my distraction from writing my english essay. which is weird because i’m actually interested in the topic of my essay!

so why am i hyperfocusing on something completely unnecessary?

in short, because dopamine! that bastard.

long version is that people with adhd have unusually low levels of dopamine (the happy chemical, if you weren’t aware!) in their brain. this makes it extremely hard to stop doing something that is giving you dopamine and switch to something that won’t give you that sweet sweet dopamine.

in my case, it means that it’s hard to stop writing this post (which is about something i’m very passionate about, albeit hypocritical of me) and write my essay (which i’m also passionate about, but that includes writing an essay).

also, under this category i’d like to mention something that i found on the wikipedia page for hyperfocus that is just a great explanation of adhd!

“Some types of ADHD are a difficulty in directing one's attention (an executive function of the frontal lobe), not a lack of attention.”

thanks, wikipedia! what a nice helpful source. (note: wikipedia is a great resource that we all use, but that doesn’t mean you are bound to donate. don’t, if you don’t want to. they don’t have a fundraiser going on at the time of writing this, but.... still. don’t feel bad. other people will donate, and wikipedia will stay running.)

^ can you tell i’m adhd. geez. ok moving on

(another sidenote: apparently i lied. as soon as i went on another wikipedia page, they asked me to donate. damnit)

how do i... stop getting as distracted?

first off, understand that hyperfocus/lack of focus is part of your condition. you are not broken or “bad” for not being able to focus on what you need/want to.

try a pomodoro timer. this has literally saved me so much.

try a pomodoro... with friends! let them keep you accountable and working on what you need to.

have you been watching youtube for 3 hours and haven’t gotten out of bed that entire time? get up. get moving, walk to your kitchen and get a snack! some water, for god’s sake. take your snack time to think about what you need to work on and decide on one thing to do before you get another snack.

“but i can’t do just one task at a time! i’m better at multitasking!”

might i suggest fidget toys? i used to say that i was great at multitasking—no. no one is good at multitasking, it’s just not human nature to multitask. just trust me on this one, aight?

btw, sleep. not sleeping will only make it harder to focus on the things you have to do!!

if you take meds: take your frickin meds, dude. like seriously. take them.

if you don’t take meds and want to: talk to your doctor asap. tell them your concerns, and how adhd affects your life on a daily basis. and stimulant meds are not the only option!! be open to suggestions from your doctor, but if you feel like they don’t get what you’re going through: you gotta tell them again. give them more info, because what you tell them is literally the only way they’ll know something is wrong.

getting. overwhelmed. a trap that’s too easy to fall into

lord knows i’ve been overwhelmed. i’m overwhelmed right now. maybe you’ve been sick, or there was a really hard assignment in this class or that, and you had an exam in three classes over a two day time period—i get it. and you felt like this was your year! you were doing so well! but now you have late work in multiple classes and you’re not sure what to actually... do for those assignments.

a lot of this overwhelmed business has to do with not knowing how to start. you have this pile of work to do, how are you supposed to do any of it when there’s just so much and you know you can’t possibly get it all done.

“try and do one thing,” people will say

“just start! it’ll be easier once you start,” people will continue saying

“but it’s too much,” you’ll argue

“you don’t have to do all of it,” they’ll argue back, and you’ll realise that they’re right but it’s so easy for them. for you it’s like pulling teeth to start writing that essay outline or to start working on those chemistry problems. it feels like there’s no point if you don’t finish it—if you can’t turn it in, what’s even the point?

hey. i feel you. ppl w/o executive dysfunction just don’t understand how your brain works differently. and that’s not your fault.

the main thing i can say is: talk to people who do understand. 

your friends that have seen you struggling in school forever? they get it. maybe they don’t understand exactly how you do things differently, but they see the grief you go through each year just to survive.

if you don’t talk to people about what’s going on in your life, you’re gonna explode. like actually.

so how do i stop from getting overwhelmed?

talk about your stress early on, before it’s “too late”

that said, it’s never too late. it is NEVER too late to get help.

you got friends who have the same classes as you? have you made friends in your classes? ask them for clarification on assignments, if it’s too scary to go to the teacher.

i know that for me, at least, it doesn’t even cross my mind to ask my teacher about these supposedly silly thing! but i’ve started trying to take into account that if it’s preventing me from knowing where to start something, it’s not silly. it’s something that i need to ask about.

if you can afford to do so, consider asking your doctor if they can refer you to a therapist. this comes from someone with zero experience in therapy (altho i really want to! it just hasn’t worked out that way yet.), so take it with a HEAVY grain of salt. i just know that from other’s experiences, it has helped them immensely.

self esteem. what’s that?

with all this getting distracted and overwhelmed, it’s easy to confuse your adhd with yourself. yes, you have adhd, but it’s not all of you. and did you know that adhd people have enhanced creativity? you probably did, actually. isn’t it amazing that people with adhd have figured out how to persevere and live in a world not built for us!

now, i’d like to address some common self-esteem issues in adhd individuals and why it’s all your brain tricking you!

feeling down about our abilities.

this can mean not feeling good enough when you fail to do something that you previously thought you could do easily.

this is your brain trying to tell you that you can do better than this, but the signal is getting messed up somewhere along the way! when something doesn’t turn out as well as you want it to, you have to take that and push down the urge to beat yourself up about it and use that disappointment and turn it into self improvement!

comparing ourselves to neurotypical people.

“why can everyone else do it, and not me?”

because your brain isn’t built to work like that, silly! you need to think hard about why you can’t do it the same way as them—and find a way to accomplish the same goal but with a method that works for you.

it feels like we get more criticism than praise.

listen. maybe you are getting more criticism than praise—and that sucks! like absolutely, positively fuckin sucks. but more than likely:

that’s the rsd baby. your mind naturally takes criticism as a personal attack, AND it amplifies it in your mind! double whammy, if you will. this is why having someone to talk to who supports you is so important, so you can have an outside source telling you that you don’t deserve to feel like shit. because you don’t.

thanks for getting through this post ☺

all bases of the art in this post come from this website of open source sketchy illustrations!!

i sincerely hope that this has been at all helpful. if you have anything to add onto this post i encourage you to do so! if you have any questions about anything in this post, feel free to hmu at my ask box !!!

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

You Asked, I Told - Part 2 of 2

More Endgame and Baghdad Waltz spoilers ahoy!

This is such high praise, and I’m really humbled to receive it. Well, I would be lying if I told you I’ve never daydreamed about giving up my current career to write. I imagine many fic writers fantasize about this. But it’s hard work to break into, as you’ve implied, and there really aren’t shows out there like the old Star Trek that have open submission policies, so my understanding is that you’ve got to hustle to get your shit out there. I am not a person who has that kind of hustle, I’m afraid, nor the confidence in my skills, and I really do love my current career deeply. But I probably won’t stop writing any time in the near future, because it’s my sole creative outlet, and who knows what the future may hold. I appreciate your kind words very much and will endeavor to keep improving my skills to deliver better character arcs than Endgame did. I hope my next fic will be better than BW, in terms of craft and consistency, though people will probably be lukewarm on the subject.

Okay, I don’t want to go full SALTMODE (edit: I totally did), but let’s talk about this Steve who goes back to Peggy. Can we agree that Endgame Steve is about 110-180 degrees different from the Steve Rogers who went into the ice? And, really, why wouldn’t he be? He’s been through horrifying, horrifying things and placed the burden of it on himself, whether he earned it or not, because he’s Steve Rogers and that’s how he Steves. And he’s had five years to disconnect and sink into himself and pine over Peggy the Idealized Woman/Past and probably get horribly stuck in his grief process over Bucky and Sam and everyone else, and I imagine he just get all sorts of messed up after failing to reverse the snap. So, why would Peggy want this guy? Would she even recognize him? And then there’s our poor Ice Steve. I mean, shit, he was the one who Peggy probably really would have wanted, but did Endgame Steve just leave that guy? Did he set him loose? Tell him about Bucky? Help him find Bucky? Who’s this Bucky guy again…?

And now that I think of it, if Endgame Steve came back to her, would he say he’s from the future? Would he lie and say he’s Ice Steve (fat chance pulling off that one)? Because if he didn’t lie, she would absolutely insist that they find Ice Steve and pull him out. That’s the man she loves! And you’re telling me, movie, that she STILL chooses the weird disaffected, depressed, traumatized future Steve she doesn’t know over the Steve she loves and knows already — and who just saw Peggy, like, 20 minutes ago, as far as he knows?? (All of this is functioning on the MCU’s presumption that Steve capital-L Loves her back, BTW.) Did Ice Steve and Endgame Steve fight over Peggy? Did he pull the ol “Hey your BFF is actually alive” card to win the fight and then compliment his own star-spangled ass? I mean, this whole thing is so patently absurd that it’s almost not worth thinking about, but Jesus. It makes NO SENSE why Endgame Steve would get Peggy while Ice Steve would either a) stay in ice or b) not get Peggy, if he was in love with her. Poppycock!! This MOVIE.

Welp, I can’t do really anything in one or two sentences, apparently, so...

I will open with the caveat that I am not a Loki person. I have nothing against Loki, I just never particularly attached to him. This is probably because I didn’t really enjoy the Thor movies (except Ragnarok, which I know is divisive and may mean I have bad taste?) and so never got deep into Loki’s story. And I am one of the five people on the planet who didn’t like the first Avengers movie, in part because I thought Steve’s character was so off the mark that it made me wonder if Joss Whedon even saw TFA, and I just found the jokes and the pacing to be so mehhh. And also Joss Whedon has none of my respect, first for Avengers 1’s bad characterization and flat jokes, and second for Age of Ultron’s rampant misogyny poorly disguised under gurl power. Prima nocta? Really? And most egregious — Natasha’s random dating of Bruce (i.e., any penis without a family, a girlfriend, or a gay love interest) just to give birth to some shitty infertility narrative, as if the Black Widow doesn’t have a tragic enough backstory that she needs some bullshit sterilization procedure to make her a sympathetic figure — I’m sorry, make her “a monster,” which infertility apparently makes you.

ANYWAY, about Loki. If I were a Loki fan, I would be pissed about the way his story ended. I was pretty irritated anyway, because his death in IW only seemed to serve as a device to trigger Thor’s emotional journey in that film. And even then, it was minimized by Rocket being like, “So, dead brother, huh? Yeah, that can be annoying.” And yeah, that’s totally a Rocket thing to say, but Thor responds with “Well, he's been dead before. But this time... I think it really might be true…” and then he launches into his grief about his other family and his people. There’s hardly a sense that he’s grieving for Loki personally, and we never see any closure or interaction between them in Endgame, which also minimizes the character’s importance in the MCU as the big sendoff movie. Sure, he gets ahold of the Tesseract and gets to escape, great, but what does that even mean? It wasn’t a moment of major emotional valence.

The audience didn’t really get a chance to properly say goodbye to him. You got a horrific image of his death, truly awful, worse than almost any significant minor character. I cannot imagine what that must have felt like. I can relate to the Loki bad arc thing through the crappy way that Steve and Bucky’s relationship was barely tended to in the last two movies, but they both made it alive, so it’s not even the same. I feel dissatisfied and frustrated on your behalf that his death was a mere device and that his behavior on the Asgardian ship was stupid at best and possibly OOC at worst, I’m not sure what you thought of it. Maybe that was part of some redemptive arc, but he seemed like he should be more clever than that. My condolences for your character getting short shifted along with everyone else except Tony Stark.

Another interesting question.

Bucky probably hasn’t talked to Steve much about George, because it’s just too raw of a subject for him. He still blames himself for George’s death, too, so to think of George is to almost inevitably feel pain. I think Steve has surmised that his death is a core wound for Bucky, which he’s no doubt projecting his own experience of losing his mother upon, but I imagine he holds George in positive regard because the little Bucky has said about him has been positive. I really think the more telling thing is Bucky’s behavior, which is emulating George’s career as a soldier (which, as an infantryman, is more closely aligned with George’s than Winnie’s), and Steve would probably see that as a reflection of the positive role George has had. But like most things, Steve undoubtedly wants to know more, especially as he learns more about Bucky. He would want to know why Bucky has such a bad relationship with his own sexual orientation. Why he started drinking so young. I imagine he’d start to wonder why the math doesn’t add up. Steve knows Winnie well and believes that she’s a very good mother, so how would Bucky grow up to be this way if he had two wonderful, stable parents? Was it just George’s death that threw him off? Maybe, or was there something else? I imagine he’ll get more suspicious as he learns more.

That’s all for now! Stay tuned in the next week or so for Chapter 34. Thank you so much for the wonderful Asks and keep them coming! 

[friking-awsom-kitten]

Sleeping beauty just need some coffee IASA Chapter 4

He gasped, sitting up in shock. However, something refrained him from getting enough air and was shoved up deep into his throat. He chocked and grasped whatever was blocking his airways, ripping it off. Suddenly he could breathe again and he took big gulps.

His eyes flitted around the room in a panic, not recognizing where he was. Something to his left caught his eye and he stared at the woman that had been checking a machine next to him.

The woman dropped what she was holding and screamed.

He screamed back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam had been staring out the window for a long time now. She didn't pay attention to whatever the teacher was saying. Few kids did.

Word of Danny had gotten around pretty fast and by the end of the first day everyone knew. It had been chaos.

Some people were angry and wanted to bill the Fentons for all the damage Danny's fights had gotten them. Some wanted to report the parents for child abuse. Most were furious at the GIW for disrespecting basic human rights and trying to capture a boy and were pestering the government to shut it down. The president, however, wouldn't back down, saying they were the best of the best at ghost science and this town needed them.

But almost everybody was grateful for Danny and all he'd done for the town.

A lot of people had visited him in the hospital. Including several of Sam's classmates.

They would also continuously ask the two friends questions.

About how it happened. If Danny's parents had known. Whether they got to fight ghosts too. Whether Danny would keep protecting the town or if he was ok.

Sam honestly didn't know. It had been two weeks. She'd never been more worried than she was now. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense, though. He had been exhausted. Physically and mentally. He was probably on the bridge of collapsing anyways and that blast must have depleted his energy reserves.

She sighed and glanced towards Tucker, who was staring at his phone. The device was turned off and pushed far away on the table, but the boy didn't take his eyes off of it.

All of a sudden, a sharp ring interrupted the teacher. Everyone jumped a bit in their seats and they turned to look at Tucker, who was scrambling to pick up his phone and putting it on his ear.

"Yes? For real?!" Tucker's eyes widened and he looked at Sam. "He's awake!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They burst in the hospital room. They had memorized the way long before and could walk from the receptionist to the ICU wing in their sleep.

Their eyes immediately fell on the small family in the corner.

Maddie looked about ready to cry and Jack was standing still with furrowed eyebrows. It was not a sight Tucker and Sam had expected to see.

The cause of all this grief was sitting up on his bed with a frustrated expression. He didn't have a breathing mask on anymore and the IV had been removed.

"Danny!" Sam cheered and sprang forward to hug him. He tensed under her hug and she frowned, letting go. "Danny?"

The boy huffed, looking incredibly uncomfortable. "So I've been told. Who are you?"

She was so perplexed her arms went slack. Tucker sucked in a gasp and they both turned to the doctor that had been standing next to them. He cleared his throat. "Yes. Daniel seems to suffer from Amnesia. From what you have told me and what we discovered, this was caused by a combination of sleep deprivation, malnutrition, and recent stress. The severe concussion he recently got sealed it. It affected his hippocampus." The doctor stopped reading from his paper and looked Danny over before continuing. "From what I have gathered up to now, he seems to only be affected on the explicit memory, meaning the memory of the places and the times and the people. Or the who, what, where, when and why. However, the implicit seems normal, thankfully."

"The what?" Tucker breathed out, barely able to form words as he tried to understand everything happening.

"That means the skills he has learned. He can walk, talk, breathe, and all the motoric functions he has learned throughout his life, as well as riding a bike or reading. However, I'm not sure whether his semantic memory is damaged. This is the common knowledge. For example the days of the month. Or when his birthday is. The damage on that may vary."

The raven gave an exasperated sigh. "If you go through that explanation one more time I'm gonna give myself another concussion."

"Well," Tucker smiled weakly, even though tears were threatening to fall, "he didn't change personality-wise."

The other boy grinned. "He did say I still have the skills I learned. Must have practiced my sass a lot because I'm a pro."

Sam snorted. "Yeah. You did." She turned to the doctor. "But they will come back, right? This isn't permanent?"

For the first time, the doctor's face fell. "I- we aren't sure. Retrograde amnesia, which is what this condition is called, doesn't have a cure, but there are some ways to coach old memories to come back. Most patients remember their oldest memories, but Danny doesn't seem to even have that. If he does regain some memories, it will most likely be from early childhood. However, we can't be sure. It could get better, worse, or stay like this for the rest of his life." He looked at the pale faces in the room and smiled encouragingly. "But I don't think it will get worse given that this was a brain injury, first and foremost."

He nodded towards the parents. "Before I run a blood test and prescribe anything, I need some questions answered." He took out a list and a pen. "Did Daniel take medications? Any past health problems? For example seizures or strokes or infections? Did he take drugs?" He crossed over every time they shook their heads or wrote down when they mentioned something about a panic attack or how he had had an accident in the portal.

The doctor shook his head. This kid was a walking medical catastrophe. It was no wonder he ended up with amnesia. He sighed and put his papers down. "I'll send for a drug test and he'll have an MRI scan. After that he will have to stay in the hospital for a few more days until he is fully healed. Daniel, will you let us put back the IV?"

Danny scrunched his nose. "Ugh why. I'm awake now. I just need some food. Do you guys have some fries?"

"We'll get you appropriate food after the IV is back on. Your body is still short on nutrients."

"Please, Danny." Maddie begged. "The sack also has some ectoplasm. It will help you heal faster. You will be able to get out of here sooner."

Danny pursed his lips. This woman claimed to be his mom, and let me tell you how weird it is to not even remember your own mother. He wasn't even sure if he could trust these people. They could be lying to him for all he knew. But he had no other option. Besides, that woman gave him a comforting vibe. He smiled at her unconsciously and nodded. "Alright, but the second I'm out I want pancakes."

All the medical procedures had been run and the doctor had decided Danny would stay two more days before he could go home. All Danny's injuries had been healed during his coma. He claimed nothing hurt and only complained about getting food. Something nobody was surprised about. The boy hadn't eaten normal food in weeks. What they were surprised about was that he was so restless. He should be tired. In fact, he should still be unconscious. But nobody was about to complain about that.

What Danny really wanted was a bath. He felt dirty and gross. He was horrified to learn he'd been washed during his slumber and couldn't look at any nurse in the eye after that.

However, he felt especially uncomfortable when groups of strangers walked through the door and grinned at him and gave him presents and took pictures.

He glanced at the table next to him. It was simply covered in 'thank you' and 'get well' notes and some kind of merchandise. He had also gotten many pictures and drawings, but they were so confusing he couldn't figure heads or tails of it. On the other side were also some balloons and a few stuffed animals and to top it off, all around him were flowers.

I must have been some kind of celebrity, Danny thought. But why were they thanking him?

A girl suddenly burst through the doors and tackled the poor boy. He let out a yelp and she let go just as fast as she'd latched on and started rambling.

"I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I heard and then the plane was delayed and I first had to arrange a short vacation and I had to finish this assignment and they wouldn't let me go saying you weren't in danger of death and they said 'Alright, you can go, but if you don't get that degree it's on you' and I swear I was about to strangle them."

Danny couldn't understand what she was talking about so he took the time to inspect her. She had long brownish-red hair and he could honestly see the resemblance to his apparent mother. This must be Jasmine, his older sister.

The girl seemed to catch on that Danny wasn't responding and she paused, looking at him good for the first time. They stared at each other in silence for some time, taking in the other sibling.

Jasmine held out her hand and smiled. "Hello. My name is Jasmine, but you can call me Jazz. I'm sorry about just now. I was a bit worried."

Danny blinked in surprise. Why was she introducing herself? She must know he had amnesia. He grinned. It felt nice to know at least someone didn't come asking him if he knew them or expecting something from him. He shook her hand. "I don't think I need to introduce myself since you probably know me better than I do. You're my sister, right?"

Her smile brightened and he silently congratulated himself. "Yes. I'm two years older. So I'm nineteen and you're gonna be seventeen in Oktober 27. It's July 13 today. I just came from college."

Danny smiled softly, grateful for all the information she was giving him. He felt awkward having to ask such simple things. "Are you in the first year?"

She nodded. "I'm studying creative therapy. To put it simply, it's a kind of therapy for people who can't put their problems into words so instead do it with their hands. The therapist then can study their movements and results to see how they think and how to help them. There are many types and I'm doing a mix between drama and art."

She continued talking and Danny listened. He learned so much. She told him all about her and her life and her friends and even what recently happened in college. It was as if they were catching up on old times.

She didn't mention anything about Danny, or what he used to do or what they did together and he was grateful for that. It would have felt like she was telling him what he should have done and he would've felt obligated. It was an insane thought, given that all that had happened in the past, but he didn't want people telling him who he was.

They talked for hours. Mostly she was the one speaking, but Danny often put in his opinion or input in something and she would laugh.

At one point, a violet-eyed girl and a dark-skinned boy walked in and joined them. Danny remembered them as the two people who were there when he woke up. He tensed a bit, but they just greeted him and sat down. They said some words to Jazz and turned to look at him.

The boy wiped his hands on his pants and cleared his throat, but at a look from Jazz he smiled at Danny. "Hey, man. I don't think we told you our names. I'm Tucker Foley and that's Sam Manson."

Danny nodded towards them, but frowned at the girl. "Are your eyes naturally purple?"

Sam rolled said eyes as Tucker laughed. "No." She admitted. "They're blue. I got these contact lenses from my grandmother. She didn't want them to go to waste."

Tucker laughed some more. "Her grandmom used to be really rebellious as a teen. She saw potential in Sam," he told Danny and so the conversation went into flow again.

Sam and Tucker telling Danny about themselves and complaining a bit about school. They also told him how they met.

Apparently, Danny had known these people for practically all his life. Since kindergarten. That was a weird thought.

Jazz had glared at them for bringing that up but Danny sighed. "It's ok, Jazz. I'm gonna get this a lot from now on."

Sam winced. "Sorry. Just thought you'd want some background information. If there's something you don't like talking about we won't. Just tell us, alright?"

Danny shrugged. "That's just the thing, Sam. I don't know anything about anything. Everyone expects me to know all kinds of stuff and then it's just gonna get awkward." He huffed, frowning. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. I'll just figure out what my life is now."

Jazz grinned, beaming proudly. "That's the way to look at it, Danny. Just start off fresh."

Except that wasn't entirely possible. The moment Danny was admitted out of the hospital he knew his life was way weirder than he had thought at first.

When he was let out there was a crowd waving him off and cheering and he got a green sock thrown at him so that was a nice way to enter the world fresh.

Then there was the house he apparently lived in.

He honestly had no idea what to say about that. It looked like aliens had infiltrated earth and were doing a terrible job at laying low.

He sighed, ignoring all the paparazzi and following the two adults inside. It was much better inside. It was very clean. As if it had been prepared for his arrival. That just made him feel more guilty.

Maddie and Jack were grinning at him as they gave him a tour of the house. Maddie more nervously, while Jack was excited.

The first and second story were pretty normal. On the first was the kitchen and the living room. Then upstairs were all the bedrooms. Danny paused in what was apparently his room. It looked pretty clean and neat. He must have been either a perfectionist or his mom had tidied it up for him. He was gonna go with the second one.

Finally, he was shown the basement and the op Center, which is what they called the UFO on the house. The UFO looked exactly how Danny imagined a UFO would look like. It was huge and had a lot of wires. Somewhere something was beeping, but he couldn't figure out what.

Then the basement. Danny shivered as soon as he entered. He saw millions of weird machines and guns and a milkshake maker he decided not to trust. The name Fenton appeared everywhere. Like a logo.

Then there was a door at the other side of the room. It had a beethemed pattern as if warning people of toxins. Danny felt like he should put on a face mask or something to protect himself. His father was wearing some type of protective suit.

"What do you do for a living," he asked, exasperated.

"We're ghost hunters!" Jack grinned, leaving Danny with a baffled expression.

"Why do you hunt ghosts?" He asked, stumped and curious. The part about ghosts didn't surprise him much. It felt as normal as the fact birds were chirping outside.

Jack's expression fell and he exchanged a look with Maddie. "Well son." He started cautiously. "We're ghost scientists. We have been studying them for years. We sometimes catch one to learn more about them from up close."

"Like they're animals." Danny frowned and his parents grimaced.

"They're not all sentient, Danny." It was Maddie who said this. "And Amity park has been haunted by ghosts for years. Most of them attacked and destroyed."

"Well maybe most of them just stayed home minding their own business and the ones that did mean bad came here so we don't see the other side of their world."

To his surprise Maddie smiled softly. "Yes. You may be right."

They didn't tell him much about the things in the basement. In fact it was the shortest they had been in a room and they practically shoved him back up the stairs.

They stayed in the living and talked a bit and Maddie went to the kitchen to cook some dinner because it was already pretty late in the afternoon. Danny had a foreboding feeling. Probably because how Jazz paled and sent him a few scared looks.

Danny stood up and followed his mother to see her fumbling around the fridge, trying to find something that didn't try to bite her hand off. "Hey?" Danny started, unsure if this would be seen as impolite. "Do you want me to help you cook dinner?"

The woman brightened considerably as she slammed the fridge shut and smiled at him. "Are you sure? I mean. Yes, I would love it if you did this with me."

Danny nodded and rolled his sleeves up before washing his hands. Maddie's eyes widened when she realized she'd forgotten to do that.

"So what are we making?"

Maddie scrunched her face. "I'm not sure yet, Danny. There isn't much left that is edible."

"Where do you keep all the food?" Her boy's eyes searched the small kitchen and she remembered he had forgotten all of that.

She pointed out the fridge and a few cabinets and he looked through them, bringing out many types of ingredients and selecting a few out. He asked for the pots and the pans and she pointed it out. He asked for herbs and she showed him. He asked her anything and she gave him the answer, watching in amusement as he fell right into his element.

Maddie settled back a bit as she saw him swiftly cut some carrots and dump them in the pot. She smiled. It had been a long time ago that Danny had taken the job of a cook in this house. Given that no one had any insight in it or kept mixing the sauce with the wrong chemical (what do you mean chemicals aren't supposed to go in food?). The raven had looked up recipes or he would cook ready-made food.

He'd started simple and after a while started mixing in his own stuff and experimenting. He had loved it. Maddie had let him drop a few chores so he would have time to prepare and make dinner. He would write a list of groceries and tape it on the fridge and Jack would go buy it.

In fact, Maddie could see the last note he had written still on the top left of the refrigerator. Her eyes watered a bit.

"Are you ok?"

She wiped her eyes and nodded. "Just that onion you were cutting just now. It's fine. Go ahead. You're doing a great job." She smiled. "Anything else you need?"

He shook his head as he flipped some pieces of meat on the sizzling pan. "Well, not for now. There are no more potatoes. And when was the last time you refilled the salt? And I had to use something else instead of the paprika because that's all done too. And you got way too much beef. How are you going to eat it all before it expires."

Maddie's smile turned nostalgic as she saw all he listed right now written on the little sticky note on the fridge. "We usually don't," she told him, earning herself a look of disgust.

Finally, the dinner was ready and they all say down to eat. Each family member congratulating the boy on the excellent food and what would they do without him. They didn't mention how they'd barely survived the two weeks he'd been absent.

Jazz was just in college, but Jack and Maddie had to constantly order pizza or eat in a restaurant every night. Even something as making some toast was always a hassle. Not only because the toaster sometimes malfunctioned and threw up the bread so hard it stuck on the ceiling, but Maddie was also very sure bread shouldn't be green.

Now they had Danny back. Everything had changed. Just....everything.

But he was back.

They talked a bit more. Danny asked about the many drawings they'd had to carry back home along with the rest of the presents. Who was that man on the drawings that looked to be made by kids ranging from three to fifteen?

Jack looked excited to tell him something, but Jazz had shushed them. She smiled at Danny reassuringly. "How about we talk about that tomorrow. You have enough to think on right now." She stacked the empty plates and brought them to the sink. "You heard the doctor. Get some rest. I'll do the dishes. Don't worry about school yet. You have a few weeks to recuperate and get used to life."

Danny looked at each of the people in the room, taking in their appearance and demeanor. If this was his family, no matter how crazy, he loved it. He smiled and turned around, bidding them a good night.

He walked up the stairs and paused, trying to remember where his room was.

He had a small moment of panic when he couldn't recall right away. What if he forgot more things? What if he forgot whatever he did today? What if the doctor was wrong and my amnesia isn't just of whatever happened before the concussion and I'll keep forget- oh wait his door was the one in the left hall.

He sighed in relief when his assumption was proved correct as the door opened. He closed it behind him and took a good look around.

The walls were white, but they had been covered in many posters about some kind of egg band or about a Doom. He wasn't sure. There were also some NASA posters and the wall next to his desk had a big board covered in pictures. There was a blackhaired boy with Sam and Tucker. A lot of those actually. And some about random places Danny had no clue about.

But his eyes wandered to that boy again. Was that...him?

He hadn't looked in the mirror yet. It was strange. Not knowing what you looked like.

Was that really him?

He found a mirror next to the dresser and the closet. It was large. It could fit his whole upper body and a bit of his legs.

He paused before taking a peek. A pit in his stomach and a bit of adrenaline made him jump forward and stare at the boy in the mirror.

He looked a bit older than in those pictures. But he still has black hair, blue eyes, a small nose and smallish eyes and thin lips and fat cheeks and freckles. Although he felt better knowing he had a bit of a jawline and the baby fat was less than in the pictures. His hair was also longer. And it was messy. Probably hadn't been brushed in weeks. Even if they had washed it, as they said, it still looked greasy and dirty.

He didn't feel like doing much of his appearance right now.

He wanted to explore.

He put to the side the pile of presents his father had dumped in his room after having brought it from the hospital and went rummaging through his room.

He opened every drawer, looked at every piece of clothing and squinted under every piece of furniture and he learned a bit about his past self.

He didn't have much variety in clothing. It was mostly T-shirts, jeans and sweaters. There was one neat suit shoved in the back, though.

He had some kind of obsession with stars.

Same thing goes for ghosts. There was even a map in his dresser. Along with a long list of names and some kind of description behind them.

He looked in the bathroom, which he had found he had right in his room. He found a first aid kit shoved under the sink, which he found odd. The rest was just normal supplies for in the shower.

But for the rest, his old life was still a mystery to him. Danny wondered if he would ever gain it back. Had he always been this famous? Wasn't it exhausting? And why had everyone been thanking him?

He suddenly wondered where his phone was. He should have one right? He'll ask his mother tomorrow.

But he really wanted to look up amnesia on the internet.

His eyes fell on a beat up laptop and he tried to turn it on, but it had a password. The hint wasn't even helpful. It just said 'bitch' and Danny honestly felt attacked and offended.

He plopped down on the bed with a deep sigh.

Everyone told him to get rest, but that was the last thing he wanted to do. He felt so energetic and restless. He didn't think that should be normal. He was pretty sure patients just coming out of comatose shouldn't feel rested.

Sigh, just one more thing he wanted to look up on the internet.

He also wanted to know how he went into a coma.

The doctor had vaguely mentioned a concussion or another kind of head injury. Must have been bad. He'd also made it pretty clear Danny was up long before anyone had thought he would be.

Maybe if I had slept for a bit longer, Danny thought, I would have been able to keep my memories.

He groaned quietly. Nothing made sense. Life was a weird jumble of gibberish and with every piece of information he made out it just became even weirder.

He lifted his arm to look at one picture he found he liked. A white haired anime man was standing with hands on his hips and a cape fluttering behind him. Sparkles had been thrown around as well as glitter that had been glued on.

There wasn't a note or anything, just a boy's name. Joey. Along with a small drawing of a dinosaur that Danny didn't think had anything to do with the rest.

That same anime boy turned up everywhere. On the balloons. On the plushies. On the shirt he'd gotten. On the posters the poeple seeing him off from the hospital were holding.

Who was that dude??

And what did Danny have to do with him??

Danny stood up and walked towards the mirror again. He cocked one hip as he put his hands on them and frowned at the image.

"Who are you?" He asked the boy with exasperation. "And just how crazy is your life?"

[katedoesfics]

The Great Calamity

Chapter Four - Vah Rudania (Resolve and Grief & Daruk's Mettle)

When they were finished in Rito Village, Zelda insisted against returning to the castle, determined to make the journey around Hyrule to check on the other Divine Beasts as soon as possible, but not without stopping to speak with Purah, first. It was her duty, after all, to do everything necessary to make sure the Champions were well equipped and prepared to defend Hyrule from Calamity Ganon. Not only that, she was determined to learn everything she could about the Sheikah Slate and the Guardians. There was simply to much to do, and no way to know for sure just how much time they had left.

Zelda opted to head to Kakariko Village first to speak with Purah before heading north to Goron City. Link wasn’t necessarily against her idea, but it would be a long ride south just to go north again. He didn’t bother to argue with her, though, as he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the path up to Goron City, either. Frankly, being anywhere near Death Mountain wasn’t his idea of a good time, even if Daruk said the volcano would not erupt.

The ride to the village was uneventful. Even his clearly strained relationship with the princess didn’t quite feel as tedious. Perhaps she was growing accustomed to his presence. She didn’t exactly make conversation with him, but instead continued to muse on about, well, everything. Although this time, she was more focused on the Guardians and whether or not Robbie had managed to activate more of them. Link could only pray that he would not be required to go near those things. He’d take on Calamity Ganon a thousand times with just the sword on his back as long as he didn’t have to have any part of those machines, even if they were designed to help stop Ganon.

It was early in the afternoon when they arrived in the village. They followed the path up the hill to Purah’s lab, and to Link’s relief, there were no Guardians in sight. Inside the lab, Purah and Robbie were in the midst of a heated conversation. Impa stood off to the side, her arms crossed as she watched them discuss and debate. They hardly noticed Zelda and Link as they entered.

“We have the Shrine to our advantage,” Purah said sternly. “We must do everything in our power to get it in working order.”

“We have no way to even test it out,” Robbie said. “We can’t know for sure if the stasis function will even work, or how long it will last. And what about the side effects? There’s too many unknown factors.”

“We make them known,” Purah demanded. She turned, finally acknowledging Zelda and Link as they stood in the doorway. Her eyes immediately went to the slate on Zelda’s hip. “The slate,” she continued, turning back to Robbie. “It was unable to activate it, but it may be the key to getting it running once we restore it.”

“Get what running?” Zelda repeated, narrowing her eyes at them. “What’s going on?”

“The Shrine of Resurrection,” Robbie started, “that you and Purah found. It is, indeed, a medical facility of sorts.”

“But we don’t know how to get it working,” Purah said. “We should focus our efforts on restoring it. The future of Hyrule is bleak. We shouldn’t take anything to chance.”

“A medical facility?” Zelda repeated. “I don’t understand. I thought it was built ten thousand years ago? What could make a facility like that such a necessity?”

Purah and Robbie exchanged an uneasy glance, then turned their gazes to Impa. The brief, silent interaction made Zelda uneasy. Was the war against the Calamity really so bad ten thousand years ago? What could that possibly mean for their own pending war?

“Purah is right,” Impa said. “There was a reason that facility was built. We should do everything we can to restore its power. It could prove to be very valuable to us some day.”

Link shifted uneasily on his feet as Impa’s gaze fell on him.

“Well,” Zelda said, her voice soft for a moment. “What do we need to do to get it restored?”

Robbie shook his head. “We don’t know,” he admitted. “We’re working on it. Purah and I are heading out tonight to see what we can do.”

“What can I do?” Zelda asked.

“Focus on the Divine Beasts,” Purah said. “And continue to familiarize yourself with that slate. The more we know about it, the better. Make sure the Champions are well prepared; this war could be bigger than we could ever imagine.”

*****

Zelda did not learn anything more about the Guardians as she had hoped, but as she and Link left Kakariko Village behind, a more haunting image weighed down on them. The idea that the war against Calamity Ganon could be so dire to need a Shrine of Resurrection left them feeling ill at ease. With no idea of what they would be up against, Zelda was more determined than ever to make sure Hyrule had every advantage on their side.

Zelda walked ahead of Link - or perhaps it was Link who chose to stay a few steps behind - and examined the Sheikah Slate in her hands as her mind wandered. Regardless, Zelda preferred not to notice Link too much. He was merely there to assist her as she went about her duties, and that meant focusing her efforts on the getting to Goron City to check on the Divine Beast there. She spoke as she walked, mostly to herself as she gathered her thoughts. Link never made it a habit to respond to her musings, anyway.

“From here, we’ll make our way to Goron City,” she said. “Then, we’ll need some adjustments on that Divine Beast so Daruk can manage it as easily as possible. He’s figured out how to get it to move. However, it’s apparent that we still have much more to learn.” She held the slate out in front of her. “But to think, that Divine Beast was actually built by people. That means we should be able to understand how it works and how to use it to our advantage.”

Link watched her as she spoke, but did not interject.

“These Divine Beasts,” Zelda continued. “So much we don’t know. But if we want to turn back the Calamity Ganon, they’re our best hope.” Her pace slowed and her eyes drifted down to her feet, lost in thought once more. She could feel Link’s gaze on her and it made her uneasy.

Link waited, unsure of whether to approach her. He was well aware of her disdain towards him. In fact, she didn’t particularly do a good job of hiding it. He thought it best to hang back so as not to upset her.

“Tell me the truth,” Zelda finally spoke again. She looked at him over her shoulder. “How proficient are you right now, wielding that sword on your back? Legend says that an ancient voice resonates inside it. Can you hear it yet, hero?”

Link remained silent as Zelda continued walking. In truth, he didn’t know what to say to her. He couldn’t possibly admit to her that no, he could not hear the sword speaking to him. Not since the day he was supposedly chosen. And it only made him worry. He was assigned a task - a seemingly impossible task at that - to save Hyrule from its doomed prophecies, yet the sword that was supposed to speak to him remained silent.

He wondered if he should say something to the princess. He opened his mouth to speak, but to his relief, Zelda continued on.

“I can’t help but to wonder what happened here, ten thousand years ago,” she said softly. “Legends, prophecies, destinies; I suppose if they’re all true, then it must be in our destiny to win this war. Perhaps that Shrine of Resurrection is the key.” She didn’t really believe it, but it eased her worries to think that their destinies - Hyrule’s future - was fated to live on. If their ancestors could fight through each rise of Ganon, then surely so could they. It was a reassuring thought, at the very least.

They traveled throughout the day, stopping only to rest for the night at the base of Death Mountain. In the morning, they followed the path up towards Goron City. Despite their ascent, the air grew uncomfortably thick and warm from the volcano. To their relief, they arrived in the city by midday, though the sun seemed brighter and hotter than ever. Zelda was anxious to work on the Divine Beast quickly so they could leave as soon as possible.

Daruk eagerly took them aboard Vah Rudania. As the princess examined the beast, Daruk hung back with Link. Vah Rudania climbed it’s way across the rocky terrain of Death Mountain as they admired the views. Link looked down and across Hyrule to the distant mountains. From atop the Divine Beast, the view was spectacular, and proved just how vast the kingdom truly was. He smiled at Daruk’s excitement as he piloted the machine.

“Yeah! I think I’m finally getting the hang of controlling this Divine Beast!” Daruk said. He stretched his arms and turned to Link. “I tell you what: sure is a blast piloting a toy like this around. Let those other Champions know, they better eat their gravel if they wanna keep up with Daruk.” He turned his gaze up towards Death Mountain. “Speaking of which, can you believe this view? Just look at all those deletable rocks sprinkled on those mountains. Mighty tasty.”

Link followed his gaze and smiled. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a glutton for a good meal, but rocks certainly weren’t on his menu.

“I may not know a whole lot about this Calamity Ganon thing,” Daruk continued, “but mark my words, I’ll protect this land of ours to the death. Right, little guy?” He let his large hand come down hard against Link in an affectionate pat on the back and laughed as Link stumbled forward under the force, forgetting his own strength.

“Hey, by the way,” he said as Link regained his footing. “Congrats on becoming the princess’s appointed knight. That’s a really big deal! Protecting the king’s daughter. No pressure!” He let his hand rest on Link’s shoulder, softer this time. “Seriously, though. The princess is a strong personality - so strong she can’t quite see the range for the peaks.” He scratched at the back of his head. “Remember that, and you’ll be fine.”

The ground began to shake suddenly and Daruk turned his gaze towards Death Mountain. “What the -?”

Above them, a large chunk of rock broke away from a towering pillar, and the boulder came crashing down, threatening to topple on top of them. But at the last minute, Daruk thrust his arms out and a magical red force field shot out from around him, protecting him and Link from the impact of the boulder. The boulder bounced off of the magical shield in shattered pieces and the rumbling quieted.

“All right, so what was I saying,” Daruk said absentmindedly. He turned back towards the mountain, mumbling to himself. “That was a little strange. As far as I know, Death Mountain has been quiet for decades. But if the mountain is shivering enough to send down a bunch of boulders that size, then…” He shook his head. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything.” But his gaze returned to the mountain, his brows knit together with worry written on his face.

Link followed the Goron’s gaze. He was not oblivious to Daruk’s uneasy reaction towards the rumbling. Perhaps it was a sign of Calamity Ganon’s awakening. The idea twisted in Link’s gut like a knife. They were far from ready to be at war.

Zelda joined them atop the Divine Beast, the Sheikah Slate in her hands once more. She seemed not to have noticed the rocks falling around them, deep inside the Divine Beast.

“It looks like you’ve got a good handle on the controls,” she said to Daruk with a smile. “With these Divine Beasts at our control, we’ll have no problem taking down Ganon.” She returned the slate to her hip, eager to leave as soon as they could. “We should head back to the castle,” she said, turning to Link. The Shrine of Resurrection still haunted her and all she wanted to do was scour her notes and continue her research of the ancient technology in hopes that something would help Purah and Robbie restore the facility.

Admittedly, Link was eager to get back to the castle as well, if only for a break from traveling across Hyrule. It had been some time since he had a decent night sleep, and a comfortable bed at that.

I set out for Goron City today to make some adjustments to Divine Beast Vah Rudania. I still recall feeling his eyes on me as I walked ahead. The feeling stayed with me so long, I grew anxious and weary. It is the same feeling I’ve felt before in his company. And still, not a word passes his lips. I never know what he’s thinking! It makes my imagination run wild, guessing at what he is thinking but will not say. What does the boy chosen by the sword that seals the darkness think of me? Will I ever truly know? Then, I suppose it’s simple. A daughter of Hyrule’s royal family yet unable to use sealing magic. He must despise me.

[masterserris]

FUNERAL FOR A MAGICIAN  Part 1: Finale

Long (and tragic) story time! This may have art later dedicated to certain scenes, but this is one of the defining events for Neo Mysterio! Let’s begin!

Characters: Neo Mysterio (Quentin Beck), Doc Ock (Otto Octavius), Spider-Man (Peter Parker), Alexandria Beck (Alex), Maria Beck, Sandman (Flint Marko), Chameleon, Electro, Rhino, Terrax the Tamer

Warnings: Explicit gore and death, violence, mentions of past abuse, mental illness, physical illness

It was a restless night at the Sinister Six headquarters on the coast of New York. Usually after successfully robbing a fellow crime lord of his ill-gotten earnings, they would celebrate their spoils with Mysterio putting on a show.

However, Beck was in no mood for anything of the sort.

He drifted up to the rafters of the warehouse-turned-super-villain-base and huffed an irritated and altogether unhappy sigh. Rhino, Electro and most of the others paid no mind to Beck as they cracked open a cold one to toast their score. It was not altogether uncommon for Quentin to sulk for no apparent reason. He needed his space sometimes, or so many of them figured. But Doc Ock was keener than most and could spot an emotionally distraught Mysterio from a mile away.

Otto shot a glance to where Mysterio liked to hide. His cloaking device engaged, Octavius could not physically “see” Neo per-se, but he knew exactly what was going on.

Deciding not to bring attention to it, Otto sat at his workbench after sorting and splitting up their spoils. He was not one to party all that much, but he did enjoy the fact that his Sinister Six could perform like a well oiled machine. With another victory under their collective belt, it strengthen their morale. This would be key in the later phases of his Master Plan. But all of that was for another time.

Eventually, the other four went to their quarters to rest easy for the night. Only when Octavius knew for a fact that they were asleep did he speak.

Doc Ock: “Beck. Come down, will you? Talk to me.”

Neo Mysterio slowly de-cloaked and stood on the girder he was perched upon. With a heavy sigh he gently floated to the ground before Otto.

Doc Ock: “...”  “Listen, I... Understand we have been through much together. You know that I can tell when something is bothering you. I also know that you rarely wish to talk about it. And finally, you know that I can keep this strictly between us. If you are feeling ready, please. Talk to me.”

Mysterio merely stared at the ground before his feet for a minute. His expression is hidden, but his body language tells all. He is struggling with depression, as he always has, but this time it is different. Something is eating at him more than usual.

After a moment passes, Doc remains motionless. He is patient. However, Beck does something rather unexpected. In a rather quick motion, he pulls off his helmet and lets it clatter to the floor with a soft “thunk.” 

The expression on Beck’s face is that of pure loss, grief, and despair. Something Doc had not at all expected. Here, a super villain was on the verge of tears before him after they had successfully completed one of their greatest heists.

Beck had balled his fists, trying desperately to contain himself, but he couldn’t any longer. Instead, he shamelessly broke down crying in front of the seated Octavius, who in turn was bewildered by the sudden outburst. 

Neo was knelt down, wiping the tears from his face in between quiet sobs. It was a rather pointless effort and eventually he just gave up. Doc was unsure of what to do or say. He hesitantly reached one of his metal arms over to Quentin, but let it hang motionless a few inches from his shoulder. As if a single touch could detonate a bomb. 

Eventually, Mysterio shakily got to his feet and let his hand slide across the arm gently with yet another sigh as his sobs faded away. Soon, he found his voice at last, albeit with a cracking tone.

Quentin: “I...... I’m sorry... I just... I....” 

He takes a deep breath and continues.

Quentin: “I didn’t mean to startle you with that... I just... I don’t know if I can do this anymore... It’s not that I want to quit. I just don’t know how to live with myself or what to do...”

Octavius: “An existential crisis of sorts...?” He said while rising to his feet to stand next to Mysterio.

Beck nods a bit and continues.

Quentin: “You know my sister, right?”

Ock: “Yes, I am familiar.”

Quentin: “You know my will, right?”

Doc frowns.

Ock: “Where are you going with this?”

Quentin shakes his head.

Quentin: “It’s not what you think. In my will, I leave everything to her so that she has all that she needs from me. But... I just... I Found out that she has contracted breast cancer... Our mom.... she died from cancer as well and I just... I want to be there for her... But I can’t. For all the power I claim to have... There is nothing I nor anyone can do but hope she can pull through. I wanted closure. I wanted to die first. I wanted to know she and her kid would live a fine life in the end instead of this! I just... I just I don’t know how much more I can lose before I feel nothing at all!!”

The last bit Mysterio screamed, breaking his voice partially. Silently, the pair of them were glad for their reinforced walls deafening all sound from each of the rooms.

Otto rested his real arm on Beck’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Mysterio quietly let it happen and sobbed into Octavius’s large chest. He didn’t care how miserable and pathetic he looked. He was in true pain and if anyone dared to mock him for it, neither he nor Doc would hesitate to shatter their teeth for it. Otto lost both his mother and his awful father at a young age, and while he did not have any siblings, he understood what the pain of losing a close family member felt like. 

After Mysterio composed himself, he and Doc talked it out some more. Nothing would quell his inner turmoil, however Beck did feel better being able to vent to someone who understood him. 

A new day rung out about a week later. Spider-Man was following the lead on the Sinister Six’s last major outing. At last he has picked up the trail of none other than Mysterio.

It is a bright morning around 10am when a loud crash rung though the R&D warehouse of Horizon University. 

Neo Mysterio: “Good morning, architects of tomorrow! I would congratulate you all on your historic achievement in building the world’s first functioning multi-dimensional collider, however, I am in need of a few things from you all.”

Tossing out some of his fear gas grenades, Mysterio coated the room in noxious fumes, forcing everyone to leave in a panic. Floating to the ground, Mysterio approached a machine and began to disassemble it for it’s specific mechanisms. However, he is soon interrupted by a second crash, this time at the hands of the Amazing Spider-Man!

Spider-Man: “Hey bowl head! I thought you and your gang we up to pilfering from fellow street thugs! Why are you picking on some pencil pushing nerds? I though you were a fellow loser, Beck! Not a bully! But I guess I was wrong! Oopsie me!”

Mysterio: “Always with the mocking, Spider-Man....” He grumbled as he hurled more grenades in Spider-Man’s direction.

Being the agile super hero he is, Spider-Man easily dodged them and swung his way down to clothes-line the villain with a left-handed hook to the head.

Mysterio being only human went clattering to the ground with a grunt of pain. He snapped his fingers and projectors shifted the room into a dizzying mirror maze. He tried to fly away to a better vantage spot, but Parker managed to land a web on his leg and smashed him into the floor.

At this point, Mysterio’s helmet shattered open, revealing the truth. It had been a robot double this entire time. In fact, the true Neo Mysterio had been busy still pulling apart the mechanisms of a recent invention. Seeing this, Parker lunged for Beck and in his disorientation from the rooms transformation, he hit the control panel for the collider, setting it off.

Before any of them could react, it overloaded, sending them both tumbling into the world between worlds.

It is here where the world came apart at its seems and shattered irreparably for them both.

[aparticularbandit]

ok - i mentioned in a previous post that the terror basically gaslights miss lint when he first appears again (when they have the conversation in her lair in s1ep6) - and while i think that’s a harsh term and not the best term for it, i do want to point out that the terror consistently 1) doesn’t take lint’s feelings about him seriously and 2) redirects her anger at him towards herself (and arguably ramses, but primarily back towards herself) - and it’s these two things that seemed abusive or at least toxic to me. while i have transcribed their entire interactions (not all of derek’s bits, necessarily) in that episode, i’m not going to be posting all of those in this specific post, just the bits that are relevant.

commentary under the cut.

the terror: i needed superian to believe….  i was dead. miss lint: you needed to make me believe it, too? the terror: you were my right hand, janet.  everyone knew it.  you out there mourning my death…really sold the message, you know?  made it real. miss lint: it was real.  to me, it was real. the terror: and those suckers just ate it right up!  ha!

here we have - and this is more apparent in yara’s delivery, but it shows in the lines themselves, too - but this is the first of multiple times throughout the episode where miss lint brings up just how much the terror’s death affected her.  and this is perhaps the only time that the terror acknowledges it and acknowledges that he used her grief to his benefit.  and has no remorse, but you know, villain.

miss lint: all this time, you’ve been alive and hiding and, what, laughing at me? the terror: hmm.  this is repulsive.  you drink this? miss lint: no. the terror: look.  you think you’re mad at me.  but you’re just mad at yourself.  you should’ve known i was too smart to die.  you should’ve read the signs, had a little faith.  so, now you’re kicking your butt ‘cause all this time i’ve been waiting for you to come find me. miss lint: right. the terror: of course i was.  i’ve been watching you.  i have. miss lint: really?

here we see the terror 1) try to redirect the conversation (unsuccessfully), 2) pin the blame on miss lint (you aren’t mad at me because i didn’t do anything wrong.  you’re mad at you because you fucked up.  this mess is your fault), and 3) reaffirms that he does care about her in a way that suggests see, i didn’t do anything wrong, but you did. from this point, we see primarily a focus on the second of these along with more subtle attacks on who miss lint has become.  and really, we see that subtle attack starting here, too - with the almond milk.  in his attempt to redirect, the terror has stolen almond milk from the fridge, tried it, and declares it repulsive.  hold that thought (because, honestly, not the biggest fan of almond milk myself, although i can’t remember if i’ve had any or not, so it could just be a flavor thing - but his commentary throughout the episode makes this feel like another tactic).

the terror: is that derek? miss lint: he’s my ex-husband. the terror: i.t. derek?  the derek that set up the wi-fi in my old lair derek?

the terror: you married derek? miss lint: i was not in a good place.  it was, it was after you and…hmm.  i thought you were following my every move. the terror: i tried…at first.  ah, you got so boring so fast, i don’t know.

1) clarifying who derek is through potentially negative assertions (that might be a stretch) but definitely suggesting that marriage to derek was a negative in and of itself, which leads to miss lint defending herself, where again she brings up the effect that his death had on her and points out his lie, which 2) the terror redirects by more negative assertions towards lint.

miss lint: and you think that you can just waltz back in here and i’ll play whatever little part you want me to play? the terror: oh, i don’t know, lint.  you think you’re ready?  you don’t look ready.  frankly, you look like shit. miss lint: *gasps* the terror: look at you.  you used to be bigger than life.  a legend.  what happened? miss lint: you died, okay? the terror: did your brain?  hmm?  ‘cause that’s the only explanation for how you got stuck in this rut.  i wanted you to believe i was dead for a while.  and i needed ramses to be the front for crime in this town.  but i always figured you’d fry his ass in that stupid throne of his and then we’d talk.

miss lint: are you saying all i had to do to get to you was kill ramses? the terror: i’m saying the lint i knew would have shoved his humpty dumpty butt right off that wall in the first year. miss lint: do you think i like running a crew for that cat-worshipping fuck? the terror: holy hell, woman, you’re evil incarnate.  start acting like it!

and then this one - this is three scenes, but i think it’s important to look at them as one whole that takes the previous and escalates.  when lint calls the terror out, he 1) redirects it back to her with a negative, 2) puts her on the defense, and when she brings up again the effect that his death had on her, he 3) reverses the blame back to her, pointing out that all of this was her fault because she wasn’t acting like herself, because she did something wrong, because she was evil incarnate, she should have known better, and she should have found him - because he certainly didn’t do anything wrong - and if she had known better, she would have realized he couldn’t be dead, but because she was such a horrible person at being herself. and tbh, the terror is only partly successful at this.  he does redirect lint’s frustration with him towards ramses (which is why ramses dies) and gets her to try and gain his affection again and prove herself (which is why she’s dressed completely differently in the lair while arthur is kidnapped - she’s wearing make-up and bright red lipstick and goodness gravy the slit in that dress shows so much leg), but it doesn’t stick long enough or well enough to keep her from turning on him.  (and it’s likely why he built that safety into her grounding devices - lint’s temper gets away from her and he has to have her in a negative state of mind to keep her under his control - which we see in s2 as well - lint doesn’t kill people she cares about (joan of arc doesn’t kill her own gang; lint doesn’t kill derek, despite how they obviously don’t have the most functional relationship - albeit even in the few scenes they have together, derek’s a much more positive relational character than the terror is, but that’s beside the point). --and stopping here for now because i can feel myself getting into rambling territory, which would probably be better for other meta.