#and still grieved over Sky (who is alive... but nobody knows it)

[skyward-floored]

An Argument (Incredibles au)

The last scene in this chunk of movie scenes! Don't know where I'm going to go next, but we'll see where my muse takes me. Time and Malon have an, erm, discussion, and Twilight worries.

Saving the day (prev)

ao3 link

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The drive home was blessedly uneventful, and Time handed Warriors’ car back off to him, his brother clapping him on the arm with a faint grin and a cough. Time sighed and returned the gesture, then watched him drive away with a shake of his head.

Neither of them had expected the evening to be quite so dramatic, and Time had thoroughly chewed out Warriors on the drive home, his brother nodding along with the lecture like he always did when Time went off on him. Warriors hadn’t seemed terribly apologetic though, probably because he knew that Time was mostly venting his frustrations. That or he was too tired to argue in return.

Either way, with their escape clean as could be and neither of them severely injured, Warriors seemed rather unbothered.

And despite how annoyed Time was at the close call and his brother in general, he had to admit that he’d... enjoyed it. Saving people again. Making a difference.

Even if nearly getting caught made him want to smack Warriors upside the head.

Why do I let him drag me along on these? he though with a shake of his head. Because you enjoy it just as much as he does, he brain helpfully reminded him, and Time huffed. Right. That.

Time quietly slipped through his front door, relocking it behind him and hanging his coat up. The house was dark and quiet, and he crept through the kitchen on silent feet, hesitating at the fridge as his stomach let out a growl.

Time shrugged, and yawned to himself as he opened the fridge, looking around for something to eat before heading to bed. Using his powers extensively like he had earlier always gave him a huge appetite, so he grabbed a large slice of cake, munching on it as he walked through the living room.

Then nearly threw it in Malon’s face as she clicked on a lamp and swiveled around on one of their chairs, wearing a bathrobe and an extremely foul expression.

Ah.

Warriors, I’m going to kill you.

“I believe you said you’d be back by eleven?” she said flatly, and Time swallowed the bite of cake that had gotten lodged in his throat. He knew exactly what time it was, and it was way beyond eleven.

“I said I’d be back later,” he clarified carefully.

Malon narrowed her eyes. “I know you said that. But the thing is, if you came back at all... you’d be "back later",” she accented with air quotes.

Ouch, Malon.

Time set down the remaining cake as Malon stood, joining his side. “Well... I’m back now?”

Malon stared at him, then her gaze shifted to his shoulder and her eyebrows went down.

“Is this... rubble?” she asked, dusting a little bit of ash off his arm.

Time took another quick bite of cake (he was starving okay?) then gave a light shrug, trying to stay nonchalant.

“We were just helping some people Malon. It was Warriors’ idea, he needed to get out and I—”

“Honey you know how I feel about you two going out and doing that!” Malon interrupted incredulously. “We can’t blow cover again! What were you thinking?”

Time held his hands out placatingly, swallowing the last bite of cake. “Darling, the building was coming down anyways—“

“You knocked down a building?!” she gasped.

“It was already on fire,” Time leapt to reassure her, “structurally unsound. It was coming down anyway, it wasn’t our faults.”

Malon put a hand to her face and groaned. “Please tell me you two haven’t been listening to the police scanner again.”

Time frowned. “Look, Malon, we helped save people. You act like that’s a bad thing!”

“Doing it like this is a bad thing, Link!” Malon whipped back at him. “Uprooting our family just so you and Warriors can get your fill of superheroing again is a very bad thing!”

“We’re not just “getting our fill of superheroing”, we’re assisting people, helping them,” Time said with narrowed eyes, “people who would have died otherwise. And if I hadn’t gone along then Wars would have gone by himself! Acting like we’re normal isn’t going to change the fact that there are people in this world we can help, Malon.”

Malon looked at him with an incredibly sad expression, though her eyes still sparked with annoyance.

“I know that. But why can’t you do it legally?” she pleaded. “You’re just going to expose us and we’ll have to move our family again.”

“I’ve tried to do it legally,” Time shot back, “they won’t let us! They hate us because of our abilities, you know what happened to Wild! If they won’t let us use them legally than this is the only way to do it!”

“Of course I know what happened to Wild, he still has nightmares about it!” Malon exclaimed. “I’m worried about him, but I’m worried about you too, Link! You’re so concerned with babysitting Warriors and proving supers aren’t dangerous, you forget to pay attention to your own family! Twilight’s having issues with his powers and Wind is having problems at school, and you don’t even want to go to Four’s graduation!”

Time huffed. “It’s not a graduation. He’s moving from the third grade, to the fourth grade.”

“It’s a ceremony!”

“It’s ridiculous!” Time shouted with a wave of his hand. “It’s just yet another way to celebrate mediocrity, there’s no point to it! There’s so many better things we could all be doing with our time!”

“Like what, following your brother around into burning buildings?” Malon snapped. “You’ve got to let Warriors make his own mistakes, Link! I know losing Sky hurt, but it's unfair to Wars that you think he's helpless without you!“

Something in Time crackled dangerously at Sky’s name. “Oh right, like we all thought about Sky? That he could handle it just fine by himself?”

“That is not what I meant Link—”

“He died, Malon! And I will not lose Warriors too!”

“You're losing your sons right now!"

A paper on the coffee table rustled as it fell to the floor.

Time and Malon froze with their faces inches away from each other, and turned to the couch, watching the papers still. Malon closed her eyes and sighed, looking suddenly exhausted.

“All right, Wild. I know you’re listening. Come on out,” she said in a quiet voice.

A few moments went by, and then Wild hesitantly poked his head around the couch. He shuffled forwards in his pajamas, not meeting their eyes, and any of Time’s remaining emotion immediately fled at the look on his son’s face.

“...Legend? Pup?” Time said, looking at a specific corner of the room. “You two as well, come on.”

Twilight padded silently forwards from behind a chair, turning hylian as he joined Wild’s side and gently nudged him.

“Legend, come on, come out. It’s okay, boys. We’re just having a discussion,” Malon said as Legend finally became visible, arms crossed as he slid onto the couch.

“Pretty loud discussion,” he muttered.

“You were talking about Sky,” Twilight said quietly.

Legend and Wild both stilled, and Time and Malon both hesitated as they exchanged a look.

“...yes,” Time said finally. “But it was just a discussion boys, it’s okay. Your mother and I needed to talk. Sometimes we just... talk with an extra...”

“Idiocy?” Malon muttered.

“I was going to say intensity, actually,” Time muttered back.

Malon turned back to their sons, who still looked worried. “We’re sorry we woke you, everything’s okay. Go back to bed, it’s late.”

“I was up anyway,” Wild muttered under his breath, then abruptly turned and went back to his room.

Twilight gave his retreating brother a worried look, then turned back to his parents, looking like he wanted to say something. But he closed his mouth, and let out a soft sigh that was too tired for his age.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, and Legend mumbled a goodnight as well before they both followed Wild out of the room.

Silence fell over Malon and Time as their sons left, and stretched between them, both of them feeling drained and uncertain of what to say.

Time couldn’t remember the last time they’d raised their voices at each other like that.

“They’re not the only ones who should be in bed,” Malon said after a moment, looking at the stairs with a quiet sigh. “We can... talk tomorrow.”

Time nodded, his voice suddenly deserting him, and he didn’t meet her eyes as he walked away, leaving her to quietly turn off the lamp.

(...)

Twilight lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling as what he’d heard of his parents’ shouting echoed in his mind and refused to let him sleep.

He’d never heard them argue like that before.

Sure they disagreed sometimes, and had occasional little fights over things, but this... they’d sounded so angry. They never spoke to each other like that, and hearing it made him want to curl up under his blankets with his tail between his legs. Mom had come to check on him a bit after they’d come upstairs, but Twilight had pretended he was asleep, and she’d left again without a word.

Wild let out a small noise from where he was curled up next to him, and Twilight shifted, adjusting his position and sitting up with a sigh.

He felt awful for Wild. He’d already been having a sleepless night before they’d heard their parents shouting, and only just now been able to fall back into a restless sleep. His nightmares had been getting worse lately, and Twilight was at a bit of a loss as how to help aside from comforting him afterwards.

Which was probably why Mom had checked on them.

“Were Mom and Dad fighting?”

Twilight looked up at the quiet question to see Four in the doorway, nervously shuffling his feet as he clutched a blanket around his shoulders.

Twilight let out a small exhale, patting the sheet next to him, and Four climbed up, settling against his arm. It was a bit of a squeeze because of Wild sleeping on Twilight’s other side, but Four was small and they managed to fit without waking him up.

Twilight put his arm around his brother, and held back another sigh. It looked like everyone except Wind had been woken up— on their way upstairs, Twilight and Legend had come across Hyrule sitting on the top steps, his eyes glassy and face pale, and Legend had gone to his room with him and not come back. Twilight assumed he’d fallen asleep in there.

“They were just having an argument, Four. It’s okay,” Twilight said, ignoring how the reassurance felt hollow. “Even Mom and Dad disagree sometimes.”

Four was quiet for a few seconds.

“They disagree a lot more since Sky died,” he whispered eventually, and Twilight swallowed as he pulled him closer.

“Yeah. I know.“

Wild suddenly murmured a little in his sleep, brows pinched, and Twilight ran a hand through his hair, fingers ghosting past the scar on his face. Wild settled back down, and Twilight tugged the blanket further over him.

“Is there anything we can do?” Four asked in a worried voice, clutching at the stuffed animal he’d brought with him. Twilight sighed again.

“I don’t know, Smithy. I think it’s up to them. We just have to hope that they’ll work it out.”

Four swallowed. “...What if they don’t?”

Twilight closed his eyes, and rubbed Four’s shoulder. “They will,” he said confidently, and Four seemed to be reassured, snuggling up closer to him.

Twilight steered them both downwards and let Four nestle into his blankets, doing his best to silence the thoughts clamoring in his head so he could sleep. It was hard, but Twilight squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to believe his own words as Four fell asleep on his chest and Wild’s head pressed against his arm.

They will.

They have to.

[luimagines]

Hear me out...

Reader who knows about the "someone will die" from the Sheikah Slate.

Reader who ran the numbers, and realized Legend and Warriors were the only ones who had nothing left to guarantee, or even hint that they survived, unlike Time, who has to have Twilight, Wild who has TotK, Sky and Wind who both have to found Hyrule.

Reader who also knows about the grey area, the ones that should survive this journey, but only based on flimsy evidence or who will meet a terrible fate soon enough. Hyrule, and only his game guide stating he is destined to become a great king, Four and the Palace of the Four Sword.

Whether they know this through playing the games, reading the comic and being isekaied, or having some sort of gift of prophecy, they know about this.

And they're determined not to let it happen.

If the heroes die, game over. Reader isn't the protagonist. They're a sidekick with all the death flags raised.

A Reader who is determined to take the place of whoever will die on this journey, because they can't let it be any of the boys. The world is better off if it's them, and not the boys, right?

And if they were isekaied as a human, a Chain of Links blaming themselves. For not seeing the courage hidden in a human. For not having the wisdom to see beyond the surface. For not having the power to stop this. For allowing their prejudices to get in the way of seeing the signs.

And on top of that, a Reader who plays into the prejudices. Who acts like a "big, scary, greedy, traitorous human", because maybe they can soften the blow of grief if they make themselves somebody nobody would grieve over. Reader whose words will conflict with their actions, saying "I don't like kids", then raging at a monster for going near one. Maybe Reader wasn't even ready to die. They're still scared to the end, but so determined. They still have family back home, they still had plans for the future. But, they're probably assumed dead anyway. What does changing a false into a truth even do? They notice these thoughts, and go through sleepiness nights so their brain won't even have the energy to think them...

Anyway, remember to get 8 hours of sleep and drink some water as well, dehydration is bad for you.

I've actually thought of that idea before of a character with the "nothing to lose if I die" attitude because if the the Hero dies, it's game over.

However, I think that Link (any of them would do) would be able to see through their act because they're perceptive power combined would be too high for Reader to hide all their intentions and lies.

And I had to say one thing, I think Reader would still pay attention with Time as well. Because it's heavily implied that he died young and we know that he died with regrets. The fact that Twilight exists isn't necessarily enough to stop that. In fact, it might be the very thing that could cause it.

Meaning, Reader has to do double the effort to not only keep the Old Man alive, but to also focus on any of the other boy's blind spots as well.

[makkoskafanfic]

Fic Sentence Tag Game

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fics, and then tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyway.

Tagged by @enquiringangel - thank you 🙂

-

“This is not what we agreed on. Hashirama said…”

“I don’t care what he said!” Madara snapped. “Never mention the name of that man to me!”

Onoki fell silent. He bravely kept Madara’s angry glare for a while before he lowered his eyes. 

“I’m not obliged to work on the weekend. If there’s a business need for it, you need to speak with HR first. They have to create a compensation plan that people can sign, but you can’t make us sign it,” he mumbled. [Waiting for You, Waiting for Me, Naruto, Hashirama/Madara]

-

The gods weren’t created equal. Nobody knows this better than Hephaestus does. He is, after all, forever cast to the side, never fully welcomed at the table when the Olympians dine. He has too much fraud with the others, he is considered unpleasant, demanding and imperfect. The last one is his most undesirable trait - in the eyes of the flawless gods and goddesses, his lameness is almost unforgivable. [Equals - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Ares/Hephaestus]

-

Madara thinks the world should stop for a minute, to hold its breath, when Hashirama dies. Someone larger than life, someone who shaped the history of the upcoming generations of shinobi is no longer, he ceased to exist. Allies should grieve, enemies should stand shocked by their fortune. People should despair over a future without the God of Shinobi. How can they possibly go on, continue to live their lives as if nothing happened? How is the earth still spinning around the sun? [Our Shattered Pieces (Fit Together so Well) - Naruto, Hashirama/Madara]

-

When Hashirama arrives back to Konoha he feels more dead than alive. Maybe he has died and now it’s only his ghost crawling back to haunt the place of his once-dreams, chained forever to this village. Konoha, a miracle came true. Konoha, that has become Madara’s damnation and along with him, condemning Hashirama as well. [The Moon is Just the Sun at Night, Naruto, Hashirama/Madara]

-

“Hashirama! Where’s that boy disappeared to? Hashirama!”

“Coming, dad, stop yelling!”

“Hurry up, or you will know what yelling really is!”

Hashirama hopped down the stairs to stand in front of his father. Just a few months shy of seventeen, he was already taller than his old man, a gangly teenager with limbs that were still too long, and a posture that always made Butsuma snap “don’t slouch!” at him. [Saturday Night, Naruto, Hashirama/Madara]

-

“An undercover mission?” Kakuzu asked, not even bothering to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Why us? Blending in isn’t exactly our strong suit.”

“Itachi and Kisame would be more ideal,” Zetsu nodded, grinning. At least his white half grinned. “But everyone would instantly recognise Kisame in Land of Water. This town is close to Kirigakure, too.”

“What’s the task?” Kakuzu asked with a sigh, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer. [Undercover, Naruto, Kakuzu/Hidan]

-

“Hashirama, you know I can’t… with you watching. Turn away.”

“Come on, Madara. It’s not that I haven’t seen it a thousand times by now.”

“This is different. And it certainly hasn't been a thousand times.” [Flow, Naruto, Hashirama/Mada]

-

“Boss? You better come here to see this.”

 Asuma Sarutobi, Chief Investigator at the Homicide Division of the Konoha Police was just about to go outside for a much needed smoke. He repressed a sigh and sank the pack of cigs back into his pocket. It was always easier to just do what Ino said than getting into an argument with her. He walked over to her desk and looked down at the dark and blurry picture on her screen.

“What am I looking at?” [The Thing That Should Not Be, Naruto, Kakuzu/Hidan]

-

FADE IN: 

IZANAGI HIGHLAND - NIGHT

 The night is dark and stormy, lightning crisscrosses the sky. Rain starts to pour and into the sound of thunder, the shouts of men mix. The camera slowly leaves the sky to focus on the ground. [Acting Bad, Naruto, Hashirama/Madara and some other pairings]

-

The Land of Fire was a country that knew suffering. For half a century, war tore the lands apart. The old noble families had lost their influence, and their bickering for power opened the way for more serious troubles. Pitiless mercenary bands were hired by the opposing Lords, fighting against each other and the foreign warlords that tried to take the once-was, legendary wealth of these lands.. After the battles, the armies raided the villages and towns, pillaging and plundering, taking the goods people tried to hide in vain, burning down houses, killing men and violating women. [King of Mine, Naruto, Hashirama/Madara]

-

Look, a total number of 1 (one) out of ten stories that’s not Naruto! This certainly speaks of my insanity dedication!

The social side of social media has never been my strong suit, but tagging @latart @thedreamermusing @loki-ate-my-sandwich @andreyahalms and anyone who thinks this is fun (it was)

BONUS: start of the current fic that I'm working on. Yes, it's HashiMada and if it feels somewhat similar you aren't wrong - it's a rewrite of Homecoming.

The drums sped up and along with them, so did Madara’s heart. The clapping of the audience grew thunderous, syncing with the ever louder beat. A bead of sweat rolled from under his hairline, down his temple. He wiped it off impatiently. Under his short, black gloves, his fingers were also clammy. It felt like his heart was trying to break free from his chest. It was a lucky thing he didn’t manage to eat anything at all the whole day, as he would likely be throwing up now if he did.

[oracleofdiscord]

Ninjago OC: Estrella, Master of Starlight (part 2/3)

Part 1

Estrella, Master of Starlight:

Now that you have some context for where Starlight as an element came from, what it does, and who Aethra is, we can talk about Estrella!

Estrella grew up in Stiix - certainly not the most pleasant city in Ninjago to grow up in. However, she wasn’t a penniless orphan. She had a decent life, and her parents were alive, they just…never paid much attention to her. Nobody did, really. With her head often in the clouds, she had a hard time clicking with other people, especially others her age. She didn’t have any friends growing up, and the closest she got to reliable affection was from her aunt Araceli, who lived in Ninjago City. Aunt Araceli was better off than Estrella’s parents and would often bring her nice things when she visited. But those visits weren’t very frequent, so Estrella took to looking up at the night sky and wishing on the stars for a friend. And then one night the stars answered.

While stargazing, Estrella noticed a strange creature - Aethra in her weakened form. She caught Aethra’s attention, and the two became friends. However, Aethra’s form was continuing to weaken, and she realized that Estrella was the only person who could see her. Aethra decided that if she was no longer strong enough to help people as she had before, she could at least help Estrella by being a friend to her. 

And then the Pre-Eminent was unleashed. In the chaos that followed, Estrella was mortally wounded. Aethra, still stuck in her weakened form, lacked the power to heal her dying body. But there was one thing she could do to save Estrella’s life - pass her powers on and let them heal Estrella from the inside. But this would mean giving up the last vestiges of power holding her form together. In the end, not wanting to fail to protect someone just to save her own life, Aethra passed her powers to Estrella and faded away.

Estrella knew that Aethra’s final act had been some sort of magic that healed her injury, but she didn’t know what it was. Though vaguely aware of the concept of Elemental Masters, she had no clue that she had become one. Over the next few months, she discovered new abilities - creating twinkling lights like Aethra had done, healing slightly faster from injuries - but with her True Potential yet to be unlocked and her being unaware of the normal extent of Aethra’s magic, she had no idea she might be capable of more.

The events that would lead to her learning otherwise began shortly after the Pre-Eminent was defeated. Her parents suggested that while Stiix was being rebuilt, she should go live with her aunt in Ninjago City. Araceli agreed to take Estrella in. At first, Estrella was thrilled with the change. Leaving Stiix, spending more time with her aunt, and living in an apartment nicer than her childhood house all seemed like fantastic things! But leaving the only home she’d ever known and moving cross-continent to a city of strangers while grieving her first and only friend made it hard for her to settle into her new life. In addition, Araceli, who had always been one of the only people to give her attention, was working more and more hours to cover the additional costs of supporting Estrella, leaving Estrella mostly alone once more.

During the day, Estrella took to wandering the streets of Ninjago City, hoping to get to know the city a little. On one of these walks, on a mostly empty street, she almost literally bumped into Avery. Avery is @destinysbounty's OC, so I won’t go into too much detail, but here’s the tldr: Master of Acid, from the future, sent back in time because of the Time Twins, has connections to Djinn. She was also part of the ninja replacement team in Skybound, and due to her connection to Djinn, she retains her memories and injuries when the timeline resets. So Estrella sees a girl walking down the street go from uninjured to suddenly injured, and she instinctively reaches out with her powers. This is how she learns that her powers do, in fact, work on other people. They’re not strong enough to fix Avery completely, but they heal the minor injuries and help make the major ones less severe.

After this incident, she and Avery become friends. Avery’s not a ninja yet (although she met them during the tournament of elements), but she goes on her own adventures and sometimes crosses paths with them. Estrella becomes her teammate, not able to contribute much to helping her fight, but able to heal her up afterward. This is especially helpful because Avery is not immune to damage from her own powers and thus often ends fights injured. Eventually, Avery gets badly injured protecting Estrella during a fight, causing Estrella to unlock her True Potential as she realizes she doesn’t want anyone to die for her ever again. She’s able to save Avery’s life with her newly unlocked powers, and from that point on, she’s a full Elemental Master.

Part 3

[and-so-he-rambled]

An excerpt from the Love and War au, where Kaz, Skylar, and Olive fight the war on Caldera.

(Scene: They have been fighting the war for some time, and are worn down by it. They share a moment of remembrance on the outskirts of a militant camp. Note that scenes may be slightly or wholly different in the fic when it comes out.)

Beautiful Sadness

Time worked weird on Caldera. Dates were hard to keep, and they often forgot events on the earth calendar as they passed. Oliver kept one in the tent, but occasionally he messed up and they’d have to find time to figure it out. Trips to earth were too risky, and they didn’t trust the rebels not to launch an assault the second one of the big three was out of the game. They knew there had to be at least one spy in their ranks, and the tides of the war could turn in an instant.

Today however, they almost knew in their bones. Today was the anniversary of the fall of Mighty Med.

How long had it been? A year? Two? Did it matter?

Nobody had died in the explosion, but things would never be the same and they all knew it, even then. Their home was gone, and even if they rebuilt, it would never feel the same again.

“It’s like the death of someone I loved that I’m grieving all over again.” Oliver pulled his bandana down as they set to watch the suns set on either side of them. The constant storm barely registered anymore, and they watched the lighting crackle in the dimming sky with a bored sort of peace. No matter the storm, is would always be a quiet moment when there wasn’t battle. Peace no longer meant silence or stillness, it meant a moment to breathe.

“I get it.” Kaz set his plasma rifle in the sand as he took his place next to Oliver. Skylar sat on the other side, always bracketing Ollie even if he wasn’t small and weak anymore. In fact, he was the strongest of all of them, but habit died hard.

Mighty med wasn’t a building for any of them. To Skylar, it had been a home when she needed one, a safe space to heal and be a kid for once. For Kaz it was a dream, to see a world he desperately wanted to exist and to be important in it. For Oliver, it was a cause, a place to be useful and escape from the overbearing presence of his mother or distance of his father.

There would be a new Mighty Med one day, a new building, maybe with new staff and maybe with some of the old, but it would never be quite right. Those hallways that they knew so well, the cracks in the walls that never got fixed, and the memories set in every brick and tile.

Skylar had tears in her eyes next to him, uncaring to hide them from the boys who, by now, knew her so well. They had been fighting this war for too long to care about shed tears.

She understood that loss clearly because it was happening again, to her only other home. Her safe space, the place she had been born and that led her to be what she was, torn apart by a stupid war. Jealousy and hate were a disease that ruled her life, and this was just another nail to her coffin.

But she wasn’t alone.

When Mighty Med fell, when they returned to the smoking rubble and had to help dig out the injured, they had been there. When she screamed, a wail so heartbroken and gut wrenching and straight from her soul, they had held her. When she needed comfort, they were there, and when she asked them to help her fight a war that they had no obligation to fight, they abandoned their vengeance to help her.

Kaz sighed, his own mask missing as he puffed smoke into the air, goggles pulled up on his forehead, making his hair stick up at odd angles.

“I’m sad, but…” He got a small smile as he looked up at the storm. “I'm happy that something could make me feel that sad. It makes me feel alive, you know? It makes me feel human. And the only way I could feel this sad now is if I felt somethin' really good before. So I have to take the bad with the good, so I guess what I'm feelin' is like a, beautiful sadness.” His voice was soft and melancholy, but he had a smile on his face, one of mischief mixed with the pain.

Skylar smiled, wiping away her tears.

“Isn’t that poetic.”

“He stole it from South Park.” Oliver couldn’t finish the sentence before a giggle broke free, a manic little laugh that he couldn’t stop. The whole situation, this entire war, maybe they deserved a good laugh.

And so they did. They lost their collective shit in a little canyon as the suns set beside them. They laughed until they cried, until they were laughing just because the other was. Skylar didn’t even know what she was laughing at.

Eventually the laughter dissolved into tears, and they shared a moment together of grief.

It truly was a beautiful sadness.

Mighty Med was like an analogy, in a way. They had been different people when they met, young and hopeful. They were wide eyed and ready to face the world together! Now? They were adults. They were soldiers. And when this war ended, they had another to fight back home.

Maybe it wasn’t truly the building they missed, maybe it was the people they had been.

Still, there was a war to fight, and no matter what they would face, they would face it together.

[writingtoforgetreality]

Forever & Always An Outsider (Cordell Walker x Daughter!Reader)

[Walker-Masterlist]

Summary: Your dad came back. Finally. But what would he do if he found out how you had been treated? That his family failed to accept your rightful place with them. Your life needed change before you were too far gone.

Words: 2,495

Warnings: language, angst, feels, suffering in silence, losing yourself, most of the Walkers are assholes (I love the actors & their characters, this is just fiction!), I’m incredibly proud of this one (pls tell me what y’all think - requests for Walker & more are open!), (Y/A) = your age, (Y/E/C) = your eye color

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

You were (Y/N) Walker. Through & through. Worthy of that last name. Emily not being your biological mother should not matter, right? It was her who raised you with Cordell. It was her who tucked you in at night. It was her who was there when you woke up in the middle of the night, screaming, because nightmares invaded your peaceful slumber. It was her who you called mom. So why the hell were you different? Why were you not treated the same way Stella & Augie were?

It was not your decision to be the child of one of Cordell’s one night stands. Neither was it your decision to be abandoned by the same woman who had carried you inside of her body for nine months. And it sure as hell was not your decision to be laid at the front porch of the Walker property. A note the only explanation who you were & why you were brought here in the middle of the night. A paternity test later & it was confirmed. You were Cordell’s daughter. Not even once did Emily think any less of you. The same thing for Cordell. Because you were their daughter. Fully. You were their child, as much as Stella & August were. You cried when you received the news of your mother’s passing. Just as much as the rest of the family. Cordell’s decision to leave was just as hard for you as it was for everyone else.

Daily calls had been left unanswered. Who could you possibly talk to if not your dad? Who would listen to your complaints, your pain, your grief, if not him? The years growing up had never been easy for you, there was no denying that. Yet, the second you were left alone with Cordell’s parents & your siblings, your life turned into living hell for you. It had never been kept secret that you were not Emily’s biological child. From early on, the both of them tried to explain your situation to you so you did not feel like they were keeping important information from you. Acceptance was what you needed. But it also was what you did not get. As a kid, of course you would never mention being treated differently. After all, it was your normal. It was something you got used to. Your parents seemed oblivious to the dirty glances that your grandparents threw your way. They did not notice that they spent more time with your siblings. Growing up in such a household, where support was only partly given, changed you as you got older. You were (Y/A) years old now. Old enough that the realization had kicked in. The reason why they treated you like an outsider was simple. Because you were one. An outsider.

You could not hide the disappointment you felt towards your dad when he returned. He left you. During a time where it felt like your head was underwater. Where you felt like you were drowning. And everybody watching you did not lift a finger to help you out of the dark & endless water surrounding your weak & broken body. No. They were busy dealing with everything on their own. Leaving you out entirely. Your dad was back. Finally. And as much as you hated him for leaving, your relief was bigger than the negativity that had been eating inside of you. Again, a person you connected to on a deeper level was with you. The only soul who accepted you. As you were. No friendships ever ended working out. The relationship with the rest of your family did not need any more discussing.

All those months of you keeping to yourself did not change a single thing. Your voice had only been used when someone had explicitly directed their words at you. Why bother talking to them? The only thing you had ever received was weird look after weird look. Hell, you had months alone to grieve. The hours you had spent crying in your room, all alone in the middle of the night, had not helped dealing with your loss. It was true, you were not the only one in this family who had lost someone. The difference was that you were the only one who had been left alone. Because the moment Cordell left, your support system went with him. The one thing you had never learned was being alone & staying alive.

An unnatural feeling was inside your home the day your dad arrived here. If you took a sharp knife, you could cut the tension precisely. But Cordell tried. His efforts did not go unnoticed by you. A small smile, a simple touch. Your way of acknowledging his attempts. The change in your family was noticeable. Connecting with his parents, with Stella & Augie, was not easy. Not at all. You, on the other hand, you were a changed person entirely. Not the funny, joyful girl you had once been. More like a closed book, encrypted with a lock. The key long gone, getting rusty at the bottom of a deep, lurid river.

Conversations over dinner were held briefly. Your dad being the only one to start them by things he remembered you guys liked. The burning need inside of you to talk to him was pushed down further. The looks you would receive were not really what you anticipated. But nobody knew. The silent battle you had been fighting for the last months had been ignored. Had your dad been here, he would have noticed something was off. Right away. A look in your (Y/E/C) eyes was all it took. But that was the past. This person had died a long time ago. Worrying was all that could be done for the time being. If you were to talk, you would come to him yourself. No need for him to force you into a situation you were highly uncomfortable in.

The bags under your eyes were present. The light in your eyes completely gone. Like the last ounce of strength had been sucked out of your body. Your clothes did not fit the way they used to. Loose hoodies, even looser pants. Your form slowly disappearing. Not only feeling like you were unseen, but actually becoming invisible. There was not a single moment of the day where you were fully awake. You had not been sleeping much. Something your dad could relate to. Most nights, he spent in company with a bottle of whiskey. The only friend to numb the pain for a little while. Alcohol was not your solution. Did not mean that yours was any healthier.

It had become a routine for you. Waiting until the house was sound asleep. Your mind the only one being awake. Your thoughts the only ones running miles & miles per hour. Eventually, you always found yourself seated outside, on top of the roof. Being a bit closer to the stars aligning the night sky. Being a bit closer to her. Others might find it silly. You talking into the night, waiting for some echo of the past. Waiting for a sign that she heard you. Your complaints. Your pain. Your grief. Your love. Spending hours crying. Begging for her to make it stop. Begging for them to love you the way she used to.

The cold breeze hit your exposed skin. A sign that your body still reacted to certain things. Texas nights were chilly. A nice contrary to the heat that dragged itself through most days. A hoodie would do. Some sweatpants. But you needed the goosebumps. Needed them to remind you that you were still here. Still breathing. You owed it to your mom. To keep fighting. Because she did not have the chance to anymore. Tears were threatening to escape your glossy eyes. You would not let them fall. Deep down, you knew she would want you to be strong. Not to cry over her. Because of her. But it was so hard. Each day, the weight got heavier. Each day, you lost yourself a bit more. There was only so much a single person could take. To you, it felt like the limit was almost reached. Soon, you would overflow. Who knew what would happen if you let it get that far?

“Your mom used to love that place.” a soft but deep voice interrupted the peaceful silence that encircled your body. Looking over your shoulder to find your dad standing only mere feet away from you.

“Really?” the pain could be heard through your small voice. Broad shoulders touched yours.

“She was up here when she needed time to think.” elbows propped up on his knees. You could brush him off. Pretending to be fine. Explaining that fresh air was all you needed. That you would head inside in a minute. Truthfully, you did not want to do any of this. The fight had been going on for too long. You were close to losing it. This was a sign that, maybe, you were not yet at the end. That, maybe, there was still enough time to get up & start anew. Talking alone felt like too much effort. It required too much strength. Strength that you did not have. Not anymore.

“Something happened to you while I was gone.” the statement left a tension between you. “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.” his eyes took in your side profile. You did not dare to look at him. It meant risking to break into tears. The tears you had been holding in for so long.

“I don’t even know myself anymore.” as a father, hearing your child say such words, it broke his heart. Into a million pieces. The universe did not give him a break. First Emily. Now you. Yes, you were alive. But watching you disappear right in front of his eyes hurt just as much.

“Talk to me.” his words were not an order. If you wanted to, you could up & leave. Right this instant. Something told you to stay. He was here, after all. Your dad. And he cared enough to look out for you. More than the others had done these past few months.

“I always wondered if mom & you noticed.” your eyes were focused on a branch that wavered in the far distance. The leaves pushed from one side to the other, controlled by the wind. There was no interruption. If you needed to get something off your chest, then the most Cordell could do was listen. Making you feel as if you were not alone. As if he was not leaving you. Not again. Because he was not.

“Grandma & grandpa have never looked at me the way they look at Stella. At Augie. To them, I was never their grandchild. I was just there. I was never an equal. And I was fine with it, you know? Because I had mom. I had you. And that was all the support I needed. Then mom died. And you left. And suddenly, it felt like there was nobody I could talk to. Nobody who could hug me to make me feel at least a tiny bit better. They were this tight-knit group. And I was alone.” the steadiness, the monotony in your voice was scary. To you, it had been your normal for the longest time. Cordell knew that it was partly his fault. Leaving you during one of the hardest times in your life was plainly wrong. No apology could ever bring back the time you had lost.

“I’m sorry.” it was not much. Definitely not enough. Definitely not what you deserved. Yet, it was all that could be given to you in this moment. A strong, muscular arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his warm body. The heat of his form immediately transferring to your skin. His embrace was a safe haven. His cologne so familiar. You had missed him. So much. Only when he touched you were you overwhelmed by every single emotion you had ignored for the last couple of months. Silent tears made their way down your cheeks, leaving a salty taste at the corners of your mouth.

“It’s fine.” one thing had not changed. Always making sure that others would not worry about you. People knew you for your fierce & strong personality. It was not too late to get the old you back. With much work, much love & support, you could change for the better again.

“It’s not.” Cordell knew you were one to carry everything on your own. That trait was given to you from him. He recalled how Emily had mentioned it when you were a small child. The one thing you always did was putting others first, forgetting about yourself in the process. That was something the both of you had to work on. Something the both of you needed to improve. The start would make him talking to the rest of the family. Now that he knew about your daily struggles, he made it his job to do everything to change it. For your sake. Because that was what Emily would have wanted. It was what he wanted for you. All of your years, you had been nothing but kind & loving towards his parents, Stella & August. The kindness you shared with them was not necessary. You had been treated wrongly for years & Cordell blamed himself for being too blind to see clearly.

Again, silence enveloped you & neither of you talked. It was comforting. Him being back. Him wanting to help. He hugged you close to him. Squeezing your shoulders every now & then. A simple sign of letting you know that he was still here. With you.

“I’ll talk to them.” if it were not for the night to be so calm, you would have missed his words entirely. “I’ll make this right.” this was a silent promise. A promise that he would stay. A promise that you no longer had to keep your grief locked inside. A promise that your family would be just that. A family. A family who treated each other equally. Loved each other endlessly. Supported each other whenever it was possible. Maybe it was the scene you found yourself in. The almost black night sky, illuminated by the moon, by thousands of little stars. Showing you that there were a million small reasons for a light in a mass of darkness. Bits & pieces of hope. Maybe this was your sign. The sign you had waited for every night. The sign from your mom. Telling you that it was worth fighting for. Worth fighting for the little things. Because each of those were beautiful in their own way. Each of those deserved appreciation. Each of those could brighten up the dark life you found yourself in. And light was all you needed right now.

Published (03/26/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @fofisstilinski, @geekgirl007, @spnwoman, @acklessnackles, @the-soul-witch, @multifandomlover121, @missmaam123, @delicatecelebritiesarthairdo (thanks for your support <3/sorry if I mistakenly tagged you, please let me know if I did)

[beblade-a]

@livingprophecy​​    /   mal’s letters aka zee choose death 🥰

i'm sure by now you know that i was reassigned to a new unit. i would have told you myself that i was leaving, but you didn't look like you wanted to see me. i couldn't blame you. part of me thought i'd be back soon enough, and maybe by then you'd stop looking away when we were in the same room. that's looking less and less likely by the hour. they say this new position might be more permanent than anyone expected. you know how these leader types are, they can never make up their mind about anything. i probably shouldn't tell you that, though. the last thing i need is you reprimanding me in writing.

shit, sorry. getting off topic. the point of this is, i don't know when i'll see you again. maybe i should have talked to you before i left. said something. i know you wouldn't have listened, but it would have been better to get it off my chest then. except you're too stubborn for your own good, and i didn't want you to hate me for pushing you more than i did that night. i couldn't help you the way you wanted me to, and maybe that's on me for being too willing to see what you didn't want anyone else to. i'm never going to regret the choice i made then, you needed someone to tell you to stop. you deserved to be able to grieve. you still do. i'm just sorry it pulled us apart.

there's a lot i didn't say then that i guess i should say now, but the trip was long, and daylight is ending soon. i'll write again. you haven't gotten rid of me yet, nik. looking forward to hearing from you too, if you can find time in your busy schedule to pick up a pen for me. but i'll understand if the masses keep pulling you down with a hundred more complaints about needing softer blankets and more salt for their slop.

best regards, mal.

p.s. sorry, that last part was a joke. i think i'm getting worse at them.

/

it's safe to say most of us underestimated just how long we'd really be here. the most "permanent" has ever meant is a few weeks, at most. just enough time to prove we've got numbers on our side, just enough to spill a little blood on both sides.

that was grim, sorry. i don't want this letter to be about that. here i was, ready to talk about the beauty of the mountains and how the air tastes different here than it did there. sometimes i forget this all leads back to war anyways, but it's easier to let yourself get distracted by the small pleasures in like. the first rays of sunlight and how they cast shadows over giants, the way plants bloom here that are strangers to what other forests have held. i wonder if you'd let yourself see this place the way that i do, if you'd love to lose yourself in it the same way. i remember you once said you wanted to see the ocean, and how your eyes lit up when you described it. i hope it makes you feel the way being on mountain tops has made me feel: at peace and just a little more alive. i think you deserve that, after everything. i know you do.

maybe we can see it together sometime, if that's not asking for too much.

speak to you soon, mal.

/

a few weeks passed since i last wrote. sorry, i guess i got caught up in everything. you know how it is, the work of a tracker is never done, etc. etc. not that i mind the work, of course. i'll take the fresh air and clear skies over being stuck in a stuffy tent with a bunch of soldiers any day. i still don't envy your meetings and boring talks of treaties that never go anywhere, or the way they always seemed to cut our mornings short at the worst possible moments. it's a miracle dominik didn't resort to anything worse than glaring at me for making you late, i always thought he'd get me thrown into the brig just for being annoying in his presence.

i still think about him sometimes. more than sometimes. i heard he had family close to the capital? you'd know more about that, i suppose. it feels stupid, but i feel guilty that i didn't know him better. did he laugh at stupid jokes, did he turn his head up towards the sky when it rained, did he see an end to this war? it doesn't seem fair that you're the one who has to carry him. someone else should remember him. i pray you learn you don't have to shoulder this burden alone.

but that's not what i was writing to you about. or, rather, wanted to write to you about. are you even getting these? i hope you are, but i know how tricky sending mail is. it once took five months for one of alina's letters to get to me, you know, so it wouldn't surprise me if you never saw these.

i met some people. well, if you could even call them people. they're idiots, really, the both of them. added onto my unit just last week, though i don't think they know a thing about tracking. that's fine, though, they're good guys and it's easier not to fall into thought with their incessant babbling going on in the background. it's hard to get close to people in times like these, but they seem too harmless to keep away. hopefully they get to stick around for a while, but we can't be sure of anything, can we?

that's all i had to say, i suppose. i'll end it here before this gets any longer.

take care, mal.

/

i think about how we left things. should i have pushed more, come to see you when i knew time was running out for us? it didn't seem to be within my right. we always knew this would end somewhere, just ships that pass in the night, but the tide seemed to carry us further away than i’d anticipated. it’s hard to wrap my head around how awful it felt when they gave out my orders, the way it seemed time was hacking me to pieces when all i wanted desperately was to help you keep yourself together. but you wouldn’t even look at me in the days that led to that moment. it was like i stopped existing for you, and you couldn’t see me as i floated away.

this isn’t to say i blame you. i don’t. saints, i don’t think i could ever place the blame on you for anything. but we were friends, right? if nothing else, we were friends, and now it feels like we’re nothing. the memory of your hands on me is a ghost that lingers, the proof that it wasn’t all just a dream. it’d be easier if it was. then i wouldn’t have to lie awake at night, wondering if you’re reading these. if you are, i’m sorry. i don’t blame you, i swear i don’t. grief is a monster that claws through all of us, and you lost the most important person that you had. if one day i got word that alina was gone from this world, i would destroy myself in that pain. but you had to watch him go, you have the memory of that now.

i’m sorry. if you get nothing else from this letter, just know that i’m sorry and i’m still here. if you need me, i’m still here, nik. i know it isn’t much, but it’s all i have to offer.

your friend, mal.

/

all of my writing seems to be reserved for you and alina. i don’t have anyone else, i guess, but that’s okay. they sent me out again, caryeva this time.  it’s only for a few weeks, but i don’t mind traveling to this one. alina’s here, said something about the cartographers trying to make sense of the caves. i don’t know how much sense they expect to make of her drawings, but, hey, she’s here. so that means that all of my writing is reserved for you, at least until i have to leave again.

i'm sorry about the last letter. i shouldn't have sent it. that's one i really hope you didn't get, but i guess you wouldn't know that if you aren't getting any of them. there's only so much i can keep bottled up, though, and it's not like i can tell anyone else about you. i've thought about telling alina, a few times, but then i look over at her and forget how to breathe and thinking about you gets a little harder to do. it's always been like that with her, though, but i can't put words to the feeling when she's the one i'm talking to. she's familiar, like you were for those few months. like you'd still be if one day we met back in the middle of this war.

princes go on to do princely things, and our story probably ended already, but i'm just unlucky enough to be stupidly optimistic. i see an end to this war, and i see you becoming a great leader,  and i see it all unfolding in front of my eyes. see? stupidly optimistic. it's alright, though. someone somewhere has to have hope. why not let it be me?

your stupid optimist, mal.

/

we left caryeva this morning. just me and the poor idiots who came here on their way to make the journey back to sikursk. i hugged alina so tight i think i would have broken bones if we'd held on any longer, but she didn't complain. just wiped the tears away and called me stupid, in that same tone she uses when she's not trying to make things sadder than they are. i missed her the moment my back was to her, my feet carrying me hundreds of miles away from her again. the ache never left me when i was with her, but she makes everything easier. now she's gone again, and i can't help but let the loneliness creep back in.

i'm an orphan, did i ever tell you that? it's hard to say, never comes out quite right. like saying "i have nobody who cares about me" or "everyone who should have loved me is dead." that's what people look at me like, at least. pity and sadness and the way the war keeps taking and will keep taking more. but that's not true. i have someone. her. we've always had each other.

i have alina, and i still feel alone.

you haven't responded, or you never got these letters, or you did and haven't even read them. i don't know which one makes this more painful. doubt muddies everything and the lack of answers rips away any security i had in what we had. but what did we have? a few nights of stupid choices, where i could have drowned my troubles away in anything but you chose me and that felt good enough to mean something? i said i wouldn't blame you and that's still true, i can't put this on your shoulders on top of everything else. mostly, i blame this war.

i've thought about not writing these anymore. they don't make me feel closer to you. they just make the distance seem longer. but i don't want to leave you alone. i'm sorry, i don't know what else to do.

i suppose i'll keep on holding hope for a little longer.

running out of things to put here, mal.

/

it's late, and the stars are shining high above, and i can't sleep. dubrov's snores could shake the mountains, but that's not why i'm awake. i stopped believing you're getting these, so i guess it doesn't matter if i say it now. i miss you. being with you was easy, which is why i know it was never real. what we had only ever existed in my head, and you forgot about me the moment i wasn't around anymore.

were we friends, nik? were we at least that?

i have to believe we were. because if we weren't, what does that leave me with?

i never thought i'd get to keep you but a part of me was looking for a happier ending, a more satisfying conclusion. you were the first thing i didn't want to run from, that i didn't even realize you were never there with me to begin with.

all i’ve said in these letters is sorry, but i can't apologize for this one.

mal.

/

it'll be a year tomorrow.

by the time you get this, if you get this, it'll be longer than that.

i can't help but think about you sitting in your tent, alone, shoving that grief down as the time ticks by. or do you drown your sorrows in someone else, the next petty face that catches your eye? is it wrong to say that? i don't know. and you're not reading these anyways.

that's not fair to you. i told myself i wasn't going to be angry writing this one, and saints know i still ache to think about you feeling any of that grief alone. but it's been a year, and it could be two years, and i know that this is it. you're never going to write back, and i suppose that's on me for expecting you to.

i'm sorry. i'm sorry that i'm mad and i'm sorry about dominik and i'm sorry i let you push me away when all i wanted was to be there. i can't go back and change that, i don't even know if i would want to. were you always so stubborn, or is that what you told yourself you had to be?

please let someone in, nik. even if it's not me.

mal.

/

i should stop writing these, but you know how it goes. one more letter turns into two, two turns into a chest full of them. there’s no telling if i'm sending these to the right place anymore, if you've moved on. they said they'd find their way to you anyways, but that's hard to put any amount of faith on. there's too many unanswered letters for me to make up my mind on what's happening to them.

i keep thinking that you might have found someone else and can't help being jealous despite knowing it's probably for the best. maybe we can both find something to keep us feeling a little more human, a little more whole.

if i kiss someone and all it does is remind me of you, does that still count as trying to forget you?

swallowing the idea that one day you might disappear from my memory is hard, though i shudder to think of the alternative. nobody tastes like you. the only person who's ever made me laugh like you did is alina, and even my love for her is different. it doesn’t burn like yours did. like it still does.

what i'm trying to say is: i don't think i can forget you if i tried, but saints i wish i could. and i hope it’s harder for you to forget about me than it is to ignore these letters.

everything i have left, mal.

/

this was supposed to be an apology for something, but the words won’t come out right. here it is, nik. by this point, i’ve spent more time being ignored by you then i ever got to have you. if you never get these letters, i hope you spend the rest of your days thinking i forgot about you. if you did, i hope you never read this one.

you said i could keep you as long as i wanted, and i wanted to believe that was true. so much that i put my heart in your hands. even though we never called it love. there was always a part of me that knew it was a mistake. i understood then that it was a lie, just like i know now that you're never going to write back. i gave you my heart. i gave you everything. i should have asked for it back when i tucked my things away that final night.

i said i wasn’t going to blame you, but then that just means we’re both liars.

you should have looked away that day our eyes first met. you should have told me to leave when all i wanted was to spend every waking moment right next to you. if you knew we didn’t even get a chance, that you were never going to keep me, you should have pushed me away before i felt your teeth sinking into my heart.

maybe we were both naive and stupid, but you always knew, didn’t you? i did too, but you can’t tell a lovestruck boy what he can and can’t do with his feelings. that’s what it is, isn’t it? i cared too much and you cared too little, or you just didn’t care about me more than you cared about letting me go.

war has never been kind but it feels less cruel than what you’ve done to me, and if i were to die tomorrow at least i wouldn’t have to think about you anymore.

saints, let your memory be purged from my body.

/

this isn't a letter. this is a eulogy. and an apology.

i don’t want to hate you, but hate pours out when i write these. there’s nothing healing about wanting to say my piece to you, and getting nothing back. like arguing with a wall. at least i’d know if a wall was there. so, this is the last one, nikolai. there’s nowhere else for me to put my feelings down for you, so i’ll bury them in this ink and move on.

if i loved you once, i can no longer separate that love from the pain your absence has caused. there is nothing more empty than being faced with your silence, no greater frustration than knowing you’re out there somewhere and we walk the same earth on startlingly different roads. you were never mine, and i was always yours. but you didn’t ask for my love, and i’m sorry i gave it so easily. a lesson for next time.

i hope you get to see the ocean, nik. i hope whatever doubt that lives in your heart can be replaced by something or someone else. if one day i hear that you’ve done great things with your life, i want to hear your name from the mouth of a stranger and think only fondly of our times together. you deserve all of the love a country can give for a great prince, and an even greater man. but more than that, you deserve to be happy.

maybe someday, when we’ve both found a place to put our love, we can meet again. maybe by then we’ll be ready to call each other friend.

i won’t hold my breath, but i choose to believe there’s a silver lining here somewhere.

goodbye, mal.

[archivingspn]

Entertainment Weekly Special Edition: The Ultimate Guide to Supernatural 2017

SAM AND DEAN WINCHESTER KNOW "WEIRD." Their entire life has been weird, ever since the moment a demon claimed their mother's life. In case anyone has forgotten over the course of the show's past 12 seasons, Supernatural tells the story of the Winchester brothers, portrayed by Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles, who fell into the family business of hunting creatures after their mother's murder. What began as their father's journey for revenge has evolved into endless monster slayings, near-death experiences and more than a few actual deaths.

By this point the Winchesters have been to Hell and back, killed Death himself, come face-to-face with God and prevented the Apocalypse. But perhaps more impressively, the series has survived three network presidents, five showrunners, a writers' strike and five different time slots. Turns out the only thing harder to kill than the Winchesters is the series itself. "It's one of those shows that has moved a lot, and yet each time it has found that core audience and built on it," Warner Bros. Television president Peter Roth says. "It's been an unsung hero."

If anyone knows about being an unsung hero, it's Sam (Padalecki) and Dean (Ackles), who've dedicated their lives to saving others and asked for nothing in return. Seriously, how many nights have they spent sleeping in their car?And yet that on-the-road lifestyle has paved the way for a number of the show's riskier episodes, which play a crucial role in keeping the audience engaged. In 2015 "Baby" was told entirely from the perspective of their beloved 1967 Impala, and that's not even close to the craziest thing the show's tried.

Aside from the rules the show creates within its canon—yes, they have a historian in the writers' room to keep them honest—not even the sky is the limit when it comes to story ideas. “[Show creator] Eric [Kripke] used to say, 'Smoke 'em if you've got 'em,' which meant: Anything crazy, don't be afraid to run it by us," executive producer Robert Singer says.

That motto led most famously to season 6's "The French Mistake," in which Sam and Dean found themselves in an alternate universe where everyone mistook them for Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles, the stars of a show called Supernatural. "Our show's not bound by reality," Ackles, 39, says. "We're rooted in reality, but we're not bound by it. That gives us a fifth wall almost."

But Supernatural's season 12 finale managed to raise the stakes by somehow introducing the boys to something they'd never seen before: a world in which they don't exist and Heaven and Hell are locked in an eternal war. By episode's end, their allies Castiel (Misha Collins) and Crowley (Mark Sheppard) were dead, and their mother, Mary (Samantha Smith), who was resurrected-by God's sister!-in the season 11 finale, found herself trapped in this new reality with the Archangel Lucifer (Mark Pellegrino). If that doesn't seem bad enough, the birth of Lucifer's son is the very thing that opened the rift to this apocalyptic realm. "The world in which Sam and Dean were never born is not a good world," showrunner Andrew Dabb says. "It speaks to the importance of our guys. The world Sam and Dean live in is certainly not perfect, but it's a whole hell of a lot better than the alternative."

Dabb describes the new run of episodes as more melancholy than last year's, with new threats including some long-dead characters. And somehow Scooby-Doo has a role to play. (More on that later.)

"Last season was, in some ways, a very upbeat season for us," says Dabb, who goes on to explain that season 13 will be "darker." In their grief the boys will butt heads when it comes to both Lucifer's son Jack—Dean wants nothing to do with him; Sam thinks he's worth trying to save— and Mary, whom Sam refuses to give up on despite Dean's having lost hope that she's still alive. "The Apocalypse world hangs over our guys a little bit like a sword of Damocles," Dabb says of the season's beginning. "We're definitely going to spend a little time there."

And of course Sam and Dean have this new responsibility thrust upon them before they've had the chance to properly grieve their many losses, including Castiel, who Dabb says will appear, though maybe not the way fans are expecting. "We're not looking to hit the reset button," Dabb says. "We want to give both our guys an opportunity to react to that and ask the question: How would that affect them if their closest friend sacrifices himself for them? There is a certain amount, especially when you look at Dean, of survivor's guilt."

That being said, there will be at least one (animated!) moment of levity, though it's in the season's back half. Episode 16 will be a much-anticipated Scooby-Doo crossover, for which Ackles, Padalecki and Collins have already recorded the audio. "They've often talked about Supernatural crossing over into something." Ackles says. "I love that it's Scooby-Doo."

But even with exciting new ideas on the agenda, there's always the lingering question of how much longer the show can continue. According to CW president Mark Pedowitz, the answer is as long as the guys are happy and the ratings are relatively stable. As for Ackles and Padalecki, they are focusing on the next milestone: hitting 300 episodes (something that would take them 13 episodes into season 14). However, if Sam and Dean have taught the actors anything, it's that Death can be lurking around every corner (and he's usually eating pizza). "If we don't make it to 300, I think Ackles and I will both be truly bummed," Padalecki, 35, says.

Ackles adds, "They're paying us to bring that little bit of magic to what they wrote, and I still feel that magic. The day that I don't feel that magic will be a very sad day, and I hope that day never comes. I'd like to get to 300 before that day comes."

One thing everyone can agree on is that they want to know when the end is nigh. "I think it would be bad for this show to just ride off into the sunset without a finale," Singer says. "I think we've earned that." Ultimately the only thing that's certain about Supernatural's eventual end is the fate of Sam and Dean's Impala, Baby. "He gets Baby," Padalecki says of Ackles. "I get Baby Two." Ackles makes one correction: "No, you'll get Three. Two is a stunt car. It's beat to s---.”

But nobody gets Baby just yet. For now they'll need all the Impalas they can get as they try to solve the problems of not one world but two.

[pg 10-12]

LIFE IN THE FAST LANE

Stars Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki and Misha Collins have rolled with rapid changes and some surprising detours during the series' remarkable run. BY SAMANTHA HIGHFILL

JARED PADALECKI CAN STILL REMEMBER THE exact pitch for Supernatural's first season: “Route 66 meets X-Files, brothers on the back roads of America hunting things that go bump in the night.” That was how he and costar Jensen Ackles were told to promote the show, which, in its first year, was just that-Sam and Dean Winchester chasing urban legends from state to state.

But over time that original pitch added a few sentences. Much like with any good road trip, there have been quite a few turns—and the occasional crossroads along the way. Although the show remains about two brothers on the back roads of America hunting things, those "things'' now include everything from vengeful spirits to imaginary friends and even Lucifer himself. After all, a show doesn't last 13 seasons without adjusting its game plan. For Supernatural that has meant an ever expanding mythology, some shocking deaths, resurrected characters, breaking the fourth wall and so much more.

Yet all the while, one thing has remained true: Sam and Dean Winchester will do whatever it takes to save the world and, even more so, to save each other. And they'll do it while navigating those seemingly endless back roads in their 1967 Impala.

Finding John Winchester (portrayed by Jeffrey Dean Morgan) was the boys' goal in season 1, though that ended up being about as difficult as getting John to stick around once he was finally discovered. The Winchester family reunion was short-lived: Season 1 closed with a car crash and the fates of all three men up in the air. And then there was that demonic deal John made with the same monster they had been hunting.

JENSEN ACKLES Everything up until that point was about finding Dad. We found Dad, we continued to fight as a unit, and then we lost Dad, and now we were two orphans.

JARED PADALECKI And I think that was the first time we ever brought back somebody from the dead, and it was you [to Ackles].

ACKLES I died in the car crash, and he traded his life with Azazel.

PADALECKI I think that was the first time we ever saw a major character die and come back. And that was a total leap of faith. So we told the story of Reapers and the veil and what happens to your soul.

ACKLES That's when we got into afterlife.

PADALECKI That was a big title shift in what Supernatural could do...

ACKLES With the introduction of Hell and making deals with demons—which is funny, because you think about that now, and [creator] Eric [Kripke] must've always known because Mom made the deal with the yellow-eyed demon.

The next shift would come later in season 2, laying the groundwork for the introduction of angels far before Castiel spread his wings in that abandoned barn in season 4.

PADALECKI "Houses of the Holy” was the first time we ever talked about angels on Supernatural. [Jensen] and I both were like, “Whatever your religious beliefs, whatever ours, we're not here to proselytize. We're here to make a serialized television show, but we want it to be universal.” So we actually had a conference call with Eric Kripke, and we were like, "Hey, man, we don't know how we feel about this.”

ACKLES We didn't want to be a mouthpiece for writers' religious views, because it wasn't the show that we had signed up for. Our argument was: “We trust you. You've done good by us so far. However, this is our one concern, and we're just bringing it to the table so that we can discuss it.”

PADALECKI And they heard us out, and I think that's why they waited another year and a half before introducing our second and most famous angel. I think it's the one time we've ever called them together with a complaint. Because I'm not a writer. I don't want to be a writer. I enjoy my job as an actor. But that was legitimately like, “Listen, if you're going here about religion, I don't want to be a part of it.”

MISHA COLLINS And now amazingly, 11 years later, so much of the show has been hung on biblical lore and mythology that is actually drawn from the Bible. One interesting thing for us is that we end up talking along the way to priests and pastors and ministers, or even nuns, who love the show.

(...)

ACKLES It was amazing, but my point being that we're in one of the most religious places on earth, and they're catering to people from a show that deals with religiously inspired story lines.

PADALECKI But not telling the story that the Bible tells.

ACKLES That's the out. That's where we get a pass is that we're not trying to tell the story of the Bible. The writers take inspiration from biblical elements and then elaborate on them. So when we got into that original discussion, Eric came back with: “We're not here to tell the story of Jesus Christ. We're here to take that element and use it as inspiration for the story.” I think that alleviated any concerns that he and I had. And at the same time we really trusted Eric and still do to this day.

Another leap of faith came with season 2's "Hollywood Babylon,” which can be considered the show's first meta episode. It opened the door for everything from season 6's “The French Mistake” to the upcoming season 13 Scooby-Doo crossover.

ACKLES “Babylon” was the first time we took the piss out of ourselves and were poking fun at the industry.

COLLINS That has been a huge [help to know] that you can go to these absurd lengths and break conventions. Reading the script where we are doing a Scooby-Doo episode makes me feel proud. Where else can you do that?

Padalecki What other show does that and has the fandom at large excited that they’re going to do that? Can you imagine if JAG or NCIS did a Scooby-Doo episode? People would be like, “What?” Not only do we break the fourth wall, do we go meta, but those end up being some of our best episodes.

The season 5 finale holds the No. 1 spot on EW's episode ranking, but that hour was important for many reasons, one of which being that it was creator Kripke’s farewell.

COLLINS “Swan Song" was another milestone because that marked the culmination of Eric's original vision for the show. He had a five-season arc in mind that tied up perfectly with a bow, and then he moved on and handed the reins over to Sera [Gamble]. That became, “Okay, guys, now let's figure out how to start a new chapter or a new volume in a series of chapters.”

PADALECKI It's the story that we were all born from, those of us who were introduced in the first five years. So to have the creator step away? I would argue that it was the largest shift.

Gamble served as showrunner for seasons 6 and 7, the latter containing another major show moment: the death of Bobby (Jim Beaver), Sam and Dean's father figure.

PADALECKI Bobby was such a big part. Jeffrey Dean [Morgan] was never as much a part of the show. He was obviously a huge part of the story, but he did [just a few] episodes, and Jim Beaver did 60 or something. And there was something about his death that we knew it was final...or final for Supernatural.

ACKLES Because his character said, “I'm done.” So it wasn't like he got killed accidentally and we found a way to bring Bobby back. He was like, “I'm hanging it up, guys." It was heavy.

PADALECKI That probably was the first big death of someone who'd been there for years...

ACKLES [Interrupting] A fan favorite...

PADALECKI Yeah, and I remember [CW president] Mark Pedowitz saying something to the effect of “As a fan, I hated when Bobby died, but it was great television.” That's how I feel. 

ACKLES Like when Sam Winchester dies for good, it's going to be good television. But when Dean Winchester lives on, it's going to be great television. [Everyone laughs]

The season 12 finale saw the introduction of an apocalyptic alternate world in which Sam and Dean Winchester were never born and Heaven and Hell are locked in an eternal war. And with that world comes the possibility for a number of character returns. But does it feel like a turning point? 

COLLINS Well, I think the rift and the fact that you can go into the apocalypse world and you can all of a sudden revisit every character in a different iteration—there could be a different version of every character—it opens up this incredible panoply.

(...)

PADALECKI And if an alternate universe exists, then how many alternate universes exist? It's hard to say, because I feel like it's impossible to identify a turning point during the turn. In hindsight it will reveal how this story will affect the show, the canon at large and the way we move forward. But I certainly feel like we're opening up doors with the rift and with the son of Lucifer.

(...)

[pg 20-26]

THE CORONER'S VAN JUST PULLED INTO THE driveway. It's the middle of August in 2016, and Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles are filming a scene for Supernatural's 12th season at a farmhouse in the Vancouver countryside, which is standing in for Iowa. Sam and Dean Winchester have ditched their flannels and jeans for sweaters and slacks in order to pose as social workers. They're doing what the two brothers do best: lying about their jobs in order to solve mysteries and kill monsters—in other words, saving people, hunting things.

When Supernatural premiered, Sam and Dean Winchester were born into the family business of hunting creatures, and it's a lifestyle that, over the years, has left them with very few people they love. Turns out, when you spend your days battling shape-shifters, witches and the occasional angel—they're not all nice, you know—nothing is guaranteed, especially not tomorrow.

But no matter how crazy the Winchesters' world gets—or how many worlds they have to face—one thing remains unchanged: At the center of it all are Ackles and Padalecki, whose Dean and Sam are the beating heart of the show (whether theirs are beating or not).

(...)

(...) even pulling up their favorite scenes on their phones to watch at the table. Padalecki can easily name the scripts that made him cry—“Heart,” “Sacrifice" and "Baby" all land on the list. The common thread is a heartfelt moment between the brothers where they get to talk about their crazy life as if, say, having visions of Lucifer is normal. “I feel like those situations where we treat the abstract and the fantastical as just part of life is where the show thrives,” Padalecki says. Ackles adds, “I think the show is truly at its best when it doesn't take itself too seriously, then it does take itself seriously, and it gets scary as s---,”.

But whether Supernatural is making fun of itself, scaring the living daylights out of its fans, or just letting the brothers have a moment on the hood of the Impala, it all works because of our central heroes. “It's about the Winchesters," says Crowley actor Mark Sheppard. “We really do care, and it's a testament to the boys that we still care."

(...)

As the sun sets on the Vancouver countryside, Sam and Dean ditch their slacks for jeans and send the coroner's van on its way. It won't be needed—this show, and the brotherly bond that holds it all together, has a lot of life left in it. Not that death has ever stopped it before.

[pg 32-34]

(...)

DEAN WINCHESTER Jensen Ackles

He was always the good son. Dean embraced the hunter's lifestyle, and he idolized his father despite John's many faults. But with the senior Winchester devoted to tracking down demons, it fell to Dean to help parent Sam, and he went to great lengths to protect his younger sibling-at one point even making a deal with a Crossroads demon (at the cost of his own life) to resurrect Sam from the dead. The two have had their differences, but throughout, Dean's brother was his first priority. "Watching out for you, it's kinda been my job, you know? But more than that, it's kinda who I am." Cynical and initially skeptical of the existence of God, Dean has nonetheless managed to become best buds with the angel Castiel (and on first name terms with both God and God's sister Amara). His self-sacrificing nature means he would do literally anything for those he considers family-and that's a short list: Sam, Mary and Castiel.

[pg 38]

Sympathy for the Devil

EVERY HERO NEEDS A HELL, BUT SUPERNATURAL HAS JUST TWO PROTAGONISTS AND HUNDREDS OF VILLAINS. HERE’S HOW THE SHOWRUNNERS APPROACHED SAM AND DEAN’S MANY FOES, FROM WELL-KNOWN URBAN LEGENDS TO SATAN HIMSELF. By Samantha Highfill

[pg 51]

Stairway to Heaven

SAM AND DEAN MET CASTIEL. AN ANGEL OF THE LORD, IN SEASON 4, AND IT CHANGED THE COURSE OF THE SHOW. BECAUSE ANGELS WEREN’T ALWAYS THE PLAN— AND CASTIEL WAS ONLY THE FIRST. By Samantha Highfill

(on page 57 there’s a small box of print on the corner that says: In what executive producer Robert Singer calls one of the series’ most “iconic images,” Castiel (Misha Collins) is introduced as the show’s first real angel.)

WHILE OTHER CHILDREN WERE LEARNING multiplication tables, Sam and Dean Winchester were hunting monsters. “When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45!” says Sam to Dean in the Supernatural pilot, recalling an episode when he was 9 years old. Clearly creature encounters were par for the course in the Winchester way of life. And when you grow up battling all the evil in the world, it's hard to believe in the good. But in the show's season 4 premiere, Dean would come face-to-face with the one supernatural entity he didn't think existed: angels.

“[Show creator] Eric [Kripke] wasn't in love with the idea of doing angels,” executive producer Robert Singer says of the early days. “But as things went on and we were getting into demons, I would say to him, 'I don't know how we do demons without doing angels.’”

The show tested the waters in season 2's “Houses of the Holy,” when Sam and Dean worked a case that appeared to involve angels then went in a different direction. It wasn't until late in the next season that the seraphim were finally embraced. When Dean was dragged to Hell, they needed to get him out. And if there's a Hell, it stands to reason there has to be a Heaven. "[The season 3 finale] was the gateway into this whole other world of angels and demons," executive producer Andrew Dabb says.

When it came time to spring Dean from Hell, it was Castiel, the show's first angel, who gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. But Castiel quickly established that he wasn't a typical cherubic angel. Many of the show's angels were, as Sam and Dean would put it, real dicks. “We have our own brand of angels and the idea that they were these warriors of God,” Singer says. “We introduced Castiel, and we just went from there. Heaven opened up different levels of angels.”

The moment Castiel spread his wings, the show expanded its universe. Castiel came bearing news of something much bigger: the Apocalypse, the ultimate showdown between good and evil-or more specifically between Archangels Michael and Lucifer. “We started with archangels and the idea that Lucifer was an archangel and was cast out of Heaven,” Singer says. “We certainly took some license, but it was all biblically grounded. We just took those things and went a step further to make them work for our story.”

From there the show explored all kinds of angels, from Zachariah and Naomi to Gabriel and Metatron, and, of course, it eventually arrived at God-or Chuck, if you prefer. “We didn't really know that Chuck was God when we first started with him," Singer says of introducing the character in season 4. (He wouldn't be revealed as God until season 11.) “That evolved. We wanted a relatable God, a God with foibles.”

Nine seasons later, what started as one angel in a trench coat has evolved into Lucifer, God, Leviathan and even a sister for God. “We play a little fast and loose with religion, but no one has really complained about it,” Singer says with a laugh. “So we'll just keep going.”

[pg 56-58]

CASTIEL Misha Collins

What can you say about the only member of Team Free Will who wears an overcoat? Cas has become a true member of the Winchester family.

[pg 61]

[chachacancan]

Some broad strokes about a Daemon!au or a bastardized HDM!au featuring Jason and the batfam:

When Jason dies, his daemon dies with him. But when Jason comes back to life, his daemon doesn’t, because daemons don’t leave bodies behind to return to; they turn to dust. So Jason digs his way out of his grave, stumbles across town, and nobody wants to help him, because he clearly has no daemon and it marks him as like, really strange, potentially dangerous, and in Gotham, that means “do not get involved”.

And let’s say, that Talia had somebody posted in Gotham to kinda listen in to the rumours because she wants to keep an eye out for Bruce. And then that contact catches the whispers that there’s this kid living rough in the streets that apprently has no daemon. He relays that information to Talia, and she’s curious, because as far as she knows, she’s only ever met one other person sans daemon, and it’s her father, who has repeatedly bathed in the Pit.

Talia recognizes Jason, surmises that he must’ve come back from the dead, and brings him to the League to try and fix him some. When Jason doesn’t come out from his catatonic state, Talia dunks him in the pit.

Enter a confused, hurting Jason that’s been run off from the League cause Ra’s is pissed, and who now has to deal with the reality that he’s died, and that he’s miraculously come back, and that his daemon (a significant part of his life, supposed to be the reflection of his soul) is still gone.

And the Joker is still alive.

And so this Jason is angry yes, but also kind of empty cause he feels like he’s missing part of himself. It hurts him to see the new Robin out there fighting crime, yeah, he feels betrayed and he feels like he was expendable, but it also hurts to see Tim Drake with his gorgeous eagle daemon alongside Bruce.

When Jason trains around the world he’s shunned because he doesn’t have his daemon with him. He sees people doing a double take, looking to the sky in case maybe his daemon’s a bird just flying overhead, or looking to his pockets cause some people have tiny daemons like field mice. He lets people think what they want, but it does bother him, no matter how nonchalant he tries to appear. It’s hard to be around people with daemons because it reminds him of what he’s lost, nevermind the fact that it constantly reminds him that the only person who can kinda sorta relate to him is Ra’s fucking Al Ghul. Full hurt, absolutely fuckall comfort at this point.

When Bruce realizes that Jason’s back, he doesn’t realize that his daemon’s gone — a big part of bat training is to learn how to distance yourself from your daemon (up to a kilometre!) because you can’t disguise a daemon, and because it’d be kinda suspicious if both the batman and Bruce Wayne have the exact same daemon at their side. So it isn’t unusual for the bats and the birds not to have their daemons in the vicinity. Bruce thinks Jason’s daemon lurks around at a distance, just like his own.

And the thing is, nobody realizes that Jason’s daemon is gone for a long time. It’s months after the “big confrontation”, and Jason’s more or less gotten over having a batarang thrown at his head. It’s when he and the family are tolerating each other, and it’s Alfred that realizes.

Say Jason’s injured on a patrol, can’t really do anything by himself, and Alfred’s put his foot down cause no grandson of his will starve because they’ve broken a few bones and are too stubborn to accept help, no sir. And Jason allows Alfred to come by his safe-house with supplies, and to help him change bandages and such.

So Alfred notices that Jason’s daemon isn’t around, and at first he thinks maybe she’s just wandering about, but the more be comes by, the more he realizes that she’s never around. And so he asks.

And Jason has to say that she didn’t come back when he did. Definitely a good cry here, and definitely a good hug too, because Jason deserves all the hugs. It’s the first time Jason acknowledges that his daemon is gone. There’s something final about saying it aloud.

Alfred snitches to Bruce because this is important information that Jason’s father should now, really.

Bruce of course, has no tact and goes to confront Jason about it. Then a cathartic discussion/screaming match between Jason and Bruce (as you do) where they both admit to some wrongs, but mostly it’s Bruce understanding that Jason isn’t just angry, he’s grieving. Bruce lost his son, and Jason lost everything — even his daemon.

Jason’s never going to be the kid Bruce remembers, and he certainly can’t be whole ever again, so he doesn’t care what Bruce thinks killing is doing to him or his psyche or his morality anyways. That’s what Jason thinks. And Bruce? Bruce can’t accept that. Because despite having changed — having grown up — Jason has so much Jason in him still. And he might’ve lost his daemon, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s still Bruce’s son, damnit. And Bruce is a stubborn old bastard who doesn’t know when to back off.

I don’t know how I’d end this honestly. I feel like Jason returning to the batfamily right away would be a non sequitur. He’s spent so long on his own. But maybe Jason mellows a bit after that. He doesn’t have to hide as much now that the cat’s out of the bag, and it’s good that he socializes more now. Maybe he finds that he isn’t as hollow inside as he thought. Maybe he starts feeling good about it all once in a while, and that’s progress, and eventually he finds he doesn’t mind being around people and their daemons that much anymore.

Maybe he heals just a little.

[deepdonutkid]

Tracing a shadow - part 2

Pairing: None

Requested: No

Word Count: 2822 words

Warnings: Drug use mentioned, underage drinking

Summary:  Michael getting drunk and sad about the death of his big sister Anna.

Author’s Note:  Maybe there is going to be a third part, where Anna lives... but I still not sure about this.

And virtual kisses and hugs for every like, reblog, comment or else! 

Do not repost my work

A week was all it took for him to learn the truth. At first he was reluctant to ask, but after they had visited Polly’s new and suburban house, he knew that nobody else was home but Polly, the maid and him.

While waiting for the maid to bring the food, Polly said something that upset him. He looked just like his father and he didn’t know what to do with this piece of information. Should he be proud to look like the man who had beaten him? Michael bit his lip and stood silent. There were no words suitable for this situation.

Polly seemed to notice and explain how his biological father had died, smashed between the canal and the boot. Michael didn’t care about this. In fact he had already expected something similar. It was too quiet around the house. The presence of his father would have been noticeable.

He had no hard feelings about his death. The few memories about his father weren’t actually nice. So there was nothing to grieve about. And anyway, who said that he needed a father? Especially a father like this. Michael was almost a man and he survived this hell of a mess called his life all on his own.

But then after two days of staying at the house, he became jittery. There was a purpose for his arrival and he needed to fulfill it. Obviously, Anna wasn’t here, when Tommy did his research, maybe he didn’t just look for Michael but also for the long lost daughter of Elisabeth Gray. Or Polly knew something.

Well, this was speculated, but he wouldn’t give up and go, before he’d even tried. So he started looking around the house. Anything from her could be helpful.

Five days later, Michael went up to the house in the watery lane. There was something strange about this place and he hated every minute he had to spend there, but Polly was gone to work, so he could search unimpeded.

Soon he realized that his mother had vanished every evidence about her children around the house. It did hurt, but he could understand her. To lose custody was her lowest point. She told him something like this. At least she’d acknowledged that. This couldn’t heal his old scares, he knew, but it eased the pain. He told himself she changed for the better. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stayed.

The last room was their old chamber, Anna’s and his. He avoided going in there, but there was no way around it. Cold sweat ran down his back, when he stared at the door. Feeling the cold door handle in his hand made him gulp. His anxiety went through the roof.

Everything was still the same. He could tell that by first sight. In opposing corners were their beds. The bear figure from grandfather stood on the dresser. Anna loved playing with it. Being in this room was horrible for him. All the memories of her and his childhood rushed over him, crushed him to bits and pieces.

Suddenly he felt sick, almost like puking. He couldn’t be in this room anymore. Furthermore he was stupid to believe there was a hint about her whereabouts. Nobody was in there for years. Everything was dusted and it sort of looked like a shrine.

His feet took him out, faster than he could think. When the door was closed again, he was relieved. Without looking back, he hurried downstairs, mostly to get away from this nightmare, but also because he heard Polly entering the house.

‘Oh, you are here?’ she asked. Her eyes widened as she glared at him. Of course Polly expected him to be in the nice house with the ham and the maid and not here with his crumbled childhood memories.

Michael coughed slightly and nodded. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find any good explanation for his behavior.  Then he fumbled his hands in his pockets and faced the floor. It was like she caught him, but with was exactly? It was not a crime going into what used to be his room.

With his new found courage he declared: ‘I was upstairs in my old chamber.’ He signed, peeked at the big clock right behind Polly and then back to her. ‘I mean… Anna’s and mine.’

Polly’s mimic was somewhere between hurt and thunderstruck. He caught her off-guard just by saying her name. This was no good sign at all. Michael got the impression there was something she kept from him. He was no child anymore and she from all the people should know that. If there was some secret about his sister, he needed to know.

‘Where is she anyway?’ he dug deeper, regardless of her feelings. The tears filled her eyes and gave him a scare. Her hands were covering her mouth, as she mumbled: ‘You really want to know this now?’

Again he nodded but with the stoic calm of a child that has already been broken. Now the sadness hit him too. The world lost its color while she explained it to him. His heart ached. He couldn’t stand hearing about her death.

Suddenly his body felt numb. Her words were muted as his world began to shatter. Michael closed his eyes, so he wouldn’t cry, but it didn’t matter as the tears found their way out anyway. There was nothing he could do about it. Everything felt just so useless. Why was he even here? And why did he wait so long to ask?

Polly stumbled into him, probably with the intention of a hug, but Michael refused. Without a blink he pushed her away. Everything seemed to hurt him now, even the simple touch. A tear rolled down and hit his shirt. ‘I need to be alone right now’, was the last thing he said before storming off.

He just couldn’t stand how Polly looked at him and to top it off she wanted to nurture him. That was the last thing he needed. Outside he first didn’t know where to go, but before he should make one more step in any direction, he wiped off the wetness from his cheeks.

His head tilted as he stared at the greyish sky of bad old Birmingham. Suddenly he knew which way to go. Michael made his plan. It arranged itself in his mind, piece by piece.

First he went straight to the Garrison. There he greeted Henry with a dull voice and asked for liquor, cigarettes and a matchbook. For Tommy, he said, knowingly that this request couldn’t be denied. He had learned already, that his family was somehow the unholy rulers of this rotten empire. It was not like he had something against that. Actually it was quite useful. Being Elisabeth Gray’s son had his benefits. Without a second ask the barkeeper put a whole bottle, three packages of cigarettes and some matches on the counter. The whole time Michael’s face stood bland. He took everything with him and left in silence.

Now his pace wasn’t confident as he headed towards the fields just at edge of town. He should know the way, but his memory was blurred. In his head played a scene of Anna and him running around a willow which stood near a creek. Actually he didn’t had a good reason to search for this spot, but something in his gut commanded him to.

Somehow he reached his destination. Michael wasn’t so sure this was the same tree his sister liked so much, but it didn’t really matter, as she wasn’t here to argue with him and she never would be. He just wanted to feel near her, but that was impossible, so he went with the next best thing.

As if his body lost the last bits of energy he slumped down. In the mud he sat, unsure with what he should start; crying, smoking or drinking. He had never done this stuff, but now he needed to. Everything ached and especially his throat was bone dry. So he went with the whiskey first. How much he hated the taste of it. The burning feeling in his chest expanded and the liquor left bitterness on his lips and tongue.

Just like he had a task list to do, he put the bottle away and fumbled in his jacket for the cigarettes. Michael hated smoking even more than drinking but he still remembered how Anna stole mum’s fags for the whole purpose of acting so adult. ‘Butt me.’, demanded a squeaky voice in his head. It was Anna crossing his mind again and again.

With shaky hands he tried to light his cigarette. Out here in the field it was too windy so he moved closer to the tree. It finally worked, but even the few drags made him cough terribly. He leaned against the bark and started to blubber. While he walked here, he could still stifle his feelings, but now they wrecked him.

Everything was pushing him down, more than ever. The sadness took him hostage. He was so up his mind, that he noticed the cigarette on his leg too late. Now there was not only a hole in his pants but also a burn on his skin. With all his might he slammed the cigarette butt in the grass next to him. He didn’t need those anyway.

Somehow he was sad and angry and full of doubts, too much to handle for him all on his own. He needed her now, but Anna was gone and she wouldn’t come back ever again. Michael knew that but he refused to accept this. How could she be dead when they made an oath to finally be reunited again? She swore it and now… He was here, but she was not.

He was unable to grasp it. Her death seemed so unreal and yet it did happen. Polly told him the truth, she wouldn’t have lied. If there had been any chance Anna was still alive, she would have told him so. But then again… how?

‘She tried coming back even after she was adopted by another family, so they took her around the globe, where she couldn’t run. There she died.’ That was Polly’s explanation, but it wasn’t enough for Michael. He needed to know how. It would haunt him over and over again, if he didn’t know the details. In his head he imagined every possible way it could have happened, which just made it worse.

Anna’s face kept messing with him. He still remembered her brown eyes, that daring grin, that could win everybody over and how her auburn brown hair framed her face. His sister had glowing skin from all the days she spent outdoors with grandpa. She had a captivating presence and she’d known how to use it. How easily she could charm people. This would apply to animals too. Anna had something bold to her and god, she feared nothing. Nobody could intimidate her. That’s what he treasured the most about her.

As a child he had so much to fear. He was scared about everything and anything, but Anna had protected him. His big sister was hero and he thought she was invincible. She put up a fight with Arthur, who was at that time already two heads taller than her, just because she wanted her cousins to take her seriously. And after that they did. She incited John to steal money from his parents, which ended horrible. Everything she did and everything she was astonishing. There just was something about her, something so light and mesmerizing. How could she have been bought to her knees by a simple disease? 

Now her light was out and Michael would never see it again. That insight hit him hard. His eyes were already red and swollen, but he couldn’t stop crying, even though he struggled for air. After all he still was a child and until now there was still something that hadn’t broken. This final piece shattered too and he would never be the same person. After all this pain he had been though, he thought in the end everything would work out for him and they would meet again. He still had the glimpse of hope, but that was gone, just like her.

Would she still look the same today? Or maybe she would have changed? Wore her hair short by now? Probably she would have been a blinder too. The flat cap with the razor blades would have suited her and she always had liked to mess with people, especially with Tommy. Anna laughed her ass off every time she successfully made Tommy mad. He fought a lot with her, but Michael liked to think, that his cousin still cared about her. 

Suddenly he had a clear picture in his mind how she would look by now and it fucked him up completely. She should have lived. He needed her. How could he survive without her? And even though he knew that she was dead, there still was a part in him, that didn’t want to believe this. But that was just denial, the first stage of grief.  Michael knew this, not that he could do something about this. Instead he just sat there and drank. He drowned so much whiskey despite the horrible taste, but it numbed the pain.

‘Why you?’ he sobbed: ‘You promised to come back. Why did you leave me alone?’ His sister wouldn’t hear his words, but he needed to say them.  ‘What happened? You said to me, you would come back and save me. You know what they did to me. To us and then you were gone. They shouldn’t have given you to this horrible family. We should be together.’ His voice was accusing, even though there were no judges or benches. A fire burned in his chest. He demanded answers, but he wouldn’t get any.

‘Why did they break us apart? We were better together- a team.’ Michael mumbled into the void. ‘I needed you and you needed me. Why? God, why? I just…’ The words kept blubber out of him. Now he cried even uglier. ‘I… I… I just… can’t… can’t believe that you… are gone… and how?’ Thinking about this made him crazy. His own thoughts choked him and he let it happen. ‘Were you all alone? And where did it happen? Did you have any friends? Did someone hold your hand when you had died? Were you scared? Did you cry? I don’t fucking know and it kills me.’

 Michael was drunk by now, but he didn’t feel any better. Actually it has gotten worse. The wind on the field was cold and he didn’t take his coat while rushing off. Now it was fucking freezing and he was all alone. The sky was getting darker and he could tell that the rain could start any time now, but he still hadn’t the power to move, not even an inch.

His tears had stopped and now he was just sad. God, he must have made a terrible impression, with the red face and the unkempt hair. While crying he had rubbed his face so much, that it hurt. While he sat here he ripped out some grass and watched it flowing in the wind. Downside to that was the grass all over him. Michael brushed it off his pants and then grabbed to bottle. When he drank it, he became so sick, he almost puked. In his anger he threw the bottle away.

There was nothing in him. The fire burned down and now it was just a pile of ashes. He felt empty and numb, which was relieving compared to the pain from before. It must have been hours, he had been sitting here. Michael was just tired, too tired to move a finger. Then everything got blurry and dark as his eyes closed.

When someone woke him up, much later that evening, he almost forgot where he was. ‘Fuck, you smell like schnapps. Pol is going to kill me!’ grumbled a familiar voice.

His head hurt like hell and Michael couldn’t think straight. The surroundings flickered before his eyes. He sounded so hoarse when he blurred out a ‘What?’

‘She sent everybody to look for you. She thought you went back to the other family.’ Explained John and hefted his cousin up. During this procedure Michael moaned like stubborn child. He didn’t want to go back and he certainly didn’t want to see Polly, but he didn’t have much of a choice. John dragged him back to the Watery Lane.

‘Did you really want to scoop?’ he asked. Michael didn’t know a lot about their world, but he already made the decision to stay. It was what Anna would have wanted.

‘No’ he replied: ‘Unfortunately… you guys have to bear me a little longer.’

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Whumptober Day 19: It Ended As It Began

Summary: Written for Whumptober Day 19. Post-Httyd 2. It ends as it began, the two of them against a dragon greater than life. In the aftermath, the Riders search for their friend and leader. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS.

Rating: Explicit

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Tuffnut

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Words: 1 638

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Grief”

Whumpee: Everyone

Author’s Notes: Written in the span of a day for the Whumptober prompt: Grief.

Probably not for the sensitive.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Ao3

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

It was by the defeat of a giant dragon that it began and so it is how it ended.

With the end of the Red Death and the Good Bewilderbeast of the Sanctuary, it is only natural that a new challenger would come to try to take the throne they left behind. The one manning it was a Night Fury, it's only natural that he thought he could win, unaware that it is this Night Fury and his Rider that ended the Cruel Queen of the North.

He was a Bewilderbeast and one very much unlike the gentle King that tragically lost his life in defense of his nest. He wasn't like Drago's either, an abused animal forced to do his bidding after years of abuse and conditioning. This one had come with ambitious intentions and he was willing to do anything to succeed.

He was young and in his prime, just fully grown and ready to take on the entire world. Unfortunately for him, a boy and his dragon were all that it took.

It's not like Hiccup and Toothless wanted to slay this one. When he came to challenge Berk's Dragon King, they tried the peaceful approach. On Dragon Island they met and there they tried the diplomatic way as dragons know of diplomacy, it just doesn't look the same as the way humans do it.

Too stubborn to let this go, the Bewilderbeast demanded a fight, thinking it was already won. And as things got violent and it became clear it was either him or them, they chose themselves.

Both parties got the last hit in. Toothless' last blast, well-aimed and strong, had torn the challenger apart on the inside. And the challenger's last pillars of ice had knocked them out of the sky.

It was agony for the Dragon Riders to be forced to stay on the sidelines. As it were Hiccup and Toothless, especially, who had been challenged, they were expected to do the fight by themselves.

Despite this, they had faith. They've defeated the Red Death at the young age of 15 and that was only the beginning of the things they've achieved and done. They had faith that the unbeatable duo would make it through this one as well.

But then they were taken out, too, and there was something about this crash that made it seem different from all the rest.

That is why, tear-stained and in a hurry, that they run towards Hiccup now.

After searching the beach that has become the site of another battle, a labyrinth after all the ice that has been spewn, they have finally found their Chief.

"Hiccup. Hiccup!" Astrid calls out to her husband, her legs carrying her as fast as they will go.

He's lying motionless on the snow-covered ground, on his front and facing away from them. All five of them run like they've never run before.

Before they can reach him, there's movement and for a moment he seems miraculously okay as he tries to get up on his hands and knees.

But only for a moment and the Riders aren't even given a chance to be overcome with a false sense of relief before it is taken away from them. Because even though Hiccup manages to get up on all fours, he lurches and throws up what can only be blood.

"Hiccup!" Astrid's call rises and she runs faster than she's ever run before to reach him. The sound of his coughing and retching becomes louder as she throws herself to her knees next to him, her hands landing on his shoulders.

He startles before he takes one of her hands and feels around until his blood-covered one reaches her cheek.

"Hiccup, what's wrong?" She asks, wondering what may be the matter besides the obvious. Why is he acting like this? Like he can't see?

"A-A-A" He tries to speak, tries to say her name while his eyes stare right through her from a face filled with pain.

Her name refuses to leave him and he collapses in her arms. She catches him and holds him close, the others arrive.

"Oh Gods, what's wrong with him?" Someone asks, watching as blood doesn't just cover his mouth and teeth, but comes out of his nose and ears, too. The crash had been devastating.

At this point, as the Riders settle on their knees around Hiccup, they don't know which would've been better, but they find the fact that he's still alive disturbing. Because the amount of blood leaving him as he coughs and wheezes is concerning.

Fishlegs reaches over, brushes Hiccup's hair out of his eyes before waving a hand in front of him. He doesn't respond and that means they can only come to one conclusion.

Astrid, Fishlegs, Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, they all share a look as horrible realization sets in.

"Hey Hiccup, Babe, you're going to be okay. We're going to get you back home and Gothi will look after you. She'll make sure you'll be okay." Astrid tells him, holding him to her and stroking his cheek.

He doesn't respond to that either and they're left to wonder what exactly that means.

"I-I-I-I-I-It's-It's-It's-" Hiccup tries again and again to speak, to utter a single word, but nothing will come out. Nothing but more coughing.

"What should we do?" Snotlout asks, oddly enough too distressed to react much. They have to do something to help him, sitting around in the snow isn't going to do much.

Fishlegs may have an idea as he makes another move, loosening Hiccup's armor enough to help him feel around underneath, the movement confuses him.

"W-w-"

"Hiccup, there's something I need to check. Please brace yourself." Fishlegs tells him before finding his abdomen to touch and feel around. Despite his warning, Hiccup still cries out in pain and surprise, completely taken off guard. They all cringe at his anguish and Snotlout has to take his hands when he wants to stop Fishlegs, not understanding what's being done to him.

"Shh, it's okay, Hiccup. Fishlegs is trying to help you." He tells him, raising his voice in a fruitless attempt to help him hear him.

Now undisturbed, Fishlegs continues his examination of Hiccup's stomach only for it to be rock hard. It is filled with blood, his insides a torn-up mess.

Even if they were on Berk, nothing could be done to help him.

Fishlegs communicates this with a single devastated look and the news sinks in for the other four.

"No..." Astrid whispers, her tears from before returning.

"What?! No! There has to be something we can do!" Tuffnut protests. They can't just give up on him like this!

"We can't just give up on him! Hiccup deserves better!" Ruffnut sniffs, her voice breaking.

Fishlegs removes his hands from Hiccup's person and the latter lifts a hand. His arm trembles as it takes effort to even move it.

"T-T-T-T-" He tries to say his dragon's name, pointing towards where he thinks Toothless must be. He thinks and they know it's completely in the opposite direction because they found him before they found Hiccup. It's the reason why they were crying before they even spotted him in the snow.

They are without their dragons because they didn't want to leave Toothless alone. Not even now that he's... And it turns out Hiccup is about to follow him.

His hand drops as he loses the strength to keep it up. It falls to the snow and Fishlegs picks it up to hold in his own. Snotlout lays his hands on his shoulder and an arm, squeezing to let him know that he's not alone. Ruffnut takes his free hand and Tuffnut lays a hand on his knee to tell him everyone is here.

Feeling them near him, as if only now realizing what they've already realized, Hiccup lays his head on his wife's shoulder and cries silently. The tears run down his face, but there's not a sob and barely a sniff.

He's accepting it. There's nothing that can be done and fighting this fact will only bring more unnecessary grief. The worst part is that he's still hoping his best Bud will at least be okay without him.

Nobody says a word as they wait, barely noticing the cold as it can never compare to what they feel on the inside. It wouldn't be of much use either, Hiccup can't hear or see them.

Lying against the love of his life, head on her warm shoulder, Hiccup's eyes slowly fall close.

"It's okay, you can go. We'll be fine, Berk will be fine. You did great as Chief and Dragon Rider, you can go now." Though he can't hear a word she says, she still sends these reassurances to him and hopes he'll be able to hear them in Valhalla. She places a kiss on his forehead and hopes he'll still be able to feel it.

He stills, his wheezing coming slower and slower. He becomes limp and heavier in Astrid's arms until he's completely slack.

They hold their breath as Fishlegs removes the chest piece to have a listen. When he draws back, there's a grieving look on his face.

"He's gone."

They all burst out in tears. Sobbing, they come closer together and hold each other as they cry. They can hear their dragons doing the same in the distance.

The only comfort they have is that Hiccup and Toothless left Midgard together as they were meant to. They are sure to be accepted as valiant heroes in Valhalla and welcomed by the greatest warriors Viking and dragon kind have ever known. And Hiccup, he'll see his father again.

In time, when their turn comes, they'll be able to see them again, too. He'll be waiting for them, they know he will.

[marshmallowprotection]

Calluna

Link: Read on AO3

Pairing: Saeran Choi/Reader

Fairytale AU.

Description:

The Prince has been bound to the castle walls, and he’s never been able to leave from it. The only place that he has to escape to are the books that he reads and the garden that he’s allowed to venture into every evening. But, what happens when he encounters someone that has eyes that know a world unlike his own?

Inspired by a drawing by @sensetenou​

Chapter Index

Chapter One: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Two: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Three: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Four: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Five: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Six: Here! | AO3

Chapter Six

Ray felt bad about what he had said. He hadn’t meant to damage your pride or make you feel like you couldn’t handle yourself.

He knew that you had lived a life so different than his, and he just felt like it would be easy to give you your freedom with the wave of his hand. He had never thought that it would make you feel as though you owed him in the same way you owed whoever was dangling a string over your head in the first place.

It made sense, though.

You may have had a quick-witted tongue and you may have known how to take someone down before they knew what hit them, but you didn’t strike him as the type that would steal from the castle, no, it was easier to hit lower scores than it was to tempt fate with the highest power in the land. You may have been chasing money in the wrong places, but that didn’t mean you were Icarius.

He didn’t imagine you to be someone that kept dreaming bigger and bigger in your schemes, no, it had to be whoever held the debt over your head.

He had no idea who such a person would be to do that to you nor did he know how you came to owe a debt in the first place. He imagined that it might have been out of your choosing, some people had no choice or say in how their environment was and you could have been thrust into crime as a child. It was hard for a prince to imagine the life of the common people.

Where he imagined freedom, it was very likely that the freedom he idolized was hidden under a layer of reality. The truth was, the world wasn’t as kind and caring as it always seemed in his storybooks and he knew that, but he tried to focus on how things could become better and how the queen promised that things were getting better and better.

Yet, how could it be better if the crime she claimed not to exist was still rampant?

She had not told him directly about the theft of the jewels, he wasn’t sure if she knew that he had been outside at the time or not. If it had been utterly important, she might have told him. It seemed odd to him that she hadn’t brought it up at all considering how important gems and priceless items were to her idealized kingdom.

These were a token from the people that cemented their status in the clouds amongst the Gods.

Not that Ray really felt that way. He didn’t think that a king should put himself so high, he never heard a story of his father doing such things. The castle had always been open and he had always made the people feel at home.

It wasn’t until his death that the walls had been closed up tightly, anyway, and given how soon his ceremony was coming…

He hoped to be able to bring these customs back and make the people happy as can be. The queen had been grieving for a long time and now, in the coming week, she would be able to take a step back from her hard work and help him transition to power, only focusing on her program to unite more of the neighboring countries while he focused on the homeland.

He may not have been able to grasp freedom but he would bring it to the people, no matter what got in the way. After seeing how bound you were to your chains to a collector, he wanted nothing more than to get rid of the debt that held the people down. His first order as king would be to pay off everything that anyone owed.

You might have been angry with him for it, you might have even never spoken to him again for it, but he wanted to pay you back with his greatest kindness after you had shown him that the world could be a wonderful place. He understood that so many people worked till their hands bleed to keep their oath and promise; Now, he wanted to give everyone what you had given him, a chance to feel free and a chance to follow their dreams.

It wasn’t an insult to you, nor your pride.

When the queen informed him that in one week’s time, his ceremony to ascend the throne would take place, his only thought was of you and what he could do for his people. If he was to be forever bound to the palace, he would make sure that no person ever felt the way that he did, trapped with nowhere to run to. Freedom would be the order of the land.

Idealistic, sure, but who was he but the king’s son?

Once you were free from your debts, he hoped that you would still come to see him time from time, but he would accept if you didn’t. Just the notion that you could be free to travel the seas and land was enough for him to feel happy and at peace with his choices. He just didn’t have the heart to tell you his plan just yet. He had something to ask of you first.

So, Ray patiently awaited your next visit. He came by the outer walls every day to read and plan his next steps as he waited for you to come and come you did. You slid down from the stone wall and took your seat next to him as he hummed methodically, sketching out another rose from memory. You smiled at him and his heart felt tight.

“Welcome back,” he murmured.

“I’m happy to see you again,” you told him, softly. He was buzzing with the idea that you felt joyful. It was everything that he could have asked for, and every moment spent with you made him feel more alive and aware than he ever had before. Ray offered you his free hand and you graciously took it, the two of you just sitting together with your back to the wall, watching as the clouds rolled over the blue sky.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not looking at you. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

“And, I never meant to make you feel as if you had done something wrong,” you said. “I understand that you were just trying to give me a token of your kindness, Ray. I’m not upset about it. I talked it out with a friend of mine. I think… I think I understand better now.”

Even though his hand was tucked away inside of a glove, he could feel the way your palms trembled against his. “A friend?”

Your smile didn’t dissipate, “More like my brother, honestly. He looked after me when I… got involved with that life. He’s not in this life anymore, he paid off his debt and he’s chasing his dreams like a mad man. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him you’re the prince. He just thinks you’re my closest and most dear person.”

His heart fluttered once more. He was the dearest person to your heart? He didn’t even realize it, but he was squeezing your hand tightly now, not wanting to let go and let this moment end far too soon without some sort of relief. Despite himself, he was smiling because he felt so proud to be someone you trusted.

“I’m… dear to you?” he breathed, barely above a whisper.

A laugh escaped your lips. It made him crave more. “Yes…  I would say so, Ray. It’s like I can be myself with you, and not worry about what people think about me. You haven’t judged me for a single second and you’ve only tried to do right by me. I dare say that makes you someone very close to my heart if you know what I mean.”

Ray didn’t. But, he wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about you that there was to know and he wanted to see you shine. He knew that you were meant for something great in this life and he hoped that you would one day see it with your own eyes, even if he didn’t dare get the chance to know what it was that you wanted.

“You’re very special to me, too,” Ray murmured. “I don’t know how different things may be if I had never gotten the chance to get to know you. I’m glad that I took a chance on you. I hope that you feel the same way about it.”

It was the truth.

You had given him and told him things that nobody else ever would. You didn’t see the noble prince when you looked at him, you just saw Ray, and that was all he ever wanted. He knew you but at the same time, he didn’t know you.

It confounded him, spurned him, and pushed him to want more and more. You never told him no, you simply kept pushing forward every step that he took. What was this feeling? Why did it feel hard to go and breathe now?

When Ray turned his head to look at you, he realized just how close you were to him, and just how close your lips were to his own. He was enraptured by the glimmer in your half-lidded eyes and he could do nothing but exhale a shallow breath.

It was like the world came to a standstill and you were the only thing that mattered.

“Ray?” you tentatively asked him, and he looked at you, looked at the way your free hand had come to cup his cheek.  He was underneath your spell and these walls couldn’t stop him from touching you or seeing you. “Is this okay?”

The question took him a moment to understand. He was far too fixated on looking at your features and tracing the shape of your lips and your cheeks. Ray wanted to remember this and he wanted to keep your face in his mind forever, just like this. If he could have made this moment last forever then this would be the moment he wanted to be painted.

“This?” he echoed, raising his hand to rest atop your own.

“Yes,” you said. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” he said, never once looking away from you. “Is your heart… beating as fast as mine is?”

“Let’s find out.” You lessened the space between the two of you in an instant, capturing his lips on your own. It was a fleeting kiss but it felt like fire and like it would last forever. You tasted faintly of something sweet on his tongue. The wild beating in his chest only quickened, proving to him that you felt everything he was feeling and more.

By the time that you pulled away, his lungs ached for air but he wanted to deny them longer. You kept your hold on his face, pressing your forehead against his own. “Forgive me,” you murmured. “I don’t know if you wanted that.”

His wide green eyes couldn’t look away from you. Ray shook his head, “No, no… I wanted that too. I wanted that a great deal. Do not apologize for that. If I were a braver man, I… I would ask for more, my sparrow.”

You laughed, a playful sound as he called you the moniker that had been gifted to you. He forgot everything he knew that moment as his world clouded with his affection for you that he now very well understood to be a passion, and perhaps something more than that. It was then that it occurred to him that he had a question to propose.

Ray murmured your name, your true name, so very softly. It caught your attention and softened those eyes of yours impossibly so. This tender secret in which you had given him was something that he very much treasured. “Listen, there is to be a ceremony in a week’s time, and I… I wanted to ask you if you would like to come.”

“Inviting the thief who stole your crown jewels to the party, are you?” that teasing smile on your lips only ensnared him more. “How very brazen of you. Ray, I don’t know if even you could cover for me if that was the case.”

He shook his head. “It’s a masquerade. No one will see your face nor know who you are at the party, you will merely be [Y/N] and not the trickster sparrow. You’re my guest, invited by me, and we can be together without the watchful eye of the guard. What do you say, my dear? Will you accompany me for the night per my request?”

The faint heat of blush against his cheeks was very strong, but he was biting back the urge to stutter and run away from his question. He feared if you said, but he also feared if you said yes. There was so much in the answer that he could only wait for you to make up your mind. Instead of giving him a direct answer, you merely leaned forward and brushed your lips to his cheek.

“Normally, I would turn down a wealthy suitor,” you teased. “But, since it is you, my prince, I will make an exception for you.”

You said yes.

Ray swallowed his nerves and gently pressed a small parcel into your hands. “Wear this,” he told you in a soft voice. “As long as you are wearing this mask, I will know it to be you.”

[kae-karo]

freeing icarus (dabihawks)

i won’t even pretend this is happy. i’m so sorry in advance (nobody dies it’s just Sad)

freeing icarus - 1.7k - G

tags: angst, introspection, basically dabi’s thoughts on some of the stuff in the most recent chapters, implied past dabihawks relationship, no happy ending i just wanted y’all to suffer with me

[read on ao3]

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Dabi thought he could change Keigo’s mind.

Years. Years ago, he’d had some sway, perhaps. When they were both young and naive and Keigo looked at Dabi with stars in his eyes and a grin on his lips and said he’d follow Dabi wherever, to the ends of the earth, and then he’d wrap his arms around Dabi and hold on tight and launch them both off into space. They could fly through the universe together, twist and spin and dive among the stars.

Dabi can’t look up at the night sky without thinking about him.

He’d run away, Dabi had run, just like he had with Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto. And Rei. He’d run, because staying nearly killed him time and time again.

Leaving had nearly killed him, too. In more ways than one.

He did what he had to do, or so he tells himself when nightmares haunt his every step. And it had left him like this: burnt, destroyed, unrecognizable even to Keigo. He became someone that Keigo watched only with distrust and the eyes of a spy trained for too long under the Commission’s influence.

And damn Dabi for his naivety, but he thought he could change Keigo’s mind.

He thought he could show Keigo just how twisted the Commission was, how they’d tried to twist Keigo too. That Keigo was better than that, that he was so much smarter than to fall under the Commission’s thumb and remain there without a fight. Keigo had always been the cleverer of the two of them, witty to the point of pissing off half their supervising team and fearless in the face of whatever punishment they deemed fitting for his insolence.

And Dabi had loved it - the wit, not watching Keigo suffer. His unerring pride and smirk in the face of whatever they threw at him. A confidence, a strength that Dabi had never possessed. Had only envied at first, then come to adore.

They’d broken him, broken the bird who had dared to stand up to them. Dabi had hoped, had so desperately hoped he could bring back the Keigo he knew.

And then Keigo had turned up with a duffel bag. Had shown Dabi the body inside. Had given him that cold, stone-faced expression. Then a smirk, but without any amusement in his eyes.

Dabi couldn’t speak to him for a week. Couldn’t even think about him, about the person he’d become. Is it fair, though, to hold Keigo to who he used to be all those years ago? Dabi’s own hands certainly aren’t free of blood.

Still, his stomach had twisted itself in knots, and it took more effort than he’d care to admit to keep his expression neutral as he took the bag from Keigo’s hands.

He thought he could remind Keigo of who he was. He had so naively believed the Keigo he knew still lurked beneath the surface. That the face he wore was nothing but a facade for the sharp-tongued, confident, good Keigo hiding beneath the surface. Buried, but not gone.

And Dabi could dig, could claw at that surface until his fingers bled. Would do it for Keigo, to see that light again.

But days and weeks and months passed, and Keigo remained the stone-faced, cold-hearted spy, willing to do whatever it took, whatever Dabi asked of him so flippantly to ‘prove his loyalty’. No hesitation to his actions.

Dabi had hoped, for a brief moment, that the way he’d fought to save Endeavor meant his heart still beat inside his chest, that Keigo was not lost to the Commission yet. Was not lost to doing whatever Dabi demanded, whatever horrible acts he requested as proof of his fealty.

And he’d befriended Twice - a ploy, Dabi knew on the surface, but deep down...god, he’d thought perhaps Keigo wasn’t who he pretended to be. That he was still the boy with wings and a bright smile and dreams too big to be contained by the gilded cage the Commission built for him. For him and Dabi both.

Dabi should’ve stayed. Fuck, if he’d stayed, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe he could’ve held Keigo’s hand, pulled him back from the pressures the Commission placed on his shoulders. Could’ve reminded him who he was, who he is.

He refuses, even now, to believe Keigo is lost.

But at the time, Dabi had run, because he didn’t know - hadn’t wanted to know what the Commission could do. That they could break Keigo the way they did, that they could turn him into this…

The same Keigo who had once found Dabi curled up in the corner of his room, nightmares both real and imagined hounding him in the early hours of the morning. Who had settled down beside him, tucked a small wing around his shoulders and pulled him in close. Who had told him that the world would be better one day, that they would make it better together, and that Dabi’s nightmares couldn’t hurt him.

That Keigo wouldn’t let those bad things get to Dabi, not ever. That he’d protect Dabi.

And Dabi had believed him. Had never, not in a thousand years, imagined that Keigo would be the nightmare that Dabi faced. That his feather blade would point in Dabi’s direction, would haunt Dabi’s waking hours and chase him in his sleep until that sleep no longer left him rested.

In those hours that Dabi had not slept, he’d thought - god, so naively - that he could remind Keigo who he was, who he really was. That, even if Keigo didn’t recognize him, he could bring out the real Keigo. The mischievous grins, the wild dreams, the laughter so infectious Dabi still hears it sometimes, years and years later, inside the safety of his mind.

He could get Keigo to laugh like that again, he’d thought. Hoped. Dreamed.

And maybe he could do it without telling Keigo who he was, reminding him that Dabi had run. Had left Keigo behind, left him to the beasts at the Commission. That he’d allowed the Commission to take Keigo and twist him, break him, turn him into their pawn.

Dabi should’ve known, of course he should’ve known what the Commission could do. He’d certainly known what they’d nearly done to Dabi himself. And he’d left anyway, made his great escape and let Keigo believe him dead. Let the world believe him dead, let the Commission believe him dead. They wouldn’t grieve.

He didn’t want to know if Keigo had.

A horrible thought had crossed his mind, once, in the sleepless hours of the early morning: had Dabi’s ‘death’ been the nail in the coffin for Keigo? The beginning of his end, the moment the Commission had gained control over him? Had it been, even more than he imagined, Dabi’s fault?

In that moment, in that terrible, aching moment, he’d resolved himself to fix what he’d done, what he’d caused. The Commission, they had a stranglehold grip on Keigo, on the real Keigo. Dabi’s certain it remains beneath the surface.

It must, it has to, or Dabi is lost as well. He has to believe that Keigo is still there, still desperate to spread his wings and fly away.

Ironic, given what Dabi will have to do to free him from their grasp.

He doesn’t let himself think as he stands over Keigo, his body curled up into itself, the tattered remains of his wings still smoldering.

Wide eyes meet Dabi’s, pleading. Broken. Suffering. Keigo is suffering, he has been for so long. And it’s all Dabi’s fault.

But he can fix that, can do this horrible thing that has to be done to give Keigo his escape.

So he grins, wild and manic - let Keigo believe him a villain. Let him think that this had been done by someone with no remorse. Let him forget Touya, let him forget the long nights spent in each other’s company, in each others’ arms. Let him forget the comfort, hands held as they stood against an evil far greater than the League had ever been. Let Keigo direct his anger, his sorrow, at Dabi. Let that rage replace any love he ever had, let him feel nothing but hate for Dabi, if it eases the burden Dabi is about to place on him.

If Dabi could cry right now, he would.

He burns, then, flames blisteringly hot as he directs them at Keigo’s back. They burn against his own hands, too, but it’s a price he’s willing to pay. A price he’ll pay it over and over again if it means he can set Keigo free. Dabi wishes, with his entire being, that he could bear this burden instead. That he could leave Keigo’s wings alone, let them grow back, and that Keigo could be free anyway.

But he can’t, because the Commission would never let their weapon go. He’s too valuable, an asset and a pawn they can’t afford to set free. So Dabi burns those beautiful, magnificent wings, and he buries his heart deep in his chest, locks it away and does not let the pain in Keigo’s eyes touch it.

“Who are you?” Keigo demands, because he still doesn’t know. He still sees the villain that Dabi has become, that he had to become. That he has to be now, for Keigo, because he couldn’t bring Keigo back on his own. He wasn’t enough, was never enough.

Keigo had been the fire between the two of them, the one that shone and flickered and lit up the night. A bright, beautiful star where Dabi had only been a black hole. He supposes it’s fitting, then, that he is the one to destroy Keigo. He was only ever built to tear the world apart.

“My name is Touya.”

Keigo’s eyes go wide, and Dabi mourns. He lets Keigo’s fear, his recognition wash over him like a wave. He lets it drown him, lets it suffocate every good thing Dabi had ever felt - everything Keigo ever was to him, he lets that wave drag it all down to the darkest depths of himself.

He lets it die, because he can see it in Keigo’s eyes: the death of everything that Touya ever was to Keigo, the swift and painful shock of seeing Dabi alive, of knowing that he is the one to take Keigo’s wings from him.

If there is forgiveness somewhere down the road, if there is a time in which Keigo realizes that he’s been freed - at no small cost, but freed nonetheless - Dabi does not care. He does not need that resolution, that closure. He does not deserve it, will never deserve it for leaving Keigo, for finding him again only to tear him apart.

It’s funny, he thinks, how nobody ever blamed the sun for burning up Icarus’ wings.

[milstrim]

Am I Worth It?

Day 9: Take Me Instead

Penny wasn't quite sure what to do. What to feel. It'd been a crazy week, though technically five years. Five whole years, in which she'd been gone. In which Mr. Stark had gotten married. And had a kid. A family. She'd been gone, and now he was gone too. He was gone. Her mentor was dead, killed saving the universe. Saving his family. His family he'd left behind to save her. At least, that's what Mrs. Potts had said.

When Happy had driven her and May--who had been so doting and so teary eyed after missing her during the Blip--up to the quaint cabin that she would have never imagined the man to live in, the woman had taken her aside before the service had started, taking her to Mr. Stark's old workspace. It had been the only space in the house she really recognized as Mr. Stark.

DUM-E sat in the corner, beeping excitedly at the sight of her and Mrs. Potts, there were old mugs still littered everywhere, doomed to collect dust until anyone got the courage to move them. There were some projects laying around, projects that would never be finished, and a framed family photo on every table and on all the walls. There were even a couple of her.

The sight made her tear up, and it was all she could do the not break down crying, instead choking down the sob that had gotten caught in her throat. Mrs. Potts placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, pointing at one desk with a small metal disc on it.

"He...he left a message for you," she said softly, "Feel free to take it, and join us whenever you're ready."

The widow left, padding out of the door lightly, and Penny wondered at how she was so composed. Mr. Stark had been closer with her than she had been with him. And yet she was the model of poise. Sad poise, for if you looked close enough, you could tell there was a tremble in her step and a waver in her voice.

She wished there was some way she could fix this. Some way that Mr. Stark would get to stay with his family. That his family would get to keep him. And, selfishly, she wished she'd get to keep him too. But he was gone. Gone like her parents and gone like Uncle Ben and gone like she wished she was.

Penny shook her head of the thought, forcing herself to take halting steps towards the disc on the table. She pressed the small button on top of it hesitantly, flinching back as a blue light flashed out. She blinked, and suddenly Mr. Stark was in front of her. Well, sort of.

He looked different than when she had known him. For one, he was slightly blue and glowing, but his hair was also lighter, with streaks of gray. His goatee less sharp, his demeanor softer than when he'd been alive. Than when she'd been alive. This time she couldn't stop the tears that dripped down her cheeks.

"Hey, kid," Mr. Stark greeted, and she sobbed, placing a hand over her mouth, "Hope you're not having too much fun without me. Hm, uh, that probably wasn't the right thing to say, but I don't know if there ever will be the right last thing to say to you. I certainly couldn't come up with anything--anything then, but maybe I can do a little better now." The memory of Mr. Stark in front of her tried for a smile, his eyes slightly teary, "A lot has changed, as you can tell. Pepper and Morgan... I'm blessed to have them, kiddo, beyond blessed actually. But you deserve to be here. Every day this world turn without your bright eyes...it's a curse. I don't know much of what to say, Pen, other than that I love you."

She took a sharp intake of air.

"I love you, kiddie. And I miss you, a lot. When Lang came parading in here with this stupid, absolutely hairbrained plan about going back in time and fixing everything, well, I turned him down. I can't lose what I've gained. But I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd lost either. This, uh," he pointed a finger at his head, spinning it in circles, "--never ending little that just kept repeating 'What if?' What if I could save you? What if you could be safe, and alive, and happy? It was too much to just, let go. So, I didn't."

"I don't know how long it's been," her mentor carried on, beginning to gesture at the space around him, "But I had the resources, I had the brains, I just needed to have the heart. And, well, I did it!" His voice was excited, almost like a child's as Mr. Stark turned around from the workspace to look back at her, but their eyes didn't reach, and her vision began to blur with tears, "I got time travel down in a cinch, kid. Though it's a bit more annoying than the movies would have you believe."

She huffed out a laugh, mumbling, "Have you ever watched a time travel movie?"

But Mr. Stark carried on as though she wasn't there. Because she hadn't been.

"I've gotta be honest, I don't know if this will work, Underoos. If I'm lucky, it will. And if I'm even luckier, I can delete this message. Throw it away and just..." he trailed off, closing his eyes for a moment as a deep sadness passed over his face, "Penny, I just need you to know, that I love you. And try not to grieve too long, a month or two, maybe. There can't be no tears." She laughed, "And--and that I wouldn't have done what I done, if I hadn't known you were going to be here."

Penny paused at that. Mr. Stark had done this...for her? But...why? Why risk so much when he already had a family? Why risk so much when he was already safe, and alive, and happy? Why?

The hologram stopped in front of her, and she readjusted herself to look him in the eye. There was too much too unpack in his face. Too much sadness, and love, and joy and...and just everything. And she didn't want him to go. She didn't want him to leave. She couldn't do this without him. May had never even wanted a kid anyway, so why--

"I love you, Pen, and look after Morgan for me."

And as Mr. Stark faded away, his hologram filtering back into its desk, she was overcome by an overwhelming urge. Determined and stubborn and set.

He'd look after Morgan himself.

 ---

There was something Penny had been aware of since the car had pulled up to the cabin. Since the portal had opened back to earth. Since the threat of her now nightmares had appeared on a rusty, barren planet. And that was power. She hadn't been quite sure what it was until she'd seen Mr. Stark use them.

The Avengers had called them Infinity Stones, and Friday had confirmed of their reality bending powers. If they could bring back half the universe, why could they not bring back Mr. Stark?

The teen's senses had been aware of the Stones ever since she'd walked up the driveway, tingling up her spine. She hadn't felt like this from where she'd been staying at the tower in Manhattan, so the stones must be here. Something about 'time travel' and 'returning order' had caught her attention from Mr. Rogers and Mr. Wilson, so she assumed they must be using Mr. Stark's time machine here to return the stones after the funeral. If she could just grab them when they weren't looking, snap her fingers and then...then Mr. Stark would be here.

Maybe she wouldn't, but Mr. Stark would be.

Penny waited as guests filtered in, faces she did and didn't recognize filling the yard in a blurry wave of indifference. She'd focused in on the case Mr. Rogers had been carrying, her senses directing her towards it almost intentionally. She just had to wait.

And she didn't have to wait long.

Mr. Rogers ended up taking the case upstairs, and she listened as he locked it in Mrs. Potts's bedroom and then headed back downstairs. Nobody acknowledged the man as he came back down the stairs nonchalantly, as if he hadn't just left the most powerful items in the universe in a very easy to break into bedroom.

Well, better now than never.

Excusing herself to go to the bathroom, she hurried upstairs as not-suspiciously as she possibly could (which, given her charisma, wasn't great), and somehow managing to get to Mrs. Potts's bedroom without being stopped or questioned. The girl stopped outside the door, grabbing the handle, and hoping that no one would mind too much, broke the handle.

The door swung open lazily as the metal splintered in her hand, allowing her access to the room. The air still and heavy, she pushed the door open, flinching when it squeaked, and holding her breath, she walked in.

The case sat on the bed, unguarded, and with every step her senses grew stronger, her body more tense. Biting her lip, she flipped open the case, barely holding back a gasp at the glowing stones. A humming began at the back of her school, taunting her, as if the stones knew her presence. Knew her motivations.

Penny didn't know why, but the golden stone is the one that caught her attention, it's thrumming the strongest. But not danger...warmth. Familiarity. Taking a deep breath and gulping, her hand flashed out and grabbed it.

And then everything flashed orange.

 ---

Penny blinked rapidly, shooting up from where she had been laying down and pausing as she looked over the empty orange landscape. She gaped at the golden sky, endlessly reflected by the water she was laying in that wasn't wet. That confused her more than anything as she waded her hand through the 'water,' only for her fingers to come away dry.

Confused, she scrambled to her feet, looking out amongst the endless orange a little fearfully. She had touched the stone and then...this? Had she done it? Was Mr. Stark okay now? Was he...was he with his family? His real family?

"Hello?" Penny called, but there was no response. She took a hesitant step forward, then turned around as her senses took charge, directing her. Behind her was...Mr. Delmar's? It was covered in the orange tint, and a little watery looking, but it was the familiar bodega, and with no other clue as to what was happening, she started towards it.

The walk felt like forever yet barely a second all at once, and it was a dizzying experience to find herself almost placed in front of the glass door. Hesitating, Penny peered through the glass, anxious to see what was going on, only to find the store exactly like it had used to be. The chips section to the front, the candy right next to it, and completely empty.

The familiar chime! of the bell greeted her when she walked through the door, and the unexpected sound made her flinch violently. The silence had been so oppressing until now, and the bell reverberated through the air neverendingly, as though her ears were clinging onto the one sound other than the swishing of not water and her heart thumping in her own ears.

"Hello?" she called again, a little more desperately this time. And this time, there was a response.

"Hello," replied an unfamiliar voice. Penny's head swiveled towards the source, gaping and blinking in confusion at the little girl in front of her. She was green with reddish pink hair tied up into buns. She looked eerily familiar to Penny somehow, and she wasn't sure why.

"Oh, ah um, hi. Hello," she stuttered, and the girl's lips twitched.

"You already said that."

"Sorry," Penny apologized, "I'm confused. Are--who are you?"

"I'm the soul stone."

That broke her a little, her mind blanking, "You're--you're the stone?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Um, Mr. Stark? Did...is he okay now?"

The girl peered at her curiously, "He's not alive, if that's what you're asking. Yet, anyway."

"Yet?" Penny repeated hopefully, and the girl hummed.

"Yet. Life is a fickle thing, and balance is important in the universe, though Thanos understood importance, he didn't understand balance," the girl started, her meek voice strangely elegant, "As such, bringing back the lives of many others such as yourself was balance, there was no trade of equality that needed to be made. Now however, I cannot give one life without a reason."

Penny stared down at her feet, swallowing, "Take me instead."

"I cannot."

"You can and you will," Penny steeled, "Mr. Stark has a family! He has a daughter, who needs him more than anything! No one needs me! They'll--they'll miss me, but I was already gone for five years...and they were fine. Take. Me."

The girl stared at her curiously, "Anthony does not wish for you to take his place."

"I don't give a rat's ass! I'm taking his place here."

"Why?" the girl asked.

"Why? Why not!? Mr. Stark's always been so nice to me, he spent and he sacrificed so much for me, just for me to always throw it in his face or--or ignore his orders and make his worst nightmares come true! He saved the world, and he deserves to be with his family."

"And what of your family?"

She deflated a little. She didn't want to leave May alone again, but she couldn't leave that little girl without her father, "They got on fine before, they can do it again."

"We'll see," the girl said, staring at her, and then she smiled and waved her hand before Penny could say anything else. The orange overwhelmed her again, and when she blinked through the haze, Delmar's was gone and in its place was Mr. Stark's lab.

"What the...?" she trailed as she turned slowly around the achingly familiar room. She froze, her voice breaking, "Mr. Stark?"

"Kid," he greeted, sounding equally broken as he stared at her, "You're not supposed to be here, Pen."

"You're not either."

Mr. Stark just stared at her, his gaze forlorn, a tear slipping from his eye, matching the ones running down her own face. It was Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark was standing in front of her, and he was going to go back. She'd make sure of it.

"Yes, I am, Pen. I made that choice."

"Well I'm making a different choice," Penny argued. He wasn't allowed to stay here. She'd make sure of it.

"No, you're not. You're going home, and you're going to take care of yourself, and May, and Morgan--"

"You need to take care of Morgan!!!" Penny practically yelled, and Mr. Stark's eyes widened in response, "That's your job! She's your daughter! And she needs you, not me. She needs her dad, not some recently revived teen her dad used to mentor. You can't stay here, Mr. Stark."

"And you can't either," he responded softly, making his way around the tables towards her until he was right in front of her. She couldn't stop looking at his eyes, how sad they looked, and she could only imagine how angry hers were.

Mr. Stark wrapped her in a hug, pressing his noses into her hair. Penny froze for a moment, but then melted, burying her face into his chest and breathing deeply for the first time since she'd been back.

"Don't go, Mr. Stark. Morgan needs you... I need you," she begged.

"I know, kid. God, I know. But I can't go back, and I would rather die a thousand times over than have you trade your life for mine. Okay?"

"No."

"Penny--"

"No, Mr. Stark. You can't--you can't stay here, I won't let you! I'll make some sort of deal with that soul person and--"

"Penny!" he cut across her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her slightly, "You cannot do that. I'm old, I've lived my life and I made my choices. I regret a lot of them, but I don't regret what I did. Because it saved you. And it saved Morgan, and you get to keep on living."

"I can't, Mr. Stark," she cried, "I can't lose you. Please."

Mr. Stark placed a kiss to her forehead, "And I've already lost you. Go back to Earth, I'll be here when it's time. And that better be another good seventy years from now."

"Why, this is quite entertaining."

Both she and Mr. Stark turned at the new voice, looking up to see the little girl from earlier practically beaming at them. She looked interested and intrigued at she and her mentor, as though they were a strange and unusual sight to see.

"Now, Penelope, remember what I said about trading and reason earlier?" the Soul Stone asked, and she nodded dumbly, "The trade doesn't have to be a life. Sometimes it just has to be emotion--overwhelmingly so--something which I always find fascinating among the many souls I harbor. And if I left it up for you two to decide, we'd be here a few millennia."

Penny blinked, "So, you're--"

"Sending you back," the Stone answered, and with a wave of her hand and a smile that glowed, orange was all she saw once again.

 ---

Penny was back in Mrs. Potts's bedroom, and she was no longer alone. Mr. Stark knelt on the ground next to her, looking around in bewilderment, clearly catching his breath.

"What. Penny--"

She interrupted him by throwing her arms around him, "You're okay! You're okay, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay!!"

"Yeah, I'm okay," he reaffirmed, and then he laughed, pressing another kiss to her cheek and hugging her tighter, "We're okay... But never do that again."

"Sacrifice yourself again and I might," she laughed wetly.

[phoenix-downer]

Of Which Reason Knows Nothing - Chapter 2

I’m happy to post the second part of the project @chibiranmaruchan and I collaborated on! (You can find the first part here). They drew the art, and I wrote the fic. Working with them was a lot of fun, and I’m really happy with what we’ve created. I will also be posting this story to FFN and AO3 if those are your preferred reading spot(s).

Length: ~3000 words

Summary: Kairi may have lost someone important, but she isn’t alone, and she isn’t without hope. And her mysterious dreams just might have a clue as to Sora’s whereabouts…

Characters: Kairi, Sora, Riku

Additional Info: Implied Kairi/Sora, Riku and Kairi friendship. Post-Kingdom Hearts III. Referenced Character Death. Guilt, Grief/Grieving, Angst, Comfort, Dreams, Friendship.

Enjoy!

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That night, Kairi wore Sora’s hoodie to bed again. Maybe it wasn’t related to her dream at all, but it couldn’t hurt to wear it, just in case there was some sort of connection. 

As her eyes flickered shut, she murmured, “Sora, if you’re out there… if you’re trying to reach me… I’m listening.”

Neon lights, flashing colors. An enormous city with skyscrapers pointing towards the moon, trying to reach the heavens but getting pulled back down to earth. Water on the ground in puddles as raindrops splashed into them, disturbing the surface of the water, reflecting the surroundings like a mirror. 

She was back. She was back in the same place as before. 

White paint on the ground. Lots of lines running across the street. Big billboards running dozens of different ads at the same time. Cars with bright lights, too bright in the dark. The sky a strange shade of purple with ominous black clouds. A big white tower with the numbers 104 in neon red letters. 

She glanced at one of the puddles nearby. A face with blue eyes and spiky brown hair stared back. Lifting her hand, she gasped at what she saw. It wasn’t her hand. It was Sora’s, and he was holding a small black pin with a skull-looking emblem on it. He turned it over, and the whole world seemed to go wonky.

“Huh?” He dropped the pin and clutched his head.

“Sora!” she cried, but he couldn’t hear her. His Gummiphone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. 

The message said: 

Reach 104. You have 60 minutes. Fail, and face erasure. 

—The Reapers.

“Huh?!” 

He put his phone back in his pocket. Pain shot up his arm, and he winced and looked at his hand again. Engraved into his palm were black numbers with yellow outlines and a red background. 

59:49. 59:48. 59:47. They kept changing, kept… going down. Kept decreasing with each passing second. When he looked at the 104 building again, it said YOU HAVE 7 DAYS in big red letters against a black background. 

“Sora!”

But the dream was over, and her eyes flew open. Fingers shaking, she grabbed the Gummiphone on her bedside table. The phone rang and rang and rang as her heart raced because of her dream.

“C’mon, Riku, please, please pick up—”

A few moments later, and he did.

“Kairi?” came his familiar voice, if a little groggy. She glanced at the little time display at the top of the screen. A few minutes after six. The video kicked in, and he yawned as he wiped the sleep out of his eyes.

“Riku, I had another dream about him again,” she said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

Riku perked up immediately at that. “You did? What was it about this time?”

“He was in that city I saw before, only this time there was more.” She closed her eyes and pictured it now. The busy crosswalk, the building with 104 written on it, all the colorful lights and sounds. And the red and black numbers carved into his palm. “There was a countdown, on his hand,” she added, trying to include as many details as possible.

“A countdown?” Riku repeated, his voice rising.

Her eyes flew open. “Yes. I’m not sure why, but—”

“Kairi, I think I know where he is. I think I know where he is,” Riku said, and his voice had more energy and hope in it than it had since… well, since everything had happened.

She tugged at Sora’s hoodie and sat up straighter at that. “W-what? But how?”

“When we were taking our Mark of Mastery exam, he met this guy named Neku. He told me later on that Neku talked to him about a game.”

“And?”

“There was a countdown on Neku’s hand that was a part of that game.”

She thought about this for a moment. “So you think he might be playing the same game as Neku?”

Riku nodded. “Yeah. He said Neku was from this place called Shibuya. If we can find that, we can find him.”

This was it, this was their best lead ever since he’d disappeared. She said goodbye to Riku and threw on some clothes. They had to go see Master Yen Sid about this. Their friends all deserved to know.

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Kairi waited with bated breath as Master Yen Sid closed his eyes and stroked his beard. Stealing a quick glance at Riku, she wondered if he was feeling as wound up as she was right now. His face was a calm mask, but then again, he’d never really worn his heart on his sleeve the way she and Sora did.

“So, you are convinced Sora is somewhere called Shibuya, playing some sort of game,” Master Yen Sid said.

Kairi nodded. “Yes, Master. I know it may seem a little crazy—”

“On the contrary, where else would a heart go after fading from the Realm of Light? Sora did not die a normal death, and there are legends of the same thing happening to others.”

“Really?” Riku asked. “Like who?”

Kairi knew what he was thinking. If it had happened to someone else before, there might be clues as to how to save Sora. 

“There was a man who called himself the Master of Masters,” Master Yen Sid said. “He had six Keyblade-wielding apprentices, all named after the Seven Deadly Sins. Ava, Luxu, Invi, Gula, Ira, and Aced, with him as their leader: Superbia. Legend has it that instead of dying, he simply faded away, never to be seen or heard from again.”

Kairi and Riku both waited to hear more, but it soon became clear that was all.

“That’s it? That’s all?” Riku said, echoing her thoughts. “This… Master of Masters guy never returned to the Realm of Light?”

“Well, there is more to the story, but it relates to the events of the Keyblade War, and the two of you would be here for days if I were to recount it all to you. I do not think a history lesson is what you want right now. I shared this with you so you would know that the same fate that befell Sora has befallen someone else before, if the legends are to be believed. That was why Mickey tried to warn him against doing what he did, but as the philosophers say, the heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.”

Master Yen Sid smiled sadly, and Kairi’s heart sank. They had warned Sora not to save her and he still did? Why?

“I know it should be him here with Riku instead of me,” she said. “But if there’s anything I can do to—”

“Incorrect. You are exactly the person who should be here with Riku right now,” Master Yen Sid said. “For if Riku is to dive into realms unknown, who better to keep his heart tethered to the Realm of Light than a Princess of Heart?”

“I can do that?” Kairi said.

“You kept Sora tethered to the Realm of Light, did you not?”

“Well, yes, but… that was different, Master. My powers don’t work on other people the way they work on Sora, and I’m not really sure why, though I do have a few guesses.”

Riku raised an eyebrow but thankfully kept his mouth shut. 

“As I said earlier: the heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing,” Master Yen Sid said. “But no matter; in keeping Riku tethered to the Realm of Light as he descends to the depths, you will be helping Sora. Surely you can see how your powers could still be used in this manner.”

“I suppose…”

“Have some faith in yourself, Kairi,” Riku said. “You kept Sora alive, and that let him save the rest of us. I know you’ll be able to pull this off.”

Kairi’s hand fluttered to her necklace. “But what if I can’t? What if I screw up again? I already lost Sora because I was too weak to stop myself from dying. I can’t… I can’t lose you too, Riku!” 

Riku put his hand on her shoulder. “You can do this, I know you can. You’re not alone. Together we’ll find Sora and bring him back.” His expression softened. “And you know how I know that?”

“How?”

“Sora believes in us. He believed he’d find you when you were lost. He never gave up on me after all the crap I pulled. So let’s believe in ourselves the way he does.” 

Riku was right. Even though Kairi had trouble believing in herself, she couldn’t deny that Sora believed in her. And she believed in him. She believed in Riku, too. And maybe that would be enough.

“Okay, I’m willing to try,” she said, and Master Yen Sid and Riku both nodded. 

“We must begin preparations at once,” Master Yen Sid said. “There is no time to waste. The sooner we can reach Sora and bring him back to the Realm of Light, the better.”

Finally. They finally had something to do besides sit around at home and grieve. Taking action felt so much better than doing nothing.

As she and Riku made preparations, she couldn’t help but reflect back on those words she’d told Sora and Riku before. This time, she wasn’t just going to protect Sora. This time, she wasn’t just going to fight. This time, she was going to act. She was going to be the one searching for Sora for once instead of the other way around. 

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The night before the mission, Kairi dreamed of Sora again. He was still in that same city, but he wasn’t at the big crosswalk anymore. He was on a side street, fighting some strange-looking creatures Kairi had never seen before. They weren’t Heartless or Nobodies, but they did look like large frogs with elaborate red and black tattoos where their legs should’ve been. And even through the dream, Kairi could sense how the atmosphere surrounding them felt. Her skin crawled and her mood dropped, and she could only imagine how Sora felt fighting them. 

When he had destroyed the last of them with his Keyblade, he stumbled against a nearby building, a store with bright red letters. His bangs were stuck to his forehead, and he was breathing hard. How long had he been fighting? How many of those things had he already fought?

But what really drew her attention was when he reached into his pocket and pulled out her lucky charm. Her heart soared at the sight of it. He still had it. He still—

“Why can’t I remember you?” he said, and his voice was anguished. 

Her heart sank. Sora didn’t… remember her? 

Why not? What had happened to him? Were all his memories gone?

“Sora?” she said. “Sora, I’m here!”

But he couldn’t hear her, and he tucked the charm back into his pocket. “Doesn’t matter. Whoever gave this to me has to be someone important to me.” He looked right at her and made a guts pose, even though he couldn’t see her. “Whoever you are, I’m gonna get home to you, some way, somehow.” He smiled, and it was so good to see his smile again. “I promise.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but the dream was over, and her eyes flew open. She rolled over onto her side, still wrapped in Sora’s hoodie, and huddled beneath her blanket as light poured through the window. 

Did Sora really not remember her? Her lower lip trembled at the thought. How could he have forgotten her after everything they’d been through? This was like when she’d forgotten him, and a lump built in her throat when she remembered how awful that had been. The memories slowly slipping away from her. The day she’d forgotten his name. The night she’d forgotten his face. The moment she realized she couldn’t hear his voice anymore. All of that came crashing back to her, and her eyes welled up with tears. 

But she and Sora had gotten through that, in the end. And his promise did make her feel a little better. Maybe the memories were all scrambled up, but they weren’t gone for good. They had to still be in his heart somehow. The bond they shared couldn’t be broken that easily.

The important thing was that he was fighting to get back to her. So she would fight to reach him, too. Whatever obstacles they might face, she and Riku would bring him home.

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“You ready?” Kairi asked as she held her hands out to Riku. They were back in Master Yen Sid’s study, and everyone else was here too – King Mickey and Donald and Goofy, Terra and Aqua and Ven, Naminé, of course, and Roxas and Xion and Axel. Even Isa was present. Admittedly, that made her feel a little uncomfortable, but at least he had the good sense not to try to talk to her. 

“Ready if you are,” Riku said with a half-grin. How he was so relaxed about this, she’d never know. Her hands were shaking a little, but when he grabbed a hold of them, a wave of calm washed over her. 

“For Sora?”

“For Sora.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she pictured Sora searching for her in Shibuya. Pictured Riku, pictured his heart. 

There. She could see his Station of Awakening now with its stained glass-like panels showing the people that were most important to him. Friends and family and memories spread throughout his heart. Taking a deep breath, she reached out with her light, tethering her heart to his. His memories started flowing through her mind, and she opened her eyes.

“Okay, I’m connected to you now. Whenever you’re ready.”

He looked around at their friends. “Hey, why the long faces? Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back here with Sora in no time, you’ll see.” He looked at Kairi one more time and smiled. “We won’t give up on him, because he never gave up on us. And he’s helped every person here in this room at one time or another. Now it’s time we return the favor.” 

There was a general chorus of agreement and well-wishing at that. Letting go of one of Kairi’s hands, Riku summoned his Keyblade and opened a large portal above them complete with swirling colors and elaborate designs of a bygone age. 

“Stay safe, Riku,” she said. “See you soon.”

And with that a great beam of light shot down and pulled him into the portal. Her hand was now empty, and she rested it over her heart. 

“Well?” King Mickey said. 

She smiled. “He’s okay. I can feel him.”

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. 

“And… I can feel Sora’s heart, too. He may not remember me yet, but I know he will soon.”

“That’s the magic of the paopu fruit!” Goofy said, then slapped his hands over his mouth as Donald tapped his foot.

“Hey, you weren’t supposed to tell everyone that,” Donald scolded, and everyone laughed as Kairi blushed. Great, did all their friends know about the paopu fruit? Well, not surprising. Juicy gossip had a way of spreading like wildfire. 

“Hey, if the Wayfinders can bring me and Aqua and Terra back together again, imagine how powerful the real thing will be!” Ven pointed out. “Especially because you and Sora—”

“Less teasing, more practicing with your Keyblade,” Aqua chided, but she was smiling, and Terra grinned and ruffled his hair. Ven pretended to protest, but it was obvious he liked the hair ruffling and playful scolding. 

As the others started up conversations with each other, catching up on how everything had been going since everyone had last seen each other, one person in particular sought Kairi out. Naminé, still holding her sketchpad and pencil but wearing a cute new dress, blue and yellow and white. 

“Kairi?”

“Yes Naminé? What is it?”

“I know you’re feeling sad about Sora forgetting you, but I doubt those memories are gone for good. Look at Xion,” she said, gesturing at their friend, who smiled and waved at them. “We all thought no one would remember her, and yet here she is now. Sora’s memories of you will come back, I just know they will.”

“Thanks, Naminé. And when Sora finally comes back, he can thank you properly, too.”

Naminé smiled, and Kairi went over to talk to Axel and Roxas and Xion some more, then to King Mickey and Donald and Goofy, then lastly to Terra and Aqua and Ven. She had something very important to ask, something she wanted to do as Riku searched for Sora and she kept him tethered to the Realm of Light.

“Master Aqua, please take me on as your apprentice,” she pleaded as she bowed low. This was her best shot, her best hope at becoming a better Keyblade wielder after the disaster that had happened at the Keyblade Graveyard. 

When she straightened, her throat dry, Aqua was beaming down at her. “I thought you’d never ask.”

She clasped her hands and thanked Aqua profusely. Here was an opportunity to get better, to improve, to become a better fighter by the time Sora and Riku returned. She wasn’t the weak girl that had gotten kidnapped and killed anymore. She had the heart and will to be strong, and she was going to prove it.

However long it might take, however hard she would have to work, it didn’t matter. Someday, she would fight by Sora’s side again. Someday, she would be able to spar with Riku and give him a run for his munny. Someday, the three of them would be together again and all would feel right in the worlds.

And someday, she and Sora would finally be able to make good on the promise they’d made. They’d be together every day, and nothing would be able to keep them apart anymore. 

For that, she would train and fight for as long as it might take. Now was the time to step forward like she’d said she would. Now was the time to act. The fight was in her hands, and she was ready at long last.

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A/N: A big thank you again to @chibiranmaruchan! And thank you to everyone who read, reblogged, liked, and commented on the story! Hope you enjoyed :)

[yunaffie]

Desiderium

Ghost Swap exchange fic for @temsikghosts

Prompt: “ Finally some angst with Manipulator!Yomiel coming to visit FianSissel's grave and reflecting about his loss “

Happy Ghost Swap! Here’s a fic for you all about our dear angsty boy. Hope you enjoy! :)

Dawn has arrived, bringing with it the chirping melody of birds in the treetops. The sun is slowly rising over the horizon, casting its pale morning light over the rows of gravestones. Yomiel weaves his way past them, his feet softly thumping over the well trodden grass. One hand clutches a bouquet of flowers while the other holds firmly onto the bag at his side. He stops still for a moment, his gaze scanning the cemetery. It takes a moment before he remembers exactly where he is going and then he sets off again toward his destination.

There it is. Her name, carved forever in that slab of stone, followed by two dates and a few words in commemoration. There are a handful of flowers lying before the gravestone, long wilted away. It doesn't look like anyone has visited her recently. Her parents lived abroad and she never had much of a social life. There had been nobody at her side when she grieved. Nobody to support her. Nobody to stop her from plunging into despair. 

Yomiel takes away the withered flowers and sets down the bouquet he brought. "Hello, Sissel. I'm sorry it's been so long since I last visited." He sits down before the grave and pops open the top of the bag. A few seconds later, a cat pokes its head out from the badge and utters a soft mew.

"I brought the other Sissel along as you can see." Yomiel reaches out to rub Sissel's head, smiling fondly at him. "He's very well behaved, and he's been a good friend to me over the past few years. I'm sure you would have liked him too."

Sissel had loved animals, even she didn't have a pet of her own. She had been such a gentle, sweet and kind woman, always happy and laughing. It was hard to believe that someone as cheerful as her could have fallen so hard, been driven to such despair that she felt there was no option but to take her life. That was how much she had loved him. She chose to be with him in death.

But he was still here, still walking this earth, denied the peace of death. In choosing to take her life, she had gone to a place that he couldn't follow.

"I wish I could come and see you more often, but it's too dangerous. As far as the world knows, I'm dead. If anyone was to recognize me, well, it wouldn't be good. I can't stay in this town. I can't visit all the places I used to. There are other people living in your house, you know? All your furniture, everything you owned, it's all just gone." Yomiel curls his hands into fists. "Everything that reminded me of you, erased, just like that."

Now all he has are the memories of her, and the single picture of the two of them he took from the house the day he found her. The memory is still so vivid in his mind that he can picture every little detail. He will never forget the sight of her prone body, skin as white as chalk, sprawled across the couch. On the cluttered coffee table, scattered with various clues to how she had taken her life, he found her last message to him. She had passed on with the belief that she would be seeing him again but that had been a huge mistake.

"Gods, I miss you so much." Yomiel gazes down at his lap, grinding his teeth. It feels like he really should be crying at this point but he can't, no matter how much he wants to. Even as he had clutched her dead body and screamed her name, the tears never came. This body is now nothing more than a sack of meat he can control like a puppet on strings. "I want to hold you, to bury my face in your hair, to hear your voice, your laugh..." His voice hitches in a sob. "I just want to be with you, Sissel."

Yomiel closes his eyes, hunching over with shaking shoulders. It's so painful, thinking about how he'll never see her again. The loneliness, the longing, he just can't bear it. He hears a mew and opens his eyes to see the cat in his lap. Yomiel smiles and hugs the cat to his chest, stroking his dark fur. It doesn't take long for Sissel to start purring.

"I keep going over to his house, over the phone line. I know I shouldn't be doing it. It's not healthy for me, is it? I hate it. I can't stand watching them. They all look so damn happy. Him, his wife, his kid... and that other man. How dare they. Those detectives have no right to be happy after what they did to us! It's just not fair. What about us? We weren't even allowed to continue our lives together. We could have been married by now, living in the same house together, but we were denied that future because of them. I just..." Yomiel clenches one hand into a tight fist. "I want to punish them. I know I shouldn't be thinking this way, but I do. I want them to know my pain, to feel it."

Yomiel looks up toward the cloudy sky. The birdsong has faded away and all he hears is the distant traffic. Not a single person has entered the cemetery, a fact he is thankful for. 

"I could do it. My powers have changed now. I've been practicing. Controlling adults is still a little tricky, but I think I could easily handle a child. Who knows? Maybe..." Yomiel trails off and shakes his head with a short laugh. "Part of me still can't believe I'm even thinking like this. I think you would be shocked too, Sissel. This isn't the man you loved. This... this bitter, vengeful man who would even think of hurting people. I know, it's not right. I shouldn't be thinking this way but I can't, I can't go on like this!" He hugs the cat a bit tighter, burying his face in his fur. "Every day, I'm losing a bit more of myself. All I can think about is making them pay. It's all their fault you're lying there in the ground right now."

That's right. It's their fault. Detective Jowd, Detective Cabanela, that little girl Lynne, they are responsible. They killed him and they killed the woman he loved. 

"Maybe I'll do it," Yomiel whispers. "I'll tear that happy family apart. I'll make Detective Jowd learn how it feels to lose the woman he loves." His mouth curves into a smile. "Yes, I think that's only fair, isn't it?"

After a minute, Yomiel breaks out into laughter, putting a hand over his face. "Oh gods, I'm really losing it, aren't I? I'm going crazy. I can't believe I'm actually thinking about murder. Just what is happening to me?"

Sissel shifts around and releases an annoyed sounding mew, causing Yomiel to realise he's holding him too tight. It's difficult to know with a body like this.

"Sorry, Sissel." Yomiel relaxes his hold and gently scratches Sissel's head. The cat's yellow eyes stare unblinkingly back at him. "I don't know what I would do without you." He lifts his gaze to the gravestone. "It's just so lonely without her, without anyone else. Everyone thinks I'm dead and I can't go back. I can never return to my old life. Especially not without her. If I could just go back to that day..." With a shake of the head, he breaks off. "But that's impossible, isn't it?"

Those days are far beyond his reach. No matter how much he wishes for it, they will never return. All that faces him is an eternity of complete and utter isolation. Yomiel heaves a sigh and takes a look around the cemetery. It is still as isolated as when he came.

"Well then, we should get going." Yomiel places Sissel inside the bag and gazes at the gravestone one more time with a sad smile. "I'd better be off. Can't be hanging around here too much, you know, being a dead man and all. I'll visit you again sometime soon. See you, Sissel."

Not for the first time, he briefly wonders if she can hear him right now. While the thought of their loved ones watching over them might bring comfort to some, it only makes Yomiel feel dread. He can't bear to think of Sissel up there knowing her efforts to be with him only pushed them further apart. It's too cruel. Better to think his words are going unheard.

And yet, he still feels the need to come to her grave and pour his heart out to her. It's something of a paradox, he thinks, just like his entire existence. A man trapped between life and death, dead and alive. 

With a heavy heart, Yomiel rises to his feet and walks away, his head hung low.