#but ty for hosting! we love a fandom moment

[gardenerian]

to the thawing wind | 8k | M rating

written for the tropes challenge hosted by @its-a-queer-thing | tropes: dystopian/post-apocalypse, misunderstanding, hurt/comfort

Living and working in the icy chill of an endless winter, Ian and his family are assigned to work the farms to bolster food supply. They live quietly enough, following the rules, until Mickey and Mandy Milkovich (with all their secrets) are moved in across the road. 

read here on ao3

[dxppercxdxver]

tagged in '20 questions for fic writers' by my good pal @chiropteracupola! ty friend :3 (i think much of this will be similar to the last one of these i did. Oh Whale.)

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

29!

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

145,559

3. what fandoms do you write for?

i have never written for one fandom Consistently but i suppose at the moment the fandom occupying most of my time is the old Team Fortress 2. but like mine and @chiropteracupola's Old Timey version (shoutout to you flintlock fortress <3). but i also have been somewhat plugging away at an rls kidnapped fic so

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Out Of the Blue (detroit: become human/detroit evolution)

Take it From the Top (detroit: become human/detroit evolution)

Cardamine (detroit: become human)

I Loved You, I Always Do (detroit: become human/detroit evolution)

Cigarettes and Outer Space (detroit: become human/detroit evolution)

i am. Noticing A Trend lmao (also not one but Two richard edwards lyrics titles. hmm.)

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

sooooometimes? occasionally i am moved by the desire to Empty Out My Inbox, at which point i reply to all the unread comments in there, but otherwise i normally reply to comments by friends and comments on more recent fics. the older stuff, especially the de artfest stuff, gets more frequently ignored lmao (although someone commented the loveliest thing the other day on one of those fics <3)

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

there are several in contention for this! (i feel) an overwhelming need (the moors) is a character study from a very upsetting play wherein the protagonist is literally eaten at the end, which is A Bit Not Good. i can't stand to see you bleed (the wolf and the watchman) has a more ambiguous ending but also ends with the distinct possibility that cecil will just straight up Die a few minutes off page and everyone is very sad about it. blizzard of pumice piled six feet high (goncharov) does of course end with mutually assured destruction and a fun little murder-suicide-murder situation that they are both resignedly sad about. there are a couple others that Are Angsty but not so much as these i think

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

once again, a couple options here! first is leave your body at the door (killjoys), which is a huge epic of legacy and mourning and ends with a bittersweet but also incredibly triumphant chapter about love and family. much as the ending itself is tinged with sadness, considering the amount of Torment we had to get through to wind up there puts this fic on the map for this category! alsoooo i think The (G)Hosts of Satellite's Past (mystery science theater 3000) gets up there, because it's basically just. tooth-rottingly sweet found family nonsense in space

8. do you get hate on fics?

not that i can remember? but it's also entirely possible i've just deleted a few of those comments and subsequently forgotten about them lmao. although it must be said that someone commented on my mst3k fic being VERY NITPICKY about my adherence to the given canon of the show and the liveshows and the livestreams and i'm like. bitch. i have not watched every livestream ever and i do not pay attention to the liveshows. also the show's canon can't agree with itself leave me alone shshjsjhs

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

uhhh i did a couple times at one point? but that was many years ago and it was never published. nowadays i've almost considered it exclusively for The Bit (ie relationships where I Think It Would Be Terribly Funny) but also The Bit has not yet overcome my Anxiety and Lack Of Skill. buuuut i will occasionally write The Craziest Metaphorical Shit You Will Ever See. meaning. that cannibalism is also an allegory y'know?

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i've certainly pondered many in my time but i'm unsure i've actually published any— WAIT I JUST REMEMBERED SPYTOWN IN THE MIDDLE OF THAT SENTENCE. whoopsies. so yes! i do! i've only published one of them and it was a spies are forever/hadestown crossover that got Massively bigger than i ever intended (so much fanart! curt mega saw one of the pieces! hadestown official put one of the pieces on their story! shoutout to all you lovely artists and writers! @szollibisz / @considerablecolors / @teethworm / @owen-not-carvour <333333). there is also an Ancient artifact buried in my google docs that hasn't seen the light of day that's. a voltron: legendary defender/crazyhead crossover? to date it's one of my longest incomplete works and rereading it, despite how old it is, is remarkably pleasant like i was possessed by some sort of Good At Writing gremlin and it's surprisingly good. wonder if i should dredge some of that monstrosity up someday.....

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of? but also i'm not sure why i Would know that

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

if i have, no one has credited me or informed me of it

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

in terms of unpublished works, i have written So many fics with @nico-demons, since we were cringey middle schoolers together, but when looking at what's actually on my ao3, the only collaboration is with @chiropteracupola! while we don't actually share documents writing our flintlock fortress works, we have a massive shared bank of Lore and double check with each other constantly while we're working on our fics. so it's co-written not in practicality, but in literally every other capactiy

14. what’s your all time favourite ship?

o god i never have an answer for this. i cycle through fandoms so quickly it's hard for ships to have a huge staying power? but given that we're entering year two of this ship in earnest and year like. seven. of this ship in a half-pondered capacity, i'm gonna have to give it to joel robinson/mike nelson of mystery science theater! they will never ever leave my head!!!!!

15. what’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

oof i have a Couple of these. first and foremost is contagion (gravity falls), a monster falls/timeskip gravity falls concept that i plotted SO MUCH OF and then got so intimidated by i could only write a couple pages before feeling like whatever i wrote wouldn't match up with what i'd been imagining. much as i'd love to muscle through someday and actually get the concept down, i find it Unlikely that'll ever actually happen. same with a joel/mike mst3k fic concept that i've been kicking around for a couple years surrounding mike's return to earth and trying to find joel again. once again, i got out over my skis and got so scared of executing the concept it's hard for me to imagine i ever get to it shjshjs

16. what are your writing strengths?

i've been told on numerous occasions that i'm really good at mimicking character voice (and possibly author voice, but that's usually more secondary)! i have a very sound and rhythm based memory, so writing dialogue has always been a strong point of mine, as i can basically hear what the character would be saying in their way of saying it. i also consider myself really good at crafting well thought out/intricate plots!

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

FINISHING THINGS. JESUS CHRIST. i'm so bad at mustering any sort of followthrough on projects that are either longer than my usual or i've been working on past a couple of weeks of inspiration. a part of this i'm Sure is the adhd but also i'm miserable at writing anything to completion past a few one shots.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

depends on the context, depends on the language. flintlock fortress in particular has characters of Many Nationalities coming together in a very specific context? thus far i've been rather loath to write extended sections of dialogue in other languages, but i can usually manage small sections, especially french (took it for three years in high school and apparently Something stuck). otherwise i tend to skirt around it or double check with people more familiar with it

19. first fandom you wrote for?

i was discussing this with @chiropteracupola the other day actually!! my first fic Ever saved to my google drive is a wild kratts/my little pony crossover! and i would continue to cross mlp over with Many Things! so i would say my little pony was my first written-for fandom, purely based on the fact that it served as such frequent crossover material

20. favourite fic you’ve written?

this is an interesting one! i have a few fics that have a special place in my heart for different reasons. i'm incredibly fond of Try Again, Die Again (detroit: become human/detroit evolution) because i felt insanely clever and actually managed to execute the concept i wanted in a way that was very close to what i originally imagined. it's one of my more action-packed stories and upon rereading it i'm actually still really proud of it. another one i'm extraordinarily fond of is strangely enough Where The Sun Can't Find Me (spies are forever), which is a short little werewolf!curt one shot! just the right amount of Meat to appeal to me and i really like the prose style i went with for it. honorable mention once more goes to leave your body at the door (killjoys) but i've talked about her already so. Moving On. lastly i loooove don't give it a hand, offer it a soul (team fortress 2/haunted by your hand crossover), because it's a Ghost Story and Ghost Romance and A Little Gross and Full Of Sadness. what fun what fun :3

taggin'! @nico-demons, @firstmatedville, @considerablecolors, @natdrinkstea, and @wilhelmina-murray-harker :3

[innately-pretentious]

hey there again! ty for sending for the fandom list btw :D i’m a straight woman and would like to request for an Outer Banks Character. here’s a little bit about me

also since the picture is quite big this goes in the physical appearance category

here are some things on how i would perceive my self in the OBX universe, if that makes sense lol

i would be a kook and probably meet the whole squad.

i like to climb trees so i would find someone below and hang from the branch to surprise them or get their attention by throwing fruit lmao

i’m quite a simp for JJ lmao. so when Kiera, Sara and I would talk about eating the guys i’d say “Oh he’s cute, but i’m gorgeous. And you know when you put cute next to gorgeous, gorgeous devours cute”

i would want to know the whole pogue squad by hosting a party and inviting sara perhaps i’m not really sure, or they all might want to sneak in cuz why not.

i’m not the easily jealous type but if i see someone i like with someone i have strong conflict with i will not hesitate to pull a Maddy from Euphoria in s2 finale to Cassie.

since JJ had a harsh family life, and probably does bad in school i wouldn’t mind helping him catch up on his subjects

That’s it! tysm 🌅 and i hope you have an awesome day!

I ship you with JJ!

This pairing would be so chaotic and I absolutely love it! I can imagine that you met completely by chance, with him desperately needing some help catching up in a few classes over the summer. He is not the brightest boy in terms of academics, believing that he has better things to be doing than hitting the books. However, the school most likely forced him to get a tutor to help him improve his grades, assigning you to help him out. Although he was most likely stubborn and uninterested in learning in the beginning, he couldn’t help but take an interest in you, eventually looking forward to your sessions together. He decided he didn’t want the time you share together to end once he gets back to school and decided to as you out then and there. The rest is history!

Something that he absolutely uses to his advantage is the height difference you have. I believe his love language is definitely physical touch, so the fact that the two of you are always so physically close highlights his tall frame compared to yours, even just holding hands together exaggerates how short you are in comparison. He can be a nuisance, constantly picking you up and spinning you round, or resting his elbow on your shoulder, loving the way you jokingly glare up at him. It is always with good faith he teases you, you know he would never go out of his way to make you upset. You bet that him being taller than you, along with your more youthful appearance, he can be extremely protective. There is no need to get a guard dog when you have him. He is not one to hide his affections and pretty much everyone in the Outer Banks has got the idea that you are his girl. Hardly anybody dares approach you when you’re out alone, knowing if they make a move on you they would have JJ to deal with. But god help the tourists that only visit for a weekend, they have no clue. If someone tries to get your number when he is around, it is almost comical to watch his reaction. If someone begins to flirt with you it only takes a few moments before you feel a presence appear behind you. “Can we help you?”, he says putting a hand on your shoulder. You can’t help but tease him for getting jealous. 

As stated previously one of his love languages would definitely be physical touch, he just wants to be constantly near you or touching you in some way. This by no means is a sexual thing, more like an intimacy thing. Almost every time you sit side by side he lets his hand rest on your thigh, drawing soft patterns whilst carrying on with whatever task is in front of him. Even when you are in a group of people he often finds himself just reaching for you, you honestly wonder if it he consciously does it or not. He can’t describe it, he feels better when he can hold you close. He adores you hair, in fact it was one of the things he was initially attracted to. Loving to spend lazy evenings on John B’s front porch, watching as the sun slowly sets over the horizon, his fingers absentmindedly combing through your hair. He doesn’t get much peace in his hectic life, so these small peaceful moments with you are something he can cherish forever. 

One of the things you share is your quick witted personalities, both having the ability to bounce back and forth between one another effortlessly, each trying to have the last word or make the other laugh. The rest of the pogues find it so sweet and incredibly amusing. Speaking of the rest of the pogues, when they asked JJ about him dating you, it was the first time they ever saw him hesitant. He didn’t not want you to meet them, but he didn’t want you to not get along. It took him a good few weeks to gather the courage to introduce you guys. He honestly had nothing to worry about, within the first ten minutes they had already unloaded every single one of JJ’s embarrassing moments, much to his dismay. He didn’t mind that much, just seeing you interact with his friends so effortlessly put a smile on his face. They are also glad that their friend had found someone who they can trust whole heartedly. 

With the two of you having such large personalities, fights are unavoidable in every relationship, yours is no exception. With him being rather impulsive and you being stubborn arguments can escalate and get quite explosive. During your time together you have learnt to give the other their space during times like this, although you both can’t stay away from each other for long. He often seeks help from his friends, but if he discovers that he was in the wrong, he can’t help but beat himself up about it. He has a rough home life and even the thought of being like his father and upsetting you makes his chest feel so heavy. He will seek you out, most likely finding you on the beach, hugging your legs with your arms and watching the sunset in silence. Quietly approaching you and sitting next to you, he tries to apologise. He isn’t the best with words but you can clearly hear what he is trying to say. Allowing him to pull you onto his lap, hugging you from behind as you relax into his chest, safe in knowing that he hasn’t lost you. 

The song I associate with you two would be ‘Rock and Roll’ by Led Zeppelin!

[shrinkthisviolet]

Author Interview Tag!

Tagged by @maipreciation, thanks for thinking of me! This looks really fun :D

(Note: I’m keeping this as a running list, so if you’re ever wondering what fics im working on/brainstorming, make sure to check here! Last update was on 12/12/2020)

Name: Lavi! As of 12/5, I’m no longer going by my real name (see this post)

Fandoms: so many 😂 check my bio, I think I have them all listed. I’ve posted fic for Hamilton and ATLA, and then there was a huge Inktober compilation I posted last year with a whole host of fandoms. Currently, my major fandom is ATLA, and probably Kipo as I’m starting to move through S1

Where you post: I have an AO3 (lavi0123)! I used to have an FFN and a Wattpad, but I don’t use either of those anymore :/ tbh, I’m embarrassed of anything I still have up there 😂

Most popular one-shot: Most definitely we’ll give the world to you (and you’ll blow us all away), one of my contributions to Maiko Week! I’m not surprised it’s an ATLA fic, but I find it interesting that a fic with Izumi in it blew up so quickly. But hey, if y’all want more Izumi content, you won’t be disappointed 😉

Most popular multi-chapter fic: ...I’m really embarrassed to say because I don’t think I’ll ever finish it...but En Hamilton Heights is the only multichap fic I’ve published so it’s gotta be that one 😂 hopefully soon I’ll have another fic to add to that, since I’m working on one (sorry EHH fans but it’s been too long and tbh I don’t remember where I was going with it :/ I’m thinking I might orphan it)

Favorite story you’ve written so far: you think this world is a dream come true (but you’re wrong) for sure! It’s super niche but it’s something I wrote out of love for a movie I discovered this Halloween and absolutely love. Though all you’ve got to do is want something (and then let yourself have it) is a close second. Basically, anything I write that sounds absolutely bonkers as a concept is one that I love 😂 (and it’s no coincidence that both fics are Mai-centric! I love all my Mai-centric fics nearly equally)

Fic you were nervous to post: Is there an “all of the above” option? 😂 I’m always nervous to post. But in particular, I was nervous for if you ran away (come back home), because it was Mai-centric and longer than any one-shot I’d written thus far, and also you think this world is a dream come true (but you’re wrong), because it’s Mai-centric and a Coraline AU, which makes it BONKERS as an idea

Why was I nervous to post Mai-centric fics, you ask? Two reasons: 1) Mai is very different from who I am as a person (I vibe a lot more with Aang and Ty Lee, sometimes Katara and Sokka), so I didn’t want to upset the Mai stans by writing her incorrectly. 2) Mai is generally not well-liked in the fandom at large, so I especially didn’t want to attract antis who would accuse me of writing Mai as too emotional and loving (which is why I tried to justify that in my tags). Luckily, my comments have all been lovely, and I’m far less afraid to post fics about her now that I’ve written three fics with her as the focus! And the shoutout from @nonbinary-crafter-aang praising my portrayal of her?? I was touched 🥺 still am

How you choose your titles: Song lyrics or movie/book lines that speak to me, occasionally a pun. Remember that post I rb’d about how authors title their works? My tags pretty much say it all 😂

Do you outline: Ehh...define outlining 😂 for my one-shots, nope. But for my upcoming multichap works (see below) and Nanowrimo work (original fiction, so I won’t talk about it on here, but send an ask if you’re curious), YES ABSOLUTELY!

For my Nanowrimo work and one of my upcoming AUs (a Soulmate AU), the worldbuilding is so complex that it’s an absolute necessity. For the other upcoming AU (a time travel AU), there are just too many things that need to happen at certain times so as not to interfere with canon events, and things I want to change from canon and things I want to keep...I think you get the idea 😂

Complete: Basically my entire maiko halloweek series! Check it out if you want some fics about the most underrated canon ATLA couple :)

In-progress: ...En Hamilton Heights again...but not for long, sadly. Still trying to decide between a quick conclusion and just flat-out orphaning it. Still haven’t made up my mind, but either way, it won’t be what I originally planned, unfortunately.

I’m also counting my ATLA Soulmate AU on the basis of forever in my mind (only you), which has the worldbuilding and fits into the AU without much problem (the AU is going to be a series of one-shots, not a multichap fic, because there won’t be enough deviations from canon imo to justify multiple chapters. And one-shots are just less pressure for me 😂)

[EDIT 12/12/2020: added another fic because I’m an idiot and forgot about this too 🤦‍♀️😂 it’s a year-old idea that I started writing but I’m picking it back up thanks to the Heist banter in MatPat’s St Jude stream!]

-A fic series combining Escape the Night and Who Killed Markiplier (Heist and Date are part of it too, but only tangentially at the moment. Depends on how involved I want DA Y/N to be). Tentatively titled A Heavy Cost, and definitely won’t happen in any of Mark’s projects, but in a way that’s actually for the best 😂 the canonicity for me stops at ETN S3 (with some S4), then it’s canon divergence

Coming soon/not yet started: OOOH YESSS HERE WE GO

Okay okay sooo we’ve got two main things:

–An ATLA Soulmate AU, featuring platonic and romantic soulmates! I know I called it in-progress, and I stand by that even though I haven’t actually set up the series on AO3 yet, but this AU is about to be SO MUCH MORE than just a few Maiko moments. Because...drum roll...it’s gonna be entirely Aang-centric (with maybe one or two exceptions)! Like Mai, Aang is a character that doesn’t get as many -centric fics as he should (and being an Aang stan also isn’t unanimous for some reason??), so I’m gonna fix that. Plus I want to dive further into his mind, and I think I’m more equipped to do that than I was with Mai, since Aang and I are very similar in attitude.

–Bumizumi time travel AU, which can be read as platonic until the last couple chapters (it’ll be multichap) but definitely has a romantic agenda throughout. So just. Be warned if you don’t ship them. It’s gonna be chock full of comedy and antics! Also A LOT of platonic affection between Izumi and teen Zuko (and just between Izumi, Bumi, and the Gaang in general), because platonic affection is underrated and also I can :D I’m also probably gonna make fun of how some elements of affection have become solely romantic territory, because...um, no, hugging and holding hands and cuddling can be done between friends, thanks! (Maybe it’s the ace in me talking. But regardless)

There are also vague concepts I’m spitballing, like:

-Zukaang telepathy AU (Platonic Zukaang, the only romance I’ll ever write in ATLA is for the canon ships, prompted by a dream because apparently ATLA lives in my head rent-free forever now 😂)

-Evil Zuko AU (Azula doesn’t exist, mostly prompted after watching Aang make fun of Zhao and realizing that if Zuko had been in any position of power during the War...the Gaang would have stood no chance at all)

-Bumizumi Arranged Marriage AU (Bumi and Izumi both think the other is hotheaded/reckless (Izumi @ Bumi) or uptight (Bumi @ Izumi). So Kataang and Maiko (along with Sukka, Ty Lee, and Toph because...duh) set them up in an arranged marriage, with the presented reasoning being that they already know each other’s families, it’ll be a great symbol of unity, and this way Izumi doesn’t have to worry about suitors. They both agree to it (it’s arranged, not forced), and over time, they warm up to each other...and maybe even...fall in love?? Prompted because we need more arranged marriage fics! On that note, I’m gonna plug shadows and steel by @dearestpartnerofgreatness because arranged marriage needs more rep and this fic does it and with Maiko to boot!)

-Zukaang as Brothers AU (I saw a fic about this, but it wasn’t complete. If it’s not done by the time I get to this concept, I’m gonna write it, because just...imagine the possibilities! Zuko and Aang are already basically brothers in canon anyway, this is just making them brothers in blood as well as in their hearts. This is especially vague because I have no concept of how this is gonna work 🤷‍♀️ I’ll get to it eventually)

(Can you tell I’m obsessed with Zuko and Aang’s friendship? Because I am!)

[EDIT 11/25/2020: I’m adding two more because I forgot these have been swirling around in my head too 😂]

-A fix-it fic based on May You Always Be Satisfied, a backstory fic for Who Killed Markiplier by @blackaquokat! I recently reread it and remembered that I was gonna write a fix-it for that fic. Not because the fic sucks, it’s actually amazing! I’m just a sucker for the main (requited unrequited) pairing, and there’s at least five ways to make that pairing canon and avoid the mess of Who Killed Markiplier. And THEY ALL DESERVE TO BE HAPPY OKAY

-A Finnrey fix-it for the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy (this one is especially vague, and I probably won’t write it since a bunch of these already exist, but it’s fun to think about. Maybe if I ever run out of WIPs 🤷‍♀️)

Upcoming story that you’re most excited to write: I’m equally excited for the Soulmate AU and the Bumizumi Time Travel AU! I’m also excited for my Nanowrimo work to be finished, but that’s more so in-progress than upcoming

Tagging:

@nonbinary-crafter-aang @dearestpartnerofgreatness @ohsalamanders @blackaquokat (no pressure ofc, only if you want to! But please tag me if you do, I’d love to see it!)

[crystal-moon-101]

How about: why do you stan the celestial stones/starshard?

Ok, so! There were three major reasons I got into the Tangled Fandom. 1. Varian! 2. The Brotherhood! 3. The Sundrop & the Moonstone! Here are the main points as to why I stan the celestial stones!

 I, oh course, love magic and galaxy things, so combining these two elements obvious made me intrigued. I was really excited to see the show include the Moonstone, given we already had the Sundrop, and it helped created these two very interesting artifacts to tie into the story. True opposites with intriguing powers of life and death. The story potential they have is amazing, and it’s great to see what others come up with as their own ideas surrounding both stones. Plus, in the show, you don’t get a lot of lore behind them, as they are treated as mysterious things of power that clearly don’t belong to earth, which leaves a lot open for the interpretation of the fans, including me! ✨ 

Out of the two, the Moonstone is my favourite. The reason are probably obvious, as the colour blue is my favourite, I prefer night over day, and even my username as the word moon in it. But something about is so intriguing to watch. The fact it has powers of death was something I wasn’t exactly expecting, because I thought a Disney kid show wouldn’t do something like the decay incantation, which is amazing! It’s also one of the few scenes I watched before ever getting into the series. And let me tell ya, seeing Rapunzel get black hair and eyes, with that chilling song, it helped sell me on the series. Its ties to the Dark Kingdom and the brotherhood also caught my attention, and the lore behind the Moonstone is very interesting. Being this unstoppable force that humans can not control, it adds a very interesting element to the story. But what I really love is why it does all of this, to get back with the Sundrop. Cause in most stories I’ve seen that involve beings or objects with the sun and moon, they tend to be enemies of some kind, or have this rivalry to it. But we don’t get that with them (Not counting Rapunzel or Cassandra’s fight) as all the Moonstone wants is to protect the Sundrop and reunite with it, which just seems really sweet to me.

What they can do to people, who are their hosts, is very interesting as well, and it was something I wish we got to see more of, how their connect with Rapunzel, Cass or even Zhan Tiri could play out or affect those people. There’s so much more to these two stones that there are so many ideas you can come up with. Which, of course, is how I came up with my Sentient Stone AU. I had seen concepts others made of the two stones being alive, mostly as gods or strange spirits, and so I went my own route as magical alien-like creatures, who are very different from humans. I gave them personalities, looks, traits and stories because I wanted to see more of them, to explore the many ideas that surround them, based on hints or subtle moments I picked up. I’m also the kind of person who wants to give a reason behind certain story moments. Like why did Rapunzel have those strange dreams back in season 1? Why did the Moonstone crack during the fight between Rapunzel and Cass if both stones are meant to be equal? What relationship do the stones have with each other and their hosts? Which all lead into a spiral of creating that AU, which I’m proud of and are happy to see that others enjoy it too. It’s all something a lot of us can debate and share ideas with, which bridges a connection between members of the fandom which I’ve always loved. 

And of course, there is the Starshard. To me, it shows a lot of my enjoyment of the series and what I see with it, that being the Tangled The Series has a lot of potentials, especially with the Celestial Stones and Varian. Starshard!Varian was my first ever piece to the Tangled fandom, and it was amazing to see how much people loved it. I originally did it because I saw all these other people come up with ideas about Varian’s hair stripe, and I wanted to join in. Now it’s a symbol of my placement in this fandom, and where it began for me. Without it, I probably wouldn’t have made friends with the special people on the group chats I’m in, would never have made Stars In My Eyes, which was the first-ever fanfiction I completed, and would have never delved that far into my Sentient Stone AU. I tried my best to make the Starshard a different idea, making it anti-magic, an artificial stone made by Demantius, and tying it into a story about Varian’s personal journey. I will admit I was initially nervous to post such a thing, and thought might not like it. But no, people liked it and I’m proud to have made such a thing. And I thank all you liked, left a comment or talked to me about the idea, because it helps make me feel like I am a part of this interesting fandom. 

[queencarolinemikaelson]

Beyond Mikaelson

Klaroline Bingo as hosted by @klaroline-events Prompt // Dagger

This is set early season three, and is fairly canon compliant until then, except Caroline is an Original. Very Mikaelson heavy, and a little bit gruesome/gory in parts. It’s also very long.

This will be my last contribution to KC Bingo, thank you so much to the team at @klaroline-events​! I wouldn’t have got any of these out without prompting, and I’m glad to have participated in another fandom event! xxx

/

“Rebekah, where are you? Pick up the phone darling, daddy’s dead. It’s time for a family reunion.”

Klaus Mikaelson’s phone beeped quietly, signalling he had a call waiting on another line.

The hybrid couldn’t help the smug smirk that crossed his lips as the name Stefan Salvatore flashed on the screen.

This was going to be fun.

“Stefan! Miss me already?”

“I’m just calling to thank you for my freedom,” Stefan said on the other end of the phone, sounding far too sardonic.

“Well I like to believe I’m a man of my word… more or less,” Klaus smirked.

“The thing is,” Stefan continued. “It came at too high of a price. You took everything from me, Klaus.”

“Let bygones be bygones, trust me. Resentment gets old.”

“You know what never gets old?” Stefan asked, in a tone that had alarm bells ringing in Klaus’ mind. “Revenge.”

As the line went dead, and Klaus opened the back of his van, only to reveal nothing, Stefan’s words truly sank in.

And Klaus felt a white-hot rage bubble through his veins; a rage unprovoked in centuries.

/

It would be weeks until Klaus’ coffins were returned, and when they were, Klaus’ shoulders sagged in relief.

They were safe.

They were home.

They could be whole again; all five of them.

Wait… five?

Any shred of tension that left his body instantly returned.

There were five coffins, five.

Klaus often thought of there being only five in his family, which was likely why it took him so long to cotton to the fact he shouldn’t have five coffins.

He should have six.

Quaking with unparalleled rage, and a panic long lost to time, Klaus tore at the lids from the caskets, flinging each open so roughly he nearly destroyed their hinges.

Elijah.

Finn.

Rebekah.

Kol.

Klaus squeezed his eyes together for a moment, as he stood before the final coffin, knowing everything had a fifty-fifty chance of being okay. If they were together, they would be okay.

But as Klaus tried to open the box, he was met with complete resistance.

And he knew, that box belonged to his mother.

And he just knew, they had her.

His hands shaking, Klaus pulled his phone from his pocket, dialling Stefan’s number.

“Hello there Klaus, not the family reunion you were expecting?”

The young vampire sounded so gleeful that Klaus mentally signed his death wish then and there. Their history be damned, there was no repenting for this.

“Where is the sixth coffin, Stefan?” he asked, his voice shaking as much as his hands.

“Well, see, the thing is Klaus, we found your little cave paintings. We can account for everyone in the coffins, except for this one. She’s quite beautiful, isn’t she? I’m not letting loose an unknown entity in my town, Klaus. Not now. Not ever.”

“Stefan, I suggest you listen…”

“No, Klaus, you listen,” Stefan interrupted. “You’ll get a map. You’ll be able to find at least some of her. And that’s a promise.”

“Stefan, if I do not have her back before sunset, you will regret it.”

“You took everything from me, Klaus,” Stefan cried, his gleeful composure making way for his true anger. “I can’t regret anything anymore than I already do.”

“You have five hours, Stefan. For the sake of this town I hope you hand over my box,” Klaus said, coldly. “The consequences of this will be yours, and yours alone.”

Klaus hung up. He didn’t need any more of Stefan’s amateur postulating.

Nothing mattered, not without her.

Without much more than a heartbeat, Klaus circled the room, removing each dagger from the chests of his siblings.

He couldn’t worry about how they would react to him.

Not now.

/

It took nearly three hours before all his siblings were awake, each waking in their own time; Bekah first, Finn last.

And during that time, it had become quite apparent that, Elijah and Finn at least would not be easily swayed into helping him.

“I don’t much care that you finally killed our Father, I will never mistake our brotherhood for trustworthiness again, Niklaus,” Finn said, in the old, awkward tongue they all once spoke.

“I’m afraid I may have to agree with our eldest brother,” Elijah said, coldly, true betrayal shining in his eyes.

“I never trusted any of you,” Kol said melodramatically, eager to stir the pot. Yes, he was a little miffed that he’d been in a box for about 200 years – but had daggered and undaggered his brothers (never Bekah though) many times himself over the years. Who was he to judge?

It was Rebekah – of course it was Rebekah – who first noticed Klaus’ haunted expression.

“What is it, Nik,” she whispered, fearing the answer.

“It’s Caroline,” he said.

Her name dropped from his lips like a secret, and immediately every Mikaelson ear was tuned in, and listening.

“They have Caroline.”

Caroline was a name buried by time. It was a secret more fiercely protected than any other the Mikaelsons’ held. For she always was their saviour.

“Who are they?” Finn asked.

“The vampire who has her is named Stefan Salvatore. I need your help. We can’t let him hurt her,” Klaus explained, his sparing vulnerability revealed, even if fleetingly.

Klaus’ vulnerability, coupled with their love for their baby sister, steeled the nerves of the Mikaelson siblings. Klaus may have long since given up his right for family trust, and may have done vile and cruel things to each of them over the years. But then they all had.

Except for Caroline. Her unwavering support and love for them transcended the centuries they lived together. She would care for them, laugh with them, cry with them. And through it all, she brought a sparkling joy to their lives.

Until one day, the horrors of being a Mikaelson caught up with her, and she tried to leave. She did it with such grace; such respect.

But they had not taken kindly to her desertion, and had laid to to rest because of it.

There wasn’t a waking moment since that day, when each Mikaelson hadn’t felt their guilt keenly.

“I hope she forgives us,” Kol said quietly.

“Let’s just… get her back first,” Finn said.

“What do you need us to do?”

/

Caroline’s eyes were shut as she began wriggling her toes, revelling in the feeling of stretching through the awful stiffness. In her first moments awake, she felt dread and betrayal, though she couldn’t for the life of her work out where those emotions came from…

Birds were chirping in the distance, the air was fresh, and it seemed like an all-round good day to be alive.

Though she was almost instantly disabused of that notion, as she made a move to roll over, and was met with searing pains shooting through her body.

Her eyes flew open, and her heart raced, as she took in her unfamiliar surroundings; very low light, menacing stone walls, vervain soaked ropes and chains firmly tying her to a jagged wooden table. A bloodied silver dagger was on the ground, not too far from her, as though it had been pulled from her and tossed away.

A dagger.

And suddenly, Caroline’s agonised confusion made way for terrible remembrance.

/

“I want to travel alone for a while.”

Caroline spoke so softly, but so resolutely, that the light mood around the table seemed to still, as her statement was met with looks of confusion.

“I beg your pardon?” Elijah said, incredulously, breaking the silence after a moment.

“I want to travel alone,” her voice was steady, but she dared not meet anyone’s eyes just yet. “I love every single one of you, more than my heart can bear. But families are meant to go their separate ways at some point, to live as their own souls.”

Caroline began fiddling with her fingers nervously, but continued to speak, knowing this was her only chance to convince them of her pure intentions.

“And we are a family cursed with eternity. Yes, we are sometimes stronger together, but we’re also angrier, bloodier, more terrifying. I want to discover a world beyond our existence, we have eternity to be together, what will a few decades, maybe a century, of time alone mean in a thousand years?”

“It’ll mean you left us for a few decades, maybe a century,” Finn said, coolly. “Are we not enough for you, little sister?”

“No, it’s not…”

“Caroline, you can’t leave,” Rebekah began.

“You are our sister,” Kol pleaded.

And thus, the damn of silence was broken, each sibling layering their own heartbreak and panic over the next.

“How could you possibly do this?”

“Are we that horrible a –”

“What did I ever –”

“This desertion is –”

“Please, Caroline, please.”

The only to remain silent was Klaus, fury and fear etched in every line of his face, choosing instead to regard her with the coldest of eyes – silence had always been his knife of choice with her.

“We’ll be better. I’ll try and –”

“Who on earth will –”

“You are to leave us, just like them, and –”

“ENOUGH!”

Her own anger and frustration at their judgement of her bubbled over and she couldn’t help the as the scream leapt from her mouth, her eyes turning dark, veins snaking up her face.

“Would this have been easier if I left with absolutely no warning? If I just snuck off in the middle of the night? Without saying goodbye?” Caroline asked, disbelievingly, into the silence her loss of control had created. “I love each and everyone of you, and we will see each other again. But I just want to live, for myself.”

There was silence for another moment, until Klaus finally spoke up.

“And what if Mikael finds you?”

His voice was frank, nearly nasty, and Caroline wished her husband could understand.

“He won’t, I will be less conspicuous on my own,” Caroline replied softly, the sad truth of her statement wracking through her family.

Klaus glared at her, the fear of losing her slowly seeping from his body before their very eyes, making way for only fury.

“Oh yes, Caroline, run away like the little girl from the village who could never see me with Tatia. Run away like the true Forbes your blood says you are. Remember when your parents ran from you? Because you were a monster? You will always be a monster, Caroline.”

His voice was malicious, cruel, but Caroline knew him, she knew him better than anyone, and she knew this was his way of making it hurt less.

It didn’t make it okay, but it did steel within her that this was the right choice for her.

“It won’t be forever, Nik, I promise,” Caroline said, gently placing a hand over his. “Just a little while.”

And with that, and all the grace in the world, Caroline rose, and smiled wanly at those around the table.

“I’m going to bed for the night, we can resume this discussion in the morning.”

As she retreated, she thought she heard Elijah say, “what are we to do about this?” but she blocked it out. Her mind was made up, their pleas and arguments for her to stay would not sway her.

The next morning, Caroline woke just after daybreak. She felt somewhat numb, as she relived the previous evening, but relieved that she finally shared her desires.

She rose quickly, and decided to prepare a meal for them all to share; a last supper of sorts.

As she bustled to the kitchen, she was surprised to find Rebekah already there, as the other woman usually liked to stay in bed far later than dawn.

“Good morning, Bekah,” Caroline said, softly smiling at her, as she leant against the bench next to her sister. “You’re up early.”

A flicker of something unreadable flashed over Rebekah’s face before it was extinguished with a warm smile.

“I feel awful about last night, I couldn’t sleep,” Rebekah said, real sorrow in her eyes, as she took Caroline’s hand. “You’re my sister, Caroline, and I don’t want you to leave.”

“I know, my love,” Caroline said, resting her head on Rebekah’s shoulder. “You could come with me, you know, the Mikaelson girls against the world.”

Rebekah frowned, and Caroline’s face lit up excitedly.

“Yes! Just imagine, we could go wherever we want, love whomever we please,” Caroline’s face fell a little before continuing. “I love Nik, always and forever, but it’s been over 200 years since our wedding. I think I’ve seen him share his love with dozens upon dozens of others, because I understand that life for us is different. But he’s never shown me the same mercy. Not once.”

“I could come?” Rebekah said, her mind racing with the possibilities. “What about wanting to leave us?”

“It’s not about leaving you, or any of you, it’s about living beyond this family. Living as Caroline, not as a Mikaelson. Don’t you ever want to just live slowly? Where the day is cherished, and longed for, rather than feared?”

“We have to fear the day, Caroline, we are vampires!”

“Yes, the original vampires that can only be killed by our deranged father! Living slowly means we won’t have to fear Mikael’s retribution, because he will never be able to find us!”

For a moment, Rebekah let herself dream of a life beyond the Mikaelson name. A life with only Caroline by her side, as sisters. Her sister had always been the best of her family – the most compassionate, the gentlest, the kindest.

But she shook herself; that life could not happen. That life belonged to a girl who died many years ago.

“Caroline, it is a life I do not want, I love my brothers too much.”

The two blondes looked sadly at each other, until Caroline squeezed the hand still holding Rebekah’s and sprung into action.

“Well, let us not waste this day then, my dear sister!” she said brightly. “I was going to cook a feast for our family, care to help me?”

Rebekah smiled, and nodded. Caroline once again missing the flash of guilt across her sister’s face.

It was a few hours before the two women finished their creation, and Caroline sent Bekah away to gather their brothers for the meal, as she picked up the final dish for the table.

It was a beautifully decorated ceramic dish her family purchased her as a gift, even before the six of them turned. She had treasured it and cared for it ever since. She would undoubtedly miss this place, her family, and all the adventures that came along with them – but she hoped it would do some good; learn that a family can exist as individuals.

“Good morning,” Caroline said cheerfully, as she made it to the dining area where each of her siblings were awkwardly standing around waiting for her. “Where’s Niklaus?”

She peered around, trying to find the eyes of her husband. In her distraction, Caroline didn’t notice the predatory ring her family was making around her, until she heard a light ‘whooshing’ sound, and suddenly her husband was in front of her, a glinting silver dagger in his grasp.

“I’m sorry, Caroline,” he whispered, as he plunged it into her chest.

As a reflex, Caroline’s hands flew to grasp her husband’s arms, her beautiful dish falling from her hands, becoming a mess on the tiles below.

“Please, have mercy, Niklaus,” she gurgled, as the ice cold pain worked its way through her body from her heart outwards. Her eyes flicked to the faces of her siblings, and it absolutely shattered her heart to see them watch this happen – knowing they knew this was coming.

Her eyes flicked back to Klaus’ in her last moment, and she didn’t see regret or remorse or love. She saw only fear.

/

Caroline let the memories and pain wash over her, and cursed herself for not being more like her family.

For if she had listened to their scheming that night, had been more mistrustful she would have learned that fleeing in the middle of the night is what she should have done.

She let out a desolate sob.

She sobbed out of fear of not knowing where she was, or when she was. She sobbed out of utter desperation for the pain shooting now constantly through her body. And she sobbed out of deep, deep betrayal at the hand of those she so loved.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

A snide voice came from a shrouded corner of the room, and Caroline was immediately silent. Her grief was for her alone, not this stranger.

“Torture time!”

The man moved from the shadows, to reveal a sadistic, smug smile – that was not dissimilar to an expression that was common on Niklaus’ face – and within an instant, had buried a jagged-edged knife into her side.

Caroline winced at the pain, but did her best to remain silent and defiant, unwilling to give this cretin the satisfaction.

“I’m going to chop you into little tiny pieces and make a scavenger hunt for the Hybrid that wants you back so desperately.”

He continued speaking as he stabbed her, and cut chunks from her flesh, but Caroline couldn’t decipher any of his words, the language he spoke far different from any she recognised.

So she did what she did best, she remained silent, and somewhat calm throughout terrible violence.

She nearly chuckled to herself at how compliant she had always been with her family. Letting them destroy towns and lives, for no reason other than the sport of it. And for them to repay that loyalty with a silver dagger, and goodness knows how many years in a coffin…

She was sickened with herself.

/

Klaus’s leg was twitching anxiously, waiting for the communications to come from his siblings.

The minute he had the green light, he would tear Stefan’s world down, piece by pathetic piece, for even considering toying with Caroline.

His phone buzzed with Rebekah’s name.

“Little sister?”

“Hello brother, almost every thing is in place. Finn has the quarterback and the teacher, I’ve got the doppelganger, thank you for lending me you electric razor, by the way! Kol has the witch and the doppelganger’s brother. The only issue is Elijah can’t find Damon.”

Klaus gritted his teeth.

“I think we might just start without Damon, then; we can’t wait any longer. Have Elijah help Kol instead,” Klaus said.

“And have you done your part, brother?”

“Of course I have,” Klaus snapped.

It was agreed that to lure to bait out, unfamiliar faces would be best – giving Finn, Kol, and even Elijah to an extent an advantage over Rebekah and Klaus. Though, Rebekah had put her foot down, saying she ‘dibs-ed’ the doppelganger.

And thus, Klaus’ task was to line the perimeter of the Salvatore estate with gasoline, and maybe something explosive, then dig a fire break around it, so if Stefan decided not to talk, they could control burn his life around his wretched ears.

“Are you on route?”

“Yes, we’re about five minutes away, I suppose,” Rebekah said.

“Make sure you all stagger your arrival for maximum impact,” Klaus ordered. “I want Stefan to feel hope until the very last moment.”

Without another word, Klaus hung up his call to Rebekah, and sprang into action.

And before those five minutes were up, Klaus was pulling up outside the Salvatore boarding house. He knocked commandingly on the front door, and was infuriated when he was met with a smug smirk from his former friend.

“Stefan, lovely to see you mate, I’m here to collect my prize.”

“Your prize, Klaus, isn’t here. As I said, you will never see her again, not in one piece anyway.”

For Caroline’s sake, Klaus did everything in his power to keep his calm.

“Well, in that case, perhaps we can remake an episode of This Is Your Life?”

As if on cue, Finn arrived, flashing to the front and dumping the unconscious bodies of Alaric and Matt at Stefan’s feet.

“Finn, brother, apparently Mr Salvatore here has plans to mince our darling sister, perhaps you could show him the same courtesy, using these two as surrogates of course.”

“With pleasure.”

Stefan looked between the two brothers, confused and wary, having been unable to decipher much of what they were saying.

But the meaning of the sentence wasn’t missed, as the brown haired Mikaelson bent down, and ripped the finger encasing the Gilbert ring clean from Alaric’s body, before turning to dislocate Matt’s shoulder, leaving it pointing in a wholly unnatural direction.

“Now I will ask again, Stefan, where is she?”

“I will never tell you,” Stefan spat, coldly disregarding the suffering of his friends.

“On your own head,” Klaus said, taking a step back, as Elijah and Kol, arrived on the scene, each restraining a struggling body.

“What would be the best way to torture these two?” Klaus mused aloud to his brothers.

“This one’s true torture will come in due course,” Elijah said, nonchalantly, his vice grip clamped around the muscular arms of Jeremy Gilbert. “However, I suppose I could inflict some physical torture. For effect, of course.”

“Well it’s easy for this pretty little thing,” Kol said, grinning wickedly, biting into his wrist, as forcing it to the mouth of Bonnie Bennett. “Break that connection with nature, become that disgusting creature she reviles so much.”

“Please, stop. Let me go,” Bonnie said, weakly, struggling meekly against Kol’s strong grip. “Stefan please, I can’t turn.”

“Tick-tock, Stefan, time does march on,” Klaus said. “Where is she?”

“I will not tell you,” Stefan said, furiously ignoring Bonnie’s whimpering pleas, or Jeremy’s grunts of pain.

“Fine then. Rebekah!” Klaus hollered over his shoulder.

Stefan furiously hoped they hadn’t found her. He’d told her to stay inside, to not come out for any reason. Surely she would be safe, surely she had –

But he was cut off mid-thought as a swath of brown hair was thrown in his face, and Elena’s perfect face came into view.

Stefan’s knees nearly buckled, taking in her appearance. Her face was tear-streaked, yes, but that was hardly noticeable through the blood dripping down her face from her mangled head, large chunks of skin ripped from her skull.

“I thought I would arrest her of that horribly boring hair of hers,” Rebekah said, poisonously. “It was just so straight all the time.”

“Stefan,” Elena snivelled. “Please, just tell them what they want, please.”

Stefan’s nostrils flared, and fury, and agony coursed through his veins.

“I will kill her Stefan,” Rebekah stated, her hands placing her hands on either side of Elena’s garbled face.

“What about his hybrids,” Elena said, desperately trying to bargain for her own life. “Without me, you don’t get anymore hybrids.

“You broke the curse, brother?” Kol asked.

Klaus smirked in replied and flicked his eyebrows.

“Well, congratulations!”

In lieu of responding, Klaus menacingly strode toward were Rebekah suspended Elena by her head in mid air.

“Without Caroline, hybrids mean nothing to me,” Klaus spat in her face. “So someone tell me, or all six of your pathetic little lives will be snuffed out in the most horrific way possible. And then I will find that horrendous brother, and snuff him as well. Then burn this town, and all its residents to the ground.”

The four conscious Mystic Falls residents stoically kept their silence, for a few moments, until Klaus said, “Fine then, Elijah!”

Before anyone could blink, Elijah had broken Jeremy’s back, and the young boy gargled out a cry of pain.

“No!” Elena shrieked.

“He has approximately a minute left, we can still heal him,” Klaus said, in a sing-song voice, radiating a wrath Stefan never thought possible. “Bonnie is next on the menu, and if she dies, well, we all know her fate.”

“She’s in the Lockwood cellar! With Damon,” Elena sobbed.

“Elena, no!”

“Please just help Jeremy, I need Jeremy.”

“Well, then, that wasn’t so hard,” Klaus said, as he narrowed a smirk at Stefan. “Heal the boy, Elijah. Then make them unable to follow us.”

Each Mikaelson sibling delivered a blow to their charge, and suddenly all was silent, as the whimpers and grunts of pain made way for heavy breathing.

“Does anyone actually know where this ‘Lockwood cellar’ actually is,” Kol said, letting Bonnie’s body flop unceremoniously to the dirt below.

“Well, no but I’m sure it can’t be that hard to find, given that there is a ‘Lockwood Estate’ only a few miles from here,” Klaus said. “Uh-uh-uh.”

It was at that moment Stefan attempted to run, though he made the mistake of passing Klaus, who stuck his hand out and grabbed the young vampire by the neck.

“You took everything from me, Klaus, and now this?”

“I warned you very clearly, Stefan,” Klaus said, coldly. “You and your gang have been quite lucky with your upper hand over me during the sacrifice. But I don’t fight with vigour much anymore, nothing is worth it. But you reunited the Mikaelson family, but kept one of our own to do with as you please.”

Klaus dug his fingers into Stefan’s neck, puncturing hole straight into his windpipe, and watched avidly as the blood drained from the wound.

“But Caroline, she is worth fighting for.”

Klaus dropped Stefan to the ground, only to stake him twice a moment later, one through each leg.

“Can’t you kill him already?” Rebekah whined. 

“No.”

“Can we still set the fire, at least?” Kol grinned, his eyes lighting up.

“Why not,” Klaus mused.

/

It had been over an hour of this man striking and maiming her. And she desolately thought that perhaps in whatever time it was now, not even her family were there for her anymore.

Throughout the hour, the man, who had identified himself as ‘Damon Salvatore’ – what a strange name – had moved her from being tied to a wooden plank, to being hung from the ceiling on suspended metal hooks.

“I had these installed, just for you,” he simpered, at some point or other, though Caroline still did not understand the language he spoke.

She was in desperate agony, as this man had arrested her of her fingers, then her hands, and now he was working on her legs. She still refused to give him the satisfaction of showing him how pained she truly was, but even she wasn’t sure why she was trying to be so stoic.

Damon raised a wooden knife to her face, and was just about to drag it across her cheek when there was a violent crash from above.

He whipped around, but before he could do anything, a figure flashed into the dark dungeon and slammed his body into the stone wall.

In her haze, she couldn’t quite make out the face, but at that moment, she lost her battle with consciousness and fell back into blackness once more.

/

“I know it’s impossible for her to be dead, but do you think she’s dead?”

“Shut it, Kol, she’ll be awake soon.”

“She’s had blood though, why isn’t she stronger?”

“The magic literally had to heal a foot, hands, fingers and ear that was cut off, obviously that’s going to take longer than a little gash in the palm.”

The first thing Caroline registered when she began to regain consciousness was the unmistakable sound of her siblings having a whispered argument. She’d heard similar conversations many times over their lives; outside doors they shouldn’t be outside of, over someone who was sleeping, in a crowded room of too many prying ears.

Though, unlike those times, she couldn’t understand what they were saying, for they too spoke in the same foreign tongue the man in the dungeon had spoken.

She nearly shuddered as she remembered the ordeal in the dungeon, but she didn’t want to reveal her consciousness just yet.

Though it didn’t seem as though she had a chance to rest any longer, as she felt a soft hand pick up her own and squeeze it.

“Caroline,” he said. “I know you awake.”

He spoke in a tongue she recognised, and that, more than anything, compelled Caroline to open her eyes. Her gaze was met with Klaus, his own eyes filled to the brim with love and care – very much at odds with how they looked the last time she saw them.

“Hello Niklaus,” she said, her voice small and delicate.

“Caroline!”

In an instant, each of her siblings were crowded around her, all of them vying for her attention; all of them saying how much they missed her, how sorry they were, making excuses for what they did to her.

“What year is it?” she said, ignoring their words, her voice trembling a little.

“2011.”

It was Klaus’ admission, not too small to take responsibility of his actions, though each sibling had nearly a thousand years’ worth of guilt on their face.

“2011?” she repeated. “So, I’ve been daggered in that box for…”

“Nearly nine hundred years,” Elijah finished.

“If it makes you feel any better, Caroline,” Finn said. “They got me only about 200 years after you, and I was only woken a few days ago.”

“Yes, and me and Bekah have been in and out of the boxes since about then as well.”

“Is this a joke to you?” she levelled Kol, who at the decency to look a little ashamed.

Caroline’s cold gaze moved to her husband – though it nearly revolted her to call him that now.

“And you… you’ve been living… awake… that whole time.”

“Yes, my love,” Klaus said, his deepest shame staring him in the face. “I will do anything to ensure your forgiveness. I love you, Caroline.”

Tears began to well in Caroline’s eyes at his proclamation. For he, still, after over 800 years apart loved her – or so he said.

And for Caroline, her love for him, and for her family, had not been time-tested. She had fallen asleep what felt like yesterday, and then woken up today, no time having passed at all. She loved them all like she loved them then – though their deep and unjust betrayal of her battled to be acknowledged.

“How is one supposed to live in 2011,” she asked. “You all seem to speak the same strange language that the man in the dungeon spoke.”

“It’s called English,” Kol said. “Old Finn over hear isn’t very familiar with it either, though he’s taken to it quite quickly.”

“There’s really a lot of things you would need to catch up on…” Rebekah said.

“Clothes, cars, television.”

“Electricity! The internet.”

“Hot showers – I guess, showers at all.”

“Flushing toilets.”

“Shorts and jeans!”

“Western medicine.”

Caroline listened closely as her siblings listed off so many words she never heard of, nor could even conceive, and it made her blood boil with anger.

“I think you all need to go,” she said, so quietly, they could barely hear her.

“But Caroline…”

“Go!” she spat. “Find something that will teach me this English, then stay away from me for a few days.”

/

Later that day, Caroline heard a knock at the door of her room.

The knock was light but firm, and Caroline just knew that it was Rebekah on the other side. Apparently some things hadn’t changed over the years.

Without waiting for Caroline to invite her in, Rebekah opened the door and stepped through it, a burly, unshaven man following her in.

“This is Alaric, he’s a teacher,” Rebekah said. “He’s going to teach you modern English. You shouldn’t have too much trouble with it, when you… left… we spoke what they now call ‘Middle English’. There is overlap with root words, and sentence structure. And in any case, you were always the best of us at picking up new skills.”

“I didn’t leave, Rebekah,” Caroline snapped. “The five of you put me down. For 800 years.”

Rebekah flushed furiously, but didn’t say anything, just left the room.

“Uh hi,” the man named Ric said. “I know you probably can’t understand what I’m saying, but I have no idea how to help you… I’m a history teacher, not an English-as-a-second-language teacher. But is there a difference to a thousand-year-old vampire who won’t take no for answer? No there’s not.”

Caroline smiled tight lipped at him, not catching a word more than ‘vampire’.

“This is a chair, I guess,” Ric said, pointing to the chair.

“Chair,” Caroline repeated.

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’ awkwardly. “Chair…”

/

Six weeks later

It had been over a month since Caroline and the rest of the Mikaelson’s had been reunited, and she was still with them in Mystic Falss.

She had been living quite the wild crash course in modern day life, and she was annoyed to admit, she was slipping back into old patterns with each of her siblings. Joking with Kol, reading with Elijah and Finn, giggling with Rebekah. She had even kissed Klaus a few times.

She was now pretty fluent in modern English, and knew about showers and the internet. She refused to get behind the wheel of a car, because she didn’t see the use of them at all anyway.

She was tentative friends with Ric, who she learned only yesterday had been compelled to teach her – a compulsion she freed him of immediately.

She was regaled with many things the family had done other the centuries, and had been given the run down of what went on in the little town of Mystic Falls, during the sacrifice, and the aftermath, as well as what had taken place to get her back.

And through all of this she had not left the Mikaelson Estate alone. It wasn’t that she felt trapped there, as such, but she also knew if she tried to go anywhere, she would be sent with at least two of her siblings, and it irritated her somewhat that even now they were holding her as a bit of a hostage.

“I am going to the village,” Caroline said, now trying to speak only modern English, where possible. “Alone.”

“No you are not,” Klaus spluttered.

“Yes, I am,” Caroline said defiantly. “I am an adult woman, Niklaus, and you will not tell me what I can do. Goodbye.”

With that, Caroline turned on the heel of her very new boot, and flashed away.

Once in the centre of town, Caroline actually didn’t know what to do with herself.

But was spared the trouble of coming up with an idea when someone walked into her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she said, apologetically. “I am very clumsy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said. “It’s – it’s you.”

“Do I know you?” Caroline asked, peering at the tall, dark haired man with interest.

“I’m Stefan Salvatore, maybe you’ve heard…”

“Oh… yes… I’m Caroline,” Caroline replied, awkwardly. “I’m really sorry my family were so awful to you… they can get pretty protective.”

“I’m sorry I told my brother to chop you up into little pieces…”

“Your brother?” Caroline said, incredulously. “Yes, you should be sorry, that hurt.”

Caroline let out a tinkling laugh, unable to hold much of a grudge against the man before her. Sure, Niklaus hated him, but didn’t mean she had to. In fact, it would probably irk Niklaus greatly if she were to befriend this young vampire.

And boy Caroline would love to do anything to irritate Klaus.

“Do you want to get a drink? I’ve been in that box for almost 900 years, I have five friends in this time, and they put me there. I could use… someone new.”

Stefan frowned, sensing it was a bad idea.

“It’s not a trap, I promise.”

Caroline gave him her most sunny smile – it was a smile that got her in and out of trouble a lot of the years – and Stefan relented. 

Stefan led Caroline to the Mystic Bar and Grill and Caroline took a seat awkwardly, while Stefan ordered for the two of them.

“So, who are you to the Mikaelsons?” Stefan asked.

“Niklaus and I married when I was quite young, so he’s my husband, and the rest are my siblings.”

“By marriage?”

“Yes, but I grew up in the hut next to theirs. They’re more my family than my blood family ever was.”

The two of them chatted away, Caroline learned a lot about Stefan’s life as a vampire, as well as his life in Mystic Falls over the last two years. She couldn’t always understand the words he used, but he was kind enough to stop and explain whenever such a word came up.

Caroline couldn’t help but feel at ease talking to him, despite his obvious unstable side, she could sense there was a lot of goodness in his heart – even if it had been poisoned somewhat by time and sadness.

It was a familiar sense – it was what happened to her family.

“May I ask a personal question?” Stefan asked, to which Caroline nodded. “Why did Klaus dagger you?”

“It was not just Niklaus,” Caroline said, sadly. “We were all living together, and they all liked being vampires, the murder and the power. I didn’t want that. So I told them I wanted to travel alone for a while. None of them wanted me to go.”

“I see,” Stefan said, shrewdly. “That’s why they were so willing to band together to save you, when they should have been angry with each other.”

“I suppose, plus I am the best sibling.”

“I can see that,” Stefan replied, slipping the lightest of flirts into his voice. “I guess you’re lucky I came into your life. I freed you.”

Caroline stiffened.

It was a thought she’d had a few times since waking, though it was one she always pushed to explore later. But having it so casually raised with her, she realised she couldn’t deny the question anymore.

“I’ve got to go.”

/

Klaus was sitting agitated in his study.

It had been six whole weeks since his family had been reunited, and there were times when it felt like nothing had changed. But there were also times when he could set fire to west wing of the house and still would receive no attention from any of them.

He supposed that was fine. It wasn’t an unfamiliar dynamic.

But, he reasoned, he was the only one of the six of them who remained awake the entire time. He guessed he wished they needed him more, the way he needed them.

Suddenly the door to his office flung open, and there stood Caroline.

Her eyes were full of tears, her cheeks flushed from what he could only assume was the run home from town.

“Would you have woken me if Stefan hadn’t kept me?” Caroline asked, in a strangled voice, reverting back to their old tongue for her own ease.

“What?” he asked, defensively.

“Stefan just said to me that maybe it was lucky he took me, because he freed me from your betrayal.”

“Stefan just said to you, Caroline? Your friends with Stefan now?”

“Don’t avoid my question, Niklaus,” she said, dangerously. “Would you have woken me now? Would you have woken any of us now?”

“Mikael is dead, Caroline, it was my plan to insight a family reunion.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question!” she sobbed. “If Stefan hadn’t woken me to torture you, would you have woken me now? You reasoning has always been Mikael would have killed me if I was alone. So, now he’s dead, would you have woken me?”

Klaus mouth stayed tightly shut, unable, or at least unwilling, to answer her.

“How could you?” she asked, her voice so broken.

“Caroline, you have to understand, you –”

“Understand what, Niklaus? That I wanted a life beyond this family, beyond you?”

“I was –”

“I don’t care, what you were,” Caroline cried, tears freely pouring down her face. “You robbed me of eight hundred years of life that you got to live. You got to live beyond me! Why could you never offer me the same kindness?”

“What if I lost you?”

“What if you lost me?” she shrieked, the words tearing her throat. “Your sense of love and loyalty to me is completely insane if you think keeping me dead in a box wasn’t losing me, Klaus.”

“Caroline, please, I –”

“Don’t you dare say you love me, Klaus,” Caroline spat, the tears on her flaming cheeks mixing with the sweat and mucus dripping down her face, forming a grotesque imprint of the Caroline he’d loved and lost so long ago. “I could have been there in 1492 when you tried to break the hybrid curse the first time, I could have been there when you adopted your son in New Orleans, I could have raised him with you! I could have been there to cheer you on when you finally succeeded in breaking the curse this year! I could have been around for all of it!”

“But you were leaving!” Klaus said, finally beginning to match her level of rage. “How can you not see how ridiculous your notions of ‘being there’ are, when you were – by your own admission – trying to not be there!”

“You’re unbelievable, Klaus,” Caroline scoffed. “That you still fail to see my side of this at all, proof that I was right back then.”

“I can’t stand you when you’re like this, Caroline,” Klaus muttered. “Just get out of my sight.”

“No,” Caroline said, giving Klaus a look of pure petulance. “What did you do with my stuff?”

“What?”

“Way back then, what did you do with my stuff? My books, my dresses, my everything!”

“I packed them in a box and it travelled with us.”

“Good, where is it?” Caroline asked, petulantly. “I want it.”

“Cellar.”

Klaus grunted the last two syllables as he brushed past Caroline, and stalked away from her.

She rolled her eyes, but made her way to the cellar instead of engaging him further.

/

Elena Gilbert was sitting on the couch in her home shaking intermittently.

The past year had taken its toll on the young woman, and the events of only the last couple of days had served to shake her more deeply than she thought possible.

She refused to see Stefan, or Damon – both complicit in disregarding her life, and the life of her family for their own revenge fantasies. She ordered both Jeremy and Bonnie be in her vicinity at all times, though she rarely spoke to them. Matt and Ric were allowed a little more freedom, but had to call or text her every couple of hours.

Despite the fact she was completely healed, thanks to vampire blood, Elena could still vividly feel the vicious and cold pain Rebekah inflicted upon her. And every time she looked in the mirror, and saw her bare head, her eyes would fill with tears, for her scalp was just a visual representation of all she lost since turning sixteen.

She flinched as there was a sudden knock at the door.

She knew Bonnie and Jeremy were upstairs, and Matt and Ric were at school, and surely Stefan and Damon knew better than to come grovelling for her forgiveness so soon?

Trying to pull herself together, she bravely stood up, wrapped her cardigan more firmly around her, and answered the door.

“Hi,” the blonde on the other side of the door said softly. “I’m Caroline. Are you Elena?”

Elena nodded jerkily, but didn’t say anything.

It was at this point, Bonnie came down the stairs, and, recognising Caroline, pulled Elena from the door.

“Elena, don’t, she’s one of them.”

Caroline smiled sadly – that was a line she heard frequently her entire life. She was one of them; a Mikaelson. Once she vowed her life and heart to Niklaus, she doomed herself to an eternity of spite and shame.

“They don’t know I’m here,” Caroline said gently. “I don’t even want to be invited in.”

“What do you want?” Bonnie said, tersely.

“To apologise; my family betrayed me, and I guess they thought their saving me this time would make up for that. I’m sorry for everything they’ve undoubtedly done to you. My husband, especially.”

“Which one’s your husband?” Jeremy asked, from his position behind the two girls.

“I’m sure you can guess,” Caroline huffed. “Niklaus is a brutish man, and I am loathed to admit regret for anything, but now…”

She left her sentence hanging in the air, leaving all four of them to contemplate the terrible twists and turns their lives had taken.

“It is strange,” Caroline said. “I feel as though, perhaps in another life, another universe, I could be a close friend to you three. But I don’t believe that’s for this life.”

For the first time in a few days, Elena gave a small, guarded smile to the blonde at her doorstep, and it was enough for Caroline. It was all the solace she would get from this particular encounter.

“I brought you this, I used a photocopier, whatever that is, to make you a copy from one of my old books.”

Caroline placed an envelope at the foot of the door, and took a step back, gesturing for them to take it.

“What is it?”

“It’s a spell I weaved myself, back when I was a girl, I was a witch, you know,” Caroline said, wanly. “It should spark hair growth. Over night, you should be able to regrow all the hair my brat of a sister stole from you, in any style you want. There’s also instructions on how to spell your hair to different colours, lengths etcetera.”

Elena’s eyes widened, and tears filled them.

“I know it’s not much salvation from the destruction that tends to follow my family, but hopefully it’s something. The world needs pure souls like the three of yours, and I want you to still believe there are good people out there.”

Without another word, Caroline turned and left.

She heard a quiet ‘thank you’ when she was half way across the street, and she smiled sadly again, unsure of where to go now.

/

It was a few days later, as that sun began to peak its beams through the trees, and Klaus was quietly reading when he heard a heartbroken wail, that was unmistakeably his little sister.

“Rebekah!” he called, jumping from his armchair and dashing toward her.

She was crumpled in a heap on the marbled floors of their kitchen.

“What’s the matter,” Klaus said, alarmed, as the rest of their brothers joined them.

“It’s Caroline,” she cried, barely audible through the choking sobs ripping through her. “She’s left us."

It was then Klaus noticed the the thick paper clutched in Rebekah’s hand, and the matching envelopes addressed neatly to each other them on the kitchen bench.

“I don’t know if she’ll want to come back this time,” Elijah said.

“Of course she will,” Finn encouraged.

“She can’t keep away from us forever, she won’t be able to help herself,” Kol joked, weakly.

Klaus reached for his own letter, dread coursing through his veins.

And, as he read both letters she left for him, he couldn’t help but think maybe he would never see her face again. 

/

 Hope you enjoyed! I also hope there’s not too many mistakes, I couldn’t bring myself to read this monster again!! Much love xx

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

How would Canada, Prussia, and Romano handle every country but theirs dying? And the micronations. Asking since I'm writing a fanfic, and it's set in the future with time shenanigans. [And yes, america dies, italy, Russia, Germany, everyone but those three and the micronations since they're so small]

Hello, lovely!

This ask took me a bit to warm up to; Hetalia is my happy-go-lucky escapist fandom, but the more I thought about this, the more my own curiosity was piqued.

I took the liberty of assuming this was sort of a “sudden death” scenario, and that the lads find out the Others are missing at relatively the same times. I also tried to be optimistic, and I apologize if some of it is unrealistic.

Hope this is sufficient, and perhaps inspires you in your future writing ventures!

*

Lovi and Gil knew immediately that their brothers were gone. 

Lovino felt the hegemony fall to his shoulders as he was watching the sunrise, sitting on a dock with his feet under the water. He was immediate rage, cursing any name he could think of for the responsibilities now falling to him, for daring to take away someone so young. 

Gilbert, on the other hand, knew as he was brushing his teeth, bright pink bubbles swirling down the drain as he simply collapsed into himself, crumbling to the floor. “I was supposed to go first. Not you. Never you.”

Matthew was the first one to reorganize, take charge of the situation. With all major world powers gone, Canada was now the leader of what remained of the Free World, and he took his duty very seriously. Having been in Berlin already for a meeting, he hunted down the remainder of Germany, dragging the eerily quiet Gil along with him to find any others.

Mattie played the strong one, keeping a stiff upper lip throughout the first few weeks of the crisis. It’s not until he goes back to his house and sees one of America’s stray Converse and Mexico’s favourite hoodie that he completely breaks down.

The humans are in chaos, the global economy having crashed, and a large majority of them now gone. There is panic of an epidemic, of a possible apocalypse, with looting and strong alliances forming between any survivors.

It has been three weeks.

Gil remains stiff and silent, though he does consent to food, sleep, and bathing. Lovino hovers near him in case the idiot tries to do something foolhardy when he finally overcomes the shock.

Italy, what is left of Italy, ties with what remains of Germany for second in strength in this new world. Lovino keeps a stern face, greets each minute of regrowth with a solemnity that Feli and Toni would have teased him endlessly for. When Marcello bursts through the meeting doors one evening with news about refugees, he nearly loses his composure; Seborga looks more like Veneziano than Romano ever cared to admit.

The panic has mostly settled, and an eerie sense of calm and faux normalcy hangs in the air for humanity. There is no real normalcy- Most continue trying to determine if their loved ones are still alive, many don’t return to work, some carry on as if they had no interruptions.

After months of debate, Rome is once more declared the centre of the world, and Lovino and Marcello move permanently into their family home. Many of the micronations soon join them, adopting Ladonia’s preferred communication strategy of staying in touch digitally.

Lovino takes on his new responsibilities easily. He’s lost half his population before, led empires before, been at the centre of the universe before. So long as he keeps himself busy, he can ignore the missing sarcasm, ignore the missing “Fuck!” tossed around every five minutes. The big house is almost filled to capacity; it still feels too empty.

It has been two years, and Humanity is working together to connect everyone who remains to a proper global network. In times of distress, everyone comes together. 

Most migrate nearer to the micronations, seek out shelter in one of the three main remaining nations. But there are some who refuse to leave their homes, and efforts are made to ensure everyone has access to medicine, electricity, and clean water. 

There is more progress now, with no real economy to stop it.

Gilbert remains quiet, though he observes everything. He signs whatever forms need his attention, acknowledges any issues to be addressed. But he can’t help thinking that it should be Freidrich or Ludwig here, that they should both be here.

He misses his inside jokes with England, with Scotland. He misses raising hell with France and Spain and Denmark. He misses shit-talking with Japan, Belgium’s bounding energy, Seychelle’s fierce optimism. All gone, with the survivors trying to build a new world order out of the ashes.

Ten years, and Mattie officially moves in with Lovino. Castel Sant’Angelo has once more been renovated- now into a central home, with more than enough space for every representative to keep their own room. Mattie just shrugs when Lovi raises a brow at his luggage. “It was too quiet, and someone has to keep you in line.”

It has been twenty years; Gil still has yet to speak.

Several attempts have been made to create some form of economy. Each was shot down.

Humanity, now interconnected more than ever, has resumed interest in teleportation and space travel.

Twenty-five years, and everyone now understands at least three languages.

Thirty years, and Mattie sometimes swears he can see Ukraine keeping watch over the garden.

Thirty-five years, and Lovino and Marcello are thick as thieves. Seborga is finally as deadly a shot as Romano, and Lovi has started to embrace his more childish ways at his brother’s encouragement.

Forty years, and two of the Big Three are arguing over which Grecian deity most closely fits them. Lovino insists there is no way he could be Zeus, just as there’s no way in hell Mattie could ever qualify as Poseidon. The debate could have raged for hours, but a dark scowl from the unanimously voted Hades left them both feeling too sheepish to continue.

On the forty-fifth anniversary, Lovino snuck off to the north, taking a boat to explore what still remained of Venezia.

Fifty years later, and the first person to Mars smiled for the camera. In a dialect birthed after the Great Disappearance, she sent love to her family, and made a small speech about progress and adventure and all the hopes for the future.

Millions of miles away, from a small kitchen in the Black Forest, a grainy television delivers the message to a soul older than comprehension. The words sank in, the phantom of a firm hand resting on his shoulder. “We will continue to rebuild, and we will grow stronger.”

For the first time in decades, Prussia smiled.

Fifty-seven years, and no one questioned why Matthew is completely smashed during the first two weeks of July.

Sixty-three years, and Mattie was trying to dig Prussia, Sealand, Wy, and Hong Kong out of a mud pit, cursing up a storm as the four continue to throw more earth at their rescuer’s head.

After eighty-six years, Gil has stopped wearing black. He came to breakfast with a vintage white t-shirt that read “Spread Pages, Not Legs (the ace agenda)” across the front, and Mattie nearly choked on his orange juice before he finished reading.

One century later, and no humans are left alive that can remember the Great Disappearance, the only recounts in history books. The world has rebuilt, and the people have learned to move on.

The micronations have grown into their power, now hosting monthly meetings to discuss policy, agenda, progress, shipping- All the things that society needs to function.

Missing from today’s meeting are the three eldest nations, who had left early in the morning without a word. No one is sure where to find them, where they could be. They’re not gone though, so there is relief.

It is 5 am local time. The sun will be rising soon.

Matthew murmurs a chant, golden glow slipping past his lips and circling around the small trio. Lovino harmonizes with his own sounds, some deep, dark, and inexplicably ancient rasping coating each syllable, cold air tying itself to the dancing lights. Gilbert watches on for a moment, holding in his hand a pile of letters and Alisdair’s old lighter, waiting. The moment comes, and he sets the papers ablaze.

The winds of Lovi’s spellwork and the control in Mattie’s ensures not a speck of ash will hit the ground, and all three watch as their words fly up, disappearing in seemingly midair.

They wait until they are satisfied, then begin the hike back to their car, parked on the old A303, Mattie nearly tripping as Gil rushes past him, desperately trying to beat Lovi in their impromptu race. The Canadian snickers quietly as both of them fall in the process, underestimating the steepness of the hill. Taking the initiative, he rushes past them, outright cackling at the outraged squawks of protest behind him.

None of them see the hazy figure sitting atop the bluestone, smiling softly before fading away.

The world is finally at peace.

*

And one addition, in case anyone was curious:

[katehuntington]

Title: All I Want - part one Fandom: Supernatural (season 14) Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael Pairing: Dean x Reader Serie summary: Sam and Dean come across an object that could be the solution to Michael. The Pearl of Baozhu grants the beholder’s deepest desire. Once Dean focuses on his wish, the archangel remains caged in his mind however. Instead his former girlfriend Y/N shows up, who was killed in 2010 in Detroit, by no other than Lucifer himself. Episode summary: Dean relives the day that he lost his brother to the Devil, and his girlfriend to Death. Warnings part one: NSFW, 18+ only. Spoilers season 14 episode 13. Angst, fluff if you squint. Flashbacks, anxiety, major character death, description of blood and injury, grieving over lost loved one, swearing, manipulation. Word Count: 3855 words Author’s note: Part one of a multi part miniseries, based on the 300th episode “Lebanon” and 5.22 “Swan Song”. Beta’d by the lovely @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish and @thinkwritexpress-official, thank you so much for your feedback!

All I Want Masterlist

May 10th, 2010 Detroit, Michigan

     “Sorry if it’s a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It’s actually quite the opposite.”      A silhouette figure by the window watches the Detroit’s night sky, streetlights from outside exposing blisters and broken skin on his face. He breathes against the glass, the fog on the pane freezing within seconds, after which he wets his finger and draws a pitchfork in the frozen condensation. Y/N watches him, trying to supress the tremor that shakes her body as she holds her breath. Never has she come face-to-face with him, and she wishes she never had. Being in the same room with him chills her bones like the frost on the window, the entity of pure evil weighing down on every person and demon in the room.            Lucifer.

     Never in her entire life has she felt this intimidated. When she dares to glance aside at Dean, she notices the muscles in his jaw flexing and the fright in his eyes. The oldest of the Winchester brothers always has some sassy remark ready, never missing a beat when talking back to whatever creature he faces, but now he doesn’t trust his voice to say a word. It isn’t the first time the hunter stands before the Devil, but that doesn’t mean his presence is something Dean is getting acclimated to. The scent of fear dwells in the air of the abandoned apartment building, masking the smell of mold and decay.      On his turn, Dean looks over at his little brother, who swallows thickly and lets out a shaky breath, his scared yet determined eyes locked on the image before him. Fuck, Dean realizes, if I’m scared shitless, than how must Sammy feel? He’s the one who’s about to jump into the pit with the Devil on his back, facing an eternity in Hell.

      “Help me understand something, guys...” the Devil turns around and clasps his hands together. Then his eyes land on the only female in the company of hunters. “- and girl. I don’t judge.”      He slowly approaches and with each step closer, she feels her heart rate pick up. Dean holds his ground, watching Lucifer like a hawk as he circles around Y/N. The hunter fights the urge to defend his girl and come between them, but he’s aware that a stunt like that will only draw more focus to her.      “Stomping through my front door is… a tad suicidal. Don’t you think?”      He narrows his eyes at the oldest Winchester, sliding the back of his hand from Y/N’s shoulder down her arm, goosebumps trailing after his touch under the fabric of her clothes. Dean accesses every bit of his self control to keep himself from pulling Y/N behind him and taking a swing at the bastard. Frustration builds, causing his fists to clench in rage and his face to tense, a short twitch of his upper lip only noticeable for a second, but long enough for the Devil to see.

     “We’re not here to fight you,” Sam states, drawing his attention.      It works, because although Lucifer smiles at Dean satisfied, he moves back to the center of the room. The faint light from outside doesn’t reach the Devil’s eyes, painting dark shadows on his burned face. His eye sockets seem deeper, his cheeks hollow. The archangel shifts his attention to Sam, his true vessel.      “No? Then why are you --”      “- I want to say ‘yes’.”      You could hear a pin drop in the neglected apartment building. Y/N observes the stare down between Sam and the Angel of Light. Dean casts his eyes down, still unable to fully accept what his brother is about to do, while Lucifer stares at Sam intently.      “Excuse me?”      Sam takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and focuses on the two demons who man-handled them inside earlier and are now waiting by the door. It does’t takes the hunter much strength to banish the dark entities from their hosts, and with a flash of fiery light the now empty bodies fall to the floor.      Intrigued, the Devil observes the Boy with the demon blood before him.      “Chock-full of Ovaltine, are we?”      “You heard me; Yes,” Sam says, worked up by the drugs rushing through his veins.

     Lucifer narrows his eyes, reading him. “You’re serious.”      Sam glances aside at Y/N and then at his brother, who gives him a reassuring nod, encouraging him to continue. Without words Dean tells him that it’s okay, but he can’t stop the fear and anxiety from showing too. If they execute this plan, Sam’s fate will be sealed, and it will be dark, horrific torment beyond imagination. Sammy won’t just be in Hell, chained to the rack for decades of torture like Dean was. No, Sam will be in the Cage, the Devil his cellmate, his torturer, and it will remain that way forever.      “Look,” Sam says, his voice strong. “Judgement Day’s a runaway train. We get that now. We just want off.”      He’s got Lucifer’s full attention. “Meaning?”      The younger Winchester brother takes a breath and makes the offer.      “The deal of the century. I give you a free ride, but when it’s all over, I live, they live, you bring our parents back--”      “- Okay, can we please drop the telenovela?”      The Devil rubs his chin, his stretched finger against his lips, the hand motion telling Sam to stop talking. All of a sudden, Lucifer seems unimpressed, slightly insulted even.      “I know you have the rings, Sam.”

     Shit. Y/N exchanges a look with Dean, tension tying up in her core. What she witnesses scares her to death, because when her boyfriend looks back, the slight nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth and the gleam in his eyes gives away just how screwed they truly are. How the hell can he know?      “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam claims, trying to keep his composure.      Lucifer sighs, becoming bored. They really need to watch their step now.      “The Horsemen’s rings? The magic keys to my cage? Ring a bell?”      The Devil steps closer, coming between the Winchester brothers. He faces the younger sibling, who flexes his jaw anxiously, knowing he’s been made. As the archangel moves past them, Dean closes his eyes. Keep it together, Dean.

     “C’mon, fellas. I never lied to you. You could at least pay me the same respect.”      Y/N watches Lucifer over her shoulder, her breaths now coming out quivering. They just lied to Satan. They just lied to fucking Satan! She cannot even begin to imagine the consequences, the backfire. Their only plan to save the world from going to hell is now out on the table. All hope is lost, and she knows she could be moments away from being flung across the room or killed with the snap of his fingers. Mentally she prepares herself, but Dean steps between her and the Devil, even though he’s aware that his act of courage will not stop the definition of evil. Lucifer won’t touch a hair on his brother, he’s sure of that. Sam is his one true vessel, after all. But why would Lucifer want to keep them alive? Dean’s hand ghosts to push his girlfriend back and behind him, the small touch letting her know he’s right there and he will do anything to protect her. Lucifer notices and smiles fondly.      “It’s okay. I’m not mad,” he says, too calm. “You two are a thing, aren’t you? I can tell. My father was always so fascinated by the ability of humans to love another like that. Not fueled by a family bond or companionship, but this unexplained pull and attraction to someone who could be a complete stranger. It’s what makes your species unique. He was proud of his creation...”      Lucifer pauses as he observes Dean, and then Sam. The corner of his mouth curls up and suddenly Lucifer’s eyes flick back directly at you, his expression cold and sinister.       “Honestly, I’m not that impressed.”

     With a simple flick of his wrist he sends Y/N across the room towards the outer wall of the apartment. She experiences the strange sensation of being lifted off the ground, light as a feather, but then she picks up momentum and collides with tough brick, her head bouncing off the solid surface. Her world fades to black and she slumps to the ground.      “Y/N!”      Dean shoots into action immediately, but his feet stay glued to the old floorboards the second Lucifer points a warning finger at him.      “Uh-uh,” he patronizes. “Stay.”      Worried and wide-eyed, both Winchesters stare at Y/N, motionless and covered in flakes of wall paint and plaster that came off the wall on impact. Horrified, Dean tries to detect any sign of her coming to, her long lashes fluttering, a groan, anything, but it remains eerily quiet and his guts twist in concern.

     “So, where were we?” Lucifer picks up the conversation again, scratching his chin as he strolls to the end of the room and turns towards Sam. “Oh, right. A wrestling match inside your noggin… I like the idea. Just you and me. One round, no tricks…”      He says those last two words warningly and watches his perfect vessel swallow apprehensively before the archangel continues.      “You win, you jump in the hole. I win… well, then I win.”      The content smirk on the lips of the Devil’s scarred face and the careless shrug says it all. The way he lays it out so simply, confident of an easy victory, amused by the attempt of a fight that these simple beings are putting up.      “What do you say, Sam?” he taunts, “A fiddle of gold against your soul says I’m better than you.”      Lucifer sings the last word, sending shivers down Sam’s back. Once again the odds dawn on the younger Winchester, the fact that they are just three little ants, about to get crushed under Lucifer’s boot. He has the power, he has the upper hand, but it’s not like they have a door number two to choose from. There is no plan B. Sam bites down on his own frustration as his breathing picks up, eyes not leaving the Devil.      “So he knows. Doesn’t change anything.”      Dean rips his gaze away from the image of his girlfriend on the floor and glances aside at his brother in distress. “Sam…”      “We don’t have another choice,” his brother states, determined.      “No.”      Desperation lays thick on Dean’s tongue, his voice pitching slightly higher than usual. Sam doesn’t look at his big brother, though. He can’t, because seeing the fear of losing him might just be enough to change his mind. Instead he eyes Lucifer, challenging and dead serious. He takes a breath, adjusts his footing while the Devil opposite of them waits in anticipation of the word that he’s been longing to hear for millennia.      “Yes.”

    Lucifer smiles, then turns his face to the ceiling and closes his eyes. A light starts to erupt from his chest, intensifying in brightness as a high frequency rings in Dean’s ears louder and louder. He can’t see, he can’t hear, so he shuts his eyes and covers his head with his hands. When sound dies down, he lowers his arm, his face leaving the crook of his elbow as he looks around. Lucifer’s vessel lays on the floor, and so does Sam. His first instinct is to check on him, but he knows he has little time to open the cage. Think, Dean. Stick to the plan.      With trembling fingers he takes the Horsemen’s rings from his pocket. Then he glances as the bare wall opposite of him and tosses the rings at it, where they stick to the wood.      Dean holds out his hand, remembering the spell that he drilled into his brain. “Beh voh tah mo en, tah beh geh sah, bah bah loh en.”

     For a second it’s quiet, but then the thin interior wall cracks. The surface breaks open, a black hole sucking in debris and gaining strength, growing larger. It doesn’t take long before a equation of a hurricane rips apart the room, tearing at him and the furniture. The Cave of the Wicked has opened, and he’s staring right down its mouth.      “Dean?”      Sam comes to, trying to crawl up to his feet.      “Sammy!”, Dean calls out.      Now the older Winchester brother does rush to his aid, grabbing Sam’s arm and supporting him as he tries to get up.      “Dean…” Sam groans pained. “I can feel him... Oh, God!”      Very much aware how narrow their window is, Dean pulls his sibling to his feet, forcing him to focus on the raging hole in the wall.      “You’ve gotta go now! Come on!”, he shouts over the loud sound of wind. “Go on, Sammy. Now!”

     Dean watches him, taking him in one last time. He watches the big guy Sam grew up to be, but sees the little boy who he gave his own breakfast to when there was nothing left, not caring about being hungry himself. The little boy he stood up for when kids at school bullied him. The little boy he taught the ropes to when it came to hunting, when he had trouble with his homework, and later on needed advice on how to talk to girls. The little boy Dean always swore to protect, and now Dean has to let him go. They share one last glance and then Sam strides towards his doom. Proud yet heartsore, Dean stands back. But then Sam’s stance changes. He lingers in front of the entrance, his respiration calming as he straightens his shoulders. As he turns around, a smirk that isn’t his spreads across his face.

     No. Dean’s face falls. No, no no.

     “I was just messing with you,” Lucifer smiles, content with himself. “Sammy’s long gone.”      Every ounce of hope that Dean still possessed seeps away with the shuddering breath that slips from his lips. Their last attempt, the world’s only chance, wastes away before him.      The Devil who wears his little brother’s face turns around and holds out his hand at the roaring hole in the wall. “Kah he reh tah, beh voh tah mo en.”      The entrance narrows until it closes completely, restoring the room that was torn to shreds seconds ago. Slowly the archangel walks up to the wall and takes the four Horsemen rings from the surface, examining the key to his prison. With the only way to lock him up in the cage his own hands, Lucifer looks up at Dean. His brows knitted together on his forehead, almost sympathetic when he beholds the broken Righteous Man before him.      “I told you. This would always happen in Detroit.”

     Then with a flick of a switch, Lucifer disappears, along with his brother. Eyes filled with tears of desperation frantically look around as Dean turns in the center of the room. With elevated breath he brings his hands to his head, running his fingers through his hair as panic takes over. The mission failed. He failed. Their last attempt to save the world has lead to nothing, nothing but loss. His brother is gone. It’s over now. 

     He lowers his arms as he tries to make out his surroundings through the haze that blurs his vision, but then he catches a glimpse of the collapsed huntress at the other side of the room.      “Y/N,” he whispers, then rushes towards her. “Y/N!”      Worried sick, he kneels down then carefully turns her over on her back and into his lap.      “Wake up, hon. I’m here.” He sweeps her hair from her face, searching her for injuries. “I’m right here. It’s okay. You’re okay.”     Anxiously, he gently shakes her shoulder, panic tangling and constricting in his abdomen. Something’s wrong, maybe even worse than it already seems. She’s breathing, right? She’s gotta be breathing. Blood sticks to his fingertips when he cups her face, coming from an injury on the back of her head, staining her hair and clotting strands together. Fuck, she hit the wall hard.

     “Y/N/N, open your eyes. Please, just open your eyes, okay? You’re my girl, you’ll be fine. You bump your head all the time, never stops you from mocking me for being an overprotective ass,” he smiles through the blur of moist that’s starting to fill his eyes, searching for any sign of a response on her face. “Y/N?”      He places his fingers on the pulsepoint in her neck and adjusts the position when he can’t detect a rhythm. He’s about to move again, when he notices fresh blood pooling on her lips, gathering in the corner of her mouth. A drop draws a trail of crimson, gravity taking it down her cheek. First from her mouth, then from her nose.      “No…” Dean shakes his head. “No, no, no, no, no...”

     Dean pulls the lifeless body of the woman he’s in love with into his chest, wrapping his arms around her and letting her hanging head rest against him. A part of his brain seems to understand exactly what’s happening, but although he’s aware, he can’t accept what he knows to be reality. He lays his hand flat on her chest, shaking her softly, begging it to rise. Maybe he’ll feel a beat, a soft drum against his palm. Maybe she’s not gone just yet. But when he presses his lips against her forehead and leaves a kiss there, feeling the coldness of her skin, Dean breaks. Breathing becomes impossible as a sob wracks him, tears falling down from his eyes.      “No... God, please…”      Footsteps echo through the empty apartment building, but Dean doesn’t hear them. He holds his girlfriend close to him, whispering soft words and prayers into her hair, but none of the messages will be received. A shuddering ‘I love you’ will not even wake her. Fuck, why didn’t he tell her that he loved her?        The footsteps grow louder and he half expects Castiel and Bobby to be standing behind him, watching breathlessly and in shock how the beat and battered hunter cradles Y/N, softly rocking her back and forth as he cries.

     “It is peculiar. That of all your memories, this one hurts the most.”      Dean looks up, shocked, and turns towards the figure in the doorway, stunned to see the man that looks exactly like himself. All but the clothes, because this guy is dressed formal, wearing a classic overcoat and a British flat-cap.      “Michael,” Dean realizes.      The archangel smiles, only one corner of his mouth turning up, the rest of his expression unchanged. He lifts his clean-shaven face and looks down at the man whose suit he’s wearing, clearly content to be a witness of  the torment in his prison guard’s eyes.      “I am not a fan of my brother, as you know…” He steps into the room slowly, folding his hands behind his back. The way the archangel carries himself is assertive, shoulders squared, every move calculated. “But the way he played this game, is… impressive.”

     Dean follows Michael in shock as he walks past, having a hard time grasping what of this is real and what is not. Is he dreaming? Reliving a memory that somehow morphed into the present, maybe? When he returns to look down at Y/N, she has vanished into thin air, only a few drops of blood on the wooden floorboards an indication that she was here. What the hell?       “What do you want?” Dean snaps at the angel as he gets up.      Michael chuckles low, finding it amusing that he asked several people, prophets, and creatures the same question.      “I want everything. But for starters, I would like to get out of this prison that is your mournful, regretting, and... desolated mind.”      “Well, too bad, douchebag. No way you’re getting out of that cool cell,” Dean counters.      The hunter straightens himself, flexing his hand into a fist, ready for combat if it comes to that. His opponent isn’t impressed.

     “The door is giving. You know you will lose.” He casts a long glance down the streets of Detroit before confronting the hunter. “Even if you decide to lay down in that Ma’lak Box.”      Dean frowns, unable to mask the unpleasant surprise. How the hell does Michael know about the box? He swallows down the nerves, breathes in and collects himself. You are in control here, Dean. Not him.      “You listen to me, you son of a bitch. I will not lose and I will not break. That door might give, but when it does, you’ll be on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean stuck in that box for all eternity and there’s nothing you’ll be able to do about it. You won’t ever harm a soul again,” the hunter reminds him.      “Oh, I will harm one more. You will be down there stuck in that box, with me, for all eternity…” Michael shifts his gaze and intensely stares at his doppelganger. “Are you aware that I can keep you alive down there? No food, no water... only hunger and thirst. Every day, for the rest of time, I will punish you for putting me there. You think Sam had it bad, in the Cage, with my brother? Think again.”

     Michael moves towards Dean, the soles of his expensive shoes sounding through the empty rooms and hallways in the eerie silence. He only halts when they are toe to toe and continues to speak slowly.      “Each misstep. All the cases that went wrong. Each drop of blood on your hands. John, Bobby Singer, Ellen and Jo Harvelle, the prophet Kevin, Charlie, Y/N… They are dead because of you. And I will make sure that you will relive each and every moment, on repeat. Every time you disappointed your brother, your father, the angel… Your family. Even mankind. Everytime you put souls on the rack in Hell or killed under the Mark of Cain.”      Dean’s mask falters, chills running up and down his spine. He tries to seem unimpressed, not wanting to give Michael the satisfaction of the fright that is beginning to surface, but he can’t stop himself from swallowing down the guilt, his jaw tensing when reminded of all the wrong he did. And all this time, the archangel never breaks eye contact.      “This memory has to be my favorite,” he says, smiling sadistically. “The day that you lost your brother to the Devil. The day that your one true love got killed on your watch, right before your eyes… I will replay it. Over, and over, and over, and over…”

     Michael isn’t physically taller, but he looks down on Dean either way. Without touching the hunter he tears him down until there’s nothing left, everything about him so intimidating that Dean has to fight the urge to step back and create distance. What hurts the most? Michael is right.      The angel smiles, satisfied when the mighty hunter averts his gaze. He leans over, moving his mouth to Dean’s ear and whispers a message.      “Who’s in control now?”

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did or have comments, don’t hesitate to leave them here! Feedback is very much appreciated!

Read part two here

Tags:

Follow Forever: @angelsandwinchesters @atc74 @bandobsession98 @books-wands-swords-impalas @canadianspnhunter @chumi-la-chula @cookie-dough-lova @dillpicklesunflowerseed @hannahindie @heartsaved @hennessy0274-blog @hyperella @idreamofhazel @just-another-busy-fangirl @kathaswings @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @mrswhozeewhatsis @myheartbeatsjustforyou @rainqueen @sammyssupersmile @sheepdogs33456 @sofiadiaz04 @soupornatural @spiritofoblivion @spnimag @sunskittlex @supernatural-girl97 @super-not-naturall @susan-is-in-the-house @theyaremyveryownthoughts @trashforwinchesters @ultimatecin73 @unlikelygalaxygiver @uzum4k1-uch1h4 @vvishous @vxxn128 @winchesterxtwo

All I Want: @justkending

[ko-fanatic]

Colours: White

Rating: Teen and up

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Trigger Warnings: Depression, suicide attempt, self harm, hospitalisation

Summary: He wondered, instead of hoped. That was a slight improvement, at least...

Other fanfics in this series: Grey / Blue / Yellow / Green / Purple / Pink / Red / Black

Kaoru didn't know what to think, sitting in the cold, plastic chairs of the waiting room. No one did. He’d cried himself out a few hours ago, Hikaru was just going around in a daze; how do you compute this? How do you act after your friend tries to kill himself, and would've succeeded if his father hadn't walked in. It was a thought that was so… hard to get your head around. Had it not been for chance, Kyoya would be hanging from his closet door - a corpse.

The upperclassmen were asleep, Mori's head tilted so crookedly to the side that his neck looked broken, Hunny tucked into a small lump in his lap. Nothing too unusual, except for how restless the sleep looked, not peaceful at all. Then there was Tamaki, who'd also cried himself out, staring blankly at the wall, and Haruhi had her hand on his back in an attempt to keep him grounded. Still, it all felt like some alternate reality, like beyond this room was a void and nothing had ever existed. But that wasn't right.

Beyond this room was a ward. In that ward, in a private room, the most intriguing and spellbinding boy he'd ever met lay prone and pale, a tube down his throat and machines beeping. He was alive, but he looked so still it was terrifying. He looked like a sickly doll, a beautiful corpse, a painting that mourned over fallen angels and dead beauties. It was so disturbingly perfect.

“I'm fine, Tachibana, leave me alone,” Ootori-san hissed for what had to be the fifth time that hour, glaring at the other man, “I need to be here. What makes you think I can go home now? What if he wakes up? He's my son, not yours.”

Kaoru dragged his gaze over the two men. They were usually so put together, but after hours of waiting the image had crumbled away. Tachibana was only in his shirtsleeves, jacket, waistcoat and tie abandoned on the chair next to Hotta – who had his face in his hands. For men who were just so composed and tough, it was odd to see their eyes bloodshot and the skin around them a tender pink. Well, at first he thought it was; but they’d cared for Kyoya all his life, picked him up when he fell and protected him from any possible threat. They taught him and laughed with him, and they were all honorary fathers in a way.

And the boy they cared so deeply for tried to take his own life.

Ootori-sama’s shirt was untucked from his trousers, creased and looking incredibly sloppy compared to his usual standard. His eyes were also a little pink around the edges, framed with lines and shadows that made him look almost as sick as his son. Tachibana should give up on trying to convince his employer to go eat and sleep, it wasn’t going to work. Yoshio Ootori might not have been a great dad, but he was human. Unfortunately, he was a little messed up and it just clashed with Kyoya’s own issues.

The less said about his mother, the better.

He sighed, leaning back and thinking on all that had transpired in the last few hours. It was mad, how life can just swerve in a new direction at a moment’s notice, taking you off-guard and sending everything spinning like a car hitting a patch of black ice. It left everyone reeling, but now that Kaoru thought on it more… It wasn’t out of the blue. Kyoya was obviously not okay, they just… didn’t help.

The realisation lodged something uncomfortable in his chest, a small rock made of guilt that scraped his lungs when he breathed. He saw Kyoya… three hours before? Maybe four? It was almost sickening to think that he thought the other boy was fine – even if he wasn’t okay – only for something like that to happen.

He didn't blame Kyoya. He'd been suffering for a while, after all; desperate people do desperate things. He blamed himself, he blamed everyone in this fucking room actually, but he was the selfish one. He didn't want to see Kyoya pained, and so he just left him. Well done, asshole. Jesus. He and Hikaru weren't that different, despite others thinking of him as the “less self-centred” twin - a pack of lies if he ever heard them.

“Right, okay, we've got food,” Yuuichi sighed as he, Akito and Fuyumi re-entered the room with their armfuls of soggy sandwiches and packets of crisps. They ended up just dumping them on a nearby coffee table, clearly too tired to do much else, looking ready to just collapse any second.

“Just... Help yourself, I guess,” Akito grunted, gesturing vaguely before slumping down into a chair next to his father.

It was all rather melancholy, as expected. He wouldn't want it to be jovial, it'd be jarring and out of place, not to mention thoroughly heart-breaking. The small victory of this was that Kyoya survived; but that was it. It was both the biggest silver lining and the smallest victory they could achieve. He wasn't okay, they couldn't kid themselves into thinking he was, and so they were finally forced to act like his fucking loved ones - like they should've done all along.

Yoshio's phone rang once more, and he cancelled the call with a murmur of “stupid woman” under his breath. Kaoru didn't understand why Kyoka was still trying; she wasn't going to see him anytime soon. Yoshio was angry, the bodyguards were angry, Kyoya's siblings were angry... He just found it better to not ask, even if that's what helped this shit to fester in the first place.

Hours were ticking by at the same speed as millennia, the room silent once more. It was stifling, the hands of the clock either frozen or winding backwards, all sense of time confused and swallowed under the tangible fear, concern and guilt in the room. But he couldn’t leave. None of them could leave the hospital, because what then? How would they ever hope to convince Kyoya that life could be lived if they didn’t even stick out the time in the sterile room.

Of course, a nurse did come, eventually. He was no longer in danger, but they were worried about the damage done to his larynx. He was still tubed, still sleeping, but he could have visitors now. Just one at a time, possibly two, they shouldn't overwhelm him. After all, there'd be enough to take in when he wakes up - diet plans, medication, the 72-hour watch - without having the room crowded.

Of course, despite Yoshio's insistence that he stay, he assured them all that it would be best for him to not be the one he woke up to. Their relationship was rocky, and he didn't want to strain him, pressure him. He just insisted that it couldn't be him, no matter if Kyoya was his child and the baby of the family. Kaoru saw where Kyoya got it from, Yoshio's thoughts seemingly spiralled behind his eyes, and overthinking was certainly an Ootori trait - both a blessing and a curse.

“If it's okay... Does anyone mind if I go?” Fuyumi piped up, hand raised so delicately, almost nervously, “I know you all want to see your friend, I just... I just…”

Her eyes were glazed, threatening to spill over, everything seeming to hit her at once. Her baby brother tried to die, that was a hard thing to even think about, and Kaoru didn't blame her. In fact, he looked up to her. She just dried her tears and carried on; a strong woman.

“I need to see him.”

Kyoya was so... out of it.

His eyelids felt almost too heavy to even think about lifting, the beeping slowly growing in volume was piercing, and he just wanted to drift away once more. Everything was so muffled, but too vivid. His throat hurt. Everything hurt.

His mind was so slow. It was straining just trying to think of what happened - not to mention what was going on now. It was like wading through thick treacle, the rotted cells of his brain clumping together and turning into a goo that was far too viscous. It was like he was floating a couple of feet above his own body, unable to feel. He was sick of how intangible it all was.

Is this what death is like? Endless darkness for all eternity, nothing to occupy himself with? Maybe his aunt was right, maybe this was hell.

There was singing. It was gentle, sweet, some sort of lullaby that resided in dusty memories he didn't revisit for... whatever reason. He didn't know. The hand in his hair gently combed through the knotted strands, dexterously avoiding sharp pulls that plunked his hair from the follicle. It was so maternal, so caring, and he knew who it was immediately.

He tried to speak, but couldn't. Instead, he choked, his eyes going wide with panic as he found he couldn't move his hands, blinding him with bright white that he really wasn't ready for. Something plastic was in his mouth, down his throat, and he couldn't even move without something forcing his hands to stop.

“Kyo... Hey, Kyo, calm down,” Fuyumi tried to soothe, but he just shook his head vigorously, pulling even harder, “Kyo, you're okay. You're fine. You've got a tube down your throat to help you breathe, okay? You can't take it out.”

The beeping he'd heard in that odd, black place was getting increasingly fast, increasingly shrill. He still couldn't move his hands, and he wanted the tube out. It felt so uncomfortable, so stiff he was gagging and choking on it, and no matter how hard he thrashed he couldn't get out of whatever this was.

Restraints?

Sure enough, the cuffs secured his wrists to the bed railings, soft and mailable so he didn’t hurt himself. After all, what would be the point of tying down your patients if they could just tear their wrists open on the restraints?

“I’ll call the doctor, okay? Just stay calm… Keep breathing…” She murmured, her voice far too close to a croaked sob, “We love you Kyoya. Just… Please, we all need you here. Want you here. You’ll keep breathing, won’t you?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t know, what with the tube down his throat, but he wasn’t thrashing anymore. His chest still rose and fell a little too quickly, his arms were tense and straining against the straps around his wrists, but his eyes were locked onto her. His darling big sister.

He could see the tears freely pouring down her cheeks, smile watery and crumbling into dust by the second. She was trying so hard not to break, and it hurt in his chest. It was keen and sharp, rather than a mellow ache, and God did it hit him hard. Of course, guilt didn’t fix it all. Love couldn’t pull him back from the edge. That would be all too perfect and Hollywood-ready.

Instead, he let his eyes fall closed once more, and wondered if he’d stop breathing in his sleep. But he wondered, rather than hoped, and that was a small step. 

A/N: Can you believe there’s only one chapter left? Me neither! 

[random-red-ramblings]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Les Misérables - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Javert/Jean Valjean Characters: Javert (Les Misérables), Jean Valjean, Cosette Fauchelevent, Toussaint (Les Misérables) Additional Tags: Post-Seine, Javert Lives, Slow Burn, old man virgins, Eventual Porn, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, guys getting through their issues, tentative friendship, Friends to Lovers, will update tags and ratings as we go Summary:

Javert's moment with the Seine is interrupted but his confusion and uncertainty remain Life continues to be difficult for him with these new trials of conscience, but perhaps it gets somewhat easier in the presence of a friend

Friendship is the last thing either of them expected and maybe, in the end, it's a bond that runs far deeper

Thanks again to @avatoh for betaing

Chapter 2.

“Papa! Oh, Papa! What has happened? We got your note but I was still so worried! There has been fighting on the streets, you know! Oh, it’s terrible!”

Thankfully, Valjean had awoken moments before Cosette’s arrival, and wasn't shocked awake as he had been by Javert earlier. He thought he must have heard her approaching the house. He did not have time to remember and worry about Javert. He hurriedly buttoned his shirt to the neck.

“Cosette! You should not be out in these streets! Oh God, Cosette, you didn't see anything did you?”

“Oh no, Papa. The driver had to avoid those barricades. I know you sent your note this morning and the fighting was last night but I was just beside myself! Toussaint told me you came home in the evening and your clothes were filthy! Papa! Whyever would you do such a thing? And leave again in the dead of night! With all this fighting! Papa you are reckless and you worry me so!”

She flung her arms around him and he kissed her hair. He knew it was bad to feel such joy at her worry but how much longer would she worry over him? He treasured it.

He had intended to return to Rue de l’Homme Armé with Javert, it was far closer to the Pont du Change, but he had seen a fiacre and taken it as a sign. It was much more sensible for them to come here and he had thought he would avoid difficult questions. It seemed he was not so fortunate in that regard. No matter, Javert was likely sleeping, although it seemed to be getting dark outside.

“Monsieur, I believe there is someone in your quarters,” Toussaint said, face pale. “I thought I saw a shadow at the window when we passed by and just now, I looked out to check and-”

“It's alright ladies,” Valjean assured them as Cossette had put her hand to her mouth, doubtless imagining some violent insurgent hiding there. He may as well have returned to Rue de l’Homme Armé after all. “It is only… a friend of mine.”

“Friend?” Cosette somehow looked even more surprised by this notion.

“Yes,” Valjean hurried to cover this revelation as ordinary circumstance. “He needed somewhere to stay to avoid the fighting, that's why I had to come back here last night. There's nothing to worry about.”

“Well! He must dine with us! After such a stressful night and not being able to return home, we must make him feel at home here.”

“Cosette- he is very tired.”

“And once he has rested he will be very hungry. Why, it's only being a good host!” She put her hands on her hips and tutted at him. “Really Papa, you give him your awful little shed to stay in when we have lovely rooms here. I know you like it there, but it's no place for guests.”

Valjean floundered for an excuse but Cosette wasn't finished.

“And Papa,” her perfect and delicate hand took hold of his own. “You are exhausted too. He cannot expect you to host him and cook his meals. Toussaint is here.”

“It would be my pleasure Monsieur,” Toussaint bowed her head and gestured to the basket she held. “I was concerned you might not have eaten well so I came prepared.”

“Oh Toussaint, whatever have I done to deserve you? You may prepare a meal if you must,” Valjean said feebly, sinking back into his chair.

“That's right Papa! You continue to rest. I will help Toussaint and when your friend is ready he will join us here.”

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then she was gone in a flurry of ribbon and lace. Valjean closed his eyes, putting a hand to his forehead. He had no idea what he was going to do. An instinct told him to run: go to Javert, tell him he had to escort his daughter back home, tell Cosette that his guest had vanished, return home and pack for England because he didn't want to stay in Paris after all of the bloodshed. It would solve all of his problems but he abandoned such plans when he decided to go to the barricade. Cosette would be unhappy parted from the boy and Valjean would hate for her to grow bitter towards him for separating them.

Then there was Javert. Valjean could see him standing on the parapet, lost in the darkness. Valjean wasn't sure what would happen to him if he were left alone: he couldn't leave. He would be plagued with thoughts of Javert taking his own life and not knowing what had become of him.

He thought of Javert's blank acceptance that night after his inner turmoil and Valjean was harshly reminded of himself, years ago- bitter and snarling, snapping at the only man who thought to help him. The Bishop had put up with him doing much worse. The only thing he feared Javert would do was tell the truth about Valjean’s past and Valjean could not fault him if he did so.

“I require a comb.”

Valjean jumped off his seat, feeling as if he had nearly leapt out of his very skin in fright at the timbre of Javert's voice. He tried to level out his breathing and not look so stricken. He wasn't sure if he succeeded.

“Valjean?” Javert frowned at him from the doorway, taking a step closer.  

“Cosette-” he said weakly.

“I know. I took my opportunity when they were no longer in your company but I really-”

“Oh! Good evening Monsieur!” Cosette entered the room, stopping beside Javert with a confidence that Valjean didn't think he would ever be able to possess in the presence of the inspector. “You will be joining us for dinner won't you? Toussaint is cooking as we speak.”

Javert looked just as frozen as Valjean felt. He did not move his gaze to Cosette but remained staring at Valjean. Javert closed his eyes.

“Please excuse me, Mademoiselle. I fear I am in disarray.” He fiddled with his collar and Valjean realised he hadn't put on a cravat, although he was wearing a coat. His hair wasn't in its usual neat queue.

“Oh no, you are injured-”

“Hardly.” Javert did turn to look at her then but, remarkably, Cosette was not deterred.

“You have been under such strain. Do not concern yourself with your appearance on my account Monsieur. Oh please, do sit. Toussaint will bring tea shortly.”

“I really must insist on a comb,” he said, eyes flicking back to Valjean.

“That's no problem at all, follow me.”

Javert cast one last scrutinising look at him before he followed Cosette out of the room. Valjean could hear her merrily relaying their dinner plans as they went down the corridor.

Valjean set about making himself presentable too - tying his cravat, putting on his waistcoat and frock coat. Before long Cosette was back.

“You were right Papa, he is tired. He doesn't talk much at all. Is he shy?”

Valjean exhaled a laugh. “Shy? Oh no, never shy. Now fetch that tea from Toussaint so she can make the dinner.”

An excuse to buy a few more minutes to try and devise a plan. He was unsuccessful. Javert returned sooner than anticipated. He stood with his arms folded glaring at Valjean. Valjean could not maintain eye contact. His gaze slid to his hands in his lap.

“... Are you feeling any better?”

“No.”

The uncomfortable silence stretched until Cosette arrived with a rattling tea tray.

“Monsieur! Please, sit!”

She placed the tray on the small table beside Valjean's chair and went to move another chair closer.

“Mademoiselle, I can do that.”

Javert strode over and moved the chair so that the table was between the armrests of both of them. Valjean was relieved not to be facing him. Likely Javert felt the same and was disheartened when Cosette pulled up a dining chair to sit opposite them.

“Papa, you have not introduced us,” she scolded in a lighthearted manner.

“Ah. Forgive me. Cosette this is Inspector Javert, Javert this is Cosette Fauchelevent, my daughter.” He gave Javert the full name in the hope he would catch on to Valjean’s current alias and use it.

“An inspector! How exciting! Papa never told me he had such interesting friends.”

“You romanticise it,” Javert said gruffly as he took up his tea.

[continue reading...]

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Engagement Party

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam + Marvel - Jason Todd/Red Hood, feat. Bruce Wayne/Batman, Tony Stark/Iron Man & Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Rating: G

Original Idea: I can’t help but do fun crossovers!

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one may get some form of an expansion or a part 2 later but I don’t know yet. Probably not. But writing this one made me realize that... I have a type. At least when it comes to fictional characters. @welovegroot @batboys-and-other-messes

^^^^^

Ring-ring! Ring-ring! Ring-ring!

I grabbed my phone and glanced at the Caller ID. "Hey Jay, what's up?" I asked, buttoning up my nice coat before heading off to a friend's church---on a Thursday for a presentation.

"An old business pal of Bruce's just got engaged and is having a party to celebrate it. He's invited Bruce and his whole family to go up to New York for the weekend for the party. Obviously, B-man is going to go. And most of my brothers want to as well. And even though I'm still technically legally dead, I'm still part of Bruce's family and he wants me to go."

"And what does this have to do with me? Are you asking if I think you should go?"

"Not exactly. I'm inviting you to come as my date."

"I'm not a Wayne," I pointed out.

"You're dating me. You basically are a Wayne," Jason said.

"I don't have anything to wear to a high-brow party like that."

"What about that evening gown you wore to that party Bruce threw?"

"Is that fancy enough? I thought it was little more low-key," I said.

"No that one's perfect. Just pack it up, along with some shorts and jeans and whatever shirts and other stuff you need, and we'll swing by your place tomorrow morning on the way to New York. Sound good?"

I sighed. "Sure, Jason. I'll be ready."

"Great. See you then."

^^^^^

"Stark," Bruce greeted when the host of the party approached the Wayne Clan---including me on Jason's arm.

"Batsy," Mr. Stark replied.

My eyes widened at Jason. He shrugged. "Dude's a genius. He figured it out," he whispered.

"Tony, let me introduce my family," Bruce said. "This is my eldest son, Dick, and his date Barbara."

"Nice to meet you both," Stark said.

"You as well," Barbara put in.

"Then this is Jason and his girlfriend Tally."

Tony narrowed his eyes at me. "You seem somewhat familiar. Have we met before?"

I shrugged. "I don't think so, sir. I just have one of those faces. I hear that all the time," I said. Jason shook Tony's hand with his free one to get the attention off me.

Tony stared at Jason's hand. "Quite the grip you got there, young man!" he said.

Jason shrugged. "Bit of a gym rat," he explained.

"Well nice to meet you both."

"You too," Jason and I chorused.

"These two are my other sons, Tim and Damian. And then that is my only daughter, Cassie."

"Pleasure to meet you all. Honestly, I had no idea Brucie Wayne had this many kids. I always thought he was a loner."

All of us snickered and turned pointed glances at Bruce. He looked away and pretended not to notice.

"Care to dance, Tally?" Jason asked me to break the awkward silence.

"Absolutely. Let's go."

We headed for the dancefloor.

I gripped Jason's hand, hard. "You didn't tell me the party was going to be hosted by and in honor of Iron Man," I hissed. Jason chuckled.

"Didn't think it was important."

"Not important? That's the guy I wrote my eighth-grade biography project on! I could probably tell you more about him than he could!"

"I thought you wrote your biography project on JK Rowling?" Jason said.

"No that was tenth grade."

"Oh. My bad."

I shrugged. "No big deal. I barely remember the order I did some projects. I just remember those because my dad helped me make a lifeline with the Iron Man one but I did Rowling on my own after my skills with Illustrator and Photoshop improved."

We began to dance. I took a deep breath.

"I am in the wrong crowd. I don't belong here," I muttered.

"Neither do I, sweetheart," Jason replied. "We're both street kids in an upper-class world. We'll never feel right. But we get by and no one gets hurt."

"Jay…" I began.

"Hey, look! It's the Winter Soldier! What do you say? Should I introduce you?"

"You've met him?"

"No. But I'm a Wayne. I may not be comfortable in this crowd but that name has enough influence that I could introduce you to the Queen of England and she'd be gracious about it," Jason said.

"The Queen of England would be gracious about almost everything," I pointed out.

Jason tugged on my elbow. "C'mon Tally! Let's go meet the Winter Soldier!" he said. I followed after him, somewhat reluctantly, until we approached the man. He was the same height as Jason and almost as muscled. He had overlong dark brown hair, some of it pulled back away from his face. His skin was a pale dusty gold shade, but his eyes were as piercing steel blue as Jason's. "Sergeant Barnes," Jason greeted politely. The man turned to us. His left hand had a glove on it to hide the metal arm he sported. "My name is Jason Todd-Wayne. This is my girlfriend Tally."

I gave a little head dip of respect. "How do you do?"

"I'm alright, thanks," James Barnes said. "Call me Bucky, please. None of this 'Sergeant Barnes' business. I haven't been a sergeant in over half a century." He shook Jason's extended hand. "It's nice to meet you both. How do you know Tony?"

"Bruce Wayne is a business pal of his---and is also my adoptive father," Jason explained.

"I see. It's nice to meet you kids."

"You too," I said.

The Winter Soldier moved to leave.

"Sergeant---Bucky. Hold on for a moment," Jason said, letting go of me long enough to catch Bucky's attention. Bucky turned, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Yeah?"

"Okay, look, normally I wouldn't be saying anything like this, but I just wanted to say I understand. When I was fifteen I was killed and then dragged back to life. Became an assassin. I know what it's like to lose everything and then become something else. I, uh…" He leaned closer to Bucky to whisper, "I'm the Red Hood. I understand what you've been through."

Bucky looked between Jason and me, almost surprised that a girl as small and innocent-looking as I am was dating a dangerous, violent assassin. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne. Even though what we've gone through was terrible, it's a comfort to know I'm not alone," he said.

He clapped Jason's shoulder in a friendly way. Jason smiled. "Yes it is," he replied.

Bucky patted Jason's shoulder. "Enjoy the party you two!"

"Thank you!" I called as he left.

Once he disappeared, I looked at Jason. "That was risky, revealing who you are," I pointed out.

Jason shrugged. "Guys like us tend to stick together---watch each other's backs. I think it's safer to tell him who I am than Mr. Perfect Captain America. Reformed assassins, both of us. That kind of person shares a bond no one else can have."

"Stop waxing poetic and dance with me," I complained.

"Of course, my love," Jason said with a playful grin, sweeping me into his arms and onto the dancefloor.

^^^^^

"So, when are those lovebirds tying the knot?" Tony asked Bruce as they watched Bruce's second-eldest son and his girlfriend dance. After the young man set her back on her feet, of course.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know, Tony," he replied. "They've been dating for a while but I'm not sure if they're that serious about their relationship yet or not."

"Well, let them know they have my blessing if they do," Tony said sarcastically. Bruce's lips twitched in what was almost an amused smile.

"I will."

[the-madame21]

A Christmas Tradition: Byron x MC

So this fandom is really welcoming?? And you guys even leave comments in the tags?? Like wow ty for the appreciation lol I figured I’d do a little fluff for xmas ^^ Enjoy! 

She had wanted to carry out some traditions that she had done in Wysteria. But seeing as Christmas day, the castle would host a ball, they decided to carry them out on Christmas eve instead, since they would have most of the day to themselves.

Well, she was carrying them out. He was more than happy to just watch. Especially in the way her face lit up, as if bit by bit everything she did was awakening old memories, adding new ones to the mix. He wondered if it was fine for him to simply watch. He wasn’t sure why there was this certain ache in his chest, the kind that hurt but also didn’t, that held a sense of longing but also not, watching her go through the motions with a large smile on her face, listening as he told her stories of Christmases past.

He didn’t really have anything like that.

They’d done everything from building a lopsided snowman, to taking up part of the kitchens to make gingerbread cookies (of which he’d been a proud taste-tester) to making their own ornaments. He hadn’t thought such things would take most of the day. But she carried out these traditions the way she did everything else: with the utmost love and care.

If anything, he found it admirable.

But they’d done everything she’d wanted to do, luckily managing to fit it all within a single day.

They were sitting in front of the tree now, shoulders touching, large fireplace roaring behind them in the large dancing hall that was entirely empty for now, the two of them sipping on some hot chocolate she had made, admiring the decorations.

It was hard to believe this entire hall would be filled to the brim with people, come tomorrow.

“Thank you, King Byron,” she said suddenly, not quite looking at him, rubbing her thumb against the handle of the mug, “For indulging me today in my caprices.”

He glanced at her, finding the tone of her voice rather strange. “Not at all,” he said, “They’re your traditions.”

She nodded, tucking some hair behind her ear, “I just meant, thank you, for putting up with it all. I know you didn’t have very much fun, but you let me have my way regardless.”

He couldn’t help but find that curious. He wouldn’t describe himself as having had fun either, but he had most certainly enjoyed himself. It was perhaps the first time he’d ever done this much for Christmas.

“Seeing you enjoy yourself,” he admitted, the words tasting somewhat foreign in his mouth, Byron completely unsure of how to continue, “Allows me to enjoy myself. It was my pleasure to do.”

Her eyes lit up in the way only hers could, face brightening in a soft expression with a warm smile he’d only ever really seen from her,  and Byron could feel his own features softening as a result, her warmth spreading over to him.

“Ah, um,” her cheeks colored, eyes suddenly downcast as she scooted away from him, setting her mug down on the floor, “There is one more tradition.”

She crawled underneath the tree, and for a moment Byron thought her crazy, but also somehow endearing, nearly disappearing under the branches of so large a tree, in so fine a dress. Without meaning to, he found himself smiling, the princess reappearing from under the tree with a small gift in her hands.

It was neatly wrapped, with a simple bow, which told him that she had done this herself, and was not in fact the work of his servants.

“Well, my family would always hide at least one gift between the branches,” she brushed herself off, face entirely red, “So that way when it seemed like you’d gone through all the gifts at the bottom of the tree there was always a sort of surprise waiting for you at the very end…” she cleared her throat, as if to stop herself, before holding the little box out to him, “Well, in any case. Merry Christmas, King Byron.”

He took it in his hands, before looking into her hopeful eyes. Something tugged at his chest.

“I’m afraid I have nothing for you.”

Her eyes widened, “Oh,” she waved her hands, “That’s—please don’t worry about that! This isn’t even that good of a gift—“ she cleared her throat awkwardly, cheeks reddening even further, “I just did this because I wanted to,” she managed.

With a firm nod, he thanked her, slowly unwrapping his gift with all the care in the world. Inside was a small branch with green leaves, tied together neatly with a red bow. He held it between two fingers, holding it up to better look at it.

And then, suddenly, there was the trembling warmth of her lips on his cheek, gone just as quickly as it’d appeared.

“It’s,” she blushed again, eyes hiding behind her lashes, “It’s mistletoe.”

He blinked, looking from the short branch to her flushed face, before he held it up over her head, leaning in silently and pressing his lips to hers. He reveled in the small sound of surprise she made when their lips met for so chaste a kiss, his own chest squeezing with the same sort of irrational excitement.

They pulled away with stupid shyness, Byron still holding the mistletoe above their heads.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, “For the gift.”

She nodded, “You’re very welcome.”

He leaned in again, because tradition required it, their lips meeting again and again in easy motion, habit washing away any kind of embarrassment either of them had previously held.

“Princess,” he breathed, finally pulling himself away.

She looked at him, her eyes holding a curious expression. He smiled, finally setting the mistletoe down, and placing it carefully back in the box.

“I will place it over the door we share.”

Her face reddened in an entirely new way, her hands shaking at him, “Oh, no—something like that—“

“So,” he continued, not paying her hesitance any mind, “Won’t you come visit me tonight?”

[geekamarie]

Why did Rhaegar crown Lyanna at Harrenhal?

The closer we get to season 7 and, possibly, more substantial information about Lyanna and Rhaegar - the more I agonize over it. This being the Internet I doubt that anything I could say is a fresh concept, but I’m frustrated by some of the dialog and I wanted to type out my own perspective.

Rhaegar seems to be viewed as either a lovestruck romantic hero or as a man obsessed with prophecy, who makes destructive choices and does horrible things in the name of fulfilling it. He is either woobified or the ultimate fuck boy. And, while I think assuming the worst of someone’s character is most reliable in ASOIAF, I will admit to wanting Rhaegar and his motivations/actions to be redeemable. 

My point: I believe Rhaegar isn’t politicized enough within the fandom - he is part of the “magical” storyline - and I think the key to understanding the Lyanna/Rhaegar dynamic lies with the events at Harrenhal...

... Specifically the Knight of the Laughing Tree.

First, it is possible that crowning Lyanna had nothing to do with Lyanna herself. After all, they had likely never met before Harrenhal and there is no publicly held recollection of them interacting outside of the moment at the tourney. Rhaegar could have simply meant to shame Elia. He could have wanted to tweak Robert Baratheon’s pride. He could have meant to tarnish House Stark. He could have been bored and wanted to stir up trouble. Rhaegar may even have intended to incite his father’s suspicions or deflect them onto a nonexistent allegiance.

None of that seems likely. Rhaegar is not widely believed to be cruel or reckless, and this level of sociopathy would likely leave a trail, the way Joffrey’s did. (Caveat: Lyanna Stark.) And the fact that Rhaegar abducted (or ran away with) Lyanna strongly implies a connection.

If you don’t believe that Lyanna is the Knight of the Laughing Tree, there are then only two options for why Rhaegar crowned Lyanna ‘Queen of Love and Beauty.’ Rhaegar could be either overwhelmed by love and/or lust for Lyanna or, as his father’s advisors believe, he could be trying to recruit House Stark to his cause. Both options show a startling lack of awareness as to how this move will be received by Lyanna, her family and Westerosi nobility at large - and this is possible. Rhaegar could certainly be out of touch with the larger society or so arrogant as to think that normal social mores did not apply to him.

But, if Rhaegar was so ill-equipped to handle society, there would surely be other specific examples in textual evidence. And there is no evidence for Rhaegar to have succumbed to an all consuming love - nor is this type of fervor ever attributed to his character in text. (The gap between Harrenhal and Lyanna’s ‘abduction’ helps support this.)

If you, however, believe that Lyanna is the Knight of the Laughing Tree, there are additional motivations available to us. Rhaegar could have intended to show his esteem for Lyanna’s actions the only way he could without revealing her identity. But again, this shows a lack of cultural and societal awareness that seems unlikely.

My theory is that Rhaegar crowned Lyanna in a calculated risk - that gossip about their (as of yet) nonexistent relationship, and the mutual dishonor implied, was preferable to continued gossip about the Knight of the Laughing Tree.

Consider the circumstances in which the tourney happened in the first place. Either Rhaegar was making a calculated overture to usurp his father (and was betrayed) or his father’s advisors were so intent on undermining him that they were able to convince paranoid Aerys that he was planning to do so. This prompted the King to leave the Red Keep for the first time in four years - and certainly his unkept, mad appearance further undermined his rule and the Targaryen dynasty, while his presence kept allegiance from coalescing further around Rhaegar. 

In any case, Rhaegar certainly knew his father was unbalanced - he had already started burning men alive. And, whatever he thought he could do about it, as long as the King had people who would enable these worst impulses for their own benefit, Rhaegar’s options were limited.

Which is why Aerys ordering Rhaegar to find the Knight of the Laughing Tree could have been disastrous. Rhaegar, and most of the nobility present, likely did not believe the mystery knight to be a threat to the realm - a curiosity surely, but not likely one that could harm the King. However, there were only a handful of possibly outcomes once the King has decided that the mystery knight was one:

1) Rhaegar finds the knight, presents him to his father, and the King has the knight executed. Depending on the knight’s true identity, this turns some of the highborn and lowborn attendees of the tourney against the King and his family.

2) Rhaegar does not find the knight, his father believes Rhaegar is conspiring against him with the knight, and other men are sent out to hunt him down. Leading to:

3) Other men are sent out to look for the knight and they return either empty handed (and are punished for failure), with the true knight (who is then executed), or a convenient patsy (who is also then executed, but which may snowball depending on the mystery knight’s motivations).

If Lyanna had been brought before the King, the ramifications were disastrous. Lyanna’s reputation would be, at minimum, ruined, but her gender may also lead the King to feel mocked and ensure her torture and execution. The King may believe that she is protecting one of her brothers, order their arrest and questioning, and execute one (or more) of them. It does not seem to be a leap in logic to suggest that tying House Stark in any significant way to the mystery knight could lead to a sequence of events that force the North into open rebellion.

So Rhaegar attempts to thread the needle - he brings proof (the shield) of the mystery knight’s existence to his father, while also insisting that the knight himself was long gone.

There remain two problems: 1) how Rhaegar discovered the shield and 2) the continued interest in the mystery knight.

Rhaegar reports that the shield was discovered abandoned on a tree branch, and this could possibly be true. He may have just decided to search the area and lucked upon it, and may have lucked upon Lyanna placing the shield there besides. But it seems more likely, and more potentially damaging, that Rhaegar discovered Lyanna (who probably never assumed that her stunt would anger the king) by asking the right people the right questions.

The Knight of the Laughing Tree provided a motivation for their jousts, and the three squires that needed to be taught manners were likely all still present. Being questioned by the Prince almost certainly turned up the story about their mutual assault on the crannogman, as well as a host of other sins.

It is entirely possible that the squires themselves did not recognize Howland Reed or Lyanna Stark, and did not know what Houses they came from. However, they likely were able to provide a description - and Rhaegar was able to identify Lyanna and Howland from that, much the way they had identified the squires. (I am particularly fond of the idea that Lyanna dumping wine on Benjen’s head was not just characterization, but they way Rhaegar first noticed her and Howland - and what allowed Rhaegar to put the pieces together.)

Even if this is not the case, the Weirwood emblem might have steered Rhaegar towards northern suspects and would likely have led him to the Starks sooner or later, for information or questioning.

However, if Rhaegar was able to piece together the identity of the mystery knight, it seems likely that someone else could as well. (And, with the King’s interest, and the growing tension between father and son, there would be plenty of motivation.) There is also the chance that someone saw Rhaegar and Lyanna together while they were either planting or retrieving the shield for Rhaegar to discover to end the matter. By publicly tying himself to Lyanna, Rhaegar provides cover for the idle gossip of the court and hopefully signals to any that seek to expose her that she has his protection.

Which leads us back to King Aerys. Everything we know about Aerys - his paranoia, his insecurities, etc. - point to him being particularly susceptible to gossip, especially gossip that slights him in any way. (For example, the root of his fallout with Tywin.) The Mad King went to Harrenhal expecting dissent and treason, and he was determined that he found it in the mystery knight. While Rhaegar’s presentation of the knight’s shield may have soothed some of his suspicions (or just refocused them on Rhaegar himself), King Aerys would have found any continued gossip or speculation about the mystery knight intolerable.

How easy it would have been for Aerys to do something rash. 

The surest way to end gossip, or end a particular train of gossip, is to provide something even more scandalous and shocking. Rhaegar likely had some awareness of this - though the songs and stories he read would not have prepared him for the messiness of the consequences. The tourney provided the stage; his victory, the means to gain control of the narrative; the crown of winter roses the way to tie it all the pieces together and make the truth harder to separate out.

And, on some level, it was a success. Rhaegar’s crowning of Lyanna is what people remember from the tourney, so much so that Bran doesn’t hear about the mystery knight at all - until the Reeds tell him. On the other hand, in diverting disaster in the moment, Rhaegar helped lay the groundwork for the rebellion that would follow.

[mickeybamboo]

Panda Pause Ep. 100 Special! Furry Inspirations

Welcome everyone to Panda Pause. Panda Pause is a podcast where we take a moment and pause to interview a artist or writer from various communities, interests and backgrounds with an emphasis, but not limited to, the furry community. We upload every Sunday with round-table discussion every Thursday. I'm your host Mickey Bamboo and join me as we listen to everyone's stories.

It's the 100th episode! Join me, Shenanigan , Anti-Dev ( @antidev ), Cooner, and my brand new guest Artdecade​ as we discuss what brought people into the furry fandom. What inspired everyone's love of anthro characters from television and movies, to video games and novels, we discuss some of the most popular furry inspirations.

Find Cooner on Fa here at: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/cooner Find Artdecade on Fa here at: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/artdecade Find Shenanigan on Fa here at: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/shenanigan/ Find Anti-Dev on Fa here at: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/antidev/

And support my new  Adult Transformation Anthology SoMysterious.com here at Amazon!: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06X428F5J

Join the New Panda Pause Facebook Page here at https://www.facebook.com/Panda-Pause-678277062326149/

Join us all here at the new Discord server https://discord.gg/ERMNWeT !

Find Mickey and Volks New Book, Furry Fractured Fairytails here at https://www.amazon.com/Furry-Fractured-Fairytails-Transformation-Anthology-ebook/dp/B01HRBUBBC

You can also find all my shows on iTunes at https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/panda-pause/id1073396731

NEW! Panda Pause is now also on Google Play Music at https://play.google.com/music/listen?authuser#/ps/I56frsrlto5xfbwachcymu3fbtm

You Can find Mickey's book's here at http://www.amazon.com/Mickey-Bamboo/e/B01B83XKUE/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

You can find my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/pandapause?ty=h

You can contact me at my twitter https://twitter.com/Mickey_Bamboo or tumblr at http://mickeybamboo.tumblr.com/

Or you can e-mail me at bamboomickey@gmail.com

[the-greatest-story-untold]

I HAD A DREAM!

An NCT dream, that was weirdly supposed to be an NCT Dream one but not... And I really want to share it, because I love recording my vivid dreams.

I know this is possibly the result of some residual memory from my day events. I didn’t exactly have a very fruitful day, though I had received news that because of the corona virus, the Dream Show I was planning to attend will be postponed and my tix will be refunded.

My disappointment and self-soothing methods to bring down my own hype for the concert must have resulted in this weird dream...

p.s: it’s a rather long read but it’s been fun recalling my dream!

Like most dreams tend to be, this was a peculiar one. 

I dreamt I was going for NCT Dream’s concert: It had been “uncanceled”, so to say. 

I was excited, I was pumped and I was ready to have fun.

I was with my cousins and my sister. Now this was weird because I have very jarringly different music tastes from my cousins and sister. Even if they had agreed to come to a KPOP concert, bringing them to a DREAM concert wouldn’t have been a logical choice. 

Then again, this was a dream and dream logic works differently.

Initially, our seats were situated right in front of these entrance doors. The stadium felt like it had a very ‘lecture theatre/school gym’ kind of vibe. I didn’t really care, we had front row seats!

The entrance doors opened and “the boys” came out. I used quotations because as I’ve mentioned earlier, it was supposed to be an NCT Dream concert. However, when the members entered, my brain supplied that they were SuperM. I vividly remembered Mark and Taeyong whereas the other boys were just fuzzy entities. 

The concert was not yet to start and the members were just there for a short greeting with the fans. Funnily though, the boys were carrying instruments with them, as a rock band would. Mark and Taeyong both had electric guitars.

Amidst the fan greeting, the boys were suddenly called away. For some unfathomable reason, the boys handed their instruments to my cousins and I. Well, specifically, they were handed them to my cousins. I was just watching and vividly remembering we were suppose to safe keep them.

What happened immediately after this, was a blur to me. All I could recall was that the concert was finally about to start and we had to return the instruments back to the boys. My cousins went looking for the boys from wherever they were called to but didn’t have to go far because they suddenly appeared to pick up their instruments.

At this point in time, the boys were still fuzzy entities and only Mark and Taeyong were vivid to me. I remembered (like, I could literally feel myself reminding myself) that this was supposed to be an NCT Dream concert. So I guess, that was why my sister suddenly turned up with some kind of a portable keyboard and I vaguely felt as though she said she had no idea which member to give it to and I said it belonged to Chenle. Of course, he magically appeared to take his keyboard away.

After all that was settled, it was time for the concert to begin.

I mentioned that initially our seats were up front, right? Well, at this point, we were suddenly not up front anymore. We were a couple of rows back, probably about 8 to 10 rows back. We were sort of in between segmented areas? There was an aisle available for walking behind us. 

The vibe of the concert also suddenly shifted into more of an Awards Show situation. As the entrance doors opened and the boys entered (again), instead of filling to the right and up to the stage, they filed into the seats at the front, each taking their places.

Out of nowhere, a host appears to start the show.

Now, I don’t know what frame of mind I was in but again, my brain supplied that the host was local and she was there to explain the ‘rules’ of the concert. She did it in a very sing-song vibe, trying to be funny/entertaining.

The audience was having none of it. We were not amused. But, the host insisted on finishing her segment and I recalled just being embarrassed. Embarrassed because a local host is being such a... fool. Embarrassed because NCT had to sit through this segment. Embarrassed because my cousins’ and sister’s first experience of NCT was turning into a mediocre Mediacorp (the local entertainment channel in SG) event. 

A fan had even requested the attention of the host and when the host trekked up all the way to her, she asked if the host could just skip over. But the host just skipped off and resumed her lack lustre hosting.

It was weird.

But she did finish and FINALLY, the concert starts.

Funnily, what I vividly recalled was Jaehyun performing with Mark and Taeyong. There was a very strong ‘Mad City’ vibe.

So everyone was enjoying themselves; the atmosphere was hype, the audience were screaming... and OH.MY.GOD! JAEHYUN IS COMING OVER TO OUR PLACE!!!

I distinctively remembered having an internal fangirl-shrieking moment. He was RIGHT. BEHIND. ME. ME!

My cousins and sister were looking back to look up at our prince, Jung Jaehyun. Me, I was frozen in place having a primary-school-love-struck-reaction-to-my-crush moment, staring straight dead ahead and not at him. My heart was actually hammering.

Then, as expected when you have an idol up close, a group of fans started crowding. They weren’t exactly crowding Jaehyun, I guess they had the decency to give him the space to perform. However, they were clambering all over my cousins and I. They were practically in our seats and seated at the stairs (another random fact that was suddenly supplied to me in my dream state: we had aisle seats too. So we were basically surrounded by aisles.)

Somehow, this was against the rules. And abruptly, the boys were made to stop performing.

I remembered basically giving the “menyebok” fans the stank eye while Jaehyun basically deflated from his performance high behind us. 

(”Menyebok” translates to a busy body in colloquial Malay)

It’s not like they bothered. I guess they were huge Jaehyun fans since they were just so dreamily staring at him while they were being berated for breaking the rules.

Whatever it was, ‘Mad City’ was cut short and there was a moment of shuffling when my brain seem to try to make the dream make sense again.

The concert resumed, this time with Mark and Taeyong at the stage. They were no longer with their electric guitar get-ups and had instead prepared an acoustic session.

Funnily, it was not Mark on the guitar. It was Taeyong. Now, I don’t know if TY actually knows how to play the guitar, but it felt weird to me.

I was still willing to have fun and as the ballad like song started, I turned to look at the audience expecting our ever so famous green ocean for our wonderful boys.

However, what greeted me was not the green ocean. It was... well, there were lightsticks but they weren’t the hammer like “Neo” bong that had been so associated with NCT and our fandom. The lightstick was in fact something along the line of a haphazard and hastily put together ‘Dream Show’ lightstick. A cross between a flash light and a stick with the words “Dream Show” flicking on and off.

I remembered looking at this very confusing piece of fan merch as I was seated next to my cousin who was proudly waving it about as though it was NCT Dream on stage.

Then, to make things even more confusing, the concert vibe had suddenly disappeared and we were no longer in the theatre of sorts. I swear, I got transported into a completely different venue.

It was literally a school hall, with Mark and Taeyong on stage, in front of a ratty screen and the projector playing some cheesy montage at the back. Woe and behold, I was back in secondary school (it was truly my school hall, with the same ceiling, banners, wood flooring and projector and screen).

I was so confused. So confused, I woke up. And I woke up confused. I was so dazed when I woke up. Apparently my grandmother had decided to blind me by turning on the lights.

When I realised it was only 6am and I had nowhere to go with no plans for the day, I went back to sleep.

I woke up again at 10am, with no other dreams.

And that was it for my dream! I realised my dreams tend to have vey abrupt and absurd endings. Either that, or for the life of me, I couldn’t remember how it ended.

I know my dream was truly a manifestations of my experiences in the last few days to weeks.

I had spent a lot of time with my sister and cousins, therefore the reason for them being there.

I have hidden from my sister, but not so much one of my cousin, that I went to NCT 127′s concert. Therefore the apprehension about wanting to impress my sister and cousins in my dream. The cousin with whom I shared my NCT 127 concert experience with (in reality), was literally the cousin I very vividly remembered in my dream. She is not into KPOP but I’ve always felt she is cool about it (unlike my sister, who  has very loudly declared her distaste for the genre. She has no hate for the performers, she just can’t grasp KPOP. I’ve abandoned trying to convert her).

Why I remembered Super M in the dream was because right before going to sleep, I had read a twitter selling a SuperM concert as the buyer forgot the concert fell on her wedding day. It was amusing to me and I had succumbed to more twitter/instagram scrolling, a majority of which were NCT 127 and SuperM content.

Thus, the vivid memory of Mark and Taeyong, who would have been the most commonly seen images in my feed if I was scrolling through NCT and SuperM content. 

Jaehyun ended up in there with ‘Mad City’ vibes possibly because that song was my favourite performance during the 127 concert I attended. The “menyebok” fans were probably representatives of the group of fan girls who sat in front of me (and therefore partially blocking me) when I was at 127′s concert. And you’ve guessed it, they were HUGE Jaehyun fans.

As for the “Dream Show” lightsticks, they were basically my wishful manifestations of wanting the concert to resume.

I even have a theory for why Mark and Taeyong were on stage with TY on the acoustic guitar. I was projecting what I watched in the past days, of Tony Lucca and JC Chasez in the Mickey Mouse Club. Since Tony was the elder and had been playing the guitar, I guess my brain supplied TY as Tony and Mark as JC (although they are so far from each other). I had been very nostalgic of NSYNC and JC content since the release of NCT 127′s “Dream Come True” gift for their fans. A fan even said during their V Live what I thought about how the video gave strong NSYNC vibes (not BSB. It was distinctively NSYNC and that is a story for another day!). It made me link NSYNC with NCT even more so I guess?

However, for the school scene... I have yet to figure that out yet. Maybe my brain was just trying to hastily end the dream sequence and thus put together some random shit together and it just so happens to be the memories of my secondary school.

I had been rather nostalgic, as I mentioned. Maybe that was why my brain supplied me with my secondary school days, in which I have to admit, I was rather fond of...

...

So yeah. This has been my TED Talk. Thank you for coming!