#even when donna didn’t have her memory she still felt the gap

[vampir-el]

i hope you know that it wrecked me that the doctor mistakes the not-donna for donna twice while donna never made that mistake. because the doctor doesn’t remember donna as well, but donna’s been waiting for him the whole time

#even when donna didn’t have her memory she still felt the gap #the doctor could fill the gap that donna left behind tho #not the same but still #doctor who #dw #fourteenth doctor #doctor who spoilers #wild blue yonder

[cloveroctobers]

A/N: this is a concept that’s been in my head for awhile now and I just wanted to put it out there since it’s been not only sitting in my head but also in my journal lol. These are just some quick hc’s and you can tell I’ve went back into the twilight hole based on the casting but hey fall season is among us, shut up!

Added this prompt to the mix based on the random content that occurred into my head and I’m using: 11. Discovery.

WARNINGS: more family trauma? + language.

Go back and read my previous September anthology prompt here if you like.

MEET THE BERZATTO’s !

Far as Carmy can remember of his dad: Aldo Berzatto, is that when the man bothered to get dressed up, he cleaned up well.

When he went out with uncle Jimmy back in the day, you can almost always guarantee the night would turn for the worst.

Majority of the time it would be Aldo’s fault since when he got that liquor in his system, he became loud and sometimes ready to take on the world with his violent tendencies opposed to his calm stoic behavior.

That landed him in jail lots of times and Donna grew used to it, letting his ass stay there most nights.

Aldo was originally supposed to go into some boring shit like accounting since he was always good with numbers, had a photographic memory, and used to do taxes for people around the neighborhood at just sixteen for cash.

His mind set was he didn’t come from much so he wasn’t sure how the hell he even thought he was getting into college.

He even still did it on occasion until the original beef took off and Donna became pregnant with Natalie.

Aldo and Donna were high school sweethearts who everyone expected to grow old together, however they didn’t know what was underneath the surface of the prom queen and casual baseball star.

He was decent on the team but it definitely wasn’t Aldo’s passion.

They were pregnant with their first, Michael a year or two after graduation which put their potential aspirations on hold.

Donna grew up with a younger sister, Lydia [who I’ve casted as Jennifer Coolidge in my mind] who Donna always felt like she had to compete with since Lydia was deemed the “more attractive sister but just chubby”

Her looks and personality got her everything apparently.

Her parents started the comparisons from a young age so Donna always felt like she had to do more to make sure she was seen too.

She was involved in everything in school, participated in most of the clubs, got fantastic grades, had a solid group of friends and was a fantastic dancer — it’s what she wanted as a profession but her parents shitted all over that. “Its not practical. How are you going to support yourself…by dancing on stages? You might as well go on the pole.”

And when she got pregnant? There was no hesitation from her parents on kicking her out and so she lived with Aldo + his family, who seemed to like her, got a job until she couldn’t stand anymore — got fired from her job for calling out sick too many times not long before she gave birth to Michael and thus Aldo and Donna were brought into adulthood.

There’s not too much Carmy even remembered about his dad besides him making the best sandwiches, dressing well, having the same high bridged nose and not being around much.

Carmy was young when he passed.

He died at the wheel from a heart attack at just forty-three years old.

The same age as Mikey.

It was always more questions than answers when it came to the berzatto household.

Like when exactly did Donna start drinking and smoking more? When did she stop caring about hiding her prescriptions from anyone that entered the house? was it before or after Aldo’s death?

How long was she aware that he was stepping out on her and had twins right before Natalie came along: Jett and Ruby?

There was a nine year age gap between Michael and Natalie and a eight year age gap between Michael, Jett, and Ruby.

Maybe that caused her to pick up bottle after bottle, cheeks hollow after each pack of Marlboro’s

and her pain wasn’t just chronic from a old dancing injury, it was also because of Aldo’s infidelity

Which is something Natalie sympathized with after this news was brought to the table but Carmy was done making excuses for his mother like Nat and Mikey liked to do.

Jett and Ruby showing up at the bear, a month after everything transpired—was the shoe carmy was waiting on.

Michael knew. He had to.

and Carmy was ready to kick his headstone in if he ever bothered to visit, which proposed the question of: did Michelle know? It was clear Nat had no clue. Did Richie also know?

Did Lena?

Since Richie was Michael’s best friend he had to at least know something but they weren’t speaking—that was more on Carmy’s part since Richie did try but carmy was struggling to turn the dissociation off

and Carmy’s gut told him that Richie had an idea about the whole situation.

That’s what sugar said anyways.

“We should talk to mom,” Natalie says sitting outside of the bear with carmy who’s keeping a safe distance and fidgeting with a cigarette but not lighting it.

He’s trying not to be an asshole just yet to his unborn niece!

“You think we’re ever gonna get any answers from her that makes sense, Sugar? Those people came in here and told us about a man I didn’t even really know, it adds up doesnt it?”

Nat jokes, “well your math isn’t always the strongest…”

Carmy’s pacing but the look he sends his older sister lets her know his mind is spinning just as much as her’s is. “What the fuck are we even supposed to do with this? What do they want from us?”

“Maybe nothing? Or rather a relationship with us? I mean we don’t know them so it could be anything. I told Ruby we should have a sit down for dinner and she can bring her mom if she wants.”

“Jesus, Nat! Why the fuck would you do that? Did you invite mom too?”

“Hell no, not this time! I mean would she even show? Like you said, we won’t get much out of her before she goes on her tangent so it’s better we get a conversation from Jett and Ruby’s mom instead.”

‘She was the other woman, what exactly did sugar think she could tell them that would sit right with them?’ Carmy thought to himself.

“Well I don’t know if I’ll be there.”

“What? No fucking way are you leaving me to do this by myself.”

“Take richie with you.”

“He’s not a berzatto, Carmen.”

Carmy stops tapping the cigarette against his fingers then.

Richie’s not a blood berzatto but he might as well be with all the shit he’s seen and nat was aware of that but carmy also knew what she meant.

“When and where is this taking place?”

“I was thinkin’ Either here or my place. I can make a green bean casserole—

If they had it here they’d have to close the bear down for at least an hour and thirty minutes, send everyone off for break time and you never know where this dinner might end up…possibly making break time longer for his staff since things might be said you know?

The best choice would probably be at sugar’s??? although they’d have to deal with Pete—it might be the only option.

“No the fuck you’re not.”

“Well excuse me bear, what the hell do you think we should eat? It’s my best dish.”

A side dish.

Carmy pinches the bridge of his nose already dreading giving into this, “I’ll figure it out, something from here that’s prepared will do. I got it, you just relax.”

“I’m pretty chill, are you okay?”

“I don’t want to do this, nat. I don’t want to sit at a table where those two get to tell us how much better their upbringing was with dad.”

“They’re our siblings, Carmy.”

“Right…but what exactly do we owe them?”

Natalie’s eyes soften as she takes in Carmy’s words and pushes herself up to hug the younger man, “nothing. Nothing at all.”

Carmy’s on time to Natalie’s, arriving one hour before to rewarm the food in the oven and have pete help him carry the food in.

He’s in a daze but knows he has to keep moving and he notices that the house not only smells like lingering cleaning chemicals but also something else.

“What is that?” Carmy’s face is scrunched up

“Oh one of Nat’s candles, she’s super ready for fall!”

“It stinks, Pete. I don’t know if it’s the nutmeg or the apple that’s making my eyes fucking burn.”

“Oh no man, maybe you’re allergic.”

“I’m not, the scent is too much almost insulting and you need to get rid of it.”

“Me? I’m not doing anything to piss the pregnant woman off, who also happens to be my wife by the way.”

Carmy feels his eyes twitch before he lets out three sneezes back to back, giving Pete a dry look, “it’s going in the garbage.”

“Okay buddy…don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Natalie’s got music going that sounds like some beachy tune to ease the anxiousness that’s swirling around and she calls out, “Ruby’s texted! They’re five minutes away! Where the hell is my candle?”

“I don’t know.” Pete says, “the house still smells great though, babe.”

Natalie’s waddling into the kitchen giving Carmy a raised brow but he just shrugs, unbothered and playing coy.

[Kathy Najimy plays Jett and Ruby’s mother]

And she’s as sweet and motherly as can be, with warm squeezes and complimenting the home.

She brings a dish ofc and it’s damn good, carmy notes.

Nat barely slept about this and she couldn’t blame it on her sciatic nerve this time!

She was tossing and turning just wondering how this woman would be, if she would have this vile behavior opposed to her daughter—Nat and Carmy’s half sister?

Who had this bohemian aura about her. Would their sister’s mom be a witch by defending her actions and bashing her mother and would nat have to throw her out?

Instead…She takes a liking to Pete but it doesn’t seem like she’s not taken a liking to anyone so far!

Nat’s not sure how to take her at first. Was it genuine? but she matches her smile and welcomes her to her home silently praying to the gods above that this didn’t get back to her mother thanks to some nosy neighbors

Yet Donna barely left the house unfortunately

while Carmy is more quiet and standoffish—which they expected.

They get through the basics, some small talk where they learn more about Jett and Ruby first

Jett’s older by six minutes, he’s a vet (army man) and a mental health counselor—which definitely surprised Carmy + he’s married to a boutique owner named Anna, who’s away in Greece right now.

Ruby’s younger, she’s also in a band in her free time that sounds like it’s influenced by Fleetwood Mac and a little Janis Joplin, she’s in a devoted relationship to a burly man named Emil that’s an FBI agent, and they adopted Anna’s niece since Ruby was unable to have children

As for their mother she’s a herbalist now but used to be a pharmacist for many years and gave it away that she saw Michael come into her place of business once or twice, instantly recognizing him but wouldn’t say anything but knew he figured it out the second time around (when he was much older)

That’s when the conversation turned heavy

“So when did you know our dad was married?” Carmy came straight out with it, making sugar almost choke on her seltzer water while his eyes were in a daze as he stared down at his plate.

Pete cleared his throat, “Anyone need refills?”

The twins shook their heads as Nat suddenly slipped her hand into Pete’s underneath the table, squeezing.

Ruby says, “Mom you don’t have to—

The woman shakes her head, “no I do. You two went off to introduce yourselves and Nat and Carmy were gracious enough to invite me as well when they didn’t have to. They have questions so it’s only right I answer them.”

“I didn’t know at first. When we met…Aldo didn’t have a ring on or anything. I originally didn’t want to give him the time of day with the way he was looking at me, like he could see a future I couldn’t see and that he wanted to be part of it with me. Yet he was great at disappearing for awhile and I told him he should have went into magic instead of business. Everything about Aldo was a red flag, I knew he had a business but I could never stop by. He was three years younger than me—I like my men older but that’s not important. I didn’t find out until i saw a much younger Michael, he had to be about seven or eight leaving the store with a bag running off to a car on a rainy day that looked so familiar to me. I never had the greatest of eye sight. I tried to see over the counter but the car quickly pulled off and I knew but I ignored it. It wasn’t until I found out that I was four weeks pregnant that I decided to follow Aldo to the original beef… did I see him arguing outside with your mother, Donna. Nobody is just going to be screaming their head off unless someone did something to them. A woman always knows and I thought about leaving him alone after Donna stormed off but I had to tell him and hope that he cleaned up his act, to be a better man.”

Nat exhaled, “Did you want him to leave our mom?”

“No. I couldn’t take the back and forth from him, one minute he would be loving and then the next distant. It wasn’t ever constant and I slowly grew tired. I told him that he better tell your mother because my pregnancy was about to change everything in their marriage and more than just the cheating.”

Carmy asks, “And how did that go over?”

“It didn’t. I don’t want to bash the dead but your father was a master manipulator and a liar. He had issues just like everybody else but the problem is he liked to ignore them because it was normal to him. He was used to it, almost like he found comfort in it. I just wish he knew that he could have fought for better for his kids. You all deserved better than what he gave.”

“You mean to tell me it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for you two?” Carmy folds his arms, his round eyes focusing on his older half siblings.

Jett holds Carmy’s stare, “I think as kids we want to see the best in the people that raised us and hold onto the better parts—if any—and block out the rest.”

Natalie’s eyes are on Carmy’s now as he take in the words of the bits they’re discovering of their late father.

“We understand that this is a lot and will probably always be but we felt like we couldn’t go on any longer when we’re in the same town and not at least speak considering that you just lost Michael.”

Those last words echoed in Carmy’s ears.

Pete winces while nat flicks her eyes back to Ruby.

Carmy frowns, “Sorry but I uh—I don’t know how you two can possibly think you’re gonna fill that void.”

“Oh That’s not what I mean—

Natalie adds, “And this now feels a teeny bit opportunistic.”

Ruby’s scrambling over her words now but her mother reaches out a hand over Jett and towards her daughter to halt her

Jett swoops in now despite his mother’s movements, knowing their intentions and says, “I understand how this may feel like that truly but we felt like it was time to acknowledge the truth and just come right out with it. That’s not how mom raised us because the truth will always come to light. We’re related by blood sure but we don’t have to be close if this is something you don’t want, we can leave this as simply a tough conversation if that’s what the both of you want.”

Ruby raises a finger, “I don’t want that.”

“It’s a lot to process so we can give you guys time if that’s what’s requested but we also don’t have to move forward with a relationship either.” Jett boldly repeats, “so…thanks for dinner but I’m going to head out now.”

Scrapping the chair back, he excuses himself leaving Pete to gasp and for Jett and Ruby’s mother to also excuse herself to talk to her son who’s voice could be heard from outside the home.

Ruby inhales, “this isn’t how I expected this to go but I also didn’t have unrealistic expectations. I’ve wanted to get to know the both of you…the three of you for the longest but things just didn’t work out that way. I’m sorry for making this weird but thank you for inviting us, I’ll see myself out.”

Nat turns to Carmy then as Ruby also exits, her eyes swimming with emotion and all Carmy can provide her with is a simple shrug, hiding his shaky hands.

He told her he didn’t want to do this anyway.

𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ

Continue along with my September anthology prompts here.

#the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear s2 #the bear season 2 #carmy berzatto #Carmen berzatto #Natalie berzatto #Michael berzatto #sugar berzatto #mikey berzatto #richie jerimovich #Michelle berzatto #donna berzatto #september prompts #queued #the bear season two #the bear s3

[discoscoob]

New Loki | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) X Doctor Who

You become acquainted with the new Loki and it isn’t exactly smooth sailing as you find it difficult to accept this new version of him and he doesn’t plan to fill the gap your Loki left behind.

Part Fourteen | Part Sixteen | Chapter Index

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: angst?

Read on AO3

Once you woke up you were sharply alerted to the ache that ran through your neck, due to the fact you had slipped into sleep while you were still on the floor of your bedroom. You had no idea what time it was as you pushed yourself off of the hard floor with a groan of pain, in that moment you were positive that you would never allow yourself to fall asleep on a floor again.

Your headache had failed to disappear, in fact you believe it had only worsened, while your eyes felt heavy and irritated as you shuffled towards your en suite in search of something to remedy your sore head.

You paused in front of the mirror above your sink and took in your appearance, your eyes were puffy and blood shot while dried tear tracks stained your cheeks, your hair was disheveled and your lips were chapped.

You let out a tired sigh as you pulled open the cupboard behind the mirror and searched for a bottle of pain killers which rattled together as you twisted off the lid and dropped two into the palm of your hand, before you returned the bottle to its shelf.

You ran the tap and gathered some water in your cupped hands which you brought to your mouth to help swallow the pills and then you splashed your whole face with some cold water to help awaken and refresh yourself.

When you looked back at your reflection, with your palms lent on the edge of the sink, droplets of water fell from your chin and the tip of your nose and some wisps of your hair clung to the sides of your wet cheeks. You let your eyes fall shut and remained like that for a moment as you basked in the silence.

You startled when you heard a knock on your bedroom door, at first you contemplated ignoring it but whoever it was persistently knocked again. You sighed with defeat as you grabbed a fluffy white towel to dry your face and made your way across your bedroom to answer the door.

As soon as you laid eyes on Loki, your face dropped and you immediately tried to shut the door back in his face but he slammed one of his hands against it and forced it to remain open as he said your name, which caused you to freeze because this version of Loki hadn’t ever been introduced to you.

“How do you know my name?” You asked him, rather harshly.

“He put it in my head, the other version of myself, he put everything in here.” Loki explained as he gestured to his mind, “everything you did together.”

“They’re his memories, not yours.” You stubbornly told him, as if he had stolen your Loki’s memories from him.

“Look, I know this is difficult for you to wrap your head around, but we’re the same person-”

“Don’t patronise me!” You brought your hand up to point at him, “I’m not stupid, I know you’re the same person but you’re not my Loki and you never will be! It doesn’t matter if you have his memories, I didn’t experience them with you, you’re not the one I fell in love with. I can’t just start over with you and pretend you’re my Loki because you’re not and you won’t replace him.”

“Good, I wasn’t expecting to.” Loki bluntly replied. “I didn’t experience any of those things with you either, I’m not here to pick up where he left off. A few hours ago I didn’t even know you existed.”

“All right.” You nodded before you paused, “why did you come here, then?”

“I came to tell you that your auntie and the Doctor are missing.” Loki told you and you instantly stood to attention.

“What?!” You stepped out your bedroom and brushed past him as you rushed down the corridor. “Why didn’t you tell me that first?! Where did they go?”

“You interrupted me.” Loki defended himself as he followed behind you, “and I didn’t see where they went, they were already gone by the time I woke up. On the floor, might I add, it was extremely uncomfortable.”

“I fell asleep on the floor too but you don’t hear me complaining about it.” You rolled your eyes.

You were walking ahead of him and didn’t even bother to look over your shoulder as you talked to him, as you focused your attention on looking through each door you passed on the corridor in search of your auntie and the Doctor.

“Sorry, am I only allowed to complain about something if you complain about it first?” Loki sarcastically asked.

“Yes, precisely.” You answered in a deadpan tone. “Donna! Doctor!”

“Oh calling their names, why didn’t I think of that? I don’t know what I would ever do without you.” Loki mumbled to himself behind you and you shook your head with an annoyed sigh.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him as you finally turned around to face him.

“Believe me, I’d rather not be here.” He answered.

“You know how to fly the TARDIS, why don’t you go? Or did my Loki not put that in your head?” You asked, practically daring him to take the ship and leave.

“Oh, no, he did. I just didn’t think the Doctor would appreciate me flying his ship without his permission.” Loki shrugged.

“How very considerate of you.” You retorted, “but that never stopped you before.”

“Ah, you’re getting me mixed up with the other me again.” Loki called you out and you glared at him.

“So, what? You’re the righteous version?” You asked as you crossed your arms over your chest and Loki pulled a face, almost looking offended.

“Heavens no. Since it would appear you don’t need my help, I will be on my way.” Loki decided as he brushed past you, his shoulder knocked yours as he did.

You paused as you watched him take large strides towards the control room from over your shoulder in silence. You considered your situation and weighed up your options and by the time he was out of sight you realised you needed his help. With a sigh of defeat, you reluctantly followed after him.

When you entered the control room, you saw Loki silently staring at the screen of the monitor and from the look on his face you could immediately tell that something wasn’t right.

“What is it?” You asked as you approached him with caution and he raised his head to glance at you before he looked back to the screen.

He rubbed his fingers back and forth over his chin, “I think I know why your auntie and the Doctor have disappeared.”

You shuffled closer to him with wide eyes, eager to know what his suspicion was, while you tried to control your worry from overwhelming you.

“Thanos.”

At the mention of his name you felt sinking in your chest.

“If was successful and erased half the universe, they might have got caught in it. You see, the Doctor didn’t jump to a different time after we left the refuge ship.” Loki explained, his eyes on the monitor which displayed the time and date.

“No,” you shook your head in denial, “they must be somewhere. I will find them.”

Loki’s eyes followed you as you rushed around the console.

“What are you doing?” He straightened his back with interest as he followed you.

“I already lost my Loki, I’m not losing them too.” You determinedly whispered, mostly to yourself, as you stood in front of the telegraphic interface and dug your fingers into it. You closed your eyes and let your mind clear of everything except Donna and the Doctor and when the TARDIS began to rumble beneath your feet, Loki ran to the monitor to watch the screen.

As tremors continued to shake through the control room, Loki held onto the console to keep himself steady as he watched the date on the monitor quickly scroll up, every second that passed a new year was displayed.

“The TARDIS seems to think they’re somewhere.” Loki thought out loud, he made no effort to hide the amazement on his face, since your eyes were closed.

Once the tremors subsided, the date on the monitor stopped on 2023 and as if they had been hiding in a pocket of space, Donna and the Doctor were thrown into the control room out of nowhere.

At first you jumped back with a gasp after opening your eyes, surprised that it had actually worked, while Loki gawped at them as if he had seen a ghost.

The Doctor immediately started patting himself down, before he brought his hands up to his face, feeling his cheeks, his chin and his nose, while Donna was engrossed with looking at her own arms.

Once your mind shifted back into gear, you ran around the console and straight into Donna’s arms, to wrap her in a tight hug, which she quickly reciprocated.

“What happened?” She muttered into the hug, while the Doctor ran around to the monitor and mumbled a quick ‘excuse me’ to Loki as he placed both his hands on his waist to shift him out of the way, Loki offered him a glare in response.

You began to quietly explain what had happened to your auntie once you both pulled back from the hug, explaining as much as you knew about Thanos and his plan, by scraping together everything your Loki and the other one had told you about him.

Meanwhile the Doctor was piecing it all together himself, by eavesdropping on your conversation from where he stood at the monitor which he had used to look at his reflection to ensure he hadn’t regenerated.

You were all too distracted to notice that Loki had connected himself to the TARDIS’ telepathic interface, until you heard the sound of the wheezy engine fill the control room which began to quake with turbulence, as you all silently stared at the God of Mischief, wondering where he was taking you.

#loki #loki marvel #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x you #doctor who #tenth doctor #10th doctor #donna noble #tom hiddleston #loki imagine

[riseofnightwing]

Days Gone; Dick Grayson| Ch2

summary: After Dick’s death, you faced the worst feeling during months: Grief. Day by day the pain grew inside your life and you had no expectations of being able to pass through that until someone appeared again bringing all of this down but still, a lot of things changed and even though you looked for answers, the turnaround that life brought you was gently welcomed.

pairing: Dick Grayson x y/n

warnings: angst.

prologue

previous chapter

wanna be tagged?

Living without Dick during these months has been the closest I got to hell itself. September, October, November, December and the last image of him saying goodbye still makes me wonder if it’s true the saying that god doesn’t give us more than we can take, because honestly, I’m not sure if I can take this any longer. 

I don’t know how much of myself have died in this time, but I surely can say that a little bit dies everyday, I get alright when the guys are around, Rachel, Jason, Donna, they tried to fix me and I feel a little less broken until I’m alone and lately..that’s all the time.

People often say that when someone dies, their image will fade away, bit by bit, from your mind, but it’s clearly an utterly lie, because Dick’s face only gets more and more real in my head, his voice and the gap in my heart everyday when I wake up and his side on the bed is still empty, yes..it is so  cruelly real to me. 

It was still morning, around 8 AM, when I got up. I took a shower and left to the closest coffee shop. I needed these caffeine doses to start my day, San Francisco was amazingly cold these days and coffee was more than necessary. 

Rachel loves it here, she was still asleep when I left and I couldn’t wake her up since she trained a lot yesterday, so I came alone. 

I ordered my doppio coffee and waited to receive it in the next county. 

“Y/n Grayson” the clerk called my name pointing that my order was ready. I’ve been using Dick’s nickname ever since we got married when we were younger, but hearing it would always remind me of him first. Because I always loved calling him like this when I was mad, or just pretending to be, I smiled to myself hearing my own thoughts. I was going to take a sip of my drink when I felt a hand on my shoulder and I instantly turned around to see who it was.

And for a minute, I wished I could have turned around slowly, because the image I saw in front of me made me dizzy, almost like I would fall on the ground. My hands shaked and the grip on the cup of coffee got loose.

I only realized that it hit the ground when the person in front of me looked down and so did I, following his look.

He had shaved hair and a scar on the side of his head which looked like a wing. And a look..this look that I would never forget, the same tiny and tight brown eyes that he had. I could only be crazy, maybe I’m seeing things, because this man looks exactly like.. Dick. 

He looked at me again, locking our looks and my legs trembled again.

 “Dick is dead Y/n, I’m sorry” 

“He got shot in the head, Y/n. I’m truly sorry. He’s gone” 

Bruce’s voice telling me he had died echoed in my head..it couldn’t be him, Dick died.

“Y/n—” the man spoke and hearing his voice was excruciating. Why does it sound exactly like my husband’s voice? “It’s me, Richard.”

No. Absolutely no. No fucking way.

“How's it even possible?” I spoke, almost inaudibly, shaking my head slowly, in disbelief.

“Can we talk?” he tried to reach my hand and in instinct I moved it away from him but maybe touching him was the only way to find out it wasn’t my mind playing tricks on me, so I did. I touched his hand and he was there, physically, in person, not less than that and for my relief: I wasn't crazy. 

My other hand covered my mouth and a lonely tear streamed down on my cheek, what was going on? I asked myself.

“Can we please talk? I— I need to talk to you.” he asked again and I nodded, still scared.

“Not here, please— I can’t” I snapped. I couldn’t do this here. He nodded.

“I have a place, can we?”

“Yes.” I said quickly, I needed to get out of there, I wasn’t ready for this.

--

Dick took us to a loft. It wasn’t far from where we were and took us almost 5 minutes to get here, it seemed so new, like he had just got here.

We got in the place in silence, no words were spoken since we left the coffee shop and I was still trying to breath and digest everything.

I entered what seemed to be the living room and he was right behind me.

“Y/n—” he said and I stopped. His voice calling me broke me in uncountable pieces, what did life expect from me? 

I turned around to face him and the tears took my vision again. 

“Richard.” I said his name.

“I’m here— I'm here, Y/n” he said and came closer. Dick took me into his arms and I cried my heart out.

He was back. 

I don’t know how many minutes I spent like this, crying on his chest, but he kept his chin on the top of my head.

“Look at me—” Dick asked “Please.”

I lifted my head and looked at him. He wiped my tears with his fingers.

“I’m afraid I’m truly crazy and hallucinating and—” I said.

“I’m not a hallucination, Y/n. You touched me, I’m real.” Dick said firmly but still soft, looking into my watered eyes.

“It’s too much for me to understand.” 

“Well, I’m not capable of explaining you a lot now, except for the things I remember, but I’ll try my best to make you understand, I promise.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Let’s sit here.” He led me to sit on the sofa in front of a fireplace, which made the place warmer.

I stood there looking at him, waiting to hear what he had to say, anxiously looking for an answer.

He half smiled looking at me, in his usual position, resting his elbows on his thigh, crossing hands.

“What’s so funny, Grayson?” 

“I thought that through all these months you’d have forgotten me.”

“Are you kidding me—You can only be kidding me.” I told him in disbelief 

“Alright, alright, I’m kidding. But the truth is..I don’t remember everything, to be honest, I don’t remember anything..But you.”

He looked at me and I couldn’t say anything, confusion took my look, I was perplexed, he didn’t remember anything.

“What happened in the night you died?” 

“I didn’t..they told me I got shot in an attempt to kill commissioner Gordon, the bullet that hit me was actually trying to hit him. They told me I lost a lot of brain tissue and my memory was compromised. So now I can’t remember anything and the only thing that’s alive enough in my mind for me to remember, it’s you.” He looked down.

“Oh my god, Dick..” 

“They call me Ric, Y/n..” they? Ric? what the hell.

“They?” I asked 

“The people who were treating me. The ones I ran off, my doctor..she was from the Court of Owls, she was trying to keep me there and my memory only got worse so I needed to leave,I— I couldn’t forget the only thing that remained.” 

“This is too much. I can’t imagine how you could deal with all of this.” 

“I couldn’t, I am not dealing, I’m running, I’m struggling because I can’t face it. But finding you is a sight of hope.” he said 

I got closer to Dick, Ric, It didn’t matter because my Richard was back. I hugged him and I couldn’t contain my emotion. He hugged me back, even stronger.

“I’m so sorry that you had to go through this all alone, It must have been terrifying.” I told him with one of my hands on his cheek.

“Would you believe if I told you that it feels a little better now?”

“Maybe, yeah” I smiled at him and he opened his bright smile. God, how I missed this, how missed him. “

“Sorry if I went into shock when I found out that you didn't die. I deserve some credit— You should be grateful that I didn't scream or run” I completed. 

Dick smiled. All the sensations that Dick used to cause me were still there, perhaps even more intense. The chill in the belly didn't seem to want to go away.

“Stop smiling, it's not funny at all”  That's what I said, he nodded and broke the smile, but the damn gleam in his eyes didn't go away. 

“Forgive me” Dick said, his intense, emotion-filled tone immediately caught my attention. His gaze held mine, in that familiar way of seeing the depths of his soul. Pure and intense. Sincere and...Passionate. 

I did not dare to interrupt him. Silently, I gave him the authorization to continue. 

“If I could have done everything differently, I would have found you before, just so I wouldn't see you suffer that way. It breaks my heart to see you like this and— to know that I am responsible. You are the last person in the world I would hurt, you know that. I would trade places with you without a second thought, if it were humanly possible.”

I pressed my lips together in a thin line and held a stubborn tear that wanted to escape from the corner of my eyes.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Richard, you got shot, you lost your memory and gratefully you still remember me.”

“Maybe now you see that all the times I told you you were unforgettable it was true.”

I smiled and looked down slightly shy.

“So cheesy, Grayson.”

“I didn’t come sooner because they were watching you.”

“They who?” 

“The court of owls”

“What— Why would they?” I was completely unable to understand this situation.

“That’s what I was trying to figure out before I left the clinic.” he sighed “Especially why they stopped watching you for three days. That's why I approached. I couldn't miss a chance. I've been trying to communicate with you for the past few months, but they just didn't give up. And I couldn't put you in risk, even if I had no idea what they wanted with you.”

I smiled at the end of his sentence.

“You have the incredible power of thinking about me even in the worst scenarios.” 

“Yeah, that’s your fault.”

“What?” I pretended to be mad 

“You heard me, that’s your fault that I can’t stop this, this unending feeling that no matter what’s going on, protecting you with my life will always be my duty. Your fault that I love you like this. Deal with this.” He had a sassy smile on his face and his sincerity made me melt.

I felt Dick's hands gently take my face, so I surrendered to the moment, because there was no reason not to. 

I let my touch feel his lips touching mine, and thanked the heavens for having another chance to kiss him. Because my flawed and ridiculous memory had almost forgotten how splendid it was to be in his arms, having his lips molded to mine, caressing every possible inch of her mouth. 

I had forgotten how wonderful it was to have Dick's strong hands caressing my cheeks, then reaching down to my neck and plunging into my hair, pulling it with the strength necessary to dictate the rhythm of the kiss and transform my desire into the purest essence of lust. 

I had forgotten the intoxicating sensation that it was to have Dick so close, that his perfume tame my nostrils, that his rigid and strong body made me feel protected from whatever harm the world might cause me. 

Because with Dick everything was complete. 

With Dick everything was just fine.

#dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x yn #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing x y/n #dick grayson x y/n #batman imagines

[daisydaisybilly]

Hard to love - part 6

 title- hard to love - 1, 2 3 4 5 pairing: fem!reader x Sam word count: 4.2k square filled: for @spnquotebingo​​ - “We are far from perfect, but we are good.” warnings: angst, swearing, some fluff, pre smut and more fluff A/N: last part, sad to finishes this because I've really enjoyed writing it but it had to come to an end. half edited but it’s 4 am and i need sleep so mistakes are there. Want to say thank you to everyone that read this series and hope you stick around for my next. (Working on a dean one or a love triangle one but both need work so i’ll update soon) 

MAIN MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN | series masterlist

It felt like you were in a mindless runt. You pushed any kind of feeling down, scared that if you felt even the smallest thing then you'd feel everything.

A few hunts back you had met Donna, she was a hunter/sheriff. You had rolled into  Stillwater, Minnesota after hearing about a case. She had seen right through your fake FBI get up right away. But instead of arresting you like you thought she would. You two bonded really fast, something about her was easy to trust. You gave her your number for if she ever needed your help.

You still missed Sam everyday but you remembered why you stayed away. You hoped he had moved on, it made it easier to think that.

But the one thing you didn't think would happen, she would know Sam and Dean. Of all the hunters in American you had to  befriend one who knew them. When she  called you ��originally you thought it would just be the two of you but as you pulled up at the meeting spot you saw all three talking.

They hadn't seen you yet, you wanted to drive away and call Donna with a bullshit excuse but you had promised to help. You watched for a few seconds,  watching Sam mostly. He looked tired but he was still smiling. Donna always had a way to make people feel better even when everything was falling apart.

Donna was the first to notice you watching in your car, when she stopped so did the Winchesters. Both their faces dropped. You looked away, trying to pull yourself together.

You want to keep an emotionless façade, making yourself the villain you felt were. The boys were keeping a similar façade as well, not wanting Donna to know the issues.  

Looking straight at Donna, not having the will power to look either Sam or Dean in the eyes. Sam would of obviously told Dean everything. You couldn't help but remember what Dean said when you first came to the bunker.

'He's already wiped. Just don’t mess him around.'

And you did it the end, you let him think you were okay enough to be with someone completely.  "Donna" you smiled as she hugged you.

"Y/N, Glad you could make it. This is-" She drew away, turning you to face Sam and Dean. All the air left your lungs but you couldn't show it.

"We've met actually" Dean cut her off, if looks could kill you'd be dead.

"Oh I didn't know" she still smiled not noticing  the awkward air around the four of you. "so I bet you're wondering why I call you all here"

"Something like that" Dean muttered. Sam had yet to say anything but you could feel his eyes on you.

"Well, I called you guys for the muscle and Y/N here for brains" she slapped Dean on his back.

"glad that's what I'm known for" you weakly smiled.

Dean muttered something under his breath but you didn’t caught it in time.

"So what do you know so far?" You said Donna, you could feel your façade dropping.

"well it all started a few weeks back, a local man was killed we had no leads until a women came in claiming she knew the man and dreamt how he died, days before he did" Donna explained.

"They could just be a physic" you hoped it was that simple, then you could leave.

"that was my first thought but then we got half a dozen calls about people's nightmares coming true" Donna finished the whole story.

"I'll look into some lore about dreams coming true and the rest of you can question people" You said.

"You sure you're okay alone?" Donna smiled still not picking up the tense.

"of course" you smile a bit to wide , nodding to everyone. "like you said these guys are the muscle and they'll need your help more than me".

Your eyes locked on Sam longer than the others. He just barely met your eyes. "right then, guess we'll caught up later" Donna said with the same cheerily tone.

After another smile you started to walk back to your car. You could do this, just this case then you could hide away. "Y/N". You stopped dead, If anyone was going to shout after you, you thought it would be Donna or even Sam but not Dean.

"Dean" you didn't turn around. "Just so you know I didn't know you guys would be here".

"would you of shown up If you did?" Dean said from behind, his voice was cold.

You swallowed and turned to face him. "No I wouldn't, and the only reason I'm staying is because Donna asked me to help. I'll stay out of your way as much as I can. I don't want to hurt Sam more than I already have".

"So you admit you hurt him" Dean argued.

You looked just over his shoulder, Donna and Sam were watching the two of you. "I know I hurt him, and I hate myself for doing it but this is the easier way".

"breaking his heart is easier?!" it was clear he was angry.

"Yes. Walking away is a lot easier than him dying or me dying. How you ever watched someone you love die?" You felt angry too. Of course Dean had questions.

He didn't say anything but his face said it all.

"This way I am the bad guy, this way Sam can hate me and move on and be- he can be happy" You felt like crying, everything was hitting you all at once. "I'm going to go and research and you can go back to hating me too".

He didn't say anything, only nodded. You looked to Sam again, he was doing the same, looking at you. Keeping the narrative as the villain you were the one to look away.  

Somehow the town had a store that sold a wide range of stuff. From supplies of spells to bones. You didn’t know to know what or whose bones they were but it was still  interesting .    

The section you needed most was at the very back of the store. They had old hardbacks and newer paper backs. You really had no idea what you were looking for, dreams coming true was strange. They sounded more like nightmares if anything.

Something that used nightmares. You swore you heard something about nightmares in polish folklore. In the end you left the store with 5 books, one in polish you could barely read.

The next step was to find a motel to stay until the case was over. You only had to drive for a mile or so before you found one that looked okay.

 you sent a quick text to Donna telling her where she'd find you.  All you did for the next 3 hours was read and take notes. The wall above the bed was covered in ideas.

You were stood on your bed with a book in each hand and a pen in your mouth. You stopped when the motel door opened. If it was someone trying to attack you, they had chosen the right time.  

"Hey, Y/N you find anything" Donna came in carrying some beer with her. "I thought we could have a girls night"

You spat your pen out, still holding the books. "Donna. I didn't think I'd see you again today" you jumped from the bed, putting the books down too.

"Well we finished with the questioning  and I wanted to catch up with you. Plus I wanna know what happened with you and the Winchesters" she shut the door behind her. Turns out she had spotted the tense from earlier.

"What about the Winchester?" you tried to play dumb but Donna saw right through it.

"I saw how you couldn't look them in the eyes, and then I saw the way you spoke with Dean" she eyed you seriously handing you a bottle.

"It's very hard to explain" you sighed, "I met them months ago"

"And the rest?" Donna asked holding her own beer.

"Not important. But want is, is this case and I think I might found what we are looking for" you point to the note covered fall. "now I'm getting most of my infor from a polish book and I can't read it all but the other books fill in the gaps".

"okay, I'll bite what we looking at" Donna sighed, knowing she'll get nothing out of you right now.

"Okay so I remembered something about witches and dreams but couldn't remember the whole lore but I found it" you jumped up on the bed pointing at all your work. "They're called Night hags, they're nightmare spirits  they feed on nightmares".

"and how do ya kill one of these night hags?" she pointed to all your research on the wall with the hand that held her beer.

"sliver but you need to do it when they're feeding, which is the hard bit" you bite your lips and picked up another book, "I found a summoning spell but we will need someone to act as bait".

"Well then better call the boys" she reached for her phone but you stopped her before she could.

"Do we need too? We can do it, you know girl power and all" you said, feeling nervous about being in the same room as the boys so soon. You thought you had at least tonight. "or we can do it tomorrow night? They're probably at a bar getting drunk anyway".

"I'll only agree if you tell me what's going on with you and the boys"

"Promise?" you bite the inside of your cheek, already feeling worried.

"You bet ya" she sat down on the bed, waiting for you to join her.

You sighed a sat down next her, getting your own beer. "like I said I met them a mouths ago, I saved them from some witch" you smiled at the memory. "Then I did a case alone with Sam and we bonded , like I really bonded. Then we kept in contact but I didn't see him for a while and when we finally did see each other again. I broke his heart because I can’t let myself love him, even though I do" you  felt your throat croak with a sob when you finished.

Donna just hugged you, "I didn't think it was something so big".

"I hate myself for what I did to him" you muttered, "I hope he hates me, it would make everything easy".

"maybe it's not too late. Maybe he still feels the same" she rubbed your back.

"but it scares me, what I feel for him and what he feels for me" your sobbed a little more. "All I want is for him to be happy".

-x-

After a while Donna left, you were too upset to talk anymore. You had just gotten dressed after a shower. The only light came from the streetlight outside. The bed had been cleared for all your things, everything was still and quite.

You sat down on the chairs by the window, putting your head in your hands.  Now you were alone you could take in the whole day, seeing Sam, your chat with Dean and all the feeling bubbling up again.

Someone walked past your window casing a shadow across the floor, you watched as the shadow stopped outside your room. Reaching for you gun you waited to see what would happen. You took a few steps towards the door, reaching for the door handle. You sung the door open and opened your mouth in shock when you saw who was standing there.

He was swaying a little, like he couldn't stand up for you. His long hair was a little messy from the wind and being messed with. "Sam" his name left your lips, you felt the pain of it.

He pushed his head up so he could stand taller, "Donna mentioned you were staying here and I want to talk" His words were wobbly. You could smell beer and whiskey coming off him.

"You're drunk. Tell me where you're staying and I'll drive you back" you went to hold his arm but he pushed it away.

"NO" you stepped back, taken back from his raised tone. "I'm not leaving until you speak with me".

You felt hopeless, "Come in before someone calls the cops" you open the door wider for him. "I'll call Dean"

"he's asleep" Sam muttered walking into the room. Throwing his jacket off and onto a chair.

"Fine. I'll get another room and you can stay here" you sighed and went to grab a few things.

Sam breathed heavy and turned to watch you. "just stay here", the lifted his hands up and sat on the bed. "We've shared a bed before".

"this time is different" you said, putting some steel in your voice.

"your choice" he muttered under his breath.

You pushed back your hair, "the right choice".

Sam stood up, catching himself a little and walked closer to you. "don't I get a choice!".  You couldn't answer all your fight had been taken over by your guilt and pain. Maybe you had only been thinking about yourself and how you weren't strong enough.  "you left before I could say I love you"

You face was wet with tears, that was the last thing you ever thought he'd say. You opened and closed your mouth to speak. He was waiting for you to speak but all you could do was stare. He raised his hand and held your face, a sob sounded from the back of your throat when you lent closer to him.

You felt more tears fall, you brought your hand to his. You had missed his touch more than anything, all the warmth from his hand was traveling through your whole body. Your lips parted when his thumb ran along them. "Sam. We can't".

He didn't move away or change his face.  You couldn't bear to look any longer so you closed your eyes. You felt his free arm go round you. Your breath quicken when he lend you to walk on.

You opened your eyes and looked into his hazel ones. They were half closed with  exhaustion. "we can sleep, just grant me that". You wanted to fight but you were to exhausted yourself.  It went like clockwork, you both settled down in bed, he wrapped his arms around you. He buried his head into the nook of your neck. And that's how you slept, safe in his arms.

-x-

Sunlight warming your skin woke you up, you could feel Sam's sallow breath on your neck. It was a slip to let Sam in, even more of a sip that you feel asleep in his arms but despised the regret you would feel late you finally felt whole.

You turned so you could face him, his hair had fallen across his face, his eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks. You still had a whole case to get through when you both woke up.  But being in his arms again was all you had wanted since you left but like always you knew this wouldn't end well. God Sam would wake up thinking all was good but you were still so unsure if you'd make it out alive, Sam was right though he deserved a choice about how this ended.  

His eyes were beginning to open, you bit your lip as his sleepy hazel eyes focused on you. You wondered what he remembered from last night he was just drunk enough to speak with you but maybe he'd forgotten just how he'd gotten to your room.

"hi" you whispered, he smiled immediately when he saw you were still next to him, still in his arms.

"Hi" he voice was half wonder and shock. He brought his hand the back of your neck. "So…mmm what does this mean?"

You didn't know what to say because you were thinking the same thing, "honestly? I don't know, but you were right last night. I never gave you a choice, I just ran and it was wrong so maybe if-" you breathed heavy through your nose as he waited for you to finish, he already looked so hopefully. "If we take things slow  then maybe and it’s a big maybe I can let go of my fear for losing you".

He first answered by pulling you into a tight hug, you paused in a moment of shock but then put your arms around him. You could feel him grinning against your shoulder. He pulled away to speak. "I don't want to push you in to this".

"No, I need the push" you smile, running your fingers thought his hair, pushing it away. "I love you and I don't want to push you away, I need the time away and this half finished case to show me".

"Yeah, I was gonna ask about all the creepy stuff on the wall" he looked up to the wall above the bed and shrived. "Why have it above the bed?"

"because then I don't have to stare at it when I'm in bed" you laughed, you pulled him closer. "Kiss me?", he didn't need to be asked twice. You both smiled against each others lips, kissing Sam was hardly ever hard but this time felt like you were catching up on all the time you missed.  

 He pulled away  as his hands lifted your top from your head, you hadn't put a bra on the night before so you were left with nothing but your shorts. His hands went right to your breast and cupped them. He played with each nipple, you gasped into his lips. He then moved down as took one nipple in his mouth and sucked.   Your back buckled and you pressed more against him, when his tongue circled the tip.

You bit your lip to hold in a moan, you throat aching with the affect. He let your nipple fall from his mouth with a pop and went back to your lips. You tugged at his shirt wanting to feel his skin against your own. He answered you wish by taking it off. You let your lips fall to his neck and kiss along his neck and down this chest. His hands were moving all over your body as you kissed all the skin you could get to.

you stopped abruptly when you heard someone try and open your door. You looked from each other to the door, which was still trying to be opened. "Sam! Open up" .

You swore and pulled your top back on and pointed for Sam to get his own on. It was useless to try and lie to Dean but here you were, pretending you were 5 minutes away from sex.

"Dean" You sung the door open and eyed him. He looked from you to Sam who was still in bed waving over to his brother.

"Caught you two at a bad time then" he laughed and walked in with out being asked. "donna said you had a plan".

You watch shut the door and sat near the window, you then explained everything to them. Dean seemed happy with the plan but Sam looked a little worried. " You're okay with being the bait?"

You shrugged, "Gets the job done, plus you guys and Donna have my back". You took out your phone to text Donna to come. "You two can go and get the stuff I need, while I get dressed".

"sure I speak for Sammy too when I say you don't have too" he winked, purely  joking but Sam's cheeks still went red.  

"very funning. Now get lose and do your bit"

-x-

You were pasting  around the hotel room, picking up everything you'd need for the summoning spell, you knew that Dean, Sam and Donna were all outside waiting but you were still worried something could go wrong.

The spell was easy, only needed some dream rot, lamb's blood, bones and some of your own blood. Carefully you mixed everything together. Reading from one of the books you waited for the hag to show up.

The motel room was set up to look like you were trained enough for this hunt or any hunt. You made sure to hide your actual weapon and had just your gun to hand.    

All you needed to do now was wait, ever since the Djinn had gotten hold of you, you had been scared hunting something you didn't know and this was the first night hag any of you had hunted. You were hoping it would be weaker during the day.

Nothing was happening until everything did. First the lights started to flicker, then the room went ice cold. You stood up and looked around the room for any movement. When you got to the far left corner you saw a fog beginning to form into a space.  Your nerves took over and you shot at it. It moved faster than you thought, throwing itself at you.

You screamed when you hit the floor, head hitting a set of draws. Everything went out of focus, a face of an old lady was the first thing to become clear, before you could scream again she put her hand over your mouth.

The room went dark, when the lights in your mind came back on again you were in the same nightmare you always had but this time was different. Instead of Danny being there dead, it was Sam. This is what night hags did, they feed off your nightmares and here you were playing into its plan.

It took everything to pull out of the dream, there was the hag again now sat on your chest. Thankfully the gun was still in your grip, so you fired, praying the others would come.

You breathing went slack as she hit you with more power this time, now you were in the bunker. The lights red, your feet moved without being told .  You stopped in a hallway it looked the same as the others did but this one had Sam's lifeless body on the floor.  A sob overpowered you and knocked you down to your knees. You fell close enough at the blood that pooled around him wet you knees and hands.

You brought your hands to your face, even in the red lighting of the diner his blood was clear. It was just a dream, this is real. You repeated like a pray. The real Sam will save you soon, then everything will be okay.    

The lights suddenly came back on, the blood was even more frightening.  God you hoped this meant it was over, It had to end soon.

"Y/N! Wake up" a voice echoed through the empty halls.  You could hear more background noise too, more voices. You suddenly tired , everything was melting away.

When you next opened your eyes Sam was staring down at you, you were once again in his arms.  You let your head fall back with relief. "Oh thank God".

Sam smiled, "Did you doubt us?".

"No" you smiled, catching your breath. You looked around the room and saw Dean and Donna lent against one wall and a dead hag on the floor. "plan worked then".

"for the most part" Sam chuckled, "Apart from this" he pulled a strand of grey hair from your head. "Seems we were fast enough".

You felt the hair, you had read about people aging fast if the magic was strong enough but just a strand was weird. "I think I can pull it off". He only laughed and helped you stand,  "You guys on clean up?"

"Like you said once, 'I did the kill so you do the clean up'" dean clapped his hands together.

You pouted your lips, "But I did the research and have grey hair now! At my age too". No one seemed to buy it. You rolled eye your eyes." fine. Can someone at least help me get her in my boot".

-x-

You stood alone with Sam just outside Stillwater. After everything was done, you and Sam left to have sometime alone. The both of you were lining against your car. The moment was so peaceful it felt wrong to ruin it with words. But what you needed to say felt right.

"You always save me" You kept your voice low, as to keep the moment small. "Like with Djinn you were in that crazy dream and remembering you made me realize that none of it was real".  He reached for your hand and rubbed it in between his.  "Then with the hag. My fear was you dead, my new worst fear. I used to think it was a weakness but I was wrong".

He waited before speaking. "What am I then?", he sounded so afraid of what you might say.

"we are only a weakness if I let it be one and I don't anymore. I want to be with you, I want the messy, I want the hard because easy never last" you face him and smiled.  "We are far from perfect, but we are good".

"yeah. We are good" he smiled too and pulled you into his arms, you knew then that even with all the fear that this was where you belonged, in the arms of the man you love.          

#spnquotebingo #snp #snp fic #snp imagine #spn imagine #fanfic #sam x yn #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester

[celestial-mari]

Masks

A story based on the dreaded Dickkory pool scene from Titans (2008)

That one tiny, two-letter word stung like fire leaving Dick’s mouth, as his heart sank into his stomach. He knew by the look of her face that it stung her just as sharply. Her beautiful, purple-red lips quivered and he could see her normally bright and cheerful alien eyes droop suddenly. She willingly let him see her pain, not even for a second trying to hide who she was in that moment, and he, knowing full well that his words were lies felt a heartbreak so deep that for a moment he didn’t think he could survive.

Koriand’r, the alien princess of the planet Tamaran was the very definition of the light in his life. She represented freedom, both physically and emotionally, and allowed him to be the person he only dreamed of being. However, a dark shadow had fallen over him lately and he knew that light she gave him had to be extinguished. There was no other way to move forward under the circumstances.

Unfortunately for him, the time had come when the world no longer needed his light. It didn’t need a superhero as kind-hearted and hopeful as Nightwing, but rather it needed the shadowy figure of Batman to return and fill the gap that Bruce had left behind. It was his responsibility, a responsibility he had accepted the moment he agreed to become Robin all those years ago, and a part of him always knew this is what would happen one day. The world desperately needed a Batman, and no one other than the first Robin could take that spot.

The sadness in Kory’s eyes filled the entire room, an emotion so passionate it seemed to change the air itself. Dick felt tears welling in his eyes, but it wasn’t in his nature to let them go like it was hers. It took everything in him to not run into her arms and cry apologies into her long red locks of hair, but Bruce had taught him well. He knew better than anyone how to be cold like his mentor, even though that wasn’t anything like what he wanted to be.

That was the problem. In order to protect the people of Gotham, he needed to sacrifice the best thing in his life, the thing that made him Nightwing instead of Batman, the person that made him exactly who he so wanted to be.

“Dick.” Kory whimpered under breath, her pupil-less green eyes staring right into his heart and soul. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

After what felt like years, Kory turned away from him, ripples of pool water flowing away from her body and moving along Dick’s skin. She swam quietly to the pool steps and easily lifted her body out of the water, which suddenly felt as cold as ice without her in it. As she walked towards the door that led away from the Titans Tower pool, she paused for a second.

“Don’t think for a second that I don’t know when you’re lying,” she spoke, a slight twinge of angry laughter in her voice that quickly faded into quiet acceptance, “but if this is what you deem as necessary, then I trust you.”

With those final words, her feet lifted gently off the ground. She flew out the door, her hair leaving small waterlogged sparks behind her, as Dick stared, wishing he could take it all back.

~ ~ ~

Months after the breakup, the world was finally starting to seem a little less gray. For the most part, the Titans had been enjoying a pretty favorable year. Crime levels were relatively low, and the amount of world-ending scenarios had fallen to only about one or two.

Yet, there was something very clearly missing from the team, a member so loved by everyone, that the team simply wasn’t the same without him. But of course, as all heroes do, the Titans made do with what they had available, and among the five of them, their found family was closer than ever.

It was a late night in the Tower. Kory and Donna were just getting home from a long day at work. Raven and Gar had already been out patrolling and were just now settling into bed, while Victor was up late checking surveillance footage and doing some research on their latest villain.

The two women stopped just outside Kory’s bedroom, the silver metal walls of the Tower filling the room with a sort of gray atmosphere. On the door to Kory’s room was a photograph that Donna had taken of Tamaran the last time they had all been there, a priceless memento that Kory loved seeing every time she walked by it.

“I had a wonderful time today, Donna!” exclaimed Kory, giddy and hovering higher in the air than usual. In her hands were multiple shopping bags, gifts from admirers who had visited the modeling set that day.

Donna laughed to herself, curious how the alien princess was able to stay so energetic so late at night. The Amazon herself was already picturing a nice warm shower, a good book, and some much-needed rest.

“So did I, Kory” she replied. “You’re unbelievably photogenic. I think these are some of the best photos I’ve taken of you. I can’t wait to see how they look in the final catalog for this season.”

“Thanks” Kory giggled, “but don’t sell yourself short. Your eye for composition deserves every award out there. I swear there’s no better photographer out there than you.” Kory flew in close for a hug, easily picking Donna off the floor and twirling around with her.

She lowered her back onto the floor and grinned, grateful to have had a wonderful day with her best friend. Still, a lingering sadness could be seen in the back of Kory’s eyes, one that appeared the same day the Titans had lost a very important missing piece. The Tamaranean had no need to hide her emotions from anyone, especially her friends, and therefore she was really very easy to read. It had been almost a year since she last heard from Dick Grayson. Yet, Kory’s heart wasn’t the type to let go that all that quickly.

Donna, knowing her friend very well, reached out and put a hand on Kory’s shoulder. “He’ll come around soon,” she said. “You know, Dick. Responsible to a fault, always puts the job first.”

Kory nodded, her feet finally touching the floor of the hallway in which they were in, “I just miss him.”

Donna pulled Kory in for another hug, before saying goodnight and heading down the hall to her own bedroom. Kory turned to her own room, her eyes settling on the photograph of Tamaran for a moment, contemplating if maybe it was time to finally return home for a spell.

After a few moments, Kory opened the door to the room that had once belonged to both her and Dick. After he had left the Tower those many months ago, Kory couldn’t bring herself to move back into her old room, but rather she had decided to stay in the one that they had both shared, refusing to let go of the memories, knowing that one day he’d come back when he was ready.

As the door creaked open, Kory gently hovered inside, putting her shopping bags on the floor by a nearby closet. The room was actually more spacious than most of the rooms in the Tower, as it had originally been designed as sort of a master bedroom. Kory giggled to herself, remembering how Gar fought tooth and nail to try to claim this bedroom, only to find out that the wifi was much worse on this side of the building than the other.

As the entrance door behind her slowly closed on its own, Kory paused and looked around. The room held so many memories of her and Dick’s life together. Donna’s love of taking photographs always meant that the Tower was full of them. As such small picture frames of Dick and Kory were on every shelf, starting with one on her bedside table, to a few more by her desk. Among the photographs were also a bunch of her, Donna, and Raven, as well as pictures of all the Titans together, and even a couple photographs of Kory’s family on Tamaran. Sentimental as she was, Kory couldn’t help but keep every memory she possible.

The room itself, spacious as it was, didn’t actually have much wall space. Instead, a good portion of the room was floor to ceiling windows, lightly covered by sheer white curtains. Everywhere else was bookshelves, as both her and Dick loved to read and research whenever possible. There was also a small coffee table on top of which was a small Tamaranean flower that reminded Kory of home. The only other piece of furniture in the room, besides the aforementioned desk, was a large king-size bed, which was currently unmade with sheets scattered on the floor.

Kory sighed to herself, choosing to ignore the sheets for now, and instead head into the bathroom to wipe off her makeup. While many had told her that she didn’t need makeup, Kory always found that silly. Tamaran never had things like makeup or diverse clothing, so of course, she was going to experiment as much as she wanted with her own style.

She spent a couple minutes getting ready for bed, hovering around the room putting things away and settling in for the night. Finally, she sat in bed with the lights off. The light from the glittering New York City lights and some very faint stars filled the room, as did the soft glow of the tips of her hair. From her bedside table, Kory grabbed a purple Tamaranean hairbrush, with silver bristles, specifically made to deal with the strength and chaotic nature of Tamaranean hair, and got to work getting rid of the tangles. This always took a long time because her hair was so long, but she enjoyed taking the time to relax and pamper herself. She deserved it after all.

Looking out the window as she did this, she thought about Dick Grayson. Not really pinning, but rather, curious about where his life had led him. There were rumors going around that Batman had resurfaced in Gotham. The first time she had heard the rumor, she immediately knew why Dick had to leave her. To many of her friends' surprise, Kory didn’t blame him as they thought she would, but rather she was incredibly aware of the dark place the concept of Batman brought him. She knew he was probably frightened by himself, and ashamed, and more than anything she wished she could take away that shame. She wanted to remind him of the good that she saw every time she looked into his eyes. He was a much brighter soul than he ever gave himself credit for.

Kory sucked in a breath as the brush caught on an especially knotty part of her hair before she gave up and put the brush away entirely. Her glowing green eyes illuminated the room for a moment as she glanced around one last time before laying her head on her pillow and letting her eyes flutter closed.

~ ~ ~

A soft tip-tapping on the window jolted Kory awake. Her green eyes lit up fiercely, and a starbolt made from pure solar energy started shinning from her hand. In a flash, Kory was hovering over the bed, her warrior instincts forcing her to a fighting stance, ready to attack at a moment's notice.

Without hesitation, she flew over to the window and threw the curtains aside to get a better look. For a moment, she didn’t see anyone at all, just the shadows of the very early morning. Yet, she knew herself well and always trusted her instincts, which meant that she had definitely heard something.

She extinguished the starbolt in her hand and moved to open the window and fly out into the night. The glass slid open easily, allowing her to slip through, feeling the cool night air through the delicate fabric of her nightgown, tickling her naturally warm skin.

Still on edge, the glow of her emerald eyes searched the sides of the building, before finally noticing a familiar figure sitting on the roof of the tower. She grinned, flying up to the edge of the roof and floating just inches away from the figure.

His voice, just as familiar as her own, whispered butterflies into her stomach, “Hello Kory.”

“Dick.” Her gaze, moments ago filled with merciless fire, softened. She smiled, truthfully not quite ready to hug him, but ecstatic to see him.

The next words out of Dick’s mouth didn’t sting but still felt like fire, this time warm and familiar rather than sharp. His gaze poured directly into her soul, “I’m so sorry.”

Kory stayed where she was, hovering out over the night sky and the city lights, “I know you are, Dick.”

She was very aware of the pain in his eyes, of the fear that he was unrecognizable to her. To some extent, she did see a different Dick Grayson standing before her than the one who had said goodbye to her all those months before. Yet, it wasn’t a Dick Grayson she had never seen before, but rather the same one she had met on her first day on Earth. The only difference was that at this moment, he wore a Batman suit instead of a Robin suit.

Dick’s voice quivered, struggling to find the right words to say, “I know you know, but I still have to prove it to you. You deserve at least that.”

Kory flew closer to him, the inhuman warmth that came from her body tickling Dick’s skin. “I know what you had to do,” she whispered to him. “The world needed a Batman and you were the obvious choice.”

Dick lifted his hand, pulling off the cowl he wore and throwing it down next to him, revealing his face. Close as they were now, Kory could his tears, a sign that his era as Batman had finally come to a close. “Bruce is back, Kory.” He held his head in his hands, allowing himself to be vulnerable, “I should be happy, but I don’t know how to be myself again. That mask changes me every time I put it on.”

“I know your heart,” Kory replied, gently taking his hand away from the mask and putting it between her palms. “A mask cannot hide that. No matter which one you wear.”

She could see Dick processing her words, wondering whether or not he even deserved her forgiveness, but Kory knew him well. She knew that he loved her, but she also knew that he would always struggle with a need to fulfill what he considered to be his duty, his responsibility to the man who raised him.

The two lovers lived in a world that was anything but black and white. They both knew that the lives they chose would never be a simple path. Yet, Dick Grayson was ready to allow light back into his life, and Koriand’r, the personification of that light was ready to accept him.

Moments passed, and the sky began to light up as the sun slowly rose over the horizon. Kory gingerly lowered herself down to sit next to the man she loved. He wasn’t perfect. Neither was she, but she was happy being imperfect together. She lifted her hand to his cheek, wiping a leftover tear from his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said shakily, placing his palm over hers.

Kory smiled, placing a soft kiss on his forehead, “I’ll always love you, Dick Grayson.”

Dick rested his eyes, leaning his head on her shoulder, drifting off to sleep. After a few moments, Kory gently slipped one hand under his legs and carried him back down to their bedroom so he could get some sleep. The rest of the Titans would have a lot of questions later in the day, and the couple still had a lot to talk about, but for now, they were content with going back to sleep, even though the morning light was already pouring in.

“Kory?” Dick mumbled, with his eyes already closed, their bodies pressed close together, “I love you.”

“I know.”

#my stuff #my fics #dickkory #starfire #nightwing #dick grayson #koriand'r #kory #kori #kory anders #tamaran #fanfiction #fluff #fanfic #angst

[bigskydreaming]

For the fic ask meme, 4, 16, 24, or 28

I will answer 16 now, because No Reason, Just Whimsy, but stay tuned as I’ll probably end up answering 4, 24 and 28 at some point anyway, because like. No Reason, Just Whimsy. *Shrugs*

16.  If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

I can’t tell you, see, because I would simply make that one pairing endgame and everything else leading up to it like, contain all the other ships I could not bear to be without. (Hahahaha this is why I could never be a romance author, I can not abide by the rules of HEA or HFN in relationship stories to save my LIFE). So, y’know, SPOILERS.

No but also I’m completely aware that this is cheating and not the point of the question. But I can not choose though, that is the point, like, have you met me? I am the original poster child for ADHD. I’m THAT old.

So instead I will simply say that in the realm of Teen Wolf, Scanny is very very very important to me, which like, surprises no one. But also I would still fight someone who tried to take either Scira or Scallison from me, I remain obnoxiously fond of Scackson’s potential, and I’m still out here being like, the sole Scosh (Scott/Josh Diaz) shipper in all the land, I’m pretty sure, lmfao. 

And I mean, also there’s Scyle, of course. I could never give up the Scyle.

As far as Marvel goes, like, I am going to be riding the high of Bobby/Christian being canon for quite some time, as anyone who has known me long knows that I have been shipping this ship since Christian was first introduced and then written offstage like two issues later….seventeen years ago.

(I have a lot of issues with straight writers making gay characters’ gay-specific tragedies and traumas like….someone ELSE’S angsty back story, while they themselves are just shuffled off the page and considered irrelevant. For those who don’t know, Christian is Emma Frost’s gay older brother who she adored and when their father had Christian institutionalized against his will because he was gay, this was what made Emma break away from the rest of her family for good and set her on the road to becoming the White Queen of the Hellfire Club. 

And then, despite like, this being life-defining for her, not a single writer in the next fifteen damn years ever thought to ask themselves…..hmmm, why would Emma Frost, one of the most powerful telepaths in the world and someone whose personal morality in no way makes her above using those powers, her wealth or Hellfire resources however she damn well pleases in the name of protecting herself, those she cares about, and advancing her agendas…..why would this woman who has never let anything stand in the way of what she cares about before like….simply just…never once in all the years since she was a teenager think to herself….hmm, what if I simply go to the institution where my beloved brother is kept against his will, and just…..made them release him?)

So, aside from always thinking Bobby/Christian would be a great ship with amazing potential given Bobby’s unique history and dynamic with Christian’s sister and the fact that Christian shares a lot of the same traits, backstory and other elements that make Emma an amazing and multi-faceted character and he’s just been sitting there in Limbo for fifteen years with all this untapped potential just waiting to be mined….

I’m always going to be gleeful about this ship and with a special fondness for Sina Grace for bringing Christian back from comic book Limbo and laying the foundation for this ship, like, just because like……I feel its long overdue and the only way to ACTUALLY make anything decent out of the bullshit that was mining his oppression for the sake of another character’s angst: by finally giving HIM the chance to be a character who is affected by all that, developed and moved forward from all of that, is the FOCUS of all that…..and even more importantly, now after being left offscreen for fifteen years by writers who considered his narrative nothing more than tragic filler….he finally has a chance to be an example of a gay character who gets to come BACK from all of that and move FORWARD from it, and like…find healing and happiness with another character, like Bobby.

So Bobby/Christian is actually hugely important to me for a variety of reasons, especially right now since this is all just happening recently, and I will love them forever and in defiance of the inevitable bullshit some future writer pulls that will piss me the hell off. Y’know, just going off of Vegas odds or whatever.

Aside from Bobby/Christian I’ve also always had a weakness for Bobby/Johnny Storm because they are the most iconic ice and fire characters out there and I am basically twelve. I also have blogged at length in the past about all the reasons I’m a huge fan of Bobby/Bishop and not just because their ship name would make them a literal bop. Again, I refer you to the thing where I’m basically twelve. But yeah, there’s a whole history there where when Bishop first came back into the past and met the X-Men who’d all been legends in his time, he kinda fanboyed a little over Bobby because of Bobby’s future legend, and then was kinda like….oh, that’s it? about him once he got to know Bobby and Bishop became like, the physical embodiment of underwhelmed. 

And ever since then Bobby’s always low key been like, a hyper-active puppy around Bishop, like, trying not to SEEM like he cares an awful lot about whether or not he’s managed to impress Bishop but because he can’t be subtle to save his life, mostly just coming across as “am I living up to the hype now? how about now? am I legendary NOW? What about now?” and I dunno. Its just kinda cute and a fairly unique dynamic, and Bishop has this deliberately bland, blink and you miss it sense of humor with the right writers and that I’ve always thought has a ton of potential for him to be privately amused by this tendency of Bobby’s, enough that he’s unwilling to confess to him that Bobby actually earned his respect years ago by this point, and he just doesn’t want to let Bobby know because then he’d stop. 

And then in terms of DC, I’ve posted a lot a lot a loooooooooot about my love for Dick/Kory in canon, and how they - and by extension we - were robbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbed, and if DC doesn’t give me my canon Mar’i and Jake Grayson one of these days, I don’t care if they have to import them from another universe and then have this universe’s Dick and Kory awkwardly try to co-parent them while living their own lives separately before finally coming back together and falling in love all over again and then becoming a single united family unit forever and ever in the most ridiculously complicated comic book version of the Parent Trap ever, like…..

I can’t even think of an over-exaggerated threat creative enough to convey just how badly I want and need this, DC, give it to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee plzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

And then also, I’ve actually posted a lot a lot a loooooooooooot (though not in a few years, probably, so those posts are all super old, lol) about how I think Kyle and Donna are a criminally under-rated canon couple and were actually really really good together because they went through so much together and Kyle literally grew so much as a character specifically on the things Donna called him out for the first time they dated, like, literally so he could be BETTER, and then with how anticlimactically they ended...because the thing is, they never actually even broke up! It was this thing where like, when Donna went to LA with Kyle for his high school reunion and to literally MEET HIS MOM, like HELLO, that is not a basic relationship step, that is Advanced Dating, like…..that is where they were at in their relationship when Donna literally got the call then and there that her ex-husband and her son had just died in a car accident. 

And Donna was devastated of course, and Kyle was devastated too - for her, and also in his own way, because he’d adored Robert and like, there were these issues where they were super cute and took him to the zoo together and Kyle was bonding with him and just like, melting over this kid, and Robert and Terry were killed by a drunk driver, and like, there was a later story where Kyle just went apeshit on this drunk driver he encountered because he had all these repressed feelings about Robert’s death and how it had hurt Donna and he’d made sure not to show any of that to her or even let on that he hurt for Robert’s loss in his own way, because he didn’t want to make it about him, he KNEW better…

And anyway, the point is…they never actually broke up in the sense of either of them at any point being all, oh we no longer love each other or think this can work, we need to end it. Instead, Donna said that she needed to take some time away from Kyle and everyone else and just…come to terms with what she’d lost and figure out who she even was now in the wake of that….and Kyle totally understood, didn’t argue or try and change her mind, he just said take as much time as you need, I’ll be here when you’re ready, and oh btw, here’s this lantern construct of a locket that I want you to keep because as long as it exists you’ll know that a part of me is still thinking about you and wanting you to be happy, wherever that is.

And then like…..less than a year later, DC did their super weird Dark Angel story where Donna was erased from reality and then had to be ‘recreated’ from Wally’s memories, and for awhile just existed in the form and identity she’d been recreated from, which was based entirely on what Wally knew of her and thought and felt about her, and so there were huge gaps in her identity where she was missing stuff she should have known but didn’t now because WALLY didn’t know about it.

Such as how when Donna met Kyle’s subsequent sorta-girlfriend Jade some time later - I say sorta because she and Kyle were still figuring things out at that stage, and Jenny-Lynn in part didn’t know if she wanted to actually get into a relationship with him because she thought he was still in love with Donna - well anyway, when Donna and Jenny-Lynn met in a later issue and she said all this to Donna, Donna reassured her not to worry about it, she was reading more into it than actually existed because she and Kyle had never been that serious anyway. 

Which. SCREECH! Brakes please. HOLD UP. 

Like, I’m sorry JAY FAERBER YES I REMEMBER IT WAS YOU WHO WROTE THAT ISSUE UGGGGGH, but like, in what UNIVERSE is “dated, broke up, then got back together later because she thought Kyle had matured a ton since they first tried dating and now they were so much stronger as a couple that she oh I dunno, introduced him to her son and they went on playdates together, went with him to meet his mom, had a never-vanishing lantern locket construct that signified just how much he would always love her” uh…..’never been that serious anyway’? I’m. What? Does not compute.

BUT WHATEVER.

LOL. Anyway, point is, so things like that actually make sense when you factor in the role Wally’s memories and perspective played in who Donna literally WAS for awhile (and the understandable existential crises she went through as a result). But like, at the point in time when Kyle and Donna were most serious, Kyle was still fairly removed from a lot of the rest of the DC universe, he wasn’t a core member of the JLA yet and usually operated independently, and he and Wally were NOT close at all yet, let alone friends….in fact, for as long as Donna and Kyle dated, Wally pretty much still actively hated and resented Kyle for just existing, since he’d always been close with Hal since he was a kid and Hal was his Uncle Barry’s BFF-and-homosexual-life-partner-in-all-but-name. 

Like, it was only after Kyle became one of the core JLA alongside Wally that the two of them finally worked out their mutual antagonism and became friends, but before that, Wally was NOT shy about expressing he hated this new GL guy and wanted nothing to do with him, even though it was for unfair reasons, sooooo……like, its not really that shocking that even though Wally and Donna are two of each other’s oldest friends and super tight, like, he was never going to be the friend she called up to let him know how great things were going with her and Kyle these days, lol, y’know?

So it makes sense that when Donna was first magically reconstituted thanks to Wally’s memories/view of her (btw, this was because Wally was out of phase with reality and was in the Speed Force at the precise moment that Donna was erased from reality by the Dark Angel’s magic, and that’s why he alone remembered her and was the template for undoing what the Dark Angel had done). But anyway, it makes sense that she would for a time have had very little memory or even knowledge of her and Kyle’s prior relationship, and basically just know/remember what little Wally actually knew of it. So from her perspective then, it could very well have seemed that they were never that serious, and everyone but Kyle like….kinda just nodded and figured okay, you would know after all, and just…..everyone ended up walking away with the idea that they were just this brief fling and neither had ever had strong feelings for each other, let alone love.

The problem I’ve always had is that eventually Donna DID regain her full memories and her own sense of self, and like….she was Donna again, through and through, existing as she always had without being limited to just Wally’s view or memory of her.

Soooo, at THAT point, she should have been perfectly aware of what her and Kyle’s relationship had ACTUALLY looked like, in its entirety, and I mean, I can understand them not getting back together at that point. It’d been years, they both were in very different places, Kyle had eventually gotten together with Jade after it was expressed by Donna herself that there was no reason not to, given that its not like they were ever that serious….so by the time Donna herself would have realized otherwise, I can totally understand her feeling that the moment had passed for them, that Kyle had moved on (just as Kyle had only ‘moved on’ once he felt there was no longer a chance of them returning to what they were). Like, all of that is super weird and complicated even by ridiculous comic book soap opera standards, so I mean….lol, how do you even BEGIN that conversation, y’know?

Buuuuuut, it just kinda sucks that at no point after that Faerber issue has any later writer ever had either Donna or Kyle discuss their previous relationship(s) in terms of what it ACTUALLY was, for BOTH of them, rather than just this trivial, ancient history fling that neither had ever been super invested in….even though for several years in the nineties they were one of THE major hero couples in comic books.

So. Yeah. As evidenced, I have a lot of unresolved Donna and Kyle feelings lol.

And then of course, there are and always will be my epic “OMG DICK AND KYLE COULD BE THE GREATEST SHIP AND END ALL THE SHIPS LIKE COULD YOU EVEN IMAGINE” feelings, but like. That’s a thirty pound tome in and of itself, so. Like. Just picture the two of them standing staring soulfully into each other’s eyes and then me, creepily fixated on them twenty feet away, chin propped up on my hands and going awwwwwwww while my own eyes like, sparkle anime style but also are the heart-eyes motherfucker meme at the same time.

[mushroommouth]

The Good Mourning Part II

A/N: So…I would like to formally apologize for this chapter.

When I post it on Ao3 I’ll have a more detailed author’s note about a couple cut scenes, decisions about this chapter, why some characters are distinctly OOC and junk, but I wanted to get this to you guys hot off the presses.

It, uh, got out of hand. There will be one more chapter after this one, and  it will not be nearly as long. This chapter does not follow my happy ending guarantee because it’s the middle part. And, uh. You might want to get the bummers tag ready for this one, Em. 

Also, it ended up being, like, 10k words. Tumblr messed up the spacing, but it it was too long to fix and still let me sleep tonight. (This morning?) RIP. 

Donna still doesn’t have rights. Enjoy!

-Skye (👻)

—

“So…who is Aaron exactly?” 

After the diner, Dan had called it for the evening. Cody was dropped off at his home, and Dan and Milo had returned to a painfully silent house. Dan’s mom had gotten back to them, frantically asking if everything was okay because Jake was not there either. 

  Dan had to explain in hushed tones over the phone that everything would be alright, that Jake just… wasn’t home. 

Milo went straight to bed, thinking he was too emotionally and physically exhausted to have nightmares. Instead, he woke up gasping at the crack of dawn, with a scream dying in his throat. Milo tried to sneak down the stairs but instead found Dan still sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the television. 

  Milo suspected that Dan didn’t sleep at all. 

  The two wordlessly got into the car and began the second road trip in two days, this time to a town a few hours out. The only break in silence was Dan ordering breakfast at a fast-food joint for Milo and one large coffee for himself. 

  There was still the unanswered question, though, that Dan never really answered the night before. Now that it was spoken out loud, without any hesitance, there was clearly no way out of it. Dan sunk a little in his seat, not taking his eyes off the road. 

  “Aaron is… Jake’s brother,” Dan started carefully. 

  “Jake has a brother?” Milo whipped his head around to face Dan so quickly that the seat belt locked.

  Dan chuckled slightly watching Milo struggle to try and get it to loosen again, mentally making sure to choose his words very carefully. 

  “Technically, yes,” Dan said slowly. “He wasn’t- he isn’t a…good person, though, Milo.  He used to hurt Jake. A lot.” 

  “Oh.” 

  “…Yeah.” Dan took a long slurp of his coffee. “I’m not his biggest fan, and that’s putting it lightly. Luckily, Jake and I went to school fairly far and I thought we’d never see him again. I was hoping for that, at least.” 

  There was another moment of silence as Milo finally gave up and unbuckled himself to try and fix the seat belt. After a few attempts, it finally was gliding correctly, and Milo slumped back to get more comfortable. 

  “So why are we looking for him?” Milo asked. 

  “What?” 

“Why are we looking for him if he’s like… a bad guy?”

  Dan drummed the steering wheel for a moment, thinking. 

“He’s still the only person that knew Jake first. As awful as he was to Jake, he still might have some ideas worth looking into.” Dan carefully chose to leave out the whole ‘vengeance’ part. “Aaron might know things we don’t.” 

  “How do you know where we’re going, anyway?” Milo asked. 

  “Oh,” Dan snorted in response. “He, uh, came up in the paper awhile ago in a segment about, uh, fostering kittens.” 

  “Is that something you’re making up to make me feel better? Because that sounds fake.” 

  “Scout’s honor.” Dan turned to look at Milo out of the corner of his eye. “I thought it was fake, too.” 

  “I didn’t know you were a Boy Scout,” Milo yawned. 

  “Yep!” Dan smiled briefly at the memory. “How about you get some shut-eye? It says we’re supposed to hit some more traffic here in a minute.”  

  Milo nodded sleepily before leaning his head against the window. He watched trees blur past for awhile before ultimately dozing off.

  —

  Milo woke up to Dan gently nudging him. 

  “Hey, kiddo. We made it.” 

  “Wuh…” Milo sat up, rubbing his eyes until the bleariness went away. 

  In front of them was a somewhat-gaudy bakery. A sign in a cursive too curly to read glistened in the early morning sun. It hung above a striped pastel green balcony which fluttered in the breeze. The wooden door swung open. A customer walked out, holding a cake close to their chest, grinning ear-to-ear. They called something back to whoever was inside, presumably the baker. 

  It seemed… pleasant. 

  “Are we at the right place?” Milo asked. 

  “Yep.” Dan got out of the car and stretched before walking over to Milo’s side. He opened the car door and offered his hand. “Do you want to come in or stay in the car.” 

  “Come in,” Milo said without hesitation. He unbuckled and took Dan’s hand.

  They walked hand-in-hand to the door. Dan hesitated with his free hand over the knob for a moment, taking a deep breath. Milo squeezed his hand tighter, not looking up. Dan took that as a confirmation. With a deep breath, he swung it open. 

  A bell chimed from the door, getting the attention from the woman behind the counter. She glanced up for a second before logging the receipt. 

  “How can I help y’all today?” She asked, moving over to fill the gap in the display from the earlier customer. 

  “We’re looking for Aaron,” Dan said cooly. 

  The woman froze, before pulling back from the display to face the two fully. She fidgeted with her hands for a moment before speaking again. 

  “Uh, I know he is pretty popular for cake requests, but you really need to do any reservations online or over the phone. The cupcakes in the display are for sale, though!” She smiled sheepishly, showing off a mouthful of braces. “…My boss got me in trouble last time for doing that, and I need this job to help pay for school.”

  “We completely understand.” Dan smiled warmly. “We just need to talk to him about a family matter.” 

  With that, she perked up, smiling brighter. 

  “Oh! Okay then. He’s out back taking a smoke break. If you guys want to wait here, he shouldn’t be much longer, but-“ 

  “That’s okay. We don’t want to interrupt you.” Dan took a step back toward the door before pausing. “Actually, can I get a cupcake?”

  —-

  The two sat in the car for a moment, waiting for a moment for Dan to regain his bearings. 

  Milo ripped the wrapper off and eyed the pumpkin-flavored cupcake. It seemed harmless enough, but when he went to take a bite, Dan held up one hand to stop him. 

  “One second.” Dan said. 

  He handed Milo the stack of napkins he stored in the console (a result of being an older sibling; Dan always grabbed more than enough for three people “just in case.) Dan then dug in the change potion of his wallet before producing a small pill wrapper. 

  “It’s Lactaid.” Dan explained. “The cashier said they use cream cheese icing.” 

  “Oh! Thanks.” Milo grabbed pill and the water bottle from the cup holder. “I always find these in weird places.” 

  Dan snorted. 

  “Yeah,” he said. “Jake sticks them in random places he knows we’ll always have on us because you’ll eat…whatever it is anyway. He said it’s so we are ‘never caught without them.’”

  Dan watched Milo take the pill and begin eating for a moment. Then Dan rubbed his face and leaned against the car. Aaron hadn’t emerged from the back yet, meaning they still had time to go talk to him, but… 

  It always was a foreign feeling. Dan, all these years later, still felt the shrapnel of frustration and, despite his mother’s gentle reassurance and pleading, hatred for the Pierlys and how they hurt Jake. Dan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to swallow back down his anger. 

  The drive wasn’t as long as he’d hoped. The cupcake bought him a couple minutes. He couldn’t waste many more or the two might lose their chance. 

  Dan felt tired. 

  (Was this how Jake always felt?) 

  “Hey, Dad?” 

  That snapped Dan back to reality. “Hmm?”

  “Do you want to try it?” Milo had broken off a piece and held it out to Dan, though Dan wasn’t sure how long Milo had been offering it to him before he spoke up. Something in Milo’s expression made this seem like a test. 

“Sure?” Dan took the piece hesitantly. He only chewed it enough to swallow it; he was sure it was nerves, but it just tasted like ash. “Are you ready?”

  Dan seemed to pass the test. Milo relaxed ever-so-slightly before nodding. The two got out, and, though Milo didn’t take Dan’s hand this time, he followed Dan so closely the two were almost touching at any given moment. 

  Dan lead them to the back of the store, which seemed ultimately unremarkable when compared to the front. A dumpster was slightly overfilled with boxes from a recent shipment. A handful of wooden and plastic crates were littered across the ground. 

  A few were stacked as if to make them more comfortable to sit on. Perched on top of this throne of garbage was a man smoking a cheap cigarette. 

  He was lanky, almost spider-like in proportions when compared to Dan or Jake. His dark, somewhat greasy hair was slicked back into a messy bun, exposing the row of piercings on his ears. The dark work-shirt had cat hair sprinkled across it, though he didn’t seem to either know and/or care. The apron had been discarded, likely left inside. 

  He looked up briefly at Dan and Milo before glancing down at the cigarette. He ashed on the ground before clearing his throat and speaking. 

  “The store entrance is the other way,” he said. “If you want a reservation, you need to do it online or over the phone.” 

  Milo blinked in surprise before tugging on Dan’s sleeve, who had ceased all movement. 

  “Wait,” Milo asked. “That’s Aaron?” 

  That seemed to get the man’s attention. He stiffened a little in his seat. 

  “Can I help you?” 

  “We’re Jake’s family,” Dan said cooly. “We wanted to talk to you for a moment.” 

  That seemed to do the trick. All the color drained from Aaron’s face as he shot up, stumbling back over the crates. He dropped his cigarette and tried to regain his balance using the lip of the dumpster. He bust out laughing for a second, nervously slicking his hair back. 

  “What is this?” Aaron asked. He bent over and fixed the crates before sitting back down shakily. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

  “You’re Jake’s brother right?” Milo grabbed Dan’s arm with one hand, leaning forward (but not wanting to step closer) to make his presence clearer. “We’re looking for him.” 

  “Oh, so this is some kind of a sick joke.” Aaron clenched his fists, before shaking his head as if to clear whatever he was thinking out of his head. “Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.” 

  Milo winced a little, tightening his grip on Dan’s sleeve. Dan simply glared at Aaron, not taking moving his gaze. 

  “And tell them what, Aaron?” 

  Aaron winced and wrapped his arms around himself. 

  “I…” He let out a dry laugh. “If I tried to run, you could just snap me in half, huh?” 

  Dan didn’t respond one way or another, still boring his eyes into the younger man. Milo tugged at Dan’s sleeve to respond. When more silence followed, Milo let go of Dan’s sleeve and stepped in front, redirecting Aaron’s attention. 

  “Listen, it’s been a long couple days. I…just want to know what happened,” Milo said quietly. Tears were beginning to bead in his eyes.  “I’m just finding out about— well, all of this, and I want to know what happened to him.” 

  Aaron sat for a moment thinking, before slowly unwinding his arms from his torso. He finally sighed and grabbed one of the crates and kicked it to Milo. The plastic scraped against the ground, skidding to a stop by Milo’s feet. 

  “Fine. Go ahead and have a seat, kid” Aaron said. “And you guys owe me a cigarette.” 

  —

  “So, what do you want to know?” Aaron seemed to completely ignore Dan and instead diverted his attention to Milo. 

  Milo shrugged, fidgeting his hands. Dan had a hand on Milo’s shoulder as if getting ready to yank Milo away from Aaron at any moment. 

  “I don’t know…just-can you tell me about him? About you guys?”  Milo looked up at Dan, who just squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. 

  Aaron snorted. 

  “Well, kid, I’m afraid I can’t help you much there. We fought a lot. Then one day, he left. And then he-“  Aaron swallowed, digging in his pockets before pulling back out the carton of cigs. “If you’re really his family, you know what happens next.” 

  Aaron was not telling the whole story. That means…

  “Tell me.” Milo said, without any room for questioning. “The last couple of days have been some of the worst in my life and I want to know what happened to Jake.”

  “I’m sick of people not telling me what’s going on.” Milo stood up, shaking off Dan’s arm. His felt his face heating and tears beading up in frustration. 

“I want to know the truth!”

  Aaron blinked in surprise, his eyes widened in recognition. 

  “Oh god,” Aaron murmured. “You were that kid, weren’t you?” 

  “What kid?!” Milo cried. “What happened?” 

  “Milo…” Dan warned. He reached out, but Milo whipped around and knocked his hand away. 

  “Dad, I just- I just…I’m just so tired of this, and all these secrets, and…” 

  “I know,” Dan said quietly. He slowly and gently reached back out and tugged Milo into a hug. “You’ve been very brave so far.” 

  Milo froze before sinking into the hug. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, holding onto Dan like a lifeline. 

  “I’m not dumb.” 

  “I know, Milo.” 

  “If you guys had told me, I’d…” 

  “We know.” 

  The two stood like that until Milo’s breathing evened back out. When Dan glanced back up, he was surprised to see Aaron intensely watching the interaction. 

  He had paled, clutching the hem of his shirt with his free hand. Something flashed in his eyes—something like yearning or craving, even— before he blinked and it was gone. 

  “Your name is Milo, then?” Aaron asked quietly. 

  Milo turned slightly, peeking out of the corner of his eye at Aaron. 

  “It’s my fau…I killed Jake.” Aaron said. “That’s what happened.” 

  The immediate silence was deafening. Aaron swallowed before continuing, eager for anything but. 

  “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I just—I used to…hurt him, and I’d hurt him a lot. When he left, and it was just me and our mom, I just got angrier. If I’m not a good person, our mom was…” Aaron just shook his head. He pulled out another cigarette from the carton, looking it over. 

  “Anyway, he left. Things got worse.  And I found out where he lived. So, I packed a bag of things to get revenge, make him hurt as bad as I did—or something. I don’t really remember the details other than I was angry.” 

  Aaron lit the cigarette, taking a drag. 

  “So I showed up that afternoon. I was going to make him hurt. But soon after he answered the door, before I could do anything, he just…” Aaron cleared his throat. “You came running out, and I realized just how badly I screwed up.” 

  “I was there…?” Milo asked quietly. Dan said nothing but tightened the hug, seeming to be more for his sake than Milo’s at this point. 

  Aaron just nodded. 

  Milo began shaking slightly from within Dan’s grasp, but he had to ask. 

“How did he- how did he die then?”

  Aaron let out a dry laugh. “His heart gave out. Right there, pretty soon after I walked in. I didn’t even do anything yet, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t call for help, part because I was freaking out too bad and part because I didn’t want to get in trouble.” 

  “‘Cardiac arrest,’” Dan recited under his breath. “‘Caused by the combination of lack of treatment, physical stressors, and shock in seeing his allegedly estranged brother.’” 

  “Beefcake over there got to your house and called for help, but it was too late. That’s it.” Aaron took one last drag of the cigarette before putting it on the ground. He stood up and stomped on it, smothering the remaining embers. “That’s the end of the story. Sorry you came all this way to hear it, but I gotta get back to work.” 

  Aaron shrugged off any looks he was getting, bumping into Dan’s shoulder in the way back to the building. He made it to the door before 

  “Wait!” Milo said. Milo looked up at Dan, who instead took over. 

  “Jake’s…not gone.” Dan stated carefully. 

  Aaron stopped with his hand on the doorknob. 

  “What?” 

  “He’s not, but he might be soon.” Dan took a step forward, finally letting go of Milo. “If you feel bad at all about what happened, help us. Please.” 

—-

  Aaron set Dan and Milo up in the shop as he wrapped things up. He talked briefly to the cashier before calling his boss. After a few minutes, he returned to the two at the table. He began to re-do his bun before speaking. 

  “Okay,” Aaron began. “I’ve got to finish icing a few cakes, but the owner is coming in early to cover for me for the day. I’m going to use one of my sick days, so you better be serious.” 

  “Dead serious.” Dan said sternly, before all three cringed. “Okay, bad choice of words. But as soon as you finish up, we’re getting out of here.” 

  “Whatever.” Aaron rolled his eyes. “I just need to get back by tonight. I didn’t hire a cat-sitter.” 

  “You have cats?” Milo asked. 

  “I have one. I’m fostering some kittens though, too, for the time being.” 

  “What’s your cat’s name?” 

  “Her name is Tom. She’s sixteen now.” 

  “That’s kind of a dumb name.” 

  “Hey!” Aaron slammed one hand on the table, pointing with the other at Milo. “It’s a great name. Get it? Like a tomcat? Listen, she’s a delight. You, meanwhile, wouldn’t get it of course, because you’re just a little—“ 

  Dan cleared his throat before Aaron could finish his statement, causing Aaron to jolt in surprise. 

  Aaron took a breath to collect himself before slicking his hair back again. 

  “Ugh. Whatever. Yes, I have a cat. She’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, so watch your fucking mouth. Just tell me when it’s time to go.” 

  Milo and Dan watched Aaron storm back to the kitchen. After some clanging around and grumbling, Aaron seemed to be re-focused on the task at hand. 

  “He’s a bummer.” Milo grumbled. 

  Dan laughed quietly, covering his hand to stifle it. 

  “Oh, you have no idea.” Dan replied. “This is actually the best mood I’ve ever seen him. He…” 

  Dan’s voice trailed off. 

  “..He’s kind of a super jerk.” He finally finished. 

  Milo snorted. “Yeah, I can see that. Do you think…do you really think we can trust him?” 

  Dan watched Aaron intensely detail the cake he was working on for a minute. 

  “…I don’t think we really have a choice, Baby Shark.” 

  “Dad, please don’t call me that.”

  —-

  It took awhile for Aaron’s boss to show up. He didn’t look or address Dan or Milo at all. Rather, he went straight to the back to talk to Aaron. 

Dan wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t to see Aaron’s eyes light up at the sight of his employer. 

  The two bantered back and forth for a moment before the boss turned to look Dan and Milo over. He pulled Aaron aside and their conversation became hushed. 

  After a moment, though, Aaron emerged sans apron.

The boss stepped out slightly, leaning against the kitchen entrance. He pointed at Dan. 

  “You. Bring him back in one piece or you’ll personally cover the price of every cake he misses. And Aaron?” 

  “Yes sir?” 

  “Get a goddamn haircut before you come back to work.”  

  Aaron snorted, trying to stifle back a smile. “You wish, old man.” 

  He turned around to face Milo and Dan. The smile and light from his eyes faded like a deflating balloon. 

  “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.” Aaron went to the door, opening it and gesturing the two out. 

  Milo took it gladly, ready to get out of there and continue the search for Jake. He began walking to the car, which Dan unlocked from the store entrance. 

  “Uh, Milo?” Dan called. 

  “Yeah?” Milo asked, already opening the passenger door. 

  “…Can you clear some space in the backseat? I need to talk to Aaron for a minute.” 

  Milo looked the two over and frowned. Aaron seemed just as confused, but Dan gently nodded Milo on. So, hesitantly, Milo agreed. He shut the passenger door and instead climbed into the back. 

While clearing out the junk from the early morning trip in the backseat, Milo snuck a glance up at the conversing adults. 

He met eye contact with Aaron, whose intense glare was unwavering for just a moment. Then Aaron sighed, broke it, and said something to Dan. 

  Milo jumped and hurried up, climbing into the front seat before the adults returned. He saw Dan and Aaron nod in agreement before heading toward the car. He sprawled across the passenger seat, trying to seem as unsuspicious as possible. 

  Dan scratched the back of his head as he began to climb in the front.

“Hey, kiddo.” 

  “Nothing.” 

  Dan chucked at Milo’s response as he buckled. He stuck the key in the ignition and stopped, looking up to watch Aaron climb in the back.

  Aaron grumbled under his breath, trying to adjust his legs so they weren’t pinned against the back of the front seats. The grumbling turned into mild swearing as he struggled more to get comfortable. Finally, he gave up and laid across the back seat, leaning against the window. Aaron caught Dan’s eyes in the mirror and scowled. 

  “You ready?” Dan asked. 

  “What does it look like?” Aaron snapped. Dan shrugged and started the car. 

  Dan pulled out of the parking spot and drove until he came across the first gas station. 

  “Okay, so we need to fill up before we hit the road. I’ll be just outside the car filling up. If you need anything, let me know. Last stop for bathrooms, too, until we’re on the road.”

  “Okay!” 

  Aaron didn’t respond. Dan tightened his grip on the steering wheel. 

  “Milo, if you need anything, I’m right outside the car-“

  “I know, Dad.”

  Dan sighed and pulled up to a pump, taking out the keys and leaving the door cracked behind them. 

  Aaron stirred again from the backseat. 

  “So, a ghost, huh?” 

  Milo jumped slightly, turning around. 

  “Jake’s a ghost now?” Aaron clarified. Milo nodded, so Aaron continued. “What does a ghost even look like? What, is there a white sheet or something?” 

  “I dunno.” Milo said. “He just looks like Jake.” 

  “Hmm.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t even realize— I didn’t even know he was dead. He just…looks like Jake.” 

  Aaron paused in thought for a moment. 

  “I didn’t even-hm. I don’t even believe in ghosts or whatever. What made you find out he was a ghost then?” 

  “What made you decide to become a baker?” 

  Aaron looked Milo over before chuckling. “I asked first.” 

  “We…” Milo slunk in his seat a little. “I found out on accident from some cleaning stuff. We got in a fight. He disappeared.” 

  “Well, I know a thing or two about fighting with Jake.” Aaron turned to watch Dan pump gas from the window. “Welcome to the club, kid.” 

  “Not like that!” Milo unbuckled entirely to turn around, holding the back of the car seat. “We just got in an argument. You hurt him!” 

  “Ah.” Aaron smiled lazily up at Milo, not getting up from his sprawled position. “That’s the funny thing about hurting someone. You can do it so much better without ever laying a hand on them. Our ol’ mom was a natural at that.” 

  “I-“ Milo looked at Aaron with a blank expression for a moment, face flushing, as a sudden swirl of emotions tried to fight its way to take the front. 

  “I wouldn’t worry about it, though,” Aaron continued. “You guys seem…close. He didn’t, I don’t know, poof away sooner. Jake’s always been good at leaving. But he stuck with you two.” 

  Aaron looked back out the window, leaving Milo to stare at him. Milo swallowed harshly, his face still feeling warm. 

  “Your turn. How’d you get into baking?” Milo asked quietly, eager to change the subject. 

  “I didn’t mean to,” Aaron said. “I actually applied to become a cashier, but one day my boss was overwhelmed with reservations, so he showed me some tricks so I could help out for the day.” 

  “That’s it?”

  “Nah,” Aaron laughed. “It turns out I was really fuckin’ good at it. My boss is thinking about paying for me to go to culinary school when I’d never really cooked a day in my life before. I just had a knack.” 

  “Huh.” 

  “Of course, it helped that I was good at carving the fondant, cutting the tips of icing bags as to not let too much ooze out,  using a torch to caramelize… just. Precision.” Aaron looked back up Milo through the corners of his eyes. “Turns out we both got something out of Jake, huh? You, what, a father figure? For me, practice for my future career.” 

  All the flushing— all the color— drained out of Milo’s face in an instant. Aaron forced a grin, watching as Dan climbed back in the car. 

  “Okay, so—Milo? Are you okay?” 

  Milo whipped his head around, staring at Dan wide-eyed. Dan reached over and felt his forehead. 

  “It doesn’t feel like your fever came back. Are you feeling alright?” 

  “I…” Milo looked back over at Aaron before sitting  back down in his seat correctly. “I just want to find Jake.” 

  Dan sighed. 

“Seconded. Where should we head first?”

  “Depends,” Aaron said from the back seat. “Where have you guys been so far?” 

“Uh…” Milo tugged at his hair slightly to focus on the task at hand. “He’s not at our house or Dan’s parent’s house. We stopped by a gross old bar where he played apparently, his school, and a bad restaurant.” 

  “We also visited his grave.” Dan added. 

  Aaron snorted. “Well, there’s your problem.” 

  “What?”

  Aaron finally sat up correctly, ignoring his knees knocking on the back of the front seats. He stretched slightly before continuing. 

  “You went places that are happy for him,” he said. “You didn’t go anywhere that he would have clung to in a bad way.” 

  “But we went to his grave-“ Milo started. Aaron just held one hand up to cut him off. 

  “Yeah, and that’s sad and all for you guys, but that’s the biggest sign of how loved he was. It was meant for him. It wasn’t even, like, just a ‘RIP’ message.” Aaron leaned forward. “You gotta go somewhere that sucked and he could never move on from.” 

  “Do you know where that is?” Milo asked. 

  Dan sighed as Aaron burst out laughing. 

  “The house he-“ “-we-“ “-grew up,” they said simultaneously. 

  “Didn’t it burn down?” Dan asked. 

  “Haha! Nah,” Aaron laughed harder. “Not on its own! Besides, they rebuilt the place but made it newer ‘n shit to boost ‘curb appeal’ or whatever.” 

  “Wouldn’t Jake have already gotten to Donna then?” 

  “I wish. She sold the property— hoo, I haven’t laughed that hard in a bit— before construction could begin.” Aaron wiped the stray tears out of his eyes. “Last I heard she’s living in a one-person apartment somewhere and some newlyweds are living in the new place.”

  “Wait,” Dan turned around slightly to look at Aaron. “Are you not- do you not talking to her anymore?” 

  “Ha! No.” Aaron’s smile fell momentarily before forcing it back to where it was. “It’s hard to do that when she put a restraining order on her only living son, but—god, but it really is for the best.” 

  “Hm.”

  “Is that where we should go then?” Milo asked. 

  “It’s your best shot,” Aaron said.

  “But there are people living there now, and—“ 

  Dan rubbed his face with his hands, thinking for a moment. Finally, he slammed his hands back down on to the steering wheel. 

  “Okay. Okay. Alright. Let’s go find Jake.” 

  —

  The drive was entirely unremarkable. Aaron was silent almost the entire time, spending most of the trip sleeping. Milo took turns playing on his phone and listening to the radio, trying to preserve his battery to the best of his ability. 

  Dan sat tensely, not taking his eyes off the road. In the long lull of the highway, he occasionally drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. Milo tried to strike up conversation with him a few times, but Dan was too lost in thought to notice. 

  It wasn’t until Milo fell asleep (though he wouldn’t admit it) that Dan finally spoke up. It was hoarse from the brief period of disuse, soft and sad. 

  “Hey, we’re here.” 

  Milo jolted up immediately, looking around trying to see where this house of horror was. Instead, in front of them was…

  “This is Cody’s house.” Milo said. Only silence followed, and Milo felt his stomach begin to sink. “Dad, is it-is it near here? Are we just picking up Cody, or walking to save gas or something? Are we-“ 

  “You’re going to be staying with Cody until we get back.”  Dan interrupted. 

  “No- no, no no no.” Milo reached over and tugged at Dan’s sleeve. “You can’t be serious. Dad, I thought we were in this together.” 

  “We are.” Dan turned his head slightly to face Milo. “When we get back with Jake—“ 

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it!” 

  Dan sighed. “I know.” 

  “Milo,” he continued. “I don’t know how Jake’s going to be…feeling when we find him. There’s a chance he’s not going to be himself, and I’m sure he wouldn’t like you to see him like that.” 

  “Then what was all this for?” Milo cried. He began tugging at his hair, frustration bubbling over. “Why’d you take me along if- If you were just going to ditch me-“ 

  “Milo!” Dan grabbed Milo’s hands, holding them firmly but gently. “Milo, this wasn’t part of the plan until I realized Jake probably isn’t looking to talk.” 

  Milo froze, trying to pull back out of Dan’s grasp. 

“…What does that mean?”

  “I’ll explain it when we get back.” Dan let go, pulling his hands back and settling them in his lap. “And we will be back. Jake, me-“ 

  “Preferably not me.” 

  The two jumped at the sound of the third voice. Aaron leaned forward, frowning tiredly but clearly had been listening to the whole thing. 

  “I’ve got to get back to my cats, remember?” 

  Dan let out a breathy laugh. 

  “See? It’s just for a bit.” 

  “Dad…” 

  “Milo, we’ll be back—after I drop Aaron off, I guess— and we won’t come home without Jake.” Dan forced a smile. “I promise. Just stay here where it’s safe just in case. Please.” 

  Tears began to bead up and steam down his cheeks as Milo looked at Dan intensely. After a moment, he unbuckled and flung himself at Dan, hugging him tight. Dan froze, surprised by the sudden movement, before relaxing into—and returning the hug. The two stayed like that for a moment, silent except Milo’s quiet sniffling. 

  Aaron cleared his throat. 

“Again, we’re on crunch time, guys.” 

  Milo finally pulled back and wiped sloppily at his face. 

“I’m still really mad at you.” 

  “I know.” Dan wiped some of Milo’s tears away. “But we’ve got to ‘get on the grind,’ right?” 

  Milo laughed a little, but he didn’t take the bait to make fun of Dan and change the subject. 

  Dan watched Milo climb out of the car, grabbing the stuff he packed for the morning road trip. He forced a smile again in Milo’s direction, waving slightly. 

The car was filled with a suffocating silence as Milo walked to Cody’s door and knocked, and Dan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

  He readjusted the rear view mirror to get a better look at the backseat—and now only—passenger. 

  It had been one week since the Pierly house burned down. 

  Jake was sitting on the couch, clutching his head and taking quick, shallow, and ultimately  unnecessary breaths. Dan was sitting next to him, rubbing his back. 

  “I can’t keep this up.” Jake wheezed. “I can’t- God. I can’t-“ 

  “I don’t know what you mean. You’ve been doing great so far! It’s not like Milo really knows any better yet, but you’ve been able to hold most drinks and-“ 

  “No, Dan. You don’t understand.” Jake glared up from in between his arms, his irises now a flaming red. It was odd to see that expression, though it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. 

  Dan’s hand began burning. Steam pillowed up from his palm, so he ripped it away, quickly rubbing the burn. He recoiled further as Jake’s whole body glitched in a showy display, though Dan made sure to be never out of reach. 

  “They’re still out there.” Jake murmured. 

  “Who?”

  “My mother. Aaron. Dan, Dan, I can’t-“ His form glitched further, and Jake clamped his hands over his mouth to cover an anguished groan. 

  Dan could have sworn, just for a second, Jake seemed skeletal. 

  Dan paused before reaching back out, ignoring the burning, simply to lay a hand back on Jake’s knee. They sat there for a bit, waiting for Jake’s breathing to even out. Once it did, Jake leaned back on the couch and laid his head on Dan’s shoulder. 

  “…What if…Hey, Dan?”

  “Hmm?” 

  Jake counted his breaths, still leaning against his best friend. He laid a hand on each knee, palms facing the air. 

  “When I came back, I was just…angry. I was angry at them. I was angry at myself. I wanted to hurt them for what they did to me. Dan, I still do—more than anything, just, like…I don’t know. It’s like…sometimes I can’t focus, and all I can do is feel and…” Jake swallowed. “Dan, what if, one day, that’s just it?” 

  “What do you mean?” 

  “What if one day I’m just…angry? I chase it, or, more specifically,  I chase them. And that’s it, I’m not me anymore at all. I’m gone, and nothing but anger.” 

  “That’s not going to happen.” 

  Jake laughed dryly. “How can you be so sure?” 

  “Because I’m going to drag you back, whether you like it or not.” 

  Dan sighed, forcing a smile at Aaron, restarting the car. 

“You ready?” 

  “As much as I can be.” 

  “You…could probably move up here if you’d be more comfortable.” 

  “Nah, I’d rather not sit next to the guy using me for ghost bait.” 

  Dan shifted the car into reverse but did not take his foot off the break. 

  “What?” 

  “C’mon, you think I haven’t seen Scooby Doo? Or literally any ghost movie?” Aaron smiled back  lazily. “I might be dumb but I’m not stupid. As soon as you pulled me aside to say you didn’t plan on taking the kid, I knew you’re just going to throw me in there and hope for the best. Am I wrong?” 

  “…No, but! I have a plan.” Dan turned back to the road pulled out of the driveway. “If he’s looking for you, then we get you inside. You distract him long enough for me to salt a circle around the house, and then we talk to him and convince him to come back home.” 

  “It doesn’t seem very thought out.” Aaron fiddled in his pockets before producing his lighter. He flickered it a few times. “It also sounds like you’re setting me up to be killed.” 

  “I’m not. He’s just…angry with you.” 

  “Oh, it’s okay. You can say it. I, along with my mother, ruined his short and miserable life, and were the reason for his life being so short and miserable. It’s pretty much all over your face, anyway.” Aaron looked out the window. “I can’t blame him.” 

  “Why are you going along with it then? If you knew this whole time…” Dan trailed off, trying to remember how to get there based off of memory alone. 

  “Mind If I smoke in here?” Aaron asked. 

  “Actually, yes-“ 

  “Too bad. Consider it my last meal on death row.” Aaron lit his third cig of the reunion period. “And to answer your question…I don’t know.” 

  He took a drag before continuing, cigarette still in his mouth. He talked out of the other corner of his mouth. 

  “I keep telling myself I’m on my way to be a good person. I have the chance to make amends of any kind, even though it’s…weird. If I don’t take it, can I really call myself a better person, much less a good one?” 

  Dan looked at him through the rear view mirror. Aaron immediately turned red, shrinking in on himself for the slip of the tongue. 

Dan was quiet for a moment, rolling down a window to air out the smoke filling the car. 

  “It’s not your last meal on death row. Unless you try something—in which case you have to worry about me coming after you— nothing’s going to happen.” 

  Aaron just laughed and rolled back up the window. He took out the cigarette out of his mouth and glanced in Dan’s direction. 

  “You make a lot of promises, big guy. Do you think you can keep all of them?” 

  —-

  The new house was charming. It was a quaint blue suburban with a well-kept yard. The driveway was empty and all the lights were off but the ones outside the door, seeming to welcome in any visitors that might come its way. 

  It was hard to imagine a furious blaze that destroyed its predecessor. Or, even before that, the screaming matches, the blood and tears shed that painted the halls. 

  “Damn, you weren’t kidding.” Dan and Aaron sat in the car, parked at the street. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

  “I’m positive,” Aaron said. “The real question is how we’re going to get in. Are we just gonna, what, waltz up to the door? ‘Hey, we’re looking for a ghost of one of the guys that lived here when he grew up. Don’t worry, he didn’t die here, but I was the one that burned it down!’”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to try.” Dan shrugged. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s at home, though.” 

  Dan reached and grabbed his pre-packed backpack. 

  “Okay, I have kitchen salt and walkie-talkies and I think those have full battery.” He tossed one to Aaron who looked at him blankly. 

  “Why the fuck do you have these?” 

  “Because I’m an adult and I can. Make sure yours is on channel 2.” 

  “Okay, but-“ Aaron flipped his between his hands. “If I’m inside and you’re salting the outside or whatever, wouldn’t it be easier if I just. Y’know. Yelled?” 

  “Maybe, but we’re guests. It doesn’t look like anybody’s home, but I don’t want to wake up the whole neighborhood.” Dan got out of the car, looking back over his shoulder at Aaron. “Besides, this way lets me get back to you right away.”

  “Okay, okay. New question,” Aaron said as he climbed out of the car. “What if he’s not even here? This was just a hunch, and it’s not like me and Jake were the closest. This was a bad idea. What if-“ 

  With that, the sound of a guitar strum filled the air, the vibrations of which seeming to shake Aaron to his core. The sound caused the front door to crash open and the porch lights dimmed before turning to a brilliant cyan. 

  Aaron took one horrified look, but before he could climb back in the car, Dan clamped a hand on his shoulder and closed the door behind him. 

  “No, I’m pretty sure Jake’s here.” 

  —

  “…And they just left you?” 

  Milo, laying face-first on Cody’s bed, just groaned in response. 

  “Why?” 

  “Too dangerous.” Milo lifted his head up just enough to talk. “Dan said something about Jake ‘not being himself’ or whatever.” 

  Then Milo slammed his face back down on the comforter and groaned again. Cody sat down on the edge of the bed, patting Milo’s back. 

  “Want to talk about it?”

  Milo shook his head, but pulled himself up and scooted  to sit next to Cody. Milo sniffled, laying his head on Cody’s shoulder.

  The two sat like that for a moment, Cody thinking. Something was off about this, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. 

  “Did Dan go by himself?” He asked. 

  “No.” Milo replied. Cody kept looking at him expectantly, so Milo sighed before continuing. “He went with Jake’s jerk brother.” 

  “Huh.” 

  The room was silent for a moment. 

  “Did Jake or Dan ever tell you what happened in the haunted house? With the demon?” 

  “No. I don’t really remember anything about it really except waking up in the hospital.” Milo said. “Jake didn’t visit me because he was si-Wait a minute. That was a lie too, wasn’t it?!”

  Cody just laughed nervously in response. 

  “Ugh. So. What did I miss, then?” 

  “Well, I mean. You were tossed from the third floor, so I guess it makes sense that you don’t remember. But…after we moved you, Jake got really quiet.” Cody absentmindedly touched the nicely-healed scar on his forehead from the flying debris. “He told me to keep us out of danger? I guess?” 

  “Yeah?” 

  “Yeah. Then he kinda. Blew up? I guess? His skin-“ Cody shuddered. “He became a skeleton and his clothes changed to this suit. He yelled ‘no one hurts my family,’ and then he…ripped the demon apart, piece by piece.” 

  Milo was quiet before lifting his head off of Cody’s shoulder. 

  “Jake did?” 

  “Yeah.”

  “The blonde one.”

  “Yes, Milo, I can tell apart your dads.” 

  “…Sorry. Continue.” 

  “Okay, so-“ Cody began. “The house caught on fire a little bit because Jake was on fire and he was burning the…remains. That’s when Dan showed up.” 

  Cody fidgeted with his hands for a moment. 

  “Jake turned back to normal, but he used too much energy.” Cody continued. “Then he was…gone. Dan picked you up and helped us get out.” 

  “Why’d didn’t you tell me that…?” 

  “Jake is a ghost?” Cody shrugged. “I thought about it, but I thought it was something he should say. Besides, once he was back to normal, he looked really sad and…scared?” 

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I think part is that he was worried about what you’d think,” Cody said. “And part because it was scary to see him mad. It was like he couldn’t focus on anything but beating the demon. I think he burned up a lot of energy;  it took him a long time to reform.” 

  The room was quiet for another moment before Milo spoke. 

  “Dan and Aaron are going to the house Jake grew up in because it’s somewhere that would make him upset still,” he said. “Do you think…”

  “That he might be vengeful?” Cody swallowed a lump in his throat. “Maybe. Probably, if it’s somewhere upsetting enough trigger that mode.”

  “Wait,” Milo paled. “Do you think Dan’s in trouble?” 

  “…Maybe? I don’t- oh! I know! Do you know the address?” 

  “Uh, no.” Milo shrunk in on himself slightly.  “But I think they said the town.” 

  “Dang. Well, I guess that’s a place to start.” Cody got up went to the computer. “Okay, so we can look through 9-1-1 logs online. If the people living in that house called the police, the transcript should be here. And so if they called the police-“

  “Jake isn’t acting like Jake.” Milo finished. 

  “Yep!” Cody sat down on the office chair, typing some stuff in before freezing. “This…might take a bit, trying to narrow it down to the address.” 

  “Wait- the house is new I think. Aaron said something about somebody burning it down.” 

  “That helps! If I look up the town and arson- do you know when that happened?” 

  “I don’t know. Jake said he died about 10 years ago, and Aaron said their mom put a restraining order on her only living son, so maybe it was about the same time?” 

  “Okay…so if we narrow it down…” Cody trailed off, furiously typing and clicking through the pages. “Oh! I think this is it. House burned down…suspicious in origin… ’Donna Pierly could not be reached for comment at this time.’ Aaaaaaand- here’s the address!” 

  Cody opened a document and copied and pasted the address. 

  “Okay, so now let’s look through the 9-1-1 logs.” Cody was silent for a moment, digging through some files. He seemed to find it and froze, before turning around and forcing a nervous smile at Milo. 

  “Okay, do you want the good news or bad news first?”

  “Good news,” Milo said. 

  “Good news is, Jake was there at least as of last night. Bad news? He’s almost certainly in vengeance mode and Dan (and Jake’s brother, I guess) are probably in trouble.” 

  —

  Aaron was in trouble. 

  Dan cracked open the salt as the two stood on the doorstep.

  “Remember, if you need me, use the walkie-talkie. As soon as I’m done, I’ll be right inside to talk to him.” 

  Aaron simply glared at Dan as a response. Dan gave a thumbs up. Aaron looked away, sighed, and took a step inside. 

  The door immediately slammed behind him. 

  The house was dark. Pictures lined the walls of complete strangers. 

A young couple was featured in most of them. Some were of their families; seeing all of them smiling, pictures hung with nothing short of careful thought and love made Aaron’s stomach churn in jealousy. 

  As Dan earlier suspected, the house was empty. The lights were all off, though there was faint music coming from the direction of where Jake’s room once was. 

Aaron took out his phone and turned on the flashlight feature. He turned it around, looking around the house. 

  More pictures. Some plants. The house’s layout was different, but it was still the cleanest Aaron had ever seen it. It was charming. Aaron’s eyes caught a painted portrait of the Virgin Mary. It was set up in the living room with a frame painted gold. 

  Aaron went to take a closer look, when he felt breathing on the back of his neck. Aaron whipped his head around. No one was there, though blood suddenly splattered the hallway where Aaron was moments before. 

  Aaron gasped and staggered back, into a solid form. It grabbed his shoulder before spinning him around. 

  A skeletal form was standing there. Its- no, his- blonde hair was the only real recognizable feature. His features were sharp. He was wearing a sharp suit, though slightly decayed at the ends. 

  “You.” 

  Aaron broke into a cold sweat, immediately taking a step back. The ghost didn’t move, simply glaring daggers. 

And, as such, Aaron took off running toward the door. The specter made no approach.

  Aaron began furiously wiggling the knob, which had locked itself sometime after Aaron entered. As he went to unlock it, a searing pain shot through his fingers. Aaron recoiled, stumbling backwards. 

He looked at his hand, seeing the start of a burn. Blisters were already beginning at the tips of his fingers. 

  Aaron swallowed, clutching his injured hand. He sighed, trying to muster up as much courage as he could, before turning around. 

  “You can’t run back to Donna this time,” the ghost said. “You don’t just get away with what you did.” 

  “…Jake?”

  “Don’t play dumb.” Jake vanished before reappearing a few feet in front of Aaron.

  Aaron backed up, pressing against the door. Aaron hissed in pain as the door knob, still scalding, pressed into his lower back. Aaron sidestepped to try and move away from the door, inching toward the living room. Jake watched him. 

  “Hey…bro…” Aaron said, trying to change the subject. How long does making a salt circle take, anyway? “How have you been?” 

  “Funny thing about that,” Jake started. 

  The skeleton form began to shutter, his joints jerking sporadically. It glitched a few times before Jake’s skin reappeared. It really did look like Jake, though he was still wearing the suit. 

  And his eyes were glowing red. 

  “I’ve been dead, Aaron.”

  It took a second for Aaron to register that he was looking up at Jake. Jake was hovering a couple feet off the ground, closing in the distance. 

  Jake picked Aaron up by his shirt, holding him up. 

  “You already forgot? Because I think it goes like this-“ Jake turned around and threw Aaron, leaving him skidding across the floor. “You showed up. You came to my home to hurt me again.” 

  Aaron swallowed harshly and forced himself to a mostly-sitting position. 

  “It wasn’t enough when we were little. You came back that day, to what? Finish the job? I’m dead. I have been for a decade.”

  Cyan flames began rising behind Jake. It didn’t seem to burn the furniture, but Aaron was able to feel the heat already. He began scooting back, shaking a bit in fear. 

  Jake watched Aaron’s slight retreat for a moment before exploding. Embers went flying, scattering across the room. Some landed on Aaron, which he quickly tried to brush off and put out. 

  “Say something! Say anything!”

  Aaron cringed before realizing he’d have to speak. He racked his brain but said the first thing that came to mind. 

  “I’m sorry.” 

  Jake froze as Aaron forced himself to continue. 

  “I hurt you, Jake. Mom and I- you shouldn’t have had to deal with that. With us. But this isn’t you.” 

  Jake glared at Aaron for a second before lowering so his feet touched the floor. Despite the fiery color of his eyes, his glare was icy. 

  “You wouldn’t know.” 

  “You’re right! I probably wouldn’t. But I was with your family all day. And they never stopped talking about you or looking for you.” 

  Jake’s eyes softened for a moment before his form shuddered. His back arched before his upper body lurched forward marionette with cut strings. 

  “My family? Dan tried to get rid of me. Milo hates me. And you…” 

   Jake took one step toward. His form glitched again, this time appearing…younger. He looked like he did when he left home, wearing baggy clothes and hair dyed black. Bruising covered half of his face. However, this form seemed completely deadpan. 

  “You made me become this.” Jake’s hands caught on fire. “How’s that for family, Aaron?” 

  “Jake-“ Aaron felt his pockets for the walkie-talkie but came up empty. 

He whipped his head around the room, and instead saw it toward the door. It must have fallen off when he was thrown. Aaron looked back up at Jake wide-eyed. 

  “We never had to be alone, we never had to deal with Mom. It could have been us against the world.” Jake glitched again, briefly appearing as a child with broken fingers wrapped in a homemade splint. As soon as it was there, it was gone again. “But you decided a broken toy would be more fun.”

  Teenage Jake grabbed Aaron by the leg with his still-burning hands. Aaron yelped in pain; it didn’t burn the fabric of his pants at all, but he felt the burning underneath.  

  He dragged Aaron back toward the living room before dropping him. 

  “Listen, I’m sorry-“ Aaron tried again. 

  “Quit saying that!” Jake cried. 

  “No! I-I’m not. Jake, it’s okay to be angry.” 

  Jake froze. 

  “Listen, I hurt you. Mom hurt you. I’m trying to become a better person and, my therapist made me realize something.” 

  Jake’s form shuddered again, though he didn’t approach Aaron further. 

  “You can be angry. What you went through-what we went through. It only makes sense to be angry.” Aaron pulled his injured leg back slowly, trying not to get Jake’s attention in doing so. “But if we let it consume us, we just hurt the people we care about.” 

  “But Mom-“ 

  Jake finally showed emotion again. It was an expression that Aaron had only seen for seconds at a time. It was a look of panic and pain. Seeing it on the younger Jake, bruised and battered all these years later was almost too much. 

Almost. 

  “Jake, I haven’t seen Mom in years.” Aaron forced a laugh and pulled back more of his hair to show off his ear piercings. “I took a page out of your book. I got out and- and I could do anything I wanted! I got these done because I knew she wouldn’t approve. Not to mention the tattoo-“

  Jake glitched and raised an eyebrow. 

  “Your point.” 

  “Oh! Right. I finally went to therapy. And, Jake…it’s now like I instantly became I better, or-whatever, because that’s not how therapy works.” Aaron slowly began getting himself up, trying not to set off Jake. 

  “But I realized just how bad our Mom was. And how bad I was. Of course you’re angry. I’m angry too, a lot. No one asked you to forgive me. If you let it consume you, you just…repeat the cycle.” 

  Aaron stood up fully, trying not to put pressure on his burned leg. 

  “This isn’t Donna’s house. I burned it down years ago. This is just some random strangers’ place now.” Aaron held out a hand. “Just because it wasn’t us against the world then doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, too. Or that I’m not sorry.”

  Finally, Jake’s form glitched until it was back to his adult form, though he still had the expression of a distrustful child. His eyes flickered cyan for a moment, looking at Aaron’s hand. 

“I-“

“Jake, your family is waiting. They miss you want you to go home.” 

  Just as Jake began reaching for Aaron’s hand, the walkie-talkie went off. 

  “Aaron, I’m almost finished setting up the salt circle. I’ll be in in a minute. Over.” 

  Jake looked at the walkie-talkie and back at Aaron before grabbing his hand. Aaron screamed in pain as Jake’s hand ignited, fire running up his arm. 

  The fire retreated after a moment and instead spread across Jake’s body, bringing back the skeleton form. His eyes were solid flaming red as he glared at his younger brother. 

  “‘Go home’, Aaron?” Jake asked. “I should have known this was a trap. I can’t believe I actually trusted you.  Well…” 

  A circle of fire sprung up, trapping Aaron though never searing the floor below. 

  “If I’m going out, I’m taking you with me.” 

  “…Shit.” 

  —

  “We need to get there now! But how do we…” Milo trailed off, beginning to pace the room. 

  “By car would make most sense.” Cody said. 

  Milo gasped. He stopped and walked over to grab Cody by the shoulders, looking at him with starry-eyes. 

  “We steal a car!” 

  “No, we’re not stealing a car. First off, neither of us know how to drive. Second, that’s pretty illegal.” 

  “But-“ 

  “Milo, we’re not taking a car.” 

  “Fiiiine.” Milo groaned and let go of Cody. “What do you suggest then?” 

  “Well, how okay are you with getting grounded?” Cody asked. 

  “Joke’s on you,” Milo grinned. “I’m already grounded. What’s your plan?” 

  “I know my dad’s Uber log-in.” Cody smiled. “We order a ride, sneak out and head that way immediately.” 

  “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.” Milo nudged Cody in the ribs, grin only growing larger.

Cody just burst out laughing. 

  “Bold of you to assume I’m not the one that kept you around. You’re pretty much feral, Milo.” 

  “Yeah, yeah. Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s save my dads!” 

  —-

  Making a salt circle around a house was a lot harder than Dan thought it would be. 

  The first obstacle was trying not to run out of salt early. Dan thought he bought a lot when he picked it up from the store, but apparently he was cutting it close. 

  The second major obstacle was the fence. The owners had locked it, and Dan circled the perimeter. There was no other way to get it other than climbing the fence. 

  Dan thought suburban houses were nice. But the tall fencing was suddenly the bane of his existence. Despite the fact that Dan would consider himself to be pretty strong and relatively in-shape, trying to heft him up over slick wood was distinctively Not Fun. 

  After that, he had to figure out where to continue the salt circle. The house was silent, and the walkie-talkie hadn’t gone off. Dan carefully continued the salt circle from each end, about to meet in the middle. 

  The house was still silent. That sat in Dan’s stomach like a rock, so he took out his walkie-talkie. 

  “Aaron, I’m almost finished setting up the salt circle. I’ll be in in a minute.” Dan said into the device. Leaving it there felt odd, so he hesitated before adding an “Over.” 

  As Dan finished the circle, a shriek came from inside. Dan dropped the container instantly and took off running into the building. 

  —-

  Flames were licking everywhere. Even though it didn’t burn the house and remained smokeless, it still ate up oxygen. 

  Jake watched Aaron cough as the circle of fire slowly closed in. He had collapsed to his knees sometime earlier. Various burns were scattered across his body already, though Jake just watched as his coughing grew heavier. 

  Once he seemed sufficiently dazed, Jake waved away the fire surrounding Aaron.

  Jake held out one hand and summoned his guitar. 

  Aaron barely had the time to look up as Jake swung the guitar directly at his head. 

  Suddenly, the world seemed to topple over. 

  —

  Dan rushed in, watching Jake get ready to swing his guitar at Aaron’s head.

  Dan didn’t really have time to weigh his promises to Milo and Aaron, so he took off running. 

  He managed to shove Aaron out of the way, but the body of the guitar caught him full-speed in the side of the face. 

  And 

  the 

  anchor 

  cracked 

  and 

  broke

  —

“Thank you!” Cody called to the driver. Milo already took off running for the door. 

Technically, he leapt out as the car was still moving, pulling into the driveway. He stumbled a couple times, but nothing could stop him after he saw Dan’s car. 

  “Milo, wait-“ 

  Milo wiggled the door knob, crying out in frustration when it wouldn’t open. 

  “It’s locked!” 

  Cody waved quickly to the driver before running up to the door. 

  “Check under the mat.” Cody instructed. 

  Milo with shaky hands lifted the welcome mat and produced the spare key. He tried to unlock it, but his hands were shaking too badly. Milo dropped the keys and cried out again. 

  Cody just scooped it up and unlocked the door for him. Milo rushed in, but almost toppled over skidding to a stop as he took in the scene. 

  The room was still hot. Aaron had dragged himself in one corner, nursing some of the worse burns on his arm. He seemed barely conscious . 

  Milo whipped his head around before seeing Dan on the ground. Kneeling near him was a flickering, translucent Jake. 

  “-ilo, I’m -oRry-“ Jake looked up at Milo with wide and panicked brown eyes. Tears were streaming down Jake’s face. 

  Milo took a shaky step closer. As he approached, he realized Jake was trying to cradle Dan’s head, but Jake was phasing through him entirely. 

  “MiLo…”  Jake held out a hand, though it vanished. No glitching. No light show. His hand just disappeared. 

  Piece by piece, the same thing happened to Jake’s form. He was disappearing. Jake looked himself over before trying to force a reassuring smile to Milo. 

  It was entirely unconvincing, though, with the waterfalls cascading down his cheeks. 

  Milo fell to his knees, shocked and unable to bring himself to approach more. Tears began trailing down his cheeks too, but Milo didn’t immediately realize it. 

  Jake’s legs disappeared, then his torso chunks at a time. It began occurring quicker, until Jake was essentially  just shoulders and a head. He looked at himself again, and then back to Milo. 

  “I lOve yoU.” 

  And like that, Jake faded away entirely. 

  Milo didn’t process Cody running over, turning over Dan. 

He didn’t process Cody gagging at the swelling already occurring on the side of Dan’s face, or Cody telling him that Dan’s cheek or jaw was almost definitely broken. 

  He didn’t process the slight blood trail dribbling down Dan’s lips from broken teeth, or Cody moving rolling Dan on his side. 

  He didn’t process Cody calling for help, or sitting next to him to hug him tight and say whatever reassurances came to mind. 

  No. 

  All Milo could focus on were the pieces of Jake’s guitar, from the broken neck to the fractured body, a faint cyan glow still  illuminating it in the dark room. 

#LOOK HOW HARD I CAN CRY #LOOK AT IT #HHHHHHHHHFNNNNNNNNN #i have no words im so upset #hHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #im gonna have to come back and ramble about this but im SO UPSET MY BABIES.... #friend art #fics #mico #milo #cody #dan #jake #aaron #ghost jake #submission

[sheliesshattered]

Upon This Rock Will I Break Myself,     Until It Shows Me Your Beloved Face

It started with the tune the Doctor had strummed out in that American diner, but of course it didn’t stop there. The gap in his memory was too large to be contained by one song, his grief too complex for a simple progression of chords. The ache he felt for something lost and just out of reach poured through his guitar and out the TARDIS’s amps, reverberating against the walls, muffled here by books, reflected there by metal, until the sound surrounded him. Consumed him. And still the anguish persisted.

His memory faded until there was nothing left but the grief and the music, even the waitress and the story he’d told her reduced to vague impressions, but the pain only compounded. As that ache continued to grow, so did the music, adding up to reams of songs, all sharing a melody, a single theme tying one to the next, that lilting tune he’d first discovered in that diner that was in Nevada but should have been in Utah. Maybe some of them become songs, the waitress had said, in a voice he no longer remembered. Those chords felt like the closest thing to memory he had left, the nearest thing to truth in the shattered shambles of his life.

Clara. Maybe the melody was the shape of her smile, or the sway in her step, the spark of adventure in her eye, or her courage and kindness. Was that some edge of true memory there, or was it just that all those dear to him were kind and courageous? He’d lost companions before, people he’d loved, mourned them for years, and yet never felt this kind of hole. Never felt the need for a neural block, either.

Eventually the console room became too small for the size of the music, the speakers not able to sufficiently convey the depth of his feelings. So he donned his ‘space hobo’ look — who had called it that originally? the song was his only answer — and went looking for larger venues, bigger sound systems. Jammed with a few old friends, made a few more, but always the Clara shaped hole, always the melody just under his breath, like something he didn’t quite get to say before the neural block went into effect. Like something he never meant to stop saying.

He played the large festivals. The classics on Earth, naturally, and then followed humanity through the ages, through the star systems across the galaxy, as they found new and bigger and louder ways to experience music. He was an opening act, sometimes, or just the weird vagrant at sound check. He’d show up, connect his guitar, and strum out those chords, make the air quake with the shape of what he’d lost.

So of course he attracted a following eventually. He was late enough in the human civilization that time travel wasn’t so strange an idea anymore, and the single tune carrying across the planets and star systems, across centuries... Well, there’d always been a romantic streak in the human race, part of what he liked about them. And for some, that melody was the ultimate expression.

He’d done such a job erasing all knowledge of the Doctor from every database in the universe, back when River’s life had depended on it, that he’d forgotten what it was to be known, what it was to show up somewhere and see the spark of recognition on someone’s face. It took him ages to stop searching those faces for one that would fit the Clara shaped hole. They came for the music, for the romance and mystery and longing of it, not for him. They invented names for him, backstories of a tragic lost love that he could neither confirm nor deny. They defined him through the music, through the lilting chords that were meant to be her, not him. None of them truly knew the Doctor. None of them even knew that name.

The fan groups, then, were a mild annoyance, but not much of a surprise. The TARDIS and his guitar were strictly off limits, and he didn’t sign anything, and beyond that he didn’t much care for the milling crowd of familiar-ish faces that started to pop up along his stops through the galaxy, half of them with vortex manipulators strapped to their wrists. The opening acts had given way to featured performances, solo ‘tours’ retroactively dubbed thus by human time travellers who could pop back to a favourite event at their leisure.

Once upon a time he’d travelled like that, gone wherever the whim had taken him, a mad man and his blue box off to see the universe. He’d given it up after Amy and Rory, right around the time the hole in his memory started. All the faces before this one he could remember clearly, but sometime during his last face, the gap he called Clara began. A stationary life on Trenzalore slowly faded in somewhere around his 1300th birthday, and even that time was littered with holes. Through it all, he’d been convinced he was going to die there. He shouldn’t have regenerated again, it shouldn’t have been possible, and yet he remembered glimpses of it. He remembered taking off the bowtie for the last time, he remembered being incredibly sad to say goodbye.

It all just disappears, doesn't it? Everything you are, gone in a moment, like breath on a mirror.

He remembered Clara being there with him, but not her face or her eyes or her smile, not what she’d said or done. He remembered the sensation of the First Face settling in, so much stronger at the beginning of a new regeneration cycle, and she was seared to his hearts still, with everything but the memory of who she was. He thought Kidneys! might have been the first word he’d said to her, though he couldn’t imagine why.

It covered more than a thousand years, that Clara shaped hole. But sometimes an amp would produce a particular type of feedback, and it would feel like the gaps were peppered throughout his memory, back and back and back to his childhood, like this mystery woman had tiptoed through his life, leaving little footprints his mind tried desperately to forget. And sometimes a chord would reverberate against the backs of his teeth, and his body would suddenly be convinced that the gap was not a thousand years, but four and a half billion years.

He thought of losing her, tried to imagine their last day together, and his mind strayed to the stars going out, to the heat-death of the universe. I watched as time ran out, moment by moment, until nothing remained. No time. No space. Just me.

It was sad. And it was beautiful. And it is over.

Nothing’s sad ‘til it’s over. Then everything is.

Sad, or over, he wondered, and went in search of a venue the size of a planet, speakers that could drown out the disembodied voices drifting anchorless in his mind. He made his guitar sing and the air quake and the crowds roar, and still he ached. The size of it was too overwhelming, the scale of what he’d lost, not just the person but the time itself, almost half his lifetime, pieces of himself he couldn’t get back without breaking free of the neural block.

There were ways to cheat it, he knew, to short circuit the artificial amnesia put in place by Time Lord technology — and how was that even possible? where had he been? — tactics practiced in official espionage circles as well as by TARDIS operators and paranoid Academy students. He had, at one point or another, been all three, so he knew the sidesteps of logic one could take to subvert the programming, the more drastic measures that could be taken to disable it. If something could be remembered it could be brought back, all of it, and the neural block would cease to function.

But it had to have been put there for a purpose, hadn’t it? If the size of the forgetting was this overwhelming, how overpowering must the experience have been? What must it have been like, to know this woman who had to be torn from his mind so completely he could only identify his feelings for her by what was left behind? What had he done to try to save her to justify this large of a wipe?

Stopping by familiar stomping grounds to buy guitar strings, he checked in on Donna Noble. He kept his distance, only too aware of the harm he could cause her if he sparked her memory. But she looked well, happy, brash as ever, and he smiled to himself, imagining the two of them knocking around together now, hollering over each other, only ever speaking in acerbic endearments.

Oh, don’t worry, daft old man, I’m not going anywhere.

He missed her with a more manageable hurt, an echo of the Clara. He wondered if Donna ever felt this kind of sourceless longing, ever dreamed of someone she could almost remember, as he did. He hoped not. She seemed happy, and what else could he ask for, for his companions, for the people he loved? Amy had said she and Rory had lived a long and happy life together — fifty years, if tombstones were to be believed. River had repeatedly emphasised what each and every line of their relationship meant to her, Martha and Rose had each married for love and gone on to do great things, even Sarah Jane had eventually forgiven him for dropping her off in the wrong place, and she, too, had lived a happy and impactful life.

He had lost companions, yes, and so many more during the Time War, but against all the good he had wrought, all his long years of trying to help where he could, what had he done to deserve this? Couldn’t he, just for once, get to keep someone? After all this time, after everything I've done, don't you think the universe owes me this?

But a thousand years, off and on his entire life, four and a half billion years, what would you call that if not ‘keeping’ someone, he argued with himself. They’d had their time, and apparently he had been so unwilling to give Clara up, it had to be taken from him by force, ripped out at the root. Everything’s got to end sometime. Otherwise nothing would ever get started.

No. Stop it. You're saying goodbye. Don't say goodbye!

Everything ends. —Except you.

He suspected one of the contextless voices in his head was hers, but he had no way of knowing which. Not without breaking the neural block. So he buried himself in the music, let the chords speak where she could not.

He was mid-performance on an enormous stage on an artificial moon called Woodstock when he realised he’d once again locked eyes with one of a pair of brunettes who fit vaguely into his time travelling fans folder, into that group of pseudo-familiar people who seemed to always show up these days, no matter when or where he played. Two young women — though it was impossible to tell, really, he was visiting a century where everyone looked perpetually twenty-seven — short and thus often nearest the stage, nearly mistakable for sisters, though their noses set them apart. One with light eyes and the other with wide brown eyes, their honeyed depths calling to him out of the crowd.

The Doctor didn't make a habit of studying humans' facial expressions, but he found himself cataloguing all her little tells: the exact angle of her eyebrows, the set of her jaw, the slight sheen in her eyes. As soon as he realised he was doing it, he looked away, dropped his gaze and broke the connection. He pulled on his sonic-sunglasses, grinning at the crowd's roar of approval as he turned his attention to the particularly complex bridge of the current version of the Clara song. He could feel the woman’s gaze on him still, like a waver in gravity, and had to grit his teeth to keep from looking back at her.

Who the woman was hardly mattered, much less the precise shade of heartbreak in her eyes. He was sure, if he were to look around at the other faces in the audience, that he'd find many such expressions. It was the music, the way they experienced it and the stories they wove to explain it, nothing to do with him. He had watched the crowd plenty in the past, he’d seen how the music affected them, and then promptly forgotten each and every one of their faces. He would forget this one, too — in fact, the brunette’s face was already gone from his memory, it was that inconsequential.

The Clara melody flowed smoothly into something slower and softer, longing made audible, and he heard the audience sigh along with the music. He looked up at them again, watching it ripple outwards through the crowd, the echo of what he had lost flickering across thousands of faces in a microsecond. And still too small, still only a shadow of his grief.

Unconsciously his gaze was drawn to her again, over the heads of the handful of people that separated them. He truly had forgotten her face in those moments when he looked away, but there, there in her brown eyes, he saw it now. It set her apart from the rest of the crowd, the depth of longing held in her eyes, outweighing all the rest put together. And he wondered, in the fleeting moment their gazes met and held, if she was the only one who understood what the melody really meant, who might understand the carved-out pain inside him, the ache that not even the music could accurately convey.

But she dropped her gaze, a tear streaking down her cheek, and the moment was lost. Strangely desperate to hold onto the connection just a little longer, he reflected it back to her again the only way he could, through the music. The crowd roared along with the unexpected crescendo, but when he looked up next, she was gone, her face already fading from his memory.

Don’t run. Stay with me.

It tore out of him then, the Clara song, raw and aching and new all over again, the tune morphing beneath his fingertips as he played. The audience surged but he was deaf to them, a being of pure longing, his entire existence suspended between the pulsing soundwaves of the music. It felt real, suddenly, in a way it hadn’t even when he’d first woken up disoriented in Nevada. Clara was gone, and she was never, ever coming back. No matter how far he travelled, or how he called out to her in his music, or longed for her in silence, she was never going to come back to him.

And you'll still be gone. Whatever I do, you still won't be there.

Look how far I went for fear of losing you.

She'll die on you, you know. She'll blow away like smoke.

He blew out an amp, to the audience’s immense satisfaction, then disconnected his guitar and walked off stage without looking back, breath ragged and hearts aching.

He’d parked the TARDIS a good distance from the stage, experience having taught him that there was more safety and anonymity in quietly slipping off to the edges of the crowd than in trying to keep the TARDIS close at hand. Without the music to identify him, he was just an old man with a guitar case, hardly notable, rarely recognised. He was more grateful for it today than most. The last thing he needed was a run-in with his fan club. All he wanted was to be alone with his grief.

Look at you, with your eyes, and your never giving up, and your anger, and your kindness. One day, the memory of that will hurt so much that I won't be able to breathe, and I'll do what I always do. I'll get in my box and I'll run and I'll run, in case all the pain ever catches up. And every place I go, it will be there.

He almost didn’t see her there, leaning against a tree trunk ahead of him, the woman with the wide brown eyes and the face he’d forgotten so easily, but something drew his gaze to her while he was still far enough away that she hadn’t noticed him yet. She was staring at the TARDIS with a kind of sad affection on her face. The Doctor paused in his tracks, taking a moment to consider her without her eyes on him, as the music started up again on the distant stage.

She looked human enough, no flicker or glimmer of a holographic shell, but there was something distinctly other about her, something that set her apart from the hordes of humans that followed him through time and space. Her clothing fit into the sort of non-descript style that many time travellers preferred, nothing to link her to any particular era, and both her shoes and her hair were practical, but she didn’t appear to be wearing a vortex manipulator.

It was clear she’d been crying, and as she gazed at the TARDIS, another tear slipped down her cheek. When she reached up to brush it away, she seemed to notice him from the corner of her eye and turned to look at him more properly, her expression still mired in grief.

Feeling caught out, the Doctor resumed walking towards the TARDIS, offering the strange woman a tentative half-smile as he drew near. Emotions rippled across her face too quickly for him to name, landing on a muffled determination. She pushed away from the tree and wrapped her arms around herself, something about her body language telling him she meant to speak even before she opened her mouth.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” she asked. “From the stage?”

It had to be rhetorical, since she clearly already knew the answer, but he stopped a few feet from the TARDIS and faced her. “Yeah, guilty as charged.”

“That was quite a performance you gave.”

He attempted something like a smile. “You didn’t even stay for the grand finale.”

“Oh, I heard it well enough from here,” she replied softly, and he wondered again at her red-rimmed eyes.

“What’s your name?” he asked her, glancing at her and noting the precise tilt of her nose.

She hesitated half a moment. “Oswin,” she finally said, smiling slightly as she did. It didn’t reach her eyes. It's a smile but you're sad. It's confusing. It's like two emotions at once. It's like you're malfunctioning.

Oswin. Odd name. Odder still for him to be disappointed in it.

“Nice to meet you, Oswin,” he said, feeling like he was reciting some long-ago lesson on polite manners, drilled into him by a woman he could no longer remember. “Come to these sorts of things often?”

She smiled softly and looked down at her feet. “I have made a bit of a habit out of it, if we’re being honest. It’s hard to stay away.”

“And your friend?” he asked, without really knowing why. “The blue-eyed one?”

“Ash,” Oswin confirmed, nodding. “It’s not really her thing. She humours me, lets me drag her along, but I think she’s mostly here to make sure I stay out of trouble.”

“Do you?”

She grinned at that, and it looked genuine. “Not usually.”

“Me, either,” he said, smiling back at her.

“Oh, I can just imagine.”

Talking with her had only increased his sense that there was something distinctly strange about this woman. He fiddled with the sonicglasses, debating putting them on and running an inconspicuous diagnostic on her.

Somehow she seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and said, “Yeah, I wouldn’t look too closely at either Ash or I. We’re both HIPOAT.”

“Hip-oat?”

“Humans In Possession Of Alien Technology,” she clarified, shooting him a sidelong look. “Thought you’d’ve known that one.”

“I’m not overly familiar with this century’s lingo,” he said, smirking at her and lifting the guitar case as evidence. “I’m just passing through.”

“Ah yes, the Eternal Traveller,” she said ruefully, invoking one of the names the pudding brains had given him. “It’s quite a path you cut through the centuries, you know.”

He shrugged. “That’s the nature of time travel. Scar tissue is always the price.”

“Scars for you or for the universe?” she asked.

“Is there a difference?”

She smiled sadly and shook her head, brown hair just barely brushing her shoulders. “Most of us make it through life with only person-sized scars.”

“But not you,” he murmured, thinking back on the way her eyes had seemed to mimic his grief, while the Clara song had echoed around them.

Oswin shrugged stiffly, not meeting his gaze. “It’s as true for me as for anyone.”

Doctor, you are not the only person who ever lost someone. It's the story of everybody. Get over it. Beat it. Break free.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” he blurted out before he could think better of it.

She eyed him suspiciously. “I suppose.”

“Are you, by any chance, bio-looped?”

For a fraction of a second she looked terrified, but a fake anger quickly covered over. “Oi!” she said, hitting his arm lightly. “What did I say about HIPOAT? Don’t look too closely!”

“Sorry, sorry, couldn’t help but notice.”

“Of course not,” she sighed, sounding resigned.

“A bit like Cinderella, with the clock paused at eleven-fifty-nine, isn’t it?” he asked.

Eleven’s hour is over now, the clock is striking twelve’s...

She smiled, but it was sad. “Something like that, yeah.”

“So what is it? An age-trigger, maybe? Go out and see the universe, have your adventures, then make it back like no time has passed at all, your supper still warm?” She was watching him with something he thought might be affection in her brown eyes, so he continued on, his tone teasing, lighter than he’d felt in ages. “Are you running from an impending marriage? I had a friend who did that once. Oh, or a prison sentence? Had another friend who did that — well, she took the sentence, but kept slipping out. Come to think of it, the two of them were related, maybe the running away was genetic...”

She was grinning at his antics, but her eyes were still sad. “No, no, nothing as exciting as that! Though I wonder, sometimes, at your friends.” She considered him for a long moment. “And who are you travelling with these days? Any other exciting friends recently?”

You're going to be alone now, and you're very bad at that.

He looked away, fiddled with the lock of the guitar case. “Nah, just me and the guitar, lately. I’ve got loads of good memories to keep me company, though,” he added, glancing back up at her.

Her eyebrows had drawn together, but he couldn’t quite name the emotion on her face. “Do you?” she asked, voice serious, gaze searching.

“Well, I’m older than I look, did a lot of travelling before I embarked on my musical career.”

“I’ve done a fair bit of that myself, now,” she replied. “I’ve seen so much, sometimes it’s hard to keep track. Hard to remember it all.”

I will not forget one line of this, not one day. I swear.

Her statement felt loaded, though he wasn’t sure she meant it to be. She couldn’t really know about the Clara shaped hole, of course — and besides, memories formed while bio-looped were notoriously finicky. Plenty of races had figured out how to bio-loop a living creature, but only the Time Lords had really perfected the memory side of that sort of technology. She was surely just referring to her own issues with missing memories, not his.

“Still,” he said after just a beat too long, “there are moments that stand out.”

“‘You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again,’” she quoted to him, looking up at the stars that blazed above them, her arms wrapped around her middle again.

The pieces clicked together in his head almost audibly. “Ah, so it’s terminal, then?” he asked before he could stop himself.

She looked away sharply, but it didn’t hide the sheen of tears in her eyes. “Everything ends,” she said, shrugging.

Except you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and realised he meant it.

“Why?” she asked, swallowing back tears. “It’s not your fault.”

I did this, do you hear me? I did this. This is my fault.

“One last hurrah, then,” he said, and Oswin hiccupped beside him. “I’m honoured that you’d include so many of my performances in your itinerary.”

She snorted damply, her large dark eyes again fixed on the stars overhead as though that would keep her tears from falling. “You’re one of the Wonders of the Universe,” she teased him, her tears barely held at bay. “There’s hardly a time travellers’ guidebook out there that doesn’t list your concert series as a do-not-miss.”

“Which ones don’t? I’ll send a sternly-worded letter to their publishers,” he said, and won the genuine laugh he’d hoped for.

“Buy you a drink?” he asked as her laughter died away.

What do you say to lunch, followed by breakfast? Because we're time travellers and that's how we roll. Then cocktails with Moses!

She returned her gaze from the sight above them and turned to him. For half a second she looked unspeakably sad, but then she was smiling over it, through it. And there's that smile again. I don't even know how you do that.

“I don’t think they’ve got ‘round to building a concessions stand on this moon yet, much less a decent pub,” she said, shaking her head.

“Oh.” He really wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.

“Not to worry, you daft old man,” she said, smiling fondly and blinking back her tears. “My ship is parked just behind that hill there. Fully equipped kitchen, though I think lemonade might be the strongest thing we have on tap. My treat.”

“You’re sure your friend won’t mind?”

Oswin shook her head. “Nah, Ash wanted to stay for the next act, so the place will be ours for a bit. Come on, it’s not far,” she said, then turned and led the way, past the TARDIS and over the hill she’d indicated.

They paused at the top of the rise, and she pointed to the structure below them, blockier than he would have expected. “There,” she said. “What’d I tell you? Not far.” Something about her body language made him think she was gathering her courage for something, and he knew distantly that should put him on guard, but he followed after her anyway.

“Your ship is a diner?” he asked in confusion as they neared.

“Sometimes,” she answered coyly, shooting him a small smile as she unlocked the flimsy-looking door.

It was all too familiar, ringing too many bells in his mind that sounded far too much like the TARDIS’s Cloister Bell, but he couldn’t have stopped himself from following her through the door if he’d tried. You’d go to hell if she asked. And she would.

The interior of her ship looked as much like an anachronistic American diner as the exterior did, like something pulled directly out of his patchy memory, and the radio was playing a soft jazz tune that he almost recognised. He should leave, the Doctor knew, turn around and walk away and forget this strange woman with her inexplicable ship and her sad eyes. But when had he ever done the smart thing, the safe thing? When had he ever turned his back on a mystery? You are the only mystery worth solving. 

“Lemonade, then?” she called over her shoulder as she headed towards the kitchen tucked behind the bar. “Or I make a mean chocolate shake.”

Do you want to go and get some coffee, or chips, or something? Or chips and coffee?

“Chips and coffee?” he suggested, before he could think better of it.

She shot him a guarded look from behind the counter but nodded. “I can do that.”

“So this thing actually flies, then?” he asked, sitting down at the bar and settling the guitar case at his feet.

“When I can convince her to do,” Oswin said ruefully as she worked. “Got a mind of her own sometimes, you know how it is.”

He did know, which was exactly the problem. It was like watching a galaxy come into focus down the barrel of a telescope, the longer he sat there. He knew this sort of ship, knew precisely the sort of negotiating Oswin would have to do to fly it.

But more than that, he was certain he’d seen it before, sat at this bar with this same strange woman across from him. The memory was hazy now, formed too soon after the neural block to really stick, but as the smells of chips and coffee filled the brightly decorated room, he was sure he’d done this all before. He fiddled with his sonicglasses, debating using them to try to bolster his scattered memories.

Oswin passed him his coffee across the bar, then scooped up her own and a basket of freshly cooked chips and made her way out from behind the counter and over to a vinyl-upholstered booth, tilting her head at him to indicate that he should join her. He sat across from her and took an experimental sip of his coffee. As he suspected it contained at least six sugars and a dash of heavy cream, just to his liking. She hadn’t even asked him about his preferences.

She hadn’t needed to ask.

“Who are you?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

She glanced up at him over the rim of her coffee cup, eyes wide with surprise, then shrugged stiffly. “I’m no one. Just me, just Oswin. A traveller passing through, like you.”

He glared at her, immediately certain she was lying — as certain as he was that he had been here before, with her. There was something she was deliberately not telling him, something obvious he was missing. Something that wasn’t adding up. “Why is it I can read your emotions better than my own, but when I look away, I can’t remember your face?”

She dropped her gaze and shrugged again, overplaying her casualness. “Perception filter.”

The Doctor bit down on the urge to tell her that that’s not how perception filters work; he suspected she already knew that, anyway. “Neural block,” he countered instead.

She jerked her gaze back up to his, brown eyes wide.

“Sonic,” he went on, indicating his glasses on the tabletop. “TARDIS,” he said with a glance around the diner. “Bio-loop,” he added with a significant nod towards her. “Oh, I’m sorry, are we not just naming off out-of-place bits of Time Lord tech?” he asked acerbically.

She looked shaken but said, “HIPOAT, I told you—”

“No one has Time Lord technology!”

“You do!”

“Because I’m—!” He cut himself off, staring at her. “Who are you?”

She watched him in disbelief for a long moment, panic growing behind her brown eyes. “The Hybrid,” she choked out finally, another lie. “I’m the Hybrid. There’s an old Gallifreyan prophecy—”

“No!”

“—about the end of the universe. Yes there is!”

“I know the prophecy!” he snapped. “But you aren’t the Hybrid, that’s not possible!”

“I assure you I am!”

“Then why are you here, instead of out there, destroying the universe?”

That brought her up short, and she stared back at him, aghast. “It’s balanced on a knife’s edge, Doctor, it always has been!”

Doctor.

She realised her mistake before he could call her out on it, her mouth forming a little o of horror. He hadn’t told her his name, she hadn’t asked for it. But the moment it tumbled out into the air between them, he was certain, certain he had heard her say it a hundred times before — a thousand times, four and a half billion times.

There's one thing I know about her. Just one thing. If I met her again, I would absolutely know.

“Clara,” he named her, and to his disappointment and relief, his memories did not come rushing back to him.

She stared up at him with those big, sad eyes, tears beginning to slip silently down her face. The face the neural block would steal from him again the moment he turned his back on her. The source of the ache in his hearts, the meaning behind the chords, the black hole his entire universe had come to orbit. Clara.

“I tried to stay away,” she said, sniffling and swiping at her tears. “You didn’t make it easy.”

If you love me in any way, you’ll come back.

“I wasn’t trying to find you,” he told her honestly. “I didn’t realise it was an option.”

She searched his face for a long moment, Clara, this person shaped like the absence in his life. “It’s still there, isn’t it?” she asked. “The neural block? You don’t actually know me.”

I’d know you anywhere.

“Oh, I know you, my Clara,” he said, smiling at her with a bitter twist. “I know your shadow, I know the negative you left behind. What do you think the music’s about?”

She closed her eyes, and tears slipped from beneath her lashes. “Ash said we should keep our distance, that I was being stupid. But I— I had to see you.”

“I could break it, you know,” he said, and waited for her to look at him again before continuing. “The neural block. There are techniques to sidestep it, short it out.”

“But you haven’t,” she said. “All this time and you haven’t broken it.”

“I didn’t know what was at stake, why I had to forget you in the first place.”

“The Hybrid prophecy,” she told him, holding his gaze with nothing but absolute honesty in her eyes this time. “We were going to unravel the Web of Time. Something had to be done.”

“Time seems to be healing itself. It always does.”

“Because we did something to stop it unravelling. We did this.”

“Somehow I don’t think this is what we intended,” the Doctor said. “What good is forgetting if our feelings for each other haven’t changed?”

Clara flinched, closed her eyes and shook her head. “‘The Hybrid will break a billion billion hearts to heal its own.’ That’s what’s at stake here, Doctor. We were going to destroy the universe to chase one more moment of happiness.”

“So, what, we’re not allowed any happiness? Not even the memory of happiness?”

“It’s too dangerous. Even this— Ash was right, I’m being stupid, and the fate of the universe hangs in the balance. I should’ve stayed away.” She looked up at him, her eyes inflating with tears in a way he almost, almost remembered. “You can’t break the neural block. It has to stay.”

He couldn’t lose her again. He wouldn’t. “I insist upon my past. I am entitled to that. It’s mine,” he said.

Clara shook her head, tears flowing down her face. “Your past means the destruction of the universe, the death of everything that has ever or will ever live!”

“Tomorrow is promised to no one—”

“Don’t throw my own words back in my face!” she snapped, bringing him up short. “I know I messed up! I didn’t mean for this to happen, Doctor, really I didn’t.”

What did you do?

What else? What else do you think I did? I reversed the polarity. Push that button, Doctor, and the neural block will go off in your own face.

He sighed and shook his head. “I know you didn’t. I know you wouldn’t have hurt me deliberately. I remember you well enough to know that, at least.” Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?

Clara clutched at her coffee cup, to keep herself from reaching out to grasp his hand, he thought. “I’m sorry I hurt you at all,” she murmured. “If there was any other way, Doctor...”

“So what do we do now?”

She smiled at him tremulously, bravely. Let me be brave. “You are going to drink your coffee and eat your chips. And then you’re going to fly away from here, fly away and forget me, let time get back to healing. You’re going to find someone new, someone to travel with properly, run off and see the universe like you used to do. And someday — I don’t know when, but someday — Ash will find you, and tell you it’s safe to break the neural block. And then you can have all your happy yesterdays back.”

“Because you’ll be gone,” he said, hearing what she wasn’t saying. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.

She took a shaky breath and sighed it out. “Yes.”

“That isn’t what I want,” he told her bluntly. Please, I don't want this.

“The universe doesn’t care what we want, Doctor. Sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones, but you still have to choose.”

“We could make the other choice,” he suggested, pain lancing through him at the thought of giving her up again.

“And risk the damage we might do to the universe? Break a billion billion hearts to heal our own?”

“Time hasn’t unravelled. We’re all still here, you, me, and the universe. We don’t have to say goodbye. So how about we just don't? Why don't we just fly away somewhere, together?” he said, echoing the anchorless voice from his scattered, shattered memories.

“Oh, that'd be great, wouldn't it?” she whispered back, like an ancient call and answer.

This is as brave as I know how to be. I know it's going to hurt you, but, please, be a little proud of me.

She was doing this to save everyone else, he realised, and him most of all. Putting on a brave face, making the hard choice, so he wouldn’t have to do. Would she never be done saving him, this impossible woman? “You're right,” he murmured, knowing he’d said it before. “You're always, always right.”

“I am so sorry, Doctor,” she said softly.

“This is right,” he said, hoping to reassure her even though this felt anything but right. “I accept it.”

Tears fell down her face unchecked. He thought about asking her to smile for him one last time, but—

How could I smile?

It's okay. Don't you worry. I'll remember it.

“Goodbye, my Clara,” he said instead, as he climbed to his feet. “Live well.”

He gathered up his sonicglasses and his guitar case and left without looking back, the sound of her quiet sobs following him all the way out into the starlight. He didn’t stop when he hit the fresh air, just kept putting one foot in front of the other, up the steep hill they’d descended together. Already Clara’s face was fading from his mind’s eye, but he clung to the memory of her bravery, her sacrifice to save him. To save the universe.

I will die, and no one else, here or anywhere, will suffer.

What about me?

If there was something I could do about that, I would. I guess we're both just going to have to be brave.

His TARDIS came into view all too soon, before the neural block had had a chance to steal away the details of their conversation. There was a woman leaned against the corner of it, one ankle crossed over the other in an exaggerated show of nonchalance. The Doctor recognised her, and quickly enough to feel bitter about it: Ash, Clara’s travelling companion.

“What the hell do you want?” he demanded as he approached.

“I suppose you don’t remember me, either?” she asked.

He paused, considering how much to tell her, then said, “Clara called you Ash.”

“So that’s a no, then.”

“Should I remember you?”

“You saved my life,” she said. “A very long time ago now. I was called Ashildr in those days. I stopped using that name eons ago, but Clara insisted. She told me once that it was your fear of losing her that made you save me, despite worrying about the ripples it would cause.”

There's nothing I can't do. Nothing. But I'm not supposed to. Ripples, tidal waves, rules.

“More of a tidal wave than a ripple, I think,” he said.

“And yet the universe is still standing. Your splashing about hasn’t brought the whole system down, and I’ve been in a hell of a lot of places I shouldn’t have been over the years.” Ash shrugged. “The universe adjusts. It gets over it. One extra immortal here or there isn’t enough to tear reality apart.”

“What’s your point?” he demanded irritably.

“My point is, Doctor, that the Hybrid prophecy is shit. ‘Break a billion billion hearts to heal its own.’” She snorted. “That could be the title of this little rock tour of yours. Maybe that’s all the prophecy meant in the first place: ‘Heaven help the idiot who separates Clara and the Doctor, for she shall have to endure vicarious heartbreak for centuries on end.’ I should have known it was really about me all along.” She sighed and leveled a serious look at him. “My point is that you already know the answer, but you’ve let Clara convince you that you’re wrong. She has wiggle room. Infinite wiggle room, and you’re treating that like it means nothing.”

“You think I should break the neural block,” he surmised. “And what, exactly, makes you qualified to make that sort of assessment?”

“Of the two of us, you’re the ‘Time Lord,’” she said, and he could nearly hear the quotes around the name, “but I am older than you,” she went on, smiling snidely. “I’ve travelled a lot, seen more than a few things. Wonderful things, monstrous things. Do you know what I haven’t seen? Any evidence that Clara’s continued existence is unravelling the Web of Time. Or any sign that the Time Lords are tracking her, or mean to force her to go back to Gallifrey and be re-inserted into her timeline so that she can die a death that, no matter how you look at it, has already happened. The universe isn’t collapsing in on itself, there’ve been no paradoxes that the Temporal Powers have had to rush to fix.

“There’s just you. And her. Being idiots,” she continued, enunciating the words sharply. “Everywhere she goes, her guilt and her grief and her need to ‘honour your memory’ drive her to interfere in the affairs of mortals. Save a life here, a civilisation there. Ripples, tidal waves, a whole goddamned ocean. And your path through spacetime can literally be purchased printed onto the back of a concert tshirt. If the Time Lords were worried, if they wanted to stop you, they would have done by now. If the universe was going unravel or implode or whatever the hell, it would have done by now.

“So stop being an idiot, Doctor. Go back to Clara. Spend the rest of your immortal lives together. Just stop making me wallow in your combined angst, because frankly? I’m over it. And so is the universe.” With that, she pushed off the corner of the TARDIS and sauntered away, back towards the stage and the distant music.

The Doctor stood for a long moment, watching her go. He should leave, like Clara said. Get in his TARDIS and fly away and let the neural block take every last moment of this day. Maybe Ashildr was right, maybe she wasn’t, but he knew if he gave himself the chance to really consider it, he’d never be able to stop himself from returning to Clara, against her wishes and better judgement.

He sighed and turned away, resting his forehead against the TARDIS. Let me be brave, let me be brave. Unprompted, the door opened, swinging inwards and inviting him home. He forced his feet to move, each step carrying him further from the woman he loved but could not remember, further from the future he wanted but could not claim. The TARDIS interior was as it had been, but felt large and cavernous now, with the almost-memory of Clara’s voice still clinging to the insides of his ears.

He walked in and closed the door. Set down the guitar case. Braced his arms against the console. All he had to do was go. All he had to do was send the TARDIS into the vortex and give the neural block enough time to finish erasing the events of the day from his memory. All he had to do was leave Clara behind.

‘You are being an idiot,’ the TARDIS whirled at him telepathically.

“When am I not?” he asked out loud, with no one else to hear him but his dear old girl. I am an idiot with a box and a screwdriver. Just passing through, helping out, learning.

‘Don’t be an idiot,’ the TARDIS replied sternly. ‘Be a Thief.’

“As easy as that?” he said, huffing out a bitter laugh.

‘The door is open for you,’ the rotors wheezed, ‘as mine was. Go. Steal an immortal and run away.’

“I can’t,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to hold to his resolve. “Clara’s right, there’s too much at risk.” You're willing to risk all of time and space because you miss her. One wonders what the pair of you will get up to next.

The TARDIS huffed, irritated with him. ‘Have I not always shown you the path you need to take?’ the sentient ship demanded. ‘Perhaps not the safest path, but the right path?’

The Doctor sighed shakily. “Yes.”

‘Then don’t argue. Go to her.’

Behind him, the doors swung open of their own accord, and above him the lights dimmed, the rotor stilling into silence. He knew a dismissal when he saw one. There was no hope of heading off into the vortex now, not when the TARDIS had so clearly expressed her opinion on the matter. He supposed he could stay right where he was, wait for the neural block to kick in and steal even his desire to go back to the woman in the diner. But even the thought had the silent presence of the TARDIS balking inside his head, urging him more forcefully out the door.

And really, how many more times did he need to be told? Ashildr was right, the universe wasn’t unravelling, the Time Lords weren’t hunting for them. The TARDIS ought to have been the last word on the subject, with her pan-dimensional view of time and space, and her utter loyalty to him. But still he hesitated.

It was what he wanted, unquestionably, the knowledge that he could fill the Clara shaped hole in his life pulling at him like a magnet. But it was selfish, and reckless, and everything Clara had argued against. I'm scared and I'm alone. Alone, and very, very scared.

I guess we're both just going to have to be brave.

That was her voice in his head, his Clara, though the memory of why she’d said those words still eluded him. He could have that back, the memory of that day and every other, he could have her back, he could stop breaking himself against the wall of the neural block and just live.

Tell her that you're in love with her and that you always have been. Tell her there is no point wasting time, because things happen and then it's too late. Tell her I wish someone had given me that advice.

The Doctor was out the door before he could change his mind again, tripping on his own feet, retracing his path over the hill with his mind a single blur of Clara Clara Clara, set to the melody he hadn’t stopped hearing since the day he lost her.

Her TARDIS was still there, and he knew the woman he would find inside would be Clara, but he had forgotten her face, her eyes, her voice. Already their conversation was beginning to fade, but he held to it fiercely, refusing to give in to the neural block. Never again, he would never forget her again.

The diner’s door was locked, of course, but he rested his palm against it and reached out to the consciousness of the foreign TARDIS, asking for entry by projecting his emotion and intention. I used to know a trick, back when I was young and telepathic...

Beneath his hand, the lock clicked open and the door swung inwards, communicating back a feeling something like relief and approval. He stepped inside, immediately spotting the brunette woman sitting alone at the bar, hunched over her coffee cup and crying openly. She heard the door, and sniffed loudly, hiding her tear-stained face with a hand to her forehead.

“I’m really not in the mood, Ash,” she said, not looking at him.

“She’s not here,” the Doctor replied, watching as Clara jerked her head up, her gaze instantly finding his. And how could he have forgotten her, the colour of her eyes, the wave in her hair, the slope of her nose? How had the neural block ever managed to steal something so vital and precious from him?

“Don’t run,” he said, as she watched him with eyes like galaxies colliding. “Stay with me.”

“Doctor,” Clara said in warning.

“No, please, just, just listen. I think we need to reconsider this.” He approached her carefully and slid onto the barstool next to hers, almost afraid she would bolt before he could make his case. “I got a bit of a talking to,” he said, offering her a lopsided smile. “First from your travelling companion, then mine.”

“I thought you said you weren’t— oh, the TARDIS, of course. What did she have to say? No, wait, back up, what did Ash say to you?”

“That both she and the universe are over living with our combined heartbreak. And she made some excellent arguments about how the universe isn’t unravelling, that I couldn’t help but agree with—”

“Because they were your arguments in the first place,” Clara huffed, unable to keep the fondness out of her brown eyes.

“And several good points about how the Time Lords could have intervened ages ago, if they’d a mind to do. She said we have wiggle room, but that we’re being idiots, and she’s sick of having to put up with it.”

“You believe her?” Clara asked, watching him closely. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy Ash’s company, but she does have a history of being a bit self-serving at times.”

“I think she’s right about the Time Lords, and the Web of Time, yes.” He searched her face for a moment then added, “And the idiot thing. I think we are definitely being idiots.”

“What if she’s wrong? We can’t eliminate the threat we pose to the universe just by wishing it away, Doctor.”

“If there is a threat to the universe, it’s the same whether we’re together or not. So I vote ‘together.’ How about you?”

She looked up at him with those huge eyes of hers. “As easy as that?” she asked, the same he had asked of the TARDIS.

He smiled softly at her. “The TARDIS also told me I was being an idiot, insisted I come find you. She reminded me that she’s always shown me the path I needed, and I shouldn’t start doubting her now.”

Clara flicked her gaze to his face and away again, chewing on her bottom lip, and something cold settled into the pit of his stomach.

“If this isn’t what you want,” he said carefully. “If I’m not what you want, we can split the difference. I’ll reclaim my memories and we can go our separate ways. I won’t bother you, you don’t owe me anything.”

“Of course it’s what I want, you daft old man,” she said immediately, and his hearts flipped over. “I’ve just convinced myself for so long that there was no possibility of this, no hope for us, that it’s difficult to accept that we could have this, that the universe could let us have this.” She looked back up at him again, brown eyes pleading. “You really can break the neural block?”

“Easily,” he said, and held out his hand for hers in silent question. Please, don’t even argue.

Clara placed her small hand in his, her eyes never leaving his face, and he gently pulled her to her feet, stood in front of her, his hearts pounding against his ribs.

“There are lots of ways to break the neural block,” he said. “Sidesteps of logic, brute force, electric shock, regeneration, probably. They’ve all got their downsides. But the cleanest way? Fill in the gap with no jagged edges, no fuzzy spots? Telepathic transference from someone who hasn’t forgotten.”

She took a deep breath. “Well, you’re the touch-telepath,” she said, gazing up at him. “And I don’t think I could ever forget you.”

He smiled down at her, his Clara, saving him once again. Would it even be possible for him to love her more than he did in this moment, even once he remembered everything he’d forgotten? He needn’t wait any longer to find out, he realised. Cradling her face in his hands and opening up the telepathic barriers on his consciousness, he leaned down and kissed her.

The Clara song in his mind swelled, shifted, took on a new harmony that somehow seemed as though it had been there all along. He could feel it racing through his brain, feel the neural block start to give way, as Clara wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back like their world was ending, like the universe was beginning all over again.

Not everything ends. Not love. Not always.

If you love me, in any way, you’ll come back.

Everything you’re going to say, I already know.

I had a duty of care.

People like me and you, we should say things to one another.

“Clara,” he breathed when they finally broke apart, pressing his forehead to hers. “It’s all back. My memories, they’re all back where they ought to be.”

He paused as it suddenly hit him what memory he didn’t have. He had no other memory of her lips on his. Hugs, yes, the rare kiss to the cheek, but never like this. “Uh,” he said eloquently, floundering and starting to pull away. “I didn’t mean for that to be a first. Sorry.”

She tightened her arms around him and laughed through her tears, and didn’t sound sad at all. “We’ve had a lot of bad timing, the two of us. The first kiss was always going to be under strange circumstances. Just don’t let it be the last.”

The Doctor wasn’t sure if he leaned down or if Clara reached up, but her lips were pressed to his again, soft and warm and real. He gave himself over to it, to this new reality of the two of them, together. She beamed up at him when they broke apart, and he realised he’d been wrong: it was possible for him to love her even more, now that he remembered.

“The TARDIS is just outside,” he said, knowing she knew but unable to keep from echoing the newly-fresh memory of their last Christmas together. Please, don’t even argue.

She huffed out a little laugh, and he knew without needing to reach for the telepathy that she was reliving the same shared memory. “This time I think I’ll take a moment to pack,” she told him, smiling broadly, the tracks of dried tears crinkling around her dimple. “I don’t think I’ll be coming back, this time.”

“Running away with a spaceman in a box. Anything could happen to you.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” she said, then pushed up on her toes and kissed him, as the music in his head faded away to one last, resonating note.

(Also available on AO3, under the same username and title.)

#Whoffaldi #Whouffaldi #Twelve x Clara #Twelfth Doctor x Clara Oswald #Clara and the Doctor #Clara Oswald #Twelfth Doctor #12th Doctor #Doctor Who #Doctor Who fic #available on AO3 under the same username and title #Upon This Rock Will I Break Myself Until It Shows Me Your Beloved Face #Upon This Rock #my writing #my fanfiction #Twelfth Doctor's guitar #Twelve's rock tour of ANGST #angst with a happy ending #mild language #copious quotes from s7-s9 #if you recognise the line it isn't mine #please feel free to comment and reblog! <3

[incarnateirony]

Sam lensed thoughts

I think what’s killing me right now is Sam’s juxtaposition to Dean at our current advent in season 14.

In a lot of ways, Sam is fulfilling a true character arc -- finally. Passed the keys to the bunker; using his tech savant skills to build a network and a legacy; not as ready or thoughtful of retirement as Dean yet, but still wanting peace; Dean readily accepting him taking on a leader role--

But Dean himself isn’t complete and so, even removing Michael -- if we pretended that was a nonissue -- Dean himself is still broken up over the aftermath and Sammy doesn’t know how to fix it.

He tried. He thought he had it.

In season 10, during the Mark of Cain chaos, Dean took comfort and “felt like himself” again by being taken on a vampire hunt.

Dean: “Yeah, you know, for the first time I've been back, I didn't feel like the Mark was pushing me.”

Sam: “First time?”

Dean: “All I know is, back there, killing those vamps... I felt like me again.“

Sam: “Alright, so that’s good, right?" 

D: “Yeah.” 

-- Sam & Dean, 10.08 Hibbing 911.

Now, in season 14 with Dean hiding out in his room, not only does Sam do that but finds like, The Perfect Case™ that’s just perfectly suited to get Dean out of a funk with the interests he never lets himself deeply invest in and boom -- plucky Dean at the end of the episode, but we all saw something still wasn’t right.

And, in 14.5, Dean does show where he’s grown. Sam doesn’t get to really see these discussions as he talks about trying to let things go every day because The Past Is The Past (trying to think like that every day, rather than S10 where it’s “the opposite of what I do”; also keep an eye on S10, we’re gonna keep tapping back to it), but the thought echoes up later. And Dean, sideways in it all still, admits -- he’s still not okay. He almost felt like himself. Almost.

“You know, I’ve been trying to– not forget, but to move on, from what I–from what we– from what he did. And to be honest, I was– I was starting to feel like myself again. Almost."

– Dean 14.5 Nightmare Logic

Almost.

In fact, the sentences are framed so painfully similar, and the evocation of Americana in both of these episodes (though 14.5 it was a shortly previous scene with sending off Mobby), I can’t help but feel it was, truly, intentional. “You know,” [introspection] “I felt like me again/I was starting to feel like myself again. Almost.”

Almost.

Almost.

The “Almost” is murdering me. As is this.

Sam: "K. Then let’s go with that."

[everybody loads up and rolls!]

-- 10.08

Sam: So we’ll work harder.

Dean: How, Sam?

-- 14.05

As we know, Dean goes on about Sam’s lack of sleep, Sam just offers to... sleep less, work harder. But aggressively goes into saying they’ll find Michael. But let’s be real -- stabbing Michael and racing to the end of the book won’t fix the traps Dean knows “i/we/he” set up. They won’t deal with Dean’s emotional state. And Sam isn’t dumb. He knows that. And even that much Dean doesn’t have real hope in right now.

Sam is sort of flailing to find a salve for his brother.

What’s worked in the past, and even the semi-recent past (I mean, 4 years ago isn’t ancient in the scale of things; and even by S10 it had become evident that Dean’s masks and easy patches weren’t working anymore), just isn’t doing it here. Even with the Mark of Cain literally under Dean’s skin, this is all the more under it.

Which means we have to look at how else Sam can even try to fix this.

Sam’s being the sounding board for everybody. I mean, that’s not unusual, it’s Sam. But right now, we have -- in example --

“Look, the point is,” Sam comes back, from a point of knowing, “people put up walls for a reason. So whatever your Bobby has behind his, I doubt it’s pretty.”

Mary: “But you think I should try and find out?”

Sam: “You know what? If you care about him? I think you should.”

We now interrupt your deep character insights with discovering a critical part of the hunt.

Sam was, of course, quick to tune into it. Before that discussion at all, 

You know, “I wasn’t gonna mention it, none of my business, but it seems like you’d gotten pretty close, lately.”

Everything -- the entire discourse -- poured from a place of silent knowing. Just like, with everything from DreamHunter to Dean repressing Michael’s memories and it not being as hunky-dory-okay as he was pretending,

There’s things Sam knows he can’t give Dean. He tries to fill the gaps by finding perfect hobby hunts, distractions, directions for Dean to gun it while everything sorts itself out, but even that is thinning out. It only-almost works. Almost.

DEAN Look, I have no illusions, okay? I know the life that I live, I know how that’s gonna end for me. Whatever. I’m okay with that. But I wanted you to know…that when I do picture myself happy…it’s with you. And the kid.

LISA Wow.

DEAN I mean, you don’t have to say anything.

LISA No, I…I mean, I know. I know. I want to. Come inside. Let me get you a beer.

DEAN I wish I could. Take care of yourself, Lisa.

-- 5.17, 99 Problems.

A conversation Sam wasn’t privy to witness, but the psychology behind his brother was still not something Sam missed. Just like he wasn’t privy to most of Sam and Mary, just like he just saw a few hunters cooperating and saw something there. Just like Sam Knew. It’s something Sam’s always excelled at. He just pays attention and reads people around him.

SAM: Really? You don't . . . Ever want something more?

DEAN: I'm sorry, have you met us? We're batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs.

SAM: You don't ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But . . . Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

-- 11.04 Baby.

We can, of course, argue that sometimes Sam thinks about this himself, but it’s not as thematic. Eileen, for example, was a good reprieve for him. Amelia, as much as we hate that story. Sam knows and understands it, but he’s not quite there right now. Right now he’s building a legacy, being passed the keys in so many ways -- from the keys to the bunker, to almost the keys to the car; the keys to this hunter circle he’s been leading while Dean’s down, crushed under himself, or in an episode full of mirrors of all the characters where keys to a shop legacy were passed while one wasn’t quite following the vein and the spirit of past expectation came to haunt them. 

Sam has never needed a confessional to gloss things like this from his brother, though he was not witness to it.

DEAN What if I said I…I didn’t want to die…yet, you know, that I wasn’t ready?

FATHER DELANEY Are you expecting to?

DEAN Always. [Chuckles] You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it.

FATHER DELANEY But now?

DEAN Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time.

FATHER DELANEY Go a little deeper, perhaps, than with Gina.

DEAN Yeah. Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought.

-- 10.16 Paint it Black

Sam never pried about what Dean confessed, despite standing right outside.  “I wasn’t gonna mention it, none of my business,”

But he noticed. Like Sam does. Even in this episode we double back to Sam already silently knowing how Dean is coping,

SAM I heard what Sister Mathias was saying about, you know, hiding pain by taking on a mission, and I-I know that’s what you’re doing a little bit. And it’s okay. I mean, it’s fine. I get it. I’ve done it before, too. But… I don’t buy for one second that the mark is a terminal diagnosis, so don’t go making peace with that idea. There has to be a way. There will be a way, and we will find it. That’s what we do. So, believe that.

DEAN Okay, Sammy.

SAM You want to… Uh, try that again like you mean it?

DEAN [More determined] Okay.

This was, in fact, in stream with the Hibbing 911 10.08 episode I started this with. It was a consistent stream. Take on a case, Dean feels better. Take on a case, know he’s dealing with pain by taking on a mission. Faith -- there is a way -- Dean is waffling, but at least back then, Sam could inspire sparks out of Dean in that. But now, they’re fading as quickly as they come. Hibbing 911 to Paint It Black was an 8 episode stretch and Sam had to voice it as a cover -- after a 5-episode stretch post-saving Dean(mon) to get to deciding that worked. Now -- for the better in communication -- Dean is voicing it doesn’t work anymore, and we’re only a few episodes in, 3 episodes from being brought back. It already isn’t working. 

There has to be something more in the long term than fixing the immediate problem for Dean.

And Sam knows.

And that’s really what’s slaying me right now. Sam keeps trying, but every time it’s working less, they’re losing ground on Dean. Even when Dean communicates openly, it’s that the old vices simply aren’t cutting it anymore. The old fixes won’t work. They can try to race ahead to the end of the story (though it’s not the ending, it’s the journey, right?) but even stabbing Michael dead won’t fix everything. They both know that. There needs to be another remedy.

Now bounce back to his conversation with Mary. Bobby, who doesn’t know any other way to live -- who Sam recognizes the thick walls of, who he encouraged to try to get past those walls. Who’s the first person setting up their arrangements?

Mary frets. You sure she won't mind? "No," Sam eagerly expresses, hand out, "Donna says her cabin is your cabin." And Dean, one who knows too well, "Take as much time as you need."

Bobby's apology for snapping kicks in here, and Sam had already moved on from it. Bobby, like Dean, recognizes what Sam has within him for this. After that, we get down to Mary and Dean -- and everything I've talked in these posts. [x] [x] [x]

But then we fall back to Dean's conversation with Sam immediately. He keeps almost feeling like himself. Almost.

There’s nothing quite as awful -- but quite as mature -- as realizing you can’t be the end all fix all for somebody you care about. Sam is left to look back, maybe even literally in this shot, on everything within this episode, and everything behind them since at least season 10. 

He can and WILL do whatever he can to make Dean’s days a little better. Frankly, I imagine that’s going to be some of the crafting in Dean partnering off with Jack a few times in upcoming episodes. There’s another answer out there, and maybe Sam won’t leap to the One Cure All solution, but it’s a way to fix-and-cope gradually, outside of his own reach, as much as that may pain him to realize. 

It is entirely possible to have a deep, meaningful relationship without being codependent. Sam started this season as boldly independent despite being the more dependent brother for immediate engagement in the past. Dean’s dependency was more based on his sense of duty -- having to take care of his little brother. Sam’s was more on feeling left behind. But he’s been growing past that. 

It’s not to say the brothers will throw all the papers in the air and stop caring -- not by a long shot. But the breadth of family and responsibilities have diversified into a more recognizeable human relationship -- or arrangement. I would not be at all surprised if it is Sam’s suggestion on one or both weeks to hang out with Jack. Dean never got that childhood -- maybe that will be a salve, let Dean teach Jack how to be a kid, and in the same stretch, get to be a kid himself.

This is healthy, but painful -- a new way for SPN to be exploring its characters. Well, “new”. It’s been creeping in since Dabberens really set to rock’n’rolling, but generally speaking, the old days of brothers slapping verbal bandaids ignoring the actual problem on seem to be over.

I expect there to be some minor regressions. Lifelong habits are hard to break. But similarly, doing the same thing over and over again, the same way, expecting different results is the definition of insanity -- and in their case, has only antagonized the situation. It would be so easy to yell, “Oh it’s just Dean stressed about Michael,” but no. No, Sam knows his brother more than that. Sam Knows. Sam remembers. They’ve been here before and each and every time, it’s more desperate. He can arrange for his mother to go be happy, but there’s no easy solution floating by for Dean. Or hey, maybe there is and they’re just not ready to take that path yet.

And while Dean sends Mary off like this--go, mom, be happy; I think deep down, Sam is waiting for the chance for that for Dean. Dean was his mother /and/ his father. As long as it’s some tragic ending though of somebody dying or getting trapped or any of their other histories, that will never come to pass. Which is why, really-- Sam seems so obsessed with ideas of, “Do you ever think we can stop all the bad, all the monsters?” -- Dean hangs in lament of the impossibility. But Sam wants to hope. And really, I think that’s more for his brother than for himself.

In the end, it was Never Too Late for Dean to get that beer with Lisa in 99 Problems vs Swan Song; but while Dean had theoretically patched up and moved on, Sam’s caged status didn’t exactly lend to actual peace. 

The strangest thing, I think, is Sam will need to realize -- in my opinion -- his need for his own peace, before Dean ever truly is willing to move on. From The Life, from Life. What have you. Death has far been painted from being The End here, it’s just the entrapment of it all that separates and confines. They still have a purpose here -- even if it’s heavily diverted to things like, I dunno, raising Jack. It’s been Sam’s turn to be both a Mother and a Father (given more explicitly in S13, but.) It seems to have shifted his overall perspective, filling Dean’s old shoes in that way. 

If this were Carver or Gamble or Kripke, I would say-- Sam has a pipe dream. It’s empty. His hopes will be crushed. There’s no way to stop the monsters and the bad. But this cage imagery haunting us is giving us our actual subversion target (given, I’ll talk that in another post.) 

But this isn’t Carver or Gamble or Kripke. As Bobo says, SPN -- their SPN, this Sam and this Dean -- believe in heroism, not just tragedy. And with all the telegraphed goals hit time and again: finding someone in the life, stopping all the bad, all the monsters, breaking their cycles, cages and fencelines suffocating them -- I see fairly clearly, in my opinion at least, what Dabb intends here. 

And honestly?

I’m proud of my boy. Even if it’ll take another year or so to really Come to Pass. I’m proud of him. And I think... eventually we’re going to hear that from Dean too, similarly to the 12.22 recognition of how Ready Sam was to be a leader. 

#supernatural #sam winchester #brothers #sam knows #season 14 #meta #bro bond #mobby #mine #my meta #endgames

[donnaofasgard]

A Much Needed Stroll (Donna Ficclette #1)

She was about a month pregnant and showing quite a bit. Agamotto was spending the day setting up the baby’s nursery, so Donna figured she would go take a walk. 

“I’ll come with you!” The old god said, wiping some paint from his hands to his pants as he stood. 

“No, no, you stay here. I’ll be fine…. Just taking a stroll around the castle is all.” The councilwoman kissed her husband’s cheek before heading out. She didn’t exactly know where she wanted to go, only that the smell of fresh paint was making her nauseous.  

She strolled around aimlessly at first, and then decided on some places to go to. Donna ended up sitting on the edge of the glass fountain in Queen Frigga’s garden. She looked around aimlessly, flower to flower, before gazing at the life sized glass statue of the former queen sitting on top of the fountain. 

“I miss you…. So so much. You’d be so proud of the boys. They’re both married now, Thor fell for a Midgardian sorceress named Sarah. She’s brilliant.” The head councilwoman smirked as she felt a small pang in her stomach. Placing her hand on the source revealed that it was in fact her baby, already moving around at the sound of her voice. 

“Also…. Um…. I got married too. I’m pregnant.” Tears welled in Donna’s eyes as she continued. “I just wish you were here to see everything. I mean, I know you’re watching us all from Valhalla, but still…. I could use one of your hugs right now.” 

With a quick nod of her head, Donna stood slowly. Apparently too slowly because a guard came over and asked if she needed a hand, which she promptly slapped away. 

“For the love of… Bard, I swear to the gods I will punch you in the face.” This young guard, Bard, just so happened to be an old friend of Donna’s. He smiled, and she continued on her walk. 

Donna roamed around a bit more, going to the library, to the medical ward, to the royal kitchens. The pastry chef gave her one of her favorite cookies. It’s almost cake like and has a sweet vanilla icing on top tinted purple, her favorite color. She continued roaming and eating her treat and ended up going somewhere she never imagined herself going. 

The prison. 

There were a few unfamiliar faces in the first couple of cells, but then Donna came across two familiar faces right across from each other; former Councilman Grim… and Lupo. They each stared at her, one with hatred and one with regret. Grim was wearing a straight-jacket and a Hannibal Lector style muzzle over his mouth, but his glaring eyes could only be described as enraged. Donna ignored him and turned to the opposite cell, where a remorseful face gazed up at her. 

Lupo sat at one side of the cell on the floor, no jacket and no muzzle. Apparently those are only reserved for the truly criminal inmates. The young man had a notebook in his lap and was sketching something in pencil. 

“Hi, Lupo.” Donna said, kneeling down as close to the golden cell barrier as she could. She and Lupo had been friends growing up, and this whole ordeal made her feel numb whenever she thought about those memories. 

“Donna.” Lupo said in a low hoarse voice, as if he hadn’t spoken in months. “I’m so sorry, Donna…. Dag, he said that the sorcerer was a bad man… that he was going to destroy the castle. I thought…” He looked up at the councilwoman with tears in his eyes. “I thought he was going to kill you. I had no idea you were dating, truly.” 

One remarkable thing about Donna was that she could tell when the people she grew up with were lying to her. It worked brilliantly with Thor and Loki, and even with Dag and Lupo. 

Lupo wasn’t lying, not about anything. He cared about Donna, and it broke her heart. 

“Guard, let me in.” Donna called to a nearby soldier. “Ma’am, no one’s allowed to,” “Yeah, I know what the rules are, and I don’t care. Let me in.” The guard sighed, using his handprint on a scanner which opened a door sized gap in the golden barrier. Donna stood slowly and walked in, now revealing her baby bump. She walked inside and the guard closed the door behind her. Donna immediately made her way over to her friend, grabbing his hands and helping him to his feet. She pulled him into a tight hug, well, as tightly as she could without hurting her stomach. 

“I forgive you.” The councilwoman whispers into her friends ear and kisses his cheek before heading back out the opening. 

Donna continues down the hall and makes a turn to a darker hallway. There were fewer cells further apart. Most of them were empty, a few held some rather hard looking individuals. The councilwoman eventually found her destination; a cell covered in chalk drawings and graphs, occult images that would haunt her dreams, things she hadn’t seen in a long time. In the middle of the cell, sitting on the floor and facing the far wall was her brother, the man who tried and nearly succeeded in killing her husband… Dag. 

“Sister…” His voice felt like nails dragging across a chalkboard. Donna didn’t know what she was getting herself into, but she felt some maternal duty to at least tell him. 

“You’re going to be an uncle, Dag.” She was firm, her voice unwavering as she stood hands behind her back. Donna pictured this moment in her head a million times ever since she learned she was pregnant, but nothing could have prepared her for Dag’s reaction. 

She thought he would be distant and cold, with some fake congratulation turned into some sort of insult on her husband. She thought wrong. 

The man turned his head slowly till he was able to look at Donna. He first looked at her stomach and then her eyes. Tears welled in his eyes as he stood slowly and walked up to the barrier. 

“I… I’ll be an uncle?” He smiled for the first time since he was locked up. He knew there was no chance that the child would ever know him, speak to him. Dag looked up Donna again and asked one more question. 

“Tell him about me?” Donna nearly chuckled, but she stayed professional. Her lip twitched up in a smirk a bit before she strode out of the prison, never giving her brother the satisfaction of an answer. 

“Sweetheart, you alright?” Agamotto asked when Donna finally returned. He was in the kitchen fixing them dinner. Donna wrapped her arms tightly around her husbands neck and kissed his cheek. 

“Perfectly fine, love…. Perfectly fine.”

#im really happy with how these are turning out!!! #my oc #donna of asgard

[geekns]

The rules are as follows: go to page 7 of your WIP, go to the 7th line, share 7 sentences, and tag 7 more writer-bloggers to continue the challenge.

I was tagged by @grassangel  who specificially inquired about projects that are not PMS but i’m including it since it’s the only thing i’m actively working on. I haven’t even written another words of Princeling!

1 - PMS ch. 14 (ugh this is random and sounds terrible)

She made a sound of disagreement but was rather at his mercy.

“Just while we eat?” he cajoled. She rolled her eyes.

She dozed while he puttered the in the kitchen. She felt warm and safe hearing him cook for her. She wanted to try to feed herself this time.

A few minutes later he was setting food on the table between them.

2 - Tea with the Brig (doesn't have seven pages, only five; this is from page one)

“I say, who are you?” the Brig demanded, jumping to his feet.  “Where have you brought me?”  His chair thumped to the rugged floor, overturned.  The doors behind Missy opened abruptly, and he backed away from the sound.  She heard Seb quietly threatening someone, restraining them from entering the small sitting room.  The Brig was gazing around her tea room in open shock.  Sunshine streaming through curtains, potted plants, an ebony and velvet changing screen, a chaise lounge.

3 - still untitled twissy fic should have finished ages ago (i’m so sorry)

And she felt as if she were being watched.  She scanned her surroundings, pretended to look at a watch--not that she had or needed one--didn't see anything out of the ordinary.  Nothing was out of place, just quiet as death.  She tilted her head back, crossed her ankles, and closed her eyes.

After a long minute there was a quiet rustling and a breath of air.  Missy kept her eyes closed and refrained from crinkling her nose: someone needed to bathe. Small hands touched her knees.

4 - Petrichor sequel that i sometimes return to but may never finish (ugh this is an awkward section, thus why it’s unposted)

But he was willing to try to do this for Donna if she understood the risk to herself.

“Yes,” she said again.

“Lastly, you will not bear these children until they are born, it is...” he didn't want to say impossible, he didn't actually know that for certain.  “advisable that the male carries the eggs after a certain point.”

“Eggs?” Donna confirmed, doubt in her voice.  Humans are mammal, was he trying to tell her that Time Lords weren't?

“There's no word for it in your languages,” he explained.

5 - Epilogue to Something Blue (from page five, again no seventh page)

The temple was nearly fully submerged itself, its marble columns shining beneath the indigo water.  It had an upper level that was still mostly above water that he was headed for.  He cut power and drifted the last bit, pulling up to a balcony.  He leapt over the railing, his feet only partially submerged.  It only took a moment to tie the boat up, and then he was ascending a few stairs into the temple's interior.

There were no plaques or displays or velvet ropes in here.  This part of the temple was typically off limits to the public, though clean enough that perhaps VIP tours or fundraisers were perhaps an event.

6 - Incubus (now read this, i fully intend to delete this scene at a later date but it’s still in the draft)

The Doctor squirmed, resisting the urge to tell Jack what was going to happen next time they met:

“I don't know the details, Jack,” he lied.

“And even if you did, you wouldn't say anything,” he laughed.  “I knew what I was dropping on you when you left me at Torchwood, after that year that never was.  I could have stayed with you, but I knew that it was time to get out.  That's when I decided not to pine after you anymore, start trying to form some new connections.”

“And now?”

7 - Unicorn (Simm!Master regenerates into Missy post-End of Time, now non-canon)

It hurt, it was too warm, but she endured it.  She grabbed a bar of soap and started scrubbing harshly at her pale skin, trying to bring some color to it and get rid of the horrid stench of living rough.  She couldn't even remember the last time she had taken a bath, nor a shower.  Her thoughts started to wander again.  The Doctor had never been rough with her, but she had been rough with him.  A part of him hadn't liked it, but the part of her that had been going mad had wanted it.  She had wanted him to hate her, or to at least act as if he did.

8 - A Thousand More (Simm!Master regenerates post-the Doctor Falls...i have no memory of writing this!!! From page two out of five.)

She gradually regained control of her bodily processes and limbs, and told her body to sit up.

The third thing she noticed was her hair. It was dark, which suited her just fine, but it was everywhere. She had more hair than that bitch River Song. It was at least waist-length and had a mind of its own. Portions of it were damp from her tears, and it was hanging in her face now, wild curls frizzing frightfully and completely out of control. It simply would not do; she would have to tame the mop and quickly.

9 - In Case of Emergency (Ten, Donna, and Martha stick around a bit longer after “the Doctor’s Daughter” and get to see Jenny regenerate)

"Jenny," the Doctor gasped, voice tight with unshed tears.  "Oh, you came back to me, you regenerated."

"Is that what that was?" Jenny asked, reaching to pull Donna into the embrace she was sharing with her father. “I'd never felt pain anything like it, I was so scared."  She buried her face into Donna's chest, turning away from her father entirely.  She was shorter now, just as petite but less developed as a woman, with curlier hair now in a beautiful strawberry blonde. Her eyes searched for Donna's approval, and were brown, the same color as the Doctor's, which was jarring to the extreme, but it was still Jenny looking out at her.

10 - The Doctor’s Backup Plan (mpreg crack, pure crack)

The Doctor blinked at her.

“I suppose,” he allowed.  “I hadn't thought of that.  I guess I'll put on some protection...not that you're likely to be impregnated by me.  I doubt that we're compatible.”

“You don't know for sure?” Donna asked, amazed that he was admitting to a gap in his vast knowledge.  She often wondered if he actually knew half of what he claimed to.

11 - Slap (basically the Doctor gets turned on when Donna slaps him??? Donna’s POV, terribad)

Had he ever done this before?  The pervert probably had, multiple times. But Rose was the name and size of a mere girl, not a real woman. Donna would make sure that he forgot her.  She wagered that Rose had never even considered playing rough like this, no Rose was a porcelain doll for a pedestal, not a woman with deeper needs.  Not a woman capable of fulfilling an old man's darkest fantasies.  And that's what he was, she realized...she had no idea how old this man was, but his eyes were old, and tired, and seen more than even she could imagine.

12 - And Then She Forgot (Donna tries to go back to work at the temp agency after the mindwipe)

Donna blinks at him, stunned, and tries to regroup as quickly as possible. She bursts into tears, laying it on as thick as she dares.  She can feel the eyes of the other employees and potential temps on her as she sobs away.  Kevin sighs, walks around the desk, and offers her a tissue box.

“I suppose you didn't hear about the accident,” she manages to take a tissue between sobs.

“Accident?” he asks dryly, sitting on the edge of his desk with his arms crossed.

13 - Smith, Jones, Noble, and Mott (AU series 3 ep “Smith and Jones”)

“Sarah!” he exclaimed as they hugged each other tightly.  “This is Donna, and this is Martha.  Girls, this is Sarah Jane Smith.”

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“No Rose or Mickey this time?” Sarah Jane asked, smiling at the two women warmly, albeit a little confused.

“Uh, no, not after...” the Doctor lowered his voice. “...Canary Wharf.”

14 - Desert Fox (original fic, very old)

When I wake the lights have been dimmed, and I no longer have to squint against their harshness.  Logan is seated beside me, his hands clasped around one of mine, his head resting on our hands.  I feel no pain, only relief, comfort, safety.  I realize suddenly that this is why I have chosen to stay with him:  he is the only human I have ever felt safe with.  I lift a hand to brush his hair out of his face.  He had grown it back out, has yet to cut it again.

"How are you feeling, miss...?"

I get lots of ideas but not much traction. I tag @basmathgirl @missysrehabilitation @ellym3lly @perrydowning @emilyweepsforpilfrey @kylorenvevo @xreyoflight and anyone else who may want to take a whack at it

#writing #fanfic #this is embarrassing tbh #tagged

[ecotone99]

[TH][SF] THE FORK (part 2)

[TH][SF] THE FORK [AAA]

“Stop!.. Would you like to come in for a drink?” she spoke into the mic.

“Ok..sure” she replied.

Donna made this decision as she wasn’t pretty sure now whether she had seen the guy’s face in the caller ID or it was her imagination. Either way, some impulse in her made her let the stranger in. Though she was scared, she had to admit the woman looked pretty. In a black jacket and body hugging jeans, she would have been a perfect one -night stand for Donna. A tingle between her legs made her know she could still be the one-night stand.

“ Hi.. I’m Ginny” she said, stepping into the house.

“Hi.. I am sorry for what happened at the bar” Donna said as she sat on the couch.

“It's okay.. We all have our ‘episodes’ “ she said, making quotes in the air with her fingers.

“You could have given it in the morning. Why did you have to walk all the way here in the middle of the night?” Donna asked with cautious empathy.

“I was hoping we could continue our conversation” Ginny replied, sipping the coke Donna had handed her. Though she was still doubtful of the image she had seen, she didn’t want to be alone. She felt the pepper spray in her pockets and after confirming its presence, started talking with Ginny. As time passed she found that Ginny was a nice person. Donna was surprised that Ginny was a dentist while just an hour ago she had pegged Ginny for a stalker. They shared several common interests and even loved death metal, which was a first for Donna. Donna became more and more comfortable in Ginny’s presence and wanted this to last more than a one night stand. They discussed art, music and even made scrambled eggs at four in the morning after which they fell asleep on the couch.

Donna woke up at 7 o clock , freshened herself as she had to get to work within an hour. Ginny was in deep sleep when her phone started ringing. Dona could hear it and she could see it was the same name from last night. She liked Ginny and wanted this confusion to end. With trembling hands she picked the phone up. To her relief it was someone else, someone who looked like Mr.Bloody-neck. She woke Ginny up and handed the phone to her.

“Oh.. I’m so sorry. I must have dozed off” Ginny said, rubbing her eyes.

“It’s okay,” Donna said..drawing a deep breath added “Can I take you out for a proper dinner tonight?”

Pausing , Ginny replied “Of course.. I would love that”

--x--

[AAB]

The caution alarms in her mind kept on ringing. Though she didn’t want to end up a nervous wreck like Mary, she wanted to save herself from whatever confusion she was stuck in. Pressing the mic button she replied“I am.. umm.. very sick. I don’t want you to get sick from me.I am really sorry”

“Whatever..” the mystery lady muttered and left.

Donna scurried to her balcony to make sure that the woman had left the building. She felt sunlight peep through her eyelids as she woke up on the balcony. She realised that she had dozed off in the balcony as she watched the mystery woman leave. She called in to her office to let them know that she would be late to work. Making herself some breakfast, she sank into the sofa and turned on the TV. She had never been a fan of breakfast shows. Her father used to love them and she wondered whether it triggered her memories of him , thus making her hate it. She switched between channels until she saw a face for the third time within 12 hours. It was Mr.Bloody-neck and she couldn’t notice the cereal dropping out of her open mouth.

“ARTHUR DESMOND, WANTED IN SEVERAL CONTRACT KILLINGS WAS BRUTALLY ATTACKED LAST NIGHT IN AN ALLEYWAY. HIS SISTER GINNY DESMOND WAS NABBED WHEN SHE CAME TO VISIT HIM AT THE HOSPITAL EARLIER TODAY. FAMOUSLY DUBBED THE TERROR TWINS, ARTHUR AND GINNY CARRIED OUT SEVERAL HITS IN THE PAST TEN YEARS….”

But why had they targeted her. What had she done to have a contract put out for her. These questions kept spinning in her mind while the next news bit gave her the much needed clarity.

“MEANWHILE THE DEFENSE MINISTER IS FLOUTING THE MUCH ANTICIPATED ARMS REDUCTION BILL TOMORROW IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS TOMORROW..”

She, Donna King was one of the few persons with access to the Defense Ministry’s office since she was secretary to a senior Defense diplomat. They could have used her access to enter the building and assassinate the Defense minister, which sent a shudder through her. She let the emotions sink in her as she breathed a sigh of relief. ‘What would have happened if I had done things a bit differently’ she wondered.

--x--

[ABB]

The good mood she was in spilled over as she stopped the car for the man, no heeding Ginny’s demands.

“Donna..what if he is some creep? Let us go!” she cried.

“What if I had walked away from your boss like that?” she replied, thus ending the conversation.

“Thank yea.. thank yea much lady” he said as he entered the back seat. Ginny sucked in as much breath as she could as soon as he sat down, hoping she could hold her breath without smelling him. Donna smiled seeing Ginny’s narrow minded actions. He didn’t smell bad, actually he smelt of nothing at all. Even Ginny had a sweaty odour coming out of her but he smelled normal.

“Where do I drop you off?” Donna asked.

“Churchill station's do..hopefully I’d get a place there. Damn coppers shooing me away from everywhere.” he replied gruffly. Donna couldn’t make out how he looked but he seemed like a weak man.

Ginny coughed up until she couldn’t hold her breath any longer.

“Yea okay lady. Need some mint. I got some in my pockets somewhere. Threw the last one to a dog. And you know what… dogs love the mints.” Donna chuckled by his offer to Ginny as she stared at her.

“Peppermints..orange mints..even those fancy mango ones.. Them dogs love them all” he went on. He continued about mints until they reached Churchill station, where he got off. The hospital was visible from Churchill station and Donna parked near the entrance.

“You go on. I will park the car”

“It’s okay. I will come with you”

“I am not going to steal your car don’t worry.Go on” she smiled.

Donna parked the car and entered the hospital. She found Ginny talking to the doctor

“What is it. Is he okay?”

“He is good. Can you grab a cab back home. I guess I am stuck here tonight. His mother is not coming” she said

“I am really sorry,” she added.

“No problem. Take care” Donna said. She noticed a few cops standing in the hospital reception and wondered whether she’d be questioned. She scurried out of the hospital and grabbed a cab back home. Sinking into her sofa, she fell asleep within seconds. She woke up to sunlight peeking through her eyelids.

She called in to her office to let them know that she would be late to work. Making herself some breakfast, she sank into the sofa and turned on the TV. She had never been a fan of breakfast shows. She switched between channels until she saw a face for the third time within 12 hours. It was Mr.Bloody-neck and she couldn’t notice the cereal dropping out of her open mouth.

“ARTHUR DESMOND, WANTED IN SEVERAL CONTRACT KILLINGS WAS BRUTALLY ATTACKED LAST NIGHT IN AN ALLEYWAY. HIS SISTER GINNY DESMOND WAS NABBED WHEN SHE CAME TO VISIT HIM AT THE HOSPITAL EARLIER TODAY. FAMOUSLY DUBBED THE TERROR TWINS, ARTHUR AND GINNY CARRIED OUT SEVERAL HITS IN THE PAST TEN YEARS….”

But why had they targeted her? What had she done to have a contract put out for her. These questions kept spinning in her mind while the next news bit gave her the much needed clarity.

“MEANWHILE THE DEFENSE MINISTER IS FLOUTING THE MUCH ANTICIPATED ARMS REDUCTION BILL TOMORROW IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS TOMORROW..” She, Donna King was one of the few persons with access to the Defense Ministry’s office since she was secretary to a senior Defense diplomat. They could have used her access to enter the building and assassinate the Defense minister, which sent a shudder through her. She let the emotions sink in her as she breathed a sigh of relief. ‘What would have happened if I had done things a bit differently. What if I hadn’t taken the homeless man in the car?’’ she wondered.

--x--

[ABA]

It wasn’t her car and even though she wanted to stop the car, she heeded to Ginny’s request.

“So where do you work?” Donna asked. A very few number of cars were on the road and the eerie calm made her want a conversation. They approached a tunnel in the road.

“ It’s a..err.. A consultancy firm” Ginny replied “And you?”

“I am just a boring secretary,” she said.

“Nothing’s boring”

“My work is”

They echoing revv of the engine in the empty tunnel produced a eerie noise

“I am about to make your work a whole lot interesting” Ginny said as she placed a knife at Donna’s throat.

“What .. no..no”

“Yes… now drive as I instruct you to”

“But why.. Why are you doing this to me”

“You will learn soon enough. Now drive”

They arrived at an abandoned warehouse.

“Now move slowly. If you even try to escape, I have a gun. I will kill you. Now we don’t want that do we” Ginny said. They entered a room which was prepared ready with a chair and rope. They had planned it perfectly.

“Sit down and tie your legs”

“I don’t have any money but I have some jewelry at home…”

“Shut the fuck up and tie your legs to the chair”

Donna’s hands trembled but she said as instructed.

“Please don’t kill me..please”

“Since I like you, I am going to let you have a smooth ride” she said, bringing what seemed to be a cutter with her.

“But when I am done with you, you wish I had killed you first” she said grinning.

Donna didn’t feel it at first, her thumb being cut off. Blood poured out through the gaps in the bone and flesh. That was when the pain hit her. Her lungs were out of air when she had ended screaming.

“Why..why are you doing this to me”

“Nothing personal..just business” she said “Especially what’s coming next”

“What..what ..what are you going to do”

Donna noticed her filling a syringe between flashes of her pain.

“This is because I like you” she said, injecting the syringe on her cheeks.

The numbness grew on her face, till she wasn’t able to talk. She blinked with great difficulty as she wanted to see what they had planned for her. Ginny put on gloves and an apron, with an air of a surgeon prepping for surgery.

“Let me tell you a story,” she said, walking towards Donna.

“Once upon a time there was a dog in the jungle. It was a close friend of the Lion’s”

She gently opened Donna’s eyelids.

“Now the foxes wanted to kill the Lion and take the jungle for themselves. So they hatched a plan”

She placed a small lever-like surgical tool in the valley between Donna’s eye and nose .Donna wanted to scream but her face wouldn’t move.

“So they killed the dog. Put on its skin.” Donna never felt it but she knew the lever was now deep in her skull. Gently nudging it, Ginny wiped off the blood coming from Donna’s eye sockets.

“They wore the dog’s skin,went to the Lion without raising suspicion and killed it” Now Donna understood what was happening and noticed her right eye being gouged out through her left eye. Carefully placing it in a plastic pouch, Ginny ended her story.

“I am sorry. This is the best I could do to help you. You will die soon. But painlessly. Thanks for saving my boss. I was back up in case he failed nabbing you. He was mugged unfortunately. Thanks to you he is alive”

She, Donna King was one of the few persons with access to the Defense Ministry’s office since she was secretary to a senior Defense diplomat. The Defense minister was flouting an Arms reduction bill in the House of Commons on Friday. They could use her access to enter the building and assassinate the Defense minister, and they needed her thumb and eyeball to bypass the security systems in the building.

With one empty eye socket, Donna muttered a small prayer as she slowly died in the chair. ‘What if I had done things a bit differently?’ was her last thought.

--x--

[BAA]

GIving it a second of thought , she decided that she didn’t want to be alone anymore.

“I will come with you,” she said.

The house was a villa actually, she noticed as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The garden was not tended to ,the walls were covered with mold and she wondered whether the owner cared for the house at all. Jimmy knocked on the door when a woman opened it. Surprisingly, she turned and walked away before Donna could see her face. As soon as she stepped in the house, she felt something prick her neck. Next thing she knew, she was

tied to a chair in a well lit hospital room. Ginny and Jimmy were staring at her.

“You know Jimmy,when we made you join Granger’s Inn three months back, I never knew you would come useful. I honestly thought it was a waste.”

“Thanks for the honesty. I will leave now, my job is done” he said as he left the room in a hurry. There was a sense of urgency in his tone like he wanted to leave the room fast.

“Please don’t kill me..please”

“Since I like you, I am going to let you live” she said, bringing what seemed to be a cutter with her.

“But when I am done with you, you wish I had killed you” she said grinning.

Donna didn’t feel it at first, her thumb being cut off. Blood poured out through the gaps in the bone and flesh. That was when the pain hit her. Her lungs were out of air when she had ended screaming.

“Why..why are you doing this to me”

“Nothing personal..just business” she said “Especially what’s coming next”

“What..what ..what are you going to do”

Donna noticed her filling a syringe between flashes of her pain. Suddenly she threw the syringe away.

“I don’t like you to give you the benefit of living through this. After all you left him to die” she said.

“Who.. the homeless guy?”

“Yeah ..my boss”

Ginny put on gloves and an apron, with an air of a surgeon prepping for surgery.

“Let me tell you a story,” she said, walking towards Donna.

“Once upon a time there was a dog in the jungle. It was a close friend of the Lion’s”

She gently opened Donna’s eyelids.

“Now the foxes wanted to kill the Lion and take the jungle for themselves. So they hatched a plan”

She placed a small lever-like surgical tool in the valley between Donna’s eye and nose .Donna screamed and cried but in vain.

“So they killed the dog. Put on its skin.”

Donna felt it and she knew the lever was now deep in her skull. Gently nudging it, Ginny wiped off the blood coming from Donna’s eye sockets.

“They wore the dog’s skin,went to the Lion without raising suspicion and killed it”

Now Donna understood what was happening and noticed her right eye being gouged out through her left eye. Carefully placing it in a plastic pouch, Ginny ended her story. Donna’s voice had dried up and she was weeping blood from her empty eye socket.

“I am not sorry. You will die soon, painfully. You could have saved my boss. I was back up in case he failed nabbing you. He was mugged unfortunately. Thanks to you he is dead now”

She, Donna King was one of the few persons with access to the Defense Ministry’s office since she was secretary to a senior Defense diplomat. The Defense minister was flouting an Arms reduction bill in the House of Commons on Friday. They could use her access to enter the building and assassinate the Defense minister, and they needed her thumb and eyeball to bypass the security systems in the building.

With one empty eye socket, Donna muttered a small prayer as she slowly died in the chair. ‘What if I had done things a bit differently?’ was her last thought.

--x--

[BAB]

She wasn’t in a mood to trust anyone and so she decided to stay in the car.

“I will wait here,” she said.

She stared at the emptiness of the street and thought of the man in the truck from earlier. ‘What is happening with me’ she thought, rubbing her temple. Suddenly she felt her neck being choked from someone in the seat behind her. His hands were rough, nails were long, stale and he reeked of wet mud.

“Leave me..leave meeee” she screamed.

“Why did you leave me to die?” he asked while his nails dug through her nape. His other hand tore off her top as she continued to scream.His nails left line along her breasts as she yelped in horror.

“You could have saved me” his gruff voice echoed in the car.

SInking his nails in her chest, he broke her ribs and opened her chest. She looked down to see her heart beating, pumping blood faster than ever.

“Please don't,” Donna pleaded.

“Too late” he said, jabbing his nails through her heart. She woke up to Jimmy sprinkling water over her face.

“Ms.King..Ms.King are you okay”

She rubbed her chest and found her clothes were okay.

“Ms.King.. I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone like this”

“It’s okay ..just get me home” she said.

Though she had assumed she had the guts to carry the abandoning on her conscience, she couldn’t. From then on, Donna King suffered from constant nightmares, eventually quit her job and was admitted to a mental asylum.‘What if I had done things a bit differently?’ was her last thought before descending into perennial insanity.

--x--

[BBB]

She double checked whether the knots she’d tied on Ginny were tight enough to hold her. Ginny was still naked but Donna didn’t care much for decency since she was still the prey there. She put up a chair by the door and waited for someone to come for her. Once they came, she decided to call the police so that they could nab the whole team.

At precisely five minutes to four, she heard a knock on the door. Immediately she called the police whom she had explained the happenings of the night and informed earlier of her plan.

“Let them come for me. I will inform you then so that you can nab all of them” she’d said. The officer was more than pleased with her plan, though a bit reluctant to leave her in there alone with Ginny. He offered to send someone to stay there with her.

“Anything out of the ordinary will raise suspicion. I am fine in here” she’d said.

They had stationed units around her house waiting for the rest of the team to arrive.

She put her ears to the door and soon heard commotion on the corridor as the cops rounded up the team.

“It’s okay ma’am.You can come out now” said an officer.

“And you are?”

“Officer Andrew , we spoke on the phone”

Regaining her confidence, she opened the door. She was congratulated by several police officers. She noticed two thugs being cuffed by the police and wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t been alert.She was dropped off home by the police and she fell asleep as soon as she sank into the couch.

She was more than eager to turn on the TV and find out whether she had made the news. The news said -

“ARTHUR DESMOND, WANTED IN SEVERAL CONTRACT KILLINGS WAS BRUTALLY ATTACKED LAST NIGHT IN AN ALLEYWAY. HIS ACCOMPLICES GINNY MAPLES, STUART BALIN, MICHAEL MOORE WERE NABBED LATER IN THE MORNING THANKS TO THE COURAGEOUS ACTIONS OF Ms.DONNA KING, SECRETARY TO A SENIOR DIPLOMAT IN THE DEFENSE DEPARTMENT. INITIAL INVESTIGATIONS SUGGEST THEY HAD PLANNED TO ABDUCT Ms.KING TO GAIN ACCESS INTO THE DEFENSE MINISTRY OFFICE ,PROBABLY TO ASSASSINATE THE MINISTER BEFORE HE FLOUTS THE ARMS REDUCTION BILL COMING FRIDAY IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS….”

She felt that someone big, someone powerful must have hired these people to assassinate the minister and now they are still on the loose. She felt a pang of fear but she was sure they wouldn’t come after her since she was famous now. Heaving a huge sigh of relief ‘What would have happened if I had done things a bit differently. ’’ she wondered.

[BBA]

She double checked the knots and continued questioning Ginny.She felt that someone big, someone powerful must have hired these people to assassinate the minister and they would escape if she handed these contract killers to the cops. She knew she would have to look back every night while walking unless the mastermind behind this was nabbed.

“Who hired you guys?”

“I don’t know!!.. Even I haven’t met the guys who are coming to get you”“Do you have a gun?”

“No”

“If you lie to me” Donna said, making a slit on Ginny’s cheeks with the letter opener.

“Whyy… what are you some kind of freak?” she screamed

The fear of being hunted gave the necessary rage to Donna,bringing out the dark side which landed her in Juvie jail 15 years ago.

“Where is your gun?” she said, placing the blade on her neck.

“In ...In the draw by the TV”

Donna secured the gun. It was a Glock, just like the one her cellmate from Juvie had. She had used a gun earlier and knew her way with one. Checking, she noticed it was fully loaded.

“Once they arrive,ask them to come in. If you add anything more, I will shoot your brains off”

Had it been Donna from two hours earlier, Ginny wouldn’t have believed her but now she was fully aware of Donna’s capabilities. At precisely four o clock, there was a knock at the door. As instructed Ginny said “Come in, she is ready” calmly. As soon as two men entered the room, they noticed Ginny tied to the bed but before they could react, Donna shot the short one in the head and the tall one in both knees from behind the door. From her movie experience, she assumed the tall guy would be in charge. GInny didn’t mutter a word even though her face was streaked with grey matter and blood. The tall guy sunk to the floor , whimpering like a wounded animal.

“Who hired you?” Donna asked, closing the door. She knew the police were on their way already as the walls were thin in the apartment. Some early riser would definitely have heard the gunshots. She could do as much torture as she wanted since the police would have laws which would prevent them from breaking these guys.

“Fuck you” he spat, writhing in pain.

Gathering courage, she shot him in his shoulder.

“Tell me!!”

“Okay..okay.. It was William Spader”

William Spader was an arms dealer who was critical of the government’s decision to reduce the budget for weaponry in the army, and now since they planned to reduce guns throughout the country, he must have decided to do away with the Minister. The police arrived within a few minutes and had a lot of questions for Donna. After twelve hours of thorough grilling, they let her go thanking her for averting a major assassination. She was a national hero and there were talks on TV that she might be knighted by the queen. Heaving a huge sigh of relief ‘What would have happened if I had done things a bit differently. ’’ she wondered.

--x--

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#Blogger #Story

[nancygduarteus]

When Kids Have to Act Like Parents, It Affects Them for Life

Laura Kiesel was only six years old when she became a parent to her infant brother. At home, his crib was placed directly next to her bed, so that when he cried at night, she was the one to pick him up and sing him back to sleep. She says she was also in charge of changing his diapers and making sure he was fed every day. For the majority of her early childhood, she remembers that she tended to his needs while her own mother was in the depths of heroin addiction.

From as early as she can remember, Kiesel says she had to take care of herself—preparing her own meals, clothing herself, and keeping herself entertained. At school, she remembers becoming a morose and withdrawn child whose hair was often dirty and unkempt.

It was a dark time made even bleaker by her mother’s violent outbursts. “During dope sickness, she would unleash a lot of fury onto me,” said Kiesel, a 38-year-old freelance writer. “I became the buffer or scapegoat of her rage to divert it [from] my younger (much more defenseless) brother.” (Kiesel’s mother is no longer living.)

At one point, she says she learned to take her small brother and kitten into their bathroom and barricade the door to keep them safe. “I felt a lot of weight on my shoulders, like my brother could die without me there,” Kiesel remembers.

She started breaking out in severe hives for months at a time, which she believes were triggered by the “burden of loneliness and responsibilities at that age.” Becoming responsible for an infant at such a young age came with a toll, she explained. “I sometimes picked on my brother or was quick to shove or slap his arm because I was overwhelmed and didn’t know how to handle the shrieks of a 2-year-old when I was eight.”

Eventually, at age nine, Kiesel and and her 3-year-old brother were taken in by their grandparents, but the trauma of their former living situation stayed with the children. By the time Kiesel was 14, she says she suffered from daily panic attacks, OCD, and depression. It wasn’t until she was older, she says, that she began to understand the connection between her childhood experiences and numerous chronic illnesses.

Kiesel’s story is one of what psychologists refer to as destructive parentification—a form of emotional abuse or neglect where a child becomes the caregiver to their parent or sibling. Researchers are increasingly finding that in addition to upending a child’s development, this role reversal can leave deep emotional scars well into adulthood. Many, like Kiesel, experience severe anxiety, depression, and psychological distress. Others report succumbing to eating disorders and substance abuse.

“The symptoms look similar to some extent, from cradle to grave,” said Lisa M. Hooper, a professor at the University of Louisville and prominent parentification researcher. Some of these behaviors start out in childhood, and become exacerbated in adulthood, she explains.

“Children’s distrust of their interpersonal world is one of the most destructive consequences of such a process,” writes Gregory Jurkovic in his book Lost Childhoods: The Plight of the Parentified Child.

While there is a large body of literature that focuses on the neglect children experience from their parents, there’s less examination of how this neglect puts kids in roles of parenting each other. And there is virtually no empirical research on how this affects relationship dynamics later in life—both with siblings and others. Scholars agree that there are gaps in sibling research—primarily an incomplete understanding of how these relationships and roles are affected by abusive family environments. Hooper noted that “the literature is very scarce in this area.”

In Kiesel’s case, looking after her brother as a kid has led to a tenuous and chaotic relationship with him over the years, fraught with bouts of estrangement and codependency. Though they remain close,  there were periods where she and her brother didn’t speak for months at a time. “My brother is constantly on the edge of some crisis (a health crisis from his drinking, homelessness, etc.) so it is a worry that never goes completely away,” she told me in an email.

Her brother, Matthew Martin, 32, acknowledges the role their upbringing has played in these dynamics. “She was the only protector that I had,” he recalls. “My mother was a hard-core addict from very early on.” Throughout his childhood and early teens, he says he relied on Kiesel for the emotional support his mother couldn’t provide.

“We’ve had our fair share of arguments about [my addictions] and it’s hard, because she wants me to have some longevity. She wants me to be around for her the way that she was for me.”

* * *

From the age of eight until she left home at 15, Rene, who asked to be identified by her first name only because she was concerned about upsetting her family, says she would pick up her three younger siblings from daycare, bring them home, feed and bathe them, read them stories, and put them to bed. “Basically, I played the role of mother,” said the 50-year-old Oregon resident. She remembers standing on a chair as a child and cooking dinner for her entire family. In spite of the enormous burden of responsibility, she recalls it as a role she cherished. “I have really fond memories, particularly of reading them stories in bed at night.”

But Rene’s home life was far from peaceful. She says her mother’s alcoholism prevented her from properly caring for her five children, placing the task of child-rearing on the shoulders of Rene and her older brother. (Rene’s mother is no longer living.) But just as Rene took care of her younger siblings, she and her older brother relied on each other for emotional support.

“I think that it’s important to recognize that a lot of parentification is codependent,” she said, “Perhaps one sibling is the one who does the dishes and cleans the house, and takes care of the mom who is sick or drunk.” She explains that the other sibling might be the one who provides more emotional support, either by listening to problems or comforting.

Just as Wendy assumed the role of “mother” for the Lost Boys in Peter Pan, parentified siblings often forge symbiotic relationships, where they meet each others’ needs for guardians in a lot of different ways.

“We know that siblings can buffer each other from the impacts of stressful relationships with parents,” said Amy K. Nuttall, an assistant professor in human development and family studies at Michigan State University. This may account for why some parentified siblings who come from abusive homes end up maintaining close, albeit complex, bonds into adulthood, with some “continuing to attempt to fill parental needs at the expense of their own.”

Still, Nuttall adds, others may distance themselves from their families altogether in order to escape the role.

Rene found herself homeless after she was kicked out of her mother’s house when she was 15 years old. She says her siblings still blame her for leaving them behind. “When you think about it, if you’re parentified and you leave your younger siblings, it’s like having a parent abandon them,” said Rene. For years after, she was plagued by feelings of guilt—a common experience among people who have been parentified.

Sibling relationships usually generate a lifelong bond, yet for Rene, freedom from caretaking responsibilities came at a cost: the loss of her family. “I don’t have a relationship with my siblings anymore,” she says.

* * *

Unpredictable childhood trauma has long-lasting effects on the brain. Studies have shown that people with adverse childhood experiences are more likely to suffer from mental and physical health disorders, leading people to experience a chronic state of high stress reactivity. One study found that children exposed to ongoing stress released a hormone that actually shrank the size of their hippocampus, an area of the brain that processes memory, emotion, and stress management. Individuals who have experienced emotional or physical neglect by a parent are also at a greater risk of suffering from chronic illness as adults.

“Chronic, unpredictable stress is toxic when there’s no reliable adult,” said Donna Jackson Nakazawa, the author of Childhood Disrupted and a science journalist who focuses on the intersection of neuroscience and immunology.

Nakazawa has conducted extensive research on the body-brain connection, with a focus on studies initiated by physicians Vincent Felitti and Robert Anda. Their work on adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) has since grown into a burgeoning field with hundreds of peer-reviewed studies. The findings show that people who experienced four categories of childhood adversity—physical, sexual, and emotional abuse, and neglect—were twice as likely to be diagnosed with cancer and depression as adults.

More links have been found between childhood stressors and adult heart disease, diabetes, migraines, and irritable bowel syndrome.

Jordan Rosenfeld, a 43-year-old author from California, attributes her own digestive issues to her childhood. When her mother was in the throes of substance abuse, she says, there were times she didn’t have food to eat. By the time she left home at 18, she began suffering from chronic pain after eating.

In adulthood, Rosenfeld noticed it was hard to regulate her emotions around hunger. “If I’m out with friends and we can’t decide on a restaurant, and I’m hungry—I can actually go into a little bit of a meltdown,” she said. “And I can trace that back to literally not having been fed as a child at various junctures.”

From an early age, Rosenfeld recalls having to remind her mother when they needed groceries and pulling her out of bed in the mornings to get to school on time. “I did a lot of that kind of parenting her, in a way, because what I was trying to do was get parented myself.” Because of this, she says she often distrusts that other people will take care of things. “That’s why I tend to step up and do it myself.”

Jordan’s mother, Florence Shields, remembers it was a depressing time in both their lives. “I had welfare for a while and I think that my diet—because of drugs and alcohol—wasn’t very good, and she probably got the brunt of that.” As a recovering alcoholic, Shields, who is now retired and lives in Petaluma, California, says she lacked the tools for parenting due to her own upbringing and history of tragedy.

When she became a mother at age 24, Shields was still grieving the loss of her older brother who died unexpectedly when she was 18. Opioids and alcohol were a way of coping with this loss, she says.“It’s like that grief is in there with you because that person is with you for the rest of your life, so when sad things come up, there he is.”

While both Rosenfeld and her mother have since attended therapy sessions together as adults, the effects of parentification continue to this day. Shields recognizes that her earlier struggles with addiction have profoundly influenced her daughter’s behavior. “Jordan is very orderly and in control,” she said by phone. When Rosenfeld’s father later remarried and had children of his own, Rosenfeld learned to project her role of caretaker onto her siblings. “I spent a lot of time babysitting them as a teenager and I think it’s been a challenge for me to separate out feeling like I’m a parent to them.”

This has often caused rifts between the siblings into adulthood, Rosenfeld says. “I’ve always been somebody who thinks it’s my job to offer help, care, and advice even when it’s not asked for.”

* * *

How does someone learn that becoming self-reliant is safer than trusting others? Nakazawa believes that in destructive parentification, “you don’t have a reliable adult to turn to.” And if a child’s early experiences at home consisted of making sure everyone else’s needs were met, then the “child doesn’t feel seen.”

This sense of responsibility and compulsive caretaking can follow them into future relationships as well. “You tend to project it onto other people in your life,” Rosenfeld says. This isn’t surprising, claims Jenny Macfie, an associate director of clinical training at the University of Tennessee and another prominent parentification researcher, as “adults who report role confusion in their childhoods may have difficulty with their identity development,” and this in turn, can affect a person’s romantic relationships.

For the first half of her marriage, Rosenfeld found herself regularly putting her partner’s needs ahead of her own—essentially mirroring her childhood role.

Others echoed this experience; Kiesel says she struggles with learning how to establish firm boundaries with partners and believes this is directly tied to caring for her brother at a young age. Similarly, Rene says finding the right balance between expectation and autonomy has been a constant problem in her relationships. She’d like to find a partner but has doubts. “It’s very easy for me to get into caretaking roles with people who basically exploit my nature.”

But these effects often go beyond the individual—studies by Nuttall and others have found that destructive parentification in a family can carry over to other generations as well. “Mothers who were overburdened by taking care of their parents during childhood have a poorer understanding of their infant’s developmental needs and limitations,” explained Nuttall. This, consequently, “leads to a parenting style that lacks warmth and sensitivity.”

* * *

As of today, there is scarce research on treatment or prevention efforts. How can a parentified sibling heal? Nakazawa believes that recognizing how these psychological puzzle pieces all fit together can be a step in the right direction. “Physically and mentally, the architecture of the brain has changed, the immune system has changed, and without that validation, you can’t begin an appropriate healing journey.”

Some people have found community through Al-Anon, a support group for the loved ones of alcoholics. “The group has a really strong focus on explaining what codependency is and offering solutions for learning new behaviors,” explained Rosenfeld. She’s attended the meetings for over a year now and says she’s noticed a tremendous change in her habits and awareness of how to set boundaries. “I’ve learned that I can’t just blame people in my life with substance abuse issues for causing me suffering; I have a choice in taking care of myself,” she says.

Despite negative outcomes associated with parentification, researchers say that going through that experience also confers some advantages that can help people later in life. Hooper believes that people who have been parentified as children possess a greater capacity for resiliency and self-efficacy. Nakazawa echoes this. “Current [American] culture thinks of resiliency as gutting it out and getting through, and one foot in front of the other,” she says. “But resiliency is learning and making meaning from what happened.”

A common thread found in people with these shared childhood experiences is a heightened sense of empathy and an ability to more closely connect to others. This is not to say that the negative impacts of their childhood are diminished, says Nakazawa, but that many are able to forge meaning out of their suffering. “People begin to see that their path to well-being must take into account the way in which trauma changed their story,” she explains, “And once they’re able to do that, they can also see how resiliency is also important in their story.”

For Kiesel, the freelance writer who cared for her brother from a young age, counseling and Al-Anon have helped her feel less personally responsible for her brother, though she laments the lack of support networks for siblings who have been parentified and have their own specific needs.

Though her relationship with her brother remains tenuous because of his addictions, she continues to look out for him by regularly calling and checking in on him every month.

Martin admits that to this day, she remains the voice of positivity and reason in his life. “I'm struggling with my own demons, but like my sister says, there is a future there for me.”  

As Kiesel explains: “Our mother and grandmother died a few months apart, and our grandfather a little over a year later—so essentially, we're all we have left.”

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2017/10/when-kids-have-to-parent-their-siblings-it-affects-them-for-life/543975/?utm_source=feed

[ionecoffman]

When Kids Have to Act Like Parents, It Affects Them for Life

Laura Kiesel was only six years old when she became a parent to her infant brother. At home, his crib was placed directly next to her bed, so that when he cried at night, she was the one to pick him up and sing him back to sleep. She says she was also in charge of changing his diapers and making sure he was fed every day. For the majority of her early childhood, she remembers that she tended to his needs while her own mother was in the depths of heroin addiction.

From as early as she can remember, Kiesel says she had to take care of herself—preparing her own meals, clothing herself, and keeping herself entertained. At school, she remembers becoming a morose and withdrawn child whose hair was often dirty and unkempt.

It was a dark time made even bleaker by her mother’s violent outbursts. “During dope sickness, she would unleash a lot of fury onto me,” said Kiesel, a 38-year-old freelance writer. “I became the buffer or scapegoat of her rage to divert it [from] my younger (much more defenseless) brother.” (Kiesel’s mother is no longer living.)

At one point, she says she learned to take her small brother and kitten into their bathroom and barricade the door to keep them safe. “I felt a lot of weight on my shoulders, like my brother could die without me there,” Kiesel remembers.

She started breaking out in severe hives for months at a time, which she believes were triggered by the “burden of loneliness and responsibilities at that age.” Becoming responsible for an infant at such a young age came with a toll, she explained. “I sometimes picked on my brother or was quick to shove or slap his arm because I was overwhelmed and didn’t know how to handle the shrieks of a 2-year-old when I was eight.”

Eventually, at age nine, Kiesel and and her 3-year-old brother were taken in by their grandparents, but the trauma of their former living situation stayed with the children. By the time Kiesel was 14, she says she suffered from daily panic attacks, OCD, and depression. It wasn’t until she was older, she says, that she began to understand the connection between her childhood experiences and numerous chronic illnesses.

Kiesel’s story is one of what psychologists refer to as destructive parentification—a form of emotional abuse or neglect where a child becomes the caregiver to their parent or sibling. Researchers are increasingly finding that in addition to upending a child’s development, this role reversal can leave deep emotional scars well into adulthood. Many, like Kiesel, experience severe anxiety, depression, and psychological distress. Others report succumbing to eating disorders and substance abuse.

“The symptoms look similar to some extent, from cradle to grave,” said Lisa M. Hooper, a professor at the University of Louisville and prominent parentification researcher. Some of these behaviors start out in childhood, and become exacerbated in adulthood, she explains.

“Children’s distrust of their interpersonal world is one of the most destructive consequences of such a process,” writes Gregory Jurkovic in his book Lost Childhoods: The Plight of the Parentified Child.

While there is a large body of literature that focuses on the neglect children experience from their parents, there’s less examination of how this neglect puts kids in roles of parenting each other. And there is virtually no empirical research on how this affects relationship dynamics later in life—both with siblings and others. Scholars agree that there are gaps in sibling research—primarily an incomplete understanding of how these relationships and roles are affected by abusive family environments. Hooper noted that “the literature is very scarce in this area.”

In Kiesel’s case, looking after her brother as a kid has led to a tenuous and chaotic relationship with him over the years, fraught with bouts of estrangement and codependency. Though they remain close,  there were periods where she and her brother didn’t speak for months at a time. “My brother is constantly on the edge of some crisis (a health crisis from his drinking, homelessness, etc.) so it is a worry that never goes completely away,” she told me in an email.

Her brother, Matthew Martin, 32, acknowledges the role their upbringing has played in these dynamics. “She was the only protector that I had,” he recalls. “My mother was a hard-core addict from very early on.” Throughout his childhood and early teens, he says he relied on Kiesel for the emotional support his mother couldn’t provide.

“We’ve had our fair share of arguments about [my addictions] and it’s hard, because she wants me to have some longevity. She wants me to be around for her the way that she was for me.”

* * *

From the age of eight until she left home at 15, Rene, who asked to be identified by her first name only because she was concerned about upsetting her family, says she would pick up her three younger siblings from daycare, bring them home, feed and bathe them, read them stories, and put them to bed. “Basically, I played the role of mother,” said the 50-year-old Oregon resident. She remembers standing on a chair as a child and cooking dinner for her entire family. In spite of the enormous burden of responsibility, she recalls it as a role she cherished. “I have really fond memories, particularly of reading them stories in bed at night.”

But Rene’s home life was far from peaceful. She says her mother’s alcoholism prevented her from properly caring for her five children, placing the task of child-rearing on the shoulders of Rene and her older brother. (Rene’s mother is no longer living.) But just as Rene took care of her younger siblings, she and her older brother relied on each other for emotional support.

“I think that it’s important to recognize that a lot of parentification is codependent,” she said, “Perhaps one sibling is the one who does the dishes and cleans the house, and takes care of the mom who is sick or drunk.” She explains that the other sibling might be the one who provides more emotional support, either by listening to problems or comforting.

Just as Wendy assumed the role of “mother” for the Lost Boys in Peter Pan, parentified siblings often forge symbiotic relationships, where they meet each others’ needs for guardians in a lot of different ways.

“We know that siblings can buffer each other from the impacts of stressful relationships with parents,” said Amy K. Nuttall, an assistant professor in human development and family studies at Michigan State University. This may account for why some parentified siblings who come from abusive homes end up maintaining close, albeit complex, bonds into adulthood, with some “continuing to attempt to fill parental needs at the expense of their own.”

Still, Nuttall adds, others may distance themselves from their families altogether in order to escape the role.

Rene found herself homeless after she was kicked out of her mother’s house when she was 15 years old. She says her siblings still blame her for leaving them behind. “When you think about it, if you’re parentified and you leave your younger siblings, it’s like having a parent abandon them,” said Rene. For years after, she was plagued by feelings of guilt—a common experience among people who have been parentified.

Sibling relationships usually generate a lifelong bond, yet for Rene, freedom from caretaking responsibilities came at a cost: the loss of her family. “I don’t have a relationship with my siblings anymore,” she says.

* * *

Unpredictable childhood trauma has long-lasting effects on the brain. Studies have shown that people with adverse childhood experiences are more likely to suffer from mental and physical health disorders, leading people to experience a chronic state of high stress reactivity. One study found that children exposed to ongoing stress released a hormone that actually shrank the size of their hippocampus, an area of the brain that processes memory, emotion, and stress management. Individuals who have experienced emotional or physical neglect by a parent are also at a greater risk of suffering from chronic illness as adults.

“Chronic, unpredictable stress is toxic when there’s no reliable adult,” said Donna Jackson Nakazawa, the author of Childhood Disrupted and a science journalist who focuses on the intersection of neuroscience and immunology.

Nakazawa has conducted extensive research on the body-brain connection, with a focus on studies initiated by physicians Vincent Felitti and Robert Anda. Their work on adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) has since grown into a burgeoning field with hundreds of peer-reviewed studies. The findings show that people who experienced four categories of childhood adversity—physical, sexual, and emotional abuse, and neglect—were twice as likely to be diagnosed with cancer and depression as adults.

More links have been found between childhood stressors and adult heart disease, diabetes, migraines, and irritable bowel syndrome.

Jordan Rosenfeld, a 43-year-old author from California, attributes her own digestive issues to her childhood. When her mother was in the throes of substance abuse, she says, there were times she didn’t have food to eat. By the time she left home at 18, she began suffering from chronic pain after eating.

In adulthood, Rosenfeld noticed it was hard to regulate her emotions around hunger. “If I’m out with friends and we can’t decide on a restaurant, and I’m hungry—I can actually go into a little bit of a meltdown,” she said. “And I can trace that back to literally not having been fed as a child at various junctures.”

From an early age, Rosenfeld recalls having to remind her mother when they needed groceries and pulling her out of bed in the mornings to get to school on time. “I did a lot of that kind of parenting her, in a way, because what I was trying to do was get parented myself.” Because of this, she says she often distrusts that other people will take care of things. “That’s why I tend to step up and do it myself.”

Jordan’s mother, Florence Shields, remembers it was a depressing time in both their lives. “I had welfare for a while and I think that my diet—because of drugs and alcohol—wasn’t very good, and she probably got the brunt of that.” As a recovering alcoholic, Shields, who is now retired and lives in Petaluma, California, says she lacked the tools for parenting due to her own upbringing and history of tragedy.

When she became a mother at age 24, Shields was still grieving the loss of her older brother who died unexpectedly when she was 18. Opioids and alcohol were a way of coping with this loss, she says.“It’s like that grief is in there with you because that person is with you for the rest of your life, so when sad things come up, there he is.”

While both Rosenfeld and her mother have since attended therapy sessions together as adults, the effects of parentification continue to this day. Shields recognizes that her earlier struggles with addiction have profoundly influenced her daughter’s behavior. “Jordan is very orderly and in control,” she said by phone. When Rosenfeld’s father later remarried and had children of his own, Rosenfeld learned to project her role of caretaker onto her siblings. “I spent a lot of time babysitting them as a teenager and I think it’s been a challenge for me to separate out feeling like I’m a parent to them.”

This has often caused rifts between the siblings into adulthood, Rosenfeld says. “I’ve always been somebody who thinks it’s my job to offer help, care, and advice even when it’s not asked for.”

* * *

How does someone learn that becoming self-reliant is safer than trusting others? Nakazawa believes that in destructive parentification, “you don’t have a reliable adult to turn to.” And if a child’s early experiences at home consisted of making sure everyone else’s needs were met, then the “child doesn’t feel seen.”

This sense of responsibility and compulsive caretaking can follow them into future relationships as well. “You tend to project it onto other people in your life,” Rosenfeld says. This isn’t surprising, claims Jenny Macfie, an associate director of clinical training at the University of Tennessee and another prominent parentification researcher, as “adults who report role confusion in their childhoods may have difficulty with their identity development,” and this in turn, can affect a person’s romantic relationships.

For the first half of her marriage, Rosenfeld found herself regularly putting her partner’s needs ahead of her own—essentially mirroring her childhood role.

Others echoed this experience; Kiesel says she struggles with learning how to establish firm boundaries with partners and believes this is directly tied to caring for her brother at a young age. Similarly, Rene says finding the right balance between expectation and autonomy has been a constant problem in her relationships. She’d like to find a partner but has doubts. “It’s very easy for me to get into caretaking roles with people who basically exploit my nature.”

But these effects often go beyond the individual—studies by Nuttall and others have found that destructive parentification in a family can carry over to other generations as well. “Mothers who were overburdened by taking care of their parents during childhood have a poorer understanding of their infant’s developmental needs and limitations,” explained Nuttall. This, consequently, “leads to a parenting style that lacks warmth and sensitivity.”

* * *

As of today, there is scarce research on treatment or prevention efforts. How can a parentified sibling heal? Nakazawa believes that recognizing how these psychological puzzle pieces all fit together can be a step in the right direction. “Physically and mentally, the architecture of the brain has changed, the immune system has changed, and without that validation, you can’t begin an appropriate healing journey.”

Some people have found community through Al-Anon, a support group for the loved ones of alcoholics. “The group has a really strong focus on explaining what codependency is and offering solutions for learning new behaviors,” explained Rosenfeld. She’s attended the meetings for over a year now and says she’s noticed a tremendous change in her habits and awareness of how to set boundaries. “I’ve learned that I can’t just blame people in my life with substance abuse issues for causing me suffering; I have a choice in taking care of myself,” she says.

Despite negative outcomes associated with parentification, researchers say that going through that experience also confers some advantages that can help people later in life. Hooper believes that people who have been parentified as children possess a greater capacity for resiliency and self-efficacy. Nakazawa echoes this. “Current [American] culture thinks of resiliency as gutting it out and getting through, and one foot in front of the other,” she says. “But resiliency is learning and making meaning from what happened.”

A common thread found in people with these shared childhood experiences is a heightened sense of empathy and an ability to more closely connect to others. This is not to say that the negative impacts of their childhood are diminished, says Nakazawa, but that many are able to forge meaning out of their suffering. “People begin to see that their path to well-being must take into account the way in which trauma changed their story,” she explains, “And once they’re able to do that, they can also see how resiliency is also important in their story.”

For Kiesel, the freelance writer who cared for her brother from a young age, counseling and Al-Anon have helped her feel less personally responsible for her brother, though she laments the lack of support networks for siblings who have been parentified and have their own specific needs.

Though her relationship with her brother remains tenuous because of his addictions, she continues to look out for him by regularly calling and checking in on him every month.

Martin admits that to this day, she remains the voice of positivity and reason in his life. “I'm struggling with my own demons, but like my sister says, there is a future there for me.”  

As Kiesel explains: “Our mother and grandmother died a few months apart, and our grandfather a little over a year later—so essentially, we're all we have left.”

Article source here:The Atlantic