#the thought of just a smidgen of healing through the power of family is my kryptonite

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Soap finally conning Ghost into spending the holidays with his family. Soap who has a lovely mum and a handful of sister's who in turn, have their own gaggle of children.

It's incredibly sweet to see the bulky scott pack around a wee toddler with a too high ponytail rambling at him in an incomprehensible (to ghost) scottish accent.

Ghost doesn't know if he's more charmed by the toddler or by Soap who speaks with her as if she is grown.

Soap swigging at his beer with a little girl in a pink dress mimicking his every move with an ice cool refreshing apple juice. Sighing like a seasoned soldier herself. "Aye I understand, S'hard work being 4."

Like their uncle, the other little one's arent shy, piling around Ghost with glittering eyes and unyielding questions. He's patient, of course he is. Careful with his words while throwing in some cheesy jokes that break them out in giggles.

There is a certain ache in his chest though, a weight that always gets heavier this time of year. It had been some time since he had gathered with others like this. But Soap is almost as pleased as his mum that Ghost is staying. So he bares it.

One evening, one of the children calls for him. "Uncle Simon" falling from the toddlers mouth in a playful, high-pitched squeal as she bounded at him at full speed. He nearly misses her, just barely managing to scoop her up and hold her aloft from the gang of cousins that follow in a heated game of tag. More "Uncle Simons" follow in a chorus as the others accept the title with ease.

His heart feels just the slightest bit lighter.

#and Simon's heart grew THREE TIMES that day #I cant help myself #the thought of just a smidgen of healing through the power of family is my kryptonite #simon ghost riley #soapghost #johnny soap mactavish

[undercoverwizardfanfiction]

A ROTTMNT FanFiction: Support System Part 1

This is a gift (Part 1 of a few chapters) for a special friend of mine @jadethest0ne who i hope never forgets what a wonderful person and friend she is.

Also I”m warning you now, this story is going to have a lot of medical incidences, which will include blood, stitches, and many other things. Including allergic reactions. If this makes you uncomfortable do not read. But its no more intense then what you’d see in a Med Drama (I think so?I don’t actually watch those. Except Scrubs, does that count? I love Scrubs)

Summary: Leo always understood his role in the family. Ever since he was a child, he was going to be the one who helped his brothers and heal them after their worst pains.  But what if that wasn’t enough anymore?

Pairings: OH sure you can come look! * picks up flaming tree branch* If you dare

Characters: Leonardo, Donatello, Splinter, Raphael, Michelangelo

Genre: Hurt Comfort, friends family With a smidgen of angst

“Donnie catch!!!”

Even though he was seven  years old, Donnie had had enough natural instinct at this point to grab the book he  had been reading (twice as thick as Raphies head) and summersault over the back of his beanbag chair in time for a large brick to land where he had been with a painful ‘thud’. Donnie peered at the thrown object before frowning at the perpetrator  in a large red jersey, “Raphie what did we talk about the reading bean bag?”

“To, uh.” Raphie’s eyes crossed as they usually did when he was asked a question. Leo said it was because Raph didn’t like to t hint. But Donnie knew it was just because Raphie knew if he played dumb people would stop asking him things he didn’t want to answer, “throw things at you when you’re sitting on it? Look at my jersey!” He spun around to show the back, where Raphie marked out players name (with what looked like green jello) and wrote ‘Ghost Bear’ in its place (written in pudding) “See?! Isn’t this great?!!”

“Not great enough to throw a brick at me.”

“You’re right! I should of thrown more!!”

Don puffed up his cheeks so hard that his glasses misaligned,  he wanted to say something to deter the possibility of having to dodge a downpour of bricks (again) when a crashing sound came from the living room followed by loud crying. A moment later Splinter was running out of the bathroom with only a shower curtain for a towel and head full of soap, “Whose hurt whose bleeding?!” He called sliding past the living room for a moment  in a streak of soap before running in. Donnie was already hurrying after him with Raphie on his heels.

The source of the crying came from Mikey who was siting on the ground with a large cut on his scalp, probably the result of the broken lamp by his side, and the source of  the louder crying came from Leo knelt by his side, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry-“ before looking to their father with a unnatural amount of tears pouring out of his eyes, “dad I think his skulls broken and now hh-his brain is leaking out!!!

“Blue its ok it’s just a cut.” Splinter hoisted Mikey up into his arms, looking his head over, “Mikey is it more hurty or scary?”

Mikey let out a small hiccup, wiping at his streaming eyes “S-scary.”

“Alright, lets   Go get this fixed up my brave orange.”  Splinter held Mikey to his chest, before reaching out and cupping Leo’s face in his free hand, “Blue it was a accident. He’ll be ok.” Giving the still weeping child a peck on scalp, before looking back at Leo who looked like he was going to be sick with concern, but Donnie was already out of the room and dragging a chair over to the fridge and using it to climb up, pulling open the freezer to the sight of several dark blue teddy bears lined up in the corner. He didn’t particularly like the texture of the ‘cool bears’ so he put his hands and his sleeved and made sure to grab the one with one ear and a green Jupiter Jim shirt that nearly froze his fingertips through his long hoodie sleeves and hurried back to the living room knowing Dad wouldn’t leave Leo’s side if he was this distressed, “Its ok Dad.” Donnie said, sitting by Leo, “I got him.” The minute Leo saw the teddy he stopped his loud weeping and grabbed it, hugging the icy cold bear to his chest and burying his face in it. Splinter let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you Purple.” He said rubbing his scalp, “Red can you brush up the broken pieces? I’ll clean them up later. I’m going to take care of Mikey.” He said standing up, carrying the youngest child out of the room. Raph, puffed up his chest, “Ok you two heard, I’m in charge so that –“

“Raphie go do what Dad said.” Don wasn’t in the mood to have Raphie power trip on him, before you can ask yes a child can power trip if they’re left in charge for longer then two minutes, the oldest brother puffed up his cheeks. But when Donnie gave a pointed look to Leo, who was still rocking softly with his face buried in the cold teddy  bear, he seemed to understand what he was saying and went to go get a broom. Donnie stood up, brushing the dirt off his hoodie, “come on Leo, “ he said, taking up his brothers hand. The blue turtle stood up, trailing after Don with his face still pressed into his bear as though is the was the last life preserve to his sanity. Donnie pulled Leo into the kitchen, so he could grab another cool bear if the one his brother had defrosted too much. Leo he climbed up miserably onto the round diner couch and curled up into a little ball, “Leo you didn’t mean to hurt Mikey-“   There was some muttering but Don couldn’t understand, “Leo I cant hear you through LL Cool Bear-“ He tilted his head hoping to get a better read on what Leo was saying.  Don climbed up onto chair to sit next to him, he barely had time to open his arms before Leo was curled up against him. With one hand still pressing Cool Bear against his face, Leo’s free arm hugged Donnie tightly to him. Though Donnie was usually the one who didn’t like physical contact, he also knew when his brothers needed him. So he took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around his still trembling brother.

There was a shuffle as Splinter came into the living room, his shower curtain now wrapped like a toga (he was probably sick of holding it up) with hair clips to hold it in place “Alright alright Oranges boo boo’s have been bandaged and kiss glass cleaned up where’s-“ before seeing the two curled up int eh boooth. With some effort he managed to squeeze in on the other side, “Blue it is alright no one is in trouble. Orange said he just tripped over the lamp cord-“ But like last time, the only response Leo was able to give was another muffled shout into the teddy bear.Splinter looked to Don, “how long has he been hiding his face?” Don shrugged in response “Alright time to pull out the big guns.” Splinter shuffled out of his seat and went to the fridge, “Oh Bbblllueeee, I have three  red hots/ raisin cookies with your name on it.”

Leo gave out a  loud sniff, raising his eyes from Cool Bear but refusing to pull it completely from his face or leave Don’s arms, “With hot sauce milk?”

Don could see Splinter struggle not to cringe , “of course my Blueberry! What a lovely,” the rat shivered, “Lovely combination.” He said pulling out a bottle of hot sauce and a gallon of milk, pouring out a glass. He visibly gulped before twisting open the hot sauce lid and pouring half its contents into he small class of milk. If he hadn’t been focused on being Leos’ support he would of laughed at Splinters struggle to maintain a straight face. But he managed to stir up a light pink glass of contaminated milk, “Purple would you like some?”

“Not hungry.” Purple shook his head, “Dad when are you going to get dressed? You’ve been eating a shower curtain for forever.”

“Oh this is nothing Purple.  I  spent the first four years in a shower curtain.” When Splinter set down the plate and glass Leo finally pulled his face away from his bear long enough to uncover his mouth, taking one of the abomination cookies (as donnie liked to call them) and dipping them into his hot sauce milk, pressing the bear to the other side of his face. “Blue, do you understand no ones in trouble? It was a accident-“

“B-but Mikey got hurt.” Leo’s eyes filled with tears again “He was bleeding, I don’t want my brothers to be in pain ever.”

Splinter gave a sigh that Don recognized a mile away, scooting closer and letting Leo snuggle into his fathers side, “Blue, you  understand that you can not prevent your brothers from getting hurt?  They are their own people, who happen to love playing rough.”

Don could see the tears reforming in Leo’s eyes as his breathing quickened, “No, I love them I don’t want them to get hurt ever.”  Donnie scooted closer to rub at his shell, “how can I help them if I can’t keep them from getting hurt?”

“Well,” Splinter thought for a moment, “ as your father I don’t like seeing you boys get hurt either, when you have four boys running around in four directions it’s nearly impossible to do, but I instead make sure that I’m prepared for when you do get hurt. I have a first aid kit”

Leo sniffed, “You mean the booboo box?”

“I-yes. The booboo box. It has bandages, bandaids, and  what ever I need incase one of my favorite boys gets hurt.”

Leo pugged up his cheeks, squeezing Don’s hand for all it was worth. Donnie could tell he was thinking something through-“Can I have one?”

“I.” Splinter paused, “I’m not sure Blue first aid kits aren’t really toys.” But the moment Leos eyes swelled with tears again their father sighed. While Their dad was easy going when it came to small things he rarely gave in to request like this. But later on Don would wonder if it was Leo’s sincerity that caused Splinter to smile “How about this, i’m not going to give you a full first aid kit now. But how about I give you a couple of bandaids to carry with you if you weld them responsibly. And you must tell me when your brothers are hurt as well, Ok?” Splinter he dug through eh med kit and pulled out a few Lou Jitsu bandaids, “If you prove you can be responsible with these, then we can talk about you getting a first aid kid later, is that a deal?”

Leo’s eyes widen to the size of monster truck tires, holding his free hand out taking the bandaids as though they were a treasure, “I-I’ll do it! I’ll be re’ponsible! I-I’ll keep my brothers safe!” He puffed up his chest. He pulled from donnie and stood up on i the chair, hugging his father rightly around his neck, causing their father to chuckle and hold him back , “I believe in you my little Blueberry.” Stroking the back of his head.

Of course Leo would hold his word, using his powerful bandaids only when needed, and going to get Splinter when he needed him. So next Christmas, when he received a first aid kit (albeit one that was been modified for a child to mess with safely) he smiled for days to come.

But on that day, donnie watched Splinter hold his brother who, just a hour ago, had been in the midst of a intense panic attack. Wouldn’t forget how he felt watching his brother. Unlike Leo, Donnie already had a understanding of the world that a child shouldn’t have. Wheel his brothers dreamt of what it would be like to go to the surface, Donnie knew what dangers would await them.

If they got hurt

If they got discovered

If they-

So the next time he earned enough ‘good stars’ to go to the library he not only got the books he knew wouldn’t arouse suspicion, he also picked up one he hoped he would never have to use.But one he would read over and over again till he ad the entire thing dedicated to memory.

He would be ready

He would protect Mikey

He would protect Raph

He would protect Splinter

He would protect Leo

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

(Seven years later)

Mikey looked around in panic, searching for a escape route. But before he could do anything Leo gave a mighty shriek of unknown animal origin (he had been going for something between a kitten and bat) and lunging forward. Mikey gave a yelp of surprise before falling back on the armchair. With his quarry trapped, Leo brought up his fingers in a claw form and attacked. His six fingers becoming weapons of death as he dug them into Mikeys sides, his brother burst out laughing, squirming  In a desperate attempt to escape this assault, but Leo danced around the arm chair, both keeping Mikey trapped and attacking his most sensitive spots, “Submit to Leo the Nardo!!!! Submit to your older brother!”

“OK OK!!!’ Mikey kicked at his brother  “You win!!!! You can pick the movie tonight!!!!!”

Leo drew his hands back allowing Mickey to finally breath, in between his barely kept remaining giggles. With a dramatic twist he turned to Donatello who was leaning against the wall watching this whole spectacle with one eyebrow raised, “And now, “Leo said in his best intimidating voice (as threatening as a fourteen year old whose voice still cracked once in a while), ‘“Two down, one to go. The boss battle.”

“Uh, shouldn’t Raph be the boss battle? He is the oldest”

“Puh-lease. Watch this.” Leo took  a step back to look into the main room of the lair where Raph was lifting weights on the half pipe  , Leo raised a eyebrow at him and immediately the largest brother burst into laughing again, rolling off his weight bench and onto the floor with enough force to send a soft tremble through the lair, “See? You jus look at him weird and he burst out laughing. That is why you are my last challenge.” Leo said with a dramatic point, “if I can conquer you, then we have no choice but to watch a movie of my choosing tonight!”

“It’s Little Women again isn’t it?” Donnie pulled out his phone with disinterest, “You posted twenty five quotes from little Woman on Fumlbr in the last hour, and I saw you taking a nap with your copy of the book on your face.”

“YES ITS LITTLE WOMEN!!!!!” Leo brought up his fingers up again, “make it easy on yourself brother, submit now.” Donatello let out a soft if maniacal chuckle, before Leo could ask what was going on something on the back of his cross-body belt shot up towards the ceiling as he shrieked in surprise hanging from some unknown inventions thatDonatello must of attached to his belt when he was tickle tackling Mikey. Leo crowed his arms with a pout, “well played Donatello.”

“Yes I know. And i’’ll let you down if you listen to my conditions.” Donnie gave him a small nudge on the forehead, making him start spinning in a slow circle, “One we watch a series of movies everyone likes, and in return I will not only buy you a carton of any ice cream you want, even if the name of it alone makes me physically sick, and I will let you try out your new jokes on me for, “ Don looked at his phone, “Five minutes.”

Ok, even Leo thought that was a good deal. But the loss of watching his favorite non Lou Jitsu / Jupiter Jim movie was still  a blow to his still spinning heart. It must have been obvious because he heard Don sigh, and move over to be in his line of vision with his head tilted to keep eye contact with him at a somewhat up right level, “AND I promise to watch Little Women with you at a later time. The only reason I don’t want our brothers watching it is because they’re sensitive. I showed Mikey a drawing of a frowny face once  and he cried for three days.”

Its one of the rare times the memory of one of his brothers crying makes Leo chuckle. But he can acknowledge Donnie is making an effort. Donnie wasn’t always the most open turtle when it comes to others, but the fact he was trying to make him happy sorta made him happy. While still hanging from the ceiling (How long was this rope?) He reached his hand out, “deal  first favorite Donnie!”

Donnie shook his hand back, “No problem second favorite Leo.” He brought up his gauntlet and tapped the screen. Leo could hear whirring on his back as he was set on his feet, frowning with a large wrinkled pout on his face, “I’m going to get you to admit I’m your first favorite Leo someday I swear it Donnie.”

“Uh huh.” Don gives him a smug look that’s obviously mean to make him pout more (which it succeeds in doing). “Now if you heathens excuse me, I have a package coming in and I want to get to it before the rabid rabbits next door eat it.”without looking up, Donnie gave a half attempted peace sign before heading out of the living room. Leo crossed his arms and looked over to Mikey “I am his favorite Leo he just doesn’t want to admit it.’

Mikey wiped  his finally dry eyes as one last laugh escaped him before looking up  at Leo from his upside down spot on the arm chair , “whose his  supposed first favorite Leonardo? Da’Vinci? “

“No, cause hes not alive anymore apparently he likes Leonardo DiCaprio more then me!” He crosses his arms,

Mikey giggled before sitting up, ‘“Actually, you know what? Donnies got a point, Leonardo DiCaprio might be my favorite Leo too.”

Leo Let’s out a loud offended gasp, “FOR MY HONOR!!!!” This time Mikey had the common sense to roll over the back of the arm chair when Leo came at him. Laughing as Leo chased him around the living room, throwing random pillows and bean bags to block his path. Mikey had ducked to run out of the living room when Raph appeared in the door way probably investigating the noise, Mikey let out a squeak of surprise bringing his hands up to bounce off Raph’s chest and roll behind him, “Raphie I need help!”

“Wh-“ poor Raph looked more confused then usual, “what Leo-“

“I’ve gotta punish Mikey!” Leo explained, ducking around him. But Mikey kept to the opposite site of Raph with a loud laugh, “Not if you can’t catch me!!!!!” Raph raised his arms over his head, probably to keep one of them from accidentally scratching themselves on his spikes , “Whoa! No playing ring around the raphie you two-“ eh said before letting out a small cough

Leo reached up and caught a hold of Raph’s arms like a parallel bar before tucking his legs up enough that Mikey didn’t have Tim to notice where he was and dropped down on him, “GOTCHA!!!!!’ Mikey shrieked in terror before laughing again, bringing up his elbows to protect his sensitive sides. Of course this time Leo hadn’t been planning on showing any mercy unless Mikey promised to cook him a batch of his famous jello filled cupcakes with mozzarella frosting, and if he just happened to get hot sauce it’d be even better-

That was before he heard a slight wheeze  behind him, he was about to tell  raph he had forgotten to take out his retainer again when that wheeze became a full on cough. Leo looked to his brother to see Raph with both hands pressed over his mouth, smothering the loud coughs that were now escaping his sweating face, “Raph?!” He climbed off Mikey and ent over to Raph’s side,  “Raph do you need water?” Before noticing that his face, though normally squishy, had began to swell up in a way that made his heart stop, “He’s having a allergic reaction!” He said to Mikey now at his side with an equally anxious look on his face, ‘“How did he get peanut butter?! We keep it locked up!”

“I-“Mikeys eyes began to swim with tears, “I-I have a peanut butter sandwich earlier but I cleaned up after myself I swear!”

Oh frick, he must of still had peanut residue on his hands after he ran into Raph.  Leos’ heart was already racing a mile a minute, Raph hadn’t had a allergic reaction to this volume since he first discovered his allergy. They were so careful with peanut-butter, “dad?!” He called loudly, digging around his  satchel and pulling out his first aid kit. Epi pen, did he have one? He never thought o put one in, where did they keep them? Did they have any? How long before Raph’s throat swelled up completely?! Another loud cough escaped Raph causing Leo’s eyes to fill with tears-

He was so wrapped up in digging through his med kit that he barely noticed the sound of a box being dropped at the entrance to the lair. Not until Donnie was running past him, holding a beanbag at had been close to the entrance and swinging it around, “Raph sit.” He ordered, his free hand pushing down hard on Raph’s shoulder giving him little choice, In a fluid motion, he pulled out a epi-pen from his battle shell, pulled off the blue cap and slammed the point on the outside of Raph’s thigh. The effect was almost instantaneous as Raph took a loud deep breath, his airway finally giving him much needed oxygen, cleansing his lung with a few loud coughs before he sighed in relief. Raph’s face was still slightly swollen as he massaged his throat.

Don pulled out the pen and began to massage the injection point for a few seconds. His free hand rubbing Raph’s shoulder, “Nod if your airway is opening up.” Raph did as he was told, tears streaming down his face, Don looked to Mikey, “Micheal go get Raph’s blanket from his room and go get Dad.”

“I-I” Mikey looked at their biggest brother with his own tear filled eyes, “I-I’m so sorry Raphie-“

“Micheal.” Don added a edge to his voice that demanded Mikeys attention, “It was a accident, if you want to make up for it then go do as I say.” The youngest nodded and hurried out of the room.

Leo blinked, for a moment he had forgotten he even existed. His hand was still stuck in his med kit as though still hoping to find a epi pen he knew he didn’t have. He watched Don pull out a second epi pen from his battle shell and coach a trembling crying Raph through breathing. When Mikey returned with Splinter, Splinter wrapped the blanket around Raph’s shoulders and helped him up. Donnie made the recommendation that they keep an eye on Raph and consider going to the hospital if the symptoms returned and that Mikey go scrub down in the shower to make sure he didn’t have anymore peanut butter on him. The only acknowledgement he got was Donnie calling to him over his shoulder to go to the kitchen and check that it was clean of any more nuts. After all that, he stood at the kitchen counter with a sponge in his hand and asked himself one thing

What the hell just happened?

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #support #undercoverwizardninjaturtle #hurt/comfort #brotherly love #leo #donnie #mikey #raph #warning #allergic reaction #blood #ll cool bear

[deans-baby-momma]

Falling to Temptation-Part 7

A/N: I am going ahead and posting this because I’m not sure if I will be near a computer later. And plus, I am excited (and a little scared) to see your reactions. Remember my ask box is ALWAYS open. Threats and intimidation can be left there. Ha ha ha I love you all.

WARNINGS: smut, PWP, cheating, angst, P in V, P in A, medical issues, medical speak, car accident, injuries, did I mention smut, I think this one is more angst though, a smidgen of fluff (if you squint)

“Your husband suffered severe head trauma,” the doctor in charge of his case explains. “There is an internal contusion on the front of his brain from, we surmise, the impact with the dashboard. His right ulna had a hairline fracture that we stabilized and set after our initial analysis.”

You look down at your husband, lying still and unconscious in the hospital bed. Thankfully Mavelin had fallen asleep on your shoulder as you and your brother-in-law awaited news. She did not need to see her daddy like this. Hell, it was killing you to see him like this; bloodied and bruised with a bandage on his head and a cast on his arm. 

“When will he wake up?” you ask quietly, running your hand up and down Mavelin’s back. “Will he be..-” you pause as the appalling thought passes through your mind. “-coherent?”

“That we do not know,” the doctor answers with a grim look. “We will have to wait until he regains consciousness and run some tests. For now, though we are keeping watch on the contusion for any additional swelling it might cause.” He hesitates before speaking again. “If there is anyone who could possibly watch your daughter, it might be a good idea. We just don’t know how long this is going to take.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

The doctor heads toward the door to leave, when you speak up, stopping his departure.

“Doc, how are my brother-in-law and my mother-in-law?”

“A couple of broken bones apiece but other than that, mostly superficial wounds,” the doctor smiles. “I’ve had to threaten to restrain them both to keep them from rushing to Mr. Winchester’s side.”

You return the smile. You know he is right, this family is as thick as thieves when one of them is hurt, you’ve been witness to it many times since you’ve come to be with them. After the doctor leaves, you walk to the chair in the corner of the room and sit down. 

How the hell did this become your life? Your husband, the father of your little girl, lying in a hospital bed possibly dying and just an hour ago you were fucking his brother in the kitchen of the Bunker!

*************************************************************************************************************

The door to your husband's room opens and you turn to see your brothers-in-law helping Mary walk in. 

You quickly get up and let her sit in the chair closest to your husband's supine form. You watch your lover gently pick up your sleeping little girl and settle her on his shoulder before sitting down on the small couch you had placed her on.

"How bad is it, Y/N?" Mary quietly asks as she reaches for her son's limp hand. 

You relay the doctor's prognosis, while trying to keep your tears at bay and failing. Your brother-in-law gets up and wraps his arms around you, trying to calm you.

"Shh, it'll be okay. He's tough," he whispers. "He is a Winchester after all."

You wiped your eyes and smile up at him. Being a Winchester doesn't mean much when the patriarch of the family was dead and gone, killed by the demon he had spent 2 decades hunting down. So no the Winchester name was not synonymous with resiliency in your eyes. Hell, they have all met death one way or another in their lives.

You look over at your husband and your heart breaks.  He looks so small and insignificant laying there.  If it wasn't for his chest moving,  you'd think he was dead. Your heart hurts as you realize he isn't out of the woods yet and that very thing could still be a possibility. 

Rounding the bed, you sit in the chair opposite your mother-in-law and take his free hand in yours. How could this have happened? What had you done to deserve this? To watch the man you love, the father of your child suffer. Tears burn behind your eyelids as you run your hand through his hair and down the side of his face. 

He doesn’t deserve this. Your husband is good, decent, generous; the best man you know. So why is it him lying here, comatose, while so many malevolent humans and monsters are out there roaming the world? Why is it him that has to suffer and endure so much pain? You guess he is in pain, anyway; you can’t really tell because he is unconscious.    

A whimper pulls your attention from him to the corner where your brother-in-law is holding a waking Mavelin. She doesn’t need to see her father like this so you stand up and kiss his forehead before approaching the sofa to take her from him.

As you reach out for her, he stands with her, her little head still laying on his shoulder. 

“No, you stay with him,” he whispers. “I’ll take her on a journey around the hospital. Maybe we will hit up the cafeteria or snack machines.” He says, smiling down at you.

“Okay,” you concede and watch as he strolls out of the room.

“What about Castiel? Where is your angel friend?” Mary speaks up. Since her return, she still isn’t comfortable with the fact that her sons and step-son, along with her daughter-in-law, are all friends with a creature she considers supernatural and couldn’t bring herself to completely trust the celestial being.

“I don’t know Mary,” you answer honestly. After Cas had almost caught you and your brother-in-law in act and had informed you of the accident, he had disappeared. “He came to the Bunker and told us about your accident but in my panic I didn’t think to ask if he was going to be here. Why?”

“Well, I just thought-” she begins. “-he’s an angel and angels have the ability to heal. He’s healed us somewhat before. Maybe he could lay hands on my son and take this all away.”

Mary’s words resonated inside your head. Why hadn’t you thought of that?! Closing your eyes, you prayed to your feathered friend.

“Cas, I don’t know where you are. I know we kind of just left you there once you told us about the accident but I am begging you, please, come to the hospital and heal them. Please?”

A flutter of wings causes you to open your eyes to see the trench-coated angel standing at the foot of the bed, looking between you, your husband and your mother-in-law.

“Cas!” you exclaim on a breath. “Can you heal him? Use your powers and help him recover?”

The blue-eyed angel looked at you wistfully. “I wish I could Y/N. But my powers are not what they should be. My returned grace has not returned to optimum power. I am unable to heal right now.”

Your whole body deflated hearing his confession. You had hoped that the angel could work his magic and your husband would wake up as good as new. But then you realize, of course life wasn’t going to work out for you that way. You were being punished. God or some other higher power was chastising you, penalizing you for being weak and succumbing to your brother-in-law. You just hoped he, or she, wouldn’t go to drastic measures and kill your husband. 

The ECG monitor above the bed starts beeping rapidly before it goes into one monotone long tone and the green lines that were once climbing and falling on the screen are now one single flat line.  

Dun dun dun.....rememeber threats and initmidations to my inbox please. LOL Part 8 will be posted tomorrow evening at 6 PM.

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​​ @squirrelnotsam​​ @sandlee44​​  @internationalmusicteacher​​ @kricketc29​​ @natura1phenomenon​​ @blacktithe7​​ @spnbaby-67​​ @travelingriversideblues-x​​  @keymology​​ @tftumblin​​ @markofdean79​​ @thevelvetseries​​ @deanwanddamons​​ @winchester-fantasies​ @akshi8278​ @michellethetvaddict​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @xhannahbananax03​ @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​

#supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #mary winchester #adam milligan #castiel #reader insert #choose the brother #choose your winchester #smut #angst #cheating #maybe a death #???

[the-headbop-wraith]

3 _ 48 _ We Are the Journey

  They must have been talking for an hour at least. Arthur had three refills, which he was paying for; up until Mamma Pepper insisted she get the bill.

 “I invited you. So, that’s how it’ll be.” Her glare was unwavering, and Arthur wasn’t keen on arguing.

 The conversation dipped into that dreaded topic, easing in a piece at a time, working it’s way through a wall Arthur hoped was fortified after months of building. He didn’t want to deter, he couldn’t abandon it. The girls were doing well. Sometimes, the sad days came and the pain was hard to work through. It was… a difficult trial for children, it was always difficult. But, they had good memories waiting for them, to comfort and ease them home. That was important to remember.

“I knew it would be hard for them, most of all,” he admitted, quietly.

 “It was hard on all of us,” Mamma Pepper acknowledged. “But yes, they adored him. There are some things we cannot heal from, and some, we become stronger because we refuse to falter. It isn’t easy.” She reached a hand up and wiped at a thin tear on her cheek.

 Arthur sighed, “Um, You… you’re right. I know you’re right.” He nodded.

 “I want you to know, you and Vivi are always welcomed to the Pepper Paradiso. You are always welcomed home. Your Uncle has been there for you, but I wished you had relied on all of your family, as well.”

 Arthur adjusted his arm in the sling, his collar was a little tired. “I didn’t… it’s hard to go forward. Where to begin, and how to? There’s a place to start, but I can’t figure out how.” He pinched his brow, his hand trembled. Across from him, Mamma Pepper shifted in her seat.

 “Lewis would never blame you for what happened.” In all of their conversation, this was the first time she said his name. It struck a chord in Arthur’s chest. “I know this without a doubt. It was an accident.”

 Arthur’s choked, “Of course it was an accident.” She wasn’t there. She didn’t see him, all bones and hollowed suit, angry. Vengeful and furious, seeking something without substance. Don’t say that. Don’t think that. “But… it hurts to look at you guys. Remind myself I… he was taken from you.” He took the side of his vest and pressed it to his eye.

 “No one stole Lewis from us.” Arthur winced, and sort of shrugged. “You and Vivi, and He, left together on your quest – searching for something Pappa and I couldn’t give him. I knew when we first found him, it was inevitable.” She set her hand upon the table and balled her fist up. “He was our son, but we couldn’t hold onto him forever.”

 Arthur took a deep breath and exhaled. Calm, slow breaths. One after the other. He pulled himself up and took another sip of his drink. The rich warmth was a stark contrast to his soul’s turmoil.

 “Is this too much?”

 Arthur shook his head and offered a thin smile. “Not at all. I think, I’ve needed to talk for a while. Vii, she—” How to explain? “—she’s got some sense of Lew, and we’ll talk. It’s not the same as before, but she was… she’s there for me, too. We talk.”

 Mamma Pepper nodded and leaned back in her seat. “Sometimes, that is the way life is. We encounter unexpected events, or thing’s beyond our control happen. They are beyond us, and nonnegotiable. It can hurt, and that pain will endure. Maybe the sorrow we feel will never go away, not entirely.” She inched up one shoulder. “Sometimes it’s good to never let that pain go, other times it is the strongest thing we can do. For our own good, and for the people we love. You children were happy, and that’s more than what I could have asked for. I don’t want you to leave us, as well.”

 “I can’t. I mean, I won’t’,” Arthur insisted. “There was so much to do, even more that I couldn’t deal with. I had to get some… distance. Escape from myself, and blot out what I couldn’t do. I should’ve done something, anything. And I can’t… explain that amount of regret away.”

 “It was not your fault,” she affirmed, with authority.

 “It— I know..” Arthur bit back, cinching one eye shut. “I remember what is was like before, and now….” Don’t go there. Don’t talk about that. He shut his eye. “I keep the memories of the good close, they drag me back from the brink on my worst days. It’s been… a work. A lot of work. I don’t know how I keep going, how to get past this.” He set his fist on the table, clenched like he held a scorched bar.

 “You and Vivi went through so much. I don’t want you thinking nonsense, such being that the kids or my husband resent you. Utter nonsense. We could never. Absolutely, never-ever.” She studied the false arm in it’s sling, barely functioning aside from a twitch. Lance said the prosthetic was a marvel, though she didn’t understand the significance and Lance never spoke of the events. She only knew it was related to the loss of Lewis Pepper.

 “I understand that you do not feel ready,” she continued, with a gentle tone. “I will squelch those thoughts that you couldn’t be welcomed home. Our doors will always be open to you, whenever you feel the time is right. It might help Vivi, or not… I can’t say for certain. Since I last saw her….” She sighed.

 Arthur nodded. “I have thought about it. But we… we tried to keep busy, no stops. Full momentum. It felt… right.” His breath trembled. “I wanted to be in the right headspace. His memory is so strong, it’d be… I don’t know how to do it. I have this image of him coming from the kitchen, wearing that dorky apron.”

 “Dorky… apron?”

 Arthur snorted, “It suited him.” Mamma Pepper smiled. She set a hand on Arthur’s fist, and molded his grip until the knuckles relaxed.

 “You and Vivi came back safe, that is more than what we could have hoped for. We have closure in that sense. And still, the both of you are out there, keeping Lewis’ memory alive. To us, it means so much, and I couldn’t think to ask anything more of you both.” She patted Arthur’s hand. “The only thing I can do, is make sure you know that you will always be loved. That hasn’t changed. It will never change.”

 She leaned further over, tilting her head to catch a glimpse of Arthur’s eyes. “Look at me, hun. Look at me.” She waited until Arthur raised his gaze, even if only a smidgen. “You and Vivi are as important to us, as Lewis was. You shouldn’t run away from your family. We will support you, talk to you – when you don’t know what to do. We will listen, and if you can’t stand on your own two feet, we’ll carry you.” She smiled, but just a little. “It hurts me that you would think, we could do anything but love you.”

 Arthur blinked. “I think it was the ideal you could still love, even after what happened?”

 Mamma Pepper opened one eye and peered at him, heatedly. “Then you need to learn that it is okay to go on loving yourself, hun.” She took her hand back, and took up the mug with what little contents remained of her fifteenth drink. “I’m Hellbent on seeing you through this. At your pace. Got that?”

 Arthur exhaled the stale air from his lungs and sat a minute, thoughts creaking through the minefield of his turbulent emotions. He wanted to tell her so badly, do something potentially horrible. But he couldn’t. This wasn’t the time. Perhaps there would never be a good time to enter that conversation, and its repercussions. Mamma Pepper was right, there would be a time in the wake of the ache they felt, but there was so much more waiting. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, he couldn’t look her in the eye with those thoughts swarming through his head.

 __

 Some things he could acclimate easily to, others required alternative solutions. Lewis reclined, suspended behind the couch as he worked on the laptop Vivi lent him. He couldn’t work the touch pad, but there was the Alt key and the small mouse he could scoot across a solid surface; such as the magazine folded over his thigh. He took over the asset review, while Vivi took a break from the break.

 Once in a while he glanced over at Mystery, curled up into the couch arm. Though the dog pretended he was deep asleep, he knew better. A good indicator was make a sound, and observe if Mystery reacted. If the ear twitched or the nose perked, Mystery was napping; however, if Mystery reacted naught at all, this was clear indicator that the hound was b/s/ing.

 Vivi murmured in her sleep and rolled over, promptly sliding all the way off the couch and thudded on the floor. “Ow….”

 Lewis peered over as he descended, feet catching the floor while he shut the laptop and set it on the cushions. “Ooh. You okay?” More surefire proof that Mystery was b/s/ing – he didn’t react at all to that earthquake.

 “Uh-huh.” Vivi eased up, hand capped to her messy hair. She picked up the mechanics magazine she was reading and set it back onto the coffee table. “Just a concussion. What time is it?” She picked up the phone from the table and leaned it up. “Crud. Did Arthur come by?”

 Lewis gawked at her, eyes bright and a little curious. Or stupefied. “If Art came ‘round, I’m sure one of us would have told you. What time is it?” He leaned over the couch to see the phone. “Where is he?” Now with the clear distress in their voices, Mystery popped his head up looking alert and serious.

 Vivi climbed back onto the couch and scrolled through the phone log, both calls and messages. “He might’ve gotten tied up with something.”

 “I hope he’s not tied up!” The lamp on the worktable flickered on.

 Vivi threw an arm toward the desk. “You can power shit when you’re upset, but when you’re a chill cucumber you sap all electric devices within a two-mile radius?!” Lewis chattered, and dropped his face into a palm. Meanwhile, Vivi shoved the phone against her ear. “Voice mail.” She brought the phone down and began typing into it.

 Mystery scooted closer, glancing between Vivi to Lewis and really working his eyebrows. There shouldn’t be trouble. Not here.

 “It’s late,” Lewis supplied. “Getting late-er.”

 With a bark, Mystery dropped off the couch and padded over to the hamster terrarium setup on the floor. He sniffed along the side, staring through the mesh and glassed-in sides. He found Galahand, nestled in a bed of straw and Mystery’s white fur-shed. Mystery plopped down to stare in at the snoozing hamster, his bob tail wagging.

 “While Mystery communes with Gally, let’s check downstairs?” Vivi shoved the phone in the backpack and zipped it up. For the time, they didn’t need the laptop. “Maybe he’s catching up on some work with the vehicles, or something.”

 Though Lewis doubted it, he nodded. “Where else could he be?”

 “I don’t know.” Vivi shoved the door open and hurried down the corridor, and took the steps three or five at a time. Close in pursuit, Lewis barely let his toes touch the ground. They hit the ground level and bolted around the wall, into the work zone. Some of the light were still on, she noted. “Arthur?”

 There wasn’t a sound, all the equipment was cold and abandoned, no life to speak of. The windows revealed no natural light, overpowered by streetlamps and other illumination from the road. A pin drop would be a thunderclap, Vivi’s soft footfalls reverberated. She could hear her own heartbeat, or… was that Lewis?

 “No one’s here,” Lewis rattled.

 A sound now. The faint tappy-tap of dog toes, and a low ruff.

  Vivi gave a whistle. “I don’t think Uncle Lance would leave, not without a ride.”

 Lewis wheezed. “He and Arthur have that in common.” He gave chase when Vivi took off, shooting around a set of cars and toward the main office. A cacophony of barks burst out, followed by a white blur darting in front of Vivi.

 “Mystery!”

 A wail and rebounding crash followed. Both Vivi and Lewis winced, that sounded painful. “Was Uncle Lance asleep?” Lewis speculated, with a creak.

 “He’s here at least, we can—” Mystery bounced up on his rear legs and planted his paws on Vivi’s front, whining and forcefully pushing her. “Shit-shit! Lew!” Lewis did a full one-eighty and dove under the nearest vehicle, a classy little compact car. Vivi glared, absolutely livid. “The one time he doesn’t disappear in a gush of fire. What the hell?”

 A loud yawn announced Uncle Lance. “What the ‘ell all this racket? Viv-vi? What’re yu still doin’ ‘ere?” He blinked hard and scratched at his scalp.

 Vivi pushed Mystery back, crisis averted. She patted the pup on his head. “I could ask you the same.” Uncle Lance yawned again. “You haven’t seen Arthur, have you?”

 “Hmm?” Uncle Lance checked his arm. “Er, what time is it?” He didn’t have a watch.

 Vivi sighed. “Late. We were supposed to meet with Arthur at six, or… seven. It’s way past that.” Mystery gave a yap.

 “That explains why I’m not home in bed.” Uncle Lance rubbed at his eyes. “You tried calling? Tried smoke signals?”

 “I’m only getting his voice mail, and he hasn’t responded to messages.” She slid off the backpack and slipped it open. “It’s not weird he’d ditch like this, but I wanna make sure he’s all right.”

 Uncle Lance nodded. “I read ya. Mmm… can’t do much but look fer ‘im. Lemme check mah messages. Why yu think he might ditch?”

 Vivi shrugged and followed Lance over to the office. “I have no idea why he wanted to meet up. We’re not due for assignments, not with the van in the shop.” She glanced back and managed to spy the embers eyes – just the eyes – gazing out from beneath the dark shadow of the car. Really Lew?

 There were no messages on the company line. Vivi suggested Uncle Lance check his personal cell, but she wound up doing that for him since she was must faster and they were in a hurry. Lance went ahead and checked his emails, as well, out of desperation. With each cold trail and no fresh leads, the unease crept into Lance’s eyes.

 “He can’t be in any trouble,” Lance uttered, to himself.

 Once again, Vivi checked her phone. “Where all was he going today? He mentioned errands?”

 Uncle Lance nodded, and sank into his large chair. “I’ll give’y a list. Them places are closed, no one will be in.” Nonetheless, he got on the computer and began going through the inventory. He moved names to a blank document from the spreadsheet.

 Vivi leaned down and rubbed Mystery’s face, causing his collar to jingle. “We could pick up a trail. Couldn’t you Mystery? You wanna find Arthur.”

 Mystery barked, and raised a paw to fix the glasses upon his snout. Arthur was as good as found with me on the case.

 Uncle Lance moved his eyes off the hound, and set them back on Vivi. “You do this whole investiga-shun work professionally, that’s enough for me tu trust yu. But he’s usually with ya, helpin’. Is there somethin’ I should do?”

 When the page printed out fully, Mystery snatched it from the printer and darted out the door. He gave a stifled yip. Vivi watched him go.

 “If anything comes up, I’ll call.” She looked back at Uncle Lance and gave him a smile. “And when we find him, I’ll give you a call. We won’t rest until we figure out what happened, promise.” Before she could step out of the office, Lance called her back.

 “Eh. How do ah say this?” Lance was standing, all his imposing height. He wasn’t looking at her, but focused on the desk beneath his palms. And the pictures, framed and stationed there. “This… has been tough on him. I know… you don’t recall much, I gather’n that. But, you’n been there, when I couldn’t. You didn’t remember, but somehow, you’r there fer im’ and—” He stopped when Vivi leaned over, to peer up into his face.

 “I know. I know.” She backed up. “We’ll bring him back. We’ll find him.” She stepped backawards out of the door. There was an unsaid promise in that admission, but it was hard to make promises these days. No matter what, Arthur would be found. They could do that. They always found him.

 At the entrance, Mystery was waiting within the open doorway. His bob tail waggled upon Vivi’s approach; he was ready to work. The only indication of Lewis’ presence was a faded outline of a skull and a darker than normal shadow, suspended on the sidewalk near her bike. In the murky shroud, a pair of fuchsia lights glimmered, awaiting her arrival.

 __

 In the span of two hours, Vivi had received nine calls from Uncle Lance rooting for updates on the whereabouts of his boy. As the minutes ticked away and the crew’s options dwindled with each impasse, the calls became more frequent. Until at last, her phone ran out of power completely. The call that would have gone through was missed, since she was piggybacking on Lewis as he skied through the back bay of a delivery access for a techy store; one of many Arthur would visit seeking rando bits to test in equipment. It was far out of their home town, anything could have happened between the call earlier that day and now.

 Ahead of Lewis galloped Mystery, the dogs snout low and his ears aimed like twin dishes. As they rounded to the front of the abandoned parking lot, Mystery’s pace subsided and he began turning that snout toward the air sniffing.

 Lewis glided on colorful bursts of flames, the embers sputtered out at his heels as he made a little semi-circle and coasted back around while the hound patrolled. He dropped out of the buoyant float and walked a few feet.

 Mystery snorted and grumbled. With a yap, he trotted over to the entrance and patrolled one way then the other.

 “He was here,” Vivi posed. When Lewis knelt, she dropped off his back and pulled the backpack off her shoulders. Mystery moved away from the doors and looked up at Vivi. He whined, ears drawn back. “And where did he go?”

 Mystery brushed between Vivi and Lewis, going straight through the parking zone until he reached one guideline pattern specifically. The dog waltzed around the spot, then, turned his eyes back to Vivi. Here and left.

 “Where’d he wind up, is my question,” Lewis huffed. “Still no messages?”

 Vivi tugged the phone from her backpack and grimaced. “Not that it’d do us any good….” This time, Lewis was the one frustrated.

 “Are you serious?!”

 Vivi slung the pack on her back. “Let’s focus on finding him, first. If we find a payphone, we— I’ll give Uncle Lance a call, let him know the phone went caput. Not much else we can do, aside from figure out what happened.” Lewis pressed his hands over his face, and it sounded like he was counting. “Try not to get too upset.”

 Lewis groaned. “Trying.” He lowered his hands. “Where else haven’t we checked?”

 Vivi pulled the folded sheet from the backpacks side pocket and checked it. Squinting, she turned her sight towards the dully glinting letters beneath the lost moon. It was late, the natural light abandoned them entirely. “This was it. We’ve exhausted our leads.” She refolded the page and stuck it back into the pocket, beside the spare flashlight.

 “Nothing, Mystery?” she called. “Are you sure?”

 Mystery turned his gaze back to Vivi and tilted his head, one ear sprouted high. His home?

 “Without Uncle Lance?” Vivi posed. A bark was Mystery’s reply. “It is Arthur, I guess.” To Lewis, she asked, “You remember where Arthur lives?”

 Lewis leaned down. He let Vivi climb on and get a grip of his neck, before standing. “No, not… really.” Vivi pointed.

 “Misty’s got you covered.”

 Mystery gave a bark and spun away, gaining speed as he charged out of the parking zone and onto the sidewalk. Kicking up flames, Lewis gave heated pursuit.

 “And where should I go, if he’s not at his house?” Lewis called. “I don’t think he’ll be there.”

 “We have a ways to go, I’ll think of something,” Vivi asserted. “Anywhere else Arthur might go? Can you think of a place?”

 “Uh….”

 Vivi barely caught herself on the stiff collar when Lewis faltered. He didn’t fall, but his physicality sputtered. “Do you have any ideas?”

 “No. Well, we can scout around.” Privately, Lewis chided himself. Arthur wouldn’t go there, of all places. He wouldn’t dare. Though, he couldn’t be certain. “How you holdin’ up?”

 Vivi adjusted herself, and tucked her face behind Lewis’ neck. The gale whipping through and around them was wicked cold, almost unbearable. He was moving fast, giving Mystery a good run. “The nap earlier helped.”

 The roads and sidewalks zipped by, business districts vanished as they cut through a small neighborhood. Then, through a school yard and sprawling field. Mystery didn’t stop at the chain-link fence, he leapt up and clambered over the top of the fence. In a swoop, Lewis followed. The only time either dithered in the swift movement was to take on an incognito pace, but once the late-night voyager was out of views, off they were once again. Their advantage was that they didn’t stick to the main roads, the group exploited any and all shortcuts.

 In truth, Vivi wasn’t sure what to do if Arthur was not at his own home. Leaving Uncle Lance stranded at the shop? That wasn’t like him. Something had to have happened, but so far they had no guide nor inclination to what might have happened, or who could have done it. This unfamiliar ambiguity frightened Vivi. Most of all it bothered her that Arthur wanted to meet with them, and then promptly vanished.

 They were shooting through another sequence of business district, quiet and empty. At the entrance to a small organic food store stood a row of pay phones. Vivi spied them immediately and jabbed an arm out.

 “There! Phone!”

 Lewis skipped on his heels and came to a near complete stop, but Vivi already leapt off his back and charged away. “Okay, uh… Mystery!”

 “We’ll catch up later!” On her way jogging to the storefront, she caught a glance back. “Where is he going? Wait, Lew! Figure out where he’s going!”

 Lewis ceased following her and flung his arms down at his sides. “What about you?”

 The door to the phone booth required a firm kick, before she could heave the door aside enough to squeeze in. “I’m not going anywhere! Make sure he doesn’t raid a Clucky Truck!” With a growl, Lewis zipped off. Leaving Vivi to go through the backpack, and realize she had no spare change for the coin slot.

 “Damnit!” She punched the phones face. A click chirped, and a coin deposited into the return slot. Vivi perked. “Oh, thanks.” She took the coin and fitted it into the pay slot, and began hammering at the dial.

  __

 Gnarled tree branches bent and wove across the starlit sky, through the infinite reach of black the stars glittered within perpetually. It wasn’t the same abundance of sparkling glitter he’d see on the abandoned roads and forgotten zones, exiled out in the desolate locations where civilization waned. All the same, it was peaceful; it was familiar to the sensation of memories and a place in history now beyond his grasp. The old clock running time couldn’t be dissuaded, couldn’t be negotiated with, and there came a sense of loss with moving beyond this point on the line. Reluctant as he was to move onward and never look back, distance himself metaphorically from a place that haunted his darkest dreams.

 Moving on was hard. Letting go, harder still. Somehow, he managed to break that old clock and since then, nothing had been right.

 Relearn. He had to relearn a lot of things.

 The truck sat parked in a vacant field a distance out from some business suites and some restaurant chains, some of the lights in the offices were left on but the illumination was not enough to bleed into the vacant expanse of the night sky. Tall trees grew in small patches along and through the lot, enough that it hid the immobile truck from daily going-ons. He needed time to stop, to get a grip of the minutes.

 Arthur lay on the back of the truck roof, a hull full of spare parts, full of thoughts. A collection of pieces and materials meant to rebuild new methods for living, a crude connector in the broken line of time. The brisk air gnawed at his arm, but he didn’t have a care. He’d been colder before.

 He sat up and pressed his hands over his face, a long sigh deflated his lungs. The cool pressure from his false arm distinct. He didn’t feel ready with a return and reuniting with the Pepper Paradiso, he made the offer, but he really wasn’t up to it. Sure, he could call and let Mamma Pepper know, he knew she’d understand – insisted he could. But he had to do something, he couldn’t just… not. But the kids, Lewis’ little sisters. Regardless what Mamma said, he didn’t want to force that on them. He couldn’t blame them, who would? It was— Their big brother was gone. Or… was formerly gone, but didn’t go away completely. Lewis. He wasn’t the same, and Arthur, he wasn’t the same either, to be blunt. If only….

 If only he hadn’t felt— If only he wasn’t, or hadn’t. He could have— It should have been different! It wasn’t his fault! Why didn’t they listen!?

 The crack of his fist striking the truck roof crackled through the empty night. Following its brutal intensity came the onslaught of silence. This awful, accusing silence. Not even the wind stirred. Arthur leaned a little to the side and fought to wrestle his heartrate under control, calm his nerves. He needed some gum, but he was trying to cut back. He needed to wean off that. It wouldn’t help, he kept reminding himself that.

 “Arthur?”

 With a jolt, he gawked off the side of the truck and at the figure barely discernable from the heavy cloak night provided. All but for the eyes, burning bright and brimming with a bafflement Arthur was not accustomed to.

 “You uhh…” the figure glided closer, like an apparition from a dream that refused to end. “You okay there?” Lewis barely had a chance to throw his arms up, but he’s jarred and couldn’t brace for Arthur colliding into him. He managed to remain upright, only because Arthur’s lower half hadn’t flopped off the vehicle roof. “Burn señor! Arthur! What—?”

 It was so soft and faint, he almost didn’t pick it up. Even right beside his chin, as Arthur mumbled.

 “I didn’t… I-I couldn’t, Lew. I fucked up. I can’t fix this, I tried. Believe me, I tried. I tried so fucking hard. It’s just, it’s all beyond me. I can’t….”

 Lewis meant to put his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, but instead he wrapped his arms around the other. “De qué estás hablando? Esta… what happened? What’d you break?” Arthur couldn’t get out another word, but he persisted to roll through the mantra, rephrasing his assertion through the wheezing, shuddering breaths. It was alarming. He tried to glance around searching for Mystery, but the strange hound had gone scarce.

 “Art, c’mon.” Lewis moved backwards, hauling Arthur down from the truck. It wasn’t the most proactive strategy, given that Arthur had a deadlock grip on his form and Lewis was forced to lean over or have him hang. Once more he checked his surroundings, but there was no aid to find. “I don’t get wh—”

 “You! I broke you,” he finally croaked. “I broke your family, I broke our friendship!” He tightened his grip and whimpered. “I did it… and I can’t—” He snatched up a breath and eased through breathing, the toll of speaking dragging him away from intelligible words. “I thought it would get better, but it doesn’t. I can’t… I can’t fix this. There’s no way. No way….” He shuddered and quieted, barely managing to stifle a hiccup as he choked back words. Regret. Intent.

 “Artie, you—” Lewis cut himself off and shut his eyes, retreating on his next approach and words. He couldn’t say those things. Never. The mansion revisited his thoughts. The sanctuary brought forth to seclude away, sleep and dream and envision where his path could go. The dead ends formed, repeating hallways and stairways, never ending. The fire burned through the core of his soul, his resentment and ire for the betrayal which left him stranded. Tore him from a world he took for granted, and from the people who made up his entire world. Where nothing else mattered, except being a part of their lives – his friends, family, and the future boundless.

 Not until that was all robbed from him.

 “Art,” he began. “It doesn’t matter, okay?” He chattered to himself, losing substance and focus. The trees and the moon reminded him of that place, the woodland he made his last adventure in as one living Lewis Pepper. “Some things are meant to be broken.” Arthur groaned against his collar. “Some things aren’t meant to be fixed. You’re living proof of that.” He sighed, and it sounded wispy like a breeze. The air held eerily still, the world might’ve ground to a halt. “It… doesn’t mean they’re no longer good. Estas escuchando?”

 A noise from the sideline snagged his attention, and Lewis shifted enough to spy the blue wisp zipping in. The force Vivi collided at them with did surprise him, yet, not as much as the desperate embrace she captured them both within. Arthur cringed against his suit front, smothering a fresh round of tears.

 “How many ways, Artie?” Vivi whispered. “How many ways can we put you back together? How many different shapes can you take? How many times?” Arthur’s knees buckled, but Vivi held them both to her fullest intent. “We’ll never stop, you hear me? No matter what. There’s so many ways, infinite possibilities – we’ll learn new methods, never stopping, until we know what works for you.”

 Lewis couldn’t remain upright. It wasn’t as if they were heavy, but he couldn’t keep aloft. He wanted to stay with them. They were so heavy and grounding, he had to drop to his knees. He loosened one arm at his side and looped it around Vivi, his other tightened around Arthur’s shoulders. “You might not be okay,” Lewis hummed, “but we’ll be here. Right here.”

 “Lew. I did this. You can’t—”

 “It wasn’t your fault,” Vivi reaffirmed. “However many times, we’ll remind you. It was never your fault. It’s nobodies fault. We have to get past that.”

 Arthur sniffled, but it sounded as if his ragged breathing was calming. “I don’t want to.”

 “I know,” Lewis rumbled. Black stains soaked into the puffy vest Arthur wore. “But, we’ll be here to find you at your lowest. You’ll have that, whether you like it or not.”

 A stiff shudder rolled through Arthur, and for a brief spell he was calm. “I’d like that, I think.”

 “We have you, Artie,” Vivi soothed. “We got you.”

 A distance from the group, Mystery lounged up high in the branch of one tree with his chin resting on his crossed front paws. Not often he thought of that day, as they did, but he did wonder. Of all the scenarios and pathways that could have been ventured upon, was this really the best? There was no way of knowing for certain, unless time kept it’s steady and earnest pace.

 The three clung to each other, as if the earth around them would crumble apart and no sanctuary existed, except for what their embrace could muster. Colors began to prick the edges of the horizon, drawing forth purples and warm blue tones. Within short time dawn would immerse the world and banish away the ruthless night. The sun would rise into the sky, and the trio would collect themselves with intent to face a new day. Challenges awaited, but time stalled for no one.

#msa #mystery skulls fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #msa fanfic #msa fanfiction #mystery skulls fanfiction #mamma pepper #mystery #arthur #lewis #vivi #uncle lance #mamma pepper is hard to write i dont know her personality or her character #meanwhile arthur tries his very best #he is a good boy

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 60: For the Lazy Mornings

Chapters: 60/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings:  Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go) Characters: Loki (Marvel),  Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Bad Dreams, Loki has Unresolved Issues, Reader Contemplates, Walk Walk Fashion Baby, Lol Yes I Did Write A Whole Chapter That Takes Place Within Like Thirty Minutes

Summary:  You miss breakfast.

Loki awoke to darkness; velvety, silent, and comfortable. A slight chill had crept into the room, the sensation familiar on his skin. The sun must be setting fully again, finally. The seasons on this world were so strange, foreign.

You shifted next to him. The chill might be soothing to him, but your fragile, precious human body might not take to it well. He should probably get an extra blanket for you.

Of course, there were other ways to keep you warm. Lust stirred in him, recalling your clumsy, insistent hands and hungry, determined expression. It wasn't the first handjob of his life, but it was certainly the most earnest.

For some reason, you hadn't wanted him to return the favor at the time. But now...

He placed his hand on your thigh. You rolled over to face him, bigger than you should be, twice, three times bigger than you should be. The bright, rainbow-scattered light of the old Bifrost Loki remembered lit up the room, highlighting your sapphire skin, your bright red eyes looking down at him fondly. Loki shouted, recoiling in revulsion, but the roar of the Bifrost drowned him out, the light overcoming him.

Loki sat up in bed.

It was dark, but to his eyes, faint light escaped from the edges of his blackout curtains. You stirred, and his head whipped around to stare. You were your normal, adorably compact size, and thankfully devoid of blue. He let out a relieved breath.

“Well.” You muttered. “That was weird. Is that what it's like, when you look down at me? What was that loud light?”

You must not have been able to see yourself in the dream, the way he had.

“That...that was the old Bifrost. It used to be like that, when it was fully functional and powered up. Brighter. Bigger. More color, more range, a louder roar. Just more powerful.”

Powerful enough to slice through the mile thick ice crust of a tiny, helpless planet, creating a canyon a quarter of the way across the equatorial region, exposing the water far below, and causing Norns only knew what kind of havoc.

You had still been beautiful, in the colorful light, in the wrong skin, the wrong size. Still beautiful. Somehow, it repulsed him.

But the dream was gone now, the shock fading away into the warmth you brought to his bed. He settled back down into your waiting arms. It was so comfortable here. Though not yet lovers exactly, you fit so well into his bed, and he fit so well into your arms, his head resting between your breast and jaw, so he could hear the steady pumping of your heart.

“Sleep, okay?” You encouraged. “Everyone's leaving tomorrow. Then you'll have peace again.”

“Hm? Whatever do you mean?” Loki said. He knew what you meant, but was surprised that you'd thought of it.

“Well, it's stressful, right? Having all these enemies around, pax or no.” You said, absently stroking his hair.

“Not enemies. Not anymore.”

“Not friends either, though. Bad blood.”

“Some of them.” He admitted.”Some of them weren't even there at the time. Many of the others have...well, not forgiven me precisely, but accepted the reality of me. Or simply moved on. But then, there are those who can't.”

“Tony.”

“It isn't his fault. My actions fundamentally changed him. How many others like him? I wonder sometimes.”

“You regret what you did?” You sounded...not surprised, but curious.

“I regret the lives lost. Though my actions actually brought some benefit to your world-forced your governments to realize there were threats from outside, to at least try to prepare for further incursions, revitalize your space programs, recognize your heroes...but it is terribly unbecoming to attack civilians.”

“Huglausi?” You ventured.

“Very.” He sighed. “I compromised my honor very severely. Obliterated it, really. I've done many unseen things to try to restore it. In the end, it's really all I have.”

He wrapped one arm around you and snuggled up as close as was possible without actually being on top of you.

“I've seen how superficial so many things really are, how easy it is to be stripped of them. Title. Wealth. Name. Home. Identity. The only thing that truly lasts, the only thing that has impact, is deeds. And mine have been...reprehensible.”

“But it wasn't entirely you.” You pointed out. “You were being controlled.”

“Not entirely. I told you, it was still me. I know it's tempting to attribute everything to some behind-the-scenes puppetmaster, but it wasn't like that, it was...” He trailed off, squeezing you.

“Like what?”

He held his breath and shook his head a little. If he told you too much, if he told you everything, you would never lie next to him again. He would lose this as soon as he had gotten it.

But didn't you deserve to know what kind of creature you slept next to? Didn't you at least deserve to know what was behind his actions on Earth? Maybe not the rest of it, but the things that impacted the world you lived in?

“You know how you hate the man who hurt you during the Sn-the Event? But you wish you did not, and you wish you could forgive him, but the anger and unfairness of it just hits you sometimes? And you feel guilty about it, and that makes you angry too; bitter, resentful. And that makes you feel even worse, and it just builds on itself, until it finally goes away, but you're miserable the whole time, and a while afterwards?”

“Uh...yeah. It's exactly like that, actually.”

“I too, have things that make me feel that way. And the influence of the Mind Stone was such that it made those thoughts, those angers and resentments come to the surface, and then it kept them there. It kept them fresh and constant-no healing, no overcoming, no acceptance or moving on, and, most importantly, no relief. It was neverending. A great font of anger and bitterness as fresh as the moment it was inflicted, and sustained, indefinitely, by the stone's power over me.

Thanos didn't put a ring in my nose to lead me around by; he didn't have to. A smidgen of psychological manipulation, and I was his. A nearly willing slave. I wanted the havoc I caused. I reveled in the chaos, the fear. I bathed in the sounds of screaming and destruction, lusted after the blood and terror.”

His breath had grown heavy. You fingers paused in his hair.

“I wanted it because I felt I had nothing else. No future, no identity. Only deeds. And I was determined to make them the biggest deeds I could, for good or ill. I was an avatar of the worst that a being like me could become, and the greatest I had ever been. I enjoyed what I was doing, because it was the only outlet, the only respite from the hate and anger that I had.

For all my plans, I could never have ruled like that. It's a lie the Mind Stone told me, that I tell myself, again and again. I could have done it. I could have made it work. But I could not even master myself. It was all lies, upon lies, upon lies. Lies built me. Lies define me, and that entire experience just proved it beyond any shadow of a doubt.”

“Loki...”

“Shhh.” He lightly brushed your mouth with his fingertips. “I committed great deeds. Great and terrible. And now, now that I control myself, now that the malign influence no longer hangs over me, I can no longer commit deeds so great. I cannot rebuild your city. You have already done that. I cannot show generosity in equal measure to my destructiveness. Asgards budget is too tight. Somehow, on the other side of madness, I am incapable of doing good in equal measure to ill. Why must it be so easy to harm you, but so difficult to help you?”

“Maybe because we all need different kinds of help, but we all die the same.” You said, and he grew quiet in contemplation. “ Loki, you have a lot you want to do, right? Rebuild Asgard, fix your reputation, help the people around you, be a good ruler. And on top of that, you have responsibilities to your family, and your people, and...well, to me too. As your...”

“Paramour...” He breathed. “Yes. I have...responsibilities. You...you need me.” It was almost a plea. “You want me...You want to be near me...I've been good to you...haven't I? Is there anything you need? Anything at all?”

You seemed to sense the tendrils of desperation that wound inside of him as he had explained himself, as he sought something to expend his energy on, and you resumed stroking his hair.

“Yes.” You said. “I need you to hold me for the rest of the night. I need to feel you close to me. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up to you first thing in the morning. That's all I want right now. Can you give me those things?”

He didn't move, just remained molded to you, head tucked under your jaw. Purpose. Simple, attainable purpose.

“All those things and more. Thank you, _____. I needed to say it. I knew you would listen. Without the stone, I would have healed, at least a little. Without the stone, I have healed. A little. There was time to mourn, time to accept. Time to look forward. I...I wish I was already the man I could be for you. I will be though. If you will but be patient with me.”

“Sleep, Loki.” You said. “I want to get to that waking up with you next to me part.”

                                                                               *****

And so you did, slipping gently back into consciousness, with the comfortable weight of Loki's arm across your chest. You turned your head to find he had tucked you under his chin, cuddling you like a plush doll.

You kissed his throat until he shifted and his breathing changed.

“Darling...” He mumbled sleepily. “Blessed maiden of comfort. Good morning.”

“Mornin' sweetie.” You said, and he scoffed at the pet name.

“I am a god.” He said

“You are a grump.” You answered, kissing the tip of his nose and shimmying out of bed.

He slithered out after you. “Am I really?”

“Only sometimes.” You teased.

You didn't join him in the bath this time, opting to take one in the evening instead. Your clothes had been left in a neatly folded stack just outside the door to Loki's bedroom rather than outside of yours.

Oh yes, everyone knew what was going on.

You reflected on how easy that acceptance seemed to be, as you slipped into your clothes for the day. Aside from a few loud, unpleasant, and downright dangerous individuals, the people of Asgard seemed perfectly fine with you.

Even though you'd been told several times that there was a struggle between human-friendly and human-unfriendly factions, it was really being treated as if the eventual failure and disappearance of the human-unfriendly groups was a foregone conclusion. As if it had all happened before, and had turned out the same every time.

Well, hadn't it?

The war with the Vanir had ended millenia ago, possibly before the first human civilizations had even begun. You could see the influence of their heritage in Saldis' features, and knew there were full Vanir here in Asgard who were trapped away from Vanaheim by the events of Ragnarok. Nobody cared anymore. The former queen of Asgard and the guardian of all Asgard were both raised by Alfar. Heck, with the strangeness of Heimdalls eyes, there might actually have been Alfar in his family tree.

Once you thought about it, there might be a little Jotun mixed in as well. Probably not Frost Giants, since they still seemed to be a point of contention among Asgardians, but other kinds of Jotun they didn't seem to have much trouble with. You knew the Vanir didn't have any trouble with intermarrying with them, and neither Loki, Brunnhilde, or Saga seemed to think they idea of marrying a Jotun was all that strange. Freyr was married to one, and they didn't act like he was a freak or anything. In fact, since Jotun were so genetically flexible, it was possible that any Asgardian could have a Jotun ancestor, and it might not even show at all.

You knew absolutely nothing about the previous queens of Asgard, save for where Frigga was raised...

Nah. You didn't actually want to go fishing for more royal scandal. You technically were one, even if the majority of Asgardians had accepted that you were but a harbinger of what was to come. They had survived intermingling with others, and they would survive humans too. Probably come out even better for it, if the history Saga taught you was accurate.

The real problem might just be other humans reactions to the idea. Humans were far too proficient at focusing on the differences between people, and dividing themselves up into groups that weren't supposed to be allowed to mingle...but still definitely did, even if the consequences were terrible. That was the problem. There shouldn't be those kinds of consequences, but there would be.  For the longest time, humans only had other humans to define as 'outsiders'. Only very recently had extraterrestrial intelligent species come to their attention, and almost every time, it was in a very negative way.

Part of the world was very on board with the Asgardians, but it was because of a shared cultural history. They regarded the Asgardians as partially 'theirs' somehow. But the rest of the world had no such ties, and some countries had a definite-and admittedly justified-beef with certain prominent Asgardians. One of which you happened to be actually dating.

Okay, but what could they actually do to you, aside from troll you on the internet? Asgard was on the lookout for assassins now, and you had committed no crimes. Besides, being with Loki was a good thing, right? It was a symbol of friendliness and good will between Asgard and humankind, right?

That was definitely not why you were doing it though. You just really liked him. Loki was a man of many virtues. One of them was how he came back from the bath, shirtless, and with his hair still damp.

That was a very good one.

Loki gave his hair one last scrub with the towel, dropped said towel over the back of his desk chair, and opened the carved wooden doors to his huge wardrobe. He stood in contemplation of the perfect thing to wear.

“What do you think...” He murmured. “What's the best combination for saying goodbye to a group of not-quite-enemies?”

“Peacefully?” You asked.

“Of course! I can't let it be known, but I actually like some of them, just a little.”

“So you want the 'lady who has just divorced her jackass, loser husband, and is past ready to mingle' look.”

One perfect eyebrow arched. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” You ducked under his arm and peered into the wardrobe. “So you wanna show off, but not your very best, because that's trying too hard, right? All black is dramatic, and looks so good on you...”

He preened.

“...But I think it might make you fade into the backdrop. How about this one though? The green matches mine, so we could present as a unified front. Also I like this little short cape.”

“This is a capelet. Would you like one? They are not difficult to make; I can order some for you.”  

He held up the tunic; a quilted thing of rich pine green and gold piping, knotwork designs at the stiff cuffs and mandarin collar.

“You like this?”

“It looks very...touchable.”

Both eyebrows went up this time. “Is that the image we want to project?”

“Put it on, and lets see.”

The tunic molded to him, so tight that you would have though it simply didn't fit. But he seemed to be able to move in it just fine. You ran your hands up his chest and over his shoulders.

“I was right. Very touchable.”

He caught your hands in his and squeezed them gently.

“I'm glad you like it, but I don't think so. Not this one. It is actually part of a matched set made for myself and Thor, when we were younger.. It doesn't feel right to wear it, if he is not wearing his. I doubt he still even fits into his.”

He removed the tunic, and searched for another.

“I do like the color matching idea though. Perhaps this one? It is similar.”

This tunic did not fit him quite as tightly, but was still expertly tailored, and still the same color of green. It fell all the way to his knees, split to the hips in four places, and the sleeves terminated in sharp points over the back of his hands. It was quilted as well, but the pattern was more like scales, and you noticed that the metallic thread was gradated; starting out black at the bottom, then shifting to green, then gold at the collar and shoulders.

“Wow.” You breathed. “You look like a dragon!”

“Well,” He said. “I did steal you and fly you away to my lair full of riches, did I not?”

“That you did. Speaking of riches...can you help me with my brooches?”

“Of course, my dear.” He plucked the oval brooches from your palm, very carefully pinning them in place, so as not to prick you. As you had thought, he got them perfectly centered, their strings of beads cascading over the top of your breasts. They drew his eyes. “But you know how to pin them yourself, don't you?”

“Yeah, I do.” You said, a little sultriness slipping into your voice. Loki's eyes flicked to yours. He licked his lips.

You were in his arms barely a moment later, drowning in his mouth.

“I wish I was the man I could be for you. I will be.”

No man had ever said anything like that to you before. Never expressed any desire to be better for you. It was usually the opposite.

Loki, prince and god, wanted to be better. For you.

You were going to miss breakfast.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)

[chrysanthmilk]

a guide to being death: chapter 6

by staccato

“Death is very, very tired of its Master’s strange wants and whims. This is the last time it does something he wants.”

aka: a apocalypse fix-it, featuring a master of death who has been reincarnated into a winchester. things can only go up from here.

chapter 6: pamela goes blind, but don‘t worry, harry is there to heal her. dean remains unconvinced of castiel’s powers, and challenges him to a gun (and knife!) fight

read it below, or on ao3

*

Harry woke up from his nap when the Impala came to a stop. He stretched, feeling the pop of his bones. “We arrived?”

“Yeah. Come on, imp. Let’s see what this psychic has got for us.”

Pamela Barnes was beautiful, witty, and she was going to die in a few months.

But first, she went blind.

*

The ambulance came quickly. Bobby rode with her to the hospital, while Harry followed along in Bobby’s truck. After he parked, he found Bobby in the waiting room, being questioned by a nurse. She was trying to figure out how Pamela’s injuries came to be, but Bobby avoided answering by speaking rapid Japanese and flailing his arms around. Harry stifled a laugh, and joined him.

The nurse gave up a few minutes later, and they were left to wait in peace.

“I didn’t know you could speak Japanese,” Bobby said, in Japanese.

Harry shrugged, and replied in the same tongue. “It was a boring four months.”

That was true, but that wasn’t when he learned the language. He learned it sometime in the 18th century, when he had been reborn as a peasant farmer. So even though he could speak the language, he couldn’t read or write it. That just hadn’t been a priority for his station in life.

But Bobby didn’t know that, and misunderstood his answer, as Harry had intended for him to do. He squeezed his shoulder, an act of brief comfort, then pulled away.

And, okay, as Harry Winchester, he would have found this acceptable, perhaps even a little too much; but as Harry, the immortal being who had been reincarnated into thousands of lives, it was not. He just insinuated, to his surrogate father no less, that he had learned Japanese to keep busy and avoid thinking about Dean’s death. Shouldn’t he at least get a hug?

But he doubted that this was the best time to open that can of worms, so he kept quiet, fiddling his ring and listening to the angel radio. Castiel seemed to be feeling some smidgen of guilt for burning out an innocent woman’s eyes, and some higher-ups named Zachary was comforting him.

By which he means, Zachary was telling Castiel that humans were nothing more than mud monkeys, who did not deserve an angel’s sympathy.

‘It’s not your fault she foolishly disregarded you warnings and continued with the séance. Really, it was like she was asking to be burnt. And she was being impertinent, anyways, demanding to see your true face.’

‘But…’

‘No buts, Castiel. You’re an angel, she’s a human; we’re superior, and they’re inferior. Do you understand?’

‘…yes, Zachariah. I do.’

Harry closed the connection, shaking his head in silent disgust. And they said angels were supposed to be compassionate.

Why did you leave, Chuck? He wondered. Are you really satisfied with the world, as it is right now? Is it everything you had envisioned?

*

A few hours later, a doctor stepped out, clipboard in hand. “Family of Pamela Barnes?”

He told them that they’ve stabilized her conditions, although it was certain that she’ll never be able to see again. She had been moved out of ICU, and can accept visitors, but only one is allowed in the room at a time.

Bobby went in first, while Harry called his brothers to tell them the good news. The two of them had stayed behind, cleaning away any evidence of the séance. Judging by the sound in the background, they had now relocated to a diner.

“I think we’ll leave pretty soon,” he said. “Save me a milkshake, won’t you?”

“You bet,” Sam said, with the tone of someone who had absolutely no intention of doing so, and hung up.

Well, he was the health nut of this family.

Soon, Bobby came out, and Harry slipped inside. Pamela was lying in the middle of a hospital bed, pale-skinned and weak, nothing like the feisty woman he’d just met, half a day prior. A roll of bandages had been wrapped around her skull, covering her eyes. She jolted when she heard the door open.

“Is that you again, Bobby?” She called.

“No, it’s me. Harry.”

“What do you want?” She asked, words tinted with bitterness. Harry doesn’t blame her. She wouldn’t have lost her eyesight if it weren’t for them.

“I just wanted to apologize,” he said, “and to see if I could fix things.”

Pamela scoffed. “You certainly can’t make things worse.”

Harry moved forward, stopping mere inches from her bed. He raised his hands, hovering them above her eyes, and murmured a spell. Somethings were capital-F fated, which means if he messed with it, he’ll draw attention to the divergence and thus, himself. But her blindness wasn’t—if she had just backed off when Castiel asked, she would have been fine—so Harry healed her.

(He’d even corrected her eyesight, because why not? The woman was going to die in a few months. For putting up with their shit, she deserved to live the rest of her life in 20/20 vision.)

Immediately, Pamela gasped, hands flying up to her face and unraveling the bandages. She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the harsh fluorescent lighting. “What…? How did you—what the hell are you, boy?”

Harry shrugged, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “Well, I’m not a demon, if that was what you were worried about. But you would have known that already, right?”

She studied him, gaze roving from the soles of his shoes to the wispy strands of his hair. “You definitely don’t feel like a demon…and even a demon wouldn’t have been able to do that. It wouldn’t have wanted to, either. But then…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, with an exaggerated wink. “For now, why don’t you just think of me as someone with a little extra juice, trying to protect my brothers and fix their mistakes?”

“Do they know?” She pressed. “Does Bobby know?”

“It’s just between you and me for now, love,” he paused, and cocked his head. “Of course, if it’s too big of a secret for you to handle, I can erase your memories.”

She shook her head, shifting away as much as she could, as if an extra feet of space could deter him. “No, no, no, that won’t be necessary. You don’t need to do that, I can keep quiet. I owe you one, right? For the eyes?”

“Sure,” Harry agreed, even as he discretely wiggled his fingers. Now, if she tried to speak of this to anyone, she’ll suddenly find herself mute, though that would only last a day. Still, it’s a neat little spell, just in case someone decided torture the information out of her. After all, this was bigger than things that go bump in the night. Angels and demons were involved, and he knew better than to underestimate either of them. “Well, I’m glad we could reach an agreement, love. Bobby and I will take our leave now. We’ll try not to bother you again.”

“Wait!” she cried out, just as his hands closed around the doorknob. “Do you know…that thing I summoned…do you know what Castiel is?”

“Of course I do,” Harry said, not turning around. “But the less you know, the better off you’ll be. Have a good day, Ms. Barnes.”

*

Harry had no idea what happened between the phone call and them arriving at the motel, but whatever it was, it couldn’t have been good. Because when Bobby pulled up in the parking lot, Castiel was yelling at Dean, trying to tell him that Sam had returned to the diner to kill the demons. Unfortunately, all Dean heard is static and high-pitched ringing, so Castiel was forced to stop, frustrated. Bobby and Harry burst into the room just as the last of the mirrors exploded.

(They were kicked out of the motel, obviously.)

This must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back, though, because Dean announced that he was going to try and summon Castiel. Or, as he knows him, a super powerful, supernatural creature capable of pulling someone out of hell, terrifying the demons, and burning out eyes. He has no guarantee that Castiel won’t harm him at first sight, nor does he have a way of defending himself from such attacks.

And he still wanted to summon him.

What. An. Idiot.

Bobby obviously agreed, peering at Ruby’s knife doubtfully. But like Harry, he also doesn’t want anyone else to be hurt, so he relented, directing his truck to an empty warehouse on the outskirt of town.

“We could really use Sam on this, Dean,” Harry suggested from the backseat.

“Nah, he’ll just try to stop us. He’s better off where he is.”

Well, Harry knew that wasn’t true, but he also didn’t want to explain how he knew, so he kept quiet, twisting his ring.

This time, Dean noticed, zeroing in on the action through the rear view mirror. “Didn’t know you were into jewelries, Henry. Where did you get that from?”

“An old friend gave it to me,” Harry said. “Supposedly, it can bring back the souls of the dead.”

“Oh,” Dean said, and Harry suddenly realized the implication behind his words. He thought about backtracking, about claiming that he never tried to summon Dean’s soul, but he wasn’t sure Dean would believe him.

“Well,” Bobby said, interjecting false cheer into his tone. “At least if this turns out to be a disaster, I can bring you back to kill you again.”

*

It was a disaster.

Harry had presumed that, since Castiel didn’t mean to do Dean any harm, the encounter would go smoothly. They’ll have a chit-chat, Castiel will explain and apologize for his mistakes, and then inform Dean of his role in the upcoming apocalypse. They will part ways, somewhat peacefully.

What a stupid presumption.

The problem began after Bobby completed the ritual, and all them stood back, hands on their respective weapons, waiting for him to appear.

And waited. And waited. And waited.

Harry glanced at the ritual circle, frowning. Bobby definitely did the ritual right, so why wasn’t Castiel responding? Wasn’t he the one who tried to reach out to Dean in the first place?

He tuned into the Radio, and immediately received his answers.

‘…leave a good impression on him.’

‘But I have already impressed my handprint on his arm. Is that not enough?’

‘No, no, it’s a different kind of impress. You want him to like you, right?’

‘It would be an honor to be favored by the Righteous Man.’

‘Exactly, which is why you got to make a cool entrance, okay?’

‘What is this “cool entrance” you speak of? How do I make it?’

Harry left the conversation, biting his cheeks to stop from bursting into laughter. It seemed like they were going to be waiting for a while. He abandoned his spot beside the ritual circle, and jumped up to sit on one of the tables. His gun was returned to its holster.

Dean and Bobby gave him disapproving looks, but eventually, both of them gave in, joining him on the tables. They swung their legs back and forth silently, chocked by the anticipation in the air.

Harry was the first to break. He hopped off the table and headed for the door, waving a pack of cigarette as an explanation. The other two moved to stop him, but he was gone because they could speak.

Leaning against the side of the warehouse, Harry lit up a stick, inhaling and exhaling the smoke gratefully. He had been trying to quit but, fuck, this day had been very, very stressful. Besides, he’s the Master of Death. What’s a cigarette going to do, kill him?

And, because he had been looking up at the bright sky, he saw a sight he was never going to forget.

One second, there had been nothing above the warehouse; in the next, a figure appeared, large wings extending from his back. Harry expected Castiel to land on the roof, perhaps survey the area before entering.

He didn’t.

Instead, he stumbled in mid-flight, rolling down the slanted roof until the concrete gave up, and fell straight down to the ground with a thump.  

Harry gaped.

A second later, Castiel stood up, cocking his head in the direction of the warehouse.

“Why couldn’t I get through?” he muttered to himself, but the night was quiet enough that Harry overheard the words.

He blinked.

Oh.

Castiel must have intended to fly through roof and land straight into the ritual circle, which, to be fair, would have been quite the ‘cool’ entrance. Unfortunately, Bobby had come across an angel-warding sigil in one of his books, though neither he nor the author knew its purpose. Still, he had painted it on the walls, which prevented Castiel from phasing through like he had intended. Instead, he had been tripped up by the ward, and fallen.

Once he and Castiel become friends, Harry was going to give him so much shit for this.

For now, though, he simply wiggled his fingers. The ward disappeared. Castiel frowned harder when he registered the change.

“Whatever,” he said at last, almost petulantly, and blasted the warehouse doors open. He sauntered forward, and the sound of shotguns firing filled the air.

Harry vanished his cigarette—he knew better than to litter, considering the state this planet was already in—and rushed in behind Castiel, who was now looking down at Ruby’s knife in a bemusement. Ruby’s knife, which had been jammed into his heart.

Oh, Dean.

Unconcerned, Castiel pulled it out, letting it drop to the ground with a clatter. The wound healed immediately, and Dean stared, shocked. Bobby, however, jumped into action, swinging a crowbar at Castiel’s head. But Castiel caught it without looking, using the momentum to swing himself around. He touched Bobby’s forehead with two fingers, and sent him to sleep.

Wow, Harry thinks, not even bothering to bring out his gun. That was very, very cool.

“We need to talk, Dean,” Castiel said. “Alone.”

Unwittingly, Dean’s gaze flickered to over his shoulders. Castiel followed his line of sight, to where Harry was standing by the doors. There was the sound of wings fluttering, and Castiel disappeared from view.

“What the hell?” Dean whispered.

Too late, Harry realized what Castiel was planning to do. But by then, Castiel had already landed in front of him, fingers extended to brush against his temple. Unprepared, Harry’s awareness shut down, and he crumpled to the ground, asleep.

*

#harry potter #supernatural #apocalypse fix-it #fanfic #ao3 #agtbd

[shadowpaintedrose]

Stuck in the Middle (With You)

I just rewatched my favorite episode, 12x12, and I can’t believe how apparent the foreshadowing was for... well, pretty much everything that was going to happen in the finale. I mean, one of the most blatant parallels in that episode is to Reservoir Dogs with Dean as Mr. White and Cas as Mr. Orange. Mr. Orange dies at the end (so does Mr. White, but I’d suggest that the death he experiences is an emotional death before his actual death), but it is prolonged. We think he is going to pull through, and up until the last few minutes, it really looks like he is actually going to survive. From my point of view, this parallel didn’t end at the end of the episode. It continued through the season, through Dean and Cas bonding with each other even more than before between moments of heartbreak and mistrust. Kind of like how Mr. White and Mr. Orange got to bond as they prepared for the heist, but the real development in their relationship came in the aftermath of the heist, before their deaths.

Aside from that, this episode was really a preview of all of the supporting characters’ roles in the finale, especially their motivations and their fates.

Crowley is a big example of that. This episode was key in developing the idea that Crowley has never really been pleased with his role as the King of Hell. In fact, it was the result of a split-second decision, most likely heavily influenced by his own ego. I’m not sure that Crowley would have ever taken the position if he had time to think about it. Either way, it is easy to see how he would become dissatisfied with it over time, as it was not a position he ever actively strived for; it just kind of fell in his lap. We also get to see a disregard for his own power in favor of helping the Winchesters, which is the bigger point in the finale and the most important bit in tying up his character arc. Crowley puts himself at risk and gives up a valuable tool to save Cas and help the Winchesters. 

There may even be a smidgen of “doing the right thing” as part of his motivation, outside of his main goal to help the pesky humans he’s unwittingly grown so fond of. And how fitting is it that his actions undermine the goals of Cas’s would-be killer, considering that he does the same (albeit in opposite order) in the finale? Anyways, this scene definitely warmed the general audience up to the idea of Crowley partaking in a selfless action so they weren’t whammied in the finale if they hadn’t been paying close attention up to that point. I do think there were plenty of hints of Crowley’s redemption long before this, but this was one of the biggest turning points.

One more scene that stuck out to me with the finale in mind is this specific moment right here, which I actually haven’t seen discussed too much, at least not pre-finale:

Up until this point, Dean and Sam have been the ones primarily fighting Ramiel, but he spots Cas and goes after him, closing the door behind him, locking Mary and Cas inside the room... or another universe perhaps? Just another example of how 12x12 is full of these moments that are a smaller occurrence of what is to come.

So Mary and Cas are trapped in this room with Ramiel, who I’ll note that I see as an extension of Lucifer considering that Lucifer made the Princes of Hell as his special soldiers. Now Cas is clearly the target here, but Mary ends up trapped as well.

Of course, Cas is the one who ends up being “killed”... or at least he’s meant to be.

And what a gorgeous shot it is. In the context of the finale, however, I find the light coming from above to be very interesting. It reminds me of an angel’s grace as they die. Of course, it’s not coming from Cas. Not yet anyways. But it is radiating towards him.

So, we end up back in the barn.

And Cas is clearly meant to die. He goes right up to the brink of death... and is miraculously saved. Well, not saved, because we know what happens in the finale, and Cas being healed only delayed the inevitable. Which brings me to my biggest point: As soon as that spear touched Cas, he was destined to die. Everything that happened between then and the finale was only leading up to the inevitable.

So now Cas is dead, right? But let’s not forget that what happened in 12x12 is a smaller of version of what was to come. Right now, all hope seems to be lost for Cas, but we can’t forget that in the end Cas comes back.

Whether that will be through some sort of self-sacrifice, like with Crowley and the lance, I’m not sure, but it most certainly will be at some kind of cost. And you can bet that the reunion is going to look like this, but ten times bigger. Sam will be there, because he loves Cas and Cas is family. But Dean is going to look at Cas with those eyes and cling to him desperately, and it will be glorious.

Anyways, I don’t typically write meta because my thoughts are very disorganized and I’m not good at putting things into words. I’ve been kind of sitting on a lot of these ideas since the episode aired with the general feeling of “Cas is going to die” and not being able to explain why or how I knew, but I thought I’d take a stab (heh) at it. I’m aware that my thoughts are still kind of jumbled here, so I definitely encourage any actual meta writers to jump in and expand or correct me on things you feel I got wrong.

I’m too shy to tag anyone, but if you read this post and feel like sharing with favorite meta writers, feel free to share it with them. And thanks for reading this weird disorganized rant. 👍

#supernatural #supernatural meta #meta #meta analysis #mine #supernatural s12 #supernatural 12x12 #supernatural s12e23 #supernatural 12x23 #supernatural all along the watchtower #supernatural s12 finale #supernatural s12 finale part 2 #dean winchester #sam winchester #cas #castiel #cas winchester #mary winchester #crowley #destiel #implications of destiel #stuck in the middle (with you) #ramiel #lucifer

[kindaangelic]

Auras - A BatFamily Fic

The first time Damian saw his father, he was overwhelmed by the dark mist comprised of greys and blacks swirling around him. Damian stared in wonder at how such an incredibly wounded man with an aura so dark could possibly stand for righteousness. "We're going home, Damian," Bruce had rumbled, taking his hand. Damian had tripped along in his father's wake, still in awe at the man's formidable aura. "Are you alright?" Bruce asked, looking confusedly at his newly discovered son. Damian shook his head hurriedly - his power was his little secret, something that he kept close to his heart. There was no need for anyone else to know. They wouldn't understand. Freak. Unnatural. Meta. Damian cleared his throat. "No, I'm fine." ---------- Tim glared distrustfully at his newly acquired brother, wary of the assassin baby that he had only recently battled. Damian glared right back, wrinkling his nose at the disgusting shade of puce that splattered Tim's viridian aura. Puce was ugly. By extension, Tim, too, was ugly. That was fine, Damian didn't think much of his not-Brother. "Tim, these documents came in the mail," Bruce said, barging into the room and flinging a pile of reports at his son, cracking through the tension that had built up in the room. "Do something, I don't like them," he said emphatically, gesturing at the pile of bureaucratic bullshit on the table. Tim sighed and took the papers to peruse them, and smiled slightly as Bruce leaned over his shoulder, and placed a hand on his head to steady himself. Damian watched Tim's aura clear into a bright green as Bruce danced concernedly behind him, loudly proclaiming his disgust with anything bureaucratic in nature. Tim just laughed and went on perusing the papers, assuring Bruce that it was nothing bad. A split second of eye contact with Damian had his aura brightening to a brighter shade, of grass in a dewy, morning, field. Damian slipped out of the room as the green grew stronger, and the swirling clouds more animated. It was only later when he looked in the mirror, that Damian noted the color of his own eyes. Not blue, like Father's or Drake's. Not grey, like Pennyworth's. Not brown like Grandfather's. Green. ---------- "Damian, this is Cassandra, my daughter, and your sister," Bruce introduced the young woman. Damian sized up the diminutive girl in front of him, his attention caught by the lilac fog dancing around her head. Damian relaxed a smidgen, the light shade reminding him of calming lavender tea and his pet cat sleeping on his chest. The fog came suddenly closer as Cassandra bent down to eye level, staring at her newly accquired brother. After a long moment, she came to a decision, and pressed a kiss to his still plump cheek, the remnants of his baby fat. Damian spluttered and wiped off bright red lipstick that was now smeared everywhere on his cheek, while Bruce smiled approvingly. "Brother," Cassandra said, pointing at Damian. Then she put her hand over her heart. "Mine." Damian stood stunned as pink tinted his sister's aura, her genuine happiness sneaking past his carefully erected guards. Finally, a worthy sibling. ---------- Whatever Father or Pennyworth told him, Todd was definitely not a sibling worthy of him. Thick, twisting, reds and murky browns alerted Damian to the man's volatility, penchant for violence, and his instability. Damian could not trust the red. Red was violence. Red was blood. Red was war. A war that the Red Hood waged in his own mind and on the streets of Gotham. A war that Jason sometimes lost, to the pain of his family. Words were exchanged, punches were thrown, and Father's heart lay broken in the aftermath, oozing more red. Damian had sufficient reason to not like Red, or Jason Todd, for that matter. Damian had never considered the colour in another light, until one night when Scarecrow squirted a bottle of fear toxin at him. He missed - as if Damian could not dodge such a pathetic attack - but was bowled over as a large figure threw himself at the stringy Scarecrow, ripping of his ragged mask and pummeling him to a pulp. The red was almost overwhelming in its intensity, to the point that Damian almost missed what Todd growled at the villain - "You don't target kids, you sick fuck, not on my watch. And you definitely don't target him!" Damian watched appreciatively as a veritable volcano swirled around Jason, his righteous fury feeding the pulsating aura. Red was violence, red was blood. But red was also passion and protection, and perhaps Damian had been too quick to judge. ---------- Pennyworth was always accompanied by a cloudless summer sky, and was a stablizing presence that anchored the even most volatile of the members of the Wayne household - read, Drake without his coffee. Light blue, sparkling tendrils of vapor followed the old butler wherever he went, blending in and tempering Father's dark aura, and lightening Todd's charged one. It even calmed Damian, who always liked the way life thrived under a clear sky, where crops grew well, people bustled around the town, and children ran outside to play. It usually preceded a clear night sky, where Damian usually thrashed some evildoer or the other. Thrashing things always made him happy. "Master Damian, why are you smiling to yourself?" Alfred asked lightly. "Oh my god, he looks like an evil toad plotting world domination when he's smiling," Todd butt in. "He totally does," Tim agreed, high giving Jason. "Dark Kermit." Alfred cleared his throat pointedly and shooed the elder and supposedly wiser siblings away, before turning back to Damian. "Do not pay them any heed, Master Damian. You just continue to be happy. Heavens knows, we need some joy in this house," he said, as Bruce crashed into the house with more bureaucratic papers for Tim. Damian smiled disarmingly at the butler. "Don't worry, Pennyworth, I'm plenty happy," Damian replied, walking away with his grin stretching the entirety of his face. Alfred watched his young Master leave, chastising himself for seeing Damian's resemblance to the aforementioned frog. ------------ It had been a fairly dull day at Wayne Manor when the door the Batcave was flung open to reveal a harried Bruce and what was possibly the Sun. "Is this him? Is this Damian?" The sun asked, barreling forward. After giving his eyes a minute to adjust, Damian saw a young man kneeling in front of him, with the most beautiful smile on his face. He was smiling at Damian. Because of Damian. And wasn't that something. Damian looked at the man's aura and registered that what he thought was the sun was actually the bright gold radiating off of the man's aura. A gold so clear, and so bright, that it must have been purified by the fires of the sun itself, and it only glowed brighter upon seeing Damian. "I'm Dick, your big brother," the man introduced himself. "And you're my little brother," he said happily. Damian looked at the Greek god before him in wonderment before reaching out to touch the man's aura. His hand passed through the gold, leaving a trail of shimmering stardust in its wake. Dick giggled at Bruce's confusion and repeated the same action to Damian. "I can see your stars, Little D," he sang. Damian jumped in horror as he realized that he had outed himself. Stupid, stupid, idiot boy- "Hey now, stop that," Dick said, tapping Damian's button nose. "That grey doesn't suit you at all." Dick's words caught up to Damian, snapping him out of his self recrimination. "Huh? Wha- you can s-see them too?" Dick burst out laughing. "Of course I can! I actually thought I was the only one! Jason calls it the most useless power on Earth, but I love it. I can actually see beyond words, and faces. And you know what? You can too," he said kindly. "Oh come on, another one!?" Bruce burst out indignantly. Damian scrunched in on himself as Dick glared up at their mentor. "Bruce, stop it! You're scaring Damian, you thick man!" Damian looked on in wonder as the young man slapped Father lightly before continuing to tell him off. "You're getting that weird mucusy yellow all over your aura! It's disgusting!" "It's disbelief!" Bruce flailed. "Why do I have two kids with the same, useless, power? Can't either of you have laser eyes, or super strength, or super healing, or anything that wasn't a completely hippie power!?" Dick rolled his eyes good naturedly and smiled down at Damian. "Don't worry, he gets like this sometimes. He's just frustrated because Jason probably did something again, and now he's venting." "Don't you get me started on him!" Bruce yelled. "He pulled a gun last night! A loaded gun! After all this time, you'd think that he would know better, but nooo-" "See?" Dick said. His expresion softened as he took in Damian's incredulous expression. "Little D, don't worry, no one thinks any less of you for bring different," Dick said reassuringly. "Bruce just cares too much. When I first told him about my powers, he practically dragged me to an optometrist, and then asked me if I was high. He gave me this whole lecture on how drugs were bad before he realized it was normal for me." "He...doesn't mind?" Damian asked haltingly. "Of course not! I mean, his best friend is Superman!" "Ooh, Clark," Bruce seethed, interrupting the meaningful conversation like a bull trundling through the peaceful Serengeti. "He just threw himself in front of that cannon last week when I expressly said that I could handle it! Stupid, overgrown, side of beef!" Dick laughed and bent down to Damian's eye level again. "You're fine, Little D. Perfect, even." Damian stood a little straighter from that day onwards. ---------- "Grayson, what colour is my aura?" "Oh my god, another useless hippie!" Jason exclaimed. Dick swatted him and looked kindly at Damian. "It's a midnight blue, with little sprinkles of pure white. You're like the night," he said fondly. Damian preened. "I am the night." Later that day, Bruce walked into the Batcave to see Damian running around with his Batman mask and cowl. When Bruce asked Damian what he was up to, Damian grinned toothily and answered, "I am the night!" Before running off to terrorize Tim. Bruce watched Damian until he was out of sight, and then muttered lowly to himself, "No, *I* am the night."

#batman #damian wayne #dick grayson #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #richard grayson #dick is a good brother #Jason and Tim are not #they don't even try #fluff #crack #humor