#(that did make me realize that perhaps I have to bring the tag spoilers announcements from my sky blog to here -anxy)

[thatskynews]

Mods can see your tags.

Mods can see if you're spoiling the next season.

Mods do not like that. :( -Anxy

[omegaobeyme]

I've been obsessed with Lady Gaga's, "Judas" Song...and it gave me an idea for a short Fic. A Devil's Angel Tags: PG13+, scene of violence/death, Angel/Human!MC, DiavoloxMc, Spoilers for lesson 16 Part 1/?

Diavolo was a glorified demon, rivaling strength to only 2 other realm leaders. Of course, if you asked any obedient servant of the throne, he was naturally the obvious winner. So what happens when you have all of the strength a being could dream of and more? You "make friends" apparently. There was no way this all-powerful man could be up to such a light-hearted task. Perhaps it was his butler, Barbatos, with such knowledge and time who guided Diavolo to urge such a conclusion. Had the green-haired demon known a war was to commence? Was Diavolo truly unfit to win such a battle, and therefore needed another way out? These questions filled your head as you stepped into your new dormitory. You were a human, just not too human entirely. Angels essence filled your being thanks to your ancestor, Lilith. You had even met Michael himself years back when her memories flooded yours as the angel essence was supposed to take you to heaven. Long story short, you were in a temporary coma after a car accident. Simeon shook you out of your head with a hand on your shoulder, "remember why you're here." He said, with the same smile he always gave. It was too suspicious for a soon-to-be demon lord to be asking for unity, and god wanted answers. This is where you came in: a seemingly innocent human whose in an extremely unique position to gain an advantage; and more importantly, knowledge. Solomon joined you for your first tea with Barbatos and Diavolo, time allowing. Knocking on the door, you were met with the tired eyes of the butler. "Welcome, over this way." Barbatos guided the pair of humans and you couldn't help but notice how unnervingly perfect this man was. It was as if a board has been placed against his back, perfectly aligning his spine starting at his hips, threaded through his neck. Finally, he motioned towards a satin couch placed within an openly lit common area, decorated with lavish antiques, artwork, and instruments. Solomon broke the silence, "Ah, Auguste Allaire?" "Indeed." The green-haired demon replied, understanding his question without having to look at the painting Solomon was referencing. "I would like to clarify this meeting is to get to know our human exchange students," He began lifting a tray off his serving cart, finished with matching teacups and plates for the both of us, "As humans, it's of upmost importan-" Doors burst open, featuring a particularly muscled demon prince. "Barbatos!" Diavolo smiled so wide his eyes managed to shut. Not only was his personality loud, his laugh was louder. "Sorry, sorry! I'm late, aren't I?" If you were embarrassed, you can imagine Barbatos' reaction in his own mind. He simply sat down and motioned for his Lord to follow suit. It was at this moment you thought it was a horrible prank you somehow got involved in. Months would pass, much like the meetings you had with the royals. During these moments you were allowed questions pre-approved by Simeon. "Why do you want to unite the realms?" and "What happened to the king?" All of which never satisfied any angels curiosity. It seemed for that you'd continue this way forever, until the day you knew of him. The sun gently glazed over your skin, sending shivers at the unexpected warmth of the devildom morning. Of course, it was Lucifer. "I know you better than to sleep in, MC." His gaze shifts to your own, as his back turns to face the now opened curtain of your room. "I'm sorry, I don't usually sleep in unless I'm sick." You weren't lying, it was unusual. "Oh? Perhaps it would be best for you to stay home. I'll have Satan take notes in your stead." Lucifer retorted, sparing you no opportunity to argue back. Then again...this would give you an opportunity to explore the house, especially to find anything Diavolo's "right hand man" might be keeping. Simply nodding, you rolled the covers over your head and set the alarm for another hour, knowing well a mostly human like yourself couldn't escape their well-trained eyes to watch them walk away. At 8 a.m, you awoke to find breakfast in a tightly-sealed container. However, hunger

could barely invade the anxiety creeping upon you. First in priority was making sure everyone was gone, no one in the kitchen, bedrooms, studies, or observatories. Now it was finally time...you took the steps towards Lucifer's room, each slower than the last. Lifting the back of your hand, you knock only to realize the door opening upon contact. The air was noticeably cooler, and his record player opened, as if suddenly stopped. You draw your attention towards his desk, the obvious choice. As you go through paperwork, you realize you can't find any, despite the mountains on his desk every night. Of course. They must've been brought to RAD along with his briefcase he brings every day. But there had to be something. Anything. Go through his bookshelves: nothing. Flip through his records: nothing. The closest lead you've got is a sticky-note in his book with a quote. You take off, looking for any other places he could possibly be storing such sensitive information, then it hit you: the upstairs. Lucifer had made it such a point to not venture upstairs, could he have been more oblivious of such a hint? Honestly, it was still scary to think about going up to an unknown part of the house, but you had no other choice. After checking the time, you begin making the climb only to find a hallway with one door. A loud bang comes from an unknown direction, and you flinch, thinking someone had come home. Then a low chuckle comes from the room in front of you, nearly taunting. Once you gather your emotions, you continue onward to face whatever lay in front of you, only to find a normal-looking human. "who-" "oh, are you the new playtoy?" he responds, "excuse me?" You step backwards, out of reach from his hands, "I don't know what you're talking about." His smile fades, "oh, you must be another human.." He's human, too? "I know what it looks like, but you're not safe here. Ask about Belphegor. Meet me again when it's safe. He's coming back." the blue-white haired male shrinks back into the darker area of the room, and before you can process, your feet run down to your room. Not too long after, a knock fills the empty air. The handle turns, and Satan makes his appearance visible. "Wow. You do look bad. Maybe you should get back to bed." you shake your head, attempting to mask the heartbeat in your chest. "No! No, I'm fine, I swear. What's in your hand?" attempting to avert his attention, you point to the notebook in his hand. "Oh, that. Well I came here to study with you since I heard you missed the day." Satan moved in towards your bed, laying the notebook on your bedstand and flipping to the nearest filled-in page. "Here's the theories we went over, and the elixir's following. I've already taken geography so I brought my old textbook to help, and then there's realm science." You hold your hand up for him to pause as you look over each notes. "Wait, Griffins horn? I thought it was powdered unicorn hoof." He smiles, "Nice catch. We go over it next semester, some things can be substituted for higher-grade materials depending on the molecular structure. If you take a look at..." Satan proceeds to take your mind off the previous situation for the next two hours. That is, until you get lost in thought. "MC? MC, snap out of-" "Who is Belphegor?" you interrupt, leaving him speechless. He clicks his tongue, hand on temple. Everytime he attempts to talk he groans in frustration. Panic settles upon your face unsure of what you had just asked. Had he just set you up? Was he another demon out to steal your soul? What will they do when they find out. "What do you know?" Satan manages to find words, "I-" you begin to lose yours. What does Belphegor mean? It seems like a name but what if- "You know what? I don't want to know. Keep it to yourself." He gets off from the edge of your bed and slams the door behind him. This wouldn't be the last time you heard of him, nor the last you saw. The next morning was eerie. You weren't dead, but..it somehow felt like it. No one came to let you know of breakfast, even after a few minutes of waiting. It

wasn't like you wanted to show your face either, you felt naked. When you did arrive, everyone at the table remained silent besides minimal conversations. Beelzebub no longer tried to steal your food, and Asmodeus wasn't trying to flirt with you. When Lucifer announced it was time to head to RAD, a weight had been lifted from the silence. After opening the door, you noticed another figure beside him. "Good morning, Mc. May I trouble you in taking you out of classes for another day?" Barbatos lightly tilted his head as his eyes looked upon your soul. "O-Of course." You took the hand provided, as he lead you to the castle. When you arrived, Barbatos told you to make yourself comfortable in the first living room. Before long, Diavolo appeared alongside him. "Mc! It's good to see you!" he beamed, arms opened for a hug. "And you as well, Diavolo." Quick to your feet, you met his courtesy. He brightened further when you returned his affection. "Do you by chance enjoy flowers?" Thinking back to the celestial realm, you nod. Taking your hand, he shows you to the garden out back. "Out of everything I was not expecting a garden.." "Really? What did you expect?" His arms crossed and he moved closer towards you, watching your expressions as you gathered your thoughts. "Well, for a demon, maybe stone statues or torture devices." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Is that what humans think now? Are we that cruel?" Diavolo jokes, until Barbatos chimes in, "Times have changed since young masters reign." as he finishes, you notice the plate of gourmet sandwiches prepared for the two of you, placed on a garden table not too far off. Together, you shared the next two hours together chatting alone. Without distractions clouding the brain, things seemed to appear as usual. The brothers began talking to you as normal, including Satan. Simeon hadn't brought up any information or lack thereof since the last meeting with Diavolo and Solomon. In fact, Diavolo seemed to be taking more time out of his schedule to spend with you alone, rather than the two human exchange students. It was nice, for a change; until you remembered what occurred with the Belphegor situation. "So, why did you ask me here in the first place?" Diavolo noticed your body language shifting for a few minutes now, but he knew something was coming at this point. "Today? Well, I enjoy the company of-" "No, Dia. When you first brought me to this garden." It couldn't be helped, you had now formed a friendship with Diavolo. He knew too much about you and how you truly acted when you were yourself, rather than the puppet an angel could use. Emotions conflicted, parts of you yearned to let loose, yet at the same time, what if it was all just an act? What if you had fallen right into his trap, and he knew all along? Just like the dictator Michael had expected. Putting his cup aside, he took a brief pause before answering. "Satan told me that day what had occurred. I thought it best to ensure my exchange student's --" Diavolo stopped as you stood up, allowing your exit. "Tired. So fucking tired." You thought to yourself as you made your way home to the house of Lamentation. Of course, not only did the oh-so-friendly prince take you out of classes once a week, he adjusted your course schedule to reflect such changes. All you could think was how pathetic you are for allowing this to happen under your watch. You never felt fit for this job, but never more so in this moment. Hesitation couldn't be found as you made your way up the stairs into the room. "You're back. Angry. Cat got your tongue?" He was obviously trying to rile you up and it was working. "So who is Belphegor? Are you trying to get me killed?" At this point, he bursts out laughing, "you think this is funny?!" you scream out. "Very." He stops, looking directly into your eyes. "And you're only helping me escape. How about I tell you a secret? I'm not even a human. I know you understand that by now, but I'm Belphegor, the last brother. And you just helped me escape." Before you knew it, hands wrapped around your neck. It was

gentle enough to find release, running downstairs and towards the front door. It was always apparent there was risks, but that's why you had the angels blessing! So why are you so close to death?? Before you could turn the handle, it moves itself. Belphie takes the chance to knock you off your feet, immobilizing you and landing you upon your back. The door opens as Belphegor protrudes claws into your most vital organ, and cold rushes over you, processing the last visuals of Lucifer's shock with Diavolo behind him. "Open your eyes." You wince. He's on top of you, how could you look? There's no way a human could escape the wrath of a demon. "Did you forget about me?" the voice echoes. What? Opening your eyes, you find nothing but white space. Suddenly, a door appears in front of your body. "Don't waste it. And don't forget where you came from." Lilith? There's no way...but then, this couldn't be a dream. It felt too real. On the other side of the doorframe was your last visual before you died, from another perspective. Glimpses flash from her own memories as it floods into your own.. in a flash, your perspective of yourself and the brothers around you changes. You could see the door Lucifer held opening in mere seconds. He froze, in shock of seeing Belphegor out. What's more, the man behind him couldn't see. The red haired demon pushed through, to find the worst fate. Immediately transforming, he flies to your dead body's side. Anger wouldn't be enough to describe what you witnessed in his eyes, nor the grief he was going through. This wasn't normal. Nothing in your body felt that what you were watching was normal. A king's priority should be on subduing Belphegor, and here he was at your deceased version's side. Suddenly, Belphegor's words filled the air. "DON'T FUCKING DARE, FOR THEM? HAHAHA!" You've never heard such a deranged laugh before. Lucifer's eyes opened even further upon processing what Diavolo was accomplishing. Tears couldn't be found in Diavolo's face, he was far beyond it. Whatever was happening, Belphegor didn't dare interrupt. "L-Lord Diavolo, you can't sacrifice yourself for-" Diavolo paid no mind to his right hand mans attempt at stopping him, taking a deep inhale, hands at his horns. "I apologize mother, but I can assure you I won't be wasting your gift." time slows further as Diavolo begins to pull away at his horns. "STOP." Every head turns to look at you, including Diavolo. It wasn't until you died that it hit you. The moments before anyone realized you came back you saw his selfless actions for yourself.

[kitacco]

happy ending.

pairing: gn!reader, kita shinsuke (timeskip).

genre: angst, with a little fluff.

summary: what defines a happy ending?

cw: haikyuu spoilers..

wordcount: 3k.

high school relationships rarely lasted, your mother had always told you that. you were aware, everytime you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend and kissed his cheek, you wished on the stars that your relationship would be that rare one.

it wasn’t.

the memory never left your mind, even after five years. you and kita announcing your polar destinies the night of graduation, the night you thought would be the start of a beautiful love story. you don’t blame him, neither does kita blame you. what kind of love would the two of you have for each other if you tried to force your dreams on the other?

he kissed you goodbye that night, and told you he hoped to see your dreams come true.

years passed and you’d finally graduated university. with a degree and an internship under your belt, kita and the heartbreak was long forgotten. still, you hadn’t found anybody like him yet. like you’d told him once, you were living in the big city. you’d constantly tell him how much you dreamt of the big city, living and working in tokyo was a goal you fantasized with since you were at least thirteen. the idea of leaving everything behind and becoming unstoppable - because that’s what being from the city would give you, you thought; endless opportunities and a stable, extravagant life. kita only smiled, every single time. you don’t understand how could you’ve been so stupid to completely miss the intent behind his gleaming eyes, nodding to your every word, to everything you promised to accomplish. tokyo was your dream, though, and before you could realize, kita had made it clear for you to see.

even though you wished you could completely forget kita (you’d never tell him that, or acknowledge it yourself), his old classmates were a constant reminder of his existence you wished to forget. you knew some of them would follow the same crazy dream you had, still, you wished the city was big enough that you wouldn’t have to encounter them, ever. 

of course, you were unlucky enough to find yourself under atsumu’s arms, the man approaching you in a coffee shop. you’d seen him already, but you decided to ignore him because you knew exactly what he’d say. plus, wasn’t that the purpose of growing up?

“so, how’s kita?”

you don’t know if you’re glad kita didn’t tell them about your breakup, or just accept the fact those things were personal for him. either way, you’d found yourself in a situation you couldn’t avert.

“i don’t know, haven’t seen him since graduation.”

that seems to shake atsumu, stopping on his tracks as he followed you out of the store, “you guys haven’t talked to each other?”

“we broke up long ago, atsumu, but it’s fine,” you sigh, taking a sip of your coffee. “we had different ruotes that’s all.”

“yeah but, long distance could’ve worked, you guys were soulmates.”

were you? you used to think the same. guess the idea was denied by you the moment kita suggested your breakup. which brought you to the idea: did he not feel the same anymore? you decided it was way too late to reminisce on it, not wanting to open already healed wounds, and remember things you wish you hadn’t done.

atsumu knew the truth, though. kita had mentioned it once, and he happened to catch on it while the team left the school on their last reunion with the third years. kita casually wondered if you both were to go your separate ways, wouldn’t he hold you back?

atsumu knew you guys had broken up the night after, but still, he had a little hope that kita perhaps would realize that being selfish in situations like that wasn’t bad. of course, at the time atsumu didn’t understand it, because, as a kid, he thought love was stronger than anything, and what you two had could and should never be destroyed. now, a few years have passed, and when he sees you, a completely different person than you were while you were in school, atsumu understands what kita was trying to do.

“so, have you met someone new then?”

such a simple question that had so many different answers.

yes, you had tried talking with a ton of other people. at parties, college, work, anywhere. you’d often go on blind dates, with guys that would invite you on dates, double dates, anything. tagging along friends and accepting whatever random friend your friend’s partners would like to introduce you to. you could say you were still a child at heart, or maybe you were still not over your high school love. you couldn’t admit, though, being almost twenty four and you were still not over your ex? that was insane.

“not really, too busy with work,” you decide to answer, hoping atsumu changes the topic. “what about you?”

“same, the city is quite hectic, and so is work,” atsumu chuckles, probably remembering something funny. “girls are pretty hard to get around here.”

that makes you smile too, “would’ve never guessed you were having trouble in the love department, doesn’t being an athlete come with a bunch of girls that find you attractive?”

“not enough to put up with certain things, though,” atsumu’s tone is suddenly serious. “love isn’t that easy.”

yeah, you know that.

“well, since i met you after so long, it would be rude of me if i didn’t invite you to my little get together i’m having for my birthday this weekend.”

you’re taken aback. even though you and kita dated for a long time, and were very much acquainted with the volleyball team, you and atsumu never had that kind of relationship. you also thought for the longest time that atsumu disliked your personality, kita always trying to tell you he was just too intense for you. still, you smile, nodding your head. it wouldn’t hurt, right?

being completely honest, never in your head you thought could meet someone unexpected. you knew atsumu would’ve most likely kept in contact with at least half the high school team, still, being adults wasn’t all fun, and work was inevitable. everyone was busy, and probably far away - that’s what you thought. you were proved wrong when you patiently waited for the door of the apartment to open, and none other than atsumu’s twin opened the door for you, eyes widening at your sight, almost as if you shouldn’t be there.

just like atsumu, osamu asks you everything about your life that’s happened to you since you graduated school, still, avoiding the topic that you were worriedly waiting for it to be brought up. to your luck, it wasn’t.

would’ve been your luck, or the fact osamu knew exactly why he shouldn’t bring it up?

you don’t have time to think about it, as you advance inside the flat, a drink in hand and a polite smile on your face to the unknown people in the place. it wasn’t too crowded, probably only 20 people were there, not many familiar faces but ones you genuinely weren’t expecting to see, like suna, aran, osamu, and members of atsumu’s professional team you genuinely didn’t know, nor wanted to know, honestly. you were being nice, for the most part, grateful for atsumu’s invitation, whilst in your head you continued to count the time until enough hours had passed and you could say sorry, got work for tomorrow. however, there was no time for that, losing the count on your head when an extremely familiar grey haired man walked across the room.

“it’s nice to see you again.”

you take a few minutes to answer, still in shock. kita is standing next to you on the balcony. he’d seen you long ago, the moment osamu opened the door for you. still, he decided to give it a few minutes before approaching you, knowing it wouldn’t be as easy as a hello.

kita is as quiet as always, and the look on his face hasn’t changed since the last time you saw him, although you can tell he’s changed. you wished you could say he was the same guy you’d loved for the entirety of high school, but surely, kita was unreadable to you, a complete stranger.

“i-i wasn’t expecting to see you here,” you confess, finally speaking up.

he smiles, eyes still lost in the traffic under the building, the honking of cars and loud noises keeping the atmosphere thin, otherwise, it wouldn’t be easy to continue this conversation, if you could call it one yet, “me neither, i assume atsumu kept this a secret from the both of us.”

you scoff with a smile that cannot reach your eyes, because you know what atsumu wants, and what he expects from this planned, unplanned encounter he’s created. but it doesn’t work that way, and later in the night you learn that.

“how’s your life going?” you quietly ask, instantly regretting it. it’s not that you didn’t care, it’s just that it hurt to remember, suddenly that last night you saw kita playing in your head. “i should apologize—”

“don’t, we were young and you were hurt, i should’ve thought my words better.”

“no, i was wrong, for looking over your dreams,” you mutter, heart tugging. “i think i wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”

the confession is left in the air, for the both of you to repeat inside your minds. kita doesn’t respond, and you’re not sure if you want him to or not. either way, seeing kita again wasn’t going the way you’d always dreamt it would, suddenly the reality falling over your shoulders heavier than what you’d wanted, “i should go.”

“i’ll walk you home,” kita instantly says, turning around to follow you, hand almost reaching out for yours to hold.

you can hear your heart beating like when you were a kid. kita would always walk you home after school, no matter how tired or how busy he was. he always put you first, and now you’ve realized you not only took that for granted, but also started to believe kita would genuinely do anything for you. 

you never thought there would be an exception for the rule.

“it’s fine, i wouldn’t want to ruin atsumu’s birthday like that,” you chuckle, trying to ease the atmosphere.

“one last time,” kita whispers in the night, making you jolt. “let me do it one last time.”

it’s quiet, despite the busy streets, the both of you walk in silence, keeping a safe distance between the two of you. you’re unable to bring up any topic of conversation or form any question, a lump in your throat constantly growing. you’re curious too, about his life, what he’s doing, what was so important for him to give up on the two of you. it’s selfish, you don’t want to accept it but deep inside you know, and you hate yourself for having the same thoughts you did the night kita told you he wanted to stay in hyōgo to become a rice farmer. you thought it was stupid, to say the least, and you started questioning his love for you. because he'd always heard you talk about tokyo and your plans of coming to the big city as much as your wish to stay by his side even after school, so then, why’d he break up with you after telling you your paths were parting? if he genuinely loved you, wouldn’t he make an effort to prove it?

“let it go,” kita suddenly says, making you face him, confused. “i know what you’re thinking, it’s not worth it.”

“what am i thinking?”

“about that night.”

you sadly reach your place, a building as tall as atsumu’s, but surely not as spacious. the two of you stand there for a few seconds, as if waiting for the other to speak up your mind.

“you can come in, if you want,” you mutter, avoiding his eyes.

kita smiles, nodding his head. “it’d be a pleasure.”

luckily you’re a neat person, opening the door to your apartment and stepping inside it before kita to make sure there wasn’t anything out of place. you knew how observing kita was, and even though you knew he wouldn’t nag at you to be cleaner, he’d surely giggle at the fact you were still as messy as you were in high school. but you’re not, and kita confirms that as he rapidly eyes your place.

“it’s really nice.”

“yeah, i can’t complain,” you answer, making your way to the kitchen. “do you want tea?”

“water is okay,” kita answers, taking a seat in your coach.

you genuinely don’t know what the two of you are doing. sitting on the couch, separated by a gap you purposely made, which makes kita smile, because, suddenly you’re acting like you’re fifteen again, and even if you don’t believe it, kita wishes he could go back in time and enjoy those moments again. because tonight everything will go back to normal.

“kita, i really want to apologize for what i said that night,” you start again, and kita clears his throat, raising a hand for you to stop.

“don’t apologize for words you don’t regret.”

“i do! i regret everything i said!” you cry, knowing kita can still read through you, yet you’re unable to anymore. 

“you don’t have to, either, your thoughts were valid, and maybe i should’ve chosen another moment to break up with you. i ended up hurting you,“ kita looks at you, big gleaming eyes as the light of the moon illuminates his face in contrast to the faint warm light lighting up the room. “still, i don’t regret the decision i took that night, that’s why, it’d be unfair to put the blame on you.”

and like that night, your heart breaks again. kita is smiling as the words leave his mouth, as if he was proud of it. once again, the anger you felt that night rushes through you, and the scene repeats itself.

“why’d you do it?” you whisper, voice faltering. “it doesn’t make sense.”

“because i love you.”

the words don’t seem to go through your head, blinded by the hurt in your heart. “no you don’t, you never did otherwise you’d fought for us.”

“there was nothing to fight for, i wasn’t gonna stand between you and your dreams, i couldn’t bring myself to do such thing.”

“you didn’t have to!” you lament, standing up from your seat as your heart beats frantically. “we could’ve been together but you didn’t want to! you could’ve just told me you didn’t love me anymore instead of making me cry over stupid words all these years, still holding into the hope of you loving me.”

“i do love you,” kita repeats again, but he knows you’re not listening, and he knows you’re hurting too.

“we could’ve kept it long distance! we could’ve called each other at nights, texted in the day, visited each other every once in a while, kita, it’s only six hours! it’s not like i was completely off the planet, yet you decided to end it like it was nothing! you gave up before we could fight!”

“because i love you!” kita raises his voice, and you yelp, eyes finally meeting his. he approaches you gently, hands grabbing at your sides as he keeps you in place. “i love you so much i didn’t want to stop you from living your dreams.”

“that’s not fair, you don’t get to decide what was better for me.”

“i was in love enough to know i didn’t want to hurt you,” he insists, and you sigh.

“you’re not making any sense, didn’t it go through your head that maybe leaving would hurt me more?”

“it’d be only for that time, look at you now, you’re successful, living in your dream city and living your dream life, staying with me would’ve only brought you pain.”

“what pain, kita! i don’t understand what pain you’re—”

“what would’ve happened if we stayed together? traveling every once in a while, unable to see each other but from our phones, the two of us busy with two completely different lives, what would’ve happened? what kind of life would that have been? the both of us having to leave something behind to keep a love that at the end would still falter?”

“you don’t know that—”

“we’d end up hurting each other more than that night,” kita mutters, indiscreetly wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

your face was damp, drowned in tears, yet you were so distracted by kita’s words you hadn’t noticed your sobbing. kita’s heart continued to beat under your warmth, his fingers barely moving in your back for you to let it out, because he knew how much it’s been hurting you all these years - or just realizing that now.

“what now, then?” you mumble against his chest, and he looks down at you. “what are we supposed to do now?”

kita waves both of his hands at you from inside the train, that smile never leaving his face. the tears continue to fall from your eyes, and your body continues to shake, unable to quiet down your sobbing. but you’re not crying because you’re sad.

kita’s heart tugs at his chest, pointing at your wrist on the other side of the tracks. you look down, wrapping your fingers around your wrist decorated by the bracelet kita had given you the night of graduation, the one that, in your hurt, you’d thrown back at him, refusing to accept it. to your surprise, kita held onto for so long, hoping to one day give it to you again, and for you to finally keep it.

you’re not crying because you’re sad, you assure kita that.

you cry because, even though it’s still hard, you can understand why kita would do all this.

you understand why kita was willing to give up his love for you.

the train starts moving, the doors long closed, and kita sends you one last smile, eyes closing so he doesn’t have to see your tears as the last image of you, in his head, only picturing the bright eyes you made when he clasped the bracelet around your wrist.

“my biggest dream was you.”

[xwaywardhuntress]

Family Don’t End In Blood (Part Six)

Summary: The end is here...or is it?

Pairings: Dean x reader

Warnings: some season 15 spoilers, language

Word Count: 5200+

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. This is fanfiction only. Please do not redistribute my writings on other sites, horrible or not. Thanks!

Author’s Note: This series will slightly follow season 15 as a baseline.

Catch Up: Part One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Jack.

Y/N’s hunter instincts immediately went into action as she grabbed the silver knife she regularly held in the inside of her boot. Luckily most monsters had some kind of affliction with silver if this Jack was a monster. Holding the pointed end towards the intruder, her eyes wandered from Jack’s dead body to this new Jack before her. “Who the hell are you? How did you get in here? And change your damn face!”

The new Jack tilted his head. “Is something wrong with my face?”

 “I’m serious. Change it. This isn’t funny.” Y/N held her gaze at the intruder.

“But I cannot. This is my face.” Jack stated.

Y/N had heard enough of whatever game this monster was playing as she lunged forward, only to find herself going through the boy as he disappeared and then reappeared behind her. She turned around and stared at him in disbelief. “J-Jack? You’re a ghost?”

“Hm, I suppose I am now.” Jack articulated the idea.

Of course, he was a ghost. It would make sense. They hadn’t given him a proper hunter’s funeral yet and he must’ve been still tied to his human body. Putting away her knife, she couldn’t help but wonder if he had been around this whole time.

As if he had read her thoughts, Jack continued talking, “I’ve been in the empty. I don’t quite understand how I got back here, but if I get to see you, then I’m okay with it.” The boy smiled at her.

At that moment, Y/N had wished more than anything that she could hug him. Hell, she was sure the boys would’ve wanted too also. The boys… Her mind wandered to the Winchester brothers and the angel. Everyone had shared the same guilt that somehow Jack had died because of them. “I should get the others. They’d want to see you too and know that you’re okay...kind of?”

“I can’t stay long.” Jack quickly spoke up as she was about to head to the hallway.

Stopping in her tracks, she looked at the boy questioningly. “Why not? Is something after you? A reaper?”

“No, I already met one. She was nice. I’m here to tell you I know how to stop God.” Jack shared as he began to flicker out. “Find Belphegor.” He managed to let out before he vanished completely.

Y/N had reached out to him as he began flickering and when he vanished completely, she yelled out his name. “Jack? Jack! Wait! Where did you go? Jack!” When he didn’t reappear, she looked down at the ground as her hands fisted by her side. She’d find this Belphegor that Jack mentioned and bring down Chuck once and for all.

A few seconds later, a deep voice by the door interrupted with a knock. “Y/N?”

The huntress turned around to find the older Winchester entering the room as he glanced over at the kid’s body. As she was about to share what had just happened to her, Dean spoke first after taking a deep breathe in.

“I’ll keep saying this for as long as I live. I’m sorry.” Dean walked towards her as he stopped in front. “I hate this. Whatever it is going on between us right now.”

It looked like the talk was finally happening. Perhaps it was for the best, she’d need him to help her take down Chuck and find this Belphegor. The two always worked better together than against each other. After what had happened recently, that was proof enough. And a part of her missed him, even during the times that they were on different sides. Reaching out for his hand, she looked down at them. “I do too…”

 Dean continued the speech he had been mentally preparing for after his talk with his brother. “I was being stupid before. You’ve always been the one there for me, whether I asked for it or not. I should’ve stopped and questioned myself the moment you drove off. I should’ve gone after you too. I was just so blinded by my mother’s death and wanted something to blame, something I could kill…and it turned into someone we all cared for. And now, even he’s dead…because of me.” He glanced over at Jack’s body as her eyes followed his.

She squeezed his hands, “Dean, it’s not your fault. We were all just pawns on Chuck’s chessboard to help him get what he wanted. And sadly, he did. He got exactly what he wanted. Not in the way he wanted and that’s what matters. You didn’t pull the trigger. You realized, even at the last second, that what you were doing was wrong. And it was at that moment where I had forgiven you for all of it.”

The green-eyed hunter found himself finally making eye contact with her. “How? I still got Jack killed. If it wasn’t for me, Chuck wouldn’t have had the chance to get to him.”

She sympathetically smiled at him as she placed one of her hands on his cheek. “Chuck always knew where he was. He’s god after all. Dean, we all blame ourselves in some way for Jack’s death. I could’ve tried better to stop you, instead of walking away as I did. We’ve all made mistakes that led to what had happened.” She could feel her eyes begin to grow watery again, but she fought against it as best as she could. “But no matter what happened, I would always be there for you Dean. I need you, even if you’re being a stubborn jerk.” A chuckle escaped her lips in a small attempt to change the mood, to avoid crying anymore.

His fingers found the skin under her eyes as he wiped away a stray tear. Dean’s hand slid down under her chin as he tilted it up slightly and leaned forward pressing his lips to hers gently. After everything that had happened, this kiss seemed to wash their differences away. She returned the kiss till he pulled away and rested his forehead on hers. “I need you too. More than you know.” For what seemed like a long time, the two stood in silence, their foreheads against one another as they felt themselves reconnecting.

A clear of the throat interrupted the moment, “Glad to see you two finally worked things out.” Sam entered the room with a smile, holding his laptop in one hand. Castiel had followed behind him.

“We have a problem.” Sam shared with a frown. “So get this, at first all the spirits from hell seemed to have been rising everywhere in the world, but now they all seem to be gathered in one area. Also the broken body parts you boxed up earlier that tagged along with you all, it stopped moving. It’s almost like the spirit is no longer in it.”

“What does that mean?” Dean asked as he stood away from you, near his brother.

“Nothing good.” Cas answered as his eyes couldn’t seem to tear away from Jack’s body since entering the room.

“Where is this place that they’ve gathered?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask.

Sam chuckled as he turned his laptop to show his brother and Y/N. “Harlan, Kansas.”

“I sensed a collection of energy there.” Cas added in.

“Isn’t that near where we were before? The cemetery?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, it’s not too far. I’m with Cas, if they’re gathering in one place, that’s never a good thing.” The younger Winchester shut his laptop as he too glanced over at Jack’s body. “We should probably…”

“No.” The angel spoke quickly.

Y/N could see the pain and guilt on Castiel’s face still. He wasn’t ready to accept Jack’s death. Even though she wasn’t ready either, she knew Sam only wanted to give Jack the same respect all hunter’s got when they passed away. However, it may have still been a bit too soon for everyone to get their heads wrapped around the idea of burning his body. “We should probably head to Harlan ASAP. I agree that the undead being in one place sounds like trouble. We need to figure out what’s going on and try to stop it before it happens if we can.” Y/N suggested to everyone, changing the topic back to the possible immediate danger at hand.

“I can roll with that plan. We leave in 20!” Dean announced as he went off to prepare his belongings for the trip. Sam also agreed, leaving after his brother.

Castiel finally tore his eyes away from Jack’s form and looked over at Y/N. “Thank you.”

She smiled back as she headed off to prepare her things as well, completely forgetting her brief conversation with the ghostly form of Jack.

- - -

Arriving in the town of Harlan Kansas, it looked to be just another normal day. Families and pedestrians were walking along the sidewalk, window shopping by the small-town stores. Some were really shopping as they held bags of purchased materials. The place was far from what they all were expecting with a town that had the undead gathering in it.

“Huh.” Sam looked around, confused in the front seat.

Y/N shared the same expression in the back, as Dean caught both of the looks. “Alright, what’s wrong with you two?” The older Winchester asked.

“Well, you’d think if spirits or the undead from hell were all gathered in one place, there would be…I don’t know, chaos?” Y/N shared her thoughts.

Sam chimed in, “Definitely shouldn’t be this calm.”

Dean looked around at the town as they drove through. It hit him that his brother and Y/N had made a good point. In a way, he couldn’t help but think that maybe this once, they were being given a break. Hopeful thinking, of course. Parking off to the side, the older Winchester was about to ask what would their plan be when the younger one stepped out of the car. With curious eyes in the Impala, everyone left watched as Sam shrugged on an FBI button-up and headed straight to the town’s sheriff who had been standing not too far ahead of them. Castiel, who seemed to have realized Sam’s plan, followed behind him as they both began interacting with the sheriff.

“Guess we’re going with that plan.” Dean commented as he threw on the same FBI button up and then threw the one for Y/N in the back.

Y/N put the smaller sized button-up on as well. She and Dean could faintly make out what Sam and Cas were talking to the sheriff about. The keyword they both heard being ‘evacuation’.  

Leaning forward against the front seats on the impala, Y/N had her eyes on the trench coat wearing angel, “Do you think bringing Cas was a good idea?”

Before they had left, Castiel was set on staying. He did not want to leave Jack’s body at all. Dean and Sam insisted that since what was happening may have been Chuck’s doing again, they’d need him. It wasn’t until Y/N asked kindly that the angel conceded without a fuss. A bit odd, but as long as it worked.

A breath of air was released as Dean answered, “He can’t stay with the kid’s body forever. He needs space to accept what happened. We all do.”

She leaned back on the backseat, knowing Dean was right this once. One of the back doors of the impala opened. Expecting Cas, Y/N was met with a young man, probably in his early 20s, wearing sunglasses. She looked at the boy confused.

“I think you have the wrong car, kid.” Dean stated as he looked back at the new kid.

The kid in question smiled. “No, I’m pretty sure I’m in the right car. Chevy Impala 1967.”

Y/N looked over at Dean raising a brow and giving him the look asking if this boy could be a possible danger.

Dean sighed, “Hey kid, you’re right about the car but I know for a fact you’re not supposed to be here. You don’t know us. So hit the road.”

“You’re Dean and Y/N, right?” The boy asked. “You both are much better looking than the stories describe. Actually, everyone in this time is much better looking. I’ll tell ya when I was alive way back in the day, everyone was pretty ugly with humps and then we’d be praying to this rock that looked like a giant pe-”

The click of a gun shut the young man up as Dean had it pointed at him. It was hidden strategically under his arm to cover it from pedestrians walking by. Y/N had reached for her silver knife in her boot while the boy in question talked. She held it near the seat but pointing in the direction of the stranger as well.

“Who the hell are you? And how do you know who we are?” Dean asked with a serious tone.

The boy held his hands up. “Woah, Woah. I’m on your guy’s side. I even brought all those souls that escaped from hell here and I was waiting for you guys to show up.”

“Why?” Y/N questioned.

The boy sighed, with his hands still in the air. “A peace offering so you wouldn’t kill me on the spot?”

She brought the knife closer to his side, “Why would we kill you on the spot?”

The boy started to move his hands towards his sunglasses but Dean shook his head telling the boy to think again before moving.

“Alright, if you won’t let me show you, I’ll have to tell you. BUT you have to promise to hear me out first before either shooting or stabbing me please.” The boy pleaded, looking between Y/N and Dean.

The two hunters looked at each other and mentally agreed to it.

“Okay, start talking kid.” Dean demanded, the gun still pointed at the boy.

“The names Belphegor. I’m a demon, not any important demon. I worked in hell as a torturer. I quite liked my job down there and to put it simply, I’d like that job back, along with the souls I’m ordered to torment.” The boy explained.

The moment Y/N heard his name, she remembered her small conversation with Jack. Jack had told her to look for him and here he was served right to her. But why would Jack send her to go after a demon?

Dean, of course, had a hard time believing the kid. “Get out.” He ordered. “We don’t need a Crowley Jr. We don’t need any demons help.”

“But I can help you guys!” The boy responded. “The spell I used before only temporarily gathered all of hell’s souls here, but I know another spell that can keep them here till you guys do what you do and figure out a way to get all of us back into hell.”

“No, get out!” Dean raised his voice.

Belphegor sighed as he shook his head. He knew this would be a hard task to work with the infamous Winchesters, but he thought maybe Sam would be more reasonable and decided he would be his next stop.

“Wait!” Y/N yelled as the boy was about to get out of the car. If Jack told her to find this demon boy, who was offering to help them, then she’d take it even if the boys wouldn’t agree.

“Y/N….” Dean gave her a stern look, questioning why she stopped the boy from leaving.

“Dean…” Her eyes met with his. She’d have to find time to tell him and the others later that she saw Jack and that he told her to search for this demon. For now, she’d need to find another way to get Dean to agree to work with this demon. “Let’s give this boy a chance. He has more of a plan than any of us at the moment. We honestly don’t know what the hell we are going to do and we have no idea what is happening. The only thing he has confirmed so far for us is that there isn’t something bigger going on here to have all the souls, or spirits, or whatever from hell to be gathered here. They were brought here against their will, thanks to his spell. And if we can keep them from spreading throughout the world and keep the fight local, I think we should consider helping him with this other spell he has in mind. You don’t have to trust him. I’ll keep an eye on him. But trust me.”

The older Winchester was internally fighting himself. He didn’t want to work with a demon, but he also didn’t want to go against Y/N again. He hesitated in answering till he huffed in defeat, “Fine. You’re explaining this to Sam and Cas.” He rolled his eyes at his turned his back to them.

The boy smiled at Y/N as she returned it with an awkward one. She was hoping that she was making the right choice or that Jack knew what he was doing when he told her to find Belphegor.

When Sam and Cas came back and found an extra body in Baby, Y/N introduced Belphegor. She began explaining what the demon had shared with her and Dean earlier. Sam and Cas were adamant, but Sam seemed a bit more lenient out of all the boys. The younger Winchester then shared that it was a good thing he and Cas told the Sheriff to evacuate the town. Sam asked Belphagor about the spell that would keep the souls in one spot. The demon summarized it as one big mile-wide circle of salt that would include the cemetery where any more souls escaping hell would be trapped as well. The keyword to hurting these souls from hell seemed to be salt, the ultimate weapon against any supernatural creature.

It was decided that Castiel and Sam would go door to door to help the townspeople evacuate and to also check for any signs of the undead or souls appearing. Dean and Y/N would help Belphegor gather the ingredients needed for this big salt circle spell. It was a pretty convenient spell with only two ingredients needed: a big bag of salt and unfortunately, a human heart.

Dean pulled Y/N aside, while Belphegor stood by the impala. “Where the hell are we going to get a human heart?”

“A morgue?” She shrugged.

Dean eyed her as he already had that idea in mind, it was the ingredient itself that he had an issue with. “I mean, why does he need a human heart?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, Dean. This is the first I’ve heard of the spell and we don’t exactly have time to research if it’s legit. How about giving Rowena a call? In the meantime, I can go to the morgue and see if there’s a heart around. You get the salt.”

When she turned around, she found the boy on the ground. She quickly ran over and kneeled as the boy began stirring awake again. Dean was right behind her. “Belphegor?” Y/N called out.

The boy took the sunglasses off and looked up at Y/N, very confused. “Who is that? Who are you?!” The kid got up, clearly shaken and then ran off.

Dean groaned aloud, “Great! See! This is why I knew we shouldn’t work with a damn demon!”

“Hello!” Another voice spoke from behind, a familiar voice.

Y/N and Dean turned to look behind them as Y/N stood back up. “Jack?” The older Winchester questioned. The two both immediately noticed the lack of eyes on Jack, which caused Y/N to stop herself from running towards the boy.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I know you guys aren’t pro-possession and figured I’d ditch that old body and inhabit a dead one. This was the closest one I could find.” The kid shared.

“Belphegor?” The huntress asked.

The kid walked forward towards the sunglasses that were left behind as he picked it up and placed them on. “Much better. Blending.” He semi-posed then faced Y/N and Dean. “Anyways, back to the bag of salt and human heart that we need. We getting them or not?”

Y/N was speechless. A part of her was upset for the demon using Jack’s body, but another part of her thought maybe this was Jack’s doing. Unfortunately, the former was a stronger feeling. It was too soon for her. She grabbed the jacket Jack last wore by the collar as she pushed the demon against the impala. “GET THE HELL OUT OF HIM!” She screamed.

Luckily this portion of the town had been the first to evacuate, otherwise, this would have been quite a scene for the norm. Dean reacted fast the moment he saw her move. He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her away and turned her around to face him. “Hey, calm down.” She struggled against his hold to get loose when she didn’t even realize her eyes were beginning to water. Dean noticed as he pulled her into an embrace. “Hey! Listen to me. You need to calm down, we have a job to do right now.”

“No! I can’t! I won’t!” Y/N mumbled against his chest. “I don’t care if this is a part of his plan. I don’t care that he told me to find him.”

Dean heard every word that she spoke, which brought him confusion. He placed his hands on her arms and pulled her a bit away from him to look at her. “What are you talking about, Y/N? Who told you to find who? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

She looked up at him as she wiped her eyes. “Jack. I saw him back at the bunker before we had our talk. He told me to look for him.” Her eyes darted over at Belphegor. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you till now. I swear I was going to tell you after we got the spell done. I was going to tell all of you.”

Dean didn’t feel betrayed as he usually would have after having information withheld from him. A part of him understood that a lot was going on still and it was still a fresh cut for Y/N. He took a deep breath in and out, as he pushed down his need to question the hell out of her at the moment. “It’s okay. Tell me later after the spell is done as you planned. I’ll stick with the kid and you go look for a heart at the town morgue.”

Y/N nodded her head as she adjusted herself to calm down. She glanced at Belphegor in Jack’s body, who smiled at her as she headed out to do the task at hand with a salt gun.

- - -

Before reaching the morgue, of course, Y/N ran into some trouble as she witnessed the death of the town sheriff. The culprit was a woman dressed in white. “Let me take a wild guess here, the woman in white who haunts highways? Or at least some version of the multiple stories that are around?” The huntress asked sarcastically as she pointed her salt gun at the woman.

The woman in white smiled as she flickered before Y/N. “You share the same smell as the ones that brought me home.”

“Uh, thanks? Now, bye.” Y/N shared as she shot her salt gun, causing the woman in white to disappear. She went to the sheriff as she double-checked for a pulse, hoping he would still be alive somehow. The moment it was confirmed that the sheriff was dead, the woman in white reappeared and threw Y/N against the dumpster nearby.

The shot and ruckus were heard by Dean and Belphegor, as they came running into action. Dean immediately went to Y/N, dropping the bag of salt by the sheriff’s body. “You okay?”

Y/N nodded her head as she was helped up.

“We have the last ingredient now.” Belphegor stated holding the sheriff’s bloody heart, smiling. The woman in white re-appeared by the demon in Jack’s body. “Oh no. Bad Ghost. Bad.” The demon called out at the soul as he placed his hands in front as a poor way to stop her advance, which obviously wouldn’t work.

The woman just stood there staring at the demon when Dean shot her from behind. “Do the spell!” Dean yelled as he stood alert waiting for the woman in white to reappear. Y/N held her gun, ready to fire as well, despite the small sting she felt on her arm.

The demon opened the big bag of salt that Dean bought from the store earlier as he spilled it on the ground in front of him. As Belphegor chanted the spell, before he could use the heart, the woman in white appeared before him. With a smirk, the demon dropped the heart on top of the pile of salt.

The moment the heart contacted with the salt, a circular burst of energy expanded from the source of the heart and salt. Y/N felt it somehow, unlike Dean who showed no reaction. They waited for a moment to see if the woman in white would re-appear. And when she didn’t, Dean suggested they get the hell out of there and meet back up with Sammy and Cas.

- - -

The town’s people of Harlan had evacuated at a school, just outside of the salt circle spell. Sam and Cas had ended up helping a mother and daughter, to which Dean brought to the evacuation point. Sam took point as he left to bring the mother and daughter in, while also speaking with the town authorities to check on the evacuation status.

Back at the impala, there were disagreements with Belphegor’s new choice of meat suit. The demon found the group's dispute to be awkward as he made himself scarce. Dean was surprisingly on the side that didn’t want the demon out of Jack’s body ASAP. As Castiel was about to leave upset, Dean found himself raising his voice at Y/N. “Your arm!” Both men made their way over to her.

“Well, that explains the stinging earlier.” Y/N commented as she inspected the hole that was created from a cut along her arm. Her blood had stained the sleeve of the FBI button-up she wore, which is how Dean noticed the cut in the first place.

“You probably got this when the bitch threw you against the dumpster.” Dean explained as Cas overheard.

Castiel went straight to her as he brought his hand over the cut, “I will take care of this.” Within seconds, the cut was gone and her skin was all healed. The angel cleared his throat, which she found a bit curious. “I should check everything to make sure nothing else is hurt.” He eyed her, waiting for permission.

Y/N looked at the angel raising a brow, “Uh, sure. Go for it.”

When he had said he would check everything, the angel meant it as his hand hovered over almost her entire body. She caught him relieving a sigh before he stood up and then made his way to leave.

The older Winchester thanked Cas, despite the small tension from before as he caught Y/N’s interested look watching the angel walk away. “Everything okay, sweetheart?”

“Hm? Yeah.” She answered. The throw hurt like a bitch, but she doubted that anything serious was injured. Her mind led her to think that maybe Cas was scared to lose another person he cared for and that was why he had the brief moment of relief on his face as he scanned her for any more injuries that weren’t present.

“So you want to tell me the whole ghost whispering story with Jack?” The older Winchester asked as he opened the trunk of the impala.

Y/N joined him by the opened trunk. “He said he knew of a way to stop Chuck, but before he could go into detail, it seemed like he was losing his connection to here, so he was flickering out a lot. The only thing he managed to say before he disappeared completely was to find Belphegor.”

“Well, we found him. Have any way of contacting Jack again?” Dean asked as Sam returned.

“Contacting Jack? What did I miss?” Sam questioned as he began re-loading the gun he had been using throughout the day.

Y/N didn’t know why, but something felt different with Sam now. Before she could ask if he was okay, the younger Winchester hissed from feeling a slight sting on his shoulder, the shoulder where he got shot from shooting Chuck.

“That shoulder bothering you now?” Dean asked his brother.

“A little, not much. It’s probably because I haven’t exactly rested it…is all.” Sam answered as he looked away. Y/N had an inkling that the younger Winchester was hiding something.

“Why don’t you have Cas heal you?” Dean asked.

“No.” Sam answered a bit too quickly, which only increased Y/N’s suspicions that he was indeed hiding something. “I’m fine. It’s probably better for him to save some angel juice for an emergency.” He suggested.

Dean wasn’t having it but he wouldn’t push his brother towards the angel either, “Alright, if you want it that way, then at least have Y/N or I check on it.”

“Fine, fine, later.” Sam continued talking, “So what were you guys talking about concerning Jack before I got here?”

Dean looked over at Y/N, eyeing her to share her story again.

She sighed, as she knew she would need to repeat it again with Cas eventually. If only she could say it once with everyone present. “Jack appeared to me back in the bunker, when I went to trade places with Cas. I haven’t seen him since but he told me he knew how to stop Chuck. And then he told me to find Belphegor before disappearing.”

“Ah, so that’s one of the reasons he’s still alive.” Sam realized as Dean rolled his eyes. “Jack letting him use his body part of the plan too?”

Now it was Y/N’s turn to roll her eyes. “Maybe? I’m not all too sure. And I’d rather the demon not.” She stated. “But since he’s been useful, I can deal. For now.”

The additional cars showing up caught the younger Winchester’s attention for a second, “So when Chuck said ‘Welcome to the End’, I guess this is what he meant?” He watched as the people ran out of the cars they drove. Fear visible on all of their faces.

Y/N fisted her free hand in a ball. “It seems so. Screw that bastard. I swear I’ll-”

“Alright, alright…” Dean interrupted. “That’s enough talk. You…” He looked over at Y/N, handing her a new loaded shotgun. “…take your anger out on the ghosts. And you…” He turned to his brother. “…go find Cas and then call every hunter we know. We need all the help we can get. Y/N or I will meet you later inside to check on your shoulder.”

Pulling the fore-end of the shotgun back, Y/N looked at the boys, “So us three versus every soul in Hell?”

“I like those odds.” Dean finally grinned as he made eye contact with her.

Sam managed to smile slightly too as he agreed.

“Well, you know what that means. We got work to do.” And then the older Winchester slammed the trunk of the impala closed.

Next: Part Seven

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Goodbye and Hello - 4

Manon and Dorian said goodbye in Orynth. But for them, saying hello again is only a matter of time.

Kingdom of Ash spoilers

Tagging @itach-i @nestasbucket @manontrashbeak @blackhavilliard @bookishwitchling @jimetg98

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Part One: I Wish…

Part Two: Another Day

Part Three: Those Two Words

Part Four: Breakfast in Bed

Manon couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept.

On the rare nights when she actually fell asleep, it never lasted long. Dreams kept her from getting any rest. For every nightmare about the battle, she had mundane dreams that left her just as lonely and drained. Visions of the Thirteen yielding, conversations with Asterin or Dorian, or even the sister she’d killed. Memories from when she’d come of age and formed her coven. They plagued her each night.

As she struggled to come wake, Manon wondered exactly how long it had been. A year perhaps? Yes, definitely before the war. Which meant she just had her first full night’s sleep in about a year.

Opening her eyes to a dark room, her mind stumbled in groggy confusion as she tried to recognize her surroundings. A fire flickered from somewhere behind her, and there was a sliver of daylight coming through the curtains. Silky soft sheets caressed her bare skin as she rolled onto her back.

The Ferian Gap.

It was completely remade from the horrible place of valg infested men where she’d once lived. The rukhin were transforming the Omega into more of a home than a military outpost. She started to doze off again, reaching towards the other side of the bed for the warm body on which she’d fallen asleep.

When her fingers met nothing, she stretched further, thinking perhaps the bed was bigger than she’d remembered.

Manon jerked fully awake and sat up. Ignoring the clench in her gut and the rush of her pulse, she scanned the room for Dorian. But like the bed, it was empty.

The bathing room door hung open, showing no signs that he was in there. From where she still sat motionless in gloomy darkness, she couldn’t see any bags or clothing strewn across the furniture, or piled on the floor.

This reaction was irrational and stupid. And it was something she could not control. No matter how she tried to steady her breathing or reason out where he could be or hear above the formless ringing in her ears, her body refused to obey. Frustration wove itself into the fear and she bit her lip, trying to will the first tear from breaking free.

“Manon?”

She twisted towards the door, where Dorian now stood holding a tray piled high with plates and bowls. Strange aromas - spicy, savory, sweet - wafted through the air as he lightly kicked the door closed behind him.

She’d thought he’d left. Not to get them breakfast. But left. Gone.

Just the sight of him eased some of the pressure and gnawing ache in her chest. But the damned tears had not disappeared. One fell and she turned away before he could see it.

More tears threatened as she noticed one of his shirts crumpled on the bed, less than a foot away and within easy reach. It had escaped her search moments before. Manon grabbed it and threw it over her head. By the time she looked at him, her eyes were dry.

He still stood by the door, watching her, his brows knit in confusion and his gaze searching her inch by inch, like a flame on her skin. She thought about blaming her state on a nightmare, but she didn’t have the energy to lie.

For whatever reason, Dorian said nothing as he sat the tray on a table. An invisible lash of his magic opened the curtains to a bright sunny day. Squinting against the sudden light, Manon excused herself to the bathing room. 

She saw to her needs quickly and returned to the bedroom. Dorian was rearranging what looked like days’ worth of food, spreading everything out on the table. When she pulled out a chair to sit, he shook his head and ushered her back to the freshly made bed.

“Breakfast in bed. Remember?”

Dorian was back to the table by the time she recalled their goodbye in Orynth, and the life he’d wished for them. Travel, no responsibilities, libraries for him, weapons for her, nights like the one they’d just shared, and yes, breakfast in bed. 

Manon sat cross-legged and watched as he continued with his preparations. His very literal take on ‘breakfast in bed’ seemed silly. And potentially messy. But the sight of so many dishes distracted her from the thought. “How much do you think I eat?” she asked.

He laughed, and she knew from its lilting tone that he would not press her about what he’d walked in on. At least, not yet.

“I know how much you eat, but not what you eat. Or rather, what you like.” He raised a steaming silver kettle high above a mug and began to pour. “One of the cooks in the kitchen showed me how to do this properly,” he said, speaking slowly to concentrate on not spilling.

Most of the black liquid ended up in the mugs and he flashed her a grin that was irresistible. Relenting to his charm, Manon clapped, without too much sarcasm, and was instantly rewarded with an even brighter smile. Dorian brought the tray over and placed it on the top of the bed, then sat carefully across from her.

“I’ve never seen tea like this,” she said, looking down into a mug. Now more of a caramel color, the liquid was swirling with foam.

“That’s because it isn’t tea. It’s kahve. Milk and sugar are used to counter the bitterness.” Quickly, he added, “As I learned yesterday morning when I almost spat it out all over the table. Did I mention that I’ve made a wonderful first impression here?”

Manon laughed quietly, raised the mug, and inhaled. It smelled very good, like nothing she’d had before. Spicy and nutty, with other earthy scents she couldn’t quite place.

“What is your favorite food anyway?” he asked, handing her a napkin and utensils.

After so many years of eating only what was available - whatever game could be caught, the slop served here and then at Morath, travel and war rations - Manon didn’t have an answer. Like sleep, it was difficult to remember the last time she’d had a choice in what she ate. The food they had in the Wastes was nourishing and hearty, but nothing extravagant. Their options were limited by what they’d been able to grow in one season, or acquire through trade, which wasn’t much since they had little to offer in exchange.

“I don’t really know,” she admitted, feeling foolish as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “I don’t cook. Except for what I can catch. Game, fish. And this past year, we didn’t have a lot of variety.”

“Well, it’s good that I brought a little of everything then. Maybe something in here will become your favorite.”

“You made all of this?”

Sheepishly, he said, “No. I made some of it. Most are things imported from the Southern Continent that they keep stocked in the kitchens.” He took the napkin she’d done nothing with and spread it out over her lap, then began naming things as he pointed to each plate.

“Smoked and cured meats. Warning, some are spicy. A few different kinds of cheese. Olives.”

“I know what meat and cheese and olives are”, she said dryly, but Dorian ignored her.

“Dried mango, candied ginger...” He went on, naming a bunch of fruits from the Southern Continent that she’d never heard of. “Nothing fresh unfortunately but that’s the nature of bringing in food from so far away.”

Pointing to a still warm loaf covered in seeds and nuts, he said, “I believe you know what bread is.” Another laugh escaped her lips before she could hold it in. “Porridge,” he continued, lifting the lid off a bowl. “And to make it palatable,” three more containers were uncovered, “honey, orange jam, and yoghurt.”

Before he could tell her that the bowl of almonds did in fact contain almonds, she asked, “And what did you make?”

“Ah! The main course.” There was a large, oval platter in the middle of the tray, its contents hidden by a ceramic lid. With a flourish, he pulled it off and announced, “Eggs with cheese, ham, peppers, and tomatoes. I usually put different vegetables in it but I had to improvise.”

Manon examined the dish, bent over to smell it, then poked it with her fork. “It looks edible.”

“You won’t know until you try it,” he purred.

They had flocks of chickens at the Keep, so she ate eggs often. But unlike her normal breakfast, these were fluffy and light. At least the parts not drenched in melted cheese. Trying to get a little of everything, she gathered the egg concoction onto her fork and took a bite. He watched her like a hawk, waiting for any reaction, any tiny sign of enjoyment. Manon kept her face stonily flat as she chewed. Upon swallowing, she immediately reached for more.

Dorian leaned over and kissed her cheek. With the touch of his lips, she realized she was smiling.

Just as she began sampling the other food, he casually said, “Let’s play a game while we eat. A question for a question.”

Manon froze with her fork midway to her mouth. His eyes held the please he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, speak.

“I already asked one, so it’s your turn. We can’t give yes or no answers, and we each have the right to refuse...” He thought for a moment. “Three questions.”

She finished the jam laden bite of porridge. “Don’t we have to meet the Captain soon?”

“I saw Orghana already. She’s giving us the day to ourselves.” Manon arched a brow, to which Dorian innocently replied, “We got here early and they weren’t prepared for everything yet.”

She reached for her mug. The kahve was still steaming, almost too hot to hold, but she kept it cradled in her hands anyway. Warmth settled through her as she took a few tentative sips. It was good, she decided, savoring the sharp bite that came after the initial sweetness.

Dorian ate while she stalled. As she looked over the tray of food, at all he’d done, she decided she could at least try. He was giving her an out. Three of them, in fact.

“Okay.” Manon finally said, staring at him to gauge how far she could go in her questions. She remembered every single letter from him, every thought and confession. But there were things he hadn’t said that she’d wondered about.

“Now that you know more about your father, how he gave you his name, do you feel differently about him?”

***

Dorian almost choked on his kahve. As he cleared his throat, she watched with a mix of curiosity and apology. And just a hint of you asked for this.

“I was expecting something along the lines of ‘what is your favorite color’,” he joked, but she made no move to alter the question. Not that he’d expect her to. So, after some thought, he said, “When I think about him, it is... different than before. In some ways.”

His letters had contained almost everything – what he’d learned from Erawan, how he’d seen his father in the space between worlds, even the one or two details he’d managed to pull from his mother. But it had always been straightforward accounts of what had happened, never anything deeper.  

“Honestly, I still hate him for what he did. All the people he hurt. But...” He’d never admitted this to anyone else, not even Chaol. “But there is love too, for his help in the end. For knowing he’d fought back as much as he could.”

Manon smiled. She had once tried to get him to consider that his father had not been his true self and perhaps didn’t deserve the full brunt of Dorian’s hate. But he’d refused.

“I wasn’t able to see that before,” he acknowledged. “And there are days when I can’t see past the destruction he left behind. When all I can focus on is the bad. But mostly, I pity him.” Manon listened to every word, almost greedily. It made him think this wasn’t just about him and his father. Yes, she wanted to know about that. But it was almost like there was a different question hidden within it. One she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, ask.

“I don’t know who he really was, let alone who he could have become. That’s what I wonder about more than anything. The what-ifs.” After a long pause, he admitted to something else he’d never said out loud. “Sometimes, when I have to make a difficult decision, I imagine what he might have done. The real him, not the valg. I wonder if I could have made him proud.” Shaking his head, he huffed a laugh. “I don’t know if any of that made sense.”

“It did.” Her voice was thoughtful and quiet, her eyes intense and glowing. A moment passed before she shifted her attention back to the food.

“My turn,” he said, giving her his most mischievous grin. Not giving her a chance to protest, he asked, “What is your favorite color?”

This time her laugh was a little louder, a little more joyful. After a few moments, she said, “I’ve never had a reason to think about it.” Manon looked around the room before stopping and fixating on his eyes. “Blue.”

Dorian’s grin softened. “Good answer, witchling.”

“The blue of the sky in the Wastes,” she amended, drinking more kahve. “Sometimes, when the clouds are just right, it looks like the horizon is on fire from the setting sun. There’s a moment right before it disappears, when the sky is a deep blue. But there’s still that tiny bit of sunlight that makes it bright and distinct from the black. It’s impossible to describe, but it’s one of the things I’ve come to love about the Wastes.” She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

He almost said it. Listening to her, watching her face glow at the picture her memory painted of sunsets in the Wastes, he almost said he loved her. But he didn’t.

That lit up joy was a harsh contrast to the sight of her earlier, panicked and gasping for air, tears filling her eyes. He’d told himself she’d just come out of a nightmare. Even though she’d slept deeply the entire night, hardly stirring. Even though when he’d left to get breakfast, she was still fast asleep.

Biting back the words he wanted to say, Dorian replied, "That’s a better answer.”

She smiled and reached for a pastry. “And yours, princeling?”

“I was never able to settle on a single favorite color growing up. It always changed. But, I’ve always been partial to red,” he said, lifting her braid to admire the bright ribbon of fabric securing the end. “And I like gold.” Nodding back to the sofa, the red and gold wyvern of the Havilliard crest stood out on his heavy cloak. “But not that shade.” He leaned over so he was barely an inch from her face. “This gold,” he said, looking into her eyes. “This is my favorite.”

Manon gifted him a soft smile, which he promptly committed to memory.

“My turn,” he said, sitting back and popping a sugared almond into his mouth. “How do you think the rukhin will take to wyverns?”

There was no pause this time as Manon said, matter of factly, “They won’t have any trouble flying once they adjust to the larger size, which won’t take long. But wyverns are different animals. Their dominance hierarchies are more complex than they appear. It’s not just about sex or size. Abraxos is proof of that.”

Dorian suspected the rider had quite a bit of influence over the mount, but he didn’t interrupt. Instead, he watched happily as she grew more animated while describing some of the training she had planned for the coming days. He knew the challenge - not the kahve - was the source of her excitement. Manon would be in her element here, and he couldn’t wait to see it.

***

He was staring at her again. Staring as if he’d never seen her before. Or, as if he wanted to toss the tray of food off the bed and continue where they’d left off last night. Or like he was on the verge of saying something.  

Dorian’s face was usually like an open book to her. Sometimes she could see the writing clearly, other times, it was more like a picture book, only giving away broad strokes of the story. Right now, she knew he wanted to tell her something, but she didn’t know what.

As she reached for a pastry, Dorian picked up one of the larger treats and offered it to her. “Try this one first. I want to see if you like it.”

It was a square of golden dough, with corners pressed together in the middle, a dark filling, and sprinkles of large sugar crystals on top. Manon took it, but didn’t bite into it. “Trying to distract me from my next question?” she teased.

Dorian waved a hand. “Go ahead. Ask me anything.”

“Do you enjoy being a king?”

With an uncomfortable laugh, he said, “I’m going to reconsider playing these kinds of games with you in the future.”

The certainty in his voice, that they had a future together, made something in her relax. Manon hadn’t even known the tension was there, until it subsided.

“Yes, and no,” he said.

She waited for more and when he went back to eating, she sat the pastry down. “Answers cannot be yes or no,” she reminded him. He opened his mouth but she held up her hand. “And ‘yes, and no’ is the same thing as a singular yes, or a singular no.”

That grin was back, and Manon had to look away.

She’d told a partial lie earlier. Her favorite color was the blue of his eyes. It was why she loved the evening skies in the Wastes. In that flash of time before darkness, she was always reminded of his eyes. The sight of them now, ablaze with intensity, left Manon feeling utterly defenseless.

“I enjoy helping people. In some ways, I even enjoy that Adarlan is starting over. I wish it wasn’t because of war, but the chance to change things is exciting. It would be so much easier if I could just make proclamations and laws and see them done without the paperwork and meetings and politics.” He let out a heavy sigh. “If I never see another petition asking me to step in between two petty lords arguing over a border, I’d die happy.”

“Hmm. I never took you for a despot,” she mused.

“A benevolent despot,” he corrected. “Now, will you tell me what you think of that pastry?”

The smart ass had made it into a question. Manon huffed a laugh, then took a bite.

Her eyes flashed wide in surprise. “What is this?!”

“You’ve never had chocolate?”

“This is chocolate?” She ate the rest in one bite and grabbed another. “I’ve had something called chocolate but it didn’t taste like this. I’ve always wondered why people went crazy for it.”

He pushed the plate towards her, separating the chocolate pastries from the others. “They’re all yours,” he said. “I like the poppy seed myself.” Dorian selected one with a black, slightly gooey filling. “Try dipping yours in the kahve.”

She did, closing her eyes in pleasure. The flavors alone were amazing, but mixed together... She’d never tasted anything like it in her life.

“I think we found your favorite food. And drink,” he laughed. “I won’t make you give a verbal answer. This will suffice.”

Catching herself just before she spat out bits of the pastry, Manon started laughing too. He was beaming at her, just as he had when she’d first donned her crown so many months ago.

And just like that, unbidden and unwanted, memories flooded her mind. Images of the Thirteen, that battle, the yielding.

It was too much. Too many emotions coursed through her, twisting up with this sudden empty vulnerability. Manon didn’t know how to react, and before she could control it, her laugh turned into a choked sob. One moment she was actually happy, and the next, she was again forcing back tears.

***

Dorian made himself memorize everything about this moment. Manon, cross-legged on the bed, driving him mad by wearing his shirt, eating and drinking and laughing as if they had no cares in the world. As if they were the only two people alive.

But with no warning, no apparent reason, a shadow seemed to overtake her, and she was on the verge of tears.

He grabbed the tray and put it aside, returning to sit in front of her. “Manon?”

“Ask me when I last laughed,” she whispered shakily, staring down at her empty hands, open and lifeless in her lap.

His heart felt as though it were shattering, and he had no idea what to do. “It’s your turn,” he replied numbly, hating himself for being such a fool. For thinking this stupid breakfast could somehow fix things.

You can’t fix her.

Chaol’s words came back, almost a taunt in his head.

Cupping her cheek, he wiped away some of the tears before they fell. He knew the answer, but still, he asked, “When?”

“I don’t know,” she said, leaning into his touch. “I can’t remember ever laughing.”

“I’ve heard you laugh,” he said. “It’s my favorite sound.” He let go of her face to hold onto her now trembling hands.

“Some days are okay,” she went on, watching him rub her palms. “I can function, make decisions, force myself to seem normal. And other days, most days, it’s like I’m wading through a fog.” Her shoulder rose in a half-hearted shrug before she curled in on herself. “I must look normal though. No one says anything. No one notices.”

For a split second, Dorian was flung back in time to when he’d been imprisoned by the valg collar. No one had questioned its presence, his behavior. He’d felt so alone, so lost, he’d wished for death.

But Manon had noticed. She had seen the real him hiding within, and for some reason, she’d deemed him worthy of living. Enough to risk her life to try and save his.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “When you didn’t write, I should have known. I should have come.” Instead, godsdamn him, he’d let his doubts and insecurities get the better of him.  

“It’s ok,” she said flatly.

“No, it’s not.”

A shadow flitted across her face, along with that wariness from last night. “I’m tired,” she said, bringing an end to the conversation.

You can’t fix her.

Maybe not, Dorian thought. But he wouldn’t give up on her again.

As she lay down, he reached for a blanket and threw it over them both. Underneath, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered into her ear. “And I won’t let you go.”

He felt a slight nod of her head, the release of a held breath, and within minutes, she was asleep.

***

For the second time today, Manon awoke dazed in a dimly lit room and had to remind herself where she was.

 And for the second time ever, she awoke to the presence of a strong, solid body pressed against her back, an arm draped over her waist, and warm, steady breaths caressing her skin where Dorian nuzzled her neck.

The morning they had parted in Orynth had been the first.

Somehow knowing she was awake, he kissed her shoulder. “I’m here, witchling.”

Manon pulled her arm out from under his and took his hand. With their fingers interlaced, she brought it to her chest, forcing him to shift even closer. Then she fell back to sleep.

 To be continued...

[kbstories]

Hey @your-a-good-man-arthur, ask and you shall receive! This is not a full fill of your prompt, but I hope you like it anyways c:

Leave This World Alive

Tags: Charles/Arthur, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, PS I Love You AU, Hurt Almost No Comfort

Warning for major chapter 6 spoilers!

>>Read on AO3

A year later, Charles Smith wakes and wishes he hadn't.

Lying on his back, he blinks up into the darkness of his tent. It's quiet outside, only the distant crackling of fire and hushed conversations to be heard. There's bird song, too, cheerful and carefree as it announces the break of a new day.

It doesn't feel right. Then again, nothing has ever since–

Charles closes his eyes again, lids clenched shut as if he could physically will away what this means. A year. Three-hundred-sixty-five fucking days have passed and the world spins on, a world without Arthur Morgan in it.

A few tears escape, burning in the corner of his eyes and trailing down his temples. They're due to leave a permanent path in his skin anytime soon. Wouldn't that be fitting? There's nothing Charles has to remember Arthur by, except the broken edges of his heart and the new lines grief has carved into his face.

Somewhere out there, there's a grave with his name on its cross – yet Charles hasn't been back since he buried him, hands aching, full of splinters as he engraved a wish into the wood, virtually blind with loss and exhaustion. He couldn't bring himself to.

Today of all days, he doesn't – can't – run from the rush of emotion that takes ahold of him. Charles inhales and exhales, shakier every time, and misses Arthur. The unique drawl of his voice, the gentle touch of too-rough hands; the way the right kind of smile could make his eyes light up, full of fragile hope and so blue.

There's nothing in the world that could compare, and Charles tried. He did. In those first weeks, when continuing to breathe felt too painful and the void inside made everything else meaningless, he went looking, was utterly convinced that if only he searched long enough, he'd find him eventually.

Somewhere in the margins, and even if just in the corner of a dog-eared book, Arthur must've left his mark.

It was all gone, though. Charles had stopped looking, and he still remembers viscerally how it hit him then. That Arthur – this kind, kind man, too kind for the things life had in store for him – left, not in the tumultuous roar they had envisioned for themselves over a shared bottle of whiskey under the stars but beaten and broken and alone.

A candle alight inside a storm, its flame quietly flickering out before it reached the end of its wick.

“Arthur, I swear...”

Charles fights for breath as he lies there without the familiar weight of the man he loves beside him, one set of lungs where there should be two, and he doesn't know how to end that sentence.

I swear I won't forget.

I swear I will finish what you started.

But he knows, deep within, there's only one thing Arthur would've wanted.

I swear I will keep going.

It's getting harder and harder to keep his promises.

*

Charles doesn't notice the courier's presence, at first.

He's tending to Taima as he does each morning, brushing the dust off her back and checking her legs for injuries. The past year, too, has had a toll on her; mere days after– after, she had started pawing the ground and digging her nose into Charles's pockets, and Charles had been too numb to understand at first that she was begging him for Arthur's treats, the ones he used to slip her when he thought Charles wasn't paying attention.

Some days, Charles wonders if horses grieve as well, or if he's just projecting his own state of mind onto her. Maybe it doesn't really matter.

When she turns her expectant gaze on him, Charles rolls his eyes and produces a carrot out of his back pocket. He breaks it apart and gives her the bigger half, keeping the other for himself.

“Ah, there– Mr. Smith!”

Charles stop chewing as his head snaps up, the mouthful sitting awkwardly on his tongue for a moment before he swallows. Nobody calls him that here. Eyes narrowed and shoulders tense, he reaches for his knife–

“Hey, uh”, the stranger says, eyes flitting nervously from Charles's hands to his face and back again. “Easy there, mister. Charles Smith, right? Just wanna deliver this letter I got for ya, and I'll be on my way. No trouble comin' from me, I promise!”

“Who?” Charles's voice sounds raspy even to his own ears. “Who sent you?”

Clearly, it doesn't inspire much confidence because the courier scrambles for an answer, quick enough to stumble over his words.

“A– Alden, sir. From the post office in Rhodes? Told me to look up in the mountains for ya. Never been this far up North, I believe– Ain't complainin', of course, no sir!”

Alden? A vague memory stirs. One of the discouraged men that have been popping up more and more, if you knew where to look for 'em. Charles holds out a hand, meeting the other's uncomprehending stare. “The letter?”, he prompts.

“Ah! Yes, sir, uh– Here.”

It has weight to it, the letter. Charles doesn't throw more than a cursory glance at it, not with the stranger-turned-courier trying to look as well, but there's something about it that makes his heart beat faster, awakened from its year-long slumber.

Only at Charles's raised eyebrow does the courier straighten up, “Right”, he says, nodding to himself. “I'll get goin'.”

For a moment, Charles watches him leave, weaseling his way past a busy camp filled with even busier people, almost comical with how out-of-place his uniform looks here. Seems like a lifetime ago that he's dealt with any outsiders. He can't say he missed it.

Charles shakes his head and looks down at the letter in his hands – Taima's on it before he can do more than flip it, ears pointed and nose flaring as she sniffs it curiously, and, with the practiced ease of having grown up with and around animals, Charles raises it out of her reach.

“That's for me, girl. You had your treat already.”

There's much to be done still; Charles needs to check the traps, maybe bring home a doe if luck is on his side. Last time he did so, Rains Fall told him he's earned his keep with or without hunting for them, but Charles feels better knowing he can help, somehow.

Later, he decides, pocketing the letter. He'll read it later.

*

It's past midnight when Charles returns, dried blood gone tacky on his hands and his feet half-frozen in his boots. Only after he's in his tent, washed and fed and as close to the much-needed fire as he dares, does he remember the letter.

It's in the back pocket of his discarded pants, and looking a little crumpled around the edges. Charles has to tilt towards the firelight to read the single line on the front of the envelope, and he nearly drops it entirely when he does.

Charles Smith in the delicate, narrow twists and turns of a handwriting he'd recognize anywhere, even five, ten, thirty years down the line.

And there's hope, for one blinding moment as he slides his fingers into folded paper and pulls out a few pages worth, hope that somehow, in some way, Arthur did manage to return to him. That this is the sign he's been looking out for, that there is a place to go and a date to keep in mind that will make the past year undone.

That somewhere there, at the end of the line, is Arthur with his drawl and his beautiful eyes, waiting for him.

That is not how these things are meant to go, of course. There in the corner, on the very first page, is a date and a place and Charles's chest aches with the loss of it all, the numbers blurring in front of his eyes.

Beaver Hollow, just a few days before–

“Oh, Arthur”, Charles breathes, less than a whisper as he realizes that this, reading Arthur's first and final letter to him, might very well be the last thing he does. That perhaps his tattered heart struggled on beating just for him to witness this, just as he was there to witness Arthur's dead body.

And yet, the feel of the paper between his fingers is familiar, comforting, reminiscent of that journal Arthur carried everywhere and there, down one side of it, it is a little torn where it was carefully ripped out. Charles wipes a stray tear off his cheek before it can drip down and ruin any of it. Even so he finds it impossibly hard to start, to take in anything beyond the Dear Charles at the very beginning.

Arthur's words, the rarest resource Charles has.

It's inevitable, that he does – start, that is, because he must. There is no world in which Charles wouldn't listen to what Arthur has to say, no matter how frail and weak his voice got, hacked into pieces by his coughing that will haunt Charles to the end of his days, too.

Thus, he reads, Dear Charles, and rubs at his chest where his heart breaks anew.

I've started this more times than I can count and to be honest with you, I still have no idea what I'm doing.

The thing is: I don't have much time. Well, you know this, obviously you do... I'm giving this letter to Sadie first thing in the morning, and if it made it's way to you, then that means I'm dead.

I think that's part of it, you know? Of the not-knowing. Never been a man to philosophize, and I ain't about to start now, but it's been on my mind. I don't know how this whole thing will turn out. I just know you made it out safe, and so will John, Abigail and lil Jack too. Might very well be the last thing I do.

Oh, Charles. All I know is I miss you. Sounds like a silly thing to say, with you being gone only a week but well, you and I both know this is it so... Here I am, acting like a fool for you once more. And while there's many things I regret, being with you was never one of 'em.

I would do it all again, you know? If that's what it takes, I wouldn't hesitate, not even a second. Being with you made life worth living, no matter how hard it got. I guess that's the thing about love, ain't it? I always thought it ain't meant for someone like me. You proved me wrong on that, as you tend to do. Made me a freer man than I ever was.

Because I do, Charles. I love you. Said it once or twice but it ain't ever enough. You were the best damn thing that ever happened to me and letting you go was the hardest damn thing, too.

And I'm sorry, for what it's worth. I'm sorry that everything turned out this messy. I'm sorry I can't be there now, with you.

I'll spend the time that's left for me thinking about you, Charles. There ain't much else I can give you. I hope, wherever you are, that you're thinking about me too.

And yet, while my story is nearing its end, it's only a chapter in yours. You deserve the world, Charles. You do. You told me not so long ago I owe you, and I think you didn't realize how much. I ain't got what it takes to ask another favor of you but...

Keep going, please. Do it for me, Charles.

I'm running out of space and there's so much more I want to tell you. Just know that that peace we was talking about finding? I think I did. I found it in you.

I'm yours, Charles. Always, remember?

Arthur

*

The letter has its own pocket in every one of Charles's shirts. Folded into a small square, the pages are tucked into that spot over his heart, a familiar weight.

Charles knows every word by memory and yet, every time when the leaves start to fall, he sits by Taima's side and reads it, sometimes to himself, sometimes out loud. The paper is weak where it's been bent too many times, the sketches that fill the few blank spots a little smudged but it doesn't matter.

Arthur is with him, always, and that is all that counts.

>>Read on AO3

[rate-out-of-10]

WONDER WOMAN REVIEW

Superhero films just keep getting bigger and bigger; Marvel seems to always make a smash hit every single year, and DC seems to have been trying to catch up. With Wonder Woman, the first female-lead superhero film since 2005’s (flop) Elektra, hitting theaters this weekend, DC has gained some major ground. Director Patty Jenkins expertly crafts a believable world for Wonder Woman to dwell in and made Wonder Woman the all-around best film that the DC Cinematic Universe has put out thus far, and very well may be the most important superhero film that’s ever come out.

SPOILERS AHEAD

The character of Wonder Woman is a huge undertaking for any actress, I’d say it was even harder for Gal Gadot, someone who was relatively unknown in the States until now, to convince people she was right for the role. She’s previously done some work in the Fast & Furious movies, but once she was announced as the chosen one to play the role of the Amazonian princess, Diana, aka Wonder Woman, she was met with some criticism. But her smaller performance in Batman v Superman seemed to have raised some eyebrows, mine included, and here in her feature length debut in the role, she’s engulfed Diana in the best of ways. Gal Gadot pierces through the screen with intensity, purity, strength, and innocence. Her Wonder Woman is powerful, virtuous, noble, and forthright, she is just wonderful. She has a smile that just makes you proud. Gal almost effortlessly molds the innocence and naivety of Diana in the world of man with her confidence and independence. Other than herself, Gal had some prominent back up in the film as well, specifically Chris Pine in the role of Diana’s human love, Steve Trevor. I can’t think of a movie where Chris Pine wasn’t good. He has an infectious personality on screen, he’s always enjoyable to watch. His approach to Steve’s awkwardness around Diana was great; he’s continually surprised by Diana and it always confuses him how she can always do that. Chris and Gal have natural chemistry on screen, when they joke, when they fight, when they connect, through the whole film their relationship always felt genuine. Their romantic subplot wasn’t ever in your face either, it felt natural and was done so delicately and with grace, I respect it a lot. I wish I could have seen more of the Amazonians of Themyscira, but what we got was definitely enough. To see all these strong women training and fighting, moving so fluidly and gracefully was invigorating to watch. I could only imagine how a little girl felt watching these powerful women command the screen. My only complaint when it comes to the characters of the film is essentially everyone else besides the Amazonians, Diana, and Steve Trevor. They assemble a rag-tag group of guys to show Wonder Woman the different facets of humanity, however I wish they felt maybe more important, maybe a group of strong ladies would’ve taken it further. They didn’t seem to do anything of importance except just be there. They all had some nice moments individually but not enough to convince me that they’re worth watching. Next, there were three villainous figures: Ludendorff (Danny Huston), Dr. Poison (Elena Anaya), and Ares (David Thewlis). Ludendorff and Poison were the ones who commanded most of the evil appearances, however they were excessively generic. I think when you bring a movie into WWI or II, you can just use Germans as evil doers without much depth added to them. Poison had some intrigue, but we never really learn much of her, all she really spent time doing was marveling as gas clouds and being melodramatic. Then there’s Ares, and he wasn’t much at all exciting. His best moment was the reveal that he’s been around the entire time as Sir Patrick, but after that his intrigue faded away with excessive CGI and just an awkward appearance. He kept that mustache for thousands of years? Really? It might have had something to do with the casting choice that made it a bit ridiculous to see. When Ares formed his armor with the weapons and plating scattered around the airfield at the end, that was a cool moment, but David Thewlis just wasn’t Ares. A change in form or appearance might have gone a long way. Gal Gadot, Chris Pine, and the Amazonian women really steal the show for me, the rest were just bearable in a sense to keep the film moving forward.

Wonder Woman starts out incredibly strong, giving the warriors of Themyscira, and a young Diana, time to shine. The concentration on the world building of Wonder Woman was fantastic. It didn’t feel mashed up or rushed, like the other three DC films that have come out thus far. The movie paced generally well, even when the action was at a low point in favor of exposition, there were still bits to draw you in. Sure it can feel a little slow at times, I definitely wanted to see more of Wonder Woman kicking ass, but the slower bits did serve some nice character building, specifically for Diana. Gal was always great to watch whether she was clearly a fish out of water, or standing strong and noble against sexist men, or just smiling. You’re always rooting for her, but you’re also waiting for her to be enlightened. In parts, she’s very naive when it came to the conflict of Ares and mankind, and at the end when she has that realization of who humans really were, after Steve’s sacrifice, a feeling of relief and excitement washes over you. The action sequences were glorious too, Zach Snyder’s trademark slow-mo shots were all over the place, but I was happy with them because I liked watching Wonder Woman kick some serious ass. The final battle between her and Ares may have been very CGI’d and perhaps a bit underwhelming, but the showcase of Diana’s maximum power was great to watch. Beating overwhelming odds in superhero movies will never get old, perhaps that’s because superheroes were built off that premise. I also marveled at the set-pieces; Themyscira, London, the trenches, they all were wonderfully designed, Themyscira being the most colorful of all the landscapes. One thing I did want to bring up was the choice of the WWI setting. It was a bold choice to introduce Wonder Woman in this war-torn time, some people wanted to see her introduced in the modern day, and where I can see that being perhaps a bit cooler, it wouldn’t make much sense to the DC timeline for this universe. In the modern day, Superman and Batman specifically are prominent figures already, Batman already having a long history. If there wasn’t much of a record of Wonder Woman before Bruce discovered her picture and secret file, why would the modern day make sense? It serves her well to be in a time where technology wasn’t all over the place, so the only real evidence of her existence is the one photograph taken of her, that’s what makes it significant. If she emerged closer to the modern day, her ambiguity would be lost. Question that remain from this time, though, is how does she really age in this canon? Is Themyscira somehow suspended in time? How did she age there? Is ten years to an Amazonian in Themyscira, 50 years, or a hundered years, in the world of man? How did she seemingly not age through the rest of human history up until BvS? Did she not interfere in WWII? Vietnam? The Civil Rights era? There are a lot of questions about Wonder Woman and her history that come from this movie, however they don’t really pertain to this film specifically. These are just things that should maybe be fleshed out through the rest of the DC films.

After a film like this, what’s next really comes into question for the DC cinematic universe. Wonder Woman blew all the past films (Man of Steel, Batman v Superman, & Suicide Squad) out of the water. Will Justice League have a monumental payoff like this one did? Or will the rest of the DC universe be just as flat as where we left off with it prior to Wonder Woman? There are plenty of DC movies slated for the near future, but the rocky start it’s gotten off to may hurt the success of their first team-up film. Especially since DC seems to just want the team up to happen more quickly than Marvel’s. We don’t get an Aquaman, Flash, Cyborg, or even a solo-Batman film until after this first Justice League movie, set to release this November. It’s a questionable timeline to have. I would’ve appreciated their creative choices a lot more if we got the films in this order: Man of Steel, The Batman, Wonder Woman, Suicide Squad, Batman v Superman, and then Justice League. With the multitude of cameos in BvS of the other “meta-humans”, plus Batman and Wonder Woman’s solo films would have already introduced them, the team-up would have more of a payoff. But then again, Justice League isn’t out yet, these are just my feelings as of now and they could change. Wonder Woman is the shining example of what DC has needed and it captures Wonder Woman so epically that my excitement for DC has been revitalized to a good degree. My final rating for Wonder Woman is:

8.75/10. In a word: wonderful.

Wonder Woman does a plethora of things right, and when the movie is going great, it’s going great. Gal Gadot does an amazing job with the character, Patty Jenkins directs with fierce integrity and puts on a show that is tremendously impressive. Wonder Woman may be the most important superhero film to have ever come out, and it earns that praise. The flaws with supporting characterization, a decent lack of villainous intrigue, and a not-too-impressive main villain finale doesn’t take away too much from Wonder Woman herself. She’s a shining light in this grim world that DC has built up and I’m excited to see where she will lead the universe to in the future.

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Book Review: Soul of a Warrior by Denna Holm(spoiler free)

Book Trailer

RATING:

I see that the book has received a lot of good reviews, but I will go on a limb and say that Denna Holm dropped the ball on this one. The direction and execution of the story are incredibly lackluster and somehow lacked originality. The book has an interesting background story, but it is replaced with something watered down. The story was all over; the author took bits and pieces from a lot of genres and tried to force them together like pieces from half a dozen different jigsaw puzzles. I have read so many books that cross genre lines, and I have enjoyed them very much but not this time. The alpha element in this story is tagged under Science Fiction and Fantasy, but the author missed it. I just felt she filed one genre over another to create cliff-hangers and as a result, the characters were not fully realized. Here are some of the fundamental story points that I do not think work and why. In the world of Laizahlia, there are two species, the Lycaeonian which are known as Lycans or werewolves on earth. And then we have the Laizahlian, and they are known as vampires on earth.  The idea that a vampire or a werewolf could be from another planet put me off right in the beginning; I expected something different I guess, maybe a vampire or werewolf mythology with a twist, perhaps?  And since both species are from Laizahlia, Wouldn’t it make sense to call them both Laizahlian and probably call the vampire something entirely different? The villain plot was flimsy at its best. The villain character approach was an excellent idea, and it starts getting explored, but it gets thrown away quickly. And then it starts to feel like the plot is built to stretch a plot device that was originally designed to keep the ball rolling. I would have liked the author to delve deeper into something complex than just a revenge story, and that would warrant the addition of all these extra characters. My problem was that the focus was taken away from the title character in favor of other characters that did not seem necessary at all. I don’t want to read a story about the villain announcing himself; I want to read about the villain doing something to warrant that title and having villainy thoughts. I could barely finish the book, the first time. I reread the book just to bring myself not to give it a low rating, but I failed. Would I recommend this book? If you are a critical reader, this is not the book for you..

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Release Date:July 30, 2016 Published by Crimson Cloak Publishing Read an excerpt