#I refuse to stay in a pit of misery and hopelessness

[angelicherubs]

*

[mar-lmk-mystiquemara]

Daymare Part 1

Dream: "Brother! Please! We can start again and have peaceful lives! Please!"

Nightmare: "No, no no no no No no no no no no No, no no no no No no no no No, no no no no No no no no no no No, no no no no No no no no Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Must be stupid if you think that we can start again Are you joking? Must be joking You ain't laughin', I ain't smokin' Must be crazy if you think that we can start again Yeah, ain't no need to cry no more When you break my heart into twenty four I'll pick up the pieces you left If you think I'm coming back Don't hold your breath I ain't your brother, no 'Cause I'm breakin' up over ya Go now, here's my middle finger 'Cause I'm hurting, brother, hurting, brother Look what you did Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Must be stupid if you think that we can start again Are you joking? Must be joking You ain't laughin', I ain't smokin' Must be crazy if you think that we can start again Yeah, I'm with my boys, hit the town Let's go see what kind of Sans knocks me out Now I know that he wants me back" Nightmare continued: "Nothing sounds more better than "Hit the road, Dream" (Dream) Don't call me brother, Dream, I've broken up over ya Love me now, my name is bigger Dream, I'm giving you the finger 'Cause I'm hurting, brother, hurting, brother Look what you did Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Must be stupid if you think that we can start again (start again) Are you joking? Must be joking You ain't laughin', I ain't smokin' Must be crazy if you think that we can start again Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Must be stupid if you think that we can start again Are you joking? Must be joking I ain't smo-smokin' Must be crazy if you think that we can start again No, no no no no No no no no no no No, no no no no No no no no (sing it with me now!) All of the Bad Guys join in No, no no no no No no no no no no No, no no no no (you must be crazy, yeah, yeah) No no no no No, no no no no No no no no no no No, no no no no No no no no (oh, oh) No, no no no no No no no no no no No, no no no no No no no no You don't understand There's no second chance for us, Dream It's not a game, so why are you tryin' to play me? Now I gotta go, I'm not gonna stay and watch you cry 'Cause I'm hurting, brother, hurting, brother Look what you did Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Must be stupid if you think that we can start again (start again) Are you joking? Must be joking You ain't laughin', I ain't smokin' Must be crazy if you think that we can start again Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Are you crazy? Must be stupid if you think that we can start again Are you joking? Must be joking I ain't smo-smokin' Must be crazy if you think that we can start again No, no no no no No no no no no no No, no no no no No no no no (Hit the road, Dream) No, no no no no No no no no no no No, no no no no No no no no (Hit the road, Dream, Dream)" Dream breaks down and cries in front of him "WHY?! WHAT DID I DO TO MAKE YOU HATE ME SO MUCH?!"

Nightmare sighed before starting another song: "I can almost feel the tick like clockwork Hearing all the voices in my head each time I go There's a game they play that I'm not part of Tearing at the weaknesses and all the faults they know It's impossible to navigate around It's inevitable that you'll fall in It's improbable i'll ever come back down I fell in and now I think I might drown I'm falling deep into a pit of vipers Over me, over me and I can't break free Secrets run deep when you're in a pit of vipers Slithering, whispering, feel the venom poisoning me Now I must admit that I have played a part In the way that things have gotten out of hand But it's escalated almost to an art I want to fix it but I don't think I can I'm falling deep into a pit of vipers Over me, over me and I can't break free Secrets run deep when you're in a pit of vipers Slithering, whispering, feel the venom poisoning me Slither, slither, slither Put your fangs into my back Slither, slither, slither Think I don't know where you're at I use you, I'm no good, need to be in control I said I use you, I'm no good, need to be in control I'm falling deep into a pit of vipers Over me, over me and I can't break free Secrets run deep when you're in a pit of vipers Slithering, whispering, feel the venom poisoning me I'm falling deep into a pit of vipers Over me, over me and I can't break free Secrets run deep when you're in a pit of vipers Slithering, whispering, feel the venom poisoning me Slither, slither, slither Put your fangs into my back Slither, slither, slither Think I don't know where you're at I use you, I'm no good, need to be in control I said I use you, I'm no good, need to be in control This is how you make me feel" Nightmare turned Passive. "You know, Dream... I used to think you were a Hero. But when I needed you, you turned away from me and chose the Village who hated me for simply EXISTING! ... Some hero..." Nightmare stared at Dream as another song started. "I would react badly To the slightest hint of hesitance He'd bend awkwardly to suit my mood No word from his defense I'd cry knowing how my tears Felt like acid burning through his skin Pushed every little button But the right one that would let me in Now he's afraid of me Now he's afraid of me It took me by surprise The hatred in his eyes I've pushed this man as far as he could go But he lacked the words to let me know He acted out, now I can see it is my fault I made changes That went unnoticed Sang songs for deaf ears He mistook my silence for punishment As it had been all these years I'd cry knowingly how my tears felt like acid burning through his skin Now he's afraid of me Now he's afraid of me It took me by surprise The hatred in his eyes I've pushed this man as far as he could go But he lacked the words to let me know He acted out, now I can see it is my fault." Nightmare stared at the person who used to be his twin, wondering why the Village had to force them in such different directions, force them both so far apart. He got extremely mad.

Dream: “Brother What is this madness that spills from your lips?! I never abandoned you! I never pushed you away! You refused to join me and the villagers! We could’ve been happy but you decided to sideline yourself from everyone else instead of joy, pure happiness and finding the goodness within, darkness you choose for whatever reason! You’re deluding yourself! I am not your excuse to be Evil! Excuses you continuously make to others, but the truth is your will for others was just weaker far less than mine. You can do better. You can rise again. Let go of this folly stop this madness you insist on. You are better than all of this, then them. Your past can be forgiven. Just let it go. Let it all go. We can fix what has been damaged and with the help of the others we can do great things together. So stop all this foolishness, give up these dark comrades, these villains whom you call allies and rise with me. Stop with your wicked ways brother let(s/us) do good together.” Nightmare chuckled sadly at Dream. "You know... I wonder if you ever saw the scars and bruises that I wrapped and hid. The many broken bones that I begged Mother to heal. Did you ever wonder why no one ever attempted to be my friend even with you beside me?" Nightmare stared at his crew quietly. "Each person who fights for me is someone I saved from BECOMING me." Dream: "I simply thought that it was what you wished. To be by yourself. You never wanted to join any of us when we invited you. Whenever I thought over it. But I never noticed if you were hurt! If ever you were, you should have told me! And I did attempt to have you make friends! But you always, always refused! You could have come to me! Talked to me! But you never did and I don't understand why! For any of it! For this! Them! How are they saved?! How is this good?! Our lives were fine till you did this to yourself!Our lives were fine till you did this to yourself!” Night screams. "DREAM OPEN YOUR GODDAMNED EYES! WHY WOULD I WANT TO BE AROUND THE VERY PEOPLE HURTING ME?!?" Nightmare was beyond frustrated by Dream's complete disregard for the facts. "EVERY GODDAMNED TIME I TOLD YOU, YOU BRUSHED IT OFF AS A MISTAKE THAT 'WOULDN’T HAPPEN AGAIN' FUCK YOU DREAM! I'M TIRED OF BEING PUSHED ASIDE BECAUSE YOU JUST WANT TO BE POPULAR! Humans... They don't understand balance... And neither do you." Dream: "They didn't mean to! It was just a misunderstanding between you and you never gave them a chance! How were things ever going to get better if you never let the opportunity arise for it to happen! And I'm not brushing anything aside! I didn't push you aside! You did that all on your own! It's not any sort of popularity, people just liked me is all but I wasn't going out of my way for anything like that. Unlike you! You were pushing everyone away! How wouldn't there be any misunderstandings. How wouldn't people like me better! And how could you know anything about balance?! When all you do is bring chaos and destruction wherever you go! Leaving devastation, ruin and despair in your wake! What do you know about balance! Misery and hopelessness that is what you know! Being dark and evil is what you know! How to be corrupted is what you know. Saving others, peh, all you do is collect followers for your dark army! What balance is there?! Tell me brother! Tell me!" Nightmare stares at him. "Fine. You keep blocking me out. Dream I'm only going to say this and then you'll never see me again: is there a world that ever has no light or no night? If so does anything survive? Night bring rest for the weary who have so much in a day. Light brings joy to those who have something to look forward to. That is balance. Have fun being a Light with no Shadow." Nightmare opened a portal to get ready to leave. Dream: " Brother wait! Don't do this! We need to stick together! Just give up what you're doing and come back! Please brother, it's not too late to do the right thing. We have to move forward. To the light and all that is good. You can't give in to the darkness. I know there is still good in you. Let go of your grudges and make peace with yourself. Brother please. Please just come with me. It is never too late. I beg you. I'm sure we can work things out. Stop this nonsense of yours. Whatever wrongs that have happened are in the past and we must go to the future. Let's go there together you and I, brother. As we were meant to. Won't you brother, please?" Dream stretches out his hand in a take my hand gesture towards Nightmare and gives a wobbly smile at him. Trying to plead with his eyes and very soul that his brother would give up this folly and turn to the light. Away from all this darkness that surrounds him. Night hands him an apple shaped memory. "It seems you forgot your last promise to me." Night walks to the portal, unknowing that his memories of helping the Bad Guys were also in the apple. "Good bye... Shattered Dreams." Saddened by this outcome Dream makes a portal of his own. Keeping the memory close he walks through wondering what could be held within that dark apple in his grip and If ever there would be a chance for his brother to come back to him. That maybe there was still hope. That tomorrow would be a better day. And all days after. But knowing that perhaps that might never be so. Stepping through the portal Dream heaves a sigh, holds the memory more firmly and disappears leaving behind an empty quietness in an already empty void among countless vast empty spaces in between infinite spaces of dimensions including those of time.

[nighting-gale17]

im dyin’ (oh santa fe...)

TW: (very) vague suicidal references

Also read Here on AO3!!!!

Painting was the only thing he could do right now.

His eyes stayed fastened on the swirling colors gently brushed across the canvas, losing himself in the art. It calmed his racing mind and pounding heart better than anything or anyone else would have been able to even try (that was a lie—soft pink lips, firm hands, lean body… but he couldn’t). If he stopped, if he let his brain think too much, then all he would think about was how helpless we was and how there wasn’t anything he could do to help Crutchie, or the rest of the newsies, and those kids—

Like he said. If he painted, he didn’t think.

Jack let out a frustrated huff and stepped back from the canvas, eyeing his work critically. It was coming along alright, he supposed, though he might’ve been a little too generous with the purple. If he added some pink, though, it would set it off nicely with the sunset in the background…

Hours were lost to him as he painted in the back of Miss Medda’s theatre. The splatters of paint on his skin distracted from the still aching bruises from the fight. Each careful stroke of the brush across the canvas silenced any thought that tried to form in his mind. It was therapeutic, in a way, he supposed. It gave him control over something when he had never felt more helpless in his life and he enjoyed the way his body began to relax as he lost himself in his work.

“Jack? Postage for Jack Kelly?” 

Jack momentarily zoned back in to the rest of the world, glancing over his shoulder at the young postage boy that had walked into the back of the theatre. “Yeah, that’d be me.” he said, putting his paint brush back in the paint cup and reaching out to the boy. “Thanks.”

The boy nodded and waved as he handed him the letter and then took off.

Jack frowned down at the letter, feeling dread start to build up in the pit of his stomach as he looked at it. His name was scrawled across the top is messy, shaky handwriting—chicken-scratch, he had used to tease Crutchie—but it was the smeared bloodstain on the edge that caught his attention.

Dear Jack,

Greetings from the Refuge. How are you? I’m okay. Guess I wasn’t much help yesterday. Snyder soaked me real good with my crutch. Oh, yeah, Jack, this is Crutchie, by the way. These here guards, they is rude. They say jump, boy, you jump or you’re screwed. But the food ain’t so bad, least so far, ‘cause so far they ain’t brung us no food. Ha. Ha. 

I miss the rooftop. Sleepin’ right out in the open, in your penthouse in the sky. There’s a cool breeze blowin’ even in July. Anyway, so, guess what? There’s a secret escape plan I got. Tie a sheet to the bed, toss the end out the window, climb down, then take off like a shot! Maybe though, not tonight. I ain’t slept and my leg still ain’t right. Hey, but Pulitzer, he’s goin’ down! And then, Jack, I was thinking we might just go like you was saying. Where it’s clean, and green and pretty, with no buildings in your way, and you’re ridin’ palominos every day. Once that train makes—

Damn this place. I’ll be fine, Jack, good as new. But there’s one thing I need you to do. On the rooftop, you said, that a family looks out for each other. So you tell all the fellas for me to protect one another.

The end.

Your friend,

Your best friend.

Your brother,

Crutchie

God damnit.

Jack took a deep breath as he carefully folded up Crutchie’s letter with shaky hands. Somehow, the letter hit his heart almost as hard as it did when he tried to go see him last night. The bloody and bruised up silhouette of him in the dark, curled up on the top bunk just trying to breath through the pain—

He couldn’t even make it to the window.

And it was all Jack’s fault. He never should have tried to kid himself that he could do something that would help the people he loved—it always backfired on him. Apparently, his parents and siblings hadn't been enough proof of that. Tears burned in his eyes and he sniffed, blinking them away and wiping at his cheeks with his hand. Crutchie might die in that—that awful place, and Jack couldn’t do a single damned thing about it.

“Jack?”

Jack quickly shoved the letter into his apron pocket, quickly brushing the back of his hand over his cheeks to get rid of any tears. He glanced up slightly from the corner of his eye as Miss Medda approached him, keeping most of his attention to the ground.

“Here’s everything I owe you for the first backdrop.” She told him, holding out a pink envelope with a gentle smile on her face. She turned and gestured toward the backdrop he was currently working on, a soft look of awe on her face that he never was able to understand. “Plus this one. And even a little something extra,” Miss Medda continued, turning back to him with that same smile. “Just account’a because I’m gonna miss you so.”

“Miss Medda,” Jack protested. “I—”

“Jack.” Miss Medda cut him off, a vaguely disappointed look on her face, as if he was doing something wrong by refusing to take her payment. She held out the pink envelope to him again expectantly.

He took it from her slowly, unable to meet her eyes as his fingers slid over the fine, pink parchment. “You’re a gem.” he said when he was finally able to speak past the lump of emotion in his throat, giving her a strained smile.

“Just tell me you’re goin’ somewhere,” Miss Medda sighed softly as Jack dropped the envelope in his apron pocket. “not running away.”

Jack lifted his eyes up to glance at her and then scoffed. “Does it matter?” He brushed past her, his eyes lingering on his almost finished painting. He told everyone it was of Santa Fe—of somewhere nicer, far, far away from the claustrophobic presence of New York. And it wasn’t a lie. But the way he planned on getting there—well, money wasn’t going to help him get there. He just wished he had the courage to finally take the dive and leave this dump behind.

“When you go somewhere and it turns out not to be the right place, you can always go somewhere else.” Miss Medda was continuing, pulling Jack out of his thoughts. “But if you’re running away, nowhere is ever the right place.” She walked up toward him, putting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing it comfortingly.

Jack dropped his gaze and averted his eyes, trying not to show just how much of Miss Medda’s words struck. He knew she was right. He knew he was running away, like a coward, but it was all he wanted to do, as selfish as it is. Wanted to run away to Santa Fe, where he could be free of hunger, pain, the misery of everything in this awful—

“Jack! How ‘bout lettin’ a pal know you’re alive?”

Jack’s head jerked up so fast his neck protested the action, making him wince as the ache from his injuries made themselves known again. Davey was there (of course he was, he never should have shown him this place) on the catwalk, staring down at him with that infatuating grin before bolting away.

“Why don’t I leave you with your friend?” Miss Medda said, a knowing look on her face as she patted his cheek gently and walked away.

“Where did you go?” Davey asked as he rounded the corner, almost out of breath. “We couldn’t find ya!”

“You ever think I didn’t wanna be found?” Jack retorted, bitterness coating his words as he walked forward and grabbed one of his paint brushes out of the cup, intent on finishing what he started. And maybe if he ignored him, Davey would get the hint and leave him alone. Though, a tiny part of him hoped he might stay.

“Hey, is that a real place?” Davey asked suddenly, gesturing with the newspaper he was holding in his hand to the backdrop Jack was currently painting. “That Santa Fe?”

Jack ignored him, trying ti hide the way his heart race ticked up at the thought by bending his head and dipping his paint brush in the soft pink paint. He knew Davey was just talking about the actual Santa Fe, way down there in Mexico where the skies were clear and the stars shone at night. But Jack had stopped thinking about Santa Fe as an actual, physical place a long, long time ago.

“Hey, did you see the papes?” Davey tried again when Jack continued to work on his painting, appearing in the corner of Jack’s eye and waving the paper in his hand around. “We are front page news, above the fold!” He unfolded the paper, practically shoving it under Jack’s nose. “Oh, yes. Above. The fold.”

Davey grinned at him as Jack looked up, barely giving the paper a glance as he forced Davey backward so he could reach the other side of his painting. “Good for you.” he muttered before ducking his head down to focus on the strokes of the brush across the canvas.

“Everyone wants to meet the famous Jack Kelly!” Davey went on, brushing his hand across Jack’s shoulder and leaving goosebumps in his wake. He paced across the floor behind Jack, his footsteps an annoying distraction from his painting. “Even Spot Conlon sent over a kid just to say, ‘Next event, you can count on Brooklyn.’ How about that?”

Jack let out a frustrated breath, glancing over at Davey before he returned to swap out his paint brush. “We got stomped into the ground.”

“Yeah, they got us this time. I’ll grant you that.” Davey acknowledged, though there was a tone of confusion in his voice. “But we took round one, and with press like this, our fight is far from over.”

“Every newsie who could walk was out there this morning, selling papes like the strike never even happened.” Jack shot back, finally turning in his squatted position to level Davey with a frustrated look. He rose back to his feet, intent on getting back to his painting and just wishing Davey would get the hint and go away.

“And I was right out there with them.” Davey said hurriedly, putting his hand out and forcing Jack to stay in place. “If I don't sell papes, my folks don’t eat.”

“Save your breath.” Jack snapped, his irritation finally getting the best of him. “I get it. It’s hopeless.”

“But then I saw this look on Wiesel’s face!” Davey continued, spinning on his heel as Jack brushed past him to return to his painting. “He was actually nervous and I realized this isn’t over. We got ‘em worried. Really worried.” Davey’s finger gently pressed on the underside of Jack’s jaw and forced his head up to look at him and his way too earnest expression. “And I walked away. Lots of other kids did too. And that is what you call a beginning.”

Jack held his gaze, forgetting for a second how to breathe as he looked into those wide brown eyes. He didn't realize it before, but there was an underlying concern in his eyes for him as well, mostly hidden by his excitement and hope over the strike. But it was still there. And damn, if Jack couldn't ever remember the last time someone other than Miss Medda or Crutchie looked at him with worry like that.

The finger under his jaw brushed up his cheek bone, brushing lightly against the skin and drawing a shuddering breath out of Jack. The soft fingers, those of a well learned man, a contrast to the abused, rough callouses Jack had, slowly stroked over the skin. Davey’s eyes were soft and bright as he opened his mouth to say something, but then the moment was broken by the too loud, high pitched sound of a child.

“There he is, just like I said!”

Jack looked over his shoulder and scowled, glaring up at the catwalk where Davey’s little brother was pointing at him with Katherine at his side. “For cryin’ out loud,” He growled, standing on his feet and clutching his paint brush tighter in his hand as he stormed over to where the rest of his paints were. “Where’s a fella gotta go to get away from you people?”

“There’s no escapin’ us, pal.” Davey followed him, voice slightly teasing, their moment forgotten. “We’re inevitable.”

Jack thinks of Santa Fe a little more wistfully. He ignored the three of them as they chattered off to the side, trying his hardest to escape back into that numbing, silent place painting always gave him refuge in. But, of course, this was practically impossible considering the tension in his shoulders from the presence of the others. He just wanted to be alone. Why wouldn’t they just go away?

He turned back to his paints as he ran out of the blues, once again wishing for one of those nice, small palettes to keep his paints on. He spotted Katherine slowly walking towards him and gave her a glance as he headed towards his paints. “Word is, you wrote a great story.”

“Hey, you look like hell.” Katherine said, a deep frown on her face as she walked toward him. Jack saw her raise her hand from the corner of his eye as he bent forward to get his paints, felt himself tensing slightly at the thought of her touch, but thankfully, she seemed to think twice about it and dropped her hand.

“Hey, Jack, where’s that supposed to be?” Les piped up, bouncing on top of a box of his painting supplies and making Jack grimace.

“It’s Santa Fe,” Davey answered for him when Jack refused to speak, busying himself with the paints by his feet.

“Oh, I gotta tell you, Jack. This, ‘Go West, young man!’ routine is getting tired.” Katherine told him, eyeing his painting critically when he sat up and glared at her.

“Tired?” Jack echoed, standing back on to his feet with a sour taste in his mouth. “Tired? Ya know, for a blacklisted reporter, you sure got a lot of nerve sayin’ stuff you don’t kno’ nothin’ about.”

“How did you know I got blacklisted?” Katherine frowned, further irritating Jack with just how unfazed she seemed to be by his comments.

“I ain’t an idiot.” he snapped. “Despite what you might think.”

“Can we table the palaver and get back to business?” Les interrupted, exasperation in his voice in a way only a child as young as Les could achieve. “Will Medda let us have the theater?”

“It’s what I been tryin’ to tell ya!” Davey left his brother’s side, walking up to Jack with that all-too earnest look on his face again. “We wanna hold a rally, a citywide meeting where every newsie gets a say and a vote. And we do it after working hours so no one loses a day’s pay. Smart?”

Jack looked up at that earnest face and had to look away. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Smart enough to get you committed to a padded room.”

“The guy who paints places he’s never seen is calling us crazy?” Katherine scoffed, gesturing towards his unfinished backdrop.

Jack froze at her words, anger boiling through his veins so violently he had to take a deep breath before he started to speak. “You wanna see a place I seen, huh?” he asked, glaring at her as he brushed past Davey and threw his paintbrushes onto the ground. The violent clatter caused Katherine to flinch, startled, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to care, couldn’t think past the anger and hate and guilt mixing together in his chest. “How about this?” He marched towards the backdrop and shoved it around, turning it so the sketch he’d drawn on the other side was visible.

It was nothing but harsh black strokes, drawn when he first got here and he needed an outlet for the anger and fear writhing through his veins, demanding to be released. The faceless newsies—just children, they were only kids—being stomped on, crushed, by the Pulitzer giant.

“Newsie Square, thanks to my big mouth, filled to overflowing with failure.” he spat the words out like they were poison, that familiar anger swirling in his chest every time he looked at the cartoon. “Kids hurt! Others arrested!”

“Lighten up. No one died.” Davey snapped at him.

Jack turned to face him, shocked, unable to believe what he had just said. “Oh, is that what you’re aimin’ for?” As he spoke, he could already tell that Davey was regretting his words but Jack was past the point of caring. “No, no, go on!” he shouted, waving his hand in the air. “Call me a coward! You call me a quitter. Ain’t no way I’m puttin’ them kids back in danger.”

“We’re doing something that's never been done before!” Davey shot back desperately. “How could that not be dangerous?”

Jack wanted to scream. Why didn’t Davey and Katherine understand that there were real consequences to what they were doing? That there were things worse than death that could be forced on them. He worked his jaw, taking a deep breath before he spoke, his voice quieter now. “Specs brung me a note from Crutchie at the Refuge. I tried to go see him last night. I went up the fire escape. They busted him up so bad, he couldn’t even come to the window.” He squeezed his eyes shut as the vision of Crutchie’s bloodied silhouette on that bed flashed in his head. “Now what if he don’t make it, huh?” he asked tearfully, opening his eyes back up, uncaring of the shine he knew they had. He pointed accusingly with a shaking hand at Davey as the other boy looked away. “Are you—Are you willin’ to shoulder that? For what, half a penny a pape?”

“It’s not about pennies, Jack!” Davey yelled, his face starting to turn red from a mixture of frustration and something else in his eyes. “You said it yourself.” he lowered his voice as he walked closer to Jack, who only turned away and wiped at his face with his hand. “My family wouldn’t be in the mess we’re in if my father had a union. This is a fight we have to win!”

“If I wanted a sermon, I would show up to church.” Jack snarled, stepping forward and getting into Davey’s face until they were only a breath apart. “None of you get it! The consequences of continuing this fight are greater than any reward that could come out of it.”

“Jack, you’re being ridiculous.” Katherine tried to start, but Jack cut her off with a glare.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about.” He scowled, the anger still simmering in his veins. “None of you do! You all came from nice, stable families—still got a mam and pops you can go runnin’ home to. Well not all of us got somethin’ that nice! Some of us learned about the real world a lot sooner!” he shouted.

Silence met his words and Jack forced himself to take a step back, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Yeah, those kids might not have died. But they were taken to the Refuge. And I doubt there’s a hell worse than that place.”

“Jack, please—” Davey tried again.

“No!” Jack snapped, lifting his gaze to glare at the other man, ignoring the hurt shining in those eyes. “Those kids are in there because of me. Crutchie, is in there because’a me, and he might be dying. Yous can do whatever ya want. But leave me outta’ it.”

He walked past Davey, intent on finishing his painting for Miss Medda like he had promised and then getting the hell out of there to figure out how to save Crutchie. But Davey grabbed a hold of his arm before he could walk past, his grip tight on his bicep. “Jack.” he said quietly, but Jack refused to look up. “What happened at the Refuge to you?”

Jack felt his entire body stiffen at the question. Flashes of pain and beatings and crying brothers and sisters flipped through his mind. He bit the inside of his cheek long enough until he tasted blood before he spoke. “That ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.” He ripped his arm from Davey’s grip, ignoring the way he immediately longed for the touch after it was gone. 

Davey was still yelling his name, desperately, lost in the cacophony of voices as Katherine and Les’ joined in with him. But Jack ignored them, taking off away from the theatre. He didn’t know where he was going. All he knew was he needed out. He needed a plan, he needed to rescue Crutchie.

Santa Fe… One day…

[alinksta]

fleeting memories and an indelible misery

yesterday I was playing FFXV and at one point I began to wonder how Ardyn would be as a dad, and HOO BOI did I get so damn sad. So I decided to give him a daughter with plant magic that comes to haunt him just to make him suffer more. 

Ardyn pretends that he does not see the shadows of the roots that spread in his wake, nor how the plants bloom to their full splendor whenever he’s near any source of flora.

He tells himself that the chilling sensation of the grasp of a small hand on his callused one is nothing more than a phantom of an old fleeting memory, a reminder of what was left of his poor dented human heart.

He deceives himself and lives with the fabricated lie that the feeble echoing "Papa" that demands his attention is but an old stubborn memory that refuses to stay dead.

She's not real, he tells himself, over and over again; always ignoring the glimpse of red that he catches from the corner of his eye.

She is but a mirage—a specter—that the many demons that play with his head and have eaten away his heart have created to strip him of his hope and drag him into the void of rage and revenge.

They named her Celestia, because she was a gift from the heavens, and Ardyn loved her since the moment he knew she would come to the world.

She was born with magic more powerful than his’s, a living miracle of his lineage who had a natural affinity with plants; flowers were her favorite, seconded by fruits, and wherever he went, he always brought back with him seeds of any kind as a gift; she always made them bloom.

His wife passes in her sleep when Celestia is four; the both of them are devastated, but he grieves and moves on, for he cannot remain sad when his biggest joy is right next to him.

He takes her with him wherever he goes on his black Chocobo; he cures the sickness of the people, heals them so they can see another day.

Celestia, on the other hand, grows flowers in her wake, fortifies trees with her hands and enriches crops as her little feet walk down fields of vegetables and rice.

The world is in love with his little angel, they praise her and celebrate her existence as a blessing of the stars, and Ardyn couldn’t be more proud of her.

Then, the dreaded day that cursed his existence came.

He is insulted, dethroned, punished to live in unending darkness; his name is erased, his closest friends are killed, the gods curse every breath that he takes and his brother betrays him.

Somnus takes his little girl away from him.

His heart breaks as his darling daughter—the pride and joy of his life—is brusquely separated from him.

Her cries for him pierce his ears, her little hand reaching for him makes despair bloom in his heart, the fat tears that cascade down from her evergreen eyes make him feel like a failure, and not even the hopeless lies that he tells her (the lies that are meant to sound like reassurances) are enough to ease her fears.

That was the last time he saw her.

There are many shrines dedicated to her across the world, full of colors and flowers, adorned with glass pictures that try to resemble her in an ethereal way.

Yet they are unable to capture her charm and beauty.

It is quite unclear of how exactly she died; rumor has it that her magic became unresponsive and the backlash crippled her body; some say that she died of sadness, that sorrow and solitude made her sick and unresponsive until she breathed no more; others that she grew an immense field of flowers and exhausted herself to death.

Obscure readings said she chocked with flower petals from the vines that one day just grew on her throat.

But the popular tales say that death took her unaware and lulled her to sleep; just like her mother.

Many say there is a tomb hidden within a vast field where her remains rest, in a pool of flowers, where the plants preserved her beauty and innocence, untouched for centuries.

In his many years within the dark, Ardyn always tried his best to recall the most precious memories that he had of her; of holding her in his arms the day she was born; of her sleeping in his chest, hearing the beating of his heart.

With the passing of time, it became harder to remember the muddy red-haired hellion that loved to run barefoot in dirty rags on the mud of the many little towns that they used to visit in their journeys.

He wishes desperately to remember the sensation of his little girl hugging him like he is her whole world, of her kissing his cheek and telling him how much she loves him.

But in the never-ending darkness of his prison, the demons destroy his most precious memories of her, and chained up in the unforgiving murk he cries, dispairs, and screams until he can no longer hear his voice.

He can barely remember her, and what is left of his heart is feeling hopeless for losing what little light he had left in his cursed existence.

He wants to be with her again, hold her in his arms, hug her and never let her go.

He knows that even if he does die, she will not be there.

Everyone in Lucis knows about Princess Celestia; many consider her the most powerful Caelum, the promising queen to be that never lived to see her seventh birthday.

She was the only royal that manifested a unique type of magic that made plants grow; nobody after her manifested that kind of miraculous magic.

History states that she was the daughter of the first monarch, but after her mother passed away, her heart withered and she died sleeping in her childish sorrow.

There are many paintings of her scattered across the kingdom, the majority of them portray her sleeping in a bed of colorful flowers.

There are two memorial vitrals that are the most famous of them all: one with her peaceful smiling face surrounded by radiant flowers around her; and the other one where she has her hands in prayer as flowers bloom from her cascading red hair, her back, the sky, and the ground.

Whenever people venture into forests and valleys, they always send forward a small prayer of protection in her name. For nature was her's to command since she was born, and nature would always protect her wherever she went.

Noctis first saw her ghost in Vesperpool.

As Ardyn led them to the temple, he saw the mirage of a little girl walking next to the Chancellor, clad in a ragged dirty grey dress, her red hair a mess and her bare feet walking on the water’s surface.

He noticed how the trees' leaves rustled and the water beneath their feet became clear, how small flower buds spread on their wake and the moss in the rocks began to bloom little flowers.

When he lays his eyes on her face his heart stops and his memory begins to recall every single painting he saw of her in his life.

None of them made her justice.

Her eyes were an unnatural green, approaching a neon hue; her red hair had little shades of auburn mixed between strands, and some dark violet undertones on the roots of her temples.

Her unblemished baby skin shone like a brand new nightlight, and her pinkish lips formed a shy smile.

She stood on the Chancellor’s right side, as her left hand phased through his bigger one, unable to grasp it.

/Papa./ Said the ghost, her voice a faraway echo, as she looked up at the Chancellor with sadness in her eyes.

Noctis did not understand what she said.  But the way she looked at Ardyn reminded Noctis of himself when he was but a small child, wanting the attention of his father.

Before they depart to Altissia, Noctis has a dream of a beautiful meadow, vast and never-ending, filled with possibly all the flowers of the world.

In the center of the field lies a pit, and gazing from its depths, Celestia Lucis Caelum looks so miserable and alone as tears fall down from her green eyes, her face now puffy for crying too much.

/Help me,/ she wails, /I want to see my Papa./

The meadow is now burning, and her cries send a pang of pain through Noctis's heart.

H E L P   M E

She cries again.

H E L P   M E

Noctis wakes drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.

On the window frame, a blooming yellow flower greets him with the morning sun.

[fandomoniumflurry]

Not Alone

Dean Winchester x Reader

for @just-another-winchester  200 follower challenge. Prompt was Not Alone by RED. This is all angst and heartache and I hope I did the song justice and I hope someone cries because of this. I’m a horrible person and I hate myself.

2.3k words of pure pain. like seriously, I’m dying.

Oh, and also it killed my boo and beta @rosiezilla

“Stop pushing me away, Dean!” The yelling match had been going on for hours now. Her voice was trembling and her throat ached. It was nothing compared to the ache in her heart. This was always the same argument between the two of them. It was only louder and harsher as time went on. “You are not alone, you know! I’ve been here this whole damn time!” Her cheeks were red and she could feel the warmth down her neck and in her ears as well. There was pain and rage all mingled within such a fragile petite frame.

She was hopeless, utterly lost when it came to Dean Winchester. She watched him slowly drifting out of her reach, watching him fade away into a darkness she had never seen before. She cried herself to sleep, alone in her bed, afraid of what each day would bring. Her Dean, the man she had fallen in love with was gone and she didn’t know how to save him. No matter how much she tried to tell him that she was on his side, that she would carry him through whatever it was that he was going through. And every day, he would deny her, take up his burdens and get lost in his own storm cloud and rain.

She once had a place in his life. She was his warmth in a cold world, his light when everything around him was dark. She had helped him through so much just like he had carried her through so much. He promised never to leave her, to always catch her when she fell. And now, all her dreams of a future with this man were broken, only pain and heartache left behind to keep her company.

The good times with Dean were now just a fading memory. She could remember the days when she would hold him in her arms, keep away the nightmares and wash away his tears. She had stood by his side for years being more than just his friend, she had been his rock, his lover, his savior. And now, how was he repaying her? Leaving her to sleep alone in a cold bed while she grieved the loss of a man she had to see every damn day. Her entire world was slipping away right before her very eyes and no matter how much she tried, there was no relief from the misery.

No matter how many times she claimed to be there, it was no use when he refused to be with her. And after all this time, she was finally at her breaking point. She had been standing on the edge for too long, holding on to something that was clearly pointless. She was so close to letting go, so close to backing down from her promise and just leaving. She was done feeling like a stranger in the one place she had always called home. As she stood across the room from the green eyed hunter, she could see only indifference, complacency, and darkness. She tried to remain just as cold and hard as he was, but she was still fully human, still wrecked with emotions, still yearning for him.

All she got in return were the eyes of someone who couldn’t care less. And that was what broke her heart the most. “You’ve never been alone.” This time when she speaks, she tries her hardest not to let her lip quiver. Her tone was less brash but more weak. She felt so small in that moment standing before one of the best men she knew, overtaken by his burdens and overcome by the evil he fought everyday. She wasn’t sure when she lost him. Whether it was the day he took the Mark, his bond with Amara, or hell, even before that. It was always meant to lead them here, to this moment.

“You done?” His gruff voice caused a shiver to coarse down her spine, but it wasn’t a good shiver. He hadn’t caused a pleasurable response in her for months. Now, he only elicited fear and anger. All he caused her was misery. Even Sam didn’t know what to do anymore. He was just forced to sit back and observe, watch as his brother and the woman he considered his sister, to slowly break apart. Dean just stood there in his military stiff stance, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah. I’m done.” Her lips twitched almost with a snarl before she spun on her heels and walked from the room. Dean’s eyes rolled and his arms fell to his sides. Sam couldn’t say a word, he just stared at his big brother with utter shock and horror. He didn’t know this man. The man he knew, the hunter he grew up with would never be like this, never say the things he’s said to her. It was understandable why she would be done, why she would finally let go of him and leave. But Dean wasn’t the only one losing her.

The room remained silent, Dean taking his spot at the table behind his laptop once again. Sam watched him with a heavy heart as he sat at the other table. The tension was thick between the two of them but neither of them addressed it. It wasn’t until she returned to the large room that both sets of eyes lifted. Sam stood, panic in his eyes when he spotted the bag in her hand and the tear stains on her cheeks. The only reaction she could see from Dean was the slight bob of his Adam's apple when swallowed. What that was supposed to mean, she wasn’t sure but it was nowhere near enough to even think of staying.

She ignored Dean now, keeping all her focus on telling her little brother goodbye. His embrace was breathtaking and desperate, as if holding her would make her stay. He could understand why she would leave, and he wanted her to be happy and if this was what it took, he couldn’t stop her. It didn’t make his heart hurt any less or keep the tears away. She hiccuped quietly as she tried to keep down her sobs before she finally broke away. Without looking back, her quick steps led her to the steps and out the front door. And she was gone.

Sam’s eyes now blazed with fury as he turned on his brother. He had every intention of going off on his brother possibly even beating some sense into him. But the moment he turned around, all rage washed away the moment his hazel hues fell on Dean. The older man was leaned over the table, his face in his hands. He wasn’t making a sound but Sam could see the tremors in his body. The younger Winchester felt the ache deep in his chest as he quickly made his way to his brother’s side. No matter how strong of a face Dean had put on, it was clear he was just as broken about this as anyone.

“Why didn’t you stop her?” Sam questioned quietly as a hand rested against his brother’s back.

Dean’s hands washed down his face, the faint residue of a few tears yet to be shed in his eyes. He stared off at nothing, his tongue trailing slowly over his bottom lip. “She shouldn’t have to carry me. She can’t save me and she shouldn’t have to. She’s too good to live like this.” His head turned to gaze at his brother, his features so lost, so afraid. “I’m too broken, Sam. She deserves better.”

That only seemed to break Sam’s heart into smaller pieces. “She didn’t care if you were broken, Dean. She was always there, always there to catch you, to hold you, to light your way. You can’t do this alone, Dean and she never would leave you alone. But you left her alone and now because of you she’s more broken than she could have ever been with you. So where were you, Dean, when /she/ needed /you/? You shattered her whole world and now there is no one to pick her up. Instead of saving her, Dean, you destroyed her. The hope in her world is gone because you wanted to be alone.” Sam found his anger again but he didn’t lash out. He simply let his words settle in before rising from his chair and leaving the room.

Sitting in the war room, deadly silence surrounding him, he knew now that he was truly alone. The only thing he saw in the distance was darkness and not a speck of light. While living in fear of being alone, it was then that no one was left to hear his cries. His face fell into his hands again as he fell against the table finally allowing the sobs to take over his rigid form. Time passed slowly and agonizingly so. Left in his own pit of despair. Sam never returned, choosing to remain in his room because he couldn’t stand the sight of his own brother right now.

Minutes, hours ticked by and it wasn’t until he heard the big metal door slam shut that Sam jumped up and ran back into the war room. Frantically searching for his brother, he felt that the elder would end up doing something stupid in a time of grief. By the time he was out the front door, the long haired man watched as the Impala peeled out and sped away down the dirt road. “Dean!!” But Dean wore a look of purpose and determination, emerald eyes not even casting a glance in the rearview.

Sam stood there watching his brother disappear as the rain began to fall. At first it was just a soft mist but it quickly turned into a downpour forcing the tall man back into the bunker. The rain didn’t slow Dean down, though. The Impala’s wipers worked frantically to keep his sights clear. He had to be alert, he couldn’t miss her. He had to find her no matter how long it took. And when he rolled outside of Lebanon, it started to take a long time. A line of cars backed up on the highway brought the entire two lanes of traffic to a stand still. It wasn’t until the flashing lights shone brightly behind him that he figured an accident must have happened.

To find out what was going on, he turned on his police scanner. The dispatcher and responding officers were talking about an accident, a young woman behind the wheel of an old junker. She had lost control of her vehicle in the rain and had flipped several times before landing in the drainage ditch outside of town. Dean’s brow wrinkled, feeling sorry for the poor woman who had to go through that. He wondered for only a moment what she could have been doing to cause her to lose control.

But his casual attitude changed when the description of the car came over the radio. A rush of panic surged through his whole body. It couldn’t be her, she was one of the best drivers he knew. She could race backwards in a thunderstorm and not bat an eye. But she was crying when she left, her head wasn’t in the right place, her heart was broken. His mind went through the worst case scenario, playing out every possible reason it could or couldn’t be her. The radio sounded again, a fuzzy description of the woman that was still trapped in the car. She was alive but barely. He didn’t hesitate then.

Jumping out of the car, he didn’t even bother to turn off the engine or take the keys or even close the door. As soon as his feet hit pavement, he ran as fast as he could go in the direction of the sirens. If it was her, he had to be there, he had to tell her everything he never said. He couldn’t let her be alone. With a loud voice, he flashed a badge quickly and pushed through the cops that tried to stop him. The rain was still coming down making the grass and dirt in the ditch slippery. One step off the highway and he was sliding down the mud and landing against the car where they were trying to get her out with the jaws of life.

His whole world stopped then and there. He was hoping it wasn’t her. He was praying like he had never prayed before. But the moment he laid his eyes on that car, the moment he caught sight of that motionless body, he knew it was her. With the strength he never knew, he helped get the door off and pull her out of the car. His chest was heavy, heart racing as he fell back against the mud with her in his arms. The rain quickly soaked them both but Dean couldn’t feel anything.

She was barely breathing and her body was so cold. He refused to let anyone else touch her except for the man that handed over a blanket. Everyone knew she wouldn’t make it up to the ambulance. They could sit it in her eyes, she was fading fast. And with her, Dean’s entire world was fading away as well. He tried to hold onto that little spark of hope, looking for that light in her eyes. His body began to rock her as the tears began.

“I’m with you. I got you.” He spoke softly against her face. “You’re not alone. I’m not gonna leave you.” She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t move. But the moment their eyes locked, he saw that flash of love in her eyes, and the warmth of a gentle smile. He smiled back through the tears, his arms still tight around her. “I love you.” He uttered the words in a whisper, words that he had never uttered to anyone, words that were always just for her. And she heard them. She felt them. And then he was alone.