#i just couldn't figure it out for so long! i tried rewriting it so many times but it just. didn't. work!!!!

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 8

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +4.1K 🤫

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, no smut (alluding to sexual situations), heavily dialogue-centered, use of Daddy, Mama, and other pet names (lil' mama, pretty girl, etc.), spanking, FLUFF, kinks mentioned

A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 5 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 6 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 7 => 🦋

*Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

“Terry, can you move? Damn. You don't have to be in my skin 24/7,” I laughed, hitting Terry through my moo-moo. He was underneath my nightgown and resting his face on my belly since we were both lying on the couch.

“Leave me the hell alone, woman. I’m comfortable,” he said, squeezing the back of my thighs.

“Too fuckin’ comfortable, and that's the damn problem. Get up!” I said, attempting to push him. I tugged the nightgown from over his head.

“Hell, no! Move again and see what happens. I dare you!” Terry said, tightening his grip.

“I would be wrong to whoop your ass. Wouldn’t I?” I asked. Terry smacked his lips and pulled the nightgown back over his head.

I leaned up on my elbows and pushed Terry on the floor. “I’m hungry! I’m hot, and you won’t leave me alone!” I pouted.

Terry looked at me from the floor. “Now, if I whooped your ass, would I be wrong?” he asked while standing.

“Yes. Yes, the hell you would. Would you really whoop your baby?” I said, batting my eyelashes.

“Hell yeah. Now, come on!” Terry said, lifting me off the couch. I was cradled in his arms like a baby. “Spoiled ass. I can’t even be mad. It’s my own damn fault,” he said as he carried me to his kitchen.

He leaned over to place me on my feet. “You cooking, or am I?” he asked, kissing my forehead. I pointed towards him. “Aight. Whatchu want?” he asked, crossing his arms.

This was a no-brainer for me. I turned towards the counter and grabbed the loaf of raisin bread, holding it up in front of Terry. “French Toast, again. Really, mama? You ain't tired of it, yet?” he asked, grabbing the bread.

“Nope. I can eat it a million more times as long as you make it,” I said, hugging his abdomen.

“Aight. It’s whateva you say, love. Extra cinnamon, right?” he asked, looking down at me.

I smiled while shaking my head yes. If there was ever a moment that showed how much I had Terry wrapped around my finger, this would be it.

30 minutes later

“Do you want eggs, mama?” Terry asked while standing at the stove.

“Yes, scrambled. Oh, and with cheese!” I said, sitting at the kitchen island.

“I know, baby girl,” Terry said, cracking the eggs into a separate pan.

“So, what are we gonna do today? It looks like it’s gonna rain,” I asked, rising from the chair.

“Hmmm… I don't know. We’ll figure something out,” Terry said, shrugging his shoulders.

I walked to the fridge and looked around for the ingredients to make my iced coffee. I pulled out the coffee concentrate, almond milk, and creamer.

“Can you make me one? Same as last time. I liked the syrup you used,” Terry asked, looking over at me.

“Sure. Just so you know, I used two syrups— white chocolate and sugar cookie. Oh, and thank you again for buying them,” I said placing everything on the counter.

Walking around the kitchen, I opened the cabinet to grab two glasses. “Where are the syrups?” I asked, biting the inside of my lip.

“Cabinet by the fridge,” Terry said, nodding his head.

I opened the cabinet and saw the syrups on the third shelf— the shelf I couldn't reach. I reached towards them to see if I could knock them down. I leaned on the counter and tried to get closer, but nothing worked. I hoisted myself up so that my thighs were on the counter.

As soon as my knees were on the counter, Terry’s arm looped around my waist. “No, ma'am. I think not,” he huffed.

“I could've reached them. I almost had it,” I said while Terry grabbed the bottles from the top shelf. With me still cradled under his arm, he placed the syrups down and closed the cabinet.

“You know I'm not a kid, right?” I said, crossing my arms.

Terry put me down and looked at me before speaking, “Yeah, but that doesn't stop you from bein’ clumsy. Now, does it?” he asked frankly.

I stood there in shock. “Move!” I laughed, pushing past him to grab the syrups. Terry walked around me to go back to the stove.

“Watch ya’self. You playin’ wit’ fire, mama,” Terry said as he continued to make breakfast.

“Try me,” I mumbled under my breath.

Terry’s head snapped to look at me. Our eyes locked in a playfully tense gaze. We both began to smirk at each other. It was clear we were both in a goofy mood. I fought to hold my gaze but couldn’t. I was never going to win a staring contest against this green-eyed bastard. I looked down at the ingredients for the coffee, fighting the urge to laugh.

“That’s yo’ one free pass. Next time, it’s me and you, mama. Understood?” Terry grumbled continuing to cook.

“Maybe,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I don't know. I'm feelin’… feelin’ a little…,” I mumbled while making the base for our coffees.

“A little nothing. Havana Rose… You skatin’ on thin ice, girl. Watch it!” he said without looking back at me.

I could hear the smile on Terry’s face. Honestly, this wasn't doing anything but putting me in a playful mood. Terry moved all the finished food to the opposite side of the kitchen island. I stopped making the coffee and walked to the cabinets where the plates were. I opened it and pulled down two large plates. I walked back over to Terry. I could see him tense up a bit because he immediately knew I was up to no good. I wanted to play, so I slid in between Terry and the island, letting my butt rub against his groin. I pushed my hips back, making sure to press my ass against his dick.

“Here you go, Daddy,” I said, putting the plates in front of us.

As I began to slide from in front of Terry, his hand came down on my left ass cheek. It felt like like my ass was on fire.

“Ow! That fuckin’ hurt!” I screamed while holding my hands over my butt.

Before I could turn around, his other hand came down on the back of my uncovered thighs.

“Havana! Language!” he said, turning back to the food. He picked up a spatula and began plating the French Toast and eggs. His ability to just continue doing shit like nothing happened always pissed me off.

I walked back over to the unfinished coffee, sporting a full pout. I loved hated when he did that. I was only joking with his overly serious ass. Sometimes, I wished Mr. Ex-Marine would lighten up with his mean ass.

“Cute,” Terry laughed, clearly picking at me pouting.

I wanted to cuss his ass out, but I knew better. I chose to hold my tongue and say nothing in return. I just continued to finish the coffee.

15 minutes later

“You almost done?” Terry asked, reaching across the island to stroke my chin.

“Yeah,” I said, finishing the last pieces of strawberries on my plate.

I looked up at Terry. His elbows were propped up as he ate while scrolling on his phone. His mouth was doing that cute little twitch when he was thinking. Damn, he was even fine without trying to be. Ever since that night, I’ve been getting caught up over the smallest things— the way his chest flexes and jiggles when he moves, the way his ears wiggle when he's laughing too hard, the way he… Aw, shit. Here I go again.

“Havana! Mama! Hey, you listenin’?” Terry said, getting my attention.

“Huh? What? I was…” I said, biting my lip in embarrassment.

“You were lookin’ at me, but I felt like you were lookin’ through me. You good?” Terry asked, leaning to stand up straight.

“I’m fine. I was just thinkin’,” I said, pushing my plate away. I was honestly fighting the urge to jump across the island and fu— let me chill.

“Just checkin’ on you, mama,” Terry said, smiling at me. He grabbed our plates and put them in the sink.

“Don't worry. I got the dishes,” I said, sliding off the stool.

“You sure?” Terry asked, watching me closely.

I nodded my head yes. I stood at the kitchen sink and began quickly doing the dishes. I could feel Terry’s eyes lingering on me. I didn't want to turn around and look. As if he could sense the tension, Terry walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“You look so cute, but I know that face. Where’s your head, ‘Vana?” he asked, leaning down to kiss my neck.

“I don't know. Daydreamin’, I guess. I wanted to go out, but…” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“We can always go out later, mama. It’s just after 10 in the morning,” he replied.

“I know. I’ve been in the house for days— baking and getting out orders. I wanted to be anywhere but inside today,” I pouted.

Terry began kissing me repeatedly all over my face. “I know. We'll just try later. I promise. Alright?” he said.

“Okay,” I said, huffing in slight frustration. Terry tapped me on the butt before walking off.

I silently finished washing the dishes and cleaning the rest of the kitchen.

I turned to see Terry sitting on the couch, staring out the window. The rain was pouring. I knew it wasn't going to slow down any time soon. My mood was instantly dampened.

“You know when we were kids the rain used to ruin our whole day. Now, I can stare at it for hours,” Terry said, leaning back with his arm over the couch.

“Didn't we all? I used to hate it because of my hair. Well, that and I couldn't run fast enough. I always got wet no matter how hard I tried,” I said, leaning against the counter.

“What you mean?” he asked, looking over at me.

“Terry, I been big my whole life. Imagine my thick, clumsy ass running through the ran. I got so tired of getting my ass beat for ruining school clothes because I slipped and fell somehow. After a while, I just stopped trying. I'd rather be wet than dirty,” I laughed.

“Damn. So, you really have always been clumsy? Here I was thinkin��� it was me making you nervous. That's kinda disappointing,” he said, pouting and sticking out his bottom lip.

“Terrence Richmond, I know damn well you aren't pouting. So, you really don't like the fact that I'm not swoonin’ over yo’ ass. Get the fu—,” I said before Terry's eyes cut to me. He raised his eyebrow as a warning. I raised my hands as a sign of an apology.

“I see we still got some work to do when it comes to that mouth of yours,” Terry said, glaring at me.

“What?! I caught it. I didn't even say the last one. How are you still mad? I’m a work in progress, remember?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Roll’em again. Go ahead! You really been tryin’ me today, love. You want Daddy's attention, huh?” he asked, laughing at me.

“Nope, I could care less. Sorry,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

Terry instantly rose from the couch. I knew better than to stay where I was. He was much faster than me, in every aspect of the word.

“Don't even think about runnin’!” Terry commanded.

I took off towards the hallway, sprinting into his bedroom. I slammed the door behind me. I locked it right when his hand began twisting the doorknob.

“Ah ha! Gotta be quicker than that!” I yelled, giggling like a child. I stood in the middle of the room, holding my stomach from laughing so hard.

Before I could even celebrate my small victory, the door swung open. Terry's large frame came around the door like a prowling lion.

“You gotta remember I'm an ex-Marine, love. This silly lil’ lock ain't stoppin' shit,” he said, turning around to lock the door again.

“Oh, come on. There's no way. You couldn't let me win this one time?” I said, folding my arms. I began to walk backward into the room.

Terry was quiet. His posture resembled a stalking predator, and I was more than prey. I had unknowingly trapped myself in a fuckin' room with a damn savage— a deviant. The back of my thighs hit the bed.

“Terry…” I whined, sitting on the bed. I began scooting to the center of the bed.

“Nahhh, what's wrong? Scared?” he asked standing in front of me.

He climbed on the bed and positioned himself between my legs. He used his knees to push mine apart. He grabbed the back of my thighs and pulled me closer to him. I squealed out in content.

“Would you stop? You psychopath!” I yelled, trying to push Terry away.

“Nah, let's have fun!” Terry said, sliding his hands under my gown.

I instantly thought his hands would go to my breasts or pussy, but they didn't. This fuckin’ bastard was tickling me! His hands were all over my body, torturing me and sending me into a fit of laughter. Tears were prickling my eyes, causing my vision to blur. Terry’s large frame became nothing more than a shadow as he hovered over me.

“You done?” he asked, gripping the collar of my gown in a closed fist.

I looked away from his face. I was trying to buy myself time to breathe.

Terry gripped my collar tighter, “Oh, you don't wanna talk?” he said, leaning on top of me.

His hands were back on me as his lips kissed my neck. My laughing was the only thing that could be heard throughout the apartment. Besides low muffled grunts and shallow breathing, Terry wasn't making a sound. His sole mission was to tickle me to death. I don't know what was worse, his hands or lips, but unbeknownst to him, this was setting off a fire that I wasn't sure we could stop. With every kiss, I craved more. Luckily, the intensifying yearning for more than a quick kiss was fizzled out by the enjoyment of the present moment. I felt like a kid— a happy one.

I screamed as loud as I could. Terry's hand flew over my mouth. “That's not nice! We have neighbors,” he said, kissing my cheek.

“Please!” I yelled through his hand.

Terry removed his hand from my mouth. “What you say? I ain't hear ya’, mama,” he said, kissing my lips.

“Please! I have to pee! If I piss myself, imma make sure I piss on you. Then again, that might be a kink for yo’ nasty ass!” I said lifting my leg between us.

“We don't kink shame in this house, ‘Vana, especially considering what you had me doin',” he said, grabbing my leg. He pushed the back of my thigh so my knee was in my chest.

“Oh, stop it. You act like that was the wildest thing ever. You sure weren't complainin’ when you had me on that barn floor wit’ my ass in the air,” I said, squirming underneath him.

“Oh, you wanna be a smartass. Unh unh, stop movin'!” he said, pressing me deeper into the mattress.

“Terry, I have to pee! Please, we can continue this lil’ game right after, honey. Just give me a break,” I begged. If I didn't get up in the next minute, I was going to soak this bed and not in a “good” way.

“Fine!” Terry said, letting me up.

“THANK YOU!” I said, flying off the bed. I ran to the bathroom, feeling like I wouldn't make it.

After relieving myself, I entered back into the bedroom. Quickly scanning the room, I realized Terry was nowhere to be found.

“Terry?!” I yelled.

“I'm in here!” he yelled from the living room.

I walked out of the bedroom and into the hallway. As I rounded the corner to the living room, Terry stood in the doorway. He was leaning to the side with his shoulder pressed against the doorframe.

The smell of rain flooded my nostrils— salty and fresh. I've always loved the smell of rain, especially when I was a little girl. It reminded me of the summers I spent in the country.

“I remember when I was younger, my brothers and I would get suited up in our raincoats and boots just to play in the rain. Mama hated it with a passion. She used to complain about how hard the mud was to get out of our clothes. Daddy, on the other hand, he’d just say we were boys bein’ boys. Hell, he’d even encourage it. I miss those days. Days when we didn't give a damn about how we looked or what we were doin’. We just did the shit— without a care in the world,” Terry said.

Terry’s shoulders dropped as if his memories began to weigh him down. I walked up behind him, letting my hands wrap around his waist. I hugged him tightly. I felt his body shake softly from a silent laugh.

“You know… sometimes, as adults, we care too much. Who gives a fu.. I mean, who cares what other people think?” I asked, pressing my body into Terry’s.

“Mama, we too grown for that kinda stuff, now,” Terry said, laughing somberly.

I paused for a minute, falling victim to my own poignant thoughts.

Had we really become that displaced from happiness? Why was it so hard for adults to indulge— in joy, playfulness, and excitement? Grown-ass adults who were so afraid of being called childish that we were denying ourselves the simplicity of pleasure and gratification through laughter and smiles. We were victims to the parameters of supposed “free will”— an idea of free will that was bastardized by the voices and perceptions of others.

Fuck that! If Terry wanted rain, Terry was gonna get it!

I released my arms from around Terry, grabbing his hand. I pulled him towards the top of the stairs.

“Havana Rose!” Terry yelled.

“Don’t… Just trust me,” I said as we slowly descended the wet stairs. (Apartment exterior)

Rushing from the second floor to the first, I didn't want to give Terry any time to overthink. I pulled him into the rain, praying he would enjoy this moment.

“Babygirl!” Terry said, attempting to shield himself from the pouring rain.

“Just enjoy it, baby. Who gives a… who gives a fuck, huh?” I said, spinning around in the rain.

Terry let his head fall back on his shoulders. I stopped to watch this moment. He raised his arms above his head, reaching for the rain. Finally! He was letting himself be a kid again. His head slowly dropped to look at me. The biggest smile I had ever seen was plastered on his face. A smile so wide that it caused his eyes to close.

“That’s my baby,” I whispered to myself. I was seeing Terry through a completely different lens.

Terry lunged towards me, picking me up. He tossed me over his shoulder and began spinning me around. His laughter booming through the air around us.

“Terry!” I yelled out in laughter.

“WHO CARES, REMEMBER?!” Terry yelled back through the rain.

Putting me down, Terry pulled me into his body. My chin rested against his chest. He grabbed my face in his hands, drawing me closer to him. His gaze was piercing and intense.

“I love you, Havana Rose. Do you understand me? I love you with all my fuckin’ heart, and don't you ever forget that!” he avowed passionately.

I stood there, taking in every word like my life depended on it. Terry would have seen the tears streaming down my face if it wasn’t raining. I wish he could see how much his words were affecting me.

“I love you, too!” I said, jumping into his arms.

My legs wrapped around his waist. Our eyes were locked into a gaze that encompassed a million emotions— love, happiness, passion, lust. My hands went to the back of Terry’s head. His lips met mine in what felt like a kiss orchestrated by Cupid, himself.

We stayed right there in the rain and in love, for what seemed like hours. Kissing and loving on each other like two naive children, unaware of the world around them.

“Y’all gone be sick as dogs out there!” yelled Mrs. Geraldine, Terry’s next-door neighbor.

We pulled away from each other, laughing at her statement. Terry slowly put me down. My feet sloshed in a small puddle beneath me.

“Alright, babygirl. I think Mrs. Geraldine is right. We need to head inside and get you warm, mama. I don't want my baby sick,” he said, picking me up bridal style.

“Oh!” I squealed.

Terry carried me to the bottom of the stairs. I tried to get out of his grasp.

“What you doin'? I got this, lil’ mama. Sit tight,” he said, ascending the stairs carefully. He took his time with each step, handling me like a delicate flower or a small child.

I looked into Terry's eyes, getting lost in the different hues. I had looked in his eyes many times before, but none of those times ever felt like this one. It was as if I was committing every detail to memory. I never wanted to forget how his eyes looked right now— sparkling and wild.

Terry's eyes looked down to mine. “I can't focus wit’ you lookin’ at me like that,” he chuckled.

“I can't help it. You look so… so… so damn pretty. You're one gorgeous man, y’know?” I said, playing with his ear.

He moved his head away. “Ah, here you go with that! Leave my damn ears alone!” Terry rasped through gritted teeth.

“No,” I said stroking both of them.

“Get down! I'm not finna play wit’ you!” he said, putting me down at the doorway.

Walking into the apartment, I was hit by a harsh chill that sent a shudder down my spine.

“Go get out of those clothes and warm up,” Terry said, pushing me on my behind. I swear this man treats me like a child.

“What about you?” I asked, turning back towards the door.

“I'm coming right behind you, mama. I promise,” he said, grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it.

“Better be,” I said, taunting him as I turned around.

And once again like clockwork…

smack

His hand lands right across my ass. How didn't I see that coming?

“Ow, I'm starting to think you just like spanking me,” I said as I rubbed my stinging ass.

“Yeah, I do. It's something ‘bout that recoil and the sound. Ouu… dear sweet Jesus, it drives me crazy,” he exclaimed with joy.

“You're a sadist. You're a fuckin' sadist. Terrence Richmond is a goddamn…,” I started before Terry picked me up, tossing me over his shoulder.

“That's it! That mouth is too loose today. You don't know when to quit, huh?” he asked, rubbing me on my ass. I was beginning to anticipate another spanking.

Unfortunately, his phone rang. He turned around suddenly with me still over his shoulder, thrashing me around.

“Whoa! I don't think I like this ride anymore,” I said through laughter.

“Sorry, love. Here,” he said putting me down. “Go ahead. I'll be right behind ya,” he said, kissing my forehead.

I simply nodded my head yes and began to walk towards the room. Once I was in the bedroom, I walked over to the laundry basket and began pulling off my wet clothes.

“Babygirl, change of plans. I gotta make a quick run to the site. They’re havin’ a problem. I’m sorry!” he yelled from the living room.

“Okay. Be safe. Love you!” I yelled over my shoulder.

“Love you more, mama. I’ll be right back,” Terry said as I heard the front door open and close.

With that, I decided to take a hot shower to warm myself up and relax while Terry was gone.

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[the-eclectic-wonderer]

2, 5, 10 & 18 for the writer ask game!! (These questions are *so much* fun, I couldn't choose 😂)

Hello friend, and thank you! They *are*, aren't they??

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

Oh, heavens. I'd do it somehow, but it would be a rough transition. When I'm 'in the zone' I can barely keep up with my brain using a keyboard, and writing by hand would be so slow in comparison! I'd have to learn shorthand, haha. I'd find a way, I guess, but it would definitely not be easy. (Oh, and as a bonus: I'd write in pen for sure. No way I'm writing more than a couple of sentences of notes with a pencil. Those are for drawing.)

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

I'm afraid I have to disappoint you on this one because I'm not a superstitious person, and that extends to writing, unfortunately! I don't have any superstitions I can think of.

I do have habits! For example, contrary to most of the writer population, I generally don't write in the evenings / at night. I usually wake up early and have a job that requires me to think for a good part of the day, so my brain tends to feel very tired by the time evening comes around, and the words don't really word when I get like that. I might jot down an idea or two, maybe edit a few passages, but the actual bulk of my writing activity happens while the sun is out.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Oh, yes.

The term 'haunting' applied to writing is related to two different concepts for me. I've been haunted for ages by Moby Dick, in the sense that I began reading it and then left it on my nightstand to rot for years. I eventually read it all and loved it, but in the meantime it lay there menacingly, a perpetual reminder of my failure to finish it, like a heart beating under the floorboards.

Speaking of which: The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe is a good example of the other kind of haunting, the deeper kind. These tend to be stories that stay with me because they shock and unsettle me, due of their themes or their style (usually both). Other good examples are 1984 by George Orwell and A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess (I barely even remember this last one, except for the fact that it really disturbed me when I read it). The most recent example is The Notebook Trilogy by Ágota Kristóf (please be very careful if you research this one, it deals with a lot of seriously disturbing themes).

I don't think I've ever been haunted by any of my writing, no. I like to think of my works as companions, rather than haunting presences. :)

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

Hmm. This is hard to answer because I tend to forget about previous versions of my works fairly quickly 😂 I do remember a recent one, though!

The Barbara passage in i would have said impossible [...] gave me a lot of trouble while I was writing the fic. I knew I wanted to write something about Barbara from very early on; once I figured out where this fic would fall in the canon timeline, I rewatched some of S3, and the Barbara episode was just too interesting not to explore (not to mention it provided a perfect catalyst for the final confrontation between the three Girls). It was one of the first scenes I tried putting to paper, but I just... couldn't get it to work, no matter what! It simply refused to flow.

I eventually figured out that it wasn't working because I didn't know what I wanted to say with it. I knew by that point in the story Dorothy wasn't at her best, and I had a feeling she wanted to 'run away' from Blanche and Rose, but I didn't know why she wanted to run away (except for a very generic 'Blanche and Rose are coming on to her'), and so the scene was really bland and unfocused.

What helped, in the end, was properly writing the scene before! During my planning phase I decided that Dorothy was going to ask for Sophia's advice, at some point -- but I made the mistake of not figuring out where she'd end up after receiving said advice, so I didn't really know what was going through her mind during the Barbara scene! Once I wrote that scene and figured that out properly, her mental state was more clear to me, and everything fell into place. In retrospect, I learned quite the lesson from it! When a scene doesn't flow, it may be that the problem isn't with the scene itself, but with what comes before. :)

[angstysebfan]

My Roommates Boyfriend - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky x female reader AU: Modern Story Summary: Your roommate’s (Nat) boyfriend and you do not get along. You don’t even know why anymore. When she moves across the country for a new job, you both begrudgingly drive her car to her new home. Adventure, angst, and secrets come alive.

A/N: This is another rewrite. Hope you enjoy this. This was one of my first stories that I loved but I wanted to make it better. Hopefully I succeeded. lol

Warning: Cursing, angst (duh lol)

--

Friday nights were always movie night in your apartment. This one, however, was extra special because your roommate, Natasha, was moving the next day across the country. So this will be your last one, sadly. You were hoping it would just be you girls, but of course Natasha’s douchebag of a boyfriend, Bucky, just had to be there too. 

You sit on the love seat, while the couple cuddles on the couch. You can’t help but look over occasionally and see Bucky give Nat kisses on her head and lips every few minutes. You actually feel bad for the guy, since they agreed to end their relationship once Nat leaves, but then you remember you hate his guts, so fuck him.

You and Nat met 5 years ago, when you rented a room in this apartment from her. She was a little intimidating at first, but loyal to a fault. You knew that she would always be in your corner, and you both became best friends. She was the closest person to you since your family is basically nonexistent.

Around a year ago, you were both at the bar enjoying drinks when you both saw a group of men also having a good time. That's where you first saw Bucky Barnes sitting with a group of friends. You would be lying if you said he didn’t catch your eye, but when Nat expressed interest you immediately backed off. By the end of the night, Nat was going home with him, shooting you a wink as they walked out the door.

You were jealous, but didn’t hold any ill-will against her. After a few weeks of dating, Nat invited Bucky over to your apartment to meet you and have a movie night. You smiled sincerely, hiding your jealousy, and extended your hand to shake his, but he just completely blew you off. You were somewhat confused, but figured maybe he was shy around new people.

His attitude towards you, however, never got better no matter how many times he came over to your home or how many times you hung out with a group. He would always sneer and scoff at you, or made small insults directed at you. It bothered you, a lot, but you tried your best to ignore it. You've never had this reaction from someone before, but after awhile you started fighting back. You were tired of his bullshit.

Thus began your year long loathing relationship. You still tried to ignore him whenever you could, but he knew how to press your buttons, and you would then snap. What sucked even more was that you still thought he was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen. You knew he was a good guy based on how he treated Nat, but couldn't understand why he had hatred for you.

Nat constantly begged you both to get along, especially after you told her that you were initially attracted to him as well. However no matter what, nothing good ever came out of you and Bucky being in the same room. You decided to call a truce for tonight since it was Nat’s last night.

When the movie ended, Nat and Bucky started heading to her room. You knew you would be sleeping with headphones on to block out the noise coming from her room. Before entering the room Nat walked over and gave you a big hug.

“I’m leaving early, so I will say goodbye now,” she said, sniffing back her tears.

You felt the tears coming to your eyes and you hug her back. “I'll see you next week, when I bring you your car, remember?” you ask softly so your own voice didn't crack.

Suddenly, you heard a throat clearing. “Uh, what?” Bucky said, walking over to the two of you. “Babe, I thought I was bringing your car next week,” he said, looking at Nat with pleading eyes.

Nat looked between the two of you and sighed. “Look, you’re my best friend, you’re my boyfriend. I want you both to come next week and say a proper goodbye. So you'll both have to suck up sitting in a car together for a few days. Got it?” Nat said with authority.

You gaped at Nat and then looked at Bucky. He looked pissed, but was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. Suddenly a smirk appeared on his face.

“I bet I could get you to reconsider,” he said seductively.

Your stomach flipped hearing his voice like that, but you stayed as emotionless as possible. Nat, however pursed her lips at Bucky.

“Listen, Bucky. Whatever issues you have with Y/N, bury them. She's my best friend, and I want to show her my new place and give her a proper goodbye just like I want to do with you. If you care about me, at all, you will suck up your pride and attitude, and take this drive with her. Please?” she asks, almost whining.

Bucky rolls his eyes and looks at you. “Fine, but you better not do anything to piss me off or I will leave you on the side of the road,” he says to you.

Now you roll your eyes. “Whatever Barnes. Just meet me here at 5 am on Thursday and we'll head out,” you say.

He nods, then picks up Nat carrying her into her room. Nat lets out a squeal and laughs the whole way into the room. Once the door closes, you quickly go into your room in search of your headphones. It doesn’t take long before you hear the moans coming through the walls. 

–

You wake up with a start, and look at the clock, 4:45 am. You knew Nat was still here, so you quickly jump up to say goodbye. When you walk out of your room, you see Bucky carrying her suitcases out into the living room. You ignore him and walk into Nat’s room. She's surprised to see you, but smiles. 

“If you feel like you forgot anything, let me know and I will make sure to bring it next week, okay,” you say trying and failing not to cry.

She nods and pulls you into tight hug. Tears immediately fall from your face as you again say goodbye to the woman who became your best friend. You walk hand in hand out into the living room, where Bucky is waiting.

“Cab's downstairs babe,” he says quietly.

You can tell he is holding back emotions as well. You give Nat another quick hug and send her on her way. You run to the window to watch her depart. You see Bucky place the suitcases into the trunk, then pull Nat into a hug. They kiss passionately for what feels like forever. As Nat gets into the cab, you see Bucky wiping tears from his eyes. The cab pulls away with your best friend as Bucky just stands there with his hands in his pockets. He then turns and walks back into your building.

You sit on the the couch, crying softly, missing Nat already. Bucky comes back in and looks at you. 

“I’ll, uh, get out of your apartment in a few, just want to grab some more of my stuff," he says.

You nod, “Yeah, um... take your time, I know this is hard.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, like you know how hard it is to see your girlfriend, whom you've fallen head over heels for, leave you behind. I’ve never even seen you date,” he says as he walks back into Nat’s room.

You gape at the open doorway of Nat’s room. What the hell was that? You were being nice! You growl as you stand up, walking to the door. 

“Ya know Bucky, I really don’t know why you hate me, when all I've only ever tried to be was nice to you. After next week, you'll never have to see my face again, okay. I’m sure you're very happy to know that. So can we just try and be civil for another week, please?” you ask, exasperated.

Bucky looks at you, and you think you see shame on his face. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll see you Thursday, 5 am. Be ready.”

Then he grabs the box on the bed and walks out of the room and out of the apartment. It’s the first time you're actually alone in your apartment. You go back into your room, lay on your bed and cry. 

–

The week flew by, and before you knew it, it was the night before you were leaving. You hadn’t seen nor heard from Bucky since Nat left, so you decided to text him to make sure he remembered you were leaving.

Hey Bucky, it’s Y/N. Just wanted to confirm we're leaving tomorrow at 5.

How the fuck did you get my number? And yeah, I know we're leaving tomorrow, I’m not an idiot.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his rudeness. 

Nat gave me your number awhile ago, in case I couldn’t get in touch with her for some reason when you guys were out together. And I never said you were stupid. I just haven’t heard from you and wanted to confirm. Get the fucking stick out of your damn ass!

Well after this trip, delete this number. I’ll be there at 4:45.

Looking forward to it.

You want to throw your phone out the window. You hated Bucky Barnes with a fiery passion! What you hated more was the fact that you know how much you don’t actually hate him. This road trip is going be interesting.

--

Chapter 2

Looking forward to rewriting this story. If you haven't read the original, don't worry. If you have, I hope you like the changes. Feedback is appreciated.

Permanent Taglist: Permanent Taglist:  @rebekahdawkins @marajade1974 @missvelvetsstuff @phillygirl77 @pattiemac1 @winterslove1917 @vampire7595 @unkasworld @midnightramyeoncravings

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

‘realize’ for the word ask thingy!! -galaxy

I see this and I raise you:

Doll!Reader helping Ken realize that horses exist in Barbieland

..........

"You weren't kidding..we really did have horses here all along.."

"Glad you finally realized that, Ken." With a small chuckle, you turned back to your horse, taking the pink plastic brush to her mane as you gently combed through the fluff.

"There you go, girlie...how do you keep getting these knots, hm?" You cooed, to which she snorted in reply, seeming content.

All the while, Ken couldn't stop staring at you both in awe, still trying to process what he was seeing before his very eyes.

A horse in Barbieland.

If only he knew they existed here, too, before he decided to take over everything and reinvented patriarchy.

The one time you decided to come into town....was when this seemingly perfect paradise was rapidly transformed into "Kendom", where the Kens took over the dreamhouses and attempted to rewrite the entire constitution.

They attempted to brainwash you as they did other Barbies into servitude, but since you weren't a Barbie yourself...it didn't really work.

Yet Ken, aka Beach Ken who went to the Real World with Stereotypical Barbie and returned as a completely different person, tried convincing you to stick around, showing off all the horse-themed stuff he had.

Despite you being a doll literally centered around equine care, he kept talking over you, spouting nothing but inaccurate horse facts and firmly believing he knew more than you.

As far as he was aware..horses only existed in the Real World, where men rode them and owned them and were the ultimate symbols of manhood.

When he made a jab at your job and refused to believe it's your actual profession, you snapped and nearly ripped his horseshoe chain necklace off of him, embarrassing him in front of all the other Kens, before you called out to your horse.

His jaw dropped as he saw her appear out of nowhere, and you mounted her and glared at him, mockingly asking if he still believed they're only from the Real World. Then you galloped all the way back home, refusing to hear his response.

You haven't returned since, and he struggled to maintain his image as a manly and "cool" leader after that revelation was dropped on him like an anvil.

After all was said and done, and Barbieland was restored to its former glory, Ken decided to go look for you. After realizing that patriarchy didn't make him happy, he wanted to make amends (and see your horses, but mostly make amends) and admit that scorning your job was shitty.

He kept rehearsing what he was going to say during the long walk to your home....but ended up faltering at your doorstep, becoming an anxious wreck until you let him in.

You weren't inclined to, at first, although seeing as he no longer wore that stupid mink coat and instead had a tie-dye hoodie that said "I Am Kenough", you figured he finally had some sense knocked into him.

Plus, the fact that he walked all this way was surprising..until you remembered Kens didn't drive cars or use bikes.

Even so, it's obvious that he genuinely wanted to make things right.

So both of you talked for a while, with him concluding that he felt stressed and unsure of what to do with his life now that Barbie's out of the picture.

He felt like he didn't belong anywhere near her dreamhouse, and he wasn't ready to go back to the Real World anytime soon. He just felt...stuck.

You didn't have too many words to comfort him with, given you've never been there and you've never dealt with the complex human emotions he just started experiencing himself.

But you did know how to cheer him up.

So you took him outside to one of the fenced arenas at your ranch, whistling for your horse, and she came trotting over.

Ken was awestruck, watching you tend to the gentle creature as you finished brushing her mane. He stepped closer to the fence, unsure of what to do or what to say...or even if he was allowed to be this close.

However you could see the look in his eyes, and the hesitancy in his body language, and ultimately relented.

You couldn't stay mad at him for eternity.

"You can pet her if you wanna."

He blinked in surprise, before looking at your horse again and cautiously reaching out to her face. For a moment she stared at him, and the abrupt snort made him flinch away.

"I-I...don't think she likes me.." He frowned.

"It's okay, Ken. She only acts like that 'cuz you're reaching for her mouth and don't have any food. Here. Let me help."

You took his hand, ignoring the way he stared at you with a growing blush on his face while you guided him. But eventually his focus shifted back to the horse as he felt soft fur beneath his fingertips, eyes widening as he looked to see his hand resting just above her nose.

Her ears flicked to the side, though besides that..she didn't react in any hostile way.

He was in childlike amazement, gently petting her and brushing his fingers through her mane. And you stepped back, allowing the two to bond, before noticing the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-Yeah...this is just awesome. She's nothing like the ones on those stupid TVs we had."

"Nope. They can't compare to her." You chuckled, leaning against one of the posts with a warm smile. "She's the real deal."

[ninjagirlstar5]

So, uh, I might've gone a little crazy last week and came up with a Kanade Concept rewrite. (And made some redesigns of IRL!Kanade and IRL!Hibiki to reflect that.)

SO, for context, if you've been following me for awhile (or just came across some of my posts in the past), you'd know that my friend and I have been playing through SDRA2 for fun and it's around the end of Chapter 3 that I started making posts mentioning certain segments of our reactions, feelings, and some jokes. And to say we hated it would be an understatement. But I've had asks where I went on a rant about Chapter 3 more than once, so I won't repeat myself here. If anyone hasn't seen that, you can find it here, and here.

At this point, we're at Chapter 6 and during one of our after stream chats in VC, my friend, @bittersweetbeet, suddenly brought up an idea that could've tied Kanade (and thus Chapter 3) into the main plot and that was this:

"What if Kanade was blessed with Divine Luck from Utsuro like Void? Like, she wasn't in on the plan, but the reason why everything went south for her is because her luck was running out and got screwed over in the trial because of that, and was more than willing to die because she'd prefer that over losing her Fortune. It wouldn't fix Chapter 3, but at least it'd explain how she got away with all those damn murders for so long!"

I'm kinda paraphrasing here since I don't remember the exact wording due to this idea being brought up in the voice channel. But that was essentially what they said and it drove me NUTS at the time. After all, it's been brought up that Utsuro tended to bless a bunch of kids that were the same/similar age as him during his travels out of boredom, and while we don't know a lot about Kanade and Hibiki's parents to know for certain if they were bad and good (personally, I interpret them as decent people but tended to play favorites with Hibiki and accidentally neglecting Kanade, which only worsens their issues even when they try to bring them together), we DO know that Hibiki tends to bully Kanade a lot and that alone can make for a difficult childhood even when you have parents that care about you. So, with a bit of timeline adjusting, Kanade coming across Utsuro when she was, ahem, down on her luck, and getting blessed by him after she vents about her problems can make sense as this is something he's done for awhile now. And it should be noted that not every kid he blessed with Fortune had the same level of dire straits, as many had different levels of Fortune which faded away at different paces. It's why Void lasted for as long as they did since their situation was the worst of the worst so their Fortunes faded away much slower while others either succumbed to fates sooner or lost their fortunes and survived but couldn't handle being back in the same state they tried so desperately to escape from that they just...well, you know. Not every person that was blessed with Divine Luck was going to be a good person or, hell, some people can end up getting worse with the Fortunes they were blessed with instead of becoming better (like Mikado). And so, we started chatting ourselves up about this idea and I really wanted to share it here on Tumblr that I asked if it was alright if I shared it on my blog and they gave me the go ahead. I didn't share it right away, but I was thinking over how to word the post while I was at work. Which is when I realize there were...a few problems with this idea, unfortunately. Mainly this since I brought it up in our rambles channel in the Discord server to get my buddy's thoughts on it, so I'm just gonna copy and paste that:

"...I've been trying to figure out how to word the idea of Kanade being blessed by Divine Luck and I kinda realized something: how would Kanade realize her luck is fading…when she's not a part of Void? Like, she's not in on the plan from the very start so she's been reverted to a [place] where she believes that she's fine and her luck is still running strong. And how that would be conveyed to the audience…

Like, I can believe Kanade could figure it out, even if I think how the writer LINUJ showed off her intelligence to be stupid, but I'm struggling [on] how to explain how she'd figure out that she ran out of luck? She'd be surprised that things have turned on her suddenly due to her state of being reverted back to a time where her luck is strong, but would she fully understand the context to the point that she'd rather die with her sister than lose what she already have?"

Like, I could've been overthinking on that. I could've had it so that a character comments that she was just hit with a wave of bad luck and Kanade goes, "Me? The most luckiest person ever? Never! (...unless-)" But I was really struggling to come up with an answer I was satisfied with at the time and even Bertie was like, "it's stuff like this that makes it so that the only option that would fix Chapter 3 is by rewriting the whole thing." Which is something I do agree with. This idea wasn't a complete fix to everything that's wrong with Chapter 3 anyways, especially when it comes to Kanade and how the writing on her character just sank it into the depths of hell. It was simply an explanation we both really liked.

And then Bertie went on to say, and I quote, "Tbh I think it would be more interesting if Kanade hated Hibiki deeply rather than love her. It’d be cliche probably but it’s better than the weird incest-like shit we have going on here" end quote.

And I started off with a normal response agreeing and elaborating on the idea, like so:

"HONESTLY, yeah. It's better to just scrap the whole chapter and rewrite it from the ground up.

And yeah, I do agree that anything that's different than what we got in Canon is probably much much better. Although I would still want to keep the nuances of Kanade and Hibiki's status as victims of each other's toxicity. Hibiki is constantly bullying Kanade due to seeing how good Kanade is at a lot of things and is jealous of that but still cares and loves her as a sister even though she sucks at appreciating Kanade for who she is. Meanwhile, Kanade still loves her sister and willingly goes along with her bullying, going as far as to try and be meek and shy to appeal to her sister's dominant but cowardly ways but deep down she resents her for keeping her from doing things she likes even though she does genuinely enjoy spending time with her and gets jealous whenever other people get close cause it means that Hibiki won't bother to spend time with her. She often drives them away one way or another so she can have Hibiki to herself, even when nothing changes because Hibiki is her sister and she just wants her to love her and spend time with her (but not in the gross incest way and we're taking away the whole crazy serial killer thing, she's just her own level of toxic)."

And that's when I started spiraling into an gigantic ramble that lasted nearly an hour and thirty minutes (minus a dinner break) because my brain was in a creative mood that night. Enjoy my copy and pasted ramble (I won't italicize all of this to make it easier on the eyes cause if you know me by now, my writing gets very long + a bit of editing to make it a little more coherent):

"I still like the idea of Kanade being blessed by Divine Luck and being good at many skills because of it, and she's smart enough to realize that the boy she met long ago somehow changed her when she had openly vented to him about her problems the day they met (after giving him her umbrella to protect himself from the pouring rain, as she had ran away on a whim due to being fed up with her parents and her sister [at the time]). She's very grateful for what he's done for her, believing that the skills she now has can bring herself closer to Hibiki by being useful to her."

"But here's the catcher: her blessing doesn't work in the way she had hoped. Because surprise! Divine Luck has it's own set of rules despite being able to break reality as long as the chances aren't zero. Basically, Divine Luck can make you better at anything, get you anything, without having to go through the process of improving or skipping the steps that are needed to get the result, simply jumping to the result itself. However, out of everything it can change, from skills to getting someone shelter to just winning any kind of luck-based event, it cannot change a person's heart. And Kanade, despite having the skills that are "supposed" to bring her closer to her sister, only makes Hibiki even more jealous and she continues to bully her, going as far as to push her workload onto her now that she's so "good" at everything and proclaiming that she's just as good, if not better. Her blessing got her what she wanted but not what she needed in her case, unlike with the rest of Void, and she ends up paralleling Mikado as despite being blessed with Divine Luck, it did not make them better or improve their situation due to their own choices/how they used their blessing (Mikado because he constantly pursued Utsuro to the point committing crime after crime, Kanade because instead of standing up for herself and establishing her boundaries, she continued to support her sister no matter what, something that only ends up building the resentment in her heart). That's not to say that Hibiki isn't instigating most of the abuse, she is. But Kanade isn't making things better as she uses her skills to make herself seem like the better option in comparison to the people Hibiki wants to hang out with and get to know, even going as far as to scare them away to isolate Hibiki so she doesn't even have any options to choose from."

"And then, Chapter 3 rolls around and Hibiki starts to change, trying to be supportive of the group and take charge to help everyone get through the killing game. It…surprises Kanade, but she watches her sister change and grow, becoming more confident, cheerful, kinder…

…And she realizes that she hates it.

She hates the thought of her sister changing. She hates the thought of her being kinder after everything she's done to her. She hates the thought of Hibiki growing closer to these people, becoming attached and happy without her, Kanade, her own sister.

She hates the thought of being left alone again. She hates the thought that Hibiki is going to leave her again.

She hates it, she hates it, she hates it.

She hates her.

But she loves her.

She wants her to be with her, forever.

So why won't she ever look her way?

Why, why, why?

Kanade is spiraling in her head, trying to keep up her shy, sweet side up but gritting her teeth the whole time as she watches. Even when Hibiki is being kinder to her, still making her usual jokes about her but is actually trying to prop her sister up a bit more, it's only because Sora and Setsuka had suggested her to be kinder, not because she wants to. At least, that's what Kanade thinks. She doesn't want to believe her sister is changing for the better, that she's able to change at all, that she's going to leave her behind for other people again.

And when Setsuka tries to reach out to her on the third day…Kanade finally snaps.

She tears into Setsuka, accusing her of stealing her sister away from her, for giving her ideas to be better when she can't, she should never be better than she already is because if she is, she'll just abandon her and leave her all alone. Her stupid, cowardly sister can't ever hope to be on her own, she always has to rely on her, HER, not anyone else…and definitely not SETSUKA!

And before Kanade knew it, she lunges at Setsuka.

The scuffle was short…but the result was predictable."

"To elaborate a little bit more on Setsuka, she's was still pretty distant from the group as she was focused on doing what she needs for Nikei and stuff. But after Hibiki starts to break down a little and reaches out to Setsuka for help, she commits herself to stabilizing the group once more, supporting Hibiki and telling her and everyone else that she has something to tell them. But Kanade, watching this entire scene, only starts to become even more on edge as Hibiki, once again, reaches out to someone else instead of her. Despite trying to "change," Hibiki had so easily broken down once more, crying and begging for help, relying on another person for support and to "fix" everything for her. And that convinces Kanade that Hibiki can't change, she won't EVER change, and she bitterly goes to bed. But Setsuka notices Kanade's displeasure and, not knowing why she's unhappy, decides to take matters into her own hands and have a one-on-one talk with her to see if she [can] help. Unfortunately, this decision backfires on her hard, resulting in her own death.

Now, unlike in canon, Kanade panics as this was the first time she's EVER committed a murder before. Sure, she's harassed, blackmailed, and even threatened people that tried to get close to Hibiki before with violence, people that would only take her away from her. But she didn't…she never…she didn't mean to do this! But, no, Setsuka…No, no. Why should she regret this? Why should she apologize?

Setsuka was getting in the way. Setsuka was going steal her sister away.

And Hibki was still the same as she ever was. Not being "better," not ever "changing." She was still Hibiki, the bully, the sister, the bratty, snappy, fussy older sister that demands respect despite her cowardly, weak self. A sister that Kanade deeply loves…and hates."

"But she won't let her die her. She'll escape with her, a certain "ritual" should allow her to escape with her as it's an option for the blackened on the third island according to Monocrow. If she goes through with that, she can escape with her sister…and make sure she'll never change again.

But if she loses…then she'll die. She'll die…

…and she'll take Hibiki with her. For she doesn't deserve to live without her.

Kanade goes through with the ritual as fast as she could, relying on her skills (and thus her luck) to succeed in framing Hibiki and nearly gets away with it.

But, unbeknownst to her due to her current memories, Kanade's luck has been dwindling and since her situation wasn't as dire as Void's, hers has been fading away far faster than them. And ends up making a few mistakes that seem innocent enough until it all starts to pile up, with one last conclusive evidence fucking her over and revealing her to be the true culprit.

Kanade is seething when she's caught, her ego bruised and lamenting how the hell she lost, with Syobai dryly stating that her luck has run out. Kanade laughs, saying that can't be true. She's always been lucky! She's always been able to get things her way, even when she has no friends outside of Hibiki. This tips both Mikado and Nikei off that, hey, wait a minute, is she…? Of course, neither of them speak up on it due to keeping their own plans close to their chest. Everyone asks her why, why did she do it, with Hibiki grabbing her sister, begging her why she would do something like this, why would Kanade frame her of her best friend's death? A death that she caused?

And Kanade, after years of bottling up her own resentment…finally blows up at Hibiki."

"She tells her off for her bullying, of her neglecting to pay attention or spend any time with her unless she wanted something from her, and pushing all the things she doesn't want to do onto her. She proclaims that she had ALWAYS hated everything she's done to Kanade, wishing she could've done anything else, wishing that, for once in their goddamn lives, that they did something she wanted to do, not because Hibiki had chosen it. All Kanade had ever wanted was her love and affection, but she never appreciated her or all the things she's done for her. [She even went] as far to change herself to try and appeal to her sister and her wants and needs. And yet…despite everything, she still loves her. She loves the times when they would dress up together. She loves the times when they would perform together. She loves it when Hibiki actually cares for her. She loves her, because she's her sister…

And because Setsuka was getting in the way of that, she had to get rid of her. Just like everyone else…!

Everyone freezes when Kanade admits that out loud. She pauses when she realized what she said, but instead of apologizing [or even denying it], she doubles down. She admits that she drove away their childhood friend, she admits to spreading false rumors about their teacher and getting him fired, she admits to falsifying a hurtful rejection to a guy Hibiki was getting close to and pretended to be her so that she can ruin their chances of getting together when he finally confessed, she harrassed, blackmailed, threatened people that got close…and Setsuka was just another person on a long list of those that got in the way. She just…didn't mean to kill her. It just…happened. But Kanade…doesn't care about that. She doesn't care about anything anymore. It's apparent that her luck ran out…and now she's going to die.

But she's not dying alone. She refuses to die alone.

[After all, they're] sisters, right…? It's only right that they stay together till the bitter end, right?"

"Hibiki tries to back away, but Kanade grabs her just as Monocrow drags her into her execution, bringing her with them."

"The execution goes almost exactly the same but Kanade is doing her damndest to make sure Hibiki dies with her, with Hibiki trying to escape. And it seems like it was going to happen…until Hibiki beats the hell out of her with a microphone, crying and wailing for all the people Kanade had hurt in her name, demanding why, why, why. Kanade can only answer this:

"It was ALL for you. You and you alone."'

"Hibiki drops the microphone, backing away from the sister that was so possessive of her, in her hatred and love.

And then she runs away, leaving Kanade all alone.

Monocrow doesn't stop her, for this execution was only made for Kanade…and seeing her despair as she finally loses the one thing she had tried so hard to grasp onto slip away from her was enough for him to pull the lever, the platform underneath Kanade falling and killing her.

By the time Hibiki has made it back to the trial grounds, her gait is slow and unsteady, hugging herself as she stares down at her feet, processing what had just happened. What her sister had done. What she had done to everyone she knew. What she had done to Setsuka and Hibiki herself.

Why she had done it.

She had done it for her.

She had done it to keep Hibiki to herself.

She had done it because she both loved and hated Hibiki.

And the people that had been hurt because of Kanade…was because of her. Because of Hibiki. Because of all her bullying and her selfish wants, and because she didn't treat her like she should've treated her as a sister…! Because she's a horrible, awful person that hurt her own family until it was too late, her best friend dead, her sister, dead! All because of her…!!

Hibiki falls to her knees, going into dissociation as everything that she ever thought she knew and was normal shattered like glass."

"Hibiki, for the rest of the killing game, blames herself for what Kanade has done, but with Sora and co.'s help, she's able to rationalize that yes, what she did to Kanade was horrible and none of this may have happened if Hibiki had just bonded with her sister instead of bullying her…but Kanade had also made her own decisions, alienating Hibiki's friends and support from her to try and isolate her so she can try and force her to rely on her and her alone. Hibiki had done a lot of wrong that she probably can't ever make up now that Kanade is dead, but that doesn't excuse the awful actions Kanade has done either as many people were hurt from her own actions, one even losing his job and others probably traumatized from what she did to them. They were both toxic to each other and so long as neither of them were changing, that cycle was only going to continue until something broke between them…and this just so happened to be it. It's just horrible that it also ended in Setsuka's death alongside Kanade's, who was just as much a victim as she was a perpetrator."

"As for the reveal in Chapter 6, I was thinking of two options for Hibiki and Kanade's relationship:

The two of them, despite years [of] staying together as sisters and as a part of Melody Rhythm, only ended up falling apart as their toxicity turned their head as one of Kanade's past victims, their childhood friend, decides to finally come out and reveal everything Kanade has done to her and other people, even providing evidence of what she did. And the moment Hibiki found out about it, a public argument breaks out between them and Kanade finally spills out everything about her feelings on Hibiki, which only hurts both of them as Kanade had tried so hard to isolate Hibiki from other people while Hibiki had only hurt and bully her sister out of jealousy for years. But this? This was enough for Hibiki to stand up and go, "We're done here." And she leaves, cutting ties with Kanade for the shit she's done to others but also left reeling at the revelation of what her bullying and abuse had done to her sister. Was this…her fault? She wasn't sure. But she knew [she] had to make things right somehow, even if it's only for herself, reflecting on her behavior and reaching out to those that were hurt by Kanade, apologizing for everything that had happened even though it wasn't her fault that she chose to do the things she did and tried to make it up to them…if they want her, at least. [Meanwhile,] Kanade is PISSED that her sister left her, who went as far as to block her from her phone and even ending their contract as Melody Rhythm as she's left to deal with the fallout of the media bashing her for what she's done…but as time went on, Kanade is able to pick up the pieces and strikes out on her own, telling herself that she doesn't need Hibiki or the people that criticizes her for what she's done. She can do this by herself! She never openly apologizes, but she never says outright that she's happy with how things had turned out either, despite getting her career back on track…eventually."

"And then the Tragedy happens, they lose their parents, and one of two things happen.

Either 1.) the Tragedy brings them back together, with them starting off very reluctantly working together to do charities to help those in need, only to slowly and carefully rebuild their relationship while trying very hard not to fall back into bad habits as Hibiki admits that yeah, she's done a lot of horrible things to Kanade and she IS sorry for that…but she won't let Kanade hurt anyone anymore. She's trying very hard to be patient with her sister, as they know the Tragedy is a horrible thing to go through, they even lost their parents from it…but if they want to make things work, then something has to change between them, even if Hibiki is the only one taking the initiative FOR the change. Kanade is very reluctant to admit that she was EVER in the wrong for what she did…but as they continue work and bicker over the concerts they put together, their different ideas colliding but somehow coming together with the help of their coordinator, they start to…actually bond again. They start to talk things out, Hibiki is actually trying to show interest in her hobbies and the things she likes, and while she can never bring herself to like the same things she does, she's trying to be respectful and give her the time of day this time. She's trying to make things right for her, so long as Kanade never does the things she did again. And while Kanade doesn't like the same things Hibiki does, it's still a bond Hibiki is trying to nurture…and it makes Kanade question if what she did was ever necessary, that if she had just stood her ground, let Hibiki form her own relationships while searching for her own friends that she can rely [on] like the ones she had now…then maybe none of this would have happen. Maybe they could've remain as sisters, forever, if she just accepted their differences and tried to break away and do her own thing, while letting Hibiki grow as a person [as I think if Hibiki was allowed to bond with other people, she would've grew out of her bullying and become a better person, but because she never had the chance or had people that would stand up to her and let her experience the consequences of her own actions, she never grew out of that mindset as she was never put in her place before]…

[And then the killing game happens, reverts them back to their teenage selves, and they start their toxic cycle all over again until one of them literally kills and gets executed for it.]"

"Or 2.), Kanade and Hibiki remain separate, as not even the Tragedy and the death of their own parents can bring them together. Their parents funeral, one they tried to arrange anyways, only escalates into another argument, with Hibiki changing as a person…but Kanade did not. She still feels entitled to be Hibiki's one and only sister, her one and only support, and Hibiki recognizes that, deciding that it was safer that they stay separated as she NEVER wants to risk anyone else she loves coming to harm thanks to Kanade. The two part ways, with the both of them doing their own separate charity events, with Hibiki proclaiming that Kanade Otonokoji is not her sister, [not anymore], while Kanade proclaims that Hibiki Otonokoji will always be her sister, and refuses to acknowledge the fact that she had been disowned and will continue to be disowned for the rest of their lives."

"Either way, Hibiki is depressed to realize that their future together was never forever, and Hibiki had lost her sister…one way or another."

And that's it! That's the concept rewrite, plus the sprite edits since Kanade and Hibiki are no longer together as sisters and as a band outside of the Neo World Program, so their appearances reflect on that as they pursue their own solo careers. They're no longer trying to match each other, and Kanade pursues her own rock and metal music.

Oh, and while I was copying and pasting this, I had an idea that Kanade's relationship with Sora could be interesting as she's the only one that Kanade is actually okay with getting close to Hibiki...because Sora shows interests in both of them in their FTEs. She talks to Hibiki in private about her treatment of Kanade and even asked Kanade herself if she was okay as she genuinely cares about her just as much as she cares about Hibiki. This surprises Kanade as no one has ever bothered to look her way before, they always pay more attention to Hibiki than herself. And Sora makes it clear that she's genuine about this, asking her if there's anything she can do to make things better for Kanade when Hibiki is defensive about her actions. It makes Kanade feel...seen, for once in her life, and she actually likes that. So she allows Sora to get close, so long as she promises to continue being her friend, too. It's why Sora succeeds in befriending both twins while Setsuka ended up getting rejected by Kanade in the worse possible way: Setsuka unintentionally added to Kanade's insecurities by focusing mostly on Hibiki and overlooked Kanade's needs as well. She's not doing this out of ill-will, far from it. It's just that she recognized that Hibiki is a little weaker in her mental strength and her breakdowns were far easier to notice while Kanade was able to keep a cool head most of the time. So Setsuka prioritizes on supporting Hibiki first and foremost, thinking that Kanade can handle herself fine on her own. She's not completely wrong...but she's not right, either. By the time she finally notices that Kanade is hurting and reaches out to support her, it's already too late as she's finally reached her breaking point and snapped, which resulted in her own death. Just a little something to tie this whole thing off.

[sirenjose]

So I've been really into your analysis lately and I'm a huge fan now, wanted to ask some questions, feel free to not answer any

1- what was your favourite idv story/event to analyze?

2- your least fav of the latter?

3- are you into anything else besides idv?

4-how do you find the motivation to analyze stuff? I've tried before and it was very draining :')

Thanks for your time, hope you have a lovely day

I'm very happy to hear you're enjoying yourself despite my own low opinion about much of what I put out. I'll do my best to answer!

Hmm I always dislike picking favorites because I'm bad at picking eheh... But the ones I liked most... I honestly enjoy T&I and COA (1-5) even more than the main story. So I think I might pick... Atropos' Ropes for T&I and for COA, thats harder... 3-5 are my faves but I might pick 4 just because of how it felt it had the most story/details given than all the rest. Even the *SONG* had story. I loved it.

Least fave, eh... Orfeo and Zinaida immediately come to mind, though Orfeo I'd say was worse... COA 1 is another primarily because of how DIFFICULT it was for me to figure it out enough to put together an analysis. And I had to rewrite that thing at LEAST 3 times to the point I'm just hoping it's good enough and leaving it alone. Time of Reunion I think is another that comes to mind, mainly because I didn't appreciate how they treated Norton in there, especially in the videos (but at least those aren't canon like the in-game event was). So based on all that, I might say Orfeo if I really had to pick 1. Then rank ToR 2nd and Zinaida/COA1 3rd.

FF14 and Honkai Star Rail especially I'm playing actively these days, but I honestly like a lot of stuff. Like Persona (espeially 4), 999 aka Zero Escape, and Star Ocean Til the End of Time. Least in terms of games.

Hmm... Maybe because the 1st reason I play a game is because of the story, and gameplay is always 2nd to me. If the story and characters are good, that gets me interested. Issue with IDV is we only get bits and pieces. Really need to look deeper to really understand some of the characters. I actually only started analyzing because I challenged myself (partially out of curiosity for the answer) to see if I could prove if Norton wasn't as evil as people thought (based on all the comments I saw when I 1st joined the fandom a long while ago). From there, there was Jose who I wanted to analyze because he honestly had so many plot holes I couldn't (and still can't completely) solve. So I get the most enjoyment analyzing something that doesn't have a clear answer. Which is why I don't always post for every letter. A big part of it is I enjoy history and culture and such, so it's fun for me to learn about different foods, or time periods, or how bad the environment was for miners or sailors back in the day, etc... I dont think I have an easy answer (I can see I'm rambling). Norton I actually only began to like because I was spending so long working on my 1st analysis for him (and my perfectionism made me analyze all of Norton's essences before i could call it finished). Jose was because I love Captain Hook, and then after because of the plot holes that bothered me. Then for others, I think I enjoy making analyses to... try to sometimes change people's opinoions/beliefs. Like with Margaretha or Vera. With Edgar was because I was more interested in his story and him as a character only once I put together all his lore. Sort of goes on from there. I could ramble on but I'm going to get even more guilty. I hope this helps somewhat, but let me know if it doesn't and I'll keep going. Maybe the simple is A) I like history/culture/research, B) I like to convince people that certain characters arent as evil as they think or change beliefs I think aren't quite accurate, C) I like solving puzzles and I love story, D) I already think too hard about literally everything, and combined with my perfectionism, we get analysis

[goat-guy-tm]

Welcome to ANOTHER "Goat tries to write something small about void's rewrite but it turns into something terrifyingly long for no reason" post.

This is basically a fic talking about Kul'Zak (Modzilla) and Irene (Aphma)'s relationship, I am still gonna do the mini fic series going into MORE detail, but this thing....yeah

The divine are messy to say the least in my rewrite, but one of the messiest is Kul'Zak, which I will give small pre-needed context; in my rewrite world Kul'Zak does not (technically) have a decendent or reincarnation because Kul'Zak is still alive, he is actually Professor Modzilla from MMW/VP.

He was just a dimension hopping guy trying to have some fun only to hop into the Overworld (what I call the MCD dimension as it has no set canon name) during what is going to be one of the most turbulent times in their history for the next eon.

One day, some hunters from Scaleswind rush back into town, stating they had found an injured man in the woods, screaming and withering on the ground. They said he looked burnt, and badly. As if his body had been chared.

Being one of the sisters best versed in healing magicks, Irene had demanded they show her this man. It happened to be none other than Monty, but, at the time Irene was none the wiser to the man's name.

She had slammed healing spell after healing spell into the man, but none of them seemed to work, only seeming to for a small time alleviate the man's suffering.

At first, Monty had been, albeit weakly, fighting back the hunters and Irene, but for only a moment. Until he realized what the woman was trying to do. He couldn't stay fully still, but he tried to let her help him, the pain was just so much though.

He knew his face was badly burned, he couldn't open his left eye at all, it could be burned shut.

They had carried him back to the town, Irene scolding the men everytime Monty would groan or whine in pain.

He was placed in a room in the temple Irene was a sister to, mainly so Irene could try and look over him and help him heal.

Covering the burns didn't seem to help either. When wrapping a guaze over them, the bandaging stayed for a moment, before they burned and sizzled away into a purple mist of kinds.

Even though many of the other sisters told her they would be willing to take care of him every so often, as they did commonly take turns tending to the injured that resided in the temple, Irene had denined it, becoming somewhat fixated on figuring out who this man was and what was happening to him.

Monty had been in and out of consiousness for a few days, feverish and skittish anytime Irene tried to communicate to him.

Quite quickly it became obvious that there was a language barrier. Irene tried to make some kind of system, a series of taps for different things and needs Monty would have.

For a while, the sisters of the temple only refered to him as "The Stranger", which Irene didn't like. Everytime she had tried to ask the man his name, he would only look at her confused, which she put to his state of sickness and confusion.

So, Irene came up with a name for him. At least for the others to refer to him as, until she could get his real name out of him.

Now, she would not admit it to anyone else but Monty some time later, but naming him Kul'Zak was not entirely original from her mind. At the time, a romance novel had been getting quite popular, and one of the love intrests, Irene's personal favorite, was named Kul'Zak.

So when asked what his name was, Irene had rushed out that it was Kul'Zak. She was embarassed about it, and of course a few of the sisters she was closer with teased her over it, saying how convient his name was the same as her favorite fictional man.

After a few months, Kul'Zak had finally become more, aware. He had started to slowly piece some words together, out right asking Irene for water, in Ru'aunian, one day. Of course not fully asking, more so just saying "water" in a questioning tone. Irene had been admitingly very excited the first time he did, full on cheering.

She had been spending most her time with Kul'Zak, tending to the burn or more so researching it. Whether it be feeling how hot it was, as it seemed to generate it's own heat nearly 24/7, ot seeing what healing spells would affect it, if at all.

Thankfully, the burn was only on his face, and well a bit of his hand. It was more scattered on his hand, but he still seemed to express a discomfort with it, seething and pulling his hand away if she held it too hard or for too long.

After some time, they had sat down together and Irene tried to teach him Ru'aunian. He was picking it up quickly, but it was still a treck, especially because there was no way for Irene to figure out what his own language was.

When he was able to hold a conversation with her, she was estatic. She would take him outside the temple, walk around Scales Wind, and they would just, talk.

With this, she would learn his name was actually Monty, and when she asked if he'd loke her to tell others, he told her that it was fine. Kul'Zak fit their culture better, and with his status as a other-realmer, he'd rather not cause a rukus of any kind.

Their talks were about anything. Kul'Zak's life as a dimension explorer, Irene's life as a sister of their temple. Anything and everything.

She had asked him when he would be going back to his own dimension, and Kul'Zak only seethed, and said he couldn't go back, at least not for a while. The burns he was suffering from meant he shouldn't, not until he was finally healed. That coming here had put him in danger, and he was lucky he was still alive.

Void burns, is what he called them. One day, he had sat Irene down and went through the books he had held in his bag, that now Irene could finally understand with him translating to her.

Apparently, void burns were something anyone could suffer from, if they dimension hopped in an unsafe manner. And dimension exploring was still considered unsafe, but, he had wanted to do something big. To be one of the special members of his community to find a new dimension.

Irene had gotten him books upon books, journals, theological texts, mythology and folk lore, and even blank journals for him to write in. She loved watching him read, taking notes and writing what he called official dimensional writings.

Not many Irene believers knew of her life before her stint as a hero, hell 90% of books barley ever mentioned her life as a sisster of a now forfotten temple for a god no long known in Ru'aun. Because of this, people also never saw the relationship between Irene and Kul'Zak.

After some years, the two became much closer, Irene only really leaving Scales Wind after a time to accompany Kul'Zak on his adventure of exploring the realm.

The two had been deeply in love, yet according to the texts written of them years later, they were barley even more than just fellow Divine.

When she had decided to finally lay to rest, she entrusted half her relic to Kul'Zak, asking him to shatter it and spread it across the realms, to take her with him on those realm discovery adventures he had told her all about.

Modzilla was never truly a religous man. Ironic for a man that was basically a god. His adoration for Aphmau made him sick. She wasn't Irene, he felt like it would be overstepping to put himself in her life. Even though it's what Irene had asked of him.

He knew Irene, in her later years, had regretted acending to what they had become. He wanted Aphmau to be as normal as she could be.

When she put herself into his life though, even when he thought he had ran far enough away, he didn't know what to do. Especially when Tommy started to adore her, to see her as a mother.

Modzilla was, embarassed and ashamed of how much he had cried that night. He was admitingly cold to her at first. Only 'tolerating' her for Tommy's sake.

She became his lab partner, exploring dimensions for him when he was too sick or weak feeling to. Or tired. She paid attention to his health, so meticulously. It made him want to hurl. He kept telling himself she's not Irene, don't associate her with her.

After all nighters he would wake up with blankets over his shoulders, cups of hot coffee set out for him, even breakfast or lunch on a good day.

One morning, he woke up to a very special breakfast. A dish he had learned of his first few years in Ru'aun, that Irene had adored. Aphmau had told him she found it in one of those cook books, and that it was so well cared for so she assumed he liked it.

He wanted to cry over it, but he had just sighed and asked Aphmau to leave, that they weren't doing any tests today. A few hours later that day, Tommy had come to Aphmau's house and said his father had locked himself in his study and wouldn't be coming out, so he wanted to sleep at her's for the night.

On his bad days, Modzilla would lock himself in his study for, days, maybe even weeks depending how much of a spiral he would go down, where he would read and reread all the journals he had wrote decades ago.

During one of these spirals, he had left his study to go for a walk of sorts, and during that, Aphmau had snuck into his study and went through said journals strewn across the room.

She had been slack jawed at the whole journals full of passages of love, the descriptions of a woman named Irene. The name seemed to strike something in her in a way she couldn't explain.

Some of the pages had drawings of this woman instead of writing. She was, beautiful. Aphmau toom a moment, looking at this woman, till she realized she looked like her. Albeit a little different. Her hair was longer, she wore a hair covering that was longer than the more tied up one Aphmau wore, her clothing in most of the drawings was flowey and white.

Aphmau recalled pictures Modzilla had shared of Polly, she had a similar head covering and flowy clothing, but Polly was white and had blond hair. Irene, as she could see, had tanned skin and black hair. Plus, there were no photos of her, just drawings, some messily colored with dyes and patterned with stamped in flowers.

The journals were so well cared for. More so than the other books and texts Modzilla had in his library section. Aphmau started to feel, bad for looking at this without his permission.

When she intended to leave, she turned and was startled by Modzilla standing in the doorway, eyes locked on the journal she had in her hands. She didn't plan on taking it with her, she just hadn't put it down yet.

Modzilla looked, tired and sick, plus uncomfortable with the new information that Aphmau had been reading his journals.

The conversation was, like walking on eggshells. She asked about Irene, who the woman was, that if Modzilla was so infactuated by her, why was he married to Polly, a woman who seemed so close to this Irene figure.

Modzilla had shakily explained that him and Polly weren't married for love. They were very good friends, but it was common for his kind to not marry for love most the time. He told her about Irene. How happy they were together before their time as divine, explaining to her how Irene had asked to be reincarnated outside the realm she was born of, how Aphmau was one of those.

Then, he broke down. He sobbed and apologized to her, that he wanted her to go her whole life without knowing about it. That he thought that's what Irene would have wanted; to live a life of normalcy, save for the dimension exploring.

She knew now why Monty had become so choked up and emotional when she would try and take care of him when he was sick or tired. That she was unknowingly reminding him of the first times he ever met the woman he would come to love for the rest of his immortal life.

Aphmau wasn't all that young herself, she was already over 100 years old, but, most the time she chose not to disclose that to others. She herself had been overly puzzled by her lack of memories of a childhood, now knowing she never had one in the first place, but then even more confused by her not aging, and living so long already. She knew now why. Monty was obviously still older than her, and she would not be stopping the teasing of him for it.

She came to enjoy the dimension exploring just a little bit more. Sometimes she would find herself talking to no one, as if she was talking to 'Irene', even though she technically was Irene. Unbeknownst to her, she was one of the few Aphmau's to accept the idea so easily and fully. Knowing that she was living a life a her from before craved made her more happy for what Irene had done to give it to her.

Her and Monty's relationship had changed after what she learned. They seemed to flow better now, Monty having put down the wall he had built so long ago, at least a little bit.

When they had finally found Monty's home realm again, Aphmau had cheered for him, so excited he could finally go home. He was happy too, but bitter sweet about it. They hugged, and Aphmau gave him a kiss, which had stunned Monty in his place, face burning red and stuttering.

Aphmau promised to keep Tommy safe, and told Monty that he had to find a way to visit sometime.

Monty left Tommy in the care of Aphmau. He knew she would take care of him better than he ever could.

If fate wasn't so cruel, they could have a redo, but Monty knew that that was a pipe dream.

The void still called, it hungered, and Monty, Kul'Zak, Modzilla, whoever he was, he was going to do everything in his power to keep that thing at bay, to keep the realms safe, and if it meant being burned by it time and time again, he knew he had at least someone he would go to that would be his boulder to rest with. Just like she had all those eons ago.

[silverjurors]

OK TUMBLR WONT LET ME EDIT MY DRAFTS SO IM ANSWERING TWO ASKS FROM @reterols (thank you for your kind words I have read them and I also stalk your blog on a regular basis because sometimes being a Zanus shipper feels like you and me screaming about these two into an echo chamber)

A zanus headcanon(s) that make u giggle bc it's just stupid/irrelevant but it's definitely canon.

This one will be glorified story beats for a Very Specific Moment of backstory that I have thought of for actual months but cannot figure out a way to include in my story outline aside from minor references. Idk how fluffy/cute/stupid it is because they're always a little bit Deranged whenever i write those two, but im doing my best. It also gives me a prime chance to ramble about how the position of Silver Death actually works in my rewrite!!

Also this is really long so I'm putting it under a cut because I feel bad

Janus was 22 when Zane took the position of High Priest to the Church of the Divine, and a few months afterward, he asked them to join the Jury

However, Janus wasn't exactly content with just joining the Jury under any position, because, well, that would be some pretty obvious nepotism, even in O'Khasis

So, to prevent this from being an issue, they decided they were going to become the Silver Death

Many had tried to become the Silver Death since the death of the last one 17 years ago, and all of them had failed

This is because in order to become the Silver Death, you must hold a cursed object known as the Donmai that once belonged to Xavier himself

The Donmai is very dangerous, and if not handled by someone with utter devotion to something, it can cause insanity or even kill the attempted wielder. If the person trying to attain it's blessing is insincere, or not completely devoted and dedicated to whatever they are holding in their mind, they will go insane and/or die

Janus wasn't worried, they knew what was driving them forward in life, and the only thing that was giving them purpose

Zane was not so sure. He did believe that they cared for him and would defend and protect him with their life (they'd proven it several times over at that point) but he also knew that the Donmai had a super high bar to pass, and even the slightest waver in your resolve would lead to insanity

But they insisted, and if Zane figured that if couldn't trust Janus, who could he really trust at that point?

They prepared for the ceremony, and the people took to the streets to either watch the selection of a new Silver Death (hasn't happened for over 30 years) or watch another idiot die in a desperate bid for power (entertaining!)

The Donmai was brought out in it's elaborate protective case, everyone else wearing thick gloves and protective gear to let them handle it

Some people were praying to Irene or Eamonn or even Xavier for this to not go as horrifically wrong as all the previous ceremonies, the tension in the air was thick and nobody seemed to believe they could do it

Janus did feel scared at that point, they had never feared death before, but they didn't want to die like this, in a ceremony. They had always imagined their own death on the battlefield, or some form of combat

The time had almost arrived, and it was in front of them, just within arms reach. It didn't look particularly dangerous, but they knew better.

A tradition that took place just before the attempt to attain the Donmai's favor was for the High Priest to whisper an inaudible short prayer to whoever was attempting to complete the ceremony, they mutually agreed it would be a prayer to Xavier beforehand

But, when Zane leaned in to whisper the prayer, the words failed him. He couldn't think properly, so, instead, he said

“Don't let it take you from me, I still need you.”

And he pulled away, leaving their heart racing in their chest. All thoughts of fear or doubt vanished from their mind, all thoughts of anything but the man in front of them vanished. That was why they existed - they were for him, and they were going to prove it

So they took hold of the Donmai with obsessive focus, and their flesh burned at the contact with the cursed metal, but Janus hardly noticed compared to their own emotions and their heart racing

Holding the Donmai was unlike any experience they had ever had, it was like their whole body ached and burned and froze all at once, their good eye blurred with involuntary tears. The cursed object seemed to be demanding something of them, a reason it should let them live

And those words echoed in their mind - that Zane needed them. That was all the reason they needed for anything, that their life may as well be his, and they didn't get to die until he saw fit. That they were his, so, really, any pain didn't seem all that bad compared to the joy it gave them to have that privilege.

Suddenly, the pain stopped. And it was done. And they were alive, sane, and successful.

The people of O'Khasis cheered their name, the crowd in near hysterics at the blessing, thanking Irene, thanking the Divine, thanking Xavier

And Janus the Silver Death looked at Zane, and not even the mask he wore could disguise his joy

The end. Ta da. I should probably turn this into a one-shot but I have no motivation soooo

[fictionkinfessions]

also, i know i sent in an ask literally a few seconds ago, but this is a different thing, and i'm a bit more serious this time. this will be a bit long, but still speaking as timekeeper here,

can someone else please rewrite cookie run and actually make it good. gosh.

as a writer, i try to just enjoy works as much as i can because i know this shit is not easy, but i'm so ashamed of CR's writing direction. i don't know shit about kingdom right now so i ain't getting to that, but on the ovenbreak side, it gets so bad sometimes. i'm not in the fandom anymore, but even when i was more active, we couldn't get through a few months without some controversy because of the character design, or the writing, or the cultural appropriation. even now, i've constantly been hearing shit about the new events from my friends.

i can tell the writers sometimes don't do much research at all when all of us cookies are supposed to be representations of diverse people here on earth, or don't bother to make literal plot points consistent just to look cool or whatever, or use very questionable themes and glamourize / fetishize it. this is partially why i eventually stopped playing, and it's such a shame.

cookie run was the very reason i got out of months of art block when inspiration was running dry. i met a lot of people through the game, and it was the reason i formed friendships with people i still talk to today. hell, even my identity as timekeeper was because of the game. it was very goddamn complicated and it took me about 3 years to figure shit out, but i don't think i would've reached to this point if i didn't pick up this game in 2019. trust me, i FUCKING LOVED this game and i've always tried to see the good in it, but there were many things about it that slapped me in the face, so i found myself leaving eventually.

i'm not saying i'm some sort of expert writer or whatever. absolutely not. however, i just. think a lot of potential was wasted big time here. if i lead devsisters, i could've ruled the fucking world! just kidding. ~ timekeeper cookie (cookie run: ovenbreak) #💘🍆🏏

x

[bored-writer101]

Sam Winchester X Reader|Supernatural Rewrite|1.Pilot

A/N: well, the time has finally come. i’m finally posting my supernatural rewrite😂 huge shoutout to @uncouth-the-fifth for inspiring me (she also has a supernatural rewrite that is absolutely phenomenal that you guys should definitely go check out). i’ve been trying to start a rewrite basically ever since i started writing fanfic for this show, but it has never worked out. but i’ve finally figured it out! (kinda lol, i’m doing my best😂😭). i hope you all enjoy! (i wrote this with female reader in mind but i use gender neutral pronouns) {also here’s a supernatural themed spotify playlist if y’all want a soundtrack while you listen <3}

Words: 13,673

Series Masterlist

(image from pinterest)

SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA | October 31st, 2005

"Dad? Are you okay? Dad, please wake up! Dad!"

You jolted upright in bed, panting as you tried to catch your breath and calm yourself down. You didn't get much of a chance to do that though. Your phone began to ring loudly from your bedside table, making you flinch. You reached out and fumbled around in the darkness for a few seconds before your fingers wrapped around the cold metal. You used your thumb to flip it open and held it up to your ear.

"Hello?" you could hear the shake in your own voice.

"Are you alright? Did I call at a bad time?" you immediately recognized the voice on the other end.

"I'm alright, Dean. I just had a nightmare, that's all."

"The usual one?"

"Mhm," you hummed in response.

"Well, we can do all our usual remedies after I pick you up," you could hear in his voice that he had a huge grin on his face.

"What? I thought you were in New Orleans?"

"I was. I had been waitin' on my dad, but he never showed. I haven't been able to get a hold of him for a few weeks," Dean told you.

"So? There were plenty of times that we weren't able to get a hold of him on a hunt when we were kids," you said, skeptical that John was truly missing.

John had always been one to drink a few too many in celebration of a hunt well done. You, Sam, and Dean would think something terrible had happened to him, but he would eventually stumble back in a few weeks later. The longest he had left the three of you alone was almost three months. Bobby stopped letting John take you on hunts after he found out about that.

"This is different. Somethin's happened, somethin' bad, if he's not dead already. I can feel it."

"Are you sure he's not just out on another bender?" you asked, disbelief evident in your tone.

"I'm sure, Y/N. I can explain more after I pick you up. Please, I need you to trust me on this," Dean pleaded through the phone.

You were hesitant to say yes. Usually you'd hop at the chance to go on a hunt with Dean, but this was different. You could hear in his voice that Dean believed that John was missing, and that he was worried. You trusted Dean, but you didn't trust his father. It could be another one of his 'hunter trials' to test if you were worthy to be hunters. He hadn't orchestrated one of those in a long time, but maybe that meant you were due for another one.

"Y/N? You still there?" Dean asked when you didn't respond.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm still here. Just thinkin'."

"Ya' really gotta think that hard about it?"

There was another moment of silence while you desperately tried and failed to find the words. You had so many thoughts swirling in your mind that you didn't even know where to start. Before you could complain that you had just woken up, Dean's voice was in your ear again.

"Come on, Y/N," he was not helping you think.

"Fine! I'll come with you," you relented, giving in to the sad puppy dog eyes you couldn't see, but you knew he was doing.

"Well, good... Because I'm only an hour and a half away," you heard him chuckle, and you decided you were going to smack him upside the head when he got here.

"And what were you gonna do if I said no?" you questioned.

"Kidnap you. Obviously."

"Like I'd let you."

"Whatever you say, kid," he said with a chuckle. "Just be packed and ready, alright?"

"Whatever you say, boss," you mocked him playfully, "See you when you get here."

"See you when I get there," he said, ignoring your teasing.

You heard the click of the call ending, then silence. You were frozen in place at first, and the memories of your nightmare came flooding back; your father's eyes closing and never opening again... You shook your head free of the image before finally dropping your hand holding the phone into your lap. The light from the still open screen hurt your eyes as they tried to adjust to the sudden light. You sat there for a few more seconds before pushing the covers off and forcing yourself out of bed. You got dressed in comfy clothes, knowing that you'd be spending a lot of time curled up in the passenger seat of the impala.

You tried to be quiet as you crept around the house, but you should have known better than to try and sneak around a hunter's home. You were leaned down in front of the open fridge, thinking of what to write on the 'see you later' note you were going to leave behind, when you heard someone clear their throat. You stood up straight and spun around quickly to face them. Bobby had his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you with a deep frown, and furrowed brows that made the creases in his forehead all too prominent.

"Good morning?" you said hesitantly.

"Where are you going?" Bobby asked; he had never been one for nuance.

"Um, out on a hunt," you told him with a little more confidence than before.

Even though you were twenty three, Bobby's gaze made you feel like you were sixteen again. It made you feel as if you were sneaking out to meet Sam and Dean for a late night joyride in whatever rust bucket that Dean had found(hot wired). You knew Bobby wasn't going to stop you from going, but you still didn't want to piss him off before you left. You weren't sure when you'd be back.

"Dean picking you up?" he asked, his tone a bit softer than before, but he was still frowning.

You nodded at his question, "he should be here soon."

"Alright, well, just promise me you'll be careful. And that you won't let Dean talk you into anything stupid," Bobby wagged his pointer finger at you as he said this.

"I'm always careful," you told him, even if that wasn't entirely truthful, but you'd say anything to reassure Bobby you'd be alright; the last thing you wanted him to do was worry his head off, "also I'm usually the one talking Dean out of doing anything stupid," this statement had a little more truth to it.

Bobby didn't look convinced. Not that he ever did, but you didn't want to leave him annoyed with you. You took a couple steps forward and wrapped your arms around him in a sudden hug. It didn't take long before Bobby hugged you back, squeezing you tight.

"I love you, dad. I'll be back before you know it."

Bobby sighed deeply, "I love you too, kiddo," he said before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Bobby wasn't your biological father, but he had stepped up and been your dad for over a decade. Any other day, he would have scolded you for calling him dad. He would tell you it isn't fair to your father, that you shouldn't try to forget or replace him. You always reassured him you would never forget though. What you don't tell him is that you'll never be able to forget the image of father dying in your arms as you beg for him to keep his eyes open. Before you could dwell on the dark memory for too long, you heard a short honk of a car horn outside. You pulled away and stood up straight in front of Bobby, raising a brow at him as if to silently ask, 'you gonna be alright?'

"Just go. Don't forget to call every once in a while so I know you're still alive" Bobby gestured toward the door.

"I will," you said as you walked to the front door, picking your duffel bag up off the floor, "bye, Bobby," you turned and waved to him with a smile, opting to not call him dad this time.

"Bye, Y/N," he waved back halfheartedly.

You turned back and headed out the front door, a rush of cold air biting at your exposed skin. If you were gone long enough, there would surely be a thick blanket of snow covering the junk yard by the time you got back. You noticed the impala in the driveway before looking up at the sky. You shut the door behind you as you admired the fiery shades of red and orange that were painted across the sky by the sunrise. You admired it for a moment before stepping down the porch steps. The gravel crunched under your boots as you walked over to the passenger side of the impala. You opened the back door and threw duffel bag in before getting into the passenger seat.

"Morning," you said to Dean once you had plopped down.

"Mornin'," he replied, wasting no time in pulling out of the driveway and back onto the road, gravel crunching loudly under the tires all the while, "I brought you some breakfast," he pointed to the fast food bag sitting on the seat next to you.

"Thanks," you mumbled as you grabbed the bag and pulled out the breakfast sandwich Dean had ordered for you.

You unwrapped your food and ate silently, the only sound coming from the Bob Seger tape that was playing softly through the speakers. You recognized the song to be Against The Wind. You thought back to the last time you saw Dean, and you realized it had been a few months. You kept in touch over the phone the best you could, but he had never been good at that, and you weren't much better. The last time you had seen him was about four months ago. You had gotten into a fight over John. Most of your fights revolved around him. It had been a simple misunderstanding during a hunt that made John flip his shit, and you were never one to take shit from him. Dean had barely made a move to defend you, and it hurt. He had apologized to you later, but it had been a Winchester style apology; a halfhearted one. You couldn't help but remember that fight now. Dean cleared his throat loudly, pulling you out of your thoughts. His thumbs drummed against the steering wheel has he hummed along to the music. You crumpled up the sandwich paper and threw it in the bag.

"So, we have a few stops to make," he told you with a grin, obviously trying to diffuse the building tension.

"Oh, yeah?" you replied, raising a questioning brow at him.

"Yeah, the first being a gas station. You can pick out some snacks for our drive."

"Good, because you always grab barbecue chips," you complained teasingly.

"What's wrong with a little BBQ?" he said, enunciating each letter in 'BBQ.'

"There's nothing necessarily wrong with barbecue, but eating them for every road trip can get a little boring."

"Fair enough. You still have to grab me a bag of them though."

"Yeah, will do."

Dean pulled off the main road and into the gas station parking lot. He pulled up to a gas pump and turned off the engine. He took out a few fives from his wallet and handed them to you. You said a quiet 'thanks' before you both climbed out of the impala.

"Don't forget my BBQ!" Dean called after you as you headed into the convenience store while he went to the gas pump.

It was only a few minutes before the two of you were back in your seats. You handed Dean his barbecue chips and a root beer before dropping your own snacks in your lap. Dean tore into his chips like a hungry bear, grabbing a handful and stuffing it into his mouth. You couldn't help but laugh at him as you opened your own snack.

"So, you gonna tell me why you think John is missing?" you asked, once he had chewed and swallowed.

"I know he's missing. He was hunting something that was killing men, and he left me a concerning voicemail that had some EVP," he explained, "I can let you listen to it when we get to our next destination," you furrowed your brows at his words, but you had a sudden realization.

"You wanna pick up Sam," you said simply.

Dean looked over at you with wide eyes, "how'd you know? You read my mind or somethin'?"

"We're gonna be in California, and we're gonna pass his place anyway. Just an educated guess," you shrugged, "also I'm not a mind reader, I'm a medium," you added.

"It's all the same to me," Dean said with a shrug as he started the impala and pulled out of the gas station; you decided not to lecture him on the differences between psychics and mediums.

"What if he says no?" you asked the question on both your minds after a few moments of silence.

Dean didn't respond, but you knew he had heard you. You looked over to see him expressionless, staring out at the open road.

"Dean?"

"You sure you're not a mind reader?" he tried to joke to change the subject, but you didn't laugh, and he frowned at your furrowed brows, "he won't. Dad's missing and we need his help. He has to say yes," you wondered how many time he had told himself that.

You were at an impasse, which frequently happened when you had to get in the middle of Winchester family drama. A part of you didn't want Sam to say yes. You knew he wanted to give up hunting for good, and you didn't blame him. You only wanted what was best for him, but there was another part of you that wanted him to say yes. You missed him every day. You tried to tell yourself you weren't pulling him all the way back into hunting, that you were just looking for John. A small voice in the back of your head knew better though. You knew this life loved to sink its claws in and never let go. Only a lucky few were able to fully detach themselves from the hunting lifestyle. Even then, it was impossible to scrub the stain of the hunting life off your hands. You weren't sure which answer you wanted Sam to give.

You and Dean sat in silence for awhile, both caught up in your own thoughts. You glanced over at Dean as the song that was playing came to an end. You took in Dean's tense posture, and how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. You recognized the beginning of Black Dog by Led Zeppelin playing quietly through the speakers, and you immediately reached out to turn it up. You were the only person Dean allowed to touch his radio. You rested your arm on the back of the seat and leaned your body into his side slightly.

"Hey hey mama said the way you move. Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove," you sang along loudly into his ear.

You played the air guitar and you saw Dean glance at you from the corner of his eye. You could see him trying to hide his smirk.

"Ah, ah, child, way you shake that thang. Gonna make you burn gonna make you sting," you continued to sing along, gently nudging Dean's side with your elbow.

You saw him start to drum his thumbs against the steering wheel along to the beat as you continued to play air guitar.

"Hey hey baby when you walk that way. Watch your honey drip, can't keep away," you and Dean sang in unison.

You sang along to the rest of the song together. You occasionally played air guitar while Dean pretended to play the drums; you had to remind him to put his hands back on the wheel a few times. The song eventually came to an end, and the next song began playing. Dean reached out and turned it down slightly.

"I missed that," you said with a smile.

"Oh, don't get all sappy on me now," he said with a groan.

"What? No 'chick flick moments'?" you said sarcastically, making air quotes.

"Yeah, exactly. No chick flick moments," Dean repeated seriously.

"Whatever you say... Jackass," you said quietly with a smirk.

"Shithead," Dean was quick with his comeback, and he reached over to pinch your side, but you quickly swatted his hand away while laughing.

There wasn't much tension between you to begin with, but the little bit that had been there faded away with the end of the song. The rest of the long ride was filled with boring games of eye spy and spotting out of state license plates. You were glad to be in the impala with Dean again. You wished it was under better circumstances, but you were excited to see Sam again too.

PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA

The sun had long since set by the time you arrived at Sam's apartment building. You had your window rolled down, the humid California night air made your exposed skin feel sticky, but you enjoyed the breeze. Dean pulled into the parking lot and parked up close to the front door of the building. You both unbuckled your seatbelts, but he put his hand out to stop you from opening your door.

"I'll go get him," he said with a mischievous grin on his face, so you nodded and sat back in your seat, "I'll be quick," he said before hopping out of the impala.

You watched Dean creep up to the front door of the building before he slinked inside and out of view. You leaned out of your open window to take in a deep breath of fresh air. It wasn't a great time to be alone with your thoughts, since all you could think about was that you were seeing Sam again after two years. You had kept in touch over the phone, but it wasn't the same as meeting up in person. Living almost across the country from each made it hard to hang out. At least that's what you told yourself. Sam had asked you to come visit a few months ago, but you had declined. You didn't think you'd be able to face him alone.

You didn't have to be left alone for long though. Before you knew it, you could hear the distant sounds of the brothers bickering. You knew those sounds all too well. You could hear them arguing about something, but you couldn't make you any words. You were about to yell at them to come out when the door finally opened. Dean came out first, Sam following close behind. Sam was gesturing wildly with his arms as he spoke, and Dean rolled his eyes. You opened the door and stepped out of the impala, causing both of them to turn and look at you.

"Y/N?" Sam uttered the moment he saw you.

You smiled wide as you shut the passenger door and started walking towards him. It only took Sam a few strides to meet you in the middle with open arms. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight and almost lifting you up off the ground. You stood on your tip toes and hugged him back just as tight, cherishing your first hug after two years apart.

"It's so good to see you," Sam said before pulling away; his smile was gentle and sweet, and you forgot how much you had missed those dimples of his.

"I didn't get a hug when I picked you up," you heard Dean mumble from behind you.

You turned away from Sam to face him. He was stood there pouting slightly with his arms crossed over his chest. You shook your head with an amused smile.

"Oh, sorry Dean. Did you want a hug? I can give you one too," you said a bit teasingly, but only because no matter what answer he gave, you were hugging him.

"No, it's fine-" you had your arms wrapped around his middle before he could finish speaking.

You hugged him tight, and he wrapped his arms loosely around you. He gave you a quick squeeze before patting you softly on the back. You pulled away and he shook his head at you with a small smile before turning towards the trunk.

"Anyway," he mumbled before popping the trunk and lifting the spare tire hatch inside to reveal all his hunting equipment, "where the hell did I put that thing?" he said to himself as he rummaged around the trunk.

"So, when dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asked as he leaned against the side of the impala to watch Dean rifle through the disorganized mess.

"I was workin' my own gig. This voodoo thing down in New Orleans" Dean replied without looking up.

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" Sam asked, incredulously.

"I'm 26, dude," Dean deadpanned, and you laughed.

Sam looked over at you with raised brows, which made you laugh even harder, "shut up, both o' ya's. Alright, found it," Dean picked up a small manila folder and pulled a small stack of papers out.

"Dad was checking out this two lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy-" Dean handed Sam a piece of paper off the top of the stack; Sam took it and held it out for both of you to see, "they found his car but he'd vanished; completely M.I.A.," there was a photo of a middle aged man next to an article about his disappearance.

"Maybe he was kidnapped?" Sam suggested.

"Kidnapped by a ghost maybe," you joked as you nudged Sam with your elbow.

"Yeah, here's another one in April, another one in December '04, '03, '98, '92," Dean slid a paper off the stack for each year he said, "ten of 'em over the past twenty years," he reached out and snatched the paper from Sam's hand, throwing it back on the stack, "all men, all same 5 mile stretch of road. Started happening more and more, so dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough, and then I get this voicemail yesterday."

Dean reached out and grabbed a tape recorder from off the top of the mess. He pressed play and you could hear John's voice come through the speaker, but it was staticky and garbled.

"Dean.... something-starting to happen...-think it's serious... I need t-... figure out what's going on... Be very careful, Dean.... We're all in danger...," a chill went up your spine as you listened to the message.

"You know there's EVP on that?," Sam said the moment Dean pressed pause.

"Not bad, Sammy. Kind of like riding a bike, isn't it?" Dean said with an amused smirk, and Sam only shook his head at him.

You couldn't focus on their banter, because you knew what was coming next. You stared expectantly down at the tape recorder in Dean's hand. You saw him glance at you in your peripheral.

"You think you'll be able to get anything from a recording?" Dean asked. 

"I might get something, we'll just have to see," you replied with a shrug.

"Alright," Dean said before pressing play again.

"I can never go home..." a woman whispered through the static, and you felt another chill up your spine, but this time it was accompanied by a wave of grief and intense anger.

Your hands gripped the edge of the trunk so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Dean looked over at you expectantly but you shook your head at him.

"Nothing helpful," you muttered as you continued to shake your head back and forth, trying to shake away the invasive feelings.

"It's alright," Dean reached out and rubbed your back soothingly for a moment before tossing the tape recorder back into the trunk.

Sam quickly took Dean's place as he wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulders and rubbed your bicep gently. Dean closed the trunk and stood up tall. He looked up at Sam expectantly, who only sighed deeply. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your cheek.

"Alright. I'll go," Sam said finally, "I'll help you find him, but I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here," he let his arm fall from around your shoulders and you shivered at the loss of his warmth.

"What's first thing Monday?" Dean asked as Sam turned to head back to his apartment.

"I have an interview," Sam said simply as he turned back to look at Dean.

"What, a job interview? Skip it."

"It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate" Sam explained slowly.

"Law school?" Dean asked with a questioning smirk.

"We got a deal or not?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's question.

"Yeah, fine," Dean said after a moment of silence, and you noticed him clench his jaw in annoyance.

Sam nodded and turned to head back into his apartment building. Dean sat on the closed trunk and looked over at you with furrowed brows.

"Did you know about this law school thing?" he asked you.

"Yeah, I did," you told him, honestly.

"You guys talk regularly or something?" you heard a tinge of jealousy in his tone.

"Not all that regularly. We just update each other on major life events occasionally," that wasn't entirely true, but you'd rather not have to sit in a car with the brothers being silently angry at each other.

Dean didn't say anything else, instead he looked down at the ground and nudged a rock with his shoe. You knew Sam and Dean hadn't talked since Sam had left for college. Dean missed his little brother, and you didn't blame him. You just wanted to smack him upside the head for being so stubborn. He certainly wasn't the only Winchester you wanted to knock some sense into.

Sam came back down a few minutes later, emerging from the door of his apartment building carrying a duffel bag that mirrored your own. He tossed his in the trunk as you opened the door to the backseat. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion as he opened the drivers door.

"You don't want shotgun? You had it first, you're welcome to it."

"Nah, I'm alright. Sam always gets shotgun anyway," you said, and Sam shot you a grateful look.

You smiled back at him before getting into the backseat. You pushed your duffel bag to the floor, then you slid to sit in the middle seat, like you always did when it was the three of you. The brothers got into their respective seats before Dean started the impala.

"Alright, get comfortable kids," Dean said as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

A FEW MILES OUTSIDE JERICHO, CALIFORNIA

Your eyes fluttered open to the sound of a car door opening and closing. You blinked rapidly as you tried to let your eyes adjust to the sudden light. You lifted your head up off your makeshift pillow that you had made from your balled up jacket. You rubbed your sore neck as you cursed yourself for forgetting a spare blanket or pillow. You somehow always forgot to bring one.

You looked around at the scenery outside the impala. Not that there was much scenery to speak of. It was a clear day, no clouds to block the sun's warm rays. You turned to your left to see a rickety old convenience store, then turned to the right to see a couple gas pumps that looked like they had seen better days. Sam had his door propped open with his foot as he went through Dean's box of cassette tapes that sat on his lap. You could imagine the disgusted face he was making at all of Dean's classic rock tapes. The warm breeze felt refreshing as you worked on waking up.

"Hey," you heard Dean call out, and you turned to your right to see him through the window, "you want breakfast?" he asked Sam, holding up a few beef sticks and a bag of chips; your stomach growled as you saw the food in his hands.

"No, thanks," Sam said, shaking his head before going back to the box of tapes, "so, how'd you pay for that stuff? You and dad still running credit card scams?" Sam called out to Dean.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean replied as he placed the nozzle back in the gas pump.

"You guys probably shouldn't be talking so loud about hunting and credit card scams," you said, loud enough so Dean could hear from outside the car.

The drivers side door opened a moment later and Dean climbed inside, continuing to talk loudly, having not heard or cared about your advice. You looked around and realized there didn't seem to be anyone else at the gas station. You just hoped the clerk didn't hear Dean's noisy confession.

"Y'know, all we do is apply for the cards. It's not our fault they send 'em."

You rolled your eyes at him. He set a soda down in the cup holder, and you reached out and snatched a beef stick from his hand. Dean silently handed you a bottle of water that you hadn't even seen him holding. You took it gratefully before setting it down next to you so you could rip open the wrapper of the beef stick.

"What names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asked, a bit quieter, taking your advice as he swung his long legs back into the car and pulled the door shut.

"Uh, Burt Aframian. And his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal," Dean said as he turned the keys in the ignition.

"That sounds about right," Sam said before looking back down at the box of cassette tapes in his lap, "I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection," he said with a sigh.

"Why?" you almost laughed at how defensive Dean sounded.

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two-" Sam paused, grabbing a cassette and holding it up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" he held up a cassette for each band he named, "it's the greatest hits of mullet rock," you were a little offended, considering the fact that you loved those bands too, but you knew Sam was only teasing Dean.

"House rules, Sammy," Dean grabbed the Metallica tape from Sam's hand, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole," you couldn't stop your laughter as Dean slotted the tape into the radio and pressed play.

Dean dropped the cassette case back in the box before he reached out and snatched the box from Sam. He tossed it back to you. You caught it with ease, setting it in the seat next to you. You smiled at the masking tape labels and crude handwriting on a majority of them. You spotted one that read 'Happy 21st B-Day D!' and it made you smile.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam started, ignoring your giggles as he turned to Dean, "it's Sam, okay?" he demanded, but in a gentle way that only he could manage.

The music had already began to play, Battery playing softly through the speakers. Dean reached out and slowly turned the knob to increase the volume. Dean raised his voice along with the music.

"Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud!" Dean said as he pulled out of the gas station and back onto the highway.

CENTENNIAL HIGHWAY, CALIFORNIA

Sam gave you the task of calling the hospital in the area for anyone matching John's description, while he called the morgue. It didn't take very long before you hung up the phone, having received the information you needed. You noticed a sign that read 'JERICHO 7' whiz by as Sam ended his call.

"Alright, so there's no one matching dad at the morgue."

"Or the hospital," you added.

"So that's something, I guess," Sam said.

You suddenly felt your chest tighten, and your heartbeat quickened as you seemed to be nearing a bridge. You could see it in the distance, and the only clouds in the sky covered the entire length of it. The dark clouds contrasted against the blue sky. You felt your heart drop at the sight of police cars parked near the bridge. Dean seemed to notice too as he glanced at Sam, then back at the road ahead. You could see a couple cops stood around a blue car that was parked sideways, blocking off the bridge.

"Check it out," Dean said as you neared the action.

Sam leaned forward with narrowed eyes to try to make out more details. As you got closer, it felt like a hand was being wrapped around your throat. You shivered despite the warm California air that was making you sweat. Dean pulled off on the side of the road a couple yards away from the bridge, and you were finally able to take a deep breath. There was a cloud of death that hung over that bridge.

You all sat there and watched for a few moments before Dean turned off the impala. Suddenly, he reached over and opened the glovebox. He grabbed out a small box full of fake ID cards that had his and John's pictures on them. You sighed and leaned back in your seat.

"They're gonna get suspicious if all three of us go up," you said as Dean rifled through the box.

"Then stay in the car," he answered quickly, not looking up.

"I have to get to the bridge to get anything."

"Then just go to the edge of the bridge and do your thing while Sam and I go talk to them," Dean said as he pulled out an ID from the pile before shoving the box back in the glovebox, "let's go," he said as he opened his door and climbed out of the impala.

Sam turned to you with his mouth hung open in surprise, "fake ID's? Really?" he asked, obviously annoyed with Dean.

"They're helpful," you said with a nod, "I don't like using them all that much, though," you added quickly when he shook his head disapprovingly. 

The air felt heavy as you stepped out of the impala. You couldn't pinpoint how many people had died on that bridge, but you knew it had to be many. At least one, by the looks of the empty car and confused looking cops. Sam's door shutting loudly made you force yourself to start walking. You and Sam caught up with Dean, and you took your usual place in-between the brothers, walking quickly to keep in stride with them.

"You guys find anything?" you heard a man on the right side of the bridge yell down to what you assumed were men combing the river.

"No! Nothing!" was the distant and echoed response.

Once you reached the beginning of the bridge, you slowed and departed from the brothers, heading to the left. Sam and Dean continued walking toward the blue car and the cops. You heard them begin talking with the officers, but their voices faded away as you neared the edge of the bridge. You reached out and placed your hands on the railing, using them to brace yourself as you leaned over to look down into the rushing river water.

A wave of anger washed over you, similar to the one you had felt before, when you listened to the EVP on John's voicemail. It was accompanied by a bitter sadness, and this time it was much more intense. It suddenly shifted into grief, then all you felt was cold, as if someone had dumped a bucket of the river water on your head. You shivered as a name appeared in your mind. You turned quickly to look for Sam and Dean, spotting them walking back toward the start of the bridge. You began to speed walk over to them. You watched Dean take step in front of Sam, and turned to face him as they stopped walking. They looked like they are arguing again. You shook your head as you stomped over.

"I need a pen," you demanded as you walked up to them.

"Woah, are you okay?" Sam said as he look at you, concern etched into his features.

"I'm fine, I just need a pen," you repeated, "I got a name."

"Y/N, you're crying," Sam said as he pulled his sleeve up over his thumb and wiped your left cheek while you reached up and wiped you right; sure enough there was a trail were tears had streamed down your face.

"I didn't even know I was. I don't think it was really me crying, anyway. She made me feel how she felt before she died, if that makes any sense," you rambled on as Sam wiped the rest of your tears away before taking a step back, and you didn't fail to notice the raised eyebrow look Dean gave you and Sam.

You were about to raise your hand to hit Dean on the arm, but you heard an authoritative voice come from your right that stopped you, "can I help you three?"

You turned to see the sheriff with two tall FBI agents standing behind him. All three of them stared down at you through their sunglasses. You typically didn't let cops rattle you, but the FBI were a different story. You did your best to stand up tall and stare them down right back. The sheriff looked the three of you over, his eyes landing on you.

"No, sir. We were just leaving," Dean told him.

The FBI agents didn't seem to have time for you, as they ignored Dean and walked around him, "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully," Dean joked as they passed him.

You wound back and slapped him in the arm. He laughed and rubbed his bicep as the three of you walked past the sheriff. You could feel his eyes on you as you left. Dean finally pulled out a pen and handed it to you as you walked back to the impala. You spread out your palm and wrote down the name you had been given earlier.

"Constance Welch," you said to them as you held your hand out for both of them to see.

"Who's that?" Dean asked.

"The girl who made me cry," you tried to make a joke out of it, but Sam's lips pressed into a thin line, and his brows furrowed; he never liked when the ghosts affected you like that, "I think she's the spirit that's killing the guys," you added, quickly.

"Well, we'll have to go dig up some more information. They mentioned something about the girlfriend of the kid who died. We can go talk to her and ask her a couple questions, try to figure out why he was killed," Dean explained as the three of you got into the impala.

"Are we gonna go wave fake badges in her face?" you asked, not sure if that was the best idea, "maybe Sam and I can talk to her while you go look up Constance," you suggested, and Dean glanced at you in the rearview mirror before nodding.

"Alright, fine. But I better not get stuck with the busywork next time," he said with a huff.

JERICHO, CALIFORNIA

The sidewalks were mostly empty as the impala slowly rolled down the main road of town. It was still fairly early in the day, but you expected more people to be out. It was the weekend after all. When you saw the sign above the closed movie theater, it made sense why the streets were mostly barren. 'EMERGENCY TOWN HALL MEETING; SUNDAY 8 PM; BE SAFE OUT THERE,' was the message to all the townsfolk.

"I'll bet you that's her," Dean nodded to a girl taping a pink paper on the brick wall just to the left of the theater.

Dean drove a few more feet before pulling up to the side of the road. You and Sam hopped out, and you leaned down to look at Dean through the open passenger door.

"I'll call you when we're done," you told him and he nodded.

You stood up straight and Sam shut his door. You turned and walked the few steps toward the girl. You tried not to seem too intimidating, but with Sam standing at 6'4, that was a bit of a challenge. You hoped his young face and signature puppy dog eyes would help your cause. She taped a missing poster to the wall that read 'MISSING TROY SQUIRE' underneath a smiling photo of Troy. You noticed the other missing posters that were hung up too, and you quickly realized they were all of the pervious victims you had seen in Dean's file.

"You must be Amy," you said as you approached her.

"Yeah," she replied flatly, not looking up as she secured the paper to the wall with another piece of tape.

"Yeah, Troy must have told you about us. I'm his aunt Y/N, and this is his uncle Sam," you explained to the girl with a smile.

"He never mentioned you to me," she said before turning and walking away, but you were quick to walk in stride with her.

"Well, that's Troy I guess," you said, adding in a fake chuckle, "we're not around much, we're up in Modesto."

"We're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around," Sam said as he took a step in front of her to stop her from walking any further.

Another girl came up to Amy, gently placing a hand on her arm, "hey, are you okay?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," Amy said with a nod, never taking her eyes off Sam.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?" he asked her, and she nodded.

Amy and her friend, who introduced herself as Rachel, led you down the street to a diner. It was mostly empty, other than an older couple sitting at a booth in the back right. You also noticed a seemingly bored waitress standing by the counter. She barely even noticed the four of you walk in, too busy looking down at her cellphone. Amy and Rachel slid into a booth in the far left of the diner. You and Sam slid into the side opposite them. Amy waved down the waitress and you and Sam ordered coffee, while the girls ordered sodas.

"What happened the night Troy disappeared?" you asked her gently.

"I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did," she told you, on the verge of tears.

"He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?" Sam asked.

"No. Nothing I can remember."

Amy fidgeted nervously with the charm of her necklace; it was a black pentagram. Sam took the words right out of your mouth before you could speak them.

"I like your necklace."

"Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents," She laughed, "with all that devil stuff."

You and Sam both chuckled. He glanced at you, and you shared a look of understanding.

"Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." Sam explained to Amy.

"Did Troy believe in or practice anything satanic? Or was the necklace just a harmless gift?" you asked her, trying to get any sort of lead.

"It was a just a gift. I think he ordered it off the internet," she told you with a shrug.

"Well, the way Troy disappeared, somethin's not right. If either of you know anything..." Sam trailed off.

Amy and Rachel slowly turned and looked at each other.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk," Rachel replied.

You and Sam spoke in tandem, "what do they talk about?" you'd be lying if you said you hadn't missed Sam always knowing what you were going to say.

Rachel paused, glancing over at Amy before she rested her elbows on the table and leaned in, speaking quietly, "It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago," the name Constance Welch flashed in your mind as Rachel spoke, "Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever," you glanced over at Sam who was listening intently.

"Well, let's hope it's just a legend, yeah? Thank you for answering our questions. If you think of anything else that could help," you paused as you grabbed a napkin from the holder and pulled out the pen that Dean had given you earlier, "don't be afraid to call," you wrote your phone number down on the napkin and handed it to her, smiling warmly.

"Thank you for your time," Sam said and you almost laughed at how diplomatic he sounded.

You and Sam slid out of the booth and headed for the front door. The bell above the door dinged as Sam opened it, letting you go through first. You noticed the sun starting to slowly slip below the horizon. The breeze didn't do much to cool you off, the humid air making your forehead slick with sweat. You used the back of your hand to wipe off as much moisture from your face as you could. You gestured for Sam to follow you as you started walking down the road toward the motel you had seen earlier. You pulled your cell phone out as you walked and flipped it open, quickly finding Dean's contact. You pressed call and brought the phone up to your ear. It rang twice before he picked up.

"You get anything?" he asked you eagerly.

You didn't think twice about his lack of greeting, instead you answered his question immediately, "you probably got more than we did. We got told a local legend of a woman who was murdered on Centennial, and her ghost hitchhikes and picks up poor suckers who never get seen again," you told him, but you had a feeling he was going to fill you in on the missing pieces.

"They almost got it right. Funny how much a story can change over twenty years" Dean said, more to himself than to you.

"Hold on," you said before pulling the phone away from your ear and putting him on speakerphone, "What actually happened?" you asked him.

"She committed suicide. Jumped off the bridge where they found that kids car."

"So it's gotta be her... Did it say why she did it?"

Dean sighed sadly, "the article said she left her kids in the bathtub and they drowned. She had called 911 but it had already been too late. They found her an hour later in the river."

"Geez, no wonder I felt so much grief," you muttered, more to yourself, but Sam heard it all too clearly, "did the article say where she's buried?" you asked, deciding to ignore the concerned look Sam was giving you.

"No, but it had her husbands name. Joseph Welch. If we find him I'm sure he can tell us where she's buried."

"Alright. It's getting late, though. We can meet at the motel we passed earlier and get a room for the night," you said, realizing how much your body was aching.

"Want me to head back and pick you guys up?"

"Nah, we're almost there. I can see it. Just meet us there."

"Will do. See you soon."

"See you soon," you echoed before closing your phone and shoving it back in your pocket.

There was a long pause before Sam spoke, "Are you feeling okay?"

Sam knew how drained you could feel after channeling a ghost like you did on the bridge, especially an extremely vengeful spirit like Constance. The more you thought about how exhausted you were, your limbs felt heavier.

"I'm alright, just tired," you told him, but you could see in his furrowed brow expression that he didn't believe you, "a few hours of sleep should fix me right up," you added, somewhat sarcastically.

You had just made it to the front office when you heard the all too familiar roar of the impala's engine. You turned to see Dean pull into the parking lot and park in the first parking spot he could find. He hopped out with a gloating smile, happy that he had uncovered more than the two of you. You wanted to remind him who got the name in the first place.

"Lets just get a room," you said before Dean could start gloating aloud.

The three of you walked into the office of the motel. An older looking gentleman was stood behind the counter with a polite smile. Dean pulled his fake credit card out of his wallet and dropped it down on the counter.

"One room, please," he told the clerk, his proud smile still spread wide across his face.

The man picked up the fake credit card, looking down at it before glancing up at Dean, "you guys having a reunion or something?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked him.

"I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month," Sam and Dean shared a look.

"Which room was it?" you asked sweetly, hoping the man didn't get too suspicious.

"Number one. I only remember because he was so damn adamant about having it," he told you as he ran Dean's credit card and handed it back along with your room key.

"Thank you," you said before practically dragging the brothers out of the office, "let's get settled into our room, then we can check out John's room in a little bit. That guy might be keeping an eye out."

Sam and Dean agreed. The three of you grabbed your bags from the impala before bringing them to your room. You waited for the sun to fully set before the three of you started getting impatient. You were the first one out the door, checking to make sure that the coast was clear before the brothers followed. You walked down to the door of room one, standing shoulder to shoulder with Dean, your backs to the door as Sam knelt down to pick the lock. It only took him about thirty seconds before you heard the lock click from behind you. You turned as Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's shoulder, yanking him back into the room. You stepped in quickly after. Sam shut the door behind you as your eyes scanned the room.

"Woah," you mumbled as you both looked around the room.

There were newspaper clippings, printed articles, and photos hung on almost every inch of the walls of the motel room. There are books and papers scattered across every surface. Dean flicked a lamp on, leaning down to sniff a discarded burger underneath the light. He recoiled in disgust.

"I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least," Dean observed.

"I think you're right," you replied as you walked to the far wall, making sure to step over the salt line that blocked the door.

Sam leaned down and poked at the salt on the floor, "salt, cats eye shells. He was worried, trying to keep something from coming in," he said as he stood up straight, before walking over to stand by Dean, "what have you got here?" Sam asked his brother, who was looking at a line of papers hung up on the wall.

"Centennial Highway victims," Dean replied, looking over the obituaries to make sure there weren't any he'd missed, "I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities," Sam crossed the room to stand next to you as Dean spoke, "there's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

You and Sam noticed the photos and papers hung on the wall in front of you, and it confirmed what you had already been suspicious of. Sam reached out and turned on the lamp in front of you.

"Dad figured it out," Sam said simply.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked as he turned.

"He found the same article we did. Constance Welch," Sam said, pointing at the article hung on the wall.

"She's a woman in white," you said when Dean's brows furrowed in confusion.

"You sly dogs," Dean said as he looked back at the articles of the missing men.

"The caption of the photo says Joseph Welch was thirty. The article dates to 1981, so he must be..." you paused, doing the math in your head, "sixty-four!" you said, hopeful.

"If he's still alive," Sam spoke what was on all your minds.

"We can worry about it tomorrow. I need at least a couple hours so I don't fall over," you said, a yawn enunciating your words.

"Didn't get enough beauty sleep in the car? You had the whole backseat to yourself," Dean teased as he walked to the door.

"That backseat is not as comfy for sleeping as you think it is," you protested as you stepped over the salt line.

"Better than nothing," Dean was just trying to piss you off, but unfortunately it was working.

"Well, no shit, jackass. But my neck is killing me and I'd love to sleep in a real bed," you pushed past Dean and out the door, checking to make sure no one was outside before leaving.

You got into the room first, taking your opportunity to enter the bathroom and have a quick shower before Dean used up all the hot water. You had the water running and the door closed when you heard Sam and Dean enter the room. You could heard Dean's muffled voice from the other side of the door You heard only a garbled mess of words until you heard your name. You quietly crept up to the bathroom door, pressing your ear up against it. Their voices were quieter now, but you were sure you had heard Dean say your name. You decided it probably wasn't best to ease drop. You couldn't hear what they were saying anyway. You gave up, stepping away from the door and continuing with your shower.

Dean was already passed out in one of the two king sized beds by the time you were out of the bathroom. You chuckled at his loud snoring as you stuffed your dirty clothes into your duffel bag. Sam was sat at the small table near the window, looking down at his phone. You stood awkwardly, wringing your hands as you contemplated what to say or do.

"The bathroom's free if you want to take a shower," you said finally.

Sam jumped slightly, looking a bit startled. He hadn't noticed you come out of the bathroom. Were you that sneaky or was he that distracted? You guessed it was a bit of both.

"Oh, thanks, but I'm good."

"Alright," you glanced at Dean, then back at Sam, "I don't think you'll want to share with him, so you can share with me," you felt your ears warming up but you did your best to ignore it.

"After having to sit in the front seat with him all day, I'd rather not have to deal with him hogging the covers all night. Thank you," Sam said gratefully, but he made no move to get into the bed, instead looking back down at his phone.

You nodded before walking over to the empty bed, laying on the right side. You left the side facing Dean's bed for Sam.

"Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

~~~~~~~~~

You're sat on the floor, your father's head in your lap. Your hands are slick with his blood as you hold the sides of his face.

"Dad? Are you okay? Dad, please wake up! Dad!"

You jolted awake, sitting up straight as you looked around your unfamiliar surroundings. Your eyes met Sam's as he stood next to the bed, his hand on your shoulder.

"Nightmare?" you can barely hear him over your heart pounding in your ears.

You nodded as you took in a shaky breath. Sam's hand moved to your back, rubbing in soft circles. It actually helped ground you, and you were able to catch your breath fairly quickly. Dean came out of the bathroom as Sam let his hand fall from your back.

"You okay?" he asked you and you nodded quickly.

"I'm just gonna get ready," you mumbled, feeling awkward having both of them looking at you worriedly.

You stood and walked over to your duffel bag, grabbing out a change of clothes and heading into the bathroom. You could hear Sam and Dean's hushed voices as you got dressed. They went silent a few moments before you exited the bathroom. Sam was sat on the bed as he listened to a voicemail from who you assumed to be Jessica. You watched Dean pull on his jacket.

"Hey, man, I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner down the street. You want anything?" Dean asked Sam.

"No," he replied.

"Aframian's buying," Dean joked.

Sam only shook his head, and Dean sighed, turning to you.

"You hungry? Wanna go get some greasy diner food?" he asked enthusiastically.

"For breakfast? I'm hoping for some pancakes or something," you said as you looked around for your own jacket, "we'll see you in a bit, Sam," you stopped yourself from calling him 'Sammy,' but you can see in his eyes that he caught your almost slip up.

"Mhm," he hummed in response as you and Dean headed out the door.

You walked with Dean across the parking lot toward the impala. You looked to the right when you felt someone looking at you. You saw the motel clerk talking with a couple cops. The clerk pointed at you and Dean when he saw you.

"Shit," you muttered as you turned to face away from the cops.

Dean mirrored your movements, standing shoulder to shoulder with you as he pulled his phone out, "dude, five-o. Take off," you heard Dean say into the phone.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, "uh, they kinda spotted us. Go find Dad," Dean closed his phone and stuck it in his jacket pocket before the he spun around to face the cops, bumping your shoulder with his to make you turn around too.

"Problem, officers?" Dean said with a shit eating grin that you wanted to smack right off his face.

"Where's your partner?" the cop crossed his arms over his chest as he looked from Dean to you, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Partner? What, what partner?" Dean asked innocently.

The cop jerked his thumb toward your motel room, silently ordering his partner to search the room. He obeyed, walking to the door before opening it and going inside. You felt your palms begin to sweat as you watched him enter the room, worried that he would come back out with Sam in handcuffs. Your eyes darted back toward the cop standing in front of you. He stood still as a statue, staring you down. You did your best to stand your ground and try not seem a nervous as you were.

"So, fake U.S. Marshal, fake credit cards. You got anything that's real?" the cop asked Dean.

Dean paused, as if debating his response, "My boobs," he finally replied with a toothy grin that showed he was satisfied with his answer.

The cop shoved Dean's shoulder roughly, forcing him to turn around. He pressed his hand in between Dean's shoulder blades, slamming him down against the hood of the car with a thud while his other hand went to his belt to grab his cuffs.

"Turn around with your hands against the hood of the car, please," the cop ordered you through gritted teeth.

You did what he said, not wanting to piss him off anymore than Dean had already done. He cuffed Dean before cuffing you, pressing your cheek against the hood of the impala. You must have looked incredibly annoyed, because Dean's slightly amused smile quickly disappeared.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," the cop read you your rights as you continued to glare at Dean.

You always hated dealing with the cops. Everytime Dean got the two of you arrested, you hated them even more. Cops didn't believe in monsters and ghosts, so they were always a hinderance, rather than a help. You had a funny feeling that this sheriff was going to get on your nerves. They had thrown you and Dean in separate interview rooms. The sheriff had asked your name and age, which you gave fake answers to both. He had left you to go interrogate Dean.

He was gone for a few minutes before he entered the room again. He was holding a file box full of papers and folders. You assumed they were the things that had been hung up on the walls of John's motel room. He dropped it onto the table before dropping down a notebook in front of you. You immediately recognized it, but you did your best to make sure your face didn't reflect that.

"So you want to give me your real name?" he asked as he leaned against the table.

"I already told you. It's Sandra Nugent," you reiterated to the sheriff, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

"You could be in a lot of trouble here, you know that? Unless you cooperate with me. If you tell me what your boyfriend and his partners have been doing, maybe I can help you out," you wanted to laugh at how desperate he sounded.

"You don't have any evidence on us," you replied stubbornly.

"Ya'll got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall. Along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. You and your buddy in there are officially suspects."

"Right, because when the first one went missing in '82, before I was even born," you deadpanned.

"I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me... Y/N is it?" you must have looked surprised, because he opened John's notebook that was sat on the table and began flipping through it slowly, "I thought that might be your name. I got Dean's name fairly quickly, but yours I wasn't so sure about. See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out. I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy," he flipped through until he was almost at the end, stopping and leaning back so you could see the page he had flipped to, "but I found this, too."

You looked down at the page. It was mostly blank other than Deans name scrawled in John's handwriting, along with 35-111 underneath it. The message was circled hastily.

"No one is going anywhere until one of you can tell me what the hell that means," he tapped the message on the paper with his index finger.

"I don't know what it means. It looks like it might be a locker combo or something," you said with a shrug.

The sheriff was getting red faced, and you were sure Dean had told him the same things. This wasn't your first rodeo. Before he could question you any more, there was a knock at the door. It opened a second later. A young cop stuck his head into the room.

"We just got a 911, shots fired over at Whiteford Road," he told the sheriff.

"You have to go to the bathroom?" the Sheriff asked you.

"No," you replied.

"Good."

He promptly cuffed you to the table. You struggled against the cuffs slightly, the metal digging into the skin of your wrist. The sheriff left and shut the door behind him. Through the small window in the interrogation room door, you could see all the cops scrambling to leave. You looked around, trying to find a way out, when you noticed a paper clip sticking out of John's journal.

You reached out and grabbed it. You unbent it and used it to pick the lock on your handcuffs. You did your best to remember what Sam taught you, and soon you were free. You grabbed John's journal off the table and crept over to the door. You peered through the small window and waited until all the cops had cleared out before trying the door. It was surprisingly unlocked. You went to the interrogation room next door, opening it to reveal Dean handcuffed to the table.

"Well look at you, ya' little escape artist! How did you manage that?" Dean asked as you entered the room.

You held up the straightened paper clip for him to see before getting to work on unlocking his handcuffs. He laughed in amusement as you freed him.

"He made it pretty easy," you said with a shrug, handing him John's journal, "now come on, let's get outta here before they come back."

The two of you crept through the police station, careful not to let anyone see you. It seemed like they had all hands on deck though, because the place looked almost deserted. You managed to find your cell phones on the sheriff's desk. You were sure the receptionist would still be at the front desk, so you searched around for window or a back exit. You quickly found a window that let to the fire escape.

You unlocked it and pulled it open before climbing out onto the fire escape. You gestured for Dean to follow, and he did so without hesitation. Dean climbed down first before you climbed down after him. The two of you made sure the coast was clear of any cop cars before walking down the sidewalk, headed for the town exit. You weren't sure which way Sam had gone or where he was, but you needed to get the hell out of dodge before the cops found you again. The sidewalk ended at the exit of town, and Dean pulled his cellphone out to call Sam.

"Fake 911 phone call? I don't know, Sammy, that's pretty illegal," he said as he put it on speakerphone so you could hear Sam too.

"You're welcome," Sam's voice came through the shitty speaker of Deans phone.

"Listen, we gotta talk," Dean started, but Sam was quick to reply.

"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop," Sam explained.

"Sammy, would you shut up for a second?" Dean tried to stop his brother from speaking.

"I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet," Sam continued, ignoring Dean's words.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you! He's gone. Dad left Jericho."

"What? How do you know?"

"We've got his journal," you told him.

"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing," Sam said slowly.

"Yeah, well, he did this time," Dean said.

"What's it say?" Sam asked.

"The same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Coordinates," Sam said, immediately understanding what Dean meant, "Where to?"

"We aren't sure yet. We didn't have much time to look while we were running from the cops," you said, annoyance evident in your tone, but it was more directed at Dean.

"I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? What the hell is going on?"

You heard the screech of tires skidding on the road through the phone before a quiet thud.

"Sam? Sam!" Dean yelled into the phone frantically.

"Take me home," you heard Constance's soft voice come through the phone, and your hand flew up to clutch your head as the image of a house appeared in your mind.

"Y/N? What is it? Are you alright?" Dean stopped walking to put his hand on your shoulder.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight as you examined the house. It felt like a memory, but you knew you had never seen the house before. You quickly realized it had to be a memory from Constance. It must be her old house where Sam said she was buried.

"The house," you said, "We have to go to the house. That's where she's taking him," you said as you opened your eyes and lifted your head to look at Dean.

"We don't know where the house is!" he cried out, more in fear than in anger.

"I do. Follow me," you didn't elaborate and instead you turned and started jogging, knowing the house wasn't too far from you.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Dean asked as he easily caught up to jog next to you.

"I'm fine, but Sam isn't gonna be if we don't hurry up," you said before picking up the pace.

You and Dean were now running as fast as your legs could manage. You eventually cut through the tree line, coming out into a clearing. You could see the house in the distance, with the impala stopped out front. You could see Sam sitting in the front seat. As you got closer, you could see the ghostly figure above Sam. You quickly recognized the long wavy hair to belong to Constance.

"Cover your ears!" Dean shouted as you ran.

Your hands flew up to cover ears. You had been hunting with the Winchester brothers long enough to know that if one of them said to do something, you did it without question. You heard the muffled sound of a gun shot as you saw the front windows of the impala shatter. Constance disappeared for a moment before reappearing, turning to glare at the two of you. You felt your spine shudder in fear at the anger that radiated off her. Dean continued to shoot until she disappeared for good. You had just made it to the impala when you saw Sam sit up. He reached out and turned the keys in the ignition, making the car rumble to life.

"I'm taking you home," he said breathlessly before he pressed on the gas.

"Sam!" Dean yelled after him as the impala lurched forward and smashed through the front wall of the house with a loud crash.

You and Dean ran up the porch stairs and through the now giant hole in the side of the house. You stepped over the rubble and toward the impala that had stopped in the middle of what looked to be the remnants of a living room.

"Sam?" Dean called out as he ran to the passenger side of the car, "Sam! You okay?" Dean asked as he leaned in through the window.

"I think..." you heard Sam say from inside the car as you walked over.

"Can you move?" Dean asked as he tried to get the passenger door open.

"Yeah. Help me?"

Dean yanked the passenger door open before leaning inside the car and reaching out for Sam. He pulled him out and up onto his feet and brushed the dust off his shoulders.

"There you go," Dean said.

The three of you turned and saw Constance on the other side of the room, holding a large framed photo. She finally noticed you, glaring daggers as she threw the picture to the floor. It clattered loudly as the three of you stared dumbly. Suddenly, her hand lifted and she made a gesture that caused a dresser to slide across the room and pin you against the side of the impala. The wind got knocked out of you as you tried to push the dresser away, but there was an unseen force holding it in place. Sam and Dean were too stubborn to stop trying. Constance took a step forward, a look of malice in her eyes. You were anticipating her next move, when suddenly the lights flickered and buzzed. You watched Constance turn and walk to the base of the stairs that now had water pouring down them like a waterfall.

"You've come home to us, Mommy," you heard a boy and girl say in unison.

Suddenly, the spirits of Constance's children appeared behind her. They wrapped their arms around her in one final hug as the lights surged. You shielded your eyes as Constance screamed. You watched from under your forearm as the three of their spirits sunk slowly into the floor, disappearing and leaving only a puddle of water behind. Sam and Dean pushed the dresser over, and it clattered loudly to the floor. It kicked up a cloud of dust that made you cough. You walked over to examine the puddle, Sam and Dean close behind you. You all stared down at the floor in silence, trying to collect your thoughts. You were trying to brush off the residual rage that Constance had left behind.

"So this is where she drowned her kids," Dean said, breaking the silence.

"That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them," Sam confirmed.

"You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy," Dean clapped Sam on the chest where Constance had dug her fingers into his chest, presumably to rip out his heart; Sam laughed through the pain it caused him.

"Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

"I was just thinking the same thing," you added.

"Hey. Saved your ass," Dean said he walked over to the impala, leaning down to inspect the damage, "I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?" he turned to point at Sam menacingly, "I'll kill you," Sam laughed as you gave Dean a 'what the fuck?' look.

"You literally shot the windows out! I doubt Sam did more damage than you did to your own car," you said as you walked over to stand next to Dean, noticing the busted out headlight.

Fortunately, the impala still ran. The front windows were shattered, and the right headlight needed replacing, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed. She'd been through worse, is what Dean had said.

~~~~~~~~~

You were leaned over the backrest of Sam's seat, looking at the map he had sitting open in his lap. He was trying to find the location of the coordinates that John had left. It didn't take him long to circle a spot on the map.

"Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado," Sam said and Dean nodded.

"Sounds charming. How far?" Dean asked.

"About six hundred miles," Sam replied.

"Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by tonight!" Dean said excitedly.

"Dean, I, um..." Sam trailed off, and you sat back in your seat, knowing where this was going.

"You're not going," Dean said simply.

"The interview's tomorrow morning. I gotta be there."

"Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home."

You had the sudden realization that your bags were still in your motel room. It wasn't difficult to convince Dean to drive back to the motel. You and Sam managed to sneak in and grab your stuff without being spotted. Dean sped to the highway to make sure the cops didn't catch you again.

None of you spoke for the rest of the drive. It was only a few hours, and the sun had set by the time you had arrived at Sam's apartment complex. Dean stopped out front and Sam opened the door and got out, shutting it behind him. He turned to lean in through the window as you climbed over the backrest to sit in the front seat. Once you were sat, you looked over at Sam, noticing how close he was.

"Call me if you find him?" Sam asked, and Dean nodded, "And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" his eyes went from Dean to you, and you nodded with a smile.

"Yeah, all right," Dean replied, still frowning slightly.

Sam patted the door twice, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stood up straight. He turned around and started to walk away. Dean set his arm on the backrest behind you, leaning forward slightly to look out the passenger window.

"Sam?" Dean called out.

Sam looked over his shoulder, "yeah?"

"You know, we all made a hell of a team back there," he said with a smirk, glancing at you.

Sam nodded with a small smile before Dean turned back to look at the road as he pressed on the gas. You didn't dare turn to look, instead you tried to catch a glimpse of Sam in the crooked side mirror. You could see his tall figure looming in the shadows. There was a sense of foreboding that you couldn't shake as you drove away. You were only on the road for a few minutes. Sam's apartment building had just barely faded in the distance. You turned and saw Dean's furrowed brows as he glanced between his watch and the road.

"What?" you questioned him.

"I think my watch stopped working."

A wave of dread washed over you as your heart dropped into your stomach. It felt like every inch of your skin was covered in goosebumps. You swallowed hard around the lump rising in your throat.

"Dean, turn around and go back. Now," you said firmly.

Dean didn't have to be told twice. He immediately pulled a u-turn and headed back toward Sam's apartment. You could feel the evil radiating off the building even before you saw it come into view. Dean pressed down on the gas harder, going well above the speed limit. He pulled into the parking lot and skidded to a stop in front of the door. You both hopped out of the impala but he stopped you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," he said quickly before turning and running into the building.

You looked up to see flames and smoke emitting from an upstairs window. Your stomach churned as you pulled out your phone to call 911. You put the phone to your ear, and spoke to the operator about the fire, who told you they were sending a fire truck. You could hear the fire alarm going off before Sam and Dean even made it outside. Just as your chest was starting to ache with worry, you saw them emerge, Dean practically dragging Sam along. Sam fell into your waiting arms, and you used all your strength to keep him somewhat standing. He had wrapped his arms around you and had shoved his face into the crook of your neck. Dean stood a few feet away, coughing loudly. He put up his hand and made it into a faux phone, shaking it next to his ear with furrowed brows, silently asking if you had called the police. You nodded as you hugged Sam tightly, rubbing his back with one hand and petting his hair softly with the other.

The fire fighters didn't take long to get there. They managed to tame the flames fairly quickly, leaving most of the apartment complex intact. Sam had detached from you before they had arrived, wiping his eyes and sitting on the trunk of the impala. He didn't speak a word to you. Only when Sam was talking with the cops was when you got part of the story from Dean.

"She was... on the ceiling," he told you slowly.

"Like... Like how your mom died?" you asked gently.

Dean nodded and you felt your chest tighten as your heart rate quickened. You shook your head as you looked over to the building. Smoke was still billowing out into the night sky, blocking the few stars you could see from view. You and Dean were stood side by side at the back of the crowd of onlookers that had grown at the edge of the police tape. The red lights of the fire truck were still flashing, and they were starting to give you a headache. You turned away from the building to head back to the impala. Dean had pulled it off to the side of the road a few yards away. Sam was stood in front of the open trunk. You saw him loading a shotgun as you approached.

You didn't want to pity him, knowing it would only make him feel worse. When you saw the tear stains down his cheeks, you couldn't stop the sympathetic smile you gave him. He smiled weakly at you. Dean walked up next, giving Sam a look you couldn't place. You knew all the Winchester looks, but this one was foreign to you. Sam nodded at him before letting out shuddering breath, obviously knowing what his brother's look meant. You appreciated them getting along, but you didn't like to be excluded. Under different circumstances, you would have pestered them until they told you what telepathic messages they were sending each other. Instead, you stayed quiet, watching as Sam threw the now loaded shotgun into the trunk.

"We got work to do," he said before slamming the trunk shut.

[generic-sonic-fan]

Edge of Tomorrow

Summary: Sometimes, Silver needs multiple tries to get things right. This means navigating his past and future selves as he rewrites his own memory of events.

And things can get messy very quickly.

6294 words

"Silver, where do you show up, anyway? I mean, is there some sort of swirly portal you step through? You never let us see it." Sonic teased.

"Better that you don't, it's pretty trippy." Silver rubbed his head spines. "Now, Tails, if you could explain the plan. . ."

---

Silver had finally chased down the pair of chaos emeralds, beating the cursed flames to them and taking them to his hideout. He studied the history book again, holding the date in his mind as he invoked chaos control. 

The portal opened, and he carried himself through. He stepped out onto a grassy field. This field, he remembered, should only be a few miles from Sonic's house. He couldn't orient himself to its direction until his head stopped spinning. Then he lifted himself with his power, and-

Another crystalline, swirling portal opened behind him.

Out stepped himself.

"Stop. Go home." Himself said.

Silver lowered to the ground. "Why?"

"It's not going to work your time around. Need to give it another shot." Himself shook his head.

"Password?" Silver asked.

"Elise."

"Okay, it's me. Or it's you. Us?"

"Seems I can't ever make up my mind on that. Sorry." Himself shrugged.

"So what do I have to do?"

"Go back and check the history book. Come back here and stop me if it says-"

"I know the drill. How many times have we done this?" Silver asked.

"I think this might be take two."

"It'd be real convenient if I was able to tell myself what to do better."

"It's okay, you don't know how you failed yet, and I just wiped my memory of it by stopping you here. But don’t worry, I'll figure something out."

"I always figure it out, don't I?" Silver brightened. 

Himself smiled back and pointed to the portal. "In you go. Hope you come back to flowers and sunshine. It'd mean I finally did something right, right?"

"Probably won't happen, but can't hurt to hope, right? Good luck!" Silver waved. He walked towards the portal. 

"Thanks, me!"

Silver hopped into the portal and arrived back to his hideout. He rushed toward the window and opened the curtain, only to find the same orange glow of flame.

He sighed, before ducking beneath the crumbling windowsill. A sea of tally marks cluttered the wall. He should really think about grouping them per event. . . except for the fact that trying to connect the dots might lead to a paradox. 

Regardless, he added another tally to the wall, before walking back over to the history book. The book was by the same author as it had been before, meaning that nothing too world-changing had happened. He opened it and flipped to the appropriate page. 

May 8th, 2017- Sonic and company disable the Egg reactor, preventing widespread casualties and long-lasting radiological effects.

Silver raised his fists in the air and whooped. He grabbed the chaos emeralds from where he'd set it on the table and honed in on his chaos control.

Now just to remember what he'd said to himself a few minutes ago. He remembered his opening line being something like "Stop, go home. . ."

---

Tails clasped his hands together. "And that's the plan. I'm going to be real with you, there's a chance it might not work, but-" 

"It will. I know it will." Silver patted his shoulder. "I have complete faith in you."

"You're so optimistic! How do you do it?"

Silver could only shrug.

Sure enough, the plan succeeded without a hitch.

---

Two months and one more hunt for a pair of chaos emeralds later, Silver stepped through the swirling portal into the past once more. 

This was a big one. A really, really big one. Eggman was going to- or technically, already had -wiped the area of Central City off the map. The future was not set, the future was never set, and this certain event had popped up in the good ol’ reliable history textbook a few nights ago. Whatever Sonic and co had done to start this chain of events was a mystery, and snooping around in the past to try and indirectly prevent it would be a fruitless endeavor. 

Sonic would never forgive himself if a whole city got destroyed. Silver was obligated to help. 

The grass, the wonderful green grass greeted him. He walked forward, inhaling the clean air. Flowers drifted in the breeze and-

“No. Stop. Go back.”

He whirled around to find himself.

“Password?”

“Elise.”

“Okay, it’s me. Shoot, don’t get it this time, do I?”

“Correct.”

“Okay, I know the drill, good luck!”

Silver stepped back through his origin portal, depositing him back into his hideout. Routine drew him to the window curtains; same old, same old outside, so he added a tally to the wall beneath the window and turned back to the history book. 

August 16th, 2018. Central City is destroyed by Dr. Ivo Robotnik.

Probably identical to what it read before, from what he could recall. He grabbed the chaos emeralds again and opened a portal. 

“No. Stop. Go back.” He shouted as he stepped onto the grass once more. 

His other self whipped around. Deja vu sent dizziness through him, and he grit his teeth to stave it off.

“Password?” His former self asked.

“Elise.”

“Okay, it’s me. Shoot, don’t get it this time, do I?”

“Correct.”

“Okay, I know the drill, good luck!”

His former self hopped back through the portal, and Silver waved. He took a moment to shake the lingering confusion, before stepping further into the clear air and sunlight. . . until another portal swirled open to the right.

“Not another step!” Himself leapt out. 

“Password?”

“Elise!”

“Okay, okay, heading back.”

“Good.”

Silver retreated to the portal he opened (that he remembered opening, not the one his future self had opened. . . gotta keep that straight.) He jogged over, checked the window, and scratched another tally. He paused before opening the cover of the history book, dancing in place and praying that this would be the time.

August 16th, 2018. Central City is destroyed by Dr. Ivo Robotnik. Sonic the Hedgehog perishes, and is succeeded by-

Silver slammed the book shut. He scrambled for his emeralds, nearly knocking one off the table as he whispered the phrase to invoke the portal. He flew through and-

A hand slaps over his mouth. He grabs the attacker with his power, but the other pushes back with psychokinesis of his own.

“The password’s Elise! It’s me, stop!”

"Stop it, both of you!"

Silver jerks out of the other Silver’s grasp. Another Silver, the past Silver, stares at the both of them.

“Three of us at once!?” Current Silver yells. “You know how dangerous that is! What is wrong with you?”

“You! Go home!” Future Silver points to past Silver. 

Silver can only numbly nod. Silver steps back through the portal. Silver remains standing on the grass. He smells smoke. He smells flowers. Silver is. . . Silver is. . .

“Snap out of it. You’re going home too. Trust me. We need another go.” Future Silver grabs his shoulder and shakes him back to focus.

“Don’t do that again.” Silver (himself, his actual self, right now, in this moment) points at his future self. 

“Go home, take fifteen minutes, come back.” Future Silver says. 

“Okay.”

Silver steps back through the portal. He stepped, he should say. This was him. He was present.

He walked over to the window and gave a half-hearted look through the curtains, before ducking to the wall beneath. The tally marks under here look equally fresh to each other. He really should start grouping him. He scratched another one down, before turning back to the history book. 

Future him said to give it fifteen minutes, but. . .

August 18th, 2018. Central City and Station Square are destroyed by Dr. Ivo Robotnik. Sonic the Hedgehog and the majority of his friends are caught in the-

He slammed the book against the far wall without lifting a finger. He grabbed his quills and clenched them as hard as possible. He screamed. He grabbed the chaos emeralds. He closed his eyes. 

Sunlight meets him. So does nausea. He scans for his prior self. He feels the cloth of a glove over his mouth, but as he checks with his eyes he finds no one. What. . . what had he said to himself earlier?

Past self walks by before he can give it more thought. 

“Hey, stop!”

Past self turns and grits his teeth. “Oh, come on!”

“Password’s Elise.” Silver offers.

“We really gotta stop with the password thing.”

Something’s wrong. There’s no deja vu. But there’s no time to worry about that- the future’s at stake here.

“Go home!” Silver yells. “Please, for the love of all things holy, go home.”

“Are you sure?”

“GO HOME!” Silver screams.

Past self flinches and returns through his portal. Suddenly Silver feels himself traveling back to the future as well. 

He walks- he walked, he walked, over to the window. Same orange glow. He bent down, adding another tally mark. He tasted. . . something, on his lips, and he remembered the flavor as Tails’ hot cocoa. Something must have gone right if Tails was celebrating with hot cocoa. The only trouble was that he didn’t remember what.

The history textbook was not on the table, but the floor, pages splayed open. Silver picked up the book and ran a finger along its spine, checking the binding only to find that it was torn. He frowned. The poor book had suffered through so much abuse at this rate! And he’d hate to have to scavenge another one.

He flipped the book open. He reminisced on some of the other entries- January 26th, 2016. September 1st, 2016, May 8th, 2017, December 10th, 2017. Sonic and company save the day. What the book would not tell of was the garden out behind Cream’s house, or the hours spent in Amy’s cafe after a successful day-saving, drinking smoothies and catching up as if he’d never left. 

He flipped to the date that had given him so much trouble.

August 17th, 2018. Central City is destroyed by Dr. Ivo Robotnik. Sonic the Hedgehog is killed and a funeral held-

“No no no no! That’s now how this is supposed to go!” He screamed. 

He set the book down on the table and grabbed the chaos emeralds. He grabbed the chaos emeralds. He grabbed the chaos emeralds, he grabbed the chaos emeralds he grabbed the chaos emeralds he grabbed the he grabbed the he grabbed the

He grabbed the

He grabs the

Silver comes to in a pile of bodies, bumping, jostling, screaming, panting. He explodes a shockwave outwards, only to feel the blast thump in his own chest.

Six Silvers are sent flying. 

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” He shouts. 

Two Silvers vanish immediately, and Silver can taste their confusion as they fade away. The other four are caught, transfixed, on the disappearance. 

“Okay,” the first one starts. “That’s good. He wouldn’t go home. I was trying to make him.”

“And you need to go home as well!” Another grabs the first one’s shoulder. 

“We all need to go home.” Silver himself says. “And we need to stay home for an hour. Then I’ll come back and we’ll start this over. We can spare an hour to sort this out.”

The rest of the Silvers nod, and Silver finds himself nodding as well. They all start to meander towards their portal. Two Silvers approach the same portal, and Silver grabs him and sends him through the correct one at the last moment. 

Geez, that’s why this is so dangerous! What has gotten into himself? What could have possibly happened to make himself this desperate to get things right? He really needs to write the rules down in his hideout, have them pasted next to the window, or something. 

Silver sits (sat) down in the grass and breathed. His chest was getting tight, and he tried to relax, slow his breathing, take a moment. He told himself to take an hour, so who was to say he couldn’t take his hour here? He’d wait here, catch his breath, then head off to investigate. The fact that he can’t remember why he’d come here wasn’t something to be concerned about. Eggman’s plans were always flashy. Once he found Sonic, he could ask, and they’d get on their way. It wouldn’t be the first time that Sonic has had to help him find the reason he’d come back- time travel was messy, and sometimes he doesn’t remember everything, and that’s okay.

“Hey, Silver!”

“Password!” He threw himself to his feet.

“Huh?”

Silver blinked. Sonic stood in front of him, and was offering a hand. 

Tears came to Silver’s eyes. Sonic was here. Sonic is here, okay, blinking, breathing, though why any of these details were important escaped him.

“You’re okay.” 

“Uh, yeah, are you?”

Silver rubs- Silver rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, sorry. Something bad’s about to happen, as usual, and I figured I’d lend a hand.”

“Cool! Race you back to the-”

“STOP!”

A firm hand lands on his shoulder and Sonic’s mouth falls open. 

“Stop. Go home.” Future Silver’s voice shakes from behind.

“Are there supposed to be two of you?”

“Now look what you’ve done!” Silver brushes his hand off his shoulder and turns to him.

“I wouldn’t have done this if I had the choice! You have to go home!”

“Why?”

“I don’t remember. You know we can’t remember!”

“Silver, is this a paradox?” Sonic asks.

“No!” They both snap. They then look at each other.

“Though it might be if we keep doing that.” Other Silver says. 

“Okay, okay, going home.” Silver agrees. 

Other Silver gestures to his portal- Silver’s original portal had long since fizzled out, but this one would lead back to the same time and place, hopefully. . .

He stepped back into the smoke-riddled hideout. He trudged over to the window, but this time didn’t even bother to poke through the curtains. He knelt down and scratched another tally. Underneath the window was getting full. He might have to creep the tally count up the sides of the window at this rate.

How many times had he thought that same thought? It was impossible to know if this was one of many, or if this was the first.

He walked back over to the history book. It sat on the table, opened to a particular page. 

August 16th, 2018. He almost didn’t want to read the rest. His eyes caught the word Sonic, followed by the word killed.

Silver yelled. The rage echoed against the ceiling and spilled out of the window.

Think, think, idiot! How was he going to fix this? Sonic had showed up, so now he had to dodge Sonic’s questions about what the hell was going on. He couldn’t travel back to the time before Sonic had showed up, because he needed to stop the self that Sonic had seen. 

But, of course, the moment he stepped into the past to stop his past self, he immediately forgot why he’d come back in the first place! Fuck, this was making this head hurt. The swear word Rouge had taught him seemed appropriate to use right now. 

Okay. Okay. Just another try. Repeat the conversation he’d had with himself in front of Sonic, send himself back to this moment, then wait to see if another future him stopped present him. 

He grabbed the emeralds.

In a moment he’s back on the grass. His past self is in front of him. Beyond that stands Sonic, and Silver is able to watch in real time how his jaw slacks and brows furrow. 

“STOP!” Silver recalls his line and grabs his counterpart’s shoulder. “Stop. Go home.”

“Are there supposed to be two of you?” Sonic asks.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Past Silver brushes his hand off his shoulder and turns. 

“I wouldn’t have done this if I had the choice! You have to go home!” Silver pleads. 

“Why?”

“I don’t remember. You know we can’t remember!”

“Silver, is this a paradox?” Sonic asks.

“No!” They both snap. They then look at each other.

“Though it might be if we keep doing that.” Silver affirms. He flicks his eyes back to the swirling portal.

“Okay, okay, going home.” Silver agrees. 

He journeys back through the portal. Silver waits for the deja vu to fade before turning back to Sonic.

“Hey.” He says. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries.” Sonic replies. “So. . ?”

Sonic waits for something, and it takes Silver an embarrassingly long time to figure out that it’s context. Sonic has his own fair share of copies, after all.

“Don’t worry about that.” Silver says. “Sometimes I need multiple tries to get things right, you know?”

“Trippy, but also kind of cool. I wish I had multiple shots to get it right!”

“That’s not quite how it works.” He rubs the back of his quills.

He cringes when he hears another portal open behind him. 

“SONIC!” Himself cries. 

“What’s wrong?” Sonic replies. 

Silver turns in time for himself to shove past. Immediately his eyes tear up and grief blooms in him; other Silver is openly crying. Sonic is here, but he can’t remember why this is so important. Remember, remember!

“You have to go home,” other Silver says to him, before looking at Sonic, “and something keeps happening with you.”

“There has to be a reason I keep coming back here. Something really bad to risk this many do-overs!” Silver says. 

“What happens?” Sonic asks.

“We can’t tell you because we can’t remember!” Both Silvers chime. 

“Right, okay,” Sonic puts a hand on his chin. “What if you wrote yourself a note about it?”

“Wouldn’t work.” Future Silver says. “The note would retroactively dissipate just as our memory does whenever we come back. We’re- I’m rewriting history, which means that I’m rewriting the textbook, but I came back here because the textbook said something bad about how past me went about it. Does this make any sense?”

Present Silver isn’t even quite sure he’s following, but he nods anyway. Sonic, however, doesn’t nod at all. 

“You. Go home.” Future Silver points back to the portal.

Silver walks through- and he’s back in the grass, standing before Sonic, still wearing the same confused expression. Silver looks left and right. There’s no other himselfs around and the portal behind him is the only one open.

“What was I just saying?” He asks.

“Something about rewriting history so you can’t make yourself a note?” Sonic replies.

The memory of those sentences is weak, but still there. Silver nods. 

“So, are we good now?” Sonic asks.

“Let’s see. If it isn’t, then I’ll come back and stop me.”

Silver walks forward a few steps. No other portals open. He breathes the smell of the grass and flowers in through his nose and exhales out his mouth. Nothing.

“Okay. Looks like we might have a shot at this.” He smiles. “Now-”

Only for him to be slammed to the ground, cyan erupting over his fur. 

“WHY CAN’T I GET THIS RIGHT?” Silver screams, but his lips don’t move. 

“Woah, hey, stop! Let him go!”

“Sonic. . .”

The cyan dissipates, and Silver sits back upright. Future him lowers himself to the ground. Confusion flickers in his eyes.

“Geez, Silver, you might want to ask Amy about a little thing called ‘self-love’ the next time you see her.” Sonic quips quietly. He steps between the two, arms spread.

“I’m sorry. The password’s Elise. You know the drill. Please go home. Please.” Future him pleads. 

“Elise?” Sonic asks.

“Don’t worry about it.” Present Silver says. “But, me, we can’t keep doing this. We’ve been lucky so far that we haven’t erased myself completely.”

“I know,” himself concurs. “And soon it won’t be August 16th anymore.”

Sonic lowers his arm. “Maybe I could come back to the future with you? That way, I could remember what you keep forgetting.”

“NO!” They both scream. 

“No no no no.” Present Silver says, and he catches future him muttering in rhythm as well. “I can barely manage myself as it is. And I already come back here-” he points to the future self, “-so bringing you back might cause that to be erased, which might erase me as well. Maybe. Sort of.”

“I can see why you don’t want to chance it.” Sonic said.

“In any case, that means you need to go home.” Future Silver says. “Give me a shot. And, you know, come back and stop me if it doesn’t work.”

“No. There has to be some way I can communicate what I’m forgetting before I forget it, right? Some way to transfer information before the timeline changes.”

“You guys got some sort of ‘deja vu’ to work with?” Sonic asks.

“Yes! The deja vu!” Present him snaps. “Our mind forgets but our body remembers!”

“I wouldn’t go that far. You really need to go home.” Future Silver points back to his portal. “If you’re right, and I don’t get it, then we’ll probably be able to continue this conversation where we left off.”

“Right. Goodbye!” Present Silver waves to Sonic. 

Smoke. Curtains. Tally. History book. August 16th, 2018. The same words on the page, or at least it feels that way, and Silver leans deep into the deja vu. Sonic dies. Sonic dies! What was so hard to remember about this? He chants those two words like a mantra as he grabs the emeralds and opens the portal ahead of where his past self left to meet with his future self again.

He steps out, and the other Silver beside Sonic vanishes with a wash of terror that sets Silver’s quills on end. 

Fuck. He was supposed to be the future self this time around.

Sonic waves a hand through the open air. “Was that supposed to happen?”

Nausea snakes its way through his stomach and his knees give out. The world spins around him. Who is he? Silver, that’s right. Where is he? The past, that much is for sure from all the green. And crouching beside him is Sonic, hero of Mobius, friend from the past, and he’s saying words that aren’t quite registerable. 

“What just happened?” Silver asks.

“The other version of you disappeared. Was that supposed to happen?”

“How many times have I been back here?”

Sonic counts on his fingers. “Four, I think?”

“And what were the most recent other version of myself and me doing?”

“Uh. . . that’s funny, I don’t remember.”

“Because I erased him. I felt his fear as he vanished. I remember that! I remember feeling his pain!” Silver realizes. 

“The mind forgets, but the body remembers.” Sonic said, puzzling himself with every word he added. “Woah. I feel like one of us has said that before or something.”

“Deja vu!”

“So do you remember what was so important to come back and tell me about, then?”

“No. I need to go back and try again.”

“Why don’t you take a little break while you’re there? Don’t overlap with this time when you come back. That way you don’t have to argue with yourself.”

“Okay, I will.”

Sonic extends a hand and pulls Silver to his feet. He eyes the swirling portal behind him. He takes a deep breath of the fresh air before walking back to the future. 

Instead of making for the window, Silver goes for (went for? He really didn’t know at this point) the chair in the corner of the hideout. He shut his eyes. 

He didn’t know how long it was before he opened them again. Anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour. He reached down beside the chair to grab a can of food. Peaches, as it’s revealed. He peeled the lid off with a flick of his eyes and fed himself a few slices. The taste was bright. Grounding, almost.

The mind forgets, but the body remembers. 

He set the can back down. The history book was on the table. Now that he was here, he didn’t even need to look at it to recall the words. August 16th, 2018, the day that Sonic dies. 

Once, he’d promised himself to never tell his friends about their deaths. But this was different, wasn’t it? Even if he couldn’t recall it in memory, Silver knew this was somehow the fault of his interference. 

The mind forgets, but the body remembers. His memory couldn’t stay constant, but his body always would unless he went back to prevent the damage. He'd never been able to heal using time travel. He eyed the torn can lid. He’d stopped opening them by hand years ago, not since he’d cut himself on the edge of a lid once. 

He grabbed the can lid and held out his arm. He swallowed the lump in his throat and pressed down. 

He was crying by the time he finished carving, whimpering to the empty concrete walls. The letters were barely legible through the blood staining his fur. He retrieved a rag from across the room, dropping it a few times as the pain interrupted his power, before pressing the cloth against the wounds. Once the bleeding stopped, he cleaned the stray staining with his spit. 

He stood and grabbed the chaos emeralds. He re-read the entry in the history book, even though it wouldn’t matter in the end. He closed his eyes, whispered the words, and stepped through the portal. 

“Hey again, Silver. Take that break I told you to?”

“There’s something you need to know.”

“Did you figure out how to remember it?”

Silver closed his eyes and searched his memory. The minutes before were a blur, now, and the history book was the biggest blur of them all, text flickering like flames whipping through a dark sky. Then he recalled the pain in his arm.

S, O, N, I, C, D, I, E, S. . .

And he laughed. He laughed, and he laughed, and he laughed until he cried. 

“Um, haha?” Sonic replied.

“The reason I keep coming back here is because you keep dying, idiot.” Silver choked out between laugh-sobs. 

“Oh no! How?”

Silver turned his arm around and gestured to the scratches. “Sorry, limited space here.”

“Dude. That’s. . .” Sonic shivered. “That’s messed up.”

“How many times have I been back here?”

“Lots.”

“Exactly. It would seem that you keep dying no matter what I do.”

“There has to be a way. Now that I know, I can be more careful this time.”

“Let’s get to Tails’ workshop, then. You can catch me up as to what Eggman is actually up to when we're there.”

“Sounds good. You feeling well enough to fly?”

Before Silver could answer, another portal opened to their right. Future Silver emerged, holding his cut arm outstretched and pointing to it. Present Silver nodded and stepped back into his own portal. He barely spent a moment in the concrete walls before opening the portal back again. He made sure to walk through with the exact motion as his counterpart had. Deja vu hit hard, but it hit right, and his past self repeated his nod and swift exit just as he remembered it.

“What was that?” Sonic asked.

“Use your brain. Apparently you died again.”

“Like, in an alternate timeline? An alternate universe?”

“I don’t know how it works, but I wouldn’t have interrupted myself like this if it wasn’t something serious.”

“I don’t get it. How do you know when to come back and interrupt yourself, anyway, if you keep erasing your reason for coming back?”

“Because I remember my future self coming back and stopping me, so I know to come back and be that future self. Now I’m here.”

“. . . that’s a lot of trust in yourself.”

All Silver could do was shrug. As if on cue, another portal opened.

“Oh, come on!” Sonic said.

“I’m sorry, but I need to interrupt early on, otherwise we lose time.” Future Silver said.

“Yeah, what he said.” Present Silver replied. 

“So I keep dying. But how am I supposed to avoid it if it hasn’t happened yet? It’s not, like, unavoidable, is it?”

Silver froze. Future Silver looked to the ground, before his eyebrows widened. 

He held up his finger. “Sonic, you can’t die if you aren’t there!”

“Huh?”

“You can’t die if you aren’t there. Whatever Eggman’s planning, don’t respond to it! Just let me take care of it.”

“Silver, I’m flattered, but if I keep dying when we both go and tackle the thing, then I won’t let you face it alone.”

“You have to let me try. It’s our only option, unless you want a third me to join this party.” Present Silver said. 

“Promise me you’ll stay home?” Future Silver asked. 

Sonic frowned. “Fine. I promise.”

Present Silver (Silver himself, he recalled) hopped back through the portal and opened another one back in an instant. 

“Oh, come on!” Sonic said in familiar tone.

Other Silver, past Silver, waited expectantly. Silver imitated the line as he remembered. “I’m sorry, but I need to interrupt early on, otherwise we lose time.”

“Yeah, what he said.” Past Silver backed him up. 

“So I keep dying. But how am I supposed to avoid it if it hasn’t happened yet? It’s not, like, unavoidable, is it?”

“Sonic, you can’t die if you’re not there.” Silver affirmed immediately. 

“Huh?”

“Stay home. I mean it! I’ll take care of whatever Eggman’s got planned. If you aren’t there, you can’t die, and we can nip this problem in the bud.”

“But what about you? If I keep dying when you’re with me, then could you really handle it alone?”

“We won’t know if we don’t try.” Past Silver said.

“You need to go.” Silver pointed to his past self.

“Right.”

“And you need to promise to stay home.” He pointed to Sonic as his past self disappeared through the portal. 

“Fine. I promise.” Sonic said. 

Another portal opened. Another Silver stepped out.

“Wha- I said I promised!” Sonic said. “Did it not work or something?”

“You have to mean it.” Present Silver hissed. “That’s probably why he’s here.”

Future Silver crossed his arms and frowned. 

“Okay. You caught me. I didn’t really mean it that time.” Sonic shook his head. He then extended his hand. “This time, though, I mean it. I swear.”

Present Silver took his hand and they shook on it. Silver then re-entered his portal and whipped up another one in a blink. This time, it was almost a little fun to frown disappointedly at Sonic, and he remembered to cross his arms. 

“Okay. You caught me. I didn’t really mean it that time.” Sonic shook his head. He then extended his hand. “This time, though, I mean it. I swear.”

Past Silver shook his hand, before hopping back through his portal. Present Silver waited until the other portal disappeared.

“We’ll see if you mean it.” He said.

“I do. You know I don’t break my promises when I really make one.”

“Let’s wait and see if you’re right.”

Minutes passed. The wind blew around the grassy field. Sonic fidgeted with his gloves. The only portal that swirled was Present Silver’s own behind him. 

“. . . could it be?” Silver whispered.

“Don’t jinx it.”

“I think this is it.”

“Your future self has a knack for comedic timing, so seriously, don’t jinx it.”

Another minute passed. No interruptions. Silver flung himself up in the air and swooped with joy.

“YES! We did it! This is the time I get it right!”

“Alright, woohoo!” Sonic joined the cheer. 

Sonic took off in a direction across the field. Silver followed. Through grass and trees and loop-de-loops Sonic sped, until they reached Tails’ workshop. 

Sonic paused, however, before reaching the door. “Hey, Silver?”

“Yeah?”

“What if the reason you’re not coming to stop yourself this time is because you’re the one who dies?”

“Don’t break your promise now. Stay. Home.”

“Look, just, be careful out there. Don’t be afraid to call for backup if you need it.”

“Okay.”

They went inside. 

—

Don’t be afraid to call for backup if you need it, said an idiot who kept dying over and over again. Silver crushed the communicator Tails had given him the moment he arrived in Central City.

Eggman’s robots had erupted from the sewers and swarmed the streets. Silver gathered as many as he could focus on and crushed them into a big ball. He then smashed said ball into the face of Eggman’s mechsuit, though this did little more than cause it to stumble. 

“Oh, hoho! Silver the hedgehog, I’m flattered. I must have really done something right if you’re here to stop me!” Eggman’s voice blared. 

The mechsuit fired a volley of missiles in all directions. Silver caught the ones roaring towards buildings and guided them into the sky before throwing up a shield in around himself to block the ones that had closed in on him during that time. The impact flung him downwards. He refocused just enough to keep himself from slamming into the ground. He pulled himself back upright and-

One of the hands of the mechsuit gripped around his body. He scrabbled around the edges of the fingers with his psychokinesis, but couldn’t find a hold. 

“Goodbye, future annoyance.” Eggman said.

The metal around him tightened. Silver flung his power in any direction he could, but his focus slipped when he stopped being able to breathe. Spots covered his vision. Everything began to go dark.

“Chaos spear!”

A huge vibration shook the world, and the terrible crushing force released him. Silver hit the ground face-first. For a moment, all he could do was breathe, breathe. 

“Silver, move!”

Silver rolled out of the way as a huge foot crushed the road where he’d been. He picked himself off the ground and spotted Shadow spin-dashing into the mechsuit’s other leg. 

“Shadow! You shouldn’t be here! I can handle this!” 

Shadow threw him a brief glare before dodging Eggman’s reach. Silver grabbed a few cars off the street and impaled them into the spot where Shadow had spin-dashed. There was a sharp metal clang, and a chunk of plating fell to the ground. 

Something sharp and hot hit Silver’s quills. He whirled around to face a horde of normal robots shooting at him. He dived around the rest of their lasers, before pulverizing them together into a fine paste of parts that he used to pierce the mechsuit's chest. One of the remaining robots fired a net, though its computer brain must’ve suffered a hit beforehand, as the net sailed far over Silver’s head. He laughed, before crushing the robot flat with a flick of his finger. 

Then Shadow yelped. 

Silver turned around and-

Sonic is stuck in the net. The mechsuit’s hand slams down. When it lifts again, there’s barely anything left to identify. Silver’s throat tightens. He can’t focus enough to keep himself in the air. He hits the ground, hard, and it’s all he can do to run-

“Chaos control!”

There was a bright flash before the metal palm struck the asphalt. Shadow reappeared above the cockpit and slammed his foot down hard enough to shatter the glass. Eggman shrieked. He furiously scratched at his control panel, causing another dome of glass to pop up over him, and his cockpit detached from the rest of the mech. Shadow was flung off as the jets throttled up. The empty mechsuit started to fall. Silver caught him and pulled him out of the crush zone.

“You’re okay!” Silver flung his arms around him.

Shadow twitched in his embrace. “Let go.”

He stole one more moment, feeling Shadow’s shoulders rise and fall as he breathed, before releasing him. “Sorry. How’d you-”

“Sonic called. Said you were about to do something suicidal.”

“He sent you here? He shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have. I needed to do this alone, otherwise-”

“I’m aware. Note that I’m not Sonic. Note that I’m also still alive, as are you.” Shadow gave a small smile. 

“. . . thanks.” 

His smile faded. “Don’t do this again. You’re fortunate that I arrived when I did. Next time, ask for help.”

“Says you.” 

Shadow crossed his arms. “Hmph.”

—

Silver returned to the future with the taste of Tails’ hot cocoa lingering on his lips. He walked to the window. He peeked through the curtains and the orange glow of the flames shined on his face. He gave half a smile, before ducking beneath the windowsill. However, there wasn’t much room down here anymore. Instead, he scratched the latest tally on the wall beside the window. 

He turned back to the table, only to find the chaos emeralds had vanished. A quick search of the rest of his hideout didn’t turn them up either. It seemed the gemstones thought his mission was complete, or that maybe he should take a break, or whatever. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d have to start scouting all over again. 

He eyed the textbook. It sat neatly closed. He opened the cover and flipped through the pages until he reached the year he remembered. He then searched for the date. . . only to find nothing. July 30th had an event, some sort of legislation was passed, and September 4th had something about a festival, but there was nothing in between. August 16th and the attack on Central City had been erased from historical memory. Sonic and friends save the day for the umpteenth time, it could’ve read. 

Silver looked back to the newest tally mark on the wall. He then plucked the can lid from the floor beside his chair, and began scratching letters. 

August 16th, 2018. 

He paused and looked down at his arm. He then added two more words. 

Sonic lives.

[xerith-42]

So in your rewrite why did Araphel destroy Kulzak’s eye and why didn’t Irene heal it. Also do you have any more Kulzak crumbs I humbly beg.

I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED!!!

In my rewrites Araphel did destroy Kul'zak's eye, it actually happened during that final fight against him as an attempt to stop Kul'zak from shattering his relic. It didn't work, but whatever fucked up and evil magic Araphel used to destroy Kul'zak's eye was something Irene couldn't heal. She tried to, but the wound always repelled her magic away and just didn't work at all.

After the failed attempts Enki whisked Kul'zak off to one of their vacation homes in Galruk and tried to heal him in a variety of different ways. The one that had the most promise and that is considered a core memory for both of them was a potion that Enki spent almost a year figuring out the components for, gathering said components, and then brewing. It was a long, arduous process, and multiple times Kul'zak told Enki that this wasn't necessary. He was perfectly content living without his eye, it was his idea after all, if this is the price to pay then it was worth it.

But Enki can't live with that. "What's the point of all this knowledge if I can't use it to help the people I love?" In the end it didn't work, but the attempt was greatly appreciated. Kul'zak did their best not to let this keep them down, instead turning to try and understand/love this new aspect of his appearance from an artistic sense. He had paintings commissioned of him that depicted him with this new eye in a beautiful way, hoping to show to his fellow wanderers and everyone who saw him that this change didn't make him any less beautiful or worthy of love than before. He and one of their muses even wrote a song about the "One Eyed Wanderer" to cement that this is who Kul'zak is now, and they can live with that.

Oh yeah Kul'zak is so nonbinary in my brain it's not even funny. Every time I think of Kul'zak I just think "You would use neopronouns". Probably star/starself would be their favorites bc Kul'zak is such an astronomer/astrology girl. It's actually how astronomy started as a science in the ancient days. Wanderers, merchants, sailors, farmers, normal people just looked at the stars a lot and noticed patterns in them, wrote those patterns down, and then theorized about them. I imagine stargazing is one of stars favorite pastimes, something they tried to do with each of the divine warriors at least once, including Xavier who wasn't even divine, just this simp who Kul'zak was fond of.

Kul'zak does have everyone's sun signs memorized and Enki is the only one who fully understands what they're saying. Menphina's in a bitchy mood one day and Kul'zak barks "Stop being such a Gemini," to which she yells back "Shove those stars up your ass!!" Irene understands it kind of because she asked Kul'zak what the hell they meant when star said she was "Being a total Sagittarius." Esmund and Araphel do not understand this weird star bull shit at all, but Kul'zak is having fun and they don't understand half of what he says anyways.

I think a lot of music in the MCD world was composed by Kul'zak. He learned how to play many instruments in his time, and possibly made a few of his own, probably some of the weirder ones that have fallen into obscurity. Some of his compositions are credited to different people, and some don't even have his name on it, but that really wouldn't bother them. As long as there is music in the places star once called home, Kul'zak is happy.

Unlike some of his peers, Kul'zak could honestly care less whether anyone remembers him in the future. His name could fall into complete obscurity, his relic could be left to rot somewhere where it will never be found, and all his findings could be attributed to someone else. As long as there are still wanderers, poets, musicians, bards, travelers, and those with free spirits who let themselves love the world they live in the way he did, they're happy. As long as there's still a world for them, he did his job right.

[humanoidalien27]

Content warning: Bit of fluff, heavy feelings and a bit of rewriting sight

.....

Chapter 10

Pure Creation

Finding it best to go back to the hospital wing, your group did just that. Now that you had whatever it was that Salazar wanted, he was going to come after you again. This alone made Ominis on edge.

Sebastian tried to read the book over your shoulder, but it seemed to think he was trying to steal it, so it would always put up its barrier whenever he'd get close.

-I made a grave mistake that I can't fix, it is my only hope for someone strong enough to put it right. The magic you now wield is incredibly powerful. I sought to harness the magic that created life. The magic of the universe, but it can only be wielded by those who understand both sides of what the universe can bring to life. Love, Pain, Nurturing and Death. Because without the bad, we can't fully appreciate the good that comes into our lives. I have managed to harness it, but in doing so, I ended up creating events that lead to the death of too many people, just like it will happen for you. Since this magic is now yours to bear, you will bring on famine, droughts and floods. It won't be all at once, but it will get worse as time goes on and if you keep it for too long, it will kill all life. I locked it up and put stringent rituals to follow to ensure it's not easy for someone wanting to wield it for evil to get it. This magic is pure creation and can only be taken in by someone who has given their magic up to receive it and sacrificed of themselves. I saw the desperation of the one who would wield this one day. Someone with a friend who was born to be good and did evil things and another born to be evil, now good. I saw the man who wished to take it. If you act quickly, you can use this magic to defeat him. You have maybe from now until the next full moon to stop him before the famine begins, but I implore you to do what I couldn't and return this magic to where it belongs. Be warned, this magic comes at a higher price for you than it will for the world around you. Inside this book, I've incased all the spells I created, it doesn't require a wand to use, but it will help focus your magic. If you want the knowledge, press your hand to the pages and good luck my friend. I hope you succeed with your quest.-

"You look like you're going to hurl," Sebastian mentioned as he settled in the chair across from your bed.

That's an accurate statement. You did feel sick. Knowing what was going to happen.    

"The magic in that box was pure creation. The same magic that created life. This insane wizard harnessed it, but realized it was killing people because he had it," you admitted.

"Magic you now have. Does that mean it's going to happen again?" Anne asked, her eyes dancing between occupants of the room.

"Yeah and I don't know how to put it back or give it back to the universe or wherever he got it from."

"We'll figure it out," Sebastian replied, his eyes already drifting towards the window.

"If it does that to the world around you, what will it do to you?" Ominis asked, squeezing your hand.

You considered lying. It wasn't like they could read from the book, but if you were in their shoes, you'd want to know.   

"I don't know, it just said it'll come at a higher price for me than anyone else," you answered, getting his brows to pinch.

"How long?" He asked almost too softly to hear.

"A month maybe, before famine starts."

Sebastian nodded and stood. "Then we just find Salazar, take your magic back and return the creation one back to wherever it goes before the month is up. Easy."

Anne tossed a pillow at him for trying to joke at a time like this, but you laughed despite how heavy things were. "Yeah, easy."

"What? You're practically a general at war prep and we know Salazar will come back once he finds out you have what he wants, so we make a trap and spring it on him."

Shaking your head, you pressed your hands to the page of the book, seeing it engulf in golden light, before a headache hit like the Hogwarts express as spells and the location of where to return the magic flooded your mind.

The book was gone when the light faded, getting Anne and Sebastian to side glance. "Was that a good thing?"

You nodded. "I have all the knowledge contained in it and now Salazar can't get a hold of it."

     As time when on, you began to notice you were slowly getting stronger, but you also realized that plants were beginning to dry up from lack of water, no matter how much they got and you were being to be plagued by headaches. You could even feel your friends emotions whenever they were near as if they were your own. 

Ominis was taking notice of it and trying not to ask, even when he was burning with worry and fear. 

"You might as well ask, I can practically feel you wanting to." 

"That's still weird," Ominis replied as he sat down beside you. "We heard Salazar is raising an army to attack the school." 

You nodded. "Yes, he'll be here in a few days."

"Are you sure you're okay?"  

He shifted to face you a little more, the motion drawing your attention from the rain.

"I'm not sure anymore. The first couple days, it was easy to know who's emotions I was feeling, but they're muddled now. I've also noticed it's been raining more than I've ever seen it-"

He slid his hand to the side of your face and turned it to face him. "It's not your fault."

"It is actually. This magic is connecting me to everything in the universe, and connecting it to me."

It was nice of him to try lessening your role in what was happening, even when it was fruitless.   

"So, you're making it rain?"

You looked at him when he moved to press his palm to the window. His milky eyes stared forward, the droplets on the pane reflected in them. 

"Everyone is," you whispered, getting his head to turn towards you, knocking your noses against each other. "Close your eyes."

He hesitated, but closed them.

Carefully cupping the sides of his face, you moved it so you could press a kiss to each eyelid, pushing the smallest bit of magic into each one.

"Just in case-"

He shook his head, his arms pulling you against him. "No, you're going to be fine."

You weren't entirely sure. Even if you could give the magic back, could you go back to being the same person you were before?   

You inhaled sharply, feeling him bury his fingers into your hair. "I feel like I'm losing myself, Ominis."

His hold tightened as if knowing you had all along.

"Once all of this is over," he pulled back, opening his eyes showing a pair of clear silver blue eyes, that blinked rapidly as they realized what they were seeing. "I can...I-"

"You told me you wish you could see me everyday," you reminded, seeing his expression melt into a smile. "This is my promise to complete that wish." 

At least for as long as you can. 

He nodded, happiness filling him before he kissed you, instantly wiping everything from your mind.

You pulled back, looking up at him as he smiled, his fingers tracing along your cheek, before he noticed the trail of blood sliding from your nose.

"What's happening?" He already pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it under your nose. "Is this from using that magic?"

Knowing you can't hide it, you nodded.

"Then why did you-"

"The only reason why I haven't lost my mind, is because of you. Neither of us minded you being blind, but I wanted to share the beauty of the world with you once all of this is over. It gives me something to look forward to. Some hope."

More importantly, it give him hope. Which he was quickly losing, though he tried hard to ignore.   

He nodded. "It would have just been easier to tell me about it, but now that you've done it. I'm going to make the most of it, to which you better be there with me."

It seemed he saw through what you were trying to do and decided to do the same thing for you.  

"Part of the friend rulebook?"

He laughed as he shook his head. "No, part of a rulebook that's just for us." He brushed your hair behind your ears, a strange but strong emotion bubbling up within him. "I love you."

Your eyes locked immediately as he watched a spark appear in yours, something he hadn't seemed to feel or hear in your voice for a little bit. 

"I love you too."

He sighed with relief before hugging you to him, as his giddiness filled you with the same, getting you to laugh. 

The door opened as Sebastian and Anne walked into the room. "Come on you two, get better timing."

Just like always, Anne smacked Sebastian for being rude. "You're always walking in on them."

Sebastian cocked his head when he saw the bloody handkerchief in Ominis's hand. "What happened?"

"She had a nose bleed," Ominis replied, drawing their attention when his eyes looking right at both of them.

"Can you see us?" Sebastian asked, walking over and staring at his eyes from an inch away.

"Are you going to kiss him?" Anne teased, pushing her brother back. "Is this what caused her nose bleed?"

Ominis nodded. "Yeah, which is why I don't think you should use it."

"I have to," you replied, feeling him get upset. "But I promise not to use it until then."

That didn't sit right with any of them, but they couldn't exactly fight you on it.

.....

Previous

Next

[kotlc-deleted-scenes]

Keeper Summer Week #1

Deleted Original Prologue from Keeper of the Lost Cities 

I wrote this scene because I wanted the beginning of Keeper of the Lost Cities to feel mysterious and ominous. But I decided it didn't work for readers to have more knowledge about Sophie's past than Sophie did. It made her character feel a bit annoying, since it took her so long to catch up to everyone else. So I cut this and made the series third-person limited (meaning I only include a scene if Sophie is in it). Oh, and you may notice that a few of the details about Prentice's memory break have changed since I wrote this prologue. Writing is rewriting. (And rewriting again and again. And again!) 

—Shannon 

NO MATCH. 

The two words flashed red across the screen like a taunt, tempting Quinlin to fling the palm-size gadget off the rooftop and let it shatter into a million pieces below. 

Somehow he fought the urge, instead taking another slow, deep breath before pressing the final sequence of buttons. 

"Please work," he begged the tiny screen as he ran his fingers across his sweat-streaked forehead. 

Talking to inanimate objects—a sure sign of desperation. A second later the screen flashed with the words UNABLE TO PROCESS. 

Quinlin clenched the blinking square in his fist, like that would somehow make it cooperate. When it didn't help, he switched it off and shoved the gadget deep into the pocket of his cape and glanced up at the sky. 

Time to deliver the bad news.

The night was just starting to fade into the deep blue glow of early dawn, and one by one the stars were winking away. Alden would be there any minute. But as the seconds dragged by, Quinlin could only pace the length of the rooftop and wait. 

Back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

A flash of light stopped him in his tracks, and a tall figure in a dark gray cape shimmered onto the rooftop next to him. 

"I came as soon as I could," Alden apologized as he smoothed his dark wavy hair. His vibrant teal eyes shone even in the dim light. "What did you find?" 

Quinlin tried to force out the words. When they wouldn't come, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the gadget, holding it out to Alden. "See for yourself." 

Alden tapped the screen, and a hologram appeared-the twisted double helix of a DNA strand glowing in the darkness. 

"Well... this is a surprise," Alden whispered. A shadow of concern was painted across his handsome face. "Have you shown this to anyone?" 

"Only you." 

"Good. Let's keep it that way." 

Quinlin nodded. 

"You couldn't get anything else?" Alden asked, still studying the hologram. 

"I tried," Quinlin assured him. "But Prentice's mind was par- ticularly strong. I had to shatter his sanity in order to extract the one piece I recovered." 

Alden nodded gravely. "Such a waste." He held the hologram closer to his face, his eyes narrowing. "I'm no expert on these, but this one looks strange, doesn't it?" 

"It's been altered somehow," Quinlin agreed. "The system couldn't even process it." Frustration dripped off every word. 

Alden took a turn at pacing. "I assume there was no match…”

Quinlin laughed darkly. "I ran it five times." 

Alden ran it a sixth to be sure. "Well... at least we know it's a girl." 

They both fell silent, lost in their own thoughts. 

"What do you think it means?" Quinlin finally whispered into the darkness. 

"I have no idea," Alden admitted. He touched the center of the screen, and the hologram disappeared. "But I need to find her." 

"You really think you can?" Quinlin asked. “Where will you look?" 

"I'm not entirely sure. Though... I suppose if I wanted to hide a child, there's one place I would be fairly certain no one would search." 

Quinlin sucked in a breath. "You don't mean…”

Alden nodded. "It seems like the best place to start." 

"But... there are so many of them—and she could be anywhere." 

"It won't be easy," Alden agreed. "I'll probably have to wait until her abilities develop before I can truly identify her." 

"That will take years," Quinlin warned. 

"I know. We'll all have to be patient." 

Quinlin looked away. "The poor child…” 

A rueful smile spread across Alden's lips. "Oh, they're not all bad." 

"Still. To be raised by humans." Quinlin cringed just saying the word. 

Alden's teal eyes twinkled mysteriously as he pulled a pathfinder from his pocket and held the crystal out into the first rays of dawn. A single beam of light was refracted toward the ground. "Who knows? Maybe it will be good for her," he said, mostly to himself, before glancing at Quinlin. "I'll let you know when I find her." 

"Don't you mean if you find her?" Quinlin couldn't help asking. 

Alden shook his head. "Oh, I will find her. I just don't know what we'll do with her once I do." He gave a half bow and stepped into the beam of light from his wand. 

His body glittered for a second and then vanished. 

[wild-ride-to-headcanons]

As I figure out all the details in my tfp and rescue bots rewrite, I think I’m gonna test my writing by uploading chapters of TFP AU’s that I’ve been writing.

This one is heavily inspired by warrior cats.

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“Long ago, our world used to be ruled by two dominant species. Humans and Ailurans. The two species of equal intelligence, battled for land.” They looked the same for the most part, almost making you wonder why they were deemed a different species. Other than their beliefs, the main difference was what the Ailurans could do. They're like werewolves,to a fault, though you could jokingly call them werecats. The Ailurans have a unique ability to shift into a feline form, looking like domestic house cats, but much bigger and stronger with the intelligence of a human.

Back to the conflict between the Humans and Ailurans. “Humans feared the Ailurans and their strength, concerned that their beliefs would lead them to attack. So the Humans attacked first, destroying their villages and breaking apart their clans. So the Ailurans retaliated, they raided Human settlements, killed their kind, and destroyed all they could. The two species fought for many generations, with the Ailurans having the upper hand thanks to their strength and senses.

Well, they had the upper hand till the humans discovered something. This something was devastating, almost like a plague spreading through the shifting species. If you weren't felled by the plague, then you were turned into mindless monsters. The plague changed the course of the war, driving the Ailurans to near extinction. Eventually the Ailurans became desperate enough, for survival, they agreed to a peace treaty.

Though there was still tension between the two races, and every now and then skirmishes would happen, they found true peace and were able to live together in harmony. Eventually most clans and tribes of Ailurans conjoined with those of the humans, and now we live together in harmony.”

“Bah, too sappy ending!” Her little cub stuck his tongue out, making a disgusted face.

June couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips. “Well it's a true story, I don’t control how it ends.'' Sure, most mothers would look upon her and frown, the story of her kind wasn't the most child friendly, but June learned these types of stories were the only ones Jack would actually listen to.

The youngling huffed, dramatically pouting as he did “where's dad?” he went back to the subject she tried to distract him from.

June hid her frown “He’s having to work a long night tonight.” she hoped.

Jack gave her a questioning look, but it was soon broken with a yawn. He stretched his limbs, showing off his more feline features.

June smiled at her little cub, knowing that she'd have to get his shifting under control soon. At such a young age, with his body still developing, it could lead to issues in the future if he stayed between forms like he is now.

She heard a knock at the front door.

June cupped her son’s little face “it's time for bed little one,” she gently kissed his forehead “Goodnight, my cub.”

Jack yawned again, snuggling closer to his mouse plushie “Night night momma.”

June smiled, pulling his blanket over his little body. She turned off his light, making sure his nightlight was still on, before quietly closing his door.

Finally she went to answer the front door.

It was eerily quiet. She stood in the center of a clearing, surrounded by all sorts of flora. Mostly green mixed with warm colors. The trees swayed in a wind she could not feel, and light shined from an ethereal source above. She knew it was night though, so either the young Ailuran was going crazy or was just simply dreaming, hopefully the latter. No scent hit her nose, and all the noise she could hear was her own heartbeat.

Suddenly the ground began to shift, whispers of an unknown language chanted beyond her sight. in front of her, the thick wall of greenery parted, showing her a path to a new area. Carefully she moved forward, her eyes darting, trying to spot any dangers. Thankfully it didn't seem like anything was there to attack, so with more confidence she picked her pace up to a trot.

The path, while windy, was short. The youngling arrived at a new clearing, a pond sat in the middle, with a rock wall allowing water to flow down it. The water was crystal clear, pebbles of all shapes and sizes lined the bottom, lily’s along with a few other floating plants, drifted at the top. Inside the pond, koi fish moved together in a graceful dance.

The youngling was so entranced by the fish, she didn't notice the large Ailuran observing her from the top of the rock wall. He was clearly bigger than her, his fur long and white. Sparkling as if he had stars within his coat. His eyes, though slightly judgemental, held a certain fondness in them.

“Miko” he gently called, trying not to spook the young Ailuran. She still jumped a little, but calmed down once she realized what he was.

“Yes?’ Miko called back, awed by his presence.

“Listen carefully youngling,” his voice began to blend in with others, “for there is a prophecy that you need to fulfill.”

Miko’s heart skipped a beat. A prophecy, for her? It was rare for the clan of Ailurans to receive a prophecy, and when they did usually it was received by the leader and their healers, sometimes by fully grown warriors. It's been a long time since an apprentice, such as herself, received any important task from a Fallen.

Before she could speak, the Fallen continued on “this is a task of great importance, you may as be the future of our kind.” He observed her reaction.

With wide eyes, Miko asked “what? What do you mean? What is needed of me?”

The Fallen’s ears twitched “In time, you will come to understand what you will need to do, but you will have to figure out your task on your own.” He continued on, ignoring her confused look “your leader knows of this task, and agrees you are the perfect fit for this, when you wake, go and speak with her.” with his final words, the Fallen faded away.

Miko woke up with a start.

Blearily she looked around the dim room, her eyes still adjusting to the dark, the other apprentices still sound asleep in their bunks. Quietly, Miko stretched to awaken her sleeping muscles. Then she slipped out of the top bunk, silently landing on the floor, making sure to not awaken the apprentice that slept on the bottom. Thankfully Miko was best suited for stealth, even being able to slip by fully trained warriors unnoticed, not that she needs to. Once she left the bunkroom, Miko quickly entered the changing room, putting on clothes more suitable for a meeting with her leader. After fixing her hair, along with a few other things, she exited the Apprentice house.

She shifted into her larger feline form. She was slender, though you could clearly see muscle under black fur. Her coat shined with health, spiking back, giving her a sharp look. She quickly moved through her clan’s grounds, used to all the vegetation that hid the other house for the other classes. The biggest of the homes belonged to the warrior class, she could spot a few of the milling about despite how early it was. The sun wasn't even out. The more colorful of the homes was the nursery, their queens would stay with their cubs until they were old enough to become apprentices, and pregnant queens would move there once they were too pregnant to safely fulfill their duties. Miko could smell their milk from here. A little farther ahead was the elders home, where clan members would go once they were too old to fulfill their duties. Probably an apprentice's least favorite place in the clan. After that was the medicine den, medicine cats who were chosen by the Fallen would stay there, treating sick or injured clan members. Miko had many memories of this place. Finally she spotted the home where the leader and, if they had one, their mate would stay in. It was probably the most regal of the homes here.

Miko spotted a few warriors standing guard, amongst them was her mentor, who was heading towards her. He was bigger than most, his fluffy coat a lovely cream color, though streaks of white began to show. His light green eyes fixed on her.

“I’m surprised you're up this early,” He greeted her “is something up?”

“No,” she didn't know if she was allowed to share her dream “I just need to speak with Fallon.”

She could see the confused look in his eyes “you know apprentices can only speak with their leader when summoned,” there was a slight scolding tone to his voice, “if there's any issue you need to tell me, and I’ll deem if it's important enough to be brought up with her.”4

Before Miko could speak again, their leader exited her home. She was in her humanoid form, tidy as always.calmly she walked up to the two, a hint of a smile upon her face.

“Relax Isamu, she has been summoned” their leaders eyed the warrior “actually, I need both of you to follow me.” she turned around and quickly headed back inside her home.

Isamu gave Miko a questioning look before both of them followed their leader. The room they were greeted to, was a cozy meeting room of sorts, Fallon was already sitting in a plush looking seat. She motioned for them to sit, which they did, and she quickly explained to Isamu what was going on.

With that out of the way, Fallon began explaining what was going to happen to Miko “You are being sent to America.”

Miko’s heart froze. This had to be a joke, America was so far away! She barely paid attention as her Leader and Mentor began discussing the details of her trip, if it was a trip at all. Then, before she knew it, her leaders asked if she had any questions.

She had one “when will I be back?” Miko hesitantly asked.

Her leader gave her an unreadable look “it is unknown when you'll come back, if at all.” that practically confirmed her worst fears, is she being kicked out of the clan?

“What about her training? She’s close to earning her warrior title” Her mentor questioned, she had a feeling that he could read her fears.

Their leader simply shrugged “her training is up to her now, as for becoming a warrior that's for the Fallen to decide .

Then before Miko realized it, she was being sent to pack her bags.

[ninjagirlstar5]

You've seen me ramble about the problems with Kanade and Chapter 3, so you know how I feel. It really does feel like LINUJ went for pure shock value instead of anything narratively satisfying. I like your take on the idea, where instead of just the shock and horror, there's actual purpose and character behind it.

The twins do really seem like they would be a great cautionary tale of mutual toxicity and obsession, and I like the idea of them reuniting only because there were people in need during The Tragedy.

And I admit I'm biased, but I'm always happy to see more stories where Hibiki actually survives ^^

OH yeah, I have. I've read most (if not all) of those asks on the ASOOT blog as they were coming out and it made me realize how bad SDRA2's Chapter 3 is. And when I actually sat down to play the game myself with my friend, I went from knowing that Chapter 3 is bad to actually experiencing how bad it was for myself. Like, it went from, "Oh, it's kinda okay so far, but I know the shoe is gonna drop at some point-" to "OH WOW, it really IS that bad, dear lord." Like, Jesus Christ, this chapter was...a lot and yet full of nothing at the same time beyond just shock value. It's not as if the whole serial killer thing couldn't have worked, the problem is that all the people that's closely connected to the case gets axed all in one go, and it's kinda just...never brought up again. Like, come on. If you're going to go THAT far, at least give it SOME kind of importance to a character connected to this shitshow, like Hibiki. Who got killed off alongside Kanade. Like, thanks, I hate it. There's so many things wrong with Chapter 3 and how Kanade was handled that the best thing to do for both is to just rewrite it all from the ground up. So when my brain started giving me ideas on how it could be rewritten, I decided I needed to get it out of my system and tried to approach it in a more human and complicated way than something as twistedly evil to the point of shock value. Kanade is at least more pitiable here since you can actually understand her on SOME level but never excuse her actions as she's still toxic in her right towards Hibiki (who's also toxic to her in return). She's just not being a serial killer about it.

AND YEAH, that's pretty much what I was going for for them. I wanted to keep the nuances of their relationship on how they're mutually toxic to one another since that's very interesting to see. There's no such thing as a "perfect" victim, as there are many that have done messed up things in response to what they've been put through but still desperately needing help or even an intervention from a reasonable authority figure, and Hibiki and Kanade could've been great examples of that. But one actively chooses to change while the other doesn't...at least in one of the interpretations of how their rewritten relationship could end as would be revealed in the Chapter 6 version of this. Ngl, I wasn't sure which interpretation I liked more as I can see both versions happening, with Kanade and Hibiki coming back together through the Tragedy as some events are able to give people an opportunity to bond and mend what's broken back together again, while other times not even a world-wide disaster will get someone to change and things remain broken due to one side having an unwillingness to hold themselves accountable for their own actions. Both are feasible in this rewritten version and I decided to let this be something for other people to decide for themselves on whether or not Kanade and Hibiki can mend their relationship after being separated for so long and if the Tragedy can bring them back together through their charity events. After all, some people have their limits and Kanade still did a lot of horrible things to other people, so it really depends on whether or not you'd believe it'd possible for them to repair their relationship, even after so many years of not talking to one another. A possible rebuilt of their relationship that unfortunately gets nipped in the bud thanks to Mikado's killing game reverting them back to a state where their old toxic behavior was at it's peak, and one of them ending up killing and getting executed because of it. Either way, we could've had doomed siblings instead of...whatever the fuck canon is.

And trust me, me and my friend are right with you on that. We really wished Hibiki had survived and complain about it every now and then whenever we bring up Kanade and Chapter 3. It's just...such a waste to kill her off like that. My girl deserved better.