#it's a shame I Just missed demon day's anniversary

[dynamic-swap-au-archive]

I'd like to offer gorillaz fans (and Potential gorillaz fans) another resource that I've spent over a year creating and perfecting.

The Gorillaz !

This playlist is, to the best of my ability, Every Single piece of gorillaz content that can be found on youtube in story order.

all of the music videos, all of the indents, all of the interviews, animations, radio shows, news specials, podcasts, audio books, tiktoks, Everything.

on top of that ! I made the decision to include select fan content! because Frankly the gorillaz fandom is unimaginably talented and creative. this includes Fully animating several music videos that were cancelled, but given to us in animatic form, original animations, animatics, and storyboards, fan visualizers and recreations of live visuals, even voice fan dubs for written material like the interviews and novels.

and more than that, with the (incredible) fan content that was available I've Also been able to flesh out the stories of each phase! a decision I made due to the plastic beach, the third album, never getting to finish the story officially (leading to the band breaking up and coming back 7 years later).

I'm so proud of what I've been able to do with it ! and even happier to share the picture I've been able to make as a whole :>

below the cut I'm going to include several other playlists that are based on this one, but made to be more digestible and less intimidating for newcomers ! as well as many other resources to fill in the gaps that this playlist can't ! (namely the written material)

thank you ! and I hope I can share something I love with all of you !

First is the simplest ! all of the music videos in order ! (plus a Few indents, because I can't help myself): [Link]

this obviously means that you lose out on quite a bit of context, as much of who the characters are as People and their relationships together are in the extra material (especially the shorts and interviews). BUT

this is the most Accessible, and also really convenient if you just want to vibe to the music. if you're not sure if you want to commit this kind of time to a cartoon band, consider checking this out! you may find yourself interested enough to learn more, or you may just have a good time and feel satisfied with what you've seen ! either way I'd be honored to have helped :>

Second, the Midpoint between these two extremes !: Phase 1-3 [Link] Phase 4-7 [Link]

these Include extra material like the shorts and animation, but Cuts Out some of the longer content like the podcasts and interviews! you can still get a pretty good idea about what happens in the story of each phase watching this, but it's not bogged down by videos that are hours long.

it'll give you a clearer picture of what's going on, include fun side content, while being less intimidating than the Full playlist. this is what I use to show my friends gorillaz !

alright, so you've got just the music videos and just the short stuff, now lets try just the Long stuff. all of the interviews, radio shows, podcasts, Etc: [Link]

maybe you've used my last playlists and now you'd like to listen to some of those long form videos you missed out on. maybe you just want to listen to these characters talk because it's Nice. either way, it's all here :> (I know, because I had to upload some of them myself)

Pirate Radio: [Link]

it's all here with One technical exception. pirate radio was the serial radio show for plastic beach/phase 3, that gave us insight into murdoc's frame of mind as a character. it Also used copywriten music. the reuploads on youtube cut the music out (likely because they wouldn't be available otherwise), while this google drive has the full unedited audio files if anyone would be interested!

this one may seem redundant, but I promise it isn't. All of the gorillaz albums in order: [Link]

this playlist (for the most part) doesn't Have any visuals, it's Only the music.

likewise, all of the music in the previous playlists are only those songs that Have visuals (official or fan made), which means not all of gorillaz's music is present! which is exactly what this is for :>

you have every album in order, filling in the gaps of what's been missed, As Well As special albums that are Associated with gorillaz, and gorillaz' guest appearances in other people's music !

now we're out of my playlists and into other resources :>

Lobotomy Pop: [Link]

this is a website that's worked for years to preserve and organize Every Single written interview gorillaz has ever done ! it's an invaluable resource and really just very cool.

it also categorizes several other things ! such as listing out all of the personal playlists the gorillaz members have put out over the years, or every profile that's ever been written for the characters ! it's very much so worth checking out as a fan.

Gorillaz Art Archive: [Link]

exactly what is says on the tin ! this is a google drive that's attempting to archive Every Single piece of official gorillaz art that was released from phase 1 in 2001, to phase 5 in 2018. it is Massive and it's such a joy to have access to

The Kong Files: [Link]

if you were wondering why the art archive stopped at 2018, this would be why ! the kong files has much the same goal, but instead picking up at phase 6 and continuing on Theoretically forever ! or at least it's kept up with all of phase 7

that said ! the kong files is attempting to document Everything relating to those phases. so all of the social media, all of the music videos, all of the written text, Everything !

I wouldn't try to Only use this for watching phase 6 and 7, but it's an Excellent resource for everything that could fall between the cracks

Rise of the Ogre on Archive dot Com: [Link]

rise of the ogre was an official novel released at the end of demon days (the second album/phase 2), that covered the entire history of the band up until that point! their backstories, how they met each other, what they'd gotten up to in the 10 years they'd known each other, and the shocking event that happened at the very end of the phase and the band's reaction to it. all leading in to plastic beach, (arguably) the Most story heavy phase of them all.

as I understand it, this novel has been out of print for a very long time and is quite expensive to buy second hand. so ! it's been scanned and uploaded here to the archive! there's actually several more scans available in the gorillaz art archive, but this is the most recent (having been uploaded just earlier this year).

Dawn of the Ogre: [Link]

dawn of the ogre is the fanmade sequel to rise of the ogre, attempting to fill in the gaps of what happened at the end of phase 3, the 7 year gap, and up to the (then) newest point of canon.

this is, of course, unofficial. so this is essentially fancy fanfiction. But it's extremely well done fanfiction that happens to be novel length, attempting to emulate the style of the original novel, and is fully illustrated. along with being available completely for free!

I'd definitely give it a shot, if you're the type of person who's already read rise of the ogre

the gorillaz wiki !: [Link]

I have no clue what the fandom thinks about it, but it was absolutely invaluable both in making my playlist, and becoming a fan at all. with all the work I've done my hope is that people won't need to go digging for themselves, but the Option is certainly always nice !

I'd Especially like to highlight this page [Link] which has transcriptions for all of the pirate radio show episodes !

I feel like there's a lot to find here :>

and of course, my own dynamic swap au archive! [Link]

if you've fallen in love with gorillaz and are desperate for more to sink your teeth into, then I couldn't recommend this enough !

keep in mind that these resources will continue updating ! as new music is created and new fan content is made! I'm keeping my eyes out on a fan project for a fully animated mv right now that I'm sure will make it to my playlists one day :>

[neptune-cinths]

Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy, Leviathan

entry : hi hi !! heres some levi content that i had whipped up recently, apologies if there are any spelling/grammar errors

Okay so, I know all of us know that Levi’s the grand admiral of the navy in devildom. It might be a bit confusing since he’s in his room all the time and super shy and introverted , but here me out here

When Levi puts on his uniform and is in his demon form while he’s putting it on, THAT’S the time where his personality does a complete 180 spin.

His squirming and playing with his fingers when many people would look at him are gone. It’s almost as if they were never there in the first place. His voice is strong and can even be heard down the hall when addressing his subordinates and soldiers.

His head is held high and his arms are crossed together. His eyes are hard and cold, eyeing every soldier in front of him. Seeing if they’re making any mistake.

His purple hair is slicked back and his horns are decorated with small gold trinkets with equally as small rubies, most probably from the treasures that the sunken pirate ships had brought with them.

A dark grey coat had been slung over his shoulders, his collar popping out. The gold tassels on his shirt’s shoulders and the diamond shaped golden buttons he has on make for an excellent touch. On the left side of his shirt are all the medals he had received and won, with varying importance being signified with the colors it had on.

The neckline had swirls of gold on it, with RAD’s signature medal at the bottom. His gloves were the same color as his coat and had small outlines of the symbol of envy around it, making a chain of orange around the ends of the glove.

He had on black pants with the same small orange symbols making a ring around the end of each pant leg. His tail would be sticking out, much longer and larger than usual.

He would usually wear this type of attire to formal navy occasions, one example would be if it was an anniversary of the establishment of Hell’s Navy. The Admiral would still prefer to not mingle around any of his subordinates or his colleagues, usually staying in the far back nursing a cup of Demonus.

Though, if someone were to strike up a conversation with him, his answers would be short and straight to the point. It also doesn’t matter if it’s one of his brothers or Lord Diavolo himself, he’ll still keep up the “strong and cold Grand Admiral” facade.

If he isn’t at the back watching everyone, then he’d be at his private office sorting out the various files that had been piling up on his desk. His mind wanders to when this normie infested party would end and how the new episode of [insert long anime title here]‘s newest episode just came out exactly 1 hour, 37 minutes and 48 seconds ago. Shame that he had to go this party and miss out on such good content.

I’m also pretty sure that he’d have some sort of ruri / anime themed item inside one of his desk’s drawers. It would probably be a back up pen if ever his ran out or just a small figurine to get him going into the day.

Levi as an Admiral is strict!! He will not hesitate to call someone out in front of everyone if they’re disrespecting him, his brothers or you!! He will also correct his subordinates if they said something that’s been recently been disproven or something that’s incorrect.

Levi isn’t quick to anger when he’s in his uniform, but it really depends on a situation. If it’s something very important or if it’s something that they have all been collectively working on for centuries and someone messed it up somehow, hooo boy they’ll be seeing why he’s called the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy.

On the other hand, if it’s something small and insignificant, then they’ll be spared and won’t be humiliated in front of everyone.

He is a master strategist and that’s probably one of the reasons why he’s so good at games. He’s able to think about all the possibilities that the enemy might do to hurt the seas of the Devildom and normally draws out a plan that catches almost all of those possibilities. But, he still has a back up plan if ever things don’t go as planned.

This didn’t come out of nowhere as well, he took his experiences from when he was a General in the Celestial Realm’s army and applied it to the Navy. Although, he did have to tweak certain aspects about his plans in the earlier centuries of him being an admiral. He had made mistakes at first since he was new to the game, but he adapted pretty quickly.

He also had to learn about the topography of Devildom’s islands and the different sea creatures.

He had to learn demon courtesy and how to act/converse with both high class demons and low class demons. All from our royal butler, Barbatos!

Though, Levi still gets the shivers whenever he thinks about that time

All in all, Grand Admiral! Leviathan is strict and needs all your respect, but still has some of that otaku energy in him.

End

—————————————

afterthoughts : if any of my irls see this;; no you don’t !! ty again for reading if you made to to the end !

[ga-yuu]

I thought I would have some fun! Since IkeGen’s 2nd anniversary is just around the corner, and mostly likely the next route would of Kagetoki. I was just scrolling through twitter to pass time,(because that’s my life now, since the lockdown started again!) I found something interesting!

Yeah! I missed it. So I decided to translate it now. So basically, this is the reward for making Kagetoki, the 9th best man in the Genjiden 1st anniversary election. Its called ‘Kagetoki Kagekini News.’ The newscaster, Kagetoki, will be reporting on the events of the Genji Den. So let’s start!!!!

Breaking News!! Suspect Yoshitsune and two others have been detained by a certain Karasu Tengu!

Kagetoki: “The suspects Minamoto no Yoshitsune, Nasu no Yoichi, and Musashibo Benkei have been taken into custody by a certain Karasu Tengu, the victim. The three are suspected of breaking the victim's incense burner and were planning to cover up the crime. Let us hope for a swift and severe punishment.”

Yoshitsune: "There is no room for apologies. I'm sorry, Kurama. I had no idea that an incense burner was so fragile. --Instead, let me prepare a new shiny object that you like. I don't know if I have the discernment to choose such a thing.”

Yoichi: "Hey, how come they even know that we were trying cover-up? Where did you see it?　No, actually I feel bad too. I'm sure you'll be happy to know that I'm not the only one. ......But I underestimated Yoshitsune-sama's honesty.”

Benkei: “ Yoshitsune-sama is pure and innocent. More importantly, Kagetoki, your desire for severe punishment is entirely your own personal wish!　You should be more impartial in your reporting. ...and Kurama. I'm sorry. I'll make you some tasty snacks, so please forgive us for now.”

Kurama: "You thought you could pull the wool over my eyes, you fool. I will have that new shiny object and those delicious sake and snacks. But if it's not to my liking, you'll have to know that I won't let you get away with it. ...First of all, Sueharu, bring me a list of the items you're offering.”

Sueharu: "Yes, yes, you're a product expert, aren't you? If you ask me, I'll prepare first-class products for you (at first-class prices, of course.) Oh, you're ordering everything from here to here?　That's Yoshitsune-sama and Kurama!　--Thank you again for everything.”

........................

Breaking News!!! The Two Minamoto brothers has been arrested. An epic sibling rivalry led to an explosion!

Kagetoki: "Suspects Minamoto no Yoritomo and Minamoto no Yoshitsune have been arrested. According to eyewitnesses, the two were staring at each other with their swords drawn when suddenly a vacant house in the vicinity exploded and scattered. They are suspected to be related. ...Is this a case of involvement due to an epic sibling quarrel?”

Yoshitsune: "I didn't expect to be arrested every day. But this time I plead not guilty. It is true that I myself and Yoritomo-sama were pointing swords at each other, but the explosion that followed is beyond my knowledge. ...And please don't call it a brotherly quarrel.”

Yoritomo: "You've got some nerve arresting me here. But I'm not guilty either. I ran into Yoshitsune, who was scouting in Kamakura, and I drew my sword. I saw a black shadow just before the house was blown up. I think we should investigate him first...... And don't call it a sibling rivalry.”

Shigehira: "--and why is Yoritomo-sama being arrested!　I'm not sure what to make of this, but I'm sure it's something that's going to be a big deal for the Shogunate.  ...... A mysterious black shadow, then. I'm sure you'll be happy to know that I'm not the only one who has a problem with this.”

Morinaga: "What is this feeling? When I heard that Yoritomo-sama was arrested for fighting with his brother, I naturally smiled. ...Oh, I'm sorry, can you please edit out that sentence?　I think Yoritomo-sama is going to say something to me. And I understand about the investigation. Let's do our best, Shigehira.”

..................

Further News. The real perpetrator of the explosion has been arrested.

Kagetoki: "Continuing news. The real culprit in the bombing of the vacant house yesterday has been arrested. The suspect is Abe no Yasuchika, as most of us expected. He is suspected of releasing demons throughout Kamakura. The suspect made a joking statement, saying that he had no ill will toward the demons.”

Yasuchika: "Oh no, I really didn't mean to offend you.　I was just going for a light walk and because the newly captured demon wanted to play outside. But when I saw Yoritomo-sama and Yoshitsune-sama having a sibling quarrel, I got scared and accidentally popped him!”

Ibuki: "You accidentally popped it. ...That looks like a pretty interesting toy. Hey Yasuchika, let me borrow that demon. You need a walk, don't you?　I'll take you out somewhere more exciting and with a better view.”

Akihito: "Oh dear. I don't know what kind of "exciting" walk we'll have if Ibuki is in charge. Anyway, Kagetoki, what do you mean most of us were right?　Yasuchika is such a good and honest boy. ...You think so too, don't you?”

Tamamo: "Kagetoki, you're completely right about this. If something happens, it's usually Yasuchika's or Ibuki's fault, let's just say that. ...Hmm?　You think I'm going to cause a scene?　I don't think so. Whenever I mess with you, it's always out of love, right?”

...............................

Latest News!! Kajiwara Kagetoki, the suspect has been caught red-handed. .....Huh?

Kagetoki: "Is this the last news? Well, let's end with a spectacular revelation. In fact, Yoritomo-sama looks like a *beep*, Shigehira is a *beep*, and Morinaga is a *beep*, excuse me, there seems to be some kind of regulated sound. And then came the breaking news. The suspect, Kajiwara Kagetoki, has been arrested. ...Huh?”

Kagetoki: "It seems that I am suspected of leaking confidential information. It is a shame that I am a whistleblower for the Shogunate. I am indeed a member of the Shogunate, but in this moment, I am a man who lives to report the truth. Don't worry, I will keep my revelations to a level that will avoid social extermination.”

Shigehira: "Nothing is safe!　Such an embarrassing secret of mine... I mean, why did Kagetoki-san know about that thing in the first place?　I'm afraid of his normal information gathering ability. Up until now, I've been able to rely on him because he's on my side, but I can't believe how troublesome he'll be if someone gets in his way...”

Yoichi: "Wow, this is interesting. I'd like to say ......, but I'm wondering when the target will turn on us. I'm sorry for Shigehira, but I'll pray that he doesn't get caught up in this. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear that.”

Yoritomo: "I told you to go make one last splash, but here you are. Now you are angry that Morinaga touched the glasses you dropped this morning with his bare hands and put his fingerprints on them. I'll forgive you if you want to take revenge on Morinaga personally. The only thing I don't understand is why you revealed it to me first.”

Morinaga: "Isn't it because Yoritomo-sama blew it out loud when I picked up his glasses?　But it seems that I was lucky enough to avoid being exposed. Oh, by the way, Kagetoki, here's an apology for you. Here are your new glasses!”

Kagetoki: "I will also request additional precious books from the Song Dynasty for Morinaga. ...Well, I guess it's time for me to finish. If my dog can wait properly, the news may come back to me again someday. You can wait until then, right?　--I'll see you back here someday.”

[gloves94]

Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 10

Warnings: None   Rating: PG-13   Pairings: Zuko/OC   Summary:  “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.” “No.” He said softly. “Not everything…”  His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. “I guess not.” She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes.

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

"This is what I've been missing." Iroh sighed happily as he received a relaxing massage. He could feel the tension on his shoulder's easing as the masseuse worked wonders on his knotted aching muscles.

"Who knew being lost at sea for three weeks with no food or water, and sea vultures waiting to pluck out your liver could make one so tense?" he said as he sighed in satisfaction.

The resort was beyond relaxing. The temperature was hot, soothing, yet not suffocating. Plum blossoms still bloomed here leaving a trail of lost flowers and petals to be carried away dancing with the wind.

"I can't believe I did that twice," Tsai said more to herself as she sat on a low table in the room writing with a large ink brush on a parchment she would send to her brother the corner of her eye twitching in annoyance. Honestly if she could survive being stuck on a small boat with Prince Zuko and Uncle Iroh without any of them killing each other she could survive anything.

xxx

Being at sea had been a nightmare, but it had been better than when she endured it by herself. Iroh would tell them stories about the war and about the good old times that he had shared with her grandfather. He would tell jokes and Tsai and him would pass time singing old sailor tunes.

Sometimes to pass time they would play Tic Tac Toe with some of the nuts and bolts that were lying around the floor of the small ship. Zuko would always rage whenever he lost against her.

"You're cheating!" "I don't want to play this stupid game anymore!" He would seethe in anger. Simply making Tsai laugh, he was such a sore loser.

At night the three would look at the stars and think of names for the constellations and stories behind them.

"That one looks like a platypus bear!" Tsai pointed "It's eating honey, do you see it? It's so cute!" "It looks like two dragons mauling each other to death," Zuko said darkly. She turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow in concern and he turned away grumpily, his arms crossed over his chest. Iroh had simply chuckled.

xxx

Iroh turned his head slightly and looked at his unhappy nephew sitting on the floor with his back to the doorway. Tsai had also noticed that Zuko had been in a particularly difficult mood today. She decided it was best to avoid it and try best not to trigger him. It was then that Iroh hopped off the table (he was wearing pants thank the spirits) and approached his brooding nephew sitting cross-legged besides him.

"I see," Iroh suddenly said in understanding. Iroh was funny like that. He could even understand and translate different types of silence. Feeling the air grow heavy Tsai decided to excuse herself and go check the hawkery for any messages of her brother. She tried to meet Zuko's eyes but he kept his head lowered and a conical hat to hide his expression as he brooded.

"It's the anniversary, isn't it?" She heard Iroh said just after she stepped out. She stopped just around the corner. Pressing her back against the other side of the wall.

She thought. What if- she did something nice for him today? She shook her head and went ahead to look for a message from her brother. She was ready to go home. She had had enough adventuring for now. She was ready to return to her governing duties and leg for forgiveness from her parents. she missed her bed, her room, her brother and simply having tea in the garden on the afternoons. Excitement brewed as she thought about being back home. Homesickness really was no joke, specially after being lost at sea- twice.

There were no news from Mecha yet. She blew out a lost strand of hair that had fallen out of place and with her hands on her hips decided on the best idea to keep busy by checking out the Resort's beach. When suddenly the Firehawk came. She recognized the Vice Royal insignia from Yu Dao immediately.

She greeted the bird, gave it a treat and took the message.

Her eyes rapidly took in her brother's words. His message. She scrolled each sentence faster and faster. Her lips parting. Mouth going dry. Heart beating fast. Her back began knotting with anxiety.

She flipped the note and found no other trace of the message. She clutched the letter close to her chest and painfully swallowed the sobs that had began to escape from her trembling lips. Waterfalls of tears slipped down her eyes as her knees gave. The tears just wouldn't stop pouring.

She didn't know how long she sat by the Resort's hawkery. What was she supposed to do now? To say? She couldn't go back home- what was she to do?

It was a little before the sunset when she gathered the strength to rise. She walked towards the beach that was in front of the resort house they three of them were sharing where Tsai had her own bedroom and Zuko and his uncle shared another one. She sat on the sand hunched over hugging her knees, head buried into them. She closed her eyes and let the sound of the sea shore waves lull her.

"Rough day," She heard a familiar voice say next to her. It was more a statement than a question.

Her head hurt, remaining in that position she turned her head to see the prince taking seat next to her in the darkness of the beach. The air was much colder now. It was dark with the exception of the full moon above reflecting just enough moonlight. It was peaceful. Her eyes were swollen from crying so much and her makeup had been smudged around her eyes. She remained silent and turned forward her eyes getting lost in the dark sea before them. Feeling self conscious she lowered her arms and straightened out her back just like she had been taught to her entire life. She took a deep breath of fresh air. Zuko was unsure of what to say. His Uncle had been worried when she had been absent for so long, and then he had been very worried when she missed dinner. Tsai never missed dinner.

"Was it something I said?" Zuko's first instinct was to blame himself. Maybe he had looked at her the wrong way? Made a snide comment? Afterall it wasn't his day either. However, Iroh knew these things. "I think it's beyond us," he commented. His wise eyes fixed on the girl sitting alone at the beach.

He took in a deep breath. Unsure of what to say what to do. What would a normal person do?

"You know... Three years ago today, I was banished," he began in a solemn tone. "I lost it all. I want it back. I want the Avatar, I want my honor, my throne. I want my father not to think I'm worthless," He fisted palmfuls of sand between angrily sand slipping through his fingers.

Normally Tsai would've been more empathetic. Instead her eyes remained fixed on the nothingness before. Hearing a crumbled up noise it was then that he realized she had been clutching something tightly to her chest. She removed the parchment paper and simply handed it to him, her cold eyes not facing him. He uncrumpled it and read:

'Tsai,

You have to make me a promise. No matter what happens. You will not look for me. You will not come home.

You will not respond to this letter.

You will not return home.

You will not seek me out.

I'm afraid I do not write to you with good news. Word of your betrayal to our nation has reached Yu Dao and you have been identified. Mother is beyond reason and absolutely inconsolable. You have broken the heart of our nation. Fire Lord Ozai suspects that our family is planning a coup de'etat against the crown and an uprising against the nation in Yu Dao. Officials have been sniffing around and poking holes in our lives. There are spies everywhere and nobody is safe.

And so they came for dad since they couldn't find you... Because of this I have decided to answer to these false claims and own up to them.

For our nation.

For our family.

For you.

I love you Tsai.

I don't want to put any more pressure on you, but make it count. Make a difference. If any one can change this world. It's you.

Be well, I know that we meet again under better circumstances my dear sister.

Your brother, Mecha'

Now he understood. He shared a moment of silence with her.

She had lost everything. She had lost her home, her nation, her brother. She had nowhere to go and was an outlaw in the eyes of her country and an enemy in the eyes of the others. She had brought shame and dishonor to her family.

She lowered her head once again in an attempt to hide the stray tear that had slipped from the window of her eyes. His emotions were thrown into a whirlpool. This wouldn't have happened if she hadn't come with them, this would not have happened if she hadn't freed the Avatar. She had done that for him. No matter how he saw it he now felt burdened by her demons.

Fate had tied and tangled them up together now and they had been and were currently struggling to stay afloat in the same boat. Zuko felt like he would only be her demise.

She let out a shaky breath, surprised at the skin to skin contact when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She wanted to stop crying, she had to stop crying but she just couldn't. She wondered if this is what he felt like all the time. If this was the burden that he had to carry upon his shoulders. She felt even worse for having just brushed past his demons the first time he brought them up to her.

"Tsai," he suddenly spoke. "I promise you," she turned to look at him. His eyes were blazing in the moonlight. "I'm not going to let anyone or anything hurt you. We're going to get it all back," he said determined. "Our nation, our honor, our families." His eyes were hard. "The only way is to capture the Avatar."

Already vulnerable. Her breath caught when she looked at him, his eyes, there was something about them that was different. The grip he had on her shoulder tightened and she could feel a knot forming in her throat her stomach made an involuntary flip. She looked at him, at his scarred face and then at his lips. Her eyes lingered there for a moment and she found herself unable to speak.

"Come on," He said stroking her upper arm. "Let's go," he helped her to her feet.

Xxx

The next day had been more normal. The three of them had spent the morning at the beach. They wore robes that had been provided by the resort . Zuko sat under the shade of an umbrella grumpily watching with his arms crossed.

Being here was a waste of time. He couldn't afford to be here any more while his Uncle and Tsai played in the ocean. The two were knee deep in the water looking around for sea shells and conches. Iroh had never had a daughter but he assumed this is what it would've been like.

"Look Iroh!" She said picking up a large conch that she had to hold with both of hers hands. It was large and pink with swirls of violet. They had a conversation which was inaudible to Zuko. Last night had been different... he thought to himself as he shifted uncomfortably in the sand. He had always had few friends but he had certainly never divulged such raw emotions to another human being, much less a girl for that matter.

He heard a horn being blown and saw the girl from the colonies and his uncle laughing as she blew into a conch letting the song of the sea play. The two of them shared a laugh.

Some moments later they returned to the living room of the resort house. Iroh smiled happily as he walked in he carefully dumped the contents of the small satchel he was carrying onto the table, the various shells and gifts from the sea tumbling out. Tsai did the same smiling broadly.

"Look at these magnificent shells!" Iroh exclaimed as he held up one of the shells to show Zuko then picked up a conch shell that Tsai had picked out, "I'll enjoy these keepsakes for years to come."

"Do you think we could make them into bracelets?" She suggested. Already thinking that the three could wear a set of cheesy matching seashell accessories. Iroh was about to respond when Zuko interrupted.

Sometimes he thought his uncle loved her more than he loved him and the thought drove him mad.

"We don't need any more useless things!" Zuko snapped angrily as he threw his hands in the air in exasperation at his uncle and the teen. "You two forget, we have to carry everything ourselves now!"

The room grew silent as a strange voice intruded.

"Hello, brother. Uncle."

Zuko whirled around and his eyes narrowed as he glared at his sister, Azula, who was ominously sitting in a dark corner of the room with her feet propped up on the other table in the room.

"What are you doing here?" The scarred teen snarled angrily.

'Brother?! So this was the Fire Nation's princess.' Tsai had only heard rumors about Azula back in Yu Dao. The Upper Circle nobles from the colonies had never seen her. However, the rumors were that she was a fire prodigy; she was rumored to be both beautiful and deathly. She could instantly see the resemblance as both siblings shared the same features, golden eyes, pale faces and thick black hair. Except in contrast to Azula there was something about Zuko that made him seemed more untamed, perhaps. more human was a better way to put it. Azula moved gracefully almost as if every movement had been calculated to perfection and rehearsed. Even her hair was parted perfectly in the middle of her symmetrical face. Not a single hair was out of place.

"In my country, we exchange a pleasant hello before asking questions." Azula snipped in a mock-pleasant tone as she held up a shell then stood up and walked over to the three of them "Have you become uncivilized so soon, Zuzu?"

Tsai couldn't help but giggle at the nickname 'Zuzu, really?'

"Don't call me that!" Zuko hissed furiously, embarrassed at the nickname. His fists clenched at his sides as he glared at her his eyes shifted around he room, he did not want Tsai knowing that was the stupid nickname his sister had given him.

"And you must be Tsai of Yu Dao," Azula raised an eyebrow in intrigued. Her eyes wondered every inch of Tsai's body from her smallest toe to the tip of her auburn hair as they raked in her body. "Oh, We've heard all about you," she said smugly looking down on the other teen. "I've gotta say Zuko, she really is a step down from Mai. Including the tacky red-head," she scoffed. "You could do better," she said maliciously with a wicked grin.

"Hey!" Tsai protested with an angry expression giving a step forward but Iroh held her back grabbing onto her sleeve holding her in place.

"To what do we owe this honor?" Iroh cut in quickly, even though his tone was clearly upset.

"Hmm...must be a family trait. Both of you so quick to the point." Azula mused then smirked cruelly as she shattered a shell in her hand with her tight hand grip, her smirk growing at the angry look Iroh sent her. Tsai was also glaring daggers at her. Her hair wasn't tacky! And more importantly. Who in the hell was Mai? Also just who did she think she was to talk to her like that?

"I've come with a message from home. Father's changed his mind." She played with her hair. "Family is suddenly very important to him. He's heard rumors of plans to overthrow him; treacherous plots," Her eyes landed on the red-head in front of her for a second. The vile smirk on her face stretched even wider at the mention of the treason of the Vice Royal family of Yu Dao.

"Family are the only ones you can trust now" Azula said sweetly then paused briefly as she looked at Zuko, "Father regrets your banishment. He wants you home."

Silence was her only response and her eyes narrowed as she glared at her older brother. Zuko turned away from his sister. Instead he turned to face the open window where the light breeze blew. He looked at the pink plum blossom trees that swayed with the wind. Tsai reached for his arm. There was something she didn't like about this.

"Did you hear me?" She demanded angrily as she ran her fingers through her bangs, "You should be happy. Excited. Grateful. I just gave you great news."

"I'm sure your brother simply needs a moment." Iroh explained as he watched Azula warily his eyes bleeding with suspicion.

"Don't interrupt, Uncle!" the princess snarled at the older man then looked at Zuko condescendingly, "I still haven't heard my thank you. I'm not a messenger. I didn't have to come all this way."

Tsai wasn't sure what to say - what to do. It wasn't her place to speak. This was clearly a family affair that she was meddling in, but she loathed the way that Azula spoke to Iroh.

"Father regrets?" Zuko asked in surprise as he looked at his sister in shock, "He...wants me back?"

"I can see you need time to take this in." Azula commented drily as she started towards the door of the home. "And in regards of you,"she turned and flashed Tsai an intense glare. She couldn't tell if it was one of distaste or interest. It was hard to tell with her maniacal persona.

"You best pray my father takes pity on you. Then again, he's not much of a forgiving man."

Her jaw tightened at her words. Blood running cold.

"I'll come to call on you tomorrow. Good evening."

Zuko stared at the floor blankly as he pondered everything his sister had just said while Iroh watched him worriedly his eyes clouded with concern.

xxx

"We're going home!" Zuko stated excitedly as he packed his belongings up, "After three long years, it's unbelievable!"

Tsai had never seen Zuko in such a good mood. He almost moved like a spring buck almost as if a massive load had been lifted off from his shoulders.

Iroh stared out the window of the small house and stroked his beard thoughtfully, "It is unbelievable. I have never known my brother to regret anything or to be the forgiving kind." He said pensively.

"More like you're going home. And what am I supposed to do?" The girl said upset as she rose from her seat on the ground. "You really think the Fire Lord is going to pardon me for my treachery? Let me family go just like that?"

"Did you listen to Azula? Father's realized how important family is to him!" Zuko retorted in irritation, "He won't hurt you if I ask him to." Zuko said as he packed the little belongings that he had with him. There was something in her gut that twisted uneasily and told her otherwise. She looked at him with uncertainty. "He cares about me!" Zuko said almost with glee.

"I care about you!" Iroh snapped back as he turned to face his obstinate uncle with his arms spread out slightly, "And if Ozai wants you back, well, I think it may not be for the reasons you imagine."

Zuko turned his back on Iroh, his shoulders tense, "You don't know how my father feels about me. You don't know anything!"

"Zuko," Iroh said softly in an attempt to placate the scarred prince, "I only meant that in our family, things are not always what they seem."

"I think you are exactly what you seem!" Zuko snarled as he whirled around to glare at his uncle, "A lazy, mistrustful, shallow old man who's always been jealous of his brother!"

"Hey!" Tsai's voice roared and echoed the small house. She had never raised her voice at somebody like that. It was one thing not to meddle in family affairs, but he had crossed the line. The sad expression on Iroh's face broke her heart. Zuko turned to see the scowl on his face. "Need I remind you have no business here. Colonial pest..." He uttered under his breath.

Her eyes went wide with hurt. And here she thought he had changed. She was so angry at herself. Angry for believing his façade. For thinking he would actually change. For actually allowing herself to develop feelings for him. Zuko stormed out of the small house and into the night. Iroh's heart hurting slightly he sighed and lowered his head.

"Forgive my nephew, he often speaks before he thinks."

Tsai lowered her eyes.

"I don't know how much more I can forgive."

Iroh remained silent.

"Iroh, I don't think I can go with you tomorrow." She spoke after a moment of silence. "Frankly, I don't trust Azula, and I don't believe the Fire Lord to be the forgiving kind. Tomorrow morning I'm taking off on my own."

Iroh simply nodded his head. "I understand. And where will you go?"

She was quiet for a moment. Unsure of what to respond. Where to go. She had lost her home, she had lost everything. She shrugged her arms. "Wherever the wind takes me," she breathed out suddenly feeling the spirit of a bohemian live seem more appealing than a life in prison. "Maybe I'll even be the one to find the Avatar. Who knows?"

"Oh Tsai," Iroh face palmed. "Not you too.." He said with a small frown on his face.

She was quiet for a moment as she pondered her next question.

"Iroh," she began. "Do you-Do you think we are evil? The Fire Nation I mean. When I was in the Water Tribe with the Avatar and his friends. I was called the enemy. People in the streets spat at me and shunned me for sins that are not mine. I tried to explain that everything we did was for the greater good. To share the beauty and power of our nation with the rest of the world just like we have all been taught- but they didn't see it that way. They said... horrible things to me." she said avoiding his golden eyes feeling as if he was analyzing her eyer move and expression.

"Life is neither good or evil, but only a place for good and evil," Iroh spoke wisely as he hid his hands inside of his sleeves appearing even more sage like. "The battle line between good and evil runs thought the heart of every man and woman. The key, like everything is to find the balance. Good and evil. The elements. humans. All should find its place and balance in nature," he explained.

She cocked her head to the side confused by his riddling words and scratched her chin as she thought hard about his words.

"Are you saying that good and evil are subjective?" She questioned.

Iroh let out a sigh and shook his head as this philosophical conversation was not going as he had intended too. He presumed the girl was still too young to comprehend such abstract topics.

"Why don't you put some tea?" he asked with a small smile.

Xxx

The next morning. Zuko walked down almost skipping down the stone staircase towards the docks where he could see Azula's Royal warship waiting, his belongings slung over his shoulder. The wind was crisp and fresh, skies were clear. Zuko found himself walking a little taller today. After three long years in exile he was finally going home. He would no longer be the banished prince. His father was ready to receive him with warm open arms.

"Wait! Don't leave without me!"

He paused and turned, setting his pack down and smiled. "Uncle! You've changed your mind."

"Family sticks together, right?" Iroh stated with a small smile as he placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder.

Zuko smiled slightly as he remembered his father resting his hand on his shoulder when he was younger. He looked over Iroh's shoulder to see if by any chance Tsai would've tailed behind him but there was no sign of her. She had refused to leave the room this morning after their fight last night. A part of him couldn't believe it would be the last time he would see her... He had royally screwed up this time. The scarred prince shook his head slightly and turned back to look at the ship again.

"We're finally going home!" He said excitedly as he attempted to shake the dark cloud from raining on his parade.

However the slow seemed to grow larger and larger with each step he gave until it clouded his mind and made him cave.

"Where is Tsai?" He asked before descending. "Tsai," Iroh sighed. "Has made a decision not to continue her journey with us." "What?" Zuko once again dropped his sack in surprise. "So you're just going to let her stay here? Alone?" He raised his voice instantly becoming aggravated. "She made her own decision and after your behavior last night and frankly I am not surprised," Iroh shook his head looking at his nephew with disappointment. "You have to think before you act Zuko. I know you did not mean what you said but a woman's heart is a sensitive and very complex affair."

Zuko looked at the top of the stairs and made an impulsive run for it. However was stopped by his uncle.

"Let her go." He said wisely. "If she doesn't come back it was never meant to be." He looked at his uncle with hard eyes and back to the top of the stairs where nobody stood. Before turning away and resuming their descent. He wondered if their paths would ever meet again. Where would she even go? It's not like she could return home.

Iroh frowned slightly as he looked at Azula's ship with suspicion following his nephew.

Iroh watched the soldiers standing on either side of the dock cautiously as he and Zuko made their way towards the ramp of the ship where Azula was standing quietly at the top of the ramp with two more soldiers on either side of her.

"Brother! Uncle! Welcome!" Azula greeted warmly as Zuko and Iroh stopped a little bit in front of the ship's captain at the bottom of the ramp and the three bowed to each other, "I'm so glad you decided to come." Two rows of at least a dozen Fire Nation soldiers stood behind them.

"Wait!" somebody shouted from behind. The sea of soldiers parted open to reveal the girl from the colonies standing at the very end of the stone bridge. She stood catching her breath slightly and leaned over resting her palms on her bent knees as she regained her composire. She wore her usual ochre colored long sleeved blouse and her brown skirt and above the knee boots. Her long auburn hair was worn half up and she carried a sack with her few belongings over her shoulder. "Wait!" She caught her breath as she approached Iroh and Zuko at the very front leaning forward resting the palms of her hands on her knees once again.

Zuko would never admit it but a part of him was happy to know she would be rejoining them in their journey.

Iroh's eyes opened slightly and he looked at the soldiers suspiciously then he straightened, the two lines of soldiers fell in line behind Zuko, Tsai and Iroh, closing the aisle the three of them had walked through a moment ago.

"Have you decided to come and beg for mercy before my father you half-breed mutt?" Azula taunted maliciously a vile twinkled in her eyes.

Tsai's flinched at the insult. The fact that her mother was from the Earth Nation and that her father was from the Fire Nation had always been a touchy taboo subject amongst the Upper Circles of Fire Nation officials.

"Hey!" She was surprised to see Zuko come to her defense. He glared at Azula angry and the girl simply shrugged flipping a strand of hair back into place.

"I just came to say goodbye," She turned to look at Iroh and then at Zuko with sadness clouding her warm eyes. "Aw, how touching," Azula said mockingly rolling her eyes. She really didn't have time for these sappy moments.

"Are we ready to depart, Your Highness?" The captain asked as he turned and walked forward slightly to stand at the very end of the ramp.

Iroh hugged her tightly as they bid their goodbyes.

"Tsai," Zuko turned to face her. "Home...," he whispered. "Come home with us! I promise you I won't allow anything to happen to you. I'll convince my father to pardon you. To pardon your family. I'm sure he'll understand once we explain," he spoke in a hopeful tone. Her eyes lingered on the stoney ground. She shook her head side to side. "No... I'm sorry," she whispered. "Goodbye." She said looking at him Zuko with hard eyes.

There was something about this entire situation that made her feel ill.

"Set our course for home, captain." Azula instructed sweetly as the auburn haired girl stepped back.

"You heard the princess!" The captain barked, raising his hand as he walked up the ramp, "Raise the anchors! We're taking the prisoners home!"

The captain's eyes went wide when he realized his mistake and he looked at Azula, whose expression when from surprised to furious in less than a hot second.

"Your Highness, I..." The captain started nervously just as Iroh narrowed his eyes and he suddenly attacked the guards, pushing them off the edge of the walkway and sending fire blasts at them.

Zuko snarled as he stomped furiously up the ramp, throwing the captain off as he stalked past him.

"You lied to me!" He shouted as he glared at his sister angrily, still standing several feet away from her on the ramp.

"Like I've never done that before." Azula retorted smugly as she turned her back on Zuko, waving her hand slightly and the two guards standing on either side of her suddenly shot fire blasts at the banished prince.

Zuko crossed his arms then spread them outward quickly, deflecting the attacks. He shouted angrily as he charged onto the ship to chase after his younger sister.

Zuko snarled as he leapt onto the deck of his sister's ship and sent two fire blasts at the guards, knocking them off the ship. He spun around to face Azula, who was standing patiently several feet away with her back turned and her hands clasped behind her. Azula glanced over her shoulder and smirked at her brother condescendingly. Zuko's fists clenched and fire daggers appeared as he prepared to attack his sister.

"Zuko!" Iroh shouted from the dock where he was still attacking the guards, "Let's go!" Tsai did the best to handle herself and had just kicked a guard into the ocean water.

The former general tossed one of the guards over the edge then stepped to the side to the side to avoid another guard's attack.

Zuko ignored his uncle and charged at Azula with his fire daggers, attempting to strike her with them but the princess easily dodged all of his blows with a smirk firmly on her young face. Zuko bared his teeth as he continued to attack his sister as she continued to dodge backwards. Zuko brought his right hand down in an attempt to land another blow. However Azula blocked his attack with her forearm then grabbed his wrist with one hand and slipped her wrist against the crook of his elbow. She swung him around easily and shoved him away from her, smirking as he panted.

"You know father blames Uncle for the loss of the North Pole." Azula taunted him maliciously, her smirk widening, "And he considers you a miserable failure for not finding the Avatar! Why would he want you back home, except to lock you up where you can no longer embarrass him?"

Zuko snarled and conjured two fire daggers again then leapt into the air and sent a powerful fire blast at Azula using his foot. The princess smirked and jumped away, landing safely several feet away in a crouch. The banished prince charged at her as she rose to her feet, dodging the blows her furious brother attempted land on her as she backed up further.

Azula lashed out at Zuko suddenly, leaving three scratch marks on his temple which caused Zuko to fall back. The scarred prince roared and charged at Azula again, swinging his fire daggers viciously at her, but she continued to dodge and block his attacks easily as she backed up the steps leading to the command tower of the ship.

The two fighting siblings reached the top of the stairs and Azula grabbed hold of Zuko's arm and the two stare at each other silently for a few seconds then Zuko's eyes went wide alarmed and Azula smirked. She then launched blue flames at Zuko, knocking him off his feet and back down the stairs to land on the deck.

Zuko pushed himself up slightly and turned his head to look at his sister, his vision blurred from the blow as well as the light of the flames. His vision focused on Azula just as she began moving her arms in a circular motion, lightning beginning to crackle at her fingertips.

Azula sneered as she prepared to fire the lightning bolt at her brother but her attack was suddenly halted when Iroh grabbed hold of her right hand and twisted around, redirecting the lightning towards a far-off cliff side. The former general quickly twisted Azula's arm, causing her to bend backwards. Tsai then stepped in and using all of her leg strength kicked Azula her off the ship roughly, causing her to land in the water with a loud splash.

Iroh rushed towards Zuko and grabbed his nephew by the arm and the trio raced away from the ship as far and as fast as they could, heading back up the stone stairs and towards into the lost woods.

Normally Tsai would've rubbed in Zuko's face that she was right and that he owed both her and Uncle Iroh an apology but it was not the time. They had to get out of here fast.

xxx

Azula stood on the porch of the main building of the village resort her uncle and brother had been staying at, her eyes narrowed as she looked at the gathered crowd with two Royal Procession guards standing behind her.

"Anyone who harbors these traitors will face the wrath of the Fire Lord!" The Fire Nation Princess snarled angrily as she held up the wanted poster with Zuko, Iroh and Tsai's portraits painted on it. She laid one hand on the balcony, sneering when the residents cowered away in fear, "There will be no place left to hide!"

Zuko, Tsai and Iroh panted as they raced along the river away from the village resort, away from Azula and the Fire Nation. The three finally came to a stop and Zuko and his uncle fell to ground beside the river, catching their harsh breaths. Tsai leaned against the tree catching her own.

"I think we're safe here." Iroh said after his breathing slowed and helooked around carefully, then he looked at his silent nephew.

"I told you so-" Tsai breathed. "I told you so! So did Uncle Iroh!" She called out. However, her declarations fell to silent ears. She turned to see Zuko starring at the flowing water before him then pulled out a small dagger and held it up, the blade reflecting the sunlight. Iroh closed his eyes sadly for a moment then watched as his nephew held the knife under his ponytail.

She looked at them sadly. Their hair... It was was connected them to the Royal family. To their nation. It was a part of them just as much as they were both a part of the Royal Fire Nation family.

Zuko shut his eyes tightly and sliced his ponytail off then he held the dagger out to Iroh without looking at him as he stared at his ponytail in his hand. Iroh took the dagger and cut off his topknot, holding it in his hand. The banished prince stared at the ponytail for a moment then let it fall from his and into the river, watching as it along with his uncle's topknot float down the river.

The two kneeled quietly beside the river as they processed the magnitude of what had just transpired. And just like that they had just renounced to their royal titles. She looked at them with uncertainty and Iroh turned to look at her.

"Your hair," he said looking at her odd colored hair. "It's going to be a problem," he said raising in her direction. She ran a hand through her long hair which almost reached down to her mid back. She held it in her hands tightly. She couldn't. She possible couldn't...

xxx

"My brother and my uncle have disgraced the Fire Lord, and have brought shame on all of us!" Azula declared. "And that little red haired minx," she thought of the angry expression on the colonial girl's face. "That red haired little minx..." Azula repeated more to herself this time...

A sly smiled spread across her pink tinted lips in fascination. She would be hers.

xxx

FIRST https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621142853126602752/sunburn-prince-zuko-1

NEXT https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621293572410474496/sunburn-prince-zuko-11

PREV https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621256515362357248/sunburn-prince-zuko-9

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

[doomstypewriter]

16

I finally brought myself to writing something for the Untamed/Mdzs fandom, would you look at that! 

This fic consists of one chapter and an epilogue (that I shall write next week). 

AO3

Summary:  A collection of moments over the years in which Lan Wangji waits and struggles to survive his grief. -- How could someone so vocal in life lay so silent in death? Missing. Wei Ying’s spirit was missing from the land; his body too, not even there to bury, to memorialise. He would never dress in anything but white for the remainder of his life. Wei Ying was missing and Lan Zhan missed him.

Words: 2439

TW:  This is heavy on angst. Really heavy, and at some points it can kinda hint at depression (not fully, but I have left a window for it to be able to be interpreted as such). It also deals with a lot of grief. (If there are any other things that I need to add to this list, please, do tell me).

“It must be one of the worst ways of suffering, to lose someone you hold so dearly, don’t you agree, Hanguang-Jun?” 

Jin Guangyao’s comment caught him by surprise. Today was not a day in which he felt with the disposition to gift his attention liberally, less after having spent it on listening to the rest of the sect’s leaders.

They had gathered in a council to discuss politics and, of course, the repercussions of demonic cultivation two years after its founder had passed away. Exactly two years later.

Nobody had let go unnoticed the entrance of Jiang Wanyin. It did not seem out of the ordinary, given that he found himself leading one of the most powerful sects, however, that was not the reason why he stood out. Even if every eye had set on him, no one had the guts to stare at his face on the second anniversary of his shijie’s death. 

Maybe that is why refocusing his attention from a place of bitter introspection to a conversation he did not wish to have served him of very little comfort. Anyhow, he could not afford to offend Lianfang-Zun.

Before he even got the chance to intervene, his interlocutor spoke again: 

“My apologies”, he retracted with the usual mastery, “perhaps today is not the best time to talk of such things, having so many other important matters to discuss”. 

A glance at the expression of veiled pity and shame that his brother and Jin Guangyao, respectively, shared let him know what they had said wordlessly. A warning, or rather a petition. “Please treat the grief of my brother with kindness”. 

Lan Wangji nodded, not knowing any better way to reply. 

‘Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you never say much, do you? Don’t worry, I’ll speak for both of us’ that’s what Wei Ying would have said, had he been there, with his lively smile and his skills balancing Lan Wangi’s own. 

There was no response. 

Yet another evening without an answer. 

He did not believe that his fingertips could hurt after years being used to playing for hours, to testify for that were the callouses he’d earned with the extensive practice that had made him such a good instrumentalist and fighter. Yet, the pain still flowed from the strings to his fingers, howling through chords without response.

How could someone so vocal in life lay so silent in death? 

Missing. 

Wei Ying’s spirit was missing from the land; his body too, not even there to bury, to memorialise. He would never dress in anything but white for the remainder of his life. 

Wei Ying was missing and Lan Zhan missed him. 

His uncle gave him an eyebrow raise in all but the expression when he chose A-Yuan’s courtesy name. Lan Wangji could not help but to get a sense of estrangement by looking at his shifu, when had it become like this? By asking that, he did not mean the open air of disapproval in their conversations, that started the moment Lan Wangji fell in love with Wei Ying and consolidated itself when he attacked the elders, he knew as much. No. 

When had his uncle begun to see Wangji as a looking glass, that offered passage to a vision of his own worst nightmares and greatest failures? 

Even worse, how could he have become the living ghost of his father? 

Shizui meant to yearn. His uncle could tell who Lan Wangji was yearning for, but could he see his own yearning, the agony present in his eyes every time he watched him and Xichen? Most likely. The knowledge of that truth must weigh heavily. 

The arrival back to Gusu was swift. Both he and his brother traveled light, as per usual when urgent matters occurred. 

Such was the case of a conflict regarding intense resentful energy within Qinghe, for which Sect Leader Nie Huaisang had appointed them. An outburst of demonic energy had subjected great commotion within a minor city and was said to need urgent attention. Nie Huaisang, not knowing how to deal with the issue himself and concerned to further disclose it to the other sects, as it would surely catch the eye of Jiang Wanyin and arise his own resentment over a certain somebody, had instead opted for writing to his brother and request his help. Upon reading the letter, Xichen asked for his assistance in this occasion, saying that their uncle could attend to the matters of the Lan Sect in their absence. Lan Wangji obliged. 

The incident turned out to be, indeed, of most interest. A circle of local and external parties had reunited inside of a crypt hidden beneath an inn to perform a ritual of sorts. As a direct consequence, the establishment above, along with all of their clients, had been blown away by the never-before-seen resentful energy. He had recommended for the place to be sealed off and purified every ten days for the next twenty years to ensure the safety of those living in the city. His brother and him then focused on shedding some light on how it all came to be, but were unable to reach a satisfactory clarification, given that the main culprits had perished and Inquiry proved to be ineffective. They theorised their spiritual conscience had been shattered, too, by the resentment’s magnitude. 

After almost three weeks away, they set back to Gusu, promising to further investigate using the resources within the library, but settled the matter closed for the time being. Riding their swords was most welcome as a means of travel, reducing the journey to two days, instead of the week it would take by land. 

Gentians’ fragrance filled the air on his path back to the Jingshi. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself he had missed the comfort of its familiarity. Even if said familiarity meant the pang of memories and grief, returning gave him a sense of peace. 

He entered his living quarters. Any and all thought left his head with what presented before him. Not what, who. 

“Lan Zhan!” 

Wei Wuxian sat by the desk, drinking from one of the uncovered vases of his hidden stack of Emperor’s Smile. 

“Don’t look at me like that”, he pouted. “I know it’s against the rules, but you can’t possibly be so mean to someone who has just traveled for a week to see you” Wei Wuxian finished adding a smile. 

“You’re back”. 

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. An air of doubt passed through his expression. 

“You once asked me to come to Gusu with you”.  

“Hmm”.

“What can I say, it is your fault for not saying when…” 

Wei Wuxian stood up, leaving the wine behind, to get to where Lan Wangji stood. 

“Now I’m here, can I be here?” he stole a quick glance at Lan Wangji’s hands, as if trying to make up his mind, and then took both in his, bringing the two pairs together in between them. “What I’m saying is, I want to stay by your side, teach A-Yuan to shoot arrows, feed the rabbits, and whatever boring things you do in Gusu, I want to do those with you”. 

Wei Ying’s smile hid a shade of embarrassment, the novelty of a realisation, a confession. 

This very thing gave Lan Wangji a surge of confidence to kiss the hands that intertwined with his. A softness enveloped each kiss, not only because of the pressure but for the years of longing enclosed in each contact. 

“You love me”. 

“Ah, Hanguang-Jun, am I such a bad influence that you’ve become this shameless? What would your uncle say?” Wei Ying gifted him with a mischievous grin. “Don’t be mad, Lan Zhan, I’m only teasing you, it’s too easy”. 

A trembled ensued when the pressure of Wei Ying’s lips caressed his hands, mirroring his previous gesture. 

“I do love you”. 

Oh. Lan Wangji said to himself. 

Another realisation. 

“Wei Ying did not love me”. 

The one in front of him laughed in response. 

“If so, then who am I?” 

Lan Wangji closed his eyes and kissed his forehead, making him catch his breath. 

“Not real”. 

He woke up to the tickling of tears. A trail of bitterness stained his face. The merciless reality of the image of the Jingshi, turned monochrome by the dimness of night, rendered him helpless. How small it seemed to be in a world made so big by the hole torn with Wei Ying’s absence. His heart’s willingness to deny the facts, to rush back and check the Burial Mounds once again, surfaced yet another night. This vain disposition had to be snuffed out. Wei Ying would not come back to Gusu with him. 

And the knowledge of said truth did grow heavily indeed. 

A-Yuan, now turned Lan Shizui, grew up faster than anticipated. 

Of course, that was not true. Everybody becomes older at a steady pace, set by time only. And yet… the years had seemed to merge in such a way that it simultaneously appeared to him that an eternity had been caught in the blink of an eye, but he had not possessed a second to taste it. How could he? Moreso when the aftertaste left such sourness. 

If only Wei Ying could have guided Shizui for all these years. He had to wonder how their… his son would have turned out to be. Would they recognise each other in the sharpness of their minds? Could Wei Ying’s smile show on Shizui’s face as more than the infrequent sliver he so desperately searched for? Seeking it just to feel shame at his boldness immediately afterwards. He had always vowed to treat Shizui as his own person, succeeding at it for the most part, but, at certain points in time he could not help but to ponder on the shadow his former soulmate casted onto the child. 

Oftentimes Shizui came to the Jingshi to practice his skills on the guqin. Most should assume he did so in order to receive advice regarding his playing, such was the case… almost every time. There were moments, seconds, in which he could see the pride in Shizui’s eyes. Of course, such behaviour was forbidden and he quickly censored himself. 

But it was there, nonetheless. 

“You stopped” Lan Wangji observed, finally, opening his eyes and dropping his meditation position. 

Shizui looked up from the table in which he had laid out a piece of paper and writing utensils. When did he do that? Oh, Lan Wangji must have been too entertained by his own thoughts to notice it in time. 

“Yes, I did. Should I go over the pieces again, father?” he asked, gesturing to retrieve the guqin. 

“That won’t be needed”.

“Then I will be leaving momentarily, it will be nine in not so long”. 

Lan Wangji answered by giving a small nod.

 “Thank you…”

“What is it?” 

“I made this once I finished practicing”. 

Shizui moved towards him, holding the piece of paper loosely in his hand. He placed it carefully on the table in front of Lan Wangji. And there it was: a drawing. Not unlike the one Wei Ying had made of him so many years ago. The style appeared far less whimsical, yet, not as observant as it’s counterpart. How unfortunate, the implications of said realisation. Did Wei Ying pay attention to him to such an extent?

No need to wander about what could have been. For it was pointless. 

Shizui’s linework showed off preciseness and finesse, paired up with a great sense of depth in the interpretation of lights and shadows. Lan Wangji could not help but to smile at the display of talent. 

“Thank you, A-Yuan”. 

In spite of having stated his intent to leave, Shizui stood in front of him, as if debating something. Finally, he seemed to make up his mind. Right after a change of expression, he threw himself at Lan Wangji’s side and hugged him tightly.  

“Hmm?” 

“I’m afraid. Sometimes you leave somewhere distant, father, and I’m afraid”. 

‘Please…’ Lan Wangji pleaded stricken with panic. 

Mishearing a collection of sounds. 

If someone had told him that would bring upon him the most terrifying experience of his life… Lan Wangji would have simply given them a look of disdain. How could that elicit fear from him when he had been witness to the love of his life letting go of one bleeding arm. He thought about the Xuanwu of Slaughter, that cave where Wei Ying had fallen asleep while he sang to him, looking so pale it almost appeared as if death had claimed him already and spared him. Gods, death had pardoned him from falling alongside Wei Ying! He could think of no greater torture. 

And yet, he found himself running like a desperate man through the outskirts of Dafan Mountain, dodging natural obstacles with none of his usual poise. 

An eco. 

That’s what had set him so far off who he had barely managed to see himself become during the last sixteen years. His spirit, his heart, mummified shrouded by the mourning clothes he had begun to wear to somehow memorialise the departure of his life. 

That attire flung forward and backwards, moved by the winds. 

Please. 

Jin Guangyao was right, all those years ago. Now that maybe, maybe, he could be returned to him, loosing him again would only bear the worst king of suffering. 

Have this not be another call without answer. 

No matter what uncle saw when he stared at him. 

He would accept any new whip scar a thousand times over to just have him be real, wake up in a world where he existed. 

Anything. 

Anything would be better than missing him so. Better than the memory of the initial years, spending every night crying himself to sleep for the first time in his life. Better than breathing just to pretend the sensation filled the empty within his lungs. 

He ran. He ran like his life depended on it, because, maybe, it did. 

With each step the world burned and it didn’t matter. The sound became clearer and nothing else mattered. He had lived through sixteen years of snuffing hopefulness and finding sustenance in the memory of a song he had once sung in a cave, but, now that he heard it, maybe it had been worth it. 

He began to sprint in spite of how scary the idea of a world with him suddenly became, a place where he could lose him again. His figure almost flew across the forest, because he would not allow it. Lan Wangji was never losing Wei Ying twice.  

Right then, he reached the clearing.

Thanks a lot for reading!!! If I butchered the spelling of some name or term, please tell me!

[cloudninetonine]

Past Trauma

Pairing: Adam Ruzek x Reader

Summary: Something bad happens at work and you finally spill about your past trauma to your boyfriend

A/N: This fic is kinda self projecting, so it’s gonna be kind of specific. Don’t worry, I’m fine, I just needed a way to vent and well, this was my way. Also, I’ve only really watched clips and seen odd episodes of Chicago P.D so sorry if Adam seems a pic OOC. He’s my fav and I really wanted to write something for him for so long and I just got impatient XD

I DO NOT OWN CHICAGO P.D OR MED THIS IS MERELY FANFICTION

Warnings: Abuse, graphic writing (Kinda?), thoughts of suicide, I think PTSD? (I would say PTSD just in case) Self-hatred (It’s a pretty dark fic, but it takes a more wholesome turn at the end)

(This gif seemed appropriate)

You and Adam had started dating a little over three years ago.

You had travelled from beyond the great blue to America for a new experience after medical school then ended up working in Chicago Med because you had “fallen in love with the windy city”

You had caught Adam’s attention straight away and after about three months of trying to get your attention, you finally agreed to go on a date with him. You were new to the whole scene, dating, flirting- everything, as you had been busy trying to get your life together before even thinking about bringing someone else into it and well, he was happy to help you into it. You were a great character, friendly, smart, considerate of those around you, playful and Adam had thought himself a lucky guy when he had finally bagged you.

Though he knew you were hiding things from him, no, not that you were cheating or had fallen out of love, much deeper things. You didn’t like to talk about your family life, you had mentioned your mother (A wonderful woman who he had met when she visited for Christmas) your closest friends, a chaotic but loving bunch, others here and there, but you didn’t go farther than that. You deliberately skipped moments in your life, you had bad days where you didn’t contact anyone and when he tried to get closer, you dodged him about the subject.

He understood everyone had their demons, but yours almost seemed to consume you and he always worried, it was a surprise your secrecy hadn’t caused any damage to the relationship but you had a way with your words and he loved you so much (something he admitted after a year of dating, the morning of your anniversary when he had stumbled in on you eating Oreos at 3 in the morning before he had slipped and told you that he loved you which resulted in you choking on a cookie)

He had hoped that one day, you would tell him about the thoughts in your head and well, the day had finally come.

There had been a brawl in the emergency bay at Chicago Med and he and Kevin had been sent over to investigate the disturbance. The scene hadn’t been too chaotic, but he would be lying if he said that there wasn’t a mess there. The suspect, a 19-year-old Lucia Carter, had been dragged out of the place in handcuffs, kicking and screeching loudly while blood dripped out of her nose accompanied with marks of an obvious scuffle on her face. Kevin had let out a low whistle at the damage as they walked by.

The detectives had approached the closest officer to ask about the details.

“Miss Carter is being apprehended for abuse, threats of murder and for assaulting a bystander” The young man had started “She came in when she found out her father had brought his son for a checkup after she had deliberately broken his arm, she started to get violent towards her parent and sibling, a doctor tried to interfere and it ended with them fighting. Security split them up eventually but it’s obvious that Miss Carter provoked the fight and that the doctor was protecting the victims so they won’t be charged”

“Alright, thank you”

Kevin had already begun talking with the father and the son, while Adam glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of your figure when only moments later, Sharon Goodwin had approached him, her face showing concern as she softly called for his attention. “Adam, please if you could come with me for a moment”

“Is there something wrong?” Adam asked, Kevin, glancing over at the sound of his partner’s voice.

“It’s about (Name)”

Adam’s eyes widened and he glanced back at Kevin, who promptly nodded in understanding before the detective and chief departed from the scene quietly to where you were being held.

“What happened?”

“Well, when Miss Carter began to get violent, (Name) decided to try and stop it but, from what I heard, Miss Carter slapped her and that’s what started the fight” Sharon started “It took two men to pry her off of Miss Carter and now, she’s not responding to anyone. Dr Charles is talking with her at the moment, well, trying, but he’s not getting very far, so we thought that it would be a good idea if you tried to talk with her”

The door to an employee lounge was pushed open to you and Dr Charles sitting opposite from one another. The older man was talking, his eyes only glancing towards Goodwin and Adam before settling back on you. You were deadly silent, staring ahead, straight through Dr Charles and your leg was bouncing with obvious tension. 

It made Adam nervous, especially when he could see some blood on the cuff of your coat.

“(Name)” Charles’ voice was soft as he settled a hand on your knee, “Adam’s here to see you”

You still didn’t react.

“(Name)?”

Your leg movement stopped for a moment, before continuing, much faster now.

“We’ll give you two a moment” Charles and Goodwin closed the door behind them quietly while Adam settled next to you silently, his hand coming to rest on your arm before slowly sliding down to grip your hand. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t really respond either, just limply held his hand in your own.

“Hey,” he greeted, enclosing your hand with both of his and placing a small kiss onto on fingers. “I heard what happened-”

Now that he was closer, he could see the damage. You had your glasses on, the left lens was cracked and under, your eye was bruised and bloody, your lip was busted and there was a small laceration on your face with blood slowly dripping onto your coat. You didn’t pay any mind to it, you didn’t really seem to care, but Adam’s heart squeezed painfully at the sight. You were in a better state than Lucia Carter, but that didn’t matter.

“Is that what she did to you?” His hand moved to grab your chin, hoping to inspect your injuries further but you immediately jumped up, catching his wrist firmly in your hand, nails digging into the skin while still holding his other hand loosely. Your eyes were frantic, your breathing had picked up and you were shaking violently as you glared at him.”Woah, woah, it’s okay, you’re okay, it’s just me, it’s just Adam”

He was shocked, understandably so, but his eyes held a softness to them, one that was slowly helping you bring you back to reality.

Pained guilt flashed on your face and your hold on his wrist relaxed until it became limp and fell to your side “....I’m sorry…”

With a soft squeeze to your intertwined fingers, Adam tugged you back next to him “It’s okay”

“It’s not-” You tried to argue, but he shushed to gently before pressing a kiss into your hair.

“Can I hold you?”

“...Please”

His arm wrapped around your waist and tugged your closer, hugging you close to his figure as the two of you rocked back and forth gently, the man pressing soft kisses to where he could reach as he waited. Did he know what he was waiting for? No, but he knew you needed time and it would come out eventually.

And it did.

“I didn’t want it to turn out like that”

Adam glanced down at you “The fight?”

You hummed. “I didn’t want to make it any crazier than it was, but then she slapped me and I...I lost it”

“Why?” He couldn’t help but ask “You’re one of the most patient people I know”

“...She reminded me of my brother”

Adam stopped rocking and pulled back to look at you, watching as the look in your eyes twisted into something more, something dark and your lip curled in disgust.

“Brother? You’ve never mentioned you had a brother…”

“That’s because he isn’t” You growled, “He’s just a fucker that I’m related to”

It was then that Adam realised that this was what you had been keeping from him for so long, this was what he had been waiting for. He could see the tension that was building up in your system, the obvious hatred in your words and he decided that his curiosity could wait another day “You don’t have to explain-”

“I’ve kept this from you for three years, Adam” You looked him in the eye “You deserve an explanation and I can handle it, don’t worry”

He pulled your hand to his lips and kissed it gently “Okay, take your time”

A few moments, quiet, tense moments, but eventually, you took a deep breath, closed your eyes and squeezed his hand.

“My brother was an abusive arsehole that used to torment me and my mum. It wasn’t always like that, I can still remember the good days, but he changed when we got older; he became more narcissistic, more demanding, rougher- like his father, might I add” You spat the words with venom, pupils shrinking in hatred “That fucker wasn’t around either, he hurt my mum before she kicked his arse out, but oh boy, did I get the experience of him from my brother; like father like son, am I right?”

You had said it in a joking way, but he could hear that rage behind it. You continued “My brother got worse when my gran died, he got more physical, wasn’t afraid to throw me or my mum around and I fucking hated it. I fought back for a while, we both did, but it only ended with aches for the next day and bruised self-esteem, so I gave up, but my mother didn’t, she was- is, way too strong for that, shame I can’t say the same about me”

Tears gathered in your eyes “Once again, it got more shitty when he got a job. Called me and my mum lazy bitches, constantly complained, blamed us for anything and everything, it was a fucking nightmare. Mum couldn’t work because of health problems, which he thought were bullshit, and me, I was way too scared to interact with people to get a job”

With a whimper, you brushed away the tear that fell down your cheek. “I was scared, he made me scared, I used to be so open and happy, but he ruined that. My mental health declined, I was constantly sad, I hated myself, I still hate myself and it’s because of him!”

You were starting to sob, it was quiet at first, but the more you talked, the louder it became “I hated him so much, I still hate him! But he made me hate myself more! It wasn’t fair! Why was I the worthless one? When he treated us like that? Why did I have to become sad and angry and scared!? It’s not fair, Adam! I deserved to be happy! But he didn’t let me! I was a wreck in what was supposed to be the best years of my life, because of him!”

You were choking on your tears and Adam had tried to console you, but you weren’t finished “S-So when that boy came in with his father, I knew, I could tell. He looked so sad, so broken and so did the father. The man was terrified when I confronted him! He tried to defend her, he said that their mother had died and she was acting out! I told him that was no excuse, that both of them deserved better! And you know what he did? He fucking cried! He said he was ashamed of himself, letting his daughter become this monster, his own daughter beat him and he was more ashamed at that than the fact that he was getting hurt, that he was scared, that he needed to protect his son from his fucking sister. He said he wasn’t a good father, but he was trying. My mum said the same thing, that I deserved better, but I didn’t! She was the best! And so was this guy! He was kind, supportive, loved his children but he got fucked over by a stupid bitch that couldn’t keep her hands to her fucking SELF!”

You stood, kicking over the table in front of you two and Adam jumped up. He wanted to do something, to calm you down, to tell you he loved you, but you needed to get this out, you need to say this, so he waited. 

“That boy is fucking ten! TEN-YEARS-OLD! AND HIS SISTER WAS DOING THAT TO HIM!? MOTHER FUCKING BITCH!” You kicked the table again and punched the wall “HE BLAMED HIMSELF, HE SAID THAT HE CAUSED IT, BUT IT WASN’T HIS FAULT, IT WAS HER FUCKING FAULT! And you know what else? HE SAID HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD! A TEN-YEAR-OLD, WANTED TO BE DEAD! SHE MADE HIM THINK THIS, SHE MADE HATE HIMSELF, MADE HIM WANNA KILL HIMSELF JUST LIKE- just like my brother had done to me”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, shaking violently as you stared at the floor “I wanted to kill myself, just like that little boy had, sometimes, I still do and-…. And so when she slapped me...I lost it, I wanted to kill her, right there and then, because at that moment, she wasn’t Lucia Carter, she was my older brother, so I didn’t hold back…”

You were crying hysterically, holding yourself tightly as you tried to calm yourself down, a keep the oncoming panic attack down. God, you didn’t dare face Adam, you didn’t want to see the expression he wore, you were already ashamed, of the outburst, of yourself, everything and one of the only good things going in your life had heard you go off like a demented bitch. You wanted so badly to melt into the floor, but you were merely reduced to hiding behind closed eyes and a mess of tears.

Then arms wrapped around you and your face was pressed against a shoulder.

“I love you” Adam declared, tightening his hold as you began to wail against his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him tightly as you did so “I love you, and I’m so sorry that you had to keep this to yourself for so long”

He pressed a kiss against your forehead, being wary of the wound.

“I’m sorry” You sobbed, “I’m sorry I kept this from you, I didn’t want you to see me differently, you’re one of the only good things going in my life, I didn’t want to lose you”

“I would never see you differently and you will never lose me” He whispered, “You’re strong, you’re smart, you’re so talented and you’re hot”

You laughed wetly against his shoulder “This just proves to me how amazing you are, and how lucky I am to have you. You’re so amazing and I am punching above my weight with you. I’m so glad to have you in my life and that’s never gonna change, babe, do you understand?”

You nodded against his shoulder, burying your face and inhaling his scent.

“So here’s what we’re gonna do” He raked his hand gently through your hair “We’re gonna get you checked out and patched up, talk to Dr Charles about these thoughts you’ve been having, head home, then order in some Chinese and just relax, okay?”

“Okay,” You pulled back a bit, eyes staring into his before leaning up and pressing a kiss against his lips. He kissed back softly, hand coming to hold the side of your jaw gently then pulling away and smiling at you “I love you so much”

“I love you too”

“Thank you for not thinking different of me”

He laughed and placed his forehead against yours “Never”

You smiled and intertwined your fingers.

You were lucky to have each other.

[florenceandthemachine]

happy chapter! yes I know I missed last week and I've updated the chapter count to reflect. my state is cold as fuck and also somehow on fire and the Big Sad hit me real hard so I had to take a weekend to be dead. love you all.

Chapters: 3/4 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)

”Alright, Eddie.”

No, it was not alright. It was not alright at all.

“I’m starting to worry about you.”

Eddie felt his bed dip as Buck sat beside him, groaning in response, rolling over in a desperate attempt to hide his shame.

“Chris is about ready to call in for a rope rescue, and you’re still not out of bed. I may not understand why you’re meeting your parents for lunch today, but you are, so get up.”And therein lied his shame. Eddie didn’t need a reminder. His parents had spent all of ten minutes in his living room the night prior—annoyingly vague about why they were there in the first place, insisting that even though they were just ‘passing through’ they still wanted to spend some time with their grandson.

Not their son. Just their grandson. Which was totally fine and didn’t bother Eddie at all.

Eddie had spent every one of those ten minutes clenching his teeth so hard he thought he would pop a crown, but ultimately agreed to their request (maybe a little quicker than he would have liked, but he had done less for more when it came to making sure Chris stayed in bed). As bad as that was, though, he wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that he was so hesitant to spend some time with his parents, or the fact that the moment they left, all he felt was guilt.

He knew that he wasn’t the crazy one here; but even then, it was hard to ignore how it sounded, feeling so unhappy—so hesitant—to spend time with his own parents. He knew exactly how it looked for him, because what kind of son was chomping at the bit to rip his own parents head off, just for wanting to spend some time with their family?

It should have been a perfectly reasonable request. It should have been something Eddie was happy to do. It should not have been something that set Eddie’s teeth on edge, that tripped up his sixth sense like no other, the soldier's sense that he had developed in Afghanistan buzzing in the base of his skull like a beehive. It felt like something was about to go incredibly wrong, and it felt fucking disgusting to have that reaction triggered by his own parents, but he couldn’t deny that he was afraid history would repeat itself.

Maybe he really was a garbage person.

The guilt only got worse, surprise surprise, after they left and Eddie discovered Buck standing in the kitchen, where Eddie had told him to stay. He had all but forgotten about Buck. How could he forget an entire person?

Garbage person, strike two.

Eddie wound himself in his blanket even tighter, guilt and shame doing little to motivate him on getting out of bed, but his silence was short lived as his blanket burst into flames just long enough for him to yelp and bolt upright before it completely disintegrated. “You—that’s not—you cheater!”

Buck just laughed, the bastard, idly examining the nails on one hand as he shoved Eddie out of bed with the other. “I’m a demon, you dolt. Of course I cheated. Now,” he started, pushing Eddie upright and all but herding him toward the closet, “why don’t you get dressed and tell me what’s really going on?”

Eddie felt a lump sink into his stomach as he stood up, a harsh breath coming out of his nose as he yanked a pair of pants off of a hanger.

“I’m scared, Buck.”

Either out of shock or respect, Buck remained silent, and Eddie could only spare a glance over his shoulder before he ducked his head, dressing haphazardly. “The last time I saw my parents they tried to... to take him. They were trying to take him from me, and my response was to literally pack Chris up and move across the country. They didn’t reach out for years—it’s been years, Buck—not when Abuela broke her hip, not when Chris changed schools, not when Shannon died. A year goes by, and nothing. And then they send a card, and then I meet you, and now they’re just... here again. And I think they’re going to try again, I think they’re going to—“

Eddie looked down at his hands as he felt the fabric of the shirt he was holding tear beneath his fingertips, staring at the hole, like he couldn’t believe he had just worried a hole through it. He looked up to Buck, guilt and misery written on his face as he tossed the garment aside, hiding his face in his hands as he rubbed at his eyes, dragging his hands down his face shortly after.

“You are going to lunch and I’ll be nearby, but Eddie, listen.” Eddie didn’t realize he was spiraling until Buck stepped forward, grabbing his hands and giving a firm squeeze as he shook his head. When Eddie looked up again, all he could see was Buck—eyes glowing, mouth set, teeth maybe just a little sharper than they were a moment before. “I will never, ever let them—or anyone else—take him from you. Ever.”

--

“…and Mark says that Washington has one of the biggest volcanoes, but I don’t think that’s true. Ms. Flores and Mr. Beeman says that Mars has volcanoes too, even bigger than any of the ones we have here on Earth!”

“I’m sure it does, buddy. Maybe that’s why it’s the red planet? All the magma?”

“No, Dad, the magma is underground, when the volcano erupts it turns into—hey!” Eddie had a smile on his face as he reached over to steal one of Chris’ fries, grinning as his kid squawked, pushing his dads’ hand away playfully. Their afternoon together had started easy enough; Chris had stolen the show easily, directing the conversation through himself in that effortless way kids managed to do, talking about his school, his friends, his day to day. To this day, Eddie would never understand how this kid had him wrapped around his finger so easily—all it took was the bat of an eye for Eddie to swing through the drive through on the way to the park, and suddenly he was meeting his parents at a picnic table near the playground with arms full of chicken tenders and fries.

Not a great look. Whatever.

Chris had been every bit as ecstatic to see his grandparents as Eddie knew (feared?) he would be, propelling himself forward at a speed that would have made Eddie panic had Buck not spent some significant time over the past few months working on Chris’ physical therapy.

He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse, how easily it was to use his son as a distraction from whatever nightmarish scenario his parents wanted to bring up, but even that grateful moment was cut short as his father chuckled, reaching forward to tousle Chris’ hair playfully.

“Mark, Flores, Beeman, I can’t even keep up anymore kiddo. Sounds like you’ve had a busy third grade in your new scho—“

“Fourth grade, dad.”

“What?”

“Fourth grade, Dad. Chris is in fourth grade.”

Eddie regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. As good as it felt to even attempt to put his father in his place, he could feel the exact moment that both of his parents swiveled their laser-like attention to him. They were smiling, sure, but Eddie felt like he was back to being a kid again, waiting for the inevitable slip up that would get him grounded.

“Fourth grade, right.” Eddie smiled tensely as his father nodded, gesturing between he and his son. “Of course, we would know that if you bothered to call once in a while. We don’t hear from you on Christmas, birthdays, nothing.

“You know, you can always call us too, not send some letter on the anniversary of my wife’s death like a complete—”

“If we didn’t hear from Pepa regularly, how would we know that you and Chris were even alive?”

“Dad—“

“But we’re doing good.”

Eddie felt his jaw click shut as Chris spoke, his heart swelling with pride as both of his parents turned their gaze again. His mother at least had the decency to look mildly guilty—his father, no such luck.

“Of course you are, kiddo. We’re just trying to make sure that your dad has enough help. There’s been a lot of big changes since you both left Texas—two new schools, new grades, new teachers, your father’s new job, and—“

The death of Chris’ mother, Eddie’s mind provided, angry once again that Shannon was being so disregarded by people who were supposed to be her family.

“Yeah, but we’re still doing good.” Chris said, not looking up from the fries he was dunking into ketchup, smearing only a little bit on his upper lip as he shoved the handful into his mouth. “Dad says that sometimes the hard things make us stronger, but things aren’t even that hard. And Buck says that I have a lot of, um. Initiative! And they both say I’m perfect, so that’s good.”

Eddie didn’t hesitate. He didn’t freeze as his parents turned back over to him, and he certainly didn’t feel his heart sink into his stomach. He just… was trying to un-swallow his tongue, was all. Buck had been the one topic that they had somehow danced around, and Eddie wasn’t sure if he should have been thankful or not that Chris ripped that bandaid off.

He was afraid, to be honest, of that particular aspect of their new lives coming to light—there were few wounds that Eddie’s parents loved rubbing salt in more than his parenting and his financial situation, and suggesting that he had private help for Chris? That was certainly something that hit both of their favorite topics.

“Buck?”

Even if, you know, he had sold his soul instead of provided a monthly stipend.

“Who is Buck?”

“Buck’s great!” Eddie felt himself finally breathe as Chris picked up the slack, his cheerful demeanor impervious to the doom and gloom swarming around both of his grandparents right now. “He’s really smart, and he’s super nice. Plus he makes Dad laugh, which is also nice. And he taught me how to make cootie-catchers! Did you know that they can see into the future?”

Eddie wasn’t panicking. He definitely wasn’t panicking. He definitely wasn’t looking between his mother and his father, trying desperately to come up with something, some excuse, some way to explain the strange name that called Chris perfect and made him laugh.

...Buck really did know how to make him laugh, though. And he did love Chris, that much was clear. And those two thoughts were the only things buzzing around in his head when he opened his fat mouth.

“Edmundo, who is—“

“Buck is my boyfriend.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the moment afterward—his father turned a lovely complexion of purple and red while his mother looked like she had literally seen a ghost, which, hey! Not that far off from the truth. Eddie wasn’t sure if he was just in shock, or if he was having a stroke, or what, but he suddenly felt heavy, grounded for the first time all day, firmly planted in the moment.

So, Eddie decided that Buck was, as of ten seconds ago, his boyfriend. It… made sense, in a way. Fuck, they were basically co-parenting his kid. Chris absolutely adored Buck. And Eddie knew they were sexually and romantically compatible, hell, he knew Buck intimately from his teeth right down to—

“Buck is your what—”

“Buck!”

Eddie was getting very, very tired of being caught by surprise, so it was actually exhausting to have yet another rug pulled out from under him. He turned his head as Chris called out and almost fell out of his seat, seeing who else but the demon in question striding toward them, smiling like the sun,

Honestly, at this point, Eddie should have expected yet another whiplash, but nothing could have prepared him to turn around and see Buck, striding toward him with a big smile on his face, wearing what Eddie could only describe as a “meet the parents” outfit.

If there was another reason as to why Buck would be wearing a sweater vest in California, Eddie would love to hear it.

At the very least, he wasn’t the only one who was shocked. His parents had similar slack jawed looks on their faces as Chris raced toward Buck, who easily wrapped Chris in a huge hug with a “Hey, Superman!” before setting Chris on his hip easily.

Eddie didn’t realize that he was up until he was already moving, trying to think of how he could explain this, but Buck was quick on the draw—keeping Chris balanced in one arm, he drew Eddie in easily with the other, kissing his cheek, murmuring against his skin easily.

“Thought you could use some backup from your boyfriend.”

...oh, right. Demon. Probably heard the whole thing. Cool, that was definitely a cool thing and not embarrassing at all. Eddie felt his own hand fall into Buck’s as they started to walk back toward his parents, a weight writhing in his stomach, only partially subdued by the warmth burning pleasantly through his bones from the small contact he shared with Buck, looking over as Buck set Chris back down, grinning at the giggling ten year old like he wanted nothing more out of this life.

“Mom, Dad, this is Buck. Buck, these are my parents.” Eddie was half tempted to let the moment stew in a silent awkwardness before starting introductions, but Buck spoke up before he could do anything, extending his now-free hand to Eddie’s father first. “Evan Buckley, Eddie’s told me a lot about you. Glad to meet you both.”

Huh. Eddie never thought to even ask if Buck had a first and last name. He always thought it was just, ‘Buck’.

It was comforting for him to see the good, Catholic guilt push both of his parents to accept the greeting with an incredibly pained smile and a handshake of their own, as much as he knew they both wanted to pretend he wasn’t there.

“So! Evan.” His mother started, always the diplomat. “What do you do?”

--

“I’ve known I was bisexual from, like, sophomore year. I brought boyfriends home in highschool! Why is this so hard for you to wrap your head around?”

Long since abandoning the idea of civility, Eddie’s voice was tired, watching as Buck pushed Chris on the swingset across the park from their little picnic bench. Chris had all but dragged Buck over there, subconsciously (or maybe consciously, though Eddie hated thinking of that) feeling when Eddie needed some time to yell at his parents.

Which he definitely, definitely wanted to do. Because Buck was a fucking delight, he answered every question perfectly, he complimented, he flattered, he smiled, and his parents had given him absolutely nothing back.

Now, he was actually finding himself… jealous. Because he would have sold his fucking left leg to just be over there, with his kid and his… Buck, instead of here, with the firing squad. Watching the two of them together was nice, though, definitely a memory he would treasure later—right now, it was providing just enough serotonin to keep him from jumping off a bridge.

“Because you’re not like that, not really!” His mother’s voice was pleading where his fathers had been firm, but Eddie couldn’t really tell the difference between the two when they were both parroting each other. “Eddito, you can’t expect us to believe this is just... happening now. In highschool, that was one thing. I am your mother, we are your parents. No one knows you better than we do!”

Eddie threw his hands into the air, turning it into a wave at the last moment when Chris looked over, trying to keep his face relatively neutral. “Mom, you don’t know the first thing about me, apparently, but I’m starting to think that might go both ways. Maybe I don’t know the two of you, either. For starters, I had no idea my parents were so fucking mean.”

The innocent look his father shot back at him made him want to puke. “Eddie, I can’t help it if pointing out the truth seems a little mean to you. That woman leaves you—”

“That woman was my wife, and she died, next topic.”

“—leaves you,” his father repeated, ignoring what Eddie had said yet again, “and now I’m supposed to believe that you, what. Decided that instead of finding someone who could give Chris what he needs, you just looked for the first man waving a rainbow flag and that was that?”

“Dad, I swear to God, if you insult Buck again we’re done for the day.”

If Eddie was surprised by his own assertiveness, he was alone in that—his father wasted no time in scoffing, shaking his head.

“I have every right to criticize someone spending that much time with my grandson, Edmundo. When was the last time you and Chris went to service? Because if it got around that you were hanging around with someone like that—"

Honestly, there was a certain level of irony here that Eddie had to appreciate. His conservative, religious parents didn’t like his boyfriend (and, wait, how had Eddie attached Buck to that word so easily?)—not because he was a literal demon from Hell, which would have been a perfectly reasonable thing for two good, God fearing Christians to dislike, but because he was a man.

“Hey, Chris, we gotta get going! Come say bye, buddie!”

All that aside, the stunned silence that followed as his father struggled to find his voice was sweet, so sweet, even if it was incredibly short lived.

“Really, Eddie? One little disagreement and you’re just going to walk away? We don’t see Chris for two years, and the first time we visit is when you decide to—”

“Chris is going to come over and say goodbye.” Eddie interrupted, voice dangerously low as he looked up to where Buck was helping him down from the jungle gym. “If you try and play him against me with this, you will lose. If you try to play him against Buck, you will lose and I will laugh at you. But we are going home now, and if you give him any grief about that, if you try to make him feel bad that you don’t come up to visit more often, if you do anything that puts a frown on his face, that’s it. You will never see him again. Ever. And I’ve already kept one promise to you once in the past five minutes, you wanna push for two?”

Eddie wasn’t sure if he was burning that bridge or crossing it, but he was all smiles when Buck and Chris rejoined them, easily slotting himself against Buck’s side as his mother and father each hugged and kissed Chris’ head. Eddie may have let his eagle eye slide a little bit—he could tell my Chris’ giggling protests that they weren’t saying anything uncouth, and even if they were, he knew Buck would put a stop to it before anything else.

Waiting until his mother released Chris, Eddie leaned and kissed Buck on the cheek, tilting his head back to the truck. “Chris, you wanna go with Buck and get buckled in? I’m gonna walk your grandparents to their car.”

Chris took off happily with Buck in tow, and Eddie allowed himself a moment to feel all warm inside watching Buck take Chris’ hand happily as they walked away before he had to turn and face his parents once more. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not that his mother was first to speak, pleading with him while his father unlocked and started their car. “You don’t need to be so sneaky to talk to us, Eddito. You know your father and I just worry.”

“If you want to talk sneaky, let’s talk about your spontaneous road trip to Los Angeles. Have you talked to Abuela? Or Pepa? Because Buck’s met them both, and they both love him. Have you even thought about visiting with them while you’re out here?” Eddie asked, the look on her face answer enough. Eddie sighed, shaking his head as he turned to his father, waiting to see what kind of explanation he would try and bury this in. “You dragged Mom a thousand miles just to interrogate me but you won’t even see the rest of the family?”

He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as his mother shut the door to the passengers seat of the car, and Eddie found himself wishing he could just tune this entire topic out as easily as she seemed to when his father met this gaze again.

“I am just trying to get you to do what is right for Chris.”

“That’s just it! I am what’s best for Chris, and I don’t understand why you can’t accept that. He’s my kid, mine, and if you can’t trust me to do what’s best for him,” Eddie paused, “then I don’t know what I can do to get that across.”

He shook his head as he started to walk back to his car. He had really, really hoped that would be the end of it, but he was well aware that would require luck, which he did not have, his father's voice calling after him making that painfully clear.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Eddie. When your little… mistake comes crashing down, we will be the only ones here for Chris! You can’t just turn your back on family!” Eddie felt his hackles rise as he walked away, ears ringing as he dug his heel into the dirt and looked over his shoulder.

“You turned your back on us—on me—a long time ago.” Eddie’s voice was low as he opened his door, slumping into the driver seat like a string had been cut, hands shaking as he started the truck.

--

“What was your family like?”

Eddie’s voice was soft from his place against Buck’s side, tucked up under one of Buck’s arms, the warmth from the demon eliminating any need for a blanket.

Eddie had made it exactly three blocks (just long enough to be out of view of his parents) before Buck had demanded he pull the car over so they could switch. He was more than happy to give up any responsibility, sliding into the back seat beside his kid, letting himself be completely engrossed in whatever Chris was listening to for the rest of the ride home.

Buck had been the one who drove them home, made dinner, entertained Chris while Eddie showered. Buck was the one who helped with everything along the way just like he always did. And now Buck was literally, literally anchoring him into reality, a comforting weight along Eddie’s side.

He couldn’t tell what Marvel movie was on—honestly, he had kind of stopped caring about any of them after Black Panther—but they were still Chris’ favorite, and he was sure that Chris would have been livid at them for talking if he hadn’t fallen asleep in the first five minutes of the movie. He wanted to save the moment like a snapshot forever; Chris’ head against Buck’s thigh, sprawled out over the both of their laps, his soft snores doing little to mask Eddie’s question (or Buck’s snort in return). “Eddie, my parents were like... completely crazy. Yours are getting up there, but mine were insane. My mom...” Buck shut his mouth as Chris shifted, waiting until he was settled to resume.

“My mom is the reason I got into this position in the first place.”

Eddie felt his face fall as Buck spoke, repositioning himself to sit up a little straighter beside Buck, eyes trained to the demons’ face. Buck was smiling, a sense of bitter irony on his face as he pushed some hair from Chris’ forehead. “When my dad died, my mom... didn’t take it well. She kind of fell off the deep end. Maddie was lucky, she got out before the shit hit the fan. Anyway, my mom and I tried everything—therapy, grief counseling, the power of prayer—seriously.” Buck said, a smile on his face as Eddie laughed, shoulders shaking.

“You’re such an ass.” Buck said, but he was smiling as well, shaking his head. “Anyway, when that didn’t work, my mom tried the other route. She was, like, off the deep end at that point. Talismans, ouija boards, drugging herself up to talk to the dead. I probably should have turned around when I came home to find a pentagram painted on the floor, but.”

Buck shrugged like this was the easiest thing in the world to announce, but Eddie had long since stopped laughing, his jaw a little slack. “Oh, Buck...” He hated how weak his voice sounded, but Buck brushed it off, continuing on.

“No big deal. She sucked at Latin, turns out. I got these devilishly good looks, and she got torn apart by hellfire.” Eddie choked on a laugh as Buck beamed at him, because of course he would be making a pun at a time like this. He stifled the rest of his laugh as Buck squeezed him a little tighter, shaking his head as Chris let out another little snore.

It was easy enough to maneuver Chris into his arms, carrying him to his bedroom, though he certainly wasn’t about to object to Buck’s abject closeness, less than a half step behind Eddie as he put Chris to bed. It wasn’t until he stood to leave did he actually see the look on Buck’s face as he tousled Chris’ hair and said goodnight; it was incredibly soft, dopey even, and the only reason Eddie could make that comparison is because Hen had told him plenty of times that was the same way he looked at Chris.

He just never thought he would see that look on someone else.

Eddie kept his voice low as he closed Chris’ door, starting the walk back to his own room slowly, swaying easily in step beside Buck as he scratched at his head. “Do you remember, when we met, you told me—“

“How incredibly hot you were, how good you were with your tongue, how—“

“Jesus, Buck, no, you fucking pervert. I was going to say, you told me that I wasn’t being normal about this.” Eddie said, and Buck hummed, his hand idly reaching out toward Eddie’s. “What are most of your contracts like?”

Buck snorted as he tugged Eddie into the bedroom, turning off the television, the lights, even locking the front door with a wave of his hand. “I’ve never fucked another contract, if that’s what you’re asking.” he started, pulling the sheets down with another wave and a laugh as Eddie threw his shirt at Buck’s head. “God, Eddie, they’re fucking assholes. Everyone’s power hungry, or money hungry, or just stupid as fuck, seriously. In like, a whole decade, I’ve never had anyone make a contract for someone else before. But you…”

Eddie looked up as Buck pulled him closer again, planting a kiss on his lips. Part of Eddie wanted to shy away, wanted to say the boyfriend thing had all but been an act, but he had given up on that about thirty seconds after Buck told his father to fuck off.

“Even when you were drunk, you only cared about what was best for your son. That’s why it was so easy for me to make a contract with you. Seeing how good of a person you were, how much you loved your kid? No question.”

Buck’s voice had dropped down low as he sunk into the bed, making grabby hands at Eddie until he followed suit, finding himself fitting perfectly in the crook of Buck’s shoulder, resolutely not thinking about the flat plain of muscle beneath his hand as he wrapped an arm around Buck’s midsection. Eddie felt his eyes wander across Buck’s face, his lips, the smooth line of his neck to the little gem on his necklace. “You really think I’m a good father?”

“Eddie, come on.”

When he looked back up at Buck’s face, Eddie felt a spark burn through his spine, meeting Buck’s glowing eyes for the third time in three months and the second time that day. Eddie wasn’t sure who moved (okay, he was definitely the one who had moved) but the kiss was soft, a barely there brush of lips, a pressure that set Eddie’s lips on fire.

“You’re amazing.”

[lemonsandstrawberries]

A Year After

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), post MCU Avengers Endgame

summary: A year has passed since Tony made the snap and he is doing good. During day time. During night time, his demons wake up.

warnings: emotional and physical hurt, amputee!Tony Stark, mentions of mental illnesses, spoilers for Avengers Endgame (but if you still don’t know what happened in Endgame, getting spoiled is on you!)

length: 1 270 words

a/n: just me again. just still grieving losing Tony Stark a year after Avengers Endgame premiered. just this time I wrote something happier. hope you will like it!

—————

A Year After

Tony was having a dream. It wasn't a good one. Buildings were collapsing with an overwhelming roar, the air was heavy with dust, and there was only destruction as far as he could see. He was in the middle of it all, broken and defeated, the right side of his body burning with raw fire, melting his armor off, and scorching him to the bone.

Steve was there too. Not in the dream, but by Tony's side, observing him in his sleep. The way Tony's face contorted in pain, the droplets of sweat appeared on the forehead. The heartbreaking part was that he couldn't do anything. Tony had to wake up on his own, his mind having to fight another battle and process that everything he was seeing already happened and was in the past. If Steve forcefully pulled Tony out of his nightmare, it would end in an ongoing panic attack and that would be much more difficult to stop than comforting Tony once he would wake up. They both learned it the hard way and agreed it would be the right thing to do, even if it was the worst for Steve - to be so close and not be able to ease the pain.

Suddenly, Tony sucked in a deep breath, eyes snapped open. He tossed the covers, jolting up in the bed, his instincts telling him to run.

"Hey, hey, babe, it is okay," Steve followed, sitting up, and putting his hands up in a calming position when Tony turned to him, looking haunted. "Tony, it is me. You are with me, in our bed, everything is okay."

Tony was shivering and panting. He pressed his hand to the right eye, letting the left one focus better. The tissue damage, spreading all over his right side and up to his face became pinkish in color with time, angry colors fading away. A year ago, Tony didn't lose only his arm. The damage went deeper, affecting the optic nerve, and gradually, Tony was losing sight in his right eye. It was progressing and he could still see blurs and shapes and recognized colors, but no details. There was no way to tell how long until he loses his vision completely. Tony didn't seem to be bothered on most days. A couple of scars, an amputated arm, and partial blindness - that was a small price in comparison to being alive.

Tony's shoulders sagged down, his posture relaxing, deep breaths hearable in the quiet room. It was all in his head. Just another nightmare. Tony closed his eyes and let his body fall back on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.

"Sorry," Tony apologized, rubbing his face, trying to get the unsettling, cold feeling out of his mind. "For wakening you up."

Steve watched Tony with soft eyes. The way his chest still heavied with every panicked breath, the slight tremble of his hand. Some nights were harder than others and Steve understood it all perfectly.

"You didn't wake me up," Steve smoothly lied, turning the night lamp on, the soft glow dispersing the darkness around them, just in time for him to catch a shadow of a disappearing snicker from Tony's face. Of course, Tony didn't believe him. They both knew better, but Tony should also know that Steve didn't mind.

"Do you need anything?" Steve asked, scooting closer and Tony shook his head, eyes focused on the ceiling. "No? No water, maybe a painkiller? Do you want your meds?" He continued asking, all gentle and respectful of Tony's space.

"I am fine, Steve," Tony said, trying to sound neutral, but his body tensed and voice became a bit heavier. Every time, Steve brought up Tony's meds, Tony became unnecessarily upset. Steve knew that his boyfriend was a proud man, but there was no shame in taking care of your mental health and Steve saw Tony neglecting that part of himself. Physically, he was doing great, learned how to live with a prosthetic arm, the loss of sight wasn't stopping him in any way. His mental health was a different story though. There was no good time for this talk, and Steve waited way too long already to initiate it.

"Babe," Steve started, trying to keep the frustrated tone out of his voice, "if this is bothering you, maybe you need to go to the doctor again, get some new medication for your sleep-"

"Steve."

Steve stopped talking, feeling Tony's hand closing around his wrist. The grip was tight, holding to him with some kind of urgency.

"Please."

Some things had to wait. Steve lay down, letting Tony hide into him, both hands wrapping over his boyfriend's trembling body and caressing his back.

Slowly, Steve started to let go, the simmering anger going away. He still was firm in his belief that Tony needed some new medication, something that would allow him to sleep through the night without nightmares interrupting, but holding Tony in his arms was soothing for both of them. Warm, alive, breathing. A year ago, Steve thought that he had lost him. People stronger than Tony were affected by the consequences of using the Infinity Stones yet Tony proved to be the strongest of them all. A regular human, with no additional powers, just a man in a high tech suit he had designed himself. Steve didn't know he could be so proud and so worried about someone, all at the same time.  

"Just for the record," Steve whispered, gently scratching Tony's back, up and down, feeling that he was becoming sleepy once more, "we are not done with this talk."

Tony snorted, the sound vibrating against Steve's chest. "I know."

Steve laughed too, squeezing Tony a bit harder, just to make a point and enjoying the little squeak of protest. "You are lucky you are so cute."

"Still?"

Steve's hands stopped moving. That was not supposed to happen. Such thoughts were forbidden. Tony stayed curled into Steve, unsure what the next move would be and what he had brought on himself.

"Babe, look at me."

Reluctantly, Tony did. Steve was looking back at him, blue eyes seeing him and only him. The almost blind eye. The scarred skin. The missing arm. The scar in the middle of his chest. A broken man.

Gently, Steve put both hands on Tony's cheeks and leaned in closer, intimating a chaste kiss. Slow and sweet and pure, their lips moving together. No hidden intentions behind, just pure affection and admiration. The kind of kiss that could heal all the wounds.

When their lips parted, Steve leaned his forehead against Tony's, staying close, their bodies almost fused together.

"Always," Steve answered, looking at his boyfriend with all the love he had for him. Tony felt a little dazed, not knowing how to handle all those feelings, so he did the thing that seemed the most familiar to him.

"Ugh, gross," Tony grimaced, sticking his tongue out in disgust.

Steve laughed, loud and cheerful, not expecting anything else. Also, Tony should already know the consequences of such rude behavior, and Steve easily flopped his boyfriend on his back and climbed at Tony pressing more kisses to his face and blowing raspberries on the skin.

"HAA! Stop! Steheheve! I have only one arm to defend mysehehehelf!"

Steve kept grinning with joy and didn't plan on stopping anytime soon. He definitely didn't want Tony to get his prosthetic arm, not only because then Tony could easily kick Steve's ass, but because in Steve's eyes, Tony was already perfect and worthy of love, just the way he was, in this exact moment.

--------

the sadder Tony Stark's death anniversary fic --> 

[katehuntington]

Title: November 2nd Author: Kate Huntington Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: Season 8/9 (before Mary comes back) Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader. (Sam, Castiel, John, and Mary mentioned) Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Warnings: Angst, grief over loss of family, fluff, sad!Dean Word Count: 2276 words Summary: The 2nd day of November, the day Dean’s mother died, is always a tough one to get through. This time however, Y/N is by his side to offer him support. Author’s note: This is a sad oneshot, people. But on this day, November 2nd, the day when it all started, it’s more than fitting. Beta’d by @winchest09 & @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish

     The two on the display of the alarm clock flicks into a three as minutes slowly pass. 8.03 PM, it's almost time. Troubled, Dean lets the air escape from his lips and returns his gaze to the ceiling of the bunker. He hoped that after an exhausting hunt like the last, he’d be asleep by now. 

     It took the hunters four days to track down a ghoul in Savage, Mississippi. Add a fourteen hour drive back home to that and you’d think he’d be out like a light before even reaching his bed. Unfortunately, it’s quite the opposite and he wishes they had run into another job on the way over to Lebanon, so that at least his mind would be occupied. But with no new cases lined up, he remains lying on his back motionless, sheets pulled up to his chest, one hand behind his head. 

His jaw clenches as he thinks of the tragedy that struck so many years ago. After all that time it should be easier, right? It should be less hard to deal with days like these, time heals all wounds after all. But not this one. This wound is the foundation of all his illnesses, of all his problems, of his life.

He removes his hand from behind his head and settles back into his pillow, running his fingers through his hair. Again he glances aside at the neon numbers that tell the time. 8.08 PM now. He squirms a little, annoyed by the space he has all by himself. The bed is much cooler than usual, it seems bigger too. It’s because Y/N is missing from it. 

     He had withdrawn into his room a couple of hours ago and failed to invite her to come with him like he usually does. Now that he thinks of it, he has been giving her the cold shoulder for at least a week, so no wonder that she didn’t follow him to his chamber. Why does he do that? Why does he push everyone away who cares about him whenever life gets hard? He didn’t mean to ignore her on the ride home, he didn’t mean to snap when she adjusted the heater on the dashboard when she got cold. He didn’t mean to shove her hand away when she comfortingly laid it on his leg as a sign of support. Yet he did and he feels like an absolute dick. She is only trying to be there for him, to be the supporting girlfriend. But he can’t have it, he can’t accept it. If she witnesses how broken he truly is, why would she possibly want to stay with him? And yet treating her like dirt isn’t exactly delivering the message that he wants her with him either. Shit, he’s such an idiot. 

     Then the timepiece on the nightstand changes again, hitting 8.11 PM. His eyes linger at the display and he swallows back the lump that started to build in his throat. Eleven past eight, the moment the clock in Sammy’s nursery stopped ticking. The moment Azazel set foot in that room and fucked it all up.       Dean averts his gaze away again and shuts his eyes. Four years old at the time, but he remembers so many details. He remembers the intense heat from the fire, his mother’s horrifying screams, the smell of burning flesh, his father handing baby Sam to him. 

     Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don’t look back! Now, Dean! Go! 

     That’s when his mission started, that’s when the four year old grew into an adult. That moment right there changed everything. That moment when his mother died. 

     Soft creaking of the door interrupts his vivid memories and when he opens his eyes he sees Y/N, peeking inside his room.      “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she excuses herself timidly. “Just wanted to check in.”      “It’s okay,” Dean replies, voice raspy.      “I’ll get my stuff.”      Almost shameful, she moves into the bedroom and picks up her duffle bag, but Dean stops her.      “Where are you going?”      His questioning eyes are softer than they have been for the last couple of days. For the first time this week he seems genuinely worried about her and she ceases her actions.      “I can take a hint, Dean,” she returns, fiddling with the handles of the bag. “Look, if you wanna end this, I get it. I'll move out.”      “What? No!” He sits up, regretting every action or word that made her feel unwanted. “C’mere.”

     He can see that she has been longing for his invitation. Despite her efforts to hide it, tears shimmer in her eyes and it’s only now that Dean gets how scared she was. It couldn’t possibly be that she thought that he was going to break up with her, right? Insecure, Y/N moves closer and sits down on the edge of the bed. Bruising has started to surface on her right jaw, visible signs of the fight she had with the ghoul. He didn’t even ask her if she was alright.

     “I’m such an asshat,” Dean muddles, realizing the effects of his behavior as he grabs her hand and squeezes it softly.      His eyes meet hers and beg for forgiveness, but that’s not what she’s after. All she wants is to understand what is going on in that mind of his, why he’s building this Berlin Wall around himself.      “It’s alright,” she assures, glancing down at their locked hands as she moves her fingers over his battered knuckles softly. “Just… Please explain to me what’s wrong. If I did something to upset you, then I--”      “You didn’t,” he promises, trying to soothe her by gently cupping her face. “You think I’m acting this way because of you?”      She shrugs as her bottom lip begins to tremble. Unable to prevent her eyes from welling up, a single tear comes down her cheek, Dean wiping it away when it reaches his thumb. 

     To her, the signs were clear, though. He pushed her off, declined any affection and refused to talk to her. Maybe after being together for five months he got bored with her. Face it, Dean’s relationship track record isn’t very impressive; he hasn’t been able to hold on to a woman for very long. Why should she be any different?      “Hey, look at me.”      A pair of green orbs stare into her soul when she dares to meet them. The warmth coming from his dark pupils takes away some of the doubt, but not nearly all of it.      “You are the best thing that happened to me in a long, long time. You couldn’t possibly do anything wrong. This is not on you, you hear me?” he tells her, remorseful. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

     His eyes bounce between hers before he comes closer and presses a soft and tender kiss on her lips. It calms her down in an instant and she answers him gratefully. It’s amazing how Dean is able to wash away her insecurities, but then again he always had that effect on her. The lack of his love drowned her in doubt so overwhelming that it caused her to question everything she stands for. But the presence of it, well… let’s just say he is able to make her feel so incredibly special, that she could take on the world. 

     When Dean opens his eyes again and creates a little distance, her smile that had faded over the past week is back. He mirrors the expression, but can’t prevent his heartache from showing too.       Although he convinced her that she didn’t trigger his behaviour, it’s clear as day that he’s carrying a burden around that is forcing him on his knees.      “Then what is it, Dean? Please tell me,” she asks again. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

     He nods, but breaks eye contact nonetheless. Talking about the things that keep him up at night has never been his strong suit. He can’t even remember the last time he talked to anyone about his mother, except for Sam, who used to occasionally ask about her death when he was younger. Even then he wouldn’t waste more than a few words, too afraid it would surface emotions that he was glad to have buried so deep. But when he looks at Y/N again, he does the one thing he has never done with any woman: he opens up.      “On November 2nd, 1983, my mom was killed by a demon,” he starts off. “Today is the anniversary of her death and it’s uh - it’s always been a tough day for me.”

     He gazes away into nothingness as the warm light from the lamp on the bed stand shimmers into his teary eyes. She watches him, her mouth slightly opened in shock by this devastating unravelment, as compassion for her partner grows.       “Birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas… They’re not really that much of a celebration when you barely have anyone left to spend it with,” Dean continues. “I was right there when it happened. Even though I was just a kid, I remember and… I-I don’t know, I just can’t seem to be able to let it go.”

     As he tells her what happened that dreadful night, she folds back the covers and snuggles up next to him, filling the emptiness that was there in her absence. Turned on her side facing him, she listens to the story, leaning on her elbow as her free hand grips his.      “The thing is… that if she hadn’t walked into the nursery that night, Azazel probably would’ve left her alone. She would’ve seen her kids grow up, Dad would most likely still be alive. Sam and I wouldn’t have learned how to fire a gun at the age of six,” he scoffs as he rubs his brow. “We would’ve had a childhood, a home… We would’ve been a family.”      His voice breaks on the final word and he keeps quiet, knowing that anything else would come out shaky. He tries to focus on the ceiling light, hoping that if he does, he will be able to keep it together. As he struggles to stay strong, Y/N continues to run her thumb over his hand, not letting go of his grip. 

     “I know it’s a dysfunctional one, but you have a family, Dean. Sam, Cas, me… We’re in this together,” she speaks wisely, trying to comfort him. “And I didn’t have the pleasure to meet your mother, but I bet she’d be damn proud of you after everything that you have done for the people you care about, and not just for them. You saved the world, Dean.”      He keeps staring at the ceiling, shaking his head. He’s not a hero. He started the damn apocalypse. He tortured souls in Hell. He did unimaginable things.       After swallowing thickly, he dares to test his voice again.      “This is not the life she wanted her kids to be raised in.” He knows. “It would make her so sad if she knew we're hunters…”

     The tightness in his chest overwhelms him, it pushes the tears that were gathering in the corner of his eye over the edge, causing them to run down his temples. He doesn’t want her to see this side of him, this weak and vulnerable excuse of a man. But he can’t help it, he can’t stop himself from breaking over his mother’s death for the first time since she passed. He fights the shake in his breath, the tears that keep gathering. Even as a kid he would bury it, stuff it all down and hide it for no one to see. It was one of the first things he learned in order to protect himself. But tonight, he can’t keep his grief at bay. 

     God, he misses her. He misses hearing her voice when she sang ‘Hey Jude’ to him before bedtime. He misses how she smelled like spices and cinnamon whenever she was baking pie. He misses how she hugged him whenever he needed comfort. He misses her so damn much. He chokes back a sob, his free hand running over his face to cover it. 

     “Hey, it’s okay,” Y/N hushes. “It’s okay, Dean. Come here.”      Y/N ushers him to roll into her, folding her arms around him. He lays his head against her chest, the steady metronome-like heartbeat coming from it calming him. It helps to steady his breathing, despite her tight cradle. He has never felt so safe with anyone except with the one person he is mourning over, and so he lets himself go. For the first time, he doesn’t feel the slightest uneasiness in their hug and at that moment he knows. He knows that whatever this is between the two of them, as long as Death doesn’t intervene, it is going to last. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Death always intervenes, Death always takes a hold. It’s only a matter of time, like it’s only a matter of time before November 2nd passes. And like every year, tomorrow it will be easier to look up, to get out of bed, to fake a smile. What is different this year, though, is that he has someone by his side who understands why. 

     It takes a while before Dean’s respiration calms, before his eyelids stay closed. Finally, he’s asleep, but she won’t let go of him and continues to stroke his hair, pressing a soft kiss on his head every now and then. She won’t let go until it’s November 3rd.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Follow Forever tags: @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @angelsandwinchesters @atc74 @bandobsession98 @books-wands-swords-impalas @caligraphee @canadianspnhunter @chumi-la-chula @coffee-obsessed-writer @cookie-dough-lova @dawnie1988 @dillpicklesunflowerseed @fangirl-and-medstudent-help @flamencodiva @hannahindie @heartsaved @hennessy0274-blog @hyperella @idreamofhazel @just-another-busy-fangirl @kathaswings @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @mariekoukie6661 @mogaruke @mrswhozeewhatsis @myheartbeatsjustforyou @notnaturalanahi @pisces-cutie @rainqueen @risingphoenix761 @sammyssupersmile @sheepdogs33456 @soupornatural @spiritofoblivion @spnimag @sunskittlex @supernatural-girl97​ @super-not-naturall​ @theyaremyveryownthoughts​ @tranquility-or-chaos​ @trashforwinchesters​ @ultimatecin73​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @uzum4k1-uch1h4​ @vvishous​ @vxxn128​ @winchest09​ @winchesterxtwo​

[scintillating-galaxias]

beneath the doorway

Aziraphale wanted to kiss Crowley very, very badly. The thing is, he just can’t bring himself to do it. He’s determined to change that tonight. (read it on ao3!)

-

Aziraphale wanted to kiss Crowley very, very badly.

They’d been… involved in a romantic sense (dating, Aziraphale sighed to himself, but he couldn’t make himself say it yet) for just short of a year now. Midnight tonight would be their anniversary, actually. They’d spent the entire day cuddled up on the couch together, planning the whole day out, and it was going to be one of the best days Aziraphale would ever have. He could tell just by the endless amount of knowing giggles and the daring whispers they’d shared.

But something was missing. And Aziraphale knew precisely what it was. Despite the time they’ve known each other, how long they’ve been together, despite their enthusiasm, despite everything, Aziraphale and Crowley have never once kissed. They held hands at restaurants and linked arms at St. James’ and cozied up together on Aziraphale’s couch, but they did not kiss.

No… No, that wasn’t true. Crowley loved to pick up Aziraphale’s hands and murmur promises into his knuckles and palms and wrists and—the point was, it wasn’t true. A correction was in order. They’d never kissed each other anywhere on their faces. No, that wasn’t right either. Crowley would frequently kiss Aziraphale’s forehead in lieu of a goodbye before he left the bookshop to cause some mischief. Yet another correction was needed.

Aziraphale had never kissed Crowley. He wanted to, with everything in his heart and soul, God did he want to kiss him. Countless hours were spent creating plan after plan, agonizing over the utmost perfect moment to do it. And then, when he finally thought he’d figured it out, he backed out at the last possible second, furious with himself. He didn’t understand why he did it. It wasn’t shyness, it wasn’t unpreparedness, and it certainly wasn’t some inane fear of rejection. Crowley wanted him to do it too; it was easy to tell when he perked up when Aziraphale drew near with a particular hesitancy in his smile and when he tried to hide his slump of disappointment when Aziraphale inevitably retreated into himself. 

It’s okay, angel, Crowley soothed while Aziraphale seethed. I get it. Seriously. You don’t have to push yourself for me. I’ll be right here when you’re ready.

Together, he and Crowley had set fire to the plans of Heaven and Hell’s War, humiliated them in their attempts to silence him and Crowley permanently, and ultimately carried on in the luxury of living on a perfectly intact Earth. They’d totally rejected Heaven and Hell in their vast entireties.

Almost.

Crowley claimed he was used to rejecting premeditated concepts of what he should and shouldn’t do because he’d been a demon for so long. But Aziraphale still had difficulty entirely moving out of the mindset Heaven expertly crafted for him to live in for his entire life. He’d gotten closer to leaving in the past year than he’d ever before; the place was empty of all loved items and furniture, the boxes were packed and ready to go. Still, Aziraphale hesitated in the doorway, staring through the open door at—what? Sentimentality? Nostalgia? It couldn’t be; there was nothing left for him in this place but blank walls. 

It was nearing midnight now. Most of London had already settled down for sleep but a few drunks and late-night clubbers. Aziraphale felt unusually tired, but in the warm, satisfied way one was after a good day. And today had been a good day, indeed.

“—and make sure to get those little lemon ones, yeah? Those are good.”

“Of course,” said Aziraphale. They had just finished up creating a packing list for a very overdue picnic. Giddiness was already threatening to take over Aziraphale’s good sense. “Oh, my dear,” he continued breathlessly, squeezing Crowley’s hand, “I’m terribly excited. I’ve been looking forward to this for ages.”

“The sentiment’s mutual, angel.” Crowley squeezed back and then sighed regretfully. “But if I don’t get going, I’m never going to get my stuff together, and I refuse to have a half-arsed picnic.”

Aziraphale rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “I know,” he said.

Gently, Crowley began to extract himself from their shared mess of tangled limbs, a task unashamedly hindered by Aziraphale as he kept dragging him back to hold him for just a little while longer. Eventually, though, Crowley’s tugs became less playful, and a more insistent, so Aziraphale reluctantly let him go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, angel,” Crowley said, a fond twinkle sparkling away in his eyes. Aziraphale pouted. “Oh, come off it. You’ve gone years without me before. You can survive for a few hours.”

“I guess,” huffed Aziraphale, which made Crowley chuckle.

“Alright, I’m off.” Crowley turned away and began to stride for the door. Aziraphale watched his retreating back, something unnamable pushing up through his chest.

Now!

Aziraphale called, “Wait!”

He stood up as Crowley’s body made a reappearance in the door. An odd little smile played across his lips. It seemed to know something Aziraphale didn’t, but he was curious to find out.

“Yes, angel?”

“It’ s—Tomorrow then?” Aziraphale took a short little step towards Crowley with each word, hands clasped together behind his back. “At noon?”

“Yep.”

“You’ll be there?”

Crowley peered at him over the top of his sunglasses. “You’re acting funny. When have I ever stood you up?”

Aziraphale chuffed. “It’s just nerves, my dear. I’ve never done this before. And to answer your question, well, never, I suppose. You’ve always been rather… selectively chivalrous, shall we say.”

He was in front of Crowley now, one hand resting on the doorway, the other discreetly wiping sweat off on his pants. That fond little smirk hadn’t faded.

“Soo, what’s up? Is there something you want to add to our list?” Crowley said with a small gesture. Aziraphale realized he’d been standing there and smiling gently without actually saying anything.

“O-oh. Just one thing.” Aziraphale blew out a short breath and moved his hand from the doorway to rest delicately on Crowley’s chest. His heart raced beneath Aziraphale’s trembling fingertips, and it stumbled as the beat became that much quicker. 

Go on then. He wants you to. You want to. What’s stopping you?

Aziraphale didn’t give himself the time to answer—then he might actually answer, and who knows what would happen if he did that. He stood on his toes, tilted his chin up, and kissed the very outermost corner of Crowley’s mouth as the old grandfather clock in the corner began to chime.

For a moment, a blaring alarm of no! froze him. And then he melted as he felt Crowley’s smile grow beneath his lips. When he settled back onto flat ground, he made a conscious effort not to let the joyful glow inside of him start to literally buoy him up and off of the earth.

“That’s all I wanted to add,” he said softly as a silly grin spread across Crowley’s blush stained face.

“D’ya think you could add one more?” Crowley asked eagerly. Aziraphale ducked his head to hide his laugh.

“Tomorrow,” he responded breathlessly, eyes glittering, “when I see you in the morning.”

“I—yeah! Yes! M-morning, angel.”

“It’s getting quite late, actually,” Aziraphale teased. “Good night, my dear.”

“G’ni—Wait, what—”

Chuckling, Aziraphale went to close the door. Crowley quickly pulled it back open. Never one to be outdone, he stooped and brushed a light kiss on the tip of Aziraphale’s nose, just barely grazing his upper lip. 

“Oh!”

“Was that alright?” asked Crowley, rushed. “I—Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“I think it was,” said Aziraphale, who was waiting on the harrowing daunt of shame and fear to fill him, the same one that’s stopped him hundreds of times before. It never did—there was no room spared for it beside the golden, bubbly sensation very nearly lifting him off of his feet. A delighted smile spread across his rosy cheeks. “Yes. Yes, that was fine.”

Crowley’s eyes flashed brightly. “Oho, fine, he says!” 

“Wonderful, even!”

“Whoa, don’t get too ahead of yourself there, angel.”

Their eyes met, and they laughed, naturally coming to each other to meet beneath the doorway. Aziraphale lightly bumped his forehead against Crowley’s shoulder, hiding his growing smile. 

I love him, he thought dazedly, Lord, do I love him.

He wanted to stay here beneath the doorway forever like this, tucked under Crowley’s chin with his arms wrapped around his shoulders. But he couldn’t. With a fond sigh, Aziraphale separated himself, but only just enough so that he could see all of Crowley’s glowing face. “Good night, darling.”

“Good night, angel.” Crowley pressed another kiss to his forehead, then finally began to separate himself. His hands lingered on Aziraphale’s sides even as he took a few steps back, until he finally began to saunter back to his car. Aziraphale waved as he opened the door to the Bentley. Crowley waved back and got in, the car’s door slamming shut with a finality that echoed down the quiet street. Just before he began to drive away, Aziraphale swore he saw Crowley fist-pump the air.

Giggling as the Bentley’s lights disappeared around a corner, Aziraphale finally shut the door. He leaned back against it, pressing his hand against his heart and grinning up at the ceiling. It thrummed beneath his fingers, reminding him of how grateful he was to be still alive and experience the sheer joy of being in love.

All of a sudden, he couldn’t stop laughing, these tiny bursts of pure elation that bubbled up from his chest and filled the quiet air of his shop. When he regained his composure, his smile had not faded in the slightest. Reverently, he touched his fingertip to his lip. With the closing of the car door, another door had also finally shut. No more looking back. He could finally walk away from that place, away to where Crowley was waiting for him.

With a happy sigh, Aziraphale bustled off into the shop. After all, he had an anniversary to get ready for.

[charmingpplincardigans]

An angel and a demon share a drink on an anniversary, 34 AD.

I’m writing an Aziraphale POV follow up to What’s Done In the Dark, and while I like this scene, I don’t think it belongs in it, so here *dusts off scene and gives it a spit shine* please take this slice of pure celestial emotion as it is. I’ll have to write several of these feelings back into the fic in a different way, but enough of it will have to change due to setting change that it felt a shame to just trash the like five really good lines in it. I hope someone else finds them as lovely as I do. ❤❤ 

Aziraphale felt the love the minute it took shape. 

He and Crowley were together again at the foot of a hill under the stars. It was the least amount of time they had ever gone between meetings. They hadn’t planned it, they had both just come to investigate the same open wound in the fabric of the universe on the same night, the anniversary of the death of a carpenter. Crowley had already been there when Aziraphale showed up--sitting with his legs crossed, feet and ends of his robes buried in the sand as if he had been there for days and it was starting to cover him over as the landscape naturally shifted, face tilted to the sky. 

Crowley always had his face tilted to the sky. Aziraphale wanted to know if he was searching for something or simply waiting. He didn’t think he was allowed to ask. 

There were two jugs of what was probably some kind of ferment half buried in the sand next to Crowley. 

“Do you mind?” Aziraphale asked. “Or should I go elsewhere?” 

Crowley turned his head to look into Aziraphale’s face. He was still looking up, but had had to lower his gaze from the stars to the earth to get there all the same and it made Aziraphale feel condescended to. Crowley’s thin lips were pulled into a straight line. One eyebrow arched in a half-formed question. He didn’t ask it. Instead he turned back to his stargazing. 

“I don’t own the place,” he said after a beat.

Aziraphale decided to interpret that as an obtuse acceptance rather than a denial. He sat on the other side of the jugs and faced the opposite direction as Crowley so that when they both looked up the space between them became an empty vase made of night. 

"It's where they bring the corrupt and the wicked," Aziraphale said as he tucked his robes around his legs. "Your side might as well lay claim." 

The look Crowley answered that bit of small talk with could have lit a fire over the whole spill of the Dead Sea. Now that Aziraphale was closer he could see the demon's golden eyes were rimmed with red. He debated whether he should ask what was wrong, but decided that he'd done enough damage already.

Crowley took up one of the jugs and took a long pull from it. Then he held it out to Aziraphale, who accepted. It was a sort of ale apparently. Not Aziraphale's favorite, but not half terrible, all things considered. 

"You can feel it, can't you? The emptiness? I assume that's why you're here. I'm surprised there aren't more of you here to investigate."

Aziraphale could feel it, but he hadn’t been drawn by it. On the contrary, he’d been repulsed by it, which is why he was here. He wanted to investigate what it was the universe seemingly didn’t want him to see. Probably if there were any other angels close enough to feel it they were heeding the black ebb of it as a warning, but it was his duty as an emissary to the Earth to know and understand these things, so here he was. 

The desert chill was starting to seep over him. At least, he hoped it was from the desert and not anything more malevolent. 

"Makes it an odd place for you to be then,” he said. “Someplace where you expect there to be many angels. Considering how you told me they usually react to your presence."

"We," Crowley said. 

"I'm sorry?" Aziraphale asked, confused. He took another drink from the jug. Judging by the state of Crowley's mood, he had some catching up to do.

"We for you and being here, not they. Since you're one of them. The whole heavenly host are a package deal, yes? Same actions, same intentions, same holy decree to follow." 

"We are all hands of the same body," Aziraphale said. "But we do not all have the same orders."

"S'a lotta hands," Crowley said. "Sounds grotesque when you say it like that."

"Well, it can be, quite." Aziraphale set the jug back between them. "But I think we're both used to that by now."

Crowley nodded and took up the other jug, which he cradled in his lap. "Four thousand years and every time I think I've seen everything they're capable of, they manage to surprise me." 

"The humans you mean? They are many more hands than either of us can lay claim to. Many more heads."

"Many more hearts," Crowley agreed. He took another long pull and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. 

Aziraphale hummed in response. "What does it feel like to you?"

"Sorrow," Crowley said. "It feels like a sorrow so deep it's ripped a hole into all the layers of existence. Down to the light in the stars."

"Hm. It feels like love to me. Bleeding and darkly grieving, but love nonetheless." 

"Two halves then. I wonder who they belong to."

"Maybe they belong to God. She was his heavenly father after all."

A haunted look of grief crumpled Crowley's face for half a moment and he dipped his head so that his long, curling hair could hang around him like a curtain. He was silent, except for one shaky inhale, and then he seemed to push it away. If Aziraphale hadn't been looking at him, had instead been looking at the stars, he would have missed it completely. He wondered what other secrets he had missed by taking his eyes from the demon.

Crowley shook his head, short and quick, as if to rid himself of the emotion, and lifted his face to the night. He flipped his hair back behind his shoulder with his hand and left his fingers tangled in it at the side of his neck, as if he’d been distracted mid-motion by a movement off in the distance. Aziraphale found himself wanting to know if it was soft, or if it was heavy, or if it was warm. He looked down at his own hands.

"When would God have learned to care about those who fulfilled Their prophecy?” Crowley asked. “Haven't They been too busy punishing people for simply living up to the flaws in Their design?" 

Aziraphale thought about this for a moment. Not because he needed to wonder at God's feelings on the matter, but because he'd never considered Crowley's. The demon was made entirely of questions. He and Aziraphale had rarely met throughout the whole history of time when Crowley was not working out some holy injustice or infernal puzzle with is mind. His whole being felt like want. What he wanted Aziraphale didn't know, but he had never supposed it mattered much if he ever found out. Crowley was a being of just as much power as him, surely if there were things he wanted he could manifest the getting of them. Except, perhaps, things that were out of his reach. The stars did feel so far away when one's feet were on the ground.

"Maybe they're his?" Aziraphale ventured, meaning Jesus. "Maybe he left them behind, felt them so deeply in this place they became real." That really had been a bad deal, but above his pay grade.

"Tangible," Crowley said. 

"Yes, you're right. Real isn't a meaningful measure. Tangible."

Crowley sat silently for the better part of an hour and Aziraphale sat with him. Crowley looked at his hands. He looked at the sky. He looked at the jugs between them. He looked at the sky. He looked at Aziraphale's hands where they rested, folded neatly in his lap. He looked at the sky. He looked at the sky. He looked at the sky. His eyes were so bright they might be mistaken for stars themselves. Aziraphale didn't know if that was meant to be a kindness, or a justice rendered in the light of his ruined existence, that kept him as a shard so far away from all of his coveted starlight. 

"Why do you never try to smite me?" he asked, eyes still tilted up. 

"Why would I?" Aziraphale asked.

"Because the others do. Because we're different. Didn't you get the memo? We're at odds." 

"Oh, I'd much rather keep it even if it's all the same to you," Aziraphale said. "Dreadful work, smiting. Makes such a mess." 

And you're so beautiful, he thought. It would be a shame to keep that from the world.

As thoughts went he knew that one was objectively disgraceful in the true meaning of the word. There was no reason for him to keep running into this enemy agent, to let him continue his work, except that it made Aziraphale's own work more interesting. And, when they ran across each other, his personal hours as well. Crowley was a bit wicked, but Aziraphale hadn't sensed anything about him that took pleasure in the truly evil. Mostly he took pleasure in changing fashions and new things people did with grapes and the night sky. All of those things, in Aziraphale's book, were good. Or if not good, worldly, common for their lack of grace and therefore not worthy of condemnation. So, it followed to reason, neither was Crowley. 

The smile that split across Crowley's face was the exact opposite of the grief from an hour before. A sense of relief flooded the area around them, Crowley letting go of this fear he had apparently been holding that Aziraphale might decide to do him in after all. He'd had that fear, but he hadn't let it guide him over his curiosity. Aziraphale was so intensely fascinated by that juxtaposition of feeling that he was about to cross over the border of the emotion and into smitten. What did any of that mean? What bravery was at work in this demon and why hadn’t God seen fit to keep him? 

That was when the love hit him. The wave of it overwhelmed him, but it didn't seem to have a direct source the way much of the love he felt did. Perhaps it was a side effect of the ghostly echo of the murdered son. Or perhaps it was his own and it was merely being bounced back at him like a refraction, like lamplight over water. Either way, the vase between them filled.

The lines of Crowley's body had relaxed entirely. He looked so loose Aziraphale thought he might slip back into snake form any minute and just curl up there in the sand. He did nothing to indicate that he had felt the change in emotional temperature, so Aziraphale did not ask him about it. 

Aziraphale did metaphorically hold his hand in it for as long as he could, until it got too hot to keep touching it. It was love, but like the tear it felt like it had been mixed with something dark and roiling. There was a different kind of aura around it, an aura of desire, which meant that it couldn’t be coming from Aziraphale. Or at least, he didn’t think it could. He thought about what he knew of desire, both human and angelic. He thought of two lovers from before the world they were sitting on had a name, one murdered and one destroyed. He thought about how, for angels certainly, desire’s end was death, and then he let his fear overtake him. 

He pulled away from the feeling of it, even though it pulled back at him instead of pushed him away. He felt the stretch of his aloofness tear like a muscle as he went and he gasped with the pain of it. 

Crowley looked at him, sharp and quick. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” Aziraphale said. He took up his jug again. 

Crowley nodded, accepting the lie, and tilted his face back to the sky.

[thesuperyooper]

Closure

Closure - Sequel to One Last Dance

Darkiplier x Reader

Dark remembered you sometimes. Little remnants from Damien’s memories would seep in to his thoughts and drive him crazy. He could feel Damien cry out for you sometimes. Even in a different dimension, Dark couldn’t get you off his mind. He would get little flashes of his memories, like dinner dates and waking up next to you, but the one that plagued him the most was the night before the manor.

Whenever that memory would pop up, Damien would get particularly ornery. He would push Dark away so much that his shell would begin to crack. Even Celine’s anger couldn’t keep him in check.

Even though it was difficult, Dark could manage Damien’s guilt and sadness. That was, until one day at the office with Wilford.

“I’m just saying, you look a bit stressed.” Wilford expressed in his warbled cadence that Dark has grown used to.

Wilford was lounging lazily on the client chair in Dark’s office while the latter worked on paperwork for his newest endeavor to find Mark. Wil held an iridescent knife and was toying with it interestedly.

“I’m fine, Wilford.” Dark replied pointedly.

“Tell that to your face.” Wil retorted flippantly. He flung the knife at the wall and it stuck perfectly along four others.

“You’re paying to get that wall fixed.” the demonic entity growled without looking up.

Suddenly, a puff of green smoke filled the room, making Wilford cough and wave the fog away. Dark glanced up from his work ever-so-slightly.

“Can I help you, Marvin?” he sighed, putting his pen down and rubbing his temples. His head started to hurt all of the sudden and he could hear the two siblings in the back of his mind begin to fight. He blocked it out and focused on the plume of smoke before him.

A man in a white cat mask walked out of the smoke, which lingered behind him. Besides the mask, the man had long, bright green hair tied up in a bun and a black cape billowing behind him.  When he spoke, he spoke with a heavy Irish accent with a high, flighty cadence.

“I think I might be able to help you.” Marvin replied, idly playing with a ball of green energy in his hands.

Dark rolled his eyes. “Get to the point, Septic.”

“Okay, Edgy Mc Edgelord.” Marvin laughed, pulling another figure out of the smoke, which then dissipated.

The annoyed look on Dark’s face changed to one of surprise and agony in a split second. “(Y/N)?” he whispered, so lightly he could barely hear.

You emerged from the smoke into a bland office. Marvin, the strange man who had found you when you appeared in front of Ego Inc. You weren’t sure exactly where you were or how you got there. The last thing you remember before waking up outside the giant corporation building was going to the manor for closure.

You never got closure after Damien’s ‘death’. Of the the four people allegedly murdered there, they never found any bodies. So, instead of a funeral, you went to the manor on a regular basis. You had always thought you felt Damien’s presence whenever you were there. So, every month, you would make a pilgrimage to the late actor’s house, which had been left to his butler, Benjamin. You liked Benjamin, and he liked to serve you. It was a win-win situation.

When you had gotten to the manor this time, though, you felt a different presence. It was the one year anniversary of the dreaded poker party, and Benjamin was out to an interview for a new master. The first thing you saw when you walked in was a cracked mirror. A disembodied voice whispered all around you.

“What do you wish for….” it echoed, leading you deeper into the house, “Fame? Fortune? Love?”

Before you knew what you were doing, you responded softly, “Closure.”

“Then closure you will have.” it granted, and the next thing you knew, you had a giant migraine and  you were in front of a giant, foreign-looking building. Marvin was leaning against the wall nearby and he helped you up with a knowing look.

“I thought I felt something weird and unbalanced in the world.” he had said, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“(Y/N). (Y/F/N). I was promised closure... I don’t know what’s going on… is this Heaven?”

Marvin sighed, “Let’s get you to Dark and Wilford, huh? Maybe they’ll know what’s going on.” He wrapped his arm around you and the two of you disappeared into a plume of green smoke.

The first person you spotted in the room, other than Marvin, was who you thought was the Colonel.

“William?” you said, wide-eyed. He wasn’t as you remembered him. His mustache was smaller and bright pink, matching his hair. He wasn’t wearing his uniform either, in fact, you barely recognized him until he spoke.

“That was a bit too close for comfort.” Wilford retorted with a chuckle. “May I inquire, who you are, my fair lady?”

Dark growled lightly, attracting your attention. He stood up and fixed his already perfect suit before cracking his neck to try and keep Damien in line. The arguing in his head was almost unbearable now. Damien was screaming at Dark to let him out, to let him see you.

Your eyes traveled to the demonic entity and you felt the room cool down and dim. You felt a pull towards the man that you thought was the man you loved.

“Damien!” you breathed, exasperated. You went to run to him, but were stopped in your tracks when you saw his eyes. Gone were the chocolate brown irises you had grown to love, in their place was a pair of intimidating, pitch black eyes. For a moment, they flicked between the two. “Damien? What’s going on?”

“You were about four letters off for both of our names, cupcake.” Wilford stepped in, laughing his warbled, maniacal laugh.

“Wilford, Marvin, out.” Dark commanded through his clenched jaw. His shell was beginning to break.

Marvin poofed out of the room with no hesitation. Wilford, however, was a bit more persistent.

“And let you have all of the fun with Mystery Girl here? Not in a million years, Darkipoo. Now, darling, what’s your name?” he chuckled, coming over to you and inspecting you like a diagram. What you didn’t know, was that he was noting your every vulnerable spot for if worse came to worse and he had to tickle you with one of the knives stuck in the wall.

“(Y/N).” you replied as it sunk in that these men were not who you thought they were.

Your name seemed to trigger something in Wilford. Broken memories of Russian Roulette and thunder seeped into his brain, and Dark could tell he was remembering through his insanity.

“Wilford. Out. Now.” Dark commanded, more dominant this time.

Wilford stared at you shellshocked before shaking his head and stomping over to the wall and pulling his iridescent knife out. He walked out of the room mumbling things along the lines of, “It wasn’t my fault. It was all a joke!”

“Why are you here?” Dark sneered.

“I just wanted closure. It said it would give me closure.” you pleaded, starting to lose your composure. The thing in front of you had all of Damien’s physicalities, except his skin was grey, his eyes flashed black, and he radiated a soft blue and red light. The blue light, though, you noted, was growing stronger. You even felt his presence, pulling you, tugging you towards him.

Somewhere, a familiar voice cried out your name. When you looked to Dark, his shell was cracking in two. A version of him glitched into existence and reached out to you, screaming your name. Dark reigned it back in and cracked his neck, trying to keep his composure.

“You need to leave. I don’t know how you got here, but you need to go, now.” Dark growled. You shook your head.

“Where’s Damien? I just want to tell him I love him.” you shrieked, as Dark pounced over his desk and wrapped a hand around your throat.

“DAMIEN. IS. GONE.” he yelled, making you close your eyes. “I AM HIM AND He…. HE-”

Dark released you and reeled backwards, holding his head in agony. You opened your eyes and watched as a blue light overtook the room and Dark screamed in defiance.

“He-” Dark stuttered, “He loves you too.” He slumped over against his desk and held his head in his hands. “He misses you, so much. I- I miss you.”

You crawled over next to him and he looked at you, his eyes no longer black, but still a darker brown than you were used to.

“I’m not Damien.” he sighed, trying to explain. “But, Damien is me. Anything that remains of Damien, is me.” His hands shook, and he looked away from you in shame.

You took your hand and covered his. “Tell me what happened. Give me closure.”

A/N- So I wanted to write something before I left for camp again, and this has been in my head for a while so I decided to finally get it down! Anyway, I hope you liked it! I’ll probably work on a third part when I get home again. <3

[anxiety-musings]

My Sunshine

Disclaimer: So - This is angsty AF severe warning for that. Seriously, I have a heart of stone and felt tears in my eyes and I freaking wrote the damned thing!

Warnings: Angst, Miscarriage, Deanmon?, So much Angst

Characters: Sam x Reader, Deanmon, Crowley, Castiel

Word count: 2566

Tags: @eyeofdionysus @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @bkwrm523 @aprofoundbondwithdean @littlegreenplasticsoldier @mrswhozeewhatsis @spnashley @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @manawhaat @helvonasche @mamapeterson @teamfreewillimagines @writingthingsisdifficult @kittenofdoomage @abaddonwithyall @lovemydean-o-saur @faith-in-dean @oriona75 @winchestersinthedrift @ruby-loves-supernatural @sis-tafics @but-deans-back-tho

There were few things that bored you more than working on Halloween in a dive bar, and this Halloween was no different. You were recovering from a pretty nasty hunt at the end of September that almost hospitalised you, almost. The bruises had faded but some of the cuts still had their stitches in. You pulled on a crop top, letting the deeper cuts across your stomach show - your boss had said you had to dress up. Why would you waste money buying a costume when you are a walking one. You started early, cleaning and getting ready for the swarm of people that were about to arrive. Luckily there were three other bartenders on tonight so you wouldn’t be alone when a drunk Dracula tried his luck.

“Whiskey on the rocks please,” a deep voice called from the bar, looking directly at you, “Miss me baby girl?”

You tensed, “Get out. Bar isn’t open yet, and I ain’t serving you shit Winchester.”

The brother stood and stepped over to you, his eyes a once apple green you couldn’t imagine flashed black. “Now I think that’s rather mean, what did I do to deserve that talk? I just came here with a message for your lover boy.”

“Get the fuck out of this bar Demon. And get the fuck out of Dean,” you hissed, your hand flying to a hip flask you had in your back pocket.

“Not possessed,” Dean laughed pulling his plaid shirt down to reveal the anti-possession mark, “It’s all me baby girl.”

You felt the world spin as you stepped away, your back hitting the wall behind you as Dean laughed. His brow raised at the stitches on your stomach and sighed, shaking his head as the doors to the bar opened. Dean stayed where he was as the bar filled with various different “monsters”. You fumbled and poured his drink, taking his money and putting the change into your bum bag.

The night flew by, you were caught between serving patrons and Dean, ensuring no other bartender dealt with your old friend. As the bar started to clear out Dean was joined by a shorter man in a suit, he stepped over to the bar looking genuinely shocked to see you. He took a seat next to Dean so now you had two problems sitting in your bar as a third started a fight in the corner. The other bartenders were too busy, and Steve on the door was dealing with someone so you headed into the bar towards the fight.

“Hey pretty lady!” a drunk yelled to you on your way over to the three men fighting.

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at each of them, “And what the hell do you lot think you’re doing?”

The three men who had been fighting turned to look at you before laughing, the closest to you taking a swing at you. Rolling your eyes you simply sidestepped his attack as another took a swing at you, forcing you in the direction of the third. He grabbed you around your waist, holding your throat as claws began digging into your neck.

“You think we was gonna let you away with killing our friends?” one hissed in your ear, “Little hunter girl.”

You stared at the three of them, their claws growing. Looking past them to Crowley and Dean at the bar you cursed, “I killed the entire nest, who the fuck are you lot?”

“We’re the hunting party, we weren’t home,” they snarled and the leader took his claw, cutting through your stitches, “You smell good girly.”

“Shame she belongs to me,” Dean’s voice sounded from behind the group as Crowley tapped the one who was holding you on the shoulder. “Leave her.”

“And who the fuck do you think you are?” the leader snarled as Dean’s eyes turned black and he pulled his shirt up to reveal the Mark of Cain.

“Someone who is going to send you to the darkest pit of purgatory if you don’t let the bitch go,” Dean hissed.

Crowley then spoke up, “I’d do what he says if I were you, there’s no way I’d let any of you into Hell.”

The man holding you dropped you and ran, followed closely by the other two. Crowley caught you before you hit the floor as Dean watched them to make sure they were gone. You looked to the bartenders as one girl was clearly on the phone, she was watching Crowley and Dean closely. You stood, allowing Crowley to support you as your free hand held your gut, slowly heading to the bar.

“Have you got the first aid kit and a needle?” you asked as one of the other bartenders passed you the small box.

You half sat, half lay on the floor behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of vodka to clean the wounds. The other bartenders began closing up as you poured the vodka onto your stomach and needle. You were about to try to stitch yourself up when Dean took the stuff off of you and got to work. He was halfway done when you blacked out.

You woke, surprisingly, without the low beeping of a hospital monitor. Looking to the ceiling you could tell you were in a motel, you tried to sit up before two strong arms held you down. Dean looked over you, worry evident in his face. He looked over you before nodding.

“Cas and Sam are on their way. We killed the vamps. Don’t you dare sit up, Crowley and I are leaving.” Dean stated and sighed, his eyes lingering on you before you heard the door open and close and you knew you were alone.

After lying there for a few minutes to ensure Dean was gone you slowly moved and got to your feet. Looking to your stomach it was well wrapped and obviously taken care of, you groaned and stumbled slightly, finding your things including a phone. Cursing you got dressed properly and headed to the door. Pulling the door open you came face to face with a trenchcoat, his arms reached out and steadied you.

“Cas let me go,” you begged, trying to move past him, “Please, I need to get out of here before…”

“Before I find you?” Sam asked, “Y/N, we’ve been looking for you for years! What happened to you?”

You couldn’t look at Sam, his eyes were obviously looking over you for signs of injury. He stayed away as Cas held you, he was gentle but you knew you weren’t going to get away from the angel. Sam took a step forward, his voice catching in his throat.

“Y/N/N I’ve missed you. God, you look beat to hell,” Sam’s eyes lingered on your stomach for a few moments longer, “I never wanted you to leave. I was hurt and scared, and I’m so sorry… I love you Y/N.”

You shook your head and looked to Cas, “Let me go Cas, I’m not going back with you. I’m better by myself.”

Cas’ head tilted, “You’re hurting, let me heal your wounds first?”

Sighing, you nodded and felt warmth fill you, leaving you breathing easier and the pain in your gut was gone. Cas pulled you into a tight hug and kissed your head before letting you go. Sam stared in shock as you walked past him, hugging yourself as you headed into town, towards your small apartment. You heard Sam’s question to Cas as you walked away, silent tears falling. It had been years and still, this man’s ability to stir up such emotions in you made it feel like yesterday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam had been increasingly cold since returning to you, you had once commented on it only to receive a glare and silence to fall in the small motel you had been staying in. That night you were lying in bed, curled up with a hand on your stomach smiling softly to it when pain filled your senses. The low throbbing made it difficult to concentrate as you fumbled with your phone, calling 911 for an ambulance. By the time they arrived you were in shock, you knew it. Sam wasn’t home, you had no idea where he was but you were alone and you were terrified. They took you in the ambulance and you felt light headed as you begged a paramedic to tell you what was happening. They shook their head and simply looked away, ashamed almost. You were injected with something that eased the pain and made the world fuzzy until everything faded to black.

Waking in the hospital was a nightmare for you, what’s worse was your once large stomach was flat, too flat. A nurse approached you and apologised, and that was when it hit you. You found your mobile and called Sam but the phone simply rang until a pre-recorded message made your heart shatter.

“It’s Sam if I gave you my new number, why you calling this one. If I didn’t, you know what that means already. No point leaving a message,” the cold voice stated and fresh tears streamed down your face.

It had taken you days before you spoke again, weeks until you could face the world. It’d be months until you would work again and years until a smile would find your lips. The winter months were the worst, the anniversary the worst. You took time but after being left with nothing you finally re-established yourself and got back into hunting, avoiding any links to the Winchester brothers as possible. You had thought you were finally starting to become normal and this happens.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night replayed in your mind over and over until you eventually passed out on your bed. You didn’t know what day it was anymore - all you knew was it wasn’t Halloween, and it was cold. The cold didn’t eat at you the way it usually would this time of year, it just existed and you could acknowledge its existence. But you couldn’t acknowledge feeling cold, you sat up and waited for the cold to consume you as you stepped out of your covers but there was no such consumption. Only an empty flat with an empty you inside.

Three light knocks brought you out of your head, three light knocks made you stare in the direction of your door. Three light knocks and you stood up, seeing red surrounding you. Three light knocks then one loud crash.

A cold, yellow light pierced through your eyelids as you shook your head and tried to cover your face. Your wrist wouldn’t move, peeking an eye open you could see your wrist yet when you tried to move it there was a leather cuff stopping you. A hoarse cry and a nurse approached, she unlocked your wrists and helped you sit up, explaining you had ripped your stitches out while you slept so they decided it’d be best to prevent that. She was soft, calm and caring. She reminded you of Sam once upon a time. Sam, the very thought of the man made you numb.

Three light knocks and your head shot up, staring at the door where a familiar trenchcoat stood. Those bright blue eyes scanned over you before walking closer, the nurse left and the trenchcoat sat down. He took your hand before you felt the numbness fade and you practically threw yourself at him. His arms wrapped around you as sobs shook your body, you tried to speak but nothing intelligent spilled from your lips. You were wrapped in his arms but felt wings holding you closer.

“It’s okay Y/N, I’ve got you. You’re safe sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he whispered and held you.

Three light knocks, your head spun as you saw the tall man in the doorway, looking back to the trenchcoat you hid your face. The man coughed and took a step towards you, then another until he was crouching beside you, wrapping you in his arms. As much as you wanted to push him away you cowered against him sobbing. He smelled the way he used to and his strong muscled arms and chest cradled you just right. You sobbed as he held you, taking a seat on the bed to pull you closer. His voice soothed you and you knew, you were home.

“Why…” you whimpered, looking up to the man who had abandoned you.

Sam looked down, “I wasn’t myself… I was soulless… I didn’t know, I’m so sorry, once Dean fixed me I spent months trying to find you, Cas told me you needed space but I didn’t want to. I couldn’t find you, I lost the two best things in my life and it was my fault.”

You stared at your stomach, “You didn’t cause the miscarriage… I… I thought Cas had fixed my stomach… How did I end up here?”

“We went to your apartment to look for you when we knocked we heard a crash. You were lying next to your bed covered in blood, you had been dreaming and your stomach was covered in blood. I couldn’t leave, not again.” Sam sighed and looked down.

“You left me alone… I should be dead now, Dean found me… I should be dead,” you whispered as Sam pulled you closer, kissing your hair. “It was a girl… I called her Mary-Anne… she’s buried here. I couldn’t leave her, she’s my baby and I wasn’t able to protect her.”

Sam shook his head, “Y/N don’t think like that, there wasn’t anything you could do. It wasn’t your fault.”

“She would have been three…” you whispered, staring at nothing, “Why am I here but my baby lies rotting in the ground? I didn’t hunt, I did everything to try and protect her… They said it was a reaction to a medicine… the painkillers I took for a migraine… if I hadn’t done that she would be here.”

Sam held you tighter, rocking you, “Baby, it’s not your fault. You would have been the best mother, I can’t believe I wasn’t there for you. That has to be the biggest mistake in my life.”

“You left me in that motel. You made your choice, I took those painkillers. I made my choice,” you whispered and pulled away from Sam, “I can’t do this. You need to leave, and you need to leave now. I was fine, you came back and now look at me! Get out Sam, I can’t do this again, you said it wasn’t you but listen!”

You pulled out your phone and dialed Sam’s old phone, the message played as both Sam and Cas stared. Sam’s shoulders slumped as he nodded and you saw tears fall, yet he stood and walked towards the door. Cas stayed rooted to the spot as Sam walked out, his head hanging low as tears began falling once more.

The clocks struck midnight as an alarm played on your phone, ‘you are my sunshine’ began playing as you lost the resolve you had only minutes before. You dropped the phone onto the bed and hugged your knees. Cas looked over and his head dropped to the phone before he silently wrapped an arm around you.

7th November - 00:00

Alarm: Happy 4th Birthday to my baby girl

Reminder: Pick up flower arrangement from Linda.

[armeniaitn]

Letters to the Editor: August 5, 2020: Propagandizing for the enemy

New Post has been published on https://armenia.in-the.news/politics/letters-to-the-editor-august-5-2020-propagandizing-for-the-enemy-43229-04-08-2020/

Letters to the Editor: August 5, 2020: Propagandizing for the enemy

Propagandizing for the enemyWith the headline “Netanyahu: Annexation is still on the agenda” (August 4), the reporters are apparently still buying into our enemies’ propaganda line – if not stating an outright lie!It’s also laughable, as the article starts by quoting the prime minister himself saying that Israel may still apply sovereignty.It has been pointed out by many columnists in The Jerusalem Post that the term “annexation” is a misnomer. The proper term is “applying sovereignty” or applying Israeli law to the areas mentioned in the Trump peace plan.So why does the Post continue to mislead the entire world by putting the word “annexation” in the headline?The article itself mentions the terms applying sovereignty or law no fewer than nine times. Nowhere is the word “annexation” mentioned – except when quoting the French foreign minister.AVRAHAM FRIEDMAN Ganei Modi’in PHYLLIS HECHT Hashmonaim The Trump and Netanyahu monstersIn “Callous inhumanity” (August 4), Heather Stone manages to cramp into her short article demonizing US President Donald Trump words and slurs including: he is callous, inhumane, inept, narcissistic, ruthless, prostrated himself, enables hate, emboldens violence, depraved indifference, doesn’t value the lives of civilians, soldiers or schoolchildren and more. Guess what? The writer is the Chair of Democrats Abroad – Israel. Does she really believe that this type of “political hate journalism” will influence anybody to change their voting preferences to Democratic? Rather the opposite. The article is hysterical, largely unsubstantiated and says nothing about real issues of concern, such as the Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren approach to Israel and the takeover of the Democratic Party by the radical anti-Israeli left wing. YIGAL HOROWITZ Beersheba Regarding Ehud Olmert’s latest article (“Police vs. the citizens,” (July 31), my previous letters regarding Olmert’s “yellow journalism” have not been published, but enough is enough! What kind of excuse for commentary is “until Netanyahu leaves and with him his delusional wife and deranged son!” This is not journalism, it is simply dirty revenge. I do not remember anyone attacking Olmert’s family using such words during his terms in office. While Olmert evidently hopes that Netanyahu will soon disappear into the depths of the sea or some other place, we might recall that Maasiyahu Prison served well enough for Olmert. The author of this letter was never the prime minister of Israel, but has also never been imprisoned for any criminal offence.PROF. KENNETH KOSLOWE Petah Tikva I rubbed my eyes three times before re-reading “Yair Netanyahu given tweeting restraining order” (August 3). I had to make sure that my eyes were not deceiving me.To censure a son for defending his father would, in normal circumstances, be ridiculous, but here, when the man is being constantly vilified, cursed, slandered, witch-hunted and judged guilty before trial, it is unforgivable.Let your readers (and the honorable judge of the Jerusalem Magistrates Court) put themselves in the position of young Netanyahu, watching every day and all hours of the day and night how a mob led by mobsters (protest leaders Gonen Ben Itzhak, Yishai Hadas and Haim Shadmi) screams through the streets of our capital city, unable to digest the fact that their philosophies (nay – their motives) do not represent the majority of our citizens, as shown decisively in all the elections of the last 30 years. Unable to defeat the older Netanyahu by fair means, they have descended to the foul means of incitement to riot. What would you do, if not stand up to defend your father? Well, if you would not, then you are all either lying to yourselves, or just plain degenerate.You may not agree with or even condone his coarseness of tongue and forthright manner of reacting, but just think how hurt this young man is seeing the father whom he has venerated for so many years and felt pride in his tremendous achievements for the benefit of the people of Israel and the unprecedented upswing of diplomatic prestige in the international sphere that he orchestrated – seeing him torn to pieces by our “unbiased” media and unfettered mobsters.LAURENCE BECKER Jerusalem Could someone please explain to me (and to other bewildered people) why the government allows demonstrations of tens of thousands, where social distancing is a bad joke, and we can only have 20 or so people at my son’s wedding at the end of the month? What is the logic behind this rule?Perhaps we should call it a demonstration, (but for love and happiness). Then we will get a permit for the 300 we wanted to have.And it won’t be violent.BATYA BERLINGER Jerusalem Inclusion confusion“US Jews opposing Israeli policy must be included in Jewish unity talks” (August 2), comes from the extreme Left, as indicated by its use of the anti-Israel pro-Palestinian loaded terminology such as “occupation.” Writer Ilan Bloch claims “millions” of American Jews who are “deeply engaged with Israel see its actions as going against the essence of Judaism itself.”Really? Does the writer have any solid evidence to support these wild assertions? Deeply engaged? Really?Are these “millions” really knowledgeable about Judaism? How many of the alleged “millions” had anything remotely resembling a Jewish education?There were so many untruths and distortions in the article that discredit it, but the basic point the author seems to be making is, “You may disagree with us profoundly but please don’t ignore us or forget us.”To which the only reasonable answer can be, “So don’t try to impose your outdated irrelevant political and fundamentally non-Jewish secular positions and beliefs on us.”DR. JOSEPH BERGER Netanya Disengaged and enragedRegarding “Disengagement was ‘absolute mistake” says mission commander” (July 31), the anniversary of the expulsion of the Jews from the 21 communities comprising Gush Katif on Tisha Be’av 2005) seems to bring out chest-thumpers who confess their wrongdoing. Contrite retired generals (like Gershon HaCohen featured in this article), politicians and policy makers join the ever-growing list of those who admit their folly, their fateful and fraught mistakes that led to the forceful disgorging of 8,500 law-abiding civilians.Indeed, prime minister Ariel Sharon and his government (including then foreign affairs and finance minister Benjamin Netanyahu) all bear shame for supporting and executing what was arguably the greatest tragedy in modern Israeli history. In fact, it was an orchestrated and stinking maneuver featuring Likud and their cynical coalition partners, assisted by a gleeful Supreme Court.How does a catastrophe like that occur? Where are the checks and balances crucial to democracy?But beyond skewed governmental decisions, where were the common sense and basic decency that dictate that the innocent get support and protection, while the terrorists get a good thrashing?Personally, I’ve had enough of the hand-wringing politicians and leaders who, like clockwork, annually cry “Peccavi.”Israel deserves better. We must make our leaders take responsibility for their actions, through mandated accountability and transparency. To the point, laws need to be put into place, a Freedom of Information Act that gives ordinary citizens the right to pry open – unhindered and in a timely manner – government archives. Existing, empty laws that shield corrupt leaders under one pretense or another are less than worthless.Enough of the chest-thumpers. It’s time for public action.ZEV BAR EITAN Nof Ayalon UNReal UNRWA remarksRegarding “New UNRWA head to ‘Post’: No glorifying terrorists in our schools” (July 30), who does Phillippe Lazzarini, the incoming commissioner-general of the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) think he is fooling? UNRWA schools are using PA textbooks. Even if a teacher doesn’t praise people like Dalal Mughrabi (who was involved in the 1978 Coastal Road massacre in Israel that killed 38 Israelis, 13 of them children) in the classroom, what is to stop the students from reading about them on their own?And if UNRWA obeys UN protocols, why has UNRWA abetted Arab nations in maintaining apartheid in the Middle East? I refer, of course, to the differentiation between people claiming descent from Arabs who fled Palestine generations ago and people who don’t make that claim. Members of the former group have been sitting in refugee camps in Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, Gaza and the so-called West Bank for several generations. Although living among people with whom they share language, religion and ethnicity, they have not been given citizenship in the Arab countries and they will not be given citizenship in any (actual) Palestinian state that the leaders of the PA and/or Hamas may ever deign to establish.TOBY F. BLOCK Atlanta Accentuate the positiveIn “A Different Country” (August 3), Herb Keinon presents a positive side of our state of affairs. As a mother and grandmother of young men who have served in special military units, I was especially touched by the mention of the reservists celebrating the weddings of their two comrades. I was reminded of the wedding of our son 26 years ago who had served in the first “Duvdevan” unit. Dancing enthusiastically with him in a large circle were his army buddies. One could feel the closeness and love emanating from the group. Our son was the only one who had a kipah on his head. Till this day, the former soldiers of that unit have kept in contact with each other and never miss an opportunity to meet on momentous family occasions. How heartwarming it is to see the love between people who rise above their differences of faith, status, political affiliation and find a way to express respect and affection for each other. The media would do well to focus on another reality in Israel that is not permeated with overwhelming hate. TZILA RABINOWITZ Jerusalem So sayeth SethRegarding “Seth Rogen: Herzog misrepresented our conversation” (August 4), Seth Rogen should know that the more he says the worse he makes it. Now is the time to shut up. Like many other “liberal” Hollywood Democratic Jews, learning to say his lines does not give him any special knowledge or abilities in any other field, including Israel. To say that Israelis often joke about Israel doesn’t cut it either. In the pre-PC days, famous Jewish comedian Henny Youngman used to joke about his wife: “Take my wife – please” or “My wife said, ‘For our anniversary I want to go somewhere I’ve never been before.’ I said, “Try the kitchen.” That’s comedy – but if someone tries saying it about my wife, suddenly it’s not funny.Consequently, if Rogen, the player of many “stoner” roles, wants to redeem himself, then he should follow the example of both his parents and work unknown in a kibbutz in Israel for a few years – and then come and talk. But we all know that ain’t gonna happen.DAVID SMITH Ra’anana Arguing for ArmeniaAs a grandson to survivors of the Armenian Genocide, I read Herb Keinon’s piece (“How can Israel navigate the divide between Azerbaijan and Armenia?” July 30) with great interest. Keinon tries to explain Israel’s current dilemma in dealing with two allies who are in conflict through the lens of realpolitik, but what he fails to point out is that this goes beyond politics. Armenians and Jews share a common history sadly defined by persecution and genocide. That’s why it’s so surprising that Israel feels that it needs to be neutral while Azerbaijan tries to finish through their unprovoked aggression what Turkey tried to do to Armenia more than 100 years ago. Then again, it’s also incredible that Israel has yet to recognize the Armenian Genocide. Foreign relations and human rights should not be mutually exclusive. This shouldn’t be too complicated for Israel. They can stand with Armenia, a country and people that have been victims of oppression and who promote democracy, or be aligned with a country ruled by an authoritarian and be on the wrong side of history. Political expediency should play no role in this debate. Of all countries, Israel should know that all too well, given that it was founded in the wake of genocide. The choice is really simple. STEPHAN PECHDIMALDJI San Ramon, CA On targetRegarding “Iron Dome intercepts Gaza rocket fired towards southern Israel” (August 4), the Gazans have now fired nearly a hundred rockets at Israeli civilians so far this year (an average of one every other day) and thousands since 2000 – more than the total number of rockets the Nazis shot at Britain in all of World War II.Thank God for Iron Dome; the only damage this time was to vehicles from the shrapnel, but the Gazans still have thousands of missiles pointed at us and Hezbollah has even more. It amazes me that this ongoing evil war crime gets virtually no mention in the world press and no condemnation from civilized countries or from the UN.May God and/or the IDF continue to protect us – especially in light of the fact that “Israelis near borders still don’t have access to shelters” (August 4) – and punish the evildoers.I. COHEN Sderot Read original article here.

[realityextinct]

IwaDai/OiKuro Haikyuu Fantasy Exchange 2017 fanfic - Is This Really What You Call A Story? Shame On You!

Summary: This was done for a Fantasy Haikyuu Exchange 2017 The given creature was Werewolf and the couples chosen were Kuroo/Oikawa and Iwaizumi/Daichi. The triggers specifically asked for were no character death and NSFW themes were okay.The prompts suggested and chosen were:

1. Soulmate AU between different creatures: Character A falls in love with Character B who's trapped in a mirror -- how does A succeed in releasing B, and does B have malicious intent?

2. A scenario where character A and B are happily married, but one day character A is subjected to a terrible accident that will kill them, but in seconds to spare, a demonic creature appears before B, saying that A can be saved. B readily agrees, however in the process, they're transformed into some sort of creature, and whether or not A is left unscathed and remains human is up to you!

The prompts were not followed to a T and you will clearly see why.

Pairings: Iwaizumi/Daichi and Oikawa/Kuroo

Rating: PG-13

Status: Complete

Warnings: weird humor, angst, breaking the fourth wall, crack, abstractness/weirdness, fluff, nakedness

For @stirlingphoenix!

Word count: 1,276

In celebration of their second year anniversary, Iwaizumi decided to surprise Daichi with a trip to an amusement park. In 22 years of his life, Daichi has only been to an amusement park once and wanted to go there again for years, but never found the right time.

Overjoyed, Daichi looked like a little kid surrounded by all the rides, pointing to the next one for them to check out. And Iwaizumi smiled, happy to see his husband like this.

The celebration was a success.

Or so he thought.

With a promise of yummy homemade food, they were both hurrying down the street. Daichi clasped Iwaizumi's hand in one of his, while holding a teddy bear that he won in the other.

Grins and laughter died down the second a truck appeared what seemed out of nowhere, rushing at them at full speed.

Acting fast, Daichi pushed Iwaizumi on the sidewalk...and Iwaizumi watched his husband get hit by the truck in slow motion.

Everything around him died, all his senses blocked off. All he could see was Daichi's immobile body.

Iwaizumi was numb and motionless...no words left his lips...and he didn't realize that everything around them faded into white.

Iwaizumi did not care for anything else as he stood up slowly and carried his feet over to Daichi, cradling his beloved’s body to himself, silent tears rushing down his cheeks, hitting Daichi's forehead. Leaning over, Iwaizumi felt for a pulse...but there was none. The river of blood smeared his arms and legs, but he didn't care...he absentmindedly stared at the teddy bear in Daichi's hand.

How…was he going to live from now on..? They had an entire life ahead of them. Everything was perfect, the entire world was in the palm of their hands…and…this…

This…

"And this is where I appear and propose to revive your lover in exchange for...wait, what was it again?" a rustle of papers followed.

Iwaizumi blinked a couple of times and his facial expression changed from grief to annoyance just like that, turning his head abruptly to look at the perpetrator, "You ruined a perfect scene, Trashykawa!!"

Oikawa shrugged, throwing the papers on the sofa behind him. The sofa seemed to have appeared out of nowhere just like him. The papers accidentally hit a familiar ball of fur, receiving a startled "mew!!", followed by a glare at his offender. Oikawa was too preoccupied with the situation at hand to notice any of it though, "Hey now, the person this is being written for specifically asked for there to not be a death scene, we can't linger on the devastating part for too long so let's cut to the chase...I am a demon, you wanna revive the Karasuno captain or not?!"

"Idiot! We are 22 and married!" any second and Iwaizumi would set Oikawa's horns ablaze. Daichi, still in Iwaizumi's arms, peeked one eye open to watch the entire scene.

Oikawa gasped dramatically, looking back at the papers, "Did I read the wrong script?! Damn..." he pouted just as the offended kitty sent the papers on the ground, scattering them to Oikawa's chagrin, "Ah! Why did you do that, Kuroo?! This is the reason the author didn't choose us as the main pairing!! Bad kitty!"

"Well...the recipient likes Kuroo kitty too soo..." came Daichi's bored voice, receiving a "shh, you are supposed to be dead, for now!!" from Iwaizumi.

"Anyway, back to the matter at hand..." Oikawa's facial expression got serious and Iwaizumi’s expression changed too, "I can bring him to live in exchange for your soul!"

Iwaizumi couldn’t keep up the seriousness after that dramatic performance and sentence though, raising an eyebrow, "Can't you think of anything more original than that?"

Oikawa spread his arms dramatically, looking extra evil, "As a demon, I feed on souls!!" the evil facade was dropped as he looked back at Kuroo kitty, "Right, Kuroo?!" the kitty yawned and rolled over for a nap, finding this entire situation unamusing.

Iwaizumi sighed, shaking his head, deciding to move the plot along, "Of course, I agree to your conditions. But…"

"But?" the demon Oikawa raised an eyebrow.

"You take my soul when I am old," Iwaizumi's hold on Daichi tightened.

There was a short pause before Oikawa sighed in turn, his shoulders slumping, "Do we really need a happily-ever-after here too?"

"Yes!" came from both Daichi and Iwaizumi.

"Okay fine, be that way," Oikawa blurted out and snapped his two fingers.

The whiteness around them faded into a living room of an apartment. Iwaizumi recognized it as his and Daichi's. Daichi disappeared from his arms and there was no trace of his blood either. Buffled, Iwaizumi grabbed the teddy bear from the floor and stood up, looking back at demon Oikawa standing beside a full-body mirror, Daichi's silhouette trapped inside.

"Since you will make me wait so long for your soul, I have trapped Daichi inside the mirror!!" he laughed evilly.

Iwaizumi grumbled and as he stomped over to Oikawa and the mirror, kitty Kuroo noiselessly grabbed the teddy bear from Iwaizumi just as he passed, the human seeminly not noticing this and the miscieveous kitten grinned, snuggling back on the sofa, extra cozy with the teddy bear.

Finally face to face with Oikawa, Iwaizumi pointed at the mirror, "This goes against happily-ever-after!! And besides, did you forget?! The creature that was requested for this fic was not a demon, but a werewolf!!"

Oikawa let out an irritated groan, glancing at the spread papers again, aware he probably missed that bit too, still he stood his ground, "Does it matter?! You are the one ruining the story now! Let me and Kuroo take over!!"

"No!" both Iwaizumi and Daichi protested.

"Holy HELL are you two picky and stubborn..." reaching inside the mirror, as if into water, Oikawa grabbed hold of Daichi's hand and pulled him out.

When Daichi stepped out of the mirror, he had a tail and pointy ears, making him look like a werewolf, but otherwise was completely fit and unhurt. Looking himself over, he smiled at Iwaizumi and spread his arms for him to leap into. Iwaizumi wrapped his arms around Daichi's neck and kissed him deeply.

Oikawa leaned against the sofa with crossed arms, watching the scene before him, wondering if this was equivalent to a relationship between 'two creatures' exactly...and something else was on his mind too, and he voiced it, "...is this where we add NSFW content?"

"No."

Oikawa was startled by the unexpected voice behind him, looking back in time for a pair of arms wrap around his waist and pull him over the sofa.

A grinning naked Kuroo was leaning over him...and a light shade of red appeared on Oikawa’s face, "H-hey...you are supposed to be a kitty."

Kuroo smirked, "The author said that story was over so I can do whatever I want~" he wiggled his eyebrows.

"It's over already?! But...it was so short, random and pointless..." Oikawa took off the horns headband, tossing it into the pile of scattered papers, instantly receiving a relaxing massage from Kuroo.

"Something tells me that all of that was intentional," Kuroo purred, unbuttoning Oikawa's shirt.

Oikawa laughed and pulled him over, their lips inches away from each other, "Maybe you are right...let's hope whoever this is gifted to - they won’t hate it," and with that, they shared a kiss, Kuroo muttering "Happy Halloween" in-between.

The ideal atmosphere was short lasting as Daichi and Iwaizumi leaned over the sofa, spatting outraged, "Get a room you two!!"

And the author smiled warmly, tiptoeing out and shutting the door behind, waiting for wrath from the audience...or crickets. Even so, feeling content for writing this.

 The End.

[oshunokaminari]

RANDOM FACTS ABOUT THE MUN.

Repost, not reblog! Tag 6 muns you would like to get to know better when done! (But that’s not gonna happen lmao)

Name: Tiki Nickname: Tikibuns, Teeks, LeeAnn Age: 23 Faceclaim: A dot Ham, usually Alexandra rather than Alexander. Pronouns: She/Her/Herself Height: 5′2″ Birthday: May 17th Aesthetic: Pastel, cool colors, soft things Last song you listened to: Stay Alive (From Hamilton. God am I showing my garbage in this meme...)

Favourite muse(s) you’ve written: Masamune of course, Alexander Hamilton, and I had a lot of fun as Tiki wayback when, so yeah.

What inspired you to take on your current muse:

I’ve talked a lot about what made me want to roleplay Masamune. On my blog’s anniversary, I made a big post with screenshots and analysis. It boils down to the fact that I liked Masamune a lot, and the idea was in my head basically as soon as I got into Basara. I didn’t pick him up completely until after I finished Seasons 1 and 2 of the anime since the second season inspired me.

It was his portrayal in Season 2 that got me. There was another depth to him that people don’t consider because they overlook aspects of the anime. It’s a shame because the struggles you see him go through and the bits of backstory you get are the reason why I wanted to roleplay him, and they’re the inspiration behind my portrayal.

What are your favourite aspects of your current muse:

I think I’m probably just regurgitating what I said earlier, but I like the depth behind Masamune a lot. He’s a fun character that changes drastically depending on who’s around him. I guess he’s a reactionary muse in that way. If he’s meeting someone for the first time, he’s usually boasting about his accomplishments and showing off his swords. If he’s with someone who knows him better and he feels at ease around them, he’s more quiet and tends to talk more openly about his internal struggles.

I just love him a lot. He’s my boy, and I like for him to meet people and get close to them. Once he’s close enough, he’s happy as can be. He just loves people.

I guess my point is he’s a social butterfly, but he has more to him than just that.

What’s your biggest inspiration when it comes to writing:

I get most inspired to write by thinking about scenarios or listening to music. If the idea is fresh enough, it’ll come out easily, so I like to discuss it aloud or think in depth on it. Once I connect those things, it gets easier to make words happen.

I don’t know. I think my writing style is like...empathetic? I don’t know. I explore a lot of feelings and how surroundings/situations make my muses think. I describe the scenery through their eyes and attribute it to their emotions. I don’t know. Is that a good way to put it? I just like exploring feelings and elaborating on what they do to a person.

Favourite types of threads:

Sad threads are the way to my heart. I like it when my poor muses suffer if they’re like...the ones that suffer a lot. Like Masamune has a past that just begs for someone to either use it against him or find out about it and come to him directly. I just want people to talk to him about these things that he’s trying so hard to forget. I mean, trying to remind him of Kojiro is like talking to a brick wall, but it’s still there in his head. Talk to him about losing his eye. Talk to him about his father. Talk to him about his mother. Talk about family at all. Talk about losing soldiers or about kids. He’ll get emotional probably.

I’m also a sucker for like creature-esque AUs. My favorities are merpeople and angels/demons. Other mythical creatures are great, too. I just like putting my muses in different situations or giving them slightly different attributes. It’s fun, and I’ll usually gush about it to you.

Biggest struggle in regards to your current muse:

My struggle right now is keeping myself focused on Masamune. I like to think that I’m all right as someone who roleplays him, but I only roleplay with maybe four people? I don’t reach out enough, I guess, but I used to get a lot of response from memes and open threads. I miss that a lot, and Masamune misses it because it gave him opportunities to reach out without having to commit to longer experiences.

I used to get people interested in his past and interested in taking him out of situations to, for lack of a better phrase, change his fate. (I like to imagine Post-Sekigahara Masamune isn’t the happiest. He and Ieyasu didn’t really get along afterward. I figure he’s just doing what’s best for Oshu rather than running around the Land of The Rising Sun at that point.) My inspiration’s just gone down because Masamune feels lonely as opposed to feeling excited to be around and talk to people.

These days, I can’t stand to stare at this dashboard anymore anyway because of unrelated stuff, so I’m usually over on @youngscrxppynhungry where I can...do the same thing I do here, I guess lol

Tagged by: Stolen from @reticexce

Tagging: Whoever wants it.