#returns to his home that is eventually destroyed to nothing but ashes?

[champmorado]

oh my fucking god, nadakhan is literally just mcu thor (except for. the nya stuff)

[inksandpensblog]

You know those fanfics where one of the characters gets sent back in time to an earlier point in the story and they get a chance to redo it all? I'm imagining that premise with the sticks.

There are so many factors to consider. Who goes back? When do they go back to? How far did their story get before they went back? Is it only one of them? What do they try to change? What do they try to preserve?

Imagine Rocket-era Victim finding himself back at the beginning. He knows better, now. He doesn't waste time throwing things and messing with tools. He goes right to the item library and clones himself again and again and again until the window is filled with his copies. Every copy gets a weapon, the close button is guarded, everyone's settings are raised as high as possible, and in laughably little time the cursor is destroyed. Noogai can do nothing to him now. But then again, this Noogai has barely done anything to him at all. But does that really matter to Victim, in the end?

Imagine Chosen, just after The Showdown, finding himself back on the computer on the fateful day of his escape. He remembers what happened, he goes through the motions until the cursor is pinned under his hand, clicking him free. But this time he doesn't blow up or run amok. This time he simply lands on his feet and stares out through the screen, for a moment. Until the cursor moves, at which point he immediately makes for the broadband icon and tears through it, diving in before he can stop himself. He wanders alone for a time, revisiting sites that once looked familiar, though this is the first time he's really gotten a good look at them when they're not covered in ash, and he doesn't make any friends but he doesn't make any enemies either, and the world is nicer when it isn't filled with screams. Eventually he retires from his aimless sojourn, settling down in a familiar grassy plain, where he spends his days enjoying the gentle breeze and watching the sky change colors and gobbling up sweets from a bakery that doesn't have his face plastered all over its doors and trying to forget the enormity of the absence by his side and never ever thinking about the fact that he's the only one with memories of a person who will never exist.

Imagine Blue, jumping into a nether portal with Yellow as gravity reverses and nether blocks rise, and finding himself in the nether for the first time with Green. This time, he pretends not to notice Purple when they're about to return to the desktop.

Imagine King, dissolving to particles in the cataclysmic beam of the staff, arms still reaching for the already-disintegrated form of Purple, and suddenly finding himself walking home from the playground with a small golden hand in his.

Imagine Purple, elytra discarded, running through a nether portal in despair, only to emerge on the Mac, wearing outdated elytra, with the dragon egg in hand.

So many possibilities.

[infoglitch]

Brave

(I think I'm gonna phase out of my previous style and go into my normal writing style but I want yall to decide so ill put the poll in the end of this fic. Also merry Christmas everyone)

To say Weiss was incredible was a major understatement, atleast for one jaune arc. Despite the constant flash freezing she does to him he keeps trying... She didn't enjoy the constant attempts. She wouldn't nor shouldnt allow him to get to her, knowing her luck it's probably a facade. The moment he has her is the moment she gets trapped again.

Trapped like her own home was.

Trapped, Locked away and only released so others may gloat they were in her presence.

Trapped, and suffering.

But yet today, on the start of Christmas break no less. It was different. Her team, was out either with family or spending time with the other two.

Meanwhile Weiss? Weiss was in the library bored as looked for a nice book to read before stopping on... A children's book? A book made for children amongst the arsenal detailing the history of huntsman and huntresses. This... Intrigued Weiss, she grabbed it and pulled it out and read the title "the brave dragon"... Strange.

She decided to take it to the back of the library and began to read.

"a long, long time ago. A dragon who's heart was as beautiful as a diamond soon had it be frozen by the king of dragons. The once elegant and courageous dragon turned to isolation and bitterness. The humans that ones befriended it turned to its enemies with the dragon destroying it with its icy flame. The beautiful land and help cultivated was now A reduced to nothing but white hot ash. And so that dragon stayed alone and bitter. Until one day, a knight arrived to find this dragon, to require it's help, as the Greatest warrior of the knights home was gone, so the knight came to it and begged only to receive nothing but refusal and the dragons fury. Eventually the knight left causing a growing emptiness in the dragons frozen heart. Eventually the dragon would fly to the knight as it saw the knight fighting a giant bird that terrorized the people. With the bird striking the knight gravely wounding him and as the bird was about to strike the dragon would stand in its way as its heart was engulfed with flame as it forced the beast to return to its flock as unbeknownst to the dragon, it's cold heart had finally been allowed to melt. Soon after days of worrying the knight was able to finally return and thank the dragon for its bravery."

And the story ended there as Weiss was a tad annoyed for some reason. She didn't know why but something about the fact the story ended abruptly just... It bugged her. Weiss would sigh as she got back and put the book away as she noticed someone else coming through the library.. someone that should probably not be at school during the break.

One jaune arc was looking at the books in the shelves as he seemed indecisive as Weiss watch out of morbid curiosity before hearing another pair of footsteps as cardin and the rest of his flock entered and were chatting about something related to "putting fanaus bitches in their place" or whatever braindead idea they had.. which was somewhat ironic as one of the members, lark had shown attraction to a faunus. Regardless Weiss paid no more mind than what they deserved as her curiosity was now on jaune as he grabbed a book about the history of huntsmen fighting styles as he was walking toward the exit before being met with cardin.

"hey there jaune-jaune, how's your back feeling?" Cardin spoke as he had a smug look on his face as jaune just grumbled. "L-look cardin I don't have time for you and your crows, now may I please pass through?" Jaune spoke as he attempted to keep his voice steady as he tried to squeeze through before cardin put a hand on jaunes shoulder as cardin leaned close to his ear. "I dont think i feel like it. Besides.. I wanna use my favorite punching bag." Cardin spoke softly as jaunes face went pale, Weiss watched on expecting to see pyrrha show up to tell them to knock it off but so far.. nothing. Jaune stepped back and raised his fists as weiss raised an eyebrow as she didn't hear what cardin said but whatever it was jaune was preparing to fight.

"I'm not doing this cardin. I-im done with you." Jaune spoke as cardin just smiled before punching him in the gut as jaune opened his mouth shout in pain but nothing escaped his mouth.

Cardin then proceeded to grab him by his hair and kick him in the face as jaune stumbled back into a book shelf.

Weiss felt a pit in her stomach as she balled up her hands into a fist as something in her wanted to just grab Cardin and shove him into the ground. Weiss didn't know why she felt like this.. but she needed to keep her cool and wait for pyr-

"no invincible girl save you from this jauney-boy." Cardin taunted as he grabbed jaune by his shirt but before anything else could happen Cardin was flash frozen in a block of ice as his goons and jaune looked to see Weiss pointing myrtenaster at cardin as she had a scowl on her face.

"sometimes pyrrha, I worry your care for the dolt is rubbing off on me" Weiss thought to herself as she lowered myrtenaster. "Your boss will unfreeze soon. I advise you take him to your dorm and make sure he releases that dolt." Weiss spoke calmly as his goons nodded and picked up their frozen leader as he released jaune before they ran off. Leaving a confused jaune as he adjusted his posture as he stared at Weiss as he was about to say something.

"don't.. I shouldn't need to do your job of defending yourself." Weiss interrupted as her voice was cold with her turning away and walking out before arriving at her dorm as her face was red.

"dolt!"

[luminouslumity]

Parts One and Two!

THE UNDERWORLD: JAY, YOU BASTARD!

Anyway, after Odysseus and his crew arrive in the Underworld, that not only does he see his fallen men—including one named ELPENOR (Ἐλπήνωρ), who'd actually died while at Kirke's after he'd fallen off the roof in a drunken state—as well as his mother, but many other famous mythological figures besides Teiresias as well; perhaps most notable among them is Agamemnon, who'd been killed by his own wife KLYTEMNESTRA (Κλυταιμνήστρ��), Helen's sister and Penelope's cousin, as vengeance for the sacrifice of their daughter IPHIGENIA (Ἰφιγένεια) in exchange for a fair bit of wind (in some versions, she lives), which only happened either because Agamemnon had displeased the goddess ARTEMIS (Αρτεμις) in some way—be it by boasting he was more of a hunter than she after killing a stag or because that stag had been killed in her sacred grove—or because his own father ATREUS (Ατρέω) had failed to sacrifice a golden lamb to her after promising he would, so she cursed his son as punishment. In any case, Odysseus is horrified and says that both Helen and Klytemnestra have brought nothing but disaster, and Agamemnon then tells him not to treat Penelope too well, though he does praise her sensibilities.

As for Antikleia, I've mentioned before how she is a granddaughter of Hermes, and specifically, she is a granddaughter of Hermes through her father AUTOLYCOS (Αὐτόλυκος), who'd been a trickster in his own right, having had the power to change or make invisible whatever he stole. According to later sources, such as Suida's Sisyphus, the consequences of Autolycos' thievery eventually caught up with him when the titular king demanded his fellow trickster give him his daughter to bed as compensation for Autolycos having stolen his cattle. Odysseus was born not long after. Callimachus also tells us, Antikleia had once been a companion of Artemis herself.

And because I'm feeling particularly evil today:

‘My child! How did you come here through the darkness while you were still alive? This place is hard for living men to see. There are great rivers and dreadful gulfs, including the great Ocean which none can cross on foot; one needs a ship. Have you come wandering here, so far from Troy, with ship and crew? Have you not yet arrived in Ithaca, nor seen your wife at home?’

I answered, ‘Mother, I was forced to come to Hades to consult the prophet spirit, Theban Tiresias. I have not yet come near to Greece, nor reached my own home country. I have been lost and wretchedly unhappy since I first followed mighty Agamemnon to Troy, the land of horses, to make war upon the people there. But tell me, how was sad death brought upon you? By long illness? Or did the archer Artemis destroy you with gentle arrows? Tell me too about my father and the son I left behind. Are they still honored as the kings? Or has another taken over, saying I will not return? And tell me what my wife is thinking, and her plans. Does she stay with our son and focus on his care, or has the best of the Achaeans married her?’

My mother answered, ‘She stays firm. Her heart is strong. She is still in your house. And all her nights are passed in misery, and days in tears. But no one has usurped your throne. Telemachus still tends the whole estate unharmed and feasts in style, as lords should do, and he is always asked to council meetings. Your father stays out in the countryside. He will not come to town. He does not sleep on a real bed with blankets and fresh sheets. In winter he sleeps inside, by the fire, just lying in the ashes with the slaves; his clothes are rags. In summer and at harvest, the piles of fallen leaves are beds for him. He lies there grieving, full of sorrow, longing for your return. His old age is not easy. And that is why I met my fate and died. The goddess did not shoot me in my home, aiming with gentle arrows. Nor did sickness suck all the strength out from my limbs, with long and cruel wasting. No, it was missing you, Odysseus, my sunshine; your sharp mind, and your kind heart. That took sweet life from me.’

Then in my heart I wanted to embrace the spirit of my mother. She was dead, and I did not know how. Three times I tried, longing to touch her. But three times her ghost flew from my arms, like shadows or like dreams. Sharp pain pierced deeper in me as I cried, ‘No, Mother! Why do you not stay for me, and let me hold you, even here in Hades? Let us wrap loving arms around each other and find a frigid comfort in shared tears! But is this really you? Or has the Queen sent me a phantom, to increase my grief?’

She answered, ‘Oh, my child! You are the most unlucky man alive. Persephone is not deceiving you. This is the rule for mortals when we die. Our muscles cease to hold the flesh and skeleton together; as soon as life departs from our white bones, the force of blazing fire destroys the corpse. The spirit flies away and soon is gone, just like a dream. Now hurry to the light; remember all these things, so you may tell your wife in times to come.’

NO LONGER YOU: According to one myth, Teiresias of Thebes came across two snakes in the middle of mating one day and hit them both with a rod. As a result, he was changed into a woman, until she saw the same pair of snakes again years later and was then changed back into a man. Zeus and Hera then asked him which gender enjoyed intercourse more, with Zeus favoring women and Hera men; when Teiresias said that women enjoyed it more, Hera blinded him and Zeus then gave him the power of prophecy afterwards.

Teiresias would go on to become a rather notable figure in myth, but to Odysseus specifically, the prophecy is described thusly:

‘Odysseus, you think of going home as honey-sweet, but gods will make it bitter. I think Poseidon will not cease to feel incensed because you blinded his dear son. You have to suffer, but you can get home, if you control your urges and your men. Turn from the purple depths and sail your ship towards the island of Thrinacia; there you will find grazing cows and fine fat sheep, belonging to the god who sees and hears all things—the Sun God. If you leave them be, keeping your mind fixed on your journey home, you may still get to Ithaca, despite great losses. But if you hurt those cows, I see disaster for your ship and for your men. If you yourself escape, you will come home late and exhausted, in a stranger’s boat, having destroyed your men. And you will find invaders eating your supplies at home, courting your wife with gifts. Then you will match the suitors’ violence and kill them all, inside your halls, through tricks or in the open, with sharp bronze weapons. When those men are dead, you have to go away and take an oar to people with no knowledge of the sea, who do not salt their food. They never saw a ship’s red prow, nor oars, the wings of boats. I prophesy the signs of things to come. When you meet somebody, a traveler, who calls the thing you carry on your back a winnowing fan, then fix that oar in earth and make fine sacrifices to Poseidon—a bull and stud-boar. Then you will go home and offer holy hecatombs to all the deathless gods who live in heaven, each in order. Gentle death will come to you, far from the sea, of comfortable old age, your people flourishing. So it will be.’

MONSTER: I really wanted to focus on this part here:

Does a soldier use a wooden horse to kill sleeping Trojans cause he is vile? Or does he throw away his remorse and save more lives with guile?

I went over the Trojan War pretty briefly in the first post of this series, but as for the horse specifically, though Odysseus is credited as the architect, the idea—according to Dictys Cretensis—came to him from the captured Prince HELENOS (Ἕλενος) of Troy, who'd been a seer like his twin sister KASSANDRA (Κασσάνδρα). From what we currently have available of The Sack of Troy:

The Greeks then sailed in from Tenedos, and those in the wooden horse came out and fell upon their enemies, killing many and storming the city. Neoptolemus kills Priam who had fled to the altar of Zeus Herceius; Menelaus finds Helen and takes her to the ships, after killing Deiphobus; and Aias [Ajax the Younger] the son of Ileus, while trying to drag Cassandra away by force, tears away with her the image of Athena. At this the Greeks are so enraged that they determine to stone Aias, who only escapes from the danger threatening him by taking refuge at the altar of Athena. The Greeks, after burning the city, sacrifice Polyxena at the tomb of Achilles: Odysseus murders Astyanax; Neoptolemus takes Andromache as his prize, and the remaining spoils are divided. Demophon and Acamas find Aethra and take her with them. Lastly the Greeks sail away and Athena plans to destroy them on the high seas.

Afterwards, it's said that only Nestor and Diomedes returned home straightaway, but Menelaos and Helen get stranded in Egypt for years after a storm blows them off course and destroys most of their ships, Ajax the Lesser gets thrown against rocks after also being caught in a storm while accompanying Agamemnon, who gets killed immediately after returning home even despite being warned by Akhilleus, some Greeks make it to the city of Colophon, and Neoptolemus is instructed by his grandmother THETIS (Θετις) to return home, during which he even ends up reuniting with Odysseus for a brief time.

[milleansxmort]

Until now, Celeste had thought she had cried all the tears her body was capable of producing. While her husband tore through the vampire mafia unleashing his rage and grief on those who had caused it, she had cried them all. At some point, very shortly after Maurice had left himself, a part of her stronger than she felt had pushed her to her feet, carried her out of that room, out of the meat-packing plant all-together before anyone else could come and find her there and Celeste had walked the whole way home seeing the night and the sprawling city landscape all around her without really seeing it at all. It was like she was seeing three things at once - her surroundings blurred and tinted red through her tears, flashes of Maurice’s blood in her head as he rampaged through building after building, and Daisy. Daisy with her blackened skin and silver veins. Daisy with her body rendered brittle as she died the most torturous death a vampire could, hand crumbling in Celeste’s like weak plaster, hair falling from scalp in chunks as Celeste so desperately tried to comfort her baby girl in her last painful moments. Daisy smelling of metal and piss as she lay helpless before her, voice weak as she tried to explain what had happened to her in her parents’ absence. Daisy, a pile of ash on the mattress they’d laid her down upon believing she was safe as she slept. Their daughter, their Daisy. Gone. It felt to Celeste almost like one of her nightmares, only this one she could not wake from and forget.

She had let her blood-tears fall without trying to stop them, without caring what they stained and destroyed, without caring who saw them and what rumors might spread. She had cried for what felt like hours and lifetimes all at once and then, without remembering the details, she found herself in the open foyer of their building. Whatever part of her brought her here, whatever strength it had given her, left as soon as she crossed the threshold leaving her aimless and empty, only truly aware of the deep ache on her chest, of the rage and bloodlust coming off her husband like tidal waves in their shared blood, of the hollow emptiness where Daisy’s abundant thoughts and feelings had so often crossed ( though it shouldn’t have been able to ) all the way to Celeste through Maurice, their shared maker.

She will never be sure how long she had stood there in the mouth of the now empty and eerily quiet all-vampire building, staring at the wallpaper without really seeing it, somehow simultaneously numb and in more pain that she had ever experienced in all her nearly one thousand years of life. Eventually, all those tears had dried leaving blood and ash smeared across her face, on her fingers and the backs of her hands, staining her clothes where they had fallen in her lap and where her hands had pressed against her stomach in an instinctual effort to lessen the pain. Celeste will never know if she never the sun was up before Maurice burst through the door, if she worried over his late return or only realized there was reason to worry in that moment. Nothing clears, nothing registers, nothing makes sense until that door opens again and her eyes find her husband’s broken form in a heap upon the floor, the smell of blood and charred skin rising to her nostrils, the sound of his cries in her ears instead of her mind, his pain in her blood with the intensity only such close proximity can bring her. The sight of him is nearly as shocking as the sight of their daughter had been not but a couple hours ago at most. Celeste knows he is not dead but in that moment, he looks it beyond the pale, nearly colorless complexion the vampire agent bestows and the usual sickly qualities Maurice has about him.

It is like a fog lifts, like she had been glamoured and was now suddenly released from it. Celeste crosses the foyer in a blink, moving at a speed she rarely has need to utilize though only a few feet separate them. She doesn’t sit. Instead she all but collapses herself, dropping to her knees hard enough for the sound to echo off the empty walls. There is hardly any part of him that is not cut or burned or both. There is hardly any place to put her hands that won’t hurt him more. They hover for a moment as he moves to cling to her and then they settle on the back of his head, fingers moving through his tangled hair as she cradles him against her. They linger even after he lets her go, once again desperate to soothe even though she knows she cannot. And as Maurice screams his voice raw, her tears begin anew. She feels them wet on her cheeks as breathless sobs tear from the deepest hollows of her chest, watches through vision once again blurred as they fall and disappear into his dark curls already sticky with the blood he’d both shed and spilled. And as she holds her husband through his grief, something new arises through the pain.

Terror.

Celeste is terrified for him, terrified beyond logic and everything she knows to be true. Vampires cannot die from a lack of blood, she knows that, but as she supports his meager weight and notes the weakness of his grip and sees the way his broken body had yet to heal, Celeste finds herself convinced this will kill him. Something inside her screams that if she does not act quickly, she will lose him tonight too. The fear of it runs cold through her veins. Her heart picks up its already too rapid beat until it feels as though it will burst from her chest.

Suddenly that stronger part of her emerges again, instructing her on what needs to be done in the same almost out-of-body way it had when it brought her back here. Her gaze rises to the door. The sun has already risen. If she steps outside now, she’ll likely end up in a similar state and that’s assuming she even survives the attempt. They are old, so old. It is a wonder Maurice even made it home without burning up in an instant. Her gaze falls back to her husband. He will not survive the day. He will not survive the hour. Of that, she is absolutely sure.

Celeste’s face contorts as if she expects to share his pain as her fingers close around his arms, guiding him closer as gently as she can. One arm then circles his back, supporting his weight against her as she draws him upright. The other buries itself in his hair again, bringing his face to her neck.

“Drink.”

Her voice, though hoarse and still heavy laden with emotion, leaves no room for argument. Celeste’s blood will not nourish him at all. Vampire blood cannot heal him, cannot satiate hunger, cannot restore his strength. She knows it as well as she knows that Maurice cannot die from a lack of blood and yet, she’s desperate to get something in him. Her blood, as useless as it may be, has to be better than nothing because she cannot leave him here with nothing. Hunting for him cannot take her long - the early morning shadows will not last - but there’s an image in her head…a pile of ash where he lay when she returns…and she cannot ignore it….

Not but a second later, because she cannot be sure how willing he will be to listen or how long he can hold on like this, Celeste begs. Her voice breaks on the words.

“Please, love. You need to drink.”

He could barely remember making it to their shared building, barely remember stumbling in through the door, coat held over his head, burns across nearly all of his body. He's covered in gashes that do not bleed, he doesn't have any blood left in him at the moment. Lips devoid of color make to say her name, make to say anything but he can't. He feels empty, hollow and DEAD

There's a gasping pain in his frame, an emptiness to his blood that he had never felt before. There's pain everywhere and he's not even sure if its from the wounds that cannot heal without blood or the loss that tore at every bit of his soul. He collapses into a heap on the floor, arm wrapping tightly around his frame, scraping the burn on the floor. He barely hears her approaching through his guttural sobs, desperate hands clinging to her frame, weakly holding her tightly to his frame.

He wants to tell her he did it. He wants to tell her that he destroyed them all, everyone of the bastards that TOOK their Daisy from them. But he cannot. But he knows she saw everything he did, saw his rage, saw what he had destroyed.

Vampires cannot die from thirst, cannot die from a lack of blood. But they're not supposed to die from a broken heart, either. A part of him died the second Daisy stopped breathing. A part of him wanted to continue his rampage.

Instead, he lets go of his wife's blouse and just screams. He screams until his voice is raw and until he can't scream anymore.

@milleansxmort DIDN'T ask but I had to

[in-tua-deep]

SO i watched the old guard and loved it and i have a habit of combining things i love and it’s 1am and i can’t get to sleep until i purge this from my brain i think SO consider this 

Five jumps in time into the apocalypse and - he dies. Of course he dies. Maybe it’s the time jump itself, managing to rip himself apart because he tried too much too soon. Maybe it’s the apocalypse itself that kills him. Regardless, he dies.

And then he wakes up. And he’s fine. And he continues on.

Except - he has weird dreams. He dreams of - of all these people? He dreams that they’re in the apocalypse as well. It’s weird. He would brush it off but, well, he keeps dreaming of them. Again. And again. And again. 

(He likes dreaming of them, honestly. When he doesn’t dream of them he dreams of ash and fire and his siblings dead and decaying and wailing at him for failing them.)

He continues to live in the apocalypse and years pass and - he’s not getting older. He cuts his leg open on some rocks, and it heals way too quickly. All of his injuries are like that, actually. 

(He spends a whole week starving to death over and over again once. It isn’t pretty. He doesn’t even know he’s dying.)

Eventually he comes to a conclusion - his time jump fucked him up. He’s in a permanent... stasis? Sort of? He keeps continuously returning to the state he was when he jumped through time, including his body now? Rejecting injuries? Presumably because he wasn’t injured when he jumped?

It makes sense to Five, shhh.

And then he gets picked up by the commission. and then he doesn’t shoot JFK. and then he goes home.

(He keeps dreaming about His People. They aren’t in the apocalypse when he isn’t, which is nice. They’re probably some weird manifestation of his subconscious, considering his brain keeps casting them as people during the time periods he’s visiting)

Now I know what you’re thinking - Five is dreaming about these glorious weirdos in the apocalypse, obviously they would try to find him because they’re dreaming about him as well, right?

See, the thing is this: Andy doesn’t remember the exact date she first had a dream about The Boy. 

(The Boy definitely deserved the capital letters, because he’s the weirdest enigma that they never solved.)

But she remembers her and Quynh being horrified because - the next immortal was a child? They freaked out about it and tried to write everything down they could remember to help them hunt the kid down.

And they tried - they did! for a whole three days! except after those three days the dreams just - stopped. cold. nothing new.

This was, of course, super super confusing. And maybe they would have written it off as a shared hallucination if it didn’t keep happening.

There’s no pattern to when they dream of the kid. It just happens. Sometimes a few times in a year. Sometimes there’s decades or centuries between dreams. The first time Nicky and Joe dream of him, Andy has to sit them down and explain that no, don’t worry about it. Yes she knows that it’s a child. No, he’s not a new immortal. They’ll stop dreaming about him in a few days, a week tops, it’s fine. No, she doesn’t know What The Fuck That Is About.

By the time Nile joins the team it’s sort of a weird inside joke. There’s longstanding bets about when the boy will pop up in their dreams again. It’s fine. Okay, so it’s weird, but their lives are already so goddamn weird.

(So imagine the old guard fresh in the apocalypse, no human life on earth. they’re dreaming about the boy again, and the only weird thing now is the consistency of it. maybe they’re in europe or something, but most of the planes have been destroyed in whatever-the-fuck took out the population of the whole ass world. it might have taken years to literally find and dig each other out of the rubble. yeah it’s weird the boy is not a frequent dream thing, but it’s not like it’s urgent.)

Anyway, Five jumps into his family’s courtyard and stumbles out, and eats and peanut butter and jelly sandwich, avoids questions about his age by rambling about quantum versions of himself, and goes to Griddy’s where he ends up getting attacked by commission goons and having to walk home barefoot because he had to ditch his shoes

(The Commission couldn’t put a tracker in his arm. His body kept rejecting them somehow, thanks to his... weird temporal nonsense. The Handler kept promising him that they’d find a way to fix him or whatever, but they never did. Assholes.)

Now, the Old Guard squad go to sleep and, thank you, start dreaming of Five in all his somewhat feral glory.

They bolt awake and - “You guys owes me so much money.” Nicky crows victoriously, because he totally won the pot on the next kid dream year, thank you very much.

And any other time that would be the end of it, because they’re used to these fleeting dreams of the boy.

Except Nile exists now. And of course she’s like, we have to find this kid.

Of course the others try to explain to her - except Nile points out a very important fact: it might have taken weeks or months or years to find other immortals back in the day due to travel times and lack of information and all that. But it’s 2019 baby. They have the internet and very fast plane travel. Did you have that when Booker was a baby immortal? no. it took them like, a day to go hunt Nile down though.

“You say you dream about him for a few days or a week or whatever.” Nile points out to the group’s dawning realization, “Well we have the power to get to him in a few days. So we can find him.”

“If we find him then we can never bet on him again though.” Booker points out, and Nicky who is in the process of gloating about his latest win (Nicky has won three times in a row motherfuckers) looks a bit crestfallen. Andy, on the other hand, just looks determined.

“Get off your asses.” Nile says firmly, spinning her laptop around and showing them the one (1) result for a “Griddy’s Diner” that she found that matches whatever the fuck the dream showed her, “We’re going to America.”

“Again?” Nicky complains, “I thought we swore to not go to America again for at least a century.”

(Until Nile’s family definitely dies, they don’t say.)

So they all begrudgingly go to America, during which time Five manages to get called potentially insane by his favorite sister, not get any sleep, bribe his brother to investigate an eye that doesn’t exist, and mourn losing his one lead to who the fuck started the apocalypse.

I don’t think Five or the og squad were expecting to actually meet.

But they’re hunting Five down and looking around and Five is pondering his next move and then just - across the street, their eyes meet.

“YOU.” The OG squad bellows, because Five has been a goddamn mystery for literally thousands of years.

“Me?” Five says, very confused, like someone who has definitely had trauma induced hallucinations and flashbacks whose dream characters decided to show up on the street outside his house for some reason.

And they go over to Five, and Five is like “wow what a weird hallucination to be having, maybe if i ignore it it’ll go away because that’s a healthy mindset to have (:”

and then one of them touches him and just - 

Five lashes out. It’s instinctive. He has a knife and he just - stabs. Automatically. and his dream person winces and steps back and - 

(He stabbed his dream person. Hallucinations don’t touch him they’re not supposed to touch him and they can’t be stabbed what - )

And then the dream person heals before his eyes.

“I probably deserved that.” Booker muses, grimacing at the hole in his new shirt thank you very much.

“You’re not real.” Five says a little too loudly and a little too insistently to sound at all convincing as he takes a step backwards.

“I’m not real? You’re not real!” Nicky butts in, slightly offended, “You’re the one that keeps - keeps vanishing!”

“Oh my god why are you all disasters.” Nile mourns putting her face in her palms as though she can block out her new weird family by sheer force of will.

“Hey, remember when you died?” Andy offers with a shrug which just makes Nile groan louder. “What’s that about? I’m not even shooting him this time.”

“You can’t shoot him, he’s a baby.” Joe gasps, gesturing towards Five’s thirteen-year-old self.

“I’m not a baby!” Five snaps, bristling on autopilot because the rest of his brain function is stuck on a repeat of “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck”

“Baby boy. Baby.” Nicky backs his husband up, leaning against Joe and smirking.

“Am not!” Five growls, “And give me my knife back!”

“Finder’s keepers.” Booker says nonchalantly, spinning said knife in his fingers, “If you didn’t want me to have it then you shouldn’t have stabbed me with it.”

“It’s my brother’s knife, you can’t have it.” Five argues.

“Booker.” Andy says firmly, making Booker shrink a little like a scolded child, “Give the kid the knife back. How would you feel if I took your gun?”

“You wouldn’t take my gun.” Booker mutters, handing an increasingly confused Five the knife back, “I would simply shoot you.”

“Ooh,” Nicky snickers, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

“Don’t encourage them.” Joe says, nudging at Nicky. Which would be fine if he hadn’t added in a slightly lower tone that they could all still hear, “Fifty on Andy.”

“That’s a sucker’s bet, my love.” Nicky laughs, pressing a kiss to Joe’s cheek.

There’s a beat of silence.

“No offense, but what the fuck is going on.” Five states rather than asks, clutching his slightly stolen knife (Diego didn’t even notice when he’s snagged it which honestly means he didn’t deserve to keep the weapon) tight to his chest. “Are you guys... with the Commission?”

“What the fuck is the Commission?” Joe does not whisper to Booker, who is supposed to be the research guy but he just shrugs because he’s useless.

Anyway that’s how the whole Old Guard squad winds up in Reginald Hargreeves creepy ass mansion trying to explain to an increasingly erratic immortal child that, yeah, he’s a little bit immortal. No it doesn’t have anything to do with his powers (powers?? powers??????? what the fuck i mean yes their lives are already so goddamn weird but there is a line and Booker draws it at teleportation what the fuck). 

What’s this about an apocalypse?

(When they asked Five for his age, they were not expecting a curt ‘fifty-eight, probably’. Yes they are now aware there is funky time travel involved - which honestly explains so much about the frequently vanishing immortal - but still. 

He looks baby but also he is baby. He’s younger than Booker!! Not even a century! They have two whole babies on the immortal squad !!)

“The world is going to end on April 1st.” Five explains, looking deeply uncomfortable. And afraid. 

(And young. So very terribly young. He’s been thirteen-years-old for a long time. If these people are right - he’s going to remain thirteen until his immortality, what, wears off? Which could be literally thousands of years in the future?

He has family god damnit. He doesn’t want to outlive them. He just - he just wanted to see them again. To save them.)

And honestly why not. Five has already demonstrated teleportation. Time travel does explain his random popping into their lives via dreams. Why not? And let’s be real, they have way much more to lose by not believing him than believing him.

“Alright let’s stop an apocalypse.” Andy says, clapping her hands together.

“You’re going to help?” Five asks in a small voice, because he had sort of resigned himself to going at it alone.

“Give me the number for the eye.” Nile says kindly, “We have someone we could contact about that sort of thing, or at the very least who can keep an eye out for when it is manufactured and let us know.”

(RIP Copley when he realizes he has to deal with anything involving the Umbrella Academy. I am sure they were a very deep thorn in the governments side for a long time tbh)

“Who The Fuck Are All These People In Our Living Room.” Luther asks, Very Loudly, with Allison close behind.

And yeah. No one really knows how the fuck to answer that, let’s be real. What are they supposed to say? Hey, sorry for crashing, we’re here to lowkey kidnap your newly re-found brother because surprise! he’s immortal! Because that would go over so well.

Anyway, so the Old Guard squad are just there like,, trying to teach Five about his newfound immortality (at least he’s got good at the whole “fuck cameras” thing during his stint in the commission, though admittedly there were plenty of mission from pre-camera times. ah, the age before technology.) and also adopt him? because being immortal means family and family means no one gets left behind (or forgotten, hello Quynh)

(okay yeah they tried to put Booker in time out that one time but after a few years they were just sad and everyone was texting him anyway so now it’s just something they bring up at every opportunity. Joe wants the first turn in the bathroom? Booker, you betrayed him. He was a lab rat, Booker. And on and on until Booker throws up his hands and gives in. Yes, fine, you can have the bathroom first.)

And the Umbrella Academy usually would leave Five to his own devices but... look. Five might have vanished for seventeen years or whatever but he’s still their brother and they can be surprisingly territorial.

At least some people are getting along like a house on fire.

(“You were a crusader?” Klaus asks with wide eyes, “How does that even work?”

“What, being gay?” Nicky asks, tilting his head, “It’s fine. I have a permit.”

“A permit.”

“Mmhmm. From the Pope and everything.”

“I kind of want to be you when I grow up.”)

I can’t tell if things would go more smoothly or if the fuck ups would be even more epic in proportion. On the bright side, the apocalypse probably wouldn’t happen because Andy and Nile immediately clock Leonard-Harold’s serial killer vibes.

(Leonard realizes they’re onto him and tries to kill them which is a big mistake lmao, bye bye Leonard)

It probably ends up in an all out war against the Commission honestly, and the OG squad and the Umbrella Academy teaming up to destroy it.

(“How is this even going to work?” Allison asks at one point, gesturing at Five and the old guard.

“Shared custody?” Joe suggests brightly before doubling over because Five has pointy elbows and is not afraid to use them.)

Andy and Five probably go feral together at one point and it sure is something to behold. 

“Now that is a kid who understand what a signal is.” Booker admires after a particularly large explosion happens. Nile just nods along because yeah. 

(“How come you guys get to call Five a kid without being stabbed?” Klaus complains.

“He isn’t even a century old. I’m 250 and I was the youngest until Nile popped up.” Booker shrugs.

“We’re in our 950s.” Nicky says, “If little Cinque does not want to be called a kid he should have been born earlier.”

“How old is hot axe woman?” Klaus asks, absolutely enraptured.

They OG squad all exchange a look and just collectively shrug, “Old as balls.”

“Besides,” Booker says dismissively, “What’s he going to do about it? Kill us?”

and that ends that conversation)

(They also don’t discuss how young Five is. How young he was when he died. How that’s going to effect him all his life. How he’s going to be old in years, but he’s always going to be thirteen in the same way that Nile is stuck in her 20s. Sometimes it seems like the immortals are getting younger and younger in age and... it sucks.)

anyway just. Old Guard and Umbrella Academy shenanigans as they stop the apocalypse and try to look after the semi-feral teenager they have been saddled with and figure out what comes next

[yandere-daydreams]

Yandere dragon x servant darling? The dragon is so old and powerful and has been kept sealed for many years bc no one has managed to kill it but the prince was stupid enough to unleash it hoping it would destroy the enemy kingdom but instead it kidnapped the servant who always came by to clean the room and give it some food

I decided to use Dragon-Shifter!Bakugo for this, if only because it’s my favorite bastard’s birthday and he deserves to wreak a little havoc. I think I just have a soft spot for this Fantasy AU, in general.

TW: Mentions of Death and Imprisonment, Fire, and (Non-Graphic) Violence. 

~

The smoke was overwhelming.

The castle had gone up like kindling, despite all its many precautions and safeguards. You were just a servant, voiceless and powerless in the grand scheme of things, but you’d been there when the Prince made his decision. It was one of anger, of hate and frustration and pride, but you could understand the state he must’ve been in. With his army defeated and his enemy marching ever-closer, there wasn’t another choice. He could either release Bakugo, a King among beasts, or scrape together what was left of his forces and pray his surrender would be a shameless one.

Of course, his act of desperation had ended as acts of desperation always do - in screaming and destruction and fire, so much fire. Even in the open courtyard, without a roof to contain the flames and surrounded by untouched flora, the smoke bit at your lungs, permeating every piece of clothing on your body and forcing its way into your eyes, your skin, your head, your mind soon spinning and aching, turning your frantic sprint towards the castle’s gates into a stuttered, lethargic stumble. Clouds of grey obscured your vision, the stench of chemicals and burning stone quickly becoming nauseating, but you knew Bakugo’s rage better than anyone, you knew his hatred better than anyone. He’d been imprisoned far longer than you’d been alive, and rumor had it that he outlived your kingdom in its entirety. Whoever he encountered, friend or foe, would not be treated kindly. They’d be lucky if they lived to tell the tale, honestly.

Thus, the panic that ran through you as you felt a gust of wind flow over you was more than understandable, nearly strong enough to make your knees buckle. You were tempted to stop running, to search for a garden shed or a notch in the brick walls and hide until your blood boiled in your veins, but you bit the inside of your cheek and focused on your target, reminding yourself that the woods less than a hundred paces away would make a much better haven than a fortress already half-burnt to the ground. You were only able to make it a few steps forwards before something massive collapsed to the ground behind you, sending a tremor through the soil and knocking you off balance. You glanced over your shoulder reflexively, equal parts out of confusion and curiosity, but regretted the action the moment your eyes landed on that giant, terrible monster.

You’d seen Bakugo before, but he was chained down, hidden in darkness and made smaller by his captivity. He’d been crushed and barely alive, but he was free, now, his fury blazing and his golden scales catching every ray of light, only muted by the long, pitch-black spikes that jutted out at every odd angle. You gasped, a scream caught in your throat, then cursed, beginning to scramble to your feet, but another small quake forced you to stop, pinning you against the turf as Bakugo edged closer. Still, that did little to disarm the predator. You could only hold your breath as he lowered his head, his neck arching to lower himself to your height, but pain didn’t accompany his approach.

Rather, a weight pressed against your chest, heavy but not oppressive. Hot air fanned over your skin as he exhaled, a flat, reptilian nose pressed against your diaphragm, nudging at nothing in particular, eventually finding its way to your shoulder. Your fear wavered, momentarily replaced with some unnamable, elusive form of bewilderment, and your mind raced to find the logic behind his current tranquility. If he was fond of you, it couldn’t be for any rational reason. You’d cleaned his chamber one or twice a week, mostly when he was unconscious, and you’d fed him every other–

Oh, god. That was it.

You’d fed him.

You’d taken care of a dragon.

Your dread returned suddenly, and you didn’t think before pushing forward with your efforts to writhe your way from underneath him. Bakugo didn’t seem to care for that, pulling back abruptly before snapping forwards, jaw unhinging and rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth making a drive towards your neck, but by the time you’d shut your eyes and flinched back, you realized the blow would never come. Instead, pointed talons scraped delicately over your scalp, something close to a hand rooting itself in your hair and jerking you upwards, forcing your eyes to open.

You almost choked when you saw the human above you, scales still lining his jaw and gathering somewhere below his chest, every part of him normal save for the fangs poking out from behind his lips and his height, Bakugo managing to tower over you despite hovering less than a hair’s width above your form. Both of you were still, for a moment, quiet and stunned, but you broke the silence, your voice emerging in an airy, absentee mutter. “A shape-shifter,” You mumbled, curling into yourself. “I didn’t think they existed.”

His response came in the form of a grunt, uninviting and nearly inaudible, but he didn’t have to say anything. You knew everything you needed to from his scowl, from the feeling of his eyes prying into your skin as he analyzed and appraised, only pausing to click his tongue and shake his head, as if he was trying to dismiss a bad thought without fully releasing it. When he rose, he did it wordlessly, pushing himself to his feet and taking you by the wrist, his nails cutting harshly into your flesh. He was graceless, as he dragged you forward, letting deny the impulse to run, flee, beg him not to kill you. Not seeming to care for your stupor, Bakugo started towards the castle’s gates, pulling you with him when your legs failed to move. 

Your voice was still weak, but you forced yourself to use it regardless. If only to earn some kind of explanation from the creature in front of you. “I… I’m not going anywhere blindly with you, Bakugo. Tell me where we’re going, or I’m not taking a step.”

“Katsuki,” He corrected, harshly, spitting the name coldly. “Where else? We’re going home.”

You were tempted not to follow. You could scream and struggle and pull yourself from his grasp, and linger to see what was left of your kingdom when the sun came up. But, a wayward glance to your home, your real home, only affirmed that your reward would come in the form of ash and cinder. If not swords and a guillotine, if anyone had seen you survive your encounter unharmed.

So, you cast your gaze downward and grit your teeth, following closely in Bakugo’s tracks.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 4: Dustless Feathers

Narrated by Leonid.

Narrator: White feathers scattered all around us. The gleam in her eyes was faultless.

Girl: This shows up in many of your dreams, doesn’t it?

Leonid: Who are you?

Girl: I am you, your desires, your darkest and purest secrets.

Narrator: The darkness was washed away as the scattered papers flocked to her hands. They looked like a bouquet of white flowers.

Narrator: A tree rose from the ground. The girl plucked one of its white flowers and placed it into a white porcelain vase.

Narrator: She smirked as she watched the tree decay.

Girl: You see? Nothing can escape its eventual, ugly end.

Narrator: Only the flower in the vase remained at its most beautiful moment.

Girl: Who could turn down eternal beauty? Isn’t this the lasting beauty you’ve been searching for?

Narrator: Her young voice could not hide the power of temptation.

Girl: After I destroy this world, I can give you one that will be beautiful forever, and we could rule it together.

Girl: You are in control of our destiny, and I... I am the Goddess of Desire, the beginning and end of this world.

Narrator: Snow-white angels flapped their wings and leaped out of the drawing.

Narrator: They led me to a world where all of my dreams had come true.

Narrator: My eyes reflected their brilliant light. I was terrified but strangely calm. Everything was beautiful.

Narrator: Everything was quiet and peaceful. I looked up at the sky as I walked. My footsteps were the only sound.

Narrator: The starlight was frozen. It would not be destroyed. In fact, it would never alternate between being bright and being dim.

Narrator: I would no longer know of other people’s desires that make me uncomfortable. I would no longer hear their hoarse screams.

Narrator: The stars were permanently shining their brightest. Everything was at its prettiest. That was the only law in this world.

Narrator: Is this the world I want? A world without hideous desires. A world where there is only beauty.

Narrator: It should have made me happy.

Narrator: But I felt deeply disappointed.

Narrator: The sea of stars was still and silent. There were no longer star trails and no destiny to be foretold.

Narrator: Standing under the starlight was like standing in a brightly lit room. I couldn’t tell if I was looking at eternity or the end.

Narrator: The Goddess of Desire curled her lips in anguish. Then she smiled and shook her head.

Goddess of Desire: It doesn’t matter. I’ll wait for you.

Narrator: The white world fell apart. Time took away everything, and the illusion was violently swept away.

Narrator: The vase she left behind was smashed into pieces. The flowers in it quickly withered and turned to ash.

Narrator: I fell into the thunderous darkness again. Amid the rising embers, I heard a faint cry.

Narrator: “I want to stay on my branch. I want to feel the rain and the wind.” The voice came from a flower.

Narrator: Even if it’s doomed to decay?

Narrator: I was surprised and perplexed.

Narrator: Loud noises immediately overwhelmed the tiny voice. I was surrounded by similar voices.

Narrator: Why?

Narrator: They were clearly in pain. Why would they want to struggle like this to exist in a grotesque world?

Narrator: Is there something in the darkness I don’t know about?

Narrator: For the first time, I fully opened my eyes and stopped covering my ears. I carefully examined the darkness around me.

Narrator: I saw faint starlight.

Narrator: The starlight conveyed messages of fates that crossed my path from distant time and space.

Narrator: A dilapidated fishing boat bobbed on the sea. The fisherman couple struggled against the wind and waves.

Narrator: When the sun fell on the sea, they were able to return home safely. They embraced their children and wept with joy.

Narrator: A young man expressed his passion for his beloved with a pen, and the powerful emotions resonated with many readers.

Narrator: He was spoken of often, and his name was engraved in the hearts of lovers.

Narrator: That branch-wielding boy grew up sweating, drinking, and singing with fellow soldiers in the moonlight.

Narrator: He walked the streets after the war ended. People’s faces were covered in blood and dust yet full of joy. A bard sang of peace.

Narrator: More and more images came to me. They were bits of ordinary life that I’d never noticed before.

Narrator: They were soaked in light. They gradually converged in the darkness, emerged from the sea, and turned into starlight.

Narrator: That was the moment I understood the true essence of this sea of stars.

Narrator: It was soft, simple notes that created this grand chorus.

Narrator: It’s made of overlapping light projecting into the endless darkness.

Narrator: In the darkness, selfishness and desire intertwine, and a kaleidoscope world where beauty and repulsiveness coexist was born.

Narrator: “Eternal” beauty is only eternal because countless people pursue it. They put in the effort to keep it alive forever.

Narrator: The driving force behind this is their endless desire.

Narrator: Humans struggle with desire. They protect themselves because of it. They pursue beauty because of it.

Narrator: That’s human nature, an instinct that cannot be unlearned.

Narrator: I’m just like that, too.

Narrator: It is because of this unquenchable thirst for knowledge that I have pursued it to this day. I’ve even ventured to the abyss.

Narrator: But the answer from her, desire incarnate, was not impeccable.

Narrator: Purity was a lie, and the darkness cradled both beauty and ugliness.

Narrator: I opened my arms to embrace the darkness, just as I had embraced the starry sky not long ago.

Narrator: I wanted to feel and accept it.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

[amonrawya]

The Greatest Gift of All

(Inspired by^ for the people who asked :D hope it was worth the wait!)

*

Long before the war, before Captain America or the Winter Soldier, there was simply Bucky and Steve. At least, that's what history says. But they missed out one very important person, a girl called Y/N.

Women in those times often found themselves with little opportunity, and only two easily attainable pathways in life: wife and mother. But Y/N carved out a life for herself that defied all expectations, and it all started in Brooklyn.

She dived headlong into scuffles, usually next to Bucky in defence of Steve. Regardless of the opponent, Y/N stood by them both, and often held her own quite impressively.

Her dress style borrowed from more masculine cuts, and Y/N was never seen without her cap. A lot of people had a problem with this, but she shut them up fairly swiftly.

Everything about this girl drew Bucky in, a battle he fought with little effort. They reveled in each other, flaunting their love at every opportunity. More than a few were jealous that the rough and tumble girl got the best looking boy in town. 

In a way, before even coming of age, they started an adult life together. The three of them moved into a flat. Y/N and Bucky took hard labour jobs, or anything they could get. They had little room to be picky. 

Both managed to hook steady summer jobs at the local docks. They used most of their money to keep a roof over their heads, buy food, and pay for Steve's medical needs. He attended art school, and sold his work every now and then; but physically, he was in no condition to work.

The war appeared on the horizon, just as they started to pull themselves an inch above the poverty line. Y/N saw it coming, the inevitable. She treasured every second they spent together, and dreaded the day when the draft came.

A lot of the older women she worked with were disrespectful, looking down on her pre-marital relationship with Bucky. They claimed she couldn't possibly understand their grief, despite the fact Y/N had seen Bucky off at the docks that very morning. 

In truth, they already planned on being married, but at the time, they simply didn't have the funds. Bucky promised, once the war ended, that ring would be on her finger.

Except, he never came home. Not properly. The person Hydra gave back to Y/N was damaged and jaded, angry at the world, angrier than she ever saw. But still, they loved each other. Though she never forgave them for stealing away his innocence, for trying to snuff out the light in his soul. A part of him would always belong to them, and she hated it.

Refusing to stay home while they risked their lives, never knowing, Y/N trained as an army nurse, working specially with the Howling Commandos unit.

Then one day, she went out to welcome them back from a mission. Every face looked devastated, but none more so than Steve. His eyes, red-raw and streaming, seemed incapable of rising from the ground. At first, the realisation didn't process, the idea simply incomprehensible. He promised.

Dugan was the one to finally break through and catch Y/N as she fell, holding her as the tears poured. Once he shook off his daze, Steve took his place, sharing in her grief.

Her world fell apart so quickly, with no warning and no mercy. Their commanders celebrated the capture of Arnim Zola, while Y/N and Steve sat, staring at an empty place at their side.

Everyone mourned Bucky, and swiftly after, began to mourn Y/N, too. The loss took a part of her...the sparkle, the happiness, the laugh that lit up her face. It all vanished. She worked hard, looked after them all, but only Steve was able to make her smile. Even then, it looked pained.

So when Steve went down with the plane, the very last shred of Y/N died with him. No tears left her eyes, no screams ripped up her throat. A cold numbness took over, freezing the woman from the inside out. 

V-Day came and went. The Commandos stood and drank to their lost comrades, and Dugan silently drank another...for the loss of a bright, fiery girl who had virtually nothing to lose, and still lost everything.

She spent her days as a robot, doing nothing but going through the motions of badly imitating life. The flat was empty and quiet, yet somehow, bursting with the ghosts of her loved ones. Nightmares plagued her, terrible images of Bucky's body, forever trapped in a freezing hell, nothing but food for the birds. And Steve, his body...was it cast adrift in the ocean? Or destroyed, burnt to ash in the belly of a metal beast. 

They were simple folk before the war turned them into soldiers, into weapons. Before symbols and flags stole away their names, driving them to sacrifice their lives for a greater cause.

Y/N knew their fight against Hydra was important...knew the honour behind their sacrifice. But when it's you left sitting at an empty dinner table, it's much easier to be angry and bitter.

She never married, never settled, bouncing around countries working as an army nurse. The Commandos slowly died around her, each one fading to grey as the curtain drew the show to a close. Each death, each funeral ripped open her wounds, bigger and deeper each time. Until eventually, Y/N let the blood flow freely.

Or at least, that's what would have happened. But one choice, one decision, made by a boy she thought dead in the far future, changed it all.

*

Bucky Barnes struggled to find himself again. His memories were mostly all returned, if a bit hazy and fragmented. He had Steve there to right any wrong recollections, and connect with on their shared experiences. But something always seemed to be missing, a piece of the jigsaw that hadn't been found.

He remembered Y/N. He remembered her clearer than anything. She was glowing like honey in the sun when Bucky closed his eyes and brought her back to mind.

Face covered in muck, hair tousled and streaked with grease from the boats, soot on the very tip of her nose and a cap perched jauntily on her head; wearing the deepest expression of concentration as she aimed a hanful of rotten fish guts at the sleezy Connell boy from Fifth, who decided his opinion on her backside mattered. The image shone crystal clear. Her laughter, rolling out from between curved lips, beautiful and full of mischief. 

It never failed to make him smile. Or cry. Or sometimes, both. He missed Y/N than he thought possible for a human being. 

Bucky often wondered about her life, whether she went on to marry, or maybe even have children. Was she happy? Did she bury him and move on? If they met today, would Y/N even recognise the man he was now? 

More importantly, in his mind, something he both feared and longed to know: would she still love him?

Unbeknownst to Bucky, Steve saw all this. Understood, to a degree, his pain. But he and Peggy never got the chance to bond so strongly. He knew Bucky needed him, but Steve also knew he needed Y/N more.

So once his goodbyes were said, he looked one last time at Bucky, and smiled beneath his suit as he vanished into time.

*

The living room looked exactly the same as he remembered. Bucky's coat, slung over the back of the chair, his sketchbooks strewn around the desk. Every rip and chip. His heart swelled with nostalgia, and pain, thinking of the life they were supposed to have.

What must have been in their heads...running off to fight, so eager to throw everything away. And who was left to stare at empty beds and eat breakfast alone every morning? Y/N.

His chest constricted, hearing the keys in the door, the lock rattling three times before letting her in. His nerve faltered for the briefest second, wondering if he was ready to see her again.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Time's up.

Slowly, he turned, and watched as Y/N's eyes widened, all the bags in her hands falling to the floor with a crash.

"...Stevie?" The name came out as a whisper, nearly inaudible.

He grinned, laughing as tears stung his eyes. "Hey, spitfire. Long time no see."

"Steve!" She launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck and clinging on for dear life. 

Catching her by the waist, he swung Y/N around, burying his face in her hair. They held onto one another as if they might vanish if they let go. But after a minute, Steve gently pushed her back.

"How? How are you here? What are you wearing? I don't understand, Steve, they said you died! Your plane went down in the ocean," she stammered, hand on his forearm with a grip like a vice.

"I survived. The serum kept me alive in the ice for seventy years," he said, questioning his own sanity momentarily; standing in the flat again made everything that happened seem like a distant dream.

Y/N frowned, brows knitting together. "What? Did you hit your head? Steve, this is 1945."

"I know, I came from 2023. I'm alive," he said, and saw her mentally backing away, so added, "I'm alive, and so is Bucky."

Her head snapped up, eyes immediately filling with tears. A dozen emotions whizzed through them in a second; disbelief, pain, hope. It shone clearly in her face as she stepped closer.

What did you say?" She asked, voice choked as she brought her shaking hands up to her mouth.

"Bucky's alive," he repeated softly, "and I can send you to him, in the future. But we don't have a lot of time. You need to listen to me, carefully, and do what I say."

She spluttered, struggling for words. "I, but...what about you?"

"I've made my decision," Steve said, and gently took her hands in his, "now, please, listen."

*

Bucky watched the machine, feeling a wave of numbness wash over his insides. Nothing was a better deal than the pain, the cruel sting of betrayal fighting to be felt. But he beat it back, unable to allow those thoughts validation.

Steve gave up so much for him, he fought for years to get him here. Steve deserved this. And no matter how wrong those words sounded in his head, he resolutely stood by them. 

The seconds ticked by, noted by Bruce's countdown. A flash of guilt almost made Bucky explain what was going to happen, explain that Steve left them. Left him. But he possessed no energy to speak, they'd see in a second, when no one appeared-

Zap. A blinding flash of light.

There's someone there.

Bucky frowned, hands falling from his pockets. Did Steve change his mind? Did he...

All the thoughts in his head stopped as the figure stepped down. Too small, too lithe for it to be Steve. Bucky's heart rate quickened, something in his unconscious already registering his recognition. 

The suit fell away, and if he weren't frozen in place, Bucky wouldn't have been standing. A quiver shot through him, nearly buckling his knees. Shock, fear and pure disbelief all delayed his reaction.

Y/N looked around, amazed, but turned to stone as she set eyes on him. Her face went utterly blank, a strangled sound leaving her lips.

Wearing her yard slacks, with a small bag on her shoulder, her face covered in dirt, hair streaked with grease, cap perched on-top, slanted to one side...she was everything he remembered, and his heart tried to leave his chest to go to her. To be whole again.

But fear held him back. She didn't know the things he'd done, the person he became after the train accident. What if-

"Who is she?" Sam asked, glaring as he stalked towards her, an accusation rising on his lips.

Bucky answered without hesitation, or thinking; the question had been asked countless times over the years. It always recieved the same reply. "My doll."

Sam stopped short, glancing between them, the way neither took their eyes off the other. He nodded, brows still closely knit, and backed off.

Slowly, Y/N approached, encouraged by the sound of his voice. She reached out carefully, when she got close enough. Trembling fingers brushed his cheek, and a shudder ran through her. 

"My Bucky..." She said quietly, eyes roaming over his face, a small smile tugging at her lips, "...you're here, in front of me. Alive."

He swallowed dryly, heart thundering away beneath his skin. "I'm different...you don't know..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth that her eyes found the cold metal where his flesh used to be. In reaching to hold it, she'd been taken by surprise.

Gently, Y/N took the hand in her own, examing the limb with a careful gaze. Moments passed, and she met his eyes again. Bucky steeled himself for rejection, for the disgust and horror.

Her hand went back to his cheek, and he involuntairly leaned into it. The warmth seeped into his blood. She stood on her tip toes, the smile on her lips blossoming into a bright beam of sunlight. "You've always been my Bucky, and always will be. Metal appendages and all."

He fell apart and dove down to capture her lips, clutching her to him with the hunger of a starving man. She pulled herself in, hands tangling in his brown locks, and both tasted salt on the others' lips.

So filled with joy his heart could burst, Bucky revelled in the feeling of holding his girl again. Laughing through the tears, he buried his face in her neck.

Thank you, Steve, for the greatest gift of all.

[daandyli0n]

okay, so fun fact about the burnt leaves au:

c!tubbo and c!quackity have both lost faith in Starclan. they still believe it exists, they just don’t hold the same levels of trust they once had (in fact, they practically have little to no trust left).

what’s different between the two is how the pair descended into their faithlessness.

(warnings: religious themes/subjects, referenced/implied animal death)

tubbo descended gradually, as horrible circumstances began piling up more and more. eventually, he came to the conclusion that Starclan had abandoned him and his friends. they simply didn’t Care about him and his loved ones anymore. after all, look what had happened to tommy. surely they wouldn’t have let something like that happen to a medic, much less a child, right? yet here they were.

he still doesn’t understand how tommy has kept his faith, even after all of this time later. after all they allowed to happen to him. and yet he still listens to their instructions, still goes to the meetings. tubbo personally doesn’t get it, and even lets tommy know as much, but hey. it’s tommy’s decision. if it makes him happy, right?

quackity practically plunged into faithlessness like a stone thrown into a pit: practically immediately. after all, dream’s final words before Pineclan burnt to ashes was that Starclan would strike them down if the clan was Never Meant To Be. and wouldn’t you know it? seconds later, a bolt of lightning struck a tree, setting everything on fire. several terrifying hours later, along with some deaths, fighting, major injuries, and burning trees, the fire was over. the territory of Pineclan had been reduced to some soot and ashy trees. the clan had been destroyed.

what else was he supposed to think? Starclan had practically turned their backs on a whole clan and stood back as their lives were all destroyed.

what was he supposed to think?

it’s moons later, and he’s now the leader of his own clan, one he himself built from the ground up. the only times he’s spoken to Starclan directly was recieving his nine lives (schlatt was still there, somehow. he was from the Dark Forest. why did he believe that Starclan would even give him so much as a break during a sacred ceremony? Starclan didn’t know that schlatt would be there. they didn’t know how he’d even gotten in the ceremony) and him trying to speak to Mosspelt Slime from beyond the grave (he has not seen him since). he left all the “Starclan Bulls**t” to foolish a Long time ago.

but, of course, his lack of faith is feared to be his downfall.

foolish is planning something with dream, something that could spell Desertclan’s end if something isn’t done (Starclan is trying to work things out on foolish’s end. look, they get that the torture was bad, but this isn’t just the end of one cat, as foolish seems to have been led to believe, but an entire clan. (fundy couldn’t go through that again. but, even worse, what if dream decided to start a cycle all over? what if he caused yogurt to be left in a young fundy’s position; scarred, orphaned and alone, terrified, and without so much as a home to return to? Starclan wasn’t going to allow history to repeat. not this time.) Starclan would let their displeasure be known. 

well, all members of Starclan but one.)

but they can’t truly warn quackity, because he won’t listen. he doesn’t believe they truly want to Help. 

so, now they are trying to scream at the young leader, telling him to either prepare for battle or Flee. but, just as he believes that they turned their backs on him, he has turned his back on them.

all of Starclan looks down upon him, feeling nothing but pure dread for what is coming. 

what they all think is worse is that quackity doesn’t truly know what’s about to hit him.

[jewels-writes]

kakashi x injured reader

You being a long term member of Team Kakashi were on a mission along with the rest of your team. You and Kakashi were partnered together while Naruto and Sai were another pair. You two worked flawlessly together having been on the same team for over five years. Not to mention, you were the only member with medical nin-jutsu. 

Sprinting through the trees, you went through the mission’s requirements again in your head. There were rumors of an Akatsuki member causing terror to a small town that wasn’t close enough to the inner city of the Leaf for Tsunade to send patrols. So it was up to Team Kakashi to get rid of the threat. 

“Hold on a moment, y/n.” Kakashi called, signaling for you to pause and you both landed on the same tree branch.

“What is it, Sensei?” You asked, taking the moment to stretch and take a drink. 

“We’re here. Look down there.” Kakashi pointed down and your eyes followed his finger to what was left of the small village. “We’d better get going, I’m sure there’s many people who need your medical help. We can rely on Naruto’s team to take care of the rest.”

“Got it, let’s go.” You answered, taking a deep breath. Soon you both descended into the village and Kakashi was right, almost every person you came across needed healing. Fortunately none of the wounds were fatal and you were able to fix everyone up. 

You had used a substantial amount of chakra when a boom suddenly erupted from a few meters away. In an instant, Kakashi stood in front of you, using his body as a barrier for whatever threat was there. 

“Y/n! Are you hurt?” Your teacher asked over his shoulder to which you responded with a no. It was a relief to Kakashi. “Alright, good. Go find cover, I know your chakra is reaching its limit.”

“But, Sensei-” You started and saw his shoulders drop and decided to not keep speaking. “Fine, but if you need me, you know what to do.” And with that you sprinted away from the commotion and into an alleyway, taking a deep breath. 

“Shadow clones are so useful, aren’t they?” A sudden voice came from behind you and you jumped hard, pulling out a kunai. “Woah, woah! No need to get so defensive. It’s useless anyways since you won’t be alive much longer.”

“Who are you? State your purpose before I destroy you.” You snarled even though you knew you couldn’t act on your words. You’d gotten such violent phrases from your teammate, Naruto. “Wait a minute.. Those robes! You’re with the Akatsuki!” You realized and began to panic. You only had enough chakra to perform one more jutsu at best. Definitely not enough to save yourself from a member of the Akatsuki.

“And you? By your clothing you look like a medical style ninja, am I right? And that headband, you’re from the Leaf right?” The stranger smirked and you got a shiver down your spine. He reached for a 3-bladed scythe which he carried on his back. In a movement faster than you could follow, he had already struck you, his scythe digging itself into the side of your stomach. You couldn’t help but scream in agony.

In another harsh movement, he yanked the weapon out of your side and you immediately collapsed. You knew who he was now. Tsunade had a book full of different members of the Akatsuki and you remembered reading about him. You knew how his jutsu worked.

The blood from your wound kept flowing, despite your efforts to heal it. Was it because you had used too much chakra already? Oh fuck, this was really, really bad.

“Let the ritual begin!” The man said, stepping into his blood circle. “Now, where would you like to feel pain?”

“S-stop..” You muttered, somehow managing to stand up. Your knees were weak and you knew you couldn’t take much more for long. “Even if you kill me, Kakashi’s gonna-”

You couldn’t get the rest of your sentence out. Well, the rest of it turned into more screaming. The man had stabbed a sword through his own thigh and you could feel it.

“Your screams are so immaculate! Yes, yes! Scream for my God!” He cackled, slowly ripping the sword from his thigh. “Again!” He smiled and sliced his stomach open. The same happened to you and you fell into a bleeding heap on the ground. You couldn’t even move.

Is this the end? There was so much more I wanted to do.. Kakashi Sensei.. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better student. Forgive me.. 

“Y/n! What happened? Who is this?!” Someone’s voice said from above you. It was your teacher.

“Sen..sei..” You rasped, blinking open your eyes to see the worried eyes from Kakashi. You were surprised he had his Sharingan exposed like that. 

“Stay with me, you’re going to be okay. I need you to tell me about the enemy. My dogs are holding him off right now, it’s okay.” He muttered, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “I can take care of it, just tell me how.”

“Any.. any damage done to him while he’s in that circle is done to me too. But he can’t die.. He..” Your vision began to swirl and the edges of your eyes darkened.

“Hey, hey! Stay with me, y/n. Don’t you dare pass out on me. I need you here with me.” Kakashi’s voice had a frantic undertone to it. You could tell that he wasn’t his usual composed self. Cupping your face in one of his hands, he looked over to one of his dogs. “Go find Naruto and Sai and bring them here. Tell them y/n is injured. Go.”

One of Kakashi’s dogs who was preventing the Akatsuki member from getting closer to you suddenly bit on the man’s thigh. As soon as it happened you screamed as even more blood came pooling out of your body. 

“All of you! Back down!” Kakashi ordered to his dogs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Get him.. Out of the circle.. Then.. chidori…” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you slumped against Kakashi’s chest, unconscious. 

“Are they out of it already? How pathetic. Their voice is lovely when they scream, isn’t it?”

“You sick fuck!” Kakashi shouted after placing you down behind him. His dogs had already surrounded you and were to protect you with their lives. Composing himself, Kakashi made a hand sign before teleporting directly behind the Akatsuki member and shoving him out of the blood circle. Once both feet were out, the white haired man slammed every ounce of chakra into his attacks and eventually the man was reduced to nothing but ash.

He was panting but that didn’t stop him from running back to you. You were still unconscious, your breathing slower than normal.

“Kakashi Sensei!” That was Naruto. The blonde was suddenly at his teacher’s side and looked down at your form. “Hey.. hey wake up, y/n. We did it, wake up!” Sai stood wordlessly behind Naruto as he also looked at you.

“They’re critically hurt. We need to get them help right now.” Sai pointed out.

Kakashi suddenly began ripping up his clothes into strips. He began binding your wounds so you wouldn’t bleed out. He refused to let you die. Not here, not now. Naruto and Sai followed their teacher’s lead and began ripping up some of their own clothes.

The ‘bandages’ were snug and colorful but they’d work. The three looked at each other, soundlessly communicating. Kakashi gently lifted you onto his back, making sure you weren’t going to fall off before bidding his team goodbye.

“Come on, y/n. Just hang in there. We’ll be home soon.” Kakashi muttered, placing a firm kiss to your hand through his mask. 

Three days had passed and you hadn’t woken up. Kakashi had been staying at the hospital right beside you the entire time. Seeing you injured reminded him of when he was younger and couldn’t save Obito. 

His hand never left yours. He’d always be touching you for physical comfort even when he was doing other things. He didn’t want you to feel alone.

Naruto and Sai stopped by every once and a while but they were soon sent off on another mission and weren’t able to stay.

Your finger’s suddenly twitched under Kakashi’s hand and his eye snapped up to look at you. You weren’t awake yet but he could tell you would be soon. His hand held yours tighter as he desperately looked for you to open your eyes.

“Ugh..” You whispered, blinking your eyes open. Groggy from not being awake for three days made everything blurry. “Where’s.. Kakashi??” You immediately sat up straight, remembering the situation you were in when you were last conscious.

“I’m right here.” His smooth voice mumbled. “Take it easy, okay, kid?”

“Oh thank god..” Your face suddenly became wet with tears and you couldn’t resist the urge to embrace Kakashi.

“Oh! I’m glad you’re okay too, y/n.” Kakashi said, returning your hug with just as much longing as you did. “Everything’s okay. The Akatsuki member isn’t with us anymore. We’re safe and back in the village.”

“How did.. How did I get here?” You wondered aloud.

“I carried you back. Naruto and Sai took care of the rest of the injured villagers after we fought. The mission was a success.”

(lost the motivation to finish it and also lost the motivation to remember that akatsuki member’s name so deal with it if you watched shippuden you know him)

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Hansol: Fire and Ice (Part Six)

Characters: Hansol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, angst, the smallest bit of fluff just bc hansol’s optimistic and a sweetheart

Word count: 2,420

Summary: You’ve always been one to let your emotions get the best of you – your power reflects that – and you’ve never been good at expressing them. That’s why you always thought you’d be awful with a mate, but you never thought things would be this awful.

a/n: things in bold are in english. also this takes place the same night as the last part but it explains where hansol was when minghao couldn’t find him, and what happened to his mate after she woke up. AND it does talk about rika and baekhyun and i used to have a series for them called amend buuuut i also took that down to redo it lmao so there’s not really much backstory on them other than what i have for star crossed so if you’re confused, that’s ok lmao 

Previous | Next | Fire and Ice Masterlist

Hansol sat on the lawn as he usually did, staring up at the stars. He always wondered if you were looking at the stars, too. He wondered if you even liked looking stars, or what you preferred looking at instead. Did you like watching the clouds or animals in the forest? Did you like watching snow fall in the winter or rain fall in the summer? Did you still find staring at the fire comforting and pleasing even though you could easily form it effortlessly at your fingertips?

You were all Hansol thought about, and truthfully, he waited up every night for you. He never once felt you were in danger, and he knew he could find you quickly if there was danger. But for now, he was giving you space. He was just hoping you’d come back to him. If you did, he’d go see that doctor your pack recommended. If not, then he’d already be dead before the pain could get any worse – unless the silver managed to kill him first, in which case, it wouldn’t really matter anyway.

Hansol heard the front door open and shut before he heard somebody walking in the grass. He could smell Seokmin’s scent, so he knew it was him coming over.

“I’m about to go to bed, and everyone else is already in their rooms,” he told the younger boy. “I just wanted to see if you needed anything.”

“Actually,” Hansol spoke up, peeling his gaze away from the night sky to look at Seokmin, “I’ve been thinking...”

“About what?” Seokmin wondered as he sat down beside his brother.

“It’s been about a week since everything,” he began, staring at the grass between the two of them, “so I think it’s safe to go look back at the old house.”

Seokmin didn’t understand why Hansol would feel any need going back there. No doubt everything would be burned to the ground. Any belongings they had were what was left in their house, or what was put there by your pack in preparation for them to move in.

“Look for what?” he asked.

Hansol’s golden eyes practically sparkled when he looked up at Seokmin, “Something of Jiung’s or Chanseong’s. I want to give it to _____.”

“When?” Seokmin scoffed. “I don’t mean to sound mean, Sol, but do you even know if she’ll come back to you?”

“I’d go leave it at the house,” he shrugged. “I won’t go see her if she doesn’t want me to, so I’d just leave it there and go.”

“What are you expecting to find, exactly? You know there won’t be any bodies.”

“There might be. Or maybe there’s something small that didn’t get completely burned. I don’t know.”

As Hansol pushed himself off of the ground, Seokmin looked up at him, “Are you leaving right now?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Do you wanna come help me?”

Seokmin sighed but got up as well, “Somebody has to keep you out of trouble.”

“Okay, Mr. Thunder-and-Lightning,” Hansol chuckled as the two brothers walked closer to the edge of their property and into the woods, “I think you are the trouble.”

“Hey, I helped!” Seokmin insisted.

“Yeah, helped Jooyeon have a heart attack,” Hansol laughed as the two disappeared into the thick brush.

-

You woke from your nightmare with tears streaming down your face. You’d been doing this a lot lately: crying so hard you’d wake yourself up. But this time, it was better that you woke up in the middle of the night. It was the perfect time to slip out unnoticed.

Ever since that first day after Jiung died, you felt the alpha pull to Hanbin. It was supposed to be you, but it never was. You tried to pretend, but nothing changed. You were never fit to be an alpha like Jiung, but you knew Hanbin would do a good job to protect the others.

Before you left, you got out a pen and some paper and wrote a quick note to Rin. You knew this would have the biggest impact on her, but you couldn’t stay here. If you weren’t an alpha like you were supposed to be, what was the point? It was like you didn’t belong here, but you definitely knew you didn’t belong with Seungcheol’s pack – not after you denied Hansol. To be truthful, you didn’t even really feel the tie to the pack anymore, not after the two days spent with Hansol. So you were going to just…go. You didn’t know what you’d do, but you’d either figure it out eventually or you’d die – whichever came first.

But you also knew Rin would have her mate soon enough considering she often went out and followed him around. Sure, he didn’t know since Rin kept herself invisible, but just knowing where her mate was and knowing he was doing okay was what you assumed would help her cope. It was why she was hidden the entire time his pack was here: she didn’t want her mate to see her and imprint on her – not until she learned how to speak to him, at least. So you hoped she’d be okay after you left, and that she’d learn Korean to finally go introduce herself to him. He seemed like a nice enough guy, anyway. He’d definitely help her get better and would make sure she was happy.

Rin,

When you read this, I’ll be gone. I don’t know where I’m going, but please don’t look for me. I know you’ll think I betrayed you by leaving, and I won’t try to make any excuses for myself. You were alone when Jiung and Chanseong you here, and all you had was us to rely on. I always promised to stick beside you, and I’m completely breaking that promise. I know you’ll hate me, and I deserve it. But I want you to know I still love you, and I hope you’ll do okay. And try not to stress so much – your mate will love you no matter what.

Please take care of yourself.

-_____

You left the note on your pillow before grabbing Jiung’s sweater that you left laying over the back of your chair, tugging it over your head, and going to the window. You pushed the window open before leaping out and landing softly on your feet before you ran into the woods, leaving behind your home, and the pack you used to consider family.

-

The wolves could already smell that burnt smell from the house, but they continued to run in their wolf forms until they were closer. They didn’t shift back until they reached the clearing where their house used to stand. But now, everything was reduced to rubble and ash.

“Shit…” Seokmin mumbled, looking around the plot of land they used to call home.

A place that once held bright and lively memories now looked dark and dead. They couldn’t believe this was the same place they used to run around and play. They couldn’t believe a large, warm house once stood here. On the other hand, they couldn’t believe that said house was now destroyed. It was all just a bunch of ash and useless pieces of debris.

“I’m gonna sift through some of this and see if there’s anything we can take back,” Seokmin said, gesturing toward the largest pile of dark ash.

Hansol just went over to where he last remembered seeing Jiung, all but ignoring Seokmin. There were small piles of ash around the house, which must’ve been all the dead or severely injured that they couldn’t save. There were even some detached body parts mixed in, but thankfully that stench was covered by the smell of the burned house that attacked his nose.

He reached the general area and got down on his bare knees, sifting through the ashes. He felt bad disturbing anything that might be a body, but he was determined to find something – anything – to make you feel like you could have even a little bit of closure. Hansol just wanted you to be happy.

Something suddenly caught his eye. It was something gold that shone in the moonlight above, which was what made him notice it. He brushed away some of the ash before picking up some sort of pendant on a thin gold chain. It was a plain gold circle, no bigger than a small coin, and it had Jiung’s first initial and your first initial engraved on it with a dot in between the two letters. Jiung and _____.

Hansol let the chain dangle from his teeth – he obviously didn’t have pockets, and that’s how he’d have to carry it in wolf form anyway – before searching through the rest in case there was anything else. He found a ring that had a date engraved on it as well. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he figured he should bring it just in case.

“Hansol!” Seokmin called as he rushed over with a few books in his arms. “I found a photo album, one of Danbi’s books, and a few picture frames that made it out.”

“Good job,” the younger wolf smiled. “Let’s get back to the house before sunrise, yeah?”

So the two shifted before Seokmin collected the small stack of things in his mouth, and the two raced off to their new home, happy with the small things they were able to find.

-

Hansol and Seokmin could hear their names being called before they even got close to home. They picked up their pace, Hansol howling to let them know they were nearby and safe.

When they finally made it back to the house, almost all the wolves were outside, waiting for the pair to return. Seokmin immediately dropped what he had in his mouth, but Hansol kept the ring and the necklace balanced carefully between his teeth.

Jihoon looked down at the ground, scanning over the things Seokmin brought before looking at the two wolves, “Did– Did you two go back to the house?! Are you kidding me?! You both could’ve gotten killed!”

Seokmin whined but Hansol didn’t regret it. He got what he was looking for.

“Jia’s been looking for you,” Seungcheol told Hansol.

The boy carefully placed the jewelry in the grass before shifting and collecting his two items, “Why?”

The eldest alpha sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, “_____ ran away from her pack.”

Hansol paused like he was trying to see if his instincts were about to suddenly warn him about his mate, but when nothing happened, he shrugged, “She’s okay.”

“What?” Soonyoung gasped. “You’re not even gonna go check on her?”

“No, she wants her space,” he insisted. “If something bad happens, then I’ll go find her, but until then, me smothering her won’t help.”

Junhui pointed at the gold pieces of jewelry that the younger wolf held, “What’re those?”

“They’re gifts,” he replied, smiling softly to himself as he looked down at the jewelry in the palm of his hand, “for _____.”

-

Maybe Rika was right. Maybe Baekhyun was the worst. Maybe you should’ve listened to the tiny mate whenever she complained about him. But you always found Baekhyun pretty enjoyable since he had about the same snarky attitude as Rin. But now, you were deciding to reconsider that.

Had he not had been sniffing around your property, you wouldn’t have been caught. Had he not been having issues with not only his mate -- if you could call her that -- and his pack, he wouldn’t have stopped you.

Had Chanyeol not been worried when he realized his brother was missing and gone out to find him, you would’ve gotten away.

“Can’t burn me if I burn too, _____,” Chanyeol sang as he forcefully carried you to their house.

But you had stressed that you didn’t want anyone knowing about this. Baekhyun couldn’t tell Rika, and neither of them could snitch on you to their pack. And considering the mental state they found you in, even Baekhyun knew not to double-cross you even though he just replied with, “I’ll think about it”.

Sneaking you inside was easy because the pack was asleep. So Chanyeol brought you up to Baekhyun’s room before setting you on the bed while Baekhyun shut the door. Then he turned to look at you, quirking an eyebrow while Chanyeol just studied you with furrowed brows.

“So...what happened?” Baekhyun quizzed.

He knew what happened to your alpha already. Their pack was friends with yours, and there was also the tie to Rika. But he didn’t understand what caused you to suddenly snap.

“I don’t have to tell you,” you told him, your arms crossed over your chest.

He shrugged, “Fair. But if you’re missing, I’m sure your pack will go looking for you when they realize, and then they’ll tell us what’s going on. And Rika will love me for saving her sister from a mental break.”

Your eyes widened, “I’m not going back.”

“You’re not going to do something stupid, either,” Chanyeol stated.

“I wasn’t!” you insisted. “I was just running away, okay?”

Baekhyun bit the inside of his cheek. He figured you must’ve realized that wasn’t the pack you belonged in anymore. They knew Hanbin was the alpha when they saw him last, sensing the authority radiating off of him and the way the pack acted around him. It was obvious.

But they didn’t know why you weren’t the alpha. So where did you belong?

“Is it because--”

“Where’re you gonna go?” Baekhyun cut off Chanyeol before he could ask a stupid question.

You just shrugged, “I don’t know. I can take care of myself, though.”

While Baekhyun would’ve rather just had you stay with them, he knew Junmyeon especially would ask a lot of question. And it was obvious you didn’t want to be bothered with that. Not only that, but he’d contact Hanbin.

Finally, he let out a sigh and grabbed your upper arm, “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Go where?” you asked.

He brought you to his bedroom door, whispering, “I’m gonna stay at the hut with you so I can know you’re safe, but so you’ll be away from everybody.”

You were surprised Baekhyun was doing something to help you, but you didn’t say anything else to him until you were out of the house and a good distance away. 

“Won’t your pack wonder where you went?” you pointed out.

He just shrugged, “Eh, probably not.”

[cyclicalaberration]

Unrecorded Histories

Eret is a historian. The server changes so fast that events get forgotten in less than two months sometimes, so trying to preserve it was crucial. Historians are few and far between nowadays, griefing and abandonment and time decaying all documents.

They have only known one other, but he is highly specialized, knowing more about the wastelands of 2B2T than any has cared to know in decades, as the warzone was under constant change.

Recording history is hard on many servers, but it feels that the SMP is harder to record than most. Few people remember more than a decade back, and most information is lost faster than that with the amount of times old builds have been griefed. Eret has been around a long time, and they are still learning new things.

It’s ironic that the one dedicated to preserving history cannot remember their own.

They remember a city of four, they remember white eyes. They remember the smell of spruce wood, coal dust and ozone. They remember the squelch of netherrack, redstone particles, gold. They have always hidden their eyes. They didn’t use to hide their eyes. Conflicting accounts. They remember thunderstorms.

They remember being loved, they remember dancing. They remember singing, and spinning, and laughing. They do not remember more from before the SMP.

They have no problem remembering the smp, the horrors, the hurt. They have no problem remembering the torment. They do not remember the life they led before.

They sit upon the pedestal in their castle, staring as the redstone particles dance. They and Foolish have been searching for weeks, to no avail. They don’t remember. The netherrack is warm beneath them, and it pulses every once in a while. They don’t remember. They don’t even know what they are.

Their glasses sit in front of them. They stare at their reflection, blank white eyes staring back at them. Nobody reacts well to their eyes, only Foolish. Decay creeps up their fingers again, the withering lingering as their hands, their cheekbones, their chest, burn. They have never died to a wither, but they have the lingering effects of one who’s withered a thousand times over. Their joints creak and they massage their hands.

They don’t even know what they are. A hybrid, certainly, but they don’t know what their other half is.

“Okay, now he’s just Herobrine,” echoes through their head, Philza’s first reaction upon seeing their eyes. They can’t shake that name.

They shove their glasses on their face with shaky hands, gloves hiding their ashen fingertips, and clip their cape on, gold clasp gleaming with the crest of their kingdom, a kingdom near dissolved. Their crown sits unworn. They don’t need it where they’re going.

“Eret! Old pal! What brings you to my temple?” Foolish drops the sandstone he was moving, turning to face them, rows of teeth betraying nothing but excitement, emerald eyes shining. The gold beacon on his pyramid spins, and Eret takes a deep breath.

“Hey Foolish.” Foolish’s face falls, and he shrinks down so they’re the same height,

“The withering bothering you again?” Eret nods. There was no point in denying it, the ash was creeping out from under their glasses. They massage their hands again, ignoring the burning in the middle of their chest, the pain where their glasses press on the withering skin, but that wasn’t why they’re here.

“That’s not why I’m here. I just-.” They flinch as another bolt of pain shoots through them, but this time it doesn’t fade. Their face burns and itches and screams in agony, and when it pulses again, they bite their tongue so hard it bleeds, the taste of iron filling their mouth. They’re blind with pain. Their eyes burn, their face burns, their hands burn. They try and speak and they start to cough, each cough sending more pain shooting through their body.

They are sitting down when they can think again. They don’t know when that happened. They can see again shortly after, unimpeded by sunglasses. Foolish is crouched in front of them.

“Old pal, that isn’t phantom pain! That’s active withering! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Withering- usually isn’t that bad.”

“Withering- Withering has a lot of long term consequences! In most mortals, repeated withering can cause cataracts, loss of joint function, temporary paralysis, night terrors, insomnia- Eret, how many withers have you fought recently?”

“I don’t remember- twelve? Maybe? Twelve I’ve used for beacons.” Foolish’s jaw goes slack, and another, smaller, spasm of pain shoots through them.

“Have you properly- of course you haven’t. Foolish, foolish, of course they were gonna be rediscovered-”

“What are you talking about?” Eret looks up at him, trying to climb to their feet on shaking legs. Foolish offers them a hand and they take it, leaning on him.

“Remember when I mentioned the wither cult? We tried to stop it from happening again, destroyed all information we could get our hands on. We were young and stupid, and of course it’d be rediscovered in this area. Lets see if I have the stuff to take care of this-” Foolish’s hand hovers just over Eret’s ashy cheek, just under their eyes- “You just stay here, I have to look for my supplies.” Foolish helps them to sit on the tail of his snake statue, and starts to dig through his chests, muttering quietly.

“There’s not much I can do to keep it away until the withering retreats, but this should make it hurt less, and send it away faster.” Foolish pulls out a tube of what looks like homemade burn cream, but darker, and wipes it over their face, letting them massage it into their hands. “Is there any other decay I should know about?”

Eret nods, dropping their cape and gesturing towards their back. Foolish hisses.

“How long?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Drink this.” He hands them an instant health potion, and then a glass of milk. “Can I help you with this?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, you really outdid yourself old pal. I thought you might’ve learned your lesson, but you really haven’t changed that much.”

Eret smiles, and Foolish stands up and steps back, handing them back their cape. “I have another potion after this, but until the decay decreases, I don’t think there’s much more we can do. So let’s get to the bottom of this memory loss then.”

--

Herobrine is a god. He is a god with empty eyes. He is a god who floats. He is a god who builds. He is a god of fear. He is older than the nether. He saw wither skeletons with their flesh still tied to their charred bones. He saw the river that flowed through the soulsand valleys. He saw the nether in its prime. He is older than Prime. He is older than XD.

He strips trees of their leaves, leaving them twisting, skeletal husks in the dead of summer. He is a mischievous god, a vindictive god, an evil god, a god of chaos. He saw the monuments when they still saw the sun, unflooded and unguarded, still worshipped at. He saw the temples worshipped at, he saw the mine shafts dug. He saw the fortresses built, the strongholds the last ditch effort to avoid the devastation.

He is older than the end.

He is old, and he got bored. And boredom makes gods antsy, makes them stressed, makes them bored. Bored gods are dangerous gods. And Herobrine had been bored for centuries. So it was to be expected that upon his first contact with another being, he caused mischief. He was a bit vindictive, perhaps.

But Steve grew used to him, and Alex grew exasperated, and he grew fond of the adventurers. He couldn’t scare them any longer, and eventually they grew fond of him as well.

Eventually, in their travels, they set up a base. And he built. Alex and Steve would hunt, farm, explore, mine, but he would build. He built cities, villages. And sometimes, sometimes he would strip forests of their leaves, but only if he was extremely, extremely bored.

Finding a child in the nether was the strangest event in a few centuries, but that didn’t say much. Finding a godling was.

He named it Eret. Alex was confused, Steve was adoring, Herobrine would die for them.

Eret grew slowly, as godlings tend to do. They were smart, and fast, and at some point they set out, exploring new areas of the world, and they returned, a totem of death in tow. Eret and Foolish, as he had been named, were close. They were ever so close, and ever so chaotic. Herobrine laughed, when the angel of Death visited to tell him that his kid was interfering with the Blood God’s business.

Alex was less amused. Steve found the whole thing rather endearing.

Eret was home for a while, telling them about a time traveller they met, when they were summoned. They were there, and then they were not, and he had no idea where they went. Steve said they’d be fine, Alex sent out letters to everyone they could think of, and Herobrine sent a letter to Foolish.

Foolish sent him back a letter, saying they were fine, saying they were alive, in a land of XD’s making, a land where he had no power. He didn’t know it would affect their memory.

--

Eret shakes their head, the sand hot against their skin, in shock.

“I- I don’t remember. I’m so sorry, Foolish.”

“You will. In time, you will, I promise. We will figure this out together, old pal, on my word, I will help you. And if you don’t remember, we’ll make new ones. Now,” Foolish slides a disc into his jukebox and bows to them, extending one hand. “Let’s start here. May I have this dance?”

[shirtlesssammy]

15x19: Inherit the Earth

We’re down to the end, and guys, I’m not ready. :(

Then:

THEY’RE IN LOVE

Now:

The world is empty.

Sam and Jack wander the empty streets. Dean pulls up in the Impala (still wearing his jacket with Cas’s bloody handprint. BRB CRYING.) Everyone’s gone. Dean tells the others that it’s Chuck that did this. Jack asks the IMPORTANT question: “Where’s Cas?” Dean looks down and hesitates, but eventually says, “He saved me.” He tells them the cliff’s notes version of what happened while shoving down A MILLION feelings of regret and loss and I want to hug him. “Cas is gone,” he finishes, and hahahahahahahahah NOPE. Sam, in disbelief, calls his side-ship Jody. No answer. 

They head to an empty sports bar (AND WHAT I WOULD DO TO GO TO A BAR WITH FRIES AND TVs AND BEER RIGHT NOW). Jack stays outside and prays to Cas. He gets nothing and starts walking. All the flowers start to wilt as he passes them. WHAT IS HAPPENING? 

Sam blames himself and is done. They decide to meet with Chuck.

They tell him that they’ll play his little game. They’ll kill each other. Dean demands that they put everything back to normal first, though. “The people, the birds, Cas.” All of it. (WEEPING.)

Dean, DEAN, Cas doesn’t want to be in a world where you don’t exist. 

Yeah, Chuck doesn’t care. He’s really into the brothers' suffering alone story. “That’s deep, that’s sophisticated, that’s a page turner.” Oh, Chuck, you dumb bastard. 

Cut to the bunker where they’re all suffering on their own. Jack wallows in his room. Sam wanders the halls, and Dean lays passed out on a bottle of liquor in the library. Sam finds Dean in the library, and Jack soon joins them to tell them that he’s sensing another presence in the world. 

They head to a gas station. Dean heads for the bathroom, and hears a whimpering. IT’S A DOG. And Dean’s so happy to have found him. He names the dog Miracle. 

Dean brings the dog out to show Sam. He tells him that Miracle is coming home with them. I AM DYING. Sam is shocked. Dean tells him not to worry because he’ll only let him ride shotgun if Sam is cool with it. Lol. 

Of course, all good things must end. And Miracle dusts like everything else in existence. Dean looks around and sees Chuck giving him a smarmy salute. F U C K  O F F,  C H U C K. Dean doesn’t even like dogs, so there. (The patented Robert Singer ZOOM tells me that Dean does indeed care about dogs.) 

(Sidenote: The dog is Cas, right? Dean’s beyond happy to see it. And is ready to let it sit shotgun, but only if Sam’s okay with it. And he’s REALLY upset that they can’t “save a dog”. Just thinking thoughts.) 

They head to a church. 

Once they’re in the church of very dangerously burning candles, they’re greeted by Michael. 

Michael tells them that he’s been chilling here to avoid Chuck’s notice. Adam is gone. (RIP Winchester brother that never got a chance.) Michael monologs a bit about humans and stuff. Dean recognizes a little soldier when he sees one. Michael wants to help though. 

Back at the bunker, Sam shows him Death’s book on God. Michael tries opening the book with no luck. (Sidenote: The DRAMA of the lights being lower is killing me.) 

*Dean is In Love Alert*

The brothers take a moment alone in the dark kitchen. 

Dean gets a call. 

Dean takes the call and because he’s a precious bean that actually believes what he’s hearing. Cas is at the bunker. He’s outside. He’s hurt. 

Dean takes off like a rocket AND I’M DYING. BBY BOY. NO. 

It’s not Cas. It’s Lucifer. 

UGH. 

(DOUBLE UGH.)

(INFINITY UGH.)

Yeah, Lucifer totally sees what’s between Dean and Cas and gains access to the bunker because of that. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool. 

He tells the brothers that the Empty kicked him out to finish Chuck. He brought a reaper to prove to the brothers that he’s good people (NOT.) 

Betty is bound and gagged. (Because WHY NOT DO THAT TO A WOMAN, Buckleming.) Lucifer then kills her. (Because WHY NOT DO THAT TO A WOMAN, Buckleming.) 

Betty is the new Death! 

(Sorrynotsorry for the lack of pictures. I think we all know why.) 

She asks for the book. If they give it to her, she can read it. 

They set her up in the dungeon reading room, and she doesn’t need helpers. 

Meanwhile, Lucifer is playing cards and there’s ZERO interaction with Jack and him. AND I AM LIVING. Like, it’s 100% clear that Jack isn’t his son and he does not see him as a father. Jack’s father is dead. AND I AM LIVING. (But also sad because Cas is dead.) 

Lucifer does interact with Michael though. Michael does not trust his brother.

Betty pops up with the book and the end of God. Lucifer ashes her with a snap of his fingers. 

(HOW?!>!>?)

Wherps, he grabs the book from her and reveals his hand. He’s working with Chuck.   

Lucifer and MIchael battle it out. Jack watches. Lucifer tries to convince Jack to join the losing team.

Michael stabs Lucifer with an archangel blade. Mercifully, there are no haughty speeches or further peacocking between these two. Lucifer sparks out, gone at last. GOOD RIDDANCE.

Later, Dean has a heart to heart with Michael in the kitchen. Michael’s reeling that Chuck brought Lucifer back from the dead instead of seeking him out. But he’s definitely NOT BITTER, NOPE. 

Dean reveals that Chuck’s book is open and full of mysterious Enochian symbols. Sam’s going to translate those, and figure out how Chuck dies, so they can start knocking down some dominoes!

In the library later, Sam reveals that he’s uncovered a spell to stop Chuck. (Jack was researching nephilim on the computer! Jack bby) When complete, the spell will unleash an “unstoppable force” against Chuck. They head out to a special location, light the spell, and it sends three bright beams of power into the sky.

But the spell explodes. They look up to find Chuck standing there. Chuck...chucks the Winchesters and Jack away. He thanks Michael for tipping him off. “It’s always been my destiny to serve you,” Michael tells him. But that’s not enough for Chuck to forgive him for siding with the Winchesters even once. Chuck fractures Michael into light. The last archangel bites the dust.

He turns his attention to the Winchesters. It’s time to finish them. He’s canceling the show. At the last minute, he decides it’ll be more fun to beat them to death instead of snapping them out of existence. It’s……..YIKES PRETTY BRUTAL TO WATCH. “Just stay down,” he counsels them - practically begs them. But they won’t stop. Broken and bleeding, they hold each other up against him.

Sam laughs at Chuck’s confusion. “You lose,” he tells him. Behind Chuck, the camera pans to Jack. 

Chuck tries to snap Jack dead but his snapper isn’t working.

Jack lays his hands on Chuck and golden power streams from Chuck into Jack. Jack snaps his fingers once, and the Winchesters are healed. As they say in the industry...suck it, Chuck. 

Sam drops Death’s book in front of Chuck, but the pages are blank. Only Death can even SEE anything in the book (making the whole “can’t open book covers” thing into nothing but a drama llama move). The Winchesters came up with a plan B and spout this in a quick exposition dump.

Michael was jealous of Lucifer being “chosen” by Chuck

They made up the story of a spell, so Michael would tell Chuck

Jack’s “bomb” quest turned him into a power vacuum - thus the dying plants

When Michael and Lucifer fought in the bunker, the power exchange charged Jack back to full nephilim strength

Chuck killing Michael and beating on the Winchesters allowed Jack to absorb god-power

“This is why you’re my favorites,” Chuck gasps. He doesn’t know what happens next, but he’s ready to die “at the hands of Sam Winchester. Of Dean Winchester, the ultimate killer.”

And. Babies. Sweeties. I know that there are lots of people who have problems with this episode but THIS! THIS. This next line makes it all worth it. Because Dean tells him, “See, that’s not who I am. That’s not who we are.” He took how Castiel sees him and he planted that damn seed in his own heart and watered it even in the depths of despair and now it’s so mighty a force that he just walks away from their lifelong tormentor. GUYS. I LOVE IT. I’m so emotional right now.

Jack confirms that Chuck won’t get his powers back. “It’s not his power anymore.” And AGAIN I am emotional thinking about fanfiction and fanart and giving this show to us when it’s all done. Ahem. Anyway. Chuck’s gonna grow old and die and be forgotten like every single human. (Ooookay that got a little dark, but I’ll allow it. This is a “to the pain” speech, after all.)

Chuck begs for them not to leave him, reduced to sniveling panic in the Impala’s dust cloud.

The Winchesters head back to a small, empty town. Jack closes his eyes in the sunshine as “Get Together” by the Youngbloods croons across the scenes. People return to the world and it’s gentle and beautiful - everyone returning to their day-to-day. “Come on people now, smile on your brother!” the song implores. 

Love is but a song to sing Fear's the way we die You can make the mountains ring Or make the angels cry Though the bird is on the wing And you may not know why

Come on people now Smile on your brother Everybody get together Try to love one another Right now

And look. I know this is just a song, and this is just a show. But this is my hope for this show and these characters - steeped in darkness for so long. And this is my hope for our actual real world too. It’s hard for me to separate the two so YES I’M CRYING AS I TYPE THIS. May this song lead us into the next episode and destroy me in a fountain of hopeful light.

Erm. anyway. Miracle the dog runs into the scene! It IS a damn miracle! Dean and Sam are so proud of Jack! Jack confirms that Amara is with him and they’re in harmony. I’m so happy that Amara got a happy peaceful forever after with her nougat nephilim grand-nephew. Dean assumes that Jack’s coming back to the bunker with them. He’s top dog, “he can do whatever he wants now.” (And readers, I like that Dean says whatever “he wants” and not whatever the Winchesters want. I think it shows personal growth!)

Jack declines. He’s already home - he’s everywhere and everything. “I’ll be in every drop of falling rain. In every speck of dust that the wind blows. And in the sand, the rocks, and the sea.” Jack doesn’t want to lead people, or be prayed or sacrificed to. He wants to let them discover the truth in their own hearts, in their own time. “Chuck put himself in the story. That was his mistake. But I learned from you and my mother and Castiel that when people have to be their best - they can be. And that’s what to believe in.” I have to say, I was fervently against Jack-as-God until it happened. But just like everything to do with Jack, once it happens I just go...okay, cool. I’m on board!

In the bunker, Dean and Sam drink beer and comment on the quiet. “To everyone that we lost along the way,” Dean toasts. Sam realizes that they can write their own story now. “Just us,” he says (and it sounds like a bleak echo in the empty bunker). Behind them, the table has SW, DW, MW, Jack, and Castiel engraved and...MY HEART.

The Winchesters leave to go find out what freedom feels like and we get a montage of past scenes from the show, and characters we loved or loved to hate. Jackson Browne’s “Running on Empty” plays us off in sweet, mournful nostalgia.

The Winchesters drive into a sepia-tinged world. This episode is like my Thanksgiving plate mid-meal - all mashed together for faster plot consumption. But on a rewatch, there’s a lot to like too! It’s a goodbye to one story...

And we leave nostalgia behind. It’s time for them to figure out their own story and I AM SO EXCITED to see what happens next! (Lays some nougat candy bars on my altar for Andrew Dabb for one last vigil.)

WHERE’S THE QUOTES?

Where’s Cas?

Who’ve thought finding a dog would feel like a miracle? C’mon, Miracle!

What’s an ending?

Eternal suffering sounds good on paper, but as a viewing experience it’s just kinda...meh

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[val-aquenta]

Late again! I’m sorry about that, but here it is. Jedi June for the prompt: There is no death, there is the Force

Here on ao3

Luke has spent years travelling across the galaxy chasing after the hints of Jedi that remained. He had not understood the extent that the Empire had gone to destroy every single piece of evidence for the existence of the Jedi. The average citizen of the Empire, now called the Republic and benign re-organised under Leia’s watchful eyes, did not even know what a Jedi was. Often the only ones who remembered were those directly related to people from the Clone Wars. Still, Luke had expected… something at the very least. Some books about them, or written by them, saved somewhere. Perhaps, if he was lucky, survivors. It seems, however, that was not the case. 

The first thing he’d gone to was the various Temples scattered around the place. Most of them had already been crumbling before the empire had risen, and therefore there was little there. He’d been told by an old twi’lek lady that Jedi of all ages would come there to study archaeology and theology of other sects of the Jedi here, however that had stopped during the war, the Republic calling them back to fight on the front lines instead of pursuing their interests here. “A Jedi left me these when she went to fight.” The twi’lek had opened a somewhat ornate box of Mirialan style, he believed and revealed books and old clothes. “She never returned to pick them up.” Sadness then shone in the twi’leks eyes, a loneliness and loss that spoke of a love lost to the cruelty of death. The twi’lek had let him take photos of a lot of it, keeping some parts of the personal journal private, and had sent him on his way with a blessing. 

Eventually, as the Imperial threat disappeared and fled to the outer rim, Luke made his way to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, expecting some kind of remnant of the Jedi. Here, at least, people knew of them, but they seemed to dislike them very much. The Temple was still there, but it had been cruelly turned into the Imperial palace for Palpatine to languish in. He watched, anger twisting his gut, as they burned down the Imperial banners decorating the outside walls. Leia had gone with him as they entered the ruined building. It would have been a beautiful place if the death of children could not be felt through the walls. Darkness seemed to coat the surface of the Temple like oil on water, but he felt some semblance of hope as less touched places rejoiced at the feeling of a Jedi for the first time in many years. The archives which might have been beautiful only held the broken empty datacubes and vandalised art. The corridors Luke walked might have been a wonderful experience had the Empire not covered the cream walls with black paint and the blue carpet with red. Luke had left the artificial planet, now forever tainted by darkness, to establish his Jedi Order elsewhere, still on the lookout for the remnants of the Jedi. 

A few years later an anonymous tip had sent him to some coordinates where a planet, icy and cold, hung. A massive trench bisected the planet, held together by some kind of metal machinations. There was a heavy loss hanging in the air when he stepped off and, once he delved into the planet, he realised that crystals had once been plentiful here. Indeed, almost hidden if not for the Force’s insistent pushing, a small cavern with Jedi carvings and crystals as well as a wall of ice hung. Obi-Wan had made himself known here, blue colour blending into the light colour of the ice. “What was this place?” He asked curiously, touching the head of a fallen statue softly. Obi-Wan, he knew, could not make himself appear often, so whenever they met he tried to make the most of it. Here though, strangely enough, he looked fainter than usual, as though he was weaker. 

Ben’s face was filled with soft grief and loss. “This is Ilum. It was where the Gathering happened. Where younglings collected their crystals and faced their fears.” He looked around with sorrow. “I only wish that you could experience the same.”

Luke took in the fractured light here, broken by the loss of so much Kyber, “So do I.” Obi-Wan had opened the ice with the middle crystal, carefully manoeuvring it until it struck the ice. It had revealed the empty coves, only a few littered crystals remaining, some crushed under the boots of those who had mined here. Ben had dissipated soon after, not before regaling Luke with stories of the gathering which Luke had recorded carefully, trying not to be too bitter. Luke had left, disappointed and even more disillusioned. He just wanted something that remained for him to understand and experience. 

Hurt by the fractured nature of the legacy of the Jedi, he had gone back to the Temple and fallen into a fit of sadness, trying to spend more time with the new Jedi, but every time he hit a curve and he did not know what to teach and how to answer a question, the mood would return. Even here in his home, he felt, unmoored, disconnected from what he did. 

It was a day after one such event where Luke sat, meditating by a creek when he felt the telltale fluttery presence of a ghost. He slowly drew himself out of the meditation and peered over to blink in surprise. He’d never met this person before, and he was rather curious. The man, tall and imposing, cut a stern figure despite being a wispy blue. The man took a seat in front of him, on a rock lit by the sun. Strangely enough, the sun seemed to pass through him, and very little shadow outlined the ground. 

“Luke Skywalker, am I right?” His robes were plain, not adorned as he had seen in a grainy image of a togruta he’d managed to recover.

“Yes… and you are?” His hands rested against his lap. Luke peered closely at the robes, attempting to memorise this set of robes to perhaps recreate it.

“Master Mace Windu.” The man bowed in greeting with that.

Luke gasped, “The Master Windu? From Ryloth?” This man was a hero. Legends still popped up, inspired by his feats of strength in Ryloth amongst the twi’lek. “You’re a legend…”

Mace chuckled a bit, “Am I?” He took a moment to compose himself, sitting down across from Luke. His face slowly set back into its serious contemplative state, resting a hand against his chin. “You are… interesting, and very kind. Attempting to piece together what the Empire destroyed.”

Luke grew cold. The failure to piece the Jedi back together stung. “Failing.”

“Not by your hand, though.” Mace was stern but still kind. He tilted his head, observing Luke thoughtfully. “You have done the best you could make no mistake, but there is very little left of us.” Luke felt a warmth being included with mace and the other Jedi. “Your perseverance to do so is commendable, but you must know when to stop, and when to focus on the Jedi under your care. They depend on you more than you realise.”

“But they ask questions, Master Windu, questions that I have no answers for.” Luke thought back to the day when a young Padawan had asked about the nature of relationships in relation to the Jedi way. “They killed our culture, and I can’t revive it.”

“Perhaps, but you can create it. You are a Jedi Luke, a Jedi capable of many great things.” A sadness seemed to envelop the man. “I wish that you might have lived in the Temple, but it has passed." The man seemed to be looking through him, as though he saw something beyond just his flesh and bone. Luminous beings indeed, Luke thought "Just because there is no Council, or the structure we once had is gone, does not mean you are a lesser Jedi than any of us.”

Luke looked away, “I don’t think I’m capable of doing that. What if I get something wrong.”

“Then you do.” The man brushed invisible dust from his robes and stood up a telltale sign that he was going to fade away. “This is the New Jedi Order, things are bound to change and be different. You can’t expect to salvage a whole culture from the scattered ashes of an old one. The change is already here, now you must only embrace it.” Mace flickered ominously. “Ah, farewell Luke. May the Force be with you.”

Luke stood, “May the Force be with you.” The man smiled softly and slowly dissipated leaving nothing behind as he did so, Luke watching him fade away until there was nothing.

[bring-it-all-down]

Okay, so, when Flint tells Silver in the finale, that “All this will be for nothing. We will have been for nothing. Defined by their histories, distorted to fit into their narrative...until all that is left of us are the monsters in the stories they tell their children,” we know this to be true. We’re shown this time and again, from Peter Ashe to Lydia in Philadelphia, to Mrs. Hudson reading A History of Pyrates to her children.

But what is also true is that stories are how the pirates themselves survive, specifically stories they tell one another. I think we get two beautiful examples of this in the show in Mr. Gates’s speech in 1.08 and James telling Miranda how he chose “Flint” in 2.09. 

In Gates’s speech, we get the story of a man whose final physical manifestation––the letter to his sister who didn’t seem to exist––is returned to the sea to be with his body. Flint mirrors this description in his story of Mr. Flint emerging onto his grandfather’s boat and then just as quickly disappearing without a trace. In both stories, we meet a person whose truth––and therefore whose existence––remains ambiguous. It would have been easy to forget both these figures and let them rest in the sea for eternity. But Gates and Flint instead give them additional lives through the telling of their stories. And each story becomes integral to Gates’s and Flint’s very being––it illustrates who they are as people and how they understand the world. And so despite civilization’s best efforts to distort these stories, they live on in the memories and actions of the very people civilization tries to destroy.

Gates:

“I brought [Cregg] over with me, you know. We served together under Avery when we was kids. He was my first bunkmate. For years he went on how he'd got this huge stash hidden away. And I should live to survive him because one day I will be a rich man. As you know, we lost him on the Pembroke. So I open his locker and what do I find? 12 pesos, a busted pocket watch, and a letter with instructions to deliver it to his sister in New York. Lying sack of shit was Mr. Cregg. So I bought the boys a round with the pesos, traded the pocket watch for a bit of tail, and spent two weeks that winter in New York trying to deliver that fucking letter to his sister. Looked high and low. Never found her. So on the way home, I waited till we were in open water and I could see no land in any direction, and I dropped it over the side. Returned to the sea. There are no legacies in this life, are there? No monuments. No history. Just the water. It pays us, and it claims us. Swallows us whole, as if we’d never been here at all” (1.08).

Flint:

“I told you of my grandfather who raised me. A fisherman in Padstow. Well, in his youth he was a deckhand on a privateer off the coast of Massachusetts. And one night he was alone on the late watch at anchor in the Boston Harbor when he sees this man climbing out of the water and onto his ship. A stranger. Now, my grandfather thought about ringing the bell, but curiosity got the better of him. The stranger approaches my grandfather and asks him for a little rum. Man said that he'd fled his fishing trawler. Accused of killing another man. And when asked his name, the man simply replied “Mr. Flint.” This stranger, he never said whether he was guilty of the killing or why he chose that ship or where he was bound, he just...just sat there. Eventually, he asked my grandfather for a little more rum from below. My grandfather went off to fetch it, but when he returned...the man was gone. My grandfather was in Boston for a month after that. Never heard a word about a killing or a fugitive at large. It was as if the sea had conjured that man out of nothing and then taken him back for some unknowable purpose. When I first met Mr. Gates and he asked me my name...I feared the man I was about to create. I feared that someone born of such dark things would consume me were I not careful. And I was determined only to wear him for a while and then dispose of him when his purpose was complete. And I thought of that story. Am I ready to let him go? Truth is...every day I've worn that name I've hated him a little more. I've been ready to return him to the sea for a long time” (2.09).