I've Fallen For You

I'm sick as hell (my own fault, I spent the weekend under the rain) but once I'm lucid and coherent enough I'm gonna put my favourite characters in Situations. Because if I have to suffer, so do they.

But.

Light in the middle of the fever, I texted my mom asking her to pick me up from school (as a joke) and she literally said, and I quote: "I'll be there in two hours, time to get off work and come to you."

I haven't lived with my parents for two years.

And she was totally serious! She was willing to drive over three hours round trip on a weekday evening to bring me home. I love my mom so much.

There are days when someone comments on every chapter of your WIP and it's the only thing you can think about for a week.

And of course I love writing for myself, but when you give so much time and energy (and a little tears too), seeing someone take the time to leave not just one, but sometimes several comments, on each of my chapters, it gives me the boost to write that I sometimes lack.

So thank you to everyone who has already left a comment on each of my fanfics, whether it's a long comment with each of your favorite parts, a linear analysis that would have made my high school French teacher proud, a keyboard smash, a comment in all caps because lowercase letters can't convey the message properly, or a series of emojis.

I cherish every comment I've ever received and I smile like an idiot when I get an email from ao3. Thank you for sharing a little piece of what's going on in my head with me for a moment and loving it as much as I do. I kiss you all on the forehead with love and gratitude and I hope your pillow is cold on both sides tonight..

First they came for the Communists And I did not speak out Because I was not a Communist Then they came for the Socialists And I did not speak out Because I was not a Socialist Then they came for the trade unionists And I did not speak out Because I was not a trade unionist Then they came for the Jews And I did not speak out Because I was not a Jew Then they came for me And there was no one left To speak out for me

— Pastor Martin Niemöller

In regards of the Trump government scraping all trans inclusion in its queer information portion of its websites I have made this thing. Spread the word. Don't let them pretend we never existed.

P.S: Don't like! Reblog! <3

DAY 5: If My Pain Will Stretch That Far

Luffy can stretch and stretch, but he can't escape his pain.

I have a lot of Marineford-related stories for this Whumptober because I stil haven't gotten over it. And that prompt screamed Luffy, "if my pain can stretch that far", "stretch"? That's totally Luffy. Also I know one of the prompt is sunburn but you can also take it as "sun burn". Luffy, the analogy of the sun, burned by Akainu. I think I'm hilarious. Fandom: One Piece "Character(s) : Monkey D. Luffy Words Count: 1,350 Trigger Warnings: - Blood and Injury - Description of Scars - Past Death - Self-Harm (Luffy claws at his scar until it bleeds and reopens) - Suicidal Thoughts No. 5: SUNBURN Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

Some mornings, Luffy woke up with no pain, as if the weight of war had never touched his shoulders. Others—like today—he felt like lava was flowing through his veins and every breath was like swallowing hot coals. Everything hurt to the touch, as if shards of glass were stuck under his skin.

Luffy was pulled from his nightmare-filled sleep ( thank you for loving me! ) by a coughing fit, choking on ash and blood. His lungs burned, a raging inferno spreading through his body. His skin was raw, every nerve ending exposed, and the hand rubbing his back, trying to help, was agony.

Luffy felt like he would never be able to breathe again. After what seemed like an eternity (you know what’s the funny thing about time? it stretches out), Luffy managed, slowly and painfully, to catch his breath. He was prostrate on the ground, the tears on his cheeks like molten gold.

“Luffy-kun? Luffy-kun?”

His senses slowly returned to him: hearing (Rayleigh calling his name worriedly), sight (the sun above his head, burning, burning, burning), taste (blood and dirt on his tongue), smell (smoke and rotting corpses), and touch (everything hurt).

Luffy threw up, barely avoiding Rayleigh's feet.

Luffy lay down in the grass, arms and legs spread like a cross (was there a cross on Ace's grave?) and caught his breath, forcing air into his body despite the pain. Why did even breathing hurt? Luffy wanted to scream but it would hurt too.

Luffy didn't want to hurt anymore.

“Luffy-kun, can I touch your arm?” Rayleigh asked cautiously.

Luffy wanted to say no. Luffy didn't want anyone to touch him anymore.

(Ace had held him in his arms and Ace was dead.)

“Okay,” Luffy replied, his voice hoarse and broken.

Rayleigh gently grabbed his arm and helped Luffy sit up. Luffy rested his head on Rayleigh’s shoulder, the wind a blessing on his sweaty skin. Rayleigh handed him a canteen, metallic and cold under his fingers.

“Drink slowly,” Rayleigh advised.

Luffy’s arms shook with fatigue as he brought the canteen to his cracked lips. Water spilled down his chin and down his neck to his torso where his scar pulsed and burned. Listening to Rayleigh’s advice, Luffy drank slowly, washing away the blood and dirt in his mouth. Luffy hadn’t realized until then how dry his throat was. No wonder he was having trouble breathing.

(It reminded him of the deserts of Alabasta, dunes and golden sand as far as the eye could see. Ace was still alive at that moment, his crew still with him.)

"We should take a break from training today," Rayleigh suggested. "You're not in shape."

"No," Luffy protested, turning abruptly to Rayleigh. "I have to get stronger."

Luffy couldn't stop now. His friends were counting on him to get stronger. He couldn't stay weak, unable to protect the people he cared about. He couldn't lose someone again.

Luffy's vision blurred as his head spun until he couldn't tell which was up from which. Rayleigh caught him before he fell, stopping him from hitting his head hard on the ground.

"Rest today and we'll start training again tomorrow," Rayleigh said softly as he helped Luffy lie down properly.

But Luffy didn't want to sleep, because when he slept, nothing stopped his mind from taking him back to Marineford, to the screams of the dying, and to Ace's heart in his hands. When Luffy wasn't paying attention, he could still see Ace's blood on his hands.

"I don't want to—”

I don't want to be alone.

Luffy was sure he hadn't said the words out loud but Rayleigh looked at him with so much understanding that he ended up doubting it.

"You can't stay like that, you're covered in sweat and dried blood. Go to the river and wash yourself and then I'll show you some stretches," Rayleigh suggested.

"Silly Rayliegh, I don't need to do any stretching, I'm already elastic," Luffy laughed weakly, tugging on his cheek to prove his point.

Rayleigh smiled affectionately, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. "Stop protesting, little monkey! Go wash yourself."

Luffy stuck his tongue out at Rayleigh who walked away laughing. Leaning on a tree, he stood up, feeling the tension in each of his muscles, and headed towards the river, avoiding the passage of the wildest animals. Luffy didn't like washing, water—even if fresh water had a lesser effect—always made him all flabby and drained him of his strength.

Luffy sat down by the river, breathing heavily, the short walk through the forest having exhausted him. He let his feet touch the surface of the water, the icy temperature almost biting against his skin. Luffy let his feet sit in the water until he couldn’t feel them anymore, until he was numb to all sensation below his knees.

When Luffy finally stood up, walking a few steps to the middle of the river, he didn’t wince when the rocks at the bottom of the water cut into his feet. Luffy watched as the flow of blood was carried away by the ebbing river.

In the reflection of the clear water, Luffy could only see the scar that marred his torso. A bloody red cross, marking the place of his defeat. The proof of his failure. Even after months, the skin around the wound was still damaged and blistered, ugly and angry.

Luffy clutched his heart tightly, wishing it was numb as well. His fingers dug into the soft skin like claws, tearing at flesh and tissue. A terrible sob squeezed his chest, begging to be let out.

He couldn't breathe.

Luffy clawed at his heart, covering his fingers in red like an animal, bent double under the weight of the pain. His blood pulsed violently in his ears all the way to his fingertips. Luffy could hear nothing else. He could still feel Ace's heartbeat between his fingers, disappearing by the second.

He couldn't stop.

His knees buckled beneath him and Luffy fell into the middle of the river. He didn't see the translucent water turn red around him as blood poured from his heart down his limbs. With his eyes closed, Luffy couldn't feel the difference between water and blood. Not when he was drowning either way.

He couldn't breathe.

Luffy wanted to rip his heart out of his chest, the barrier of his ribs insignificant in the face of his grief. Blood stuck to his skin, seeping into his pores. (The last time his hands were covered in blood, Ace was dying in his arms.) Luffy clawed and clawed, like a pirate searching for treasure. If he gave his still-beating heart to Ace, maybe Ace could stay with him.

He couldn't stop.

His vision blurred as black and white spots danced beneath his eyelids. Dimly, Luffy realized that his head was underwater. Maybe that was why he couldn't breathe. Blood seeped into his lungs as Luffy let himself be pulled along by the now crimson river current.

He couldn't breathe.

It was cool to have brothers! They lived together in the forest, hunting alligators and playing all day long. Sabo would find treasures for him in the junkyard and Ace would hold him by the shirt so Luffy wouldn't get lost.

When night fell, they would fall asleep in the treehouse they had built, their pirate flag flying proudly in the wind. No wild animal (or angry gramps) could reach them here and Luffy had never felt safer than between his two big brothers.

Even when Luffy got eaten by an alligator or drowned in the river, Ace and Sabo always came looking for him. Luffy was never alone again.

Luffy drowned alone. 

.

.

.

There was a hand in his.

Marked by age, covered in scars and calluses.

For a moment, Luffy thought that Gramps was by his side. But it was ridiculous, Gramps would never hold his hand like that, gently yet forcefully. As if the person holding his hand never intended to let go.

But Gramps always left.

(Everyone always left.)

(Ace was gone.)

The hand was still there.

I want to hug Luffy. Someone hug this traumatized child!

Three One Piece story ideas I might (or might not) write someday:

- The Faces I See In My Sleep: Ever since he was taken in by the Revolutionary Army, Sabo draws the same two faces over and over again without ever knowing their names. A little boy who smiles like the sun and another with stormy eyes and freckles like stars. And when Portgas D. Ace makes his debut on the high seas, Sabo can't help but notice the similarities between his wanted poster and the boy in his drawings.

- Pieces of Me: Nami had spent more than half her life serving Arlong. Arlong had stolen her mother, her childhood, and her freedom. He had taken everything from her. Her maps, her time, her hope, and her blood. Little by little, he had ripped away essential pieces of her, leaving behind only a broken, empty shell, just functional enough to be useful to him. But with the help of her crew, Nami becomes whole again, regaining the pieces of herself that Arlong stole from her.

- My Father Is The Worst Man Alive (And I’m His Favorite Daughter): After touring Wano, Yamato sets sail to see the world. His first stop: the grave of the friend he never got to know, the only person in the world who could understand the burden of being born of a monster, the pirate who gave him his first taste of freedom. Portgas D. Ace. It's been years since Yamato saw his vivre card go up in flames, but better late than never.

If this is something you would like to read, please let me know so I can motivate myself to write it. And if this is something you would like to write, please let me know so I can read it!

DAY 4: A Good Night's Sleep

Law can't escape, even in his dreams. Especially in his dreams.

You know those games where you hit the ball around to get it to the finish line? Law is the ball. Trigger Warnings : - Implied Character Death - Graphic Description of Corpses - Maggot - Blood and Gore - Psychological Horror - Implied Genocide Nothing is graphic except the description of the corpses but it's definitely there. Feel free to let me know if I missed anything. Fandom : One Piece Character(s) : Trafalgar D. Water Law Words Count : 962 No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

Law ran and ran, but he couldn't escape. The white stretched everywhere, on the buildings, on the trees, on the people . The cold air bit his skin viciously and his ragged breathing formed condensation in the air.

The smoke morphed before his eyes, winding and wrapping all around him. The smell of smoke and burning flesh hit his nose and Law doubled over to vomit.

He was so hot, his skin was clammy and he felt like he was suffocating in his heavy black feather coat. The coat swallowed him up completely, almost suffocating him and Law wondered when it had arrived on his shoulders. It must have been Cora-san who had put it there. But where was Cora-san?

The smoke thickened, taking on the appearance of crows with bloody feathers. Drops of blood fell onto the pristine snow. White. Red. Black. Law’s head kept spinning.

Where was Cora-san?

If they didn't hurry up, Doflamingo would catch up with them.

(Doflamingo had already caught up with them.)

(Cora-san was dead.)

Law looked up at the sky. The stars shone brightly in the dark night, incandescent and untouchable. (How could he see them through the smoke?) A star grew in the sky, grew and grew until Law could see only it, until his retina burned in his eyeballs.

Strings of gold descended from the heavens, like the will of a vengeful god (run Law, run), and fell to the earth with all the force of a meteor. The ground shook and Law fell into the bloody snow. 

The threads streaked the sky by the thousands until Law could no longer see the stars, trapping him in the White City. (City of the Dead, City of Angels)

A birdcage.

(Doflamingo was there.)

(Run, Law, Run.)

The blood-stained raven croaked, a cruel, bitter laugh. Law wept with it. His tears felt like stardrops, burning against his cheeks.

Law began to run again. The white continued to advance, marking his skin and seeping into his body, all the way to his lungs. Soon, the white would swallow him whole until nothing remained of him but a bloodstain on the snow.

A weight fell on his back, sending him to the ground and snow poured into his mouth. Law tried to swim through the mass that clung to his skin like blood, but chains around his feet pulled him deeper into the earth.

Law screamed. But no one heard him.

The pressure on his back grew more intense and when Law opened his eyes again, Lammy's lifeless eyes were staring at him. Law was drowning in a sea of ​​severed limbs and rotting flesh. Bones sticking out in all the wrong directions, teeth falling out of twisted smiles. Gaunt skin covered in white spots.

The white had caught up with him.

(Dead. Everyone was dead.)

Law was the only survivor.

“See? There is no despair in this world. Someone will probably come and give you a helping hand.”

A maggot crawled out of Lammy's eye and into Law's ear.

But he couldn't scream.

(But he couldn't cry.)

If he screamed, the Navy would find him and kill him.

(If he cried, Doflamingo would find him and kill him.)

It was his only way to leave Flevance alive.

(It was his only way to leave Minion Island alive.)

A skeletal hand placed itself over his hand and mouth, preventing him from screaming. Terrified, Law followed the arm with his eyes, barely daring to move or breathe. Cora-san smiled at him, blood running from his nose and a broken tooth.

“I’ll die smiling! Because if you ever think of me, I want you to remember my smile.”

Cora-san's coat spontaneously caught fire. As usual, Cora-san didn't notice. The fire spread to the mountain of corpses that Law was on top of, licking the soles of his shoes.

The World Government wanted to remove all evidence.

(But they wouldn't be able to, because Law was still alive.)

(For that, he had to run.)

(Run, Law, Run.)

A hand locked around his ankle, cold and bony. Lammy’s head snapped around in its socket, the skin of her face melting around her eyeballs. She was smiling.

“Big brother, let’s go to the festival!” 

Lammy’s hand tightened, her fingers digging in painfully until blood flowed.

“Big brother, why don’t you want to play with me?”

There were tears in her eyes.

“Big brother, why don’t you love me anymore?”

Law tried to pull away, tugging and kicking. He fell out of the pile and into the snow, Lammy’s torn-off arm still clinging to his ankle.

Gunshots rang out in the night, making Law flinch violently.

(Two brothers face to face, a gun in their hands. A perfect mirror.)

(Cora-san's body falling on the chest where Law was hidden.)

Law began to run, Lammy's arm like prisoner's chains around his feet. Black and pink feathers flew around him, a raven laughed in the distance.

Strings wrapped around Law's throat and hands. A doll tangled in his puppeteer's grip.

"You can't run forever, Law."

He couldn't escape.

  He couldn't escape.

   He couldn't escape.

A crevasse opened beneath his feet, snow cascading down and dragging Law down with it. The white covered him, swallowed him, ate him whole.

But just before Law was completely devoured by the white, an open hand closed around his wrist. Warm and soft and gentle. A blond man smiled at him, black and pink feathers dancing around him.

“If you want a good night's sleep, nothing better.”

(Law hadn't slept properly since Cora-san died.)

(The world was so noisy .)

“Cora-san?”

Law's voice was weak, almost inaudible.

(No one had heard him cry amidst the explosions, long after Cora-san died.)

(Cora-san could always hear him.)

“ Wrong .”

Law screamed.

(No one heard him.)

I'm sorry.

So I wrote a little something for Zoro's birthday but there was a part that didn't fit what i wanted for the story. It's not really finished but i didn't want to leave it in my unfinished projects graveyard so it's yours now. Enjoy! And if you want you can always read the real story on AO3. I'll post it in a few days when I'm done.

Walking Home

When Zoro walked down the stairs of the school after his last class of the day, he didn’t expect his friends to be waiting for him at their usual picnic table in the courtyard. It was the perfect table, shaded by a large tree in the summer and far enough away to not be disturbed by the stream of students.

(Luffy had bitten a kid who sat there once, no one else had dared after that.)

Everyone usually dispersed on Monday nights, Usopp to join the art club, Nami to make out with Vivi by the river, and Sanji to help his father at the restaurant. Luffy was more of a wild card, as likely to sneak into the zoo to fight crocodiles or stay behind at school to chat with Principal Jinbei.

Zoro himself took advantage of this evening to go train at the dojo with Kuina but she had a medical appointment tonight and training wasn't nearly as fun without her.

But tonight, they were all here—waiting for him. Vivi was the first to notice him, her gold bracelets clicking against each other on her wrist, catching the sun’s rays as she gave him a big wave. Zoro’s smile widened slightly as he walked over to his friends, the sound of Luffy sipping loudly from his juice box audible from across the courtyard.

“How’s the birthday boy?” Usopp asked as Zoro set his gym bag down at his feet.

“Still the same as I was at noon,” Zoro replied amused. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We just thought we could walk  home together tonight,” Vivi smiled. “Take a detour downtown to get a waffle. My treat.”

“Sweet,” Zoro agreed.

He had nothing to do tonight and didn't particularly want to return to his empty apartment anytime soon. The loneliness didn't bother him that much, not when he spent more time at Luffy's and his brothers' or with his friends than at home, but something about his birthday made the atmosphere feel strange.

"Yeah!" Luffy cheered brightly as he jumped up from the table, his flip-flops hitting the concrete heavily. "Let's go."

Luffy grabbed Zoro’s hand and dragged him out of the school, everyone following behind them. The wind stirred up fiery-colored leaves around them, ones that crackled with a satisfying sound underfoot. Usopp and Luffy stopped to jump into each pile of leaves and Nami pulled out her phone to take pictures. She called it blackmail material but Zoro had seen her creating a photo album on her old computer.

“How was your math class?” Sanji asked, walking beside him.

“A little boring,” Zoro admitted. “I’m not sure I understood everything.”

He wouldn’t admit it under any circumstances, even under torture, but he sometimes missed Sanji’s presence in class. They weren’t in the same class anymore since Zoro had repeated his first year and the cook hadn’t. 

Even after spending the hour exchanging familiar squabbles and sarcastic (and often mean) comments about their classmates, Sanji somehow always understood the lesson and took the time to explain it to Zoro when he asked.

“I can help you,” Sanji offered, lighting a cigarette now that they were far away from the school.

“That’s suspicious, what do you want?” Zoro retorted, his brow furrowed.

“I’m just trying to help you, asshole. Do you really want to spend five years in high school?” Sanji replied with practiced ease.

“Sanji! Don't be mean to Zoro on his birthday,” Nami interjected.

"Yes, my sweetness," Sanji replied as Zoro's smug smile grew.

A smile that faded when Nami added. “Wait until tomorrow before reminding him of his academic failure.”

“I don't know why I'm friends with you!” Zoro shouted at the witch.

“You love us!” Usopp and Nami replied in unison, exchanging an amused look.

“Unfortunately,” Zoro mumbled, kicking a chestnut that ended up in the gutter.

Zoro shoved his hands in his pockets and continued straight ahead. At the last moment, Nami's arm intertwined with his, pulling him in a different direction.

"We turned," Nami pointed out in false exasperation, without letting go of his arm. "You really aren't paying attention to where you're going. We should put you on a leash."

"Look, I caught a pigeon!" Luffy shouted as he ran towards Usopp, Sanji and Vivi with a pigeon in his hands.

The poor animal flapped its wings in desperation, trying to fly away and escape, but Zoro knew it was useless. When Luffy had you, he didn’t let go. The commotion attracted the attention of passersby, and Nami hid her head in Zoro's shoulder.

"Luffy too," Nami groaned. "It's impossible to go out with you."

"You should consider putting your girlfriend on a leash too," Zoro pointed out, smirking. "But I bet she'd like that."

Cheeks flushing, Nami slapped Zoro on the shoulder. That didn't change the fact that Zoro was right, while Sanji was hiding behind Usopp, Vivi was petting the pigeon and talking to it in a low voice.

"I'm sure she's already adopting it," Zoro mocked. "I can see it from here, she's going to call it Carue and it’ll sleep with you every night."

"Luffy!" Nami called out in horror, realizing the truth in Zoro's words. "Let the pigeon go, these critters are full of diseases."

Luffy and Vivi turned to Nami, batting their eyelashes in a pleading manner. "Please, can we keep him? Please, please, please?"

"No," Nami replied firmly. "Luffy, what will your grandfather say if he comes home and there's a pigeon in your apartment?"

It was a low blow, but it was necessary. Ace and Sabo certainly weren't going to stop Luffy from bringing yet another stray animal to their apartment (yes, Zoro was included in those strays). It had taken Nami weeks to convince Luffy to bring the dugong back to the marine biologists.

(So ​​far, no one knew how a dugong ended up so far from its natural habitat, but the local aquarium had paid for Luffy's plane ticket to bring his friend back to Australia.)

"Nami is no fun," Luffy pouted with his head down after releasing the pigeon. “Boo!”

"Boo!" Vivi added, sticking her tongue out.

"Don't forget to wash your hands before you eat," Nami ignored them as she walked past them.

DAY 6: Blood On The Car Seats

Bobby is bleeding out, but family doesn't end in blood.

Pretty short today but I realized at the last minute that I didn't have anything for Bobby so I did what I could. It was originally only 300 words but inspiration struck me on the train so you get a bit more. It's not as sad as it could be and I would even say it's kind of cute if you ignore the whole Bobby dying thing. Fandom: Supernatural Character(s) : Bobby Singer Relationship(s): Bobby Singer & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester Words : 904 Trigger Warnings : - Blood Loss - Gunshots - Implied Future Death No. 6: NOT REALIZING THEY'RE INJURED Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

“Bobby! Come on! Come on! Come on!”

Bobby dropped the crowbar to the floor with a loud metallic clang, a black goo coating his arm. Behind him, he could hear Dick’s skin fizzing as it formed back. Bobby ran. The door slammed behind him, a futile barrier to the biblical creature behind him.

Dean and Sam were waiting for him outside in the van, Sam’s hopeful eyes piercing into him. An open door, Bobby had only to step through. Dick’s footsteps echoed ominously through the night, never stopping.

(Bobby had a way to stop him, the maps, the numbers he’d seen in Dick’s office. He had to pass them on to the boys.)

Bobby jumped into the van, a bullet passing inches from his face. The bullet embedded itself in the body of the van. The tires screeched on the tarmac as Dean started the car, sparks flying.

A second bullet flew.

The door swung shut, carried by the momentum of the car.

The bullet lodged in Bobby's forehead.

Bobby was thrown against the side of the car, carried by the momentum of the bullet.

Time slowed down and Bobby could hear voices inside and outside of him. Blood ran down his forehead and into the leather of the car seats, pooling at his feet. Dean was talking and Bobby knew Dean was relieved that they had escaped but he couldn't make out any of his words.

“What's with your hand? Are you hurt?”

Dean's voice was distant, almost inaudible, but Bobby couldn't tell if it was Dean or him who had his head under water.

"It's not my blood," Sam answered.

Bobby was definitely dying, he decided, when his consciousness was trapped inside his dying carcass but he was still able to see Sam, his back to him, looking at the blood on his hands after picking up Bobby's cap.

Realization hit Sam like a bolt of lightning and he dropped the bloody cap and turned back to Bobby.

"Bobby? Oh, my God. Bobby!"

" Bobby !?"

Finally, idjits. It was about time.

Bobby didn't know what was worse, the horror on Sam's face as he fully realized who this was happening to, or Dean, consumed by uncertainty, who couldn't take his eyes off the road to save them from an accident.

Sam unbuckled his seatbelt and rushed to the back of the car, laying Bobby down in the backseat and stopping the bleeding with his other hand. His hands already covered in Bobby's blood only became redder.

"Bobby? Bobby? Hey, hey, hey, hey. Hold on."

Sam, his boy who thought he had to take all the sins of the world on his shoulders to atone for his sins, cradled Bobby's face gently in his hands, covering his cheeks with his own blood.

"Sam, is he dead?" Dean asked, his voice sharp.

"I'm checking," Sam replied abruptly.

Sam's hands shook against Bobby's throat. The silence was thick in the car and yet Sam had trouble feeling Bobby's pulse for how weak it was. 

"Is he dead?!" Dean insisted angrily.

Dean's default emotion had always been anger when he didn't know how to react. How could it be otherwise when the only example the boy had had was John?

"Just drive, Dean!" Sam said impatiently. "Bobby!"

(His boys were calling for help, they needed him. Bobby couldn’t do anything.)

“You gotta talk to me, Sam,” Dean snapped.

And to anyone who knew him, to Bobby and Sam, the desperation beneath his rage and aggression was obvious. There was nothing he could do for Bobby but keep driving, and he couldn’t stand it.

“All right, he’s breathing. There’s a pulse,” Sam sighed in relief, hiding a sob in his chest.

(Only Bobby was close enough to hear him.)

If Dean hadn’t been raised the way he had been—as a warrior, as a soldier —he would have stopped for a second and wept in solace. Instead, he pulled out his phone and continued to bark orders.

The fight wasn’t over. Bobby was still bleeding to death on the car seats.

“Keep him upright. Stop the bleeding. ”

“I’m not an idiot, Dean! I know first aid for a friggin’ bullet to the head! ” Sam snapped.

Idjits , Bobby wanted to scold them. The boys shouldn’t be getting angry at each other, they should be angry at Dick Freaking Roman.

But Dean had already stopped listening to Sam, focused on his next task, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

“I need the nearest trauma center,” he asked sharply on the phone. 

“Hold on, hold on,” Sam whispered to Bobby, begging him to stay with them.

(Bobby had never been one to refuse his boys anything. Sentimental fool.)

"What's the address?" The voice on the phone said a few words that Bobby couldn't hear. His senses seemed to be limited to his boys. “All right, Bobby. Hang in there.”

With a sharp turn of the wheel from Dean, the car veered toward the hospital and Bobby held on, both to the car and to the last connection he had with Sam and Dean. Sam's hand in his, Dean's voice in his ears.

(Hang on, Bobby.)

(He couldn't leave his boys, Sam and Dean still needed him.)

His vision narrowed and Bobby could only see Sam's worried eyes, could only feel the vibrations of the tires on the road, but Bobby held on. For Dean and Sam.

For his kids.

For his family .

Dean & Sam: *high fiving* I'm so glad everyone made it out unscathed. Bobby : *dying in the backseat*

You'll Need It More Than Me (She'll Need You More Than Me)

A little something inspired by the fifth headcanon because I couldn't help myself. Love me some tragic sibling relationships.

The sense of déjà vu tasted like ash and ozone in her mouth as Athena watched Hephaestus get banished from Olympus like she had been before him. Everything was the same as last time, down to the last word spoken by the God-King. Except for the tears silently streaming down Hera's cheeks.

This time, the Queen of the Gods was devastated to see her true child leave — flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood. Athena knew that if she could, Hera would offer her own life for Hephaestus’. But goddesses could not die, Hera could not move from her place beside Zeus' throne and this was perhaps the cruelest of punishments.

(Athena would do it too, take Hephaestus' place so he could stay by Hera's side. As a family. It wasn't like there was a place for her anymore.)

Ares' rage beside her seeping into the white marble like poison made her lose her mind, made her want to take that step forward and save Hephaestus from his fate. Or maybe it wasn't Ares, maybe it was all her.

A look from Hera, full of sorrow and anger, made Athena stop in her tracks. Obviously Hera did not want her help, did not need her. Athena's eyes sharpened beneath her helmet and she placed a hand on Ares' arm to stop him from doing something even more foolishly reckless than her.

Hephaestus looked so small in Zeus' shadow, scared and fragile. Almost human. Has she ever looked this small? Not in daylight anyway.

(She had never had the opportunity to be an infant.)

(But it wasn't about her. It was never about her.)

Zeus tore Hephaestus from Hera's arms and for a moment Athena's blood froze in her veins as she thought Zeus was going to yeet him from the mountain. She took an instinctive step forward.

“I’ll do it,” All eyes turned to Athena — Zeus's savage satisfaction, Hera's cutting disappointment, and Ares's corrosive disdain — but she composed herself, keeping her head high.  “I shall take him to the mortals.”

If there had been hope between Hera and her before, it was over. Not when Athena was the hand that snatched her true child away. 

Zeus smiled. “Great idea, child-of-my-mind. Come dispose of him.”

Athena stepped forward toward Zeus and he dropped the infant into his arms without warning. She made her forearm guards disappear before he could collide with the rough metal, cradling Hephaestus as gently as possible. She felt more awkward than a newborn fawn, all sharp elbows and violent hands. 

Without a backward glance, Athena left the throne room, her wings spreading behind her as she took flight.

.

.

.

Finding a mortal family she trusted to care for Hera's son, her brother, was surprisingly not the hardest part. Parting with him was. It felt like she was tearing her chest open and ripping out her own lung. As a goddess, she didn't need to, but it hurt to breathe all the same. 

She landed in a forest, away from men and gods, and carefully brushed Hephaestus' cheek. Hephaestus grabbed her finger and babbled, so happy that Athena's heart could burst with joy.

“I'm sorry you won't know your mother,” Athena apologized softly. “She… she’s wonderful. And you deserved to know her. I'm so sorry, Heph.”

Tears fell down Hephaestus' cheek and he looked up at her with big, round eyes, full of innocence, empty of judgment. It wasn't fair that Hephaestus had to grow up without his mother. Not when Athena knew how incredible it could be.

But maybe he didn't have to. 

Hera had once promised her that she would be loved forever, perhaps Athena could pass on that promise even if it no longer applied to her. Summoning to her the necklace Hera had given her centuries ago — hidden in a pocket dimension, never on her person, never too far away — she placed it around Hephaestus' neck.

She smiled in spite of herself when she saw the iridescent colors of the little metallic peacock. She had truly trusted Hera and her promise at that time, and the necklace had continued to bring her comfort long after the rift between them had widened. 

“I hope you have a happy life,” Athena whispered as she kissed the infant's forehead. "Remember that you are so, so loved. More than you will ever know.”

When Athena left, Hephaestus clutched in his hand a peacock necklace and an owl feather.

Some Slipping through my Fingers headcanons (is it a hc if it's my story? Wouldn't lore be more accurate? Does it matter?):

Athena's first crafting-related hobby was embroidery from when Hera gave her an old project to occupy her with way back. She always kept that hobby, but she's switched to weaving more since she has her official domain to distance herself from her childhood.

Athena and Ares spent a pretty long period living in a palace with their parents before Hephaestus built their own palaces. Little Ares had a proper "Do you want to build a snowman?" phase with his older sister. Athena may or may not have soundproved her door for a while against his knocking (Mean, mean owl. XD Also peak sibling behavior)

Athena refused to settle down in Lake Tritonis for the longest time. She held onto hope that she'd be taken back to Olympus soon. She started training hard to be good enough to be allowed back, and feels extra guilty because Pallas' death gave her exactly that, though only once she didn't want it anymore.

Athena is actually not Zeus' eldest daughter, she's just the oldest he claimed. Persephone was born very very soon after the Titanomachy. (teen pregnancy go brr) and neither he nor Demeter like to talk about it.

Hephaestus has a necklace with a peacock pendant that Athena left with him when she brought him to mortal family to raise. It was the same pendant Hera gave her when she was younger to remind her she was always loved.

Aphrodite was washed up on the shore near Olympus in a shell a lá Birth of Venus. Nobody knows exactly how she ended up in the sea, not even herself.

Ares likes the smell of  olives but not the taste. (Yes he gives them to Athena)

Hera's animal form is a white peafowl (wedding dress birb fr), not a "common" female peacock. She does keep the peacock color scheme for herself tho cos it's pretty.

Post-Triton Athena only very rarely goes completely armorless outside of sleeping. That doesn't mean she always wears a full set, but she does mostly wear something on her torso at least. Something non-metal like leather would already be considered casual. 

Athena called Metis "Mama", so she would never consciously call anyone else that, even when she was younger. She got to calling Hera "Mom" tho (Hera cried a little. All her kids, bio or adopted, call her Mom btw), post-Triton, Athena calls Hera by her name. She addresses Zeus by "father", but refers to him as Zeus when speaking about him. When she feels extra like hurting herself, she'll refer to Hera as "your mother" around her siblings.

Chat, what do we think? :)

As a writer, receiving long comments with quotes and rambles is the best feeling in the world. There's nothing wrong with hearts, keyboard smashes or even silent readers, but the energy boost to keep writing that some of the comments I've had have given me is incomparable.

And as a reader, I often read my favourite fanfics on my laptop with two tabs open to comment my thoughts on real time. It works great for me !

BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.