Born To Write Spn Fanfic, Forced To Write College Essays

My most kudoed fic is by far Children of the Sea, but when I went to check by how much I noticed that several of my other One Piece fics had more kudos than I remembered which makes me very happy.

My favorite fic is probably also Children of the Sea because I got severely attached to the characters throughout the chapters. It's a family-centric story where Rouge raises Ace, Shanks and Buggy (and coming soon, our favorite rubber kid!). And bonus point, everyone survives their tragic backstory.

But I still want to mention another one of my fics that I absolutely love, At The Dawn Of Time. I put a lot of myself into this story and it means a lot to me on a personal level. This is again a story about Rouge (shocking, I know) where after Marineford, Ace travels back in time for a day and meets Rouge when she was pregnant with him in Baterilla. This story is not so much about fixing the past but rather Ace's journey towards self-acceptance, particularly with regard to his parents, as well as self-love.

OH OH reblog game: fic writers, what is your most kudosed fic, and what is your favorite fic you've written? are they different? have any commentary?

DAY 1: Tick Tock Goes The Clock

Sam gets lost in the forest. This action has consequences.

First day of Whumptober, one of the few times I'll be on time too. It's Dean's turn today! Congrats to him (?) This was supposed to be a story about Sam getting lost in the woods and it ended up being a character study of Dean and his self-worth issues. I'm not unhappy about it. Triggers Warnings: - Mild Graphic Description of Violence - Mild Blood and Injury - Broken Bone - Dean's Canonical Self-worth Issues - John Being an Asshole Fandom : Supernatural (TV 2005) Character(s) : Dean Winchester Relationship(s) : Dean Winchester & John Winchester & Sam Winchester Words Count : 2,714 No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

Dean tightened his grip on his silver blade, listening for any sound. He was alone in the forest, the full moon visible through the treetops. Dean barely dared to breathe for fear of being heard, every crack of branches or wind through the leaves putting him on alert in the deathly silence that surrounded him.

He had been separated from Dad and Sammy hours ago, but Dean wasn't worried. Sammy was with Dad, nothing could happen to him. Now it was up to Dean to fulfill his duty. It was the last night of the lunar cycle. If he didn't kill the werewolf he was tracking tonight, it could run away and continue to hurt innocent people for another month.

(There were five of them in the woods, all thinking they were the predator. But only three of them would get out of here alive.)

A shadow, lit by the cold, metallic light of the moon, shifted on a trunk and Dean turned abruptly. Good thing he did. The werewolf he thought he had been following for the past hour jumped at him, sharp claws aimed at his face. With a practiced reflex, Dean protected his head with his arm holding his blade, throwing himself out of the werewolf's path with agility.

Not fast enough.

A claw hit his arm, tearing through flesh as easily as the fabric of his jacket, drawing blood onto the forest floor. In pain, Dean let go of his silver blade, sending it a few meters away from him. He clutched his arm to his chest, quickly assessing the damage. For a terrifying moment, he could no longer remember if a werewolf's scratch was enough to infect a human.

(If it did, what would he do? What would Dad do? Dean couldn't imagine his father accepting a monster as a son. And Sammy? It didn't matter, Dean would rather die than hurt an innocent.

Dean killed monsters indiscriminately, no matter who or where they came from. That was what he had always been taught. Hunters killed monsters. Dean knew what he would have to do.)

Calm down and think, idjit!

Dean forced himself to breathe through his nose. A scratch wasn't enough to turn someone into a werewolf, only a bite could. Easy, Dean could avoid being bitten by a dirty mutt.

The werewolf snarled, drool dripping down its chin, yellow eyes flashing wildly in the night. It was getting impatient and the adrenaline that was pulsing violently in Dean's veins would soon fade, leaving him to face all the pain of his wound.

Dean had to get his hand on his weapon. And fast. He mentally calculated the distance between him, the werewolf and his knife. But the werewolf noticed the direction of his gaze.

"Oh no!" the werewolf threatened, its words chewed in its rage.

The werewolf threw itself at Dean, but this time Dean was ready for it. Using his opponent’s momentum against him, he kicked the beast in the sternum, deflecting its course and sending it into a thicket of brambles. The werewolf struggled through the brambles, howling in anger, giving Dean enough time to lunge for his silver blade. His fingers closed around the handle, a sigh of relief and comfort escaping him. 

A hand grabbed his ankle, claws digging deep into his ankle, cutting through tendons. Dean fell, his chin hitting the ground hard. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He tried to grab roots, clawing at the ground to keep the werewolf from pulling him towards it, thorns digging into his skin. Dean struggled and kicked, ignoring the searing pain, to force the werewolf to let go of him. But the monster held firm, twisting his bones as it laughed in satisfaction.

A guttural cry escaped his lips, tearing through his dry throat.

“A fighter, I like that,” the werewolf mocked. “I don’t usually turn men, but I might make an exception for you. You’re pretty enough.”

“Go to hell!” Dean spat, choking on his blood.

Dean forced himself to turn his torso to face the werewolf, straining his bruised muscles. He swung his knife in a wide arc in front of him and sliced ​​the monster across the face, damaging one of its eyes. The werewolf cried out in pain and finally let go of Dean, bringing a hand deformed by claws to its face.

Dean stood up quickly, putting as much distance between himself and the werewolf as he could. He spat on the ground, a mixture of blood and dirt, and grinned victoriously, his teeth tinged red. He gripped his knife in his left hand, his entire body on alert.

(He had practiced using both hands, but his left hand was still his weakest. This would have to do.)

Dean had never wanted a gun more than he did now. But they had only managed to get one single silver bullet and giving it to Dean who had a better chance of missing his target would have been a waste. It had made sense for Dad to take the gun, he wouldn't miss. Still, sticking a standard bullet between the werewolf's eyes would have reassured him, even if it would have barely slowed it down.

"I take it back," the werewolf growled. "I'm going to enjoy tearing you apart and eat your heart. And when I'm done hearing you beg, I'm going to hunt down your delicious little brother and take him with me. That is, if my friend doesn't kill him and your demon of a father first."

Dean's ears twisted and his vision went red. Sammy .

"Stay away from him!" Dean growled, his voice as animal as the monster in front of him. 

The werewolf smirked and Dean knew he had made a mistake. He had just revealed a weakness, something precious to him and the predator in front of him had smelled it. Dean's determination only grew, he couldn't let the werewolf go now that it had so clearly threatened his little brother.

( Sammy, he had to protect Sammy. )

With his good foot, Dean kicked the dirt at his feet, creating a protective screen of dust and blocking him from the werewolf's sight for a few seconds. It wasn't enough, not when all the senses of the monster in front of him were heightened but it was something.

Dean attacked from the right, the side where the werewolf was blinded by the wound Dean had inflicted on it. But the werewolf abruptly turned to Dean, having sensed him coming, and met him head-on with a punch to the stomach. Dean's breath caught in his chest for a moment, bile rising in his mouth. He doubled over in shock and the werewolf grabbed his hair before yanking .

Dean kneed it between the legs, forcing the werewolf to let go of him and sank his blade deep into the werewolf's ribs. He brought his knife up to the werewolf's heart, puncturing its liver and lungs.

The werewolf grabbed his wrist, crushing his bones and twisting Dean's arm until Dean let go. A sickening crack echoed through the forest and his arm went limp in the werewolf's grip, broken mid-forearm. Dean couldn't help but cry out in pain and fear.

The werewolf grinned wickedly and, straining on Dean's broken arm, sent him into a tree. Dean's head hit the trunk hard and he fell to the ground, his broken arm beneath him. He staggered to his feet, slower than he would have liked, the world spinning indescribably around him.

"I'm going to kill you," Dean slurred, pointing his broken knife at the werewolf.

Dean realized a second too late that the blade of his knife had been separated from the handle, still inside the werewolf, just below his heart. A few inches more and Dean would have succeeded. Oh well, if he had to shove his hand between the werewolf's ribs to retrieve his blade and finish the job properly, he would.

The werewolf looked at him in horror, coughing up blood. The wound wasn’t fatal, but there was no way it could get the blade out of its body. With any luck, it would die from its injuries without Dean having to do anything. But Dean had stopped relying on luck years ago. He alone was in control of his destiny, and he couldn’t give the werewolf a chance to hurt someone— to hurt Sammy .

The werewolf took off running.

In the direction Dean had left Dad and Sammy.

Dean gave chase, excruciating pain shooting through his nerves every time he stepped on the ground. He couldn't take more than three steps before he collapsed, tears streaming down his cheeks and leaving trails in the dirt and blood.

"Dad!" Dean screamed as he tried to get up. " Dad!!! "

God, he was so useless.

His scream tore through the night, Dean not caring if he lured the other werewolf to him. The icy panic in his veins wouldn't let him think, he had to warn Dad. Sammy was in danger. Because of him.

"DAD!"

Dean finally stood up, his throat dry and every nerve ending in his body on fire. But Sammy was more important than him. He started running again, branches whipping at his face, following the werewolf’s tracks. A shadow appeared at the edge of his vision and barreled into him, pinning him in its arms. Dean struggled fiercely, trying to free himself.

“Dean!” the shadow snapped.

Dean relaxed instantly, recognizing his father. He could have cried with relief at the sight of him. If Dad was here, it meant Sammy was okay. Even if Dean had screwed up again, Dad would be able to help him.

“Where’s Sammy? We need to get him out of here,” Dean said, panicked.

(A part of his brain recognized that he was still in his father’s arms. He couldn’t remember the last time Dad had hugged him.)

“What? I thought he was with you!”

Dean’s heart stopped for a second.

This time, his tears were filled with despair.

“No, no, no,” Dean cried, shaking his head. “He was supposed to be with you. Safe .”

“Dean, tell me what happened,” Dad ordered calmly, his hands on Dean’s shoulders, but Dean could hear the urgency in his voice.

“I didn’t manage to kill the werewolf, he ran away. And he said he’d turn Sammy if he found him,” Dean explained, recognizing an order even through his visceral fear. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Dad clenched his fists in anger, his eyes stormy and his posture dangerous. But Dean didn’t know who his anger was directed at.

“I’m sorry,” Dean repeated. “Please, Dad.”

(Dean didn’t know what he was asking his father to do, to take him back in his arms, to help him, to forgive him, to save Sammy.)

“Apologies won’t help, Dean,” Dad said abruptly. “We need to find Sammy. Fast .”

Dean stopped himself from apologizing again and straightened up, waiting for the next command.

“It’s hurt,” Dean added, forcing himself to ignore his pathetic outburst of emotion. “My silver blade is stuck in its ribs under its heart and he can’t use its left eye.”

“Good,” Dad replied, deep in thought. “It’ll be to our advantage. And you, are you hurt?”

“No,” Dean lied, almost by reflex.

“I don’t have time for lies, Dean!” Dad shouted out of patience, making Dean flinch. “Your brother may be in danger and every second you waste could very well be vital.”

"Both my arms and my ankle," Dean answered quickly. "And my head."

"Damn it, Dean, I thought I had you better trained than this," Dad swore. "But I could use you. So stay with me. But if I tell you to run, you run. No protests. You'll only get in my way anyway."

"Yes, sir!"

Without another word, Dad started walking, handing Dean his silver blade. It was caked in blood and Dean wiped it on his pants before testing its weight in his hand.

"How are you going to do without a weapon?" Dean asked, following his father.

"I still have the bullet," Dad replied, patting the gun strapped to his thigh. "Now shut up, I don't want the bastard to hear us."

Dean lowered his head, concentrating on keeping up with his father's fast pace. He didn't want to be any more of a burden than he already was. Dad would never forgive him if Sammy died tonight. And he wouldn't forgive himself either. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain, each frantic beat of his heart feeling like a countdown to his little brother's death, a bomb waiting to explode.

(Dean was nothing without Sammy, he couldn't lose him. Not his little brother.)

They didn't have time to waste.

XXX

Dean and Dad had walked for what seemed like hours, searching for Sammy. The werewolf’s tracks had finally disappeared around a bush, as if they had never existed. The full moon setting on the horizon should have been a relief, the end of a long night, but it was only a mockery.

They were running out of time.

Reluctantly, Dad had agreed to let them split up to cover more ground. Every second that passed was like a stab through Dean’s heart. It was his fault, it was his negligence and weakness that had allowed the werewolf to escape, that had put Sammy in danger.

The adrenaline that kept him upright had worn off, and Dean struggled through the forest, limping like a newborn fawn. He was dehydrated, having not had a drink of water in hours and having thrown up even more times. His head was killing him, blood pulsing violently in his temples. But Dean welcomed the distraction of the pain, anything to avoid thinking that he might find Sammy’s heartless corpse with every step he took.

(He resolutely forced himself not to look at the inhuman shape of his arm—flaccid, shapeless, and in two pieces—or the bleeding, festering cut on his other arm.)

Dean didn’t let it slow him down, despite his body begging him. He would rest when he was dead.

At the end of a path, Dean could see the edge of the forest and beyond it an abandoned hunter’s cabin. He stopped, hesitating for a moment, and tried to think like Sammy. A cabin like this was a good shelter to wait out the full moon. Dean knew he'd regret it if he didn't at least check it out. But it could also be a waste of crucial time.

What would Dad do in this situation?

You're a smart kid. Follow your instincts.

Dean changed direction toward the cabin.

A branch snapped behind him and Dean spun around abruptly. His knife stopped inches from his father's jugular as he raised his hands in the air in peace.

"Sorry," Dean apologized sheepishly, relaxing his arm.

"Don't be," Dad replied gruffly. "That was a nice reflex you had there."

Dean was too tired to appreciate his father’s rare compliment and let his arm fall back to his side. But Dad stopped him, gently grabbing his wrist and examining the wound on his arm.

“That’s a nasty cut you’ve got there,” Dad said. “You’ll need antibiotics, I’ll call Bobby as soon as we find your little brother.”

“It’s not important,” Dean refuted, trying to pull his arm back. “Sammy’s the priority.”

Dad stopped him, looking almost sad for a moment.

“Your well-being is important. You’re important,” Dad said with a hint of desperation, as if he really meant it. He looked like he was going to say something else but thought better of it, his gaze drifting toward the cabin. “You wanted to go take a look?”

“That’s the kind of place Sammy would hide,” Dean said. “He’s smart like that.”

“Good thinking, wait for me here,” Dad ordered, finally letting go of Dean's arm.

“What? No!” Dean protested fiercely.

“Dean, I don't have time for this,” Dad snapped.

Dean didn't listen to the end of his father's sentence. A blood-curdling scream shattered the quiet of dawn and Dean rushed towards the cabin, stealing the gun from his father's hand. Dean knew that voice, he knew it better than his own.

(It should never have contained so much pain and fear.)

“ Sammy !”

Sorry for the cliffhanger (or not). I actually combined two days in this story (and played around a little bit with the prompts too) so you will have Sam's POV and the end of this chapter on the... (drum rolls please) 19th! (Also, it's my first time writing whump so I don't know if it's enough hurt. Feel free to give me your opinion on the matter.)

What is love you say ?

Love is my mom downloading the new Pokemon game to collect cards and trade them with my siblings as soon as the app made it possible. Love is the open invitation to my grand aunt's house with cats and chickens everywhere. Love is the lit candle and blooming flowers on my grandma's grave in the dead of the winter.

Love is a new comment on one of my stories or an update of one of my favorite fanfics. Love is rediscovering a song I listened to in middle school and still knowing every words. Love is sending each other reels saying "that reminded me of you".

Love is my sister calling me every time she sees a sunset so I can see it too. Love is eating ice cream with my brother while he complains about his teachers. Love is my mom listening to me talk about the latest book I read when it's late and we should really be sleeping. Love is my dad texting me every day during my exams to see if I'm okay or if I want to go home.

Love is taking pictures of my cousin who takes pictures of the rest of the family. Love is the picture of me and my childhood best friend that we both keep in our room even though we don't talk to each other as much anymore. Love is looking in the mirror and liking what you see for the first time in months.

Love is my friend who gives me the slice of pizza with the least amount of sand on it when we eat on the beach.

Love is my parents sharing a lemon tart every Sunday afternoon.

Love is my baby cousin sending us a letter with "i love you" written in every languages she knows.

What is love you say ? Love is waking up everyday and smiling to strangers in the street.

Love is to keep living even when it's hard because it's so worth it in the end.

Rouge meets Roger a few months after she enters to the New World. He's funny, flirts with her endlessly, but more importantly, he has a ship. So she flirts back, lets him buy her a drink or two, and at the end of the night, she steals his ship. And his straw hat for good measure.

Roger chases her to the docks, his crew behind him, and by the time he gets there, Rouge has already cast off. Roger's fingers almost close around her wrist, a ghostly touch. The wind rushes through her sails, and Rouge blows Roger a kiss as she laughs away from the island.

A few weeks later, Rouge has all but forgotten about Roger, except for the fact that she's living on his ship. She could sell it and buy one more suited to her needs — a smaller one for starters, living alone on a ship that big feels like a ghost ship — but something's stopping her. There's life everywhere she looks, memories, of Roger and his crew. She almost feels bad for stealing it, not just the ship but what it represents.

But Rouge lives her life without regrets and it's not like she's going to turn back now.

Life goes on and so does Rouge.

Roger catches up with her the next day.

Rouge wanders the streets of the city, restocking her supplies to leave. The island was pleasant enough, with long sandy beaches, but adventure awaits. The air pressure increases as she exits a store and Rouge swallows to clear her aching ears, watching the clouds for any sign of a storm.

The danger does not come from the sky.

The crowd parts around him instinctively, and Rouge stares into his gray eyes. That's where the real storm is, dangerous and beautiful. Roger smiles, Rouge starts running.

They run through the city, between market stalls and jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Rouge almost lets Roger catch up with her once or twice before running out of his reach again. Adrenaline and joy flow through her veins, giving her wings. But when she reaches the port to set sail again, his crew is already there, aboard her ship.

Rouge stops abruptly and Roger lands next to her, laughing cheerfully. Jolly Roger, they call him. The pirate who laughs all the time, even when his sails are red with blood. Rouge wonders if she made a mistake.

"It's been a long time since I've had this much fun," Roger says, and there's a sort of breathless happiness to him that makes his eyes sparkle.

Rouge, who expected self-righteous anger and sharp steel, drops her hand from her dagger in surprise. His first mate scolds Roger, telling him that they had already lost their ship once because of him but Roger continues to laugh.

Rouge sees her opportunity. "Do you want to keep this going?"

The glint of interest in Roger's eyes tells her she's already won. The first mate throws his hands up in exasperation.

"What do you propose?"

"A little challenge, if I can keep your hat for twenty-four hours, you let me go and pay my bill at the bar. If not, I'll give you everything back and I'll even work for you while I pay off my debt."

Roger crosses his arms in front of him, smirking. "But I already got my ship back."

"I'll steal it again then," Rouge replies, matching his smile.

Roger's smile, if that's possible, widens further. His crew groans in frustration behind him, as if they already know what their captain is going to do. The first mate pulls out a bottle of rum and settles down on deck.

"On one condition, I get my hat back no matter what the outcome."

"You think I can win?" Rouge asks, raising an eyebrow. She knows she's going to win, but it's surprising that Roger accepts, thinking she has a chance.

"I wouldn't dream of underestimating you. I know what you're capable of, my flower," Roger replied grandiloquently, bowing to her.

"If that's it," Rouge whispers in his ear, making him shiver. "The twenty-four hours start now."

And she runs away again.

I love Roger and Rouge so much 😭😭😭

Please send me your headcanons for them or send prompts for me to share them! I haven’t written these two for a while and I want to spread my love again

(You can send for Shakky/Rayleigh or even other ships too!)

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.

Reblog if you stand against order, civilization, and goodness itself

But once he is gone who will I have?

tiktok / icarly / unknown / @/mothman / An Oresteia: Agamemnon, Aiskhylos / Bumble Ardy, Maurice Sendak / icarly / A Little Life, Hanya Yaragihara / The Fall Of The House Of Usher, Steven Berkoff / A living Chattel, Anton Chekhov

Conclusion after my first Whumptober participation: 11 stories. Not too bad, more than I expected, but the moment I realized I was allowed to sleep instead of continuing to write it was over for me. Overall it was a fun experience — for me, not for the characters — and the prompts gave me ideas I never would have thought of without it, so thank you @whumptober.

However! I will finish this challenge whether it is finishing the stories I already started or those that are not yet written. I am not giving up. My goal is to finish by the end of January considering that I have a big break for Christmas but nothing is guaranteed.

I leave you now the links of the stories that are already posted and I will update each time I post a new story.

DAY 1 & DAY 19: Every Day You Fight Like You're Running Out Of Time (Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester)

Sam gets lost in the forest. This action has consequences.

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

Luffy relives the worst day of his life, over and over again.

DAY 2: Again. (Monkey D. Luffy)

No. 2: ALTERNATIVE  Time Loop

Dean is going to die, Sam doesn't know what to think about it.

DAY 3: Did You Bring Me Some Pie? (Sam Winchester)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

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

DAY 4: A Good Night's Sleep (Trafalgar D. Water Law)

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

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

DAY 5: If My Pain Will Stretch That Far (Monkey D. Luffy)

No. 5: SUNBURN Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

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

DAY 6: Blood On The Car Seats (Bobby Singer)

No. 6: NOT REALIZING THEY'RE INJURED Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

The heart of a demon, willingly given, is a powerful weapon for the one who wields it.

DAY 7: The Heart of a Demon (Crowley)

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

Zoro can't sleep, ghosts come to keep him company.

DAY 8: Nightmares Don't Sleep (Roronoa Zoro)

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

Castiel is learning to be human. It hurts. In more ways than one.

DAY 10: Did It Hurt When You Fell From Heaven? (Castiel)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

DAY 11: Fade Away Into The Sunset (Sam Winchester)

No. 12: STARVATION Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

DAY 12: (Nico Robin)

The end of a crew. The end of a legend.

DAY 13: Till Death Do Us Part (Straw Hat Pirates)

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

DAY 14: (Shanks)

The cycle repeats itself.

DAY 15: The Father's Mistakes Fall on the Son's Shoulders (Dean Winchester, Jack Kline)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

DAY 16: Where Dreams Go To Die (Sanji)

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

DAY 17: In the Dark You Can't Tell Ink and Blood Apart (Nami)

No. 18: REVENGE Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

DAY 18: (Sabo)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

DAY 20: (Charlie Bradbury)

No. 21: BODY HORROR Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

DAY 21: D.E.A.T.H. (Trafalgar D. Water Law)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

DAY 22: (Jack Kline)

No. 9: OBSESSION Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible) No. 23: FORCED CHOICE Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

DAY 23 (+DAY 9): The Hand That Saves Is The Same As The Hand That Wounds (Gabriel)

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

DAY 24: Embracing the Sun (Portgas D. Ace)

No. 25: SURGERY Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

DAY 25: Grit Your Teeth, Everything Will Be Fine (Sam Winchester)

No. 26: NIGHTMARES Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

DAY 26: (Claire Novak)

No. 27: VOICELESS Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

DAY 27: EX-FL02 (Portgas D. Ace)

No. 29: FATIGUE Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

DAY 29: Run Rabbit, Run (Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester)

No. 30: RECOVERY Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?" No. 28: ALTERNATIVE  No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

DAY 30 (+DAY 28): When the Sun Dies, the Stars Go With It (Portgas D. Ace, Sabo)

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

DAY 31: The Hardest Things To Say (Dean Winchester)

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? :)

I graduated therapy today, yohoo!