Buying Him Time

I need the people's opinion, tonight do I study or do I write something for Destiel Day?

It's decided, I'm going to rewatch Supernatural because apparently the first time wasn't painful enough. But! This time, I'm going to write fanfiction and semi-coherent analyses. And also count the number of times Dean says awesome.

Wish me luck!

DAY 2 : Again.

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

I wasn't inspired by today's prompts so I chose one of the alternatives: Time Loop. Since I didn't have time to write everything, I'll post loop by loop as I go along, instead of all at once. This story is quite hard to read (and write), so pay attention to the warnings and take care of yourself above all <3 Trigger Warnings: - Graphic Description of Violence - Blood and Injuries - Burns - Major Character Death Fandom : One Piece (Anime & Manga) Character(s) : Monkey D. Luffy Relationship(s) : Monkey D. Luffy & Portgas D. Ace Words Count : 1,548 No. 2: ALTERNATIVE  Time Loop

First Loop

Luffy struggled to retrieve Ace's Vivre Card that was slipping from his fingers. It was in front of him, just inches away, and yet unreachable. He didn't really know why, but he had to retrieve that Vivre Card. It was important, it was a part of Ace. He couldn't lose it. Nothing else mattered. The outside world faded into the background around him — the screams of agony, the smell of blood and smoke, the corpses he was stepping on to escape — leaving only the small burning piece of paper in his field of vision. 

(Ace had been burned by Akainu. His big brother, the one who always walked two steps ahead of him, unreachable and strong , the living embodiment of fire, had been burned . Sabo had died in the flames of an explosion. Luffy had forgotten it, but big brothers could burn too.)

Luffy's hand finally closed around Ace's Vivre Card and the panic that clouded his mind subdued. He had succeeded, Ace wouldn't leave him.

He had promised.

“You won't leave here alive!”

Luffy looked up and met Ace's desperate gaze. Why was Ace looking at him like that? He should be happy, Luffy had his Vivre Card back.

“Luffy!”

The flaming fist of Absolute Justice charged at him, invading his field of vision until all he could see was flames — stories whispered by a campfire, the burn of the Grey Terminal fire on his skin, Ace's arm around his shoulders in the middle of winter — and bloody red.

Oh.

Luffy wanted to move, should have moved, but he couldn't. The world was so fast when he was so slow, exhaustion slowing all his movements to the very core of his bones.

(If his crew was there, he could have rested for five minutes before going back into battle, but Luffy was alone .)

Suddenly, without Luffy understanding what was happening — he was so tired — Ace was in front of him, smiling sadly. Luffy's eyes widened in horror as he noticed the fist through Ace's body. The smell of burning flesh hit him in the face and Ace vomited blood, a retch shaking his entire body.

Akainu stepped back, removing his fist from Ace's body carelessly, Ace's guts falling to the ground, bloody and steaming. There was a hole in Ace's torso, where his lungs should have been. The skin around the wound was burned raw, sizzling with blisters and peeling away to the bone. And amidst the mess of ruined and damaged flesh, hidden behind his broken ribs, his brother's still beating heart. 

Thud, thud, thud.

Luffy focused on Ace's fading heartbeat, clinging to his brother's last breath of life. Ace wasn't dead yet! Luffy could still save him. Luffy remembered yelling at Akainu who was raising his fist once more to finish Ace off, but he didn't remember Jinbei and Ace's friends intervening.

Everything vanished when Ace fell to his knees in Luffy's arms. Luffy caught him, his hand red, red, red when he looked at it after touching Ace's back. Luffy placed his hand on the wound, trying to stop the endless bleeding. Ace slid into Luffy's arms, his head falling onto his shoulder, and Luffy tightened his grip around Ace, refusing to let him go.

"I'm sorry, Luffy," Ace struggled to say, choking. "I'm so sorry, I stopped you from saving me properly. Forgive me.”

Ace was breathing heavily, just talking, draining him of his meager strength. Blood was dripping down Luffy's shoulder in large drops.

"What are you talking about? Stop talking nonsense!"

Ace wasn't dying, Luffy could still feel his heart beating between his fingers. Ace wasn't dying. He couldn't die. He had promised. He couldn't die.

"Someone!" Luffy begged, screaming until his vocal cords broke, feeling the heat leave Ace's body. “Heal his wounds! Save Ace!”

Luffy didn't like the cold. Cold meant being alone in the night, cold meant an empty place in the treehouse. Cold meant Death.

"Luffy stop," Ace said weakly. "My time has come. He burned me from the inside out, I won't make it this time.”

And Ace was never weak. He was bold and brash and mean at times, a raging fire. Never weak, always strong. Ace was the reason Luffy survived Sabo's death. Because Ace was strong where Luffy wasn't, learning to be kind and caring for Luffy.

Ace was strong .

Luffy wasn't.

“No! You promised”! Luffy refused, understanding what his big brother meant. “You told me Ace, right? You said you wouldn't die!”

Because Ace was strong but he was also stupid. He forgot obvious things sometimes and Luffy had to remind him. Like the fact that Luffy loved him. But if Luffy reminded him of his promise, then maybe Ace wouldn't die.

“You promised,” Luffy stopped himself from sobbing. Ace didn't like whiners.

“You know, if it wasn't for Sabo, if I didn't have a little brother like you to watch over. I wouldn't have wanted to live.” Luffy's heart clenched painfully in his chest. “No one wanted me after all. So it's completely normal.”

Ace clung to Luffy like a lifeline, as if Luffy was the only thing keeping him alive. Luffy was terrified that he wouldn’t be enough to keep Ace alive for a little longer.

“Oh right, if you ever run into Dadan again, could you say goodbye for me?” Ace laughed softly, his laughter cut off by a coughing fit. “It’s strange, now that I’m about to die, I feel like I miss her.”

Ace’s breath was labored, his voice hoarse. And Luffy didn’t dare look — because if he did, he’d have to face his big brother’s dying face — but he was pretty sure Ace was crying, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“I only have one regret, and that’s not seeing your dream come true. But I know you, you’ll get there, that’s for sure.” Ace and Sabo had been among the first to hear his dream, among the first to believe in him. “You're my brother after all.”

Luffy had two brothers. One had been dead for over ten years, the other was dying in his arms. Who was going to believe in his dreams now?

And yet Luffy couldn't do anything. He was frozen, afraid that the slightest movement would make things worse. The only thing he could do was hold his brother in his arms as he died, hoping that Ace would feel all the love Luffy had for him.

Ace was loved. He had to know that, right ?

"As we promised each other back then, I have no regrets about the life I led."

This time, Luffy couldn't help but protest. This wasn't how it was going to end. It couldn't be.

(Ace's heartbeat was getting slower and slower, more and more rare.)

"No, you're lying!"

"No, it's true!" Ace insisted, his fingers digging painfully into Luffy's shoulder with a surprising strength for a dead man. “It seems that what I always wanted in the end wasn't fame or glory. But just the answer to my question. Why did I come into this world? "

Ace had always been haunted by his past, by the past of those who had come before him, that of his parents. But Luffy didn't live in the past, he didn't care who Ace's father was. What mattered was the present, what mattered was that Ace was Luffy 's brother.

Ace was Ace and that was all that mattered. Ace had always been enough.

"Luffy, I want you to listen to what I have to say and tell the others afterwards," Luffy knew at that moment that his brother's words would be his last. He wasn't ready for that. “Even though I've been a good-for-nothing my whole life, even though I carry the blood of a demon.”

The fighting raged around them and yet it had never been interrupted. Ace's family fought to give them one last moment, one last hug.

"Thank you for loving me!"

Crying, Ace formed a smile on his lips for the last time. Ace collapsed in Luffy's arms, his hand falling from Luffy's neck where Ace had clung to during his final moments, leaving a trail of blood along Luffy's cheek.

Ace fell to the ground, alive one moment, dead the next, and Luffy screamed out all his pain and sorrow, inaudible amidst the horrors of war. Ace was dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. 

Ace was dead.

Ace.

Was.

Dead.

Ace was dead.

Years of memories flashed through Luffy's mind in a split second - all ending with the same tragic phrase "thank you for loving me", all ending with Ace's death - shattering his psyche to the last piece.

They were always meant to end up here - Ace, dead and Luffy, helpless - there was nothing Luffy could have done to change things.

“ACE!!!”

In the end, when the darkness reached out to him, Luffy welcomed it willingly. Luffy fell into nothingness, hoping to never come out. Not if it meant living in a world alone.

Click. Again .

DAY 15: The Father's Mistakes Fall on the Son's Shoulders

The cycle repeats itself.

For this prompt, I was hesitating between Dean&John and Jack&Dean but my little sister suggested I do both so you'll have both. This story is not intended to bash characters but rather to show sons hurt by the actions of their parent figure and fathers realizing, too late, their mistakes. Because let's be honest, I love Dean but the way he treats Jack is often horrible and you might think he would learn from the way his own father raised him but noo. (Also, Dean is 17/18 in the first chapter.) Fandom: Supernatural Character(s): Dean Winchester Relationship(s): Dean Winchester & John Winchester, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester Words Count: 1,115 Trigger Warnings: - Minor Burn - Minor Blood and Injury - Dean's Canonical Self-Esteem Issues No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

Dean’s fingers were numb from the cold as he desperately tried to light his lighter. Every time he failed was another minute of Dad risking his life distracting the ghost. The metal dug painfully into his thumb with each failure and blood was already starting to trickle down his wrist.

“Come on, come on,” Dean whispered, his words forming a cloud of condensation in the abandoned house. Dean wasn’t sure if it was the freezing February temperatures or if the ghost had somehow escaped Dad but he didn’t plan on staying long enough to find out. “ Come on! ”

Finally, finally , a small flame flickered at the end of his lighter and Dean wasted no time in throwing his lighter into the hearth of the fireplace where the ghost's bones already lay covered in salt. The fire caught instantly, burning the tips of Dean's fingers when he didn't pull his hand away fast enough. He hissed in pain, blisters forming on his index and middle fingers.

Somewhere up the stairs, the ghost screamed as its soul was destroyed in a burst of yellow light.

Dean flopped down on the moth-eaten floorboards, kicking up a cloud of dust big enough to make him cough. When he opened his eyes again, Dad was in front of him, one hand out to help him up and his gun in the other.

“You really took your sweet time here,” Dad joked, but Dean couldn’t help but flinch. Dad either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it. “Let’s go find Sammy, he must be freezing out there.”

Dean grabbed his dad’s hand with his left and let himself be pulled to his feet. Dad looked at his face suspiciously.

“What’s wrong?” Dad asked.

(If they were a normal family, Dean would say it was worry that made his father frown. But normal families didn’t hunt deadly ghosts in the middle of the night, and Dean knew better.)

“Nothing,” Dean replied, hiding his hand in his jacket pocket, the sensitive skin of his fingers catching in the zipper.

“Dean,” Dad sighed, grabbing Dean’s elbow and forcing his hand out of his pocket. “Stop being so stubborn all the time.”

Dad tugged sharply at Dean's arm and grabbed his wrist, directing his hand toward the light of the flames. He whistled loudly as he saw the blisters forming on Dean's fingertips.

"I think we have some Biafine left in the car, you can ask Sammy to bandage you up," Dad ordered.

"There's no point," Dean protested, not wanting to waste bandages on a wound that would go away on its own in a few days.

"What did I just say?" Dad sighed. "Stop being so stubborn all the damn time. I don't want your dominant hand immobilized any longer than necessary."

It made sense. With his burn, Dean's grip on his gun wouldn't be as effective.

"And why are your hands so cold?" Dad asked, taking Dean's hands in his to warm them up, being careful with his injured fingers. "Don't you have gloves?"

"I gave them to Sammy, his had holes in them," Dean replied.

For a moment, they said nothing and Dean enjoyed the warmth of Dad's hands against his own. He was too old to hold his father's hand anymore but he missed it sometimes, the casual affection of the early days. An arm around his shoulders, a hand in his hair, a hug when he was scared.

But part of Dad had died with Mom in the fire and Dean didn't know how much of the soldier or father had survived.

"Come on Dee, let's get you warm," Dad said, letting go of his hands.

Dean was next to a fire but he had never been so cold. He followed his father's lead, shivering in his jacket with holes in his elbows. The drafts of the house wrapped around Dean like ghosts.

Outside the abandoned house, Sam stood watch next to the car, kicking the gravel to pass the time. When he saw Dean come out of the house, the kid's face lit up and Dean couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey Sammy, haven't you been too bored without me?" greeted Dean with a lazy smile.

Sam didn't have time to answer, a ghost flickered behind him as ice creeped up the car windows.

(Protect Sammy!)

Dean rushed toward Sam, shoving him out of the ghost’s reach with one arm and making a wide circle with the other, hitting the ghost with the iron-clad butt of his pistol. The ghost disappeared but not before briefly digging its hand into Dean’s ribcage and holding Dean’s heart ready to rip it out. A bitter cold gripped Dean and he collapsed to the ground, coughing up blood.

The ghost rematerialized a few feet away, Dean’s blood staining his shirt. Dad slammed the trunk of the car shut, yelling at Sam to duck and shooting salt at the ghost with his rifle.

His vision darkened and the screams of Dad and Sam grew distant around him, stretching out until Dean no longer recognized their voices. There was a flash of light, then silence.

(Dean was so cold.)

Arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him almost painfully against someone’s chest. The heavy grip around his arms was sure to leave bruises tomorrow and his aching ribs protested, a throbbing pain almost making it hard to breathe. Still, Dean wanted the person to never let go of him again.

Leather and tobacco.

“Dad?” Dean asked, his voice muffled in his father’s jacket. “I did good, right? I saved Sammy.”

“You did very well, son,” Dad answered, his voice strangely strangled. “I’m proud of you.”

Dean looked up and oh , Dad was crying. Why was Dad crying?

“It  hurts,” Dean said, the pain turning his vision white.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Dad apologized, his hand cradling Dean’s head tenderly, like he’d taught Dean to do when Sammy was a newborn. “We’re going to take you to the hospital.”

(Why was Dad apologizing? It wasn't his fault. Dean should have been faster. But he was so slow tonight.)

"Can we go home now?" Dean asked weakly, his eyes fluttering with fatigue.

There was blood on Dad's jacket in the shape of Dean's handprints. Everything he touched ended up covered in blood.

"Sure," Dad replied.

A familiar weight fell on his shoulders (leather and tobacco) as arms slid under his knees and armpits to lift him off the ground. Dean's feet left the ground and he bit back a gag as his head spun and spun.

(Dean wasn't cold anymore.)

"I'm sorry, Dean," Dad whispered as he walked toward the car.

There were still tears in his eyes.

Come Hell Or High Water Masterpost

The will of the D may have been a mere echo of the past, but its bearers were anything but. Standing in front of her lover's execution platform, Portgas D. Rouge vowed never to lose a single member of her family again. (She just hadn't taken into account that her family would be so large.) OR How many traumatized children can Rouge adopt?

I'm fascinated by Rouge's character and she's unironically become one of my favorite characters in One Piece while writing this, which is tragic considering we only see her for about two minutes. But if Oda won't give me content on Rouge, I'll do it myself.

Come Hell or High Water is a story that begins with Roger's execution 24 years ago and continues to the present day based on the concept that Portgas D. Rouge survives the Baterilla massacre and raises Portgas D. Ace as well as Shanks and Buggy.

Throughout the story, Rouge also adopts every child she meets in need of a parental figure (i.e. half of the One Piece characters). It's a family-centric story where everyone survives their tragic backstories with romance in the background far away and lots of fluff.

This story will cover topics regarding child development into adulthood while healing from past trauma, this includes fear of abandonment, self-esteem issues, child abuse, codependency, etc. It also deals with grief and (unhealthy) coping mechanisms especially in the first chapters following Roger's death.

(Disclaimer, I'm not an expert on any of those subjects except for the fact that I was a child once and had to grow up. The end result is mostly fine so I can consider it a success.)

I'll be referencing events from the manga as they happen like new characters and such. It won't be anything major until we caught up with the main timeline (unless specified at the beginning of each chapter), but if you'd rather not be spoiled, I understand.

If you have any more questions about this AU, feel free to ask me, I always love talking about my brainchild <3

Children Of The Sea (First Part)

I Will Carry You On My Shoulders To The End Of The Road — Part IV: DELIGHT

Benn stumbled as the ground gave way beneath his feet.

He bounced and bounced and bounced—

The ground rippled with each jump Luffy made with a powerful and regular hum, as if the heart of the planet itself was vibrating with Benn. The trees stretched infinitely to the sky as Luffy pulled on them and tied them in a knot. Luffy took Shanks' hand and jumped high into the night followed by Shanks' laughter, picking up a star and offering it to Benn with a proud smile.

(Luffy had the same smile as a kid when he offered flowers or seashells to Makino, when he showed Shanks his new drawing.)

Benn could barely keep up with Luffy. He was laughing in his ear one second and running on the surface of the water the next. Elusive and free. Benn had never been happier.

shanks playing guitar at night, luffy asleep on his lap. the sun on his skin as the crew napped on deck. a heart beating steadily like a drum.

Dum-dum. Dum-dum. Dum-dum.

“So? What do you think?” Luffy asked, dissolving into a burst of laughter.

Luffy slowed down for a minute, grabbing Shanks and Benn's hand and jumping. Benn jumped with him, as if on the surface of a trampoline. A childish game. Shanks' eyes were filled with mirth, making them almost seem like gold in the dim light.

With a deep sigh, Shanks let himself fall backwards, his fall cushioned by the elasticity of the ground. Luffy followed him, falling in a pile on top of him. With an amused smile, Benn lay down next to them, his gaze directed towards the stars. In his hand, Luffy's "star" cooled, turning back into a pebble eternally polished by the waves.

There were tears of joy at the corners of his eyes, a sort of blissful drowsiness taking hold of him. As if he had laughed for a decade and more.

“We're proud of you, Anchor,” Shanks said softly, his hand passing over Luffy's shoulders to pull him back against him. “You’re all grown up.”

hecate

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!)

“Because true and sincere friendships can transcend space and time, can last longer than a lifetime,” Mom replied. “Because you are a D and we laugh at the face of Fate. We don't let anyone define us or tell us what to do, we decide our own destiny.” Mom was right. Ace was the product of his parents and he had always hated it.

He got angry like his father and had the proud arrogance of his mother. He had his mother's taste for adventure and his father's charisma. He carried his parents' dreams and doubts and created his own path. He had Roger's eyes and Rouge's smile. He was both the best and the worst of his parents. But he also shared their will and their determination, their refusal to give up . They did not bow down to any man or god. (He was the son of a King, a Conqueror and an Emperor.) This realization left him strangely calm, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Ace closed his eyes and let the wind carry him, the setting sun gently warming his skin.

At The Dawn of Time by TheStarsInBetween

Illustration by @drop-of-starshine

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? :)