DAY 15: The Father's Mistakes Fall On The Son's Shoulders

I graduated therapy today, yohoo!

My favorite part of the Olympics opening ceremony was watching all the racist and homophobic French politicians choking on social media with rage. "Pas ma France" my ass, you can all go fuck yourselves.

I only have three modes during my finals: a raccoon that crawled out of a trash can and just learned to read, crying on public benches and the bravest girl in the world.

“I'm on Team Winchester now,” Meg explained, filling two shot glasses with vodka. “Or at least Team Kick-Crowley’s-ass-and-give-Sam-his-soul-back.”

“I don't buy it,” Jo retorted acidly. “You've whored yourself to Azazel and Lucifer. Why not Crowley too?”

There was a flicker of surprise in Meg's eyes, her memory of Jo probably no longer matching the woman before her. But Jo had died and been reborn, all sharp edges and broken angles. Full of anger and grief.

“Because I have morals, even for a demon,” Meg replied, brushing her fingernail across Jo's cheek. “Also, he tried to kill me. Multiple times. Call me difficult, but I don't find that very attractive in a leader. In a lover, on the other hand—”

“ You’ve tried to kill me,” Jo interrupted her, grabbing her hand in hers and twisting her wrist to keep it away from her face.

“And I'm very glad I didn't succeed,” Meg replied with a smirk, her eyes roaming over Jo’s body.

I love this concept so much, and the potential for angst is scrumptious. And since I was already in a writing frenzy (2000 words in 2 hours after several weeks of not writing), I decided to give it a go. So without further ado, here is my humble contribution.

Lightning streaked the night sky in thousands and the echo of thunder made the earth tremble to the very foundations of Olympus, the divine wrath of Kataibates Zeus raining down mercilessly on all beneath him. Flashes of light sporadically illuminated the crumbling white marble columns and the cracks developing deep into the hearth.

Electricity crackled viciously through the air, piercing mortal and divine alike.

The hairs on the child's forearm stood on end as she tightened her wings around herself to shield herself from the destruction of her home around her at the hand of her creator. All her most animal and ancient instincts were screaming at her to fight, to rise into the air and face her fate, her tormentor.

But she stood there frozen, her sobs wracking her body, inaudible and invisible in the chaos.

For even though she was born in an already developed form, covered with armor and a spear in her hand, ready to fight under her father's hand, she was but a child. Immortal and divine, existing outside the passage of time itself.

All-powerful and all-knowing.

A fledgling fallen from the nest.

Thrown into the light after a distorted and unknown amount of time in the darkness, both an eternity and only a few days.

Not enough time with her mother anyway.

She, who had lived many lives and none at once. She, who could be of use but was not yet. She, who was neither a child nor an adult.

She, who had no place at all.

Glaukopis Athena.

An unexpected hand had reached out to her, not the wrong hand but a different one. That of a goddess. That of a mother. A woman abused by her creator, eaten alive at birth, who had lived as long in the darkness of Kronos' womb as in the light of her own divinity. Someone who understood.

Tucked under her vibrant and colorful wing, the child had grown. Cared for and loved, oh so loved by the goddess who didn’t dare call herself her mother. The only person the child could trust.

“Athena?”

The goddess's voice cut through the lightning, thunder, and pouring rain, through the darkness that had engulfed the child. The child raised her head, her tears of fear and anguish mingling with the deluge coming from the sky.

“Athena!”

The relief in the goddess's voice was palpable, so solid and true that the rain stopped around her. The goddess knelt before the child, her knees sinking into the mud and soiling her immaculate dress.

“Oh baby, I couldn't find you anywhere.” The goddess's voice was soft and full of love, a voice that only the child heard.

Tears welled up in the child's bright eyes again, tears of joy this time, as she bit her trembling lip painfully. The one she didn't dare call her mother had come. She was not alone in the darkness.

“Little owl, can I hug you?” The goddess asked, opening her arms as an invitation to the child.

The child rushed into the arms of the goddess, hugging her waist with all the strength of her little arms and her divine nature. The goddess's arms closed around the child, protective and loving. The child melted into the embrace, the hand around her throat slowly loosening as the goddess gently ran her hand through the child's soaking wet hair, through every sensitive feather.

“I don't like being alone in the dark, Hera,” the child whispered. A secret in a place where they did not exist. A weakness confessed in a place where they were mortal.

“I know, I'm sorry,” answered the goddess, tenderly wiping the tears from the child's cheeks.

The child's eyes glowed with memories of the past, eyes gray as the storm raging around them. The eyes of her mother.

“Sometimes I'm afraid that it's all just a dream and that you're not really here. That I'm really alone in the dark,” the child revealed. The most courageous act she had committed to that date. “Or worse, that you'll leave, that you'll leave me alone.”

“Oh my child, I will never leave you,” the goddess promised. “I will always stay by your side.”

“Really?” the child asked innocently, her voice almost inaudible.

The goddess presented her little finger and intertwined it with the child's. “Promise.”

This time it was the child who hugged the goddess, wrapping her wings as best she could around the goddess. Her head buried in her protective cocoon of feathers and love, she whispered the most dangerous secret.

“I love you, Mom.”

The word burned her lips, the feeling that she was betraying the memory of her first mother still uncomfortable and heavy in her stomach.

“I love you too, Athena.”

.

.

.

Lightning streaked the night sky in thousands and the echo of thunder made the earth tremble to the deepest depths of the ocean. The sea raged with the sky, the waves titanic and destructive.

Athena curled her wings around herself, immune to the cold but still shaking. A bird unable to fly. Her cheeks were dry with tears, a notion that had been useless for decades.

The hand around her throat tightened with each clap of thunder.

The night and darkness around her had no end in sight, infinite and infinite torment, and she flinched at every flash of lightning, her body so out of her control.

She was alone.

Again.

“Liar,” she whispered to the stars so far from her.

To the mother so far from her.

I, too, sometimes dabble in the dark arts of AU making.

So here's an idea. What if Hera actually represented her domain with Athena. There's this young goddess, and let's be real, she's already traumatized by having been EATEN (Hera can relate) and Zeus is like eh. He's better with small children, and Athena's pretty grown up at least physically. She's also still pretty weak from being inside him so she can't be useful yet. Hera doesn't even know why she feels protective of her husband's child. She's always wanted kids of her own, never considered adopting or whatever, but here's a kid that doesn't have a mother anymore, that's scared and new to the world and doesn't trust anyone. And for some reason, Hera wants to be the person that she can trust.

Basically, Athena's a total momma's girl in this. She doesn't care for Zeus, why would she. He's only ever hurt her and now she's out of him, he barely acknowledges her.

Unfortunately, Poseidon is a bitch and just had to jibe Zeus about Hera and Athena being so close. So Zeus, being the paranoid ass he is, decides to send his daughter to train elsewhere... maybe far away on Earth. And ofc, nobody is allowed to disturb her training. yk, so she gets better. Athena doesn't know Hera is not allowed to visit. All she hears when she sits on the shores at night, waiting in vain, is her stepmother's words that now ring so hollow: "I will never leave you."

So yeah. That's the premise (don't be afraid to use it as a prompt, just tag me if you do, I'd love to see). I don't have a name yet, but I have some more ideas. Feel free to ask or make suggestions about this :D Edit: I have since decided to call it "Slipping through my fingers" after the Abba song)

There was not a sound in the room.

And Mikasa couldn’t sleep. Not without Sasha.

Mikasa hesitated for a second in front of Sasha's bed, her fingers brushing the covers with her fingertips — like a sinner before the doors of a cathedral. Mikasa bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, tears silently flowing down her cheeks.

(Mikasa was silent. Sasha was loud. They understood each other in the silences and in the laughter. They understood each other everywhere.)

She snuggled into the bed, curled up in the fetal position, pulling the sheets over her head until she was completely covered. (Sasha's body had been wrapped in a similar white shroud.)

Mikasa inhaled deeply, trying to control her breathing, the scent of fresh lavender hitting her hard. If she closed her eyes, she could almost convince herself that Sasha was with her, wrapping her arms around her.

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)

Okay, so I really thought about it (and couldn't help but add a tiny little bit of angst) and I like the idea of Athena calling Odysseus Little Warrior when he was young and she was feeling extra affectionate towards him (not that she realized that just yet).

But now she doesn't dare call him that anymore because she doesn't want him to think he's just a warrior and a tool to her, especially after My Goodbye.

Ody kinda misses it though because it reminds him of his happier times with her when he was young.

With Athena calling Telemachus little wolf these days, what nickname might she settle on for Odysseus? (assuming she does end up using one ofc)

I think I'll update the post with the suggestions so we'll have a masterlist hehe, every suggestion wins, no matter if I vibe with it.

Prince of the Pirates

DAY 10: Did It Hurt When You Fell From Heaven? (Like A Bitch)

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

Why is Castiel so hard to write? I have a lot to say about him and his character but he's so self-unaware that it's impossible to write. I love him but he's very frustrating. Fandom: Supernatural Character(s): Castiel Words Count: 1,317 Triggers Warnings: - Glaring Self-Esteem Issues - Minor Blood and Injuries (at the end) No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

The cashier sighed heavily and Castiel looked up long enough to offer a small, embarrassed smile before continuing to count the coins in his hand. The credit card Dean had given him had stopped working and was requiring Castiel to enter the PIN. But Castiel didn’t know the PIN, it was written on a post-it note and hidden in a book in his locker. He hadn’t had to enter the PIN in the few weeks since he’d left the Bunker and had simply used the “contactless payment” but now the “contactless payment” wasn’t working.

Embarrassed, Castiel set the money down in front of the cashier, the coins falling from his open hands like a waterfall and clanging against the metal counter. Behind him, the line continued to grow as the supermarket’s customers grew impatient in hushed tones.

“Is that enough?” Castiel asked.

“Dude, seriously?” complained the cashier.

With a glare, the cashier began counting the coins, much faster than Castiel could have. He was an angel (not anymore) , he had been an angel with all the knowledge of the world, past and present, but he couldn’t count a few coins.

Being human was much harder than he could have imagined. The world was both brighter and dimmer than it had been. He no longer heard the prayers of Humanity but heard the birds singing when dawn broke; he no longer saw the invisible forces of this world but saw animals forming in the clouds.

He also had to sleep and eat and wash and relieve himself and it never ended. It was exhausting .

The experience gave him a whole new appreciation for humanity—for Dean and Sam.

(Castiel didn’t know if he could do it.)

(Castiel didn’t know if he wanted to do it.)

A feminine hand rested gently on his shoulder and Castiel resisted the urge to fight or flee as his skin quivered from his shoulder to his heart (a blade cutting into his flesh, the buzz of a drill approaching his eye, the cracking of his bones under a punch) . Castiel calmed his pounding heart and turned, staring into deep green eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the stranger smiled. “Do you need help?”

“Oh no, it’s fine—”

“There’s not enough,” the cashier cut in impatiently. “Twenty dollars short.”

Humans only had two eyes, but Castiel could feel the weight of dozens of eyes on him, as heavy and terrible as the forces of Heaven. Castiel didn’t know until then that he could be embarrassed.

“Oh, I’ll go put some items back in then,” Castiel replied.

“I can take care of the difference,” the stranger intervened behind him.

Castiel didn’t have the chance to refuse, the cashier practically snatched the bill from the stranger’s hands and signaled Castiel to make room for the next customer. Castiel put his groceries in his bag and waited for the stranger, wanting to thank her and reimburse her.

“Thank you for your generosity, I can reimburse you if you so wish,” Castiel offered.

“It won't be necessary,” the stranger replied kindly. “You needed help and I was able to give it to you.  A little help and kindness can go a long way.”

(Castiel couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t had blood—that of his enemies and that of his friends —on his hands.)

(Castiel couldn’t remember a time when he’d been kind .)

“But if you want, you can help me carry my groceries to my car. I hurt my wrist last week,” the stranger explained. “My girlfriend’s going to scold me again for moving heavy loads.”

“Of course,” Castiel replied, carefully taking the bags from the stranger’s hands.

“Thank you very much,” the stranger smiled. “My name is Claire, I’d shake your hand, but it looks like your hands are full.”

“Steve, nice to meet you,” Castiel said, his throat tightening inexplicably.

But the hardest thing about his new humanity was the guilt , the memory of all the people he’d hurt. How did humans function when they felt so much? On the best days, Castiel felt like he was going to shatter under the weight of his emotions.

“Are you new around here?” Claire asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“It’s only temporary,” Castiel replied, knowing he was lying to himself.

(A part of him hoped Dean would change his mind, that he could go back to the Winchesters. But now that he was no longer an angel, he was nothing more than a burden, someone they had to protect and who would slow them down.)

(He didn't want to cause them any more trouble than he already had.)

(Dean had already been kind enough to give him enough money for the first few months.)

"I hope you like it here then," Claire said pleasantly, opening the trunk of her car. "It's a quiet but nice town."

"Thanks," Castiel replied, putting the groceries in Claire's car. "Have a pleasant day."

"You too Steve,” Claire returned the sentiment. “It was nice meeting you."

Castiel greeted Claire and left the parking lot towards the gas station. He still had time before his shift but he didn't want to be late. This job was the last thing he had in addition to being his place to live. He couldn't afford to lose it.

The sun was warm against his skin and a cat was lounging on the hot tarmac outside the supermarket. Castiel crouched down to pet it, a small smile forming on his face. The cat was grumpy, not appreciative of being woken up, and its scowl reminded him of Dean. Castiel pulled out his phone to send Dean a picture but changed his mind at the last moment. He didn’t want to bother him.

(He didn’t want to know if Dean would answer him or not. Probably because he already knew the answer.)

Castiel straightened up, the heel of his shoe digging into his damaged skin. Even walking hurted and Castiel didn’t want to spend too much money on bandages to cover his blisters. He just hoped he hadn’t bled through his socks again. He couldn’t vanish the blood off his clothes with a wave of his hand anymore. 

(Humans were so fragile. Castiel wondered how they didn't die immediately.)

“Have a pleasant day,” Castiel said to the cat who curled up to resume its nap.

Castiel continued on his way, quickening his pace, and more than ever missed his wings. Not necessarily because he could cross the globe in a second if he wanted to—although that was very convenient—but because he couldn’t remember the last time he had flown just because he could.

(His wings had been clipped—by Heaven, by the Winchesters , by himself—long before his Fall.)

(His feet had not left the ground these days, not even in his dreams.)

(He had only himself to blame.)

.

He wasn’t the only one who thought that.

A sharp pain spread through his skull as a metal bar came down hard on the back of his head. Ears ringing in shock, Castiel dropped his groceries, his carton of tomato soup exploding as it hit the ground.

Castiel staggered, leaning on the wall to keep himself from falling. His head spun uncontrollably around him. He felt like he was falling off a building. But no one was there to catch him.

A warm liquid flowed from the back of his head to the back of his neck, his blood pulsing mercilessly in his temples. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he fought back vomiting from the pain.

He couldn’t hear anything, he couldn’t see anything.

The pain clouded his vision, turning the world into a series of blurry, indistinct shapes. Every sound seemed distorted, like a distant echo, as terror began to overtake the pain.

Green eyes glowing menacingly were the last thing Castiel saw before he lost consciousness.

Dean.

Fun fact, the story with the credit card at the beginning happened to me when I was eighteen and got my first credit card (the part where I forget my PIN after only using contactless payment for weeks, not the part where someone pays for my groceries). So Castiel is going to experience my embarrassment too. Poor Castiel, he discovers that being human sucks. You have to sleep and eat and even worse you Feel Emotions. And that's not the worst thing that will happen to him later. Speaking of later, I have ideas in mind but given the number of stories I have to write, I think I'll only write it if you're interested. (Or in several months but it's not sure.) Let me know what you think.