#dayfive

Day Five - Bloodstream / Smother / Hidden

Remember those Shortaki kids I did back in 2022? No? Well here they are as actual kids! If you remember, these kids are based off of the triplets that Arnold dreamed about him and Helga having in the episode 'Married'. I decided to give a glimpse of what the three would look like if they were nine (yes they're triplets).

I feel like Stella, the Helga lookalike, would get into scrapes to protect her siblings. Phillip, the one standing, would try to de-escalate the situation (his chicken Isabelle is also pictured... kind of...). And Gertrude, the one in Arnold's arm, is the one who would usually be picked on by other peers.

I think this fight happened because Gertie is on the autistic spectrum in some way (it wasn't explicitly said in her profile I made last year, but I feel it made sense). Kids can be cruel, and misunderstandings about what she says or does can lead to confrontation (which Gertie justifiably does not care for). Perhaps with a Burman kid or something. Seeing her sister in distress, Stella steps in and threatens to get the kid to cut it out. Even with Phil's attempts to stop a fight, his slightly-older sister launches into one anyway. She is victorious and the other kid runs away, but she is badly injured.

Stella initially tries to hide that she got hurt from her parents (especially one particular wound oozing a stream of blood), but Arnold and Helga find out rather quickly, both extremely concerned. While Helga patched Stella up (in between grumbles of "Mom, you're smothering me..."), Phil explains what happened. Gertrude confirms with timid nods. Arnold thanks them for telling the truth, but suggests that Stella should apologize after she calms down.

once again no fandom, just my own ocs.

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“You never stopped,” he said accusingly.

She looked away. “I didn’t.”

“You knew-” his voice filled with disgust. “You knew it was wrong, what you all were doing, and you kept doing it. You allowed it to happen.”

She nodded. She wasn’t even defending herself, he realized. He felt himself waver for a moment as he looked at her - his friend, sitting there, letting him yell at her like he never has before. Guilt took hold of him for just a moment before a new wave of rage swept over him. She was letting him yell at her because she knew she had been wrong, and she had known then, and yet-

“How could you?” he choked out, horrified to realize a lump had grown in his throat as tears pricked his eyes. “All those people and you just- you don’t even have the excuse that you didn’t know it was wrong!”

“I don’t,” she said. “I knew it was wrong. And I did it anyway. And I let them keep doing it. And I let them do worse.”

“But you-” he took a deep breath. “How could you do that?” He had forgotten who he had become friends with. Everyone knew her, everyone knew what she had done, but he had been fooled into thinking better of her, and with no one to blame but himself for being pulled in by her quiet demeanor and occasional snark that made him laugh harder than he had in years.

She still wasn’t looking at him. He couldn’t bring himself to make her look at him.

“What else could I do?” she asked him. “No one would have listened to me. I had started it all. And I had let it keep going. I would have been the worst kind of hypocrite, to try and stop it after it was too late. And by then I had-”

She closed her eyes and put her head in her hand, her free hand wrapped around her waist like she was hugging herself.

“I had made my choice,” she said finally, “and I couldn’t bring myself to doubt myself. If I had, I would have had to look back and see a path of blood miles long. I couldn’t bring myself to face that, to doubt myself. If I did, I would have fallen apart.”

“Would that have been so terrible?” he couldn’t help but snap. She flinched. He couldn’t feel bad for her, he told himself, even as guilt twinged in his chest. But no, if she had fallen apart, maybe she would have stopped sooner, maybe she would have done something.

“I had to keep going down the path I had started,” she whispered. “Or it would have all been for nothing. I couldn’t face that thought, so I never stopped. I couldn’t stop.”

He shook his head and turned away. Excuses, nothing but fucking excuses for a path of blood miles long, splashed on every history book ever written.

@chaos-company's Angstpril 2022: Day 5 - "I never stopped."

Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairing: Destiel Word Count: 424 Summary: Dean dies, and he sees someone he did not expect. READ ON AO3

“Dean?”

Castiel’s voice was as clear as day, and it punctured Dean’s very soul. It was something he hadn’t heard in a long, long time.

Cas, looking the same as he always had with his tan overcoat swaying in the gentle breeze, his black suit with the white shirt, and the blue tie. And those blue, blue eyes. And he smiled, and he was coming towards Dean across the old, wooden bridge they both stood upon that held them up above a plentiful river.

Birds sang in the conifers, and Dean thought he might cry.

Was this Heaven?

He’d died.

Of course he’d died. Everyone died. He was sure old age had taken him.

And… And there was his angel.

Suddenly, he ran to Cas, and Cas’ large, warm hands were holding his face.

“I never stopped,” Dean blurted out, words coming before he could barely think. There was too much to think. Castiel was in front of him, holding him! He was here! “I never stopped trying to get you out. I swear, I swear on—on my life, m-my mother, Miracle the dog, whatever…”

All the pain of those lonely years, those long nights, flooded back, and he gripped Cas like he was going to disappear into darkness again.

Castiel caressed Dean’s face.

“Dean, it’s all right.” And then he raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Miracle?”

“I sort of got a dog.”

“I thought you hated dogs.”

“Things change.”

He was searching Castiel’s face, this close, seeing if he’d changed. Cas was doing the same. He had to be.

Would Cas still love who he was, after all this time? After everything? After failing him?

“Cas—” he tried to get out, breath hitching in his throat, chest aching.

“I never stopped either,” Castiel interrupted.

Dean frowned in confusion, his deepest of apologies cut short. “What?”

“I never stopped loving you.”

They pressed their foreheads together, Dean holding Cas tight. “Oh god, I never… I never stopped missing you, searching for you. Sammy… Sammy got so worried he almost made me see a shrink. I missed you, Cas. So much.”

“I missed you, too, Dean.”

Then they were hugging, Dean’s chin resting against Cas’ shoulder and he found that he was looking at the green of trees through a blurry sheen of tears.

When they pulled apart, there was no hesitation. Dean kissed Cas, and that broken heart that lived, beating pitifully in his chest, was healed. Years of pain, years of loss—gone. All gone.