#stancredis

when an fire alarm goes off in a penitentiary, the opposite of what you’d think would happen occurs: they lock everybody in. the affected area is evacuated, but otherwise, inmates are neatly carted back into their cells. in a fire, you stay put. 

as it so happens, the alarm goes off right after his t shot. michael’s eyes dart between the window - processing that he can’t quite tell where the alarm is coming from - and the door, outside of which a co looks like he’s just been incredibly inconvenienced. and then he looks at sara, whose eyes catch the light when she, too, looks out the window.

‘ looks like you’re stuck with me for a while. ’

scoff       escapes       runaway       angels       lips         .            amber       liquid       then       drained       in       one       gulp       as       eyes       lock       with       hers         .                 ❛    if       castiel       wants       to       𝚁𝚄𝙽       𝙰𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳       &       𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈       𝙶𝙾𝙳         ,        let       him         .            encase       you've       forgotten       he         ,         quite       literally         ,         stabbed       me       in       the       back         .            i       have       no       reason       to       aid       in       whatever       world       breaking       quest       those       𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃       𝐎𝐅       𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐒       find       themselves       on       this       week         .    ❜

michael scofield has been dead for three years when kaniel outis visits his grave. sara is sat in front of scofield’s headstone, knees folded under her, arranging flowers. sitting back. re-arranging the flowers. michael scofield is lucky. there aren’t a lot of people in the world who are loved enough to have fresh flowers and moss picked out from engraved letters after three years. graves and people, they get — forgotten. kaniel wonders where michael’s son is but - he can’t quite hear what sara’s telling him. telling michael. from where he’s stood, her voice catches softly and is lost on the breeze; tone is conversational, at first, even though he can’t make out what she’s saying.

so kaniel imagines it instead. imagines that sara’s telling him that mike is going through the terrible threes, that mike is spending the day with his uncle lincoln because sara wanted to come here alone, that mike has sara’s soft face and high brow but michael’s eyes and dark, coily hair.

( some of this is true. some of it isn’t. much of it is extrapolations that kaniel outis has made from watching sara tancredi, sara scofield, when he shouldn’t be watching her. part storytelling, part spying. )

he can’t see sara’s face from here, either, not really. he gets a glimpse of the slope of her nose and her eyes catching the sun when she turns her head, dragging her hands through her hair. he startles when he recognises the shark intake of breath and laboured blink, eyes slotting closed in a way that says she wants to cry, but she’s not going to. not even when her voice cuts across the air just loud enough that kaniel can hear her: ‘ i don’t — i don’t know how to do this without you. still. ’ then, ‘ i told you not to leave me. ’

kaniel outis has never met sara, but michael scofield’s ghost turns and aches, presses up and bleeds through at the edges desperately, stinging something awful behind his eyes: sara. my wife. i want to come home. sara, i’m sorry. 

but he knows she can do it without him. and even if she can’t, she has to.

michael scofield has been dead for three years, after all.

what an excellent day to remember that olivia moore loves chase graves (and rob thomas can eat my socks)

don't tempt me back there damn you

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃       𝐈𝐒       𝐁𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃         .            glove       clad       fingers       threaded       through       dyed       locks         ,         tugging       roughly       at       roots         .            her       words       brought       him       no       comfort         ,         they       were       WRONG       in       his       mind         .            he       needed       to       be       strong         .            eyes       alight       with       red       stare       daggers       at       carpet       ‘neath       feet         .            chest       rising       &       falling       with       heavy       breaths         .            ache       spreading       through       heart       never       fading         ,         even       for       a       moment         .            he       was       trying       to       do       the       𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃       𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶         ,         so       why       did       it       hurt       so       much       ?

           ❛   it’s       not       okay         .            it’s       far       from       okay         !            how       can       i       run       a       city       if       i       can’t       even       keep       myself       in       check       ?   ❜          

“There’s better use for whipped cream than on pie.”

michael scofield’s dad bod is the most important thing in this world and you should say so