Fan Fiction Writing Contest
Have you ever wished that a book ended differently, or that subplots in a book were explored more?
Did you ever feel that there was more to a character and were left a little disappointed when the author didn't develop that character further?
If you answered 'yes' to any of the questions above, then this Fan Fiction writing contest is just the thing for you!
This is your chance to take the story into your own hands, and let everyone one know what you think should have happened.
In 1000 to 1500 words, take one of your favourite books or characters and tell us how you would have liked the story to go. You could rewrite a scene that took place in the book, or create your own. Perhaps you felt that there should have been more to the story and want to add on to the ending, or maybe a book should have started off differently? Perhaps a character was killed off and you really did want him or her to die, or there was a relationship that you wish had gone down a different path.
Be as creative as you like, and remember to keep it between 1000-1500 words. You have until Tuesday, August 12th at 11:59 PM to make your submission.
The winner will be announced on August 18th.
Here are the rules to participate:
1) You have to be a resident of the city of Toronto to win a prize.
2) Your answer has to be submitted by Tuesday, August 12th at 11:59 PM if you want to win.
3) You need to provide us with a valid email address if you want to be considered for the prize.
Your name, your e-mail address, the books you read and your thoughts about them are your personal information. Why do we need your personal information here? Well, we want to publish your reviews, and we need your name and e-mail address to help administer the contest. The Public Libraries Act is the law that lets us do this. We'll be protecting your privacy every step of the way, but if you have any questions about how we're going to do that, you can contact TPL's Privacy & Records Management Officer, 789 Yonge Street, Toronto, ON, M4W 2G8, 416-395-5658 or by e-mail at gnettlefold@torontopubliclibrary.ca
29 thoughts on “Fan Fiction Writing Contest”
to enter this contest, do I post it as a comment here? or email it in? Where do I go to enter the contest exactly?
I’m going to assume you comment your story, that’s how all the other contests here work.
Hi Khairun, Vaishnavy is right. You can copy and paste your story into the comments field.
All the best!
Is it okay if I write in 2 different persons and also, I am kind of writing two scenes mixed together with a beginning part. Would that be acceptable?
A Much Younger Harry
“So let me get this straight … you put on an apron just to get something out of the fridge?”
Lily Potter had decided to go grocery shopping that morning, hesitantly leaving her son in the care of a band of merry idiots – or in other words: her husband and his friends. She wanted to take Harry with her, but he had been asleep then and Lily didn’t want to wake him up because she knew it’d take forever just to put him back to sleep.
James Potter rolled his eyes as he closed the fridge, placing the baby food bottles he had snagged on the counter, and lining them up. “Harry’s a messy eater, see, he always seems to like to pet my head when is hands are full of peas.”
Remus snickered quietly; he had taught Harry that.
Sirius Black entered the kitchen then, carrying Harry who was rubbing his eyes, and looking tired. At age one, Harry was looking more and more like James each day, but Harry had gotten his mum’s green eyes instead of his father’s hazel ones.
“We’re here,” said Sirius with a flourish as he strapped his godson into his highchair. “You’re lives just got better!”
“When did he wake up?”
“A couple minutes ago.” said Sirius, taking out a rolled up magazine that was in his back pocket. Flipping through it, his eyes glinted as pictures of motorbikes zoomed across the pages urging readers to ‘BUY NOW!’
“I think we lost him. No matter! I’ve a baby to feed!” James placed the baby food bottles closer to his son to inspect. “Which one do you want, Prongslet?”
Harry’s eyes scanned the small bottles and he pointed to a brown one.
Remus cringed as James wrenched the bottle open. “That’s chicken broth, Prongs. You sure you want to feed Harry blended meat?”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” James took a spoon from a drawer, scooping up some to his mouth. He paled instantly. “Right, Padfoot do you want some food?”
Sirius glanced up quickly at the mention of food and eagerly took the baby food away, finishing it down in two bites. “That was delicious! Do you have anymore?”
They stared silently at him as James quietly passed him a bottle labeled Cauliflower.
After James finished feeding Harry (Remus suggested peas for some reason), Harry wanted to move around. Sitting in one place for so long is not an easy feat when you’re one.
“Down, mummy, down!” urged Harry, raising his hands high and looking pointedly at his father.
The room instantly quieted.
James was horrified. “W-what did you call me, Harry?”
“Mummy!” giggled the boy, clapping his hands in delight. Sirius and Remus fell into uncontrollable laughter as James shook his head violently.
“No, no, no, no, no!” said James, running his hand through his hair. “I’m daddy, daddy – not mummy!” Lily was going to castrate him! She only left them alone for half an hour and James had already twisted Harry!
“It’s probably the apron, seeing as its Lily’s, so take it off.” James obliged, as he practically threw the cloth across the kitchen, narrowly missing the fireplace.
James picked Harry up. “Who am I, Prongslet?”
Harry screwed up his face in concentration, and for a second, James thought Harry had been pretending the whole time.
“Mummy!”
James groaned; yup, he was going to die.
The fireplace erupted, and Lily stepped through, carrying bags of grocery. “I hope I wasn’t gone too long. The line was ridiculously long.” She placed the bags on the counter, turning around and smiling brightly when she spotted her son. “Harry!”
“Daddy!”
Hi Monidipa, yes you can write in two different persons. This is your chance to express yourself the way you want, through your writing and your characters.
Just to clarify, do the two scenes go together, or are they separate? They should flow together and be part of the same story for your entry to be considered. I.e. Two different scenes with no flow between them would be considered two different fan fictions. Hope that helps
Good luck!
I just want to say that this is amazing 😀 I love it
The beginning is like a short scene and then I write “4 days later” and the second scene begins. It’s part of the same story.
Hi Monidipa, that is perfectly fine 🙂
Also, is it okay if there is a prologue at the beginning to explain what the story is about and maybe a epilogue?
Are we allowed to write fanfiction based off of source material that is not a book, such as tv shows or movies etc.?
Hi Vicky, you can definitely get your source material from a TV show or movie as well. All the best! I’m looking forward to reading everyone’s stories 🙂
Can the fanfic be from any genre? Will it be judged as a story or judged by actual fans along with other judges? Will certain references be understood? Can there be crossovers? Can it be alternate universe? I am just try to get a better understand of the specifications of the contest, hope its not too much trouble.
Hi Khairun,
The fan fiction can be from any genre. It will be judged by the members of the Word Out 2014 committee. I can’t guarantee that all references will be understood, but that won’t impact your chances to win. We are looking at content and creativity (and of course, your basics such as grammar and spelling). It can be a crossover, and it can’take place in an alternate universe.
Hope that helps! Good Luck!
Never mind sorry.
This sounds like fun! I have a question, since this contest is similar to last year’s fan fiction contest, is the prize also an ipad mini?
Hi Mala, the prizes vary from contest to contest, and are different every year.
Closing the lock to Oblivion’s Gate
Chaos. Destruction. Overthrown governments. The world is in ruins ever since the Old Ones have gotten out. Considering that they’re the most evilest force in the planet, their only aim is to destroy Earth and make people suffer horribly. And what’s worse, no one can stop this bloodshed. No one except five orphaned teenagers. But they aren’t ordinary teenagers. Matt, the leader has the power to control things with his mind. Pedro, has the power of healing. Scarlett can control the weather. And twins Jamie and Scott can read minds. Tension is building up between the five because there is only a few days left to close the lock on Oblivion to stop the Old Ones. However, there’s a catch to it. Whoever touches that lock will die.
Jamie glanced away from the television warily. He thought pretending to be watching television could help him ignore the heated fight that was going on upstairs, but he was mistaken. He wanted to just storm upstairs and force his brother and Matt to stop fighting. After all, he was One of the Five and he was perfectly capable of controlling someone’s mind. He looked at Richard sitting beside him. “Is this going to be going on forever, or should we interfere?” Jamie asked him. Richard looked up from his newspaper. “I don’t know but if this fight continues, somebody’s going to get hurt.” Jamie sighed, shaking his head and tuned in to the fiery conversation. “If you’d just TRY to understand our situation Scott! You need to stay behind!” says Matt angrily. “Why don’t you trust me? I’ll help you close the lock to Oblivion.” retaliates Scott, fury in his eyes. “You killed a man and you’re asking me why I don’t trust you?” “It wasn’t my fault! Nightrise forced me!” Jamie agreed with him. It wasn’t his brother’s fault. Nightrise tortured Scott every day to the point he couldn’t bear it anymore. But what Matt said next, shocked Jamie:
“Face it Scott. They messed you up pretty bad. You’ll never be like one of us again.”
How could Matt say that? Didn’t he know about Silent Creek…? His thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash from upstairs. Jamie rushed upstairs hastily, followed by Richard. He saw Matt lying on the ground and Scott angrily towering over him, his fists clenched. There was tears in Scott’s eyes. “You don’t know what they did to me!” he shouted “Every day was a living hell! Nightrise enjoyed hurting me! They liked it when I screamed! And you just don’t understand that!” “Look… can’t we all just get along?” said Richard, forcing an awkward laugh. “I mean come on, Matt didn’t mean that…” Suddenly, there was a loud sound of something shattering. Jamie looked toward where the sound had came from. Pieces of a blue and white vase were scattered on the floor next to the side table. Everyone looked at Matt. Scott swore at him, his teeth gritted. He turned and left, provoking Matt even more.
Matt angrily got to his feet snarling, but Jamie quickly stood in his way. “Don’t” he said softly “Scott has been through a lot.” “How should I trust him? He was kidnapped by the Old Ones! Who knows what they put into his mind?” Jamie’s expression darkened. “Scott isn’t a traitor. He’s just different now Matt. But I know he isn’t a traitor.” Matt sighed and sat down on a chair, putting his head in his hands. “I’m sorry” he said “I’m just so frustrated because I don’t know what to do.” Jamie put a hand around his shoulders. “You’re a great leader Matt but you have to understand Scott more. I mean, the people at Nightrise, who wanted to mess with his mind, weren’t joking around. It wasn’t just a silly game. It was real, and Scott almost died because of them. Scott won’t be like us again, he’s experienced too much. But, when the time comes, I know that he won’t let us down.”
Four days later… at Oblivion’s Gate
“Jamie.” I turn around to see had called my name and freeze. My brother Scott is standing near the Old One’s door, his hand inches away from the lock. I feel a heavy pit in my stomach. “What the hell are you doing?” I shout, my eyes locked with his. “If you touch that lock, you will die!” He looks at me, his eyes soft. “It’s either me or the world, Jamie.” He forces a smile, but there was no happiness or joy in it. “Maybe now Matt will finally trust me…” he says softly. A tear falls down Scott’s eye as he turns his gaze back to the lock. “Goodbye brother,” he says and my heart seems to freeze. He puts his hand on the lock and turns. At first there is nothing. The whole world seems to be peacefully, utterly still. Then suddenly, there is a roaring shriek of pain coming from Scott. I watch in paralyzing horror as my brother erupts into bright, hot, flames. I match his screams as his die down, along with the flames. All that is left behind is air. He was gone. Abducted by a fiery inferno. Scott Tyler was dead. My brother. The brother that protectively took violent beatings for me when my foster paren’ts were raging. The brother who gave all the care he had to me, to the point where there was none left for himself. Since I was a child, he was the only person I could trust. The only person I knew. And now he was gone, leaving only memories.
I run madly towards where he was, tears flowing down my cheeks. The guards try to stop me, but I aggressively shake them away. The Old Ones stole my brother. They spat on him, treated him like he was a bunch of dirt, and tortured him emotionally and physically. Just so they could steal his powers. But still, my brother didn’t give up on us. Instead he sacrificed himself for us. “NO!” I scream “SCOTT!” I howl, rolling myself into a ball. Tears stream down my face, but I don’t care. The whole world somehow seems to shift, becoming darker with him not here- even if he did save us all. The tears flow faster, flooding down my face. I couldn’t stop them. “No” I whisper.
By: Monidipa Nath
August 3, 2014
The source material for this fanfiction is the tv show Once Upon a Time.
Those Moments in Between
————————————–
Emma Swan was never much of a smiler.
Sure, she would give the occasional grin or smirk, but genuine smiles were few and far between for the first 28 years of her life.
Despite that, she sat by the kitchen counter in her mother’s apartment, unable to keep one of those rare smiles off of her face. On the counter sat the leather bound storybook that belonged to her son, Henry.
Two years, finding your long lost son and family, moving into a town that’s inhabitants were actually fairy tales characters (ranging from Jiminy Cricket to Captain Hook), and multiple curses changes a person and their outlook on life.
Speaking of Captain Hook…
The smile crept its way back up her face as she stared at the book’s newest addition: a picture of her and said pirate, from their recent trip to the past via Zelena the Wicked Witch of the West’s time portal, dancing at King Midas’ ball. While the corset certainly did a number on her spleen, the dress she wore was absolutely gorgeous. Killian didn’t look too bad himself in his ‘prince’ costume. She was also pretty sure it was the first time in awhile that he wore something other than leather.
If someone had told her two years ago that she would use the word ‘handsome’ to describe Captain Hook, she would have laughed in their face.
She was shaken out reverie as her mother and father shuffled into the kitchen, the latter holding the newest addition to their family in his arms.
“I take it my baby brother kept you two up all night?” Emma asked, trying to hide her laughter by taking a sip of her hot chocolate with cinnamon. Snow White and Prince Charming looked far from fairy tale with the dark bags under their eyes.
Her father replied with a grunt worthy of a caveman before handing the baby to his wife and headed towards the coffee machine.
“Use your words, David,” her mother reprimanded. “Neal kept us up all night with his crying. He fell asleep about ten minutes ago, but our alarm woke him up again.”
Emma gave them a sympathetic look. “Welcome to paren’thood.”
“Where’s Henry?” her mother asked.
Emma’s smile dropped. “Oh. Um, he’s staying with Regina for now. He thought it would be better if she wasn’t alone after everything that happened last night…”
“Oh…”
The mention of Regina, who was Henry’s other mother through adoption, brought up an awkward silence. For the last few weeks, Regina was happier than ever, thanks to her new relationship with Robin Hood.
That is until Emma accidentally brought back his thought-to-be-dead wife from their trip to the past.
Unable to look at the reunion between Robin, Marian, and their son, Roland, Regina quickly stormed out of the diner. Henry quickly told Emma he would spend the night with her, hoping to prevent her from reverting back into the Evil Queen she once was.
Once David finally had some caffeine in his system, he decided to change the subject. “Well, Emma and I better get going to the sheriff’s station. Duty calls.” He pressed a quick kiss to his wife’s cheek. “I’ll call you later, Mary Margret.”
“Hey, why don’t you just take the day off? Both of you obviously need it,” Emma suggested.
“But-”
Emma cut him off saying, “I doubt anything will happen. Zelena’s been defeated and there’s nothing to worry about. Spend some time with your new son.”
“I guess you’re right,” he agreed, too tired to think of a counter-argument. “Call me if you need any help though.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, grabbing her keys and jacket. “Besides, how many more vengeful, power-crazy villains with a personal vendetta against someone in town could there possibly be?”
————————————–
Later that day, she would learn the answer was way too many.
————————————–
With nothing to do and no emergency calls, Emma decided to go out and patrol the streets of Storybrooke.
So far, everything had been quiet. Everything was getting back to normal once the news that Zelena had been defeated spread around. People walked about Main Street, no longer needing to fear for their lives or worry about being turned into a flying monkey.
Emma had reached The Rabbit Hole, the towns’ only bar, when she heard, “Swan.”
She recognized that accented voice. She turned around to face the one-handed pirate as a smile appeared almost instantaneously.
“Killian,” she replied. “What are you doing here? Planning to get drunk in the middle of the day?” she joked.
Emma hadn’t seen him since the incident with Regina at the diner. She suddenly remembered the last time she did see him, where they had shared multiple kisses. The mere thought of it made her blush and her knees feel a little unsteady.
He grinned. “Actually, I’ve decided to lay off the rum for awhile.”
“Really?” she said with fake incredulity.
He suddenly became quiet, almost to the point of shyness, which Emma found endearing and odd at the same time. Killian was never shy. For god’s sake, he was pirate! What happened to the man who literally oozed confidence and charm with every breath he took?
“I wanted to talk to you,” he admitted. “About last night.”
She froze.
Did he regret last night and everything that had happened between them? After all, Killian had confessed that he had given up the Jolly Roger, his beloved ship, for a way to cross realms. He had given it up so he could find her when they had been separated by Pan’s curse. Maybe he realized that he made a mistake. There was no way she was worth trading his home for.
Bracing herself, she took a deep breath. “What about last night?”
He scratched the back of his ear, a nervous tick of his that Emma had noticed awhile back.
“At the diner. When we kissed…” he hesitated. “Was it another one time thing?”
His words took a bit to process before she let out a sigh of relief.
She grabbed him by the lapels of his leather duster, pulling him closer to her. “Do you remember when I told you that I wanted to stop running? I’ve stopped running away from the fact that I’m the Saviour and that my home is here in Storybrooke with my family. I’ve stopped running away from the fact that I care about you and that I feel something that I haven’t felt in a really long time.”
He let out his own sigh of relief. “I hope you know, love, the feeling is absolutely mutual.”
Laughing, she said, “I can’t believe I thought you were going to end whatever this was between us because you regretted giving up your ship.”
“Emma. I have a new home.” His hand cupped her face and his hook lay against the small of her back.” Home is wherever you are, Swan. I’d do it again. And I don’t just mean giving up the Jolly.”
She furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”
“This. My life. Us. I wouldn’t mind going through the last 300 years again if that meant I was going to be with you, right here, right now.”
Emma’s breath caught in her throat and she swore her heart skipped a beat.
“Wait a second. 300 years?!” she exclaimed. “How?”
“One of the very few benefits of Neverland,” he replied.
“Well,” she said, giving him a once over. “You look pretty good for your age.”
“Don’t you mean devilishly handsome?” he asked, smirking.
“Sure. Oh, by the way, that kiss was definitely not a one time thing,” she said, pulling him even closer.
They were a hair’s breadth away from each other, his blue eyes looking into her green ones.
“Prove it, Swan,” he challenged.
Smiling, she replied, “I will.”
His lips had just barely brushed hers before they were interrupted by someone loudly yelling.
“GIANT SNOWMEN! RUN!” Grumpy yelled, barreling down Main Street with the six other dwarves behind him.
“Whoa, hold up. What are you talking about?” Emma asked, stopping him on the sidewalk.
“Exactly what I said! Giant snowmen, there’s at least four of them and they came outta nowhere!” he exclaimed.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s only been ten hours since the last crisis!” she exclaimed.
Killian smiled at her, already pulling his sword out of its’ sheath. “Never a dull moment in this town. Right, Swan?”
David had once told her that she couldn’t live her life waiting for the next battle. He told her that she needed to find the good moments in between the bad ones.
Looking over at Killian, she smiled, realizing it wouldn’t be too hard of a task to accomplish.
“You can say that again.”
————————————–
Echoing Long After Us
An Evangelion Fanfiction
By Beatrice Perusse
Kaworu’s one wish in that first timeline was that he could see Shinji’s face, look at Shinji instead of the metal features of the giant robot-like being that was Evangelion unit 1, but he knew that the Eva kept Shinji safe. Kaworu trusted Yui’s presence to take care of Shinji.
Kaworu could still hear Shinji’s cries ringing in his ears and feel his own head being separated from his body and his torso being crushed to pieces as Shinji tightened the Evangelion’s grip when he decided to try again.
Kaworu had not meant to love the lilan, to love Shinji. He and his siblings, his fellow angels, were meant to wish for nothing but the humanity’s destruction. Kaworu was meant to descend upon the planet Earth and tear it apart, not love it so much he abandoned his kin. But Kaworu had been created as Tabris, as the angel of free will, so for all he knew this had been part of the plan all along.
(He somehow doubted it.)
The space in between timelines was always strange. The place in between the world he had left behind and the infinite number in front of him. It was rather unhelpful, in Kaworu’s opinion, for all it revealed was that there were new realities in front of him, and not what was in them. Of course in the beginning he did not know this, and after catching his metaphorical breath, he dove straight into the next world.
(He realized later how little thought he had really put into the whole process, and found it bitterly amusing how much damage he was causing himself for a human who had only begun to consider loving him at the time.)
The second timeline was much like the first, and he began to get familiar with the sensation of being crushed into pieces. The third and fourth and tenth worlds were much the same, though Kaworu did try his best to change his actions. It seemed that no matter what he did, history repeated itself.
Perhaps, Kaworu considered, he should change the beginning.
He did not kill the cat, did not meet Shinji in the rubble, waited longer. He thought that perhaps he could resist the call of Lilith if he changed his own actions.
He could not.
Kaworu stayed in that place in between for what could have been minutes, could have been decades. Concepts such as time were abstract in that place, a fault that was paid for in the rushed moments between when Kaworu saw Shinji in each world, and when he met his inevitable demise.
I think I may have been born to meet you
His own words haunted him, though he believed them. Perhaps he was born for this. Perhaps this was some form of punishment for what he was, for what his brothers and sisters had done.
In the timelines where Kaworu had gone to school, he had felt sick when they studied Romeo and Juliet. Those characters were such fools, and he was so like them.
With something that would have been a sigh from any other creature, Kaworu looked back on the world he had just left as it began to fall into pieces, and entered the next timeline.
This one was different. Shinji had not become an Eva pilot and the world was worse off than Kaworu had ever seen it. It did not take long for things to go wrong. He had at least two weeks to treasure each moment huddled beneath a tent in a refugee camp with Shinji, sharing body heat and giving Shinji as many rations as he could get his hands on. Then the pneumonia took hold. Shinji deteriorated quickly, his delicate human form that Kaworu so loved becoming the reason for his death. Shinji’s body was simply too weak and malnourished to fight for long, and the camp was so overrun with sickness and injury that no one could spare a bed or medicine for a boy who was obviously dying. Kaworu was confused. It had never happened like this. It was always Kaworu who died first, and Shinji got to live, that was the point. If Shinji didn’t live then what was the point of it all?
He curbed his thoughts on the last night, when Shinji’s breath came raggedly and unevenly, his skin cold and clammy. Kaworu held his hand, and spoke to Shinji about pointless things for as long as he could. It was around two in the morning when Shinji’s breathing got shallower. Kaworu, not knowing what else to do, lay down next to him, curling at his side, his arm draped around Shinji’s skinny frame, trying to will warmth back into the boy next to him.
It began to snow outside, and Kaworu sang softly, a song of love and loss and triumph and cherry blossoms, until Shinji’s breath finally stopped.
Kaworu did not cry. Some part of him was proud of that fact. He brought himself up onto his knees, laid a kiss on Shinji’s cold forehead, and whispered:
“I will see you again soon.”
He rose to his feet, and walked out into the cold. He did not want to do what he was planning where Shinji’s body lay, did not want to sully Shinji’s corpse with his blood. When he reached the edge of the camp, Kaworu drew Shinji’s knife from his pocket, and jammed it into his throat.
He floated quietly between the worlds after that. Feeling more hopeless than ever before, Kaworu took hold of the warmth that was Shinji’s soul, and let it pull him into the next world.
The timelines were never the same after that. Sometimes they were Evangelion pilots, sometimes they led lives uninterrupted by impacts or angels. Sometime Kaworu never saw Shinji at all. Sometimes Shinji loved him, sometimes hated him. Sometimes Shinji died first, but usually Kaworu did. He lost count of how many worlds he had tried to save.
Kaworu treasured the worlds that had never experienced the impact or the angels. Before each death, he held in his mind the image of Shinji doing peaceful things, wearing sweaters and reading books and going for coffee and awkwardly asking out Asuka Langley. Whether Shinji loved him or not in those worlds, Kaworu was grateful that the human was closer to being happy, even if something always went wrong, even in those peaceful timelines. One of them died, or one of their friends suffered, or there was war or disease or Yui once again died when Shinji was young, and Gendo Ikari planted the roots of misery in Shinji so deep that Kaworu could not help in time.
Kaworu almost gave up once. He had tried to stop, staying in the place between the worlds as long as he could, before he was pulled into the next timeline by Shinji’s soul, and he thought perhaps he had not given everything in vain.
Finally, Kaworu reached the world where he waited. He waited until Shinji started the new impact, until Shinji was trapped inside the Eva with what was left of the original Rei Ayanami. Kaworu played along as Seele’s puppet for as long as he needed to. (There was always Seele in the worlds where Kaworu and Shinji were Eva pilots, always that group of old men lurking in the background, pulling strings and attempting to use the power of the angels and the celestial beings for their own, always attempting to end the world and find the Dead Sea Scrolls for reasons Kaworu could not really grasp. Always being unwittingly manipulated by Gendo Ikari in the background, always at the price of Shinji’s mind.)
This world was different enough that he thought perhaps this time he might be successful in bringing Shinji the happiness he desired.
Shinji was broken and scared and alone when Kaworu finally met him again. Kaworu offered what little comfort he could to a boy who had lost everything, gave answers to Shinji about when he had done as plainly as possible. He tried to love Shinji, tried to fix a world he knew he never could.
In a mess of piano notes and tears and blood,
I really was born to meet you
This world ended like so many others did. The DSS choker went off
I’m sorry
This was not the happiness you wanted and deserved
Kaworu stopped the next impact. He smiled at Shinji as kindly as he could, each tear that fell from Shinji’s eyes pierced him, though a twisted part of himself was glad someone would mourn him.
Kaworu steadied himself in between the worlds, still rocked by the feeling of choking on blood and bursting apart, still hearing Shinji’s screams.
It was time to try again.
I messed up when I posted my entry, and the formatting is not how I wanted it to be. Is it possible to delete that entry and resubmit it?
Also I don’t seem to be able to do italics
Divergent, Veronica Roth
I didn’t think the facitonless concept was visited enough. Here is my piece of exploring the world of pre-Beatrice Prior.
Tomorrow will be the day of the Aptitude test. Which, means nothing to me.
You see, when the founders of our world created the seemingly perfect factions that included everyone, they forgot to include the factionless. The ones who tried but failed to fit in and got kicked out. We’re mentioned, of course, but no one really thought us through. We were expected to just become automatic failures at everything and hopefully die out.
It wasn’t that easy. After all, everyone is human. My paren’ts fell in love despite both being failures and outcasts. My mother who attempted to stay in Dauntless and was a few numbers short. My father who switched from Amity to Erudite and didn’t manage to meet the mark on their exams. The two of them fell in love, and I was born.
I know I’m not even supposed to exist. Whoever heard of the factionless “breeding”? But it was unavoidable. Love happened regardless of the situation, and here I am.
I don’t think I’m supposed to exist. I doubt I have a chance of taking the Aptitude test with the rest of the people my age. I’m not supposed to exist, right? If the government officials noticed me, my entire family would die.
But it’s not much to worry about. No one pays attention to the factionless.
“Nicole,” I hear a clean cut voice say behind me. I spin around to be faced with a familiar face framed with blonde hair cut in a neat, reasonable and smart length. She’s not Abnegation, I think as I eye her clean and classy blue suit up and down. Erudite.
“Hello,” I say testily. “How do you know me?”
The woman laughs. Her laugh is nasty and doesn’t indicate she finds anything funny. She moves to hold out her hand but when she sees how filthy mine is, she wipes hers on her pants as if just seeing my hand has already affected hers. “I’m Jeanine Matthews. You may have heard of me?”
I frown and shrug.
She laughs. “It doesn’t matter. You are coming of age. Tomorrow, everyone of your year will take the Aptitude test. Can I expect to see you there?”
“I’m factionless,” I say dumbly.
“You don’t have to be,” she says meaningfully. “Everyone should be given a chance, right?”
“How do you even know I exist?” I say suspiciously.
“I make it my business to know everything that goes on,” she says vaguely. “So, will you be there tomorrow? Everyone deserves a chance at fitting in. Just because your paren’ts failed the system doesn’t mean you will, right?”
I look down, keeping my facial expression blank as I mull over my options. “If you knew of my existence, why wasn’t I sent to school?”
Jeanine smiles tightly at me. “I was only notified yesterday. Someone noticed you were too young to be factionless.”
I close my eyes. “That’s quite a bit to process. Do I have to go take the Aptitude test?”
Jeanine hesitates. “I think so, yes.”
“Then I have no choice. I will go.”
I walk into my testing room. Today, my mother dressed me up in the best leftover close anyone could find. I wore a white Candor shirt and black Dauntless pants, which just made me look like Candor. I could feel stares burning at my back. Even dressed better than usual and scrubbed up a bit, I still looked like a complete disaster.
Inside the room were a bunch of mirrors and an extremely self conscious Abnegation woman fiddling with some wires. In the centre of the room was a chair. Generally, it looked like a place you didn’t want to be.
“Hi,” I say nervously.
“Nicole Lancaster,” says the lady dressed in grey. “I’m Kim. Take a seat.” She gestures at the chair.
I nervously walk to the chair and sit as she instructs. She hands me a cup of liquid that I did not see coming in the room. I frown.
“Drink it,” she says softly.
I down in quickly. It tastes weird, like cough medicine that my mother found on the ground once when we had nothing else to drink.
I close my eyes and enter into a simulation.
I am in a field. It is hot. Grass that goes up to my waist whips in the warm wind, and overhead an eagle circles. In my hand is a sandwich – a typical BLT that I’ve never eaten the whole of. Eagerly I lift the sandwich to my mouth but as I do, the eagle swoops down and grabs half of it.
I shrug. I’m used to less than a full sandwich, after all.
I bring the BLT up to take another bite but the eagle swoops down once more and grabs the remainder. Now, I’m mad. Coming to the Aptitude test I had nothing to eat and frankly, I am starving. I try to run after the eagle, nearly falling in the grass. I run until I stop and think, because there is absolutely no way I can get my sandwich back.
I sit on the ground so the grass is now higher than my head, and fall into a room much like the room that the Aptitude test is taken in. Someone familiar walks up to me and holds a gun to my head. I feel my heart pounding harder and harder in my chest.
“I need to know who your paren’ts are,” says the man in a harsh tone.
“I can’t tell you,” I stumble over my words.
I hear a click as the safety of the gun is turned off. “Tell me now.”
I think frantically to make up a name. “Bob and… Jill.”
“You’re lying.” His voice is cold and direct.
“I’m not.” I reach up in a swift moment and wrestle the gun out of his hands whilst keeping the barrel pointed to neither of us. I press the barrel against his forehead only to find that he disappeared and is replaced by a lady who is hobbling around with a huge sack of groceries.
I watch as she walks.
Suddenly, she collapses to the ground under the weight of her carrier bags. I rush over to check if she’s still alive and she grabs my throat, and despite choking, I feel a flash of irritation. Who gives this woman the right to grab my throat when I am trying to help her?
On my right a needle appears labelled led “IN CASE OF DISPUTES”. I grab the needle and plunge it into the neck of the lady, who suddenly relaxes and smiles at me with a dazed expression.
I back away in horror. What have I just done?
I back right into a tree. I turn around and rub my head. A dog is chasing a child, snarling with teeth bared. I tackle the dog to the ground but when he turns to me instead I get up and run.
Suddenly I am back in my chair. I am done the Aptitude test. I had forgotten that I was only in a simulation at a couple points. It all seemed so real.
Kim looks perplexed. “That was interesting.”
“What did I get?” I ask eagerly.
“You’re factionless,” Kim says, mulling this information over.
“I didn’t get any faction?” I ask in horror. “How is that possible?”
“No, I’m just thinking out loud,” Kim explains. “You did get a result. It wasn’t factionless. I’m trying to think if maybe you being factionless is linked to your result.”
I stare at her.
She shrugs. “I used to be Erudite, okay?”
I shrug. “Take your time.” All of a sudden my mind flashes back to when my father held me for two hours as I cried into his chest when a couple of Candor and Erudite kids made fun of the way I smelled and looked. My mother, picking my up every time I got a scrape, no matter how small. My father, desperately searching for a place to sleep every time our previous spot is not an option. My mother, collecting our ration of food faithfully every day it’s offered.
“Kim,” I say decisively. “I don’t want to know my result.”
She looks up and frowns at me. “Of course you do.”
“No, I don’t,” I say. “I’m not betraying my family. I’m sticking with them. I’m not going to the choosing ceremony either, so you can’tell Jeanine Matthews that she can suck it.”
Kim sighs. “Perhaps it’s for the better.”
I nod firmly. “It is. I am proud to be factionless.”
Kim cracks a smile. “That’s ridiculous.” She gives a small laugh. “Next time we’re handing out food to you guys, come find me and I’ll give you something extra, alright?”
“I will,” I promise, hopping off the chair. “I have to go now. Nice meeting you.”
“Bye, Nicole.”
“Bye, Kim.”
Bye, factions.
The instructions were simple, have Harry asleep before Lily returned, carrying out the task, however, wasn’t. Within just half an hour Harry had broken a vase from his Aunt Petunia (in his defense, James thought it horrid and needed smashing anyway) on a toy broomstick from his godfather, Sirius and was continuing to wreak havoc. After several failed attempts to read him “The Wizard and the Hopping Pot” and “Babbity Rabbity and her Cackling Stump” James decided a better story was to be told; and what better place to look than his own childhood?
James had taken Harry to basin full of a cloudy, silvery substance. After a curious, falling sensation, the pair found themselves in another setting.
Four boys lounged near a lake: one with unruly jet black hair, another with a handsome, yet smirking face, a shabby-looking one, dressed in frayed robes and buried in a book, and a small, fragile one, with watery eyes. For some reason, they remained unfazed by the sudden presence of James and Harry.
“You know, Prongs, instead of just ogling, you’re better off saying something to her. I reckon you should start with a poem,” the shabby one said, finally looking up from his book.
“A poem, eh? I can do that,” the boy called Prongs stood up, hand over his heart, recited, “Her eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad…”
At this, the arrogant-faced boy snorted, “A poem? Rubbish. Come off it, Moony. Everyone knows charming witches is all about appearing unattainable; it draws them right to you. Mind you, it does get a bit irritating.”
As if on cue, a young witch with mousy hair nervously approached the gang, glancing back at a gaggle of giggling girls.
“S-Sirius, if you don’t mind, c-can I have a word, alone?” She asked.
Suddenly deeply infatuated with his fingernails, Sirius replied haughtily, “Anything you have to say, you can say it here.”
The witch’s cheeks coloured scarlet, “Oh, well, er, I was hoping, if you were free, maybe we could get Butterbeers at Hogsmeade tomorrow, a-at the Leaky Cauldron.”
Still examining his fingernails, Sirius answered, “Sorry, already got a date.”
“Oh. Okay. See you later,” the GIRL returned to friends, head hung with an expression of humiliation and relief.
“Yeah, bye,” Sirius said a bit too late, not looking up.
At this, Prongs raised a brow, “’Already got a date?’ And who might this lovely lady be, Padfoot?”
“If you must know,” Sirius said, mock-bashfully, “I meeting with three devilishly handsome lads I know.”
Grinning, he pulled his arm tightly around the shoulders of the watery-eyed boy who sputtered, “Sirius! Stop-”
This sent the other boys into hysterics
“Relax, Wormtail, I don’t want to go out with you, trust me,” Sirius confirmed, to a nervously chuckling Wormtail.
“Why so quiet, Moony?” Prongs suddenly asked.
“Studying for exams, here, quiz me if you want,” Moony said, handing Prongs his textbook.
Prongs groaned, “Blimey, exams, they’re coming up fast aren’t they?”
“Haven’t studied a word; I’m going to fail,” Wormtail moaned.
Sirius scanned area, “If only I had notes…” His eyes settled on a greasy-haired, sullen-faced boy, who like Moony, was studying avidly, “Ah, Snivellus.”
He and Prongs shared a smirk.
“Why don’t you just borrow mine?” Lupin asked, partially insulted, partially worried.
“My dear Prongs, where’s the fun in that?” Prongs replied.
The boys sauntered up to “Snivellus,” whose nose nearly rubbed the textbook’s print.
“Hullo, Snivellus,” Prongs said.
“What do you want, Potter?” Snivellus snapped.
“Can’t people have a polite conversation anymore? My, what has the world come to?” said Sirius.
“What’s this you’re reading about? Boggarts?” Prongs asked, snatching the textbook.
“A Boggart, Potter, is a beast, which when confronted, takes the form of your worst fear,” said Snivellus, as though speaking to a five year old.
“We know what a Boggart is, Professor,” Wormtail said coldly, “What’s yours turn into? Shampoo?” At this, the boys snickered. Wormtail delighted at their approval.
Snivellus’s lips curled, then turned to Moony, “You’re looking ill, Lupin; all that studying got you down? Werewolves are a tough subject. Or is it just that time of the month again?” He let out an uncharacteristically high laugh.
Prongs and Sirius raised their wands, quickly followed by Wormtail.
“Shut up, Snivellus,” snarled Prongs.
“James, this isn’t necessary-” Lupin started. The boys ignored him, keeping their wands suspended.
“You think you’re so great, Potter, acting like some big shot hero getting off the Quidditch pitch. But you’re just a coward, taking me on three to one,” Snivellus spat.
Unable to contain their anger any longer, James and Sirius directed their wands, “Levi-”
“Sectumsempra!” A deep gash appeared across James’s shoulder as per Snivellus’s target.
“SNAPE, POTTER, BLACK, PETTIGREW, LUPIN! IN MY OFFICE, NOW!” A stern looking woman with her hair wrapped neatly into a bun shouted.
“Never, in all my years at Hogwarts have I seen such behaviour from students,” said the woman, pacing in her office. The five boys hung their heads, afraid to make eye contact.
“You two,” she said, indicating James and Sirius, “Detention. I’m sure Filch would very much enjoy your company. Pettigrew, Lupin, I didn’t see anything from you. Take this as a warning. Out.”
Lupin and Pettigrew scuttled out the office.
“As for you,” she turned to Snape, “I will have to discuss with Professor Slughorn your punishment. Out.” Snape sulked out of the room.
The woman examined James’s wound, “Better get Madame Pomfrey to check this. Off with you.” She shooed the remaining pair out.
When they left the office, they found Lupin and Pettigrew waiting anxiously.
“You didn’t have to, mate. Look where it got you. How bad was McGonagall?” Lupin asked, sheepish.
“He got what he deserved, Remus, the oily little git. We got detention with Filch,” said Sirius.
“What are we going to do?” Pettigrew wailed.
“Calm down, Peter, it’s only detention-” James reassured him.
“We still don’t have notes for the exam!” Peter howled.
As deserved, Sirius promptly slapped the back of Peter’s head. The marauders strolled toward the Hospital Wing.
The memory ended, the cloudy atmosphere faded.
James and his son found themselves back in their home at Godric’s Hollow.
“Er, I suppose that wasn’t the best story-” James started, and then noticed his son was fast asleep. He took the closest cloth he could find: shimmery, fluid, and grey, wrapped baby Harry, set him down, and dozed off himself.
James was awoken by the affectionate hair-ruffing of his wife, Lily.
“How did you and Harry get along?” She asked.
“Fine, showed him my Pensieve.” James muttered, groggily.
“Where is he? Mummy bought him a surprise,” said Lily.
James shot up, remembering what he’d done.
“Er, don’t get angry. But I think I put him in my Invisibility Cloak,” then, noticing Lily’s murderous gaze, “but last I checked, he was in the house, I swear.”
And so began a frantic search for Harry who’d be found sleeping near the remains of the shattered vase. All was well.
It’s as I imagined it- the classic dimly lit room with a two-way mirror. I jingle my handcuffs bitterly, desperately longing for a warm cup of tea. Sitting across the table is my interrogator. His eyes are sharp, picking me apart, judging me. As if he knew me.
“So?” He says as he leans back, putting both hands flat on the table, “Why did you do it?”
I sigh tiredly, and stay silent.
He cocks his head to one side, crossing his arms, “What did he ever do to you?”
My eye twitches a little. But I don’t get angry- I don’t have any anger left. I held it all- the hatred, the fury- inside of me. Until last night.
“Not going to talk?”
I stare at him sullenly.
He shakes his head, “You know, it’s a small town. Everybody knew the little fellow. Yeah, him and his buddy- what was it?”
“Patrick,” I say hoarsely.
“Him and his buddy Patrick, they got on everybody’s nerves. But at the end of the day, they were just kidding around,” he takes his hat off, running a hand through his hair.
It’s my turn to shake my head, “No. This is his fault. All I ever wanted was to relax… He couldn’t leave me alone. He had no respect for me, for my privacy- he pushed me over the edge. You have no idea what it’s like, living next to that- that monster.”
“He’s the monster?”
I don’t hear him, “You know, officer, I’m the real victim here. He hurt me on a daily basis- I was abused by him.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“Well, I don’t know where to start! He breaks into my house every other day. He’s pushed a refrigerator on top of me- my refrigerator. He’s- he’s caused my house to collapse six times. It’s his fault I was stung by giant jellyfish-”
“Is that why you did it? ‘Cause the boy played a few dumb pranks?” He looks at me with astonishment and disgust.
Suddenly, I’m aware of how chilly it is in here. I scold myself for forgetting to wear pants again. Then I remember that after this, all I’ll ever be wearing is an orange jumpsuit. I feel a wave of despair mingled with nausea wash over me. The officer shuffles some papers as I stare at the floor.
“You worked at the Krusty Krab?”
I nod. The past tense stings, even though I hated my job.
“We spoke to your boss, Mr. Eugene H. Krabs.”
My head snaps up.
“He said he always thought you were violent. Told us you despised Mr. SquarePants, bullied him every day.”
I blink in disbelief.
“We had a little chat with Patrick last night, too. He was devastated, having lost his best friend. He kept screaming, ‘WHY? WHY SQUIDWARD?’ Did it over and over. We waited forty-five minutes.” He shook his head solemnly, “The poor boy didn’t stop.”
The officer’s phone beeped, he glanced at the screen, “Another complaint. He’s still screaming right now.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“No remorse, eh? At all?” He leaned in, “You killed a person, Squidward.”
I remain silent, eyes fixed on the floor. He sifts through another folder.
“We’ll have to go over a few details. Then off to prison with you, Mr. Tentacles.”
I shift uncomfortably.
“At approximately 9:40 yesterday night, Mr. SquarePants entered your home?”
“He was trespass-”
“You were in bed, is that right?”
“I-” I stop and nod grimly.
“In your statement, you said he took pictures of you while you were asleep, to commemorate the occasion. Your birthday. That made you angry?”
“It would make anyone angry. He keeps me up every single night. Tuesday night he was blasting music, partying with a jellyfish. A jellyfish. All night long. Then the next night, he’s hacking away with a chainsaw to make a wooden puppet. Look at me,” I widen my extremely bloodshot eyes, “I haven’t slept in years.”
The officer cringes, “Gross.”
I widen my eyes even more.
He shudders, “After you woke up and saw SpongeBob, you shouted at him to get out, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Then, he procured a cake, and wished you a happy birthday. How sweet of him…”
“It wasn’t my birthday.”
The officer ignores me, “Walking towards you, he tripped-”
“On purpose.”
“Your face was in the cake.”
“It was.”
He scribbles something in his notebook, “And then?”
“He tried to-” I grit my teeth, “-assemble the cake on top of my head, and lit the candles.”
The officer points a finger at me, “Now, Squidward, we know you’re lying there. You can’t light candles under the ocean. Everyone knows that.”
He chuckles and sips a cup of water.
“He sang to you, and presented you with a gift. What was the gift?”
“Patrick.”
“Patrick popped out of the box. And this frightened you, and you screamed.” He snorts.
I glare at him, “Yes, and I told both of them to leave.”
“And they did. But SpongeBob came back later, at 10:00. What did he do?”
“He came back to tie balloons to my arm. I… lost my temper.”
“You hit him repeatedly with your lamp.”
I gulped, “Yes.”
“When we arrived, he was already dead.”
I look away.
“Alright, that’s enough. Get up.”
TWO AND A HALF WEEKS LATER
I shuffle along in my orange jumpsuit.
“And how are you today, Squidward?” The cafeteria woman asks, scooping some mashed potatoes.
“I’m good,” I answer, smiling slightly. Quite good, I think. There isn’t tea, but at least I’ve found peace and quiet. I sigh wistfully.
THAT NIGHT
I am jolted awake by the door to my cell banging open.
“Wake up, Tentacles, you got a new roommate.”
The door slams closed and I squint in the darkness. I make out the familiar outline of a-
“Patrick?!”
The sea star steps forward.
“They put me in here because I wouldn’t stop screaming.”
Contents from CW’s Supernatural and BBC’s Doctor Who
Author: Khairun Nessa Siam
Type: One Shot, AU, SuperWho Crossover
Title: The Curse of Time and Humanity
There is a certain thrill that fills Dean’s body every time he rips off someone’s head. When the blood sprays his face and body; it feels like pleasure raining over him. The whole experience is beyond what he could have imagined. He can’t explain why, but being a demon makes him see the world with a new perspective. He isn’t just any demon, with the mark of Cain and the first blade in his hands, he feels like he is a king. Before turning into the demon he only got a taste of the power that he had, but now all of that is heightened; the pleasure doesn’t compare anything else he had ever felt in his life. This new Dean can look back on all his memories as a human with an untainted view. He can see the guilt and trauma that as a human he experienced and tolerated; now with new eyes all of the guilt, all of the pain, all the self-loathing, the self-doubt, the need to please everybody, and every single bad emotion he had ever felt was gone.
Neither man nor god, alone, could create the killer he is now; nothing on Earth could change him back as far as he knew, or cared. He liked that thought; no one could control him, he has the power to do whatever he desired; and he likes to kill, now he can, guilt free.
Searching for Crowley, the current king of hell, which of course Dean disagrees with, would have been tedious has a human, but now, it was a true hunt; every aspect as thrilling as the last, and the anticipation like drug that never failed to give him a high. Dean should be the king of hell. Nothing can kill him, nothing can break him. Most demons had already joined Dean’s allegiance by now but there are still a few that are on Crowley’s side, but every demon can be persuaded with a little friendly torture, he was doing them a favour really.
As he searches for Crowley, he comes across demons; sometimes they are on the same search as dean and others are wondering around, trying to find a place to settle. Either way, most of them didn’t fight Dean’s overwhelming power. Most.
Dean often came across abandoned houses or buildings, filled with demons, all hiding from the world, and every once in a while Dean spared them. And today, he was feeling particularly generous. Kicking the door open he calls out into an open factory loading dock
.“Look at you sons of bitches. Hiding away just for me?.” Dean laughs are licks his lips. “I do fancy a rat race!” Dean scoffs looking around. “Listen you all can save yourself by either telling me where Crowley is, or by joining me and then telling me where Crowley is.” One young man steps out from behind a truck.
“What if we don’t do either?” the man’s voice is steady, Dean laughs.
“See, I was hoping you would say that.” He says, as his green eyes are replaced by the black. “My name is Dean Winchester, maybe some of you sorry pathetic Crowley-trash-demons are familiar with the name? Hmmm?” Dean cocks his head and looks around the room; a few others come out into the light. “That’s what I though! Now let’s see a raise of hands; who here wants to join me, or who wants to die? Raise your hand if you don’t favour death too much and feel like following a real leader!” There is a long pause, then a woman followed by a few children by her hip raise their hands, then slowly most of the group follow.
Dean smiles again and nods. “That’s what I thought. Now those of you who still have their hands down, come forward and let me tell you why that’s a mistake.” Dean waves his hand for them to come forward, and then a wild smile crosses his face and he lunges forward, but right before his feet left from the ground he hears a voice.
“Hello, Dean.” Turning around slowly he replies.
“Haven’t heard that phrase in a long time.” When he finally looks up, with a confused look he squints at the man.
“C’mon Dean, I know you remember me.” The man said slowly starting to pace the room. The Man was wearing a long brown coat with a blue suit beneath. His brown hair spiked up at the front, and he wears black framed reading glasses. The confusion on Dean’s face softens.
Dean moved as if he was about to say something, but stopped himself. Then tried to say some else and again, stopped himself. Questions swirling his mind, he wasn’t sure what to say.
“Why are you here now? After all these years” Dean trails off. He had more to say but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything more. Just waited for him to speak. He tried to maintain his authority towards the demons behind him.
“Dean, Dean, Dean” he said. Like how he often says someone’s name in threes. “My boy what happened to you?” The man said, crossing his arms.
“Life happened to me, Doctor. I grew up. Became a man of power.” he says grinning, his eyes changing to the demon black.
“I am looking at you, and what I see is not a man with power. What I see is not a man at all. I have seen many monsters in my lifetime, but you Dean, you are something else.” he says looking around the room.
“Doctor, I would be careful if I were you.” he says.
“Do you remember the first time we met. You were 11 years old, and were holding a shotgun at me. Telling me to be careful or you would shoot me.” the Doctor said with a bit of a smirk.
“Yeah I do, then you somehow convinced me to put it down. You said you didn’t like guns, neither did I back then.” Dean pulls a gun from his holster. “Well, now I do. But I also remember that blue box of yours, and your promises to come take Sammy and me away with you.” Dean said the last part as his voice cracked. “But did you?” Dean laughed. “Never.”
“Oh Dean. I won’t make up excuses for why I didn’t come, but after our last visit. I lost someone in my life, and I couldn’t tell her what I needed to. I guess I thought with you, I didn’t need to say anything. I thought you understood” The Doctor said.
“Oh please, I know why you left me behind; you saw potential in me, to not become the monster you are. To love, and keep love. To make a family and save families, and for them to remember me as someone other than the man in a box, because without your box, you are nothing. Unlike me.”
“I saw potential for you to be a hero.” The Doctor coaxed.
“Don’t talk about being the hero!” Dean scoffed. .
“I am sorry Dean, I am so sorry” The doctor said looking down.
“Picked a great time to be sorry Time Lord, Look at me. Look at me, do I really look like I need pity?” he yelled forcing the Doctor to look up. Dean fell to his knees, feeling all the emotions he had shut off since he became a demon bubbling up.
“It’s tragic really, couldn’t die as a hero so you stayed alive long enough to see yourself become the villain.” The Doctor said. “Couldn’t be one, so you became the other; your own enemy.” The Doctor said pityingly.
“I’d rather be a thriving villain than a dead hero!” Dean’s voice was strong.
“We both know that’s not true, Dean.” The Doctor sighed. “You must find your humanity! Find Sam and Castiel! Embrace who you were!”
“If I find them I will only cause them sadness and pain, they’re better off without me, they always have been!” Dean nearly yelled.
“Love is pain, but not all pain is bad! Maybe the darkness you’ve become is just an expression of your sadness?” The Doctor stands and looks behind Dean’s collapsed shoulders. The building is empty.
“That sounds stupid, but most of what you say sounds stupid to me!” Dean said hopelessly.
“Come on Dean Winchester! One last ride in the TARDIS to find your friends?” The Doctor said, life returning to his voice.
“Yeah… I have no idea what all of that means.” Dean said.
“I’ll explain on the way, now let’s run” The Doctor said with a smile as dashed towards the blue box, and for the first time in a while, Dean felt something, and it wasn’t murderous rage, and the need for revenge. It was dare he say it hope and optimism, the kind he felt when he last saw the mysterious man with the blue box as a child. The kind that will hopefully rescue him.
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I submitted my story but its not showing
oh sorry about that I do see it , I just skipped over it, ignore that previous comment