#I think its really gonna hit me that they made a former crack ship canon

[orionsangel86]

Suddenly remembering the best and funniest Good Omens fanfiction I ever read which was set at a mutual Heaven and Hell "work party" and all the demons had bets to see who could bed an angel by the end of the night. It was hilarious and of course you read it presuming that Crowley will win but be gentlemanly enough to not claim the prize - which of course is what happens, but at the last minute it hits you around the face by revealling that Beelzebub hooked up with Gabriel

and well.

I think I'm gonna go reread that fic...

[akampana]

im the anon who asked for obscure artoria ships - tysm for answering! i knew you liked kojiro/artoria from early tpof, but ozymandias/artoria was unexpected! ozytoria sounds interesting from the way you describe it - ive always sort of seen it as an almost-giltoria dynamic minus the hostility and antagonism. i think that modern au idea sounds incredibly sweet 😭 honestly i like the idea of them but there is virtually no fancontent OR canon content of them (besides that one lartoria comment in ozy's interlude?) so its a half-built ship for me as of now. and yes, please talk about kojiro/artoria for the ship game! i'd love to see more of your thoughts on them. on nobu/artoria - YES nobu is incredibly beautiful its crazyyy. i got into shipping them because of mastoria/nobu in koha-ace, interactions in fgo and a user's thoughts on them here on tumblr (you can find them if you search up nobutoria).

Hi, @glowingarchive! good to see you in the inbox. :)

Oh, no way, really? Thought I was being subtle with Kojirou apparently not XD. And your thoughts on Ozy and Arturia, I totally agree. If you want, I made art for them a while ago, but didn't end up posting it.

*cracks knuckles* Alright, let's go.

Kojirou Sasaki X Arturia Pendragon - SHIP IT

What made you ship it?

This is gonna sound strange, but do hear me out.

My love for this ship evolved from the first time it caught my attention, but to be completely honest it all started with another ship: Diarturia.

After re-watching and re-reading FZ, FSN, and UBW, something kept coming up for me. We all know FZ is an incredible prequel sequel, created with stunning precision to fit the already existing narrative, which is why, even when consuming the series as a whole based on the timeline of events, Arturia's character still makes sense.

Their expert craftmanship made the fact that the 5th HGW is Saber's second attempt a lot clearer. Why? because it brings to the table a theme that was already there and yet not too fleshed out:

Deja vu. Or, in Saber's case, a double deja vu.

For example, this line:

Before Zero, it only means 'oh cool so she's fought spearmen before.' but after Zero, you finally know exactly who she's talking about.

But why do I say it's a double deja vu for her?

Let's begin with the obvious one. The parallels between Cú and Diarmuid are pretty clear. Like you just know Zero Lancer's character was patterned after the existing Lancer, but given another purpose. There are gifsets all over Tumblr that illustrate their similarity too.

BUT Cú and Arturia (ooh it kills me to say this) only just fall short of the borderline flirtatious "I wanna have a glorious fight to the death with you because you're worthy" energy. Furthermore, they meet only briefly.

So where did they get that?

Kojirou bloody Sasaki

More below the cut.

It's parallel time. (there are a few more but hnggg tumblr limits)

THEY PROTECC. THEY ATTAC. BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY THEY WANNA FIGHT HER BACK.

No, but seriously. I don't think this is a coincidence. Diarmuid must have been some sort of amalgamation of Kojirou and Cú, the best of both. And that is also why the previous deja vu point hits harder.

Honestly, when that realization came, I was totally not expecting it. I was supposed to be looking for Diarturia crumbs and instead I found myself another whole-ass cookie. And one that unjustly has barely anything in the fandom, even if we have more straightforward lines like this:

Which is, by the way, one of the answers to the next question.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

So, now that you know how I got into shipping this, unorthodox as it seems, I think it's time to move past the parallels and into more solid ground.

Unlike other relationships that are more ambiguous and rely on potential, Kojirou's attraction to her is so in your face, it's refreshing.

Their banter is *chef's kiss*

It's only overshadowed because he so quickly became a gag servant, and ofc because the focus of the anime was Shirou. (Why did they do him like that though, he's actually so cool??? I mean, did Saber truly even beat him?? like???)

Saber comments on his skill with the sword, going so far as to say he outclasses him in swordsmanship. bruh, you can't take that lightly

They both see each other as worthy opponents. She literally tells him he's worthy of her full attention.

Kojirou sees her as the fulfillment of his wish, and Saber bloody actually gets to grant him the fight of his 'life' (FSN and UBW, not HF ;n;) when she couldn't do the same for a certain former rival. She even promises their fight's resolution because it is so important to her to see it through (UBW).

Kojirou really wants that fight, and fairly, without interruption. Which is why in FSN he goes as far as to stop the fight before Rider can spy on Saber's sword. And then later on, literally tells Shirou and Rin he doesn't give a shit about them, he just wants to fight Saber.

When he calls her out on holding back, especially since they're both running out of time, she apologizes and reveals Excalibur so they can fully face each other at full strength. UGH THE CHEMISTRY HGNGNGNGNGN. Also, since he knows this is their last fight, he's giving off "look at me, focus on me, don't think about anything else" vibes.

Also, man, Kojirou Sasaki really be out here serving up blatant eye smex every time they share the screen I swear to god.

Like let me give you a line from UBW 23, 19:08, right after Assassin notices she's damaged his katana

Arturia: Our positions...Assassin...are you... (that's what the subs say but Saber says "kisama" so I read it as "you bastard")

Kojirou, smirking: Is it wise to pull your blows? In this position, I could send you flying.

*Kojirou steps forward pressuring their locked swords and causing her to shuffle back a bit*

Arturia: Is that why you deliberately entered my range?

Look, Sasaki, we all see what you're doing, ya ain't slick.

Taken out of context and heck even *in* context that's sexual tension right there.

You better bet if he had the chance he'd be sticking that long-ass sword in-

Is there an unpopular opinion you have about your ship?

It's...baffling how unknown this ship is like...look at all that material. I mean of course it's going to be trounced in popularity by Shirou x Saber, GilArt, and Diarturia , but it should at least have accumulated enough of a following like Cuturia, for example.

Thank you for the ask! Hope you enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed constructing this. :) feel free to share to gain more fans mwahahahahah join the dark side we have cookiessss

[itwillbeall-dwight]

amicability

adam francis/rin yamaoka | the spirit; canon typical violence warning; 3488 words

a/n: i don't know how I'm gonna format these kinda posts on here, since i know that Tumblr really loves to suppress tags and i haven’t formatted a full fic in a post in literal years, so if this looks a bit wonky, i apologise. anyways, hi i bring the rinadam goods that we as a community all love and deserve. this man has a ghost wife thank you very much. ALSO if anyone ever wants to suggest fics for me (more rinadam, or maybe even for some of my other ships if you care to ask, wink wink), feel free! my askbox is open.

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs! 

Preview: Looking up, he saw the mangled form of the Spirit staring down at him, having found him once more, her weapon drawn. Her looming presence over him made him sick... his eyes fell on the hatch by her feet. As he crawled closer to it, she was going to close it, watch the hope drain from his face and relish in it before slamming his shoulder through a hook and feeding him to the master she served so diligently, with all her rage and hatred.

The third and final scream echoed throughout the empty temple, as the former teacher pressed his back against the cold wall, clutching his side where warm blood stained his clothes and his hands. The soft rumbling of the generator beside him brought him some form of comfort, but not much - now Adam was in this trial alone, injured, with a very angry Spirit ready to sniff him out and strike him down, as she had done with the rest of his friends.

With his heart beating loud in his ears, Adam kept himself low to the ground, suppressing winces and groans of pain as best he could as he climbed out of the temple’s lower floor, and to the stairs outside. He pressed a hand against the wall for support, grabbing it hard to pull himself to his full height. He still ended up slumped over due to his injuries. He could see the gate from here... and no Spirit. Gritting his teeth and gripping his side, he took that as his cue to get going, quickly stepping down the temple’s stairs and stumbling on the damp earth beneath his feet, where the constant, miserable drizzle of rain left the ground of mud and leaves slick and dangerous. He took his time, but not too much, crouching around a wall and practically crawling around it, pressing his shoulder against the wood of it for support. The gate was in sight now. Adam took a moment to gather his breath, swallowing his inhibitions as he rose to his feet, stumbling towards the gate and reaching out to grab at the handle—

A loud scream from nearby made his head snap up, looking at the petite yet fierce form of the Spirit some distance away. She manifested her blade into her hand and screamed again, the fingers on her free hand almost snapping into a claw-like motion before she took off into a rage-fueled sprint, running for him. Slipping and stumbling for a moment on the wet forest floor beneath him, adrenaline began to kick in as Adam ran as fast as he could away from her. He heard the slashes of her blade, feeling the wind against his back from each slice as she got closer and closer, the familiar and trademark snapping and shattering coming from her twitching form echoing in his ears - the noise had haunted him the entire trial. 

She gave another ear-piercing scream as he vaulted over the wall, barely missing him again and hitting the edge of the window instead. His fingers slipped a little on the slick, mossy stone and he took a slight stumble on the other side, but he still carried on, running forward and ducking around another wall. His chest was heaving, a tight, twisting pain from his open wounds and running so far, pressing his back against the cold wall, as if that would help. There was next to no time to catch his breath, though, hearing that same damn cracking of the Spirits movements getting closer and closer, sniffing him out like a bloodhound. He looked around for a moment, the chipped red paint of the locker beside him catching his eye quickly - now this wasn’t a hard choice, limping towards the locker and quickly shutting the door - this was a last ditch effort or bust.

Watching with wide eyes, Adam saw through the small slits in the locker as she reached the wall where he once had been, beginning to pace back and forth in search of her final sacrifice. He began gripping harder to his side in a tense impulse and cursing himself as a surge of pain coursed through him. He listened to her strained, tired breaths, the way her limbs shifted and moved with each turn she made - for a moment, it was almost as if they locked eyes as she stared right at the locker, making his breath catch in his throat. But the Spirit did nothing further, grunting in frustration as she looked away, bare feet hitting the dirt as she went to look elsewhere. The teacher let out a quiet, shaky sigh, releasing the breath he had been holding and pressing his forehead against the locker door, before looking up again to check if the coast was clear.

And that’s when he saw it.

Right in front of him, as if luck itself had reached down and placed it there - a rusted, metal hatch, shadows gathering at its mouth as if they were reaching up and trying to grab a slice of heaven. His heart began beating faster just as he’d begun to calm down - was this it, could he have a chance, against all odds? Allowing himself to shakily laugh, Adam let go of the locker’s door handle and slowly pushed it open, careful to avoid any creaks the old hinges may have let out, stepping out with one foot first - pausing to check for noise - and then the other-

Sudden pain surged through his ankle as he pressed weight onto it, and without thinking Adam stumbled forwards, losing his footing rather quickly on the dirt and slipping onto his back, the wind being knocked out of him and leaving him gasping for air for a moment.  He rolled onto his side, the light drizzle of rain hitting his face now, as if to mock him as he lay there for a moment, trying to steady his breathing to stop himself from making any noise. He must have sprained his ankle in the chase - he wouldn’t have noticed in the rush, with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, keeping him alive. Gritting his teeth, Adam looked back up at the hatch, only a short distance away now. His only thought was to get to it. Get out before the Spirit could find him again. Moving his hand from his injured side, he made no effort to get up in his desperation, instead dragging himself across the mud, listening to the ambience from the hatch’s shadows and the way the rain hit the open, metal cover, as he got closer and closer.

And that’s when he heard it again. Light footsteps and the snapping of glass. Adam cursed himself, knowing it was too lucky to be more than an illusion of an escape, and anything else but a sick trick.

Looking up, he saw the mangled form of the Spirit staring down at him, having found him once more, her weapon drawn. Her looming presence over him made him sick... his eyes fell on the hatch by her feet. As he crawled closer to it, she was going to close it, watch the hope drain from his face and relish in it before slamming his shoulder through a hook and feeding him to the master she served so diligently, with all her rage and hatred.

“You... you won.” There was defeat in his voice - he knew there was no way, as he bled out on the wet floor of the forest just outside some accursed temple. He’d wake up by the campfire and start this all over again anyways, what did it matter? Adam’s head fell, expecting to hear the slam of metal, followed by the way the girl so terrible crackled and snapped, like broken glass, with every movement she made. But there was nothing.

All she gave him was a small noise - was that a whimper? - of... almost pity. He looked up at her again now; as she stared down at him with a... softer expression. The rage within her had subsided, if only momentarily, leaving her face soft and solemn as she gazed down at him. The light cracking of her movements and the shifting of her enfeebled limbs was the loudest of the noises she made, though from this distance he could hear her laboured, struggling breaths. 

“W...what are you...?” He wasn’t sure if she was sizing up her kill, or simply waiting for him to bleed out as she stared him down, but in a blood loss-induced delirium, Adam would swear up and down she looked... sad. The blade in her hand blinked away, from the serrated blade to its wrapped hilt, with a flick of a loose, pale wrist, leaving her stood there for a moment, arms at her side.

“...Free...” It was a struggle for her to speak, but the kanji she spoke almost took him by surprise - of course, looking at her this close, she was clearly of Asian descent, so the Japanese that came from her wasn’t the surprise he was taken aback by. It was moreso that he could still remember some himself to translate it, given how long he’d existed within the torturous realm by now.

Before he could ask her to elaborate, the Spirit turned her back on him, and slowly began shuffling away, her bare feet leaving a disgusting mud trail underneath her... leaving Adam alone to crawl to the hatch, and fall into an abyss of safety. 

~

Coming back around at the campfire, there was a loud pounding in his head and a throbbing in his side, being prodded at and touched. A wet surface touched against it, leaving him to wince at the sting of the antiseptic.

“Hey, hey, it’s OK, you’re safe, Mr. Francis.” Claudette’s voice remained calm above him, as she placed a hand under his head where a log had once been, leaving Adam to open his eyes and look up at her.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“Hey, no. You made it out, and that’s more than enough.” She smiled softly, always ready to put anyone’s anxieties at ease, going back to the med kit by her side for a moment. Adam remembered seeing her at the beginning of the trial; she was the first to be sacrificed on the hook. And yet, she didn’t hold any grudges - she never did. Claudette looked up again, as a shadow was cast over them, kneeling down. “Oh, Ace, give me a hand?”

There was a quiet grumble, as Adam shifted his gaze to look at the gambler who was taking the gauze from Claudette. He’d been the second sacrifice in the trial - if there was one thing that Ace was good at, it was being a distraction and a runaround. With his sunglasses falling down his nose from looking down, Adam could see him look up at him, their eyes locking. “No apologies for me, eh?”

“...You did great, Visconti. Sorry-”

“Ah, no need to apologize- selfless hero, I am, don’t you know.” He waved an arm of dismissal before the teacher could even finish his sentence, satisfied enough to get him to grin in his trademark, punchable-face way, passing the roll of gauze back to Claudette again, making Adam roll his eyes and laugh, though only momentarily, sucking air in again from his open wound.

That only left Kate, the last member of the trial, to be seen. Claudette said she was talking to Dwight about something, last time she’d seen them - probably going on another patrol of the fog, as was customary after every trial. They’d been working on the generator in the lower floor of the temple together, but she’d left him there to run the Spirit around again, just to make sure they got it up to speed - ‘gotta take every window of opportunity with open arms’, she’d said, in her gentle Southern drawl, with her usual warm smile for comfort. And he had been comforted, up until he heard her screams of pain from across the complex, just as he connected the wires and brought that final generator to life.

It didn’t take long for him to be patched up, enough to let him sit up, at the very least. He exchanged a few more words with both Ace and Claudette, the former going off to bother the old soldier Bill as soon as he spotted him, and the latter having to stop yet another fight between David and Meg that had become customary to the campfire as of recently. After being given an apologetic look by the botanist before she stood to her feet (her polite pleading contrasting to Detective Tapp who followed in her wake, his tone of voice commanding and his grip firm as pushed the two hot-headed young individuals away from each other), Adam found himself restless, sighing to himself as he looked around, the horizon around them obscured by fog and trees, just as it always had been. For some reason, though, he now felt eyes in the back of his head from the fog, something watching him from afar… it made his skin crawl. He thought back for a moment to the trial, and the way the Spirit stared down at him on the floor… and how similar this paranoid feeling made him feel. Gripping onto the log he sat by with one hand, and holding onto his injured side with the other, Adam pushed himself to his feet, and turned back to the wide outstretch of forest, before slowly - and against any better judgement he had - walking into the clearing.

That wasn’t any understatement, either - from what little they knew of the realm they were all residing in, going out there alone was almost guaranteed to get you hurt, or perhaps even killed, if that was even still possible. Wails and scraping metal had been heard through the trees, and it had been hypothesised that the killers who stalked their paths in every trial were occupying the very same woods, just outside of their own safe haven at the campfire. Of course, this paranoid drivel from Dwight had been mocked by some, but being out here alone, now Adam could understand. There was no wind, and yet, some of the leaves still moved, quiet whispers through the scenery around him bringing him no form of comfort. He gave a hard swallow, choosing to push through and continue - what was he hoping to find here, exactly? Had he hit his head in that trial, unknown to him, making him act out irrationally and possibly run into the face of danger? 

That same feeling of a  burning gaze came back twofold, even closer this time, causing Adam to bring his head up and look around. Among the same, silent trees, and the rolling fog in the distance, the gentle whispers (being the only noise made, he now noted - just how far had he wandered out here?) focused onto one sad, familiar form. A floating hand supported her against the tree she stood close to, watching him with her eyes of bright white voids. On instinct, he took a couple of steps away. She didn’t move. And once again, just like the trial before them, time seemed to almost slow in the silence that followed, the light shifting and crackling coming from the Spirit being the only thing to cut it. At least initially.

Adam watched as she moved again, opening her mouth to take a breath, before she spoke - her voice was strained from screaming, as often as she did in the trials. “You are… safe.”

He paused. “I… yes. Thanks to you.”

She seemed to smile slightly at that… strangely enough, it fit her face well, he noted to himself. “I… saved you.”

“...By letting me leave, yes.”

The Spirit stopped for a moment, looking down at her hand that had remained at her side until now, observing the large shard of glass pierced into her flesh. “You are… lost. Not safe here.”

“I-I am, yes. Are your… friends… nearby?”

“Yes.”

He swallowed hard, once again looking around in the open forest and fog that had surrounded the two of them. As he seemed to look around on alert, she continued.

“But it’s not… them. They are… bad people, but now, they are calm. It’s… this.” She lifted a hand to gesture all around herself, making him raise an eyebrow.

“The forest?”

“The fog,” she corrected, pausing to take a breath - from this interaction, it was plain to see that she wasn’t used to speaking so calmly, or perhaps even speaking at all. “Is hungry.”

“What?”

She looked at his confused face, shaking her head. “Not enough time. You… need to go back. I can... help you. If you would like.”

Adam watched as The Spirit held out her hand - for a moment holding out the wrong one, where glass remained and dried blood stained her palm, before pulling it back again - for him to take. He looked down at it, pondering for a moment what to do, before, against his better judgement, he extended his arm, and took her offer.

Her hand was so cold and dead against his skin, enough to make him jolt a little on contact, surprising the Spirit just as much as he recoiled away slightly. Adam let out a nervous laugh, unsure how long the rage he had seen her front more often than not would be subsided, before taking her cold hand once more. Her long, slender fingers curled around his hand, and, after seeming to gaze at the sky for a moment or two, she began to lead him through the trees that all looked the same, along a path that had not been walked. For a moment, Adam considered she was simply leading him away to kill him - perhaps to her fellow killers to let them join in on the fun. But as he was led along, looking at the softness of her features and the sadness in her eyes… he was almost sure that, right now at least, she wasn’t capable of such rancour.

They walked on and on through the trees, not a word between them, with Adam focusing on the sounds of broken glass that followed her as she walked, staring down at their conjoined hands while remaining aware of his surroundings enough to move around the fauna around them. The path seemed endless, but being lost in his thoughts meant that perhaps his sense of time became warped.

“What’s your name?”

The question from the girl came suddenly, cutting through the silence with her quiet voice, enough to make him look up and answer without thinking - as if he was talking to a friendly stranger, and not someone who very easily could - and had done so in the past - end his life. “...Adam.”

“Adam…” she repeated, not looking back at him. “Your name… is nice.”

He paused. “Do you… have a name?”

There wasn’t a response for a second or two, as she seemed to ponder the question. “I was… Rin.”

The notion of ‘was’ troubled him, combined with the need to actively think about the question. He disregarded it for the moment, as he replied; “Your name is nice as well.”

From this angle just behind her, he could swear that she smiled sadly. Adam chose not to press it further, continuing with another question - this may well have been the only chance to ask it, after all. A form of closure for himself, and perhaps information for his friends.

“You could have easily killed me, by the hatch. Why didn’t you?”

Her sad smile fell, face blank. “I… I don’t know. It’s odd… I think… we were similar, when you were like that.”

“Similar? What do you mean?”

The Spirit - Rin - shook her head now, dismissing the conversation, to which Adam complied, not wanting to bring forth the rage that she was known for among the people she and her ilk tormented. But it did not stop himself from thinking; about the person that Rin had once been, and how similar they really had to have been, in that moment. He thought about this as no more words were said.

When the light sound of idle chatter in the distance became noticeable, he looked up in its direction and pulled his hand away, enough to make the Spirit stop and look up at him. Adam listened to the white noise for a moment, never more glad to hear it, before looking back to what he once considered to be a threat.

“I… do not understand what you’re doing, but… thank you.”

Her smile was weak and strained, taking in air to prepare herself to speak again. “I cannot… follow. Be safe.” Rin looked up at him with her blank, sad looking eyes again, before passing by him again, no wind in particular following after her, some of her long hair brushing against his neck and face as she paused.

Adam watched her leave, watched her be taken into the fog that had seemed to follow them, thinking back to her warnings of her fellow killers not being the biggest danger in this realm - at least, not right now.

A loud, piercing, familiar screaming (not angry though - it was pained, straining) some distance away prompted him to swiftly return to the campfire now, as the fog slowly continued to roll in. 

[blastingxff]

Fate that Binds 15

This part: Everything goes from bad to worse. Also known as the writer is crap with canon and sort of apologizes. (FYI: This fic actually isn’t crack like please proceed with caution. And yes I am aware this tells you nothing about the part in question.)

first part // previous part // next part Series: Pokemon Characters: Jessie, James, Meowth, Pikachu, Ash, Brock, May, Max, Jessebelle Ships: hints of rocketshipping if you read it that way, mostly just friendshipping though Summary: It had been a throwaway wish, something made out of the frustration of the moment- it wasn’t actually supposed to happen. But the magic of a well haunted by a pokemon’s spirit ended up altering reality. Now, Jessie, James, and Meowth aren’t in Team Rocket. They don’t even know each other. And it’s created far darker a world for the TRio than Ash could have ever imagined, and now he and his friends want nothing more than to change things back to how they were. Genre: Friendship, hurt/comfort, so much angst, all the angst, drama, butchered canon, Words: 1,526 / part 15 out of 16 Trigger Warnings (this part): injuries, violence, death Notes: This popped into my head and didn’t get out until I wrote it down. It’s 16 chapters, and entirely written already in about three days. So that will explain a helluvalot. Like the bus-sized plotholes. I just wanted to be mean to my favorite characters, geeze, is that so bad? XP Also can be read on Ao3.

Chapter 15

“Pikachu! Thunderbolt!”

Ash had one thing in mind: Free Jessie. The binds around her body were too tight, she was struggling to breathe- and the powder around her was only proving to make her struggle harder. Stun spore? No… it’s the wrong color….

He knew what the attack had been.

He wished he didn’t.

Pikachu’s thunderbolt was aimed at the grass pokémon squeezing the remaining life from Jessie. The vines went slack as the pokémon’s attention was diverted to dealing with the electricity now surging through its body. James lunged for her through the window, catching the young woman before she could collapse out of reach before pulling her to relative safety, his arms catching on the broken glass- cutting lightly through his suit and into his skin.

An icy feeling surged through Ash when he saw her condition.

“Oh no… Jessie…” Brock’s voice told Ash he had caught up. May and Max probably had as well then. Ash’s throat was dry as he tried to find a suitable response. The woman was on her knees, pale, blood coming from her wounds and from her nose. Her face was flushed with fever. Breathing slow and labored, the poison was working quickly.

She worked to stand on her own anyway. Her eyes went to the twerps, “Thanks for the save,” and she smiled. A weak, trembling smile. Without drawing attention to her state she called to James, “Come on, we gotta get out of here.”

And she was off. Pushing much harder than what would be good for her body. Meowth followed suit. Behind them, James watched for a moment- anxious, worried, but Jessebelle’s voice lit a fire beneath his feet.

“Wait until I get you in my arms again, Sweetheart!”

“Guys! You too!” Ash heard coming from James. The young trainer glanced back at Jessebelle who was, wedding dress and all, working on getting herself out of the building.  James was slowing down, worry etched onto his forehead, “Hurry up!”

Team Rocket, or, well, the former Team Rocket were already a distance across the graveyard. Jessebelle was already preparing to catch up. And then Ash knew what he needed to do. He looked to his friends, “You guys go after them, Pikachu and I will buy some time.”

He realized soon he was not alone, Combusken materializing beside Pikachu as Jessebelle and her Vileplume steadied themselves, ready to give chase. May’s anger filled glare caught his eyes and sent a shiver down his spine. When was the last time he had seen her that furious? Had she ever been that furious around him before? “How dare she.” The words were subtle, May was shaking with clenched fists. “Combusken, use fire spin!”

* * *

Jessie wasn’t entirely sure what she was hoping for as her feet carried her in the one direction on her mind. The well. There had to be some trick to it. She was weakening as the proverbial clock ticked. She had to try again. But as she struggled through the thick bushes, she found herself tripping over her own feet, hitting the ground hard right in front of the small, haunted piece of scenery.

“Jessica!” she heard her name in the voice of one of the few permitted to use it, but barely registered the word as she struggled to get up. A push brought potential that was quickly diminished as her cheek scratched against the small pebbles on the ground. Dammit when did I become so weak? She couldn’t even fight as she felt herself pulled into a man’s arms. Gentle fingers brushed away the stray strands of hair that had gotten into her eyes.

She noticed red on his white suit.

“James, you’re bleeding,” she whispered. It felt like there was a gateway in her throat that was being closed slowly. She was vaguely aware of Meowth’s presence, but the haze surrounding her vision kept her from confirmation.

“Jess, don’t worry about that, just- just hang on. I’m sure the twerps have an antidote, or something,” he swallowed hard, struggling with the tears that were forming. This… this horrible end to their lives together. It was hurting, so much. Why? Why did it feel like a part of his soul was being torn away from him? How long had he known her? A few days? “Come on Jessie, we gotta stay together, you know that, you told me!”

“Sorry,” her lips moved, only a quiet voice came out. She shifted into him as much as her body would allow, seeking the comfort of a kind human’s warmth that she had been denied for the entirety of her life, “We might not have had long together but…” the imagined gate in her throat was closing. She could barely gather enough breath to speak, but this took precedence over a few more seconds of life, “but I’m so glad I met you. If even for a little. It was almost like I had best friends… and… a soulmate maybe? For a few days, at least.”

“Come on, don’t talk like that, we’re destined to be together- remember? This is fate, we’re supposed to- you said that! What about Meowth huh? How can you leave him? He’s not gonna find any other humans to trust!”

Meowth’s paws were in front of his mouth. The fur around his eyes was damp. She could tell he wanted to say something. But he was trembling, speaking human must be difficult enough without emotions stalling the words. Did the cat pokemon really care about her that much?

The silence was a reminder that that time was quickly slipping.

Jessie grinned, her eyes were getting heavy. She couldn’t move her head to shift her gaze back to James, but she hoped her words were taken to heart by both. Her voice was trembling from the stress of her fight for just a little longer, “I’ll miss you.”

Her eyes closed. The last thing she could recall hearing was a shattered yell muffled by death, “Jessica!”

* * *

This isn’t what I wanted

When he came across the scene, it was by far the worst case scenario.

James was doubled over, clinging tightly to a young woman’s limp body. In bubbled cries he was repeating her name over, and over, and over again. Meowth struggling to provide some comfort despite his own grief.

A glance to his companions made him suspect they were all thinking one thing. This wish.

It killed her.

That was all he could think about. The thought manifested itself into a lead ball that he felt dragged down to the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was misplaced, that forming, compacting guilt that locked onto his heart. But his eyes kept returning to Jessie’s still hand.

I killed her.

James finally realized Ash and his friends had arrived. The former enemy’s words were laced with a tone nothing like the trainer had ever heard before. Shattered. Torn. Broken. A distraught voice that only added weight pleaded, “You said there’s an alternate universe for us! Take us there! Please! I want to go back!”

His focus went to the well, “You!” he was increasing in volume and increasing in desperation. High, strained demands left his trembling lips, “You took my favorite bottle cap! Don’t… don’t take that and her! Give them back! Both of them!”

Ash swallowed back tears but they surged forth anyway as James’ desperate eyes locked mercilessly in vain onto the dormant well. Anger, fury, and anguish engulfing the man in a way Ash wished he never had to witness.

“I want to go back! Please! I don’t want to live this life... I can’t live this life... DON’T MAKE ME LIVE WITHOUT HER!”

Despite his struggle to hold onto his rage, it began to vanish with his echos. In its place came broken sobs, arms clinging tight to the young woman Ash had known for longer than she had known him. He was aware of May’s trembling body beside him as she held onto her little brother. Brock was silent, unreadable. Was he in as much pain as Ash? Pikachu seemed to notice the tears rolling down his trainer’s cheeks, guilt, anger, frustration… Pikachu leaned into Ash, nuzzling his cheek. But Ash could only stare at the three who had caused him so much grief on his journey. The three that had been there for everything so far. The three that had proved themselves and then disproved themselves, provided a helping hand or an annoying delay.

And now they were broken. Torn apart. The intelligent, chatty, cheeky meowth was curled up with both a broken tail and gaze. The man who always held a rose and a confident stance was stuck in a shaking cycle, muttering on repeat as he held the woman whose strength had been unmatched in determination and will, “Please, take us back. Please... Don’t take her away from me. I can’t live this way.”

In the sorrows of the little outcropping, on the edge of the graveyard behind the cathedral in which two wealthy families were intended to be wed, nobody noticed the mouth of the well as it began to glow gold.