#all that eerie mystic shit?? so hot of him

[ghcstchild-a]

No but if you think about it (and obviously this has nothing to do with the Chinese culture but indulge me for a sec), Halloween was originally believed to be the day when the borders between the worlds were thin and the dead could roam in the world of the living, right? And the mdzs world is already full of ghosts and ghouls and whatnot, and you just know the concept of immortal souls holds water in this one bc it's possible to bring one back which means they... go somewhere and it's just WWX who got lowkey stuck in limbo. Just saying that it's no wonder that a child born on this particular day was named 'a ghost baby' in essence, or that he grew so attuned to the voices and whisperings of the dead. His connection to the spirit world was predestined, in this essay I will–

[arya-skywalker]

Pleasant Surprises (Sanders Sides Fanfic)

Secret Santa fic for the amazing @nightashes ! Hope you enjoy

Prompts used:

- Familial (brotherly) anxceit, analogical

- Fantasy, (emotional) h/c

- Hugs, firelight, new beginnings

- “I think I understand now”

- “I’m here for you” (slightly different phrasing but same idea)

Read on AO3

Summary: Virgil risks a journey home to the dark forest to reconnect with brother Janus— and invite him to a potential wedding.

~*~

“I need to tell him,” Virgil said, curled up by the fire.

“Hm?” Logan looked up from his book. “Tell who, what, exactly? I’m afraid I’m not quite following.”

Virgil grimaced. “My brother. About....” He gestured vaguely. “Us? Me not being dead?”

“Ah.” Logan closed his book. “Would you like me to come with you?”

“No.” Virgil quickly shook his head. “No. I need to go alone. Besides, it’s not safe for you there.”

Logan folded his hands on his lap. “You left for a reason. Are you quite certain you want to go back?”

“I was scared, Lo. But now... I know what to expect. I’m ready.”

“Very well. Contact me if you need assistance.” Logan stood and walked over to his desk, taking out a small handheld mirror. “Say my name into this mirror, and we will be able to communicate through it.”

Virgil looked at the mirror warily. “And if I break it?”

Logan sighed. “It will still work on a shard of the mirror, but please be careful.”

“Always am.” Virgil smiled wanly as he took the mirror, cautiously placing it in his satchel.

Logan kissed his forehead and squeezed his hand gently. “Come home soon, please.”

Virgil took his hand and stood. “That’s the goal. I’ll miss you.” He stretched and took a deep breath. “Well, see you later, I guess.”

“Farewell and good luck.”

Virgil forced a smile and waved, then quickly packed his things before heading out the door— not giving himself the chance to back out.

~*~

Virgil tugged his cloak close against the chill. This was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea. Five years. Five years apart.

Maybe Janus wouldn’t even want to see him. Hell, maybe he wasn’t even here.

No. Too late to turn back.

Eerie whispers echoed in the mists and shadows lurked behind skeletal trees, but Virgil ignored them. That was normal here. As was the eternal night. Perfectly normal.

Here lived the monsters of the realm. The forsaken. The lost and abandoned. The only advantage was that they never hurt one of their own.

Virgil stopped in front of the door built into the cliffside and knocked. Snakes, spiders, and tentacles were carved around the doorframe, but there were no windows— only narrow slats to let air and light inside. Easier to defend without having to worry about glass.

It felt like eternity before the door opened. “Well, this is unexpected,” Janus drawled, his scales gleaming in the dim light.

“Hey, Jan... umm... can I come in?” Virgil rubbed his arm, not quite meeting his brother’s gaze.

“Depends on what brought you here.”

“I just wanna talk.” Virgil bit his lip. “And... apologize?”

“Go on, then. Say what you came to say.” Janus leaned against the doorframe.

Virgil took a deep breath. “I think I understand now,” he said slowly.

Janus arched an eyebrow. “Oh do you now? What do you understand?”

“Why you did what you did. Why we lived how we did. Why we were always hiding, never leaving the forest. How the world really works— well, not as much that, but more than I knew—“

“Did someone hurt you?” Janus cut him off, taking a step closer, concern in his eyes.

Virgil winced. “No. Well, yes, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is you don’t need to do that anymore. We can help you.”

Janus’s brow knitted. “We?” he echoed.

“I... uh... met some nice people. Like, really nice. I think you’d like them, if you give them a chance.” Virgil picked at a loose thread at the edge of his cloak.

Janus gave him a look, then sighed and stepped aside. “Come in. Would you like some tea?”

Virgil sighed in relief and walked through the doorway. It was just as he had left it— fur blankets piled around cushions and chairs, rickety table, a large fireplace with snakes around the mantle. “Sure. Something herbal?”

“Chamomile?” Janus suggested, filling a pot with water and placing it over the hearth.

“Whatever, sure.” Virgil warmed himself by the fire, then grabbed a blanket and took a seat on a nearby cushion.

Janus laughed softly. “Still prefer the floor to a chair, hm?”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s convenient. And warmer,” he said.

“Mm. Indeed it is,” Janus said. “Honey in your tea, yes?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

A moment later, Janus set a cup of tea on the floor next to Virgil and sat down a few feet away. “Careful. It’s hot,” he said. Which was obvious due to the steam.

Virgil wrapped his hands around the teacup anyway, breathing in the aroma. “So... umm... what’s up with you?” He winced. “I mean, like, what have you been up to? How have you been?”

Janus chuckled softly. “More of the same. Hunting. Strengthening the wards.” He gestured vaguely.

“Right, yeah,” Virgil muttered.

“I am far more interested about you, spiderling. Care to talk about your grand adventures?” Janus arched an eyebrow.

Virgil snorted. “I wouldn’t call them that. But uh... I guess.” He took a sip of his tea once it had cooled down enough. “Well... I headed roughly northeast from here. Traveled with the spider-people for a bit. But as we approached the border, some elves attacked. When they heard me speak, they stopped and demanded I bow before the prince.“ He smiled sideways. “Did you know we even had a prince out here?”

Janus hummed thoughtfully. “A prince in this forest? No, preposterous.”

“Anyway, Princey insisted on ‘rescuing’ me and ‘breaking the curse’.” Virgil gestured to his face, where dark spiderwebs still patterned his skin. “So he whisked me away to ‘civilization’.”

“Oh the horror,” Janus said, his lips quirking into a half-smile.

Virgil blushed slightly. “It was... overwhelming. So many people in one place. All so loud! And the buildings— they make walls out of wood, can you imagine? And the top out of grass! They wouldn’t last a second out here.”

Janus hummed in agreement, but remained silent, sipping at his tea.

“And... well... I don’t think the people liked me very much,” Virgil admitted, looking into the fire. “When they saw my face, they shied away. Some threw fruit and stuff, but the prince quickly put a stop to that.”

Janus narrowed his eyes. “They hurt you?” He asked in a low voice.

Virgil bit his lip. “It’s fine. It didn’t really hurt, just made a mess. And like I said, some people were nice.”

“Hmph. People do not think kindly of our people. Hence why it is safer to remain within the forest.”

“I know, I know.” Virgil ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply. “Anyway.... a little while later I met the prince’s advisor, a half-elf mage. He’s so handsome and smart and gentle and kind and—“ He stopped, blushing slightly. “His name is Logan and he offered to let me stay with him. He helped me learn how to control my powers.”

Janus arched an eyebrow. “You like this advisor, don’t you?”

Virgil nodded slowly. “I... yeah. We understand each other,” he said quietly.

Janus was silent for a moment, then reached over and put his hand on Virgil’s arm. “If he makes you happy, then stay with him.”

“Do you want to meet him?”

Janus blinked. “Come again?“

Virgil took out the mirror. “This is an enchanted mirror. We can communicate through it. If you want to.”

Janus touched the scaled side of his face. “Are you sure he wants to see me?”

Virgil smiled sadly. “You’re my brother. Of course he wants to meet you. And he didn’t hate my markings, so you should be fine.”

“Mm.” Janus sighed, then flicked his wrist, making his cowl float over and wrap around his face, hiding as much of his scales as he could. “Very well.”

Virgil took a deep breath and held the mirror so they were both in view. “Logan? Can we talk please?”

A moment later, the surface of the mirror fogged up, then cleared to show Logan’s face. “Virgil? Is everything alright? Can you see and hear me?”

Virgil nodded, holding Janus hand. “Yeah, we’re good. This is my brother.”

Janus cleared his throat. “Yes, Virgil is my brother,” he said. A moment later, he added, “You may call me Dee.”

“Oh. Hello, then. It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Logan,” he said, blinking a few times.

Virgil shot Janus a look. “Logan is a friend. We can trust Logan,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“You may trust him. That does not mean I do,” Janus countered, then flashed a smile at the enchanted mirror. “Virgil has told me so much about you.”

“I hope he has said that which he so urgently wanted to tell you,” Logan replied.

Virgil groaned. “Don’t say it like that,” he grumbled.

Janus arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Have you said ‘that which you so urgently wanted to tell me’?”

Virgil rubbed his face. “Lo and I... we... uh.... we were thinking about... maybe... getting married?” Gods, words were hard.

“Virgil is correct. We have discussed the possibility,” Logan said.

Janus’s reptilian eye twitched. “You leave for five years, and return with a potential spouse,” he said slowly.

Virgil bit his lip and nodded. “Potential. We haven’t decided for sure, cuz weddings are expensive pageantry and shit, but...” He took a deep breath. “If we do get married, I want you to be there. I want you to lead me down the aisle.”

Janus leaned back in his chair, glancing between them both. “This is quite a lot to take in,” he said, steepling his hands like the dramatic shit he was.

“Oh for fucks sake! I’m asking for your blessing!” Virgil blurted, then groaned and flipped up the hood of his cloak.

“If it will make you happy, then by all means...” Janus said. “However, I will need to know more about this potential spouse of yours.”

“I am an open book. Ask your questions,” Logan said.

Virgil blinked. “You... you’re not mad?”

“Mm. I wouldn’t call it mad, no.” Janus sipped at his tea. “Now, Logan, tell me about yourself.”

“I am the royal advisor to Prince Roman and Prince Remus. I am skilled in the mystical arts,” Logan said.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know that. Tell me more about yourself. Your likes, dislikes, hobbies, whatever. Why should I let you marry my little brother, hm?”

Logan blinked. “Well... I enjoy learning whatever I can. I have known Virgil for just over four years now. I would never hurt him, and truly wish him the best.”

Virgil tugged his cloak closer. “I’m right here,” he muttered. “And you don’t need to interrogate him.”

Janus inclined his head. “I believe I have enough information for the time being, although of course I would love to meet you in person. Virgil, you wanted me to leave the forest, did you not?”

Virgil blushed slightly. “Uh, yeah. I can take you to them. If you’re serious about coming with me. And as long as the forest will survive without you.”

Janus waved an arm dismissively. “Of course, of course.”

“I look forward to seeing you both. Farewell and safe travels,” Logan said. The surface of the mirror shimmered and his image faded.

Virgil exhaled slowly. That wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

“Virgil?” Janus asked softly. “This will make you happy, yes?”

Virgil rubbed his face and nodded quickly. “Yeah, thanks. Really. I’m uh... bad with words, but yeah.”

“Would you like a hug? Or is this a no-touch-time?” Janus asked, spreading his arms.

Virgil half-fell into the embrace, holding on tightly. “I missed you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm. I know. I missed you, too, spiderling,” Janus murmured, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “I am glad you are safe.”

Virgil took a few deep breaths, letting himself relax. Safe. He was safe. He was home.

“And I will always be here for you. No matter how long we are apart. No matter what happens,” Janus said softly. “You didn’t really think I’d be mad at you for leaving, did you? I was simply worried.”

Virgil grimaced. “Worse case scenario shit. I’m good at that, remember?”

“Mm. But this is not a worse case scenario. Things are going well for the time being. Enjoy it.”

“While it lasts,” Virgil said with a half-smile.

Janus chuckled. “Indeed. Cherish every moment.”

[fieryfafarfanfics]

Wishful Pining

 Ever since she showed up, everything he’s done has gone completely wrong.  He thought he had everything figured out. He thought his life would turn for the better. From the moment he was adopted by Chairman Rose, Bede legitimately thought he had everything at the palm of his hand.  But no.  He was supposed to be unbeatable. He was supposed to be the next Champion of Galar. People would see him for who he shaped himself to be. People would be in awe, would be at his feet to gawk at the marvellous trainer who was gifted by the hands of the amazing chairman himself. He had everything planned out. His first Pokémon. His first battle. His first victory. Everything was coming to his favour.  He had everything, and he would gain everything more.  That is, until she came into his life.

 She just had to ruin everything! That single thought haunted him day and night. Thanks to her, he was disowned by the very man who gave him food and shelter. Thanks to her, he was robbed of his very desire to become Galar’s only hope. Thanks to her, he was dragged by a strange old lady and was visibly forced to shape up into a gym leader against his will.  Well…technically the last part was only half the truth. In time, Bede actually enjoyed and appreciated all the lessons – gruelling as they may be – and this, in time, actually made him into a stronger trainer than he was before.  Hell, thanks to her, he is now one of the most powerful gym leaders in Galar.  Gah! He shakes his head, anger and annoyance bubbled uncomfortably in his stomach. Hands run through fluffy white hair. Teeth grind together, jaw tightening before he opts to take a deep breath. Warm air puffs out of pink lips. He needs to stop, he thinks to himself. It has been 3 years since that happened. Life moves on, and so have they.  He’s moved on. He is moving on.  There is absolutely no reason to lament on the past. Orphan that he is, Bede cannot deny the fact that Opal is family to him now. Despite the harsh trainings and quizzes and all that pink, she is a loving and kind-hearted woman. Everything she did made him into the excellent leader he is now. Groan and whine and growl as much as he wants, Bede will never forget the fact that Opal is the only who…adopted him when he thought he would be alone all over again.  The old lady still has some spunk in her, visiting him once in a while after taking a break from her little travels. She is an estranged woman, no doubt, but it did not take long for Bede to see Opal as the grandmother he never had.  Not that the young man chooses to admit that publically anytime soon.  Oh well, he is sure Opal knows how he feels.  He just wishes the ex-gym leader wouldn’t know much about his feelings for a certain someone.  A sigh slips off his lips.  His train of thought reaches a halt when he hears an eerie caw. Violet eyes look up, spotting a dot of deep black growing bigger and bigger until it forms a shape. Hands tucked inside the pockets of his pink jacket, he takes a few steps back to let the Corviknight land soundly.  Violet eyes never stray away from the young woman who hopped off the back of the Raven Pokémon.  “Thank you, Hilda.” A smile graces those pretty pink lips. Her voice is all he hears, and Bede rues at the fact that his heart starts to pound a few beats faster.  Apparently that wasn’t the worst of it; the second a pair of crimson meets violets, Bede can feel himself breathless.  Oh, he hates this.  “Sorry I’m late,” she apologizes. Her smile still remains present. Still remains beautiful on such a pretty face. “I had to fly back home because I needed to give my mom something. Hope I didn’t make you wait.” Her voice ever so soft, so serene, yet lulls such confidence that comes from such calm teenager.  Ooooh, he hates the beat of his heart.  “You’re irresponsible.” Why would he say that? “Making me wait when I have a lot of things to do.” He really didn’t have anything to do today—and he didn’t wait that long.  Arceus, her smile is a knife to his heart.  “Sorry,” is all she says. Returning the Corviknight back into her ball, Devina shrunk the Pokéball before clipping it to the right side of her belt. “If it makes you feel better, how about I treat you to some ice-cream?” Head tilts slightly to the right. Fingers lightly brush the bangs of deep dark hair. Patiently she awaits his answer, completely unaware that her actions alone cause a whirlpool of emotions in his heart.  “Do you really think free food will please me?” It does. “I’m not one of your rambunctious Pokémon.” He really likes ice-cream.  He wonders what it would be like to see a frown on her face.  “So, no ice-cream?” she ponders curiously.  He does not want to see it anytime soon.  His left eye twitches. “I accept the ice-cream.” He huffs once. Defeats slowly looms within him, but he would rather bite off his own tongue than admit it.  The second his gaze fixates on her again, Bede then holds back a groan to see that smile beam brighter. ---  He wonders how the hell he got roped into hanging out with her.  Was it 3 years ago? No, 2 years to be exact? They were both 15 and still trying to get used to living lives as strong, famous trainers. Devina all the more had to accommodate faster. Ever since she was crowned Champion, task after task came flooding down on her until she had no time for herself. After saving the world from the second coming of The Darkest Day and basically defeating the so-called Unbeatable Champion in a span of a week, the girl definitely had her hands full to the brim.  He couldn’t complain much, though. He was busy prepping himself to replace Opal as Ballonlea’s gym leader. He overthrew her easily (as how he would explain it) and since then, only a very, very handful of trainers were able to defeat him in the yearly Gym Challenge. He guessed he should take pride on that. Trainers were able to see that he was a force to be reckoned with before they could actually see the real force that is the woman sitting right beside him.  It all happened the year after they’ve met that she started to form a sort of friendship with him.  Well…'try' would have been a more appropriate term.  She was relentless. One would wonder how such a calm and collected person could be so assertive and persistent. He was perfectly fine with seeing her as his rival. Nothing more. Nothing less. She is the Galarian Champion. He is the most powerful gym leader in Galar.  But one day came, and so did she. The first morning, Bede took it as nothing more than the usual training routine he had with Opal and the other Fairy Pokémon. The second he opened the front door, however, he was laid stumped at the sight of a smiling trainer right in front of his doorstep.  “How are you?” He remembers the first words that came out of that pretty mouth of hers.  “I was wondering if you’re free today.” He remembers how baffled he was when she admitted that.  “In that case, how about a battle? If I lose, I’ll leave you be to your things. If I win, you have brunch with me.” He remembers rejecting her invitation, then being baffled again, then immediately accepting her challenge.  He lost, of course. And Bede still wonders if that was a good thing or a bad thing.  It became a habit as time went by. Monthly challenges became weekly. Weekly challenges became weekly hangouts. From sitting in a café in Ballonlea with such an awkward silence around them to going around other places with many topics to converse, Bede wouldn’t lie that he was still dumbfounded at the outcome that is their friendship.  Friendship…  Her laughter brings him back to reality. Focused gaze lures to her, then stays perfectly put at the gleam of her smile.  It is the damn mushrooms. It is definitely the damn mushrooms’ fault for putting light into her smile.  “It was the first time I’ve ever seen Hop run so fast.” Snickers tickle their way out of her mouth. “Turns out he can outrun a Charizard, and an angry one too.” Fingers brush her giggling lips. Both sit on a log inside Glimwood Tangle. Of all the places they could explore, Devina decided to chill inside the mystical forest. To her, the place was peaceful and mystifying. And given that it is going to be winter soon, she loves that the forest is not too hot nor too cold.  Bede didn’t complain when she suggested today’s venue. If anything, he doesn’t mind any venue at all if it means being close to her—wait.  Wait… Realization kicks him right in the head. He flinches on the log, then freeze on the spot. Immediately he shakes his head. The strands of long, white curly hair softly slaps his face, but the boy was too preoccupied in making sure he never finished that thought—  “Bede?”  Shit.  Violet eyes snap open, pupils enlarge slightly at the sight of his rival.  Curiosity turns into concern. “You okay there?” Voice ever soft, she scoots an inch closer.  He feels the air getting colder.  “I’m fine.” Sharply he retorts, only to silently regret his tone at the sight of Devina being surprised at his cold reaction. “I just—tired, is all.” Quick. His mind needs to be quick. “Trainers have been coming to the gym lately and trying to battle me as training sessions. They lost, of course. But the amount of trainers this week took quite a toll.” Keep talking. Just keep talking and ignore her mesmerizing eyes.  Maybe he needs to get up and move away from her as well.  But like hell, “It’s really annoying…” He wants nothing more than to close the distance between them. “They just…can’t give up and realize that they’re no match for me and my team.” Words are out of his mouth, but sight is hypnotized by the fiery glow of her iris.  Silence fills the air around them. Only the soothing sounds of Shiinotics and Spritzees can be heard nearby. Two teenagers do not a muscle. One looks at the other quite quizzically. One wishes his body can be swallowed by the earth below.  Pretty pink lips part, then gapes. “A-Anyways—!” he stutters. “Why are we here?” Quickly he changes the subject. Quickly he breaks his gaze away before it can falter down to the shape of her lips.  She is surprised; he can tell.  “Well…” Hesitance bites off her next words. Fidgeting on her seat, Devina cocks her head upwards. “There’s a special reason why I wanted to come to Glimwood Tangle tonight.”  “With me?” Damn it shut up!  He wonders if the tiny fraction of silence was her being offended at his foolish reaction.  “Yeah…” She looks down. Slim fingers play with each other, one pad of her finger tapping the nail of another. “I mean, I know I could have bring Hop or Marnie along.”  To hear Hop’s name, to hear Marnie’s name; Bede doesn’t know why—he somewhat knows, but he rather does not want to know—but to hear those two names feels like needles poking his wild heart.  “But today is our day, you know?”  Whatever feeling of bitterness he felt a few seconds ago disappears in a flash. “What?”  She turns to look at him.  Her smile truly is brighter than any mushroom in Glimwood Tangle.  “Our day to hang out?” She adds on, meekly. “We always chill at different places a few times in a month. And I know you live in Ballonlea and this forest is practically your home, but I feel coming here tonight will make it even more special.”  Oh, she is definitely aiming to make him die of suffocation.  “O…okay…?” His reaction this time is not out of spite, but out of sheer bafflement. Like every other time, Devina truly has a knack in knocking him right out of his comfort zone. He takes a sharp breath, then exhales in a slow, shaky manner. “I don’t want to sound like I’m not having a good time.” Believe me, I do. “But what’s so special about tonight?”  She didn’t answer immediately.  Instead she remains silent, yet her mouth slowly curls that smile he adores so much. Without a word, Devina looks at the giant mushrooms a few steps away from them. Taking the silent signal, Bede dumbly brings his gaze to the colourful fungi.  As is right on cue, the mushrooms glow brighter.  The colours are warm and soft and mesmerizing all together. But unlike the other times where they only glow when touched, these mushrooms begin to glow on their own. Shock paints the man’s face, then awe comes next as the mushrooms start to gleam and sparkle like crystals.  One by one the fungi around them shine. The sounds of Pokémon nearby are music to the twinkling mushrooms, probably in awe as well at nature’s beauty. A colour of pink, blue, lavender, and green paint the forest. The leaves and tree branches sway gently by the touch of calm wind, and this cast glorious shadows on the ground thanks to the shine of the breath-taking moon.  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”  Her voice. Her voice is all it takes to make him come back to reality.  He didn’t realize he was holding a breath, for Bede gasps silently as he looks at her. She is so enthralled by the sight of nature’s gift. She is so absorbed on the sound, the music of floral and Pokémon. Both hands lie on her sides, palms pressed gently against the log.  Ever since she showed up, everything that has happened was completely not part of his plan.  “It is…” She is the biggest inclusion of this unplanned fate.  The glee of enjoying the sight around her turns to surprise when she feels something caressing the back of her right hand. Her head turns to his direction. Crimson eyes widen in silent shock. Smooth cheeks redden at the heat of the moment. She is a sharp person, so Devina holds a short breath when she realizes the very close distance between them. Pink lips part slightly, though she is at lost on whether to ask if everything is okay or to just call out his name—  All of that is flown out the window when she feels soft lips against hers.  Eyes are round as they can be, then immediately shut tight in a second heartbeat. Oh man! The words scream in her mind. Oh man! Oh man! Though panic seems to ring her brain, unspeakable joy burst inside her racing heart. Body now trembling slightly from hand to toe, Devina brings her right hand closer to his, fingers intertwine like perfect puzzle pieces. Breath still held firmly in her lungs, she tilts her head slightly, further deepening the kiss.  And this…her actions alone…the fact that she is returning his kiss…Bede feels as if there are fireworks exploding in his chest.  Emotions completely overpowering what little common sense he has, he brings his hand to cup her face. It’s soft…he wonders. She’s soft… Palm gently caresses her cheek. Fingers slowly slides upwards until they brush the short strands of dark hair. Nerves rattle him endlessly at the physical contact, yet he wants nothing more than to have her desperately close to him.  Chu… He presses the kiss again. Chu… And again. Chuu… And again.  Eyes closed and lungs ache at the baited breath, Bede whines slightly and brushes the tip of his nose against hers. He feels her other hand grip his arm. He feels those soft lips brush his own. The little whine that escaped causes his mouth to part slightly, and Bede feels like melting into a puddle when he feels her lips on his lower lip.  “Bede…”  Her voice feels like a pair of scissors that cut the strings that kept him afloat.  Immediately he snaps his eyes open. As if being kicked by her Cinderace, the young man gasps sharply before pulling apart way faster than they like it to be.  “I—!” Words fail him horribly. “I…I—!” Oh dear fuck, what has he done?  Though darkness consumes the area of the forest, Bede can perfectly see her under the light of the moon, stars, and glimmering mushrooms. He can see her face, flushed and red and utterly kissable. He can see her eyes, quite heavily-lidded with eyelashes fluttering at every needy blink. He can see her lips, parted and wet, deliciously inviting him to taste what he has been missing all along.  Saliva tastes like rocks as it slides down his throat.  “I need to—” He has ruined it. “I just…!” He has ruined a perfectly sound friendship with someone who has the common decency to like him for who he actually is. “I—go—!” He doesn’t know why, but the thought alone pricks tears in his eyes.  Not taking a chance for her to respond, Bede jumps to his feet and runs away.  …Or at least, he decides to, if not for the fact that he has forgotten the young woman before him apparently is way stronger than she looks.  “Wait—!” Impulse works faster in terms of verbal and physical reactions. Actually forgetting her own strength, Devina grips his hand that still holds hers and accidentally tugs him downwards.  “What the—!”  Plop!  “Oof!”  Thankfully, the ground is soft.  Unthankfully, the young woman above him is made of flesh and bones.  Everything happens so fast. The first minute, they were sitting on a log, talking and enjoying their little moment. The second minute, they were kissing – intensely, he might add – and thought of nothing but her body pressed closer against his. The third minute, he remembers panicking, then trying to run away, then being forcibly chucked down by the strength of what society calls her ‘The Divine Champion’.  And now? Bede only groans in ache as his elbows press against the soft soil.  It takes him a moment, but heat then paints his face to realize his rival whom he has kissed like a hungry fool is now leaning against his body.  The mushrooms still glimmer beautifully. The wind still hums its soothing tune.  But by Arceus, not even the Alpha Pokémon itself can rid the raging wave of emotions in the gym leader’s heart.  He then hears mumbles on his chest. “Uh…” Like a fool, he gapes. One elbow still placed as an anchor, Bede nervously moves his right hand towards her. “De…Devina…?” His hands shake terribly. He knows damn well she can hear his heart screaming like a mad Loudred right now. “Devina…?”  “Don’t go…”  His hand flinches and hovers near her back.  Truly he is at lost for words for the hundredth time tonight. He remains frozen in place despite the ache in his left elbow. Bede feels a shiver—her shiver, his shiver—and this drives the boy nothing more than the need to wrap his arms around her.  “Bede…” Her voice rumbles against his still chest, against his drumming heart. Hands clutching the front of his jacket, Devina takes a deep breath and looks up at him.  Arceus take him now for her longing gaze is a surely the reason for his death.  “Don’t go…” She repeats. Legs brought up until her knees touch the soil beneath them. This allows Bede some room to breathe properly—which he still fails—and this also allows Devina to adjust herself so that her weight won’t crush him.  She is now leaning on his chest, though. Not that he’s complaining.  “Bede, I…” What will she say? What will she do? She already yanked the poor guy onto the ground. The least she could do is get off of him. “I just…” But no. Instead she just tightens her grip on his jacket.  Mouth pressed softly against his chest. “I love you…” It is now or never. “I… Please don’t go…” Her face is hot. She really wishes winter will come falling to her body now. “I love you…” Unable to handle the pressure of the moment anymore, Devina presses her face against his chest.  While the young champion wallows in shame, Bede is too busy being flabbergasted by her confession.  “I love you…” Did he hear her wrong? “I love you…” Did the impact of her pull and weight actually killed him and he was sent to heaven?  Violet eyes widen, sight sharpen then blur then sharpen again. Time feels as if it has stopped for them. If Bede didn’t realize that he has been holding his breath for a good minute, he sure does now as he gasps out loud in shock.  Devina doesn’t know what he is feeling right now. She is too afraid to even look at him right now. As much as she wants to run away from this, ironic that is sounds considering a few minutes ago, the champion only lingers on his body until she grimly awaits the second Bede pushes him away out of disgust and hatred—  Her body startles, but she feels herself being dropped downwards.  Quickly she brings her head up. Crimson eyes widen in shock, pupils dilate and enlarge at the quick adjustment of darkness and light. She then sees Bede lying on the ground, one arm draped across his eyes while the other spread to the side.  Man, she surely is feeling so many emotions in one night; she is just glad Starlight is sleeping soundly inside her Friend ball or else the Hatterene would definitely throw a violent fit.  He isn’t saying a word. Neither is she.  Both wonder if they can stay like this until the next morning.  “…ou…too…”  Confusion sparks her mind as she tilts her head. “Uh…what?” Deciding to not get off his chest, Devina instead scoots closer. “Bede—?”  “I said I love you!” His arm flings away from his face, and he is equally startled and glad that he didn’t accidentally smack her head.  Well, they sure are feeling a lot of emotions right now.  Their faces mirror each other. Cheeks burn like a thousand suns. Their heartbeats now boom as one. Their bodies still and shiver in a mixture of shock and glee.  “I…” Ever since she showed up, he has the tendency to pour his heart out to her.  Unleashing a sigh of great defeat, Bede finally just throws his arms around her. “I love you…a lot...” Very thankful that her face is close to his, the young gym leader lifts his head to plant a short kiss to her lips. Stifling a shy groan, he shuts his eyes and let the earth take him.  Her body jolts slightly at the hug, at his kiss, at his confession. Did she hear him right, she wonders. If this was truly the trick of some trickster Pokémon, Devina really did have the right mind to unleash and awaken all six of her Pokémon to hunt the cruel being down.  But to feel his embrace, so warm and snug. To hear his rapid heartbeat beating against hers. Devina can’t beat back the smile that shakily, shamelessly grows on her beet red face.  She giggles once. Twice. Then laughs gleefully before nuzzling into his neck.  Arceus, she will be the death of him as he flinches from the delicious contact.  “I love you, Bede!”  Ever since she showed up into his life, Bede has known nothing but wonderful happiness.  His smile grows wider and wider. Laughter then accompanies her own. Not caring about the flushed red that burns right to the tips of his ears, Bede lifts his head again to press a lingering, loving kiss to the top of her head.  “I love you too, Devina.” END

[shuttershocky]

Later that night, Sakura found herself staring at a single large matryoshka doll, her temples pounding from the pressure of magical energy. It was time for her first practical test.

Sakura was keen to get this right. Grandpa had not exactly aimed to have her become the new magus of the family, preferring instead to create mystic codes for Shinji’s use while she had to act as a conduit for when her brother’s power proved insufficient. So while she wasn’t new to casting spells, they were always done under the strict supervision of Grandpa, who told her nothing but exactly what she needed to know, hissed with fury when she did not immediately understand, then told her to forget everything afterward. She would be unable to make use of anything she learned without him anyway. Her place in the family was to support Shinji, and to do nothing more until she bore the Matou a stronger heir.

Now, however, she was being presented with a problem - open each matryoshka doll by using magic - and she was to do it on her own. On her own! She had never thought she would be tested as a real mage. This must be what Nee… What her senpai’s life was like.

Sakura never thought she’d have anything like it.

The office was completely dark. Touko had drawn the curtains and shut off the lights, leaving only a single lit candle to illuminate the desk her new apprentice was using.

Sakura kept her focus on doll, the flickering light straining her vision. Keeping its image clear in her head, Touko, the table, and the rest of the room melted away from the edge of her sight and into the ether of memory. A still picture, for a still mind.

All was quiet, save for the sputtering flame.

One could hear their heartbeat in this room. Or, more helpfully, feel the movement of mana beneath their skin.

“Whenever you’re ready, kid.” 

Sakura took a deep breath. She felt the energy flow from her core, pushing it towards the magic circuits in her arms. As the mana pooled in her fingertips, she recalled Touko’s instructions.

“Keep a path open between your lungs, hands, and throat. Gather your Od - your magical energy - with your breath. Feel it move through you as air does, so you can control its pace. Use too little of your Od, and your spell will fail. Use too much, and you risk it imploding from overload.

“Recite the incantation cleanly and quickly. The words of a spell are what gives the energy its structure; its form. A stable spell has a sturdy form, crafted by the mage when she shapes her magic.

“Finally, use your hands to direct the spell. You would think this part would be obvious, but you have no idea how many students I’ve seen be sent by their masters to the Arcane Judgement Division because they had their fingers pointed to their masters’ pants when they said ‘open’. Seriously though, point your spells properly.”

Sakura bit down on her tongue to keep herself from giggling as she recalled that last bit. Keeping her accent as steady as she could, she muttered the spell she had been practicing all evening.

“Open.”

The doll trembled. Bluegreen lights emerged around it, moving upwards and along its edge, shifting colors all the while. They rose into the air, now a crimson spiral, leaving behind a trail of sparks as each left the doll’s touch.

But the doll didn’t open.

A turn of the stomach. Sakura grit her teeth. She needed to push just a little more, but something was blocking, no, gnawing on her mana paths. There was something squirming in her; leaks in her mana flow that she was sure had not been there earlier. 

Sakura’s breath hitched, her chest tightened. The lights around the doll began to move erratically. Sloppily. Mirroring the motion of the things burrowing beneath her skin.

She knew what this feeling was. 

The eerie glow of the basement.

The screeching cries and the rhythmic tap of chitin on the tiles.

The pungent smell of blood and shit.

She was back home. Alone in the dark.  Her hands and feet were bound in chains, though her body had long since stopped resisting. She allowed them to feast on her, fighting the urge to cry or wail in pain; they liked to lap at the salt in her tears, and a few could fall down her throat if her mouth was open.

She would always be home.

She could never leave.

Even if she could destroy that basement and run away, they would always be with her.

There would always be the wor-

“Easy, Sakura. Easy does it.”

Touko’s face came into view, the lights of the spell gleaming in the lens of her glasses. 

Sakura snapped to attention, struggling to respond with the lump in her throat.

“P-P-Please don’t be mad. I’ll d-do it. I promise. I-I’m just having a little trouble. ”

“I’ll say you are,” Touko said with a laugh, moving closer. “Come here.”

She reached forward, hovering a finger above Sakura’s hand.

“May I?”

Sakura nodded, feeling like she would fall apart at the seams if she spoke a single word. The spell continued to deteriorate, the once perfect spiral of lights now a mess of dimming orbs.

Touko lowered her arm, gently stroking the back of Sakura’s hand. At her touch, the squirming, the gnawing, the tightness, the pain, all vanished in an instant. The lights moved back into their correct paths. The memories fled back into the darkness.

Sakura found herself able to breathe. Had she just been imagining things?

“It looks like your spell’s bottlenecked by some non-functioning circuits, probably dormant from underuse,” Touko said, now positioning her finger over a magic circuit glowing dimmer than the others. “Keep the spell going, you’re almost there. I’m just going to do something that might sting a little, okay?”

“Um. Okay-ah!”

Touko jabbed at the dim circuit, sending a shockwave rolling through Sakura’s body. 

The lights jumped like they were the ones pricked, though the spell itself held steady. 

Touko kept a finger on her arm.

“Alright. Try boosting your magecraft again.”

Sakura broke her gaze from the doll, searching her mentor’s face for any hint of anger, or disgust, or disappointment, or just...

Just anything she knew.

But all Touko had for her was a calm look, her eyes no longer hidden from the glare of the spell.

“Try again, Sakura. I’m right here.”

“Okay.”

Touko pressed down on her arm, the shock opening paths through her circuits that Sakura never knew were there. Magical energy surged through her core, overwhelming the blocks on her circuits and lighting them up that the glow could be seen through her sleeves. 

Sakura could barely move her hands in time.

“O-Open!”

The lights danced with newfound vigor, gaining speed as they lifted the doll off the ground. Itl shook violently as it rose, faster and faster, rattling its inner contents until

POP

The matryoshka opened, releasing a slightly smaller, slightly more colorful doll that began to shake as well.

POP

POP POP POP POP

Seven dolls, the last barely larger than a painted speck, hung suspended in the air. Though not perfectly aligned, Sakura had managed to keep each doll from straying too far from the edge of the spell. She carefully lowered them back onto the table, her mouth agape. There were no words to describe how she felt.

Well, there were three.

“I… I did it!” 

“Impressive!” Touko said with a few claps. “I was hoping we’d get two or three open and continue in the morning, but it looks like you finished early. Great job, kid.”

Sakura turned to her teacher, deflating a little.

Oh yeah, she didn’t do it. Not really. Not on her own anyway.

“I’m sorry, Touko-san” she said, clasping her hands behind her. “I know I promised I would do it on my own, but you still had to do it for me.”

“Hmm? I didn’t do anything like that,” Touko replied. “I just noticed you getting sleepy and kept you up with a poke. That’s all.”

“But-”

“All I needed was for you to craft the spell on your own,” she continued, hands already fumbling for a cigarette. “I didn’t say anything about you not getting help if you needed me.”

It was like something shattered inside. Was it possible to die from gratitude? The thought crossed Sakura’s mind as her eyes watered and her chest grew tight once more. The last week had passed in a daze, with her often wondering if any of this was real. It couldn’t be. Her life now would have been unthinkable just last week. 

The last time she had felt like that, she had been told she would be going away to live with a new family. She had done everything she could back then to wake up. To escape. To return home, back with her real mother and her real father. With her sister. 

But she never did. Her new family was painfully real.

Sakura knew one thing now. If this life was but a fleeting dream, she hoped she would never wake up.

Let her be devoured by the basement like her foolish Uncle Kariya was. She had called him stupid at the time, watching his broken mind live a fantasy as he was eaten to the bone. But now… Now she thought she understood him somewhat. If she was being torn apart on the cold floors of the Matou home, at least her mind would be somewhere far away, happy and free.

Still. She had to know for sure.

Touko froze in the middle of lighting her cigarette.

“Eh? What’s that look for, kid? Oh, the cigarette? Yeah you’re right, Kokutou would kill me if I smoked indoors. Let me just step outside for a bit-”

“Touko-san, can I ask you a question?”

“Uh, sure. Wouldn’t be much of a teacher if I didn’t answer those.”

“Why did you keep me?”

A pause. Touko stopped to take a long drag.

“You called and asked me to. A job’s a job, kid. Not gonna turn it down just because the client’s too young to have acne.”

“N-No, I mean, why? You could have left me a-anywhere.”

“Surely you overheard me and Kokutou talking? There’s nowhere else for you to go. Nowhere safe at least.”

“No! I-I mean, you didn’t have to. Nobody wants me. I’m no good. I don’t have anything to give you. I-I can’t even pass your first test without you helping me! I have nothing. So why… Why would you...”

Sakura felt hot tears roll down her cheeks. She had managed not to cry for so long. 

“You’re too kind. You can’t be real.” 

She stood there, her hands making a useless effort to stem the flow of tears. 

“I must have finally died.”

Nothing crawled on her face. Nothing bit her, bruised her, screamed in her face. She could cry here. She could cry.

Sakura felt Touko’s hand on her shoulder. She lunged forward, burying her face in her teacher. She didn’t dare let go.

“You have me all wrong. I’m as selfish as all the rest,” Touko whispered into her ear. “But I am real. I’m here. You’ll never be in that pit again.”

There they stayed, Sakura crying until she couldn’t anymore. 

When she had finished, Touko spoke again.

“It’s late. You need to sleep soon, Sakura.”

Sakura only hugged her tighter.

“I can’t. I don’t know if you’ll still be there in the morning.”

Sakura felt Touko stroke her hair. Just once.

“Hmm. Well, first of all, it’s already been morning for three hours.”

Touko snapped her fingers. The matryoshka dolls lined themselves up, before packing themselves back into each other. The biggest doll slid to one side, awaiting further orders.

“Secondly,” Touko said. “I’m going to answer your question.”

[despressolattes]

CONSEQUENCES | CHAPTER ONE | LEGACIES/THE ORGINALS

book one masterlist » book two masterlist

this book’s masterlist

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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It seemed almost as if most of the world seemed to just mold around the absence of Hope Mikaelson, filling in the void she left. No one asked questions about the random occurrences that had no real explanation to how they happened. Landon Kirby and Rafael Waithe's life at the Salvatore school continued, almost as if no one wondered how they got to the school in the first place, how Landon woke up at the Malivore hideout... as if no one wondered who even discovered Malivore in the first place.

Everyone's lives just continued.

The Mikaelsons had photos with some girl they didn't know, but just chose to ignore them as if it made sense. It was life as usual, photos with some random girl not mattering anymore.

For Lilah, she "woke up" with tears on her face—but she had never gone to bed. She was sitting in the car on the side of the road, unsure where she was. In fact, she tried to piece together the last decade. What had she been doing all this time? She saw a road sign that said she was a few miles out from Mystic Falls.

She furrowed her eyebrows. Mystic Falls? That was where Stefan's life without her was. She winced as she felt pressure on her head, letting her forehead fall onto the steering wheel as she tried to breathe, memories flooding her brain.

She remembered moving to New Orleans when her father and his siblings made it back there, wanting to take back their old lives once it was made clear the Mystic Falls gang, Stefan's friends and family, didn't want them there. She remembered watching from afar as turf wars had broken out between the supernatural factions.

She remembered somehow getting tangled up in Mikaelson drama despite trying to stay away from them. She made friends with Josh Rosza, one of Marcel Gerard's vampires, and with Davina Claire, one strong teenage witch. She soon became integrated in the supernatural politics of the town, fighting alongside the Mikaelsons while they had no clue who she was. She was just Lilah Desmarais.

Her close bond with Elijah was equally comparable—by his siblings—to the one Klaus and Marcel shared. When the Hollow had hit New Orleans, looking for something to possess, it found its way into all of the Mikaelson siblings.

Being unable to stay away from his brother, Elijah chose to lose his memories and lived in France. Lilah tried her best to help Freya, who she would always see as her first mother figure, try to find a way to reunite their family without the Hollow taking over.

In the end of it all, Klaus took on the Hollow himself and chose to die to make sure his siblings could remain safe and together, Elijah going with him.

Lilah regretted everyday that she was unable to tell him the truth about herself, but when he died, she felt there was no need to tell anyone else.

As she turned the key to start her car and wiped her face, she nodded slowly, as if accepting the memories now in her brain. She clenched her jaw and shut her eyes once more, attempting to figure out why she was near Mystic Falls. It had been two years since the death of Elijah, but she had no idea why she was there.

Her phone was in her lap. She picked it up, seeing a call from an unknown number for a second, but then her phone got hot. She dropped it, and when she picked it back up, it was gone. Her phone started to go off, ringing. She jumped back in her seat, startled, until she saw that it was Josh's name.

"Josh?" she asked, whispering because she was still confused.

"Where the hell are you?" he asked on the other side. "I woke up and thought we were cleaning the apartment, but you're just... not here."

She looked around at the empty road, heaving out a heavy sigh. "I'm near Mystic Falls."

"Mystic Falls?" he exclaimed, before sighing. "Lilah, how many times have we discussed not trying to get in contact with Stefan's family? He passed away, you never got to see him again, blah blah blah, it's better we don't interrupt their happy lives?"

She nodded slowly, those memories also coming back to her.

"I don't know why I'm here," she said honestly. "But... I'm on my way home right now."

"What do you mean you have no idea why you're there?"

"I just... like... woke up?"

"We can have Davina check that out when you get here," Josh decided.

"Y-Yeah," breathed out Lilah, starting to pull back onto the road, starting her drive back home.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When she had gotten back to her apartment, the one she shared with Josh, she was still in a puzzled state of mind. It was like her memories were unlocking the more she got closer to New Orleans, like a door was opening to the life she lived. Things were fuzzy and then clear, while other things felt like they were just slipping from her. A girl's laugh and smile was stuck in her head for a while, until she up and forgot about it entirely.

She opened the door to the apartment, seeing Josh and Davina sitting on the couch. They both looked worried as she kicked off her shoes. In a picture frame by the door was photos from Davina's wedding to Kol, where she was the maid of honor, standing right next to Davina while Josh filled in as Kol's best man. She started to remember that night as well.

Josh and Davina stood up, quickly walking to her.

"You look like shit," Josh said, earning a glare from Davina. "What? Look at her! She looks like she fought someone."

She furrowed her eyebrows and ran to the bathroom, surprising herself when she knew where it was. She looked in the mirror, seeing her untamed hair wild, dried blood on her in places where there was no cuts.

"What happened?" Davina asked from behind her, her and Josh following her.

"I have no idea," replied Lilah, shaking her head. "I-I feel like... like..."

"Woah, woah woah," she heard Josh's voice slipping, getting slower and deeper as she felt like she was levitating, falling maybe, and she saw the ceiling of the bathroom before her eyes closed completely.

—

"...maybe she turned off her humanity?" a familiar, raspy voice said, muffled by the walls of the apartment.

Lilah regained consciousness, seeing she was in her bedroom. She looked around, memories of moving in, decorating, living there coming back to her. She got out of bed as she heard Freya's voice from the living room. Her aunt, the girl who she felt like was the only mother she had, now and back when she was with Dahlia. But she'd never know.

"For just a night? And turned it back on? Is it really that simple?" Davina asked.

"Uncommon, luv, but not impossible," another voice, an accented male one. Kol.

She rounded the corner into the living room, gaining the attention of everyone.

"Hey," Josh smiled at her. "How are you feeling?"

"Disoriented," she replied, sitting down next to Freya.

The Mikaelson woman put an arm around Lilah, and she remembered meeting Freya for the first time, trying not to cry the first time she ever hugged her. She tried so hard for so long to live a life that was parallel to the Mikaelsons, but she just couldn't keep living that way.

She sat still while Davina and Freya ran some magical tests on her, trying to see if they could dig out what happened, but they couldn't. Instead, Kol said it would make sense if she had just gone on a ripper binge for the night, which would have explained the blood on her when they found her, perhaps turning off her humanity and then switching it back on in the morning.

That frightened her. That she had no recollection of what she had done, how many people she had killed, what kind of mess she left. She was able to remember her old Ripper days, and it left her an eerie feeling. But she just listened to everyone around her, deciding that would be best.

Josh placed his hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her, massaging her to try to get her less tense as everyone piled out of their apartment. Josh had decided that cleaning could wait, and that Lilah looked like she was in need of a drink, so they all went to Rousseau's, where Lilah helped manage.

She didn't even notice the photos on the wall, pictures of Freya and some unknown girl. It wasn't common for her to look at those photos, so she walked straight passed them and sat at a table with Kol, Davina, and Freya as Josh went behind the counter to grab them some drinks. As she spent more and more time awake, the disoriented state she was in rubbed off, and she felt normal again, like she was fully in this life. Eventually, somehow, everyone at that table seemed to all forget that Lilah was even in Mystic Falls or missing in the morning.

Her new life in New Orleans was just starting, but to her, it felt like that had been where she was the whole time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

CHAPTER TWO

Welcome to Book 3 of the Lilah Mikaelson/Side Character series! I've been trying to figure out what I wanted Lilah's life to look like after Hope jumped into the pit, how I wanted to have the memory loss affect her. As we all know, everyone seemed to just... keep living their previous lives, just without Hope. Even though it would make sense that they'd ask questions as to how so much happened: i.e: landon and raf's arrival, why hayley was with the mikaelsons for so long, why elijah and klaus died, etc. everyone only had their memories of hope repressed, but none of the other memories of their lives with her erased.

i tried the route where lilah also had her memories repressed like everyone else, but after trying to figure out how to incorporate lilah into legacies' actual storyline, i decided to go about it my own way. lilah is a whole different species of vampire, things that affect everyone else doesn't affect her.

so, why not have her entire past few years just erased? but not just erased, she gets filler memories... and everyone else gets filler/fake memories of her. where there's a Hope-shaped gap in the Mikaelson family's lives is almost filled with a whole new life for lilah. and those that knew her at the salvatore school... she just... also disappears with the memories of her cousin. even roman doesn't remember her—which is going to end with roman not being a student at the school, btw!

instead, the mikaelsons all "remember" life with lilah where hope never existed. i wanted to touch a lot on fate here. how lilah still ended up mixed in with the mikaelsons without hope, relationships she makes in the future without hope.

and i thought it'd be interesting to see how lilah would've lived her life in a world without Hope. in Side Character, we learn she only gets close to the Mikaelsons because of Hope. she would have never gotten close to them—since she hadn't been for centuries—if it weren't for Hope. so how exactly would her life in new orleans have been? and i just sat on that idea until i came up with this chapter, what life would have been as a consequence to hope never existing.

[stcnerlust]

will someone pls rp with me? pls pls pls i beg. just want a very angsty and cute roleplay between my oc and urs. i tend to write a lot and has been writing for years so i promise not to disappoint. extra points if you use harry styles as a fc. also, i do mxf & fxf pairings. interact with this if ur interested or just message me. below is a sample of my writing :)

————————

APRIL 8TH, 2018

the radiant traffic light flickered from red to seafoam in the reflection of her pupils, causing her foot to press slightly on the gas. her fingertips danced against the steering wheel in anticipation as she recognized the familiar stores, meaning she was close to 𝗛𝗜𝗦 house. her free hand was placed out of the window, allowing the wind to flow through her fingers. it was a habit of hers whenever she was driving— that and honking at random hot strangers just to see their reactions. eventually both of her hands found the wheel as she entered a curvy route, not wanting to end up in some random ditch somewhere. she found herself glancing to the passenger seat, a small smile appearing on her lips as she stared at the cake and gift bag. it was 𝗛𝗜𝗦 birthday and she prayed that 𝗛𝗘 would appreciate all of this— but then again 𝗛𝗘 always did. it was their tradition to spend holidays together no matter what. no matter what unfortunate circumstances came up or minor inconveniences that were thrown their way, they always found a way to celebrate together.

after a few more twists and turns, chérie pulled up to the warm bungalow home. she had been here way too many times; whether it was for venting purposes or just because she yearned for loving company. it was her favorite place in the whole entire world because 𝗛𝗘 was there. after snatching her keys out of the ignition, the girl excitedly stepped out of the vehicle and ran around her car. she opened the passenger seat door and began to ponder on how to take hold of everything without potentially dropping this cake. deciding on a plan, the blonde-haired female placed her keys in her mouth, biting down on them to keep them in place before using her hands to grasp the cake and the gift bag.

as she approached the front door, an overwhelming feeling of bad energy washed over her. that odd apprehension only grew when she noticed that the door was cracked open just a tiny bit. with one more look back at the road behind her, the girl gently pressed her self into the door causing it to open leisurely. almost immediately, a repulsive odor blanketed her making her gag in the process. it was a indescribable smell- one she’d never forget. nevertheless, she proceeded to progress through the eerie house. it didn’t feel like her favorite place at the moment.. something was off. chérie cautiously placed the cake and bag on the table in the dining room, followed by her keys. the scent only grew more potent as she neared the kitchen.

the moment she took a step in that kitchen, the color drained from her face completely. it was like sprinting towards a brick wall just for it to be harder than you assumed. the scene physically pushed her body backwards until it hit a wall violently. her mouth opened to let out a scream but nothing could be audible. 𝗛𝗜𝗦 body was laid out on the floor, a crimson colored substance surrounding him in the most horrific way possible. a freight train of epiphany hit her and she ran over to his lifeless body, slipping in his blood in the process. falling to her knees, she kneeled beside him and stared into his cold and unoccupied eyes. she changed her position and sat down beside him before pulling his head into her lap. another revelation seemed to hit her and not too long after, sob after sob viciously ripped through her vocal chords until it hurt. abnormal sounds of pain and despair fell from her lips as well as a few sorrowful words such as; ‘please don’t leave me..’ ‘i can’t do this thing called life without you.’ ‘i love you..’ ‘come back please..’

but he wasn’t coming back— and in that moment, he took a piece of her with him. her thumb rubbed against his cheek as if it could soothe him as involuntarily sniffles came out of her. 𝗛𝗘 was 𝗚𝗢𝗡𝗘. not only did it hurt because she didn’t get to say goodbye or because it was his birthday— it hurt because 𝗛𝗘 was the only person she had left.

CURRENT TIME.

seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days. ever since his death, time slowed down at a immense pace. nothing felt the same even if they were the same. her sight was no longer filled with vibrant colors, everything appeared grey and dull. music didn’t make her want to get up and dance or fill her with serotonin, it just made her want to turn it off. food didn’t even taste the same anymore. life just wasn’t what she enjoyed and it showed in her aura and character. she sucked in a harsh breath as she unclenched her fists, blood pouring from her palms. “shit-“ she muttered as she rose from her bed and made a beeline to the bathroom. this always happens whenever she daydreamed about that night. she ran her hands under the cold water, watching the red tainted water flow down the drain.

her shaky hands turned the knobs and the water came to a halt. as she dried her hands with a paper towel, her brown eyes found the looking glass as she peered at herself. the insomnia that she had been battling the past few nights were becoming very noticeable in her visage. the slight bags under her eyes, her flushed cheeks, and the slump in her shoulders. she couldn’t attend the ball like this, absolutely no way. in all honesty, she didn’t really want to go.. but she knew she had to.

after much research, chérie came to the conclusion that the founder’s ball was a supernatural magnet. more specifically a vampire magnet and with revenge on her mind, there was no way she could miss this event. the detectives tried to rule his death as a animal attack but cher was too smart. the two marks on his neck, the drainage of blood from his body, and the crime scene was clear of a struggle. how could a animal make such a clean attack? impossible. the girl searched the internet for answers and found something that caught her eye. mystic falls had some strange run-ins with the creatures of the night. coming across that conclusion, everything seemed to make sense. there was no doubt in her mind that a vampire murdered the person who meant the most to her and now she was more than ready to uncover the truth.

but he wasn’t coming back— and in that moment, he took a piece of her with him. her thumb rubbed against hi

chérie was gonna avenge her brother, even if it kills her.

[thejonzone]

A Lifetime Gone: Notes on Jim Sullivan and The Hours

Laura Brown does not want to be Laura Brown. She is one of three protagonists in The Hours (played by Julianne Moore in the movie adaptation), and for her it is 1949 in the hot desert suburbs of Los Angeles. Laura has a husband and a young son but dreads her housewife role, knowing it isn’t for her, knowing she can’t keep it up. She stays in bed for as long as she can, her eyes drop with empty relief as she watches her husband pull out of the driveway, and she reads, despairing for a different world.

After a failed attempt to make a birthday cake and an intimate moment with her neighbor Kitty, Laura has an existential panic. She drops her son off at a friend’s house and, under the guise of running an errand, takes a drive into the city: “As she pilots her Chevrolet along the Pasadena Freeway....she feels as if she’s dreaming or....as if she’s remembering this drive from a dream long ago.”

20 years later in Los Angeles (and in real life), Jim Sullivan records his debut album, U.F.O. It’s first song, “Jerome”, begins with a bright, unsettling orchestral arrangement. Swelling and theatrical but foreboding and alone, it’s the musical equivalent of “red sky in morning, sailors take warning.” Something is wrong. But just as the tension peaks, it all falls away, and for a moment everything is still.

Jerome is a town in Arizona, but you’d be just as right if you thought Jim Sullivan’s song was describing a person. In the late 1800’s, the town in the Arizona desert boomed with copper mining, but the mine closed in the early 1950’s, and the people left with it. Sullivan sings about buying drugs and wanting to go to Jerome, but he doesn’t know where it is or how to find it. He wonders where this ghost town could be. Is it “just a town out there”? Can you only find it “if you’re driving slow”? What exactly does Jerome mean to Sullivan, and how real is the place he’s searching for?

Jerome revitalized itself in the early 1970’s, in part due to its proximity to Sedona, the nearby capital of new-age spirituality. Sedona is known for its vortexes, places in nature that supposedly have high spiritual energy. It doesn’t seem coincidental that Jim Sullivan mentions Jerome-- he and his wife were both interested in New Age mysticism. The album has a clear spiritual bent, exploring reincarnation, religion, and grief: the foggy space between worlds. Even without knowing his strange and tragic backstory, Jim Sullivan’s U.F.O. captures the uneasiness of a dream world, the rising anxiety of realizing you’ve been traveling in the same circle, over and over again. It’s a nightmare. U.F.O. is about illusions and ghosts, it’s full of ghosts, one of whom (in hindsight) is Jim’s ghost, which haunts the album more than anyone he wrote about.

There’s a decent amount written about Jim Sullivan’s story. It ends with him in the New Mexico desert in 1975. Before that, he’d been living in Los Angeles. He made two albums that both failed to create any real traction for him. He had some small success (he was in the movie Easy Rider) but decided to leave his family behind and drive to Nashville to find session work. And that’s that. He never made it to Nashville. He disappeared, was never found or heard from. Ever again! They found his car, all his stuff in it, but never found him. For a guy that talked about driving into the desert and disappearing, it’s spooky how 6 years later he drove into the desert and disappeared.

His music faded to almost nothing, until Light in the Attic reissued it in 2010. My initial fascination is summed up by PopMatters: “When you discover a story like [Jim’s], you start hearing the music differently...It seems impossible not to hear the lyrics as a prediction...that he would come to some kind of mysterious end.” It kept tickling my head, the already cryptic and confusing lyrics morphing into some type of eerie prophecy I felt compelled to piece together.

For Sullivan, it’s not what we see, but how we see it. Eyes show up all over U.F.O. “Plain As Your Eyes Can See” is a lamentation of unreciprocated love. The song is claustrophobic: A crowd’s whisper amplifies to a drowning yell, fallen rocks constrict a bridge’s path. As the world contracts, the narrator realizes they don’t have a place in their love’s life. The song’s idiomatic title is deceptive. Because something that’s as “plain as your eyes can see” should be simple. But U.F.O. is full of moments when our eyes observe something strange, when seeing is anything but plain. He tells us that eyes can easily be deceived, and now here we are, our eyes deceived. The album is a disappearing act, a magic trick.

Throughout the album, characters have surreal, impaired vision. “Whistle Stop” begins with “thunder and lightning in my eyes”, before the narrator describes an interaction with a woman he believes to have known from a past life. “All the air seemed quite foggy to me,” he says, setting up a dream world where he contemplates the soul having some type of knowledge that transcends a body. On “Rosey”, men look at the titular sex worker with “diamonds in their eyes”, and Sullivan tries to figure out who really sees who in the exchange. The song is dark and melodic, the strings and horns are exalting at times, dangerous elsewhere.

The characters in Sullivan’s songs are observers, peering from windows, or watching from crowds. They are searching for answers and they search by watching. In the title song, the narrator describes watching a religious ceremony as “checking out the show / with a glassy eye”, whereas in “Johnny”, the narrator is watching a crowd form to watch a boy who is flying in the sky. They yell out to him to come down, and then wonder if he has discovered anything from up there. As the album goes on, it becomes clear that Jim himself was a watcher, as lost as his characters. Even the album’s cover art expresses a fractured and confused gaze, as 5 duplications of Jim’s face, rapt in attention, look up curiously at something out of sight.

Laura Brown, after some aimless driving, decides to rent a hotel room for the afternoon. She’s impressed by the “cool nowhere” of it, a place of travel and transition, a place to sleep but not a home. After checking in, she realizes how “far away from her life she is. It was so easy.” In the hotel, she sees her anger, her panic, her nervousness, all still in existence, but separate from her: “It’s almost as if she’s accompanied by an invisible sister…”

It is Sullivan’s discussion on death and reincarnation that proves most eerie in hindsight. Even with Rosey’s protective facade, she’s surprised to feel seen by her johns, as they see a part of her that she “often thought was dead”, which makes that part of her alive again, if just for a moment. U.F.O.’s title song begins with strings that feel celestial, so it’s only right that he sings about Jesus and resurrection-- “the only man I know that got up from the dead”. It’s neither critique nor praise of Christianity; the narrator wonders if people can come back, if they can ever be seen again. That idea is carried over in the most affecting song on the album, So Natural. In it, Sullivan most directly grapples with a grief that permeates the whole album: the death of his brother. He again is a watcher, this time at his brother’s funeral. His bizarre take on the experience is how natural his brother looks in death. Sullivan has molded a character who is both alive and dead. In a later verse portending his own death, Sullivan wishes for oblivion: for nobody to be at his eventual funeral, for his ashes to scatter across the desert. And here’s the wild part: both those things effectively happened.

Free of her responsibilities, Laura reads Mrs. Dalloway in her hotel room: “did it matter that she must inevitably cease completely, did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely?” And after closing the book: “It is possible to die. Laura thinks, suddenly, how she-- how anyone-- can make a choice like that.” It’s a grounding realization for Laura. It’s not necessarily one about suicidal ideation, although (at least in the movie version) she does attempt it, but one about agency. Death changes from something that happens to something one can make happen. In that moment, Laura realizes that she can choose life.

So what happened to Jim Sullivan? There are a few theories, and of course, nothing is confirmed. One is that he was killed, perhaps he ran into an unsavory figure, maybe small town police, maybe a remote branch of the mafia, maybe just a wrong place wrong time situation. Some think that he was abducted by aliens. I don’t think it should be ruled out that he chose to disappear.

After driving back from the hotel, Laura picks her son up on the way back home. She steps out of the car, feet planted back in the real world, and “is overtaken by a sensation of unbeing...it seems that by going to the hotel she has slipped out of her life…”

“Highways”, U.F.O.’s emotional centerpiece, sparkles and trills in a way that would certainly make Sufjan Stevens shit. Sufjan for sure takes a page from Sullivan’s book. Both these fellas love horns and using place to ground their songwriting. Both seem to float over the scenes they describe. Highways is optimistic, in a way. On an album where he’s searching for a place to feel at home, he finds it: being lost. He’s lost both physically and spiritually, as he describes losing his sense of identity. But that doesn’t concern him. “It’s easier to stay here, think I know my way here”, he sings. The place he feels most comfortable in isn’t a place so much as a state of motion. It’s part of the fantasy of escape, that giddy rush of being invisible, of not owing anyone anything, it’s that same feeling that coursed through Laura Brown as she drove down her own highway. “Highways” sounds like Jim Sullivan making a promise to disappear one day.

But he doesn’t disappear, at least not right away. He returns after a trip both in and out of our world, returns home, but he doesn’t return fully, he returns on the final song as a Sandman, bringer of sleep. It’s depressing, dark, insidious-- “honey now your sandman’s back in town” Sullivan croons, a promise of someone who knows death, holds it with him. Laura Brown, similarly obsessed with death, also doesn’t disappear right away. Her afternoon in the hotel makes it clear that she needs to leave, but she formulates her plan and waits for the right moment before doing so. As Laura delays having to join her husband in bed, she thinks over her life-changing day: “She might be nothing but a floating intelligence, a presence that perceives, as a ghost might. Yes, this is probably how it must feel to be a ghost. It’s a little like reading-- that same sensation of knowing people, settings, situations, without playing a particular part beyond that of the willing observer.”

I know what it is to fear life. To tip-toe, lie, crumple, appease, stay quiet, get angry, run. I know what it is to become a ghost. I want to believe that desire is stronger than fear, but I know it’s a choice like anything else. Jim Sullivan made a decision to improve his life. He chose to go to Nashville, and either was killed along the way, or chose to go away, just like he said he wanted to. I want to believe that we will do whatever we can to achieve what we need, but I know it’s not so simple. Jim’s voice is weighed down by despair, yet it’s clear he had a deep spirituality within him, some guiding force. He teases us to see, to really see.

Jerome is a town in Arizona, but you’d be just as right if you thought Jim Sullivan was describing a person. A person who once existed, a person who might come back. Jerome is the person who we are when we stop lying to ourselves, and it’s the place we’re constantly looking for. Good luck finding it on a map. Jerome is Jim Sullivan’s opening statement on his baroque pop nightmare, his declaration that we never really die, that we are constantly alive and dead, and what defines those qualities is rooted in what we’re searching for and what we’re hiding from. In the end though, it’s the Jerome Tourism website that puts it most mysteriously and succinctly: “Forever? Jerome never knows.”

[taocastleprincess]

inktober for writers - days 10 + 11 - honor + seaons / eijiroctober - days 10 + 11 - fantasy outfit + dragon Kiri

A/N: I reaaaaaaaally like what came out of this little writing exercise. like, i’m considering a longterm multi-chap?? esp since i left this REALLY open ended. sooo like tell me what you think? i love comments/criticism/love/suggestions!!

fic under the cut!

Dragons have always been ostracized. They’re too big, too destructive, too brutish, too inhuman. They are said to be too dumb to control their fire breathing, killing crops and animals and even children in fits of irritation or anger. Their transformations hint at a demonic origin, they’re Satan’s spawn, grandmothers whisper to their toddlers after tucking them in at night. They are dangerous, mystical beings that ought to be left alone. Or killed. Kirishima is sure that in another world, another universe or time or place, dragons would be appreciated, celebrated even. There would still be tales about them but only ones that paint them in a light that inspires hope or courage. They’d team up with princes and knights to take down wicked witches or evil kings. They’d have power and influence running hot with the blood in their veins, like the blazing red of molten lava. They would be heroes. Would be. If the world were different and humans were more understanding. Less cruel and more loving. If they’d only try to get outside of their own limited understanding of the world things would be different... So different that he wouldn’t have to be hauling ass through the expanse of a dark forest to get away from men who wanted to rip him apart and skin his dragon form for their winter boots. Kirishima runs. Keeps running until he’s blue in the face and, after that, he pushes himself to go even further. He’s weighed down with the heavy feelings of fear and guilt, stomach knotting more from intense sympathy than the burst of personal despair gripping his heart. He didn’t even think twice before leaving his friend behind... His only friend. The person who had saved him from certain death, going out of their way to help him recover from a critical sword wound, giving Kirishima his time, his magic, risking his reputation, his freedom to help a dragon that laid quickly dying on the side of a road. Why did he leave him behind? How did he leave him behind? What kind of dragon leaves behind a friend in need at the drop of a pence? As soon as a little trouble starts brewing? When did he become so cowardly and disgusting, being able to leave behind the only friend, the only family he’s ever known, to deal with bloodthirsty scoundrels on their own? Kirishima trips. His foot catches on a vine, sending his whole body flying forward at high speed. He hits the ground with a loud thud and an eery CRACK of bones breaking. His side immediately lights up with searing pain, the impact of such a rough landing obviously jostling the placement of a few of his ribs. As the bounty hunters quickly close in on him, Kirishima starts to feel hot tears run down his face in rivulets. He’s so ridden with guilt he isn’t even crying over his almost certain death at the hands of these men. He can’t tear his thoughts away from the alchemist-in-training who has probably already met a worse fate. His body shakes violently at the thought of his soft-hearted green-eyed companion. His tears burn his skin, the memory of Midoriya being roughly restrained and tied up in preparation of a probably violent interrogation makes him sick. Midoriya was only a target because of his ties to HIM and Kirishima had the audacity, the sheer cowardice, to leave him alone and defenseless in order to save his own ass. He deserves to die. He stares at the men approaching him through watery eyes. The black of their clothing blend in seamlessly with the darkness of the forest. A sharp contrast to the glittering silver of their sharp sabers, sparkling menacingly under the cover of moonlight. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even breathe as the leader of the group steps forward to finish the job. He’s over six feet tall, bald, and ugly with a taunting face and a bulging neck. He walks forward slowly with his saber drawn and pointed towards Kirishima’s throat. He chuckles darkly, a hollow sound that chills the redhead’s spine. “When I finally get back home, after hanging yer scaly ass head from my fireplace, I gotta go to the temple ‘n’ thank the gods for this piece o’ shit death trap.” He opens his arms and slowly turns in a circle, faux-marveling at the forest. “Ya almost got away, ya little shit. Didn’t even know scum like you could run that fast when yer outta yer real form. Shit. Thought ya were high off some witches’ salt or somethin’,” he laughs. The sound grates Kirishima’s nerves. He glares at the man but he doesn’t dare speak. If anything, he’ll just earn himself a painful death. If he’s going to die like this, he’s gonna go out as painless as possible. “Ya can’t speak, dragon?” Kirishima blinks wordlessly and the man laughs again. “Oh, I get it. Yer gonna go out bein’ all dignified ‘n’ quiet ‘n’ shit, yeh?” The smile on his face twists into a thing of wickedness. “Let’s see how yer friend’ll take it when we come back with ya cut up into tiny pieces ‘n’ we tell him that you took it like a real man,” he smiles devilishly and starts waving his sword about. “Don’t you fucking dare,” Kirishima’s voice comes out in a hoarse, pained whisper. The toll of broken bones and a crushed spirit affecting his ability to speak. Another laugh. “Just jokin’ wit’ ya! I only get paid the full amount if ya come back chopped up ‘n’ the kid gets delivered in his right mind. The gruesome truth will be just between ya ‘n’ me.” He winks at Kirishima with a creepy amount of enthusiasm. “Ya know what they say?” Kirishima continues to glare at him, so much hatred seeping out of his pores it is almost tangible. “Two can keep a secret if one of ‘em is de—“ A crudely made arrow slices through the air and pierces the man’s neck. The man looks terrified and confused, mouth moving and trying to communicate around the arrow currently lodged in his throat but his damaged voice box and the blood pooling out of his mouth prevents him from offering up more than watery gurgles. Another arrow flies from above Kirishima’s head and lodges itself into the man’s heart. He falls backwards, body lifelessly collapsing to the ground as blood continues to overflow from his open mouth. A stronger wave of fear takes Kirishima by surprise. He can’t fight an enemy he can’t see. He can’t fight at all, actually, with his body in such a condition and being too weak to switch forms. The biological alarm that’s telling his entire brain and body and soul to GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE is useless. His energy is sapped, his limit reached. Not even the healthy dose of adrenaline pumping through his veins are enough to help him escape. He watches on in terror as the arrows start traveling through the air at now rapid rates, effectively killing or incapacitating the rest of the five or six men that had come with their now-dead leader. The entire ambush only spans about two minutes, but Kirishima’s anxiety leads him to believe he’s been vulnerable for hours. Watching the dead or fallen men around him become decorated with arrows pains him. Not because they didn’t deserve it. They most certainly did. If he’s being honest, they deserved an end even less merciful than this for harming Midoriya in the way that they did. However, as easy as they got off in Kirishima’s eyes, it still looked like an anguishing death. The screaming, the wide eyes of confusion and fright. Looks of horror overtaking entire faces at the realization that they were dying finally set in. It looked like something he didn’t want to experience first hand. Kirishima waits for his arrow. He squeezes his eyes shut, some childish part of him still believing that not seeing something makes it less unbearable. He shrinks himself into a ball and waits. He prays to any god that will listen to a pathetic dragon like him that he’ll luck up and get an arrow that kills him instantly. He also sends a prayer up for Midoriya, asking the god of luck and fortune to make a way for him to escape the clutches of the men who captured him. He prays for other things, little things, like good otter tail in the afterlife and a some dwarf-made beer just to whet his tastes. It’s been so long, so, so long since he’s had a decent meal and something to drink that wasn’t dirty river water.... Maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad. If what the templars and priests were always saying was true, maybe he’d have a better time after death. With endless food, kind neighbors, angels with locks like gold helping him along his w— “You gonna stay like that, Scales-for-Brains? Get the fuck up, you lazy piece of shit, we gotta get goin’. Fuckin’ hell, look at your sorry ass! I was thinkin’ that we could fly off real fast, but you smell like someone kicked the shit outta you.” When Kirishima looks up from the ground, he sees a man about his age peering down at him. He’s shirtless, necklaces of red- and blue-dyed sharkteeth adorning his neck and chest, with a red cape lined with fur decorating his shoulders. The moonlight catching the fringe of his bang reveals his hair to be a dirty blond color, wild and unruly. Kirishima doesn’t have to guess about the color of his eyes either, as they glow supernaturally bright, crimson colored irises glaring down at him in irritation. “Can you understand me, dumbass? I said I can smell all the internal bleeding you got right now! You’re gonna fuckin’ die if you just lay here, get your sorry ass up.” Before Kirishima can even process what’s happening, he’s yanked to his feet by the foul mouthed blond. Sharp pains rake his entire side, broken bones jostling and hitting places that they really shouldn’t. Kirishima fights the urge to punch the man in his face. “If you can tell that I’m hurt why the hell are you dragging me around like a rag doll? And what’s your deal? You just meet random people and start cursing them out?” The blond rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Scales-for-Brains. You don’t know me, but I know you. So just get with the fuckin’ program already,” the man huffs and Kirishima feels like he’s a wayward child being scolded. “Gods, I fuckin’ swear, anytime that little dick Deku needs anything from me I end up getting the shit end of the stick. One day I’m just gonna tell him to fuck off.” Kirishima forgets the gravity of the situation for a bit as his curiosity piques. “You know me? From where? Have we met before?” The blond gives him a look of irritation and starts stomping off, away from the carnage. “He— Hey! I’m talking to you!” “I know that, dumbass, keep it the fuck down before you wake up a demon boar or something. I’ll leave your ass quick and in a hurry. And don’t forget it,” Kirishima scrambles after him as quickly as he can with broken ribs. “We haven’t met, I just know about you from that shit ass alchemist that you follow around.” Kirishima’s heart races. “You know Midoriya?!” “Didn’t I just say that?” Kirishima can’t see the blond’s face but he’s almost sure that his face is scrunched up in a mean look. Since when did Midoriya hang around such..... unfortunate company? “You said he contacted you? How? When? He’s in a lot of trouble right now! Those guys attacked us at his home and they have him tied up! I know that they just wanted me but they’re ready to kill him if he doesn’t cooperate! And now that I’m gone and their acco—“ “Do you ever shut the fuck up? Shit. Obviously, he’s not too bad if he had the energy to summon a pigeon to get my attention.” Kirishima continues to shuffle after the blond, but the latter slows down, so he’s able to catch his breath a bit. “Just now?” “Probably an hour’s passed since then. Maybe two. I don’t know,” he pauses for a moment. “And those guys weren’t after you, dumbass. They probably just saw a fuckin’ dragon and decided to take advantage. Dragon hides go for big money these days. Could feed a whole fuckin’ village with just your right claw on a fuckin’ stick.” “Yes, I know,” Kirishima responds bitterly. The blond whips his head to study Kirishima’s face. “Apologies. That was shitty. But, yeah, they’re not after you. They’re after shitty Deku and whatever fuckin’ shit he found out after he stuck his nose in the king’s business. Idiot.” He turns his head back around to continue navigating and Kirishima thinks about all of this information quietly. Was Midoriya working on something that dangerous without telling him? Of course, he knew that the only reason Midoriya wouldn’t have told him about whatever he discovered was because it was potentially life-threatening information. Unfortunately, though, the truth of the matter doesn’t make the betrayal sting any less. “So are they going to kill him? For knowing whatever he knows?” “Nah, they’ll interrogate him for awhile. The king loves torture. It’ll probably be months before they finally let ‘im kick the bucket.” The other boy relays this information to Kirishima as if they were discussing the upcoming weather in Driwox. The casual tone of his voice prevents the knowledge from numbing Kirishima’s brain. “And you’re not gonna do anything about it? Didn’t he call you for help? I was assuming you guys were friends, but you’re just strolling along after you acknowledged that he’s gonna die in the span of a few months if he doesn’t get released! That doesn’t bother you? What the hell is your issue?” He doesn’t realize that he’s yelling until the blond whips around and smashes his hand over his mouth. “Shut the fuck up, Scales-for-Brains. We’re trying to get back to my place without getting mauled!” The blond is whisper-yelling, his face so close to Kirishima’s he can smell the hotness of his breath as he speaks. Cinnamon. The shirtless man sighs looking Kirishima in the eyes with a solemn look. “Look, I know firsthand about how shitty he’s about to have it. If it were up to me, I’d be treating the rest of the king’s lapdogs to some Stfkier arrows right up the ass.” Kirishima watches the man’s face alight with a strong combination of sadness and unbridled anger. “But that’s not what that shithead told me to do. He asked me to find you, make sure you’re safe, and to run some errands for him.” Kirishima’s eyebrows unconsciously rise. The other man laughs. “Yeah, fuckin’ errands. Like the little dick is goin’ off on vacation and not being fuckin’ targeted by the monarchy.” He shakes his head furiously, but the look on his face is a tad bit fond. “He sounds crazy, but whatever he found is apparently worth securing by any means necessary.” The blond moves his hands away from Kirishima’s mouth. The redhead was already feeling drained with all of the trouble accumulating around him, but now he’s discovering a level of fatigue that he never knew existed before. “So he’s sacrificing himself.” It’s meant to sound like a question, but his tone falls flat.

He feels like sleeping for a thousand years. Maybe he will. Without Midoriya there’s nothing to stick around for anyway. “We’re not lettin’ him, Shitty Hair. So stop lookin’ like a lost puppy,” the blond’s voice cuts through his thoughts and brings him back to attention. “We’ve got a little time between now and Deku’s execution. If we can follow-through with everything on his list, we can get him released. Whatever he found must be enough to throw the entire royal court up in flames.” Kirishima’s eyes widen with surprise. “‘We?’ You’re trusting me to help you with this? With whatever could destroy the stability of an entire kingdom? Yeah, no. Not even Midoriya thought I could handle that.” At the last statement, his heart drops. It was his own fault for getting his hopes up, though. Humans aren’t wired to trust dragons with their whole, entire beings. Their distrust of dragons is biological, built in. Not even a kind soul like Midoriya was exempt from something that ingrained. “Hey. Don’t be a little shit. Deku was protecting you.  And you know that. He’d trust you with the entire moon if it were his to give. Believe me. I get sick of hearing about your dumbass all the time. You’re his closest friend. Have a little more faith in him.” After letting his words sink in for a bit, the blond folds his arms over his chest and fixes him with a challenging stare. “So you in or not? Say no and I’ll kick your wingless ass.” Kirishima rolls his eyes. “You don’t even know me. You’ve only heard about me. I doubt I can help you complete whatever tasks Midoriya laid out for you. I’m just... Just me. And ‘just me’ isn’t enough to save anyone. I’ve tried before,” Kirishima explains. He thanks the all-encompassing darkness shrouding them as steamy tears threaten to fall again. The other man is quiet for a long while. They continue walk in silence until they reach the edge of the forest, the trees thinning to reveal a large field of grass as far as the eyes can see. Now that they’re out of the forest, the moonlight is bright enough to illuminate the world around them. The field of grass seems almost unreal, the light giving it an ethereal glow. Kirishima wonders if they’re about to cross a faerie field. “Look,” the blond begins, cutting into Kirishima’s thoughts for the countless time tonight. “You’re right. I don’t know you, don’t know shit about you. All I know is that I gotta get Deku outta whatever shit he’s tangled up in now and this time I need help.” His crimson eyes glow even brighter under the moonlight, more intense than they’ve ever been so far. “I’m not asking you to be anything more than what you are.” “A dragon?” “A friend,” the man corrects. “You think this whole deal is complicated and out of your reach, but it’s not. The most important thing he needs right now is people rallying behind him makin’ things happen. That’s all. I just need you to be a friend. We can figure the rest of this shit out as we go along.” Kirishima wavers under his heavy gaze. He wants to be agreeable, to help Midoriya but... His mind flashes back to a scene from only a few hours ago. It keeps replaying desperately he ran from Midoriya’s attackers instead of staying and fighting for him, with him. He’s not at all qualified for this. He isn’t a friend. He’s a traitor, a coward. Lower than scum. “I left him there,” Kirishima says simply. His body heaves in despair and a sharp pain shakes his whole body. Hopefully one of those broken ribs will pierce his heart. “So redeem yourself. Grow. Make this a fuckin’ quest to redeem your honor. I don’t know, Shitty Hair. I really don’t. All I know is: sitting on your ass and crying about what you did in the past ain’t gonna help anyone. You’re just abandoning him again.” The blond gently places a hand on Kirishima’s shoulder. The redhead dares to meet his eyes and is surprised to see them holding an emotion other than aggressive irritation. His gaze is gentle, careful. “Buck up, Scales. Seriously. He wouldn’t have wanted you to fight them anyway. You definitely woulda got yourself killed.” And just like that, the gentleness is gone, compassion evaporating like a shallow puddle on a midsummer’s day. “So what now? What’re you gonna do, Scales-for-Brains? I ain’t got all night. I need to sleep.” The blond holds Kirishima’s gaze while the latter drowns in his own thoughts. “Kirishima.” “What?” Kirishima shrugs the blond’s hand off his shoulder. “It’s Kirishima. Kirishima Eijirou. If we’re going to work together stop calling me dumb names.” The blond rolls his eyes. “Dumb name. I’ll stick with ‘Scales,’” he comments as he gently wraps Kirishima’s arm around his neck and snakes his other arm around the dragon’s waist to give him some foundational support. Kirishima huffs in response to his statement but is otherwise grateful for the help. “Bakugou. I would say it’s a pleasure but it’s been a real shitshow.” Kirishima laughs for the first time since nightfall. “That’s putting it nicely.” Bakugou spares him a smirk. “So you good to go? We’ve got to basically fly across this field if we don’t want any fuckin’ faeries messing with us tonight.” “You live in a faerie field? Do you have a death wish?” “They can’t fuck with you unless you give them your name,” Bakugou turns his head and gives his companion a look of muted irritation. “Like you just did. Now we have to hurry up just in case one of them fuckin’ heard you. Damned moron.” Kirishima sputters. “Bu— Bu— Okay, I didn’t know, you could’ve said something or cut me off! You’re not the nicest guy, it wouldn’t have been to hard to do.” Kirishima gives a half-hearted glare in the blond’s direction. “And you gave your name too! So what about that?” “That’s not my given name.” Kirishima immediately looks slighted and Bakugou laughs. “Calm yourself. Nothing’ll happen. We just have to hurry up, which is why I asked if you’re good to go.” “I’m not, but I wanna get out of here as soon as dragonly possible. So let’s make it happen. Ribs and bruised insides be damned.” “That’s the spirit, Scales. That’s the type of shit I was always hearing about from Deku.” Kirishima looks at Bakugou. “He talked about me that much?” “All the fuckin’ time. Fuckin’ annoying. But I’ve heard some wild shit about you, Scales. We’ve gotta sit down and compare notes after all this shit is over. You’re my kinda guy. Real rough an’ fuckin’ tough. Don’t know why you’re palling around with Deku’s nerd ass.” Kirishima’s face heats up under the overwhelming praise. “He’s a good person,” he manages to answer through embarrassment and... pleasure? “Yeah,” Bakugou agrees, completely oblivious to Kirishima’s malfunction. “Yeah, he is. That’s why we’re gonna rescue him. So let’s go.” Quickly, the two of them start moving through the field. Side by side, they navigate around faerie fields, dodge pixie stalks, and other traps set by the mischievous little folk. While they hustle, Bakugou tells Kirishima stories about Midoriya and the trouble they used to get into as children and young teens. Kirishima wonders how such a wild, obviously inhuman, creature like Bakugou grew up with Midoriya, a sweet human from the very literal middle of nowhere in the Driwox kingdom.

He supposes he has a while to figure that out though. He’s going to be spending at least a couple months with the explosive, wild creature currently helping him to safety.

He hopes that Midoriya can hold out for that long.

[madebyloyalty]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄:

“Dammit dad, what the hell have you got me into?”

The whisper of words was met with the crisp morning air of Mystic Falls, Virginia. As I stepped out of the Impala, and for as far as the eye could see the wooden area was filled with mist. Some might have said it was almost beautiful— a touching moment of the heart to witness such a sight. However, I wasn't that faint of heart. This town? It wasn't just an entry scene for some romance novel. It's darkness weighed far too heavy for that. Vampires, werewolves, witches… an entire hotspot of paranormal activity that could have been a 90’s goth porno extravaganza. Whatever had brought my dad here, all signs lead to it not being good. Shit, it was the last known place he was before going missing. The hours were reaching the wire. I knew he could take care of himself— the bastard wasn't a rookie for god sake. Yet that didn't mean he couldn't get into trouble. Even the best of hunters could catch themselves in sticky situations. 

This shit hole? A haven of bad news. A few days back Sammy and I had cracked down on the very last motel the old man had stayed at. It just about cost us our cover and we nearly lost all traces of clues. Fate was met with a sinister reality when we found his journal mixed in with the shit pile of salt, random connections and moldy food. Dad never went anywhere without that stupid thing. The last entries he had in it lead me to a large abandoned house just outside of this small town. As I stood outside of it now, I could feel the energy all around me start to change. Dammit dad, what the hell have you got me into? 

It would have been a few days before I knew Sam would reach the small Virginia town. Rather than stick around with him in his college town where he was finishing up his loose ends with his girlfriend, I knew I needed to be here. The timeline between finding a missing person was always short. I was no way in hell a detective, but I knew when it came to anything supernatural the normal span of time was even shorter. It took everything I had not to let my mind wander towards any scenarios that could cause panic. I had been doing this hunting shit for far too long to start panicking now. Yet the eerie feeling lingered in the back of my mind. Dad never went anywhere without his journal. For him to start now would only mean one of two things: he was leaving us clues to find him… or he really was in trouble. My sane mind wanted to believe the first option. 

4102 S. Wicker Rd was looked to be an abandoned white house just off the main road into town. Overgrown and not taken care of in the last several years, I stepped through the ankle high leaves with the weight of my gun at my side feeling heavy. In the back of my mind, I wondered what would have been more handy in this situation? Wooden, silver or regular bullets? It had been a long time since I had entered a town so full of supernatural bastards. Whatever this place was, I was ill prepared for what was to come. A damn miracle was what I would need until Sam got here; even then my younger brother had been out of the business for quite some time. 

I didn’t want to be a jackass. Leaving him behind at school to tie up Jessica’s death seemed like the best option. He needed to take him; he needed to grieve and work through whatever the hell happened to her before stepping into this job. I had all faith in him that he would find me in Mystic Falls in a few days time. By then I hoped we would catch a lead on whatever the hell happened to dad and get out of this hot bed of paranormal freaks before any sort of real shit happened. It was day one and I knew I had a lot of ground to cover. 

As I reached the steps of the front porch, the weight of my step caused a loud creak to sound from the worn down wood below. I swore I heard a shift in the woods all around me, yet as my eyes turned to look, of course there was nothing. Giving one last fatal look back to my Impala, my baby in all accounts of the word, I looked forwards towards the house with the sound of my breathing feeling heavy in my chest. I liked to think the house was beautiful at one time; it held a sort of presence about it that made it seem like someone at some point took care of it. Yet like most all houses, they could turn to shit really fast if no one was willing to put in the work. 

The screen door to the large house was ajar— half turned open. I turned over the possibilities. Weather damage was a true alternative, or perhaps it was broken due to a struggle of some kind. A forced entry. With my gun now in hand, I used it to push the door open the rest of the way and entered through the other door. As I crossed the threshold of the home, my body reacted to the instant smell before my mind could process it. 

Rot. Decay. Death.

“Fucking shit—”

It hung in the air as I walked into the home like a god awful omen. Mixed with the dust and aging wood, my head began to feel light. Pulling my gun from my pocket, I pressed on through the home half covering my nose and half being on high alert to all of my surroundings. There was not a chance in hell that whatever had attacked was still in the area-- but I sure as fuck was not about to take my chances. This wasn’t the time for rookie mistakes. Each footstep was met with floor creaks; even the sound of mice against the floorboards lingered off in the distance. The hallways? Clear. The dining room? Clear. The living room? Ah, bingo. What was once a stomach churning smell had now caused my vision to even turn blurry. Water poured from the sides of my eyes.

This wasn’t my first time encountering a dead body, hell. The chances of it were high on a daily basis. As I walked slowly through the large area, I knew exactly where the smell was coming from. Back on the far side of the wall was an out of place sofa. In fact, everything in this room was out of place. All factors pointed to a sign of clear struggle. That didn’t stop me from feeling hesitant. Well, more than hesitant. I didn’t want to acknowledge the pit within my stomach. As a hunter, you were not supposed to get scared. Being afraid was something I left behind long ago when mom died. I couldn’t be scared; more than anything I needed to be strong. A hard fact I learned from years of dad being on the go and having to do my best to raise Sammy. 

But what if it was dad back there? His body ripped apart by some vampire, left rotting for days on end with no one to come and find him? In the last few days I had spent trying to help Sam, searching for clues, I should have been here. It could be dad’s body… It could be… It could be. My gun still held out was now shaking subconsciously; no matter what I did to calm my mind, my damn fingers shook in the air like some sort of bitch. Finally dropping the gun to the ground, I walked over to the couch. No longer did I care about the smell or the fear in my bloodstream. Even the sweat that began to drip down the side of my forehead meant little. Grabbing the arm of the couch, I pushed it aside and unveiled what lay behind.

Through the mixture of flies, maggots and blood, my eyes look in what looked like a man ripped apart limb by limb. His neck was ripped out and his heart was pulled from his chest. The faint of heart wouldn’t have been able to look at this sight; however, my gaze took it all in without a blink. I was a hunter, I had seen dead bodies before. I had seen tragedy and pain, death and misery. What lay before me was as bad as I had ever seen, but it was not the worst. 

No, this was not my dad’s body.

It was Danny Lee’s.