#before moving onto a different one and leaving me to wallow in despair alone for years

[is-your-name-anronpa-cause-dang]

Remembering that time I told my boyfriend I needed to show him a VERY specific edit that is the driving force to most of this fandom, and is known as the illusive ‘nagito edit’.

[xcrystalzero]

all the things i believed

pairing: xiao x reader

summary: you've only seen the boy who lives in the apartment one over from yours a few times, but you knew the look of someone who wanted to seem intimidating when you saw one. so, why was his music taste so adorable?

alternatively, xiao thinks that the apartment walls are a lot thicker than they actually are and accidentally exposes the fact that he's not nearly as angsty as he wants everyone to believe.

note: soft xiao makes me way too happy. also, here is xiao's playlist! i recommend listening while you read :) if you guys like it, i'll make playlists for my fics more often!

"I'll miss you!" Your roommate had her arms wound tightly around your torso and it didn't seem like she planned on letting go any time soon. She was also squeezing just a tad too hard and it was starting to hurt.

Gingerly, you patted her on the shoulder, subtly attempting to pry her off of you with your other hand. "I'll miss you too... But remember, it's only two weeks and then you're back!"

That only served to make her pout even more as she finally pulled away "Two weeks is so long though! How am I going to survive without you and your brownies?"

"Hah, so you're really only worried about not having brownies huh?"

"You know that's not what I meant!" she whined, causing you to giggle slightly. Honestly though, there was no way anyone watching could possibly think that she would only be gone for two weeks. Your roommate had decided that she needed three full suitcases and the world's largest carry-on purse for her little trip, and you were honestly a little worried about it.

"Ahem..." Your bonding moment was promptly interrupted by a soft but very present voice directly behind you. Whirling around, you came face to face with a vaguely familiar figure.

It was the golden eyes that caught your attention first. Even in the strange fluorescent light of the hallway, they almost seemed to have a light of their own, a hypnotizing sort of gleam that you couldn't bring yourself to look away from. Of course, the rest of him was no less than stunning either. Dressed head to toe in black with his angular features and lean build, he was striking.

His eyes widened slightly as you turned towards him though they settled fairly quickly back into what you could only assume was his trademark glare.

"Just... trying to get through." His voice was gruff, but much softer than you had anticipated. Perhaps even gentle?

Oh yeah, that was how you knew him! Your schedules must have been somewhat similar since you were sure you passed him at least a few times a week. You had never talked but you were pretty sure you had seen him going into the unit one over from yours quite a few times.

So this was your neighbor huh? He was cute, if a little intimidating.

"Oh sorry!" your roommate chimed in. "We were just leaving, we'll get out of your way!" She began to scoot her bags to the side and you quickly joined in, wheeling one of the suitcases to the side, though you couldn't seem to keep your eyes off of the guy. Every time you looked away, it was as though your gaze was drawn back towards him by some unnatural force.

It helped that he seemed just as awkward with the whole thing as you did, alternating glancing between the you and your roommate, the floor, and his phone. As soon as there was enough space for him to squeeze by, he did, mumbling a quick thanks as he made his way down the hall, unlocking his door and disappearing into his apartment in what felt like a second.

After a moment of silence, your roommate piped up again. "He's cute!"

"He can probably still hear you!" you whacked her across the shoulder, causing her to pout in your direction again, though the teasing look never left her eyes.

"He's kind of your type too isn't he?" she all-but waggled her eyebrows in your direction to which you rolled your eyes.

"Aren't you already late for your flight"

"Oh shit!"

~~~

The apartment felt so strange when you were alone. Usually around this time of night, your roommate would have come banging on your door to join her for her late night rom-com marathon or to help her chose an outfit or the party she was going to. Tonight however, everything was quiet.

With a sigh, you slumped over onto your bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone in hopes of finding some sort of entertainment.

That was when you heard it. The soft sound of an instrumental through the wall, slowly building in volume as you assumed whoever lived in that room turned up the volume.

"40 days and 40 nights... I waited for a girl like you to come and save my life..."

Aww cute, love songs! Had you been busy or doing literally anything else, you might have been annoyed, or at least a little worried about exactly how loud they had to be playing their music for you to be able to hear it. As things stood though, it was a welcome distraction.

"You were out of my league, all the things I believed, you were just the right kind yeah you were more than just a dream..."

Oh yeah, you knew this song too! There was a sort of second timbre to the sound and you wondered if the person playing the music was singing along as well.

Wait, who was playing that music. Judging by the sound, it was likely the unit one to your left where their wall joined with yours. The unit one to your left...

Multi-colored hair and golden eyes... The cute guy? Pulling yourself immediately up into a sitting position, you pressed yourself to the wall before immediately realizing how crazy you were acting.

He was just playing music, that wasn't anything weird.

"Romeo take me, somewhere we can be alone..."

Taylor Swift. He was playing Taylor Swift. At that, you started laughing. Wow, appearances really could be deceiving huh? You sighed as you leaned with your back against the wall, letting the vibrations from the music soak into your very being.

You were sure that you'd heard music coming from that unit before but he wasn't usually loud at all. Maybe something was different today? Maybe you'd ask him when you next saw him. And maybe, he'd actually want to talk to you when you did.

Or maybe not.

So for now, you let your head rest against the wall, letting the music and soft singing lull you into relaxation.

~~~

That was it, you despised public transportation. All you wanted was to get out of your apartment for one day and take your work to a nearby cafe. So of course, when you ran outside to catch the bus that came once every hour, the bus driver looked you straight in the eye as he closed the door right in front of you and drove off. And then for good measure, it started raining.

You sighed, burying your face in the backpack on your lap. If the bus app was right, which it rarely was, there was another bus you could take arriving in the next few minutes, so maybe this wouldn't be as awful as you thought.

The sound of footsteps entering the little bus stop booth got your mind off of your moping as you raised your head just enough to peer over at who it was that had just joined you.

Oh. Standing there, hood pulled up over his multi-toned hair and seemingly permanent scowl fixed on his lips, was your hot neighbor. Your hot neighbor with very interesting music taste if last night told you anything.

Since nothing could go right for you, the moment that you looked at him, he looked at you, meaning the two of you got to share a few agonizing seconds of awkward eye contact before he pointedly turned away with a soft "tsk". That being said, you were sure that you weren't imagining the slight tinge of shock you had seen in his gaze for a moment.

"You've got good timing, there's one coming in like 5 minutes." You had no idea how you had managed to get the words out without stuttering or blushing the moment he turned back to look at you.

"That's good..." Yup, that was an expected response, and yet, you really just wanted him to keep talking. So this was the end of your story with the gorgeous emo boy next door. Relegated to exchanging conversation about public transportation and nothing more. It was really the wasted potential here that was killing you. So many cute interactions that would just never happen. Ah if only the bus would come so that you wouldn't have to wallow in your despair any longer.

"I... thought you were leaving yesterday?"

Oh? You whirled around way too quickly to face the man, causing his eyes to widen as he shifted away instinctually.

"Oh, I was just helping my roommate move all of her stuff," you managed to get out, summoning what you hoped was a non-nervous smile to your lips.

"Those were all her bags?" he seemed horrified, enough so that you couldn't hold back your laughter.

"I said the same thing! She's kind of insane sometimes but I love her..." Well, it was no or never. "I'm [name] by the way!" You smiled and extended a hand out towards the boy.

He regarded you for a moment with a look you couldn't put into words. After what felt like an eternity however, he gently took your hand in his own, holding it for barely a moment before pulling back again. "Xiao."

Xiao. There was a strange sense of relief that came with this new knowledge. Know that you knew his name, was it couth to ask him what his favorite Taylor Swift song was? Probably not. But there was a chance that you might literally never be able to talk to him again... Meh, it was as you were thinking before right? Now or never.

"Hi Xiao. I liked your playlist last night by the way." The words came out more effortlessly than you had thought they would, carefree and teasing.

You were a little bit surprised though when you glanced back over at Xiao, only to find him eyes blown wide as a deep red spread quickly across his cheeks. "Y-You!"

"Honestly a pretty good curation! If a little unexpected..." You had no idea what it was about this guy but he really brought the snarky, teasing part of you out. Maybe it was the fact that while he usually looked cold and intimidating, blushing, embarrassed Xiao was strangely adorable.

"I thought you left!" Xiao blurted out. "I mean... There were so many bags... And your roommate said that you guys were leaving..."

You stared blankly at him for a moment before immediately dissolving into peals of laughter. Xiao had the gall to pretend to be offended for a moment before he looked away with a soft huff. "What..."

"You know, I kind of thought you were scary at first," you managed between giggles. "I guess not though!"

"Ugh, you're insufferable." Xiao rolled his eyes though you were sure that you saw the slightest hint of a smile as he did. "Why were you listening through the walls anyway?"

"Xiao, it was literally so loud."

"It wasn't that bad!"

"And I think I heard some singing too! Say, you in a band? Do you guys usually just write love songs?"

"I was not singing!"

There was a strange warmth in your chest as the two of you went back and forth. So things could go right for you after all?

~~~

Sadly, you and Xiao hadn't been going the same way, so when his bus came - before yours you might add - the two of you had parted ways. The sun had been going down when you made your way back home, satisfied with a productive day, though the memory of your conversation with Xiao was still taking up a lot more headspace than you would have liked.

So this is what it was like to simp for a guy? You weren't sure you liked it.

Setting down the takeout you had picked up on the counter, you crashed onto your living room couch with a low groan. Sleep would be nice right about now, but also, you had to eat and shower and clean...

"I wonder what Xiao's doing?" The thought appeared in your head suddenly and you almost smacked yourself right then and there. Why were you always thinking about him? You'd literally spoken to the guy once, and it wasn't anything special! Just some teasing and his little retorts... And his cute blush... And his little smile... And the way he pretended to be annoyed when he was clearly enjoying it... Wow, this was worse than you thought.

"CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART?"

You yelped, jumping up in your seat at the sudden noise, coming once again from the wall separating you and Xiao's units. You paused for a moment but before you could stop yourself, you were back up on your feet, making your way over and banging against the wall.

"You're not fooling anyone Xiao!" you yelled, not sure if he could even hear you. Apparently he could since the music stopped as quickly as it had started. There was a moment of silence as you pressed your ear to the wall, waiting for his next move. What you did not expect was to hear sound in the other direction. A knock on your door.

Confused, you made your way over, unlocking the door and pulling it open to reveal, Xiao? He was still wearing his giant black hoodie, though the glare was missing.

"Did you run out of sugar or something? Or fake angsty songs to play?" you questioned with a grin.

As expected, he let out a soft huff, turning his head away in fake exasperation. "You're a menace."

"So what I'm hearing is that you want me to send in a noise complaint!"

"You idiot... I'm just here to-" For whatever reason, he was blushing again.

"Here to?" you prompted, wondering if you should invite him in or offer him water or something. He was tugging at the collar of his hoodie too...

"J-Just here to say that if you're going to sit there listening through the walls, you might as well just come over..."

Did you hear that right? You stared at him for a moment longer, blinking slowly. This was probably a dream right? You were so tired when you got home that you fell asleep and now you were dreaming.

"I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to..." Or maybe not.

"You know, normal people just invite people over without pretending to be edgy right?"

"Shut it, are you coming or not?"

"Yeah yeah I'm coming. Oh yeah, I got takeout, I'll bring it. It's from that new place down the street, Wangshu Inn. Have you ever had Almond Tofu before?"

"... you're unbelievable."

note: i want a hot neighbor like xiao... i did have a hot neighbor who i did hit on, but then i found out that he had a girlfriend so i stopped... but xiao would be better.

[crescentmoons-and-stardust]

The Broken Hearts Hotel

Chapter One: Star-Crossed

I’ve had many names over the years. I don’t even remember my original name so I’ll use the most popular one. The one everyone recognizes. 

Juliet is my name and fair Verona is where I’m from (in this version, at least). My age is disputable but I remember I was young. Too young for what I experienced. It blows my mind that some can even consider my tale a romance when I think about it. My life was cushy, I’ll admit. My family was rich and influential. I didn’t want for anything growing up. Looking back I realize I had the perfect life but hindsight is twenty twenty. 

Maybe that’s why I did what I did though. I was a spoiled, bored teenager. I needed excitement in my life.

Rosalina was considered the beauty of the family. She was a few years older than me and was totally stuck up. Always surrounded by a group of friends, my older cousin had no time for little ole me. Actually, no one really had time for me. My other cousin Tybalt had an older brother protectiveness of me but other than that he left me alone. My dearest (and truthfully, only) friend was my nurse. For the record, her name was Bianca. That’s usually left out.

Bianca was my friend and surrogate mother since my own couldn’t bother herself with parenting. Bianca was old fashioned. We’d spend our time doing needlepoint and reading the bible. Like I said, I was a bored teenager.

So when I was finally allowed to attend one of our grand masquerade parties, I was thrilled. Bianca sewed me a gorgeous dress, though the neckline was a little too modest for my taste. I spent hours at the market trying to find the perfect mask. I finally decided on a dainty red and gold mask lined with pearls. I was going all out for my first masquerade. 

I could barely sleep the night beforehand. I was so excited. I had my hair done and was dressed hours before the party started. I’m not going to lie, when I looked in the mirror, I was blown away by how I looked. I finally looked like a woman, and a beautiful one at that.

The party was both amazing and overwhelming. There were so many people that I had to greet and so many men to dance with. But one man in particular caught my eye.

So I should probably back up here and talk about the rivalry that has plagued my story for centuries. Montagues and Capults have hated each other since God knows when. It goes back years, maybe even decades. What was the issue? No one knows. Isn’t it ironic? Isn’t it poetic? 

Let’s be real, it’s stupid. And I’m sure the original reason for the hatred between my family and his was stupid as well. The rivalry was well known throughout the town. I can only assume everyone else rolled their eyes when it was brought up.

Anyway, back to the party. Romeo caught my eye from across the room. Was it love at first sight? I thought so but what did I know? I’d never been in love before. But there he was looking as handsome as a prince. And he was staring at me in much the same way. I blushed and broke eye contact first. Suddenly I was filled with panic and I slipped out into the garden. He followed me a moment after. 

“My lady,” He bowed to me. Actually bowed. How could I resist that? “My name is Romeo.”

“Nice to meet you Romeo,” I murmured. I was going for demure but it came out as a squeak. He took my hand and kissed it in greeting. I could have melted into a puddle on the floor. Embarrassing, I know, but this was the first man to interact with me outside of family. I didn’t know at the time that he had originally been there for Rosalina. Or that he fell in love with a different girl each week, I just knew that there was a handsome man before me. Me. Boring, good mannered, Juliet.

Well it wasn’t long before we were in the garden kissing until my lips went numb. Unfortunately my absence was noted and Tybalt came searching for me. Not only did he ruin my first kiss but he made such a scene that Romeo was soon kicked out of the party. 

I was sent to my room at once where I wallowed in despair. Would I ever see my beloved Romeo again? Well I didn’t have to wait for very long for my answer. Romeo scaled the wall and invited himself into my room and not long after, my bed.

It was wonderful and scary and thrilling all at once. The things he whispered in my ear, the lengths he promised to go for me. It’s no wonder I thought myself in love with him. And for that night, everything was perfect. 

It all fell apart pretty quickly though. Romeo got a little too hot headed in the streets and killed my cousin. You think that would end any romantic feelings on my part but I was young and stupid. Tybalt started it anyway! He killed Romeo’s best friend first. Romeo was just a loyal friend. It was sweet, really.

That’s what I told myself. Not my proudest moment, I’ll admit. And then Romeo had to go into hiding. You see, they didn’t know it had been Romeo who killed Tybalt. The fight happened late at night and the only other witness, Mercruito, was already dead. So he left his body and fled to my bedroom to stash the murder weapon. He needed to leave town but he promised he’d come back. And I promised to wait. And I did. For months. He took an apprenticeship a few villages over while he waited for someone else to take the blame for Tybalt’s death. So I wrote him love letters that I never sent. I kept my window unlocked every night. I waited and prayed and yearned. And then I met Paris.

Paris was not nearly as handsome as Romeo but he was still an attractive man. While Romeo was flirtatious and suave, Paris was charming and gentle. He was a sweet man and if I hadn’t met Romeo, I think I would have been ecstatic when my mother announced our engagement. 

We would have been happy together. I realize that now, but then all I thought of was my Romeo. I had a sweet spot for Paris and that only caused guilt when I remembered that I had already promised myself to another. Romeo was my true love. How could I ever think I’d be happy with another?

The timing of Romeo’s return couldn’t have been more perfect, almost as if he planned it like that. He had heard about the engagement. He raged and he sobbed as he asked if I was going to abandon him so easily. He’d die for me, he said. Would I be willing to do the same?

I would. And I did. With a special tonic I would fake my death and then Romeo would come get me from my family’s crypt. He’d whisk me away and we would start a new life together. I believed him and I think he believed himself as well. But it’s like I said earlier, Romeo was quick to fall in love. 

So when the tonic was finally ready I drank it quickly before I could change my mind. My thoughts slowed and my vision blurred. I became sluggish and panicked as the tonic slowed my heart rate. I tried to make it to my bed but I think I may have lost consciousness before I could. I heard shouts as my world went black.

When I woke, my body ached. I was lying on a stone slab in a thin dress that did not keep out the cold. As my thoughts returned to me, I looked around and there was my Romeo waiting for me. I gave a weak smile that he did not return. Instead, he could not meet my eye and was fidgeting nervously.

“I think we’ve made a mistake,” He said at last. My thoughts were still confused so I did not respond. 

“It was a fantasy to think we should run away together,” He continued.

“What are you saying?” I asked but I already knew. He was not going to start a new life with me. 

“Perhaps you should marry Paris instead.” And then I knew. He had met someone else. He did not love me, he never did. This was all a game to him and it had finally gone too far.

“I gave up everything for you!” I cried. He shrugged and told me I wasn’t actually dead. I could return home to my family’s rejoice and it would be like nothing had changed. But things had changed. My heart was broken as the man who’d asked me to die for him had already moved on.

And suddenly I was angry. A burning white hatred bloomed inside me. I wanted him to suffer the way I had while he had been gone. How hopeless and sad I’d been. The happiness I’d felt when he returned was now being ripped away from me. I’d done all he had asked. I’d waited and was going to give up my entire life for him.

It was stupid to remind him of Tybalt. That I could tell everyone what he had done. I had the murder weapon after all, still rusted with my cousin’s blood. Romeo’s face paled as he tried to calm me. The more he tried, the angrier I became until we were both yelling.

I didn’t even see the knife he had until I felt it thrust up inside of me. He looked as shocked as I felt as we both realized what he had done. But then just as quickly, the shock vanished from his face as determined resolve replaced it. He stabbed me over and over again until my white dress was no longer white and the blood was pooling onto the floor. He laid me down gently, as gently as he had done when he shared my bed. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear that I tried not to hear. His tears that dripped down onto me only made me angrier and with my last strength I tried to push him away.

Blackness. Then light. Then the Broken Hearts Hotel. 

My story, as twisted and retold as it has now become, is the greatest romantic tragedy of all time. And I couldn’t be any more furious about it.

[leviathanswingman]

Survivor’s Guilt - A Solomon Birthday OneShot (implied SoloDeus)

Solomon was sitting on his bed with a pillow propped against the headrest, a book sitting on his lap, opened to a page that he had tried his best to pay attention to. For some reason however, he found himself unable to get lost in the magic of words. Today, the strings of sentences failed to make sense to him and instead, confused him even more as his mind kept wandering different places.

He lifted his head and his eyes darted to the clock on his wall as he watched the hands tick with unrelenting fervour.

Before he could tears his eyes off the wretched clock he watched it hit zero and shut the book in his lap, filling the otherwise silent room with momentary noise.

11:58, 11:59, pause, pause, pause, 0:00.

There it was, a new day had begun, another Ninth of December, not much different from the myriads of December ninths he had lived through before.

Long gone where the days where Solomon had looked forward to the day, had watched the ticking of the clock with glee and waited impatiently for the day to come.

Nowadays, another year to his life meant nothing more than another year lost with the people he cared about. Only with immortality came the realization that even though time moved forward, it did not mean much to you.

Solomon checked his DDD. 0:05. There were no new messages. Good.

Through the years, Solomon had learned to hide the fact that this specific day, the ninth of December, was his own date of birth. Although he was rarely one to get gloomy over such trivialities, this one was inherently different.

With each and every year he remained stagnant while the people around him turned older, wiser, suffered through hardships, got sick and inevitably faced death, either with a smile upon their lips or regret filling their souls. Solomon however, was left to outlive them all, over and over again.

He shouldn't be one to complain, after all, in his unquenchable thirst for knowledge and power, he had chosen this life for himself. Still, Solomon couldn't help but feel particularly nostalgic every time this time of year came around.

Decades ago he had given up on celebrating this day, had done his best to demolish each and every record that proved that the Ninth of December was his supposed day of celebration. After all, there was no need to celebrate a day that marked nothing but yet another year, with myriads of others just the same to come.

Solomon put the book away and got up from his bed. He walked over to his balcony, pushed the doors open and enjoyed the stinging breeze of cold air blowing against his cheeks. Staring up at the dark sky, he was reminded of decades of birthdays, different from this one yet also very much the same, spent with friends and lovers, enemies and allies, all so discernible in life but now interchangeable in death. Solomon was the remaining factor, the man who had outlived them all, so self-absorbed in his search for knowledge; his very own narcissus standing ever so lonely in a lake of memories.

Solomon gripped the balcony's rails tightly and watched the way his clenched fists made his knuckles turn ghastly white, observed the way his dark blue veins threatened to break through thin skin. Sometimes, he wondered if he had made the wrong decision after all. Who was he to decide that he himself was above other humans?

Suddenly, Solomon heard the faintest of sounds. It was a sound he knew all to well, a sound which most definitely did not belong to the quiet whisper of a cold December night. Like a bell chiming through the empty halls of an abandoned church, a pretty voice cut through the silence, accompanied by the soft sound of wings flapping and then feet hitting the ground.

There was no need for Solomon to look up to know who had joined him on this cold and somewhat lonely night.

„Asmo,“ he said without looking up. His elbows were resting on the rails and he contemplatively watched the way the trees, dipped in white like used paint brushes, swayed in rhythm with the wind. „What brings you here?“

For the shortest of moments, Asmo stayed uncharacteristically silent, which generally meant little good. Solomon turned his head to look at the demon.

Asmodeus was sitting on the railing, still in his demon form, with a thoughtful look on his face. His gaze was fixed on Solomon and Solomon alone.

„You, Solomon.“

Solomon raised an eyebrow at the short answer. „What about me? You're generally not one to be this mysterious, Asmo.“

The demon's eyes shone eerily in the night as he pushed himself off the railing and walked closer to Solomon, putting his hand down on his forearm ever so softly. Those mesmerizing eyes of his seemed to gaze right through Solomon's soul, leaving him bare and exposed, leaving whatever was left of his stony soul to be looked upon by Asmodeus' hypnotizing eyes.

Asmo let out a soft sigh and gripped Solomon's forearm a little bit harder before turning his head to get a better look at him. Today, he seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet and perhaps even the slightest bit solemn.

„You're usually not this lost in thought either, Solomon. I can tell something is up, so don't even think about turning me away.“ A scowl appeared on Asmodeus' face as he mustered Solomon intently. „What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?“ he asked, his eyebrows knit together.

Finally, Solomon returned Asmo's gaze and let out a deep sigh, his breath visible in the cold winter air. He hadn't even put on a jacket and was shivering by now, but either didn't notice or didn't care enough to change something about it.

„I've just been thinking a lot.“

„About?“

Solomon's grip on the railing tightened once again. „Life, death. Everything in-between.  How slow it starts and how quickly it can end again. Do you know what the one thing is all humans have in common?“

Asmodeus kept quiet for a moment.

„Death. At least in the end, everyone is equal,“ Solomon continued, tracing the lines of a horizontal eight on the cold wood with his icy pointer. „With one exception,“ he added. „Me.“

To be honest, Solomon couldn't say what had brought him to confide in Asmodeus tonight. Normally, he wasn't one to regret his choices. After all, they had been for a greater purpose. Tonight however was the one night of the year where he allowed himself to mourn all the souls he had outlived and would inevitably outlive over and over again.

„Oh, Solomon dear,“ Asmo whispered, his voice barely discernible as he grabbed both of Solomon's hands,  ever so cold to the touch, and pulled them close to his chest. Solomon did not cry nor wallow in despair, he had spent all his tears decades ago. What was left was a certain emptiness in his heart, an emptiness he knew was never to be filled again, no matter how hard he tried to replace the human connections he had lost, whether it was with magic or power or knowledge; it was not on the same level and it was never enough.

Suddenly, he felt a steady rhythm against the palms of his hands, fluttering like a newborn humming bird flapping its wings, and looked up in slight confusion. He hadn't even realized Asmodeus had come this close. When-? He was really out of it today.

„Let's get you inside,“ Asmo simply said, still with that concerned look on his face. Solomon couldn't place why Asmo would look at him like that. There was no reason to be concerned after all. No one else had noticed his odd behaviour leading up to today, so why should Asmo be any different?

As if time had jumped forward, they were suddenly inside his room again and before Solomon knew what was going on Asmo had sat him down on the bed and had thrown a blanket around his shoulders. Solomon felt the clouds shrouding his mind clear a little when he noticed Asmo kneeling before him, one hand on the bed and the other resting on Solomon's thigh, staring at him intently, his eyes shining ever so bright in the darkness.

Ah, he must be using his magic, Solomon noted calmly. He felt his pact mark burn hot against his cold, chilly skin, filling him with that certain heat that was exclusive to their magic, both comforting and exciting at once. Asmodeus took hold of Solomon's hands again and pressed the lightest of kisses onto it.

With every second of this, Solomon felt his heart lose some of its weariness and felt his head regain its focus.

Asmodeus looked up again and the golden shine to his eyes eventually simmered down to the slightest of glimmers. „Solomon?“ he then asked cautiously, still kneeling and looking up at the sorcerer.

Solomon took a deep breath and felt the crisp cold air of his room fill his lungs, felt the coldness that filled his bones and shivered. At once, he felt grounded again, felt as if he had just returned to his body from an out of body experience . „Yes.“

A deep shudder ran through Asmodeus' body as well. „There you are,“ he said, his voice relieved, a slight smile replacing his former frown. He lifted a hand to Solomon's cheek and cradled it. „Where have you been?“

For a moment, Solomon gave it some thought, finally able to think somewhat clearly again. „In the past, I suppose,“ he answered, his blue lips still reluctant to push out an answer.

„You can't do this to yourself, Solomon. You had me so worried! I came here because I felt our pact mark grow cold, so so cold. For a moment I thought-“ he didn't finish the sentence, but instead crawled up on the bed, moving behind Solomon. Without any hesitation he hugged his partner from behind, burying his nose in the crook of his neck. „Let's get you warm.“

„There really is no need to-“

Asmodeus pulled Solomon even closer, much tighter than ever before.

Although he felt icy to the core, shivering and pathetic, Solomon didn't feel deserving of compassion. Not tonight and certainly not ever. After all, he was the one who had chosen a life untouched by sickness and death. He had no right to be consoled, for he was to blame for being selfish and power hungry to the core. Wasn't compassion a thing lost on someone like him?

Asmodeus cut through his train of thought before he could slip away again. „There is every need to do this right now. Solomon, I can tell you are feeling conflicted right now. You've been acting so strange all day, I just know something is wrong.“ One of his hands wound around Solomon's body and came to a stop on his chest, right above his heart, right where their pact mark had bloomed all those years ago. „This,“ he let his fingers trace circles around the mark hidden beneath the cloth of Solomon's shirt, „has been calling out to me all night long. You always indulge me Solomon, no matter how selfish I act. Let me be there for you, just tonight, please. I need you.“

I need you.

And with that one simple, sugary sentence Solomon felt the walls he always kept pulled up ever so neatly crumble to pieces.

He was tired.

Solomon turned around to Asmodeus and only for tonight, he let his head drop onto Asmo's shoulder and slid his arms around his body in a desperate embrace which was returned immediately in the same fashion.

As Asmodeus rubbed Solomon's back, the sorcerer allowed himself to let go of those gloomy ghosts of the past, even if only for this year.

It was true, he had dedicated himself to a path of knowledge and power, but inevitably also loneliness. He had lost more loved ones than he could count.

Right here however was someone who was there to stay and most certainly wouldn't go anywhere for a long time. Here was someone who needed him desperately, someone whom Solomon needed just as desperately in return. And although their relationship was certainly a strange one, hard to pinpoint and even more difficult to describe with words, it was indisputably one for the ages.

In the arms of his pact partner, Solomon felt his icy exterior thaw. His pact mark throbbed with comforting waves of warmth as Asmodeus ran one hand along the nape of his neck and worked his way up into Solomon's silver locks.

It was the Ninth of December and although Solomon despised the implications of the date, for once he felt free to let go of at least some of the guilt. Although he had outlived so many, there were still people in his life that would remain. After all, there was so much more beyond the realm of death.

For the first time in decades, Solomon spent the morning of his birthday entangled in the arms of a loved one, fast asleep, comforted by the certainty of countless more years to come. For the first time in years, he felt almost at peace.

[westerhos]

Our Story: Chapter 5

Here marks the middle of our tale, that vast, perilous land between the beginning and the end. The going is treacherous in these parts—the wayward couple must heal on their own, tread the sea of two decades with arms and souls akimbo—but still, it is not unnecessary. The middle is never aimless. Always, always, it has one goal: the ending.

When the lights go up and the curtains close, you clap—perhaps, should the couple reunite (which, of course, they will), you shout “Encore, encore!” But then, at last, you return to your car. You catch the train, or you grab a taxi. At last, having started at the beginning and waded through the middle, you reach the final destination. The night is over; you go home.

Home. Whether a place, a person, a feeling, or a thing—it does not matter. Home is always the goal and the ending, the northernmost star we pray to and walk towards.

[December 24th, 1996]

Two weeks’ vacation in a cabin, tucked deep inside a fold of mountains. Here, amongst the stretches of living nothingness, even the silence has a voice. Owls hoot in the night. The pines’ chatter, their needle-whispers pierced by caws and shifted air—a hawk swooping to ensnare her prey. And if one listens closely enough, one can hear the hunter's a shaky, traitorous breath, which launches the doe across the snow—the echo of his heartsong, the drum to which the doe’s hooves beat. Come back, come back, come back.

This is why Jamie has come here: for the endless conversation between man and mountain, more steadfast than the chill in his heart. In the past four years, Jamie has sold the twin cot (it lies in a salvage yard somewhere, all broken springs and dreams). A different couple has moved into the studio, and when they had spoken of paint jobs—“Perhaps mint green, what d’ye say, hon?”— Jamie had thought, Thank God. He’d happily offered them the keys when they turned to him, pupils dilated with youthful optimism. By that point, there was no space for Jamie and Claire inside that Edinburgh Eden, and so he’d chimed in, “Aye, a bonny color.” (Indeed, the walls are mint now, though a forgotten strip of marigold shines in the northern corner.)

For two years, Jamie has lived with Murtagh in Glasgow, having shed not just his home but his editorial career in publishing. He has grown tired of fixing other’s mistakes—too many of his own in need of correction—and so here he sits on this Christmas Eve, writing towards redemption.

The Grampians are a peaceful place, big hulks of rock scattered with trees—bouquets of fir, oak, and pine cradling other cabins. At dark, their windows flicker, candlelit with the dreams of the aspiring novelists, essayists, playwrights therein. Men and women, all bowed before the cleansing hum of nature’s speech. Like Jamie, they had seen the fliers: WRITER’S RETREAT, TWO WEEKS IN THE MOUNTAINS—and so it was. They were small colony taking its temporary leave, hoping to reconstruct the world according to their own, more favorable terms.

Over supper, the group gathers and shares their ideas: outlines, pieces of dialogue, an inspiring poem they’ve loved since childhood. And while Jamie is generous with his advice, he holds his notebooks against his chest. Enraptured by this warm aloofness (for is it not the way of all great wordsmiths?), the others whisper behind their palms, “Have you read Fraser’s story?” Into napkins, “No, have you?”

But among the fifteen guests, only one has read Jamie’s story—and tonight, Jamie waits for her inside his cabin. His latest draft is fanned around him, some sections highlighted and others slashed. They are not unlike Claire’s old strike-throughs, which had snipped the would-be Dalhousie and eventually, Jamie’s own name, from her life (a reclamation of Beauchamp, a transformation to Randall). Among Jamie’s scribbles are his friend’s edits, which are much more forgiving, much less forceful than the lines of his own red pen. Each comment reads like a bashful request: “More clarity?”, “Switch the verb here?”, “Too many adjectives?” as if she needs permission to occupy the margins. Should I really be reading this?, she seems to say, the bare-backed rawness making her squirm.

But she is helping him, his friend. And so she sees Jamie’s drafts before John, his agent, and before Fergus, his assistant and most loyal advocate. With each comment, she brings him closer to understanding, to the better beginning, middle and end. Note by note, to the way his story (their story, for it can never be Jamie’s alone) should be. All rhymes and logic, had it not veered off-course.

Is Alexander too cold here? Shouldn’t he say something? (He should have.)

It seems out of character for Alexander to never visit his daughter’s grave? (Grief carves cowards out of heroes.)

Shouldn’t he try to win Elizabeth back? (God, yes. He should have tried harder.)

The knock comes three minutes later, as expected.

“Hello?”

“Door’s unlocked.”

“Oh!” A muffled apology, embarrassment for the delay. “Sorry,” the visitor says. “It’s late. Didna ken if ye still wanted to talk or not. I brought—well, I finished reading your last chapter.”

And now another player enters this fifth act, tip-toes quietly onto the stage. Only a slip of a thing in the cabin’s doorway, cheeks pinked by the storm’s sharp nip. She is Jamie’s friend-slash-critique partner, and even her entrance is punctuated by a question mark. The score of owl, pine, hawk and hunter swells, buffeted now by new notes: the crack of chapped lips smiling, the anxious shuffle of papers, and—

“Dinna fash, I couldna sleep anyways,” Jamie assures her. “Did ye like it, though? The new ending?”

His friend inhales sharply, stealing as much oxygen as the room will allow. Everything—the threadbare futon, the TV’s antennae, the welcome mat and Jamie’s body—bends towards some invisible presence. A ghost between between all.

“It was…a bit different from the last one.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘Nay, I didna like it.’”

She looks shyly at the ground, one foot treading nervous circles into the planks.

“It was a bit too sentimental is all. After everything. All that time and silence…D’ye really think Alex and Lizzie could make it?”

Her words are a blow to Jamie’s stomach, and the pages are fire in his hands. He puts them down, wants to thrust himself under a blanket of snow to freeze the flames.

“In a fairy tale, maybe, but life isna a fairy tale. And d’ye no want to write truths?” She looks up, and her eyes gore him. “This story isna a fairy tale either, Jamie. Yours never are.”

“Aye…aye, I s’pose they’re not,” he replies, thinking of his other novels and short stories, essays and poems. Each accepted by John’s gimlet eye, only to meet their end in a publisher’s slush pile. (“Too dark, too wallowing,” an editor once wrote.)  

“Give it another go. I’ll help ye tomorrow, if ye’d like,” his friend offers. “Three days left. I reckon we’ve time to sort the kinks, right the wrongs.” (Three days will never be enough for Jamie’s wrongs.)

“I’d appreciate that, lass. Verra much.”

His friend looks behind her and at the moon, a shy sickle in the sky. It draws her toward the door and the snow-covered mountainside.

“Weel, it’s a long walk back,” she says. “Wanted to give ye that before the morning, so I guess I’ll just…”

“Will ye stay with me tonight?” Jamie blurts. And he hates himself for saying this, the way it sounds outside his mouth and inside his cabin, landing on the unmade bed. Its despair makes it ugly. But.

But if his friend stays, Jamie thinks, perhaps the emptiness will leave. If his friend stays, perhaps his story will correct itself, falling into its natural rhythm, by the force of whatever solace she can give him.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” he continues, “and I…I dinna want to be alone.”

She pauses, thinks it over before saying, “Okay. Just for a bit?” (Just for a bit? Another loaded question, and one he doesn’t want to answer.)

“Thank you,” Jamie whispers, and Mary McNab removes her coat.

____

Long before daybreak, Jamie wakes. He gathers his draft, made complete by that final failing chapter, into a single stack. He retrieves a box from his suitcase, which is swathed in his old holiday sweater, and it speaks to him. A quiet loudness, like the murmur of the Grampians. You mean your lager-stained pullover? With the Santa looks that looks like he’s got vomit in his beard?

Inside the box is a gift—a vase, azure porcelain—though Jamie has no plans to send it across the Atlantic, to the Boston apartment where his ex-wife kisses another man. No. This vase will stay with Jamie, forever hidden on the high shelf of a closet, or exiled to the back corner of a desk drawer. Like his grief, it is something that he owns—this small cut from a cloth of unraveled dreams—to be kept and locked safely away. There, there, always there. All fancy people have vases.

Jamie wraps the box with his manuscript. One by one, he folds the pages over and under, seals the edges with tape to form an inch-thick layer. So much history around this small, delicate thing—their story, with the ending Jamie cannot use and which cannot be the truth. At last, he cuts the string of wool, which still drips from his sweater after all these years, and it rasps, Do we have time? Of course we do.

Finally, Jamie weeps—a mournful sound that joins the chorus of this great, big mountain—and ties a frayed, red bow.

____

(Jamie does not realize that Mary watches him from the bed. “Tell me about her,” she wants to say—for once a statement and not a question—but she does not. Instead, she calls to Jamie, presses her goosefleshed nakedness to his. And as they move together, slow but unfeeling, she pretends she is a vessel. Closes her eyes. Makes room for the ghost. I’m Claire Beauchamp. Just plain Claire Beauchamp.)

____

Here, the idea of a writer’s retreat, the introduction, and the parentheticals (although those are also inspired by one of my favorite authors Kate Atkinson) are my lame attempts at trying to be Lauren Groff. Actually, the next handful of chapters are the result of my obsession with her novel Fates and Furies—which you should absolutely go read, right now.

One of my favorite parts about writing a modern AU is finding ways to fit in canon characters or references. I started this chapter having no idea who Jamie’s critique partner was, but it very quickly came together once there was a remote cabin, Jamie inside it, and a woman coming to visit him. I hope the reveal is at least somewhat...fun? The vase is also obviously a nod to Outlander, and, well, I’m assuming y’all caught on to Jamie’s character names (a bit on the nose, lmao).

I’m not crazy about this introduction (it’s...a bit much...but it’s meant to tie into the introduction of Chapter 1), but the final paragraph from Mary’s POV is actually one of my favorite paragraphs in the whole fic.

I also think I wrote this during a snowstorm, wheeeee!

[dokeblr]

The Shadow That Binds Us

Character/Pairing: Tokoyami x Reader

Summary/Prompt: Everyone's shadow is the shape of their soulmate, yours has a mind of its own.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Attempted kidnapping.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The looks were something you had begrudgingly gotten used to over the years. Growing up wasn’t easy, and there was some simmering resentment under the surface towards your situation, but you soon realised the trade-off was worth it.

Everyone had a shadow that didn’t match them, some were taller, wider, furrier. They walked behind, copied your every movement, shook with laughter when you did, shoulders sagging with your burdens. Those shadows were a dark reflection of your soulmate.

Your shadow had an attitude.

Most of the time it was bird shaped, shadowing you as normal.

On rarer occasions, it opened a pair of glowing golden eyes and moved about on its own, whining about the light or boasting about daring and radical fights it had allegedly been in.

It called itself Dark Shadow.

It drew attention when it came out to play, sometimes you’ll be in one room and find your shadow in the kitchen raiding your cupboards the next.

“Why does all your food suck?”

“Why are you in my kitchen?!”

It must have been hard for your parents, the trouble it caused. From your memories alone you can remember rare days where the neighbourhood kids would let you join in with their childish games of tag, only to run away screaming when your shadow got a little too excited and starting throwing kids in the air with screams of menacing excitement.

The kids never asked you to join again, neither did anyone else.

Solitude seemed to suit you, though. Staying in your room with curtains drawn, bed littered in books about cryptid hunting, alien sightings and general cryptozoological themes. Dark Shadow hung around a lot more frequently in those days. Those were your fondest childhood memories, a menacing companion to chase the negative thoughts away.

On one of those nights, flicking through the books as your candle-lit room and drawn curtains closed you off to the outside world, Dark Shadow popped up over your shoulder.

“You’ve read this one already, I’m bored!” The shadows voice was whiny, filled with an almost childish sense of brattiness.

“Then amuse yourself, I’m not.” Patience was a virtue you were forced to learn in order to cope with sharing an existence with the bird like creature, his immature demands not being all too uncommon.

Dark Shadow huffed, then with a rush of air across your shoulder he went to fumbling with your shelves and trinkets, some pencils cluttering off and ending up on the floor, but you resigned yourself to a sigh and made a mental note to fix it all later.

Not even 10 minutes had gone by before the book was being tugged out your grasp.

“Come on! Let’s go outside or something, your room is boring!”

Your eyes closed for a few moments whilst you gathered some composure, mentally debating whether or not to give in while Dark Shadow threw whines of ‘Come on!’ and ‘Let’s go!’ at you in the background.

“Alright.” You huffed softly, throwing on a large, thick wool coat in anticipation for the bitter night laying outside of your door. “Come on, try and stay under my coat please.”

Going out with a large, wiggly, living shadow was hard enough in the day when it seemed like the entire population was watching yo. Night-time, however, was a whole other game.

It made some sort of sense, that a creature of the shadows would become livelier and more untameable during the night. It was in its element, could swoop up above buildings and dive in between alleyways. Dark Shadow was less discernible during the night, but most of the people at risk of seeing him were usually the last people you’d want to capture the attention of.

Your boots made dull thuds on the pavement as you walked down an empty street, orange tinted lights beaming off the stray litter as you turned down a street filled with derelict apartments, sharp graffiti jutting out on most surfaces.

Dark Shadow was a little way off from you, further down the street and around the corner of an alleyway hissing at a cat, clattering against bins.

All your attention was on shushing Dark Shadow as you made your way further into the street, leaving you defenceless when an arm snapped itself around your throat and raised a sharp silver glint to your face.

“No sudden movements doll, keep your mouth shut and don’t struggle.” A retched smell was laced into the voice wafting into your ear like a plume of smoke, and up through your nostrils.

You had no intention of listening to him, not intending to go easy and you started struggling against his arm. It made no difference, as every jerk of your leg and tug from your arm was getting weaker and weaker.

Tingles were shooting through your nerves and your veins felt like they were being filled with liquid, your body suddenly felt weighted. You were becoming tired quickly, realising too late that you were under the influence of something.

A strangled cry managed to escape your tightening throat while your other limbs were starting to fail you, but as your eye lids grew heavy you looked ahead to find no one, not even a dark, shadowy trail leading to the alley.

You were alone, Dark Shadow was gone.

The despair wallowed deep in your gut, but you wouldn’t stop trying, buying yourself time in case someone, anyone, would turn a corner and help. Until a hero swooped from the rooftops and apprehended the disgusting villain that couldn’t even show you his face.

The resolve didn’t last long, as he was soon pulling you backwards, stealing you away. You were becoming drowsy, eyes drifting shut, your vision becoming choppy.

Dragged down the street, blink. Being hauled over a shoulder, blink. Chucked in a dusty van, blink.

The light was fading, the orange glow narrowing as the doors were being shut until suddenly the roof was dented, caving towards you and rocking back and forth.

It was a few moments before you realised the air was clearer, no longer smelling as putrid as it had moments before.

There was a ruckus, muffled yelling and discourse that your senses were struggling to adjust to. Blood was rushing back through your limbs, so much happening at once was disorientating you, you barely managed to drag yourself against the wall of the stale van.

You were too focused on gulping down air and trying to regain consciousness in your limbs to notice the doors opening fully until two sharp eyes filled with gold and surrounded by shifting shades of black and purples thrusted itself into your face.

“Hey, I’m back! Did you see me take down that loser? Practically did it by myself.”

Oblivious to your state of trauma, Dark Shadow was all boasts, waving about and rambling about his skills.

“Dark Shadow, that’s enough.”

You were lucid enough to realise that wasn’t the voice of the bird like creature, nor the man who had attempted to kidnap you. It was deep, blunt and resigned with an air of nobility.

The voice had come from just behind the door, and as you warily glanced towards it, you realised the shadowy trail that normally extended from yourself was instead leading outside of the van.

On shaky limbs you stood yourself up, still resting most of your weight onto the wall, and limped to opening. Your legs, still feeling full of static, gave out, sending your falling towards grey tarmac.

The impact was softer than you expected, still managing to wind you. Your body shifted, and muscled arms came around your torso to hold you securely.

With your vision still blurred, all you could make out was a dark, jagged figure looming above you.

“Dark Shadow?” Your voice was barely a raspy whisper, chest still heaving.

“My name is Tokoyami, Dark Shadow called me here to help with someone in need. I believe we are soulmates.”

Groans were escaping you while your brain whirled to life, attempting to process what you’d heard. Your body still hadn’t caught up, traces of the villain’s quirk still lingering behind your heavy eyelines.

“Soulmates?”

“Yes, I believe so. I had often wondered where Dark Shadow would disappear to, and whom the young lady that would take his place was.” A dark cloak was pulled over you, a hand threading through your hair and keeping your head safely held as you vaguely realised your change in surrounds.

“Rest easy now. You are safe now, dear.”

Safe was how you felt. With the warm and broad hand running through your scalp, you leaned into the body of your hero, your soulmate, and gave into the lulling call of unconsciousness.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ »»————-　♡　————-««

Notes: I cannot believe I got the one prompt about shadows for Tokoyami, what are the chances ahhhh!! I’m not extremely familiar with his character so sorry if this some OOC, especially with the dear petname (I spent a while contemplating add that but caved anyway). Hope you enjoy!

[xae-in-a-coat]

Various doodles to fight the insufferable art block

Concept design/reference sheet for Xaje’s Lesser Nobodies(Bards):

Xaje’s joke weapons(the Pointless Quill & Eraser-less Pencil):

A newly recompleted Jae & tiny protagonist:

‘Shoo! Get away you bothersome creature of light! This here is my bread! Mine! Not yours!-’ :

Battle description + doodle:

As previously stated during my first rendition of Organization members I, II, & III, yours truly is currently(& quite unfortunately)caught within the throes of an art block. &, as painstakingly desperate as I am to get the progress moving along, that bloody motivation sucking monster simply won’t allow me to do so without a fight. So, here I am now, chipping away at smaller, more manageable, subject matters(including that of a soon-to-be-posted comic). Hopefully you’ll all still be patiently waiting till then. Here, take two of my latest unanimated cutscenes:

*Standing atop the balcony of an undisclosed building, our hero & villain find themselves eyeing an obliviously lovestruck duo strolling dreamily below. Protagonist, with admiration, & Xaje… Not so much.*

Protagonist: Aww, they’re together! Isn’t that just the most romantic thing!

Xaje: Ugh, romance this & romance that, don’t you light dwellers ever grow tired of the sappy genre?

Protagonist: Well it isn’t my favorite thing of course, but still- There’s just something magical about seeing… You know… That.

*The camera pans down onto the couple once more, now revealing that they’ve embraced each other in a sense(much to Xaje’s disgust).*

Xaje: Oh the things love will make people do, such foolishness simply cannot be handled without at least the slightest whim of violence. Here, allow me to demonstrate.

*He snaps his fingers, swift & sudden, summoning a manageable, but nonetheless shocking, amount of his Bards. Watching with malevolent satisfaction as they interrupted the lovers in their moment.*

Protagonist: XAJE NO!-

*In a haste to halt the unnecessary attack, our Protagonist summons their Keyblade & rushed to jump down towards the scene, would Xaje have not removed the creatures himself. Which, luckily, he had. Using his free hand, he grabbed their arm in a vice grip seconds before they could leap.*

Xaje: Tch, save the heroics for a better time P/N, that was simply a brief demonstration of my words, remember? Besides, these two can handle themselves.

*Nodding towards the sweethearts, who were now in a state of utter shock rather than dreaminess, he scowled.*

Protagonist: YOU SCARED THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUTTA THEM YOU SOULLESS RAT!

Xaje: ‘Soulless Rat?’ Heh, well that’s new.

Protagonist: & DON’T FORGET DARKNESS DRUNKEN, PEN COLLECTING, ENGLISH LANGUAGE ARTS OBSESSED, ANGSTY FANFIC WRITER!-

Xaje: Wow, I’m impressed. How long did it take you to come up with all that?

Protagonist: A lil while I guess, I’m not exactly sure what goes on in that misshapen brain of mine when I’m all fired up, you know?

Xaje: I’d understand that more than anyone P/N.

*They stood in silence for a short moment. Xaje’s hand still closed tightly around Protagonist’s arm. His grip steadily increasing as the seconds ticked by.*

Protagonist: Hey uh- Xaje, my arm-

Xaje: Oh- M-My apologies, I forgot.

*In an attempt to hide his embarrassment, he released them, dusting his hands off as he did.*

Protagonist: It’s fine. Just- Maybe don’t send a mob of Nobodies after innocent bystanders next time.

Xaje: Tch, I’ll send a mob of Nobodies after anyone I please, they do belong to me after all. It’s only right that I use them to fulfill my duty.

Protagonist: & your ‘duty’ is to harm innocent people who’re just trying to be happy? Xaje… You know that’s not-

HEY ARE YOU TWO OKAY UP THERE?!

*Suddenly interrupted by one of the partners’ concerned voice, Protagonist made to reassure them. Xaje however, had other plans in mind.*

Protagonist: YEAH! WE’RE- I MEAN, I’M FINE! THANKS! SORRY ABOUT THOSE NOBOD-

*Heckled once more, Protagonist abruptly felt themself getting pulled back, now unable to complete their intended statements.*

Xaje: Silence yourself fool! These are mere commoners! We can’t risk being seen-

Protagonist: NO! YOU CAN’T RISK BEING SEEN! YOU’RE ALWAYS RUNNING AWAY & HIDING SOMEWHERE IN THE DARK REALM! ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME DO THAT TOO?!

*Knowing that it wasn’t a good time to argue, let alone fight, Xaje promptly awakened his shadow & ordered it to keep our struggling Protagonist subdued before summoning a portal which lead back to the Castle That Never Was.*

Xaje: Come along now P/N, we’ll settle this elsewhere.

*In they went, a Nobody, his shadow, & a captured Hero reduced to nothing.*

-𝙵𝚒𝚗

*Upon their arrival at the castle, & specifically the more so secluded half of it, Xaje unlocked one of the many corridors before him, revealing a vast expanse of ivory emptiness. Regal white walls coated in ebony shadow. Carelessly releasing our Protagonist into the lovely abyss.*

Xaje: Stay here, It’s not like I’ll be allowing you an easy escape anytime soon. Not until I get what I want that is…

Protagonist: Xaje, what do you want?

*The question caught him off guard, leaving the Nobody with a blank slate rather than a witty comeback.*

Xaje: I… I don’t know…

Protagonist: Well… Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll be able to find it if you’d just choose to accept the light for once-

Xaje: NO! IT MAY NOT COME AS OBVIOUS TO A DIMWIT LIKE YOU, BUT THE SECOND I LEAVE THIS STATE OF NONEXISTENCE I’LL REVERT BACK INTO THAT USELESS BOY WHO COULDN’T DO ANYTHING BUT CRY OVER ALL OF HIS IRREPARABLE FLAWS! HAVE YOU NOT A MIND TO UNDERSTAND HOW HARROWING THAT WOULD SEEM?! HOW AGONIZING IT WOULD FEEL?!

Protagonist: But just for once you’d be real! You’d be YOU!

Xaje: WHAT IF I DON’T LIKE ME!?-

*For a moment, he could almost feel the ever so familiar trickle of teardrops making their escape from the prison of his eyes. A distant memory he longed to forget. One that belonged to a heart whom he wished to permanently discard. A feeling that was far too tired of being caged. But still, he refused to let it out, not here, not now, & especially not in front of this overtly gifted hero. Thus, he silenced himself, just as he had done countless times before, he denied his being of a true release, masking the pain with a false sense of anger & cruel empowerment instead. Destroying the bud of a newly sprouted heart.*

Xaje: I- … Look… My motivations may not be the clearest, but I know there’s one thing I’ll definitely need in order to get to them: Power, & you along with your little companions can provide me with just that. So, till the time comes, you’ll stay put & do as I say, you’re the bait in this operation of mine, is that clear?

Protagonist: Xaje please-

Xaje: Is. That. Clear?

Protagonist: … Yes…

Xaje: Good.

*Upon successfully implementing the forced agreement, Xaje swiftly turned to leave the otherwise vacant quarters, intending to keep the Keyblade Wielder locked up until they would become of further use.*

Protagonist: Wait!-

*Reluctantly, he stopped in his tracks to look back at them, a distinct scowl evident in his gaze.*

Xaje: Ugh, what could you possibly need now fool?

Protagonist: Promise me something, please-

Xaje: Tch- & just what might that be?

Protagonist: Do whatever it is that you must, destroy me if you have to, but please, don’t hurt my friends! They may seem a little hardheaded at times but that’s only because they never knew you like I did!… They never knew how different you used to be… How kind you once were…

*The everlasting gratitude could be felt in their words, still gentle & so very patient despite their captor’s deeply contrasting demeanor. I suppose you’d expect no less from a hero.*

Xaje: Fine… Though I’d prefer not to keep any promises, I’ll do my best to uphold your wishes this one time. But be warned, don’t allow yourself to become too expectant now P/N. When the time comes for me to fight, I’ve nothing left but to do so. Understand?

Protagonist: Yes, I understand…

Xaje: Very well then, I believe now would be a good time for me to leave?

Protagonist: O-Of course…

*Resisting the urge to roll his tired eyes, he advanced towards the threshold. Nearly making his escape when a certain naively gracious voice called out to him from behind… Again.*

Protagonist: Hey- Uh Xaje?- Just one last thi-

Xaje: WHAT IN THE NAME OF KINGDOM HEARTS COULD YOU POSSIBLY HAVE LEFT TO SAY?!

Protagonist: T-THANK YOU!- I really mean it by the way…

Xaje: … Whatever… Your cheapened gratifications mean nothing to me either way. In fact, I’d appreciate it so much more if you’d just learn to quiet that insufferable voice of yours. Hmm? What do you say?

*Shrugging in a rather sarcastic manner, he left. For real this time. Listening with his eyes closed as the door shut behind him, sending a melancholic echo all throughout the elegant palace of sorrowful souls. Leaving his prisoner to wallow in their accepted despair.*

-𝙵𝚒𝚗

Progress shots:

[inkedtae]

the world was yours ⇾ pjm. [F]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ childhood bestfriend!jimin x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒 ⇾ f2l, mutual pining, fluff

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ you comfort jimin as he wallows in his misery

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 1.1k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ pouty!jimin, insecure!jimin

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ he still cute even when sad; facts. extremely unedited. please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission. if you have any requests, please send them my way. enjoy!

⤑ le playlist

You could tell he was trying so hard not to smile as he watched the world whiz by through the train window. He always claimed there was something comforting about being miserable on a miserable day. Every inch of you refused to believe that.

Sitting across from him, you lightly tapped your knee against his. The corner of his lip twitched, but didn't dare give into that smile.

“Are you still thinking about it?” you asked, titling your head in hopes to meet his gaze. 

He spared you a quick sidelong glance before returning to the window. With his chin resting in his palm, he muttered, “No.”

He couldn’t seriously expect you to believe that. A small sigh escapes your lips as the conductor announces the next stop, informing the riders that it was only minutes away. You tugged on the free hand resting upon his thigh. “Come on, this is our stop.” 

Though the rest of his face was crumpled with worry, the little curious gleam in his eyes told a different story. A smirk attempted to rest upon your lips, but you refused it, knowing that if he knew you were on to him, he'd demand you’d both return home. 

You led him to the exit as the train came to a smooth, shrieking stop. Hopping off, you navigated your bodies through the crowds, heading for the station exit. 

“Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?” He asked, shuffling as you dragged him behind you. 

You raised a brow at him, a notion that always earned a small grin, and answered, “You’ll see when we get there.” 

He tried and failed to hide his smile. You knew he desperately wanted to just bask in his misery, but you thought a part of him appreciated your efforts to cheer him up, even if he couldn’t admit it. 

Jimin was a man of few words, but many feelings. When he was happy, nothing could wipe that smile off his face. It touched every inch of him, radiating positivity and passion. Not to mention, the action was contagious. You could never manage a frown or pout once you saw that smile, and neither could your unruly heart.

And as his highs were high, his lows were low, like falling straight from the clouds of heaven into the embers of hell. His pout, alone, could shatter your heart and diminish all light from your soul. But, when his eyes started to widen in despair, that’s when your world crashed. The worst part was the blame. He blamed himself for not trying hard enough or working long enough or being good enough. What he could never see is that he was more than enough. 

You walked for about ten minutes before you finally reached a park. There were a few people with their families, lounging around on the grass or playing in the sand or play structure. 

He scoffed, surveying the area in the setting gleam of the sun. “A park?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Patience,” you mumbled and continued to drag him behind you, making your way into the woods.

Halfway through the trail, you felt him tense up, inhaling sharply. He finally figured it out.

The salty scent of the ocean, and distant crash of the waves greeted the two of you as you reached the clearing. The sand, golden and soft, invaded your sandals immediately. You looked over at Jimin, who was now standing beside you, gazing at the sea. The wind swept through his blonde hair, exposing his forehead. You didn’t know why, but you loved it when his forehead was shown. It only made him that much more handsome. 

“It’s been a while,” he muttered. 

You nodded, moving further into the vacant beach. He slowly trailed behind you. You stopped just before the wet sand and threatening water. “You always said you can never be sad in a place like this,” you reminded him, recalling those hopeless years of high school. “So, you didn’t get accepted into the academy, it’s okay. You always said the force was a back up plan.” 

He shook his head as his eyes glass over. “That’s the point,” he mumbled. “If I can’t even go through with my freaking back up plan, how can I ever go through with my dreams?” 

Suddenly, a thought entered your head, one that might make enough sense to convince him that everything will be okay. “Maybe a part of you really didn’t want to be a police officer,” you replied. “Maybe you failed on purpose.” 

He furrowed his brows, a little chuckle bubbling out of his pouty lips. “What?” 

You nodded eagerly, lightly smacking his bicep. “You failed on purpose,” you repeated. “You didn’t really want to be a police officer, so you failed the exam on purpose.” 

“But, I studied for weeks.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Did you really though? How many times did I walk into the apartment to find you and Tae terrorizing Hobi or Jin?” 

He knitted brows together, thinking back to those past few weeks. A little smirk stretched on his lips at the memory. He playfully glared at you, “Don’t act innocent. You always joined in and even gave us ideas.” 

“That’s besides the point,” you laughed. 

He lightly nudged you, finally breaking out into a full smile. His eyes landed on the rushing water. He paused for a minute before using his foot to flick water on you. 

“Hey!” you shouted through a shrieking giggle. You pushed him further into the water. 

He lost his footing and tried to hold onto you to regain his balance. However, he should’ve known better than to hang onto the clumsiest person he knew. You slipped from the wet sand, falling forward. 

Your figures landed inches away from each other, the cold sea crashing into your bodies as you remained in each other’s grasp. 

You should’ve known better than to stare at his lips. You lowered your eyes only to regret that decision as well. Your sights were set on his collarbone and toned chest as his wet shirt clung dangerously to his torso. You quickly redirect your gaze to his eyes, feeling a rush of blood tint your cheeks. 

His nose brushed yours as he leaned in closer. You stiffened at the sensation, millions of nerves bolting up and down your spine. And as his lips finally touch yours, latching onto them in a sweet embrace, it felt as though the world was yours.

[goldleafacrossyourlips]

Uneasy Lies the Head - Dark Lord/OC - Chapter 8

Chapters - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

Chapter 8 - Mandrake’s Shriek

Samara liked to consider herself strong. She had survived her mother’s abuse. She had lived through Blackwood’s unwanted advances. But she was able to admit that she had one teensy little flaw. She liked to run. When the world got too much, Samara would flee to a safe place. Some people could face their problems head on, but more often than not, Samara couldn’t. Perhaps that’s why she had her Shadows. They could fight for her when she herself just couldn’t. 

So after her family had caught her up on everything she’d missed during her little snooze; like Sabrina restoring Roz’ vision, Sabrina doing magick without spells or runes, and all that they had done during the angels’ visit. Samara had waited for everyone to leave either to their homes or their rooms and then she’d gathered Phlox and teleported to her little cottage.

The minute her feet landed in her sitting room, she’d collapsed to her knees. Falling back onto her bottom, she’d wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face into them. Phlox had leaned his weight against her side and snuffled his snout under her arm and licked her cheek. Samara’s world zoned out and her only point of contact was Phlox. What could have lasted longer only lasted a few moments with Phlox’ incessant nudging and licking. Samara slowly raised her head and her hand played with the fur of his one ear. She tilted her head and rested her cheek on her knee. 

She felt as the same something as before began to fill her. Not the power, but the presence. The icy cold, overheatedness of her body drained and the achy tightness of her chest eased. Gentle warmth began to fill the emptiness inside her. She heaved a deep sigh, her eyes slipping closed. What felt like a finger trailed down the back of her neck to across her shoulder down to gently grip her upper arm. Content assurance tickled the back of her mind. Her eyes fluttered open, to see what she knew wouldn’t be there. 

Some disappointment filled her when she confirmed that she was alone other than her familiar. She could see her Shadows dancing along the walls, stirred up from her actions. She remained on the floor and simply watched as they flowed to a melody only they could sense. A brave Shadow skimmed along the floor until it could wrap around her ankle. Samara smiled softly and stroked along the skin it held, feeling the room shudder around her. 

As the moon continued to move through the sky, going down for it’s nap and the sun began to wake up, Samara reflected. During the discussions her family and friends had held during the night she knew that Sabrina was deeply unsettled by what had happened. And Samara did hold pity for her cousin. No 16-17 year old girl should have to worry about the things she had to. She deserved to fully enjoy her childhood, by having friends and learning as much as she could either at Baxter High or at the Academy. She should be worrying about lovers and parties and other frivolous stuff. But what she deserved and what she was dealt were two entirely different things. 

Samara knew her cousin, or at least she knew the version of her before Samara had left. She knew that Sabrina wouldn’t simply go along with the prophecy. She was too bound to the mortal world and her friends to let the Apocalypse happen. She knew that Sabrina would do whatever it took to make sure the Apocalypse was stopped. Something stupid and dangerous probably; but always with good intentions. And that’s what it was at its base. Good. Sabrina was wholly and intrinsically good. Whatever higher being that meddled in the Dark Lord’s plans had been smart. Hard to bring about the Apocalypse when one of its catalysts refused to do it. 

Did Samara want to bring about the Apocalypse? Now that she thought about it, not really. She wasn’t overly fond of mortals but she didn’t hate them. Plus, she liked Earth how it was right now. But what really threw her through a whirl was the little royalty part. Her? Queen? The only thing she had dominion over was her garden and that was laughable at best. How did anyone expect her to rule over anything? Let alone people? Perhaps whoever had translated the prophecy had gotten it wrong. Her wrong at least. That had to be it. Why in the Heaven would Lucifer Morningstar want her as Queen? The only thing she was exceptional at was potion-making and baking! 

Samara shook her head, realizing she was spiraling. The last thing she needed was to sit there and despair. No, the world had enough people that could wallow in their self-pity and confusion. She was a Spellman for Satan’s sake! Maybe not in blood but in everything that counts. She was going to plan and plot, just like she knew the rest of her family was doing. She was sure her cousin was figuring out a way to stop the Apocalypse. So that’s what she’d do. In case Sabrina failed, she’d have a back up plan. 

So Samara picked herself up off the ground, dusted off her bottom and went to her workshop. Digging through her extra wares, she found the vial she was looking for and flicked it open. Taking 3 small sips of the minty concoction, she felt as her mind cleared and began to focus. It was time to put her brain to work.

After what felt like days but were really only hours, Samara resurfaced to reality. She had a tentative plan. While it wasn’t something that her cousin would concoct full of bravery and blatant flourishes, it could work. She hoped it would at least. She also sort of hoped that it wouldn’t come down to her plan.

Phlox had spent his time waiting for her curled up across the room on the armchair he had claimed years ago. His dark eyes had watched her unblinkingly but Samara was used to his overly-intelligent stare. She stood up and approached him, stroked a hand through his plush fur.

“Thank you, my friend. For putting up with my antics and always standing by my side.” She had whispered before sighing. “I suppose we should head back before everyone starts to worry. My mirror has been pinging for a few hours now. I think they’ve noticed our escape.” 

She shouldn’t have been surprised by that honestly. The sun was just starting to descend over the horizon and exhaustion weighed heavily on her, depicting the time that had passed. Even though she had just woken up from such a long sleep the day before, she was still wiped. She made sure to pocket the rest of the invigorating potion she had sipped earlier. She had a feeling she’d need it today. Hopefully she could slip in the house unnoticed and take a nap before she announced her presence to the group.

She stood in the center of her sitting room and Phlox was quick to join her. She smiled down at him and then chanted her words to teleport. Landing roughly in her room at the Spellman’s house, Samara looked towards her bed wistfully. Just as she was about to step in its direction she felt her Shadows jolt in discord. Something was wrong. She looked around her and saw them crowding towards her door. The problem was downstairs then. She cast a longing look towards her bed before sipping her potion once again and slowly stalked out of the room. She could hear humming downstairs.

She rounded the stairs and followed the sounds into the botanical room, where Sabrina stood looking amongst the flora. She was wearing a plaid dress that Samara had never seen her in before. She continued to glance around and didn’t see what would’ve caused her Shadows to react so violently. She shrugged and approached her cousin.

“‘Brina?” The girl in question whipped around, sending a blinding smile her way.

“‘Mara! Where have you been?! I’ve missed you!” Sabrina exclaimed and wrapped Samara in a tight hug. Some guilt echoed throughout Samara at her cousin’s words, and she returned the embrace.

“Sorry, Cousin. I’ve just had a lot going on in my mind and I wanted to sort it all out. I’m back now though.” Samara reassured, stroking a hand across her cousin’s back. She felt the girl stiffen and pulled back in concern. To her shock Sabrina was glaring up at her.

“Are you though? You always leave! I needed you here and you left me! I was so scared and alone and I just wanted my Samara here to help me. But like always you were gone! Don’t worry, I have a way where you’ll never leave me ever again.” Sabrina spat out and her eyes began glowing white. Before Samara’s own powers or Shadows could even react she was engulfed in bright light and knew no more.

“Samara! Wake up. Come on come on come on. Please! Wake up!” There were voices shouting at her before she took a gasping breath and the fresh air flooded her lungs. She was freezing! Blinking her eyes open she saw drooping red columbine flowers beside her. Then her eyes refocused on the blurry figures behind them and saw the worried faces of her cousins.

“‘Mara! You’re okay but we have a problem. Come on, let’s get inside and warm you up.” Sabrina helped her twist out of the vines that surrounded her and get up. She looked around the garden in confusion. She didn’t remember taking a nap out there.

Her cousins were quick to wrap a blanket around her shivering frame and a cup of tea soon entered her hands, warming her. She took a sip as she assessed herself. She felt relatively fine other than being cold, and dirty apparently. She looked up into the anxious faces of her cousins.

“What happened?” Her voice was gravely and croaky. Samara coughed into her arm and looked at them. They both shifted uneasily.

“Well, in an effort to stop the impending Apocalypse, I convinced Ambrose to help me with the Mandrake conversion. And we were successful.” Samara’s stomach dropped, her cousin was now a mortal. Her Aunties were going to be furious. Heaven, she was furious!

“Sabrina-” Before she could finish, Sabrina rushed out words that took a moment to decipher.

“It worked too well and now the Mandrake has gone around trying to recreate everyone in my life into Mandrakes themselves. And she was successful with your Mandrake.” Sabrina hurried out and worried her lip between her teeth. 

Samara felt her breath leave her. The Mandrake was successful? She closed her eyes and tried to pulse out her magick to find Phlox. Her eyebrows furrowed when she couldn’t. Her eyes snapped open wide and she looked at the edges of the room. Sorrow ripped through her chest as she took in the shadows that remained still and static. Where were her Shadows?! The companions she’d had since the beginning of time! What had saved her countless times!

“I’m mortal.” The words were whispered but seemed like a scream in the silent room. Sabrina collapsed to her knees beside her and gripped her arm.

“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I’ll fix this.” 

“How can you? You’re mortal now too.” Samara mumbled, shooting a sharp look at her cousin. Sabrina bowed her head.

“We do have a plan to deal with the Mandrakes for now at least. We’re going to have an old-fashioned duel. Pistols and everything.” Ambrose tried to soothe. Samara stared down at her tea, her thumb rubbing up and down the handle. Her brain whirring as her heart continued to shatter in her chest. Unlike before, her soothing presence didn’t come to her. Instead she remained alone and desolate.

“With powers like we have….had, they need to be killed. So we’re cheating at the duel. Pulling early. I’m sorry to ask this of you but I can’t face them alone.” Sabrina explained, tears pooling in her eyes. Samara glanced at her out of the corner of her eye and gave a small nod. Ambrose and Sabrina sighed in relief. They began to explain more of the plan to her but she listened with half an ear, her eyes instead intent on the corners of the room that remained still but should’ve been swirling with her companions. Nothing would ever be the same.

The grove where Sabrina was born held an eerie feeling as the three cousins entered it. Or maybe it was just as normal as it had always been, just now Samara didn’t have the powers to protect from the bumps in the night.

Two figures stood at the stone in the middle of the clearing. They became clearer as the group of 3 approached. As they stopped at the stone, Samara found herself looking into a mirror. Rather, a mirror image. Piercing silver eyes and flowing black hair. Had she always been that tiny? She just reached Mandrake Sabrina’s nose. Samara watched as her Mandrake’s eyes shot through with lightning in a display of power. Envy and sorrow shot through her again. Those were hers!

“Sabrina, Samara. You came. Did you bring the weapons?” Mandrake Sabrina asked.

“Yes.” Samara answered, her eyes glowering at her own Mandrake.

“And there’s no other way this can play out?” Her Mandrake sighed, shaking her head.

“I wish there were. For all of our sakes.” The real Sabrina answered as everyone took a pistol from Ambrose.

“The rules are this. You’ll turn your backs to one another, count ten paces. On ten, turn, shoot. May the best trigger fingers win.” The girls all turned their backs on one another, pistols gripped in their hands. Samara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then Ambrose began to count.

“One.” Step.

“Two.” Step.

“Three.” Step.

“Four.” Step.

“Five.” Step.

“Six.” Step.

“Seven.” Step.

“Eight.” Step.

“Nine.” BANG! BANG! The sound was deafening but Samara could still hear the gasp of pain and betrayal in her Mandrake’s voice. The shot Mandrakes both turned and looked towards the mortal girls.

“You shot early. That’s not fair.” The Mandrakes spoke as one before falling to the ground. Sabrina shook her head, tears in her eyes.

“No. No, it’s not.” She said and began running towards her Mandrake. Samara set down her pistol and kept her eyes on her gasping Mandrake. As she approached her Mandrake she could hear Sabrina soothing her own. Samara knelt down beside hers and looked into her eyes. She set both of her hands on the chest of the oozing Mandrake and leaned close to her face.

“You have something that doesn’t belong to you. Something that’s mine. And you’re gonna give it back to me.” Samara whispered, her words laced with cruelty before she bared her teeth. It felt strange, to be pushing and pulling for magick that was no longer contained in her. But she could feel it swarming within this Mandrake. It reacted to her touch, trying to get to what was familiar. She looked into the panic wide eyes of the Mandrake as she realized what she was doing. Samara’s lips curled with a wicked grin before she plunged her hands into the collapsing chest of the Mandrake, another choked gasp leaving its lips. She grasped the heart before it stopped beating, its warmth and goo filling her hand. She kept eye contact as her grip firmed and she slowly pulled the heart from her chest. She raised the still beating, orange, organ into the air, and set it before her lips. Her cruel smile parted to reveal sharp, pearly teeth that eagerly bit into the pulpy mess. The Mandrake gave a screaming groan as Samara ripped off the piece in her mouth, chewed and swallowed. As the piece moved down her throat to settle in her stomach, the Mandrake stilled, breath leaving her lips.

Samara dropped the pulp in her hand onto the body below her as she stood. As she reached her full height she sighed in content. She could see them! Her Shadows! She could feel as her magick flooded her veins, stretching out along her body like a weighted blanket. She flexed her hands and laughed in delight as her Shadows swirled up her body, encompassing her in darkness.

“Sabrina! Samara!” Nick shouted as he ran into the clearing, a woman following close behind. Samara turned to look at the others. Her cousin still sat on the ground, her Mandrake in her lap. Ambrose stood before them, formerly soothing her other cousin. Nick and the woman looked out of breath and disheveled. Although Samara knew she looked a sight. Her Mandrake lay at her feet, it’s heart ripped out of its chest and bitten, she was sure her eyes were glowing and her Shadows blurred parts of her.

“Nick. Ms. Wardwell. It’s over.” Sabrina answered in a tear-choked voice. The two looked at them in horror. 

“Sabrina, that was the last step...to complete the prophecy.” Nick breathed out. Samara stared towards him as Sabrina turned.

“Killing yourself. It was the final perversion.” Ms. Wardwell chimed in as Sabrina’s face fell. Samara’s head tiled in interest, her new companions sending worried glances her way.

“What are you saying?” Tears still fell from Sabrina’s eyes but for a different reason than sorrow for her Mandrake.

The group besides Samara startled as lightning struck around them including the stone just behind them. 

“The prophecy is being fulfilled. The End of Days is upon us. The Dark Lord will walk the Earth in His true form. The Gates of Hell will open. And Samara will sit by his side and rule as His Queen while Sabrina, their Sword, will enact their will.” Ms. Wardwell answered in a grave voice. Thunder and lightning continued to strike around them. One final strike highlighted the faces of the girls and the roles they’d play. Eyes glowing. Menace on Sabrina’s face. A crown towering on Samara’s head. Anticipation soaked the air.

[ericsonclan]

I'll Shelter You

Summary: Renata gets separated from the group just as they realize the mystery they're pursuing is darker than expected. She and Minnie have to fight their way to safety.

Read on AO3:

Renata could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she ran through the dark forest. She wasn’t sure who she and her friends had pissed off or what their foes wanted from them. The only option now was to flee and search for answers once their lives weren’t in mortal peril. Eyes scanning the wooded terrain, Renata searched for a sign of any of her friends. They’d been attacked from behind and scattered to the winds. How could they make it through this without each other?

The clashing of magic spells could be heard in the distance. Should she run toward it or from it? Renata knew what her feet wanted to do, but her head told her otherwise. Chances were that was Clementine fighting off assailants or Aasim or Sophie. She couldn’t leave them. Though her stomach warned her she might be sick at any second Renata pressed forward, running in the direction of the attack.

“Deprimo!” a voice rang through the woods, launching the earth-shattering attack. The ground trembled beneath Renata as she drew close, her eyes beholding the caster of the spell: Minnie.

Minnie? No! Renata’s heart twisted within her as she looked upon her girlfriend who was in the midst of warding off a series of attacks. She wasn’t supposed to be here tonight! How many of us are in these woods?

The 6th year Gryffindor stood firmly in place, her wand held level in preparation against the three figures that surrounded her on the outskirts of the clearing. Her last spell had caused the ground around her to become a pitted mess of craters and pits. Her enemies would not be able to reach her easily.

“Bombarda Maxima!” one of the hooded figures cried, raising their wands. Minnie threw herself to the ground, tucking and rolling before a huge explosion burst in midair a mere feet from where she’d stood.

Rising to her feet, Minnie threw a retaliatory attack. “Levicorpus!”

Her attacker was dragged into midair by his ankle then thrown to the side with a flick of Minnie’s wrist, sending him crashing into one of the nearby trees. One down, but there were still two more to go.

“Minnie!” Renata jumped forward, revealing herself.

Minnie’s eyes widened in fear. “Renata? How are you here?”

“No time for that now! Let’s deliver the ass-whooping these assholes deserve, then we can talk!”

There wasn’t a chance for Minnie to argue. An oppugno cast by one of the remaining attackers had them both dodging rocks and debris as they flew through the air towards them.

Renata drew out her own wand. “Rictusempra!” Her foe began to writhe before her, giggling uncontrollably as the spell took effect.

Minnie didn’t hesitate to deliver a follow up attack. “Relashio!” Their enemy’s wand fell to the ground, temporarily disabling him.

“Expulso!” This time the explosion was too large for them to dodge. Both girls were thrown off their feet by the force of the blast. Minnie slammed into a tree, falling to the ground with a sickening thud while Renata was thrown several yards further, collapsing in the dust.

Immediately Renata struggled up to her feet. She couldn’t let them reach Minnie. “Petrificus totalus!” she cried, casting the spell toward the one who’d sent the explosions. The man seized up, falling to the ground as stiff as a log. One more.

He had retrieved his wand and stood shakily, facing Renata from across the clearing. “Confringo!”

Renata ducked behind the nearest tree. His aimed proved poor regardless, a tree several feet away from her exploding at its base and falling forward with a weighty groan. Perhaps he was as afraid as she was. Renata looked down at her wand, firm in her clammy hand. “Please, buddy, help me make it through this,” With that she spun out from her hiding place, launching one of her most difficult spells. “Incarcerous!”

Her enemy’s arms were immediately bound to his sides, held in place by invisible bindings.

“Relashio!” His wand flew from his hand, disarming him once more.

“Oppugno!” The fallen tree flew past her, barreling toward her opponent at a frightening speed. Crashing into the man, the tree did not stop in its path, but rather propelled him forward, farther and farther from the girls until Renata could not maintain the spell any longer. Renata scanned the clearing to make sure all enemies were still neutralized before running toward her girlfriend.

“Minnie! Are you OK?” She asked, kneeling down to cradle her lover’s head in her hands.

Minnie looked back at her in a daze. “Did you… get them?”

“For now, but we have to move before they get back up or more arrive. Can you move?”

“I think so. Just-” Minnie hissed in pain, falling back against the tree. “I think I may have cracked a rib or something when I crashed. Can I get a hand?”

Renata nodded, reaching back to cup her girlfriend’s back and help lift her up off the ground. When her hand drew back, she saw that there was blood on it. This was a more serious injury than either of them had thought. They couldn’t stay here though, they had to keep moving and find help. Slinging her girlfriend’s arm over her shoulder, Renata guided Minnie through the woods, praying that help would be close by.

Their way was slow and unsteady. Minnie’s feet shook beneath her and her head was lolling to the side in an unnerving way. Renata could tell she was struggling to maintain consciousness. “Ren, maybe you should… go on ahead. I can wait here while you-”

“Not fucking happening,” Renata’s words came out in a growl, her teeth set firmly. “We’re in this together, Minnie. We’re both getting out,” They continued to walk in silence, the only sound the leaves crunching beneath their feet. The premonition of future sickness was still strong within Renata, her stomach a roiling sea within her. No time to puke now though. She’d have that luxury once they were home safe.

As they continued to shuffle through the woods, a rising dread clutched onto Renata. Were they going the right way? She thought she knew the way out, but things were so different in the dark and with everything that happened, were they truly lost? No, she was sure they were on the correct path. Then what was this feeling? It was external, something pressing on her from without. They weren’t alone. Renata’s head frantically shot back and forth, looking for the source of her fear. Had their enemies returned? She couldn’t see any of them. She felt like she was choking, wallowing in despair as terror rose within her. What was happening?

That’s when she saw it. Floating above them only a few dozen yards away, its presence consuming all consciousness round it: a dementor. All the blood ran cold within Renata’s body.

Fuck, no. What did we do to draw out one of those?

Its body hovered in the air, inky black robes drifting in the wind like blackened entrails behind it. This was something beyond anything Renata had ever encountered before. Nothing had prepared her to face off against such a creature. Nothing could. Her destruction was inevitable. She would die here in these desolate woods and Minnie would to. There was no way out. A whimper left Minnie. Renata glanced over, taking in the fear within her girlfriend’s eyes. She was in so much pain already and now the sight before them had completely petrified her. Minnie’s legs gave out from under her, causing her to fall to the ground with a weakened groan. Renata tried to prevent it, but her own arms felt useless, sluggish and limp. She couldn’t even hold Minnie up. What would they do?

Renata’s eyes returned to the dementor though her mind screamed out in fear against her. Had it drifted closer? Was it toying with them, waiting for them to fully collapse in their despair before it finished them off? Her wand trembled in her hand. No – it was she who was shaking. She wasn’t ready to meet her end yet, but no help was in sight. There was only one spell that could drive back a dementor. Renata knew this well since she’d tried the spell countless times and failed. Within the safety of her dorm room walls surrounded by everything she loved, she couldn’t summon a patronus. How would she now when terror consumed her very heart?

The dementor was coming closer. She didn’t have a choice. She had to try one last time.

“Expecto-” Renata’s voice faltered, cutting off the spell. It wouldn’t have any power behind it this way. She had to think of something happy, imagine her best, most perfect moment. That must be her strength. Renata’s thoughts flew, searching for a memory brimming with pure joy. Her time at Hogwarts, all the friends she’d made here, her classmates, Minnie… two memories rushed to the front of Renata’s mind, blending together seamlessly.

She was dancing. She was eight years old and she was dancing with her father while her mother laughed merrily in the background, cheering them on. Her father’s arms were strong and warm as he guided Renata through the steps, softly humming along with the song as they swayed back and forth, circling the living room floor. Renata beamed up at her father, mirroring his own warm smile. “Someday, mija, you’ll find someone just as precious to you as me who you can dance with. I can’t wait to meet them.”

She was sixteen and dancing again. The room was silent save for her own gentle humming, remembering a well-loved tune from her childhood. Minnie’s arms were warm against her back, her expression focused as she tried to follow along with each step. “You make it look so easy,” she murmured, her breath tickling Renata’s ear. “Show me again. I know I can get it right,”

“Expecto patronum!” Renata cried. She felt the force of the spell course through her as the tip of her wand glowed brightly. A blinding light emerged, taking shape before her as the spell coursed forth. An elephant stood before them, its massive form radiating all the emotions that had brought it forth. The light expanded, pushing against the dementor’s shadowy form. All was silent save the steady thrum of the patronus pushing the creature further and further back, shielding the girls until suddenly the dementor spun round, fleeing into the night without a trace. She had done it. They were safe. Renata stared at her patronus in disbelief. Had that really come from her? Her patronus stood before her, almost seeming to watch her calmly. Should she speak to it, thank it for saving them? Or was that the same as thanking herself? Before she could ponder the matter further, the patronus faded before her, leaving Renata and Minnie in darkness once more. Even the darkness had a warmth to it now though.

“Renata… did that just happen?”

Renata looked down to her girlfriend. Minnie still needed medical aid. Newfound strength surged through Renata’s veins as she lifted her girlfriend back up to her feet. “Hell yeah it did. Now stay with me, Minnie. Just a few more steps and we’ll be home safe,” That was a lie. They were nowhere near getting out of these woods. But Renata knew they could make it. They’d driven off a greater foe than either girl had ever expected to face. Walking was small potatoes now.

Something moved at the edge of Renata’s vision. Turning her head, Renata squinted to try to take it in more clearly. Was there someone there? Yes, two figures stood facing her in the distance. They weren’t hooded like the assailants had been though. Could it be…? Should she take the risk? “Guys?” Her voice was weaker than expected, cracking on the single word.

The figures drew closer. A few steps more, and Renata knew her prayers had been answered.

“Renata!” Prisha ran forward, Clementine right behind her. “Thank goodness!” Her eyes fell as she took in Minnie’s condition.

Clementine’s expression was equally somber. “We’ve been trying to find you. We haven’t come across Aasim or Sophie yet, but they have to be close,” She looked over at Prisha who had taken her pack off and was rooting through her bag. “There’s a pressure bandage in my med kit. It should hold off the bleeding till we get somewhere safe,”

“Did you run into any more enemies?” Renata asked, her concern growing as she examined her friends. The med kit had already been broken out tonight. Clementine’s left arm was wrapped in gauze and a butterfly bandage was placed over a large laceration on Prisha’s forehead.

Clementine nodded. “Several. It’s been quiet for a while now though,”

“We’ve covered a lot of ground as well,” Prisha continued from behind Minnie. “If Sophie and Aasim are still in these woods, we’ll find them on the path out,”

“But Minnie,” Renata protested. “She wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. Does that mean there’s more of us here?”

Prisha and Clementine shared a worried glance. Minnie was clearly in no shape to tell them. Clementine’s eyes were steady as she looked back at Renata. “If there are, we’ll have to trust that they can make it, just like we’ve been doing. We have to leave though. Now,”

Renata nodded. They had no other choice. Whatever they’d stumbled upon was bigger than any of them had expected. Once they were back at the school, they would find all the others and figure out what to do next. Everybody had better be there. She wouldn’t lose them. “Let’s go,” With that, she adjusted her grip on Minnie’s arm while Prisha took the other side. The four girls continued their march toward safety, home, and their friends. They would it make it through this together.

[singledarkshade]

Together Forever

Summary: Trapped alone in the Waverider by the 'Legion of Doom' Gideon does her best to keep Rip from sinking into his depression. Author’s Note: For TimeShip Week Day 1: Doomworld Day - An homage to when Rip and Gideon were stuck on the Waverider together and lived like an old married couple. This was quite a hard one to do but I managed and hope you enjoy.                                 ********************************************* Alone.

He was alone on his ship.

Except he wasn’t.

“Gideon?”

“I’m here, Captain.”

Dropping onto his bed, Rip lay back and stared at the ceiling, letting out a relieved sigh he breathed, “You always are.”

“I have detected a major shift in the timestream,” Gideon told him.

“That’s because we failed, Gideon,” Rip told her sadly, “The ‘Legion of Doom’ used the Spear to change reality thanks to Mr Rory. The crew are gone, and I’m trapped here.”

He lay in silence contemplating his latest complete and utter failure. Only this time he hadn’t only failed his family, he had failed everyone.

“Are you blaming yourself, Captain?” Gideon’s voice cut through his wallowing.

Rip grimaced, hating that she could read him like a book.

“Mr Rory’s betrayal was not your fault,” Gideon reminded him, “There were circumstances which you had no control over. You were not even here for them.”

Rip let out a bark of sarcastic laughter, “You mean if I hadn’t used the time core to scatter myself, I would have been here to notice what was happening with him.”

“I said, and believe, nothing of the sort,” Gideon stated sharply, “And I thank you not to put words in my mouth.”

Rubbing his hand across his face Rip grimaced, “Do you have any idea where the rest of the crew are?”

“I’m afraid I currently have no access outside the ship, Captain,” Gideon told him softly, “My main systems are running on back-up reserves and solar. Whatever has happened to us, it has caused a massive drain on the power.”

Nodding Rip sat up again, “Okay. So, first thing first I need to fix our power problem then we’ll look for the team.”

Gideon watched him try to repair the ship so that they could move from wherever they were berthed and find the crew.

Rip worked tirelessly at first. Spurred on by the hope of seeing the people who had become a surrogate family to him. A hope which faltered as the days, then weeks, went by with no success.

Sadness filled Gideon when she witnessed the precise moment he gave up. He pulled the bottle of scotch from its hiding place and, instead of the one glass he normally poured himself at night, Rip simply drank it all from the bottle.

The next day he began to wander the ship, a bottle in his hand in a way reminiscent to the way he had in the days and weeks after Miranda and Jonas died.

Gideon knew her Captain better than anyone. She knew she needed to find a way to distract him from his depression before it took hold completely.

Thankfully her Captain had some skills and passions that he had never shown to the Legends. One being a love of cooking.

Rip had bonded with Mary Xavier as a child because she had him help her make meals or bake treats when he first arrived at the refuge. As a little boy who had spent so much time alone unable to trust anyone, the love and affection she offered had been appealing. Cooking with her had imprinted Mary on him like a baby bird.

He enjoyed making meals from scratch, especially for the people he loved.

With this in mind, Gideon persuaded him to try to bake cakes that he could then use to welcome the crew back home once they found them.

It worked, to a certain extent.

But Gideon knew she needed other ways to distract him.

                                  *********************************************

  Rip opened his eyes confused.

He remembered being in the galley, trying to make the perfect triple chocolate cake Gideon had found a recipe for. There had been a discussion about adding whiskey to it and then…

He grimaced confused to be standing on a white sandy beach, waves from the deep blue ocean gently lapping the shoreline. Looking down he saw he was barefoot and could feel the sand between his toes. The sun was shining in the deep blue sky that had a few wispy white clouds and Rip found sunglasses on his face, protecting his eyes.

“What the hell is going on?” Rip snapped.

“I thought that you could use a holiday, Captain,” Gideon’s voice made him turn.

Rip stared as she walked towards him wearing a red bikini top and a red wraparound skirt, her hair falling around her shoulders with a red flower tucked in it.

“Gideon?” he asked, before saying quickly at the forming pout, “You look lovely and this place is amazing.”

A bright smile covered her face, “Thank you, Captain.”

“What are we doing here?” he asked, “Aren’t you meant to be trying to restore power?”

Gideon folded her arms and replied, “I am. However, since you have passed out in a drunken stupor, I thought we could take some time to relax on a beach.”

“Which beach exactly?” Rip demanded, ignoring her jibe about his drinking while trying to find some clue as to what memory she’d picked.

“It is an amalgamation of several places,” Gideon replied, walking towards a sunbed that had appeared from nowhere and laying back on it, “I thought this would be relaxing.”

A table with a tall glass filled with some pink liquid, ice and fruit appeared beside her and Gideon lifted it taking a long drink. Glancing over to him, she asked archly, “Are you joining me?”

Rip took a step forward seeing the sunbed was now big enough for him to lie at her side. With a soft sigh, Rip lay down, finding it extremely comfortable. Staring at the wispy clouds in the blue sky, Rip felt Gideon’s hand slide into his.

Gripping onto her tightly, he whispered, “I don’t know what to do to fix this, Gideon.”

“I know, Captain,” she soothed, “We will work on it together but for now, let’s enjoy our holiday.”

Smiling, Rip kept a hold of her hand as he lifted the drink from the table beside him and clinked glasses with her.

                                  *********************************************

  Music floated through the air when Rip opened his eyes. He looked around the ballroom filled with people all dressed in their finery. Glancing down he saw he was in a dinner suit, one he had worn on missions and smiled slightly. Every few days Gideon brought him to a new scenario.

“Dancing tonight?” he asked.

Turning to where he knew Gideon was walking towards him, Rip gaped. The dress she wore was black, off the shoulder with a split up one leg. There were small diamond embellishments on the bodice, and it fit her perfectly.

“Do you like, Captain?” she asked with a shy sweet smile, giving a small twirl to show off the full dress.

Taking her hand, Rip placed a gentle kiss on it, “You look beautiful.”

She blushed before fixing his tie, “And you are very handsome in this suit. I have always liked it.”

“So,” he smiled, “Are we dancing tonight?”

Gideon nodded, “If you wish.”

Rip wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her close taking her hand in his, “That sounds like a good way to spend the evening.”

She smiled as he started them moving, the music bright allowing Rip to spin her around the ballroom. The music remained lively for the next few dances before it changed. As the slow romantic tune began, Rip drew Gideon closer smiling when she rested her head against his shoulder.

Holding onto his best friend, Rip admitted to himself how much he liked to spend time with her in this way. Gideon had always been different from the other AI’s, especially when it came to her emotions. She would on occasion enter his dreams to talk to him, usually at a highly stressful or emotional time although there was the occasional telling off for being reckless. She had also liked to spend time within Miranda’s dreams. From what he’d been told they enjoyed going ice-skating.

Despite everything that had happened from losing his family to losing himself, Rip had always had Gideon and found his feelings for her more complex than he’d ever realised.

The kiss they’d shared recently had only helped him recognise that, but he knew it had been happening for a long time.

Not wanting to think about that or get into such complicated territory tonight, Rip just held her and danced to the music.

                                  *********************************************

  Gideon watched her Captain trying to make a fondant bow, with some difficulty due to the fact it was not an easy task, but also because he was half-way through a bottle of scotch.

They were coming up on a year since they had found themselves in this situation. He had stopped getting dressed properly, and personal grooming had gone out the window. His beard was uneven while his hair stuck up in all directions as the depression and isolation took its toll.

As a Time Master despite spending most of his time alone on the ship with only her for company he always had missions to go on, reports to make to the Council and his family to visit. But this was true isolation and Gideon was only a physical presence for him when he was unconscious.

There had always been times she had wished for a corporeal form to help her Captain but no more than now.

She did her best to keep him in good spirits and sometimes, like today where he was being productive, it worked but other days it didn’t, and her suggestions would only make him angry where he would yell at her and call her names before ending up in a corner huddled in a ball begging her not to leave him too. Those days, once he was sleeping and in whatever setting she created for them Rip would apologise profusely.

She hated that he was lost in this despair, Gideon cared about him much more deeply than an AI should be able to. He called her special for her emotional capabilities, but Gideon believed that it was only because of him she was different.

Watching over him, Gideon waited until he was near the stage he would pass out and guide him to the med-bay. It made it easier for her to connect with him while detoxing his system from the alcohol he’d ingested.

  Rip looked around seeing trees, grass and what appeared to be pond or lake of some sort.

“I thought we could take a walk in the park,” Gideon said from his side.

Turning he smiled to see her in a pair of denim shorts and a yellow gypsy style blouse. Her hair was pinned up and sunglasses were perched on her nose.

“That sounds nice,” Rip offered his arm, smiling when she hugged him close, “Let’s go.”

They strolled along the path, admiring the flowers and watching the different animals that were running around. Some very different and unusual to find in a park.

“Gideon?”

“Yes, Captain.”

Rip tried not to smile too much while he asked, “Is there a reason there are Meerkats running around a park?”

“I like them,” Gideon replied, crouching down to pet the creature that came running over to her.

“Of course you do,” Rip chuckled softly watching her gently stroke the creature’s fur, “Come on, Snow White.”

Gideon laughed and took his arm again. As they walked several little birds and butterflies settled on her shoulders.

“You’re pushing the analogy now,” Rip noted with amusement.

She grinned at him, waving away the creatures, “Better?”

“If you get rid of the trail of rabbits and squirrels who have been following us,” Rip said turning back to where the cute furry creatures sat waiting expectantly.

Shaking her head, “You can be so boring sometimes, Captain.”

“I prefer not to be in a Disney movie,” he retorted.

She gave a disappointed pout, “Then you don’t want to hear them sing?”

Rip began to laugh and hugged her close, “If you want them to sing, then on you go.”

Gideon grinned at him and they started walking again while a chorus of ‘Some Day My Prince Will Come’ began.

Chuckling Rip leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Gideon’s temple.

                                  *********************************************

  “Gideon, I've finally perfected my fondant bows,” Rip motioned to his creation, “What do you think?”

Your technique has vastly improved over the last year, Captain,” Gideon replied encouragingly, “These cakes are so much more creative than your biscuits.”

Rip nodded before smiling, “Now, credit where credit is due, Gideon. Your idea of adding more gelatine to the mixture was pivotal.”

“Well done,” Gideon praised him “The best one yet, in my humble opinion.”

Rip smiled at the approval before letting out a sigh, “It's a shame that you're the only one here to appreciate it.”

“I'm sure your team would be just as impressed,” Gideon soothed.

“Assuming that they're all still alive,” Rip found the bottle he had sitting nearby and took a drink.

Gideon suggested, “Perhaps you should resume your efforts to send a message out.”

Sitting dejectedly, Rip sighed. “What's the point, Gideon? The Legion have the Spear of Destiny. They're like gods now. There's no point in fighting. Not anymore.”

“Captain…”

“I thought we could make a white chocolate cheesecake,” Rip told her changing the subject.

Sadly, Gideon watched him take another long drink, “That sounds nice, Captain.”

  “Gideon,” Rip cried suddenly sitting up from his prone position on the floor, “I've discovered the missing ingredient for my recipe. Rum,” the empty bottle he was holding clattered to the ground, “And speaking of which, I'm going to need you to fabricate me another bottle of it,” he paused and added, “Ooh, and some nachos.”

“I will do nothing of the sort,” Gideon stated.

Rip blinked in surprise, “What?” he frowned before yelling, “You will do as I tell you, Gideon, I'm your captain.”

Sharply she replied, “Then it's time for you to start acting like one,” he blinked again stunned and Gideon snapped, “Now, sit up straight and show your backbone, Captain Hunter.”

“Gideon,” Rip sighed defeated, “For the thousandth time, I've got no way of getting the reserve power back online, and I've got no way of sending out any signal of any sort, which means that I am destined to live out the rest of my days right here,” he paused before snarling, “With you.”

“While you were honing your confectionary skills,” Gideon ignored him, “I've been working on new algorithms to redirect power from the idle quadrants of the ship. You need to focus on boosting your distress signal once power is fully back online.”

Rip frowned in thought.

“Now,” Gideon said, “Chin up, Captain.”

“I don't know if I can do this, Gideon,” Rip whispered.

Softly Gideon reminded him, “I believe in you.”

Rip smiled, just those four words made him feel as though he could do anything.

“Now,” Gideon said decisively, “Let's get to work.”

Rip nodded, “First,” he held up his hand, “I'm going to vomit. And second,” he pushed himself to his feet a little unsteadily, “Let's do this.

“Captain,” Gideon said as she watched him throw up in the nearest bin, “Please allow me to perform a full detox first.”

Letting out a sigh, still leaning over in case he threw up again, Rip nodded, “Good idea”

  Gideon stood on the bridge, looking down she stared confused to see that she was wearing a long white dress.

“You look incredible,” Rip spoke up as he walked towards her looking like her Captain once more.

Confused Gideon moved to him, “I did not choose this setting or outfit.”

“I did,” Rip smiled, taking her hand, “I need you to know how much you mean to me, Gideon.”

A loving smile touched her lips, “I do know, Captain.”

He shook his head, “Not the extent,” placing his hand on her cheek he breathed, “Gideon, you are my best friend and my confidant. Any strength I have comes from you and your belief in me.”

“Captain…” she whispered before changing her mind, “Rip, you have always been brilliant. From the moment you stepped onboard my ship I knew that.”

Rip smiled resting his forehead against hers, “I know I’m difficult to live with. I know I don’t deserve your loyalty or your affection, but I am so grateful for it. So grateful to have you, Gideon.”

“You’re mine, Captain,” Gideon reminded him, “Nothing will change that.”

Rip stepped back, still holding her hand, “I chose this dress for you because I wanted to make a few vows.”

“What?”

“From now on,” he whispered, “We’re partners. Always.”

Looking up at him with a smile, Gideon nodded, “Always.”

Closing the space between them Rip pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss, Gideon responded deepening the kiss. They parted slowly and Rip smiled at her.

“That was even nicer than before,” she sighed.

“Good,” Rip replied, “Because I vow to be yours, if you vow to be mine.”

Gideon nodded, surprised when a gold band appeared on her finger, “Impressive, Rip.”

“You can fabricate one for me when I wake up,” Rip murmured.

“You have to do that soon,” Gideon told him, “We need to save the others and stop the Legion of Doom.”

Rip sighed before he nodded, “Okay, Partner. Let’s get to work.”

“In a minute,” Gideon said, moving closer and kissing him once more.

  Opening his eyes in the med-bay, Rip removed the medical cuff and slid off the couch. Pausing at the fabricator he picked up the gold band and slid it on. Heading up to the bridge he gently caressed the main console where Gideon’s avatar sat, before he climbed into the pilot’s seat and powered the systems up.

“Alright, Gideon,” Rip smiled, “Let’s do this.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Rip held up his hand, “Yes what?”

Gideon chuckled, “Rip.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled.

“Always.”

[cruzrogue]

Enter My World

Previously chapter1

Intro:  This came to me after seeing the train wreck of what Robert Queen has done. Two powerful families of Starling/Star City have failed so many people including themselves. Anyways I decided to write a piece that is like Bizzaro World where The Merlyns and Queens didn’t screw everything up and actually were pillars of the community, and omg good parents past and future.

Chapter 2

The long L-shaped hallway off the antique main staircase carries the sound of heavy footsteps heading to a particular room. Heavy in the sense that the man walking hurriedly across a very exorbitant rug his wife had just had installed days ago to check on why his youngest ran into their home sobbing. His bubbling happy little girl crying is unthinkable. Last time she was known to do this broke his and Rebecca’s hearts as they had to tell her in different ways that she is a blessing to them and no matter what they were all a family.

The large oak door separates them and he can’t tell by standing on this side if she is still crying. He’ll have to cross the threshold into a very young feminine room that actually speaks of science fiction and her love of animation. Oh, he has seen one to many cartoons with her seated against his side as she giddily talks about as many characters in detail that always seem to be never-ending and he makes sure to invest time to learn about each little character that brings out a spark of light. He finds between both of his children he is well versed in modern day kid related pop culture. As a man who holds the classic works dear to his own upbringing, he loves sharing anything his kids will ramble on about. Coming home from a corporate world it brings a warmth to his whole being that he has two children he adores and a wife he loves that are also happy to see him. Life is good. Now it’s time to make his ball of sunshine break a smile as he takes his fatherly duties to include.

Behind a door, Felicity smashes her face deeper into the pillow not caring of anything as her tears are absorbed by the soft material. Her heart heavy, she doesn’t want to feel the anguish that a stupid boy is causing. She said her peace and knows there is nothing else she can do. He’s too dumb to see. She shouldn’t have kissed him maybe she’s the real dumb one. Now she’s lost Oliver, her Vernnie, well her Vern. Even now she thinks that is a stupid nickname that only she used. He’s never corrected her and even shared a personal nickname with her and she’s never been one to like pet names but coming from him it was special. Now that is all gone. She’d never hear it again.

She doesn’t notice the door opening and surely not the dip on her bed but when a large hand stirs her from her loud sobs peaking to already guess it is her father who she passed on her gloomy run to her bedroom to happily shut the door to her existence.

Muffling out “…Me alone…”

“I’m sorry sweetie but I can’t understand you muffling into the pillow.”

She rises enough to grumble. It makes him chuckle which only adds to her frustrations. “Dad, I want to be alone.” She then plops back onto her now dampened pillow. She hears a hum but he doesn’t leave as he now begins rubbing her back.

“A new component for your computers came in.”

She sighs inaudibility onto her pillow but her dad isn’t going to get the picture. He is so obtuse at times. He really is a family-oriented man. How she guesses tragedy changed him to making sure everything he considers important always knows he is there. She should be glad but right now self-pity is the highlight and it’s for a party of only one.

“I don’t care.”

That gets a reaction. “Don’t care?” She can hear her dad make a grumble sound of displeasure. “Since when? You’re my electronic bunny who has always been excited for these things. It’s something you carried from before this household was blessed with your presence.”

She moves her face to look at his. “Dad!” She blinks a few times as she shakes her head at him. “Don’t you think you’re being a little melodramatic?”

“Me? Dramatic?”

“You make it seem I was the best thing…” He stops her as his arms easily move her into a sitting position as her little limbs are over his lap and make it more comfortable to talk and look at the tear-soaked girl who has his heart.

“I need you to listen, you are one of the best things that has ever graced my life. You are my daughter. No matter what is happening in your life I want you to know your mother and I love you very much.”

She can’t look away even though she feels small. Being in his strong arms in a position that has her eyes in sync with his. “I know.”

“You can talk to me about anything.”

“Ah dad.”

“Really Felicity, I still remember the day you came home from school crying because some mean kids said that you weren’t a Merlyn. You kept that to yourself allowed it to fester. Not knowing what made you withdraw it hurt your mom and I deeply. To hear it from another person that you thought once we tired of you, we would send you away. How could we ever do such a thing?”

That makes her tears fall uncontrollably. It was Oliver who tattletale on her. She told him that in despair and he couldn’t let her think that she was just a filler and had the courage to tell her father how she felt. At first, she felt horrified that he did that but he told her she would do the same. They looked out for one another. Another reason that her heart hurts. He won’t be there for her no more.

She hears her dad say words of comfort. Words to open dialogue but she is so distraught. She really wants to wallow in this pain for a while. Even so she says in-between sobs, “I’m sorry daddy.”

“Oh, my ball of wonder. You’ll don’t ever need to apologize to me. I’m your dad. I’m here for you. Please tell me what’s wrong?” With her trying to not cry the effort very much appreciated by him. He could leave her to cry some more but that really isn’t their way. If he of her mother can be there, that is where they’ll be.

Because he brought up the first moment, he found her like this even back then before a young boy he also considers to be a son told him why she was so distressed he tells her, “I will always honor your parents. They saved my soul. Their most cherish gift is you.”

After a hiccup she adds wondering about her real parents, “I still miss them.”

“I know sweetie. We’ll miss them together.”

His own eyes become glossy as he remembers that moment that moment the ball of events started and reshaped his life. Malcolm Merlyn will never forget that message left on his phone after his wife was shot. Her words still haunt him but then he heard other voices comforting her telling her that help was on the way. Applying pressure to her wound. Being there for her. He will never forget meeting the heroes that saved his wife. Noah and Donna who were instrumental angels in keeping Rebecca alive. Their own anguish of leaving a family courtroom as divorcees to leading in saving a woman they didn’t know but helped just the same.

In a sitting area at a busy hospital he hugged them even offered a monetary award and they just were gracious that they could help and told the man they needed to pick up their daughter so unbeknownst to him as the they went on their way that their lives would be cut short. In leaving Starling City with a daughter that he wasn’t privy in meeting. Just to find that they were in a horrible car crash that the emergency personnel had to use the jaws of life to pull a little girl from the car. She was alive but now an orphan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in the same capacity of time the news that Rebecca wouldn’t be able to have another child if she one day desired to. Their personal doctor looking over the chart again and with them looking at the man who would shed some light if she indeed could not have another child, she desperately didn’t know she wanted. They had an adorable little boy already. All this time in a hospital checking her wounds with the possibility that the damage due to scar tissue were permanent it held a finite time that any possibility of adding another little one to the family being lost. Holding out her hand as her husband laid a kiss to her palm as the doctor turned now towards them.

“Mrs. Merlyn, Mr. Merlyn. I am truly sorry to inform you both that there is severe damage to carry a child to full term.”

“What does that mean? Full term?”

“The chances are there that the embryo could attach to the womb but after so many weeks’ complications would start to arise. The fetus wouldn’t make it in the third trimester.”

Rebecca wanting to leave so she could cry but stuck in a hospital bed it had him stand up and thank the doctor so the man would leave them be.

Moments later as her sobs took hold, he had to remind her and himself that they had one child at home who they loved with all their hearts. “We have Tommy.”

Rebecca knows this but her baby isn’t a baby no longer. “He isn’t a little baby no more.”

“Rebecca you’ve never cared to have another. I know Tommy is turning ten but he’ll always be your baby boy.”

“I know Malcolm; it is just hard to think that the possibility is taken from us. If, we chose not to have another child it would be our choice but this…”

“I’m just blessed that I didn’t lose you. Now that’ll be something I couldn’t fathom. I love you.”

“I love you too. You also don’t need to promise to cut down on work, I know I married a workaholic.” She kisses him.

“Maybe not but I know I have a family and that should be my priority. I’m so sorry my love. No company in this world measures up to you. I love you so much.”

“Dad? Are you okay?”

Malcolm shakes his head as the last thought was of how he wanted to be a better husband and father. He can’t believe his mind wandered to the past as he is holding a girl who brought hope and healing. That his family grew by one more and even within tragedy there is some good. He hears his daughter now beginning to worry for him. Yes, he is a blessed man to have such a family.

“I’m fine sweetheart. Just recalling the time frame before your sunshine made us all complete.”

“Dad! Please!”

“I know… Too much right?” He smiles as he can be a little dramatic at times.

“I’m going to be okay daddy; you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I will always worry.” He brings her close to kiss her forehead. “It’s a dad thing.”

“I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“You aren’t going to share why you’re so sad? You do know you can talk to me about anything!”

Feeling better with how her dad is just being himself. A worry hog. That maybe spilling a little bit and getting his input could make her feel better. It always does.

“I kissed a boy.” There she said it.

“Oh.”

He doesn’t really know how to counter other than showing some surprise. A part of him cringing thinking he had a few more years. He thought Tommy was going to be the first one to have him and his wife really worry about. Got to give it to his daughter for she is an overachiever. Now he will never get any sleep. He doesn’t say any typical dad stuff he waits to see why she is in her room crying and as the dad who asks the obvious. “He didn’t like it?”

She shakes her head no.

“He didn’t like it?”

“It was barely a second but he doesn’t want me in his life anymore. He said so. Daddy I really like him.” It already has her tearing up. “I know I’m just a stupid kid.” With that she loses it and begins to cry to the point of hiccups.

“Hey, hey you are not stupid.” His voice firm which gets her attention it’s the tone he has when either Tommy or herself do something foolish and somehow they always fear his reprimand. As loving as he can be, he also can be stern. Living without TV privileges or that one time where she wasn’t able to participate in a science fair because of dying her brother’s hair blue. No amount of begging or pouting helped it actually could increase the punishment. So, hearing her dad use his no-nonsense voice she listened. “You are a genius. Do you know what your mother would say if she were here?”

“No. She’d probably just try to coax me to tell her who and why he doesn’t like me.”

Malcolm thought of asking but figured it be best not to know who broke his baby’s heart. He knows his baby will break hearts as well. No, his duty as her father is to help her stand back up after a session of licking her wounds.

“Well then I guess I’ll say what I think she’ll jester on saying…” He winks at her. “Ice cream. I think some mint chocolate before dinner is to be had and then if we need to cry at least our belly be full of deliciousness of gooey happiness.” He sees her crack a smile. Yes, seeing a smile grace her face is all he ever needs. “Come on. I’ll semi race you.”

“Semi?”

“Yes. No running in the house.” He already has her over his shoulders and he can hear her laughing as she tells him she’s a big girl and he declares, “Yes my ball of sunshine.” Her sadness put on hold as the father and daughter duo are heard laughing as they head down the hall.

tagging: @1106angel @memcjo @keabbs @lovelifelovebooks

[darkhymns-fic]

So a DJ and an MC Meet on a Mountain... Take 2

There's only one person Marina wants to start a band with.

Fandom: Splatoon Characters/Pairing: Pearl/Marina Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3 Notes: Follow-up chapter written by Sky!

Previous Chapter

“Yo, yo, I’m Pearl, what’s the dealio, you think you’re something? You’re just keel haul, yo!” Pearl shouted into the wind. She let out a sigh. “Man, that was whack.”

Marina had been waiting for this moment! She’d come back to Mount Nantai every day for the past week, trekking up the winding paths, getting a lot sweatier than she’d like to admit, and hoping she’d see that girl again.

She’d been in Inkopolis for a few days, but it was frightening. There were so many squidlings, so many buildings, so many people that were not… her people. They didn’t seem so different, yet still she knew they way they stared at her, she felt the way they stared at her. Her clothes weren’t right, her hair wasn’t right, her way of speaking wasn’t right. Not to mention she had nowhere to be, had no money to her name.

Out here in the open, away from everything, away from everyone she felt safe. Safe, but lonely. That Pearl girl, she didn’t make Marina feel uncomfortable, she didn’t feel nervous around Pearl. What was it about her? Was it her short stature? Was it her cute kid-like voice? Or maybe it was just her blunt personality? Marina wasn’t sure. But she couldn’t stay quiet, she didn’t want to sit in the shadows anymore. She wanted to talk to someone again. She couldn’t talk to anyone else but her.

“Hey! Hello!” Marina called out timidly, tapping the hopping mad Pearl’s shoulder. “It’s, um, me again!”

Pearl’s little body instantly bounced away in fright, her crown nearly toppling off her head. “WHOA, DUDE,” she screeched. “You can, like, NOT sneak up on me, okay!?” She was practically wheezing, her legs trembling. “I, I would have, like,” She needed time to catch her breath. “I could have splatted you, bro!”

Marina could only smile. It felt wrong, but she couldn’t help it. “Sorry.” She laughed.

Pearl frowned hard. Her stubby legs trembled, but not because of fear anymore. “Yo, you think I’m a joke?! Think I don’t go for broke?! You best step off before I blend you into an egg yolk! I’ll ink ya up to your tentacles, I’ll leave ya dry and feed ya to the gulls! You think you’re so hot, tall, dark and handsome? I’ll stuff you in my closet and hold you for ransom!”

Marina couldn’t hold her smile back. It had been a week since she had smiled again, and she wouldn’t lose it. She was desperate to hold onto that feeling. This girl was so spunky, so bouncy, so bubbly, yet somehow even while threatening to kidnap and splat her, Marina wasn’t afraid?

“That was amazing!” Marina laughed, her cheeks hurting from smiling so much. “Did you think up all of that on the spot? Although, I think maybe drop that egg line.”

Pearl glared, keeping silent for a moment, wind blowing through her short tentacle hair. “Yeah, you right,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve been spittin’ mad whack rhymes lately. Like I got some kinda mind virus or something.”

Marina felt the tightness of her goggles suddenly, straining, pressing against her. “Yeah. I know that feeling.” She paused, afraid to say too much. “But everything else was mad fresh!”

“You really think so? For eel?”

If anyone else had said those lines to her, if anyone else had been talking to her, she would have said no. But something about the way she said it, the way she was so animated, the way her voice cracked as she screamed it, it sounded so… cute? But at the same time, it was cool. Like, really cool. Like, she didn’t care what anyone thought of her! Marina envied that. She wanted to feel like that.

“Damn straight!” Marina said awkwardly. It still took some getting used to. But she wanted to say it!

It was Pearl’s turn to laugh this time. “Girl, you’re weird! But I like that ‘bout you. You got like, you got just something weird goin’ on…” She motioned with her hands towards Marina’s body and stared hard, inspecting again. “But I like it! Makes the ink flow, knawmsayin?” She poked at her big head and grinned. “Like, you so weird, but it makes me think, yo.”

She wasn’t sure what took over her at that moment. Pearl made her feel comfortable, made her feel like she could say anything. So she just said it. Without thinking.

“Yeah, bet that doesn’t happen too often, huh?” Marina laughed. Almost instantly after, she felt a bolt of lightning run down where her spine would be if she had one. Oh, no, what are you doing? Why are you insulting her?! Her ink froze, her body went cold. She was about to lose her only chance at a friend. “I am so sor-”

“Sick comeback!” Pearl shouted, an eager smile across her lips. “You ain’t as limp as you look! You got some teeth under those tentacles, don’t ya?”

Images of heavy machinery and cold deadly weapons rushed past her mind. She didn’t want to think about that. Marina smiled sheepishly. “Ahah, I guess so?”

Pearl crossed her arms, as if expecting more. “Ya know, shame you’re not like… a musician or anything. Talkin’ to you is nice and all, and you got some mad weird style, but….”

Her heart almost exploded out of her chest. She didn’t think she’d get the chance! She didn’t think she’d be able to bring it up! She had to!

“Actually, I’ve been working on-”

 “Shame! Gotta go!” Pearl shrugged, already walking backwards down the hill.

“Wait! Pearl, but!”

“Wish I could! I gotta gig to get to! And I need to look fresh! Yo, MC Princess needs all the work she can get, ya know?” She winked, and finger gunned as she slowly walked below the hills’ view. It was an image Marina would not be able to forget. “See ya later, Marina!”

She should have chased after her. Marina should have made her listen. But… There was always next time. Right?

It wasn’t long before Pearl was back again. It was only a few days this time as opposed to a week. Marina felt that rush of adrenaline at the sight of her, how the sunset sparkled off her big white head, how her crown lit up like flame. This was the only time Marina could speak, the only time that mattered.

“Yo yo yo, Marina!” Pearl laughed. “Here again! Figured ya would be.” She paused. “Still kinda weird you always show up here though.”

“You could always go somewhere else, you know,” Marina said back, a sassy smile across her lips. Her ink froze again, as somewhere dark inside her dreaded that Pearl would do just that and leave her all alone up on this mountain.

Pearl’s eyes widened as if she had never actually thought about that. “Pffft, girl, guess you right.” Luckily, Pearl didn’t seem to want to leave either. “This mountain sucks. I’m startin’ to think the only reason I come here is for you, ya know?”

Her heart pounded to the beat of her song, Marina felt herself becoming more confident, surer of herself. Something she could never feel out on her own.

“You lookin’ at me weird,” Pearl said, her brows furrowed and her fingers pointing. She was always very fidgety, wasn’t she? Always very animated. “Is there somethin’ weird on my face??”

“Yeah, your face,” Marina teased. She didn’t worry as much this time.

“Hey!!” Pearl said, angry in such a way that again didn’t seem threatening. “You’re one to talk with… with your… hair!”

“Nice.”

Pearl let out an exhausted sigh. It was the first time Marina had ever seen it. Like her squiddy little soul just left her body and floated away to the farthest respawner it could find.

“I know. I know, that was whack,” Pearl admitted. “I’ve just been in, like, such a funk, ya know? I feel like…. yo… I feel like I’m not like… improving, you know?”

Marina frowned, feeling a strange kinship with her. “Stagnating?”

“Naw, I dunno what beetle dating has to do with this,” Pearl said with a completely straight face. Wow, she really meant that. “I just feel like… I need something, yo! Something different! Something wild and fresh and hip and new! Something off the hook, ya know?”

Marina went quiet. Her heart was pounding. This was her chance. She felt her hands tense, ready to reach for her phone, to show Pearl what she’d been working on. But for some reason she didn’t do it. Move your fingers, Marina, come on!

“Sorry to drag the mood down,” Pearl said turning away. “I should be headin’ back anyway. Seems like this dumb mountain just ain’t doin the trick anymore. Maybe I’ll see ya around some other time.” She didn’t walk backwards this time, she didn’t bounce with each step down the path.

You worked too hard to get here, Marina. You can’t screw this up. Come on, put yourself out there!

But you’re an Octoling! They’ll recognize you! You can’t be consorting with a celebrity! That’s the opposite of laying low! They’ll toss you out, they’ll splat you till you can’t take it anymore!

But I came here to change things. I left to do something different! Be someone different! I can’t just leave and hide away forever, I don’t want things to stay the same!

“Pearl!” Marina shouted, grabbing the small woman’s shoulders a little too forcefully. “Wait!”

“Girl, you trippin?” Pearl growled. “I wanna go back to my crib and wallow in some mad despair, yo!”

“Shut up a second!” Marina said hurriedly. “I’ve got a track I’ve been working on! I want you to hear it!”

Pearl tilted her head and suddenly any annoyance that was inked across her face was wiped clean. “For eel? You a musician?”

Marina nodded, already pulling out her glowing little earbuds. She hoped Pearl wouldn’t notice the octopus on them. Then again, she didn’t notice the octopus tentacles on her head, so she’d probably be fine. “Well, I’m… I’m kind of new, I guess, but I’ve always wanted to be in a band!”

“Girl, I don’t wanna hear no amateur garbage.”

But Marina was already kneeling down to put the earbuds in, whether Pearl liked it or not! “Shush, just listen.” Adrenaline coursed through her inky veins as she hit play on her old beat up phone.

She would never forget the next moment. The way Pearl’s frown couldn’t help but turn upside down. The way her eyes lit up, the way her foot started tapping against the old dirt road, how her head bobbed slightly, her cute little tentacles swaying with each motion.

“Yo, yo, yo!!!” Pearl howled, her little body springing to action. “That $%#! was fire!” Her eyes were still shining like the pearls she was so aptly named after. But they were seeing Marina. Really seeing her this time. “You made this? That’s you singin’??”

Marina was breathless. She had been dreading it. Dreading that Pearl would hate it. She didn’t even know she was dreading it till now, till she felt her body almost melt away into an inky mess. All she could do was nod. She was doing everything she could to not slip into her Octopus form.

“Damn, girl, you’re great!” She said, still hopping with the beat. She snatched the phone from Marina, opting to press play to hear it again. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! I mean, don’t get me wrong, this is still pretty newbie stuff!” She nodded, suddenly very serious. This girl knew her stuff. “And honestly? It sounds kind of… sad?” She tilted her head, trying her best to articulate her thoughts, which was fairly difficult for Pearl. “Like… lonely. Not that that’s so bad, but I don’t think Inklings really want sad, ya feel me?”

Marina still held her breath. Was she that obvious? That see through? She didn’t mean for her sadness and her loneliness to get through to the song.

Pearl must have read Marina’s facial expressions, maybe even her mind. “No, no, but it’s… it’s not bad! I think, hmm…. I think maybe you just need a partner! Someone talented, someone amazing!”

Despite the way her legs trembled, despite her worry, Marina still managed to sneak in some sass. “So not you then, I guess?”

Laughter exploded out of Pearl like dynamite. “You are like, way too funny! No one ever gives me sass, ya know? It’s hella boring!” She stopped to catch her breath. “So, like… you have heard of me right? You’ve heard my songs, yeah? What do you think?”

“I’ve, uh, I heard I think one of your more recent songs,” Marina said sheepishly. It was in an old record store in the bargain bin section. “Dudes be sleepin?”

“You mean #$@%* Dudes Be #$@%* Sleepin!”

“Right.”

“Well, come on, don’t leave a squid hangin! What’d you think?”

It wasn’t bad! Marina really did like it! But… it was so angry. A very very angry song. Pearl’s voice was louder than anything! There was no one to hold her back a little, there was no one to keep her in line! Also, it was really weird how they kept that window shattering part in. But there was something so authentic about it, something so Pearl about it. Even with all the guitars and the screaming, she was still so cute?

She told her as much. Mostly. Marina left out the cute part.

“Aw, girl, you aint bein’ straight with me!” Pearl said with another laugh. “I know that track was whack! That was where my funk started! That lame song is why I’m up here!”

“Maybe… maybe I could help?” Marina asked, almost begging.

“Yo, you know what?!” Pearl shouted, trying to put her arm around Marina’s shoulders but finding that metaphorical mountain too hard to climb. She settled for around her waist. Close enough. “Why don’t you come chill in my crib?! I’ve got some actually decent equipment you could use!”

Before Marina could reply, her stomach spoke for her. Growling louder than she’d ever heard before.

Pearl laughed. “Got the munchies huh? We’ll stop by Crusty Sean’s and get you something. That cool? Also…” She sniffed. “… Maybe we could get you a shower too. No offense. And I got some sick duds you could wear instead of that weird getup.”

Everything was suddenly moving so fast! Marina could hardly keep up. She nodded, worried she’d fall right there on the spot. Luckily Pearl was holding on tight, making sure she wouldn’t lose her balance.

“Aw yeah!” Pearl shouted. “This is gonna be off the hook!”

[cocoarosalia]

All They Have (KatsuDeku)

“Ok so if we decide to move to this district the crime would be pretty low but that wouldn’t be good for pay, so maybe if we-“

“What are you babbling on about now nerd”

Izuku felt like he had jumped clear to the ceiling with how hard he jolted up from his seat and onto his feet. Katsuki gave him a strange look from the entryway of their little one bedroom apartment, the kind of look that made him think that Katsuki might have known what he was up to but couldn’t quite prove it yet. Izuku covered up the guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach with a fake cough and tried to act somewhat natural with his phone shoved behind his back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about kacchan, I’m always babbling about something. On a separate note to stop talking about this, I thought you weren’t coming home till this evening?”

Katsuki was slow to respond as he stalked izuku in the direction of the couch “Crime was slow today so I got to finish my paperwork early” he suddenly crowded izuku onto the couch, knocking him into the seat and straddling his waist so he couldn’t escape.

“But that wasn’t a good answer to my question, was it deku?”

Izuku wriggled desperately to get away from his husband’s clutches. He saw how his eyes flashed evilly, the smile large, vicious and a little too happy. A look katsuki got when interrogating criminals, a look izuku hated being on the receiving end of. Izuku was about to use a hint of his quirk to push Katsuki off, when the wicked look he was giving suddenly turned into unexpected shock and then right into something unabashedly naughty.

“Something hard between your legs is telling me that it wasn’t very family friendly”

Izuku could damn well feel his eyes bug out of his head “A-are you insane?! No it wasn’t sexual! That something hard is because you’re squirming on my lap and I know you’re too tired from work to handle it, so if you don’t mind?”

Izuku hoped that his “doting” husband would catch the hint husband would either catch the hint or accept the challenge and leave him to wallow in truth and shame silently, or become too distracted with proving izuku wrong about how tired he was, that he would forget about the younger mans phone

“Naaah not buying it. Let’s see what’s really on ‘the symbol of hope’s’ phone”

His hope was misplaced

The pair broke out into a wrestling match like when they were kids, pulling and kicking for the rights over the phone and neither were above playing dirty. For every nip to Izuku’s plump cheeks, he’d fire back with a non-sexy yank on Katsuki’s ashy pale blonde hair. For a moment Izuku completely forgot about why he was even fighting over the phone to begin with. Memories of their lives before getting married, before being together, or even before entering U.A came flooding back to him. He remembered fights like these over his favorite All Might action figure, when they would roll around on the dirty playground floor cause Katsuki would claim that ‘Dekus like him didn’t deserve a toy like this’. It hurt back then but looking back Izuku felt like he could finally smile about it.

“Hah! it’s my win Deku!”

Or he would if his face wasn’t completely smushed into the couch cushions

Izuku squirmed, trying to break free but katsuki’s arms were around him, pinning his own to his sides. Katsuki had clearly been training with Uraraka lately. One moment izuku thinks he had the upper hand with him pinning Katsuki onto his back and the next Katsuki’s wrapping his legs around him like a snake and shoving him onto his side so he can slot behind him, put his arms in a vice grip and yank the phone from his hands.

“Kacchan! let me go you maniac!” He barked with not much bite. To be honest he’d be much more angry if he wasn’t so turned on by how quickly his husband was able to overpower him

Katsuki snorted out a laugh “After all that work? Oh I’m definitely going through your stuff now”

Izuku was clearly defeated, his body went limp in his husbands arms. His only saving grace now was that katsuki would find interest in  anything else remotely embarrassing on the phone that  wasn’t his secret project.

Katsuki opened the device and started to scroll through Izuku’s endless apps. Many were hero branded apps that fed his insatiable desire to drown himself in hero culture. Others were types of training and weight monitoring apps so he could always stay on top of his and katsuki’s physical wellness. Most of them, however, were stupid, mind numbing games to keep him occupied while patrolling.

(He had Pokemon Go for a while but Katsuki threatened to stop visiting him at work if he kept it, saying that it distracted him ‘from the only prize he needed to catch’)

“Jesus Deku don’t you ever clean out your fucking phone?”

Izuku pouted indignantly “How do you know I don’t use them all?”

“Because you always put your most used apps out on the first or second page and you have like five pages” Izuku pouted harder

When Katsuki finally got to the last page Izuku began to think that he could finally let out a small sigh of relief. He had to admit that he enjoyed playing dating sims when his husband wasn't looking (‘IT’S FOR THE STORY KACCHAN’) but all things considered it wasn’t too bad an investigation. As long as his too nosy husband managed to give him back his phone and leave him be he was in the clear!

“Lifetime Organizer?” katsuki said with a slight lilt in his voice, like he had just found a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow and izuku knew from that tone alone that he was in for many teasing jabs.

Izuku could just feel the heat burning the back of his neck. Katsuki hugged around him closer, no doubt ensuring that Izuku would have to fight if he wanted freedom from his shame “You mind telling me what  this is?” izuku could practically hear the smile in his husbands tone.

He couldn’t admit it, he just couldn’t! His husband was already mentally pointing and laughing at him for having so many dumb apps as he has, but for Izuku to admit to the one app he DIDN’T want Katsuki to see EVEN SEE would be like signing the suicide note to his peaceful, blissfully ignorant lifestyle! He had to come up with something, ANYTHING.

“It’s a secret app for all the gay porn I have”

SOMETHING BETTER THAN THAT YOU DINGUS!

A hole, a hole that was 10 feet wide and six feet deep should just appear before him now and swallow him whole. Izuku watched in pitying despair, his stomach dropping to his knees while Katsuki tapped the little pastel pink icon and pulled up a slew of color coded files all with overly cutesy names.

if izuku wasn't so riddled with shame he may have been slightly turned on with just how  easily katsuki pulled them both up into a sitting position, izuku nestled in his lap as katsuki swiped through the different folders.“Hmm let’s see, ‘Work is where the headaches live’, ‘Our little slice of heaven’, ‘Second time’s the charm’, Ok Deku, spill. What is all this? I’ve already mocked you for it so you might as well come clean”

Izuku gnawed at his bottom lip, twisting and tangling his fingers together “Well, do you remember how our wedding went?”

Katsuki shuddered when he had to think about it. You would think that the WONDER DUO, two of japan’s most prolific and deeply loved heroes would have the wedding of the century. Their wedding should’ve been a televised event with big name performances, fireworks and all that other spectacle shit, before ending with them riding off to their luxury honeymoon on the back of a fucking elephant!

It SHOULD have been a night for Katsuki to have a real moment of humility and down to earthness, where he could take the time to appreciate the man who risked his life, possessions and everything else for him. The same man who’d do it again without so much as a second thought. Their wedding was SUPPOSED to be something out of a goddamn fairy tale.

But how did they spend it? Arguing. And over the stupidest shit at that! Izuku, being the extra little drama queen that he himself admitted to being, insisted that they keep with American traditions (despite the very obvious fact that they’re japanese, but whatthefuckever) and not see each other before the time came for them to walk down the aisle. Katsuki was very quick to point out how stupid that sounded, yet Izuku refused to budge, which already started the day off poorly. What Katsuki failed to mention, however, was why he even objected in the first place!

The real reason he hated the idea was that he was actually nervous for the third time in his whole life (first time being asking the nerd out, second time being the actual proposal). He didn’t want to be alone. Sure he had Kirishima and Kaminari there, but it wasn’t the same. He wanted to hold onto his favorite nerd and be reminded that, yes, this weird ball of forest green fluff actually loved him enough to be stuck with him for the rest of their lives.

So Katsuki responded the only way he knew how, by lashing out until everyone was having as shit a time as him. By the time the actual ceremony happened, Izuku didn’t wanna talk to him, his friends were avoiding him and all he wanted was to drown his sorrows. It took him pretty much proposing again for Izuku to forgive him and they could actually walk into the reception and have a good time. But then….family had to get involved.

Neither Katsuki nor Izuku would be even close to the men they are today, without the ever present loving support of their family. In the beginning of their professional careers their parents were the only thing that grounded them to the reality that being a hero, will always be both the best and most painful job there can be. They owed everything to their families and couldn’t imagine not having them be apart of the celebration…..

But maybe next time they decide to have a get together, they’d cool it on the open bar a little.

Not even an hour into the reception and Izuku’s mother had damn near cried herself into exhaustion, sobbing and drinking herself silly over her “sweet baby boy becoming such a strong young man” and that now “She would be in an empty house all alone while he’s off living his life”. Izuku was so riddled with guilt and stress that he had to take her outside to convince her that he wasn’t going to basically ship her off to an old folks home as soon as the reception ended.

Katsuki’s parents were comparatively worse when the liquid courage started flowing. They were always social drinkers and never had so much as a sip when inside the house, but outside? Amongst friends? VERY MUCH IN PUBLIC? They were total nightmares. Katsuki’s dad had decided that it was a wonderful idea to get everyone to join in a singalong of the cheesiest songs known to man and dance the literal “funky chicken” while actively refusing to stay on beat to save his life. But it was typical dad stuff, nothing Katsuki hadn’t already shamed out of his system by the time he graduated U.A. But his mom? Mitsuki Bakugou could forever proudly claim, that she had single handedly scarred him and all the guests without an ounce of help.

All night long she got her shits and giggles from telling inappropriate stories about “Katsuki’s late night laundry runs” and “The not so hidden magazines he thought he could keep from me” and most spectacularly “That one time I walked in on them blowing each other and like the supportive mother I am, provided helpful tips on how to improve their technique”. It took Katsuki tackling his mom to the floor and dragging her out kicking and screaming to keep her from deciding that it would be a good idea to walk up to the podium, champagne in hand and give an “emotional speech to the happy couple”.

Oh and there was also a villain attack right as they were cutting the cake! But to be fair that was probably the most relief they had that whole night.

“By the time we got back to our room we couldn’t even have awesome newlywed sex” Katsuki lamented

“I know, I woke up before you that morning and when I saw all the toys you had planned out I think I cried”

Katsuki nodded solemnly, as much as he adored being married to his favorite nerd you could not PAY him enough to relive that nightmare again

“But that still doesn’t answer my question” katsuki said after a moment “What the hell is this ‘organizer’ or whatever”

Izuku’s face flushed pink around his freckled shoulders. He sighed in embarrassment “Well ever since that day I’ve had anxiety about where our lives might end up if things aren’t planned properly. I mean, if we couldn’t make it through our own wedding then WHO KNOWS what else could just….pop up and ruin everything we’ve built together”

Katsuki’s face turned in a frown “And why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Because I thought you’d say it was stupid” Izuku responded with a pout

“It is” Katsuki replied bluntly “But that’s not the point”

Katsuki took Izuku’s head in his hands and tilted it back till he was gazing into deep eyes of forest green “I married you for more than your strengths dumbass which, yes, includes all the weird little chinks in your stupidly, shining armor. You have gotta trust me on that ok?”

Izuku made a small pout, feeling that it was unfair that Katsuki could find  just,/i> the right words to talk him out of his insecurities, but still relaxed under the soothing warmth of his husband hands.

“Now that that’s all agreed upon” Katsuki said with a definitive nod “Let’s see how stupidly sweet you’ve made our lives”

Izuku made one last gut dash for his phone. He might trust his husband but if he could avoid the embarrassment and make a run for it, you bet your ass he’ll give it the old “Plus Ultra” try. But not even if he activated One for All to 100% could he move faster than the man who had already countered his every move before he could even make them. Katsuki tightened his grip around Izuku and grounded him harder to his chest, reaching the phone high above their heads and opening the first folder.

“‘In our corner of the universe’ christ even the folder names are cheesy, you’re such a sap Deku”

Brochures and pictures were simulated to fall out of the folders inner pockets and scattered themselves all over the screen. Katsuki saw images of high end condos mix messily with little neighborhood homes, completed with a closed off front yard and white picket fences. And of course no plan of Izuku’s could be even close to complete without an incomprehensible amount of notes being attached to every single image. Even as he read each note he could just see Izuku running himself ragged trying to extract and analyze every minute detail of every possible listing.

“2 bedroom condo in the city of Sapporo, heart of Hokkaido. Nearest station, six minutes away and the closest Hero Agency 20 is minutes” Katsuki spoke in a bored tone as he rattled off the basic listing information. But strangely Izuku did not feel as though his husband was disinterested in what he read. The information was boring, sure, but there was a certain glint in Katsuki’s gaze that Izuku knew all too well as his “analytical eye”. It comforted Izuku in a strange ‘thank-god-he’s-at-least-pretending-to-indulge-me’ kind of way.

“Well I’m only one house in and you’ve already fucked up”

Izuku face went pale in confused fear “What!? Why?”

“Don’t fucking ask ‘why?’ you little shit!” Katsuki pinched and pulled at Izuku soft cheeks “What makes you think I want to move all the way to the fucking north!? It’s fucking cold, which means no sweat, which means I’m fucking useless!”

“But the hero agency up there pays really well!” the younger hero whined in pain

“No shit! It’s cause no one wants to fucking work there. I bet the crime rate is really low up there too isn’t it?”

“I-I mean” Izuku stammered “There’s quite a number of jaywalkers out there”

Katsuki released his husbands now pinch reddened cheeks “I’m quaking in my steel tipped boots”

The bruised hero sighed and rubbed his face to soothe the pain “I’m guessing Osaka’s out then”

“Whatcha think? just put sweat based EXPLOSION hero in the blistering humid south, THAT shouldn’t cause any problems”

“Nara?”

“I’ll put a deer in a headlock”

“Kyoto?”

“That’s where old people go to die”

Izuku was starting to get frustrated at his partner’s contrarian behavior “Well where DO you want to go Kacchan? Cause I’m NOT living in a tiny one bedroom apartment for the rest of my life”

“Obviously” Katsuki retorted. He paused and thought for a minute weighing the pros and cons of every prefecture in Japan.

“How about Shizuoka?”

Izuku blinked up at him “That...Why there of all places?”

Katsuki flopped back over onto the couch and turned his face toward the sofa’s back. He was trying to hide the bashful blush on his face, but in Izuku’s experience he wasn’t very good at it

“It’s not that far from Tokyo so you can still see your mom or whatever” Katsuki said “plus it’s got a lot of mountains and nature and shit, so since we both like the outdoors seems like a good choice to me”

Izuku felt a blush creep up to his ears. For all the criticism Katsuki got stuck with for being loud, hot-headed and just generally being a rough guy to get along with, if there was one thing no one could  ever claim, it would be that he wasn’t attentive. He knew his husband could pay attention and listen when needed but it still never failed to shock him when he would translate all his nonsensical ramblings into a tangible idea or plan they can actually execute.

“O-ok” Izuku said with a sheepish tone “We’ll move to Shizuoka”

“Awesome, glad that trainwreck is over with, let’s board the next one”

And that was how they spent the rest of their afternoon. Izuku would suggest they do a certain thing later in life, and katsuki would almost always fervently disagree and offer a slightly less terrible compromise. But the time evening rolled in, they had agreed to have a completely dry vow renewal in a few years, would work at different hero agencies when they moved and adopt a dog to look after the house (ok Izuku didn’t really give consent to that last one, but Katsuki figured that he just hadn’t met the right mutt yet)

Things were going  just as Izuku always dreamed…...until he brought up the word “surrogacy”

“You want to do WHAT!?”

“Kacchan it’s not what you think!” Izuku chased after his husband as Katsuki stormed out of the living room and down the hallway toward the bedroom

“You want to get a woman pregnant, with OUR sperm. Despite the fact that we’re gayer than a rainbow burning with glittering fire!”

“....ok so it is what you think”

Katsuki threw out an exasperated “holy fucking christ” while he plopped down onto the bed. He flopped onto his back and ran his hands over his face, cause he needed to rub the  stupid off him before he caught even a whiff of it. Izuku rolled his eyes at the display, Katsuki was such a drama queen.

“There is not one single female that’ll go through with it”

Izuku snorted “I can promise you that the over 50,000 Deku or Ground Zero X Reader fanfictions online might disagree”

“AHA! SO YOU DO READ THEM!”

“NOT THE POINT AND I READ THEM FOR THE STORIES”

Izuku lifted away from the bedroom door frame and sat next to his partner in life “it’s not like you’re fucking the woman we choose, it’s done entirely without you betraying your flamboyant homosexuality”

“First of all, fuck you cause you still use the word ‘queen’ unironically and second of all that’s not the problem”

Katsuki sat back up once more on the bed and laced his fingers together over his knees, head hung low. He took a deep breath and started speaking “There’s not exactly a lot of females i’d even trust enough to carry what would most definitely be named the ‘wonder baby’.”

Izuku scratched his cheek in discomfort, a terrible habit of his “Well the process starts right off the bat with us screening applications until we find the right surrogate”

“But a complete stranger?” Katsuki said “And what if we find out she’s some crazed fan on top of that? The media will be swarming like flies and there’s absolutely NO guarantee that she won’t talk, it’s just too risky”

“What if” Izuku started chewing on his bottom lip, his mind racing with the possibilities of how this next statement would pan out “What if we picked someone who was used to the spotlight. Someone who had been trained to deal with the media?” izuku asked hesitantly

Katsuki propped his chin up on his fist and snorted out a laugh “what, you gonna get some big name celebrity bimbo to loan us her body for 9 months?”

Izuku sat up a little straighter, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth “Well, you actually know this ‘big name celebrity’ and she’s  not a bimbo. She couldn’t be one if she could kick your ass” Izuku said with a slight smug tone to his voice

Katsuki stopped. No one can kick  his ass! Only Deku can and he has to put effort into it! Hell, the only one whoever came close was…

“Absolutely fucking not Deku”

“Oh come on!” Izuku groaned, shoulders slumping slightly “She’s perfect for it!”

Katsuki could not believe the stupid shooting from his husband’s mouth “Round-Face!? I’d sooner denounce how fucking gay I am than have her carry our fucking baby!”

“But why!? We both know her, she can handle herself in a fight, and she’s been in the media as long as we have! I mean for All Might’s sake she already-”

Izuku clapped both of his hands over his mouth and let the rest of his words die right on his tongue. Katsuki scowled deeply at him.

“She already what deku?”

Curly moss green hair flapped everywhere as he shook his head in defiance. Izuku was a talker, at work, at home, and most assuredly in bed. So for him to clam up right before pulling on the trigger to his foot could only mean one thing.

“You already had this fucking conversation with her!?”

Izuku gripped his hands to his face harder

Katsuki deflated in disbelief “and she already agreed to go through with it, didn’t she”

He couldn’t stand the way Izuku couldn’t look at him, the way he refused to meet his eyes. Katsuki pushed off the bed to get some much needed separation between them. This was too many stupid decisions in one night

“Kacchan please.” Izuku pleaded “Just list-”

“Just listen? Is that the stupid shit you were about to ask me? You were about to ask me to fucking hear you out weren’t you? To see things from YOUR point of view, to understand the  over abundant LOGIC that is your thought process WHEN YOU DON’T EVEN REALIZE THAT IT’S SO GODDAMN FLAWED THAT ITS SCARY!”

Izuku’s crossed his arms in indignity “What are you getting so mad for anyway? It’s not like I already got her pregnant”

“No but with your current record I wouldn’t fucking put it past you.” Katsuki snapped back “And you wanna know why i’m so pissed? It’s because you didn’t even ask me for my opinion.”

Katsuki took a deep breath before speaking again “Did you ever stop to wonder WHY I don’t want a surrogate, ESPECIALLY not round-face?”

“Because you don’t trust anyone to properly carry the  golden genes of a bakugou male?” Izuku said with feigned theatrics

Katsuki rolled his eyes “No you ass, it’s because a baby is giant undertaking for the human body and psyche”

That pouty dismissive look Izuku was giving him was getting dangerously close to ‘punch in the face’ levels of annoying “Oh what do you know? It’s not like you have any siblings!”

“No but I have aunts, cousins, and coworkers. All of whom have had to put their careers on hold for a year then have to put themselves through more pain than any villain ever could to BIRTH these kids”

“She’s an adult Kacchan, what she does with her body is her business”

“No duh dipshit but as her best friend i’d hope that you’d think about more than just what you want and how willing she is to fucking give it to you”

“And while you’re thinking about what  you,/i> want, how much my opinion doesn’t mean shit to you? Think about this instead.” Katsuki reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a folded up set of papers. He shoved the stack into izuku’s chest and stormed off to the kitchen because if you asked him? He REALLY needed something strong.

Izuku recoiled from the booming sound of the bedroom door slamming behind him. He ran his fingers over the folds of the paper, felt the bumps of the staple. He just didn’t understand! Katsuki didn’t care as much about the other stuff they talked about. Sure, he wasn’t quite in agreeance either but they could always come to a compromise. Butterfly’s beat at his stomach; this stack of papers felt like it was getting heavier and heavier the more he hesitated.

He swallowed his guilt and anxiety, at least for the moment, and unfolded the papers

“....... Dammit Kacchan”

Katsuki tipped back another round of whiskey and slammed the glass on the kitchen counter. He’d never call himself a regular drinker as alcohol was the fastest way to fuck up his career. But just thinking about how much izuku was just willing to…..completely ignore his input was just too much to bear sober. He put his head on the cool counter as what would inevitably turn into a garbage hangover, began to throb in his head.

He was about to toss izuku onto the couch for the night so he could sleep off his buzzed stupor until he felt a warmth press against his back. His conscience screamed it’s heart out for him to turn around and forgive his stupid brat of a husband, but Katsuki was resolute. Izuku wanted to ignore him? Then too can play that game and they both knew that katsuki was not one keen to losing.

“You’re drinking again” the warm body behind him spoke

Katsuki scoffed “only way to stoop down to your logic”

Izuku chewed on his bottom lip and gripped at katsuki’s shirt “kacchan why didn’t you tell me that you just wanted to adopt?”

“Why did you plan the next 30 years of our life together without telling me?”

Izuku didn’t respond for a moment. The tension in the room was thick like tar, a single word trigger away from lighting on fire and swallowing them both whole.

“I was scared”

“You’re full of shit” katsuki bit out in bitter disbelief

Izuku sighed and wound his arms around his husband’s stomach “I know! I know it’s hard to believe, especially after the way I acted but you gotta admit you’re a very….in the moment kinda guy”

Katsuki didn’t speak; Izuku hugged tighter and nuzzled his face into his back “I wanted to show you all of this when it was….when I was ready to actually go through with it. I wanted to show you that I wanted to do more than just love you from our cozy little apartment. I want to grow with you, build a life with you, become better with you right there….figuring it out with me”

Katsuki still didn’t look at him, his golden pale blonde spikes obscuring Izuku’s view. Izuku considered trying to convince him of his mistake again but ultimately decided there was no point, he had betrayed his husband’s faith in him and no sweet words were going to change that tonight. Izuku unwrapped his arms from around Katsuki’s waist and turned to walk toward the living room, which would surely be his bedroom for tonight.

“I want a girl”

Izuku stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to Katsuki, shock evident on his face.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. If you can decide what fucking agency i’m gonna work in, then at the very least you owe me a baby girl. There’s too much testosterone in this house as it is anyway”

Izuku ran his arms over his leaking eyes briskly, suppressing a laugh “I don’t think we get to choose the gender of our baby. To be honest we’d be lucky if we got approved given….our….status”

Katsuki seemed to grow a whole foot taller than Izuku as he bored his carmine red gaze down onto him. There had to have been some space between them but Izuku felt like he was suffocating in the intimidating aura of his husband intense and murderous stare.

“You’ve saved people. You’ve saved very important people. So either you get me my baby Kazuku or we find out whether or not you have a male pregnancy quirk. Take your pick”

For all the things Izuku loved about his husband, his calm fury had to be scariest, sexiest trait of them all.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Read Chapters One through Four here.

Our Story

Here marks the middle of our tale, that vast, perilous land between the beginning and the end. The going is treacherous in these parts—the wayward couple must heal on their own, tread the sea of two decades with arms and souls akimbo—but still, it is not unnecessary. The middle is never aimless. Always, always, it has one goal: the ending.

When the lights go up and the curtains close, you clap—perhaps, should the couple reunite (which, of course, they will), you shout “Encore, encore!” But then, at last, you return to your car. You catch the train, or you grab a taxi. At last, having started at the beginning and waded through the middle, you reach the final destination. The night is over; you go home.

Home. Whether a place, a person, a feeling, or a thing—it does not matter. Home is always the goal and the ending, the northernmost star we pray to and walk towards.

[December 24th, 1996]

Two weeks' vacation in a cabin, tucked deep inside a fold of mountains. Here, amongst the stretches of living nothingness, even the silence has a voice. Owls hoot in the night. The pines’ chatter, their needle-whispers pierced by caws and shifted air—a hawk swooping to ensnare her prey. And if one listens closely enough, one can hear the hunter breathe—a shaky, traitorous breath which launches the doe across the snow—and the echo of his heartsong, the drum to which the doe’s hooves beat. Come back, come back, come back.

This is why Jamie has come here: for the endless conversation between man and mountain, more steadfast than the chill in his heart. In the past four years, Jamie has sold the twin cot (it lies in a salvage yard somewhere, all broken springs and dreams). A different couple has moved into the studio, and when they had spoken of paint jobs—“Perhaps mint green, what d’ye say, hon?”— Jamie had thought, Thank God. He’d happily offered them the keys when they turned to him, pupils dilated with youthful optimism. By that point, there was no space for Jamie and Claire inside that Edinburgh Eden, and so he’d chimed in, “Aye, a bonny color.” (Indeed, the walls are mint now, though a forgotten strip of marigold shines in the northern corner.)

For two years, Jamie has lived with Murtagh in Glasgow, having shed not just his home but his editorial career in publishing. He has grown tired of fixing other’s mistakes—too many of his own in need of correction—and so here he sits on this Christmas Eve, writing towards redemption.

The Grampians are a peaceful place, big hulks of rock scattered with trees—bouquets of fir, oak, and pine cradling other cabins. At dark, their windows flicker, candlelit with dreams of the guests therein: aspiring novelists, essayists, playwrights. Men and women, all bowed before the cleansing hum of nature’s speech. Like Jamie, they had seen the fliers: WRITER’S RETREAT, TWO WEEKS IN THE MOUNTAINS—and so it was. A small colony taking its temporary leave, hoping to reconstruct the world according to their own, more favorable terms.

Over supper, the group gathers and shares their ideas: outlines, pieces of dialogue, an inspiring poem they’ve loved since childhood. And while Jamie is generous with his advice, he holds his notebooks against his chest. Enraptured by this warm aloofness (for is it not the way of all great wordsmiths?), the others whisper behind their palms, “Have you read Fraser’s story?” Into napkins, “No, have you?” 

But among the fifteen guests, only one has read Jamie’s story—and tonight, Jamie waits for her inside his cabin. His latest draft is fanned around him, some sections highlighted and others slashed. They are not unlike Claire’s old strike-throughs, which had snipped the would-be Dalhousie and, eventually, Jamie’s own name from her life (a reclamation of Beauchamp, a transformation to Randall). Among Jamie’s scribbles are his friend’s edits, which are much more forgiving, much less forceful than the lines of his own red pen. Each comment reads like a bashful request: “More clarity?”, “Switch the verb here?”, “Too many adjectives?” as if she needs permission to occupy the margins. Should I really be reading this?, she seems to say, the bare-backed rawness making her squirm.

But she is helping him, his friend. And so she sees Jamie’s drafts before John, his agent, and before Fergus, his assistant and most loyal advocate. With each comment, she brings him closer to understanding, to the better beginning, middle and end. Inch by inch, to the way his story (their story, for it can never be Jamie’s alone) should be. All rhymes and logic, had it not veered off-course.

Is Alexander too cold here? Shouldn’t he say something? (He should have.) 

It seems out of character for Alexander to never visit his daughter’s grave? (Grief carves cowards out of heroes.)

Shouldn’t he try to win Elizabeth back? (God, yes. He should have tried harder.) 

The knock comes three minutes later, as expected. 

“Hello?” 

“Door’s unlocked.”

“Oh!” A muffled apology, embarrassment for the delay. “Sorry,” the visitor says. “It’s late. Didna ken if ye still wanted to talk or not. I brought—well, I finished reading yer last chapter.”

And now another player enters this fifth act, tip-toes quietly onto the stage. Only slip of a thing in the cabin’s doorway, cheeks pinked by the storm’s sharp nip. She is Jamie’s friend-cum-critique partner, and even her entrance is punctuated by a question mark. The score of owl, pine, hawk and hunter swells, buffeted now by new notes: the crack of chapped lips smiling, the anxious shuffle of papers, and:

“Dinna fash, I couldna sleep anyways,” Jamie assures her. “Did ye like it, though? The new ending?” 

His friend inhales sharply, stealing as much oxygen as the room will allow. Everything—the threadbare futon, the TV’s antennae, the welcome mat and Jamie’s body—bends towards some invisible presence. A ghost between between all.

“It was…a bit different from the last one.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘Nay, I didna like it.’”

She looks shyly at the ground, one foot treading nervous circles into the planks. Around and around, melt and muck, like a muddy cycle of life (Jamie’s, perhaps muddier than others).

“It was a bit too sentimental is all. After everything. All that time and silence…D’ye really think Alex and Lizzie could make it?”

Her words are a blow to Jamie’s stomach, and the pages are fire in his hands (the ever-burn of a man, ever-longing). He puts them down, wants to thrust himself under a blanket of snow to freeze the flames.

“In a fairy tale, maybe...but life isna a fairy tale. And d’ye no want to write truths?” She looks up, and her eyes gore him. “This story isna a fairy tale either, Jamie. Yours never are.”

“Aye…aye, I s’pose they’re not,” he replies, thinking of his other novels and short stories, essays and poems. Each accepted by John’s gimlet eye, only to meet their end in a publisher’s slush pile. (“Too dark, too wallowing,” an editor once wrote.)  

“Give it another go. I’ll help ye tomorrow, if ye’d like,” his friend offers. “Three days left. I reckon we’ve time to sort the kinks, right the wrongs.” (Three days will never be enough for Jamie’s wrongs.)

“I’d appreciate that, lass. Verra much.”

His friend looks behind her and at the moon, a shy sickle in the sky. It draws her toward the door, to the snow-covered mountainside.

“Weel, it’s a long walk back,” she says. “Wanted to give ye that before the morning, so I guess I’ll just…” 

“Will ye stay with me tonight?” Jamie blurts. And he hates himself for saying this, the way it sounds outside his mouth and inside his cabin, landing on the unmade bed. Its despair makes it ugly. But.

But if his friend stays, Jamie thinks, perhaps the emptiness will leave. If his friend stays, perhaps his story will correct itself, falling into its natural pentameter, by the force of whatever solace she can give him.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” he continues, “and I…I dinna want to be alone.”

She pauses, thinks it over before saying, “Okay. Just for a bit?” (Just for a bit? Another loaded question, and one he doesn’t want to answer.)

“Thank you,” Jamie whispers, and Mary McNab removes her coat.

Long before daybreak, Jamie wakes. He gathers his draft, made complete by that final failing chapter, into a single stack. He retrieves a box from his suitcase, swathed in his old holiday sweater, and it speaks to him. A quiet loudness, like the murmur of the Grampians. You mean your lager-stained pullover? With the Santa looks that looks like he’s got vomit in his beard?

Inside the box is a gift—a vase, azure porcelain—though Jamie has no plans to send it across the Atlantic, to the Boston apartment where his ex-wife kisses another man. No. This vase will stay with Jamie, forever hidden on the high shelf of a closet, or exiled to the back corner of a desk drawer. Like his grief, it is something that he owns—this small cut from a cloth of unraveled dreams—to be kept and locked safely away. There, there, always there. All fancy people have vases.

Jamie wraps the box with his manuscript. One by one, he folds the pages over and under, seals the edges with tape to form an inch-thick layer. So much history around this small, delicate thing—their story, with the ending Jamie cannot use and which cannot be the truth. At last, he cuts the string of wool, which still drips from his sweater after all these years, and it rasps, Do we have time? Of course we do.

And finally, Jamie weeps—a mournful sound that joins the chorus of this great, big mountain—and ties a frayed, red bow.

(Jamie does not realize that Mary watches him from the bed. “Tell me about her,” she wants to say—for once a statement and not a question—but she does not. Instead, she calls to Jamie, presses her goosefleshed nakedness to his. And as they move together, slow but unfeeling, she pretends she is a vessel. Closes her eyes. Makes room for the ghost. I’m Claire Beauchamp. Just plain Claire Beauchamp.)