#the line 'I must ask the count about these superstitions' is maybe the closest we get to him dismissing the townsfolk

[jaggedcliffs]

I've started up listened to the Re: Dracula audiobook (and reading a copy of Dracula that I picked up on a whim from an indie bookstore last month), and quite a few things are sticking out to me about the first few days

Jonathan's "I must ask the Count about these superstitions" was made fun of quite a bit, both because our cultural knowledge of Dracula makes it ridiculous, and also because he seems to be trusting the nobility's knowledge over the superstitious peasants, which ties into the sense that Jonathan is dismissive of the townspeople's warnings

But he opens his May 4th entry with asking the innkeepers for information about Dracula, and they keep ducking the answers.

(and it's fair that the people in the May 4th/5th entries don't say more when Jonathan asks (and he does ask), because unless you've grown up in the shadow of a vampire literally stealing babies from your villages, it would be a pretty insane thing to tell someone).

And when Jonathan finds the innkeepers' reactions "not by any means comforting," his first instinct is to want to ask other townspeople to find out more; he just doesn't have the time to investigate because the coach is (supposed to) arrive very soon after.

Plus, the innkeeper giving him the cross very much does freak him out! His first refrain of 'if I die, goodbye Mina!' comes at the end of the May 4th entry because of the innkeeper's worry.

The people speaking of "werewolves" and "vampires" only happens after he's already sitting in the coach -- which is when he makes the "ask the Count" note (a note that he likely makes because, again, he's sitting in coach and he's about to leave the townspeople behind). They only make a sign to guard him from the evil eye after the coach has just started on its way.

Before he leaves the town, Jonathan isn't given enough of a solid reason to present to his boss -- or to his client, if the client turned out to be a human person who doesn't imprison solicitors -- if he turned around or wasted the client's time and money by refusing the "best place on the coach" on the way to the castle. Nor is he given enough time after the first warning that something is off to find that solid reason or to find alternatives.

He even comments that as much as he's enjoying the scenery on the coach, he probably would enjoy it a lot less if he'd understood what the people on the coach were saying. It's more like he's trying to distract himself from the looming sense of dread, not that he's ignorant to it.

By the time Dracula is taking him in the calèche, the coach is barely out of sight before he outright says that he "think[s] had been any alternative [he] should have taken it" instead of doing whatever the fuck is happening to him now.

It's not just that he planned to ask the Count about the superstitions, but that he also wanted to ask the people about the Count. He wants to ask the Count about the superstitions because he isn't able to talk to the townspeople more. And he wants to ask the townspeople about the Count because the little he's heard so far worries him.

But after he gets his first warning of weirdness, he doesn't have the time to investigate further, or find a way to the castle in a way that doesn't put him in the count's power. Which is probably how Dracula wanted it

[mytwilightimagines13]

Memories from the past (Part Four)(Caius Volturi)

Word count: 1374

“Volterra? Alice, Edward where in the bloody hell are you taking me?” my anxiety and impatience had reached its peak. Alice shot me a reassuring smile that felt like it had a hint of sympathy mixed in it. “The place for all your answers. Like we promised. So, if you could please answer my questions now?” Edward asked as we got into a car. Alice took the wheel and made the car drive away with a roaring engine. “No chance.” I said as I looked outside the window. A sigh escaped his lips as Alice was weaving, too fast, through the thick airport traffic—sliding through tiny spaces between the cars. As I watched out the window I saw the first the city of Florence and then the Tuscan landscape flashing by with blurring speed. This was my first trip anywhere, and maybe my last, too. I had no idea where these two… creatures where taking me, but Alice's driving frightened me. Different thoughts made a speed run through my mind. Almost anything that these two might be flashed before my eyes yet nothing seemed to make sense. At the same time I was too tortured with anxiety to really see the hills or the walled towns that looked like castles in the distance, making me jump up a little when they started to speak again. "Do you see anything more?" Edward asked "There's something going on," Alice muttered. "Some kind of festival. The streets are full of people and red flags. What's the date today?" I wasn't entirely sure. "The nineteenth, maybe?" "Well, that's ironic. It's Saint Marcus Day." "Which means?" She chuckled darkly. "The city holds a celebration every year. As the legend goes, a Christian missionary, a Father Marcus drove all the vampires from Volterra fifteen hundred years ago. The story claims he was martyred in Romania, still trying to drive away the vampire scourge. Of course that's nonsense—he's never left the city. But that's where some of the superstitions about things like crosses and garlic come from. Father Marcus used them so successfully. And vampires don't trouble Volterra, so they must work." Her smile was sardonic. "It's become more of a celebration of the city, and recognition for the police force—after all, Volterra is an amazingly safe city. The police get the credit." I wasn’t sure if she was being ironic or not. But something, deep within me, told me she wasn’t. A small red car seemed to be racing backward as Alice zoomed around it. "There," Alice said abruptly, pointing to the castle city atop the closest hill. I stared at it, feeling the very first hint of a new kind of feeling. The feeling of anxiety still present. And yet, now, as I stared at the ancient sienna walls and towers crowning the peak of the steep hill, I felt another, more selfish feeling fell over me. The feeling of complete peace.

We began the steep climb and the road grew congested. As we wound higher, the cars became too close together for Alice to weave insanely between them anymore. We slowed to a crawl behind a little tan Peugeot. The cars continued to edge forward, one car length at a time. The sun beamed down brilliantly, seeming already overhead. The cars crept one by one toward the city. As we got closer, I could see cars parked by the side of the road with people getting out to walk the rest of the way. At first I thought it was just impatience—something I could easily understand. But then we came around a switchback, and I could see the filled parking lot outside the city wall, the crowds of people walking through the gates. No one was being allowed to drive through. Now that I was looking, and we were crawling slowly enough to see, I could tell that it was very windy. The people crowding toward the gate gripped their hats and tugged their hair out of their faces. Their clothes billowed around them. I also noticed that the colour red was everywhere. Red shirts, red hats, red flags dripping like long ribbons beside the gate, whipping in the wind—as I watched, the brilliant crimson scarf one woman had tied around her hair was caught in a sudden gust. It twisted up into the air above her, writhing like it was alive. She reached for it, jumping in the air, but it continued to flutter higher, a patch of bloody colour against the dull, ancient walls. “I am trying to get as close to the clock tower as possible. That is the place for all your answers. And hopefully ours as well.” Alice said as she was near the front of the line. A man in a navy blue uniform was directing the flow of traffic, turning the cars away from the full lot. I looked at her in confusion. Surely the walk up wasn’t that far? And apart from the wind it seemed like a nice day, the sun was shining brightly and I was dying to get out of this car. “Can we not just walk to the clock tower?” I asked as I watched the other cars U-turn and headed back to find a place beside the road. “Better not.” Edward said. Then it was Alice's turn. The uniformed man motioned lazily, not paying attention. Alice accelerated, edging around him and heading for the gate. He shouted something at us, but held his ground, waving frantically to keep the next car from following our bad example. The man at the gate wore a matching uniform. As we approached him, the throngs of tourists passed, crowding the sidewalks, staring curiously at the pushy, flashy Porsche. The guard stepped into the middle of the street. Alice angled the car carefully before she came to a full stop. She swiftly reached behind the seat and grabbed something from her bag. The guard came around the car with an irritated expression, and tapped on her window angrily. She rolled the window down halfway, and I watched him do a double take when he saw the face behind the dark glass. "I'm sorry, only tour buses allowed in the city today, miss," he said in English, with a heavy accent. He was apologetic, now, as if he wished he had better news for the strikingly beautiful woman. "It's a private tour," Alice said, flashing an alluring smile. She reached her hand out of the window, into the sunlight. She took his hand, still raised from tapping her window, and pulled it into the car. She put something into his palm, and folded his fingers around it. His face was dazed as he retrieved his hand and stared at the thick roll of money he now held. The outside bill was a thousand dollar bill. "Is this a joke?" he mumbled. Alice's smile was blinding. "Only if you think it's funny." Did she just bribe him? Bloody hell. I am an idiot for agreeing to this trip. Maybe the answers to what had happened to my mother before she took her life no longer seemed important, as I was sure I would die once I knew those answers. The police officer looked at her, his eyes staring wide. Should I shout? Tell him they were dangerous? My Italian wasn’t too bad. I could try. "I'm in a wee bit of a hurry," Alice hinted, still smiling and taking me out of my

thoughts. The guard blinked twice, and then shoved the money inside his vest. He took a step away from the window and waved us on. None of the passing people seemed to notice the quiet exchange. Alice drove into the city, parking the car as close to the clock tower as possible. I got out of the car and took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of sunlight hitting the ancient stones, hoping this would not be the last time I would smell this scent. The calming feeling slowly winning it from the anxiety. For now.

“Brother, sister, calm yourselves please.” The man with raven like hair spoke. “She is here.” Was all the man got in response, a sigh escaping his lips.

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Hey y'all! So I wrote a relatively long oneshot (for me) in 24 hours or so (breaking my record for most words written in one day in the process), and I decided to dump it all on you. This is minimally edited and was posted with a cat on my lap, so if you spot any errors, please let me know. 

Also, while it's not technically necessary to read all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me and all the things that you never ever told me, which are the fics which this is an alternate ending for, it will be really really helpful to understanding this. (All the smiles is here and all the things is here.) Do be careful of the warnings for those two, as they're quite dark fics. But then again, so is this, so...y'know.

Oh and please don’t question why the Cherri POV is present tense and the Newsie POV is past tense, idk either it just felt right.

Title: if i died we’d be together

Wordcount: 5316

Summary: Cherri Cola dies. NewsAGoGo refuses to accept this.

The Phoenix Witch is unhelpful (and an asshole, if you ask Newsie.)

Warnings: major character death, implied/referenced suicide, implied self harm, minor violence, an extraordinary amount of swearing.

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

In this universe, the Phoenix Witch doesn’t come for Cherri Cola. He lies in the sand, alone and in pain, unable to move himself a single step further. He would get up if he could, he would go home, but he’s helpless. Alone and afraid, truly afraid for the first time in years. He doesn’t want to die alone. He doesn’t want to die knowing the people in his life will never know what happened to him. D, Pony, Newsie…

Cherri doesn’t want to die. Not like this. He was supposed to die helping his friends, not because he decided that life wasn’t worth living and let himself fade away into the heat of the desert. He doesn’t want to leave his friends, he doesn’t want to leave his family. Did they even know he counted them as a family? Does Newsie know he loves them like a sibling?

Cherri Cola dies alone, and the last words on his lips are “I’m sorry, Newsie.”

-

Cherri didn’t come back. Not after the mask discussion, not after Newsie’s talk with the Phoenix Witch, and certainly not any earlier than that. It was another week of silent dinners and endless, hopeless searching before Pony put eir foot down. 

“Cola is dead.”

That was what ey said, breaking the silence of that morning’s breakfast. 

Newsie couldn’t even manage the energy to snap at em. “No.”

“Cola’s gone, Newsie. You know it, just like me.”

“He can’t be fucking dead. I won’t- I won’t let it happen.” She hated that her voice shook. 

“He is, though. Nothing we can do about it.” Pony’s usually cheerful voice was quiet, beaten-down. 

“No!”

“Yes! We gotta accept it!”

“No, we don’t!”

“Maybe-“ eir voice broke on the word. “Maybe it was his time. Or fate or something.”

“Well fuck fate then! Fuck the Phoenix Witch and fuck her ‘plans’! It can’t just be right to fucking take him away, he’s got a fucking family!”

“Well- well- maybe you’re right, but what are we going to do about it?” Pony’s voice had gone quiet again, and ey was staring at the table like it might have the answers somehow.

“We’re going to find the Phoenix Witch and tell her to go fuck herself,” Newsie declared. 

D sighed. “I don’t think that’s possible, Newsie.”

“Why not? Cherri’s met the Phoenix Witch, it can’t be that hard.” She got up from her seat, tossing the empty power pup can into the sink.

“I mean…they’ve got a point,” Pony said as D sighed again. 

“See? Pone knows I’m right.” She made those words as firm as she could, filling them with all the confidence that she didn’t have but wished she did. “I’m going to go find the Phoenix Witch, flip her off, and get Cherri back.”

“Newsie-“

They ignored D’s worried voice as they went tromping into the back of the radio station, back to the room that used to be theirs and Cherri’s- and still would be, Newsie vowed. She packed up a messenger bag with a few supplies and located Cherri’s mask and ray gun, picking up the ray gun first. It was pink like hers, but a heavier weight in her hands. If she had been poetic like her brother, she would have said it was the weight of the task she was about to take on.

But they were no Cherri Cola, and they knew the real reason was that Cherri’s ray gun was a nicer one than theirs, taken from an exterminator he had fought back in the Analog Wars. It certainly wasn’t the newest model anymore, but it remained a high-quality weapon. Not that he ever used it anymore. Still, even however long after he had last held it, she thought she could feel the ghost of his hands on it, warm and rough as they guided her hands into place the first time she had ever fired a ray gun.

Newsie slid the ray gun into her spare holster and picked up Cherri’s mask. They debated putting it away into their bag, but that felt too much like they were bringing it to the mailbox for a final goodbye. Instead, they put it around their neck, where it bounced against their collarbone as they donned their own mask. 

“Alright, Cherri. Let’s go bring you back from the dead.”

Show Pony and Dr. Death Defying didn’t try to stop her when she walked back through the main living space. D reached out as if to grab her wrist, but stopped himself in midair. “Newsie.”

“Don’t try to stop me.”

“I won’t, but I want you to take this.” He held out a crow feather, shining a gorgeous glossy black in the sunlight that streamed in from the window. “I met the Witch, once. During the Analog Wars. And she gave me this.”

“So you think it will help?”

D’s smile was dreadfully sad. “Worth a shot.”

Newsie hesitated a moment and took the feather. It was smooth under her fingers as she tucked it into her bag. “Thanks, D.”

“Of course.” He didn’t tell her to come back safe, and Newsie didn’t promise she would.

Pony skated up before she could walk out the door, handing her a packet of what looked vaguely like glitter. “I don’t have a fancy Witch feather like D, but take some glitter for the road. Because sparkles…”

“Make everything better.” Newsie’s throat burned. “Thanks, Pone.”

“Of course, GoGo.” Ey shot her a grin. “Bring back our Cola. Oh, and give him some shit for dying, would ya?”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Newsie muttered. They paused in the doorway, looking back at the other two. “Thanks, Pone. Thanks, D. Love you.”

“We love you too.” D’s face was sad as he watched them go.

Newsie hopped onto their motorcycle, grinning a bit to themself at the familiar noise of the engine. “Come on, baby, we’ve got an idiot brother to retrieve.”

What had once been called Death Valley was silent as Newsie hopped back off the bike, only a few caws of crows to welcome her. It was said that here, the lines between reality and wherever the Phoenix Witch was were even thinner than they were for the rest of the Zones, practically non-existent. No one could quite agree if it was because the Phoenix Witch lived here, or if the Phoenix Witch lived here because the lines were so blurred, but either way, she was said to dwell here in this aptly named valley. It wasn’t a place many people went by choice, not unless they wanted to risk the wrath of the Witch.

Newsie figured the Witch, her wrath, and all the superstition could all go fuck themselves. She was uneasy, yes, but the valley held no great fear for her. Only great fucking heat, given that the sun was blazing down and the air was almost unnaturally still. Couldn’t the Phoenix Witch have picked a nicer home? This was the closest thing you could get to hell on earth, with the exception of possibly whatever was beyond the Zones entirely. Not that Newsie particularly believed in hell, but she imagined it would be something like this. Blazing sun, still air, the faint haze of radiation, and the omnipresent sting of grief.

“Hey, Phoenix Witch lady! Asshole! Where are you?” The words didn’t even echo, absorbed into the stifling heat, and Newsie took another couple of steps. “I know this is your home- and you picked a pretty hellish one, if you ask me- so come on out and fight me!”

There was no reply, and Newsie dug through their bag to see if they had anything useful. Their hands brushed against a smooth…something, and they pulled out the feather D had given them. “Hey! Asshole! This is your feather, so come and get it!”

Once again, there was no reply, but the feather strained against Newsie’s grip, despite there being no wind. She reluctantly let it go, and it hovered above her hand, turning to point further into the valley. 

“Holy shit. I guess I’m supposed to go this way?” She took a few cautious steps, and the feather almost seemed to bob in approval. “Okay, let’s go then.”

They zipped their bag closed again and started walking, following the lead of the feather. It was a longer trek than they really appreciated, across shifting sand through the hazy day. Every so often, the feather changed directions, and Newsie had to turn to follow it. Despite the fact that she guessed she must be out in Zone Seven by now, or possibly even further, the landscape never seemed to change. Rocks and sand and endless, burning heat, matching the burning of her eyes as the sand stung them. She would have been lost in a second if she didn’t have the feather, wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t lost anyways. They certainly didn’t know their way back. 

Newsie shoved that concern to the back of their mind. Right now, all they needed to focus on was finding Cherri. The rest could come later. Still, there was no sign of Cherri- or anyone else for that matter- as they made their way further into the dusty valley. It should have been lonely, but the faint hovering presence of someone or something next to her kept away that particular anguish. She really should have been more alarmed by whatever was in the corner of her eye, vanishing when she looked right at it, but the presence felt safe. Almost familiar. So Newsie kept walking. 

They walked, and walked, and walked and walked and walked until the steps all blurred together under the infinite sun. It seemed like it should be nearly nightfall by now, but the sun didn’t seem to move, no matter how many steps she took. The landscape didn’t seem like it was moving much either, even though they must have walked miles and miles by now. Every step was harder than the last, sand stinging her eyes and nose and throat as her feet ached.

Still, Newsie was too damn stubborn to give up now. She followed the feather until the landscape did start to shift, the feather pointing towards…a tree? On a hill? It wasn’t like the tiny, scraggly trees that clung to existence in the wettest parts of the desert. No, this was what Newsie vaguely thought might have been called an oak, once upon a time, branches stretching towards the sky as the tree stood proud. The leaves were dark green, striking a sharp contrast to the faded blue of the desert sky and the endless beige sand, and the branches were thick and steady, growing in a pattern Newsie hadn’t seen before. It definitely wasn’t a tree that was meant to be in the desert, but...shade was shade. 

She staggered over and flopped down underneath it, every muscle in her body screaming at her. “Hey, Witch, asshole, why do I have to walk so fucking far?”

The only reply she got was the rustling of leaves above her. They didn’t think the Witch was actually watching, but they flipped off the tree anyways, just in case. 

She could have sworn she heard faint laughter at that, but it was probably her mind playing tricks on her. Water, she could really use some fucking water. Thank the Witch, or maybe just Pony’s quick thinking, they found a bottle of water when they reached into their bag. It was warmed by the sun and tasted vaguely of rust, but then again, most water in the desert did. Newsie was used to it.

She only got a few minutes to rest before the silence was shattered by a cry. “Help! Help!” It was a young-sounding voice, and Newsie groaned as they climbed to their feet. Having a moral compass was a real pain in the ass sometimes; they couldn’t just ignore a kid in need.

The presence by their shoulder seemed to have grown stronger as Newsie came around the tree and saw a few dracs holding a struggling killjoy who looked to be maybe thirteen or fourteen. She would have to be very careful in order not to hurt the ‘joy, given their close proximity to the dracs. Their hands shook as they pulled out their ray gun, reconsidered, and took out Cherri’s instead. They were pretty sure it had that gyroscope stabilizer (or whatever it was called) that some of the nicer ones were built with, and she would need every advantage she could get. This time, she was almost certain there were ghostly hands over hers as she took careful aim.

“Steady. Breathe,” a voice murmured in Newsie’s ear as they tilted the ray gun carefully. It would be only seconds before the young killjoy was dragged off, so she had to act now. 

Newsie took a deep breath, releasing it fully before she pulled the trigger and took out one of the dracs holding the ‘joy, who was able to break free from the other one’s grasp as Newsie took that one down too. She might not have been Cherri Cola, but she was by no means a bad shot, and she grinned a bit to herself. Drac down, drac down, and that was the last of them!

“Fuck yeah, NewsAGoGo, you kick ass.” They figured they might as well encourage themself, since there was no one else around to do it.

That was met by what she could have sworn was another faint chuckle, but there wasn’t anyone else around to be laughing. Well, except the younger killjoy, but they were way too far away to have heard her. 

Newsie shrugged and accepted that weird shit was going to happen on a quest in Death Valley. They had to keep moving, they decided, but first they should check on that ‘joy they’d saved. 

“Hey, kid! You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thanks to you, I think.” Their voice was hoarse, and Newsie sighed as she handed them her water bottle. Cherri was getting his ass kicked for this, she decided. It wasn’t technically his fault that she was thirsty, but if he hadn’t up and died, she wouldn’t have had to quest after him and then she wouldn’t have ended up giving her water to some random ‘joy.

“Thanks,” the teen said, handing them back the water bottle.

She shrugged. “No problem. You going somewhere?”

“Yes, but not the same way as you.” Their head was tilted curiously. “You’ll have to go that way. Until you see the building.”

Newsie debated for a second if this kid was trustworthy, but ultimately decided it was no worse than following a fucking feather. “Thanks, kid. Good luck, keep running.”

“Keep running!” They flashed a smile and wandered away.

Newsie sighed and started walking again, this time in the direction the kid had pointed. Again, Cherri was so getting an ass-kicking for this. Their feet hurt. 

Thank the Phoenix Witch- no, thank Destroya, she wasn’t thanking the Phoenix Witch for fucking anything right now- she wasn’t back on her feet for long. Compared to her earlier trek, it was quite a short distance, maybe a mile or so, to what must have been the building that kid was talking about. It was a small shack which looked vaguely familiar, even from a distance, and Newsie sped up a little as they headed towards it. Shade! Maybe even a place to sit that wasn’t sand! Of course, knowing her luck, the Phoenix Witch would show up and demand she go run some errand or walk another hundred fucking miles or something. 

The presence that had been following her this whole time seemed stronger and easier to catch a glimpse of, now, but the was the least of their worries as Newsie approached the building and found it familiar. They could peer in through the window and find D and Pony sitting there in the living room, talking about music (she assumed, given that the only time D gestured so broadly was when he was giving opinions about music).

“D! Pone!”

They didn’t seem to hear her, and Newsie felt her eyes stinging from both sand and grief as she knocked on the door. There was still no reply, no Pony at the door or even sound from inside. But the two carried on their conversation, gesturing and laughing away.

"D, Pony…” If they were back here, that meant they had failed. They hadn’t gotten to the Witch after all. 

Newsie gave up her knocking and turned her back to the door, sliding down to sit on the hard ground. Their feet hurt from standing and their legs hurt from walking and their hands hurt from clutching Cherri’s ray gun so tightly. The sun was still blazing, and their throat was dry and sore. Her collarbones were banged up where Cherri’s mask had been bouncing against them, and her hip was bruised from the bag bouncing against it, and everything fucking hurt. They had promised themself they weren’t going to cry, but now they were breaking that promise because their goddamn brother was dead and they couldn’t fucking do anything about it. 

“I’m sorry, Cherri,” they choked.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” The words were only a whisper, but the voice was familiar. 

Newsie’s heart skipped a beat. “Cherri?”

“I’m here,” the air next to her whispered, right where that presence had been hovering. “Not exactly, but close enough.” If they squinted, they could make out an outline of a familiar killjoy, smiling a soft, sad smile as he pushed his hair out of his face.

“Fucking bastard! Fuck! Fucking hell! You just fucking died on me and do you know how far I fucking walked?”

“Technically, you didn’t walk at all.” That was a different voice, belonging to the cloaked figured who was suddenly in front of Newsie. They could have sworn the person hadn’t been there just a second ago, which was damn inconvenient. Right as she was trying to catch up with her fucking brother? Really?

“Who the fuck are you?” They demanded.

“The deity you came to find, NewsAGoGo.”

Newsie hopped to her feet so she could stand on level with the bird creature, ignoring the ache in every part of their body. “Fuck you! Fuck you, Witch lady! Fuck you and your fate and your cryptic ways! What the fuck do you mean I didn’t walk?”

The Witch seemed faintly amused by her swearing. “I mean that in real-world distance, you went nowhere. You’re on the border, the boundary between this world and the next. Which is how your lovely brother is here, by the way. He belongs to the spirit world, and you belong to the ordinary one, but on this border and this border only, you can see and hear each other.”

“Great, now I’m taking him back to the real world.”

The Phoenix Witch tsked disapprovingly. “I’m afraid you can’t do that, NewsAGoGo. You see, Cherri Cola is dead. He belongs to my domain now.”

“Well fuck that! I’m not letting him go.” Newsie hadn’t walked however many fucking miles to give up now.

“Fine, fine, you can have him.” Newsie’s heart soared. “For a price,” The Witch added. 

“And what’s the price?”

“The price is the people in that house behind you.”

“What?”

“Well, technically they aren’t there, per se. That’s not Dr. Death Defying and Show Pony, although it seems that way to you.” The Witch’s voice was annoyingly calm. “But my point being, if you can give up one of them, you can have your Cherri back.”

“Newsie, no,” Cherri whispered from beside her.

“Can you do it?” The Witch was still smiling. “Can you sacrifice one friend to save another? Could you live with yourself if you killed your friend to save your brother? And could you live with yourself if you left him here to save the others?”

“No, I can’t do it.” They knew their voice must sound very small and very tired as they leaned a little against the radio shack that wasn’t the radio shack. “I can’t choose the life of one of my friends over another. I won’t make that choice. I refuse.”

“So do you choose to leave him here? I’ll take good care of him, you know.”

“No. I choose to not choose. I refuse to choose.” She had no idea what she was doing, only that she wasn’t leaving without the lives of all of her family. “I won’t put Cherri’s life over D’s, or Pony’s. I won’t put D or Pony’s life over Cherri’s. They all deserve to live.”

“Oh, hon, it doesn’t work that way.”

“Well I’ll make it work that way!” A thought niggled Newsie’s brain. “What if…What if I gave you something else?”

“Like what?”

“Like my life.”

“No!” That was Cherri again, his spirit form flickering fiercely. “No! Newsie, just leave without me. Please.”

The Phoenix Witch was smirking, but she shook her head. “Sorry, NewsAGoGo. I can’t accept that offer, selfless as it might be. You’ve got things ahead of you, I can’t just mess up my plans like that.”

“Fine, then something else.” Newsie rooted around in her bag, desperately trying to find something to trade with the Witch. Empty water bottle, no. Can of power pup that she never touched, no. Their hand collided with a small, slightly squished packet of something, which they pulled out triumphantly. “Glitter. I’ll give you glitter for my brother’s life.” Newsie knew she sounded ridiculous, but it really was all she had to offer.

The Phoenix Witch threw her head back and cackled; it was almost more of a caw than a laugh but clearly a sound of amusement nonetheless. “Glitter! Glitter! I haven’t laughed so hard in years.”

Their hand was shaking. “Pony gave it to me. Because sparkles- because sparkles-“ Their voice wobbled and they couldn’t finish that sentence.

“Sparkles make everything better,” Cherri whispered softly from next to her. Newsie nodded, trying not to cry.

The mirth on the Witch’s face was gone, replaced by true, genuine pity. “You care so much.”

“Yeah, of course I fucking do. He’s my brother, asshole.”

Cherri’s form was flickering again, and Newsie wished she knew what that meant as the Witch smiled softly. It was a bit of a sad, pitying smile, which they really didn’t appreciate, but they guessed they did make for a pitiful sight. Sandy and dusty, tear tracks on their face as they leaned against a wall and offered a pitiful little pack of glitter in exchange for the person they loved most in the world. 

“So…are you going to take the glitter?” Maybe it was dumb, maybe she should know the Witch would never accept glitter, but she had to try. 

“Yes.” 

Newsie gaped at her. 

“Yes, I’ll take the glitter. Not as a reward, but as a symbol. You, NewsAGoGo, traveled uncountable miles of unreality, fought a squad of dracs, and dared defy me, a literal deity, for your brother. I am not a cruel goddess, I do not need to be. The world is cruel enough for me. And your Cherri did not deserve to die. Oh, he was asking for it, he was taunting me into swooping down to take that bracelet you gave him off his wrist and taking his soul on with me just the same, but he still didn’t deserve to die.”  

The Witch flicked Cherri on the nose, or where Newsie thought his nose ought to be. “We’ve had some conversations about it, haven’t we? Because you didn’t want to die, Cherri Cola. You wanted to not be in pain. Something everyone wants. And your sister cares so much, so I’ll give you one more chance. This is your last one, lovely.”

“I understand.”

“Of course you do, hon.” The Witch turned back to Newsie. “Keep an eye on this one. He’s a bit prone to wandering off, but he’s yours again. He belongs to the land of the living. I’ll be keeping this, though.” She tapped the bracelet on her wrist, which Newsie recognized as the one they had given Cherri. “And the glitter, just for the hell of it. Tell your friend Pony they have good taste in décor, will you?”

And just like that, she was gone. Newsie was standing alone at the entrance to Death Valley, her faithful motorcycle next to her. At first, she thought the Witch had lied, since she did seem to be utterly alone, but before long, footsteps sounded from within the valley. 

Newsie turned as a figure approached, her breath catching at the familiar face. Cherri Cola was exactly how he had been the day Newsie had left him at the radio station, not knowing she would come back to find him gone. His battered green jacket was just as ripped and dusty as ever, and there was a small scar across his right cheek, as always. The only immediately visible difference between Cherri of a few weeks ago and this Cherri was the pure white streak in his hair, white like bones and death and the salt crusted on some parts of the desert. Yet when she looked closer, she could also see a tiny spark of determination in his eyes that had been missing for a very long time.

Cherri came to a stop in front of her, smiling cautiously. “Hey.” 

Newsie didn’t know if they should cry, yell at him, or hug him. They settled for a mixture of all three, sprinting over to hug him tightly as they unleashed all the bottled swear words and tears of the past few weeks. “Fuck you, Cherri! Dipshit! Bitch boy! Fucking rat bastard, you left me! You left me alone and I- and I was scared.” Their voice dropped on the last few words.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Cherri’s voice was very soft. “I should never have left.”

A bit of her fierceness came back at that, with another couple of swear words to unleash. “No, you fucking shouldn’t have! Asshole. Little shit! You died, you fucker! You died and I had to walk so fucking far to get you back, fuckface!”

“I’m sorry, Newsie. I’m so sorry.” 

She sniffled, unable to stay mad for long. “Just never do that again. Ever. I’m not fighting a squad of dracs to save some child so I can get directions to a fucking fake radio shack and talk to a cryptic deity next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Cherri said softly. “I promise.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

He crossed his heart, giving her a very serious look. “I swear on my best poetry and Show Pony’s glitter stash.”

They let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Now you can never break it, Pone would never forgive you if something happened to their glitter stash.”

“Exactly.” His eyes were glimmering with tears as well, but he was smiling as Newsie led him back to her motorcycle with a “Hop on, fuckface.”

It felt safe to have Cherri’s arms wrapped around her again, his head leaning on her shoulder as she revved the engine. He was a warm, safe presence, just as he had been in the unreality-reality place, but this time he was a solid one. A real one.

They might have been tired as all fuck, but that didn’t stop them from grinning as Cherri muttered something about it probably not being safe for her to drive while this tired. “Hang on, fucker. We’re going home.” 

Home was, as it had been for quite a while now, a (mostly) structurally sound radio station in the middle of the desert. It was almost nightfall by the time they pulled up in front of the radio shack, and Newsie was yawning as she climbed off the bike with another huge yawn. Cherri practically had to carry her to the door, but in her defense, he wasn’t the one who had walked however many miles, got in a firefight, and argued with a deity today. So they felt no guilt in leaning against him as he paused on the porch, using his free hand to knock gently on the door.

They were met by an exhausted-looking Show Pony, eyes red-rimmed and blood-shot as ey opened the door. “I’m sorry, no visitors today- Newsie?! Cherri?!?”

Cherri waved with his free hand. “Hey.”

“Am I just seeing things?” Pony’s voice was as shocked as eir face, which was very.

“Not seeing things, bastard,” Newsie yawned. “I said I was getting Cherri, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but you’ve been missing a month, Gogo! D and I thought you were ghosted like your bro!”

It probably was not an appropriate reaction, but the first thing out of her mouth was “No wonder I’m so thirsty.”

Cherri started laughing at that, and after a second so did Pony, half-hysterically. “Well, we’ve got water, that’s for sure. D’ll give you plenty, he’ll be so glad you’re alive!” Ey led them inside, still laughing in a somewhat hysterical way. “D, we’ve got some rat bastards alive and back on our hands!”

“Fuck you, Pone.” 

“She’s kidding, we love you,” Cherri yawned.

“And I love you too, but you can’t just- just up and disappear! The lot of you, honestly.” 

D’s face was only slightly less shocked than Pony’s when he rolled into the living room, and Newsie had a feeling that was only because he was even more exhausted than em. 

“Hey,” Cherri said again. 

“Cherri- Newsie- Witch, you both, we thought you were dead!”

“Well we’re not, deal with it.” She was too tired for this shit. Shouldn’t arguing with a deity give you a pass? “Also, sorry, Pone, I traded your glitter away to the Witch.”

Ey only looked shocked for a second before eir usual grin returned. “Well, it was meant to be used somehow! Plus, sparkles…”

“Make everything better!” Newsie, Pony, and Cherri all chorused. 

D sighed. “Welcome home, you two. Never scare us like that again, alright, Newsie?”

“I wasn’t the one who wandered off and died!”

“To be fair, you kinda threatened to fight the Phoenix Witch and then vanished, sugar,” Pony put in.

Newsie flipped em off, flopping down on the sofa. “My point was, give Cherri shit instead. I’m too tired for this.”

“Oh, I plan on it.” D’s voice was vaguely threatening, but his face cracked into a smile as he turned to Cherri. “You scared the hell out of all of us.”

Cherri stared at the ground. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“And we love you so much,” D added.

Newsie grinned at her brother’s shocked face. “Uh-huh, fuckface. We love you, even if you’re a rat bastard. Now I’m going to sleep for a week, see you all later.”

“Goodnight, Newsie,” Cherri said with a smile. If anyone else said anything after that, Newsie didn’t hear it. They were out like a light within seconds.

-

In this universe, the radio station is peaceful that evening, the family reunited at long last. Cherri Cola smiles to himself as he lifts Newsie off the sofa, giving D and Pony a thumbs up as he wanders into the back of the radio station. Their room is quiet, and Newsie barely shifts when he sets her down gently on the mattress.  They do move, however, when Cherri tries to pull away, reaching out to snatch his wrist. Trapped, he has no choice but to lay down next to Newsie, earning a sleepy noise that sounds vaguely happy.

Cherri grins softly, even if she can’t see it, running his hand along the new set of scars on his arm. There will be time to think about those later, time for the conversations that have to come with that, but for now all they are is a reminder. A reminder that he’s a survivor, a reminder of what matters. 

Cherri Cola falls asleep with Newsie by his side, and the last words on his lips that night are “I love you, Newsie.”