#There WILL be a happy ending

[snarky-magpie]

A slightly angsty new chapter of In The Dark is up!

“Well, I missed you cheering for me,” James pouts to Sirius. “Feels like I never fly as good without you around.” 

You might want to consider why that is. James chases the unwanted thought away.

Sirius clears his throat but doesn’t address the admission.

“How was the practice?” he asks instead. 

“It’d be better with you, but pretty okay otherwise. Reckon we have the match against Slytherin in the bag. We should take the cup home, no problem.” 

“Going out on top. Minnie will be pleased,” Sirius grins. “She might even nod at you and smile slightly.”

James laughs. Finally. That sounds more like the old ‘them.’ Perhaps he can salvage the messy situation yet. “That’s the dream. I do live to please her.” 

“Yes, you’re famous for your people-pleasing nature.” A smirk curls one corner of Sirius’ lips. James has deflated his head quite a bit this last year, but no one in their right mind would call him a people pleaser. Still, he can’t resist joking along.

“You know it. Somebody has to uphold the Marauders’ good name.” 

“Hate to break the news to you, but our name was never good, Messier Prongs.” 

Sirius brushes a lock of hair from his forehead and barks out a laugh. 

He is a canine, after all. 

[mysteroads]

So, fast background: It still bugs me a bit that Decay isn't Tomura Shigaraki's natural quirk.😔 There were some great parallels between him and Eri that I really liked. However, I adapted!🎉 And now I'm going to share! 'Cause that's what you do on this hellsite!😈 Mwhaha! Enjoy this short excerpt from my fic Indomitable Will. (Context: Tomura's decided to put AFO down for good and is deep-diving KingdomHearts style, and interacting with stolen quirk vestiges.)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*>

This quirk looked so broken. Hunched shoulders, too skinny with a jutting collarbone and visible ribs, badly cut hair all clumpy and unkempt, knobby fingers covering its face like a weeping angel. Its edges were in a constant state of fraying. 

Or Decaying.

“You caused me a lot of problems, you know,” he told it quietly. The quirk huddled in on itself even more, trembling from head to toe. “My family, my dog, my favorite controller… all of them dust. But it’s not like you had a choice either. You didn’t pick me. You weren’t even whole. But… looking back, I think you at least tried your best to keep me safe.”

The trembling didn’t stop, but the covered face turned toward him.

“Half of the problem was me. I was always fighting you, subconsciously rejecting you. I mean, kinda obvious why, but it didn’t really help me. You know what, though?” And now Tomura smiled again, the memory of Deika City still a shining moment for him. “We were pretty badass once we got in sync.”

The quirk stood up straight, lowering its fingers enough to peer at him with dull eyes the same color as his. 

Tomura held out his free hand. “This time, let’s choose each other. I want you. No one fits me better than you. We’re two pieces broken by the same hand, two things reshaped to become weapons and not allowed to become more. No one understands us better than we do. Please, be my partner again?”

Decay skipped shaking his hand and instead threw itself at him, wrapping twiggy arms around his neck and pressing its face against his chest. Tomura bit his lip so he didn’t make any more pathetic noises and hugged his quirk as tightly as he could. “I missed you,” he admitted. “Thank you.” 

A breath, then Decay slipped back inside him, settling under his skin like a contented cat. And it didn’t itch at all.

Tomura felt whole for the first time in months. 

[soaps-mohawk]

I NEED to know of there's gonna be angst or hurt/comfort in this fic. I'm such a fucking sucker for it and I feel like your fic has such the potential for it! (Obvi you don't have to tell! I'm having a good time reading the fic!)

Absolutely.

I'm going to rip your little hearts out and stomp all over them and then put them back together and shove them back into your chests.

I am not kidding.

(Also I do think hurt/comfort is tagged in the warnings on the masterlist, though for some reason I always forget to tag angst in general. I usually get the specific things that cause the angst, but not angst itself 🤦‍♀️ but yes. Much pain. Much hurt. Much comfort.)

[vultureboi]

So I’m currently writing a MHA fic that I’ve been brewing up. And I’m only on the first chapter and I’ve killed 22 characters and an unknown number of civilians. I think I have the highest body count in fanfic history in just this one chapter? I killed all of class 1-A except Izuku(which he won’t be alive much longer) and I’ve killed Inko, Sato’s mom, iida’s brother.

Those last 3 were just bonuses. I have to kill off Izuku and Bakugou’s parents next.

I cannot say how utterly tragic this fic is. I’ve killed off 22 character in some pretty gruesome ways and am only at 4,926 words. This is the first chapter. It doesn’t end until everyone is dead. ;-;

It’s an afterlife fic, so I have to kill them off to use them later! But damn… like- my god. Poor Izuku is losing everyone he cares about because I’m going to make the last one to die be him.

Why am I doing this? For the cool designs I drew?? Is it really worth killing 25 characters?!

My brain: yes.

My heart: no.

[themirokai]

Hob turned at a landing and his breath caught in his throat. He had never seen this room, of course, but he knew it in an instant. Stone columns, a water-filled moat, and suspended from chains in the middle: a cage of iron-bound glass.  Dream was lying in the bottom of the sphere, naked.

After Dream gets stuck in a nightmare of the Fawney Rig basement, Hob and Matthew help him get back to himself.

Seven - A Dreamling & Matthew the Emotional Support Raven Fic by MiroKai

Read Chapter 1 on AO3 or below the cut.

This story is a sequel to Loverboy, and while that isn't required reading, it does set up the relationships between Dream, Matthew, and Hob that I've delved into here.

Back in December I raffled off a ficlet in order to get to know new followers, and @icurlybooks was the winner! She asked for a fishbowl rescue fic, and while I didn't have any good ideas for a straight up fishbowl rescue, I was super inspired by Chapter 11 @ibrithir-was-here's Endless Heirs AU which everyone should go read right now. And instead of a ficlet I ended up with over 7k words and 3 chapters! The other two chapters will go up over the next week or so. Enjoy!

-----

It was getting dark, but Hob wasn’t worried. He continued along the path, using Dream’s pull to find his way through the Dreaming. Dream was probably just dealing with a nightmare, he assured himself. 

“CAW!” 

There was a flapping in the gloom around Hob’s feet. 

“Matthew?!”

“What the fuck, loverboy? You almost stepped on me!”

“Sorry! What are you doing just standing around in the dark?” 

Matthew didn’t speak for a moment and Hob squinted to try to see him in the darkness.

“You can feel him, right?” Matthew’s voice was quiet. 

“Yeah. He’s nearby. That way.” Hob pointed ahead into the murk. 

“Right,” Matthew said. “But I can’t get to him. It’s like… he’s locked me out but without a door. See if you can keep going.” 

Hob took a step forward and then another. As he passed Matthew he began to feel resistance, like something was pushing him back. Hob pushed harder and advanced. 

“There’s definitely a barrier,” he told Matthew, “but I think I can make it through.” 

“Good! Good. Go make sure he’s ok. I’ll - I’ll be here.”

Hob pressed on and the resistance decreased, the barrier apparently traversed. He became aware of the fact that there was a wood floor under his feet and walls around him. Another few steps and he was at the top of a staircase. He could see light flickering at the bottom. That was where Dream was, he could feel it. He took a breath and started downwards. 

Hob turned at a landing and his breath caught in his throat. He had never seen this room, of course, but he knew it in an instant. Stone columns, a water-filled moat, and suspended from chains in the middle: a cage of iron-bound glass. 

Dream was lying in the bottom of the sphere, naked. 

“Dream!” Hob dashed forward. 

Dream flinched at the sound of his voice, then sat up, moving like his muscles had forgotten how. 

Hob’s heart twisted at the flinch and shattered when he took in Dream’s body. Hob had seen Dream naked in a variety of forms, but never like this. His lover was all sinew and bone and muscle, as if his body had been stripped down to the least amount of mass needed to hold it together. 

“Dream…” Hob whispered, stepping forward more slowly. “My god, love, what’s happened? Where are we?” 

Dream brought his knees to his chest and hugged his arms around them, not looking at Hob. 

“I was in the Dreaming,” Hob continued, “I saw Matthew and I was coming to find you. Did I cross into somewhere else? Are you alright?” 

Dream’s eyes looked wet and he squeezed them shut, then shook his head. 

“Can you get out of there, love?” 

Still no response. 

Hob took a breath. This was wrong. That was definitely Dream in there and he felt certain that they were still in the Dreaming. He and Matthew had both felt Dream’s presence. He had to find a way to fix this. 

“Love, will it be alright if I break this? I won’t hurt you will I?” 

Dream hugged himself tighter and didn’t respond verbally but in the back of Hob’s mind there was a whisper. 

“Binding circle.” 

It didn’t happen often, but there were times when Dream couldn’t be bothered to speak out loud in the Dreaming. Usually when they were making love. Hob would just suddenly understand what Dream wanted him to know. This wasn’t quite like receiving direction on how Dream wanted to be touched, but it was familiar enough that Hob didn’t question it. 

He looked down at the floor and saw the circle of runes. Hob spit on it, then scuffed his shoe through it, leaving a large gap. 

When he turned back to Dream, his lover was finally looking up at him but was now visibly trembling. Hob pressed a hand to the glass. 

“I’ve broken the circle, love. Can you get out now?” 

Dream stared at him mutely, expression scared and miserable. 

Fuck. 

Hob took another breath. Okay. Dream had been teaching him how to manipulate the Dreaming. Hob closed his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to disappear the cage, but he could probably get himself a tool. It would have to be something that he could picture vividly. He thought for a moment. 

Hob had spent most of 1865 and 1866 in America, building the Transcontinental Railroad. His Cantonese had never been better. He could still smell the dust and sweat, still taste the horrible coffee and beans, and still feel the sledgehammer in his hand. Hob focused on that memory. From the thick calluses on his palm and fingers, to the grain of the wood handle, to the weight of the thing. 

Hob opened his eyes to see the trusty sledgehammer in his right hand. Perfect. He raised it and looked back at Dream. 

“I’m going to break the glass, love, alright?”

Dream gave a tiny, slow nod. That would have to be good enough. 

“Alright, move back a bit, yeah? I don’t want it to cut you.” 

Dream scrabbled backwards until he was against the wall of the sphere farthest from Hob. 

Hob gave him a reassuring smile, and raised the sledgehammer. 

He didn’t have to hit it hard: the weight of the hammer was enough to break through. The tricky part was wielding it delicately enough to open a hole big enough for Dream to get through without cutting himself, and without bringing the whole thing crashing down on them. 

He managed it after a minute, then dropped the sledgehammer, which dissolved into shadows before it hit the ground. Hob reached his hand through the hole towards Dream. 

“Come on, love. I’ve got you.” 

When Dream hesitated, Hob reached further into the sphere. The only part of Dream he could reach was one foot and ankle, but he gently wrapped his hand over the cold skin and stroked his thumb over Dream’s ankle bone. 

“Come out, Dream. Let’s fix this.” 

Slowly, moving without any of his normal grace, Dream inched himself out of the sphere and Hob pulled him directly into his arms. Dream was only as tall as Hob’s chin, and he sagged his slight weight against Hob’s chest. 

“Hob.” Dream’s voice was faint and cracked. 

“I’ve got you,” Hob whispered, stroking Dream’s hair and his back over and over. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.” 

Dream was still trembling in Hob’s embrace. 

“How about some clothes, love?” Hob asked gently, wondering if Dream could manifest his robe of shadows or his star-filled coat. 

Dream made a small noise in the back of his throat but no clothing appeared. 

“Alright,” Hob soothed, rubbing Dream’s arms, “it’s okay. I did well enough with the sledgehammer, let’s see if I can get something.” He thought for a moment. “How about that throw blanket from my couch that you like? The soft blue one.” 

Hob closed his eyes and pictured the feel of the fleece blanket. Saw himself pull it off the couch and wrap it around Dream’s shoulders. When he opened his eyes, the blanket was there, enveloping Dream. Hob allowed himself a momentary flare of pride. 

Dream took a breath, and the trembling stopped. “Thank you,” he murmured. 

Hob wrapped his arm around Dream’s back. “Should we get you back to the palace?” 

Dream shook his head quickly. “The Waking. Please.” 

Hob frowned, but considering where they were, he supposed the request wasn’t surprising. 

“Of course, love. Can we tell Matthew that’s where we’re going? He said you had locked him out. I think he’s already worried sick about you.” 

Dream grimaced and a shudder ran through him. A moment later and the scene around them brightened. It was the same horrible room, just slightly less dark. 

“Boss?” Matthew was suddenly flying towards them but nearly stopped in the air when he saw where they were. “Holy shit! Boss! What the fuck?” 

Dream flinched and bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Sorry!” Matthew said much more quietly as he landed and hopped towards them. “I’m sorry! Are you okay?” 

“We’re going to the Waking,” Hob said, drawing Dream closer. “Matthew, will you tell Lucienne?”

Matthew looked between them, his mouth hanging open before he collected himself. “Yeah, um, of course. Hob, what is going on?”

Hob glanced at Dream then gave Matthew a sympathetic grimace. “I wish I knew, mate. But we’ll figure it out. We’ll be at my flat. Come check in, in a little while, yeah?”  

“Yeah. Okay.” The raven’s tone was definitely not okay.  

Hob sighed. He knew Matthew was nothing if not resilient so he turned back to his primary concern. 

“Dream, if I just wake up will you come with me?” 

A tiny nod. 

Matthew hopped closer. “Boss, I’m sorry I startled you. I - I just… I just want you to be okay.” 

“I know, Matthew,” Dream whispered. 

Hob tried to give Matthew an encouraging nod, then forced himself awake.

Hob opened his eyes in his bed. Dream was still in his arms, naked and wrapped in the fuzzy blue blanket. Hob leaned forward to kiss his forehead. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly. “Do you want some clothes?” 

“Yes,” Dream whispered. “Please.” 

Hob pulled himself out of bed and over to his dresser, where he retrieved a thick sweatshirt and pajama bottoms. He helped Dream into them, then perched beside where he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“You don’t need to talk until you’re ready,” Hob said, rubbing Dream’s back. “But if you can tell me anything that you need or want, I’ll make it happen.” 

Dream sat with his shoulders hunched and palms pressed into the bed on either side of his legs. “Would you. Open the window?” 

Hob glanced outside. “It’s raining.” 

“I know.” Dream’s head hung lower. “I … the air. And outside. Please.” 

Shit, that damn glass sphere was airtight, wasn’t it? 

“Of course!” Hob sprung to his feet. “Of course.” 

When Hob returned to the bed, Dream was laying down with his eyes closed. Hob was about to head for the armchair in the corner when thin fingers closed around his wrist. 

“Hold me?” 

Hob smiled and climbed back into bed. 

Hob wasn’t sure how long he dozed, holding Dream’s body against his and listening to the rain. 

“There are seven.” 

Hob stirred himself. “Seven?” 

“Seven people. Living. Who saw me. In the cage.” 

Hob was wide awake now and listening intently, his arms tight around Dream’s chest. 

“The guards were told that I was a dangerous monster. Trapped in a human form in the cage. But a danger to all mankind if I ever escaped.” 

Dream was faced away from him and Hob placed a gentle kiss on his shoulder blade. 

“I did nothing to disabuse them of this notion. It was, after all, largely correct.” 

Hob pressed his forehead against Dream’s back. 

“They all dream of me sometimes.”

Hob felt his breath catch in his throat. He hadn’t thought of that. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Dream had told him that Burgess had been punished, but what of the guards?

“At first I was distracted by the search for my tools and rebuilding the Dreaming and then Rose. And lately their dreams of me are mostly nightmares in which a monstrous facsimile of me stalks and preys upon them.” 

Good, Hob thought. He hoped they were terrified to close their eyes. 

“But one of them. Dreamed the actual memory of me and I -” 

Dream curled into himself, squeezed his eyes shut. 

Hob pulled him closer. “It’s alright,” he murmured. 

“I got caught in it!” Dream’s voice was a harsh whisper. “Ridiculous and weak. It was a dream! The paltry dream of a mortal human!” 

Hob freed one of his hands to stroke Dream’s hair. “It wasn’t just a dream though, was it? It was a memory. Your memory of something horrible. There must be precious few mortals in creation who have ever been able to do that to you. And it sounds like there are only seven - in the entire universe - who can do it now. Of course it caught you off guard, love.” 

Hob pressed more kisses to Dream’s shoulder, and Dream gave a shuddering breath but seemed to relax a little. 

“I only managed to push the dreamer out and close myself off before I was lost in it,” he murmured after a moment. 

“You will never stay lost for long again, Dream. I promise you.” Resolve tightened in Hob’s gut. He would keep that promise. 

Dream squeezed Hob’s arm in acknowledgment, and they let the silence stretch. 

“Um, tap tap?” 

Hob and Dream both started and looked up at the window to find a very wet Matthew standing on the sill. 

“Sorry,” Matthew said, ducking his head, “I would normally tap on the glass but it’s open so… can I come in?” 

“Yes, Matthew,” Dream said, pushing himself up to sit. 

Matthew shook himself vigorously, fluffing out his feathers and spraying water over the sill. He looked around him with an expression Hob had come to recognize as embarrassment. 

“Uh, sorry Hob.” 

Hob, now leaning against the headboard, gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Matthew flew to the foot of the bed where he perched. 

“Boss? Are you okay?” 

“I am… better. Than I was.” 

“Good! Good. Um.” Matthew shifted from foot to foot. “Can I … ask what happened?” 

Dream pinched the bridge of his nose. “One of the people who guarded my prison dreamed of the memory of me and I was … caught in the dream.”

“Oh shit,” Matthew said quietly, hopping closer to Dream. “That must have been terrible. I’m so sorry.” 

Dream grimaced and swallowed, then reached forward to stroke a finger over Matthew’s head. 

“Do you know why I was locked out but Hob wasn’t?” Matthew asked. 

Dream gave a shuddering sigh. “I did that.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“What? Why? Boss, I could have helped you.” 

Hob noted with approval that Matthew kept his tone gentle. 

“Jessamy tried to help me,” Dream whispered, drawing into himself. 

“Oh, Boss,” Matthew’s voice cracked with emotion and he hopped into Dream’s lap. 

Dream gathered the raven into his arms. “I could not bear to see you killed, Matthew.” 

Matthew pressed the top of his head against Dream’s chest. “I get it. I’m so sorry you went through that, Boss. But I’m here and you’re here, and it’s gonna be okay.” 

Hob moved closer to Dream so that their sides were touching, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He leaned over to kiss Dream’s hair. 

Matthew looked up after a beat. “I guess knowing your boyfriend can’t die has some advantages huh?” 

Hob chuckled. “One or two.” 

They sat quietly for several minutes, Hob holding Dream and Dream stroking Matthew, before Matthew spoke up again. 

“So how do we make sure this doesn’t happen again? Or if it does happen, how do we get you out quicker?” 

Hob cleared his throat. “I have an idea for the former.” 

Both Matthew and Dream looked at him. 

“The seven people, the ones who are living and have memories of you that they could dream about, do you know who they are?” Hob asked. 

“Their books are in the Library,” Dream answered hesitantly. 

Hob nodded. “Good.” 

Matthew cocked his head to the side. “Why is that good?” 

“It’s good,” Hob said, looking out the window, “because I can borrow the books from Lucienne and then I can find those seven people and I can kill them.” 

“What?!” Matthew squawked. 

Dream shifted away and turned to look at Hob, holding Matthew closer against his chest. “That is not the purpose of my Library, Hob Gadling.” 

Hob shrugged. “If you don’t want me to use the books then I’ll find them another way. They can’t be too hard to track down. I’m resourceful.” 

Dream’s frown deepened. “You would take greater vengeance than I myself can take?”

“It’s a bit of vengeance,” Hob said, turning to fully face Dream, “but it’s more to protect you from this happening again. You can’t kill mortals who aren’t active threats, but I can.” 

“You’re just going to murder seven people?” Matthew’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. 

Hob sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Matthew, I’ve fought in a dozen wars. I’ve been a criminal of various stripes involving a wide range of violent acts. I’ve been in any number of fights that I’ve chosen to end… decisively. Seven people…” he took a deep breath and shook his head. “It’s a drop in the bucket. A big drop, but still a drop.” He reached out to cup Dream’s cheek, locking eyes with him. “And if it keeps you from this pain?” Hob shrugged. “I’ve done far worse for less.” 

“Okay, wait.” Matthew hopped out of Dream’s arms and onto the bed where he could face both of them. “Boss, there has to be another solution than letting Stabby McMurderpants loose on seven people!” 

Hob decided that he rather liked ‘Stabby McMurderpants’. 

“One of them,” Dream said softly, looking down at his hands, “broke the binding circle, which allowed me to escape. He was Alex Burgess’s lover but he was not involved in Jessamy’s murder or the original trap. I would not see him harmed.” 

“Well,” Hob reasoned, “if I take out the other six that will greatly reduce the chances of someone dreaming of you.” 

“No,” Matthew said firmly. “There’s another way. Boss, you took away Joanna Constantine’s nightmare memory, didn’t you?” 

“Yes,” Dream said slowly. 

“So you can do that with these people, can’t you?” Matthew asked. 

“I … would need to touch the dream to remove it from their minds.” 

Hob covered Dream’s hand with his own. “Could you get caught in it if you touched it?” 

Dream looked away from both of them and nodded. 

“Not worth the risk,” Hob said. “Let me take care of it.” He squeezed Dream’s hand. 

“But Boss, what if we were there with you when you touched the dream? Couldn’t we keep you from getting caught?” 

“I do not know. Perhaps.” 

“Well, Bloodthirsty Killerson here seemed to do a pretty quick job of pulling you out once he got to you so if he was there from the start it seems like he could get you right back out again.” 

Hob brought Dream’s hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers. “If Matthew’s right and this is a viable way to permanently eliminate those dreams, I could have the sledgehammer ready to go, love.” 

-----

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2 is up now!

Thanks to @once-in-a-blue-moon-rising for her encouragement and ridiculously helpful beta reading.

Thanks also to @karalynlovescake and @tryan-a-bex for giving the first two chapters of this an early read when I was craving some feedback.

You can find my master post for the Matthew the Emotional Support Raven series here.

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Weekend Getaway (1/3)

AO3 | 2 | 3

RATING: M

SUMMARY: When Emma's roommate drags her to get a live Christmas Tree, she ends up trapped at a Christmas Village for the weekend. Fortunately, the village had a bar and a bartender that Emma wants to get to know better.

Tagging: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert - DM me if you would like to be added/removed from the list.

"You're coming with me," Ruby announced as she banged into the flat. The front door crashed against the wall before closing behind her. Wearing a red knit sweater with a Christmas tree on it that actually lit up and arms heavily laden with shopping bags, she was the bright spot - literally - of Christmas Cheer that Emma was certain she did not order. 

It wasn’t that Emma hated Christmas or anything quite so dramatic. But if given the opportunity to skip directly to New Year’s Eve after Halloween, she would happily accept. There was no escaping how dreadfully lonely her life had become since she’d driven away from Storybrooke after - Nope, not going there. 

"We are getting a live tree this year! Get your jacket, let's go." Ruby continued, not waiting for Emma to acknowledge her. 

"Those are fire hazards. Plus, where would we put it?" Emma gestured at their tiny, crowded living space. 

Ruby grunted as she deposited the bags on the nearest chair. She grabbed Emma's boots and threw them at her, "Put 'em on."

Scowling and grumbling, she clicked off the TV and shoved her feet into her boots. 

It was impossible to deny Ruby anything. They came to the city together a few years ago to get over their broken hearts and discover a life outside of their small town. They'd helped nurse each other through the heartbreaks, acted as both wing-woman and excuse for one another - depending on what the night demanded, and endured the challenges of being artists in a big city together. Ruby had landed a part on an off-broadway play and Emma was in her second season at the New York City Ballet. It took several failed auditions, many pints of ice cream, and the constant support from one another to get them this far. 

"Let's burn down the building then."

"That's the spirit!" 

§§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§

They drove for hours, leaving the city behind for the snow-covered, rolling hills of the upstate. While singing and dancing to old favourite songs, they passed several signs advertising various Christmas tree farms. Ruby would shake her head and drive by them. After the tenth one, Emma finally asked where they were going.   “I found the perfect farm online.” 

At Emma’s sceptical look, Ruby continued, “I promise, there is something special about the one we are going to," Ruby explained. "I can just feel it, you know?" 

Emma released a resigned sigh. Ruby was impulsive and spiritual, believing her intuition was a powerful force that should not be ignored. Emma needed something a bit more concrete to guide her decisions. 

Ruby slowed at a lane that was much like any other they had passed all day, except this one sported a faded red pickup truck with rounded fenders that was wrapped in fat, colourful light bulbs. A hand-painted sign welcomed guests to the Jones' Christmas Tree Farm for sleigh rides, hot cidre, hot chocolate, and to cut and carry home their very own tree from its stand on the stained wooden slats in the bed of the truck. 

As they bounced along the uneven lane, Ruby cleared her throat. “Don’t kill me…”

“No promises.” Emma tore her attention from the endless rows of firs and spruces lined outside her window to glare at her old friend. The ice in that glare would have stopped the hearts of mere mortals. But, this was no mere mortal. This was Ruby Lucas and nothing could hinder Ruby’s excitement once it gained momentum. 

Ruby smiled brightly at Emma and pulled a duffle bag from behind Emma’s seat. “I booked a cabin for us for the weekend. We were just saying that we needed a little break and they had so many fun things and, wait until you see the farm, it is beautiful!”

Emma had planned to set up a station on her couch and binge-watch garbage telly. Not spend a weekend on a farm, much less a farm that would doubtlessly be filled with families and couples buying trees the entire time. This was definitely worse than the countless movies featuring smiling men and women in red or green sweaters in front of a highly decorated tree that were beginning to populate every channel she surfed, right? Yes, she decided, it was. Ruby had driven her directly into the ridiculous small town that featured in the background of one of those ridiculous movies and was making them stay for the entire weekend. This was not what she had in mind when they were talking about their holiday. Sun, sand, and sangrias had featured in her dreams. Not snow, cidre, and Santa. 

“They’d better have hard cidre or spiked egg nog,” Emma muttered.

“Like I would spend a sober weekend in a cabin on a farm!” Ruby shot Emma a wounded look. 

Emma snorted and shook her head. “Well, that’s something, at least.”

“Oh, hush. This will be a weekend to remember.” 

The lane opened up to reveal a stunning farmhouse with snowy Christmas trees in rows lining the hills sprawling in every direction. A red barn stood out brightly in stark contrast to the white landscape. It would have been breathtaking, Emma thought, if not for the Christmas Village that stood before the barn under twinkling fairy lights.

"Our cabin better be out of town."

"Well...it is close to the Holly Jolly Tavern, I think." 

"RUBY!"

"I know how much you hate Christmas and we are changing that this year. Your heart will grow three sizes and Tiny Tim will live after all."

"Wait...am I the Grinch or Scrooge?" 

"Yes." Ruby laughed, throwing the car in park. "I'll check us in, why don't you go find your Christmas spirit?" She mimed taking a shot before getting out of the car and walking toward the farmhouse, leaving Emma in the passenger seat of the old car, quickly growing cold, wondering why she allowed Ruby to pull her into these ridiculous situations in the first place.

§§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§

The Holly Jolly Tavern was, thankfully, more Tavern than Holly Jolly. Sure, a decorated tree stood tall in the corner near the fire crackling in a large hearth and large multi-coloured bulbs were strung along the walls. And, of course, the drink specials had cutesy holiday names and instrumental Christmas songs played softly in the background. But, the bartenders weren’t dressed as elves or in tacky holiday sweaters and the tables and chairs were your standard sturdy wooden pairings found in drink establishments everywhere.

Emma sat at the long bar and scanned the wall of spirits trying to determine what best fit this situation. 

“What can I get you, love?” The low voice was charmingly accented, and it sent chills down her back. She turned toward the bartender and met brilliant blue eyes that stilled her heart. He wore a crooked smile that made her think very dirty thoughts about his lips and the amber scruff framing the sharp line of his jaw. 

“Whatever your favourite drink is,” Emma answered with a flirty smile. She thanked whatever gods were watching that her voice sounded steady, her mouth was suddenly so dry that she'd expected it to crack. 

He nodded at her request and started pulling together ingredients for her drink. She watched him at his task, mesmerised by his movements and the way he focused so completely on his task. She wondered what it would be like to have that focus directed solely on her and her pleasure. She felt her cheeks heat at the thought and turned away in an attempt to hide it, but his eyes danced with mischievous humour as he handed over her drink, telling her that she was caught. Luckily, he was kind enough not to comment. 

She studied the bright red drink, cranberries and mint floated in the glass, and a thin lime garnished the rim of the tall glass. It looked refreshing and exciting. She wondered if this was truly his favourite drink or a cocktail he had mixed for her using that special power great bartenders had - that uncanny ability to know exactly what a patron needed based on a single glance. 

“A Cranberry Mojito,” he told her, leaning on the bar before her. Her eyes lingered on his well-defined arms and the unfair way they were stretching his deep blue knit sweater. “What brings you here, um?” 

“Emma,” she answered for him, “And, oh, I don’t know. I guess that I have always dreamed of living in one of those ridiculous towns from those cheesy Christmas romances.”

“Pleasure, Emma. Killian,” he said in that musical voice. “I take it this trip wasn’t your idea, then?”

“Nope. My roommate surprised me as we were pulling in - Ohhh! This is good.”

He smiled in triumph at her approval. “The trick is making the simple syrup from scratch with fresh cranberries.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Emma said before taking another sip of the deliciously sweet and tart drink. “Is this truly your favourite drink?”

“Tonight, it is.” 

“Your tastes change so often?” She teased, her eyebrow lifting to emphasise her innuendo. 

“I’m not so fickle as that, love. I am partial to rum, but not so dull as to only take it one way.” Killian replied, meeting her gaze. The heat in the depths of his sapphire eyes made her stomach tighten in response. This man was too good to be anything but trouble. 

Mmm, but it would be some good trouble. 

“That looks fantastic! Can I get one, too?” Ruby’s voice shattered the tension building between them. 

“Coming right up, love,” Killian answered immediately. His eyes lingered on Emma’s a moment longer before he turned to mix Ruby’s drink.

“It’s a Cranberry Mojito,” Emma explained, turning to look at Ruby. “Here, try some while you wait.”

Ruby’s eyes were wide and she was biting her lips together tightly to suppress what Emma knew to be a wolfish smile. Emma shook her head subtly, pleading with Ruby to not say a word. Ruby nodded excitedly at her in approval of whatever she had read into the exchange she interrupted earlier. Emma frantically shook her head - whatever you are thinking, stop thinking it! 

When Killian returned, setting Ruby’s drink on the bar before her, Ruby pounced. “So, what is your name?”

“Killian,” he answered with amusement laced in the melody of his voice.

“And what does your girlfriend think of you making eyes with your patrons, Killian?” 

Emma sputtered and coughed as she tried not to choke on the sip she’d taken before Ruby’s obvious question. Ruby turned to Emma, earnest concern etched on her face, while her eyes danced with humour, “Are you okay, Emma? Need some water?” 

Narrowing her eyes at Ruby, Emma shook her head. Her breath was still taken by the liquid burning in her lungs. A few strangled coughs later, Emma ground out that she was just fine. Killian slid a glass of water to her anyway, the sweet gesture sinking Emma further into… well, whatever was happening between them.

“Good,” said Ruby briskly and she turned to Killian expectantly. 

“I’m not a man to make eyes with someone while involved with another,” his accent clipping the words. 

He hadn’t liked that accusation one bit. The realisation warmed Emma as much as the rum spreading in her blood. He wouldn’t cheat on her and leave her too embarrassed, too ashamed, to face the town she had lived in her entire life. He may be trouble, but he was honourable trouble and that she could handle.

“What kind of a man are you then, Killian?” Ruby asked. She sipped from her cocktail and pinned him with a look that dared him to rise to the bait. 

“Don’t do that, Rubes,” Emma snapped. Her temper was rising - she felt the need to protect Killian from Ruby’s intrusive questions. Killian sent her a grateful look before excusing himself to serve a man flagging him down on the other end of the bar.

“Ooh, you like this one,” Ruby whispered far too loudly as she waggled her eyebrows ridiculously. Emma could not help but laugh and the strange frustration that had so quickly risen in her dispersed.

“No. I just thought that was unfair of you,” Emma said simply.

“Mmhmmm.” 

Emma rolled her eyes at the disbelief in Ruby’s tone. “Fine. Think whatever you want.” 

“I do and I will.” 

“So, what is there to do in a Christmas Village?” Emma asked in a very smooth and effortless transition from the previous topic. 

Ruby perked up and started rattling off various activities that she had booked or seen on her walk over to the pub. Emma listened half-heartedly - her attention straying to the barkeep continuously. She caught him looking her way once and he sent her a devastating smile before returning to his work. 

He served them several more rounds as the night grew older, but he was unable to linger longer than getting their order or setting down their drinks as the Holly Jolly Tavern stayed busy once the sun went down. 

When they left, staggering into the night, Emma felt a twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t seemed to notice her exit. 

Would it have been too much to ask for him to come out running to see her home safe like some Victorian gentleman? She snorted at that very drunk, very ridiculous thought and followed Ruby to the cabin she would call home for the next few days.

[blametheeditor]

Terms Of Agreement

Wander, will they ever grow attached to the little human ? If they do what would the tipping point ?

Even demons and monsters whose sole purpose is to fight to the death for souls get attached sometimes. And unfortunately for Vincent, David, and James, they will get attached to Fritz. And they will fall like domino's.

Vincent respects strength. David enjoys having his ego stroked. James has never had an opportunity to converse with someone just for the sake of companionship. So give them someone who doesn't back down when it counts, who's genuinely respectful, and who enjoys answering and asking questions once it's realized they're relatively 'safe'? And BOOM, they're powerless and will inevitably become fond of the human.

It will be a long and arduous process. One slip up, and Fritz could lose all of the progress made, and the worst part is the fact he doesn't know such a thing might be happening. Not when demons and monsters don't really show affection. They might think a nudge of the shoe is a great way to display their fondness, but just because 3 out of 4 agree does not mean the one thinking he's about to be crushed does.

But, even though they may come to enjoy Fritz's presence, he still has a soul they've been fighting over for six years, and that's something none of them will want to willingly give up. Because how far can their attachment really go in the face of power, rank, and obligation?

At least the threats will stop! Maybe.

...they won't. Not until Fritz fires back with one of his own, and the chance of that happening is the same as one of them shrinking down to human size while the door is closed.

[killerandhealerqueen]

I’m hurting myself with this soulmate au (it’ll have a happy ending don’t worry) but fuuuck is getting there like stabbing myself in the heart

[flowerflamestars]

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: The English (UK TV 2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Cornelia Locke/Eli Whipp Characters: Cornelia Locke, Eli Whipp, White Moon (The English), Original Characters Additional Tags: Fix-It, Magical Realism, Cornelia isn't sick, California Gold Rush, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, letter writing, Mutual Pining, absolute devotion no matter the distance Summary:

Cornelia Locke went west as far as America could take her, and found, after all, she had some magic left.

[zerokrox-blog]

Sick Steve

Steve was feeling sick but he knew better than to ask for help. He’d never gotten it as a child. His parents would typically ignore him or when he'd call out to his parents they’d call over a nanny to “coddle” him because they were too busy to help. And well at the age of nineteen, he knew better. Steve knew he’d have to pull through alone regardless of how bad he was feeling. So on Tuesday morning when he had the opening shift at Family video, he just had a glass of water, his stomach aching badly, and went to work for ten in the morning. 

By ten thirty the pain became sharp and stabbing but Steve kept it going, he filled away some of the stuff that had been returned during the after hours return. He rewound several tapes and helped a few older customers who came in, but he could tell he was moving slowly. 

Thankfully at around eleven forty-five the store was quiet for at least a while, so he sat down and worked on some simple filing stuff, adding in payments made on different accounts, and settled in holding his stomach as the pain became sharper and he felt sweaty and he started panting, forcing air out of his pursed lips. He went into the bathroom to throw-up, feeling nausea swirl through him, he drank water and did his best to stay calm. 

About an hour before Robin would arrive for her shift, Steve found that walking around was getting worse. He struggled with standing to help a customer get something. He found it was hard but he only had a bit longer. He was beyond overheated and sweating. 

A young man about the same age as him came into the store looking for a movie, Steve’s vision was blurring, black spots dancing in his eyes. 

“Hey do you have-” a voice from really far away started to ask but Steve couldn’t hear anything, the voice fading in and out. His body had broken out his goosebumps, sweat dripped down his face. He felt like his stomach and head were on fire. 

 “Hey man, you good?” the man, named Darren, asked. Darren heard the door chime as Tommy Hagan entered the store, a sneer on his face.  

“Aww, Harrington, how is the dethroned king doing?” Tommy sounded smug. “Are you enjoying the low-class-” 

Steve started to speak, but he could only let out a sharp pained sound before he fainted.  

Darren turned sharply, before he could say anything there was a loud thud, Tommy and Darren turned back towards the desk, Steve wasn’t there anymore. Tommy, who had been watching Steve, had already started to run. He pushed Darren out of the way and leaped over the table.

“Harrington? Harrington?? Fuck!” he swore loudly, “Steve? C’mon man this isn’t funny!” Tommy sounded shaky as he frantically tried to rouse Steve. But Steve was unresponsive. Tommy put his hand on Steve's forehead and yelped in shock, yanking his hand back. Steve’s forehead was burning hot. 

He looked up at Darren, who was worriedly leaning over the desk.

“Man, maybe we should call for an ambulance.” Darren’s voice was serious. “I’ll stay here with you.” Tommy nodded and yanked the phone off the cradle and dialed the emergency line, pleading for an ambulance to please come to Family Video.

Robin arrived at work to the sound of a siren going off loudly in the parking lot, a panicked Tommy Hagan talking to a paramedic. And another paramedic and another man wheeling out a stretcher with a familiar person on the stretcher. “STEVE!” Robin screamed. She was running forward before Tommy caught her before she could stop the stretcher from getting into the ambulance. Steve’s face was pale and sweaty, he was breathing through a mask, his eyes were closed and wasn’t moving which was causing Robin and Tommy so much distress, neither of whom had ever seen him so still.

“We are taking him to Hawkins Memorial. They will be able to help him, if you want to meet us there.” Darren, Tommy and Robin nodded. Darren went home, while Robin called Keith and closed the shop, not allowing him to make her stay. 

Tommy drove Robin to the hospital. They both arrived not long after the ambulance to the hospital, racing to the nurses station asking about Steve. 

“Harrinton! Steve Harrington just arrived here in an ambulance.” Tommy gasped out, trying to explain. The nurse, Margaret, nodded. 

“Ok dear. Do you know him?” Tommy nodded, shakily. Margaret handed him a huge stack of papers after explaining to him that Steve was being prepped for surgery and would be ok.

“Why is he being prepped for surgery?” Robin asked. 

“He has a ruptured appendix. He needs it removed as soon as possible, especially due to the length of time between the symptoms started and when his appendix ruptured. We will need some paperwork completed while he is in surgery.” 

Tommy and Robin took the paperwork and two pens and sat down to file the paperwork after getting assurance that the nurse would let them know if anything happened and give them any updates. 

They finished the paperwork fairly soon and gave it to the nurse. The two of them paced anxiously as one hour turned into two and two turned into three before the surgeon came into the room asking for the family of Steve Harrrington at the nurses station. 

Margaret pointed to Tommy and Robin who were pacing. Dr. Markus walked over to them and introduced himself, shaking their hands. 

“Is he…..ok?” Robin’s voice shook as she asked the question. 

Dr Markus led them out of the room and into a small side room to talk. “He will be but there were some complications. He has peritonitis and abscesses in his stomach because of the ruptured appendix. His body was already slowly shutting down due to the toxins in his body.” Robin began to cry softly and Tommy’s face was white. “He is recovering but it will be slow going. He is in the Intensive Care Unit for now so he could have around the clock care.” Dr Markus motioned them to follow him once they had calmed and were ready to see Steve. 

He led them up to the third floor on the right wing into the intensive care unit. They were led to the second room away from the nurses station where Steve lay asleep with heavy machinery around him, beeping and hissing. A breathing mask supplying him with oxygen covered his nose and mouth. He was pale, unmoving and mostly quiet. Tommy let out a small sound at the sight of him. Robin bit back a sob and rushed into the room and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. 

Once the room cleared of medical staff Tommy and Robin sat on either side of his bed, each holding one of his hands, Tommy quietly whispered apologies into their joined hands. 

“Please wake up Steve. I’m sorry. Please wake up.” his voice was shaky and hurting. Robin looked at him feeling unsure and also a bit angry. But she held back anything she wanted to ask. For now at least Steve was ill and needed all the help he could get.

[shortstak87]

Poor Siegfried has more to worry about

[thought-begone]

I guess the real glorious evolution was the homoerotic yearning we made along the way

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x06 - “The Message Hidden Within the Pattern”

[archi-pelago]

maybe never forgive. but things are different now. so we'll use maybe.

[malasdose]

more itafushis i drew before ch 267 to cope 'cuz i was genuinely so scared for what was gonna happen next, but i think i'm slowly learning trust again with gege akutami 💗 not really