#i am becoming something strange and deep fried…..

[unknownarmageddon]

GEDDON. SCALE UP/SCALE DOWN BY LOUIE ZONG, BUT IT'S KILLER

OKAY so it took me forever to get to actually listening to this because i am bad at everything ever but i am now so i will report back o7

[mathmarb]

French fries and pineapples

She was like an essence, woven into the smallest threads of my day, intangible yet unmistakable. I’d go days without talking with her, seeing her or thinking of her on purpose, yet she was there, like a whisper I didn’t quite hear but always felt.

It was her, I realize now, in the warmth of the early sun slipping into my room as I struggled to wake. I thought it was just the morning light, but it was her. She was there in the way I found myself smiling at nothing on the walk home after class, feeling a strange warmth even on the hardest, longest days. I never stopped to wonder why—I just thought it was something transcendental. But it was her, wasn't it?

In those spaces where silence usually pressed in, the kind that felt heavy and made my mind stop in its tracks, I’d often sense an ache I couldn’t name. It wasn’t just an absence of sound; it was the presence of something else, something soft. She was there, I realize now, in those quiet moments, filling the emptiness with a warmth I didn’t know I needed. I used to sit in those silences feeling restless, almost lost, but now I see it was her that kept me steady, as if the silence itself had a heartbeat—hers—beating gently beside mine, keeping me from slipping too deep.

It must have been her, too, in the gentle brush of wind that played with my hair, as though the air itself had taken on her softness, her quiet affection. I’d never thought twice about it, thinking only that the breeze was tender that day, not that she was there, unseen and unnoticed, yet somehow breathing life into everything around me.

Maybe it really was something transcendent, something bound in a mystery beyond what we could see. Each time she looked at me, I felt I was catching a glimpse of heaven—of a love rooted not just in affection, but in a sacred calling. Her gaze held something holy, like a reminder that love itself is a gift from God, a reflection of His love for us. I see now that her presence was more than companionship; it was God’s grace made visible, making even the ordinary moments a step toward eternity.

I’ll never be with her again, not in the way I did, but somehow, she’s here all the same, woven into every fiber of my days. Her absence is there, but so is her presence, like a quiet, persistent echo that follows me through each moment, each breath. She may be gone, but I’ll never really lose her.

She’s become part of the world around me, part of who I am now, and I find comfort in that. I’m grateful, truly, for the gift of her love, for the way she made me see life differently, see myself differently. It’s strange, though, how the world seems quieter now, even when surrounded by sound. I guess I’ve only now begun to realize how deeply she touched my life, how much of her essence became part of my own. And maybe that’s enough—though, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if I’d held on a little tighter.

I didn’t expect to feel her absence this way, like a shadow that’s somehow still bright. I suppose that’s what love does, leaves traces we can’t erase, gentle imprints we carry forward without even realizing.

[gentlemancrow]

In its Vastness, Floats Some Fragment of a Song - A Fairytale (Preview!)

AAHHHH CROW WRITING? ON YOUR DASH? IT'S MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK!! (ER WELL SORT OF!!) This, my friends, is a little PREVIEW of my fic I am writing for the Summer in the Archives event over at @seasons-in-the-archives!! It is not quite finished, but I am posting the first little bit as a prologue so that my AMAZING AND INCREDIBLE AND BREATHTAKING INIMITABLE ARTISTS might post their pieces as well! I CANNOT thank @lucky-numberme and @fadesinthelight enough for their ABSOLUTELY MINDBLOWING ILLUSTRATIONS for this fic I was reduced to a puddle every time I saw them and they are just RADIANT please go check out both their stuff!! And please do stay tuned for the full fic SOON!! It's got everything! Mer!Jon, Martin with big sailor rowing arms, Peter Lukas suffering for eternity, the works!

In its Vastness, Floats Some Fragment of a Song Artists: @lucky-numberme [ART HERE] and @fadesinthelight [ART HERE]

In a tiny little town far up north, there is a strange lighthouse keeper with a story... The story, he says, is true, no matter what anyone says, and it is all about the strange fog that seems to both haunt and protect the town all at once. It is about a young Sailor full of song and hope and passion, and a Captain, full of salt and cold and greed. It is about a beautiful Siren of the deep, doomed to be fascinated and consumed by both. But it is also, as all stories are, a story about love, and how love, above all things, is the most powerful force in the universe.

Way and away up North in the pink heather-speckled Highlands, watched over by a plucky herd of wooly cows and cradled by the sea, lies a sleepy little town.  Many stories begin just like this, but this town is not a sleepy little town like the kind found in the once upon a times of myth and legend.  No heroes have been birthed, nurtured, and then launched to glory from its humble foundations.  No illuminated manuscripts have been penned singing the humble origins of a tale that changed the course of history and the world.  It is not the resting place of holy artifact, arcane knowledge, or treasure beyond the wildest of dreams.  It is not even the first step on a journey to greatness and discovery for anyone seeking answers or absolution.

It is nothing and nowhere.

Naught more than a barnacle crusted dock with a few stalls that pass for a fish market, a ratty old pub that leaks in the summer and the winter, and a smattering of cottages huddled up against the sea cliffs, most maps won’t even bother giving it the dignity of a dot.  There is not much to earn it one, either. 

Perhaps the best piece of fried haddock you ever had in your life and would never have again, yet always crave when the salt air hits your tongue just right.  Maybe a beautiful piece of scrimshaw to take home to a spouse or child as a souvenir, but then never being able to recall exactly where it came from or what, exactly, it depicts.  A harrowing tale of a town so dank and damp and dripping from every rafter the favorite coat you wore would never be fully dry again.  A pressed thistle so purple it recalls a bruised seaside sunset and the lines of poetry you read when you plucked it and laid it down against the lines of it.  More likely, though, it would become a wistful memory of the last restful stop before heading out into the blinding white of arctic waters for a whaling voyage.  Just a desperate sliver of idyllic peace before steeping yourself to the elbows in blood and gore and bone.

Truth be told though, even the whales know better than to waste any time in that particular dreary little cove.  But there is one thing even the smallest, humblest bastion of quaintness, no matter how dull, always seems to possess.

A secret…

Something buried in the sands of time, hidden betwixt dusty vellum pages of history, whispered and polished on so many tongues it hardly resembles itself anymore.  There are stories here, indeed.  If one were to stay in the town long enough, treat just the right local to an extra pint, they might be lucky enough to catch one.  Though none would give anything much away of the truth of what really happened there all those years ago. The thing about a good secret is no one knows truly what the truth of it is.  It only knows itself.

And this town’s secret lies in the fog.

There’s really only one thing any poor soul has ever said upon taking their leave, and that would be something along the lines of, “Thickest fog I ever did see in my life!”, or “Like pea soup, it was!”, or “Blimey, I couldn’t see me hand in front of me face!”.  For, truly, that is the one thing notable at all about the place.  It is visited, nay, haunted, by a wicked fog that presides over the town as mayor, ruler, deity, judge, jury, and executioner— all of the above at once.  When the fog rolls in, everyone in town knows to close the shutters and close their hearts against the silvery sovereign that guards them from ancient evils they are privileged not to comprehend.  Nor does anyone care to.  They need not know how it came to be to accept it for what it is.  Though, it is not a cruel thing at all, despite how it may sound.  It looks out for them as much as they look out for it.  It is their guardian and custodian.  The billowing mists are as much a lonely embrace as they are a shield.  There is an ineffable and beautiful sort of love there and the residents wouldn’t have it any other way.

The more skeptical amongst visitors might say upon hearing this lore, for one cannot help but hear it from someone, that it sounds like romantic balderdash, or utter poppycock, tripe, drivel, or whatever colorful word they like best to describe something out of a fairy story.  Just a tale for children and old folks in their cups shameless enough to believe in magic again.  And perhaps there is a small bit of merit in that.  Everyone knows deep down fog is just fog.  It has no soul, has no master and obeys no laws of humanity or divinity.  But the locals will swear on the graves of all their ancestors before them to you that their fog, above all fog, is indeed a living thing with a will and a mind of its own, and you would do best to give it the reverence it is due.  Lest it claim your very soul from your body to drag out to sea with it when it goes, forever to wander the watery wastes.  Or to turn you into fog yourself, forever restless, forever intangible and mutable.  Or to forever be lost no matter where you wander, never to find your way home again.  It has happened before and it will happen again.  Or so the stories go.

That strange tenet, or superstition, or legend, or whatever it may be, lays as thick upon the town as the fog itself, coiled like a silver dragon guarding its secret and guarding its home.  Then it vanishes from waking memory just as fiercely with a snap of white-fanged forgetfulness.

Strange, indeed…

Though perhaps it is a bit of an exaggeration to say the fog is the only thing strange about the little village.  There would be little to tell if there were only a nasty bit of weather to the place with a few fanciful tales to give it life.  There is also something to be said of the lighthouse that stands sentinel high atop the misty cliffsides to watch it. 

And there is especially something to be said of its keeper…

He is an old man.  Not old in the way that creases the face and rots the tooth and loosens the tongue, but old in the way of the stone of the cliffs, softly etched by the wind.  Of the dauntlessness of the waves that crash upon the jetties, knowing they will someday, even if eons from now, prevail.  Of the stars that still guide sailors home from their cosmically fixed points in the sky.  The locals say he has lived for a hundred years and he’ll live for a hundred more yet.  No one knows exactly when he came, but no one remains who can recall a time without him.  He has always been.

He is built like those very cliffs upon which he roosts, dresses only in a faded blue peacoat and a mariner’s cap over his silver-white hair, and says very little. He has rheumy blue eyes with a clouded pupil that some swear rolls and swirls like the fog, but he has never made eye contact with anyone long enough to be sure.  He keeps his hands in his pockets and his gaze on the ground and the smoke from his pipe seems to cling to him like a shroud.  His rare comings always feel like a prophecy come to pass, expected and yet somehow unexpected.  A scrimshaw etching come to life from dead and yellowed bone.  He lives a solitary existence in his lighthouse, and might just fade away into myth and memory himself, if not for the command of the full moon and the story of what truly happened in that sleepy little town so long ago that lives inside of him and only in him.

Everyone in town knows there is only one chance to hear it.

On the evenings of the nights when she shines her brightest and the tide pulls back its curtains wide, he comes.  He stops at the market for the few paltry supplies he always buys, smokes his pipe on the dock as he watches the tide roll out and away from him, and then, without saying a word to a single soul, heads into the pub.  The owner already knows to pour him a pint without his asking— stout, dark and frothy, and placed on the table beneath the window as far from the other patrons as possible.  The Keeper takes the same chair, faces it toward the window, toward the mocking moon, and takes out the same book of folk tales from his pocket in a vain attempt to look unapproachable and absorbed.  It never works.

Every time The Keeper thinks perhaps this time they will not come, perhaps this time they will leave him alone.  He is always wrong.

He barely has time to even get through the haunting description of the selkie standing upon a cliff, without her coat, without her home, without anything, before the first child skitters bashfully up to him with wonder and stars in her eyes.

“E-Excuse me, sir…?” the tiny voice quivers behind him.

The Keeper winces.  He closes his book slowly, deliberately, and draws in a long, shuddering breath.  She is only spared the frostiest of glances out of the corner of an eye peeking from beneath a bushy brow.  The girl rocks to and fro on her heels and chews her lip, brimming with innocence and absolutely unafraid.  The Keeper says nothing.  She had been warned of this, she is prepared, and she continues undaunted.

“They say, sir…” the girl starts up, glancing back at her eagerly grinning father for reassurance, “They say you have… A story?”

The Story again.  The Keeper feels its weight tighten around his throat.  An albatross.  A noose.  A curse.  A duty.  It is all of these things, and he may not refuse it.  He has not the power to do so even if he dared.

“Is that what they say…?” he rumbles at length.  His voice creaks like an old castle door pulled open after centuries.

The girl bobbles her head in affirmation.

“Yes, sir!  They say it’s the greatest!  They say it’s a story about the merfolk!  And that it’s TRUE!  And-!” she chirps, then suddenly turns bashful, her voice lowering under the weight of some unutterable secret.

“…And that it’s a… a love story?”

The Keeper grinds a pensive note between his teeth and down his throat.  It is no longer avoidable.  They are no longer avoidable.  The Keeper can feel the aroused ears and eyes of the pub patrons turn upon him, luminous and yellow like a pack of wolves in the night.  He knows has but one weapon to keep them at a safe distance, loathe as he is to lay himself bare once again.  Yet he knows he must, and he deigns at last to turn his solitary chair.  The legs scrape mournfully in harmony with the crackle and pop of the hearth.  A collective breath is held. 

The storyteller faces his audience.

“A love story, you say?” he asks, painting each word in hushed calligraphy with his tongue.

“Mmhmm!” 

The girl, unafraid of the craggy, shadowed face hollowed out by wicked firelight even still, grins from ear to ear as a few of the not quite as brave children scuttle to flank her and claim their spots.

“Is that what you desire to hear?” The Keeper rumbles, his eyes everywhere and everywhen in the room but the child before him.

“Yes, yes!  Very much!”

The Keeper snorts and scoffs loudly, drops his forearms to his knees, and looks the brazen child dead on, eyes full of fog and eternity and a nameless, primordial darkness.  The blood chills in her veins and she swears she feels the fire falter and its warmth flee, but she does not look away.

He demands payment of her, “What’s so dreadfully exciting about a silly old love story, then?”

She answers the call.   She answers it with a fearless step forward and her full chest.

“Oh, everything!  Everything!” the girl cries, “Love is the best thing in the world!  It’s what gets us through life!  It’s the meaning of it all!  It’s what they always fight for in the best stories!  Love is the only thing worth dying for!  Isn’t it?  Isn’t that true?”

The Keeper’s weathered face splits into a bitter, cryptic grin.  The eyes vanish beneath the brim of his mariner’s cap.  The payment is accepted.

“I see.  Aye, you do speak true.  But I’m afraid you’ve missed the most important part-” he corrects, and hoists himself back up to his full height like a mountain crushed upward into agonizing, epochal existence as he goes on.

“You see… Love is so much more than just two people choosing to spend the rest of their days together.  More than just something to fight for, something to get you through the dark of the night and the cold of winter, something that makes life worth enduring.”  

“Love is… a force of nature- no, no… more than that… so much more than that.  It is everything.  Literally everything.  So I suppose, then, that one could say all stories ever told or will be told are love stories if you look at it the right way.  But that only makes it that much more essential.  Love is the only force in this universe stronger than death, the only one to outlive it and the only one to destroy more utterly.  It is the only one that needs no other force to sustain it.  It simply is.  It always has been and it always will be.  It is creation and destruction together incarnate.  Just like the wind will always love a cliff and by the end of the eons it takes to destroy it with its passion another will have risen to love it right back.  That’s what love is.  A constant, binding force that weaves the very fabric of the world.  And all stories are about those who would either be bound or unwound by it.  Mine is a story about both.”

The adults are captivated by him now, even the ones he knows have heard his story a thousand times before.  He must tell it.  He doesn’t want to.  He never wants to.  He knows if he doesn’t there will be a greater price to pay.

He takes out a piece of half-finished scrimshaw from his pocket, as well as a scriber, and etches at it for a while in contemplative silence.  The Story comes back to him in undulating bluegreen waves, unseen, unheard, as he adds a few delicate scales to a sinuous, achingly beautiful mercreature upon the whale bone.  His thumb runs almost mournfully across it, and his lip curls back into a barely perceptible sneer.  The ceaseless tide inside of him wells up.  The rest of his fingers tighten ever so slightly, imperceptible to all but the few children seated closest to his boots on the floorboards.  The fog in his eye swirls, furious, indignant, but then gives way and parts like a silvery curtain upon the beginning of his story so many years ago.

When he finally begins his voice is thin and shivery, almost inaudible, like seafoam slinking over shimmering sand.

“Once upon a time…”

[mac-kd8]

                                                 Law x pregnant readers

Waking up, (Name) only felt tired as if she hadn't slept in months.  She  just blamed it from the late nights of working and nothing else. Not even realizing when she woke up it was already in the afternoon and the Heart Pirates were currently eating in the galley.

With a loud groan (Name) took off her Pj's and walked into the shower, she gasped slightly when the water presser felt a little more sensitive on her chest than usual.

(Name) shrugged it off, thinking it was because she was still healing from the last battle she took part of, so she didn't think much about it. Propping herself next to her captain like she always does, she quietly ate her late lunch while trying to keep her eyes open. Law being the observant man he is, grew quite worried about his beloved wife acting so fatigue. "Are you alright?" Law asked, trying to act he wasn't concerned. She only nodded before face-planting into her food with a loud smack. No one panicked or thought it was something to worry about, guessing (Name) was just having a narcoleptic attack.

Later that day, (Name) was currently laying on her bed while reading a book. Feeling like she was about to throw up, she put down her book next to her and quickly opened the bathroom door. She then puke out all of her lunch and maybe last night dinner as well into the toilet. Wipeing her mouth, (Name) then headed toward the sink to splash some cold water on her face.

Feeling a familiar presence, (Name) then turned her head to where Law was currently standing with a worried expression on his face. "Are you okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, I guess it's just a little food poisoning." (Name) said while scratching the back of her head.

"Alright but let me know when it gets worse."Law stated as he exited the bathroom.

(Name's) heart almost escaped from her chest when the submarine started shaking and yellow lights started flashing. Running onto the deck she could already see a battle taking place with men in white and blue uniforms on one side and men in colorful hats and white overalls on the other side. Unsheathing her twin katanas, (Name) then started cutting one marine after another but for some strange reason she already felt like she was out of energy. 20 minutes into the battle, with a large pant for air she finishes off the last of the marines before wobbling back to the submarine's doors.

"Damn why am I already out of breath, those marines were just small fries. My training methods haven't changed one bit, why do I feel so weak. "(Name) muttered to herself in annoyance.

(Name) only pushed her food around on the plate, hardly nibbling then she looked around the room. Everyone was so cheerful and she couldn't help but smile.

"Not eating much I see." Law commented, leaning over to whisper in her ear. Not like he needs to, over the usually loud noise that the Heart Pirates made at each meal.

"I'm just not hungry." She responded.

"Strange and I thought for someone who was out of breath just by fighting a few marines would be starving." Law stated in a matter-of-factly tone.

"Is it not to your liking, (Name)?" The head chef asked, catching sight of Law's actions.

"It's good. I'm just not hungry right now"(Name) said as she pushed back the plate.

"I'll put it in the fridge until you feel like eating again,"The chef said as he scooped up her plate of uneaten food.

"Do you need to lie down again?" Law asked her again for the third time today.

"I'm okay."

"Could I get some orange juice though?"(Name) sweetly asked the cook.

Then immediately , the crew got back to their usual antics paying no mind to (Name's) odd behavior.

She got to her feet while squeezing Law's shoulder gently. "I'm going to read a book." She said before taking a sip of the juice.

She was hoping that it was simply a case of stomach flu and not something alot more serious.

(Name) was once again in the bathroom and vomiting all of what she ate yesterday, which was not that much. (Name) felt terrible , as would anyone in these types of situations would, however, she still didn't want to bring the matter up. Luckily, Law hasn't woken up from his deep slumber , which made her sigh in relief. Slipping back into bed, she then let her eyelids close as she slept all the way through the afternoon again.

Then that cycle of having no appetite and vomiting lasted for this day as well, which made Law start to worry even more about his wife.

"(Name)!" She picked up her head by the ship's railing in surprise as she heard her name being called by Penguin. Her stomach hadn't seemed to settle, and now she is throwing up into the sea.

She then turned her head to the mechanic, trying her best not to look sick.

Penguin walked up to (Name) getting rather closer, causing (Name) to become nervous.

"You look pale." Penguin commented.

"I haven't been feeling well the last few days Penguin. So I'm probably a bit pale." (Name) stated .

"You're sick (Name)?" questioned Shachi. (Name) nodded her head, however quickly realized what she had brought up.

"I'm only slightly sick, just a little headache. Really."

"You sure (Name)?" Law asked as he walked up to the swordswoman, worried about her health.

She then gave a reassuring thumbs up to everyone to show that she was okay. Though internally, she was kicking herself for lying to the crew, even more so to her trusting and loving husband. The crew soon believed the lie as they continued with their day, however, Penguin, Shachi, and Law didn't seem to be convinced, so they kept an eye on her.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it." (Name) thought as she ran to the bathroom for the third time this week. She still was getting lucky with Law having once again already left their room or sleeping, but she knew that it was only a matter of time before they really began to be suspicious.

"This will pass. This will pass."(Name) kept telling herself furiously as she finished with her recent vomiting episode. She picked herself up, taking in deep breaths trying to settle her stomach. As she looked into the mirror, she noticed that she is even paler than yesterday.

Putting on a brave face, she then walked out of the bathroom and went onto the deck.

"Land ahoy!" Shachi shouted as he pointed at the piece of land.

All of the Heart Pirates gather around the railing in a disorderly long line, and lean over it, while watching the island they were about to dock. They had docked at a unique island well-known in the areas as vicious wild blood thirsty animals live there.

"Yahoo, a new adventure!" (Name) said happily before walking off the submarine's plank. As she got closer and closer onto the island, she felt someone grabbing her shoulder.

"I think it's for the best if you stay back in your current state."Law stated with a worried look on his face.

She only shrugged his hand off. "I'm fine, I feel a lot better today."

Before Law could protest, (Name) had already made her way onto the island.

And then she left, not running, but walking kinda in a slow pace into the forests.

After some time had passed, both Penguin and Shachi had returned after a troublesome adventure with some saber-tooth monkeys. Law was starting to get a little worry since (Name) wasn't back yet, so he went the same direction she walked in.

As Law walked deeper and deeper into the forest he finally made eye contact with the swordswoman. "Help!" (Name) called out as she was kneeling onto the tall grass while clenching her slightly bleeding shoulder.

Law was surprised, (Name) never called for help unless it's something really serious or life-threatening .

Activating his Room he switches places with (Name) while killing the beast in the process.

While Law was carrying (Name) through the forest, she leaned away from his chest so she wouldn't get vomit onto his clothes

-x-

"I'm going to take a blood sample." (Name) nodded as she rolled up her sleeve allowing Law to apply the alcohol onto her skin then inserting the needle. Only taking a tiny amount, Law removed the needle and quickly placed a band-aid on where he poke her. "You can leave, I will give you your results as soon as possible."

She only nodded before leaving the infirmary room.

Law stood there from where he was sitting in shock, not knowing how to feel after reviewing the results of her blood test. It was a mix of happiness, relief, fear and mostly parental love. It took all of his strength not to jump down like a crazy man who just won the lottery, because it was the middle of the night and he didn't want to wake up his crew. When he finally made it to the doors of his room, he put on a calm face and slowly and quietly opened the door. "Hi Captain, so did my blood test turn out good?" (Name) asked casually.

"Yep, it seems that both of you are fine." Law said with a big goofy smile on his usually calm and serious face. (Name) looked at her captain in surprise and in slight confusion, even already knowing the answer. "W-what do you mean the b-both of us?" (Name) managed to stutter out.

"I mean our baby. You're 9 weeks pregnant."

He was in love with (Name), and the idea of her having his baby was ideal to him, but it was still a shock, they'd never even spoken or brought up the subject. He wanted a family, but the idea still scares him. All the memories of his mother and father, and his little sister Lami all stuck to him. Then, the struggles and problems of them being famous pirates with both of them having large bounties on their heads. And all of the struggles that their child will face as well, everything he, (Name) and his unborn child, everything they will face together suddenly hit him in one go.

"Law I'm sorry, I should have been more careful." (Name) said while sobbing.

Law quickly, but carefully picks her up and sits her onto his lap while stroking the spot where their child was growing.

"Sorry for what? Making this the happiest day of my life." Law said before kissing her still flat stomach.

(Name) began to cry more but it wasn't tears of sadness, they were tears of joy. "We're going to be parents. I'm going to be a mom."

"And I'm going to be a dad. " Law said while showering her with even more kisses. (Name) squeaked when Law gently swooped her off her feet and began sprinting across the metal halls.

"What the... Law?!"

"Your shoulder, your shoulder was wounded. You're staying overnight, no, 3 nights in the infirmary. What if the baby got hurt. What if the baby got killed?"Law started listing off the things that could happen to their unborn child.

-x-

"Everyone, we have an announcement!" Law shouted loudly to get everyone's attention who was on the deck.

"We're getting a new crew member." (Name) said while trying to hold back her giggles.

"Oh, that's nice, when can we meet them?" Penguin asked.

"Less than 9 months." Law answered which made everyone go completely silent.

"We're having a baby!" Both (Name) and Law shouted cheerfully.

They were all staring at the expected couple, completely dumbfounded.

Astounded, flabbergasted, shock whichever word to describe their expressions and the tense atmosphere. Law's hand started to turn purple just by how hard (Name) was squeezing his hand.

"CONGRATULATIONS," Penguin and Shachi shouted in perfect unison.

"This is amazing, this calls for a party!" A Heart Pirate exclaimed.

"No alcohol for the pregnant woman though," Bepo smiled warmly at her from Law's side.

"(Name), don't cry, " Law said, reaching around her shoulders to comfort her.

"I know, it has to be the unbalanced hormones. I'm just so happy, this is a new chapter of my life." (Name) said as she cried into Law's chest.

Throughout the day everyone was partying while congratulating the new parents-to-be.

"So who will be the godparents?" Bepo asked.

"We have already decided that Ikkaku and you will be the godparents of our child."(Name) answered. Bepo then lifted both (Name) and Law off their feet and gave them a big hug while crying tears of joy. "Thank you, I'll be the best godfather ever." Bepo said, which made everyone in the Heart Pirates stare in jealousy, especially Penguin and Shachi.

"You guys will make great uncles." (Name)said with a big smile while hugging both of them in her arms.

"Lucky bear." Shachi muttered.

The 2 mechanics' faces turned a deep shade of red when (Name) kissed both of them on the cheek. "Don't worry, there is enough love to go around."

Then out of nowhere, a large explosion could be heard across the deck.

"Heart Pirates, Give up now or prepare to die."A marine holding a megaphone demanded.

(Name) smirked before unsheathing her twin katanas as she got into a fighting stance.

"Do your worst.''She retorted before Law used his devil fruit ability to transport her back into the sub.

Law shut the metal doors, ignoring the loud banging noises that were coming from the other side.

"Law, you ass, I want to fight too. Let me out, let me out." (Name) demanded as she kept on banging her fist onto the metal door.

"No, as your captain and doctor I order you to stay back and let us handle this. You're pregnant, you need to take it easy for now on."Law stated, which made (Name) slump down in disappointment. She hated being useless, she wanted to fight, she wanted to help, she wanted to do something besides laying down and doing nothing.

"Oh great, 7 more months of being totally useless." (Name) muttered under her breath while sighing.

A few weeks later-

(Name) felt like she was already going crazy. She wasn't allowed to do anything and she meant she couldn't do anything. First, the large weights she and Jean Bart can usually lift with ease have been replaced with 5 pound weights and she wasn't even allowed to use them for more than 5 minutes. Law had also forbidden( name) in certain places in the submarine as well, which was almost one half of the metal vessel that was off limits for her.

(Name) also swears, Law has super hearing because when she decides to get out of her bed, Law uses his devil fruit abilities to teleport himself right next to his wife's side.

"Law, go back to work. I'm just getting a snack."(Name) protested.

"Then ask me or someone else from the crew to get it for you. You're still in your first trimester of pregnancy, there is still a possible chance of miscarriages or physical deformities or all sources of possible medical stated as he called forth his room again then instantly a jar of peanuts appeared in his hand.

"Here, take these and go back to our room." Was all Law said as he pointed the direction of where their room was located, as if she was completely clueless of where she had been living for most of her life.

Rolling eyes (Name) went back to her room while munching down on the jar of peanuts on the way.

-x-

When the Heart Pirates docked onto an island, (Name) thought she could get some alone time to herself while getting the necessary items for the future stages of her pregnancy. And it was a good thing too since her pants and shirt had been feeling tight lately. "Bye Captain, I'm going to do a little shopping." (Name) said before she jumped off the submarine's front deck.

"Room, Shambles." Law now had (Name) in his arms.

"What the hell Law?" (Name) questioned.

"I'm coming with you, " Law stated as he tightly held her hand.

"Law, I'll be just fine. It's just a little shopping, I'm barely showing." (Name) retorted while trying to slip her hand from Law's strong grip.

"Nope, as long as you're carrying my child you're stuck with me." Law said, securitly wrapping around his arm onto her waist.

After 5 medical and clothes stores later, Law's arms were both covered in shopping bags while (Name) just carried a single bag with a small bottle of medicine inside of it.

"Law, let me carry that for you. You know I can lift 1000 times my own body weight." (Name) Stated with an annoyed frown.

"I got this, I don't want you to lift even one eight of your body weight. Your-" (Name) then cut off Law before he could finish the rest of this statement. "Yeah, Yeah, I know I'm pregnant and pregnant women shouldn't be exerting themselves."

Smirking devilishly, (Name) came up with a small plan to get away from her overbearing husband.

"Hey honey, I really need to use the bathroom."(Name) said as she pretended her bladder was about to burst.

"Very well."He responded, then they headed to the closest bathroom.

Reaching down in her left sock, (Name) grabbed a screwdriver and began unscrewing the bathroom's top window.

When (Name) was finally outside of the building, she began to grin like she has been in prison for 20 years and just now escaped. She was free, she could do whatever she wanted without worrying about Law dragging her back to their room and making her stay there until the next day.

In a swift motion, (Name) unsheathed her twin katanas and blocked an attack from a familiar mask man.

"Yo... it's been a while, when was the last time we fought together."(Name)greeted, enjoying the weight and feel of her swords when fighting. "Too long and this time I will become victorious." Killer responded.

Killer and (name) have been rivals ever since their crew had first met. The 2 of them will always break into fights everytime when they see one another. But so far they're about even, most of the time their fights usually ended up in draws.

The fight soon stopped when Killer stepped away and put back his scythe blades into its case. "Hey what gives, why are you chickening out now! The fight was just about to get better." (Name) shouted.

"I'm not fighting a pregnant woman, I want to kick your ass at your best."Killer stated while pointing to her slightly rounded stomach. "Damn, I knew I should have put on more baggy clothing."(Name) thought to herself as she tried to cover her baby bump.

"You're a pirate, why should you even care? Pirates do whatever they want."(Name) exclaimed while pouting slightly.

"I may be a pirate but I'm still a man who doesn't like fighting weak women." Was all he said before walking away.

"I'm not weak...fight me, please! Law won't even let me hold a fork. Please, I'm only on my 16 week."(Name)whined as she tugged onto Killer's shirt.

"No, and you look alot more further along than that."Killer retorted which made (Name) gasp loudly of being called fat.

Before Killer had any time to dodge, (Name) kicked him square in the balls which made him groan in pain.

"Meanie!" (Name) spat out before taking off into the forest nearby with small tears running down her face.

"Ouch!"He groaned loudly, laying on the ground while holding his sore nuts.

-x-

Law was pissed. But mostly Law was extremely worried. He couldn't find his wife anywhere, but what really worries him is that the Kid Pirate's ship has been spotted as well.

What if the Kid Pirates took advantage of his wife's current state or even worse killed her on the spot.

No matter how much observation Haki Law uses, he didn't have any lead on where his wife is.

"Captain, we know where she is." Penguin reported.

"Yeah, Killer from the Kid Pirates told us she kicked him in the nuts and went into the forest,"Shachi added.

"And why did she kick him in the nuts, (Name) doesn't usually use low blows?"Law stated with a raised eyebrow.

"Well,"Penguin started off while scratching the back of his head.

"He kinda called her fat." Shachi answered.

In a blink of an eye, Law called forth his room and teleported himself into the forest. Without even trying, Law hears small whimpers coming from the top of a tree so he looks up and sees the person he was looking for all day.

"(Name!)Law called out his wife's name.

"Go away!" She screamed then resumed crying again.

"No, I know I've been a little too clingy lately, but it's only because I want the best for you and our future kid as well. And to be fair, I don't really blame you for running away from me, so that is why I promise you I will try my best to give you your space."Law promised as he kneeled down.

(Name) stopped crying and looked at her husband.

"Okay, I'm coming down now."(Name) responded as she started climbing down onto one branch after another.

She gasps when one branch snaps from her weight and she begins to fall, face first into a painfull fall, and Law swears his heart stops for 5 seconds as his throat hitchs.

"Room, shambles!"

When his wife's stomach was only inches away from hitting the hard ground, she instantly appeared in Law's arms.

"Law, I'm sorr-"(Name) whispered her husband's name.

"That was way too close." He then looked and touched her baby bump gently.

"You're never ever leaving my sight until that baby is out of you. That's an order." Was all he said as he started walking back to the sub with his wife in his arms.

-x-

(Name) found herself laying flat on her back in the medical bay as Law prepared the new ultrasound equipment.

"Damn, that's cold." She hissed when the clear gel made contact with her stomach.

"Sorry," he apologised half-heartedly.

"Usually I would just use my scanning ability, but I think it would be a lot more useful to check in like this."Law stated then he turned on the monitor. He moved the device around her stomach slowly with his eyes on the screen, instantly stopped when he saw a gray blob in the middle.

"There's our child."He pointed to the blob.

As (Name) looked closer at the screen, she cock an eyebrow when another blob had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. "Honey, why are there 2 of them?"(Name) stated while pointing where the 2 blobs were located.

"You're just seeing things, there is no-"Law stopped himself when indeed there were more than 1 blob. "We're having twins."Law whispered so softly that (Name) had to ask him to repeat himself.

"We're having twins. Yes,! Now you don't have to get pregnant again."Law said again as his wife just stood there in shock, not knowing how to process the new information.

"Wait, you're not satisfied with one kid." (Name) yelled at her husband in which he only nodded.

"Great. I already get smothered enough with one baby, I'm sure it's gonna get worse."

"It's now double," his lips formed into a smirk. "For now you're going to have daily instead of weekly check ups. And you're no longer allowed to practice swordsmanship with real swords anymore."

"Excuse me? No way, I've been holding swords since I was only 5 years old, you can't do that." She sat up sharply.

"You lost all of your rights when you started carrying precious cargo. Now you must be twice careful with our little ones." He brushed his fingers against her stomach before kissing it gently.

The more (Name-s) belly got bigger and bigger, the more cautious everyone, especially Law became. In only her 30 weeks of pregnancy, (Name) already looks like she could give birth any day now.

The Heart Pirates were currently docked on a winter island while (Name) only watched from a sideline.

"But Law, I want to play in the snow like everyone else. Please, I've been cooped up in this submarine for far too long."(Name) begged while giving Law the puppy eye look.

"Fine, but you need to bundle up."Law exclaimed.

6 layers of thick clothing later, (Name) walked off the Polar tang's deck with Law right next to her side.

Working on her snow fort for about 30 minutes, (Name) started to feel a sneeze coming along and tried her best to hold it in.

"Achoo!" She then covered her mouth, in hopes Law didn't hear it.

She sighs and doesn't even put up a fight when Law's room incases her, and teleports her into his arms.

"You're going back to the sub, I knew it was a bad idea to let you play in the snow."Law stated flatly.

And once again (Name) was laying flat on her back as she watched Law move the ultrasound equipment around her stomach for the fourth time this week.

"Is this really necessary?"(Name) questioned while pouting.

"Yes, unless you don't want our babies to be healthy. You're now forbidden to leave our bed until your cold has subsided. If you break any of those rules then I will bind you to the bed until your pregnancy has ended. Do I make myself clear?" Law questioned which only made (name) stick out her tongue.

"You 2 need to get out of mommy soon because I can't take another minute with your daddy."(Name) talk and rub to her rounded stomach when Law left the room.

-x-

2 weeks later and (Name) Was finally on her last trimester of pregnancy. "Law!" (Name) shouted his name loudly.

"Yes my darling, is there something you need." Law responded as he headed toward where his wife was currently sitting down.

"The babies are kicking, they're kicking again."(Name) said excitedly then grab's Law's hand to guide him where the kicking was happening.

Then the day when his children would be born.

(Name) woke up in the middle of the night when she felt a warm wet substance in between her legs and soon realized her water just broke.

"Law...Law." She shakes her husband awake.

"Yeah, what is it?" He muttered as he tried to rub away the sleep from his eyes.

"My water just broke."She then yelled in agony after she felt a contraction.

"Shit?!" Law then quickly moves to her side to help her into the wheelchair he had laying by for this day. "Bepo, round up the medical squad, it's time." Law shouted through a den den mushi.

"Whatt, I thought she wasn't due for at least another couple weeks." Bepo shouted.

"Well, the kids have decided to come now!" Law stated.

12 hours of shouting and a lot of pushing later, the first one came out.

"She's a beautiful girl!" Law said before handing the bundle of joy to Bepo.

"Come on just one more push." Law said then he could see the head of the baby.

"It's a handsome boy," Law said before handing the other baby to Penguin's arms.

"Law, what should we name them?"(Name) asked as she panted for air.

"Rosey for our baby girl and Corazon for our baby boy." Law answered, then placed a sweet and tender kiss on his wife's forehead.

"You need rest now, I will take care of them in the meantime."

[dourpeep]

you asked for albedo stuff yesterday and i forgot to give you some 🥲 here

-Albedo bites the ends of his pencil/pen while in deep thought

-He covers his mouth while laughing

-His hair is a huge problem to becoming messy so he usually keeps it in one style bc he sucks at styling hair

-I believe he would hyperfocus on a meal until he starts to hate it and goes onto another

-Probably sleeps on his back or stomach

-Quietly sings to himself when he's alone doing experiments

-his hands are probably soft as hell

-he probably bounces his leg when stressed

-I cant decide whether or not he's always cold or always hot (wearing his jacket everywhere but seems fine at dragonspine??)

-would break klee out of jail

-he always tries to have at least one meal with klee

WAIT SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS--

definitely a pleasant surprise nodnod always a treat to have more Albedo, thank you for the food, Chi OTL

I'll write a little about each one b/c I have no self control and I'm feeling inspired by ur headcanons so lets goooooo ehehehe

They'll be a mix between imagines and drabbles!

Enjoy the food :3c

Contains: Albedo x gn!Reader, some standalone Albedo, Klee, fluff

-

- Breaking Habits -

"Albedo? You're doing it again-"

He blinks, shifting to remove the tip of his pencil from his lips, frowning when little indents come into view.

"Hm...it appears to be so."

Really, the Chief Alchemist has tried to wean himself off the habit, taking to coating the butt ends of his writing utensils with a horrid concoction of qingxin and jueyun chili, but the moment he slips into his usual daily tasks, it arises once more. The bitter spiciness is a taste that he still has not forgotten.

When his brows crease and his gaze seems to burn into the pencil, you offer a smile. With a kiss pressed to his temple, you take it from his loose grasp, setting it down on the table's surface.

A few weeks later, it dawns on him that the touch of wood to his lips evokes the memory of your gentle reminder. Without fail, he sets his pencil down in search of a sweet to busy himself with instead.

- His Laugh -

I can just imagine him with his hand lifted to cover his mouth, a smile tugging at his lips and his eyes slightly squinted. It's something that'd happen almost instantaneously--he doesn't intend to hide his smile but for some reason he can't help but do it.

An endearing habit that you've come to look for.

Regardless-

If you lower his hand and pepper him with a few little kisses, you'll get another giggle out of him before a kiss.

- Hairstyles -

Albedo only knows two ways to do hair: Klee's twin pigtails and his own half-up braid.

Over the past three years of his residency in Mond, it's become a sort of trademark. The assumption that it's just how he likes to style his hair has long since been accepted as truth--and really, he does prefer the style.

Though...

"Mr Albedo? Perhaps you should try to tie it all up instead...?"

The stray wisps of bangs that escape from the securely tied braid fall into his face and distract him from the task at hand. There's also the ever-present tickle right where the blond locks fall around his jaw. Surely, this shouldn't prove to be a problem considering he always has this style...right?

Needless to say, the smell of singed hair makes him choke and the Alchemist finds himself pulling away to tie his hair properly.

It's simple.

Or at least that's what he has been stuck repeating like a mantra as he stares at his reflection, unhappy with the way there's a strange bit of hair that refuses to stay tied. Sighing, he undoes his pony tail and tries again.

Hm.

No, now it's lopsided...certainly can't have that.

- Mealtime -

First, two little ears peek up above the surface of the counter besides him. Then, two little eyes belonging to a stuff rabbit toy followed by a red hat--

"Klee?"

The little girl stares at the fish steaks sizzling away on the pan, displeasure on her features despite the incredibly enticing smell. With unmatched resolve, she huffs.

"Big brother, Klee doesn't want fish again-"

Ah, right.

He's been in another of those moods, the particular taste and texture of the fish mingling with the salted butter, simple sauce, and lightly seasoned veggies sounding so much more appealing compared to nearly any other dish he's tried to enjoy in the past two weeks. It's without a doubt Albedo's all-time favorite dish. Perfect for someone with a small appetite and a need for something quick, filling, and nutritious.

"What would you like then?"

Ultimately (and truly, Albedo wasn't surprise), the little knight requested a serving of 'Fishy Toast'. Cutting up one of the fillets he'd fried, he laughs and shakes his head.

- Sleep Time -

When you come home, it's already dark, the streetlamps lining the cobbled road illuminating the front door as you fish out your key.

"Albedo? I'm back-"

Soft snoring punctuates the silence.

With a fond smile, you remove your shoes and make your way to the make-shift 'sleep station' set up on the couch. Sure enough, with his face shoved at an awkward angle against a pillow, Albedo lays on his stomach holding a second pillow to his chest.

As much as you'd rather not wake him (after all, he's barely gotten sleep over the past few days with how busy it's been), you kneel besides the couch to gently shake him awake.

"Bedo? Bedo, lets go to bed-"

He shoves his face further into his pillow, muttering something about waiting for results. But the silence that follows only lasts so long until he sighs and opens his bleary eyes.

"Welcome home," he mumbles, carefully shuffling best he can closer to meet your lips.

With a stretch and sigh, he sits up. Blond hair sticks up from the top of his head and to his cheek, some parts tangled despite his attempts to prevent it--your hair shouldn't tangle if you sleep on your stomach, right?

Holding back your laugh, you help him up so that the two of you can get ready to sleep.

- Singing -

Most often if not nearly each day, if you pass by the Favonius HQ's workshop, you might catch the soft sound of singing. A light sound that drifts from the partly-cracked door echoes into the empty hallway. Regardless of the traffic outside, it shows no sign of stopping, so you easily can sit right outside and listen.

It's not shy, though, even as the man's dulcet tone comes out gently, and there are days that the lyrics that slip from his tongue are of other regions.

Perhaps if you ever approach the Chief Alchemist, you might be able to convince him to sing just a short little tune. He'll oblige, though a soft dusting of pink will cover his cheeks as he does.

- Hands -

"My hands?"

Albedo watches as you tug off his gloves, head cocked to the side curiously. The moment his hands are free from their confines, you press a kiss to his palm and intertwine your fingers.

"Do you use lotion or something?"

He laughs.

"...Not that I am aware of...?"

When you squeeze his hand once, he squeezes yours back three times before bringing your joined hand to his cheek. Resting against them, his eyes close.

"Why do you ask?"

He feels you take his other hand as well, turning it over palm-side up, your fingertips tracing over the lines that adorn it's surface.

The tenderness of your touch is enough to make his heart stutter in his chest.

"Mmm...no reason."

- Leg Bouncing -

Whenever Albedo bounces his leg sitting at the Dragonspine workshop, a curse or two will slip out the moment his knee bangs against the wood.

Even being considered short, the table has decided to lay just low enough for him to cause minor injury to himself.

Shaking his head, he rubs at his knee to rid himself of the dull ache before continuing his observations at hand.

- His Jacket -

Wait okay but like...what if he actually has different versions of the same jacket? They look virtually the same but there's some of lighter material for warmer days, 'standard' ones for day-to-day use, and heavier ones lined with warm, soft fabric to insulate heat when he's on Dragonspine.

Same with his tights. I do know for a fact that there are tights lined with fleece that are incredibly warm and comfortable!!

- Escapees -

"You need to be very quiet, alright?"

Once more in the dark of the night, Albedo finds himself awake within the walls of the Favonius Headquarters.

Now...Klee technically wasn't grounded, so technically escorting her out of the so called 'solitary confinement' wasn't against any rule. To be fair, the room itself also wasn't really that either, judging by the child-themed decor, soft bed, books littering the floor, and the little table that sits just off to the opposite side of the room.

So! Albedo was certain that there wasn't any harm in what he was doing.

Not that he wasn't still sneaking around on his little improvised rescue mission.

He looks back to Klee, the little girl now wide awake and hanging on to his hand tightly.

When the morning comes, he sighs, crouched sitting on one of the child-sized chairs in the solitary confinement room, Klee peacefully snoozing in bed.

If only Jean wasn't pulling an all-nighter last night as well.

- Very Early Breakfasts -

Klee wakes up to the smell of sweet berry jam and chocolate in the air.

Clumsily, she slips out from under the covers with Dodoco cradled in her arms, padding along the wooden floors on her way to the kitchen.

"Big brother...?" She rubs the sleep from her eyes waiting for him to turn around.

"Oh, good morning Klee-"

"What time is it?"

That, Albedo decided, was a very good question. Especially considering that he hadn't yet gone to sleep and instead shuffled through the kitchen in the early hours of the day to make pancakes. If he had to guess--and he took a quick peek out the window despite the darkness of the early morning lending no clue--he'd say it was nearing 4am.

"Early. Go ahead and sit down, breakfast is almost ready."

The plate is presented to her with a brilliant smile, the Chief Alchemist satisfied to be able to keep his promise with her to always share a meal. But...the fluffy pancakes and freshly made whipped cream were also a source of his brightened mood.

Even though he knew he'd have no time to sleep and pack for his next Dragonspine expedition, the lack of sleep was worth seeing the sudden widening of eyes and delighted giggle from his younger sibling.

He could always take a quick nap at the base camp, anyway.

[beardrabbles]

rock solid bonds.        pt. one

characters: zhongli, female reader, gimel ( geo hypostasis )

warnings: none

word count: 3,858 ( it’s LONG, y’all, sorry )

notes: first thing tossed into the genshin fandom is zhongli because i’m weak. so very weak. i know this idea is strange, but i’m running with it. this will have many parts, just not sure how many. anywho! :D hey. how’s it going? nice to meet’cha. oh!! also. i don’t have a beta reader, so there may be typos i’ve missed. oof.

You had made this trip several times before, and you assumed that this trip would be no different. You skirted around small packs of curious hilichurl, scooped up seashells from the many beaches you followed and swam through the clear, blue waters of Guyun Stone Forest until — finally — you reached the island you had been visiting over the course of several months.

The moment your water-logged feet touched solid ground rather than loose sand, you felt it — the faint traces of a low, constant vibration. It was a steady buzzing, except where the intensity would pulse every now and again, like a living heartbeat.

‘ It’s here, ’ you thought, ‘ good. ’

You hurried to rest against the crumbling wall of the ruins where the hypostasis often lingered, allowing yourself a moment to dry off and rummage through your supplies. No matter how routine this was, you knew you couldn’t become complacent. You could handle the stubborn bundle of geo, no problem, but you knew it never hurt to be prepared.

From your bag, you pulled out a wrapped bundle of fried fish and a single, elegant vial of a bright yellow liquid. You sloshed the liquid around, recalling the last time you’d been overconfident and forgone making the geo dampening potion. You had returned home that day with several more bruises the usual, and so you had firmly reminded yourself at you would prepare some, even if it had meant several days worth of butterfly chasing.

“You got lucky last time. Saw you learned a new move, but I’m smart. I learned.” You lifted the stopper out of the vial and knocked back the contents. The effects were immediate. You didn’t look it, but you felt thicker, sturdier, more centered. You hoped that was the effect of the potion, anyway. Nothing would sour your mood more than to realize the person you’d hired to make the potion had fouled it up.

Shrugging, you placed the empty vial into your pack, gulped down several bites of fried fish, then left your pack tucked up against the wall and behind a mess of tangled roots. Your hands moved next to the handle of your weapon, which peeked out from over your shoulder. With a heave, you brought out the claymore you so adored. It was nicked in places and scuffed in others, yet you found you were too attached. It had gotten you through too many battles, and it felt wrong to abandon it.

“Alright, we’ve got this. Just a few more months of this, and we can——!” Your self-given peptalk was cut short when you glanced around the wall and found that the hypostasis wasn’t alone. Choking on your own words, you quickly ducked back into the hiding. “Dammit! Someone’s already here.”

You set your claymore aside and pressed your hands to the wall, using it to lean around and peek.

“Huh.  .  .” Strange. Nearly every time you found the raw elemental, it had its defenses up. Even as it seemingly napped in place, it surrounded itself in solid, almost unbreakable basalt. Now, in front of this tall stranger, it was nothing more than its small, brightly glowing core. It bobbed and spun, giving off the sunshine-bright disposition of a puppy.

It was almost cute.

Interesting as the hypostasis was in this form, you found yourself drawn to the stranger interacting with it. Slender but strong, standing tall and straight, with a single hand that wove through the air around the exposed core. From where you stood, you couldn’t quite tell who he was, but something about him felt familiar.

‘ I’ve seen him before. ’ The earthen tones of his clothes and hair, the elegance and the poise. You were certain you had seen someone similar making their way through the streets of the harbor before. And, in his wake, came dreamy sighs and low purrs of admiration from all manner of people. The name eluded you, mostly because you didn’t care. He was a stranger, and you had no reason to acknowledge him until now.

“Why does it look like he’s playing with it?” You huffed through your nose, feeling thoroughly irritated that your chance to mine precious gems from the hypostasis had been squandered.

Without meaning to, you let out a groan of frustration.

The elemental core gave a sudden jolt, it’s small form jerking away from the man. In an instant, it wrapped itself in its armor, dark basalt etched with shimmering lines of gold appearing in large, even chunks. You gasped and ducked back for a second time, your heart rapidly beating against your chest. It didn’t know you were there. It couldn’t! You weren’t that loud, were you?

“Moron!” You scolded yourself and made to snatch your pack up when a voice, smooth and deep, reached you.

“I know you’re there.”

You stopped and stood still, as if that would render you completely untraceable. Breath held, but heart still hammering, you waited.

“It would benefit you greatly to come out of hiding.” The voice continued, calm and even.

Something about the voice made you reluctant to run. Shuddering and setting aside your things, you willingly stepped out from behind the crumbling ruins. Hands up and empty, you first revealed that you were unarmed. Harmless. Totally harmless.

“Ah, there you are.” There was a hint of satisfaction in the man’s tone, but you hardly paid attention. Your focus was intent on the sensation soaking through the soles of your boots. The vibration from earlier wasn’t as calm as it had been, the heartbeat-like thrum from earlier replaced with an anxious tattoo that traveled through your legs and up into your chest. You found yourself catching your breath, a horrible feeling welling inside your ribcage.

“Am I causing that?” Your own voice was soft and feeble and sincere. The man approached at a slow but steady clip, until he stood a mere foot away. His arms were folded behind him, making him appear even more refined up close.

“I wasn’t expecting you to realize your mistake so quickly. Good. I wasn’t looking forward to explaining it.” He arched a single brow. “Might I ask your name?”

“Uh.  .  .” You shook yourself from your mounting guilt and lowered your hands. He was polite, but you could tell from the sharp look in his amber eyes that he didn’t approve of your presence, and rightfully so. Still, you didn’t want to deny him your name when he had yet to force you off the island. You muttered your name, and he let out a thoughtful hum before repeating it.

Never had you heard your own name on a voice that alluring. It balanced on a fine line between heavenly and sinful, and you wished deeply that he would never, ever say it again. It sounded too good, and your heart already had its share of problems to deal with at the moment, shame being one of them.

“Seen you around the harbor before, but I can’t remember your name.” You gently prompted him to give his own name in return, hoping it wouldn’t be seen as rude. The corner of his lips turned up a fraction, but that hint of a smile didn’t last long.

“I am Zhongli. Under different circumstances, I would say it was a pleasure to meet you.” Still scolding, still disapproving. You shrank under his gaze, but still found it in you to speak in turn.

“I’ve never seen it out of its armor for that long before.” You observed.

“I wonder why that is.  .  .” Zhongli turned to face the elemental, his broad shoulders rising and lowering with a heavy sigh. Guilt punched you in the gut again.

“I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong!” You didn’t mean to raise your voice, but you had never once been convinced that your mining had been detrimental to the hypostasis.

“It cannot speak for itself, so you were lead to believe that your harvesting was harmless.” Zhongli mused as he ventured towards the elemental again. “That is understandable. But now that you are aware, now that you feel the effect your presence has on it, are you willing to change?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but were stopped but a sudden thought.

For the sake of a voiceless, sentient being, were you willing to change? Yes.        Were you able? No.

You hurried to follow Zhongli and weren’t the least bit surprised when the hypostasis kept its distance, basalt armor quaking with fear. You stopped your advance, keeping well behind Zhongli.

“I can’t.”

“Oh?” He didn’t turn his attention to you, but kept it intent on the elemental. He lifted a gloved hand, the palm resting carefully along the surface of one cube of armor. “That is a shame. I was hoping you’d be agreeable.”

“No, it’s — it’s not that I don’t want to. I want to! I didn’t know it was.  .  .”

“Capable of feelings?”

You nodded despite knowing he couldn’t see you.

“All things feel, all things remember. The lack of a voice does not make one unworthy of thoughts or memories, good or bad.” Zhongli smoothed his hand over the armor of the hypostasis. “It remembers. You are quite brutal.”

“I’m sorry.” You directed this to the hypostasis rather than him. “I didn’t know.”

“And yet you blatantly refuse to change your behavior?” Zhongli’s sharp gaze landed on you again.

“I have an obligation! I’m bound to my word.” Your hackles rose for a moment, but were lowered again soon after. “I have a contract.”

At this, Zhongli came to face you. “A contract?”

“I don’t know why I should tell you.” Your stubbornness reared its ugly head in that moment. Arms crossed, you waited for him to coldly dismiss you. Instead, he folded his arms behind his back and cooly stared you down.

“Contracts are, for better or worse, binding. I understand that, when broken, there can be dire consequences. Is this an official contract?” He wondered. You wanted to hold firm to your refusal to speak of it, but the man’s calm nature made it difficult.

Shifting uneasily, you gave another nod.

“Yes.”

“Are you barred from discussing the terms of the contract with people unrelated to the contract itself?” Each question was asked quickly and sharply, as if practiced. You frowned, moreso out of thought than offense.

“I don’t think so. No one’s ever told me I’m not allowed.”

“Then, please, indulge me. What about this contract requires you to mine as often as you do?”

“You want the long version or the short version?” You reached up to rub at the space between your eyebrows, mounting stress threatening to bring forward a headache.

“Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

“If you say so. My family’s in a tight spot, yeah? We owe some people a lot of money, but most of the people involved are too old, too frail or too inexperienced to go out and earn the mora we need. The people that are hounding us thought, hey, let’s get the daughter to go out and find these precious materials. No one can pass up on free labor, right? I work for them, I slowly whittle away at the debt my family’s worked up for the last few years.” You shrugged casually to hide the fact that the contract was draining you of your free time and, apparently, your morals.

Zhongli frowned, a wrinkle knitting his brows together.

“What are the exact terms on your contract?” He asked, ignoring a nudge against his shoulder from the hypostasis.

“There are quite a few, but the one causing me the most trouble right now is the fact that I need to come here every day and pick out the prithiva from your friend there.” You didn’t miss the shudder in the rocks or the way the hypostasis fled yet again, putting space between you and itself. Zhongli motioned for the hypostasis to calm, but the trembling remained.

“I need the terms as they were worded the day the contract was made.” Zhongli requested firmly this time.

“Three prithiva gems, whole and unblemished, every day for a year. Even if it means getting the slivers and asking someone to do their alchemy-thing on it, I gotta get those gems.”

Zhongli’s stern gaze softened as he motioned for the hypostasis to come nearer.

“That’s all?”

“When it comes to this fella, yeah. I just need the gems.” This time, you were the one to step away from the coming hypostasis. It was clear you had scarred the creature, and you weren’t about to disrespect it in front of this man, who so clearly cherished the living geo.

“You aren’t required to fight and take it?” He continued.

“They never said I did, but it was the only way I could think to fulfill the terms.” You slumped in place and let out a little whine. “Don’t tell me I could have just asked for it.”

“Did you consider the possibility?” Zhongli quipped.

“No! I didn’t think it could understand people!” You stressed with a growl. Zhongli chuckled, the sound taking you aback.

“It doesn’t understand language, but it understands intent. Come here.” The command was subtle, but you felt compelled to obey. Cautiously, you took to Zhongli’s side. His taller frame shadowed yours, and you swore you caught the scent of sun-warmed stones and hints of glaze lilies as an errant ocean breeze whorled past. “Put your hand out, like me.”

You hesitated, and he took note of this.

“Be calm. If you’re afraid, it will know.” He coaxed you, sounding far gentler than he had since calling you out of your hiding spot.

“I’m not afraid,” you corrected, “I feel bad.”

“As deserving as the feeling is, you can make it right if it is your intent to.” Zhongli pointed out. You sucked in a breath, nodded once, then held your hand out. The hypostasis shuddered again and bobbed backwards. Zhongli frowned like a disapproving father and clicked his tongue. “I understand that she’s been cruel, but I believe her when she says she was unaware of how sentient you are. If we are to make amends, the effort needs to be mutual on both parts. As long as I am here, neither of you will come to harm.”

The hypostasis twitched and the armor around it lowered for a moment, but it was fleeting. In a small fit of hope, you drew closer and placed your hand against the glimmering armor. The protective chunks of rock snapped back into place around its dim core, spun rapidly in the air, then sunk down into the ground where all that remained were spider-web cracks that glowed as warm and bright as the sun.

You stood there, hand out and mouth agape.

“It ran away!”

Zhongli lowered his head for a moment. “This was not the result I imagined, but it is progress.”

You lowered your hand and rolled your eyes.

“How is that progress?” You snapped. Zhongli didn’t so much as flinch at your aggression, but sported a knowing smile that irritated your further.

“Gimel let you near without attacking out of instinct. I would say that counts as progress, small step as it is.” He spoke assuredly, and you supposed he had a point.

“Gimel?”

“It has a name. It may work in your favor to remember it.” Zhongli added.

“Yeah, well — what am I supposed to do now? I can’t go back empty-handed.” You grumbled and turned away, stalking back to the spot where you had stashed your bag. The effects of the potion you had drank earlier had begun to ware off, leaving you feeling oddly light and slightly off-balance. That, coupled with your plummeting mood, made you want to leave behind the island and hope that your contract wasn’t seen as broken.

Behind you, you heard the steady click of boots as Zhongli followed behind you.

“I have an offer.” He stopped when you did, and he didn’t miss the flicker of confusion and wariness in your eyes when you spun around.

“What kind of offer?” You were like a cornered animal, and you wondered if he had sensed your growing worry since Gimel had disappeared. You weren’t desperate yet, but that may have been because you had yet to fail in completing your end of the contract. The consequences were unknown, but you were sure you would regret returning to Liyue Harbor without the gems you were asked to retrieve. Still, you were concerned, and you knew it was hard to hide when you fidgeted the way you did.

“A contract.”

“No.”

“One that won’t break the conditions of the contract you’re currently bound to.” He continued in spite of your quick refusal. You crossed your arms and wrinkled your nose, but it only caused him to smile again. “Don’t be stubborn, girl.”

You scowled and felt a rare flare of anger rise, but he interrupted you with a shake of his head and a raise of his closed hand. Long, slender fingers unfurled, revealing a small handful of pristine prithiva topaz gemstones. It wasn’t out of greed that you lunged forward, but a deep desire to protect yourself and your family. You didn’t grab the gems, of course. It wouldn’t do to anger this man after he had shown you patience, but you wouldn’t deny that it was a tempting sight to see him holding the gems out for you to take.

You whetted your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue and spoke past the sandpaper feeling in your throat.

“What are your terms?” You croaked.

“You return to this place every day, unarmed and alone, to spend time with Gimel. In return, you will be rewarded with the gems required of you. As it’s clear they didn’t specify how you acquire them, it will not interfere with the terms of your current contract.” He raised both brows this time and held the gems out further. Your fingers twitched as you reached, but you didn’t take them.

“That’s all you want out of me?”

“We are merely acquaintances, but I hardly find it worthwhile to trick you into a dishonest contract. My terms are as simple as they sound. You cease hostilities against Gimel and attempt to right your wrongs, and you will have your gems. I only ask for a few hours spent here, nothing more. I can’t expect you to wrap your entire life around this one task.” He reached out to take one of your hands, turning the palm up. His touch was gentle and didn’t contest with your own freewill, but you let him do as he pleased.

His thumb uncurled your your fingers, followed the deep lines in your palm and smoothed over your wrist. Your cheeks burned, but you blamed the glaring sun overhead. He was only being kind, you told yourself.

“If I accept these, does that mean I accept the contract?”

“I’m afraid so.” He stepped closer, head and voice low. His dark hair framed his stoic expression, yet his hand on yours remained kind. “Your answer?”

You swallowed hard, weighed your options, then peered up into those vivid, autumn-tinted eyes. “Will you be here too?”

You weren’t sure what prompted such a question, but it seemed to catch him as off-guard as well. He blinked and pulled back for a moment. “Is this an amendment?”

“No,” you shook your head and dared to laugh, “just a request. I don’t think Gimel will trust me on my own, not at first.”

“Its trust will be be earned by your own merits, not because I am here.” Zhongli informed you stiffly.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just think — maybe it would help if I observed you for a little while, maybe a few days. I can see how better to approach, then you can leave us be.” You tilted your head. “Is that unreasonable?”

“I.  .  . suppose it’s not. You are willing to learn, at least, and I cannot fault you for that. Very well. Starting tomorrow, I will accompany you for three days. After that, you are expected to use what you’ve learned on your own.” He closed his fingers around the gemstones and twisted his wrist, readying himself to drop them into your waiting hand. “Has your answer changed?”

You shook your head. “No, I planned to accept before.”

“Then we’re in agreement? You are aware of what will happen if you break the contract?” He warned. You nodded.

“I’m aware, trust me.” You wiggled your fingers impatiently. Zhongli placed the gems into your hand one at time, being sure not to chip or scratch them.

“Then it is done. I won’t be truly satisfied until you’ve signed a physical contract and we’ve made it official, but I will hold onto your word for the time being.” He helped your hand close around the gems, both of his own hands wrapped tightly around your clenched digits. “Find me at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor later tonight, and we can document our arrangement.”

“Sure thing, boss.” You pulled your hand away, the sensation of the gems in your grasp bringing you far more ease than you were happy with. To be so dependent on them made you nauseous, but Zhongli’s willingness to help made it a little less so. Although, you couldn’t help but to wonder why he was so quick to help. “Why are you doing this for me?”

“Is it not human nature to want to help?”

“I guess, but.  .  . there aren’t many that are as open and willing as you are. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. It’s just unexpected. I didn’t think today would end the way it would.” You squirreled away the gems in your satchel, slung it over your shoulders, then affixed your claymore onto your back.

“Are you disappointed?” Zhongli calmly watched you pack up, head tilted slightly.

“Not at all.” You spared him a smile, a weight gradually lifting off your heart and shoulders. “I was annoyed at first, but I’m glad we got to meet, Mr. Zhongli.”

Another peel of soft laughter left the man, but it was hidden behind the side of his hand. “Then I will readily admit that I wasn’t expecting you to say that. I’m relieved you were so willing to cooperate, and.  .  . I am glad we had the chance to meet as well.”

You bounced once on the tips of your feet and gave him a mock salute. “Guess that means I’ll be seein’ you later! I’m going to pass these gems on, then I’ll pop by your place to sign my life away!”

You didn’t address the crinkle in his face at your jest, but you did snicker as you fled the island. Only when you were well out of sight did Gimel return, its core open to the air and nudging against Zhongli’s elbow.

The archon reached back to give the hypostasis a gentle stroke, but his eyes remained in the direction you had wandered off in.

“I have a feeling that our time with her will be very interesting.”

[imagintheworldaway]

Together

Anonymous asked: Hello! Can you do a Harryxfem! Reader where people see how Harry looks at the reader (calorie challenge- rematch (time stamp 27:17)) and the reader is so oblivious to Harry’s feeling for her because he broke up with his long-term ex last fall and she doesn’t want to read deep into it and just keeps telling people that they’re just friends even though everyone can see past the bull crap and keeps shipping them because they’re very similar and meant to be and after months of Harry pinning after her he tries to move on and go on dates (which fails but she doesn’t know that it’s not working out for him ) so she starts seeing someone and magically somehow end up together and become the “it” couple because of how blunt and honest they are. Sorry that was long! Hope you can write it thanks!

A/N Good gosh this is a long one. I hope you enjoy! Requests are open 

Sitting on the sofa next to Cal, snuggled in a mountain of blankets in Harrys apartment whilst the boys filmed a video was always fun. They were filming the 100,000 calorie challenge and it was JJ, Vik , Cal and Harrys turn to be eating the calories. We were sat watching JJ as he revealed he had absolutely failed the challenge to everyones surprise. The boys all started to complain as I giggled at the failure which was JJ right now. I felt a slight nudge on my side and Cal not so discreetly nodding towards Harry, I looked over at him and smiled but he averted his gaze from me and buried his head into the massive bear still complaining at JJ as it was revealed he had messed up the challenge even more by starting before the official time. 

After JJ’s little mess up they decided to make the fried mars bars, and I feel as though even saying it is cause for disaster. The boys were all crowded around the counter, just making a mess really, not much surprise there. I was happy in my own little world scrolling through instagram with the boys chatter in the background when I started to smell something burning and a mass amount of smoke from the boys. “Oh my god you idiots” I said matter of factly before grabbing the pan and holding it out the window, not wanting the apartment to stink of burnt mars bars as the guys tried to switch off the fire alarm. 

Once everything had calmed down I started to clean up as the boys ate the left over chocolates. “ you don’t have to clean up Y/N” Harry said to me as he bought over a plate to the sink. “Its ok I don’t mind, something to do at least” I smiled up at him. “You sure? I feel bad” he said scratching his shoulder and giving me an awkward smile. “I’m sure, go enjoy your food” I giggled pushing the boy away from me slightly. I finished up the washing as the boys chatted over their takeaways trying to figure out how many calories they were up to. I popped the remaining dishes in the dish washer and popped it on for the boys. 

Once they had finished Cal and I bid the boys goodbye and hoped in an Uber, we lived in the same apartment complex so it made sense that we shared rides just about everywhere. “Soooo” cal started tapping his his legs to the beat of the song that the Uber driver had popped on for us. i gave him a questioning glance as I sent my text to Harry, informing him I had popped the dish washer on and for him not to forget about it. “When are you two finally going to get together” Cal said peering over my shoulder and trying to take a peek at my texts with Harry. I just scoffed switching off my phone and turning my head to look at Cal. “Look he got out of a long term relationship not even six months ago, he just needs a friend right now, and that’s all I am, a friend, plus even if he hadn’t just gotten out of a relationship, well I don’t think he’d be interested in me anyway, like I said I’m just a friend” I shrugged to Cal giving him a half smile trying to cover the sadness which was evident on my face. “I don’t know Y/N if you ask me, or well any of the lads he looks at you like your a gift here gracing us all with your presence. like your some type of angel, he likes you, he really does, he’s just scared to ruin what you have” Cal stated as we hoped out the uber and made our ways into the lift. “Well I don’t want to sound rude, but I didn’t ask Cal, I don’t need my hopes being brought up just for it all to be speculation.” I stated matter of factly. “This is me, I’ll see you later yh?” I questioned Cal who just pursed his lips and nodded to me giving a small see ya. 

I really wasn’t trying to be rude but I had had my heartbroken so many times, and I don’t want to start getting my hopes up about Harry if it is just all speculation and some sort of narrative the lads were making up for themselves. I slumped down on my bed and posted a selfie on instagram asking people what they want to know about me. I wasn’t a huge YouTuber but I did have a large instagram following meaning the questions flooded in within an instant. There was the usual that I answered such as my favourite colour, what am I having for dinner, best place I had ever visited and so on. After a few more generic questions someone asked what my favourite picture was. I scrolled through my camera roll and found one of Harry and I at winter wonderland. we were both wearing Santa hats and he was giving me a piggy bag as I held onto a large teddy he had won me moments before. I captioned it ‘Christmas with my Bestfriend, look at how goofy he looks @wroetoshaw’ I giggled as I posted the pic remembering that day. it was a rare day off for the both of us and with Harrys break up still fresh I decided we should go to Winter Wonderland and just have fun. Which we did, it was one of my most treasured memories with him. He had taken his breakup so hard that I felt it was important that he had a friend around who could take the crying and emotions, someone to just cuddle with and forget about the world. And over the past few months I realised that my feelings for Harry had grown, but he was still hurting and there was no way that I was being any boys re-bound. 

I must have fallen asleep because I woke up to blaring light through the blinds of my lounge. I groaned to myself before getting up and trudging to my bedroom to sort myself out. i looked at my phone and I had a few texts from Harry. I smiled as I read them. 

‘Thank you! Almost forgot, you are honestly the best Xx’

���You alive???? Xx’

‘Good night Xx’

‘Like the insta pic’

I furrowed my eyebrows at the last text. It was sent only minutes after the goodnight text and it didn’t have any of the kisses we usually put on the end of our texts to each other. I also hadn’t got a good morning text from Harry, that was particularly strange because I have always gotten a Good morning and Good night text from him for the past few months with out fail. I just shrugged it off before replying, 

‘Haha no problem! I fell asleep as soon as I got home I’m sorry :( wanna meet up later? Xx’

I smiled at my reply before going to my bedroom and changing to look more presentable. I checked my phone and it was almost lunch meaning Cal was coming over to film a video with me. just as I re adjusted my hair for the a millionth time I heard a knock on the door signalling that cal was here. “Hello stranger” I smiled letting him into my apartment with the array of crisps and snacks he had in his arms. We were filming a British corner shop mukbang whilst answering twitter questions. As Cal settled himself in my studio I helped by opening the array of snacks and cans of drink that he had bought for us. “Hey really weird question but have you heard from Harry today?” I questioned trying not to sound so desperate as to the whereabouts of the boy. “Uh yh messaging me all morning, think he’s got something on tonight. He not told you?” Cal looked up from the array of junk raising his eyebrows at me as I just shook my head in disbelief that he was ignoring me. As we settled in our seats and I turned the camera on I sent Harry a quick text. 

‘Hey have I done something wrong?? :( Xx’ 

The video was going amazing. Cal and I just naturally bounced off of each other and the questions the fans were giving us were quite juicy. “Alright, alright, I’ve got one. Y/N has Harry asked you out yet or is he still being a melt? From @CalFreezy” I giggled at the question and raised my eyebrows at Cal. “These are meant to be from Fans” I retorted to Cal telling him off a little. “Yh Freezy is your biggest fan he’s always nattering on about you and talking about you moving in with them when Harry gets the guts” Cal defended himself causing me to burst out laughing. “Well we all know Harry and I are friends, I love him very much but that’s as deep as it goes” I replied to Cals previous question from Freezy, slight sadness barely evident in my voice. “Is that the only thing that goes deep” Cal stated before bursting out laughing at himself and falling back in his chair ultimately falling off of it causing me to laugh. “Well that’s it for today guys thank you for watching and thanks to this idiot for joining me” I smiled at the camera before shutting it off and helping Cal from the floor. 

“You really need to stop that you know? You can’t force anything to happen” I said matter of factly towards cal as he nibbled on some Pringles. “You see Y/N I’m actually Cal from the future and I’m just stating facts” he gave me a cheesy grin as I tutted at him and rolled my eyes. I was taken out of my trance by a text from my phone. “Alright ditch me for lover boy” Cal called after me. I opened my phone to see it was from Harry but it wasn’t what I was expecting. 

‘Hey Y/N, we shouldn’t hang out anymore it makes Belle uncomfortable.’ 

“Cal what the fuck is this” I shouted to my friend. I heard the thudding of his feet and turned around to show him the message I had just received. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Belle Belle Belle Oh Belle, her really?” Cal scrunched his nose up at me. “Ummm elaborate, who’s Belle?” I pressed for him to release more info to me. “Oh Harry went on a date with her like three weeks ago, looks like it worked out, well for them I guess” Cal shrugged piecing the different parts of the puzzle together for me. “Oh, wow, so he is just gonna drop me like that, like I’m, I’m nothing, like i wasn’t the one there for him when he was mourning over his last breakup. Well that’s a kick in the teeth” I said starting to sniffle, tears threatening to break their way out of my eyes and my mood instantly dropping to nothing. “Hey no don’t cry” Cal said engulfing me in a hug, which I gladly melted into. “If he couldn’t see what he had with you then that boy is more blind than we all thought.” Cal reassured me rubbing my back. “Plus your make up looks too nice to cry it off” Cal said catching a stray tear from my face and making me giggle a little. “Oh Cal why can’t we fall in love?” I questioned sniffing and straightening out my clothes. “Because that would be like fucking my sister and that’s weird” Cal stated making me giggle. 

I don’t think anyone could quite get their heads wrapped around the fact that Harry was with someone new, especially because that someone was not me. For the next month I got fans tweeting me asking if Harry and I had broken up or if he had gone crazy. I also got sorry looks from my friends. Always being placed in the furthest seat away from Harry, always given excuses as to why I couldn’t come to shoots. It sucked majorly. And the worst part about all of this is everyone felt like they had to tread on eggshells around me, as if I wasn’t a fully grown woman who could handle these situations. 

I knocked on Simons apartment door before he opened it replying to someone about something. “Oh Y/N you alright” he said quickly closing the door a little. “Yh Talia said I could pop round and grab my camera that she borrowed.” I said smiling at the lanky man. “Oh yh well um come in, just be careful yh” Simon nodded at me. I furrowed my eyebrows and just nodded at his comment following him through to the living room. And as soon as I saw the tall figure sat next to Harry with an unimpressed look on her face I realised why Simon gave me such a warning. “Heyyyy Y/N Is here” Ethan called standing up giving me a hug making me giggle a little. “Yh Talia knicked my camera again” I stated smiling at the girl who blushed a little realising she still hadn’t returned my device. “Oh so that’s Y/N” a snotty voice said causing everyone to quiet down and all eyes turning in her direction. “Yup, the one and only” I smiled back at her trying to be as nice as possible. “Belle right? Nice to meet you” I smiled back at her trying to make conversation in the silent room. I rocked back and forth on my heels for a while, Belle gave me a good look up and down, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips as if wanting to comment something. Before she could I saw Harry whisper something to her and she scoffed. “If I have an opinion I’m going to say it. And I have many about her” Belle said loud enough for everyone to hear whilst pointing at me. “Here I found it” Talia smiled at me handing me my camera before noticing the mood of the room. 

“Ok well, I will be off then, lovely to see you all and to meet you Belle” I stated the last part through gritted teeth before spinning around and making my way to the door. “Even worse from the back” I heard Belle try and whisper to I presume Harry. I stopped in my tracks and raised my eyebrows. The audacity of this girl, how dare she disrespect me in front of all my friends. I turned around to meet her eyes with a sickeningly sweet smile on my face. Before I could say anything though Talia butted in. “You know what, you do not talk to my friend like that, I have barely known you a month and I am so sick of you already, please leave before I do or say something I regret” she smiled at Belle joining me by my side and linking arms with me. Belle just looked around at everyone, with everyone just averting their gaze and waiting for something big to happen. All she did was huff, grabbing Harrys hand and storming out of the apartment with him. 

“Jesus Y/N what did you do to make him choose her, she’s like an angry controlling goblin” Ethan huffed as soon as we all heard the door close. “Hey, I got cut off a long time ago, ask him not me” I giggled before thanking Talia and leaving the apartment to go home. 

I was lounging around my apartment, Ethans words spiralling around my head. I decided tonight was for me. I popped on my favourite movie and rummaged through my freezer finding some ben and Jerrys and starting to scoff down the tub. This sofa must be super man or something because I had soon fallen asleep, I was only awoken by loud continuous knocking at my door. I regained my focus and gaged my surrounding before wrapping a blanket around myself and making my way to the door. As soon as I opened it I was pulled into a bone crushing hug. “I’m so fucking sorry, its you its always been you, I don’t know what I was thinking, I just needed someone to fill the void and she was ok for a week but I need you. You are all I need, all I want, please forgive me I love you” as much as I just wanted to melt into his arms I pulled my self back so that we were an arm lengths apart. “You best come in” I sighed. I finished the teas and made my way over to Harry, passing him his favourite mug of mine. I crossed my legs as we sat at opposite ends of the sofa in silence. 

“What about Belle?” I broke the silence, harry whipped his head up to look at me. “Look I’m so sorry she was a mistake and I should never have even given her shot. She’s so nasty and I could never forgive myself. This past month without you has felt like my heart was ripped in two. I’ve been so miserable and then when I saw you today I felt like I had been given a new chance at life. I get it if you hate me but I need you so bad and I cant live without you.” Harry opened his heart to me for the second time that evening. “You’re such a dummy Harry” I said with a sigh placing my mug on the coffee table. Harry looked at me as if he was broken by the words I just said. I just shook my head at him before leaning over and planting a soft kiss on his lips. The moment seemed to last forever. It was like in the movies when time slowed down and fireworks erupted around the couple who after all their trials and tribulations finally found each other. “I can’t help but love you Harry” I whispered only inches from his face as I pulled back for air, a sly grin on my face. Harrys arms snaked around my wait brining me into him for another soft kiss. i leant my head on his chest listening to his heart, thumping like it was going to break out and slap me in the face. “So what now” harry mumbled into my hair. I leant up so my eyes met his. “Well you will ask me on a date to a nice restaurant where we end up getting a little too drunk. Then we walk along the Thames, watching people walk by when at the perfect moment when the city goes silent you ask me to be your girlfriend and then we come back here and spend the night together. But with a little more physical activity than were used to” I grinned at him causing him to chuckle. “So you forgive me?” He said looking at me with pleading eyes. “God yes I forgive you, I could never be mad at you” I smiled at him. How could I? I did truly love him and it was as simple as that. 

After a few months, and the date Harry had promised, we told our friends and announced to our followers that we had finally decided to get together. apparently it was quite obvious as the boys had started taking bets as to when we would tell them about our new relationship. The fans seemed to love it as well, always receiving amazing and supportive comments on all of our posts and videos that we did together. Although we were young I think people saw how care free and happy we made each other. Most importantly how much we loved each other.

[valdomarx]

Saving Grace

When the test flight of a new experimental spacecraft goes wrong, Sheppard ends up lost in hyperspace. Injured and alone, his subconscious mind summons up a familiar face to keep him company.

Stargate: Atlantis, Sheppard/McKay. 6k words, rated T.

Contains Shep whump, happy ending, and gratuitous descriptions of astronomical phenomena.

-

Sheppard comes to with a lancing headache and vise around his chest. An alarm is blaring. He takes in his environment: he’s in an unfamiliar cockpit. Whatever he’s flying, the inertial dampeners have cut out and he’s pulling several Gs, the forces pushing him against his seat and making his head swim.

He blinks woozy eyes and stares out the window. Streaks of color whip past him in a confusing and rapid swirl. A strange thrum vibrates the ship. This doesn’t look like space.

Shit. That’s because he’s not in space. He’s in hyperspace.

This is not good.

-

“It’ll be a cakewalk!” McKay gestures animatedly. “A quick trip across the solar system to warm our new baby up, then kick in the hyperdrive. It’ll catapult you to the Triian system, and you can turn around and gate back. Easy.”

“Catapult?” Sheppard raises an eyebrow. “I don’t love the sound of that.”

But McKay isn’t listening. He and Zelenka are deep in conversation about hyperspace and its effects on the particle/wave duality of light. The rapidly rising volume of their voices suggests this is an argument they’ve had before.

They’re both fussing over the control panel for their latest pride and joy, a cobbled-together prototype spacecraft which is a hybrid between a puddle jumper and a X-302 fighter. It’s taken them months to build the A-305, based off the miniature hyperdrive McKay designed while he was temporarily almost-ascended. They’ve poked and tweaked and run every simulation they can think of, but sooner or later the ship will need to be taken on a real test flight.

Just as well Atlantis has the galaxy’s best fighter pilot for a military commander, Wier had said with a smile. She’d wished him luck on the A-305’s maiden voyage and told him to come home safe.

-

Stay safe. Stay alive.

Right.

Through the fog in his head, Sheppard focuses on his first problem. The spinning of the ship is making it impossible to think, and he needs to be clear headed to find his way out of this. He needs control of his ship.

With a wince he connects to the ship’s neural interface. It isn’t as seamless as operating a puddle jumper, but the principle is the same. McKay and Zelenka had done their best to replicate the Ancient interface, but their best approximation was still a long way off. Using it adds to the sharp spike of pain in his skull, but he needs to know what he’s dealing with.

The ship’s interface blinks into existence behind his eyes. The sensors scream out incomprehensible reams of data. He silences them. The alarm is still blaring. Silence that as well.

Now. Here. Positioning and guidance systems. This data is a jumbled mess too, and most of the navigation functions are offline. But thrusters are up. That’s good. He can at least stop this spin.

In the corner of his mind, the power system whines needily. It’s one of a dozen systems competing for his attention and it will have to wait. He pushes it aside.

Thrusters. Fire them, hard. Counteract the spin.

The ship jerks and he is slammed into the side of his seat. It pushes the air from his lungs, but gradually the colors outside the window slow their nausea-inducing swirl.

The world rights itself. The G forces release their iron-tight grip on his chest. The ship is stationary.

Now, at least, he can think and he can breathe. He can call for a rescue.

He taps his radio and calls out to Atlantis. No reply. He tries the ship’s communication system. No luck there either. The radio plays back nothing but static.

Ok. Communications are down. He’ll need to fix that, but first he needs to find out where he is. He opens the hyperspace location system and searches for a beacon.

Silence stares back at him.

He searches further, pushing the sensors to their maximum. There must be a signal he can lock onto somewhere.

He finds nothing. Not even empty space. Nothing but the strange, pulsating colors of the uncharted depths of hyperspace.

Damn it. He’s lost.

-

“I’m telling you,” McKay is, once again, waving his hands around with great enthusiasm, “you have no idea how hyperspace works. It’s not like navigating through normal space.”

Sheppard is sat in the commissary on the Daedalus, overhearing Ronon wind up McKay and trying not to show his amusement.

“I thought it was like an ocean current?” Ronon asks innocently.

“What? No! It’s nothing like that.” McKay gestures with a fork. “It’s more like… You know when you carry something heavy through the forest?”

“Like a body?”

“God, how does your mind work? But right, sure, you’re dragging the lifeless corpse of your defeated enemy through the forest. And as you go, you’re crushing bushes and leaves beneath your feet, right? You’re making a trail.”

“I don’t leave tracks.”

“Oh, sure, Mr I’m-a-big-tough-guy-yet-somehow-I-can-move-silently-through-dense-foliage.” McKay scowls and Sheppard hides a smile behind a forkful of mashed potatoes. “The point is, when a ship moves through hyperspace it leaves behind a trail. When another ship follows the first, it reinforces the trail. Over time, that builds up a network of paths through hyperspace.”

“And that’s how we know which direction to go in right now?” Ronan looks out the window, where the hyperspace currents wrap around the ship.

“Exactly. Over time, we’ve laid out beacons along these paths. They allow us to jump from one part of the galaxy to another, but only along the predetermined routes. If we were to head away from the path, eventually we’d be too far away from the beacons to orient ourselves. We’d end up lost forever in hyperspace.” He shudders, and Sheppard can see the millions of horrible scenarios playing through his head.

“Huh.” Ronon puts his feet up on the table. “If I get lost in the forest, I orient myself by the sun.”

“Unfortunately for your rustic wisdom, that’s not very helpful when you’re outside the normal planes of space and time.”

Ronon gets a glint in his eye and goes in for the kill. “But aren’t there lots of stars out there? And the sun on Atlantis rises in the east, right? So you could pick a star, and head toward it, and that way would be east.”

McKay turns a worrying shade of purple. He gapes. “That is just. On so many levels, that is so unbelievably wrong, I can’t even fathom how you would -” He takes a huge gulp of air. “THAT IS NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS.”

-

Sheppard does not panic. He reminds himself that the first thing to do when you’re lost is to retrace your steps. How did he end up here?

He remembers prepping the A-305 for the test flight. He remembers heading away from Atlantis and deeper into the solar system. He remembers firing up the hyperspace drive.

He remembers the drive spinning up. He remembers a whirring noise. He remembers the pop as the ship made the hyperspace jump.

And then… There had been a spark. A crackle of electricity, here in the cockpit. A bolt of lightning had shot out from one of the rear hatches and struck the control panel.

There had been a terrible screeching sound, and a series of bangs as various components fried out and died. Then a bang louder than the others that sent him reeling. That must have been the drive pod blowing.

He remembers the force of the explosion smacking his head on the console. Then only blackness.

Gingerly, he touches his forehead. His fingers come away wet with blood.

That explains the headache.

He needs to figure out where he is but the data coming from the sensors doesn’t make any sense. He opens the interface again and looks through data on the craft’s position, speed, structural integrity. Anything that could orient him in the nothingness.

The reams of data start to blur together. His eyes are drooping and it’s getting hard to focus. He forces himself to look at each number in turn, but he can’t make heads or tails of any of it. The chilling ache of helplessness starts to crawl up his spine.

“Why don’t you let me take a look at that?”

Sheppard whips his head round. Perched on the edge of the console, flicking through a tablet, is McKay.

He rubs his eyes, but McKay is still there. He didn’t think he was this far gone.

“You’re not really here,” he gasps. Maintaining some grip on what is real and what is not has never been more vital.

McKay tilts his head and smirks, and it’s such a familiar movement that it makes something in Sheppard’s chest loosen. “Of course I’m not here. I’m light-years away in Atlantis, worrying about you.”

“Then what-?”

“You’re lost. Your ship is damaged. You’re alone. And you have a pretty severe concussion.” McKay ticks off items on his fingers. “Your subconscious figured you could use some help. So it called me.”

Sheppard blinks. “You're imaginary?”

McKay shrugs. “I’m a creation of your mind. You knew you needed help, so you summoned up the one person you knew could get you out of this.”

“And that’s you, is it?”

McKay radiates smugness. “It’s ok, Sheppard. You can admit that I am not only the smartest person you know, but also the most inventive. And, frankly, the most handsome as well.” He flicks his hair back in an affected manner. It's awkward as hell.

Sheppard rubs his aching temples. “Lucky me."

-

He'd known McKay was going to be a pain in his ass since the day they met.

He'd spent three years in Antarctica. It was nice there. Quiet. No one to get in his business or hold him to any obligations.

And then he'd come to Atlantis, and everything had changed.

Now he has a team to protect and more responsibility than any person should have to deal with. Teyla and Ronon, Weir and Lorne, even Beckett, they have all become indelible fixtures in his life.

And then there's McKay. Brash, arrogant, and perhaps the only person in the expedition who has worse people skills than he does. McKay, whose endless chattering and whining has become the cosmic background radiation of his life. He's gotten so used to it that being without it feels like he's missing a part of himself.

-

“What we need is a reference point to lock onto.” McKay is pacing, as much as is possible, around the tiny cockpit. He’s making Sheppard nervous.

“There’s nothing out there. I've tried to pick up a beacon signal, but it’s no use this far from the hyperspace lanes. The more time passes, the further I drift.”

“Ah ah ah.” McKay snaps his fingers. “So we can’t find a beacon. But maybe we can find something else to use as a marker. We just need a point in normal space to orient ourselves around.”

“But we’re cut off from normal space.”

McKay shakes his head. “Not completely. Hyperspace is orthogonal to normal space, not entirely separate from it.”

Sheppard has only the loosest idea what that means.

“So you should be able to…” McKay starts futzing around with his tablet again. He can’t actually be doing anything, because he isn’t real and neither is the tablet, but his mind apparently can’t conceive of McKay without having him poking at some piece of electronic equipment. “Try the radar.”

“The radar? But radio waves don’t carry through hyperspace.”

McKay beams. “They do if the source is strong enough.”

“But that’s -”

“Are you seriously arguing with yourself right now? You know I’m right! On some subconscious level, you clearly realize that this makes sense. So do you want to bicker, or do you want to get out of here?”

“Fine! Jeez. I’ll try the radar, but it’s not going to work.”

McKay raises an eyebrow, like he’s about to say wanna bet? Sheppard clamps the headphones over his ears.

Using the neural interface, the radar signal comes through as auditory information. He hears the rumbling of the radiation coming from his spacecraft, and the pings of neutrinos twisting past at super high velocities. So far so unhelpful.

And then… there’s something… And then it’s gone again. Sheppard strains his ears, reaching out with his mind to extend the range of the radar. There’s nothing, only horrible blankness. And then - there it is again.

A faint, very low pulse. Beating like a heart, every second. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Steady. Consistent. A fixed point.

Sheppard lets out a breath. He’s found a pulsar.

-

He’d barely been paying attention when McKay had brought it up. He’d been more interested in flicking through the dog-eared copy of Golfer’s Digest he’d borrowed from Lorne.

“See! Right here! Pulsar J0056-87.” McKay gestures him over, vibrating with excitement.

Sheppard rolls his eyes but stands all the same. McKay’s been on at him to join him for a night of stargazing since he found an Ancient telescope stashed away in a lab somewhere. Apparently, even with their elaborate technology, there were still some Ancients who enjoyed looking at the stars with glass lenses for some reason. Bunch of damn hipsters.

But the night was warm and clear, and for once there was no imminent threat of invasion. McKay had dragged him along to one of the distant piers and set up while Sheppard had busied himself with a beer and a magazine.

“Look!” He lets McKay manhandle him into position in front of the telescope eyepiece. “See that?”

He peers through the glass and sees a blurry outline of something like a star. But it flashes, on and off, on and off, like a strobe light.

“It’s the collapsed core of a massive star,” McKay says, all expressive gestures, “and it's spinning so fast it's emitting beams of electromagnetic radiation from its poles as it turns, like a lighthouse. That’s why it seems to flash, and that means it can be used like a yardstick for the galaxy. It’s the only one we’ve found in Pegasus.”

Sheppard grunts, says, “Thrilling,” and goes back to his beer.

-

“We’re going to get you out of here, Sheppard.” McKay sounds confident, but McKay always sounds confident. Sheppard has learned to temper his expectations.

“Ok. I've located the pulsar. Can we use its location to extrapolate the coordinates for Atlantis?”

McKay pulls a face. “That would require triangulation - we’d need at least three fixed points for that. We’ve only got one point to work from.”

“So how does that help? We’re still lost.” A churning mixture of anger and anxiety rolls in his chest.

“You have to head toward the pulsar.” McKay nods decisively.

“Oh, what a great idea, I’m so glad I have you here for inspiration. I’m lost in hyperspace, so let’s go even further out. Let’s go deeper into the unknown. Let’s throw all of my eggs into this one strobing basket. Brilliant plan, McKay!”

“And what’s the alternative? Sit here and wait to die?”

“Protocol states that I should stay where I am. Preserve my position. Give a rescue team the best chance to find me.”

“And that’s all well and good in normal space, but we’re not in normal space, are we? There’s no maps here. There’s no way for a ship to track us. They can’t rescue you if they can’t find you.” Sheppard glares at him. McKay pouts back. “Since when have you given a shit about protocol anyway?”

Sheppard grimaces and checks the thrusters. He can at least see how much fuel he’s got left.

He reaches into the interface with his mind.

FUEL DEPLETED, a warning flashes. REFUEL IMMEDIATELY.

“Ahh.” McKay looks apologetic. “I was worried about that. I guess when the hyperdrive blew it took the fuel containment with it.”

Sheppard stares out at the rippling nothingness.

Great.

-

Sheppard has faced death many times.

There was a time when he would have been fine with this. Going out in the line of duty, he figured that was more or less inevitable given the choices he makes.

But things are different now. There are people counting on him. There are people who care about him.

There are people he cares about too. He doesn't know exactly when they became so important to him. But how does know he doesn't want to die without seeing them again.

-

He considers his options. He doesn’t have many.

“If I follow the pulsar, I’ll drop out of hyperspace halfway across the galaxy.”

McKay looks at him like he’s stupid. “Yes. That’s rather the point.”

“But the team will be mounting a rescue. I need to stay near to where they left me.”

“That won’t work!” McKay waves his arms in the air. “Even if they find a way to enter hyperspace at exactly the same point you did, and even if they could recreate the accident that sent you here, we’ve still drifted too far to be in communications range. They’ll never find us.”

“What’s your suggestion then? Throw myself at the nearest shiny thing and hope it magically leads me home?”

McKay stops his pacing and kneels in front of Sheppard. He takes his hand. It’s weirdly warm.

“What do you think I’m doing right now? Back on Atlantis?”

Sheppard shifts in his seat and takes his hand back. “I’m sure you’re trying to find me.”

“Ya think?” McKay goes quiet, and that’s so unexpected it rattles Sheppard more than the threat of imminent death.

“This is my fault,” McKay says, standing and turning away. “The jumper hyperdrive was my creation. It’s my fault it failed, and it’s my fault you’re lost.”

“I don’t believe that.” Sheppard waves a dismissive hand. “I’m a test pilot. It’s literally my job to fly experimental vehicles. There’s always a risk. I know that, and if you’re part of me then you know that too.”

McKay turns to give him a sad half-smile. “Yeah. I know you think that. But you also know me - the real me - well enough to know that I’m never going to forgive myself if we lose you.”

That hits a little too close to home. He shoves down the swell of emotion closing up his throat and tries for flippant. “So what? I don’t want you to feel bad, and I don’t want to die here. But pointing my ship to a point in space and hoping you’ll know to find me there? How’s that supposed to work?”

“I know how you think, Sheppard. I know how hyperspace works. I know that your ship has been damaged and that you’re lost. I also know you’ll be able to locate the pulsar. And I know you’ll head toward it. I’ll be waiting for you there.”

“It was months ago that you told me about that pulsar. And I was barely even listening to you at the time! How do you know you’ll remember?”

McKay fixes him with a steady gaze. “I’ll remember.”

-

Here’s what really happened: McKay invites him to the pier for stargazing. The night is so clear that the stars of Pegasus blanket the sky. The air smells of salt from the sea and the crackling of ozone from the shield generators.

Sheppard pretends to flick through his magazine as he watches McKay set up the telescope. He watches the way his hands dance over components. He listens to him mumbling to himself about which piece goes where.

And then the telescope is ready, and McKay begins searching the sky. Sheppard watches his face as he scrunches up his eyes to focus on the eyepiece. He pretends to drink his beer and he observes.

He’s beautiful like this, Sheppard thinks. Give McKay a puzzle, or a mystery, or an unknown, and he simply expands his mind to meet it. Once he’s solved the problem, then he’ll snap back into his defensive egotistical genius mode. But in the moment just before that - when he sees the solution in front of him, when a new piece of understanding begins to take shape - then McKay glows.

“Ohh,” McKay breathes, face still hovering over the telescope. “Would you look at that. A pulsar, right here in Pegasus.”

Sheppard takes a swig of beer and pretends not to be interested.

It’s one of his favorite memories of Atlantis.

-

“Even if I wanted to follow your crazy plan,” Sheppard begins.

“Your crazy plan, technically,” McKay interrupts. He gestures to himself. “Figment of your imagination, remember?”

“Even if I wanted to follow this crazy plan, then. Thrusters are out because I used the last of the fuel to stop the spin. The hyperdrive is fried. How am I supposed to maneuver anywhere?”

McKay raises an eyebrow and taps meaningfully on the oxygen gauge. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“The life support? Oh yes, that’s brilliant. Let’s vent the last of my oxygen into space. I always wanted to try death by hypoxia.”

“Venting gases from the ship will create thrust,” McKay says, and he truly must be a fantasy because the real McKay never speaks with such patience. “We don’t need much. Just enough to overcome inertia and start us moving in the right direction. No friction in hyperspace.”

“Even if I vented half the oxygen and got moving, I’d still need to jump out of hyperspace.”

“Oh no no no no no no,” McKay wags his finger, and that’s more familiar. “With the drive in the state it’s in, we will not be jumping out of hyperspace. We will be falling out of hyperspace, like a stone through a pond.”

“That doesn’t sound great.”

“It’s not! But it’s your only option, so hop to.”

Sheppard scowls. “How am I supposed to fix the hyperdrive? You’ve been working on it for months, and you barely got it functioning.”

McKay gives him a look. “You’ve spent years looking over my shoulder. You know how to bypass secondary systems and reroute power to the drive.”

“I do?”

“You do.”

Sheppard finds a spanner tucked under his chair. He grasps it and turns to face the panels full of incomprehensible wiring behind them.

Time to get to work.

-

McKay and Zelenka are bickering again.

“Your simulations are not only wrong, but reckless as well! You can’t patch primary power cables like that. Unless, of course, you actually intend to blow the prototype up.”

McKay snorts. “Don’t be so timid, Zelenka! The power conduits don’t need to carry that much power long-term. We’re talking a short-term bypass here, not a permanent solution.”

Sheppard focuses on flying the jumper and ignores the voices coming from behind him. He considers closing the bulkhead between the front and rear compartments, but then he’d only have to listen to McKay ranting later.

“A short-term solution which could explode at any moment isn’t viable!”

“Please, it’ll be fine. We only need to avoid patching into the main power distribution node. The hardware for primary and secondary power systems aren’t so different. They’re interchangeable if you’re careful enough.”

“Your desire for glory is outweighing your common sense, McKay.”

“And your petty jealousy is unappealing, Zelenka!”

Sheppard puts on his headphones and tunes out the arguing with the mellow sound of Johnny Cash.

-

“That’s good.” McKay puts a hand on his shoulder. It feels real. It feels nice. “That should channel all of the remaining power to the hyperdrive, give it enough juice for one last wheeze.”

Sheppard stares at the mass of cabling. He’s been going by instinct: cut here, patch there. He should have learned more about how the puddle jumpers work, and about hyperdrives. But he’s gotten lazy. He’s gotten used to having McKay around for things like this.

“It’ll be fine.” McKay is not known for his generosity regarding the work of others, so Sheppard can only assume he’s done the wiring correctly.

But something is bothering him. “Even if we manage to drop out of hyperspace -”

“When,” McKay corrects, “not if.”

“- And even if you are, somehow, miraculously aware of where I’m heading -”

“I am.”

“How are you going to get there? That pulsar is in the middle of nowhere.”

“Don’t worry.” McKay smiles blithely. “There’s a stargate nearby.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you know, Sheppard. You’ve seen it.”

-

It feels like decades ago. It was when they had first arrived in Atlantis and they’d been desperately searching for ZPMs. He sits in the control chair and brings up a map of the galaxy in the vain hope it will show the location of a power source.

The room darkens and lights blink on overhead. From where he sits, he can see the Pegasus galaxy from end to end: stars and black holes, planets and comets, all represented in delicate, dancing lights. He searches for power sources and finds nothing.

But there, in a far corner of one of the galaxy’s spiral arms, is a single light flashing on and off, on and off. He notices it out of the corner of his eye, a flashing oddity. Interesting, but not helpful in their current search.

He puts it out of his mind. But as he does so, he notes a label next to the flashing light. The third planet orbiting that flashing star has a stargate.

-

“You’ve got quite the memory, Sheppard.” McKay is looking at him… oddly. Softly. It’s unnerving.

“Could have been mensa,” he says, unraveling the tension with a smirk.

Predictably, that sends McKay into a rant. “Oh, you just love to bring that up, huh, your great big IQ to go with your great big guns, and you know what else is sure to be huge -”

The power system chooses that moment to scream back to life with a warning klaxon.

WARNING, it says, POWER LEVELS FALLING. LIFE SUPPORT FAILURE IMMINENT.

Right. Time's up.

“If we’re going to do this, we need to do it now,” McKay says. He chews at his lip nervously.

Watching him, a strange serenity washes over Sheppard. Live or die, right or wrong, he is out of options. Time to make a choice.

He locates the pulsar. He prepares to vent the life support. He opens a seal on the opposite side of the ship, and he releases the airlock safety control.

There’s an explosive rush of gas from the vents, and he's slammed into his seat. He punches the airlock shut switch as quickly as he can, hoping he didn't waste too much air.

“Hey!” McKay whoops. “It’s working!”

The ship is moving, sailing through hyperspace and toward the pulsar. He sighs, and takes a moment. At least now he has a destination. It’s better than floating lost.

Then he looks down at his oxygen supply.

OXYGEN LEVELS AT 10% AND FALLING, the system says. DANGER OF PILOT HYPOXIA.

Huh. He should be worried about that, but it seems so far away. It can’t be that important.

-

There's a rushing in his ears that sounds the roar of the ocean.

He leans back with a smile.

It's the sound of home.

-

“Sheppard. Sheppard!”

He comes to again with McKay shaking him.

“Don’t you dare pass out on me now.”

“‘M tired.”

“I know. That’s the oxygen deprivation. But you need to hold on a little bit longer. You need to activate the hyperdrive once we’re close enough to the pulsar.”

“He’s not…” His words are slurring. It’s hard to move his tongue. “They’re not going to find me.”

“Yes they are,” McKay’s voice has an edge to it he hasn’t heard before. “Teyla is going to be calling up every contact she’s ever made. She’ll find someone on the nearest planet, and she’ll get us safe passage. And if she runs into any problems, Ronon is going to intimidate the hell out of the entire system until they help. Beckett is on board a rescue jumper right now preparing his medical kit, ready to treat you as soon as they find you. Wier is going to approve the mission in a heartbeat, even though it sounds insane, because she’d sacrifice all of the jumpers and half the city to save you.”

Sheppard blinks. McKay’s face swims before him.

“And I… Sheppard, you already know this, but I am going to move space and time itself to find you. I’m not going to take no for an answer, and I’ll bend the damn laws of physics themselves if I have to. When you drop out of hyperspace, I’ll be waiting there for you.”

McKay’s voice is further and further away. It sounds nice, what he’s saying, but it’s like it’s carrying on the wind across a great crevasse.

“You’ve saved us all so many times, Sheppard. For once, let us save you.”

He wants to believe that. He wants his team to rescue him. He doesn’t want to die here, alone.

But he isn't thinking straight. This whole plan hinges on McKay remembering a conversation from months ago. It’s madness.

“McKay… Rodney… He doesn’t know,” Sheppard croaks. He’s too tired to feel ashamed of how weak he sounds. “He doesn’t know that I listened to him that night. He doesn’t know that I always listen to him. He doesn’t know that..." he breaks off. "I never told him.”

McKay takes his face in his hands and kisses him. It’s so unexpected that it shocks him awake again, enough to register McKay's lips against his own and his fingers tangling in his hair. It’s like a jolt of lightning, like being raised from the dead.

“I know, John,” McKay says, pulling back and looking him dead in the eye. “I’ve always known.”

He points down at the hyperspace activation button.

“Now come home.”

Sheppard summons the last of his strength to raise his arm. It’s like wading through concrete. One last task, he thinks, and then I can rest.

He presses the button.

There’s a ripping sound, a whirl of lights, and then there’s only blackness.

-

He wakes up to the familiar surroundings of the infirmary: the bustle of doctors moving around, the distant sound of the ocean.

And frowning down at his laptop, McKay, sitting hunched in a chair by his bed.

The breath Sheppard lets out feels like a great weight lifting from his chest.

"Hey," he says. His voice is raspy and everything hurts. "What happened?"

McKay scrambles to his feet. "Sheppard." His face is guilt-stricken. "Carson!" he calls. "He's awake."

Soon enough, the whole team is crammed into the infirmary.

"We had to search the entire pulsar system to find you," Elizabeth explains. "By the time we got to you, your ship had been without power and oxygen for several minutes. Carson worked very hard to get you breathing again on the trip home. You gave us quite the scare."

That would be why his lungs ached.

"It is good to see you awake, John." Teyla bows her head. "I hope you will join me for tea when you are feeling better."

Ronon snorts. "Or come down to the gym for a sparring session if you want a real challenge. I'll be waiting." He grins.

Elizabeth looks around and smiles. "We're all very glad to have you back." She glances at McKay, huddled quietly in the corner. "Even Rodney. He's been here since we brought you in." She gives him a tight nod and turns to leave, guiding Beckett, Teyla and Ronon with her.

Sheppard looks at McKay expectantly.

McKay pushes his laptop aside. He takes a deep breath and straightens himself up like he's heading into battle.

"I'm sorry, Sheppard." He's not quite meeting his eyes. "I sent you out in that ship, and I told you the drive was ready. It's my fault you were stranded. You must be angry, and I'll understand if you want me off the team."

Sheppard raises an eyebrow. "Did I just hear an actual apology? From you?" He breaks into a grin. "My head injury must be worse than I thought."

"Way to ruin the moment, you ass." McKay leans over to punch him in the shoulder, which hurts, but McKay is smiling now so it's worth it. "I'm trying to bare my soul here."

"Well put it away. I'm not angry, and I don't want you to go anywhere." He looks at McKay's fingers twitching anxiously on the bedspread. In a moment of wild abandon, he takes his hand in his own and gives it a squeeze. "I knew you'd find me."

"Oh. Uhh. Really?" McKay is staring down at their joined hands, but he doesn't let go. The tips of his ears go very pink. "That's very. Uhh. I'm touched by your. Uhh. Your faith in me."

The moment stretches, and Sheppard wonders if he's supposed to say something else. Then McKay fidgets, and the moment passes.

"How did you figure it all out, anyway? I saw the state of the A-305. Getting that wreck out of hyperspace can't have been easy."

Sheppard rests back against the pillow. He feels bathed in warm light. "I had some help," he mumbles as sleep begins to take him, "from a very good friend."

-

It's a week before Sheppard is well enough to be released from the infirmary. He's still a little shaky, but Beckett says he'll be fit for active duty soon enough.

He makes the most of his new-found freedom and tells McKay to join him on the east pier that night, and to bring the telescope. He trades a month's worth of rations for enough meat for a couple of turkey sandwiches and some beers. He figures he at least owes McKay dinner.

When he arrives, McKay already has the telescope set up. A few lonely clouds drift through the night sky, but the stars overhead glow all the same.The lights of the city twinkle, the spires reaching up into the dark sky.

"Will you find it for me?" he asks.

"Find what?"

“You know what.” He gestures at the stars and gives him a smile, which McKay haltingly returns, and he lays out their dinner as McKay tweaks dials on the telescope. It doesn’t take long.

'Here." McKay waves him over, and he looks through the eyepiece to see it once more: blinking in the night, steady like a heartbeat, constant and true. The pulsar.

Sheppard lets out a breath and something soft uncoils in his chest as he looks at it. "That's our star," he says, moving to sit on the pier with his legs dangling over the edge.

"Our star?" McKay joins him. He sits close by, and he radiates warmth in the cool night air. "You're a romantic at heart."

"I guess I am." He can't resist a grin. "It needs a better name though. 'J0056-87' doesn't have much of a ring to it."

As he sounds out each number, McKay's eyes keep dropping to his lips. He leans closer. So does McKay.

"We could always rename it," McKay suggests. There are only a few scant inches between them, and his voice is low.

Sheppard lets this drag out, a shiver of anticipation running up his back. "Any ideas?"

"We could name it after me." McKay grins too. "I mean, as the foremost astrophysicist in not one but two galaxies, it seems only apt -"

Sheppard interrupts what he's sure would be a lengthy recap of McKay's skills and career by kissing him.

Judging by the way McKay kisses him back like he's been starving for it, hands running through his hair and trying to pull him even closer, that was a good call.

It’s dizzying and overwhelming, and it’s also the most natural thing in the world. When they break apart, McKay’s lips are red and kiss-swollen. It’s a sight Sheppard could get used to.

“I’m really glad you made it back to us,” McKay says, chewing his lip.

Sheppard takes his hand. “I had to make it home,” he says, quietly. It’s like leaping headfirst into an abyss, but knowing that someone is there to catch you at the bottom. “Everything I care about is here.”

[winter-fox-queen]

The Gentry’s Gifts: Max Phillips

Hello!  This is sort of a sequel to the Pero story, in that we saw Max and now we know what he was doing there and what choice he needed to make.

Warnings:  Cursing. Angst. I had the trick of having to put both blank canvas characters into one story, lol.  But I think I finessed it.  The “you” character is a blank slate, mostly gender neutral (mentions of wanting to have children could sway your perception one way or the other.). Not betad.  

This is my late #writerwednesday entry, thank you to @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​

Prologue:

Max Phillips slammed the hospital doors open, eager to get outside.  The sound beeping machines seemed to echo in his ears, making them hurt.  The smell of the place stuck to the back of his throat.

He tilted his head back in the afternoon sun, and breathed in, breathed out.  Tried to make himself calm down.  The Autumn are cleared his head as he jogged across the road.  

“Bad day?”  A voice asked.

Between two benches, almost hidden in the orange leaves, was a woman, instead of the ‘Nam veteran he usually passed a few moments talking to.  Her wiry steel colored hair was in a messy bun, covered by a turban.  She wore layers and layers even though it was a warm fall day.  “Where’s Raffi?”  Max asked.

“His daughter found him.  He decided to try living with her again.”

Max nodded.  “I hope it works out.  She wasn’t…apparently he isn’t easy to live with.  Bad dreams.”

“It’ll be better now.”  She said with such serene certainty that Max believed her.  He gave a little wave and walked away.  

He was back, twenty minutes later.  He put a chocolate shake in front of her, and a boxed fried chicken meal.  If he had known his folklore…which, sadly, he would become intimately familiar with, he would have understood her amusement.  Milk, bread…these were the Old offerings.  

Instead he shrugged, uncomfortable.  “What?  I figure everyone likes chocolate.  And I needed to eat, too.”  He sat next to her.

“How old are you?” She asked, though she knew.

He shrugged.  “Seventeen.”  He buttered a biscuit and took a huge bite.  He ate like he was starving.  “Why?”

“You seem to be awfully young to be hanging out with homeless people.  Where are your parents?”  

He shrugged again.  “My mom’s gone.  My father…”. He pointed towards the hospital doors with his chin.  “He’s dying.”  He hunched over the greasy box of chicken, potato strips and biscuits, eating like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

She sighed.

He looked at her, and she shook her head, and ate the food he brought her.  You are going to go off the rails Max Phillips.  You are going to go off the rails so badly and there’s nothing I can do about it.

The Present:

He entered the library through the basement, crept up the stairway.  The first floor was nearly empty…the university library kept late hours so that students could cram late into the night, but it was Thirsty Thursday and most of the students were elsewhere.  

He waited until you were focused on the book cart again, back towards the main floor, and got himself around the corner.  Then he pulled out his cell and dialed the front desk.

You now turned to go to the phone, at least he hoped so, as he disconnected the call and opened the side door to the area behind the circulation desk…

You were there, leaning against the cart, arms folded.  “Nice try, but I know your tricks, Mister Phillips.”

He grinned and advanced on her, step by step.

“No no…”. You point a finger at him.  “Stay back, this is a work place…”. You shoot a look towards the front desk as he backs you into your office.   “You are going to lose me my job.”  You hiss at him, and he bends a little, and kisses you breathless.

“Quit.  I’ll take care of you.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders.  He’s cool to the touch.  It’s not disconcerting, not like it used to be.  “I wish I could.”

“Stop wishing...”

“If you say ‘and make your dreams a reality’, I’ll bite you.”  

Max looks offended.  “It’s a great slogan!  Do you know how many units of Losapill those golden words have sold?”

“I don’t understand how I can love someone so much and want to punch them so badly.”

He grins down at you.  “I can name several reasons why you love me.”

You smirk up at him.  “I’m sure you can…let me go, honey.  I’ve got to tell everyone we’re closing in half an hour.”  He listened to your voice on the loudspeaker, buttery and gentle and reassuring, and smiled a little. He could listen to that voice forever.  He could sell holy water to a priest, but so far all his skills had failed to net him the one thing he wanted.

He walks with you, as you check the restrooms (He even does the men’s for you on each floor, turning off the lights and blocking the doors open) and stands behind you, hands in his pockets, looking gloomy as you gently tell students to take their books to the front desk if they needed to check them out, that the library was closing shortly.

He waits, patiently, while you close up and lock the doors and usher the last people out.  

“I really wish you’d let me turn you,” he says when you are both in your car and on the way home.  Max often took the rooftops from his office to the university.  He was fast, and strong, and being fairly indestructible made him long for the thrill of possibly getting hurt, so he parkoured his way through the city once it got dark.  It was disgusting, how he looked so good after running and leaping five miles.

He shifts in his seat as you let the silence grow.  “Are you ignoring me?”

“Yes.”  You stop at a red light.  

“Why?  You said you’d think about it.  You’ve been thinking about it for a month.  Any idea where you are on it?  Like, from the scale of one to ten…”

You’ve been wanting to avoid this.  You’ve really been wanting to avoid this.  “Zero.”

She waits.  She waits for the torrent of salesmanship.  The spiel.  Why becoming a vampire and living forever is what she wants, she just doesn’t know it’s yet.  

For once, words fail him.  No quick comeback, no charming lines. “I can’t believe you don’t want to be with me.”  He says it so softly that you almost aren’t sure you heard it.  

You pull into the apartment parking lot, picks a spot quickly you can park and take his hands in yours.  “Max.  I do.  I really do.  But just…I don’t want to be a vampire.  I don’t want to give up the things I would have to give up?”

“Like what?  Death?  Getting old?  Getting sick?  Being weak?”  He pulls his hands away.  “I am offering you unlimited time.  Think of the things we can do together!  And you don’t have to kill…I haven't killed anyone in ages!”

“Sunlight.”  You say.  “Food.”  He makes a disgusted sound and looks out the window.  “A family.”  You take a deep breath.  “Children.”

He finally looks at you again.  “Then I won’t waste any more of your time.”  He raises his hand, and time goes wonky for a moment, and when things snap back into place, he’s gone.

You stay in your car a long time, hoping he’ll come back. Every step up to your apartment, you look around, hoping.  

It’s dawn, before you give up, dried out from crying, your mouth feels full of ashes and your heart full of regret.

The next day:

Max was not in a good mood the next day.  Usually he has a nice word for, if no one else, his PA, a miracle worker of a woman he’d always been fond of, but he just glared at her and slams his door shut.

Emails.  Reports.  He plowed into work.  

The door opened, and he ignored it, steadfast in the hope that whoever it was would go the fuck away.   I could always eat them.  I don’t have to be good anymore.

A cup thumped down on his desk.  He looked up.  He didn’t recognize the woman — her steel grey hair was neat, her suit elegant.  Her heart beat strangely, and he could tell she was not — quite—human.  Great.  Someone new from corporate?

“I thought you said that everyone loves chocolate?”  She said, pointing at the milkshake.  “You’ve come far, since we last spoke outside the hospital…”

He shook his head.  “I remember you, but…”. How did she come to be here? Why? His brain was still trying to match up the homeless lady with the epitome of corporate flash in front of him.  

“Now, I didn’t say you moved in a good direction.  How did the sweet boy who spent his last twenty on dinner for himself and a homeless woman end up being a bloodsucking asshole selling fake products?”

“It’s a long story. Let’s schedule an appointment, maybe for the next century?”

“Nope.”  She reached across the desk.  “You gonna drink this?”

He shook his head and she took the milkshake, leaned back in her chair, moving the straw back and forth in the lid, making an annoying shriek sound that hurt his ears.  

“Do you think I wanted this?”  He snapped at her.  Vampires didn’t really need much in the way of sleep, but he was tired.  Tired and hurt.  “And who gives you the right to fucking judge me?”

“I’m one of the gentry,” she said.  “That doesn’t give me the right, but it gives me the power.”

“You’re fae.  That explains it.  You don’t seem human.”  

“I thought they taught you the rules.  You never call us out so clearly.  Always call us by some euphemism and hope we don’t take a notion to turn our attention towards you.”

He threw up his hands.  “Why?  Why does it matter?”

“Because if I wanted to, Max Phillips, I could turn you back into the weak, dying, foolish mortal you once were.”

This stopped him.  “You could?”  He said carefully.  

“I could.”

“What’s the catch?”

She smiled.  “Good boy.  Maybe they did teach you something, after all.”  She put the milkshake on the desk.  ”You were…what?  Twenty, twenty one when you got turned?  I could, if I wanted to, make it as if you never got turned.  I could choose for you to age to the age you should be, had you not cheated death…or I could make you start from where you are right now.  If I was feeling so inclined.”

“Why would I want that?”  He scoffed.  “Do you think I want to get old and sick?  Do you think I want to spend the last year of my life in a hospital bed, unable to even piss for myself?  You think this is a fucking gift?  Enticing?  No.”

“So you don’t want a life with the librarian? Probably for the best. She is made out of sunlight and deserves so much better.”

He stopped.  He could feel the slipping…where the darker side of him started clambering up, eager to take control and rend and kill.  

“Hush.”  She said, and the blood stopped rushing in his ears, the fangs stopped aching.  “I shouldn’t needle.  It’s just so frustrating.  You were a sweet boy and you just allowed the bad in your life to make you…well, frankly, a bit of a jackass.”  She shoot him an apologetic look.  “OK, that was a cruddy apology.  But.  Back to the subject at hand.  Once, you were kind to me.  And if you do me a favor — one more favor — I will give you a choice.  A chance to choose a life for yourself instead of being a victim of bad choices and worse luck.  No strings.  No further price.”

He side eyed her a long moment.  He was intrigued, despite himself.  “What’s the favor?”

She took a small painting out of her pocket and slid it over to him.  “Another debt to pay…that woman has a soul mate out there.  I know where he is.  If you get her to my house tomorrow night, I can unite them, give them a chance at well deserved happiness.”

“Yeuch.”  He said, then picked up the painting.  “Wait.  That’s my PA.”

“Is it?  How delightful.  Isn’t just splendid how fate intervenes.”  She put a card on the desk.  “This is the address.  Hope to see you.”  She held up her finger.  “There is one thing.  She can’t know.  You have to get her there without her knowing why.  Alright?”

“Don’t hold your breath.”  He muttered.

“Good.  I am glad you understand.  Ciao!”

He picked up the card.  And cursed a bit.

NIght, in the time middle of nowhere:

“So, Mister Phillips…are you taking me out into the middle of the woods to murder me?”  His PA asked, laughing.  She didn’t know he was a vampire.  Telling people what he was hadn’t worked out very well at his last job, so he’d been much more circumspect this time.

“I promise, you are safe.  From me.  I don’t know what Corporate will do, though,” he said, turning down another road.  

“So, did they tell you what the meeting is about?”

“It’s meant to be a retreat.  All the heads of the various branches and their PA’s.  They want to re-envision the future of the company”. He took one hand off the wheel to put air quotes in the right place.  “Apparently they messed up your email address so we didn’t get the invite in time.  Someone caught it and called me directly.”

“I hope the place they picked is nice…”. She was looking out the window, trying to make out the road ahead.  “Carol in accounting is super jealous.  I think she has a bit of a crush on you…”

“Well, I am irresistible.”

“Mostly.”  She grinned at him.  A square of light grabbed her attention.  “I think we’re here.”

He pulled up to the house.  It looked sketchy at best, and the looks his PA were casting made him wonder if her trust was stretching a little too thin.

He got out and walked up to the porch.  The Fae came out this time wearing a chic, flowery dress.  She ignored Max and called to his PA.  “Don’t be afraid.  You are here so I can talk to you about your dreams…and by that, I mean the Spaniard, with the scar over his eye.”

The PA froze.  “You…you know about him?”  

“Go inside, dear, and I will tell you all about him.  But I need to talk to Max, here, first”

His PA stopped next to him, put her hand on his arm.  “Will you be OK?”

“Absolutely.  You know me.”

She went into the house.  

“Come here, Max.”  The Fae held out her hand, gesturing him to come up to the porch.  He did.  A card table was set up, with one chair.  Two cards lay face down.  “Here is your choice.  Are you ready?”

He stood there, looking at the table, and nodded.  Fear coursed through him, as strong as the day cold hands grabbed him from behind, teeth sinking into his throat…

She reached down and flipped over a card.  The Queen of Spades.  “Darkness ever lasting.  A vampire queen even now is looking for her equal.  She will choose you, and the two of you will know power beyond your wildest dreams…until enough people get angry about it and decide to deal with you both.  You will not love her, but who needs love when you have sex and death and all the power you ever hoped for?”

She reaches again, flips over another card.  The Queen of Hearts.  “And this.  This is life.  Your soul will wake up, and you will be twenty one and full of possibilities again.  Your heart will beat every beat that was stolen from you.  The slate will not be wiped entirely clean, but you will have a chance — a chance with your lovely librarian.  Children.  Be kind when you were once cruel, and live a decent, good life.”  

His lips were numb.  “How…how long?”

“Long enough.  You will not feel cheated.  It will be a plain sort of life, but it will be yours, and you will have the woman you love…some would say that is worth dying for.”

“What do you know about death?  Your kind just fade when they are tired of living.  You will never know the absolute fucking horror of your body betraying you.  The fucking humiliation that waits.  The pain.”

“No.”  She said softly.  “I do not.”  She kissed his temple.  “I am sorry.  If I had met you sooner, perhaps…but, in any case, I consider all debts paid.  When you are ready, pick up the card representing your choice, and rip it in half.  Choose well, Maxwell Phillips.  May we never meet again.”

He didn’t notice her leave.  He sat down, weak, at the table.

Life.  Death.  Life.  Death.  

He’d seen both his parents die terribly.  After he was turned, he’d mourned, then he realized the gift he’d been given.  No hospitals.  No lingering disease.  No pain.

His hand hovered next to the Queen of Spades.  No love, but power and sex.  He’d tried to recover, tried to be good, for you.  And he’d started feeling the guilt.  And with guilt, came all the excuses.  That he was living according to the nature that had been forced upon him.  That he was giving people a gift…they died, or they become something that could never die.

You don’t punish the wolf for being a wolf.

But that was why it had been easy to walk away.  Because you deserved better.  Not a vampire.  Not a wolf.  A man…

He did not hear the car, but he heard the thump of the other man’s steps as he mounted the porch.  

“She’s in there…”  he said, barely paying attention.  

When the other man left, he repeated what he said to him, in his head.  Choosing between life and death.

He picked up the Queen of Hearts.  His hands were shaking.  He ripped the card in half.  Darkness roared around him, pulled him under.

When he woke up, he was on the floor of his apartment.  

No.  His fucking.  College.  Dorm room.

“Dude, you started early.”  Evan’s stupid face appeared as he bent over him.  

Max wondered if he could punch him in the face.  It would feel really, really good to punch the other man in the face,

“OK, well, I’m going to an away game…see you sometime tomorrow.”

He put the palms of his hands in his eyes.  “Yeah…have fun.”

Evan stepped over him.  “See ya…wouldn’t want to be ya!”  The door slammed shut and Max raised both hands in a one finger salute towards it.

He made himself get up and go to the bathroom.  He looked younger but not better, per se.  What is wrong with me?  What’s this feeling?

It wasn’t just that he could feel his body working.  Feel breath (was breathing always so fucking noisy?) and heat beats and aches in his neck and back from laying weird on the floor.

He’d lived for years.  But right now, he was still the same angry, miserable hit mess of a man he’d been at this point of his life.  

A phone was ringing, he went and grabbed it.

“Hey Maxie.  Is Evan gone?”  Evan’s girlfriend.  Great.

Oh.  

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Look…”

“Awesome.  I bought the cutest bra and panties…”

And this is where, he thought, this is where he took the step to becoming the man you deserved him to be.  “That’s great.  But you know…I only want to fuck you because your boyfriend is an annoying twit.”

Shocked silence.  OK still an asshole.  Check.  So much for being a sweet boy when I was younger.  “Look. I meant what I said.  You are beautiful. You are probably far, far too good for Evan. Or maybe not, if you are willing to screw around with an asshole like me. In any case, you deserve better. But you have to decide what better is.”

This treated him to a string of profanity before the woman hung up.

Then, he walked to the infirmary, and asked for aspirin. And if there were any free spots for the therapist.

Sunday, the conversation between roommates went like this:

“So you were going to screw my girlfriend?”

A shrug — Max concentrated on the video game.  “Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

He paused the game.  “Because you deserve better.”

He felt Evan throw himself on the couch next to him.  “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I don’t hate you. You’re just so fucking happy and peppy and optimistic and everything is going to be awesome but I think the world is shit and misery and maybe if you dialed it back a little I we could have conversations that didn’t end with me wanting to punch your face.”

“Dude.”  It sounded defeated and apologetic at the same time.

Max held a controller out to him. “Sorry. I’ll try to be less of an asshole.”

He took it.  “I’ll try to be less…happy?”

Max sighed.  “Just don’t get me kicked out, ok? I can’t afford anywhere else and I really don’t want to end up in Transylvania.”

Two years later, he decided he could go and find you.

Most people went to nice places on their spring break.

Max got on a bus and headed to a University in the next state.  They’d had their Spring break a week sooner.

There you were. Sitting cross legged on a bench with a man with a streak of blonde in his hair, and a suit coat with elbow patches.  Elbow patches.  Pretentious asshole.

You were tucking hair behind your ear. You liked him. Max wondered if he should leave, come back…in a year?  Three?  When did he have a right to become part of your life?  Did he even?

You look at him and smile and it is sunshine and he can’t leave.

The man on the bench says something about class.  “See you at work,” she tells him, and he lopes off in an easy walk to one of the brick covered class buildings.

Max approaches carefully.  “Hey.  Um.  I’m thinking about transferring here, wondered what it’s like?”

She shifted her bag over, even though there was plenty of room to sit, and he took it as an invite.  “Sure. What do you want to know?”

He gave her his best smile. “Everything. I want to know everything.”

[trulymadlysydney]

Somewhere In Time: Nine

“The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected. Maybe they always have been and will be. Maybe we've lived a thousand lives before this one and in each of them we've found each other. And maybe each time, we've been forced apart for the same reasons. That means that this goodbye is both a goodbye for the past ten thousand years and a prelude to what will come.”

-Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook

tw: Death, Loss of Parent

Previous Chapters HERE

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

April 18th, 1963, 1:32pm

It’s a warm spring day, one of the first of the year, and ten year-old Tanya Elliot is thrilled to be done with class for the day.  

She steps out into the sunshine, forgoing her jacket and instead slinging it over her arm as she says her quick goodbyes to her five best friends.  None of them are headed to the same destination; Sherry’s mom picks her up in the parking lot, Marcy and Jana both take the bus, Kelly walks over to the high school to meet up with her brother, and Shannon walks home-- only in the opposite direction that Tanya does.  

With an agreement to meet up in their usual spot tomorrow morning before school (and Kelly’s promise to bring some extra sweets from her mother’s baking club), they set off on their separate ways.  Tanya shifts her backpack to her left shoulder, and begins her fifteen minute walk home.

She takes a big deep breath of the sweet smelling air, enjoying the way the sun feels against her face.  She wonders if maybe she could convince her parents to take a trip to the lake on Saturday; maybe she could work on her tan for a bit.  (And besides, she wouldn’t mind seeing Willard, the older boy who lives with his family in a gorgeous house right on the water.)

Tanya stops walking and is completely knocked out of her thoughts when something-- someone-- across the playground catches her attention.

It seems to be another little girl, definitely no older than Tanya herself.  Tanya finds her eyes fixated on the girl the moment she sees her. She’s beautiful, but she sticks out like a sore thumb because her clothing is not at all of this time period.

Tanya stops walking, eyeing the girl from afar. As completely out of place as she seems, she looks perfectly calm. She watches the other children, a slight smile on her face. No one seems to acknowledge her much, except for maybe a confused glance or a laugh at her appearance.  She brushes off the children’s snickers (as far as Tanya can tell, she doesn’t even react at all) and continues to scan the playground as if looking for something.

The girl seems to feel Tanya’s eyes, because her soft smile only grows in intensity before she turns her eyes to meet Tanya’s gaze.  It makes Tanya’s blood run cold, but it also piques her curiosity intensely.

At first, Tanya thinks she’s perhaps seeing a ghost; after all, she’s lived in this town all her life and never noticed this strange girl with the strange clothes. But at any rate, it doesn’t frighten her much, and when the young girl smiles at Tanya, Tanya thinks better of her original assumption.

Tanya glances down at her watch-- a gold watch that is much too big for her wrist-- to read the time: 2:32.  Her mother will be expecting her home in fifteen minutes, and will probably start to worry should she be but a minute later.

Still, Tanya can’t shake the feeling that this girl is important.  There’s something in her eyes that feels familiar and welcoming, and an overwhelming sense of magnetism radiating from her very being.  Tanya knows better than to talk to strangers, of course, but this isn’t a stranger; this is another little girl.  A friend, perhaps.

So she bites the bullet and makes her way across the wood-chip covered playground, without any regard as to whether the girl wants to speak to her as well.  

“Are you new?” Tanya asks as she approaches, by way of introduction.  

The girl smiles an all knowing smile, as if she’s been waiting for Tanya to ask  “I’m Violet.”

Tanya laughs at that.  “Neat.  That’s not what I asked, but neat.  I’m Tanya.”

“Hello Tanya.”  Violet remains weirdly comfortable throughout this entire interaction, as if she’s spoken to Tanya several times before this.  She nods towards her hand.  “I like your ring.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not new, no.  I’m from the past.”

Tanya isn’t sure she’s heard Violet correctly the minute the words leave Violet’s mouth. She blinks, waiting for Violet’s face to change to reveal that she is, in fact, joking.  But her face never changes.  She remains stone faced and unmoving, and it takes Tanya aback.

After a charged yet awkward silence, Tanya speaks. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I—“

“No you did,” Violet cuts her off. “You heard correctly.”

Tanya blinks dumbly back at her new friend.  “I don’t…. understand…?”

Violet sighs, almost as if bothered to be explaining herself.  “I travelled through time to get here here.  From the past.”

Now, Tanya grows skeptical. She wonders if this is one of her friends playing a prank on her, and she glances around to see if anyone is watching her from afar and holding in their giggles. When she’s met only with complete normalcy, however, she turns back to her new friend.

“But how?” She asks. “How is that possible?”

Violet shrugs. “I don’t know. I just know that it is. Because here I am.”

Tanya, still skeptical, laughs in disbelief. “Alright” she says, “well then what year are you from?” She puts air quotations around the question, which only makes Violet laugh in a way that makes Tanya feel immature.

“I come from 1907,” Violet explains. “What year is this? 1967?”

“1963,” Tanya corrects. “But I’m sure you knew that.”  She rolls her eyes.  “Look, what’s the big idea? I know you’re trying to fool me, and it isn’t working.”

Violet shakes her head. “But I’m not, silly!” She says. “I’ve been working since I was small to learn how to time travel.  And I finally did it!”

“Wow,” Tanya deadpans, still completely unconvinced.  “How did you do it?”

Violet grins. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“To tell you the truth, Violet,” Tanya says, absentmindedly picking at the dirt under her nails, “I don’t.”

“I didn’t think so.” Violet giggles. “But if you really want to know, I’ll tell you.”

Tanya glances nervously around the playground once again. She knows she’s already going to be late coming home anyway, so there’s no reason she shouldn’t stay here and talk to the odd girl. Still, she doesn’t want to push her own luck with her mother.

She shrugs. “Actually, I gotta get home,” she explains. “But if you wanna walk with me, you can.”

Violet smiles, looking more childlike than she has in their entire interaction. “Really? Gee, I’d love that!”

“Really?” Tanya smiles. “Alright. Follow me.”

The two girls fall into step, side by side, as Violet launches right into her story about time travel. This doesn’t seem to be a secret for her— in fact it seems about as common a topic as the weather for Violet— but Tanya grows slightly embarrassed at the volume of the other girl’s voice.

It’s all so strange really, how trusting Violet is of Tanya. Then again, Tanya could really say the same thing about herself.  She doesn’t know what it is about the peculiar girl that causes her to trust her so much, but at any rate she enjoys her company. (Even if her story is a bit odd.)

What Tanya hadn’t anticipated, of course, was the connection and friendship she would develop with this girl.   She hadn’t anticipated inviting the girl over for dinner that night, (and she hadn’t expected her mother to say yes).  She hadn’t anticipated spending all of her free time with Violet, laughing and playing together and becoming the best of friends. And she definitely hadn’t  anticipated that within the coming weeks, she would come to believe Violet’s story whole-heartedly, which would instill within her a deep fascination in the concept of time travel.

And more than anything, she hadn’t expected their goodbye to be so painful.

Violet had explained to her multiple times that this was the first time she’d done anything like this.  She had also explained that, although she would try, there was no guarantee she would be able to come back.  And although Tanya had listened and valued what her friend was saying, she hadn’t exactly believed her.  She had faith that her friend was going to come back.  She had faith they would be friends forever.

But when Violet disappears, on exactly the day that she’d said she would and without saying a proper goodbye to Tanya, Tanya grows desperate.

It’s why, in the years that follow, Tanya finds herself immersed in book after book, depicting time travel and its possibilities.   It’s why she reaches out, through any means necessary, trying to find some way to communicate with her friend from another time. Her friend, who quickly became a soulmate best friend, who understood her in ways many others did not.

It’s why Tanya finds herself grounded for a week the summer before 7th grade because she got in a fight with a boy at school who told her time travel was bogus.

It’s why she finds herself, on the night of her fifteenth birthday party, being relentlessly teased by her friends for still being interested in time travel.

And it’s why, on April 18th, 1975, she finds herself crying on her bed after another failed time travel attempt.

Her one year-old daughter Veronica sleeps peacefully in her crib as Tanya tries, to absolutely no avail, to travel back to her friend.  She wants to tell Violet all about her daughter.  She wants to tell Violet that, despite the literal years that separate them, she’s always considered Violet to be her baby’s godmother.   She isn’t even sure why she’s still so hung up on this whole ordeal, but in any case she’s desperate to find an answer, and to know if Violet is searching for one too.

Tanya glances out at the night sky, the skyline of New York—so hopeful and inspiring to some, but so suffocating to her— promising Violet that she will never give up.

She promises, out loud, that she will never stop trying to find her friend.  In every lifetime. In every timeline. She swears she will do her best to find her.

And with a discouraged heart that she tries to ignore, Tanya goes to bed; dreaming of a world far different than her own, in which times are simpler, and her best friend lives forever.

---------------

January 9th, 1925,  8:22am

It’s a quiet, somber morning in Harry’s apartment.  In the same fashion that they have for the past few mornings, Harry and Roni work side by side to prepare breakfast in the kitchen.  Only this time, it’s quiet. Nearly wordless. Their kisses are dry but lingering, and it makes them both feel guilty in a way that neither can explain.

Harry fights to suppress the urge to beg Roni, at least once or twice more, to stay with him; and Roni has to hold back the tears threatening to spill at any moment because she feels entirely too overwhelmed with questions.  What if she’s doing the wrong thing?  What if she chose to stay?  How would all of her loved ones back home manage to live? Or what if they didn’t,  and Roni’s decision killed them all off?  Would it be quick and painless for all her loved ones in her original timeline?  Would they just all together stop existing? Would anyone even remember them?

“I don’t like this,” Harry speaks up, drawing Roni from her thoughts as they sit wordlessly at the dining table.

“Hm?”  Roni doesn’t ask it because she didn’t hear what he said.  Rather, she asks as a way to fill the silence that follows his words.

“I don’t like that we’re just… not saying anything.  I don’t know.”

Roni sighs.  “I know,” she admits.  “It’s not how I wanted our last morning to go.”

Harry winces subtly at her words-- “our last morning,”-- and Roni wishes more than anything that she could take them back.  But she can’t.  There is no way around the inevitable any longer.

“I hate feeling like--”  Harry trails off, and Roni doesn’t push him to finish the sentence.

“Like we’ve run out of things we can say?” she offers after a moment, tracing the rim of her mug with her fingers.  “Me too.  It kills me.”

Harry gives her only a sad smile in response, which breaks Roni’s heart even further.  She wants to suggest pretending like everything is fine, of course, the same way she has every morning for the past week.  But she can’t.  Not anymore.  The decision has been made, and she can’t change her mind now.

Unless…

“Your food is going to get cold,” Harry chuckles, and Roni glances down at the room temperature piece of toast that’s been sitting in her hand for the past five minutes.  She laughs bitterly, and swallows the lump that refuses to go down in her throat.

“Sorry,” she says. “Kinda nauseous.  Not in a breakfast sort of mood.”

“Well you’ll have to eat something.”  Harry drums his fingers absentmindedly along the tabletop.  “Got a long journey ahead of you, y’know.”

He says it with a smile, but the words only cause the lump in Roni’s throat to grow ten sizes.  She knows he’s trying to be encouraging, but it hurts far, far too much.  She thinks that if the pain of overthinking doesn’t kill her, the suffocating feeling in her throat surely will.

Harry notices her facial expression, and his cheeks go red.  “Sorry.”

Roni’s face grows hot and her eyes go a bit foggy. She had told herself this morning that she wasn’t going to cry all day today, at least not until that evening as they were saying their final goodbyes. This vow, however, had come after a silent cry as she lay in bed watching her sleeping lover breathe softly with tousled curls and a sleepy pout on his face.  She could lay with him and watch him sleep like that forever.

So she giggles half-heartedly and unconvincingly, pulling away from his loving touch and fanning at her moist eyes with her hands. “Ah!” She groans. “Sorry. I wasn’t gonna cry until—“

“Hey, hey!” Harry leans earnestly across the table, reaching forward and placing his hand comfortingly on her back. “It’s okay, honey.  Listen, you’re okay.  It’s okay to cry.”

“This blows,” Roni says, her words accented by a bitter laugh. “I fucking hate this.”

Harry chuckles at her words. “As do I, honey. But it’s okay.” He scratches at her spine lightly, his voice softening as he repeats his words for emphasis. “It’s going to be okay.”

Roni looks at him, no longer trying to supress the single tear rolling down her cheek.  He offers her the sweetest smile in return, and she leans across the table to kiss it softly.  “Angel,” she says. “You’re a fucking angel.”

It makes Harry giggle, and he pulls away to stab gently at his scrambled eggs with his fork.

“Been thinking.”  He speaks a moment later around a mouthful.

“Yeah?”

“Mm. Think we should make tonight special.”

“Special,” Roni scoffs. “Not quite the word I’d use for it.”

“I know,” Harry chuckles, “but it might ease the blow a bit.”

Roni rests her elbows on the table, leaning in to listen to him. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” Harry says, allowing himself a pause to swallow his food. “It’s going to be cold, so that might put a bit of a damper on the evening.”

“Because it was going to be such a lovely evening otherwise,” Roni says sarcastically, and Harry rolls his eyes at her cheekiness before continuing.  

“Was thinking we could build a fire. Pack some food, maybe some candles. Extra blankets. You can wear my coat that you like.”  His smile deepens. “You know. Just make tonight as pleasant as we can make it.  Maybe a bit romantic. Go out with a bang, so to speak.”

Roni hesitates, trying to fight the subtle smirk threatening to form on her face.  “Was that a play on words?”

“Hm?”

“You know.”  Roni shifts in her seat, enjoying the playful banter that’s briefly lightening the mood.  “A ‘bang.’  Like we’re gonna bang later.”

Harry laughs, an amused furrow in his brow.  “I don’t understand.  What does that mean?”

“You don’t use the term banging?  Like, for having sex?”

“Never heard of that, no.”  Harry grins.  “It’s catchy.  I like it.”

“Right?”  Roni raises her coffee mug to her lips.  “I figured that’s what you meant.”

“Do you want to-- eh-- bang? Tonight?”  Harry laughs at the phrase that feels so foreign in his own mouth, and it makes Roni giggle in spite of herself.

“I mean we don’t have to.  We might be too sad to bang.  We can see where the wind takes us.”

“The wind is going to take you right on back to 1999,”  Harry says sadly, although his smile still lingers on his cheeks.

Roni’s smile fades, and she feels her shoulders visibly sink.  “Well,” she says softly, “yeah.”

Harry chuckles. “Sorry. We’re talking in circles here, aren’t we?” He nods towards her plate. “Can I make you something else, darling?”

———————

The rest of the day feels like a strange dream, both dragging on and passing by in a blur. They make slow, quiet love on the couch, and they tease each other playfully when they both inevitably start crying.  When the sun begins its natural descent, they turn on some cheerful music to try and ease their anxiety, but it doesn’t help— reminding them instead of all the fun times they’ve had together.

Harry sighs after the third record they’ve put on doesn’t do the trick. “Can I play something else?” He asks, quietly but hopefully. “It’s gonna be a bit sad, but… you know.”

Roni shrugs. “Shoot,” she offers. “Not like you can bring the mood today down any further.”

Harry chuckles. “Well…” he says, then trails off. He gives Roni’s knee a gentle squeeze before rising to his feet, padding barefoot across the carpet to switch songs.

In such a simple act, Roni finds herself particularly overwhelmed with emotion. She watches him, eyes trailing the spanse of his broad back, admiring the way his trousers cling to his pert backside and the way he stands, legs apart and with most of his weight on his right side. She wonders if he’s aware that he stands like that.

In all of her twenty-six years of living, she’s never fallen so deeply in love with the tiniest characteristics of a person before. Not until Harry. She notices everything about him, and finds every bit of it endearing— (even the way he snores in his sleep so loudly it wakes her up).  These specific moments of quiet admiration hold as much weight and value in her memory as those instances of passionate love making or deep belly laughter or falling asleep in one another’s arms. It’s all so deliciously him—them— and she can’t seem to fathom continuing on in a world without him.

When the music begins, Roni’s throat feels like it’s closing in around itself.  She recognizes the song instantly— it’s one he’d played for her back when she’d first gotten here. It sounds different this time, and it doesn’t take Roni long to realize that this isn’t the instrumental version she’d first heard. This time, it’s the version with lyrics; lyrics that hold a much deeper value in her heart than the first time Harry had whispered them in her ear.  Roni looks at Harry, helpless, as the opening notes begin playing.

Gone is the romance that was so divine

‘Tis broken and cannot be mended

Harry joins in, stepping gently towards Roni with a sympathetic, yet understanding smile.  “You must go your way, and I must go mine, but now that our love dream has ended…”  Harry trails off, his eyes growing misty (though he fights hard to suppress it.  “Fitting, innit?”

“Oh Harry,” Roni sighs. She rises to her feet, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her into him. They sway gently, in what could hardly be considered a waltz, and Roni tries desperately to push the anxiety in her throat down.  She rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and breathing in his scent by his neck.  He holds her like he’ll never let her go.

“Remember the first time we did this?” Harry asks quietly.

“How could I forget?” Roni laughs.  “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Harry rests his cheek lightly on Roni’s head.  “It does, doesn’t it?”

They continue to sway, hardly exchanging any words, and Roni doesn’t even realize that she’s crying (again) until she pulls away to look up at Harry and notices her tear stains against his shirt.  He’s trying not to cry as well; Roni can tell by the way he refuses to look anywhere but at one spot on the wall. But when Roni kisses the corner of his chin, he softens with a chuckle, shaking his head as if he can’t believe their luck.

“I’m already missing you, bunny.”

Roni sniffs, nuzzling her face back into Harry’s chest. “I’m missing you more than you know.”

Not another word is spoken, and even after the song ends, they stand together in silence.  They’re hardly swaying any longer at this point— mostly they’re just holding one another while they still can.  After about five minutes, Harry audibly swallows.

“We should probably get going. It’ll be dark soon.”

His words make Roni nauseous, knowing that her time left in this humble apartment is limited now to only minutes. She stops swaying, and Harry makes no effort to let go of her. He sighs, scratching tenderly at her back. “I know,” he whispers, “I hate it, too.”

Roni tries her best to keep a brave face. “Trying to get rid of me that quick are you?” she teases. She’s delighted when she hears a genuine laugh bubble out from Harry’s mouth.

“Oh honey,” he says, kissing the top of her head. “Never, never. Never in a million years.”

They remain still, holding one another in their embrace until they both become painfully aware that they really do need to get going.  The process of untangling themselves from one another’s arms takes much longer than necessary, and even as they let go they immediately interlace their fingers.

“I don’t have anything to pack,” Roni admits. “You can keep my party dress from when I got here. It’s too cold for me to put it on and sit on the beach tonight. And as for the ones you bought me—“ She trails off, glancing down at the skirt of the pretty dress she’s wearing right now. “Well, you can keep those, too. Not sure how much use I’ll have for them in the year 2000.”

“You never know,” Harry jokes, trying to keep things light hearted. “Maybe there’ll be a costume party or something--”

Roni giggles, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. “Harry.”

He smiles, leaning forward and kissing her nose.  “I’ll pack up some snacks and a few other things we might need.  A blanket maybe.  You get your stones and such.  And,” a crooked smile tugs on his cheek,  “that coat you like.”

Roni grins, in spite of herself.  “Can I wear your cap?”

“Do you want to wear my cap?”

“I want any piece of you on me that I can possibly get.”

Harry chuckles, and for a moment everything feels completely normal.  “Cheeky,” he mutters, pinching her butt before turning to busy himself in the kitchen.

Roni watches him for a bit, and although he’s aware of it he doesn’t make some cheeky, embarrassed little remark requesting her to stop.  She watches the way he moves around the kitchen that she’s grown so familiar with.  The kitchen, so beyond tiny and cozy, connecting to the living room that has come to smell like home.

The memories they have made in this humble living room in such a short amount of time begin playing like a film in Roni’s mind.  Dancing together, cooking, making lol, building puzzles; the most mundane things made to be so magical because they were done together.

Roni smiles to herself at the memory of how unpleasantly she’d treated Harry in the beginning. She feels bad, of course, but it’s humorous to think about now  because she was so lost at the time.

“I’m still here!”  Roni exclaims, infuriated that Harry doesn’t seem as shocked about this as she does.

“You are.”  Harry nods, the scrambled eggs in the frying pan sizzling under the spatula.  “Did you sleep well?”

“Harry, holy fuck, how is this happening?”  Roni doesn’t dare move, as if moving is going to trap her even further.  She feels like the walls are closing in on her as the full extent of the situation hits her.  She hadn’t allowed herself to fully feel these feelings the night before, because she hadn’t seen this as a permanent issue.  But now here she is, in a year that doesn’t even feel real, with a bastard who doesn’t even seem to care about her concerns.  

Harry smiles to himself.  “I don’t know, pet.  Honestly, I was kind of thinking that maybe you were drunk and just forgot where you were last night.”

“I wasn’t drunk, and I didn’t forget, but thank you for completely invalidating me.”  Roni huffs. Stomping across the living room and plopping down onto the most uncomfortable couch she’s ever felt in her life, she figures this is an appropriate time to just pout– especially considering that Harry isn’t going to give into her panicking.  “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”  She props her elbows on her knees and buries her head in her hands.

“Eat some breakfast and relax,” Harry answers.  “We’ll figure this out. Would you like some tea?”

Roni smiles at the memory of her first morning here, feeling overwhelmed by the complete 180 her heart has done.  At the time, she’d wanted nothing more than to go home, and she hadn’t believed Harry when he’d said they would figure it out.   Now that they have, she wants nothing more than to stay here.

She makes her way into Harry’s tiny bedroom, the film of her memories continuing to roll through her mind. She had found this place so odd, so minimalistic, and she’d thought Harry was a nutjob for giving up his bed for her.  She remembers helping him place the fitted sheets along the mattress, and she remembers waking up early and watching people through the small window.  

Her cheeks grow hot, however, as the memory of the first time they made love in this bed plays in her head.

“Don’t do this… unless you mean it.”

Roni sees the earnestness in his eyes, and she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. She brushes the tip of her nose against his before licking her lips and pulling him in for another kiss. This kiss isn’t as elaborate as it had been moments ago, but it’s sweet, and she feels all the tension in his shoulders release.

When she pulls away, she smiles, reaching up to brush a wild strand of hair off of his forehead.  She nods her head.

“I mean it.”

She chuckles, running her hand along the thin duvet of the bed and making her way to the small closet.  She has to say one final goodbye to her dresses-- the ones that Harry had used his last dollars to purchase for her. The ones that had felt so funny and so foreign on her the first time she’d worn them.  

They hang, untouched and cold, among the few dressier shirts that Harry owns, and Roni’s heart clenches at the thought of them hanging here forevermore.  She thinks perhaps Harry should give them away, maybe to Daisy— although come to think of it, these may be far too dull for Daisy taste.  Maybe Harry could sell them, make a bit of extra cash.  Or maybe—

“Veronica.”

Harry’s voice from the doorway startles her out of her thoughts, and she whirls around on her heel with a jump.  She hadn’t realized she was crying again (although the ache behind her eyes should have been a dead giveaway), and Harry notices her tears immediately.  He doesn’t go to her, he only nods sympathetically when she laughs and gives him a shrug in surrender, as if to admit “yeah, I’m crying again, so what.”

“You alright, darling?”

She takes a slow deep breath in, savoring the smell of his little place that she’s fallen so deeply in love with, and examining it one last time before nodding and turning back to him. “I’m alright,” she says with finality. “Let’s do this.”

---------------

The beach is freezing, because of course it is, and Roni and Harry shiver as they set up their blanket on the shore.  Roni reminds Harry several times that he didn’t have to do all this— he didn’t even have to come with her if he didn’t want to— but he is having none of it.

Roni shivers, wearing Harry’s heavier coat and his little cap that she’s grown so fond of, and her breath comes out in a visible puff of air.

“Can you set up the snacks and the stones and such?” Harry asks. “It’s too bloody cold for me to wait any longer on starting the fire.”

Roni nods, the thought of the warm fire cheering her up. She reaches into the picnic basket and begins sorting through the various snacks they’ve decided to bring.  

Harry really had thought of everything, just to add a bit of a sense of normalcy to this whole ordeal.  He’d packed some leftover cold pasta salad  that they’d had from the night before, along with a bottle of chocolate milk for them to share.  It was adorable watching him pack, especially when he got so excited about bringing items to make “these new treats called S’mores! They’re delicious, bunny, you’ll love them!” (Roni of course hadn’t had the heart to tell him that she was more than familiar with s’mores; not when he looked so cute explaining them to her.)

He had offered to bring candles as well, but ultimately had decided against it when he realized it was a bit windy, and starting a fire was going to be difficult enough.

As if on cue, he curses under his breath, causing Roni to giggle and offer him help; which he, of course, immediately turns down. So Roni let’s him do his thing, setting up all of the various items from the picnic basket and trying not to dwell on the finality of the entire situation.

It’s about fifteen minutes later when Harry finally has a solid fire going.  They eat together, chatting casually about the weather and occasionally bringing up a few of their favorite memories over the past few weeks they’ve shared.  It feels strange, when they really think about it, that their time together hasn’t actually been all that long.  Both agree, albeit somewhat glumly due to the circumstances, that that’s what happens when you meet your twin flame.  It happens, fast and quick and colorful, and then either softens into a comfortable glow or explodes into a million pieces, leaving the flames lost until the next lifetime in which they find each other.  

Neither Roni nor Harry are quite sure where exactly on that scale their situation falls.

After their meal, they work together to clean up the leftover food, shivering and subconsciously moving their bodies closer to the fire.  Roni scowls realizing how little either of them ate, and she sighs, looking out onto the dark, cold ocean.

“This feels like… like the last supper. You know like, in the Bible.”  Roni scowls.  “And I’m the one that’s about to betray you.”

Harry chuckles.  “You’re not betraying me.”

“Well that’s what it feels like.”

“Well, don’t think of it like that,” Harry says softly.  “Think of it like a romantic picnic between two lovers.  I mean, that’s sort of what it is, isn’t it?”

His smile breaks Roni’s heart, but she giggles in spite of herself.  “I suppose,” she says, her own words tasting like bile in her mouth.   Speaking at all right now feels wrong and completely foreign, and the sense of guilt that lingers in her stomach has only intensified tenfold since this morning.  She knows Harry is fully aware of the situation, and that he is prepared for what is about to happen; yet she still can’t shake the feeling that somehow she’s about to betray him.  It’s like she’s looking in the face of an innocent puppy that she’s about to completely abandon-- shivering and helpless.

With that thought comes the terrible imagery of Harry packing all of this up once she’s gone.  Harry-- alone and cold-- folding up the picnic blanket and the leftover food, walking soberly back to his apartment to sleep in his bed alone.  The thought of him tracing the dent made by her head left on his pillow (since neither of them had bothered to make the bed this morning), or him smelling her dresses hanging in his closet, never to be worn again-- it’s all too much for Roni to bear.  She lets out a long huffing sigh, accompanied by a gentle “for fuck’s sake.”

Harry barely looks up at her as he continues to set up all of the various snacks.  “Hm?” he asks.

“Harry--” Roni’s voice is abrupt.  “Am I… doing the right thing?”

Now, Harry does stop.  He looks up at her from under his lashes slowly, as if waiting for her to say something else.  He doesn’t press her, he only looks at her, and it makes her groan.

“You know,” she tries again,  “Like… should I just stay?  I don’t want to erase the people that I love from back home… and I definitely don’t want to erase my mom, but I can’t--”  She breaks off, tears beginning to well in her eyes,  “I can’t lose you.”

Harry’s voice is calm when he speaks.  “Do you think you’re doing the right thing?”

“That’s why I’m asking you!” Roni wails, reaching up to wipe at her eyes.

“Well, bunny,”  Harry stokes the fire a bit more, the embers dancing against the darkening sky,  “You know I can’t make that decision for you.”

“Harry,” Roni sighs in frustration.

“I can’t tell you what you want to hear,” he says slowly, a gentle but sad smile tugging on the corners of his lips, “because I don’t know what you want to hear.  I don’t think you do either.”

Roni wipes at her eyes once again, only to realize that it’s in vain. The tears are thick, and are beginning to flow freely down her cheeks.   Harry watches her sadly, unsure of whether or not he should move.

On the one hand, he wants to go to her.  He wants to take her in his arms, kiss away her tears, beg her to stay; to be his forever.  But on the other hand, he knows that what his beloved Veronica needs the most right now is someone to be strong for her.  And how can he do that when he’s hurting just as much?  How can he hold her in his arms and be strong for her if he knows that the minute he feels her shuddering sob into his chest, he’ll break down as well?

So he stays put, frozen in place focusing his eyes intensely on one spot of the fire. There is nothing more for him to do right now.

The sound of the ocean mixed with the crackling of the fire would be such a beautiful backdrop for a romantic evening together on any other occasion.  But given the circumstances, neither Harry nor Roni are feeling very romantic at present.   Roni shivers, wrapping the coat tighter around her shoulders as a bitter ocean breeze rips through her.

“I can’t lose you,” Roni repeats quietly.

“You won’t,” Harry answers. “I’ll never forget you as long as I live.”  When Roni doesn’t say anything, Harry scoots just a titch closer to her. “Veronica,” he says slowly. “I will never stop trying to find you. Until the day I die, I will try. I will look for you in every corner of the earth. In every lifetime. In every timeline.  I will do my best to find a way to find you. I will never, ever give up.”

Roni sniffs, reaching up to wipe at her runny nose. “And what if you can’t find me?”

Harry swallows audibly. “Well,” he says slowly. “Then.  I’ll wait for you in the sky.”

Roni’s throat swells, and she blinks back a few more tears, licking away the salty remnants that remain on her lips.  “I want you to find me.”

“I’ll find you,” Harry reassures her.  “One way or another.  I will find you.”

Roni blinks at Harry, so many words hanging on the tip of her tongue but no actual voice with which to speak them; especially because she doesn’t even know where she would begin.  She lets out all of the breath in her chest, reaching forward and taking his hand in hers.  “I love you, Harry Styles.”

He smiles, giving her hand a squeeze and running his thumb along the back.  “I love you too, Veronica Elliot.”

After a brief moment, Roni leans across the way to press a few short pecks to Harry’s lips. When she pulls away, she sighs.  “I don’t want to think about it anymore,” she says, “but I’m not sure there’s much else to focus on.”

“Tell me about your father,” Harry offers.

The proposition takes Roni by surprise, and she furrows her eyebrows at Harry. “Forreal?”

“Yeah. Heard all about your mum. Heard nothing about your father.”

Roni blows out a puff of air, wondering where she should start before giving up and shrugging. “Not much to tell.”

“You mentioned he left when you were young,” Harry prompts, “but do you remember him at all?”

Roni shakes her head. “Not at all. He was gone before I was even aware that I existed.”  She laughs. “From what I’m told though, he was awful. My grandma never wanted my mom to be with him.  But she was… I mean, you know, she was young. And no one really listens to their parents when they’re young. Not that young at least. She thought she was in love.”

“And him?”

Roni shrugs. “He thought she was easy.  Knocked her up and poof. Gone.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows. “Knocked her up?”

“Got her pregnant,” Roni giggles. “Nine months later he was gone but—“ she throws her arms up, a sort of ‘tah-dah’ movement, “— the real party arrived.”

Harry laughs, nodding his head. “Absolutely. The world’s biggest blessing came along. I’ll bet he’s sorry he missed it.”

“I doubt it,” Roni says, scrunching her toes into the sand. “Bet he hasn’t even spared a thought for my mom and I.”

Harry says nothing for a moment, only staring deep in thought at the fire and processing Roni’s story.  The fire feels warm on his face, and it makes him a bit sleepy.  He breathes in, low and slow through his nose before speaking again. “Shame.”  He smiles up at Roni, admiring the way the glow of the fire hits her skin.  “Can’t imagine doing something like that.  As a man.  As a father.”

Roni shrugs.  “I can’t either.  But, you know, it happens.  I guess.”

“It shouldn’t.”  Harry shakes his head.  “I wouldn’t let it happen.”

“You think you would ever get married?”  Roni doesn’t exactly realize the weight of her question until it’s slipped past her lips, and she almost regrets asking it.  Harry hardly reacts, save for the flash of his dimple that Roni has grown to love so much.  He averts his gaze, really giving some thought to his answer, then after a moment, he nods.

“Maybe. But at this point, m’not sure it’s really in the cards for me.”

Roni leans forward, genuine concern etched into her features.  “Why not?”

Now he looks back at her from under his lashes.  “You really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

He smiles sadly. “Because the woman I love is leaving me to go back to her home that’s seventy-five years in the future.”

Harry’s words hit her like a ton of bricks. Not that she was really expecting another answer, of course, but god. “Harry—”

“It’s alright though. It’s the way things have to be, you know? I wouldn’t change us. I wouldn’t change what we’ve been through.” He shrugs. “I’d change the circumstances, sure.  But I’d take a thousand lifetimes of this over never meeting you. So I have to take that for what it is, don’t I?”

In any other situation, Roni would be fully aware that she’s moving far too quickly. But seeing as her time left with Harry is reduced down to merely a few more hours, she doesn’t care.  “I’d marry you in a heartbeat, Harry.”

His face brightens ever so slightly. “Yeah?”

Roni nods earnestly. “In a heartbeat.”

Harry squeezes her hand softly. “Perhaps in another life.”

“And for what it’s worth--”  Roni chews anxiously on her cheek,  then quiets her voice.  “I know my mom would have loved you.  You don’t know her, so that might not mean much to you, but  it’s true.  You’d have her blessing before you could even ask her for it.”

“That means a lot to me.” Harry’s thumb strokes absentmindedly along the back of Roni’s hand.  “I would’ve loved to meet her.”

Yet another long silence falls between the two of them, and Roni shivers when a particularly chilly ocean breeze passes through them.  The movement doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, and he smiles gently.  “You cold?”  When Roni nods, he immediately scoots over a bit.  “Yeah?  C’mere.”

Roni wastes no time in complying with his request, crawling over to him and making herself comfortable in his lap.  He wraps his arms around her, rubbing up and down her arms and kissing softly at her cheeks. “Better?”

Roni lays her head on Harry’s shoulder, letting her eyes de-focus on the ocean. She doesn’t answer him verbally, electing only to nod and just enjoy his warmth.  

There are a few minutes of silence between the two lovers, and each time Roni catches sight of the full moon, hanging bright and threatening over their heads, her stomach twists.

“Have I mentioned how badly I’m going to miss you?” Harry chuckles.

Roni can’t help but to giggle. Her eyes burn at the mere thought of more tears falling, but at this point she knows that not much can be done to stop them.  “No, I don’t think you have,” she teases.  

She tilts her head to kiss at his neck, sucking gently but with completely innocent intentions— until he shivers slightly, his breath audibly hitching.

Roni takes the nonverbal cue, trailing her lips gently and softly up his neck, and taking his earlobe in between her teeth.  Harry groans, low in his throat.

“Bunny,” Harry says gently, “you don’t have to. If you don’t want to—“

“Who said I didn’t want to?” She peeks her tongue out from between her lips, rolling it just under this ear now. “Do you want to?”

He doesn’t answer her, he only hums, tilting his head to grant her easier access.

“One more,” she mumbles, angling her body so that she’s facing him more. “Please. Can’t leave you without a proper goodbye.”

Harry, once again, says nothing. He takes her hips in his hands and pulls her further onto his lap, angling her so that she’s straddling him now.  He grins up at her, the ocean breeze whipping his curls over his eyes. “God,” he sighs, leaning up to kiss at her neck, “I love you.”

Roni hums, basking in the attention he’s giving her neck and beginning a gentle roll of her hips against his.  She turns her head to catch his lips with her own, smiling against the taste of him she loves so much.  As he parts his lips, tracing her own with his tongue, it feels different than all the times before.  He’s kissing her the exact way she likes, but it’s sad now.   Slow, as if he’s taking his time in order to remember every single detail about her lips.

There’s a wordless conversation occuring between the two of them as they lick, slow and gentle, into one another’s mouths. Roni reaches up to cup at Harry’s cheek, mindful of her cold fingertips and giggling to herself when Harry shivers at her touch.  He hums, leaning further into her kiss and holding her lower back tenderly in his own.

They stay like this, just kissing and enjoying one another’s warmth, before Harry’s hands begin trailing up her back.  He teases his fingertips along her neck, playing with her hair before lifting the cap gently from her head.  He allows it to plop down ungracefully in the sand before guiding his hand up fully into her hair.

She can feel his fingers curling around the hair at the base of her neck before he tugs a bit, successfully pulling her head back.  She moans when he attaches his lips to her pulse in her throat.

It’s sexy, yes, but he takes his time with it, inhaling her scent as he kisses up her supple skin.  Her lashes flutter and she catches a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye; eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration, as if he wants absolutely nothing to draw his attention away from Roni’s entire being.

Harry is more lost in his thoughts than he intends to be, but he can’t help it.  He’s wanting to remember everything about Roni, her taste, her smell, every curve of her jaw and her chest.  His hand scratches lovingly down her back before trailing along her sensitive sides and up to her breasts-- so tightly concealed beneath her many layers of warmth, but still so pert and delicious.

“Veronica,” he moans, low in his throat and more of sadness than of pleasure, “I love—“

“Don’t,” Roni says, her eyes burning with moisture. She lowers her head, touching her nose to his in an attempt to raise his face. “Don’t do that. Not right now.”  She lets out a shuddering breath, trying to refrain from breaking down. “Please, I can’t—“

“I love you.” He is insistent, wanting her to be sure that his words are true. “I fucking love you.”

“Please,” Roni cries, her voice cracking. “I can’t—“

“We have to—“

“I know but—“

“I fucking love you.”

It’s back and forth for the next few minutes, lips ghosting one another’s and noses brushing— as if breathing one another in and out, as if trying to exist as one person. Roni feels the dampness pooling between her legs, and with every roll of her hips she can feel Harry hardening.

All too soon it becomes  quick and hurried, even a bit sloppy, as Roni slips her panties down her legs and Harry works to get himself unbuttoned.  It’s far too cold to fully undress themselves, they’re both aware of this, but they can’t seem to move quickly enough.  She straddles his cock, and they move so quickly he misses her hole the first time.  She giggles, but it’s cut short when Harry attaches his lips to her neck and sucks, guiding himself inside of her gently.

“Fuck, always so tight,” he moans immediately, “holy fuck.”

They take a moment for Roni to adjust before she sinks further down, letting out a sinful moan that echoes one of Harry’s.  On any other occasion, the two would be far more mindful of their sounds, considering the fact that they’re in public.  But right now it doesn’t matter, especially with the way that Harry sinks his teeth into Roni’s neck, and the way she rolls her hips against his.

Roni gasps when he hits the spongy spot deep inside of her.  Her head tilts back as she lets out one of the most pornographic moans she’s ever made. Harry takes this opportunity and hooks his fingers into the neckline of her dress, pulling it down and attaching his lips to the swell of her left breast. He sucks until his teeth meet her skin, and then he bites, causing her to let out a little cry.  He’s marking her, and she loves it.

“Harry—“ she breathes, fingers frantically pulling at his hair.

He nips at the red little mark he’s left behind, then licks at it gently to soothe the sting.  She hums, tugging at the curls on the base of his neck and shuddering, partly due to the wind and partly due to a particularly delicious thrust.

Lowering her head to rest on Harry’s shoulder, she inhales his scent, shifting her weight a bit so as to not get so easily tired out by her work. He wraps his arms impossibly tighter around her lower back, seemingly trying to get her closer to his body, and Roni groans, loudly, sinking her teeth gently into his shoulder.

She almost misses it when he lets out a soft cry.

In fact, at first she thinks she’s imagining it.  But when the movement of his hips slows, and his breathing becomes more ragged than it was before, she stops moving and pulls away to look at his face.

Harry’s eyes are shut, and in the dim firelight she can make out the dampness of his cheeks.  His lips are curled into a frown, and he shakes his head the minute he realizes that Roni has noticed.  She stops the rolling of her hips and reaches for his face, cupping his cheek in her hand.

He’s sobbing, and he can’t even stop himself.

“Harry,” she says quietly, “Don’t--”

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching up to wipe at his eyes.  “Fuck, I’m sorry, Veronica.”

Now, Roni feels tears well up in her own eyes as she strokes her thumb along Harry’s cheekbone.  “Don’t apologize,”’ she says through a whisper.    He doesn’t even hear her as he lets out another quiet sob before speaking again.

“I love you.  So so so much.  I don’t know if I can do this.”

Roni doesn’t even try to stop her own tears from falling now, and she squirms a bit with Harry still inside of her.  “Do what?” she whispers.

Harry shakes his head, still not looking in her eyes.  “Live without you.  I’m not strong enough to lose you.”

“Harry,” Roni cries, using her hand to lift Harry’s face and forcing him to look at her.  “We don’t have a choice.”

He lets out a shaky breath, trying to stabilize his chest.  “How can I go on when the person I love more than life isn’t isn’t with me anymore?”

Roni scans his face, feeling at a complete loss for words for the first time this evening. She shakes her head.  “I don’t know,” she says through a sob.  “But we’re going to have to figure it out.”

“Jesus.”   Harry wipes at his eyes again, pulling Roni into him and pressing a few wet kisses to her neck.  He lingers for a moment with his lips to her skin, and Roni can physically feel her heart breaking in half.  

“I didn’t think this was going to be so unbearable,” Harry whispers.  “I knew it would be hard but… fuck.”

“Look at me,” Roni says, pulling away and trying to gently guide Harry’s face up again.  She offers him the most reassuring smile she can muster, but somehow it doesn’t help.  “It’s going to be okay.  Hm?  We’re going to be okay.”

Roni cups his cheek yet again, and Harry leans into her affectionate touch with closed eyes.  She watches him, a lump in her throat so large she’s feeling nauseous, and the reality of their situation hitting her for the hundredth time this evening.

“We’re going to be okay,” she repeats. “You have to promise me you’ll keep going.  Keep trying. Live your life.  And maybe… in another lifetime--”

Harry cuts her off then with a kiss, passionate and gentle all at once.  He allows his hands to trail down her back.  He grips her hips tightly, rolling her against him and groaning low in his throat at the feeling of her walls still around his prick.

She gasps, not at all expecting to feel him as deep as she does, and they share sloppy, hurried kisses as they finish what they’d started.

It’s messy and slow, but it’s deep.  They’re both crying as they move together, lips hungrily exploring whatever area of skin they can get to. Roni bites down somewhere on Harry’s neck and he hisses, knowing he’s going to have an ugly mark there when morning comes.  Harry grips Roni’s hips so tightly they begin to ache, and yet she still finds herself wishing he would hold her tighter.

Minutes later, Harry cums.  Roni doesn’t, but she doesn’t care.  She doesn’t much feel like an orgasm right now, as strange and as out of character as that seems to her; rather, she just wants to stay like this, with the most intimate part of him tucked into the deepest, most private part of her body.  She buries her face in his neck, and he wraps his arms impossibly tighter around her torso.

No words are spoken between the two lovers.  No words are necessary, really.  They just hold one another, the sound of the crashing waves mirroring their own inner turmoil as they hold one another and cry-- unabashedly and unfiltered.  

It feels good, in a strange therapeutic sort of way, to be like this.  To be crying this hard together, completely vulnerable both physically and emotionally, and as hard as it is to grasp that these are their last memories together, it lifts the tiniest bit of weight off of both of their hearts.

They aren’t sure how long they’ve been sitting like this when Roni finally makes an effort to move, her sobs quieted now to a few little gasps here and there.  Harry instantly misses her warmth the second she lifts off of him, and he reaches for her hand like a little boy.

Roni smiles sadly at him, giggling and offering him a pathetic shrug as if to say, “well, anyway.” She gives his hand a squeeze, running her thumb along the back of it.  Her chest flutters as she takes a breath.  

“You promise to try and find me?”  She doesn’t anticipate her voice coming out as hoarse and as sad as it does.

Harry hates how final this feels, and he shivers-- partly from the cold, but mostly because his body is exhausted from how hard he’s been weeping and how devastated he’s been all day.  Seeing Roni like this, looking at him as if he’s her only hope in the world right now, absolutely crushes him.

Truth be told, he’s not feeling optimistic about being able to find her.  And if Roni’s honest, neither is she.  But the prospect of reuniting some day, sooner rather than later, seems to be the last string of hope that the two can hold on to together.  So for both of their sakes, they know they have to put on brave faces.  

Harry raises their clasped hands to his lips, and kisses each one of Roni’s knuckles individually-- taking extra care around the mood ring on her finger.  She bites her lip, and Harry knows another wave of tears is incoming.  He offers her his best smile, as optimistic as he can be, and speaks.

“I promise, sweet girl.  I promise.”

---

Harry wakes hours later from a restless and uncomfortable sleep when he feels a stirring beside him. He flutters his lashes open and remembers, all too quickly, the reason he’s here.

Roni sits up, stiff and dazed beside him, staring unwaveringly at the ocean with confused eyes.  Harry’s heart sinks to the pit of his stomach as he realizes the inevitable— this is it.

He reaches forward to gently touch her arm but quickly decides against it, not wanting to ruin her one chance at getting home.  He instead watches her with bated breath, waiting to see what she does.

“Veronica,” he whispers. “You alright, honey?”

She doesn’t respond. In fact, she doesn’t even look at him.  She digs her hand into the blanket beneath them to help prop herself up and onto her feet.  Harry moves with her, prepared to catch her when she stumbles a bit.  He watches her intently, wondering what she’s going to do.  

“Darling,” he says slowly, “Veronica… hey—“

She takes a slow step forward, hesitates, then takes another. And another. And then she’s walking towards the freezing cold waves lapping up against the shore.  Harry panics. Is this how this is supposed to go?

“Veronica wait!” He speaks more urgently this time, stepping quickly to follow behind her. “Hey, wait a second, honey—”

Roni stumbles, almost in a drunken state not much different from the first time Harry ever saw her.  She really is going, and he knows he shouldn’t stop her.  But the waves seem violent, and it makes him more anxious than he already is.

“Veronica,” Harry chokes out, realizing now that he’s crying. “Honey, no, no, don’t go-- not like this… not yet… I’m-I’m not--”

“Let her go,” comes a voice, gentle and melodic behind Harry.

He turns around, no longer trying to conceal the tears in his eyes, and is shocked to see Violet, the mysterious and mystical fortune teller, standing there. Despite the cold, all she has wrapped around her dress is a shawl, and she doesn’t even seem fazed.

“She will be okay,” Violet continues, taking a gentle step towards him. “You have to let her go.”

“She’ll drown.” It’s the only thing Harry can think to say, but it’s not what he wants to say at all. He doesn’t really know what he wants to say at all, actually. His thoughts are running a mile a minute and his heart is aching.

Violet smiles knowingly at him. “She will not drown,” she says. “She will go peacefully back to where she belongs.”

Harry sniffs, a salty tear rolling down his cheek and getting caught in the corner of his mouth. “You promise?” He sounds pathetic, his voice thick and cracking, but he doesn’t even care.

Violet nods. “You have my word.”

Harry glances back towards Roni, who is slowly making her way further into the water. His stomach is in knots. All he wants is to run to her. Has he said everything he needed to say? He’s told her how much he loves her, but does she really know? Has he wasted his last day with her?

As if reading his mind, Violet closes the space between the two of them. She raises a comforting and gentle hand to his back, and he turns slowly back to her.  “You did everything necessary.” She speaks quietly, looking straight into Harry’s eyes. “You gave her exactly what she needed.  She will never forget you as long as she lives.”

Harry’s tears are flowing freely now, and his face is hot. The blanket previously wrapped around him is long forgotten on the sandy shore, but it doesn’t even matter.  He welcomes the cold bitterly, and shakes his head as he watches Roni wade into the sea.  

“What are you even doing here?” He asks, sounding a bit more angry than intended.  “Hm?  Have you been watching us?”

Violet remains calm, despite his accusations.  “I just figured you might need someone here with you when the time came.”  She takes a deep breath.  “And I wanted to see the girl off. I’ve taken a liking to her as well.”  

The two watch Roni stumble deeper into the ocean, completely unaware of her own actions.  Violet hums, low in her throat.  “To answer your question though, no.  I wasn’t watching you.  I just got here.”

“How did you know we’d be here then?  And when?”  Harry glances back at Roni, who is now up to her waist. She must be freezing, and Harry wants nothing more than to go to her and stop her.

“Was I not the one who told you to do this?”  A bitter wind whips through Violet’s hair as she turns to face the sea as well. “I knew I would come up on you two eventually. Besides, this is the exact moment the moon is at her fullest. Of course Roni is going right now.”

Harry let’s out a pathetic and completely unintentional sob, his emotions getting the better of him as a panic attack rises in his stomach. “Fuck,” he says, then with growing intensity, “Fuck!” He kicks the sand, ignoring the resistance it gives him, then turns desperately back to Violet. “Does she know I love her? Does she know—“ He can’t catch his breath, and voice is loud. “Does she know I’m here watching her go? Jesus, I can’t—can’t do this, I- I mean I didn’t think it would be this fucking hard, Violet. Can I stop her? Fucking hell, can I stop her?!”

Violet takes a step towards Harry, who’s jaw is now trembling in synchronicity with his shaking hands. She puts a reassuring and calm hand on his shoulder. “It’s over, Harry,” she says. “You must let her go.”

Harry reaches up, running a hand through his sweaty, messy hair, glancing frantically from Roni—who is in the water up to her mid back now— back to Violet, who now seems worried about him. He lets out a wail, moving like he’s going to run to Roni, but Violet is quicker; wrapping her arms around him and holding him back.

He struggles against her a bit, eventually falling to his knees in the sand. Violet drops with him, gently holding him securely upright while comfortingly scratching at his back.  She keeps a watchful eye on Roni; as does Harry, only his vision is nearly completely blurred.   He wails, punching a little mound of sand beside his knees and using his free hand to wipe at his eyes.  “Goddammit,” he mutters.  “Fucking goddammit.  This was a mistake.”

“Harry,” Violet says urgently, sounding more human than she has in the entirety of the time Harry has known her.  “Listen to me, it wasn’t a mistake.  I need you to breathe.”

He looks at Violet desperately, shaking his head. “I should have begged her.  I could have made her stay.  I fucking could have made her stay, Violet.  I shouldn’t--”  He gasps for air between sobs, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand.  “Fuck, I shouldn’t have let her go.”

“Yes you should have,” Violet reassures him.  “This is the right thing.  Think of her mother.  Think of her life.”

Harry watches Roni, who is in past her neck now, and he tries to swallow down his panic.  He watches her sink further and further, knowing in his logical mind that she’s completely safe.  He blinks a few tears out of his eyes, his sweaty hair on his forward moving back and forth with each attempt to catch his breath, and then turns to Violet.   “I love her, Violet.” His voice is desperate and pathetic, and he hates himself for it.

Violet looks as though even she herself, in all her powerful glory, wants to cry as well.  She nods,  wiping a tear that has made its way down to Harry’s chin.  “I know you do,” she says softly.  “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

The two friends turn back to the sea, and Harry feels a sinking finality when he realizes he can no longer see Roni’s head.  His breathing slows just a tick, and he lets out a shaky breath— realizing for the first time that it’s coming out in a hot cloud around his mouth. “Is she gone?” He asks quietly.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He knows the answer.  His head falls, chin to chest, and he holds his face in his hands.

Violet says nothing, she only holds Harry in his desperation, breathing against him to try and subtly slow his breathing and calm him down.  His sobs are heartbreaking, but they’re quieter now; less frantic. He cries until his throat feels thick and raw, and then it becomes somewhat silent.  He isn’t sure how long he’s been there, and he almost starts to feel bad for Violet, who just sits there with him, patient as ever.

She doesn’t seem to mind, of course, she just rubs her hand up and down his back and holds him in the most comforting way she can manage.  

After what feels like ages, he raises his hot, wet face to look at her. Her face is sad, but comforting.  She offers him a faint, sympathetic smile.  

“Will you help me?” Harry asks.

Violet cocks her head to the side. “Help you with what, Harry?”

“Look for her. Find a way. I don’t know.”

Violet’s face changes as she considers what he’s asking, taking in a deep breath and taking her time with her answer. She glances out at the ocean, which has somehow grown impossibly more calm since Roni’s disappearance. Finally, after a moment, she hums.

“You have to be prepared for any outcome, Harry.” She speaks sternly, as if to a child. “You don’t know if you have the gift—“

“I have to try.” He cuts her off, shaking his head and speaking through a throat that feels thick and raw. “I have to try.”

Violet scans his face, blinking slowly as she considers what he’s saying. “And are you prepared for what would happen should you fail?”

“I don’t care about that,” he says quickly.  “I don’t care. Because what happens if I’m successful? What if I do have the gift? Hm?  Then what?”

“I don’t believe it’s that simple, Harry.” Violet sighs. “I don’t get the sense that you have it.”

“But I have to try.” Harry emphasizes his words. “And if you won’t help me, then I’ll find a way myself.”

He rises to his feet and faces the sea, already beginning unbuttoning his shirt as if he’s about to undress and follow his darling Roni.  Violet stands just as quickly, making her way over to him.

“Harry, Harry!” she says quickly, reaching forward to stop him.  “Stop.”

He turns to Violet, and it’s the first time she notices how puffy his eyes are.  She sees how determined he is, how absolutely heartbroken, and it hurts her own heart.   She’s never been in love, although she’s helped many people who have been.  She does understand connections like this, and although she unfortunately doesn’t get the sense that Harry is someone equipped with the gift of time travel, she knows he’s not going to give up any time soon.  Not until he knows for sure.

So she sighs.

“I’ll help you,” she says.  “But it’s going to take work.”  She rubs his arm comfortingly.  “And time.  You can’t go right now.”

“But I can go?  Eventually?”  He looks at her with hope in his eyes, reminiscent of a small child, and it makes Violet feel for him even more.

“I can’t promise you that,” she says.  “I wish I could.”

Harry looks out at the sea, one last time, then wraps Violet in his arms.  It’s the first time all evening he’s reciprocated her comforting embrace, and he can feel her smile as she hugs him back.

Violet isn’t sure how long she holds him, and she knows he’s still crying by the way his back trembles every now and again.  When he finally pulls away, it’s with a thankful smile.  He groans and laughs at himself, reaching up to wipe at his eyes.  “Sorry,” he giggles, “must look a mess.”

“You look fine, darling.”  Violet gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before nodding her head towards the setup previously used by him and Roni.  “Come along, then. I’ll help you get this cleaned up so you can get home and get yourself a proper night’s sleep.”

---------------

There’s a buzzing in Roni’s ears, and her hands feel as though they’re vibrating.  It comes after an intense, icy feeling in her veins, coursing throughout her entire being then fading all at once.  She feels out of breath, but her heart is pounding slower than usual.

She’s somewhere between sleep and consciousness, and she recognizes this feeling in the back of her mind. The blackness behind her eyes somehow grows brighter and brighter with each passing second, as colorful memories flash far too quickly for her to make them out individually.  At one moment, she’s a child again.  At another, she’s at her mother’s funeral.  And at another still, she’s graduating high school, waving out to her grandparents and Oliver in the front row. These specific instances don’t evoke any strong feelings in her one way or another, yet somewhere inside they stir something up.  

A vision of herself, as an old woman, flashes behind her eyes, and although in her logical brain she knows that she isn’t old yet, she feels as though she’s lived that moment every second of every day.

The memories get brighter and brighter, buzzing loudly in her ear, and her body feels detached from her soul as she’s suddenly surrounded by nothing but white light.  

Roni isn’t even sure when she’s opened her eyes, but all of her thoughts have quieted instantly.  There is absolutely nothing surrounding her except white. She is completely alone, but it isn’t frightening by any means.  In fact it feels rather peaceful. She presses forward, taking a step towards nothing in particular, and her legs feeling strangely weak as they carry her on.

Her heart feels heavy in her chest as she walks, beginning to regain a sense of consciousness while remaining absolutely at peace.  She remembers that she’s traveling through time, yes, but why? Where is she going?

Your mind accepts this absolutely.  It is 9:30am on June 16th, 1985.  You have travelled back in time.  Soon, you will open your eyes---

A voice that sounds familiar to her-- is it her own?-- catches her attention, and a memory comes to her mind like an electric shock.  June 16th, 1985… what’s significant about that?

-into the hallway of the home you share with your mother, Tanya Rachel Elliot, and you will walk downstairs to find her cooking-

She smells something, distant and faint, but it isn’t the blueberry pancakes she hears the voice describing.  Instead, it smells like… a house? A bedroom she’s familiar with. Who’s bedroom?

It comes to her quickly, her mind filling with images of Oliver, her boyfriend, at a New Year’s Eve party.  The voice— her own voice— states that it’s 1985.  Her conscious mind knows that it’s almost 2000.

Like a slap to the face, Roni remembers Harry.  She remembers the first night she met him, when she was cold and disoriented in the streets of New York.  She remembers falling in love with him, quicker than anything she’s ever experienced, and then her heart aches at the memory of leaving him. Knowing why she’s here, and how she’s going back to the modern world.

“Roni,” she hears a voice in the distance, soft and feminine and familiar, and Roni turns on her heel in her dreamlike state. She doesn’t see anyone, but she knows she recognizes that voice.  

“Veronica,” it comes again, and Roni blinks in the bright light trying to find the source.  Her mind is foggy, but she knows the voice. She knows she does, but she can’t quite put her finger on it.

“Veronica, darling.”

Through the fog in her eyes, she makes out a figure— far, far away, but moving towards her somewhat quickly.  It’s a familiar outline, even if she can’t see the details of the person’s face.  The closer she gets she realizes it’s a woman, and Roni tries to blink her eyes into some clarity.

The closer the woman gets, the more things start to make sense in Roni’s brain.  The woman steps into focus, and it hits Roni like a ton of bricks.

“Mom?”  She whispers, afraid that if she speaks any louder she’ll ruin any type of illusion.

The woman-- her mother-- nods gently as she comes into clear view, now only a few mere feet away from her.  “It’s me, baby.”

Roni takes a moment, hardly daring to move until she can’t take it any longer.  She lunges, awkwardly, running to close the gap between them and falling ungracefully into her mother’s arms.

This moment is one that she’s imagined so many times before in her life, yet she never could have dreamt how good it would feel.  Her mother wraps her arms around Roni tightly, kissing her head, as Roni bawls like a baby.

“Is it really you?” Roni asks.  “Are you really here?”

“I’m here, my sweet girl.  I’m right here.”

Roni hardly hears her mother’s words, she just wraps her arms impossibly tighter around the older woman, as if scared that she’ll slip right from her fingers without warning.  “Mom,” she sobs, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Oh, baby,” Tanya coos.  “I’m with you every day.”

Tanya pulls away slightly, despite Roni’s tugging at her, and wipes Roni’s eyes with her thumbs.  “Don’t cry, my love.”

Roni lets out a wet laugh, reaching up to wipe at her snotty nose with the back of her hand.  She hasn’t seen her mother in fifteen years, and she knows she must look an absolute mess right now.  “Sorry,” she says,  “I’m just… I can’t believe it’s you.”

“I know, Peanut.”  Tanya smiles a smile that is so absurdly kind; a smile that Roni loved being on the receiving end of throughout her entire childhood.  “It feels so wonderful to hold you in my arms again.”

Tanya was never a crier, so Roni suspects she won’t be now in the afterlife either.  Still, the look on her face tells Roni all that she needs to know, and it’s beautiful. Roni sighs, leaning into Tanya’s hold on her face and staring at her mother eagerly, as if one blink will send her vanishing away again.  She reaches up to place her hand on top of her mothers, and notices Tanya’s attention briefly shift.

Tanya squints, then laughs-- a surprised, tinkling sort of noise-- as she removes her hand from Roni’s face.  She takes Roni’s hand in her own then and thumbs at the mood ring on her finger.  “You’ve kept my ring!”

“Of course!” Roni feels like an overly excitable little girl again, who’s about to overshare about today’s lesson after school.  “Of course I did!”

“It’s pink,” Tanya observes. She smiles warmly. “It was always pink with you.”

“It was mostly pink when I was around you,” Roni says.  “Oh god, mom, I have so much to tell you.”

Tanya smiles knowingly.  “Tell me. I’m all ears.”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Roni says, through a wet and tearful laugh.  “I guess… I mean, first of all, where the hell am I?”

“Where do you think you are?” Tanya’s eyes sparkle mischievously, but her words only make Roni panic slightly.  

“Am I… dead?”

Tanya giggles. “No, my love. You aren’t dead.  You’re in the between.”

“The…. between?”

“You have been here before,” Tanya explains. “Between timelines.  Between time itself.  You passed through here when you first traveled back. Of course, you weren’t quite sure of what you were doing, so it may be a blur in your memory.”

Roni tries her hardest to think back to the night she arrived with Harry.  It is a blur, but it comes back to her faintly. Lots of stumbling, lots of white light.

She cocks her head to the side. “Were you there that night?  Or… I guess, here?”

“I was,” Tanya says, nodding. “I watched you. I tried to reach out, but whatever it was that was calling to you— a soul tie, a connection, whatever— was much stronger than I. So I did my best to just guide you to it.”

“Oh.”  Roni processes her mother’s words, marveling at the fact that her twin flame connection with Harry had been that strong that she hadn’t even been able to stop here and speak to her mother.  “I see.”

Tanya smiles that ever knowing smile. “Tell me about them,” she says softly.

“What?”

“The person. Your calling.” Tanya takes Roni’s hand in her own. “They must have done a number on you, baby.”

Roni sighs, unsure of where to even begin, but instantly feeling touched just by looking at her mother’s sweet face. She wants to start crying again, but she refuses to let herself.  Her mother stays patient, not pressuring Roni to speak until she’s ready.

And with a deep breath, she launches right into it.

She tells her mother everything; about how she was trying to go back in time to save her, about how Harry had saved her that night, about how she tried to stay strong but ended up falling head over heels for him.  It’s difficult recounting everything, especially because it feels so fresh in her own mind, and as hard as she’s working to conceal her tears, she can’t stop them from falling down her cheeks.

And Tanya only listens.  Kind and understanding, Tanya listens.  She doesn’t interrupt, she only nods every now and then, giving Roni the most sympathetic eyes in the world.

Roni laughs, cries, and every emotion in between as she tells her mother the entire story.  And at the end of it, her mother wraps her in a comforting embrace while she tries to get her tears under control.  

“My sweet girl,” Tanya coos, scratching Roni’s back comfortingly.  “My sweet, brave girl.”

When Roni pulls away, confusion clouds her features. She searches her mother’s face for a wordless answer to a question  she has yet to ask.

“Mom?” She says through a shaky breath, “Am I… I mean, did I do the right thing?”

Tanya brushes Roni’s hair off of her face, coming through it lovingly with her fingers. “Do you think you did?”

Roni groans.  “God, you sound just like him. I just want to know if I made the right decision, but I have no way of gauging that, you know?  Like how do I know?”

Tanya laughs.  “To tell you the truth, my love, I really think you did. In fact, I can promise that you did.”

“But... Harry…” Roni trails off in a sigh. “I just want to know that he’ll be okay. You know?”

Tanya nods understandingly. “I know.”

“So is there… I don’t know, like, a way? For you to watch over him? I don’t know how the afterlife works.”

Tanya giggles at Roni’s words. “I’ll check in on him, sweetheart. If that’s what you want.”

“And can you—“ Roni sniffs, willing herself not to start sobbing again. “Can you tell him I love him?”

“You love him?” It isn’t accusatory, and her tone isn’t really all that shocked either. It’s a simple question, but Roni’s insides flip.

“I do,” she says decidedly. “So, so much.”

Tanya’s next question takes Roni by surprise. “And Oliver?”

“You know about Oliver? I didn’t start dating him until after you—“

“I know,” Tanya says calmly. “I’m with you always.”

“Oh.” Roni blows a puff of air out from her lips, reaching up to fidget with her hair. “Well. I love Oliver, but it’s not… I mean…. Harry is…” She trails off, looking helplessly at her mother, as if Tanya will be able to fill in the blanks.

Tanya only smiles. “Your twin flame. I know.”

Roni laughs in disbelief.  “It’s weird, huh?”  She asks. “How does that even happen?”

“How could you possibly travel back to 1925?” Tanya laughs. “Some things are not meant for us to understand, my darling.”  She gives Roni’s shoulder a playful squeeze before continuing. “Anyway.  I like Oliver.  He’s a good kid.  He takes good care of you.  But Harry,” she smiles knowingly,  “Harry set your soul on fire. This I know for sure.”

“I can’t help but feel like I did the wrong thing,” Roni sighs. “Even though I know I didn’t. I jst couldn’t erase you, you know? And everyone back home that I love—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.  Not to me.  You did the right thing.”

Roni sighs, eyes scanning the great white abyss surrounding them as she tries to figure out what on earth to say.  “So now what?” She tries after a moment. “Where do I even go from here?”

“Back home,” Tanya says, a comforting hand trailing up Roni’s arm. “To live a long and full life. To grow old, and to have children of your own.  To stop living in the past.”  The last bit is said more pointedly, and Roni blinks through her misty eyes back at her mother.

“I’m not—“

“Veronica,” Tanya says slowly, “darling, look at all you’ve had. My god, look at all you’ve done.”

“I would trade it all to have you back, mom.”  Roni reaches for her mother’s hand and  squeezes. “All of it. Every bit.”

Tanya smiles.  “I know, sweetheart.  I know. But I am gone.  You have done everything you could have done to bring me back.  It was not in fate's design.”

Roni shakes her head, not wanting to believe her mother’s words but knowing she’s right. “But where do I go?” she repeats, quieter this time.

Tanya takes a big deep breath in through her nose.  “I told you.  You must go on and do even more incredible things with your life.”  She laughs softly through her nose, and if Roni had blinked she’d have missed the moisture forming in her mother’s eyes.  “I am so, so proud of who you are, Veronica.”

“I don’t want to go on without you, mom.”

“You will never have to.  You never have before.  I’m always going to be with you.”

“But now I have to like… go into the world again.  The modern world, I mean.  Knowing that I’ve seen you again, and that I’ve been in love.  Real actual love.  How can I just... go back?”

“You don’t have to go back, sweetheart.  Not like that.  You don’t have to be stuck.  Life is far too short to be living it in a way that doesn’t make you happy.  Do you understand?  Do not let it pass you by.”

“But… but you-- and Harry--”

“Stop living in the past, Peanut. Worrying, and not allowing yourself to move forward, will never add any years to your life.  It didn’t mine.”

Roni’s shoulders visibly soften, and she blinks up at her mother.  She wants to take in all of her mothers advice, but mostly she just wants to drink in as much of her mother’s presence as possible.  “I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, Veronica. More than you know.”

In the distance, Roni begins to hear a soft commotion.  She looks around, trying to figure out where on earth the noise could be coming from (considering that there is nothing around her except for a great white nothingness).  It starts out dull, a faint buzzing that gradually grows louder.  She turns back to her mother, only to be met with a sad smile.

“Our time is almost up here,” Tanya explains, and Roni’s heart begins to swell with panic.

“What? No, I’m not ready—“

“You are ready, dear. You are as ready as you’ll ever be.”

The commotion grows louder, and Roni shakes her head. “But I don’t know what to do!”

“Yes you do.” Tanya nods. “You always have.”  She reaches forward and wraps Roni into a tight hug, giving her a squeeze and pressing her lips to her head. “Remember what I told you. I’ll always be with you. So will he.”

“I don’t know what to do!” Roni wails again, her puffy eyes aching with pressure as more tears begin flowing. “I don’t know where to go!”

“The answers will come,” Tanya says, pulling away from Roni slowly. “What is meant to be will be.  Some things you cannot change, but what is meant to be will always find a way.”

“Why weren’t you meant to stay with me then?” Roni cries, beginning to struggle to be heard over the buzzing noise of an invisible crowd. “To watch me grow up? To help me through life? Why did you have to go?”

“Everything has a reason,” Tanya says, stepping backwards from Roni. “Some reasons, we are never meant to know.”

“Mom—“

“I love you, Peanut.” Tanya continues to step backwards from Roni, and Roni tries to lunge for her. Her legs, however, feel like molasses, as if she’s suddenly dreaming and she can’t seem to move fast enough to where she needs to be.

“Don’t go yet!” Roni calls. “I’m not ready!”

“You are ready.”  Roni can barely hear her mother now, and it seems that the further she steps away from her, the louder the buzzing becomes. “Don’t forget what I’ve told you.”

“But mom—“

In a flash, Tanya seems as far away as she can possibly get.  Roni panics, turning around as quickly as her legs will let her, in search for some kind of answer. A door, perhaps, or at least the source of the deafening noise she’s hearing.

She calls for her mother, feeling desperately like a child who’s lost in a supermarket. She feels hot tears rolling down her face, and she defiantly wipes them away with the back of her wrist.

“Mom!”

The noise is ringing in Roni’s ears now, and her body feels fuzzy and foreign as she looks for an answer. She raises her palms to her ears to try and drown the noise out, but she can’t— it’s too deep within her head.  “Fuck,” she cries, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Veronica,” comes her mother’s voice, as clear in her head as if it were her own consciousness. “Darling.”

Roni’s chest grows heavy as she wills the noise to stop, please; and all the while images of Harry flash in her head.  Her mother’s voice comes again, and is the last thing she hears before everything goes completely black.

“Open your eyes.”

[antelabbitsghost]

hey so at 3am last night i decided it would be fun to write how danny died in my personal canon (or amity parker as i'm calling it atm) and it's uh strange so i'm forcing it on all of you

(also pls note that i've never seen memory blank and all of my knowledge on how danny canonically died comes from listening to the theme song religiously and hearing other people talking about it so this is kindof a trainwreck)

okay p similar to how he died in canon

the trio were all just hanging out at his house alone,

(jack and maddie were out shopping or at dinner or smth anf jazz was out with friends)

and sam was like "hey don't you have a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension in your basement"

yes i stole that quote from gf whatcha gonna do abt it nerd

and tucker realizes how fucking sick that is and danny (begrudgingly) takes them down to the basement after a few minutes of begging

and bc danno has been surrounded by this shit since birth he's just kinda like "okay big metal hole in the wall can we go now ://"

n sam is like "actuayl the portal is fucking awesome?? at least go look in it or something man how are you not interested in this"

so ofc danny is just gonna stroll on in and out like some madman who doesn't even care about my carefully constructed story i stole from a transphobe

but bc tucker is interested in tech and labs and other nerd things and is also not a damn heathen he makes him out on his hazmat suit over his clothes before going in

(minus the detachable ww2 mouthy breathy part bc that's just annoying for me to draw in my redesign)

(also they slap the cool dp logo on a little after he becomes dead spiderman)(so like 2 months after maybe)

and sam, seeing all the wires and tools n shit all over the floor of the portal just goes

s: "k i want you to go see all the cool stuff hidden in the metal hole in ur wall but i'm not letting you go in there in some old ass worn out converse and eating shit bc you stubbed your toe on a ghost wrench or something. switch."

d: "dude it'll be fine i'm just gonna go in and out, no big thing"

(it would in fact be a Very Big Thing but shh they don't know that yet)

s: "just wear them you latex wrapped rat man"

and she just kinda forces him to wear her docs bc i really really want phantom's shoes to be docs and i am god in this scenario

so danny goes in and he's just sorta walking around bc apparently the portal is deep as hell

and he does the classic phandom trope of trips on wire and catches himself on the on button

he's got maybe like a split second of blaring warning alarms before he immediately starts getting deep fried

i'm too lazy to write whump rn but imagine the most loud and horrifying and earsplitting siren you can conceive

and now imagine that same sound but it's a dying 14 year old boy screaming it and add unhealthy dose of having you flesh meat and muscle torn from your bones and you're being electrocuted, birthed, killed and created all within a split second

but none of the neighbors hear it bc the lab is soundproofed for ✨plot convenience✨

n then it just kinda. stops.

the portal shuts off, danny stops screaming but it's unclear if it's bc mans is no longer in pain or if he's dead

and his body just drops to the ground

tucker and sam fucking book it over to the probably corpse of their best friend and sam slips a little on the way there

is it bc now she's just in socks on hard linoleum floor? is it bc her tears are on the floor? idk but they're both very dramatic

ne way yall kno ehat happens next and i'm fuckin tired so night bitches

[cuddlesslut]

Live my Life Ch.1

Kuroo x fem reader

Summary: sometimes life is full of making the wrong choices and not knowing till it’s to late.

A/N: this is chapter one of my new story. I’m still writing the Home series I must really wanted to start this story as well. I hope you guys like this one.

Warning: Angst, Smut, Drunk Sex, Underage drinking, toxic behavior

You found yourself sitting in this dingy bar nursing a drink you weren’t supposed to have. This had become part of your routine. It all started about three weeks ago. Your friend Kana, or well you suppose she could be called a friend she was more of a friend of a friend. She seemed nice enough kind of the free spirit type of girl always into the new big trend, not really what you would describe yourself as, more of what you wanted to be. You weren’t exactly some shy shut in but still your anxieties held you back from charging head first into in life and taking the bull by the horns. That’s why you surprised even yourself when you offered to be Kana’s bar buddy.

Kana is bartender at this whole in the wall bar with dim lighting. It got fairly good business but not enough to warrant more than one bartender at a time. That being the case Kana would often be there by herself well late into the night, the neighborhood wasn’t horrible but it still was unsettling sometimes. So as her bar buddy you would come at some point in her shift and find a free seat at the bar hopefully far enough distance from any other patrons. You’d order some fries or whatever greasy snack food you craved and waited there with her while she worked until she was ready to lock up. It was pretty easy you’d just sit there offering her someone to talk when she was bored or when she need to escape some overbearing customers. She’d make her way over too you and pretend to make you a drink. Although she offered you a drink you usually turn her down for the clear fact that you were underage when it came to drinking. It was perfectly fine for you to sit in the establishment since it also served food but at the age of 18 drinking was still prohibited. Being the laid back girl and bartender she was Kana didn’t care about bending that rule for a friend.

Most nights you’d pull out some school work on your tablet that your carried with you or just read some stories on your phone. Usually trying your best to avoid conversation with the regulars. That didn’t work as well as you hoped and soon enough you were quickly learning all of the local gossip and being included in the group known as the regulars. Which is what you were since you found yourself here four nights out of you week. You didn’t mind spending so much of your time here with Kana it was kind of nice to stray from your comfort zone plus you and Kana were steadily getting closer as friends too. Everything was smooth sailing until you met him.

It was a usual Thursday night you got dressed in your causal but sleek outfit. Wearing a comfortable pair of Jeans that hugged your body nicely not too tight but still showed your curves. You paired it with a black blouse and black ankle boots. You freshened up your make up of the day not needing to try to hard seeing as you weren’t going there to impress anyone. In fact you preferred to not draw any attention. Your brushed through your hair finally heading out of your home and too the dingy bar. Things seemed a little off tonight some felt different but still you took your usual seat as you scanned the bar. It was fairly empty only two other customers sitting all the way at the other end of the counter. Kana wasn’t anywhere to be found, she’s probably just grabbing something back you reasoned. And sure enough you could hear a clang in the back of the establishment that was hidden from the public eye. Although it wasn’t Kana that popped around the corner. Instead stood a tall and extremely handsome guy. He was wild black hair that was strewn in a chaotic fashion but it suited him. You could tell by his physique that he was fit , not too overly muscular but when he reached up to put the box he was carrying on the top shelf you could see a peak of a very well defined v line on his tanned skin. This man was the definition of tall, dark ,and handsome. And that wasn’t even mentioning his intense honey eyes that felt like they pierced your soul with just one look. He wore a black pair of fitted jeans and a red button up with strange print on it. You could inspect the odd design more intensely as he approached you with a smirk plastered on his face. Ah they were little black cats that littered his print. The style screamed I’m stylish but quirky.

“Well hello there sweetheart how can I help you?” You could tell he was using his customer service persona. Ah he goes for the smooth talkng flirt, he probably does very well with middle aged woman, you think.

“Um yeah,” you state giving the room one more look “ do you know where Kana is?” You questioned.

His perked at the mention of your friend. You could see him relax a little as he released some tension rolling his shoulders back. “Ahh you must be YN,” he smiled placing his hands on the bar leaning forward. His voice was a notch higher no longer Using his deep Casanova tone, this one was more natural. You eyes widened at the sound of your name leaving his lips.

“Yeah,” you replied hesitant.

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou,” he presented his hand offering a firm shake to which you awkwardly accepted. “I’m guessing Kana forgot to inform you that id becoming back to work my usual Thursday shift today did she?” He let out a small chuckle.

Damn it Kana you cursed inside your mind. You could have been cozy in bed right now. “Ha nope she did not,” you let out a sigh. “I didn’t realize she was just covering these last few weeks” you respond.

“She just had my Thursday shift Mondays and Wednesdays are still her regular days.” He grinned “she was nice enough to take my shift while I was out with some family stuff.”

“Ahh I see, well I’ll should probably get out of your hair,” you stated starting to slide off the stool.

“Hey wait you came all the way out here let me get you a drink,” he offered.

You froze in your seat for a moment kind of embarrassed. You felt heat creep to your face as you respond “ oh umm I’m not actually old enough I’m only 18,” your eye locked on the surface in front of you.

He let out a chuckle “let me see your ID.”

Your face scrunched in confusion “but-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Shh just hand it over,” he smiles. You raise your eyebrow as you reach into your handbag fishing out your ID and handing it over. He backs upmholding it as though it was valid. “Well look at that! Sure enough you’re 20,” he gives a cheeky smile “so what can I get you to drink?”

You take back your card placing it back safely in your bag a look of shock present on your youthful features. You lean forward whispering “won’t you get in trouble!” Not wanting to have someone risk their job. He lets out a haughty laugh. “My dads the owner so I’m not too worried.” He stated cockily. “So again what are you drinking sweetheart?” Again he flashed that stupid smirk that sent your stomach doing flips.

After two drinks and some idle chit chat in his free time you decided it probably be best if you headed out. He was quick to stop you. “Ahh come on dont leave so soon I was hoping you’d be my bar buddy too,” he pouted. You rolled your eyes at his teasing. It was enough to keep you there though ordering another drink to nurse. It felt nice chatting and casually flirting with this attractive stranger.

This too became part of your routine. You still went to the bar during Kana’s shift to keep her company but you kept going on Thursday and spending you night talking to Kuroo. The both of you spending most of the night getting to know each other. It was just surface things like school, you found out he was two years older than you going to a university near by studying chemical engineering,and your taste in music which was something you had a lot in common. The conversation focused mainly on you. He always directed the flow of the conversation he was so out going and smooth, always asking questions about your day liked hearing about your day as if being a 3rd year in high school was the most exciting thing. You’d sit there for hours with him trying new drinks sometimes finding yourself leaving the bar at three am as if you didn’t have class in four hours. But you didn’t care it was exhilarating this was the most rebellious thing you had ever done. The flirting was harmless never going to far. And although you wouldn’t admit you were getting a crush on the raven haired bartender.

It was just another Wednesday night but today something inside of you told you to dress up more than you’d usually go for. Tonight you wore a simple black dress with a deep neckline that really showed your figure without being to flashy. Your period had recently finished so knowing you were securely dried up you decided to go for a pair of your fancy red lace panties and a matching bra that always boosted your confidence. Not that anyone would be seeing them. You checked yourself one last time before heading out to the bar and damn did you look hot.

When you entered the bar you were surprised to it was rather busy with customers all over the place, luckily you find a seat at the bar. You noticed that Kenma was also behind the bar. Kenma was the other bartender that worked the shifts opposite of Kana and Kuroo. He was also Kuroo’s best friend. You’ve only met him a couple times when he’d come to the bar to see Kuroo while he was on shift. It must be really busy if they called him in to work the bar with Kana.

Kana gave a sigh of relief and smiled as she saw you sitting at the bar. “Oh my god girl hey,” smiled “do you see how hectic it is?” She laughed. She took a moment to fully look you over her eyes wide.

“Damn girl you look fucking hot!” You felt some pride grow in you hearing your friend complement you. She always looked amazing so hearing that she thought you looked great felt like high praise.

“You want a drink babe?” She asked although it was more a of statement as she was already whipping together a drink before you were finished nodding. She handed you a strong yet sweet drink before she was whisked away by some needy patrons.

You sipped on your drink watching Kana handle the crowd. You and Kenmas eyes would lock every now and then but it’s very short and awkward. You don’t know him very well. Part of your anxieties had you convinced he didn’t like you. But you tried not to read into it to much. Kuroo had told you once that it was just that he wasn’t much of a people person only working at the bar as a favor to Kuroo and his father. You sit there silently observing the world around you not noticing someone taking the seat next to you.

“Boo,” a husky voiced whispered into your ear sending shivers down your spine. Kuroo cackled as you jumped turning around clutching your chest.

“What the hell Kuroo!” You gasped trying to steady your breathing. “They call you in too?” You ask referring to the booming business you sat in.

“Nah it’s my day off and I wanted to come have a drink and bug Kenma,” he rose his hand singling said man for a drink. “But looks like I lucked out now I get to bother you all night,” he smirked.

“Oh really and who said I want to have you around I deal with you enough on Thursdays,” you smiled back with a sly look.

He feigned a look of hurt. “Ouch YN you wound me, I thought we were friends,” giving you look that definitely didn’t come off as just friendly. You just roll your eyes trying to hide your intrigue. “Well it seems I need to prove my friendship to you let me by you a drink.” He rested his hand on yours as he signaled for a refill on your drink.

You should have seen it coming but you acted surprised when after several drinks and a couple rounds of shots you found yourself in the back seat of his car. Your red panties tossed to the side somewhere in the vehicle. You were laying back as he dove under the hem your dress. Kuroo looked up to your face his lips barley an inch away from your heat. He had a devious look on his face as he watched your face flush with need. Your lips were swollen from the heated make out sessions you had outside the bar. He quirked his eyebrow teasingly his heavy breath tickling you. He was waiting. It was almost tortuous but you knew what he wanted.

You pouted your chest rising and falling from your hard breathing. “Please!” You begged. He smiled content with hearing your pleas before diving into you his tongue lapping at your wet folds. Your head fell back in pleasure as he ate you out like a man starved. Your moans filled the car as he worked his skilled tongue in and out of you. He could feel how close you were as he felt you clench around his fingers as he worked you loose. Relief flooded your body as you came on his face. Lust still flooding you as you watched him lick up all your juices. He moved up your body sealing your lips into a searing kiss you could taste your essence on his lips.

Your hands reached down his body grabbing at his bulge. He let out a groan in your ear before picking you up and placing you on his lap. He attacked you neck nippping and sucking harsh purple marks into your skin. He pulled the collar of your dress down pulling your breast out . Moving your bra down he latched his lips around your swollen nipple rolling it between his teeth. You let out a pained moan as you rolled you hips into his lap. He finally hit limit. He lifted you up as he pulled his pants and boxers down before lining his achingly hard length with your wet cunt before pulling you down on it. Both of your groans filled the space as you felt him fill you whole. You hid your face in his neck as you panted while he let you adjust to the intrusion. You could feel his hands roaming your ass pushing the skirt of your dress up. A sudden smack came to your ass. You let out a hiss. He rubbed the mark he left on your soft skin.

“Go ahead sweetheart ride my cock,” he demanded. His dirty words sent shivers over body. You did just as he said starting to move your hips up and down rotating on his dick as it reached deep inside of you. Your body was already on edge from your earlier release so it took no time to have you clenching tightly around him you next orgasm fastly approaching.

“Fuck you’re so god damn tight,” he groaned. Lust took over as he grabbed your hips holding you still as he drilled up into your pliant body. Your moans egged him on as he chased both of your climaxes. He loved the feeling of your pussy clamping down on him. Feeling you milk his cock drained him of his will and of his semen as he came deep into you.

You both sat there for a moment both coming down from your highs. Bodies worn from the intense session you had just had. He groaned throughing his head back, “fuck I didn’t wear a condom,” he cursed.

“I’m on birth control” you breathed moving off his lap. You searched for your panties sliding them on quickly trying to contain the mess between your legs.

“Good, that’s good,” he breathed a sigh of relief he looked around both of you. It seemed no one notice dyour little drunken romp in the parking lot. There was a slight awkward pause neither knowing what to say.

“Well that was great,” he offered, “uhh do you need a ride home?” He questioned.

You shook your head, “no I’ll just grab a quick Uber home,” you respond pulling your phone out to do just that.

He nodded seeming to like that idea not wanting you to walk home. “I’ll probably head back in and sober up a little before heading home. I definitely can’t drive right now. I’m not even sure my legs will get me back inside,” he laughed. You giggled as well. A chime rang from your phone, your ride would be pulling up soon.

“Hey give me your number and message me when you get phone safe.” He said taking the phone to send a message to himself successfully trading numbers. He gave you one more deep kiss before you left to catch your Uber.

That night your body passed out exhausted. You knew you were going to regret drinking so much tomorrow morning when you have to wake up for class.

And damn was your body sore. Your head was ponding from all the alcohol and the rest was sore from the wild sex you had. Still you woke up bright and early making sure to shower off any evidence from your delinquent activities. You made sure to take some Advil before leaving for school opting to skip breakfast since your stomach was still unstable from the liquor. Your morning classes were relatively easy not but extremely boring. You found yourself daydreaming through most of your history class thinking back to your night with Kuroo. Little fantasys of dates, and more long talks at the bar, even some naughty ideas popped into your head. It was almost like you willed him into existence because not two seconds later your phone vibrated. Your heart skipped a beat seeing his name pop up in your notifications. You laughed at the way he saved his number last night. Oh my god he texted me you thought you were so giddy. That was until you read the messages.

Kuroo 🥵: Hey YN.

Kuroo 🥵: Last night was a Mistake. Look I have a girlfriend and I love her so I think it’s best we pretend last night never happened. Sorry.

Ouch. That hurt.

General Taglist: @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @graykageyama

Taglist: @captain-janeway @elianetsantana

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Twitter ー Ruki Mukami [2020 Compilation]

–> This post includes all tweets posted on the official Rejet Twitter account for Ruki Mukami (@DialoverRukiM) in 2020.

Shuu l Reiji l Ayato l Kanato l Laito l Subaru l Kou l Yuma l Azusa l Carla l Shin l Kino

February 14, 2020 (Valentine’s Day)

> This year Azusa will make chocolates by himself it seems.

> To think he’d want to make sweets by himself without relying on my help. He has come a long way.

> There’s this suspiciously spicy smell in the air…

March 14, 2020 (White Day)

> Do not ever forget about the feelings you put in to the chocolates you gave to me. If you wish to remain by my side, then you must learn to behave in a certain way as livestock.

> …However, you are a precious woman to me. I want to protect you. Don’t forget that either.

April 1, 2020 (April Fools)

> Our family-run cafe called ‘Mukami Dining’ is opening its doors today. A menu featuring home-grown vegetables is our main focus. I shall not ask for the impossible, but I highly recommend checking it out. I promise you shall not regret it. Detailed information can be found through the link below. #MukamiDining #AprilFools

April 24, 2020 (His birthday)

> What are you doing, Livestock? I thought that you had made elaborate preparations far ahead, but if you want to please me, there is still something left to do, no? Exactly. Come here. I shall not let this day end without holding you in my arms. My birthday may come to a close, but let us enjoy this comfortable night just a little longer.

May 4, 2020

> Some free time has opened up.

> I should use this as an opportunity to make a more time-consuming dish.

Juy 7, 2020 (Tanabata)

> The restoration of page number 37 from the recipe book Yuma ripped to shreds. #TanabataWishes

August 17, 2020

> When I buy clothes without trying them on, it happens that the fit around the chest and the circumference of the sleeves does not match.

October 21, 2020 (DL x Mayla Classic)

> There is something I’d like to discuss. Come to the kitchen.

–> Move to the kitchen

> Actually, after talking it over with my brothers, we decided that we should give you a little reward every now and then.

> While I was out doing groceries, I prepared an accessory which I thought might suit you but…This is strange, I could have sworn I put it here, but now it is gone.

> There’s no other option than to search for it. I have to get started on preparations for dinner, so you go look on your own. Yuma should be in the garden, so go ahead and ask him.

> It’s a gift from us. You must find it all costs.

> You have until dinner time to look for it. We’re having fried shrimp tonight. If you manage to find it, I’ll let you have some as well.

> Well then, get going.

October 24, 2020

> I think I shall make some takikomi-gohan today per Kou’s request.

--> 炊き込み御飯 or ‘takikomi-gohan’ is a traditional Japanese dish made rice, vegetables and fish or meat which all cooked together and then seasoned with dashi, etc.

> I am looking forward to using these seasonal shiitake. This rich fragrance and smooth texture...I was surprised to discover that store was carrying such high quality products.

> Speaking of which, Yuma should be growing pumpkins in the garden as well.

> I suppose I could make some simmered pumpkin as well.

October 29, 2020

> You truly are bothersome Livestock, making your Master accompany you till this late at night.

> I bet you will let your voice slip halfway through, then end up relying on me.

> You sure have some nerve, casually showing off your foolish sleeping face.

October 31, 2020 (Halloween)

> Homemade sweets, huh? You believe that I would be satisfied with some sugary treat? What foolish livestock you are. Think deeply about what you should truly give your Master. That being said, let me get straight to the point. Trick or treat?

November 9, 2020

> I find this season to be rather pleasant. It is the perfect weather to enjoy a good book.

> Speaking of which, I bought a magazine in which Kou is featured yesterday. I have to flip through it as well.

> Okay. You’ll be able to find it on the usual spot after I’ve finished reading it. (@Azusa)

November 19, 2020

> You should be in class right now though. (@Shuu)

> Don’t sleep.

November 25, 2020

> Letting your voice out already?

> I suppose that gradually becoming undone through my sweet actions, as you slowly sink into an abyss of pleasure is actually making you suffer instead. With that shameless body of yours which remembers the pain, you should even be left dissatisfied. Am I wrong?

> In that case, I shall give you a punishment next.

--> He literally says he will give her the ‘whip’. However, this most likely refers to the ‘carrot and stick’ technique which is called ‘ame to muchi’ or ‘candy and whip’ in Japanese. Therefore, ‘muchi’ is often used as a synonym for all punishments, not just whipping.

> I wonder what kind of reaction you will give me, if I were to thrust my fangs deep inside your body still bathing in bliss? I can picture your body twitching as you cry out loudly, like a pig being smacked by a whip.

> Go ahead and make some cute noises so you can satisfy your Master.

December 18, 2020

> Your fingertips are chapped. It can’t be helped, I shall put on some cream for you. ...What? I’m kind, you say? It seems like there’s somewhat of a misunderstanding here. Your body belongs to me, down to the tips of your fingers. Therefore, I simply won’t allow for it to be harmed.

December 19, 2020

> What’s wrong? You’re the one who offered we would rest up at a cafe. So don’t just look my way, but pick your drink already. For example, how about this jet black drink? A solitary black, refusing to be dyed any other color. Making a toast with these before getting drunk off the flavor of the deep abyss does not sound half bad.

December 24, 2020 (Christmas)

> The Christmas lights, huh? Not bad. I can only assume my past self would have lacked the ability to appreciate them, but things have changed. Just by having you by my side, they look this stunning.

[closer-stars]

Heart of Depth (1)

Member: Yeosang Genre: Action, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Fluff Word Count: 8.8k (nice) Requested: I g u ess so,,, Content: Yeosang’s rich but he’s tired but wait there’s More. Genshin Impact AU/Inspired-- I say inspired bec this is more modern than where Genshin is currently set. Food mention. Allusions to death. (there will be fighting in future parts) Note: Hi so... uh,,, this is actually a Months old request that happened at the height of some personal,,, things,,,, so I may have forgotten One aspect of the request and got carried away. i am so Sorry. There’s gonna be fluff eventually. If you would like to be tagged for this, please do tell me~ Thank you also to my beta readers! Also Yes i changed the title to something else, I think this just Fits better. Network: @ateezlovenet Tag List: @barsformars @miniyeo @jeongyunhoed @yeekies @yeotlny @frankenstein852 @shinyddeonghwa @prodbyteez @yeochikin @yeocult

How long has it been since he has mingled with humans? He’s not sure. He’s not quite sure either of how old he is. Sapphire eyes gaze at the scenery from where he stands. Over north, he remembers a battle that has left thousands scarred in years to come, honored and remembered rightfully in generations to come. To the east, he remembers the betrayal of his dear friend for power, how difficult it was to wash away the blood from his hands. It was more difficult to wash away the nightmares. In the west, he can still picture a palace being built, only to be ruined once more by opposing forces who saw potential in his land, how he raised so much chaos to bring order back. Southwards, he remembers his lover, their lively eyes dimming with a promise of seeing them soon. It’s been too long since that promise and not once has he seen them. The memory causes him to fiddle with the pendant hidden beneath his shirt. He tries not to play that memory in his head once more as it would only causehim more pain than necessary. 

He’s seen the world decay and grow. He sees the mountain of which he created eons back to tame a beast that once ravaged the lands. Fortunately, the beast is no more, the area has become a place for people to relax and unwind from the stressors of present day life. He wonders how humans have come this far, little by little gaining independence from a god that led them to safety. The need for a god is ending soon as it is only a matter of time before he passes on the powers to someone else. All his friends have retreated away from their responsibilities, handing the job to those who can continue it for them. He’s the only one from the original seven that is left. 

He wonders: do these people still need a god?

This was a question better left for another day, for today is a full day of routined duties. 

He returns to his living space, spacious but empty. What else can an immortal put into their home without giving away their age? Even if humans can barely understand the concept of immortality, priceless antiques can make him a target of many, so he tries to live simply. He of all people should know that. 

Alas, the key word here is: tries. 

The furniture around his abode are not of cheap quality, but one of longevity, not that his wallet hurts at the price. His clothes are not from everyday brands either, while he does not look down those whose options are limited by currency, his preferences for clothes can make one mistake him to be a regular of luxury brand releases. His palate though was another thing entirely. He misses the food of the past, while there are some areas that have kept the practice to produce the meals he misses alive, the process to acquire them is tedious.

What he wants, he can get with ease. All except someone. The empty feeling in his living space has not changed since his lover’s passing. Since then, he’s never taken an interest in anyone else, holding onto their promise of seeing each other soon. Whenever that will be. He’s gotten used to living on his own but he does not like it. Watching humans below him move at such a pace exhausts him, they live longer than the humans he remembers, but still move as if their lives are shorter. 

Ironic really. 

The sky is a beautiful purple once he’s near his home and rather than cooking something, he opts for take-out. Somewhere along the way of his existence, he eventually has settled for what humans now eat and as a result, he has a small soft spot for fried chicken. He misses seeing the stars though, how they remind him of them and the way they’ve created them to be what they are now. 

Each one carries someone’s destiny. Maybe he should’ve asked them where his star is. 

He buys himself a hearty serving of fried chicken with the various dips to eat for the night. He waits outside of the franchise, watching people come and go, hurrying to bury themselves in the comfort of their own homes. With the years of life on him, he finds no reason to hurry. It doesn’t take too long for the staff to hand his chicken to him, bidding him goodbye as they cater to the next customer. At least he didn’t forget his wallet today. 

Yeosang has been a creature of habit, always wanting to do certain things in a certain order every day. But something about today makes him want to break the sense of familiarity, no harm in it he assumes. He’s been the only god in this region thus far, save for a few other creatures that roam the roads to protect the humans from unexplainable happenings. He spots the new coffee shop down the corner, it’s clear that they’re fairly new. He didn’t have anything waiting at home, he could spare them a visit to support their budding endeavors. 

He enters the empty shop, and already he’s greeted by a light wind chime tinkling as he closes the door, along with a few pastries on display. There were a few flowers sprinkled about in the premises as well. 

“Welcome!”

A bright voice catches his attention and it takes him a few moments to tear his gaze from the curious confectionery treats to shift his attention to the person behind the counter. Something in his chest drops at the sight of you. There’s something about you that stirs a feeling in him and he’s stunned. It’s been awhile since he’s seen eyes that remind him of wine: brewed carefully, poised and intense. 

His gaze on you is unmoving, and it causes you to shift on your feet. You clear your throat to have him snap out of his daze. “Sir? Would you like to order something?” You’re worried your first customer is a creep and you’d have to install more security measures in your shop. A small part of you hopes it’s just the first day exhaustion getting the better of you because there’s no logical explanation as to why this man’s eyes seem to glow. He doesn’t answer again and you speak up a little louder this time. 

“Sir? Would you like to order?”

Your question brings him back to reality and he blinks for a few moments. He’s not on a hill. He’s in a coffee shop, being eyed with confusion by you. He clears his throat and straightens his back. “Apologies for the lapse in attention, what do you recommend?” He asks carefully, eyeing the sweets and the menu that displays various coffees and tea. Truthfully, he would’ve gone for his black tea but what’s the point when he wants to know more of what your shop creates and gives? 

You glance at your menu then at him. “Are you into sweets? If you are, I recommend the iced dark mocha and the caramel macaron. If not, then the Moroccan mint tea latte and the vanilla macaron.” Truthfully, you pegged him as someone who didn’t have a sweet tooth but looks have always been deceiving haven’t they? You watch the man take your options into deep thought as you stand there, waiting for his decision. Should you have described your products? Do they not sound good? Is it too limiting? “I can also rec--”

“I’ll take the mint tea latte and the vanilla macaron.” He says, fishing out his wallet for the second time. Without another word, you ring his order and ask for him to wait for a few moments for you to prepare his order. He takes a seat nearby as he observes the interiors of the new shop. It’s simple, quaint, comfortable, things that remind one of home after a long day. 

You approach his table with the prepared latte and macaron in a small bag for him to carry on the way home. “Here are your orders, Sir.” Your voice brings him out of his musings. The smell of mint laced with the subtle sweetness of vanilla greets him as he returns to reality. 

“Please just call me Yeosang.” He tells you as he stands up, ready to return home. His eyes still bear a heavy weight as he looks at you intently. The request catches you off guard, but you nod regardless. You watch him leave the premises, leaving you alone with the wind chimes tinkling in his wake. Your eyes follow his figure until he’s out of your sight, walking to wherever you assume he’d live. A strange man indeed but at least you had a customer for today. It’s a slow start but it is a start. It would take a while before you can close for the day but no matter, you can clean up whatever must be cleaned until the next customer comes in. 

On the other hand, Yeosang has taken a few sips of the latte, somehow attracted to the subtle creamy texture with the comforting sharpness mint carries. He never had a liking for over sweetened tea with cream, the recent rise of milk tea has left him confused with the palate of humans but this tea fits his taste. He wonders if he can recreate this in the coming days, for now, he wants to be in his home eating his chicken. 

His thoughts return to you, wondering who you are really. Someone that reminds him of years past, before the world is what it is now. For now, he focuses on what’s in front of him: fried chicken, tea latte, and a macaron. Perhaps he’ll drop by your shop again in the days to come. 

---------

Maybe it’s a good thing that you don’t have many customers today because your best friend has decided to enter the establishment. “What’s my favorite human doing?” He asks in the most obnoxious way. The volume startles you out of your daydreams and it’s a good thing you had quick reflexes, otherwise you would’ve dropped your glasses. 

“Have you ever heard of an indoor voice, Wooyoung?” You chide, with a wiggle of your finger you conjure a small wisp of icy air against the exposed skin of his ankle. This causes him to yelp in fear, thinking it was an insect. Fortunately, it was just your antics. 

He complains after hearing your snickering. “You know I don’t like insects!” He whines as he sauntered over to the counter. He thought you would’ve kept the pearl back home but he guesses the first day jitters made you want the reassurance of the pearl. 

You lean against your elbows as he eyes your menu with utmost curiosity. “Can I help you?” His complaints don’t faze you, if anything it makes you want to annoy him more. 

“Can’t I worry over my best friend? It is their first day of their new job!” It’s so hard to stay angry at a guy who just knows he’s charming and well intentioned. Also, you’ve known this guy since you were children. 

So you sigh, conceding to his wishes, “It’s a slow day, Wooyoung. I’m actually surprised I got this shop to become a reality. I think you’re my third customer-- speaking of which, what would you like to order?” 

“Do I get a discount?”

“Do I think you should get a cup full of ice poured down your shirt?” 

He pouts at your retort. “Are you at least going to let me buy the strawberry cake?” 

“Do you want coffee with that?” You ask as you start ringing up his order. 

“Iced americano please?” There was no need to add syrup into his order if he uses that tone again. Maybe that’s the perk of having your best friend taste test all your creations, he just knows what to order and it’s clear that he loves your strawberry cake. 

He decides to stay in your shop until closing. There’s really no reason for him to head home when the two of you are sharing an apartment to ease the burden on your respective wallets. Living on your own is expensive. The remaining hours of the shop go by with Wooyoung telling you about his day and his shift at a dance studio. It’s still a little hard to function after the new sickness has ended but life has to keep moving. You fill him in on the new face you saw today, an interesting man, well kept with what looked like high quality clothes, yet the stark contrast of the fried chicken he held was a nice twist you admit. You don’t mention the glowing eyes otherwise Wooyoung would chalk it up to you and your affinity for anything creepy late at night. 

“You just met this guy and you’re already gushing about him. This is why I told you to download that dating app already.” 

“Shut up, Wooyoung, I’m not into him like that. Even if they do an event to boost their sales, I’m not downloading an app just for the sake of dating!” You return with a whine. Eyes shift from the annoying man lounging on the stool across you, to the clock hanging on the wall. Time to clean up and close for the day. “Move your butt, Wooyoung. I have to clean up the place before I close for the day.” Bless his soul though, for he helps you clean up and take out the trash. 

The distance from home isn’t too far, but it isn’t too near either. A few stops away using the train and it doesn’t hurt the wallet for the most part. 

Really this spot is a dream come true for you. 

----------

‘Leave! Take my people with you!’

‘Don’t be foolish! You can’t fight them alone!’

A harsh shove puts him out of harm’s way. The last thing he sees is the confident smile shining against the heavy downpour.

He awakens with a jolt. Eyes glowing brightly only to dim to brown orbs as he tries to regain his bearings, above him is a cream colored ceiling, not the stormy skies that pelt against his window. It’s been thousands of years but the burden still presents itself on his shoulders. Yeosang sits up, brushing his hair up and out of his vision. On his bedside stands an amulet, sewn into it were the visuals of a rare white flower. Never had he found someone to give this too, for the sake of safekeeping. Choi San was considered but he thought better, his lifestyle would have left the amulet in a concerning state. For now, it will stay on his bedside. 

Another day of business meetings. 

Another day of wanting something.

See, while Yeosang found comfort in the luxury of his home and in routine, it still felt stifling. Being a god isn’t as glamorous as modern pop culture makes it out to be. He wonders who gave these humans the idea that being immortal, being powerful would be something good. Perhaps the Order’s influence was a lot stronger than what the Archons had assumed. Though he could ask for help in changing such perception, it is out of his power and field to be able to do such. That is a thought for another day, for today, he has to deal with finding a suitable middle ground of a contract with clients from another country. 

Now, he could just change his top into something presentable and leave his bottoms as just his pajamas as it is through video call but he prefers to be presentable from head to toe. He’s seen enough slip ups from his peers to consider just changing top up. 

Maybe if the weather eases up later in the day, he could give your shop a visit. 

--------

You nearly jump out of your bed when Wooyoung bursts in, saying that it’s time to start the day. Who gave Wooyoung the right to make his yelling your alarm clock? You make a mental note to annoy him later on. First thing on the to-do list is to get out of bed which admittedly takes longer than expected. 

Once you leave your room, you’re greeted by the smell of something cooking. In this friendship, Wooyoung’s in charge of cooking, while you were in charge of baking. Heavens forbid that the two of you don’t eat well. He was also in charge of you staying physically active thanks to his antics. While you had the Cryo vision, he had Electro. Any ‘static’ that you feel from him was admittedly him just wanting to annoy you. 

“How are you so awake this early?” It’s 7AM. You open your shop at 10AM. He on the other hand, his work starts at 2PM today and ends at midnight. If anything, you should be the early bird, while he is the night owl. 

“Because between the two of us, i’m easier to wake up. Now go eat before it gets cold!” He chides you gently as he continues to wash up the pans. You glance at the meal set on the table, he made all of these? All these side dishes and meat? 

“What time did you wake up?”

“5:30?” 

“Jung Wooyoung, what the-- I could’ve just grabbed something from the lady down the street.” You could also make yourself a cup of coffee in your own shop, it’s your own money anyways.

“Relax! I can catch up on sleep before my work starts and mind you, it’s raining so it’s better to get to your shop and be able to dry up before any customer enters. Don’t forget, I packed you some lunch because we all know you’d forget to grab food on the way” 

At the mention of rain, you notice the downpour outside. That probably explains the humidity lately. Time for a change of plans on what to wear today, at least your boots could take on the rain and still make you look good. Your bottom lip juts out as you watch the rain but you decide to change your attention to the food in front of you. Heavens forbid that you don’t eat what Wooyoung makes for you, otherwise you would go back to take out and instant food for a good week. Once finished, you’re about to wash the dishes when Wooyoung shoos you off. “Go, you know how the station can be with this weather.” You don’t force it, so you leave your plate by the sink and go and get ready. 

--------

You arrive outside your shop, unlocking the door while balancing the umbrella on your shoulder. Once you were inside, you let out a sigh of relief. The dry air inside provides you comfort from the humidity outside. The rain isn’t as hard as it was in the morning but it was still a challenge to walk through people who were damp from the downpour. With the current weather, you didn’t need to water your plants too much so that’s one thing off the list. 

You get started on cleaning and setting everything up for the day. Now you weren’t sure if you’d get more customers today but it was better to be safe than sorry. Not long after you cleaned up the place, someone enters the shop. “Hello and welcome!” You greet them warmly from behind the counter. The first thing you notice is his sharp feline features, softened only by his curiosity for the pastries on display. You watch him carefully, wondering if he’ll stay and order something or leave shortly. After all, it is a little too early for sweets, though if that was what he prefers then you shall provide. The mysterious man leans a little closer to the display rack, eyeing the various treats you’re selling. You note the odd streaks of white on his slicked hair, surely this place has their own share of memorable fashion. Maybe in the future you could do something similar to your own hair, you’ve been wanting some sort of a change after all. 

“How much for the smallest cake?” 

There were various voices that you expected to come out of his mouth, his gentle manner of speaking was not one of them. You look at the cake he’s pointing at. Guess he has an eye for the finer things. “Twelve thousand won, sir..” You return a little flustered by his mannerism. 

“Can I ask what’s in it?” 

You stand up a little straighter, hoping to make your first sale for the day. “Dark chocolate and milk. There’s dark chocolate mousse in between the layers as well.” To be honest, this is your favorite creation, not too bitter, not too sweet, still perfectly smooth in your mouth. Well, it wasn’t easy to get all the ingredients for it either. He straightens up and looks at his watch. As he looks at the time, you take note of what he’s wearing: are there really people that have expensive taste that live in this side of the city? His bomber jacket alone looks more expensive that your entire outfit. There’s something about how he carries himself that tells you to stay on his good side, no matter how pleasant he presents himself to you. 

“I’ll come back later today to buy it.” He states and a small part of you deflates. You don’t want to hope too much on his words, people often do choose niceties rather than honesty. His tone leaves no room for you to guess if it was politeness or a genuine promise so you just nod. 

“We’re open until 10 PM, Sir.” You inform him. A part of you doesn’t believe his words but for the sake of making money, you let him know. 

“I promise, I’ll come back later.” He eyes your display again, as if trying not to forget your products then at your face. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t recognize but you let it be. Being a regular folk makes everyone look the same but once you’re out here selling things, you end up noticing all the small details. Maybe it’s just in the first few days.

His effort to reassure you makes you chuckle softly. Maybe he does mean it, with that you nod. “I’ll take your word for it, Sir. Have a nice day.” You can only assume that he flashes a smile from how his eyes curve as he bids you goodbye. When he turns his back to you is when you see a teal orb hanging on his waist. Another Vision holder. Maybe you should take the chance to explore the area one of these days. It’s been a while since you met other Vision holders besides Wooyoung and some of his fellow dancers. 

It’s the silence that follows once he leaves that makes you wish you had some sort of pet or companion in this shop. But that will be a thought for another day, for now, you busy yourself with your own phone. You couldn’t really message Wooyoung at this hour anymore, you know he’s back in bed catching up on sleep before his shift. Hours pass and you end up busying yourself with a book you found online. It becomes a deep dive at that point, the only time you had to put your phone down is when a customer comes in for a drink and even then making their orders doesn’t take too long. 

Your reading takes you to worlds past; how people preserved their memories beyond just the word of mouth and writings. The art that accompanied their memories was a reason as to why certain practices are still being done until present. Through faded colors, the preservations to keep them still visible and intact have brought you to beyond just the materials and methods of the past. It has brought you to the vivid awareness of a working society that had dwindled down then revived to become the society you now live in. 

By the time you snap yourself back to reality, it’s already 3PM. You forgot to eat your lunch. You look outside and the streets weren’t that cramped yet. It won’t be until two hours later when rush hour begins. Wooyoung was right once more, you decided to just eat towards the back. Making sure that people still know that there’s someone inside the shop while still having the comfort of privacy to eat. 

The windchimes ring again, making you cover your food immediately and rush over to the counter. “Hello and welcome!” You say, out of habit.

“Hello again!” The same guy from earlier has returned. This time with Yeosang. It takes a moment for you to get over your surprise, not expecting the two of them to know each other. Really, what were the odds?

Yeosang too looks at you with wide eyes, piercing and unmoving, but it’s the soft curve of his lips that dampens the intensity of his gaze. Only you were not aware of the turmoil inside the other’s body. San was all too aware of it but he says nothing. 

“Hello! Have you decided what to buy?” You ask, tone carrying careful gentleness as you try to keep your gaze on the man with the white streak. 

“Yup! The dark chocolate cake from earlier and two vanilla tea lattes please!” You didn’t really expect this sharp eyed man to carry such a bright tone in his voice. 

You take the chance to glance over at Yeosang. He clearly looked a little embarrassed to be trapped in his peer’s hold. A small smile warms your features, a little amused to see someone who gave you the impression of being so composed turn a little red. “Sure thing, that’s 16,000 won.” You state, ringing up their orders. “To go or dine in?”

“Would dine in be fine?” Yeosang’s friend asks. 

“Perfectly fine.”

“Then dine in please.”

You direct them to sit anywhere as they wait for their orders. The two leave you to it, and once you are out of earshot Yeosang breathes out in relief. “Choi San, you are blessed that I can’t throw you out to sea right now.” He hisses, though without any malice. 

“I can see why you’re affected though, heh.” San snickers, his eyes flickering towards your general direction. He’s unfazed by Yeosang’s eyes glowing into an intense blue. It’s an empty threat, they’ve been through worse and a human reminding them of a dear presence won’t hurt him. “They do have similar energies, and an affinity for plants.” San notes, gesturing to the presence of flowers in your shop. “Especially that one in particular.” He adds. Should he feel alarmed?

You quickly serve their orders, leaving them alone as you try to finish your meal quickly before the smell disturbs them. It’s not too long until you finish your meal, a major factor being that you weren’t reading as you ate. 

You stay behind the counter for the rest of their stay, making sure to stay out of their earshot,as you continue your reading to pass the time as it is only them who have decided to stay in your shop. 

“So you’re saying, the human behind the counter, reminds you of them?” 

Yeosang sighs at the inquiry, he should’ve expected the disbelief. It’s been thousands of years since his lover had made their return to this world since their passing. The edge of the cup grazes the bottom of Yeosang’s lips as he thinks. “Yes, I don’t quite understand why or how, but if my nightmares have returned then that must be something.” Truly, when it comes to his dear lover, his logic tends to be thrown out the window. Not entirely, at least. At the mention of night terrors, his companion raises an eyebrow in surprise. “San, take my word at least at the mere fact that my night terrors have returned.”

San’s features fall slightly at Yeosang’s unwillingness to discuss his nightmares. It’s a reasonable move, they can never tell when the walls listen. “Can we at least talk about this at your place? I remember you clearly choosing that building for their refusal to be affiliated with any organization.” 

“Very well. Once we have finished our meal here, we can return.” 

It’s not until you hear his friend thank you for the food and coffee for the second time that you realize you’ve been in too deep into the reading material. The sight of you trying to regain your surroundings as you blink away the words swimming about in your vision makes Yeosang’s friend chuckle lightly. Yeosang on the other hand eyes you closely. 

“San, can you wait for me outside? I won’t take too long.” 

So that’s his name. You glance at the male who shoots you a bright smile as he leaves the premises, he eventually stays near the door. Once he’s out of ear shot, Yeosang clears his throat to get your attention again. 

“Are you alright? You seem rather dazed. '' Yeosang asks. There’s something in his tone that you couldn’t quite tell if it was concern or not.

Dazed might be an understatement. “Yes I’m fine, I just got too into what I was reading..” You explain a little shyly as you try to regain your bearings. You can still see some words in your vision, it takes a few more blinking for them to melt from your sight.  

He smiles a little at your reaction. “If it’s not too much to ask, what were you reading about? Surely, it must have been an interesting topic?”

You glance at your phone, unsure of how to describe what you had been reading. “It was uh, art history.” This piques his interest, something in his eyes sparkles and it takes a bit of your self control to not chuckle at the obvious enthusiasm.  

“Is that so? Perhaps I can take some of your time in the future so that we can talk about art?” 

Was he asking you out? You stare at him in disbelief. The question is still trying to sink in.

If you weren’t who he thinks you are, a friend would be good enough for him. 

“Of course, if you aren’t interested I won’t take any offense in it.” He follows up upon your silence. He worries if he was a little too forward with such a question. 

“No!” You speak up, surprised by the force in your own voice. “I mean, no… as in, no it’s not that I’m not interested, it’s just, I don’t know you besides your name.” 

You have every right to be wary, he thinks. The current era has birthed plenty of amorality. Even if one seemed harmless, it might be too late when the realization of its true power sets in. His hand comes up to his chin in thought. He genuinely wants your trust, besides his earnest wish of you being his past lover, your interest in something he likes could lead to the two of you being friends. “Would it be alright if I become a regular in your shop though?” 

The question takes you by surprise because in usual circumstances, the customer becoming a regular is a gradual unspoken promise. Maybe it was for your own safety too as his initial question could be understood with some malice. Something in you tells you that you’re safe with him. At that thought, you smile warmly. “I wouldn’t mind. It will take a while before I memorize your order though.” Also, you needed to make money. 

“Good things take time.” 

His words make you laugh lightly. “You should get going, your friend has been waiting for you for quite some time now.” You remind him gently as you tip your head at San’s general direction. He’s already pouting, clearly impatient. 

Yeosang’s cheeks glow in embarrassment for letting his friend wait. “Very well, I’ll see you tomorrow then…?” He trails off, unsure of how to address you. You catch on to the gap and offer him a nickname. 

Yeosang repeats after you thoughtfully, and his eyes warm up when he fixes his gaze to you. “I shall get going then.” 

You watch him leave the shop, greeted by a relieved San by the doorway. The two of them bid you goodbye, and you watch them walk off until you couldn’t see them anymore. 

What an odd day, you thought to yourself. At least you had something to look forward to each day now. 

---------

“What do you think?” San asks by the door of his apartment.

“It may or may not be them.” Yeosang admits. They were always a sensitive topic for him. “Regardless, should it not be them, a human friend might do me some good in this worn world.” 

His wording reminds San of his other plan and it makes his heart drop slightly. “You’re really considering it?” 

A heavy sigh slips from Yeosang’s lips but he nods. “I’m far too old, San. Someone needs to take over soon as much as I would like it to be you, you have your own responsibilities in this world that only you can fulfill.” 

The conversation takes a heavy turn that San wasn’t ready for that he had it turn back to you. “Did you ever get their name? What did you talk about?” 

Yeosang updates the male in your lengthy conversation. San notices the small smile on his friend’s features. “...By tomorrow, I’ll be back in their shop, roughly the same time.” 

“Yeosang, the both of us know that it isn’t roughly the same time, you’ll be there on the dot. What’s going to happen if you get tired of the same drink huh?”

“I will try their other products.” 

“You’re going to spend so much money over them, Yeosang.” 

“If it means building a genuine connection then it’s a small price to pay.” 

--------

It becomes a thing that you wait for everyday now; him coming by your coffee shop at this exact time everyday. Every 5PM you start to await his arrival. At this point, you already know his order by heart: vanilla tea latte with two pieces of dark chocolate macarons. Sometimes, if the two of you were lucky, he stays with you beyond closing time and by then, you could offer to taste test some of your possible new products. 

Today is a lucky day for the two of you. It’s nearing closing time and you’ve told some of your customers that you would be closing up soon, to give them enough time to wrap up and go. Enough time as well for you to clean up everything and if time permits, for Yeosang to taste test some of your creations. You walk up to Yeosang’s table. “Excuse me, Sir? We’re closing in an hour.” You state as professionally friendly as you can-- if that was even possible. 

The male looks up from his book to be greeted by your features and your weak attempt to keep yourself from smiling. He slips the bookmark in between his reading, and from your view point, it looked like a reading on a certain era of history. You don’t get enough time to look at it better as he closes the book gently. “Shall I leave the premises, dear?” He entertains you for a moment, flashing a soft smile once you chuckle softly at his efforts. 

“You can, but that would also mean you won’t be able to taste something I’ve been trying out lately.” Something in his eyes flashes with curiosity and excitement. It honestly reminds you of a cat that’s staring at their favorite toy. 

“Then I shall stay and keep you company.” He returns. By now, the rest of the customers have left. You change the sign to only accepting take out orders for the last hour. “Do you need my assistance?” He offers, looking around the usually spotless place. There were some used plates along with a few mugs that should be washed on some tables, along with the trash. He wonders how you manage to do all of this by yourself. When he approaches the counter, he sees you already cleaning the coffee machines first. He calls your nickname again, and this time you manage to shift your attention to the male standing by the counter. 

“Yes?”

“Would you like some assistance?” He reiterates, waiting for your response. 

You look around the place and you spot the used plates and mugs. “Can you get those for me,please? Just put them by the sink. I’ll wash them.” As soon as he nods and gets to work, you busy yourself again with the coffee machines, making sure everything was spotless before getting yourself to wash everything. It takes a few trips from the man himself to get everything stacked neatly near the sink. 

“Anything else, dear?” 

At this point, you’ve gotten used to Yeosang calling you dear. There was a certain sweetness to how he calls your nickname as well, reminding you of hot tea sweetened slightly by honey. “Just keep me company, and tell me about your day.” You return, pulling him a seat as you start to wash everything. 

He accepts your offer, sitting down across you as he tells you about his day. For him, it was not anything extraordinary: meetings within the morning, visitations within the afternoon, up until the time of him being able to spend the last few hours of the day here with you. But you didn’t let him off that easy, you wanted to know more about this man who decided to befriend you. He entertains your questions with ease. 

“So you’re telling me, you’re part of a board of directors of a museum?” You’ve always wanted to work in one but life had other plans for you. You were thankful your coffee shop was picking up with the people that you were slowly having more than enough money to keep you and Wooyoung above water. Maybe when you manage to make more money, you could buy some simple art works to hang around your shop.

“That is correct. Are you interested in them?” He asks, head tilting to the side as he watches you dry all the plates and mugs before keeping them. While you busy yourself with keeping everything in order, he picks up his book. His fingers fly across the pages, looking for something. 

“I am.” You turn on your heels, drying your hands before pulling a small cake out of the refrigerator. “Always loved going to museums when I had the time. Anything related to art and its history, I loved it.”

He sees the small container, wondering if this is the cake you wanted him to try. “Is this the one you want me to try?” His inquiry is affirmed by your nod. 

“I tried a little something with this one, lavender and blueberry cake. It’s not really something you hear or see on the usual…” You had to admit it was a risk, too much lavender and it risks being potpourri. For you, the amount you put into creating this was just right, but you had to get a third opinion as well. You weren’t selling food for your own taste after all. You ready a glass of water as well, should Yeosang need to wash out any undesired taste. Yeosang’s eyes don’t seem to have any apprehension to your cake. True, it looks a little plain but he does understand the need to not waste on design when the material itself still isn’t of the desired outcome. He takes a small bite out of your cake, just as curious as you are, and if anything he trusts your skills that it wouldn’t be a poor result. 

All of a sudden, his eyes light up and he raises a thumbs up to your cake. “This is actually lovely. Lavender’s subtle, the blueberry adds the sweetness and the cake isn’t too dense and moist. It’s lovely. Can I bring an additional slice home?” There’s a bit of icing that’s left on the corner of his mouth. 

“Y-yeosang, you got a little bit of icing on your mouth..” You say, too focused on the pale purple cream. You watch him flounder about trying to rid of it with his finger, only to fail. At his failed attempts, you laugh softly. “Let me do it for you.” You grab a piece of tissue, and when you shift your attention to him, he’s finally wiped some of the cream off. It’s a bit endearing to see a man so well poised look rather lost and a little frustrated over something as small as icing. “Here.” You tip his chin up for him to stay put as you wipe it off successfully. 

Yeosang feels his heart nearly jump out of his throat at the proximity, especially at your gaze. It’s only when you let go of his chin that he feels himself breathing again. From then on, he ate carefully and slowly. It’s not that he didn’t want that type of closeness. 

While he finishes what’s left of the cake, you pack up the rest of the cake you had offered into a small box. “Keep the rest of it.” You state and Yeosang suddenly perks up in surprise at such offer. “I can recreate the cake anyways, I had Wooyoung taste the first half, so we still have some back home.” You explain. 

Who was he to say no? So, he flashes you a smile, one filled with utmost thanks and gratitude. “Thank you, I’ll try to make sure that San gets a taste of this as well.” He returns. 

He asks you where you live, not for personal wants but out of concern for your safety. It’s late into the night by the time the two of you left the shop and to walk on your own was surely a dangerous thing to do. From how you’ve spent your time with him, you don’t see any malice in his questions. You reassure him that you don’t go home on your own, rather you wait for Wooyoung outside the dance studio. “Would it be alright if I accompanied you to where this Wooyoung is?” 

The walk to the studio has you telling him who Wooyoung is. A best friend who was practically like a brother to you since you could remember. You weren’t quite ready to tell him just yet as to how the two of you became so close. That was left for a better time. You do tell him that both of you are Vision carriers, just like he is, only Wooyoung had the electro vision, while you a cryo vision. “I honestly thought he would get the pyro vision knowing how much he loves to dance but I guess life had other plans for him.” You admit with a bashful laugh. You mention his vision in passing, not out of rudeness but out of curiosity. A hydro vision, you can imagine just how driven and eccentric this man could be. 

He doesn’t correct your assumption on him. He did carry an orb like object on him, just dangling around his waist was a deep blue orb, almost as if it carries the water from the deepest parts of the ocean. He wonders how you got your vision, cryo carriers always had a story to tell that are usually not for the faint of heart. Yet, he understands that there are boundaries one must not cross. 

He climbs up the stairs with you, until he’s assured that you will be safe for the time being. “Stay safe on the way home.” He says, readying himself to leave once the studio’s staff have recognized you. 

“How will I know if you’re safe as well?” You ask, pouting a little at the man you’ve come to appreciate. That was a good question, he paused for a moment, thinking of how he would be able to inform you of his safety. Your eyes brighten at an idea. “I can give you my number?” You offer. 

It was a good thing the offer came from you because should it come from him and the altercations that carries would be too much to bear. He hands you his phone, somehow you weren’t surprised with the model. If he looked like he can buy the entire building your coffee shop stands on, the latest phone model would be nothing. Once you’re done putting in your number, he calls the number and true enough your phone rings. “Rest assured, I’ll be home safely.” He repeats. His gut wants to press a light kiss on your forehead but not now-- not in front of all these people, not when the two of you are still warming up. With that in thought, he decides to pat your head lightly as his goodbye. 

“Who is that?” The man asks after handling the identification process for the students. Your eyes flit to the dancers waiting by the door, they’re probably waiting for the last class of the day. 

“Hm?” You ask a little confused by the question until it dawned on you that Yunho, a friend of Wooyoung, was referring to the stranger who accompanied you. “Oh! Yeosang…” You trail off, unsure of how to define what the two of you had just yet. “I guess, he’s my friend.” You say after a moment. That sounds right, yeah the two of you have grown closer over the past few weeks. It seems to be correct to call him a friend at least. 

“A friend huh?” He repeats with a waggle of his eyebrows, just to tease you.

You roll your eyes, playfully threatening to punch his arm. “Yes he is! Don’t get funny ideas, Yunho or else I’m not bringing cookies anymore.” You say much to his horror. The sight of his features dropping into a pout makes you coo. 

As you wait for Wooyoung’s class to end, you and Yunho catch up on what has happened. The studio seemed to carry more vision carriers than you expected. It made sense though, a dance studio harbors people with various reasons that had kept them pushing in this form of art. Yunho was one of them, a pyro vision carrier. One way or another, a vision carrier manages to know a fighting style or handle a weapon. For Yunho, it was a longsword. Truthfully, you never have seen him handle it but you know for sure he’d be graceful with it. 

You tell Yunho of how you met Yeosang, and admittedly he was an interesting guy with eyes that were so strong when caught in a situation he didn’t expect. Yunho then trades a story of how the studio was going to stay open a little later than usual-- it seemed that a big name had rented the studio after their dance class. It’s a good thing that he was a bit of a nocturnal so he’s going to stay while the studio’s being used. 

“How are you going to stay awake on your own?” You ask, aghast by the idea of staying up that late. 

“No worries. We have coffee in the office so I can make myself a cup. Also Wooyoung gave us some of your white chocolate cookies that were scratch.” He admits with a toothy grin. You let him take the scratch, he pays for your goods whenever he has his cravings anyways. 

“Just make sure that if you want a better version, you’ll pay.” You tease. 

The conversation is cut short when the door opens and the students step out, clearly exhausted but happy with the class. Wooyoung is the last to exit, the other staff rushing in to quickly clean the room before the next class uses it. He’s just as sweaty and tired but the way his face lights up tells you otherwise. You thrust your hands out putting space between the two of you. “If you think of hugging me while you’re drenched in sweat, I will not share the leftovers from today.” You threaten and he whines in rebuttal.

“Is it the strawberry cake?”

“No..?”

“Okay, then come here.” He quickly returns beckoning you to come over to his arms. You quickly scoot away behind Yunho. 

“Hurry up, I’m hungry..” You whine, pouting. Wooyoung looks at you in mild alarm at your statement.

“Did you forget to eat?!”

“I don’t like eating dinner without you, dumbass.” You admit as you follow him into the office, bidding Yunho a goodbye. 

The words make Wooyoung coo this time, squishing your cheeks in his hands. “Just let me wash up real quick then we can eat here.” 

You sit by the couch as you wait for him to return. As you get comfortable, albeit sleepy, your phone vibrates with a message from an unknown message.

[ ??? to You ] I’m back home safe now. :) -Yeosang

It’s Yeosang. The corners of your lips quirk upwards at the realization, while Wooyoung hasn’t returned you quickly type up a reply.

[ You to Yeosang ] That’s great! I hope you get a good night’s sleep ^^

You read his message once more and you feel a little bit of relief knowing that he’s safe. 

Wooyoung comes out looking a little better than earlier. The towel draped over his shoulders. “Let’s eat dumdum.” He says, dragging his chair over to where you are with his meal. 

The two of you share the happenings over the day. Wooyoung being surprised that Yeosang has walked you to the studio especially at this time. “Maybe I should meet him sometime.” He says. It’s not that he’s jealous, he’s been protective of you since day one. Anyone can take an interest to take advantage of anyone nowadays, he felt relief knowing that you had decided to wait for him instead of walking straight home with him. 

“Yeosang-- ah what, Wooyoung! Wooyoung, you don’t have to do that..” You say, clearly confused as to why you had Yeosang’s name instead of Wooyoung’s in your head. 

Wooyoung stares at you dumbfounded by the slip up. “Kid, just say if you’re heads over heels for him. Whatever, I’m keeping an eye on that guy.” You can’t blame his protective nature, until now no one really knows how the Order knew of your family’s whereabouts. Whatever their method was, it had to come from someone who was in close contact with your parents thus resulting in you being the only one still alive. You also know that Wooyoung’s incredibly stubborn so you give in. It was inevitable for anyone who knew you to know Wooyoung and vice versa, the two of you are a package deal. “So he comes to your shop every day? Same time?” He asks. You can already see the gears in his head moving. 

“Wooyoung, if you scare him off, I swear--” You grumble through your food. It’s not that you didn’t like his protective manners, for once you felt a little happy to have a friend who wasn’t from his circle; someone you’ve met on your own. “Listen, I didn’t even tell Yeosang my real name yet for my safety too.” 

That was something he didn’t expect, though a smart move, it was something he understood. Your words make him stop in thought. He still wants to meet him. “Fine but I still want to meet him because he’s someone who’s growing on you.”

You wonder how he didn’t get the geo vision, but you concede to his wishes. “He’s in the shop every 5PM onwards, always with a book.” 

“You’re telling me this guy stays with you.. In the shop.. Until you close?” 

His question makes you shoot him a look. “Did everything I tell you just exit out the other ear?” 

“No, they’re all up in here. I just wanted to get the facts straight….” he trails off, pushing the chair back to where his workspace is to look at his schedule. “Alright, I don’t need to come in tomorrow,” Oh, dear. “Which means, I can meet this friend of yours to make sure he isn’t anyone shady.” 

At his plan, you lean back on the couch. There really is no point in changing his mind. “Fine, let’s finish up and head home. The two of us need a shower.” 

On the way home, you tell him as well that you were going to start selling the lavender cake by next month. “I still got half of the tester cake saved for you.” 

He has a feeling you gave half of it to Yeosang but he spares you from his teasing. Wooyoung flashes an excited smile as the two of you walk out of the station. “Great, while I wait for you to finish showering, I’ll finish the cake.” 

“Jung Wooyoung!”

part 2

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

THE FORTY-FIVE: ST. VINCENT

Sleazy, gritty, grimy – these are the words used to describe the latest iteration of St. Vincent, Annie Clark’s alter ego. As she teases the release of her upcoming new album, ‘Daddy’s Home’, Eve Barlow finds out who’s wearing the trousers now.

Photos: Zackery Michael

Yellow may be the colour of gold, the hue of a perfect blonde or the shade of the sun, but when it’s too garish, yellow denotes the stain of sickness and the luridness of sleaze. On ‘Pay Your Way In Pain’ – the first single from St. Vincent’s forthcoming sixth album ‘Daddy’s Home’ – Annie Clark basks in the palette of cheap 1970s yellows; a dirty, salacious yellow that even the most prudish of individuals find difficult to avert their gaze from. It’s a yellow that recalls the smell of cigarettes on fingers, the tape across tomorrow’s crime scene or the dull ache of bad penetration.

The video for the single, which dropped last Thursday, features Clark in a blonde wig and suit, channeling a John Cassavetes anti-heroine (think Gena Rowlands in Gloria) and ‘Fame’-era Bowie. She twists in front of too-bright disco lights. She roughs up her voice. She sings about the price we pay for searching for acceptance while being outcast from society. “So I went to the park just to watch the little children/ The mothers saw my heels and they said I wasn’t welcome,” she coos, and you immediately recognise the scene of a free woman threatening the post-nuclear families aspiring to innocence. Clark is here to pervert them.

She laughs. “That’s how I feel!” From her studio in Los Angeles, she begins quoting lyrics from Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Red House’. “It’s a blues song for 2021.” LA is a city Clark reluctantly only half calls home, and one that is opposed to her vastly preferred New York. “I don’t feel any romantic attachment to Los Angeles,” she says of the place she coined the song ‘Los Ageless’ about on 2017’s ‘Masseduction’ (“The Los Ageless hang out by the bar/ Burn the pages of unwritten memoirs”).“The best that could be said of LA is, ‘Yeah it’s nice.’ And it is! LA is easy and pleasant. But if you were a person the last thing you’d want someone to say about you is: ‘She’s nice!’”

On ‘Daddy’s Home’, Clark writes about a past derelict New York; a place Los Angeles would suffocate in. “The idea of New York, the art that came out of it, and my living there,” she says. “I’ve not given up my card. I don’t feel in any way ready to renounce my New York citizenship. I bought an apartment so I didn’t have to.” Her down-and-out New York is one a true masochist would love, and it’s sleazy in excess. Sleaze is usually the thing men flaunt at a woman’s expense. In 2021, the proverbial Daddy in the title is Clark. But there’s also a literal Daddy. He came home in the winter of 2019.

On the title track, Clark sings about “inmate 502”: her father. He was sentenced to 12 years in prison for his involvement in a $43m stock fraud scheme. He went away in May 2010. Clark reacted by writing her third breakthrough album ‘Strange Mercy’ in 2011; inspired not just by her father’s imprisonment but the effects it had on her life.“I mean it was rough stuff,” she says. “It was a fuck show. Absolutely terrible. Gut-wrenching. Like so many times in life, music saved me from all kinds of personal peril. I was angry. I was devastated. There’s a sort of dullness to incarceration where you don’t have any control. It’s like a thud at the basement of your being. So I wrote all about it,” she says.

Back then, she was aloof about meaning. In an interview we did that year, she called from a hotel rooftop in Phoenix and was fried from analytical questions. She excused her lack of desire to talk about ‘Strange Mercy’ as a means of protecting fans who could interpret it at will. Really she was protecting an audience closer to home. It’s clear now that the title track is about her father’s imprisonment (“Our father in exile/ For God only knows how many years”). Clark’s parents divorced when she was a child, and they have eight children in their mixed family, some of whom were very young when ‘Strange Mercy’ came out. She explains this discretion now as her method of sheltering them.

“I am protective of my family,” she says. “It didn’t feel safe to me. I disliked the fact that it was taken as malicious obfuscations. No.” Clark wanted to deal with the family drama in art but not in press. She managed to remain tight-lipped until she became the subject of a different intrusion. As St. Vincent’s star continued to rocket, Clark found herself in a relationship with British model Cara Delevingne from 2014 to 2016, and attracted celebrity tabloid attention. Details of her family’s past were exposed. The Daily Mail came knocking on her sister’s door in Texas, where Clark is from.

“Luckily I’m super tight with my family and the Daily Mail didn’t find anybody who was gonna sell me out,” she says. “They were looking for it. Clark girls are a fucking impenetrable force. We will cut a bitch.”

Four years later, Clark gets to own the narrative herself in the medium that’s most apt: music. “The story has evolved. I’ve evolved. People have grown up. I would rather be the one to tell my story,” she says, ruminating on the misfortune that this was robbed from her: a story that writes itself. “My father’s release from prison is a great starting point, right?” Between tours and whenever she could manage, Clark would go and visit him in prison and would be signing autographs in the visitation room for the inmates, who all followed her success with every album release, press clipping and late night TV spot. She joked to her sisters that she’d become the belle of the ball there. “I don’t have to make that up,” she says.

There’s an ease to Clark’s interview manner that hasn’t existed before. She seems ready not just to discuss her father’s story, but to own certain elements of herself. “Hell where can you run when the outlaw’s inside you,” she sings on the title track, alluding to her common traits with her father. “I’ve always had a relationship with my dad and a good one. We’re very similar,” she says. “The movies we like, the books, he liked fashion. He’s really funny, he’s a good time.” Her father’s release gave Clark and her brothers and sisters permission to joke. “The title, ‘Daddy’s Home’ makes me laugh. It sounds fucking pervy as hell. But it’s about a real father ten years later. I’m Daddy now!”

The question of who’s fathering who is a serious one, but it’s also not serious. Clark wears the idea of Daddy as a costume. She likes to play. She joins today’s Zoom in a pair of sunglasses wider than her face and a silk scarf framing her head. The sunglasses come off, and the scarf is a tool for distraction. She ties it above her forehead, attempts a neckerchief, eventually tosses it aside. Clark can only be earnest for so long before she seeks some mischief. She doesn’t like to stay in reality for extensive periods. “I like to create a world and then I get to live in it and be somebody new every two or three years,” she says. “Who wants to be themselves all the time?”

‘Daddy’s Home‘ began in New York at Electric Lady studios before COVID hit and was finished in her studio in LA. She worked on it with “my friend Jack” [Jack Antonoff, producer for Lana Del Rey, Lorde, Taylor Swift]. Antonoff and Clark worked on ‘Masseduction’ and found a winning formula, pushing Clark’s guitar-orientated electronic universe to its poppiest maximum, without compromising her idiosyncrasies. “We’re simpatico. He’s a dream,” she says. “He played the hell outta instruments on this record. He’s crushing it on drums, crushing it on Wurlitzer.” The pair let loose. They began with ‘The Holiday Party’, one of the warmest tracks Clark’s ever written. It’s as inviting as a winter fireplace, stoked by soulful horns, acoustic guitar and backing singers. “Every time they sang something I’d say, ‘Yeah but can you do it sleazier? Make your voice sound like you’ve been up for three days.” Clark speaks of an unspoken understanding with Antonoff as regards the vibe: “Familiar sounds. The opposite of my hands coming out of the speaker to choke you till you like it. This is not submission. Just inviting. I can tell a story in a different way.”

The entire record is familiar, giving the listener the satisfaction that they’ve heard the songs before but can’t quite place them. It’s a satisfying accompaniment to a pandemic that encouraged nostalgic listening. Clark was nostalgic too. She reverted to records she enjoyed with her father: Stevie Wonder’s catalogue from the 1970s (‘Songs In The Key Of Life’, ‘Innervisions’, ‘Talking Book’) and Steely Dan. “Not to be the dude at the record store but it’s specifically post-flower child idealism of the ’60s,” she explains. “It’s when it flipped into nihilism, which I much prefer. Pre disco, pre punk. That music is in me in a deep way. It’s in my ears.”

On ‘The Melting Of The Sun’ she has a delicious time creating a psychedelic Pink Floyd odyssey while exploring the path tread by her heroes Marilyn Monroe, Joni Mitchell, Joan Didion and Nina Simone. It’s a series of beautiful vignettes of brilliant women who were met with a hostile environment. Clark considers what they did to overcome that. “I’m thanking all these women for making it easier for me to do it. I hope I didn’t totally let them down.” Clark is often the only woman sharing a stage with rock luminaries such as Dave Grohl, Damon Albarn and David Byrne, and has appeared to have shattered a male-centric glass ceiling. She’s unsure she’s doing enough to redress the imbalance. “There are little things I can do and control,” she says of hiring women on her team. “God! Now I feel like I should do more. What should I do? It’s a big question. You know what I have seen a lot more from when I started to now? Girls playing guitar.”

If one woman reinvented the guitar in the past decade, it’s Clark. Behind her is a rack of them. The pandemic has taken her out of the wild in which she’s accustomed to tantalising audiences at night with her displays of riffing and heel-balancing. Instead, she’s chained to her desk. Her obsession with heels in the lyrics of ‘Daddy’s Home’ she reckons may be a reflection of her nights performing ‘Masseduction’ in thigh highs. “I made sure that nothing I wore was comfortable,” she recalls. “Everything was about stricture and structure and latex. I had to train all the time to make sure I could handle it.” Is she taking the heels off when live shows return? “Absofuckinglutely not.”

Clark is interested in the new generation. She’s recently tweeted about Arlo Parks and has become a big fan of Russian singer-songwriter Kate NV. “I’m obsessed with Russia,” she says. In a recent LA Times profile, she professed to a pandemic intellectual fixation on Stalin. “Yeah! I mean right now my computer is propped up on stuff. You are sitting on The Gulag Archipelago, The Best Short Stories Of Dostoyevsky andThe Plays Of Chekhov. I’m kinda in it.” The pop world interests Clark, too. She was credited with a co-write on Swift’s 2019 album ‘Lover’. At last year’s Grammys she performed a duet with Dua Lipa. It was one of the queerest performances the Grammys has ever aired. Clark interrupts.

“What about it seemed queer?!”

You know… The lip bite, for one!

“Wait. Did she bite her lip?”

No, you bit your lip.

“I did?!”

Everyone was talking about it. Come on, Annie.

“Serious? I…”

You both waltzed around each other with matching hairdos, making eyes…

“I have no memory of it.”

Frustrating as it may be in a world of too much information, Clark’s lack of willingness to overanalyse every creative decision she makes or participates in is something to treasure. “I want to be a writer who can write great songs,” she says. “I’m so glad I can play guitar and fuck around in the studio to my heart’s desire but it’s about what you can say. What’s a great song? What lyric is gonna rip your guts open. Just make great shit! That’s where I was with this record. That’s all I wanna do with my life.”

More than a decade into St. Vincent, Clark doesn’t reflect. She looks strictly forward. “I’m like a horse with blinders,” she says. She did make an exception to take stock lately when the phone rang. “I saw a +44 and that gets me excited,” she says. “Who could this be?” Well, who was it? “Paul McCartney,” she says, in disbelief. “Anything I’ve done, any mistake I’ve made, somehow it’s forgiven, assuaged. I did something right in my life if a fucking Beatle called me.”

Now there’s a get out of jail free card if ever she needed one.

Daddy’s Home by St. Vincent is out May 14, 2021.

[maxwell-grant]

I'm curious: thoughts on Ra's Al Ghul? Moreso even than Hugo Strange or Bane among Batman's guys - maybe first and foremost among the major supervillains period - he's surely the biggest, most obvious "HEY, THIS IS KINDA LIKE AN OLD PULP VILLAIN SHOWING UP TO FIGHT THE SUPERHEROES" player out there.

As the above image by Dermott Power helpfully illustrates, any bad guy who sits on an H.R Giger demon throne dressed like Ming the Merciless is definitely trying very, very hard to channel a pulp supervillain vibe.

It’s interesting to think of why exactly does Ra’s give off that pulp supervillain vibe, past the superficial trappings. Because although he is Denny O’Neil’s baby and O’Neil famously penned the 70s Shadow run and was credited with bringing Batman back to his gritty pulp roots (which are a bit overstated), O’Neil’s stated that he’s actually never read any of the old Fu Manchu novels, but instead read all of the Ian Fleming Bond novels, and it shows because Ra’s is Batman’s Bond Supervillain first and foremost.

But you take a guy who’s bringing these pulp influences at the forefront, and you have him create the biggest baddest and most exotic supervillain ever, meant to be the focus of a multi-issue saga instead of a single story, who has to be completely different from the Dick Tracy cartoon gangsters that fill up the majority of Batman’s rogues, but still be recognizably part of a Batman who’s trying to shed the Adam West camp but is still far away from the 80s stardom, and who’s gonna be having Batman wrestle with jaguars and doomed romances and mountain bases and shirtless sword fights, and inevitably you’re going to end up with a pulp supervillain so overblown and grandiose to border on caricature. 

Which may be part of the reason why Ra’s has never really been my favorite and I’m of very mixed opinions about him.  

The major appeal of Ra’s al Ghul is that he’s supposed to be this huge, eternal, ultra badass supervillain who stars in these sweeping and operatic sagas, like he’s the kind of character whose stories are meant to be shot on widescreen and projected on a huge old-timey movie screen, with interludes and cliffhangers where Batman is dangling over a pit of crocodiles as the narrator describes his mortal peril that is surely unescapable this time. I’m always in favor of characters having storytelling variety and villains who bring with them a distinct feel and tone to a story, and while variety is hardly a word I’d use for Ra’s al Ghul when so many of his stories are samey, he definitely brings the latter.

And the fact that he has this kind of mystique, that he’s meant to be this awe-inspiring megavillain of ideals and ambitions and codes and whatnot, already gives him a niche that most of the other Batman villains largely do not have, especially considering he is (or was) one of the few villains who makes Batman into the underdog when they fight. I’m definitely not arguing that Ra’s is a bad character, or that he doesn’t fit in Batman or the DCU, or even that I don’t like him (there are very few Batman villains I genuinely dislike). I definitely have ideas I think could be interesting to explore with his character. 

My big problem with Ra’s is that I find him unconvincing. 

I don’t buy into the mystique that Denny O’Neil fosters onto the character the minute he’s introduced. I don’t care for Bond or his villains, and putting one of them in Batman doesn’t really change that. I don’t buy that he’s supposed to be this unmatched genius physically and mentally and who is both a nasty warmongering crimelord but also a guy who’s supposed to have a point you agree with. He has similar motivation problems as Poison Ivy and not even his greatest story managed to really address why Ra’s wants to save the planet by killing everyone. I don’t buy into Batman’s supposed temptation into going along with Talia and by extension Ra’s, and I don’t buy the supposed respect between the two either. 

The original Ra’s stories try and set up a mystery as to whether or not Ra’s is truly evil as if it wasn’t painfully obvious, with Batman unarguably considering the Al Ghuls allies until Ra’s harvests a brain and suddenly Batman’s going on about how Ra’s is “MY MOST DANGEROUS ARCHENEMY” and "THE MODERN DAY HITLER” and he’s gonna keep using that term a lot because comparing your bad guy to Hitler is what you do when you’ve exhausted all other ideas. When Ra’s shows up, I tend to tune out.

It’s really obvious how much they wanted to drill it through your head that this guy is the villain to end all villains without doing much groundwork to establish what even makes him such an ultimate villain other than he’s got Bond villain resources and also figured Batman’s secret identity, and I am aggressively indifferent to editorial-mandated ultimate villains. I understand why The Demon saga is viewed as a classic and it does improve as it ends but there is so, so much hokey bullshit in those stories that’s stayed with the character ever since. 

And that’s kind of a major problem that shows up a lot when modern stories try to do “pulp”. They ignore everything that actually defined the pulps across the world, every bit of cultural or social context or history that goes far, far beyond 30s American pulp heroes, and come at it from this idea that “pulp” has to be deep fried in ten layers of shlocky retro garbage, with square-jawed bodybuilders tackling comically racist stereotypes off zeppelins to rescue half-naked damsels and it’s, so tiresome. It’s an approach I despise and find incredibly obnoxious and limiting and counterproductive. I’ve never actually read a Ra’s al Ghul story that gave me that vibe, because I hardly go out of my way to read Ra’s al Ghul stories outside of the more essential ones, but I can see where that comes across. I guess it’s ultimately a matter of just how much you can tolerate ridiculous retro-trappings before they become too much. 

I guess ultimately Ra’s is one of those characters that I appreciate, tend to like more on adaptations, but don’t really go out of my way to read about and have enough hang-ups with that prevent them from really becoming dear to me. His presence in the DCU seems to have been largely diminished in more recent years and more recent stories I’ve read with him tend to emphasize more of his personality and troubled relationships with other characters, which I appreciate. I appreciate him more as a general DCU villain than Batman’s Biggest Arch-Enemy (a title he hasn’t really kept at all past the 70s) and I would actually be interested in a Ra’s al Ghul story that’s about him as a protagonist. 

The pulps were the medium where the supervillain and the supervillain protagonist really took off as a concept, so if Ra’s is ultimately going to be the DCU’s premier Pulp Supervillain, it may be a good idea to try and have him benefit from the same strengths that made those guys popular enough to briefly supplant the common adventure hero in pop culture stardom. Additionally, I think having Ra’s star in similar kinds of stories could be interesting as a vehicle to explore some of the DCU’s worldbuilding which he’s been involved with for so long, as well as test whether the character can really survive when demystified, stripped of the hokey foreign supervillain trappings and resources and forced to stand as the center of a narrative, see if what’s left standing is either the unsung hero of mankind he claims to be or the old coward afraid of death, or something else no one’s ever gotten close enough to see.