#like i came from wattpad and wattpad is a dead void

[arminsumi]

Honestly it's hard to find a solution regarding smut fics, the amount of smut fics here is almost sickening but the writers are not to blame. People pay more attention to smut fics than to long, multi-chapter ones. It's also very sad to post something you put hours of work into and see that the only comments are from people asking for part 2 or asking if there will be smut later. I remember reading a comment on a fic I adore that said something like "I skipped almost everything, I just wanted to read the part where they fucked lol" and at that moment I understood why most of the writers I followed deactivated their accounts, people are extremely ungrateful whether you write smut or not.

good grief, skipping a whole story just to get to the smut? it guts me honestly. that's so awful, it's like the reader giving the author the biggest fuck you — i feel like so many people don't care about the story, they're just here to get off. and the part 2 comments? i used to tolerate them when they were scarce, but seeing them on a fic i have spent hours and days writing and editing and constructing like a damn architect... it's so terribly disheartening, i can't even express how it upsets me.

it's hard to keep writing when i just start feeling defeated. part 2? okay but what did you think of part 1!? will you just comment part 3 when i publish part 2?? i'm not a factory.

it's not that i don't enjoy writing smut, it's just that the smut is the only thing that people seem to feed on. fluff and angst and sfw fics get forgotten in the void while the smut fics are always thriving and i just want to see equal appreciation for both sfw and nsfw. the imbalance irks me. 🫠

[nyeddleblog]

A little piece of heaven [Part 1]

Pairing: Wade Wilson x Original Female Character x Logan Howlett. Summary: In Wade's timeline, Iris is his supernice upstairs neighbor. In Wolverine's, she's his beloved dead wife. A/N: This is a Wattpad Fic with an original character of mine that you can find here. This is just the first chapter that I wanted to share with you. Warnings: Deadpool & Wolverine spoilers, kinda.

Chapter 1: Refraction.

When they entered the room she was in a corner, elbows resting on the table as she talked passionately to Vanessa. Logan's gaze was instantly hooked on her, ever since he realized how her delicate features were exactly as he remembered. He froze, inhaling sharply as the memories came back flooding. Her gentle touch, her soft melodic voice, her cute laugh.

This wasn't, of course, his Iris. He tried to pinpoint each difference as soon as he could but both her beauty and her lively nature were tearing him apart.

Her silky blonde hair fell in blowout waves and her lips were a glossy crimson color. She wore a strange piano pleated skirt that barely covered anything and a mesh blouse that showed the bright red bralette she wore underneath. It felt like a desecration to his wife's memory. A sexier, younger, messier version of what she used to be.

Yet she laughed, her eyes crinkling, her small tooth gap showing. And her shoulders shook, and she talked, and her voice was gleeful and melodic. Iris swayed to the music delicately, timidly and then smiled at her friend in front of her.

She was a sight.

Logan felt Wade's hand gently tap his back and understood that he knew. Rage filled him. The little fucker knew, even back when Logan had told him about his dead wife. The little fucker knew and he hadn't told him that it wasn't like that in every universe. Wade knew that in his, Iris was alive and well. He was going to stab him as soon as she was out of sight.

Logan turned to leave but Wade put a firm hand on his chest and pushed him into the picture, acting as if he didn't know what he was doing.

"Wade!" Iris turned around, smiling sweetly, "I thought for a second there that you weren't going to make it! This is actually my outfit for your funeral!"

"It's the most hideous thing I've seen in my life and yet you managed to pull it off!" he answered snappily, with a smile as sweet as hers, "I came back and I brought you a gift."

Logan frowned, not remembering Wade taking anything from the void. Then, he felt his hand firmly press against the back of his neck, like he was some kind of kitten being carried by it's mother, as he dragged him and pulled him onto Iris. 

He was actually going to stab him right there.

"For me?" Iris followed him suit, putting a hand softly on Logan's shoulder, but giving him an apologetic look when they made eye contact, "I've always wanted a Wolverine!"

"Oh, sweetheart" Wade pressed his hands together and tilted his head, "I know."

"You shouldn't have..." And then she laughed, and extended her hand out for him to shake, "Iris Finch, a pleasure."

She looked up through her lashes and Iris had always had such plump, soft and inviting lips that, despite knowing it wasn't his wife, he wanted to kiss her. 

He managed a nod, his voice barely audible, "Pleasure."

And Logan tried to avoid her for the rest of the night. Emphasis in 'tried', because Wade didn't seem to respect the fact that that was not his dead wife. No, this Iris had dirty blonde hair and she never got her teeth fixed. This Iris used a different perfume, a cheaper one, and seemed to like Wade's jokes far more than what Logan was comfortable with.

But just like his Iris, she had an impecable intuition and every time he wanted to take a look at her, she stared back, giving him a smile. Just like his Iris had, she timidly approached, a known curiosity in her eyes that he missed dearly. And he was back there all over again, feeling endearment for her already.

"I know this is sudden, and maybe a bit forward, but I don't remember you."

"Oh, I'm not from..." he tried to explain, his voice rough, "I'm from another..."

"Timeline, I know" she nodded, fidgeting with the beer in her hand, "I meant..." she looked back at Wade, who was finally talking to Vanessa, and then gave Logan a bashful smile, "What was your Iris' abilities?"

Logan frowned. His Iris. He knew the distinction, he knew the distinction, but how did she know he had a Iris? He licked his lips, feeling uncomfortable, yet he answered "Lucid dreaming."

Iris nodded, "And she never told you what dreamwalking was?"

He felt his nostrils flare and anger start to get a hold of him. He didn't understand why yet, but Iris' existence alone was starting to enrage him. Felt like an impostor, uncanny and profaning.

"No."

The girl, oblivious of his annoyance, smiled widely and started explaining in depth the abilities of his beloved dead wife. To be fair, she was explaining her own abilities but Logan didn't want another version of Iris telling him something about her. 

"...And that's why every time I fall asleep, I usually see a Wolverine." she continued, making him raise his eyebrows "And of course I don't think I've met every single one of them, but I'm pretty sure I would've remembered you if I had!"

"In order for you to dreamwalk into another universe, you need another you inhabiting it, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, my wif... Iris" he corrected himself, making sure that he was staring straight into her eyes and making himself clear, "Has been dead for over twenty years."

Iris's smile faltered, replaced by a look of genuine surprise.

"I... I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I thought..."

Logan's anger was slowly simmering down, replaced by a cold, hard realization. It wasn't really her fault that she was another version of the love of his life, however fucked up that was.

A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft murmur of the crowd. Iris was the first to break it, smiling yet again. 

"So, you're my new downstairs neighbor, huh?"

A/N: I hope u guys understand where I'm going with this... And yes, I'm going to make a side fanfiction where I write the sweet, tragic story of Logan and Iris of his timeline.

NEXT PART.

[midnight1nk]

EPISODE CONCEPT #8

What if… SMG3 had to make the hardest choice?

[more under cut]

For context, this is the third and final part of the dubbed "goop!4" arc (my version at least)!!! As I do for all requests, I gotta tag: @bowlolol here's the part 3 that you asked for! :) [Part 1 here, Part 2 here] Enter into my mind palace, oooohhhh very scaryyyyy~! It's also available on Wattpad and AO3. Now, without further ado...

CW/TW for blood/violence/gore/murder

What happened to you?

Pixels. Just a bunch of tiny colorful squares.

It's unnoticeable at first, until you look at them up close. There they are. If you stare at that screen for too long, its glow blinds you. A vision left to blur, like TV static.

Once, there was a horrible idea. A horrible, twisted idea.

The control fell upon his grasp, and a part of him took it. A part that he had sealed away for years. Gone were the chains that held him back, he snapped. Pleads of mercy have filled the room, his mind didn't catch up. There was still so much left to do, so much to prove. If only that man would just shut up for once and listen to him. Shut up. Shut up.

Before he knew it, it all went quiet. No fits of rage, no crying pain. Just silence. The grip on his father's fragile neck loosen, his hands and breathing shaking. Reality started to settle in as he stumbled back, looking at the chaos he caused.

His father laid limp against the couch chair, still. He was pale, the light in his eyes long gone. Empty. The marks along his neck were sure to turn purple.

Winston looked down at his hands, stunned. The world began to sway under his feet and he stumbled once more down a hallway, heading toward the bathroom. The single lightbulb hanging overhead flickered occasionally as he lifted his heavy head to the mirror, the sink being the only support of this upsetting balance. Forgetting what he did the garage half an hour ago, Winston expected his face. His human face, that is. Instead, there was a glitching TV screen staring back, imitating the facial expression he would've made.

He touched it out of disbelief, perhaps a hint of curiosity. There was still a staggering trail of blood rolling down his neck. Did... did he really did this? Glancing from the mirror and hallway, one thing became clear:

He just killed his father.

His hands balled into fists, blood boiling. He just killed him. That damn creative vision, he was close to proving he had it to his father. So close, and his old father had to die. He punched the mirror, his knuckles soon bleeding from the cracks. There was naturally rage and desperation inside him, and yet there was a ghost of a smile. His father is dead, the thought sang in his mind. For the first time ever, he... felt free, from torment and suffocating paranoia. Awaken. He lets out a maniacal laugh, descending to a spiraling madness. After all, patience was a virtue and good things come for those who wait.

Two people died that day, a father and his son named Winston. And, out of the gasoline-fueled flames of the burning house, emerged Mr Puzzles.

A new evolution indeed.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

There is no such thing as an end—except for something absolute to stop it.

Military-grade trucks circled the Pit, forming a secure base of operations. Volunteers in heavy gear moved like ants, carrying weapons, crates of supplies, and tools for whatever task lay ahead. Near the edge of the Pit stood SMG3, glaring down into the living abyss. The void stared back, pulsing and grumbling with a low, guttural sound. Its rim was lined with jagged, uneven teeth, and the disgusting blend of flesh and stone that bordered it twitched unnaturally. A mutation within itself.

He hated this place. No—he loathed it.

He never thought he'd find himself back here, not after the first time when they came searching for the Power Star. That ordeal was supposed to have been left in the past. But last week changed everything. Learning that the inky goo from the 'perfect' incident had returned. Learning that SMG4 had died because of it—and because of Mr. Puzzles.

Three closed his eyes. A breeze swept past, brushing against his face and hair. For a fleeting moment, he swore he could hear Four's voice, his laugh—an echo of a memory, faint and bittersweet.

He opened his eyes and steadied his breathing. In his hands, he held the "Ultimate Virus," its weight both literal and metaphorical. His USB key was already slotted in, ready for use. Four's USB dangled around his wrist, catching the first light of dawn as it glinted off the metal casing.

Nothing lasts forever.

"We're in position," a voice crackled over his radio.

Meggy approached from behind. She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her expression firm but compassionate as she handed him a parachute pack.

"SMG3, you ready?"

He exhaled slowly, nodding as he took the pack from her. "Let's finish this." Adjusting the weapon against his side, he secured the chute and moved toward the edge.

Unbeknownst to them, Mario lurked nearby, watching from the shadows. He had slipped into gear, determined not to be left behind. Three would kill him if he found out—but hell, Mario wasn't about to let them go through this.

Three had locked him inside the Castle, claiming it was for his safety. But Mario didn't need to be a genius to figure out the truth. The tone in Three's voice had given it away—fear, not for Mario's safety, but something deeper. Something personal. Thankfully, Three seemed to have forgotten one important fact: Mario could phase through walls.

Now, with Meggy and Three already leaping into the Pit, Mario seized his chance. Grabbing a shield from the weapon crate and strapping on a parachute pack, he dashed toward the edge before anyone could stop him.

The descent was suffocating. The Pit grew darker and colder with every passing second. Three's heart pounded as he caught sight of the red, monstrous form around them. Its rocky foundation fused with countless staring eyes, it almost seemed like it was greeting them.

And yet, as a former villain, Three understood why Horus would be here of all places. This was where everything had started.

Four might never have admitted it, but Three could feel it—his partner carried guilt from the 'perfect' incident. He could sense it from the cosmic link they shared. The Pit wasn't just a place of nightmares; it was a reflection of failures, of pain buried too deep to surface. And when the team had tracked the trail of Horus—the goo splatters leading straight to the Pit—Three's suspicions were confirmed.

This was where it all began. And now, it would be where it all ended.

Project Horus, also known on the Dark Web as "Failed Subject #18," began as a government experiment in 2022 aimed at exploring the Great Beyond. Inspired by the SMGs' unscathed return to their universe, researchers sought to create an organism that could merge seamlessly with technology and act as a symbiotic host, attuned by raw emotions.

The project quickly spiraled out of control. Every volunteer left the testing chamber gravely injured, and the experiment seemed doomed. Then, during a security breach, Horus escaped. While the federal facility lost track of it, Three didn't.

Word of Horus spread rapidly across the Dark Web, and criminals captured it, taking it to an underground lab for unethical experiments. Pushed beyond its limits, Horus was tortured into becoming nearly indestructible, controllable by a simple keyboard command. Enraged by its mistreatment, it lashed out, killing every test subject it encountered. Mysteriously, the lab exploded, leaving no trace of the experiments.

Three believed Horus had escaped again, only to fall into the hands of the black market and eventually into the possession of Winston—well, Mr. Puzzles. But this was where the trail ended.

Horus wasn't the government's only creation. Its twin, Ra (Subject #28) was a red tentacled monster with large eyes. Unlike Horus, Ra succeeded, seamlessly bonding with hosts, albeit reluctantly. Both creatures, along with the keyboard, ended up in Puzzles' possession. It was Ra—completely loyal in both body and mind—who became his perfect companion.

The scientists, criminals, and Puzzles—all of them wanted to play god.

As they neared the bottom of the Pit, Three and Meggy deployed their parachutes, guiding themselves down toward the fleshy, rocky walls. With practiced precision, they latched onto the surface using grappling hooks, securing themselves to the side as they prepared to climb downward.

But they weren't alone.

"Mario?!" Three's voice erupted in frustration as he spotted the red-capped figure joining them. "What are you doing here?"

"You can't stop me!" Mario started climbing downward, ahead of them.

With a groan, Three activated his radio. "Team 1 to 5, initiate phase one," he ordered before focusing his full attention on Mario. "You're still my Avatar, and the universe collapses if you die. That's why I told you to stay at the castle!"

"Bullshit," Mario said without breaking stride. "We both know SMG4's alive. You just don't want to see it."

"He's dead, Mario! And Horus isn't going to hesitate to kill any of us! Me, in denial? You must've gone crazy again."

"No, you're the one who's crazy!" Mario shot back. "Revenge this, revenge that. He's alive but no one believes me. Not even Meggy!"

Meggy remained silent, her gaze focused ahead, her expression unreadable.

Mario threw out his hands in exasperation. "See?" His voice softened. "I get it. You're hurt, and yeah, maybe it's a long shot. But for once in your life, could you just trust me?"

Three paused, a flicker of something—hope, doubt—surfacing in his eyes before he forced it back down. He shook his head, steeling himself. "This needs to end. I don't care if I'm seen as a hero or a villain. I have to set this right. It's what he would've wanted. I was his guardian partner."

"And I'm his best friend," Mario replied, sounding more like a plea, as he reached the bottom of the Pit. Unhooking his climbing rope, he turned to face them as they followed. Once both had landed, Mario pulled a small, folded piece of paper from his pocket. It was 'Best Friend Award' drawing he made for Four from MAR10 Day.

"SMG4 is my best friend, I'm not leaving him like this," he said, holding the paper out.

Three stared at it, the memories rushing back like a sudden flood. For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, with a heavy sigh, he looked back at Mario.

"Fine," Three relented, his voice quieter now. "But you follow my rules. Stay close and don't get in my way. Got it?"

Mario nodded reluctantly, carefully folded the paper and tucked it back into his pocket. Reaching for the shield he had brought, he held it up like a promise.

That was all Three needed.

At the bottom of the Pit, they remained hidden by the jagged walls, weapons gripped tightly in their hands. It was a far cry from the last time they were here. After securing the Power Star, they had sealed off the tunnel leading to the cavern. Now, only Horus could be lurking in the smaller tunnels and cracks.

"Never knew you had a death wish, SMG3. You should've told me sooner."

Three's grip on the rifle tightened. The voice, familiar yet twisted, sent a chill through him. A creeping tension filled the air, his heart pounding in his chest.

"And you got a new toy. How flashy." The voice sneered. "I don't see the point, though. What, pretending to be a hero? Please. You were the one who tried to kill us when you had the YouTube Remote. Then again, you do love rubbing your ego in everyone's faces."

Shadows danced across the walls, fueled by the rising fear of the trio, their eyes darting to track every movement. Three raised a hand, signaling them to move to one of the nearby corners.

"Well, let's have some fun, shall we? Go on, stop me. Because, no matter what I do, I'm too stubborn to die."

They moved into a shallow alcove, readying themselves. Three exhaled slowly, steadying his nerves. He whispered to himself, "I'm ready."

"...Are you?"

A low growl resonated behind them. Before they could react, Horus emerged from the shadows of the hole and lunged at Three. Surprised but quick, Three managed to roll out of the way, just as Horus crashed into the Pit, landing with a resounding thud.

Meggy immediately stepped forward, distracting the goo creature, while Three radioed in: "Release the canisters."

From the jagged edges of the cave, dozens of metal canisters were launched, each one bursting open upon impact with the ground, releasing a thick, suffocating gas that filled the air in seconds. The trio quickly slapped on their gas masks as the toxic fumes spread.

Struggling to breathe, Horus rose, its gooey form expanding, but was immediately met with a hail of bullets and explosives. The creature recoiled, its attention now drawn to the hidden crew members and operation volunteers positioned along the edges of the Pit. Enraged, Horus charged toward one of the shooters.

"Now!

In an instant, the team activated the noisemakers. A high-pitched, bone-rattling frequency pierced the air, causing Horus to writhe in pain. Its body twisted violently, the goo bursting outward like jagged spikes and writhing tendrils. Several operatives were struck, thrown into the air by the force of the impact. Though fortunately, none were killed.

Unable to endure the pain any longer, Horus plunged back into the gas, desperately digging through the closed-off tunnel to escape into the cavern beyond. It slipped through the gap, but the trio was quick to follow, knowing they were one step closer to cornering the monster. All according to plan.

Three radioed in. "All teams, bring up the injured. The rest, guard the tunnel entrance. We're going in."

In the depths of the cavern, they squeezed through the cracks Horus had created, making their way toward the ruins of Peach's castle. The air was thick with tension as they carefully entered, each watching the other's back. But Horus was faster. With lightning speed, it snatched Mario from the shadows of the ceiling. Mario struggled, squirming to break free, his gaze locked with the creature's single glowing eye.

For a moment, Horus hesitated. It lingered, as if something was holding it back. Something... human. But before the moment could last, Three and Meggy opened fire, the bullets tearing into the creature's form. Horus dropped Mario with a howl, sending him crashing to the ground.

Mario gasped, struggling to push himself up as he locked eyes with the creature. "He's in there," he whispered, breathless.

Meggy rushed to Mario's side, helping him to his feet, while Three engaged Horus in a brutal one-on-one fight.

"Red, are you okay?" she asked, but Mario barely heard her, his attention consumed by the creature.

"SMG3, don't hurt him!" Mario pleaded, his voice desperate.

But it was no use, vengeance have clouded their minds. Three threw a bomb directly at Horus, a clean hit. The explosion rocked the cavern, but Horus quickly regenerated from its injuries, its goo reforming in seconds. In retaliation, the creature slammed Three into the ruins, sending a shockwave of pain through his body. Despite the agony, Three shook off the blow and activated his personal noisemaker, sending a high-pitched noise that made Horus recoil in torment.

The goo spread across the cavern like a living tide, quickly consuming the space around them. Horus tackled Three to the ground, its limbs acting like bars of a cage. Three fought back, pushing with every ounce of strength, but Horus ripped the gas mask off his face, leaving a deep, bleeding scratch across his brow.

Seeing this, Meggy fired, drawing Horus's attention away from Three. "Go help SMG3!"

"No, hold on," Mario shouts. But Meggy was already running, the monster hot on her heels. Mario rushed to Three's side, grabbing him by the arm to help him up. "SMG3, listen to me," he said, his voice urgent. "It's him! SMG4—he's still alive."

Three struggled to catch his breath, his voice rough. "He's dead."

"No, he's not!" Mario insisted.

They heard Meggy cry out from across the cavern, backed into a corner by Horus. She desperately slammed her gun against her hand, trying to unjam the barrel. But the creature was already closing in, ready to strike. Without thinking, Mario dashed forward, stepping between Horus and Meggy, using his shield.

Horus froze, its glowing eye fixing on Mario. For a brief moment, it didn't move. The creature's form trembled, a guttural roar rumbling in its throat. It clutched its head, as if fighting something buried deep inside it.

Meggy's eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. Mario had been right.

The ground shook, and a new figure emerged from the ruins. To their surprise, it was corrupted Peach, recognizing her from their last adventure. Without hesitation, she launched herself at Horus, tackling it with raw, primal force. The two monsters collided in a violent, savage clash, claws and teeth tearing into each other.

Mario turned back to Three, who had managed to regain some composure. He was inserting Four's USB key into the rifle, and the device hummed to life, its red lights casting an ominous glow.

"SMG3!" Mario called out, his voice louder now, filled with urgency. "He's in there! You have to believe me!"

Three glanced back at Mario, then at Meggy. Both of their faces were etched with desperation, their silent plea hanging in the air. Horus swiped at Peach, sending her crashing into the ruins, knocking her out completely. Three turned his attention back to Horus, raised the rifle, and aimed.

Three never lost sight of Horus through the scope. And yet, there was a spark in his mind, unlocking a bottled hope. As he inhaled, he closes his eyes, the seconds becoming minutes. Time plays in his hands.

His blood boiled by the mere sight of Horus throughout this whole operation, as if that monster was mocking him. Horus killed Four. He was admittedly tired of this game of pretend, Three could simply not let Horus stain Four's memory anymore. A steady finger hovered over the trigger. All it takes is one move for the Ultimate Virus to pierce through Horus.

Let it all end. Just... end it.

Then, there was the promise he made. As much as he was told to deny it, deep down, he held on to that hope that Four was still in there. That Four was alive. What he wouldn't do to see those blue eyes again. If he shoots, it'll be Four's blood in his hands. Four would truly be gone, along with everything associated to the man. Their guardianship, the Showgrounds, Beeg4. All of it, gone. Forgotten.

He opened his eyes, seeing Horus charging at him. The choice he'll make, it'll be a risk regardless. If he pulls the trigger, he'll unknowingly lose Four to a second death—from soul to mere existence. If he doesn't, that goo will forever be burned in his memory. One bullet, one choice. It all falls on him.

"SMG4, if you're still in there somehow, show me a sign."

Three exhaled, a sense of calmness settling over. Minutes returned as seconds, the ground shook by Horus' charge. His choice was made. Slowly, he lowered his rifle and let it slip from his hands, a light thud.

"And I won't shoot, I promise."

Steeling himself, Three dared to face Horus, who pounced through the gas towards him. Eye to eye, this was the same old song-and-dance, only their roles were reversed. Who knew it would come to this? A low rumble of Horus' growl rhymed with the accelerating beat of Three's heart, played like a drum. Not of fear, it never was. Gentleness crossed over Three. I promise.

"Four!"

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Four's eyes shot open, adjusting to the soft glow of the stars scattered above him. A few blinks sharpened his senses, though his thoughts remained hazy. He could've sworn he heard someone call his name—a voice laced with familiarity. As he sat up with a groan, the scene around him became clearer. He was in their secret spot: the field of white lilies he and Three shared.

Memories slowly poured in; the card reading, Mr Puzzles, the pain. As the details solidified, so did the emotions: frustration, anger, and hurt swirling together like a storm.

He growled under his breath, clenching his fists. "When I get my hands on that damn TV..."

"You aren't the only one with grudge against him."

The voice startled Four, his head whipping toward the source. A figure stood at the cliff's edge, silhouetted against the shimmering stars. It looked just like him, yet its form was entirely composed of black, inky slime. The goo shifted, its voice mirroring his own but it sounded sympathetic. Almost... guilty.

Four narrowed his eyes, cautious yet curious. "Who are you?"

"Horus. That's what they called me anyway."

"They?"

Horus lowered their gaze, defeated. "You deserve an explanation," they said. "Do you remember when you and your friends went to defeat Zero? Well, the government grew curious about the Great Beyond. They wanted something capable of surviving its dangers to a living host. So, they created me. An organism fused with technology."

"Like an astronaut suit," Four said.

Horus blinked, clearly not expecting that metaphor, then gave a small nod. "Something like that. They ran experiment after experiment, trying to make me 'perfect.' When I escaped, I thought I'd left that torture behind. But then some Dark Web scientists found me. They were worse—obsessed with immortality, desperate to make me their key to invincibility."

Horus's frame shuddered, memories flashing like scars on their being. Drowning in chemicals. Endless needles. Surges of electricity. The pain of those moments, the crackling laughter of their tormentors, echoed in their voice.

Four's stance softened. He could feel the pain radiating from Horus, could sense it through the connection between symbiotic creature and host. Slowly, he stood, though his guard remained partially raised. "Mr. Puzzles said you were his creation."

"Since when anything he did was original?"

"...Fair enough."

"No idea from anybody is original, SMG4."

"Ok then. What I don't get is, if you wanted to be free, why choose me?"

The question made Horus visibly flinch. The goo rippled, their form trembling as if wrestling with the answer. Finally, they calmed down.

"Mr Puzzles was the one who bought me after the lab explosion. I was a new prosthetic to him but I instead gave him... a warning of sorts, like I did to those selfish rats. They were all the same. Then, I met you," Horus's voice cracked, trying to hold back tears and finally facing Four. Their face was nothing but a pair of pink glowing eyes. "Your dreams in bringing happiness to others, ideas bursting in creativity. They were... beautiful. You were the first host I wanted to protect, to live.

"You were hurting, holding it all in. I just wanted to let you express yourself, to release your inner thoughts. But he had to come in, saw I failed to kill you, and..." Horus looked down at the faded scars that peek in between Four's left glove and sleeve. They looked away. "I should've done more."

Four followed their gaze, tracing a finger over the scarred lines on his wrist. Cracked like a porcelain doll. He wasn't ashamed of how his scars looked, he never was. Rather, they were a secret because it was a constant reminder of what he had done in the 'perfect' incident, how he hurt his friends back them. Despite being consistently reminded that he was under a possessive state, he carried the blame like a thorned crown. Full of empathy, Four walked over to their side.

"It wasn't just the incident," Horus continued, their voice cracking. "When I saw him again at the carnival, everything came rushing back—the experiments, the pain. I wanted to destroy him, but I was so blinded by my anger that I ended up hurting you instead."

Four's thoughts clicked into place. He recalled the burning sensation in his scars and how Horus, in their goo form, had surged over him—not to harm, but to rescue him. "So, that's why..."

"I lost control," Horus admitted. "I pushed too far, and all I've ever done is make things worse. How can I be anything if I'm not perfect?"

Four reached out and put a hand on Horus' shoulder, gentle enough to not startle them. "Before you came into my life, I thought people only cared about me because of my videos—because I was 'SMG4.' I thought if my content wasn't good enough, I wasn't good enough. You're not the one who hurt me, Horus. Mr. Puzzles did that. And even if I didn't see it at the time, I know now—you were trying to save me and my friends. I wouldn't be here without you. So... I forgive you."

Horus blinked, their glowing eyes wide with disbelief. "After everything I've done? Why?"

"Because perfection isn't possible, and that's okay."

Without hesitation, Four pulled Horus into a hug. For the first time in their existence, Horus felt something unfamiliar—comfort. No needles, no pain, just warmth. Pink tears streaked down their face, glowing faintly in the starlight.

"You have good friends," Horus whispered.

Four closed his eyes, memories flooding back: meeting Mario, the Crew's wild adventures, the chaos and laughter. And then, Three—his partner—sitting with him under the stars. Nothing could ever compare to the love they built in their friendships, of the family they chose.

"We do," Four agreed. "We really do."

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

"SMG3?"

Mario clutched on Meggy's hand as they pushed through the dense and swirling gas, his words swallowed by the eerie silence. His eyes darted around, straining to find any sign—of Three, of Four, of anything. His heart pounded in his chest as he recalled where he last saw Three. He had to be here. They had to be.

He tried again, his voice cracking into fear, "SMG3?" The echo that answered was faint and hollow, offering no comfort. A knot tightened in his chest. To whatever god happened to be listening, Mario pleaded that he hadn't sent a friend to their death.

Through the haze, something shifted. Shadows, blurred and vague, just ahead. Mario's heart leap, instinctively taking a step forward, but Meggy stopped him with a firm tug. Her wary look said it all, it might not be Three.

Mario hesitated, giving her a small nod. Together, they proceeded, every step mixed with precaution and hope. The gas began to thin, slipping away through unseen cracks in the cavern walls, and the shape began to sharpen.

Then, they saw it.

Against the jagged wall, Three knelt, cradling Four in his arms as if he were made of glass. Four's body, though seemingly intact, glitched faintly with tiny digital squares of pink and cyan, flickering around like fireflies. Glitching pixels. Despite being unconscious, his face was almost peaceful.

Three raised his head, his expression serene. His free hand reached out toward them, palm open as if to reassure.

"You're right," Three said to Mario. "You really are his best friend."

Those words were all it took to break the dam. Tears welled in their eyes before spilling uncontrollably—quiet or loud, they didn't care. Mario and Meggy rushed forward, collapsing into an embrace around the meme guardians. While mindful of Four's fragile state, their collective joy was barely contained.

Their friend was alive. Alive. That was all that mattered.

Eventually, Mario and Meggy pulled away, giving Three the space he needed to examine Four's condition. He pressed two fingers to Four's wrist, counting softly under his breath.

"His pulse..." Three said at last, his voice steady despite his fatigue. "It's weaker than it should be, but he'll pull through. He always does."

He brushed a stray strand of hair from Four's face, his expression softened. His fingers curling gently around his partner's hand, squeezing it as if willing him to respond.

If Four could just open his eyes, even for a moment, it would be enough to relieve Three's quiet plea for him to come back.

"What a heartwarming reunion, such a shame it has to end so soon!"

The red creature that slumbered between the cavern cracks began to stir, slithering away towards the remnants of the old castle. A moment of tense silence hung in the air before an oversized, gloved hand suddenly emerged, gripping a fallen wall. Then another. The sound of mucky flesh and cracked bones filled the cavern as Mr Puzzles made a grotesque entrance, towering over the group.

But it wasn't his voice or size that sent chills down their spines.

Mario, Meggy, and Three narrowed their eyes, vengeance fueling their resolve.

His legs were missing, torn away to leave exposed wires tangled with red monstrous tentacles. What was left of his old self was the twisted, multicolored grin fixed at the corners of his screen.

"Ah, I see you have found my new friend," he said in regards to the unconscious Four, his voice crackled in madness.

"New friend, my ass." Without hesitation, Three quickly let go of Four, rose to his feet, and fired the "Ultimate Virus" directly at Mr. Puzzles. The "bullet" burst with energy as it sailed through the air.

But before it could hit, as if he were catching a child's toy, Mr. Puzzles caught it in his massive hand, unfazed. Shocked expressions flickered across their faces as he laughed. "Aw, did you really think this would work on me?"

He crushed the "bullet" in his palm like it was nothing. Their last hope was gone. Mr. Puzzles's face twisted into a bloody red mask, with realistic eyes and a gaping mouth—more corpse than machine or human. His body swelled, limbs and neck contorting in horrifying ways as if they were being torn apart and hastily stitched back together.

"The new evolution to perfection," Mr. Puzzles sneered, his voice resonating with the maddening certainty of his own destiny. "Body and memory, I am infinite. I cannot be denied!"

Nor would he give them the chance. A red tentacle shot from his body, lunging at the group with claws and teeth bared, as if desperate for prey. Unstoppable, there was no time to run. Mario and Meggy instinctively huddled together, protecting each other with their arms. Three shielded his partner, while Four's hand twitched. Just as all seemed lost, they closed their eyes and braced for the attack.

Except, it never came.

Confused, they looked up to see a protective barrier of inky goo pushing against the monstrous tentacle. Their gazes followed the source back to Four's outstretched arm, shaking but resolute. His open hand clenched into a fist, the goo mimicking him, grabbing the tentacle and tearing it away from Mr. Puzzles' body. The TV screeched in pain, its distorted image flickering. The ink slipped back into Four's body as he slowly moved to his knees.

"Four," Three breathed, relieved despite the lingering worry.

"I guess I was right about one thing," Four winced, his body glitching but shined in confidence. "I am too stubborn to die."

The realization hit Puzzles like a lightning bolt. Horus. Anger boiled within him, sending him into a rage. "After everything I've done for you... you ungrateful little brat!"

The cave shuddered with his outrage, giant rocks crumbling like hail around them. One, particularly large and dangerously close, threatened to hit the group.

"We need to get out of here," Three shouted over the chaos. He pulled out the USB keys from his rifle, fastening one around his neck and the other around Four's wrist. Wielding the rifle in one hand, he swung Four's arm over his shoulder, supporting his partner who was too weak to walk on his own. "Four, don't push yourself. I got you."

With that, the group sprinted as fast as they could toward the only exit. Meggy spoke urgently over her walkie-talkie. "All teams, evacuate immediately! It's Mr Puzzles!"

Hearing the sound of Puzzles' maniacal laughter echoed off the stone, Mario asked, "What about him?"

"The Virus failed," Three said grimly. "We don't have anything stronger that could defeat him."

Four stumbled to keep up, his legs still adjusting to running. From his hypersensitive senses, he picked up every tremor in the cave walls, every shift of the rocks overhead.

They're not going to make it in time.

Four cursed to himself, knowing that it was true. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glint of golden light—a small one from a nearby rock. And he knew exactly what it was. There was a chance after all.

Four looked at Three with bittersweetness, there was no turning back now. "Three, I hope you can forgive me."

"What?"

Before Three could do anything else, Four yanked the USB key from around Three's neck and grabbed the rifle. Freeing himself, he bolted back towards the chaos. Mr. Puzzles, sensing what he was planning, lashed out with the tentacles in a desperate attempt to stop him. If only he had known better.

Two can play that game.

Four dodged the attacks effortlessly with his quickstep, using the goo as a shield when needed. He moved with incredible precision, staying just ahead of danger as pink light from his eyes traced his path like a shooting star. Leaping from falling boulder to boulder, he snatched up what he was looking for: the perfect video, still sealed in its USB package. In one fluid motion, he loaded it into the rifle's barrel like a bullet.

The perfect bullet.

Three's eyes widened in horror—he knew exactly what Four planned to do. He spun around to save that idiot, but Mario and Meggy held him back. "No! I'm not losing him again!" But the Crew couldn't bear to lose another friend.

Four charged forward toward Mr Puzzles with pure determination. During the 'perfect' incident, when the video was upload to the USB, it created a lock—only its creators could open it. Well, except if you happened to be lucky. With steady hands, he slotted both keys into the rifle—Three's and his own.

"Four!" Three cried out as Mario and Meggy dragged him toward the tunnel.

Heartbroken, they knew there was nothing they could do. The rifle crackled to life as Four reached the final platform, coming face-to-face with Mr Puzzles. Standing this close, Four could see every pixel on the screen. Despite the danger surrounding them, the sight was mesmerizing.

"You and I, we're entertainers."

Four raised the rifle and channeled all the goo's power into it. Both he and Horus knew they needed to go all out. The bullet reacted wildly to the surge of power, rattling with excited anticipation, ready at Four's command. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear Three calling his name—but the anguish in that voice tore at his heart. He silently apologized. Despite the thousand painful glitches wracking his body, Four pushed through and looked through the scope. His eyes flashed pink for a few seconds.

"And the world awaits."

He took a breath, waiting for what this so-called destiny had for him, and pulls the trigger. The world flashed to white.

And nothing will ever be the same again.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Silence. Just silence.

The dust and chaos had settled, the red monster withering into lifeless lumps. Three's eyes fluttered open, his foggy mind clearing up with each blink. A low groan escaped his lips as he struggled to sit up, fighting against the nausea and headache. Gradually, the world came into focus. The sound of shifting rubble nearby drew his gaze—Meggy was helping Mario to his feet.

It all came rushing back; the red monster, the perfect video...

"Four? Where's Four?"

Mario and Meggy watched as Three scrambled to his feet, a frantic energy overtaking him. He stumbled through the wreckage, pushing fallen rocks and the remains of the monster. None of it mattered. He had to find his partner. He had to.

But as the seconds dragged on, the silence was starting to pull on his heartstrings.

"Four!" Three's voice cracked, his voice slipping in fear.

No response. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe. No. No. He couldn't do this again. He couldn't grieve for Four—not this time. The real thing, the final loss, would shatter him completely.

Then, a sound.

Three's head snapped toward it, hope igniting like a spark in his chest. From across the rubble, a familiar figure emerged. Four, pulling a severed tentacle from his back, stumbled forward from beneath the fallen debris. Bruised, battered, but unmistakably alive. He turned toward Three, his eyes meeting his partner's.

"Three?"

"Four!"

Without hesitation, Three bolted toward him as Four limped forward to meet him, weary smiles spreading across their faces. When his foot caught on a loose brick, Three was there in an instant, catching him before he could fall. The two clung to each other in a desperate embrace, afraid that some sick illusion would rip them apart. Four's head rested against Three's shoulder, and Three's hand combed through his partner's hair, knocking the blue cap to the ground.

He's okay, they nearly wept in relief.

The rest of the Crew rush in from the tunnel and seeing the sight, relief merged into triumphant cheers. Hugs and victorious high-fives were exchanged, while Meggy and Tari shared a longing kiss in the background.

But their moment was cut short as a harmless Princess Peach, half-human and half-monster, rose from the wreckage alongside Puzzles, dizzy and now reduced to a Leggy-like state: just a TV head on two tiny feet. They all quickly went over to deal with that.

Three and Four, still clinging to each other, broke apart reluctantly. But as Three stepped back, he froze, his ruby eyes widening—not with fear, but with awe. Almost admiration.

"What?" Four asked.

The Crew went over to join them and seemed to notice what Three was seeing, more of confusion than anything else. Mario scratched his head as his mustache grew comically. "Woah, what happened to you."

"Okay, now you guys are starting to freak me out."

Three picked up a shard of shattered glass and handed it to Four. "See for yourself."

Hesitant, Four took the makeshift mirror and peered into it. What he saw made his breath hitch. His right eye was its familiar blue, but his left... was a vivid magenta.

"Oh god, did I turned into a damaged OC now?!"

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Four pushed passed the bushes, the buzz of cicadas played along with him humming the Super Mario theme song. Knowing the route like the back of his hand, he took a sharp right at a familiar pine tree, the goo around his feet slithering forward to clear fallen branches from his way.

Ever since what happened, Four and Horus had come to a deal: Four would keep his glitch-like abilities, and in exchange, Horus would be free to roam from time to time. Just as it's doing right now, Horus didn't want Four to go through the whole puking-my-guts-out ordeal again. Four was okay with this arrangement. In fact, he often joked that Horus was his version of "Venom". Though Horus corrected him with "symbiote", he at least gets it.

This wasn't the only resolve Four went through. He made amends with Princess Peach, apologizing extensively for what she had endured. While they didn't see eye-to-eye on everything, he felt guilty all the same. To his surprise, she forgave him. Although half her body remained in its monstrous form, she saw it as an opportunity for personal change while receiving treatment from SMG1 and SMG2's meme powers. Besides, she'd already gotten her revenge with that punch earlier—and it felt so satisfying.

Then there was Mr Puzzles. The "perfect video" had stripped away his creative control powers and the red tentacle monster that slithered within his wires, leaving him practically harmless. As much as Four and Horus wanted to punch through his screen, vengeance can't be mistaken for justice. The Crew settled on imprisonment with occasional therapy sessions. According to Horus, there was a child caged in his mind, wishing for closure. Whether Puzzles chooses to change was up to him. Forgiveness, if it ever came, would take time.

The trees thinned as Four entered a familiar clearing, the stars welcoming him. There, sitting within the field of white lilies, was Three staring out at the horizon. His purple cap laid nearby.

Without needing to look back, Three shook his head. "You should be resting, Four."

"And miss this view? Not a chance." Four approached, settling beside him. "So, what's on your mind?"

Three sighed, leaning into the shoulder Four offered. "It's been bothering me since that day. Had a nightmare... one where I made the wrong choice."

Before pulling the trigger, Three has seen a vision—a glimpse into a where he'd gone through with it. Where Four died. Three would've felt their cosmic link sever, the universe losing a Meme Guardian and he would know too late he made the worst mistake. Four's body would've vanished, along with every memory their friends had of him.

Three would've forgotten everything too—their adventures, their friendship. He would've waken up in his old design, alone in the Internet Graveyard, starting over as a Meme Guardian with a new partner.

And what about the Crew? Without Four, Mario might've lost his goofy charm. The friendships they'd built wouldn't have existed. Everything about Four, gone by a single shot. Three would've lost everything and nothing at the same time because, how could you lose something if you didn't it existed?

He shuddered. "I was this close to killing you, and..."

"But you didn't," Four interrupted gently, taking Three's hand and runs his thumb over the tense knuckles. "You kept your promise."

"It literally happened a week ago."

"Three, look at me."

He obeyed, ruby meeting the mismated blue and magenta. Four smiled. "Am I here?"

"...yes."

"Do you still remember me? Our friends? Your café? The kids?"

"Yes."

"Then remember us just as we are now. And here." Four pressed a tender kiss to Three's temple. "If anything, I feel bad for hurting you guys."

"You shouldn't," Three countered.

"See my point?"

Three opened his mouth to argue but faltered. His shoulders relaxed, a weight lifted at last.

"Don't blame yourself," Four continued, playing with the white ribbon tying back Three's hair. "You saved me... again."

Three smiled faintly, bringing Four's hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to it. "Always. But seriously, how many times have we done the whole 'willing my sacrifice my life for you' thing? By all the memes, I've lost count." He earned a laugh from Four. "Still not used to the new look, though," Three pointed out.

"Oh, come on! We match now!" Four gestured to his outfit. His overalls now sported a glitch-like pattern stitched at the hems—cyan on one leg, magenta on the other. The black-cuffed gloves bore the numeral "4" on the back of each palm. And of course, his star earrings. "You can't be the only one looking cool."

"Still not as handsome as me though."

"Hey, you're the one who said I looked pretty with my new eyes."

"I-I said you looked nice," Three stuttered, a blush creeping up his face. Looking away, he mumbled, "What else you wanted me to say, you baka?"

"That you love me just as much as I love you."

Three turned to him with a deadpan expression and blinked. "Okay, one, that was cheesy. And two, what I said felt completely appropriate."

"So, you do love me," Four teased again, leaning closer. Three rolled his eyes and pushed him back playfully. They didn't need to say it; they both knew. "I still remember your clip."

Four pulled out his phone and played the postcard video the Crew made, how fun it must've been. Their joy lit through the tiny screen. For the man dressed in blue and his wish to bring happiness, this was all he could ask for. At the very end of the video, there was Three's voice—the most earnest he has ever been.

"Hey, scrub. You must've seen what the others had done while you were gone. I don't really know what to..."

He paused, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Um, y'know our spot? Out there, with the lilies? While you were gone, I went there one night—and no, it wasn't a nightmare this time. Don't make that face, I can already tell. I'm okay, the kids were with me. I've been thinking about us... about you. I never realized how much you mean to me. And I guess I'm wondering what you think. Four, we've been beating around the bush for years, it's getting ridiculous at this point, so I'm gonna risk it all."

Another pause. His past self gulped, mustering up whatever courage he had at the time.

"When you get back, I'll be waiting for you at that field. There's... something I have to tell you. Just... whatever happens between us, I'll still be your partner. Always."

[END OF PART 3 || Part 1 here, Part 2 here]

[sloanesallow]

The Call of the Void | Chapter 1

Shy girl meets distracted boy. Chaos ensues. This is my "canon" retelling of Siobhan Sloane and Sebastian Sallow's story. (full synopsis here. Chapter Summary: Siobhan Sloane makes her way to Hogwarts with Professor Fig, but all she wants is to go home. Chapter warnings: None [Ao3] | [Wattpad] | [NEXT]

I: (U n) l u c k y

Darkness.

Nothing but black, eternal darkness.

It is all Siobhan sees—not that she can see anything. What’s the last thing she remembers? Nothing comes to mind. For a moment she thinks she must be dead, and that the afterlife promised to her by a childhood pastor and God is a lie when she opens her eyes.

Darkness, still, but the glow of the full moon and stars make her current surroundings more bearable. Where exactly is she? She continues to stare up at the night sky, the gargantuan trees that surround her swaying in the late-summer breeze. For a long time the rustling of leaves and wind is all she can hear, until the sound of boots padding through soil echoes through her ears.

“Are you alright, Miss Sloane?”

Suddenly, she remembers everything.

Four months ago she is just a simple girl, living in Nottinghamshire with her father on their family homestead. She awakes every morning with the sun to complete her chores around the farm and spend her afternoons in the garden, or perched on the tree-swing up the hill with an old book. Her life is quaint and uncomplicated, until her sixteenth birthday when with a swish of her fork, she sends the celebration cake flying into the hearth.

A representative from the Ministry of Magic comes to the cottage shortly thereafter, effectively turning her life upside-down. Magic? She can wield magic? All she can think of are the Brothers Grimm fairytales that line her bookshelf, wondering if she’ll end up as folklore—the strange girl from Nottingham who is secretly a witch.

An anomaly—that is what they call her, with only a handful of other cases on record of a person’s magic manifesting so late in life. Not that Siobhan is old, but by wizarding standards, she is a very late-bloomer. She remains in denial until another visitor arrives, this time a teacher sent from a magical school from which she has been offered admittance.

“Hogwash?” Mr. Sloane, her father, asks.

Professor Eleazar Fig shakes his head, a humored smile curling his lips. “Hogwarts,” he clarifies. “More specifically, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

The Professor is a man who resembles her maternal grandfather, grey hair and all. He is a patient and kind person, sitting for hours in the family kitchen answering every question that comes to her father’s mind. It is Professor Fig who will be her tutor that summer, should Siobhan and Mr. Sloane accept, preparing her with as much baseline knowledge as he can before the start of the next term.

It seems like a lifetime ago, now.

Then came an airborne ambush, followed by a disorientating apparition to the chilly Scottish coast, shadowy labyrinths filled with vengeful statues, and the power-hungry leader of a goblin rebellion. Not to mention the discovery of ancient magic. It is the same magic Siobhan uses to escape Gringotts with the Professor, frantically activating a magical portal that deposits them in the middle of an overgrown forest.

“Miss Sloane?”

Siobhan snaps out of her daze, grasping Professor Fig’s outstretched hand so he can help her stand. As she dusts the dirt from her hands along the front of her already soiled coat, the older man inspects the dilapidated brick from which they just traveled through. Three times now she has performed the feat, and she suspects it has everything to do with the ancient magic burning in her veins.

With her limited knowledge of the wizarding world, she cannot begin to speculate on her newfound power, seemingly dormant until she touched the container Mr. Osric received from Miriam Fig. Unfounded as it is, she can’t help but feel strangely guilty for their deaths. She reaches up out of habit to fiddle with her braid, realizing with shock that the ends are burnt and frayed, likely from the dragon’s fire she and Professor Fig barely evaded. There is little time to mourn the loss of hair, however, not when she isn’t sure the danger has passed.

“Remarkable,” Fig sighs, interrupting her frazzled thoughts. He looks to where she is standing, staring at her upturned hands. “Are you alight?” he asks again.

Siobhan shakily nods, though she can tell the professor does not believe her. Thankfully he does not press the issue, offering a sympathetic smile while he waits for her to settle. She wonders if it’s not too late to return to Nottingham and pretend this was all a strange dream. But she does not want to fall victim to cowardice, or disappoint her father, who despite his resignation and confusion, allowed his only daughter to leave home.

If only her father knew how close to death she’d been, he would lock her up in the cellar for the rest of her life, just to keep her safe.

“Where are we?” she finally asks in a quiet voice. She can almost make out a path beyond the tree-line, illuminated by a lone lantern. In the distance, a train horn bellows.

Professor Fig joins in on surveying the area, his eyebrows twitching up in surprise. “It can’t be…” he says with a slight shake of his head. “It seems those who set up the Pensive, the locket—and the path to both—wanted someone with your ability to end up here…”

His words taper off and for a moment, the professor appears deep in thought, as if contemplating his own role in today’s events, and what the future holds for them both. The introspection doesn’t last, and a moment later Fig is regarding her with an amused grin.

“I do believe we aren’t very far from the castle grounds,” he announces. “Rather convenient, wouldn’t you say?”

Siobhan wryly smiles. “Very.”

“Come along,” he gestures for her to follow.

Not a few steps down the hill, her curiosity gets the better of her. “What will happen now?” she asks, clarifying when the professor glances her way. “To the locket, I mean, to…” she trails, hesitant to broach the subject. His wife’s research on ancient magic will need to continue…right?

“I will study the locket as soon as I can, but first I must contact the Ministry,” he explains “They need to know what happened to George…and be warned of Ranrock.”

“For the moment, I ask that you keep all that’s happened this evening between you and me,” he continues before Siobhan can reply.

“O—of course, sir,” she answers, unsure whom she would even tell, or if they’d believe her. 

The remaining trek to Hogwarts Castle is spent in relative silence, allowing Siobhan more time to comprehend all that has transpired. Not that she believes it possible to fully understand, not for a naive girl like her. Instead, dread coats her stomach, twisting round and round until she feels like she might be sick.

There isn’t enough time for Siobhan to admire the architecture, though the high ceilings and imposing towers do little to quell her anxieties. She hurries after Professor Fig as he leads her towards the Great Hall, where beyond the shut doors are the murmurs of celebration.

“With any luck, we haven’t missed the sorting ceremony,” he says. Siobhan refrains from making a quip about how terrible their luck has been so far, but she wouldn’t have been able to say anything anyways, not when a booming voice calls out to them.

“Fig!”

A tall and imposing man has slipped through the large doors without their notice, though Siobhan is sure by the sneer on the man’s face he isn’t there to greet them—at least not in the way she expects. His suit is impeccably tailored and his facial hair is well groomed, not a wrinkle or stray whisker in sight. Whomever he is, he must be important—or at least think he’s important.

Professor Fig grumbles and lets slip a curse before forcing a grin.

“Ah, Phineas!” he replies in a strained but jovial manner. Siobhan straightens her posture, recalling the name from the list of Hogwarts staff Fig provided her. Phineas Nigellus Black—the Headmaster.

“How nice of you to join us,” he says, face scrunched up as if he’s smelled something foul. His dark eyes flick across Siobhan’s appearance and she freezes, holding in her breath until her lungs burn. She wishes there had been time to fix her likely abyssal appearance and avoid making such a horrible first impression. Then again, it’s likely she could be dressed in the fanciest gown from Worth and still receive the same reaction.

Headmaster Black sighs. “But I’m afraid you are too late.” 

Professor Fig protests, shaking his head and hands in disagreement. “There were…complications—”

“Complications?” Black scoffs. Before Fig can begin to offer an explanation, the Headmaster continues. “You already know of my displeasure about this…” he motions lazily at Siobhan. “Situation. A new fifth-year? It is simply unheard of, especially one of her pedigree.”

Professor Fig scowls, shaking his head at Siobhan’s questioning glance. He will explain later, but the malice in Black’s tone doesn’t bode well. She feels the last shred of her already weakened confidence fade away and gulps down the bitter sting of emotions.

“Alas, the Ministry insisted upon her acceptance,” Headmaster Black grumbles.

“Even you could not sway their decision on the matter, it seems,” Professor Fig retorts, and if it weren’t for Siobhan’s presence, the two might have exchanged blows—magical or otherwise. “Siobhan Sloane is a capable witch, I assure you.”

“Humph,” Black scrutinizes her with disdain. “That remains to be seen.”

Siobhan wants nothing more in that moment than to be somewhere else. Home, she thinks. I want to go home.

Professor Fig’s expression darkens. “Phineas—”

“No matter,” the Headmaster waves his hand, silencing the older man. “Miss Sloane may join the rest of the students in the Great Hall. Consider yourself lucky—”

There’s that word again.

Siobhan never wants to hear it again.

“—we might still be able to get you sorted this evening.”

Headmaster Black spares once last glance at her before sharply turning on his heel to renter the Great Hall, not bothering to wait for them to follow. Siobhan deflates, exhaling as tears immediately flood her vision. Professor Fig quickly steps to her side, offering a handkerchief from his coat pocket.

“Allow me to apologize for the Headmaster’s abhorrent behavior,” he murmurs, eyebrows creased in a mix of concern and frustration. “Godric knows he never will. How he is permitted to keep his position whilst disrespecting the students and staff is beyond me.”

Siobhan says nothing, too preoccupied with sniffling and drying her tears. She feels like a inconsolable toddler, annoyed with herself for being so damn sensitive. Her father claims it as his favorite trait, but she feels cursed, embarrassed by the flush on her cheeks. Knowing she cannot stay there in the hall forever, she attempts to regain at least some of her composure.

Professor Fig—bless his patience—doesn’t speak until she lifts her chin, just enough to see the same sympathetic expression from earlier. She wipes at her face one last time, clutching the handkerchief tightly in one hand.

“Here, allow me,” he says, taking a step back as he brandishes his wand. With a flick of his wrist, he transforms her tattered coat into a dark, clean robe. She stares down at the Hogwarts insignia and the heavy reality of the situation comes crashing down.

“Are you ready?” Fig asks, affectionately patting her shoulder to offer some small encouragement for what she is about to face. No, she wants to scream to the professor and anyone else who will listen. She wants to run away while still can, but her feet shuffle forward, closer to the Great Hall doors.

Something tells her there is no turning back now.

Siobhan feigns bravery with a shaky smile. “Y—yes.”

It is a lie.

[tinylittledeergirl]

You can read the first chapter of my story, Promise, here!! The rest of the story is on wattpad. It’s still ongoing, and I’ve published up to chapter five!! My username on wattpad is Cutewith0braincells. Hope you enjoy!!

March, 1994

The flashing lights and shouting voices seemed to fall into some deep, grey void in which they were the only things that remained. Or perhaps that's all he remembered since his face was promptly shoved into his mother's side as soon as they arrived upon the scene.

An unmoving body lay on a covered stretcher and a motorcycle lay on the ground a few feet away, crumpled like aluminum foil.

Theodore tried to quietly peek his head just a little, just to get a better understanding of what had happened, but he heard his mother's quiet and tearful mutterings of "don't look at it, Theo."

He looked out just long enough to catch his father's face as he watched them unzip a fragment of the body bag to reveal Theo's brother, bloody and cold.

At some point, as Theo had turned his head towards the scene he heard one of the medics carefully explaining that his death was caused when his vehicle flipped forwards, and his head had hit the pavement.

His father returned from the scene in front of them to cradle his family.

Nobody ever really knew where Tristan went, and nobody really worried over it either. Even Theo's mother and father had given up thinking about it, so Tristan did what he wanted, whether it be sneaking out or skipping school or buying a motorcycle and driving it as recklessly as he pleased. There was a silent recognition that everyone agreed on that one day Tristan would just leave and not come back and that fact was inevitable. Now that his dead body was right in front of them, they began to wonder if they were wrong and it was very easy to change the outcome this entire time.

Theo's parents whispered quiet promises to each other that they would do better this time. They both held their son a little tighter when they made those promises. Theo didn't really know what they meant by that, but he knew that he had to be better too. For his parents. He then quietly peeked at Tristan as they wheeled him away. Theo had to be better for him too.

He sat there, his backpack on his lap with his phone up to his ear.

"Hey, Theo. It's Chris. From college, you know. I know we haven't talked in... years, but I heard from an old friend about how you're doin'. I wanted to say I'm sorry. That's awful, but I'm in New York, and I've got a guest room. Not trying to make it seem like charity or anything, but if you don't have a place, the invitation is open. Call me back if you're willing to stay here, and we can work something out."

Theo had very few memories of college and all that came before it. He knew that he was happier than he was now. Chris was, at one point, a very close friend to Theo. The downward spiral that began at age nineteen had eventually led him to homelessness on the streets of Chicago after he lost his job a little over a year ago, and he lacked any motivation to get another. The city he had moved to so many years ago that held so many promises and opportunities. That same city was now grey and empty. Anything important that he owned was stored in the book-bag that he held in his lap, and he had probably worn the same thick coat for a week straight. The cold bench on the sidewalk made it hard to believe that there was a time when his life was warm and forgiving. He had tried desperately for many years to remember where that life had shattered, and how he could put the pieces back together, but it never worked. No matter how many times he fixed every bad decision in his mind, he realized that he was always going to end up here.

He stared at his phone for a few minutes after the message had finished, his eyes not moving for a second. He wasn't sure what he was looking at, as his vision began to shift and blur the longer he stared at the unmoving screen, contemplating whether or not he should even respond, and what he could possibly say to something like that if he did. It went black a couple of times before he clicked it back on just to stare at the screen some more. He picked up his things and stood up, not sure where he was headed.

May, 1994

"Oh, you have a son?" Cecilia asked, car keys dangling from her finger. Her accent was the thickest the other had ever heard. She had inly moved from Italy with the past few months and she had only spoken to Neoma once in her short time at the office. It seemed like the first sunny day in a very long time.

Neoma smiled and nodded. "Theodore. He's seven," she explained. "He's been having a hard time. He's always been quiet, but he's hardly been talking at all recently."

Cecilia slowly nodded her head to affirm that she was listening. "Something happened?"

"Mhm. His brother passed just a few months ago. He was a lot older." She looked at the ground with one hand on her hip.

"Oh, so sorry," she tilted her head in concern. "They were close?"

Neoma shook her head slightly. "Not really, no. Their age difference sort of stopped that, and Tristan was never really home to see Theo, so they didn't know each other very well." She waved her hands in the air to shoo her thoughts. "Sorry about all that, I didn't mean to... anyways. Do you have kids?"

Cecilia nodded. "I have a daughter. She's a... loud girl, but not very good with English yet. Genevra. Almost seven years old. She doesn't have friends in America yet. All her family is in Italy."

Neoma smiled. "She sounds sweet," she mentioned, slowly stepping towards her car. She opened her door and stopped for just a moment. "Cecilia?"

Cecilia perked up for a moment and looked at Neoma, signaling for her to go on.

"Maybe we could get them to meet up? If you're not okay with that, that's fine. But I think it'd be good for Theo to make a friend."

Cecilia shrugged to herself. "I don't mind. Gena can be hard to get along with, but you can try."

"Okay. We'll set something up, then. See you tomorrow." Neoma waved as she got in her car and pulled out of her parking space.

Gena was a little surprised to find that she was going to meet a strange American boy, and even more surprised to find that he didn't want to speak to her, even after she so politely greeted him.

"Mamma, non sta parlando," she said, turning towards her mother and looking at her with very serious and disappointed eyes.

Her mother firmly grasped her arm and crouched to her level, leaning in towards her ear. "Genevra, smettila."

Gena pulled her arm from her mother's hand and took a step forward. "Perché sei arrabbiato? Lo non ho fatto niente." She proceeded towards Theo, who stood with his head down and hands in his pockets. "My name is Gena," she introduced. "Yours?"

Theo lifted his head and looked at her. "Theodore," he said before putting his head back down.

"Okay," she said, taking his hand and pointing to the other side of the park. "There." Gena pulled him along, sitting down in the grass beside him. She had led him to some shady spot under a tree, away from the heat of the sun, beginning to transition from a mild spring to a very hot summer.

He plucked up little pieces of grass and tossed them back to the ground as he listened to her tell stories, half of which he couldn't understand. He found himself laughing when she did nonetheless. She spoke with so much young confidence that he felt like he knew what she was saying.

Most memories of Theo's life before college centered around Gena. There were times when remembering her caused him this guilty, aching feeling for reasons he couldn't remember. This feeling was typically followed by the familiar, eerie words in his head. Word's that didn't sound like his own voice.

"You had everything. What did you do with it?"

He ignored that relentless voice, no matter how it always echoed in the back of his head.

"You had everything. What did you do with it?"

The only face that Theo could ever put with this voice was Tristan's. He could never remember actually looking at his brother face-to-face. Every image of Tristan that Theo had crafted in his head was solely off of the pictures around his parents' house growing up. The voice that he had made up was entirely from his own mind. There wasn't a single instance where Theo could recall his brother's voice, and there weren't any recordings of him speaking. All he knew was that this voice wasn't his own, and that Tristan was certainly watching him right now. He was watching when Theo ruined his own life after Tristan had died for him to have everything growing up. He was watching Theo give up everything for nothing at all.

Hours passed until he finally responded to Chris's message.

"Hey. I don't really know how to respond to that kinda thing, but thank you, and I think I'll take you up on your offer. Won't bother you or anything; I'll just be there to sleep at night and nothing else."

[sailor-toni]

Three Dead Brothers

You can also read this on A03, FF.net, and Wattpad

Nocturn and Clockwork are siblings and have an argument about the third sibling, Pariah Dark.

Clockwork watched the giant pendulum sway through the study. The large silver weight reflected Clockwork’s worn and aged face in its shimmering surface. And then the reflection changed as the wrinkles receded into his rapidly shrinking face, giving way to large young eyes and a swirl of white hair. 

“You haven’t gotten that under control yet?” Nocturne said. 

“It's nothing to control. Just like time itself, the changes in my appearance can not be controlled,” Clockwork said, his body had begun to shrink down to the size of a toddler. 

“I remember a time where you could stay in one form just fine.” 

“I was less powerful then.” 

“And better looking.” 

“If you have only come here to mock me, then I must ask that you leave.” 

“Did I hit a nerve dear brother?” 

“You are hitting my patience.” 

“Then I will make this quick, I am here to request that you free Pariah.” 

“What nonsense, I refuse to listen to this garbage.” Clockwork began to get up from the old couch. 

“How long should he have to suffer before you forgive him?” 

“It is not up to me to forgive him, it is up to the rest of the Ghost Zone.” 

“They barely remember his name anymore. Most of the ghosts he hurt have moved on.” 

“And the rest will spend the rest of their afterlife in fear if I let him out.” 

“How cruel you are towards your own brother! The three of us came out of the void together and one day we will return. Do you want your return to be marred with hatred?” 

“The day for our brother to earn his second chance will come soon. But not today. I will not open that box and if you try I will stop you.” Clockwork said. 

Eons ago when life was created, the three of them were born from the chaos fully formed in the Ghost Zone. Time, space, and momentum. As the universe expanded so did their power and influence. Clockwork could see the birth, life, and death of the universe before his eyes, and the many ways its death could come prematurely. Nocturne could expand his body past any normal limits and invade spaces deep inside of others. Learning of their innermost desires and fears and manipulating them for his own needs. And the last brother, the Pariah, picked up strength and fire as he moved throughout the lands, fighting battle after battles, and destroying each wall he came across until there was none left for him to crash through. But, once something is set in motion it can not stop on its own, so the last brother turned on the rubble left behind for fulfillment. One gastly reign as ruler of all later, and time was forced to find an unbreakable wall to trap him in. 

“How little respect do you have for your last brother, for you threaten me so?” Nocturne scorned. 

“You misunderstand, for I have enough respect for you that I know you will heed my warning.” Clockwork said. 

With a heavy silence Nocturne left the tower at the edge of time, his vast mind racing through all the possibilities. Until he realized there was a little man in a lonely castle who craved nothing but power and control. Deep in the inner space of the man Nocturne whispered into the dreaming mind, “It should be you on the throne of the dead with the crown of fire and ring of rage. Only then will the world learn what you have always known. The world belongs to Vlad Masters.”

[heyitsjooooanne]

Devastation

From Chicklit's prompt 8 on Wattpad:

"You just discovered that you're pregnant. That should be good news, because you've always wanted to have children. The thing is, you just broke up with the father less than 24 hours ago and it was a pretty bad break up."

Author's Note: My attempt at ChickLit's Prompt 8 from their "Prompts to Share" book on Wattpad. Although it's not very "chicklit" friendly. Or maybe it could be? I don't know. It seems more like a drama.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Claudia stared at the dark line in front of her.

No way.

No way.

She tossed the pregnancy test in the trash.

"There!"

Somehow, she thought that would make it null and void.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"But I thought you really wanted kids?" her friend questioned her over the phone.

"I do. I just figured I'd have them with someone less..."

"Two-faced?" her friend suggested.

"That's not very nice, Rose."

"Please. After seeing you break down in tears with snot coming out of your nose, that asshole is as good as dead to me."

"I..."

Claudia laughed, but it came out as a sigh.

"Thank you."

"Anytime."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"What did the doctor say?"

Her mother raised an eyebrow at her.

"Mom..."

Claudia picked up a box of crackers and put it into the shopping cart.

She looked around.

"Where's dad?"

"He's over by the bakery."

Her mother pointed in the direction of the bakery where sure enough, her father was perusing around the boxes of croissants and brownies.

They looked at each other knowingly.

"So?" her mother insisted again.

Claudia sighed.

"You better get those baby clothes ready. You're gonna be a grandmother!"

"Ah!"

She wrapped her daughter in a tight hug.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"Twins?!"

Claudia couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Yes. See?"

The technician pointed at the ultrasound screen.

Claudia looked and sure enough, she could see two forms on the screen.

Shit.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Claudia paced around her living room.

"What are you gonna do?" Rose asked her, lounging on the couch.

Claudia stopped in her tracks as her mind wandered back to that day...

"What the hell, Travis?" Claudia asked a young man at his apartment door.

She held up her phone with a text message conversation that had been exchanged between them recently.

let's break up

i'm sorry

but I'll always love you

Travis' expression remained unchanged.

"You can't read?"

Claudia blinked.

"What's wrong with you?"

She stepped closer to him, but he backed away.

"If you come any closer, I'll report you for trespassing."

"Travis!"

She tried to step through his open door but he used his arm to block her.

"Please..."

Her eyes began to fill with tears.

"I already told you. It's over."

And with that, Travis shut the door in front of her.

But Claudia was determined.

"Travis!"

She banged her fists against the door.

"Travis!"

Silence.

"Travis?" she said, sobbing.

"Claudia?"

Rose's voice brought her back to the present.

"Yeah?"

"What are you gonna do?"

Claudia put her hands on her stomach.

She immediately felt the two fetuses movements inside her womb.

"I'm gonna tell him."

Rose sat up straighter on the couch.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I have to Rose."

"You really don't."

"He's their dad."

"And? He's an asshole."

"Rose—"

"Claudia."

Rose adjusted herself so she could sit cross-legged, then she folded her hands in her lap.

"You were crying over him on and off for three months."

"I know, but—"

"No, you don't get it."

Rose paused for a brief moment.

"I already tried speaking to him."

"Rose! Why would you do that?"

"Because even though he broke your heart, I still wanted to see if there was anything I could do. So I sent him a message on MyFace seven months ago."

"You told him I was pregnant?"

"No. I just kept spamming him and demanding that he explain things. I even told him how upset you were but he never responded. Bastard even turned off the 'seen' sticker so I don't even know if he saw them."

"Travis never did like getting multiple texts," Claudia said matter-of-factly.

"Hmm. And how did he respond whenever you got upset? Because I started telling him about the emotional devastation you went through because of him. And you know what he did? Nothing."

Claudia stayed silent.

"He loved you for three years, and then suddenly—"

She snapped her fingers.

"He stopped loving you. And then he had the nerve to post that 'single and heartbroken' status on his profile like it was your idea to break up."

Claudia reached for a cup on the table next to her and drank a sip of water.

It was all she could do to stop her hand from shaking.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Ring!

"Can someone get that?" Claudia's father yelled.

Claudia glanced at the door of her parents' home and rolled her eyes.

"Oh, god. Mom, could you look after him?"

Her mother stretched out her hands so Claudia could place the four month baby in her arms.

She gently kissed his forehead.

"I'll be back, Clarence. Grandma will look after you."

She pointed at her mother.

"Grandma," she repeated to him with a smile.

She walked away from the two of them and made her way to the door, passing her father and Rose on the floor with the other baby Jeff, who was on a soft blanket.

She turned around and bent down to give Jeff a kiss on the cheek.

"How's he doing?"

"Pretty good," Rose told her.

"Little guy definitely loves cuddles," her father said.

The doorbell rang again.

"I need to get that."

Claudia continued for the door.

She placed her hand over the doorknob, but she paused.

What if?

No.

Don't get your hopes up.

She took a deep breath.

Then she opened the door.

"Oh."

'Hi, Claudia."

Claudia turned around to look at the scene behind her, then back at him.

"Hi, Shawn."

She turned around again to shut the door behind her.

"I almost thought you were Travis."

"Just me, I'm afraid."

"How did you know I was at my parents house?"

"Town gossipers. I bumped into your mom's friend at the grocery store this morning."

Claudia chuckled.

"Of course."

He stroked the bottom of his chin with his finger.

"Listen...Is there anywhere private we can talk? Maybe I can drive you to the park down the street."

"Shawn, I can't—"

"Your babies will be fine. And anyway, this has to do with their dad."

"Why? Is he at the park?"

Why couldn't he face me himself?

"No. But we really need to talk."

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Shawn drummed his fingers on the car dashboard as they sat in the parked car.

"Travis is dead."

Claudia felt all the air leave her chest.

"What?"

She turned to look at Shawn.

"No."

Shawn rubbed the corner of his nose with his finger.

"Yes."

He placed both of his hands on the steering wheel, possibly to steady himself.

"Travis he..."

He took a breath.

"Travis got on the wrong side of a shady businessman. Told him he wasn't gonna let the man get away with bossing him around just because he was rich. The next day, he got a threat on his life."

Claudia thought back to the week Travis' demeanor suddenly changed...

Claudia stood behind Travis who was in front of the stove cooking something.

She wrapped her arms around his back and rested her head on his right shoulder.

"What are you making?"

"Something," he told her playfully.

"Tell me."

"Come see for yourself."

"I can't look over your shoulder, I'm too short."

She felt his stomach heave as he laughed.

"Lazy. Lazy."

"Hey!"

She leaned over to the right and found him searing chicken cutlets in oil.

She looked up at him.

"Taquitos?"

"Yep."

"I'll take fifty."

"Damn. Hungry are we?"

"Very."

She rubbed his shoulders, then looked around the kitchen.

"I'll help you."

"Thanks."

She let go of him and went over to the refrigerator to get the rest of the ingredients.

Buzz! Buzz!

"Do you want me to get that?" she asked him as she looked around the refrigerator trying to decide what would go in their dinner.

"No, I got it."

She shrugged.

"Hmm."

She pulled out a bag of shredded cheddar cheese.

"This could work."

She closed the refrigerator door

"Travis, did you eat the last two avocado—"

She found him staring at his phone.

"Travis?"

He looked up, his expression tense.

"What is it?"

He shook his head.

"Nothing. It's just..."

He put the phone back down on the dining table nearby.

"Just Shawn getting himself into trouble again."

"Typical."

"Yeah."

She placed her head on the dashboard as tears spilled out of her.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Claudia sat down in front of Travis' headstone.

"Two months."

She looked up at Shawn, who was looking down at her glumly.

"He was dead for two months and not one of his friends thought to reach out and tell me. Including you."

Shawn raised his shoulders up and down quickly out of nervousness, then he put his hands in his black leather jacket.

"It wasn't safe for you to know yet."

"Bullshit!"

She got up.

"You know what? It's not even your fault. Or any of Travis' other friends. He should have told me this himself! He should have been brave enough to tell me himself!"

"He really wanted to. But he got threats on his apartment all the time. If he let you back in, you would've been a target too."

"I don't care! I want—"

She rubbed her hand against her forehead.

"I just want him here with me," she said hoarsely.

Shawn could do nothing for her, except watch her cry.

But somewhere in the back of his mind...

He really wanted to comfort her.

Hold her close.

Tell her everything would be alright.

And that the hitman who killed Travis would be brought to justice.

But he also knew the chances of any of that happening were slim to none.

And that right there...

That was the source of his devastation.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Author's Note: ???? Writing a full length story is hard so I'm gonna end it here. And it was just from a writing prompt anyway.

[smileygoth]

1. Me, My Blood and I (Vamptober 2022)

Vamptober 2022 begins! Using the prompts I'm going to attempt to 'tell a vampire story', as Jason Carl so eloquently puts it on LA by Night! I think it's going to be a dark emo vampire romance but I don't really know how it's going to turn out as I'm taking it prompt by prompt, so comments, suggestions and ideas for the final title are welcome! These will also be collected on my Wattpad page in case you find it easier to read them as one there - along with my story from last year, 'Adorable Blood'!

CW: Be warned - this section involves discussion of SEXUAL ABUSE and descriptions of DEPRESSION, SELF HARM, BLOODLETTING and SUICIDE. Please do not read if this is likely to trigger or distress you - and take care of yourselves!!!

Word count: 1,997 words.

Image from @worldofdarkness on Twitter.

Jazz had walked this way a million times after dark. The softly glowing orbs of the street lamps against the night sky looked to her like the souls of the dead, hovering to watch her passage. The pinprick lights from the buildings on the other side of the river were strings of fairy lights tracing nonsense patterns through the shadows. So many lights, all reflected in the choppy water of the river, an unstable upside-down universe that only showed itself at night. Everything was a pattern of darkness and light, and usually it soothed her. When things were bad at home and she needed an escape, she could come here and find some sliver of peace to hang onto.

But not tonight. 

Things had escalated, though she wasn't entirely sure if this was true or just in her head. Her parents' violent fights. The way her father looked at her - the disappointment mixed with rage and ... something else. The way her mother didn't look at her at all. The constant reminders that she was their only child and that certain things were expected of her and she had to succeed and bring her family honour and pride.

As if there could be honour in a family when a father looked at his daughter in that way. When he had come to her room and had ... he had ...

She shuddered, her mind slipping sideways to avoid the thought. But it forced its way in uninvited, sensations haunting her like ghosts as she tried to focus on the lights. His hand on her shoulder, fingers digging in. The smell of the alcohol on his breath - alcohol he wasn't supposed to be drinking. The sound of her shirt tearing. The pain. That part had definitely not just been in her head.

Another late night walker gave her an odd look as she choked back a sob. She caught a glimpse of narrowed eyes, a cautious appraisal. The man looked ready to stop her, then seemed to reconsider and walked on faster. She was glad. She didn't want any kind souls trying to help her tonight. She wanted to be beyond help. She might have welcomed some mugger or attacker coming to make her night worse, but no good Samaritans. The lights in her world were going out and she was tired of trying desperately to keep them alight.

She was almost on the bridge now. Her steps grew faster as she hurried onward, pulling her denim jacket tighter around her against the breeze that came off the river. It didn't stop the chill inside her, the icy gaping void that had taken up residence in her chest these last few months and seemed to leak a steady stream of poison into her veins - poison that filled her with an indefinable pain and blackened her thoughts into a constant cycle of self-loathing, anger and fear.

She couldn't make it stop. She'd tried everything she could think of. Her arms were covered in scars from the cuts and burns she'd inflicted to try and purge some of that poison. She'd drunk herself into oblivion and just woke up feeling worse. She'd hooked up with boys and girls and tried to fuck it away - and how her father would have a meltdown if he ever knew about that (ironic considering what he'd done to her). She'd smoked weed and taken pills. She'd thrown herself into her family's religion, hoping that it was sin on her part that was causing it and maybe she could pray it away, but it seemed Allah cared as little as her teachers and guidance counsellors at school. She'd have tried antidepressants and therapy, except her parents forbade it - that would mean admitting that their family was less than perfect. And she wasn't quite old enough to do it without their permission - and stuck living in their house she'd never be able to do it without them knowing.

Just a little longer, she'd kept telling herself. Get through school, get a job, get out. Then you'll be able to sort yourself out, far away from them. 

But she couldn't make it that long. She just couldn't fight the blackness inside her any more. The suffocating, crushing, endless fog of misery and self-hatred that just wouldn't let her go.

She reached the bridge. With a quick glance around her to make sure the coast was clear, she hauled herself over the railing and edged beneath the first stone arch of the bridge with a practised ease. The traffic crossing the bridge was a loud roar above her head, even at this late hour. Occasionally a large truck or lorry would thunder over, making the stones vibrate as if with fear. The wide ledge where she had spent many nights alone with her thoughts was as it had always been, dark and damp, thick with the cloying smell of the dirty river, a scattering of her old cigarette butts that had lodged in the cracks between bricks making it familiar to her, like how a child might view a treehouse. Her space. How nobody else had thought to hop over the railing and hide here she didn't know, but she was glad they hadn't. She would hate to have to share it with some junkie or homeless bum. 

She eased down into a sitting position, dangling her legs over the lip of the ledge. Her feet dangled only a few inches above the water, meaning it was high tide. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she turned on the flashlight and propped it against the wall next to her. It illuminated the opposite side of the stone arch, showing a tracery of scratches where clumsily-piloted boats had scraped against it. No graffiti - another sign that no one else came down here. The arches beneath this bridge might be the only walls in the city that hadn't been assaulted by a spray can.  When her phone was positioned safely, she pulled the other object from her pocket and turned it over in her hands, thinking about what she had come here to do.

The light from her phone caught on the pearly sheen of the handle of the old-fashioned cut-throat razor, making it gleam like a jewel. She'd found it in a small vintage and antiques store and bought it on impulse, lured in by its old-world charm and thinking of Sweeney Todd and Jack the Ripper. She had been a little surprised that the man running the store hadn't asked her for ID, but she hadn't argued either. She'd had it tucked away in her room for months. She'd stolen the knife sharpener from the kitchen and made sure its worn, uneven edge was -no pun intended - razor sharp. It had become a friend to her, helping her in her attempts to purge the blackness from her veins. It was a lot easier to use than a loose razor blade or a thick-bladed kitchen knife, and its handle fit her hand snugly. The cool gilt handle always warmed quickly in her hand, feeling like something alive.

She ran her fingers over the pearly handle now, considering. Did she really want to do this?

She thought about it, like she'd thought about it for so long. What was her alternative? To go on feeling this way? To wait for the next nocturnal visit from her father, with the stink of whisky on his breath and that ugly look in his eyes? To watch her mother continue to ignore her?

"Fuck that," she muttered, looking down into the river. It was black under here, like something solid, and the waves clapped against the sides of the bridge, splashing up like fingers reaching for her dangling feet. Droplets landed on her boots and gathered there before trickling off, back into the river. She watched them with little interest. Everything felt very vivid to her tonight, but at the same time unreal, as if she was watching a movie she didn't care about in high definition.

She rolled up her sleeves past her elbows, one after the other, tracing the old and new scars on her forearms with her fingers. She could remember why she had inflicted each one. They were the evidence of her suffering. Reminders that it was real, at least for her. The last of her doubt vanished as she felt the raised ridges and bumps under her fingertips. She picked up her phone and opened the Notes app. Her fingers moved swiftly as she typed.

"This is my decision. I cannot fight any more. The people who should have protected me have failed me. I have no regrets. This is my final act of self-defense."

She read it over. It was vague, but she didn't owe anyone an explanation. She just wanted them to know that it had been her decision. Not some accident or casualty of the city's crime. She was going out on her terms. That was important, somehow.

Leaving the note open on her phone, she propped it back up again, angling it so the light fell across her lap. She flicked open the cut-throat razor, enjoying the soft snick as the blade slid out of the handle, appreciating the comfortable feel of it against her palm. Holding out her free hand, the inside of her wrist pointing up, she rested the blade on the centre of her wrist, above that important vein. She knew she had to press down hard for it to cut deep. It hurt, but she was used to that. She pulled the blade up her arm toward her body in one swift motion. The keen blade had no trouble parting her flesh. Blood - blindingly red in the phone's bright light - spilled eagerly from the wound, as if fleeing her poisoned body. She watched it fall into the black water beneath her and be swept away. An insignificant stream in the rush of the river - like her place in the uncaring and oblivious world. Her hand felt numb as she transferred the razor to it and did the same to her other wrist. This one was harder; her fingers were slippery with blood and she already felt woozy, so it wasn't as straight as the first cut. But it did the job. More blood rushed out and she leaned back, letting the light-headedness distract her from the deep, stinging pain. 

Her head rested on the cool bricks behind her. It felt good. She was surprised at how calm she had felt doing it. No hesitation, no fear. No regret. She fumbled the razor closed and pushed it into her pocket again. She had planned to leave it next to her phone, but suddenly she wanted to keep it with her. Her wrists fizzed and sang with pain as her blood poured out. Her vision blurred and grew hazy at the edges. The sounds of the traffic above her grew dim. It was happening. She was leaving. Leaving it all behind.

The ledge was comfortable - she almost felt as if she was sinking into the stone - but she had one more thing left to do. With effort, she sat up, leaning her weight forward until she was staring down into the dark water. It was too dark to see her reflection, which disappointed her. She'd wanted to watch herself go. Never mind. It wasn't going to take long anyway. Even as she leaned forward, the world seemed to tilt sideways and spin. Everything grew muffled and faraway. The strength suddenly drained from her limbs and she dimly felt herself slip into the cold water. She mad barely a splash. Her clothes drank it greedily, growing sodden and heavy and pulling her down almost right away. She felt the icy water close in around her as her eyes slipped closed and smiled. It felt like being buried.

Everything faded into soft, silent darkness. But unlike the blackness in her mind and heart, this darkness was welcoming and kind.

[anauthore]

Escape From Halloweentown {Jack Skellington x Reader} CHAPTER 1

Summary: When a game of hide-and-seek goes wrong, you find yourself lost in the woods without a way home. Whether it be fate, or just dumb luck, you suddenly find yourself in a far bigger predicament than you ever thought you would be- and it’s not just because you can’t seem to find your little brother.

**Pairing: **Reader / Jack Skellington. A very slow burn fic.

NOTE: This is a full-length fanfic! If you don’t want to read chapter by chapter on tumblr, please use the following links to read in a different format / on a different website!

Wattpad | Quotev | AO3

Fic Below the Cut | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

You had thought the doors in the trees lead to a cozy, hollow trunk, or even just a black-filled void of some solid decorative substance. Of course, once you found yourself launched onto the ground in front of you, sprawled out after trying and failing to break your fall, you quickly came to realize that that obviously was not the case.

You grunted, wheezing in the air you’d just had knocked out of you. Once you managed to scramble to your feet, you brushed yourself off, picking the pebbles and other woodland debris from your stinging palms and knees. The inflicted areas burned, and you idly ran your fingertips over the little divots they’d made into your skin before you turned around to face the door. Or rather, doors.

They still were attached to the circle of trees you’d found in the beginning, all towering over you by miles as they stood stoic and unmoving as trees always are. Out of both a burning curiosity and an insatiable impulse, you reached forward toward the gleaming knob to twist it, yet it was as stiff as a board. You furrowed a brow, trying yet again, but it didn’t move.

It didn’t move.

You looked beyond the massive trunk in front of you and out toward the horizon, where the sun had just started to come up. The entirety of the sky was painted a fruitful orange, and despite the beauty of the picture, you were more confused than you’d ever been before. The sun, as warmth-emanating as it was, sat there, climbing in a direction opposite of where it had just been moments before.

You blinked. And then you blinked again.

And then you squeezed your eyes shut and clenched your fists, digging the ends of your nails into your palms to ground you with some semblance of pain.

It was almost too easy to convince yourself that everything you’d just experienced was, in fact, a dream- yet still you found yourself trying your hardest to cling to the façade. It definitely seemed more real than the reality that was currently right in front of your closed eyes in the moment.

You sighed, and when the sun didn’t revert back to the other side of you, and the doorknob still didn’t turn, you gave up. 

You turned on your heel, tentatively at first, but then started to walk away. You didn't know where you would end up, but using this newfound daylight for something other than trying to convince yourself you were crazy is the best you could do. You crunched browned leaves under your shoes, their steady rhythm keeping you going.

Crunch crunch crunch crunch…

You breathed in and out to the beat of your own footfalls, so lost in the monotony that you didn't even realize there had been a dirt path bare of grass and leaves before you. You'd been so focused on figuring out what had just happened that the transition into silence didn't even faze you, so when you finally did notice you were actually heading somewhere, you were surprised.

Your pace quickened, excitement coursing through your veins. Maybe there was a town nearby, or at the very least, someone's backyard. As long as you had somewhere to go, you could make it work. 

The trees started to thin, as did the grass and underbrush that had surrounded you nearly the entirety of your journey. The forest itself pushed back, and ahead you could make out gnarled buildings that curled and rose toward the grey sky. Although the architecture was odd, especially by modern standards, you couldn't help but smile. It was a town! There had to be people here that could help you, and if you were lucky enough, maybe you’d find someone who’d seen your brother.

The clouds fogged the distant towers, making it seem so far away. You didn’t let that deter you, however; you passed the opening in the trees and met a dull graveyard with twisted tombstones and gnarled wording carved into them. You furrowed a brow and stopped for a moment, taking in the sight before you. These stones were surely unlike any you’ve ever seen, the lettering curling in such a way that you couldn’t make out what it said other than the dates in which these people had died: 1743, 1820, 1789, 1650, etc, etc.

Your eyebrows raised and mouth parted to breath, surprise etched in your features. You didn’t live in the north, where the pilgrims settled and died as early as the 1600s, and you didn’t know of anywhere around that could remotely match these dates of death. It was astounding to you that there had been people living here during that time- and then your shock turned to wonderment. The headstones all had one thing in common, aside from the material they were made of; none of the dates had passed the mid-1900s. Where were you? And what kind of town looks like this, with old buildings and outdated graveyards?

Shaking off the oddness of the situation, you left the line of tombs, only glancing back a couple times to make sure that you’d seen the dates correctly. You trudged on until the blackened iron fence that enclosed the rest of the graveyard came into view, the gate pointed and an unmistakable jack-o-lantern etched into it’s bars. It was propped open, it’s bottom hinge broken and the butt of the gate sunk into the dirt. From the path, you could see stones, and eventually a cobble route that was indistinguishable from the stone archway and wall that closed in the uncanny town in all its glory.

The alleyways were mostly empty, save for an occasional statue you mistook as a person. There was no litter among the lines of houses; just empty trash cans, rusting bars on windows, and locked doors to accompany the already peculiar feeling of the place. In the distance, the crashing waves of the somehow-running fountain gave some life to the town center. This, of course, was one of your only indications that there were people here at all; why would the fountain be running if there wasn’t anyone to manage it? Everything was clean, too- so this place must be a town of hermits, with outdated traditions and their own ancestors in their graves.

You sighed, and noticed the sun still creeping over the horizon. It hadn’t taken you long at all to get here, and usually that would be a good thing, but now that you were perched on the fountain’s edge looking at the vastly differing houses around you, you weren’t so sure that this place would be of any help. If anything, you were scared. You very plainly not even a full-fledged adult yet, but here you were, in the middle of God knows where looking for your little brother where he didn’t seem to be.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you instinctively sniffed to get rid of the stinging sensation. You were here for your brother, and no one else. That meant that, despite the scary situation, you would go door to door and ask for help if you had to. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

All the houses here were menacing in their own way, so, as you did when you chose a direction to walk in, you just turned toward a house and decided to walk toward it. You breathed in and made your way to this particular house’s stairs, stepping up one to plant three loud knocks on the front of a surprisingly sturdy wooden door.

You stared at the outside of the building. The windows didn’t have bars, like the others; instead, there were rotting boards covering the openings. The more that you looked at the exterior, the more you realized that there would be no way for any semblance of light to creep in, which made you raise an eyebrow in question. A moment more passed, and you knocked again, growing impatient with this empty village. Right as your knuckles brushed against the door for the third time, it swung open, revealing the dark interior and a tall, thin man clad in black standing before you.

“Yes?”

His voice was high, but it fell and rose as though it were a teen greeting her friend in a sing-songy way. You gave him a once-over, realizing that not only was this man inhabiting a house that could be compared to an abandoned lot, but he was also dressed as a vampire… in the middle of November.

“Uh, I was looking for my brother. Have you seen him?”

He had to squint to see you against the light of the outside, but even so you could tell he was looking you up and down. Though you had no idea what was going through his mind, you could tell that he was probably just as confused as you.

When he didn’t reply, you decided to elaborate; “We were playing in the forest, and he got lost. I don’t know if he ended up here, but could I at least use your phone? To tell my dad I’m safe. Mine’s dead, I can’t reach him.” You stopped yourself before you continued to ramble on, biting your tongue and hoping he could help you.

He didn’t say anything at first, and you thought that he might not respond at all. You opened your mouth to speak once more and the door closed in your face. You had no time to be shocked before it opened once more, creaking on its ancient hinges. He stepped back and gestured behind him, his cape draped over his arm as if he were Count Dracula.

You bowed your head and thanked him as you stepped into the very dimly lit room, the only source of light coming from an old lamp that sat in the corner of the room, which seemed to be nearly burnt out. You glanced about and saw that it wasn’t just this man’s costume that was vampire themed…

His décor was littered with Victorian era styles, a large coffin in the corner next to the lamp, slightly larger than the lopsided grandfather clock that sat next to it. It didn’t seem to be running, but you wouldn’t be able to tell even if it was. Wary, you seated yourself on the edge of the couch, hands folded in your lap as you watched the vampire-enthusiast close the door gently and look at you. Your eyes took a moment or so to adjust, but once they did, you realized that the interior of this place was nearly as dreary as the rest of the town.

“So, what did you want again, dear?”

You cleared your throat, nervousness coursing through you. “To use your phone, if that’s alright.”

He cocked a brow and glanced to the side, thinking before he responded in a hushed tone; “Let me see if I have one to use… just give me a moment.”

He was gone, around the corner and down what you thought was a hallway- it was too dark to really see anything, but you figured since he lived in this house, he had memorized its layout perfectly. You sighed, twiddling your thumbs as you waited, still thinking about the man’s obsession with the popularized blood-sucking creature.

 He returned, floating across his carpeted floor with no phone in hand. Trailing behind him were two shorter figures, both dressed the same as he was with long black capes and an equally dark robe. You couldn’t tell if they were related, or just friends, but they all seemed to have one thing in common; the idolization of the vampire. This, of course, worried you some. What if they were to try and suck your blood? Or maybe they were some sort of killer posse? If that were the case, though, then surely this town wouldn’t be as empty as it was. Surely, you thought, they’d already have done something to me by now.

The tallest one- the one which had answered the door for you- informed you that these were, indeed, his brothers. They were both shorter than he, albeit heavier and wider. You smiled half-heartedly as a greeting and looked back to the original.

“So, did you find a phone?”

“A phone? What’s that, Prince?” One of the brothers drawled, his voice as old and scratchy as the other’s.

“Well, no, I didn’t. But I know someone who can.” He elected to ignore the previous question and instead followed it up with a request from the other two; “Go get Jack. He’ll know what to do.”

With a curt nod, the brothers practically floated out of the front door, arms over their heads as a classic vampire would most likely do to shield themselves from the sunlight. The tallest stayed- Prince, he had been called. He didn’t sit down, as you were, nor did he really move from his standing place.. The silence in the room settled, thick and heavy, until you were so fed up with it that you decided you had to speak to preserve your own sanity.

“Uh, I like this room. It looks very nice- it’s really unique.” You smiled a thin-lipped smile and looked to him, gauging his reaction. He had already been staring at you- you chalked it up to him having not had guests in a long while. He nodded, not smiling when he responded; “I like it too.”

You didn’t like the tension, nor did you enjoy just sitting around, however you needed a phone. Or at the very least, someone more capable of getting you one than Prince. Summoning all your patience, you waited.

You were lucky that you didn’t have to wait very much longer. You’d been bouncing your leg and fiddling with the dead skin on your fingers the entire time, and you didn’t want to seem too nervous or scared. You had a feeling that it might’ve been rolling off you in waves, so you tried your best to stifle the urges. 

Your ears perked up after a minute or so more, alerted to a crunching sound outside of the door. Both you and Prince looked at it before it was pushed open by the shortest brother, who bumbled inside ungracefully, followed by his other similarly dressed family member. You looked passed him, expecting another vampire, or maybe even a normal human person, but what stood in the archway was so much more than what you were expecting.

It was a skeleton. 

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Fourteen: Friends

A/N: This is the fourteenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2779

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

To the other professors, breakfast came and went just as it did every other day. But Aria could sense the difference in tone from the students. To the other professors the students chatter was just as excitable as it always was. But Aria could tell it was more hushed and secretive. To the other professors, today was just a normal day, they would have gone about their day blissfully unaware of the situation that had occurred at the Three Broomsticks. Had it not been for the huge elephant in the room.

As he entered the hall that morning for breakfast not a soul in the room missed the swollen black and blue lump in place of where Snape's eye should be. Not a soul in the room missed the way he stormed in, in a fit of rage, knowing that the whole school would be talking about him. And not a soul missed the glares he sent their way daring them to confront him on the matter. But only Aria Dumbledore could see the hurt in his eyes, the embarrassment he was feeling and the pain he buried deep down for the way he had treated his friend last night.

Of course, she was angry at him. All of this was his fault. But the sadness she felt for him overcame her own dignity and she wanted to find out what it was all for. What hurt him so badly, that he felt the need to make her feel as low as he did. Aria knew this was yet another mystery of the great Severus Snape which would remain unanswered. The man was an enigma.

*

As expected, the potions master and his apprentice were curtly invited to Headmaster Dumbledore's office after breakfast to explain themselves. It had not taken long for the rumours to spread from the students all the way to the top, and it was clear Aria's grandfather was less than pleased to hear them.

"You will both be well aware of why I called you here this morning, I am sure." Dumbledore begun when the pair entered the Headmasters office. The two merely nodded, letting the old wizard speak.

"Firstly, I must begin by saying how utterly disappointed I am in the two of you. Not only in the events that transpired last night, but moreover the fact that neither of you were professional enough to come to speak to me about this first, before it got out of hand." The headmaster started, taking a seat behind his large oak desk.

Both Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape bowed their heads in shame, as they stood side by side awkwardly, neither of them daring to look at the other.

"Grandfather I-"

"Miss Dumbledore, in this current professional capacity, I would appreciate if you addressed me as your rightful superior."

"I'm sorry." She replied sheepishly. "Headmaster Dumbledore, I want to apologise for not informing you of what had happened at the Three Broomsticks but as you can see Sever-, Professor Snape did have some injuries that needing tending to and in the state that he was, I didn't think him fit enough to be left unattended to."

As she spoke Severus let out a grunt of disagreement in an attempt to mask his embarrassment.

"Whether that may be the case, Miss Dumbledore, if you are being harassed by another member of staff, your priority should be to inform me, not assist your harasser." Albus scorned.

Snape remained silent, waiting to be spoken too before opening his mouth. He was mortified by his actions in the Three Broomsticks, but even more so by what happened later that night.

"Now, which one of you would like to explain to me what happened, so I can distinguish the truth from some of the student's wild imaginations."

Aria turned her attention to the Potions master who continued to keep his head down, not willing to recall his cruel words.

"I think Professor Snape is best for that job, headmaster." Aria confessed, unwilling to let the man get off so easily.

"Very well. Aria, you may leave us." Dumbledore announced.

"What? But why?" She objected.

"As you so graciously volunteered Severus for the job, I no longer have a reason to keep you back from your duties as a professor." Dumbledore informed her calmly. "Speaking of which, you will be taking all of the potions classes alone for the time being. Professor Snape will be taking a short sabbatical."

Snape's face turned grey at the thought. Not only did he not want this young witch teaching his students, but the mention of a sabbatical made his stomach drop. He knew how he had acted was wrong, but never had it crossed his mind that he could possibly lose his job for what he had done.

"What!?" Aria gasped. "But you can't do that, he-"

"Relax, Aria dear." Dumbledore interrupted. "It is only until I get this business cleared up. With his eye looking as it does the excitement will never settle, you know how students like to gossip. Besides he can take some time to reflect on his actions while it heals." Dumbledore shot Snape a disapproving look.

Aria made to object once again, but this time Severus took the opportunity to shut her up.

"Go, Miss Dumbledore. Do not keep my students waiting." He commanded sourly.

Finally, Aria obeyed, leaving with an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach as she left the two men to talk.

Dumbledore clasped his hands on the desk in front of him and waited patiently for Severus to confess his wrong doings.

"I will not insult you, headmaster, by downplaying my actions from last night. I stupidly let my emotions get the better of me and I thought I could find a solution at the bottom of a bottle of Fire Whiskey, I was wrong. I said disgusting things to your granddaughter and believe me no one can judge me more than I am judging myself right now." Snape could not bring himself to meet the old wizards disappointed gaze.

"And your eye, how did that situation occur." Albus questioned, feeling slightly sorry for the professor, despite the trouble he has caused.

"It was well deserved." Snape admitted. "A 'friend' of your granddaughter's rightfully put a stop to my embarrassing display. I apologise whole heartedly for every mistake I made last night."

"That is all very good and well, Severus. But have you said this to her?"

Severus hung his head.

"I see. May I suggest that be your first port of call." Albus advised.

"Of course."

The Professors sat in dead silence. It was clear both of them were in their own heads more than the conversation.

"Is there something more I should know, Severus?" Dumbledore eyed the man skeptically.

Severus paused for a moment, debating whether to confide in his friend.

"No, sir." He lied. His voice remained void of all emotion.

"Aria could be a great friend to you, Severus. Do not throw that chance away, again. Learn from your past mistakes." The Headmaster warned.

Albus Dumbledore's words resonated with Severus all day. The old man was right. He had once lost his only friend due to a small moment of emotional vulnerability paired with the harshness of his words, he could not re-live that experience. There was only one way to avoid losing Aria from his life completely, any feelings he may have had for her now had to be buried entirely.

*

Storming into her first lesson of the day, the room fell silent upon Aria's entry. The students waited a minute or two, expecting the presence of their most feared professor, which never came.

Aria begun the lessons as Severus always did; silently writing out paragraphs of information for the students to copy. It didn't take long for the fifth years to realise Snape would not be joining them this morning and so they set about asking their more relaxed potions professor all of the questions they were just dying to know the answers to, regarding the events of the previous night.

"Professor Dumbledore, where's Professor Snape, isn't he going to teach us?" It began.

"Unfortunately, today I will be solely be teaching Professor Snape's classes." Aria answered, turning her back on the classroom of students and continued to scribble on the chalk board.

"I heard he shouted at you in front of everyone in the Three Broomsticks yesterday Miss, is that true?" One of the Ravenclaw girls dared to ask.

"You should have seen him." Another laughed. "He was absolutely wrecked, knocked back almost a full bottle of Fire Whiskey apparently."

Aria chose not to respond.

"You were there? What did he say?" A curious Gryffindor inquired, wanting to hear the full story for himself. The two started quietly conversing up the back of the class, letting some more students get their accusations in.

"Is it true you are Karkaroff were caught going at it in the potions cupboard, Miss." Another boy bravely chuckled. "Is that where Snape found you?"

"That's can't be true." Someone else defended, shaking their head in disbelief.

"It is so, didn't you see the two of them at dinner yesterday? He could barely keep his hands off of her." Another whispered.

A few gasps and giggles broke out among the students as they continued to speculate.

"I heard she's the one who punched Snape, did you see his eye today?

"To be fair I don't blame her, he is a bit of a wanker, he probably deserved it."

"Don't be so stupid. It wasn't her; it was her boyfriend, I saw it myself."

"Did Snape actually call you a Slut, Miss?"

The room went quiet anticipating their teacher's response.

"Enough!" She yelled, slamming her hand on the desk as she turned to face them. The class stared at her, stunned.

"I don't want to hear any more of this." She started, putting down her chalk. "I am well aware that some of you may have witnessed the incident that occurred in the Three Broomsticks last night and while Professor Snape's little outburst may have happened extremely publicly, this gives none of you the right to make things worse by making up these stupid stories. I am going to settle this once and for all and I want to hear no more of it, do you understand?" The class nodded silently.

"First off; no, Professor Snape has not been fired, nor would I want him to be. He will resume his position as your potion's professor in a few days' time, and I warn all of you that this nonsense better be done with by then. He will not let you off as lightly as I have done." Aria walked around her desk, resting on the edge as she spoke.

"Secondly, any rumours you have heard regarding me and Headmaster Karkaroff are completely false. Professor Snape got the wrong impression and has now been informed of his mistake. In addition to this, anything you may have heard surrounding me and any other member of staff, or indeed students..." She said through gritted teeth. "... is also false. This includes Professor Snape."

A moment of chatter bubbled among the students, before once again falling silent.

"As for the man I was with, he was nothing more than a friend. And after the way he treated Professor Snape, he is no longer even that. Violence in any form will not be tolerated, no matter the circumstances. I will personally deal with any student supporting the actions of this man or the harming of Professor Snape, regardless of anything he may or may not have said." Aria finished.

"Is all of this abundantly clear?" She asked the class, receiving a chorus of agreement in response.

Aria let the students know to spread this information throughout the school to combat the rumours surrounding her and Severus Snape's altercation, and they graciously obliged. She received very little harassment or questions for the rest of the day, although she knew it was almost impossible to put an end to all of the speculations this early on.

*

Whilst packing up her papers to return to her quarters for an early night, Aria was startled by a sharp knock on the door.

"Come in." She called, not bothering to stop what she was doing. It wasn't until he was standing right in front of her did Aria even recognise who it was. "Severus." The professor said in shock. "Knocking to get into your own class room now?"

"As it were, this appears to be your classroom for the time being, Miss Dumbledore." He droned, watching her intently as she went about her business.

"For a few days at least, it seems." She shrugged. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I came for an update on my classes' progression. While I might not be teaching them, this does not mean I am willing to relinquish all of my responsibilities quite yet. I don't imagine you have anything prepared." He sneered, continuing to analyse the desk.

"Actually, Professor Snape, I have." She retorted, handing him a small binder. "There you will find every class organised by year and then by level of difficulty; I have written a small summary of what we covered in the classes and how far we hope to progress. All students are listed individually and sorted by house, each detailing how well they coped with the lesson and what they need to work on. I shall give you another update tomorrow, and each day after until you are back. Happy?" She smirked.

"Very impressive." He hummed, unamused, snatching the binder from her and making to leave.

As Snape reached the exit, one hand holding the door ajar, he let his fingers tap on the wood indecisively. Letting out a small huff of breath Severus turned on his heel, re-entering the classroom as he remembered his promise to the headmaster.

"There is one more thing, Miss Dumbledore." The potions master announced, bringing her back to his attention.

"Mmhmm." Aria hummed, continued to flick through her papers, making sure she had what she needed.

"If you could actually pay attention, Miss Dumbledore, I would be able to get out of your hair much faster." Severus hissed through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"What do you want, Severus." His apprentice huffed. "I do have things to be getting on with. Spit it out."

Snape clenched his jaw and pursed his lips, trying his damn best not to insult the girl.

Couldn't she just listen for five seconds when he was actually trying to be nice to her? He thought.

"I... I want you to know." Snape stuttered, coughing to clear his throat. "I need you to know. Everything I said last night, I didn't mean any of it. I was drunk, and sometimes emotions that we would all like to keep hidden show themselves, do you understand?"

"I get it, Severus. I know you wouldn't have said those things under normal circumstances. You were stressed." Aria accepted, immediately going back to her piles of parchment.

"Look at me." Snape snapped. "You do not understand. I am apologising for my actions in the Three Broomsticks, of course I am. But the point I would most like to stress is... Can we just forget yesterday never happened? All of it."

Aria stared deep into the Professor's eyes knowing he was desperate for her attention. Ignoring the fact he was battered and bruised, she could see the pain in his eyes. The desperateness for her to agree with him, to forget that anything ever happened between them, or rather could have happened.

"Don't worry about it, Severus. Nothing happened as far as I am concerned." She reached out to him, resting a hand on his bicep and flashing a comforting smile.

A hint of a smile threatened on Severus' lips. But as soon as it came it was gone once again. Snape stepped away from the woman, letting her get on with her work.

"Can we agree on one thing, Severus?" Aria asked, keeping her attention on him finally. Snape nodded, allowing her to continue. "The students are having a field day with all of this. I think it would be in everyone's interest for us to try and get along. Hopefully it will dull down a lot of the rumours if they see us acting civil. What do you think? Friends?" She proposed.

Snape let out a small huff of amusement, letting the sides of his lips curl up, contently.

"Friends." He agreed, stepping out of the room quietly.

Taglist: 

@ayamenimthiriel @lizlil

[athrialuxegna]

Stronger than she thinks Part 2

Triggers warning: mental and physical abuse, violence, swearing

Part 1 | Part 3

Fanfiction | Archiveofourown | Wattpad

It was 6 a.m when I walked out of the cafeteria and nearly choked on my saliva when I saw Eric and Brent. They were laughing at some joke. I couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge in my stomach. If only Eric knew what monster Brent was. Who was I kidding! Eric would not give a shit about this. They stopped in their tracks when they notice me. My face contorted with disgust at the sight of Brent’s horny eyes looking up and down my body. A cold shiver ran down my spine.

“Christine, long time no see.” Brent’s smirk was full of himself.

He had me cornered. Eric was staring at our exchange. It was really bad. If I backed away it would give too much information and the same if I retorted. Ugh, one week of more or less peace wasn’t enough. I became a real ninja since my encounter with Eric. I have succeeded to avoid both men, but my luck was wearing off today.

“My life was brighter without the sight of you. Such a shame you just ruined it.” My sarcastic tone enraged him, his ears turned red and his eyes shot fire. Good. Then he smirked. Oh, crap.

“You know you miss me, Chrissy.” His voice was hushed and seductive.

All color was drained from my face. My nails were digging in my palms, blood slowly spilling from the crescent wounds. This nickname rang a bell. He had called me that when he was all over me. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood in my mouth. Motherfucker!

“I have something better to do than talking to a prick like you.” I hissed back, turning on my heels.

“You’re so hot when you’re angry Chrissy.” He called after me.

A wave of entangled emotions was bubbling inside of me. It won’t be long before I break down. I began to run when I turn the corner. I went straight to the roof. The rain was pouring hard. Thick drops fell on my face and soaked my clothes. I screamed at the top of my lungs to the raging sky. I couldn’t take his attitude, his face nor his fucking nickname. I took out all my pent up anger and desperation onto the wall beside me. My knuckles hit the wall harder and harder until my knees gave out.  I imagined his face, as bloody as my hands, as shattered as my soul. I wish I could just disappear or forget what happened. Hot tears were streaming down my cheeks. Okay, maybe I was not drained yet.

“Why did you do this to me?” I asked to the raging sky, defeated.

“Why who did what to you?”

Eric’s deep voice startled me. He was standing right at the door, the only escape from the roof. Wonderful. I sighed deeply. I am so fucked, I thought. I felt like I was ready to jump from a cliff without a safety net awaiting me at the bottom. Everything was crashing down around me. I had nothing to lose now. Still, a part of me refused to admit what happened. My bruised ego wasn’t willing to let go. I closed my eyes a second before answering, my back still facing him.

“It’s none of your concern Eric,” I replied dryly.

The tears had stopped as soon as I heard his voice. I appeared weak enough right now to not turn around crying my eyes off. Eric came in front of me, crouching down to be near my level. His eyes more intense than usual as if he was trying to read my thoughts. I wished I wasn’t in the cafeteria earlier. I wished Eric would just ignore me.

“I know this is related to Brent.” I hold my breath at the name. “Tell me, Christine, what did he do to you?” His cold voice chilled me to the bone.

I shivered but held his gaze nonetheless. I shook my head in complete denial. Eric was the last person I wanted to confess to. Eyebrows furrowed and teeth clenched, I held my ground.

“Nothing.” My voice was surprisingly strong.

Eric huffed then closed the gap between us. His breath fanned my face, our noses nearly touching. My breath quickened at the sudden intrusion into my personal space. Tears brimmed in my eyes and I cursed my body for trembling like a leaf. Eric’s eyebrow quirked up, his piercings glistening at the movement. His icy blue eyes tore into my soul, curiosity burning inside them. However, his face was void of any emotion.

“Now, tell me why are you in such a state? You can’t fool me, Christine.” His low voice reached a deeper octave.

Seconds passed, I couldn’t bring myself to tare my eyes away from him. Even though I hated him to follow me up here. Didn’t he have better things to do? I closed my eyes and whispered finally.

“Brent raped me.”

My surrender cost me a lot. It was the final straw, the confirmation that my life became a living hell. Silence followed my confession. I found the courage to open my eyes. Eric was fuming, his gaze fixated on the ground. A hole would appear any second in the concrete at this point. His clenched jaw and fists told me that he was on the verge of losing his self-control. I didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing. Was he angry at Brent for doing this? Or was he angry because Brent might lose his job as his consultant? So many questions swirled in my mind when his sharp voice cut the dreadful silence.

“When?”

“Monday night,” I replied curtly, not trusting my voice further.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered under his breath. “We have to report to Max. Brent has to respond to his crime.”

His words held a finality that scared me. Will he report with or without my consent? His entire demeanor screamed that he was ready to bolt for Max’s office any second. I shot him a wary look and shook my head. It can’t be happening so fast. I hadn’t processed the whole thing yet.

I needed some time to prepare myself for the incoming battle. Should I say the truth or should I lie? An investigation won’t do anything without my word. Brent set up the whole thing, there was no proof. Unless… I went to the infirmary to be examined. No way, no one would ever touch me again or see my lady parts.

“Max won’t know anything. Brent can’t be judged for his crime because of the circumstances.” I retorted with annoyance.

“What circumstances? Rape is rape for fuck’s sake.” Growled Eric.

“You wouldn’t understand because I can’t even figure it out myself,” I admitted bitterly. “Cowardice is my crime.”

“What do you mean?” Something flickered in his eyes.

“While he was…” I trailed off. “I couldn’t move a muscle, my body won’t cooperate. I was helpless, an empty shell. I could just watch and... feel.”

The words ran out of my mouth before my brain could register. I wished I could disappear or that Eric would magically teleport somewhere else. I felt my cheeks burn from embarrassment and shame. I lowered my gaze onto the floor, I couldn’t look at him after saying this.

“It is pretty common during a traumatic experience. Your brain shuts down to protect you, it’s a defensive response.” He explained with a rather know-it-all voice.

A surge of unknown anger bubbled inside of me. His nose side triggered something deep. I huffed and threw my arms around to avoid punching him. His psychological bullshit wouldn’t help me to get rid of my guilt.

“I was a coward nonetheless and I’ll remain as long as I can’t forgive myself. Where’s the Eric I know, the ruthless leader? He would just say to suck it up and get on with my life or I would end up Factionless. Why do you care anyway? Just throw me over the roof already to end my misery!” I yelled.

Eric stood still, unfazed by my sudden outburst. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and waited until I calmed a little bit. His eyes boring holes into my skull.

“Enjoy, this is the only chance you’ve got to shout at me.” He smirked briefly. “No matter what you think of me Chris, this is part of my job to ensure the security of all Dauntless members. The only way to protect you and other women is to send him to justice.”

I growled inwardly. He was right. Brent should be stopped as soon as possible. He could do worse in the meantime. I sighed deeply and bowed my head. I was conflicted. Part of me wasn’t willing to give in. My intimacy had already been violated. I didn’t need a nurse looking down there now. I was selfish, I knew, but it was easier to ignore it than to face it. Tell me about being Dauntless, huh.

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready to report this,” I muttered.

Eric’s lips twitched up at the corners in an almost genuine smile. My heart skipped a beat at the sight, his face always tight and closed was a bit relaxed. Bewitched Eric returned. His changing demeanor was unnerving, I didn’t know what to expect next.

“We should go back inside to take care of your knuckles. Unless you want to catch the flu.”

He turned on his heels and stalked away. He didn’t seem bothered by the rain drenching his clothes and hair. I followed him down in the compound. The cold hallways made me shiver. My soaked clothes clang awkwardly to my body. I certainly looked like a penguin with a stick shoved up his ass or a pathetic excuse of a cowboy, walking after hours of riding a horse. We didn’t say a word until he took a turn I hadn’t expected. He was leading me down the leaders’ quarter. I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Why do you bring me here?” I questioned warily.

“You prefer Marlene’s questioning?” He retorted coolly.

I began to walk again. Marlene was the head of the infirmary, a curious young woman who couldn’t hold her tongue. Eric’s smirk returned to his lips. He was himself again. Good. We entered his apartment. It was huge, tidy, and neat as if no one lived here. There was classical furniture, a black leather couch, a table, a full bookshelf. Three closed doors faced us, which lead to the kitchen, the washroom, and the bedroom, I presumed. Eric went into one of the rooms to get me spare clothes.

“You can use the bathroom to take a shower and change. We’ll take care of your knuckles after.” He pointed to the door closest to me.

I nodded and took the clothes from his hands. He disappeared quickly through the same door. I guessed he had a bathroom connected to his bedroom. Perks of being a leader. The hot water hit me and washed my emotions. Reality dawned on me. Eric knew. He was the only one other than Brent. How will it go between both men? They were working together, how was this supposed to go well?

I hoped that Eric would not do anything impulsive. It would only worsen the situation I was in. I didn’t even know what was the law regarding rape. Did it even exist? I wasn’t sure. Rape was a rare occurrence in Dauntless, exceptional trials that I’ve never seen in my twenty-five years here.

I tried to escape from my thoughts while drying myself. I get changed. Eric gave me one of his shirts, a large hoodie, and jogging. It smelt like him, his scent surrounded me. A mix of mint and leather. A strange sense of security settled in me. A knock on the door resonated.

“Are you finished?” Eric asked through the door.

“Yes, you can come in,” I responded, slightly surprised by his thoughtfulness. He could have barged into the room with no care in the world. We were in his apartment after all.

The door opened and Eric walked in. He changed into a similar outfit to mine. I couldn’t recall the last time I’ve seen him in anything other than his leaders’ attire. His tight shirt outlined his toned chest and his jogging hang low on his hips, I could catch a glimpse of his smooth skin. I adverted my eyes elsewhere, disturbed by my wandering mind. I was raped a week ago and I drooled over him. Something was definitely wrong with me. Did Brent hit me too hard?

I’d lie if I said that he wasn’t handsome, but Eric was Eric. He was untouchable, a leader, and most importantly the bearer of my secret. I needed to suppress the reminiscence of my crush on him. It wasn’t the time nor the best circumstances and, let’s be real, Eric could have any other Dauntless girl. So why bother with me?

Eric opened a drawer and took a first-aid kit without glancing at me. I had washed all the dry blood from my hands. The cuts were visible now. I let him take care of them. His rough hands were gentle and he kept space between us. I appreciated the gesture even though his changing behavior unsettled me. He bandaged my hands then cleaned all the supplies.

“If you want to fight find a real opponent. Next time the wall will win. Your bones are not that tough.” He remarked, his eyes resting on me.

“I wish I could kill him with my bare hands but it would do me no good.” I huffed while rolling my eyes.

“You could call me next time.” His voice light as a feather.

“What? You’ll do worse than the wall, Eric.” I responded, crossing my arms over my chest.

His laugh filled the bathroom. I’ve never heard it before. I was stunned for a second, processing what I was witnessing. I must’ve looked at him like he had grown two heads because he composed himself and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” The ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

“I’ve never heard you laugh before,” I said without thinking.

His serious expression returned as well as his cold blue eyes. The Eric I knew was finally back.

“Now get out of here. I have work to do.” He dismissed.

I was about to leave when I look at him with worried eyes. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Come on, I won’t do anything about your secret without your consent.” He practically growled.

“Thanks, Eric.” I nodded slightly then walked out of the apartment.

Once alone dread fell onto me. I went to the tattoo parlor, my safe haven. Tori was cleaning her stuff when I walked in. She smiled at me and beckoned me to come with her to one of the tattoo stalls. I joined her and sit on the tattoo chair as if I belonged in here.

“Hey, Chris you want something today?” She asked, taking a sit by the chair I sat on.

“Yop Tori. I think I’ve got an idea.”

I explained to her what I wanted. She drew the design, it was better than what I have expected. The buzzing of the machine soothed me. It was a tough pleasure to get tattooed. The needles were in and out of my skin, the dull ache growing in my back. Tori hadn’t talked since the beginning.

“Now, would you tell me why you’re wearing man’s clothes and have your knuckles bandaged?” She asked out of nowhere.

I tensed slightly then relaxed not to mess up the tattoo.

“I ended up getting caught in the storm outside. Someone get me spare clothes. ” I answered carefully.

Tori hummed in response. Silence fell upon us once again. I must have fallen asleep because Tori woke me up by shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see a large smile on her face.

“Good nap, sleeping beauty?” She mocked.

“Sorry, I won’t do it again,” I replied, stretching my sore muscles.

“Don’t do promises you can’t keep, Chris.” She laughed.

Every time Tori tattooed me I fell asleep in no time. I smiled and get up to see my back in the mirror. The beautiful Phoenix, wings spread, was looking back at me. It was stunning, the fine details made it seem real. A masterpiece that took my entire back. Satisfied and happy, I turned to Tori.

“This is wonderful. Thanks, Tori.”

She nodded and was called by another customer. I waved goodbye and took my leave. I didn’t know what to do on my days off. Even more so now that I didn’t have any friends to spend time with. I missed hanging around with Jenna and Kate. I have encounter neither of them since their visit in my apartment. A dull ache crushed my ribcage, I was alone. Brent took everything from me. He took more than my innocence, he destroyed my life. I couldn’t trust anyone, not fully at least. There will still be a doubt, a “what if” that will ruin my relationships. I wandered in the Pit like a lost soul. It was becoming full. I sat on a rock and watched Dauntless members passing by.

A hand fell on my shoulder. I jerked away and turned around to face Four. My eyebrows furrowed as my heart calmed his frantic beats. He looked tired, working in the control room took its toll on him. He seemed more dynamic when he was training the initiates. He arbored a somber expression, his eyes boring into mine.

“Chris we have to talk about something. In private.” He muttered.

I gulped, it wasn’t something good. Four had to know something to appear out of nowhere to talk. He had seen something. Cameras were all over the compound. Brent couldn’t avoid all of them. I didn’t want anyone to see what happened. If they were a trial, it would be watched by so many people. My body shivered and I get up to follow Four in an empty hallway. We stood a few feet apart, staring at each other, choosing our words carefully.

“Chris, I saw what happened Monday night. Eric and I were talking about the next initiation when the screens showed you and Brent.”

Eric knew before I confessed. I felt betrayed that he didn’t tell me. I swallowed thickly and shook my head. The situation was getting out of my hands. I needed to get out of here. The pitiful gaze Four cast on me made me sick. I couldn’t take his soft eyes. I turned around and ran as if I was chased by a werewolf.

I turned the corner and crashed into a strong body. My eyes settled on Brent. He had his arms wrapped around my waist to keep me from falling. His intense brown orbs plunged into my emerald irises. My body stiffened and I wriggled in his grasp to get free. It only made him tighten his grip.

“Oh Chrissy, I knew you would run after me.” His low voice rang in my ears.

I tried to pry him away from me to no use, he was way too strong. His lips graced my neck, a cold shiver ran down my spine.

“Brent get off me. I don’t want you.” I growled.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Brent let me go and I bolt out of here. Eric was right. Brent had to be brought to justice or he will continue. I went into my apartment and closed myself for the rest of the day. I didn’t eat this evening. I was feeling sick at the idea of explaining what happened to Max and the other leaders. My night had been restless, haunted by horrible nightmares.

[cornbake]

Shattered Pieces | Prologue

I normally don’t make posts on this blog but like I’m sad and I do what I want so fuck you. I am very upset about the final and the death of Mollymauk. At first I tried to keep everything cannon compliant but now I’m saying fuck it. I will say this one time and one time only. DO NOT tell me I am in denial, or anything among those lines. I do not need to hear that. Criticize the work all you want but if I see one person telling me or anyone that “Oh but we have Kingsly”, “You don’t need to write this it’s been fixed”, or “Stop crying it happen X amount of years ago” I do not want to see that. Bc A) no, fuck Kingsly. It might be because I am VERY emotional rn but no. Kingsly is not Mollymauk. I understand that coming out of what had happened would greatly effect a person but King? He’s an imposter in my eyes and I just can’t except that. Now as for the story. It’s on three platforms now. Here, Wattpad, and AO3. Wattpad and AO3 have all the chapters I have currently completed, as for Tumblr I will be rereading the chapters to proof read them before I upload them here. WARNING:  This book contains. Spoilers for the Second Critical Role Campaign, Violence, Swearing, Death, Me venting, and other things which will be stated when need be. ____________________________________________________________ This darkness was comforting, it was similar to a dreamless slumber, yet, he knew he wasn't asleep. Sleep wasn't this... permanent. It wasn't this cold, wasn't this... lonely. Although, it seemed oddly familiar to him; as if this wasn't the first time this had happened. It confused him, he couldn't seem to understand what was happening or what was going on. In fact, he couldn't seem to remember... Who was he? Where was he? Why was he here? Where was here? He had to pause as all the thoughts were straining and were starting to give him a slight headache. He tried to calm himself as to subdue the oncoming growing ache yet he couldn't seem to move. Or breathe for that matter. He began to become overwhelmed and freak out by this situation. He looked around and tried to desperately cry out. Nothing seemed to change. He was simply a conscious mind floating within this forever abyss of darkness. He was powerless to this world without any knowledge of time or state of being. He wanted out of this dreamless sleep, he wanted to think again. To remember who he was, to remember anything about him. Who was he? He looked around him, the darkness consuming him slowly, he could feel himself slipping away into the unknown. He wanted something different than what the void was claiming as its own. Memories. He wanted to remember. He wanted to know how he got here. He let his mind wander, yet no matter where it went it would hit a dead end. Nothing he did was getting him closer to understanding what was happening, or why it was happening. He wanted it to stop and be free. The more he let his mind wander, the more he became frustrated and more he yearned to be freed from this prison he was confined to. He snarled and growled, if he had a body he would be thrashing and throwing a tantrum. He didn't want to give up, something was telling him not to. Yet all the signs pointed to him being stuck here for as long as the clockless time ticked away. He had stopped. Stopped thinking and thrashing his bodiless form.  The headache returned to his mind which had been the cause of him stopping his search. He quieted his mind and just let the silences of the black void slowly take him. It was consuming, and that frightened him. He didn't want to let the darkness take him, he knew that would be counterproductive to what he wanted in his reach, whatever that might be. He listened to the emptiness around him, until he heard a noise. One outside of his constant thoughts. He perked up upon experiencing something new. He stayed quiet once more to listen. CAW! There it was again! His headache started to kick up again. He was headed in the right direction...Finally a way out of this mess...He tried to reach out towards the noise and call back to it. Nothing...His mind ached as his longing grew. The pain almost becoming unbearable, but he knew it was worth it when he spotted something different from the eternal darkness. A faint glow of red. It was subtle and he almost overlooked it in his reach for the noise that was now nowhere to be heard. He started to make his way over to the light. The closer he got the brighter the little glow got. His senses started to return, he could hear the pounding of bare feet, the heavy breathing of a man, the wind passing him as he ran, closer and closer. He reached out to grab the source of light, he could see an arm, reaching where he would be reaching. It was bare, it shown red with the light but he could make out its original color to be a lavender purple. He reached further still, strings of what he could now make out to be hair flew in his face. He took his outreached hand and moved them out of the way. He could feel pointed ears poke out and he felt hard forces growing out of the top of his head. He ran further still, not giving up. He got closer yet fell face flat into the ground as he tripped over something. He rolled to his back to see a long thin limb being formed, he watched it grow for a little before picking himself up and dashing after the only source of light he had. He was determined to reach it, he had to reach it. The sound of jingling reach his ears and he felt chains hang from his horns and ears, as the cloths on him slightly clinging as well. His body begins to sting as he watched his arms come to life with ink. He watched as a serpent coiled around one of his arms as its eye glowed red. He could feel every detail of the ink being placed onto his body. He couldn't tell what they were or their meaning but he didn't have time to dwell on it. The next stinging pain was different, it wasn't like the ink lines that now decorated his purple skin. It was a sharp, painful, sting, and it didn't leave. He felt another one cut into him, he winced and staggered to a halt. He reached a hand up to feel where the pain had came from only to feel a hot liquid oozing out of the sharp gash in his skin, he looked at his hand and saw dark crimson. Blood. He looked to the fading light and quicken his pace from before, his time was running out. He felt the sharp cuts slice into his flesh even more now, some more deadly than others yet those seemed to fade after a while. He was almost at the light with his arm outreached once more when he felt one final pain. It came from his chest and was by far the worst pain he had felt out of the lot of them. He fell, his eyes falling half-lidded as he did, he couldn't see what was going on, all he could sense was the white-hot pain that emanated from his chest. He was limp as the world slowed for him, his outstretched hand in reach for the blight yet dimly lit object, his eyes closed shut as he readied himself to get pulled into the darkness once more. When he felt it. A mostly smooth stone. He could feel the cracks from the bottom of the object and the slight warmth it gave off as he held it. He felt at peace, as he curled around the object the pain slowly faded. He had done it. He won.... ??? Male Tiefling Blood Hunter 5 1/59 HP Next>>

[an-absolute-travesty]

Royal Screw-Ups

~Yay writing strike is over! Sorry this took over a month and I hyped it up so much. Here be the next chapter of RSU~

If you’re looking for the rest of the story, it can be found on my wattpad @ohwowhatethis, under the tags “kotlc fic” and “keefex” on my blog, or under the cut on my pinned post

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added or removed, just for this story or as a whole): @you-are-the-vacker-legacy @ruewen-and-rising @lemontarto @a-lonely-tatertot @clearlykeefitz @percabetn @vibing-in-the-void @sewersewersewercouch @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @enbies-and-felonies @blxckh0les42​ @rainbowtay-11 @littlemisscupcake

Chapter 7:

Word count: 1,023 

Warnings: None, I believe

Keefe stepped back as he pinned the last piece of paper to the wall before covering his work with a large sheet, no one could see this. For the last week he had been frantically planning. He had probably gotten a total of 3 hours of sleep in the last 6 nights combined.

He had a plan. A way to get a last petty stab at his father, maybe even save him from his forced-fate if everything went smooth.

Er- part of it anyway. 

And it was only...kind of treasonous. If you consider plotting a scheme to disrupt the actions of your nation treason, and Keefe knew that fit his Father’s definition of the word very well from personal experience. 

But he would need some help. The invitations had been sent, everything was in place. 

From the library window he saw as a carriage pulled through the gates. He knew exactly who it contained. 

He met the Redeks right at the castle door, he even beat his father there. 

“Hey cous’,” Marella said. “Heard you’re getting stuck with a wife.”

“Yep and that’s exactly what I need to talk to you about. Once you’re done with the pleasantries, meet me in the library.”

“Ok, weirdo.” 

Alright, there was the easy part done. 

Next step: Fitz. He had a favor to ask of his special friend from across the kingdom.

~*~

Keefe stole Fitz from where he was training new guard recruits and pulled him aside. 

“What’s up?” Fitz said, a look of concern on his face. 

“It’s...a long story. I need you to send a letter to head of the guard force in Atlantis and tell them we must have the Song twins over immediately. They’re needed for extra protection for the royal wedding.”

“Huh? We have plenty of guards.”

“Just trust me. Meet me up in the library in an hours time and I’ll explain everything.”

Fitz sighed. “Whatever you say.” 

Keefe flashed a smile and went to talk to maybe the most important person involved in this.

~*~

Keefe only had to knock on Sophie’s door twice before she opened it. It just so happened that Biana was in the room as well. Lucky they were getting along well...very well based on the intense blush Sophie wore on her face and the new makeup that was clearly Biana’s work. 

“Oh, lovely, you’re both here, we have to talk. Meet me up in the library in about an hour. Sophie, Biana can lead you there.”

“I’d be delighted.” the vanisher said with a pointed glance towards Sophie. 

Yes, as long as Biana stayed around, Sophie seemed like she’d be perfectly happy in the castle. 

~*~

And so he went, collecting another cousin and some family friends that were there for the upcoming wedding, until he reached the final piece.

Well...the final piece wasn’t exactly vital to the plan but he would be appreciated. 

A knock on the door revealed nothing, it seemed no one was home. Which...made sense. They were working people and it was the middle of the day. He’d have to find Dex himself.    

Keefe searched through the gardens until he found Dex, tending to a cluster or colorful flowers. 

“Hey, Techmaster.”

He turned around, confused, before his dirt smudged face lit up at the sight of Keefe.

“Keefe! We hadn’t talked for a week, I thought you forgot about me.” His tone was joking but Keefe’s answer was sincere. 

“I could never forget about you.”

Though it was a bit hard to see past the dirt, he still noticed as Dex’s face reddened. 

“So um...what’s up?”

“Mind if I pull you away from your work for a second? I need some help with something.”

“Good luck getting me away from the supervisor. All hands on deck in preparation for...well you know what. She watches like a hawk.” 

Keefe looked over to see a woman that he didn’t recognize watching them from about 10 yards away. A simple wave from Keefe proved that she recognized him as she wordlessly waved the two boys away, excusing Dex from work. 

“Ah, forgot about the prince thing for a second there.”

Keefe chuckled as he led Dex a a bit away where no one could hear them.

“So,” Keefe said, turning to Dex and arching a brow. “You good at pranks?”

“Only the best.” He responded, a mischievous smirk forming on his face. 

~*~

The mismatched group of people huddled before him in the library looked at Keefe as if he had lost his mind. 

And perhaps they did think he had, as for the last 20 minutes he had been gesturing wildly at paper pinned to the wall as he explained his plan. 

“So what you’re saying is,” started Wylie, the only legal adult in the group and a close friend to the throne. “We’re crashing your wedding.”

“In so few words, yes.” Keefe said, finally sitting down right on the floor after his extensive rant. “Any questions?”

“Quite a few, but I’m still trying to decide which one to ask first.” Biana said, still obviously stunned. 

“Look, it’s really simple-”

“What about this plan is simple?” Stina said incredulously. 

Keefe hesitated, clearly this wasn’t going as well as he thought it would. He began to get flustered. 

“Well you see-”

“It’s never going to work.” Maruca, another family friend, spoke up for the first time. “All it will do is anger the King, we’re all dead if we even try.”

Fitz, Biana, Stina, Wylie, and Marella all nodded their agreements. The only ones who seemed maybe even a little on his side were Sophie and Dex, and Sophie looked like she was near to throwing up. 

“If everything goes perfectly well then just maybe-”

“Keefe!” Fitz said, standing up from his chair. “It’s not going to work. This is a waste of time and possibly incriminating. I love you, Keefe. You’re my best friend. But this...this just isn’t going to work, Fee.”

There was a long silence. 

Just as Keefe was about to give up and walk away, Sophie’s voice came quietly from her corner. 

“I...I can make it work.”

All eyes were on her as she explained her new version of Keefe’s plan. A gleeful smile crossed his face.

“Foster, you evil genius.”

[sohin-ace]

Josuke - Ghost

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3.

Enjoy~

Ghost! Fem! reader x Josuke

There was something wrong with Josuke these days and he knew it. Ever since the beginning of that summer it felt like all the weirdest events kept happening.

As if having a serial killer on the loose in town wasn't enough, he started to see someone. It happened very suddenly, he was alone in his bedroom when he heard a faint and feminine voice.

It was like she was calling for help, but when she finally appeared in front of him, he was close to shitting his pants, fainting and having a heart attack, all at the same time.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!"

When he saw the spirit, his first thought was that you were a Stand, and he immediately called his own, ready to beat the crap out of you.

By some miracle, you managed to calm him down and explain to him that you weren't a Stand at all. That would explain why you were sentient and could form actual coherent sentences.

Josuke kept on seeing that ghost in his house every other day. At first he was obviously freaked out and wanted to call an exorcist or more conveniently, Jotaro to help him get rid of her.

But at the end of the day, she was very sweet and he took a liking to her. He didn't mind the compagny and she made him get his mind off things. Call him crazy, but at this point in his life, nothing could get any weirder.

"Hey, did you always live here or did you suddenly found yourself in my house?" He asked after being accustomed to your frequent visits.

"I roamed into the endless void until I felt something connecting me to this place, that's why I'm here."

He shuddered. What a morbid choice of words. "Well you sure know how to spook people..."

You chuckled. "I still wonder why I suddenly latched on this house. I didn't mean to haunt you."

He shivered again as he rolled to the side of his bed. Why was the room so cold? He got up to put something on his back and warm himself up.

"Are you making the temperature drop or something with your ghostliness? It's summer but I'm freezing!"

"Hmm, maybe it's my voice." It was true that your soft voice held a distant resonnance to it that made you sound quite litteraly out of this world. This always intrigued him, but he was charmed by it.

"Or maybe it's because I'm..."

"Don't do it." He warned, only expecting a bad ghost pun from you, but you only smiled a big grin and striked an impossible pose.

"...Drop dead gorgeous?"

"GET OUTTA HERE!"

You both laughed at your goofiness and had a great time. Despite you being a ghost, Josuke couldn't help but be enamored with you. You were pretty cute and funny and you seemed attentive to even the smallest details about him.

"You know... y-you would have been my t-type of girl..."

He trailed off and turned his face away from you to hide his furious blush, embarassed to admit it. You chuckled at his cute behavior.

"If I was still alive..." Your expression softened with a hint of melancholy. "Please don't love me. I don't want to induce more pain to others..."

"..."

That was how you two would hang out from time to time, when you appeared in his house. He couldn't talk about this with anyone else, not even Okuyasu. But he didn't mind, in fact, he kind of liked that you were his little secret.

"Heeyyy ghooost girl! I'm boreeed!" Josuke lazily called out, hoping that you would come out without having him making some Ouija rituals or anything.

"Hey! That's rude, I have a name!" You poked your head through one of the walls and floated over him, who was laying on his bed.

"Well you never told me it!" He deadpanned as you hovered over him, inching towards his face.

"Well you never asked!" you bickered back.

"Well what's your name, ghost girl?"

You backed away from him and put yourself in a sitting position on his bed as you looked at him. "My name is Y/N Zeppeli. And I already know your name, Josuke Higashikata."

He shot up in his bed and stared at you wide eyed "Wait! Y/N that's your name? It's so cute! It fits you way better than ghost girl!"

Even without a body of flesh and blood, you swore you felt your face blushing profusely right now.

"O-of course it does! Why did you even start calling me that!" You pouted and he laughed at you.

More days passed together and he shared all of his stories with you. He would talk about his day and you were quite fascinated by how passionate he was towards his friends. Especially that Okuyasu guy, he sounded like a lot of fun.

"Oh, Y/N I always wanted to ask you something." His tone and expression turned serious suddenly and you nodded at him, gesturing him to go on.

He scooted over to you, getting all close and personnal as he stared into your eyes, a little bit hesitant to ask.

"Do you... Remember how you died...?"

You flinched at his question and he gasped, sensing your distress and instantly regretting his words.

"Y-you don't have to answer if it's too painful! I can't even imagine what it'd be like to remember your own death..." He fretted, feeling like an idiot for even bringing that up.

You looked down, a sad smile gracing your lips.

"Josuke." You breathed and his heart skipped a beat at the way you pronounced his name, sending shivers down his spine.

"Y-yes?" He was blushing red. Why did he feel so affected suddenly.

"You are... A descendant of the Joestar bloodline, right?"

"Joestar...?" Now he was curious. "Yes, how did you know?"

"There are other Joestars in this very house, right?" He gulped as you splurted truths after truths and he started to get very uncomfortable.

"Y/N you're scaring the shit out of me..." As you didn't answer and didn't move a single inch he continued. "Y-yeah, there's more of my family here... Why?"

You suddenly floated away from your seated position in front of him, and did something very unexpected.

You came closer to him, way closer than you've ever been before, and glided your hands under the strap of his sleeveless shirt. The proximity and the contact flustering him to no end.

"W-w-what are you doing...?!" He stuttered shakily, his face and ears burning as your bodiless form came in contact with the skin of his back and shoulders.

It felt weird, you didn't have skin to touch him, but what he felt of you was a cold but comforting breeze, tickling and grazing his skin ever so slightly, raising every single hair on his arms and back of his neck with goosebumps.

It wasn't unpleasant, in fact, it was quite pleasurable. But the shock he was left in didn't let room for his mind to drift off towards any undesired thoughts. He glanced at you and your beautiful yet dulled features from the corner of his eyes.

He couldn't help but think that you must have been so incredibly pretty when you were alive. That you must have held the most delicious of warmths and ministrated the sweetest of caresses.

But you were gone. So young too. He felt blessed to have met you, but cursed that it would be in such circumstances.

You carefully moved his strap from his back to stare at the star that was deeply imprinted into his skin. You sighed in understanding as your doubts were confirmed.

You slowly backed away from his shoulder and stopped right in front of his face. "Josuke Joestar..."

His whole body tensed up again, he gulped loudly and his heart was beating anxiously fast at the name you just called him.

"The reason I'm latched onto this home is because the Joestars dwell here." You spoke honestly as you were slowly putting the pieces together.

"What?" He gasped at the sudden confession.

You were linked to his family line? But why? He was so confused and had so many questions. As if you had read his mind, you continued.

"The Zeppeli bloodline has been linked to the Joestars for centuries." You paused and looked down again, trying to find the right words.

Josuke was staring at you, speechless as he listened to your story. He had always found you so mysterious and intriguing, but now that he was starting to know the truth, he felt like it was something that should have been left unknown.

He felt like he was digging into something he shouldn't, that the outcome would leave one of you heartbroken.

But somewhat this was fate. Whatever would happen was bound to happen. You clenched your fists over your lap before continuing.

"Our sole purpose.... is to die for you." You breathed, not quite daring to look at him in the eye just yet.

His whole body shook and his mouth fell agape. He tried to form words, but he was so overwhelmed by all the informations, he couldn't believe what he was hearing from you.

How come he didn't know something like that? Did Jotaro know? Did Joseph know? He had so many questions, he didn't know where to start.

"Th-that means..." He started, his voice stuck in his throat. "That... You... You-"

"I died for my Joestar." You continued for him, a melancholic smile reaching your lips and eyes.

"W-who was it...?" He faintly managed to utter, barely over a whisper, not wanting the question to leave his mouth, and terrified of the answer.

Untangible tears prickled in your eyes and you finally looked up at him.

"I'm so happy that you are alive, Josuke." Your voice cracked into a sob as heavy tears spilled down your face.

Josuke felt his throat tighten painfully, he couldn't breathe. "No..." He denied, not wanting to accept what he was understanding. "No way... No...no...no..."

You nodded slowly, confirming his doubts and placed your cold hands upon his cheeks.

You admired the depth of his blue eyes in completely fondness. He was so beautiful, and he looked healthy. You were glad, so glad.

"You became such a wonderful person. If I had a second chance, I would not hesitate to give my life for you again."

"Y/N DON'T SAY THAT!!!" He snapped completely as he processed the revelation, his voice cracking. "THERE'S NO FUCKING WAY, YOU'RE JOKING!! TELL ME YOU'RE LYING TO ME!!!"

You leaned in and pressed your forehead against his and the boy couldn't contain his tears anymore as he sobbed heavily.

You had died for him. You sacrificed yourself so he could live, and he didn't even have the chance to know you, to cherish you.

He would have never known what you did for him if it wasn't for your sudden paranormal appearance in his house, and now he couldn't even return the favor.

With these thoughts in mind, he cried harder, like a lost little boy, but he didn't care anymore. You ran your thumbs over his tears in a desperate and vain attempt to wipe them.

"Don't cry Josuke." You reassured softly, "It makes me happy that you lived to be such a lovely and caring man."

"B-but... Y/N... I didn't even know you! I couldn't even save you! Now I can't even thank you!" He cried heavily, speaking his pain through his loud sobs.

You shook your head. "You being happy and in good health is enough for me. It means that my death had meaning."

"O-of course! I won't waste your sacrifice, trust me! I will live my life to the fullest and cherish every single day! I will make your death meaningful and worth it."

You leaned back just a slight bit to look into his soaking eyes. The gaze you wore was so full of love, his heart ached like needles pierced through it.

"You are priceless, Josuke. Thank you for being alive."

"Thank you for saving my life, Y/N." He finished awfully calm, dejected at his own helplessness.

You hugged him close to you and craddled him in an inexistant hold, but he still felt your warmth, somehow. He put his hands around your back, craving the feel of your body, something that he will never have.

After staying still, enjoying each other's presence one last time, you asked him permission with an airy voice that soothed him.

"Josuke, may I pass on...?"

"... You may."

And just like that, you faded away, towards the other side. Where you would finally meet with your ancestors, where all the Joestars and the Zeppelis were bound to meet again. Where he would hopefully join you one day.

Left alone in the silence of his room, he had finally accepted your fate and his.

Dressed in a black suit, Josuke walked the streets of Morioh, one hand holding a bouquet of flowers, and the other tucked in his pocket.

He couldn't care less of the fawns and whispers of the girls passing by him, complimenting how handsome he looked and how lucky the girl they assumed he was seeing must be.

He directed himself towards his dreaded destination. Contrary to what you see in fictions, the cemetary didn't hold a morose or scary ambiance at all.

It was comfortably silent. The air felt fresher here than in any other place in town. The only sound heard was his dress shoes hitting the gravel.

He walked slowly by the isles, eyes scanning the names and dates on the tombstones. Memorial of loved ones. Place of rest. It was relaxing.

After walking and searching for 10 more minutes, his eyes finally found the name he was looking for. It took all his self control to not run towards it.

'Here lies Y/N Zeppeli'

He sighed and sat down in front of the name. What-if scenarios kept on running through his mind. What if he had met you when you were alive? What if he had saved you?

"At the end of the day... You didn't even tell me how you died. How will I avenge you if I don't know who killed you?" He uttered as he gently laid the flowers on the grave.

A gust of icy cold wind suddenly washed over him, carressing his face. Strange, it was supposed to be a fairly warm day and the wind hasn't been blowing all day. He scoffed, which soon turned into a chuckle.

"Oh I see how it is. It's a sign, isn't it?" He paused and looked up at the clear yellow sky. "It's probably better if I don't know..." He whispered quietly to himself.

He felt like he needed a break from his bizarre adventure, and now was just the perfect moment.

He looked intently at your tombstone and how your name was neatly engraved in the mineral until he noticed a little crack on the upper side.

He gasped and scrambled to his knees to get a closer look at it. What the hell? Who dared damage your last home?

He glided his fingers along the lines of the crack and clicked his tongue. He then leaned in, and gently pressed his lips on it, using Crazy Diamond to fix it back.

He smiled at his handiwork, the stone looking brand new again. You deserved at least that.

"That's the least I could do for you."

Bonus:

One day as you were hanging out with Josuke, you looked around his room curiously. He then laid back lazily on his bed and looked up at you as you stopped to inspect one of his posters. His eyes suddenly widened, focusing on one particular thing.

"Hey! When you float over me like that I can see under your skirt!"

You gasped in disbelief. "What?! No way!"

You looked down at him and tensed up, flustered. He perked up in a sitting position to get a better view.

"OOOHOOH GHOST UNDIES!! NICE!!!" He roared in victory and you tried desperately to slap him, your hands flying right through him as he snickered.

"JOSUKE YOU BIG PERV!!! I'll give you sleep paralysis tonight!!" You threatened and he stopped, his expression shifting to panick.

"W-w-whoa hey you're not serious!! You can actually do that??"

Long as fuck. I didn't mean to make it heartbreaking, but shit happens.

Could crazy Diamond fix that fanfic?

[dissolutioneon-archived]

HEY GUYS I FINISHED CHAPTER 1

wattpad link in case you prefer reading there

Amongst the howling winds that spread through this mostly flat plain, two void beings scurried about. A small one that wielded a nail of some sort, and a taller one, who seemingly had no weapon on them, however they had strange markings on their mask. The small one kept looking at their map at regular intervals, before heading off on the run again. The taller one seemed to follow along with them, although rather wary.

The elder vessel spoke up, "Little one, I don't think you even know where we're going, and you know this place more than me." The smaller vessel shook their head in a "I know where we're going, and I'll prove it" sort of way. But, the taller one supposed that getting lost on the cliffs is better than listening to the fifty seven precepts of Zote, a bumbling, annoying old man, who assumed himself as a famous knight, over and over.

After a few minutes, the two came across a gap, in which they climbed- well, the younger one of the two were a lot less careful, and the older one had to keep a grasp on their sibling's hand for when the descent got a little bit tougher. And yet somehow, this was fun, the tall one mused, looking at the reaction of the younger vessel. Without much problem, the two had made their way to the bottom of this crevice.

And then the daunting realisation had set in. The two were already more lost than they were. It's what I get for signing up for this, but I suppose I can't back down now, the older one thought. Free will was never a thing they truly embraced until the years before the affliction struck. Those were the happiest years of their life, the ones without the constant fear eating at them knowing that one day, they too will become an infected husk to be struck down.

The small one tugged on the robes of their sibling, as a way of snapping their elder sibling out of the trance that they were stuck in, and made a gesture (with what little of an arm that they had) to a slightly cracked place in the wall. Would it lead to somewhere? Would it just be a small room where the two could catch a break for a while? Well, they didn't know.

"Hey, do you know how to get through there?" the older one questioned, in which the younger vessel nodded, with a tinge of excitement in their movement. Then, no more than a split second later, the two siblings were flinging themselves at the wall, striking at it with something, trying to break it down, until it finally did.

Inside was what looked like a long and tedious walk ahead, that would most likely take at least a few minutes to traverse, but the two didn't really mind that. All they really wanted was a short break before adventuring back out into Hallownest. They linked each other's hands once again, and began walking through this dark and gloomy tunnel. The little sibling had brandished the lamp, that was expertly hidden in their cloak when the tunnel got too dark to see in.

Even still, a feeling of dread hung around the air, even with a source of light to guide the two. And the fact that, even though they were most likely located inside a cave, there was a warmth rippling through this very passage, and the heat only gained more pressure the more the two delved inside. 'Why is there such heat located inside a cavern? When we were outside, the cold was biting at us a lot, and now it's so warm....'  the eldest thought to themselves.

The small one stopped their movements suddenly, and made a gesture with the stub that they had for an arm to another cracked wall, albeit this time, it appeared more heavily damaged, looking as if it could be destroyed like the wall that the two had entered from. The eldest sat down, quite exhausted. "Little one, is it alright if you can destroy this wall? I'm tired from the walk-" The elder one was cut off by the sound of the wall being struck down, most likely due to the nail of the smaller one.

The larger one got up, albeit, with a sigh, and peeked their head through the gap. What awaited them was a surprise, to be sure. It was further down, but they could faintly make out the corpse of a large bug. 'Must've been lost to the affliction,'  the older one assumed. 'Although, why does it not show the symptoms of being infected?' They made their way further down the small tunnel with their sibling, until the two reached the husk.

It seemed...weird, somehow. The elder sibling glanced down at the younger one, who was readying that 'Dream Nail', the one that Seer had mentioned. Then, the little sibling took a swing at it with the bright, glowing, weapon, releasing a bunch of bright red particles when it landed. 'Strange, that wasn't like the other ones that I had witnessed the little one land the hit upon...' they thought. Was that all that it did? Was it just a corpse, that somehow carried a bit of the essence that Seer had talked about? Hell if they knew.

The two decided to just turn back, and head to Dirtmouth for the time being. There wasn't really much point in being here any longer. However, when the siblings exited the room with the dead bug in it, they stopped. A singular, large torch lay stood in the center of the room. 'That wasn't here before.'  the elder sibling mused. 'Could it have appeared after the corpse was struck?' Despite the odd set of circumstances in which it appeared, the torch was pretty nice to look at. The aesthetic went well with the gloomy place that lies above the lost kingdom of Hallownest.

'But what would happen if it was lit? How would we light it?' they thought. 'Would it light up these caves, for easier access to things, such as treasure?' The older sibling let out a huff, and decided to ignore those thoughts for now. It wouldn't really do anything. The younger one, however...not so much. They always found a way to do something, and to rope someone else into it, much to the annoyance of the older sibling. As such, they began striking at the flint near the bottom of the torch with their nail, hoping it would do something. Their hopes were correct.

The torch lit up, with a ceromonious red flame, and the older one's mind immediately went 'Oh no.' The two couldn't quite hear it, but there were some muffled sounds of slamming. Did something happen? Did they accidentally summon unknown creatures here? "Oh gods, little one, what did you even do?!" the older sibling asked, rather distressed about the whole situation. The younger one shook their head, but the way they shook it was probably to convey the thought of "If I don't know what I'm doing, then you sure don't either. But you're coming with me, whether you like it or not."

The eldest one sighed. "C'mon, we should probably head back to Dirtmouth right about now. It's gonna be getting late soon." And the two did, albeit reluctantly. However, when they arrived near Dirtmouth, two tents were placed there. They also weren't here before. That ramped up the thoughts of "oh no" in the older one's brain by about a thousand. Why did they agree to go on this trip if it meant summoning people to a quiet and small town?! Then, the small one left their sibling's side, and went to go into the larger tent.

The older sibling ambled over to sit on the nearest bench, and began to worry even more. Placing their head in their hands, they began to think to themself. 'What do they want from us? Are they friendly? What if I'm just infected, and this is one of the symptoms?' Fortunately enough, those thoughts were cut off after a few by the steps of their younger sibling coming towards them, and hoisting themselves up to sit on the bench with the older one.

'If it meant they came out safe, then surely it would be safe to check the tent that the small one went into, right? ...Right?' They couldn't be sure, but they decided it wouldn't be any harm to check. So, they hopped off the bench and ambled into the main tent, albeit with a small bit of hesitation.

[coutelier]

Why They Cry

12 year old superhuman Tenley Tych is forced to confront old enemies and memories as a cold-war experiment tries to get into her head.

Genre: Science Fiction

Word Count: 5300

Warnings: Death, suicide. I don’t really write tear-jerkers but this one has a sad ending.

Wattpad.

Sun beams broke through slits in the blinds, the warmth tickling young Tenley’s nose. The girl didn’t want to wake but the beams persisted, her nostrils twitching and flaring as they filled with a homely aroma. Eventually there was no more space for the aroma to go and she bolted upright, throwing off her blanket.

Was it eggs? She didn’t know why that should seem strange. This was her house, her room. On the table below the opposite wall herds of dinosaurs drank by the painted river while others were embroiled in an eternal struggle with the predators. Raggedy Isea Little sat propped up next to the computer, overseeing everything with her one unpatched eye. Old dollhouse in the corner, books on their proper shelves, toys in their boxes – everything was in its place. But Tenley had a suspicion – a feeling – that it shouldn’t be. Squinting through the morning haze Tenley saw the same room, but decayed; smudged windows, peeling walls, the herd all scattered. And what she’d tried to dismiss as a stray thought, a remnant of a dream, kept repeating over and over:

‘Remember the rabbit…’

Tenley never had a rabbit. Never had any pets as mother wouldn’t allow them.  Mother was also a drunk who most times couldn’t or wouldn’t feed herself, so how could there be eggs if Tenley wasn’t preparing them? It felt wrong. The message was important, but as scrunched up as her face became she couldn’t put her finger on why this was wrong. Only thing for it was to investigate.

Skipping down the stairs dressed in her usual blue and black, it all seemed quite normal. Why should normal feel wrong? There were party balloons in various stages of deflation all around the living and dining rooms – surely, nothing could be more normal than party balloons? Yet, Tenley couldn’t remember ever having a party. Not in this place.

“Oh, there you are, sleepy-head!”

Tenley jumped at a voice that was familiar yet wasn’t expecting, a hodgepodge of emotions jostling inside her; fear, relief, guilt, confusion. “Mother?” She gasped. It was mother, but – the wrong one? There were two other faces she saw; one cold and strange, but the other – or was that a friend? Sister? Why couldn’t she remember?

“What’s wrong?” Phaedra flashed a smile, which Tenley found deeply unsettling for some reason – it just didn’t seem right on her mother’s face. “Something you want to talk about?” Phaedra went on, gliding around the dining table to place a plate holding eggs with strips of toast. “Come on – sit down. I’ve made you breakfast.”

Tenley was hungry, so sidled into a chair keeping her eyes fixed on the woman. This kept getting curiouser and curiouser. “You,” she peered suspiciously, “made breakfast? And the kitchen didn’t burn down?”

Phaedra snorted and chuckled, “now, even I couldn’t set fire to boiled eggs.”

Tenley’s lips curled in one corner, “If anyone could find a way, it’d be you.” It must have just been a weird dream she’d had – this couldn’t all be wrong. She swiftly sliced the top from the egg, dipped in her toast, then her eyes widened as a warm wave of flavor rode from her mouth to her chest. “This is perfect.”

“I’m glad,” mother smiled at her, “I was afraid you’d sleep through your birthday.”

Tenley squinted, “my birthday?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot, silly!” Mother moved to the back of Tenley’s chair then draped her arms over the child. “You’re thirteen. Happy birthday!”

“Thirteen?” Tenley repeated as she received a peck on the forehead. That didn’t seem right – not yet, she thought. But why would mother lie? There was no reason to.

“Finally a teenager,” mother sighed as she gently brushed Tenley’s bangs. “You’re so pretty. Soon all the boys will be after you. You’ll have to fight them off.”

“Fight?” Tenley was good at that, wasn’t she? There were flashes of battles; with men, women, tulip-headed hounds – she seemed to be winning in most of them. But it was so silly and unrealistic – that had to have been a dream. Tenley shook her head to focus on now. “Boys stink. I’m not going to have time for them when I’m training to be a paleontologist.”

“That will change,” Mother assured her, “you’ll soon find there’ll be many more things competing for your time.”

“I doubt any boy could compete with a T-Rex,” Tenley insisted. “I mean, it’s so big…”

Mother tapped Tenley’s forehead. “Enough of your facetiousness. Speaking of stinky boys though, your father sent you a card. It’s on the mantelpiece. Go ahead while I clean up.”

Father? Tenley had never – no, she just hadn’t heard from him in a long time. So long she couldn’t recall what he looked like. But there had to be a picture somewhere, yes? She hopped from the chair and bounced to the fireplace where there hadn’t been a real fire since long before Tenley was born. The several cards on the mantel were safe and she knew instantly which one was from him. The blue fairy, just like the one inside the music box he’d left her. Inside was some sappy poem:

‘The greatest gift I’ve ever received was you… the greatest gift I could ever give…’

“Yeah, yeah,” Tenley muttered, “where’s the cash, old man?” She read on:

‘You’re probably wondering where your money is. The greatest gift is your happiness, so try the orange envelope – but don’t spend it all on ice-cream.’

“No promises,” Tenley told him. The shop in town had just launched a dozen new flavors, so of course she was going to treat herself. The envelope stood out despite being tucked behind a photo frame but as Tenley reached for it something struck her – the photo. It was herself on a farm hugging a rabbit…

Remember the rabbit!

Mother never took her to a farm. She’d never had a single thing from her father – she didn’t even know his name. She’d told herself he’d left her a music box, but she didn’t know that was true – it was just a silly dream she had. That girl in the picture was happy, smiling, but Tenley’s reflection in the glass – eye-whites turned to black and the rage of a storm behind them. She remembered, “this isn’t my life…”

 “What are you talking about, dear?” Phaedra was clearing the table. “Of course it’s your life.”

It was the wrong mother – it was all wrong. The answer to Tenley’s next question would prove it: “Are you proud of me?”

“Of course I am,” Phaedra’s face twisted in utter bemusement, “you know I am. Always.”

A stone sunk to the pit of Tenley’s stomach. This wasn’t quite a normal dream but as she lifted her hand, sparks crackling between all her fingertips, she was certain it wasn’t real either.

“Mother,” Tenley lamented, “would never tell me these things.” She turned to face the woman, night filling her eyes and fury pulsating through every muscle in her body. “Did you really think,” she hissed, “that you could fool me by wearing her face?”

Phaedra’s face twisted again into fear – just further proof it wasn’t really her. “Please, child. You need to calm down…”

“No!” Lightning lashed from Tenley’s palm striking the woman in the chest. Phaedra fell up and away, the wall shattering like glass as she was thrown into it. The whole house shattered and fell away.

Tenley found herself adrift in a void. No walls, no people, no up or down; nothing except her. Then the voice which asked, “why do you resist?”

No left, right, front or back. The voice just was everywhere and everything there was here. Tenley asked it, “who are you?”

“I’d like to be a friend.”

“A friend?” Tenley harrumphed, “friends don’t lie, or pretend to be each other’s dead parents.” Except for Kaya that one time for a completely ill-judged practical joke. There were still gaps in Tenley’s memory – she couldn’t recall how she came to be in this not-a-place – but most of it had come back.

“You’re just not ready to see the real me.”

Right – nothing was real. Tenley had heard Sayuri talk about ‘lucid dreaming’ and journals and signs and a whole lot of fluff that probably wasn’t important. What did matter was that now Tenley knew it was a dream, of sorts, maybe she could control it. If she could picture a door, maybe it would lead to a way out.

“Whoever you are,” Tenley said as she closed her eyes, “I’m going to find you. And when I do, you will die a million deaths!” She growled angrily. “I am going to cut you, grind you up, then jump up and down on the pieces, then feed the pieces to a cat then wait for the cat to poop and set fire to the litter tray then launch the ashes into a blackhole so that they fall back in time and land on your lunch!” Finally she paused for breath, then added, “no-one keeps me in a cage!” She reached out, found the handle, and stepped through.

Then she was in the park at the center of Irongate. The sun was warm, skies clear and blue, men and women with their children walked side by side, laughing and smiling, while someone was selling hotdogs from a car. It all seemed like a very pleasant, ordinary day. But Tenley sniffed and it wasn’t hotdogs. Irongate wasn’t a seaside town, so why was she smelling salt? Was that where she really was? The ocean? But she still didn’t remember how she got there.

A shrill whistle pierced her ears, Tenley’s hands covering them as she winced. Ever since she’d been changed her hearing was far more sensitive; sudden noises like that still bothered her, but it was only passing. In the park some kids were playing soccer, and the sound had come from the referee. Her usual response to any sort of pain was attack, but she saw this was just a game with no harm meant.

“Why are you so angry?” The voice came back. There were many faces around, but none of them belonged to it. Just like in the void, the voice just spoke and Tenley heard. “I only tried to give you what you wanted.”

Tenley bit her lip. She couldn’t deny she had wanted that life, once, but “it wasn’t real.”

“But how do you know what is real? It could be as real as you want it to be, if you would just stop-”

“Uh-uh!” Tenley stomped, holding up a finger to shush it, “you should have got Jenn or Kaya if you wanted to talk all that Star Trek nonsense. I don’t care. Besides – I already know you’re full of it.”

“What do you mean?” It asked. Tenley had decided the voice was feminine even though there was no body to put it to. It just seemed right somehow – if only she could remember. Maybe it was just that it had been her mother first.

“If your little dream-world were as good as real life,” Tenley shrugged, certain at least of this, “you wouldn’t be trying to trick me into staying here. I think you want me to stay because I’m the only thing here that actually exists.”

The voice hesitated, Tenley reasoning therefore that she’d struck a nerve – if she or it or they had nerves. They definitely hadn’t in one sense or they’d show themselves. “I have never encountered anything like you. You are hard to read. Your mind has so many defenses – it’s fascinating.”

“I’m just a kid.”

“No. Look,” the whistle screeched again, halting the soccer game. One of the bigger boys had tackled a skinny one, launching him head over heels through the air. Now the victim sat rocking himself on the grass, knee bent close to his quivering lips as tears streamed freely down his cheeks. The offender circled around with a smug grin – it must have been deliberate. “Most kids cry when they hurt. But you never have.”

Every muscle in Tenley tensed as she watched the scene, fighting a powerful instinct to leap over there to shove the football and that annoying whistle up the bully’s backside. A part of her was annoyed that the other players weren’t already doing that. But finally another part reminded her that none of this real. It didn’t matter. She exhaled and turned away.

To her disembodied companion she explained, “they cry because they think someone will come to help them. But what if no-one comes? Better learn to just get up and help yourself.”

“Sure, you’re tough,” the voice said mockingly, “but I’m in your head. You never stop hurting. Except when…”

A car exploded. One second it was parked, then a thuddish bang and it erupted in flames, setting off every alarm in the vicinity as a thick cloud rolled away from the ex-vehicle.

“Eek!” Something squeaked from somewhere within the smog. “I-I’m so sorry! I only meant to knock down a coconut. My calculations may have been off by just a smidge…”

“What the hell?” Tenley coughed and fanned. The smog cleared just enough to see a young blonde woman behind a tripod on which was some sort of death-laser. A short distance away were some posts, all with untouched coconuts resting on them.

“Ten!” The blonde gasped. She leapt from behind the tripod, pulling off and throwing away a pair of goggles as she bounded to the girl. “Are you okay?” She took hold of Tenley’s arms, fastidiously checking her for any injury.

“I’m fine,” Tenley was uncertain she enjoyed being made a fuss of like this.

“Thank goodness!” The blonde woman put her hand around and nudged Tenley’s head to rest on her chest.

Tenley could feel her heart, her warmth. She supposed it wasn’t too bad. It would have been nice to stay like this a while longer, but the voice had made a mistake by probing her mind; it had shown her another reason she had to get out. Someone had to take care of Jennifer, the real Jennifer – she was totally hopeless. “I have to go,” Tenley said. Jennifer looked confused but couldn’t stop her.

There had to be a way out. A way to wake up. Unfortunately, it probably wouldn’t be as simple as finding a door with ‘exit’ on it. It would be more irritatingly symbolic. The lighthouse? Those were meant to guide people, or to warn them of danger. No – didn’t feel right for that to be a way out of this place. What about something that was an actual portal between worlds?

In the real world, Tenley possessed over a hundred times the strength of a normal person. In the dream world it really wasn’t much different; a little spring in her step was all it took to fly into the air, traversing rooftops then the forest canopy in leaps and bounds. In little time she reached the circle – a large fairy circle, the grass all dead inside a ring of bioluminescent fungus. At night it was quite was a sight, and beyond it a world of perpetual twilight. That was in the real world  – Tenley was hoping for something very different; that stepping through would end the dream. Just step in, activate it, and that would be that.

Of course, the voice wasn’t just going to let her go. She wondered what obstacle it would create to stop her, then realized it was kind of obvious; she could feel them long before she heard their whispers surrounding her. Could only see them in the corners of her eyes, but as Tenley’s toes touched the ground she knew one was very close. “Oh,” she sighed, “crap…”

Tenley raised her arms to block an incoming blow, but the force still threw her clear over the circle. A normal person would have broken against the unyielding trunk of a tree, but Tenley survived. Real or not though, the pain shot up her arm, which had taken most of the collision, leaving her writhing and gasping on the floor. She ground her teeth, wincing and squinting through it to see a tall woman in a long red dress and cape, bright skin pulsing in a rainbow of colors.

“Ooh,” the woman with a wolfish grin held up her arms as if seeing her hands for the first time, “I like this form! Such grace! Such beauty! Such raw, unbridled, power!” Raising her hands higher, a ball of energy crackled and cackled between them. Tenley thought it best to move despite the pain, rolling aside just in time to avoid the lightning that struck the tree behind her, cinders and ashes flying as it creaked and fell.

Titania – only not Titania. No – this was the voice. It had just taken the form of the former Queen to prevent Tenley leaving, which at least meant she was probably right about the circle being the way out. Unfortunately, this was one enemy Tenley couldn’t punch into submission – Titania had all the same strengths as her, and more.

First things first – she had to fix her arm. Tenley stumbled back into another tree and swung herself against it, hoping to just knock all her joints back into place. It worked, but the pain was eye-watering, bringing her to her knees. The way through such pain was to stay focused on a single thing – and very conveniently there was a murderous Queen bearing down on her.

“I gave you all of my gifts,” the face of Titania sneered, “so much power – and you betrayed me!”

Tenley couldn’t avoid the next lightning strike, so instead just took it, absorbing the energy through her own hand. Titania kept unleashing power, a chain of electricity singeing the very air between them. Tenley knew she wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long – as a battery, Titania was just, well, bigger.

“You know what I think your problem is?” Titania jeered as she loomed more and more over Tenley, “You’re so used to having a miserable existence that you can’t just accept being happy.”

Tenley groaned and pushed back, but no matter how much she strained and gritted her teeth, this time she just wasn’t strong enough. She was forced further and further back, being burrowed into the ground like a –

Remember the rabbit.

Of course. Why did she keep forgetting none of this was real? Or rather, she thought too much about how things should work. This was a dream; all she had to do was close her eyes, reach out, and take the glaive.

One swish and Titania staggered back, hands grasping at her own throat to stem the flow of liquid there. The Queen’s black eyes tried to track Tenley as she pole-vaulted above her, landing low then thrusting upward with the pointy end of her stick, snarling, pushing, and pinning the Queen against the bark through her heart.

“You and I both have the same problem,” Tenley panted as the Queen twitched helplessly. “But at least I don’t have to put up with you in my head anymore!” She twisted one time for good measure. This wouldn’t have killed the real Titania, but she only needed to be slowed down. Just long enough for Tenley to reach the center of the circle, place her palm on the ground so the mycelium below could feel her command, then look back one final time. “See you on the other side,” she winked.

And she was gone.

***

Tenley awoke with a sharp intake of breath, then several more. That hadn’t been a normal sleep – more like being submerged. She was, as she’d reasoned, near the ocean. She could hear the waves echoing along a dark tunnel, could smell the salt-air. And something else. Something rotten.

She propped herself up, adjusting her eyes to the surroundings. A passage with cold, wet, rocky walls. She saw more and her hand covered her mouth and nose as she gulped, fighting the instinct to vomit. Next to her was a tiny, rotting corpse – the rabbit. It was missing patches of fur where the bare skin looked like it had been burnt, but… silly, really – It wasn’t the first time she had seen a dead thing. Although, she didn’t usually sleep next to them. Didn’t stay around them very long at all. Even for an ex-human she doubted that was healthy.

Whatever had invaded her mind must have also killed the poor bunny, although why anyone would kill a bunny was beyond her. She had to push on and find it before it killed more but be aware that it definitely knew she was coming. Good – bunny murderers deserved to sweat a little.

There was a bag next to her as well which she knew was important, but it was only as she made her way deeper into the tunnel that it all started coming back.

A few days ago, as far as she remembered, the ‘dibbles’ as Kaya called them came to the lighthouse. Jennifer was grumpy and honestly a little grouchy about it – she always was when people came by unannounced, especially if it caused the number of people around to cross over the threshold of what she was comfortable with, which seemed to be about four.

They said some kind of creature had escaped from a lab, as creatures were wont to do. Sergeant Delainy said it was a ‘relic of a cold war’, or something like that. It was still a bit hazy, but after a bit of wrangling Jennifer reluctantly agreed that Tenley was one of the few other creatures that could safely get close to this thing. Jenn was encouraging Tenley to more nice things for people and stopping something dangerous seemed a nice thing to do so she’d tracked it here.

The splashing of the waves grew louder. There were more corpses, all of small animals, some of them surrounded by rotten vegetables and what seemed like makeshift grass bedding that a child might have made. Curious, but any answers were still ahead. The tunnel opened into an alcove from which could be seen the dark blue sea, pale moonlight causing all the waves and rocks to glisten. The creature was waiting, but so was Tenley – it waited for her to step inside then clamp her forearm, but Tenley straightened and twisted her palm, reversing the grip, then thrust her other hand into the creature’s chest sending it rolling away from her into a corner.

“Bunny murderer!” Tenley cried, ready to leap on and finish it with righteous fury. But then, the creature just looked up, quivered, and burst into tears.

“Please!” It cowered, arms over its head in a pitiful attempt to protect itself. But ‘it’ was really just a woman. Very old. Well, over thirty anyway which to Tenley was very old. It was hard to say the age exactly as Tenley wasn’t used to seeing women that had bulbous bald heads with thick, black veins pulsing on them. And the way she sobbed in the corner, terrified of being hit again – somehow, she seemed more like a child.

Tenley lowered her fists, suddenly unsure of what to do. It was much easier when the things she was up against were trying to kill her – then the decision to defend herself or her friends was already made. But this – this was suddenly very awkward.

“Please,” the woman, dressed only in a once-white medical gown, sobbed. She’d been on the run and hiding for a week at least. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, or the rabbits, I swear!”

Tenley crouched, regarding the creature curiously until with a resigned sigh she knew she was going to need something other than she or it or the voice if they were going to talk. “Do you have a name?”

The woman wiped her face as she inched forward on her shins. “In – in the laboratory, they called me Vala.” It seemed like talking didn’t come quite naturally to her as she mouthed a few times first as if to make sure sound was coming out before embarking on a sentence.

“Vala – what happened to the rabbits?”

“I-I,” Vala swallowed, holding out her hands as if holding something in them, “I tried to take care of them, I really did! But, t-they just kept getting sicker, and…” she burst into tears again. “I’m sorry! I tried! I’m sorry! I don’t know why they all got so sick.”

The bag – Tenley remembered there was something in the bag she was supposed to use. It was a cylinder, almost like a microphone, attached by a cable to a yellow box. It started clicking as soon as Tenley turned it on, louder and faster as she pointed the tube toward Vala, the clicking becoming an almost continuous tone.

“That’s not a good sound, is it?” Vala asked.

“I don’t think so, no.”

“I’m the reason everything is dying, aren’t I?”

Tenley didn’t know if Vala was still trying to get into her mind – she would probably feel it if that were the case. Likely she was just reading her expression, but to remove all doubt, she nodded.

“I tried to take care of them, but I… I was only making them worse,” Vala sniffed and sagged back into her corner. “But then you came and you didn’t get sick, so I… I had to make you stay. I just… I just wanted…”

“A friend?” Tenley remembered.

“It was wrong of me. I’m sorry. I truly am,” Vala solemnly lowered her face. “I’ve only ever known the laboratory. The doctors said it was dangerous for me to leave, but never told me why. I just wanted…” she swallowed again then turned to Tenley. “ Do you know why I was made like this?”

“Not exactly,” Tenley admitted, “I just know that, a long time ago, there was a war. Well, not really a war –people thought the world was going to end with nuclear bombs. So then someone had the idea to design new people to live in the wasteland after – they made you. But then I guess the real war never happened, and…” Tenley trailed off. She felt she wasn’t explaining it very well at all. “Sorry. I don’t really get history and politics. People do a lot of dumb stuff – I guess it must have made sense to someone at the time.”

“So the war never happened, and I was forgotten,” Vala turned to look glassy-eyed over the ocean. “Left to grow up in a lab. Doctors would come in, sometimes, to stick needles in me and take my blood. They always wore bulky suits and devices meant to stop me getting in their heads. But, I caught glimpses of what the world was like outside. I just… I wanted to see it for real. Wanted to be a real person, but, that’s not possible is it?”

“I’m not human anymore,” Tenley sadly sighed, “that’s why I don’t get sick. But anything else you go near; animals, people – they just can’t live around you.”

“So they sent you to take me back?” Vala shook her head and toughened her jaw like she was getting ready to fight, although it was a fight she couldn’t win. Yet her eyes shone with renewed determination and resolve. “I won’t go back! I can’t live in that cage anymore!”

Tenley had asked the dibble – Sergeant Delainy – what she should do if Vala refused to return. His face had crumpled as he passed her a vial. ‘Give her this. You know what it is, don’t you? She won’t feel anything.’

Tenley could feel the vial stashed safely in her coat. It was cleaner than other deaths, but could Tenley really get Vala to swallow it? Did she want to? Why couldn’t Vala have just been a monster? She had to go and make it all complicated.

“Look,” Tenley let go of the vial and stood, “I have friends; Jennifer and Doctor Sarkis. Real nerdy science types. Sayuri would try to heal you with crystals or something – she’s useless. But the others, between them, they have to be able to think of a way to cure or make it safe for you to be around people.”

Vala narrowed her eyes cautiously. “You really think they could help me?”

“Of course! They have to. They’re good people,” not completely understanding the mechanics of the situation, Tenley couldn’t assure them both any better than that.

“But then, why did they just send you to deal with me?”

“They just – they thought you were a monster,” that was it, Tenley told herself. “Once I explain the situation we’ll find a way to help you. Although, in the meantime, we do still have to get you someplace where you can’t make anything else sick.”

Vala narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the child, then with a weary smile said “Of course. Any ideas?”

“I’m thinking,” Tenley paced as she pondered the problem.

Vala turned to look out over the seafoam. “Well, there’s no rush, is there? We can stay here the night.”

Tenley shrugged, “I guess.”

“Could you tell me more about your friends?”

Tenley paused her pacing, regarding Vala suspiciously. “You promise won’t try to trap me in some weird virtual reality again?”

“No,” Vala chuckled, “you’re the strongest girl in the universe. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Well – all right, then.”

Over the next few hours, Tenley regaled Vala with the tales of her adventures, bouncing and leaping as she acted out some of the scenes. She grimly recalled hunting her mother’s killers, but jumped and pirouetted all around the cave as she recalled a battle with another changeling called Ella. With a whoosh and a swoosh she recounted forays into other worlds, fighting a man who was half-machine, punching a velociraptor, and her friends being surprised by twists and turns that any child would have seen coming, and did.

“You have quite a life,” Vala whispered breathlessly at the end.

“I guess,” Tenley shrugged and sat next to her. “It’s been a lot more fun since I met Jennifer.”

“You love her?”

Tenley choked. No, that just – that wasn’t a word that she used. Ever. “I – I have to take care of her. It’s not the same.”

“It sounds the same- “

“It’s not,” Tenley insisted. “It’s just, she’s clever, but also really dumb. She couldn’t fight her way out of a paper bag but goes and picks them anyway. So someone has to protect her.”

“I was in your head,” Vala reminded her. “You love her. You loved your mother, too, even though she never loved you back. Or never showed it. So much love. So much pain. Is that what real life is?”

Tenley narrowed her eyes warningly. “What did I say?”

Vala sighed, “no Star Trek nonsense.” After a long silence, she said, “I just want you to know – you’re good people as well, Tenley Tych.”

Tenley fell asleep shortly after that. If she had any more dreams she didn’t remember them once she woke, again by the sun tickling her nose but this time it was real. But it was strangely quiet. She could hear the wind and the waves and the seagulls, but something was missing. Then it hit her – since she’d changed, her hearing was far more sensitive. She’d quickly adapted to filter most of the sound when it wasn’t important, but she knew – hers was the only heart still beating in here. Vala was lying a short distance away gazing out over the waves, eyes wide open but completely still.

With trepidation Tenley crawled over to her, but she already knew – the vial was gone from her pocket and despite all her power, all her hopeful words, there was nothing that could be done by her or anyone.

Breaths caught in Tenley’s throat as her hands couldn’t keep up with the flow of tears.