#no it's gay this is gay the Gay is coming from inside the rotting haunted house

[marzipanandminutiae]

I remember when I first saw the movie (in theatres) and thought "ahhh, in the past the Transgressive Romance would have been gay, but that's not considered bad anymore so they made it incest instead! so clever!"

turns out I was underestimating both the gay subtext levels of Crimson Peak and the incest levels of classic gothic fiction

I spend so much time thinking about various combinations of how Edith and Lucille can do Gay Things

And I think I am not only correct but also sexy for this

[gallavictorious]

Gallavich Week Day 2: Fantasy AU

Summary: Prince Ian is offered up as a sacrifice to appease one of the dragons that haunt his father’s kingdom. Rather than being burned alive or eaten he is inexplicably left to wander the dragon’s lair in peace, as long as he never tries to leave and never enters the mysterious tower chamber. Then he meets fellow prisoner Mikhailo and starts to wonder if maybe this whole sacrificial gig isn’t such a bad deal after all.

Or, Ian Gallagher tells a bedtime story, and Mickey Milkovich is himself.

Fair Warning 1: There’s some Mickey-typical homophobic language in this one.

Fair Warning 2: I wrote all ridiculous 5K of this today (work? what work?) and it’s a little bit of a curious mess. Like, the sort of curious mess you get if you take Lip’s Hall of Shame, @gardenerian’s lovely bedtime stories, the novel “Dealing with Dragons” by Patricia Wrede, the Swedish picture book “Bröllop i Marsipanien” by Lena Karlin, the Greek myth of Andromeda, a bunch of folk tales about shapeshifting lovers, and the questionable old practice of MSTing fics, and then you stuff them all into a Kee and shake her around for a bit and then you pour it out into the shape of a 12 hour long and highly inadvisable speedwriting session.

Read it at your own risk, below or on AO3.

Very Important Note: I make fun of fic writing in this fic. Please note that I’m only making fun of myself and general tropes; any and all allusions to actual fic in the fandom is entirely coincidental.

---

Lest They Say, Here Be Dragons

Hush now, child; settle down. Close your eyes – yes, just like that – and listen:

Once upon a time and elsewhere, there was a kingdom. The people there were no happier than people anywhere else, and poorer than most, but they made do and lived and danced and grieved and died as people have always done.

Jesus, that’s gay.

That is, until the dragons came.

Okay, now you’re talking.

Like a plague they swept the land, winged beasts with fire for breath and ice in their hearts. Every night the fields burned, and the villages burned, and the cattle burned and was eaten. Many a brave people took up arms and went to confront the monsters, and then they burned too.

Heart-broken and terrified, the people went to the king to plead for aid. “Send an emissary to the dragons,” they said. “Reason with them and strike a bargain, or else we are sure to perish.”

What a bunch of pussies. What they should do is, they should use a bunch a cow shit to build a bomb and nuke the hell out of those dragons. Problem fucking solved.

Now, this king was a scoundrel and a drunk and the queen had an unfortunate habit of turning herself into a bird and flying off to more interesting lands whenever the mood took her. They had six children but rarely paid them any mind and fair Princess Fiona, eldest of the six, was left to raise her younger siblings as best she could. False King Francis would have been perfectly content to turn his desperate subjects away if it weren’t for the fact the dragons unchecked rampage threatened the production of the spirits the king so enjoyed. So, donning a mask of compassionate concern, for he was a skilled liar, he promised the people that he would help them. But as soon as they had left, comforted, he turned the task over to his children.

The second oldest child, foxy Prince Philip—

Foxy Prince Philip?

Yeah, you know. Foxy. Like clever.

Why not just say clever then?

‘Cause it’s not alliterative.

Alliter—

Starts with the same sound. Foxy – Philip. Fair – Fiona.

Oh, I get it. Like, Ian – idiot. Ow!

Foxy Prince Philip was known far and wide for being the cleverest in all the land, and by using all his cunning he managed to strike a deal with the leader of the dragons.

“By using all his cunning.” Skimming over the details a bit there, huh?

You really want me to turn this into a Prince Philip story? Hear me go on and on about what a genius he is?

…

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

It was agreed that the dragons would spread out over the kingdom, each one building their own place to live near a village, and that the villagers would bring them food and drink. In turn, the dragons would refrain from casual pyromancy and protect the villagers from harm.

Protection racket, huh. Classic. Starting to like these dragons, man.

In addition, the cruel leader of the dragons demanded that each dragon be offered a child of the land in sacrifice. No matter how Prince Philip bargained he could not change the dragon’s cold heart on this—

Guess he wasn’t so clever after all.

—and so, with heavy hearts and much lamenting, each village drew lots to determine which poor child would be sent as an offering to their new resident dragon. However, in the village nearest to the castle the people grew angry when the beloved blacksmith’s only child, a small girl of just four, was selected, and they went to the king and they said:

“It isn’t fair that some people are asked to give up their only child to appease the dragons while you, who have six children, are exempt from the lottery.”

King Francis, fearing an uprising as much as he feared the dragons (since each was as likely as the other to leave him without a drink), quickly nodded.

“That’s true,” he said. “And fairness must ever be the true monarchs first and most important concern. Though it breaks my heart, I can’t in good conscience watch my people sacrifice their own children without offering up my own. You may take Prince Ian and give him to the dragon.”

At this, the other princes and princesses raised their voices in furious protest, for they loved their brother even if their father did not. But industrious Prince Ian—

Industrious? That really the best you can come up with?

—stepped forward and declared that he’d be happy to give up his life, so that the child of the blacksmith might be spared. And so, as the sunt set, he was taken away to the lair of the dragon that had made its home near the castle.

So let me get this straight… The king is happy to toss Prince Ian to the wolves ‘cause he hates him, and his siblings are all sad and shit but they still let him go off to get fucking eaten by dragons?

Yes.

Uh-huh.

What?

…

Oh, fuck you. It’s just a story.

Totally.

Stepping into the lair, with heart a-hammering but on stubbornly steady legs, Prince Ian set eyes upon the beast that was to be his destiny. He was momentarily relieved to see it was not the terrible leader of the dragons, as he had feared, but a smaller monster he did not recognize. Black was its hide, its eyes a cold sparkling blue—

Gallagher, I swear to god, if you turn me into some lame ass henchman dragon—

Keep interrupting, asshole, and it’ll be a pink fucking unicorn. And hang on, you’ll show up in a little bit.

Setting his jaw, Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death—

‘Course he did, the stupid motherfucker. Hey, if Prince Philip was so fucking smart, and if he gave a shit about his brother, shouldn’t he have given him, I dunno, a knife or something?

Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death, because unlike some other people he was not a selfish prick and he actually cared about the people of the kingdom, but much to his surprise the dragon did not burn him. Instead, it just stared at him for a good long while, until suddenly it declared:

“You must never leave the lair, and you must never set foot inside the tower chamber. Abide by these rules and you may live. Break these rules and I’ll rip your heart out and eat it while you watch, and then I’ll burn the castle down with your beloved siblings inside.”   

You tell him, dragon.

With that the dragon took flight and disappeared, leaving Prince Ian to stand alone in the great hall of the lair, confused but alive. The young prince remained where he was for a few minutes, thinking that the dragon might come back, but when it did not he set out to explore his new home. It was big, with endless rooms and nooks and crannies, but it was badly kept, with strange bits and pieces cluttering up the hallways and chambers. Prince Ian found some old blankets and he used those to set up a pallet in one of the nicer rooms, one that had a view over a small, overgrown garden. And then, because it was very late and he was not dead, he went to sleep.

The next day he continued his explorations and managed to find the kitchen. It was full with the meat that the villagers brought the dragon once a month, and remembering that the beast had only forbidden him from leaving the lair and going into the tower chamber, Prince Ian helped himself to a piece of pork that he cooked over a small fire.

Hang on, was there a fridge in the kitchen?

No. This was the olden days.

But the villagers came once a month with the meat? How did the dragon keep from rotting?

That’s not really—

Was it dried? Like a Slim Jim?

… sure. It was dried.

As he was eating, Prince Ian heard a sudden scraping noise behind him.

The hell did he cook it over a fire for then, if it was dried?

He looked up and spied another young man standing in the doorway.

I’m just saying, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, man. Wait, is this me?

Prince Ian frowned. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you a prisoner of the dragon too?”

The boy shrugged. “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I do some work around here. Clean up and shit, in exchange for not getting eaten. Name’s Mikhailo.”

About fucking time. Only, how is it fair that you get to be prince and I’m a fucking cleaner?

Prince Ian tactfully did not mention how the lair was impressively dirty for a place with a fulltime cleaner but invited Mikhailo to share his meal. As they ate, Prince Ian studied his new acquaintance. He was the same age as but shorter than the prince, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.

Hair as black as— The hell was that?

Nothing.

Yeah, okay, then why are you smiling? Eh, fuck you. Prince Ian’s fucking thirsty for Mikhailo, I get it.

Though his manner was somewhat brusque and uncouth, Prince Ian could not help but feel himself drawn to Mikhailo. The boy was funny and easy to talk to, even if he seemed reluctant to say too much about himself or where he came from. Prince Ian tried asking him about the dragon, but despite apparently having lived there ever since the dragon moved in, Mikhailo couldn’t tell him much.

“Hardly ever even see it, man. At dusk and dawn mostly, so I guess it spends the night flying around with the other dragons, terrorizing the peasants or whatever. During the day it holes up in the tower chamber. Guess dragons must sleep too, huh? Don’t fucking go up there,” he added sternly. “It ain’t fucking kidding about killing you if you do.”

Having found a friend, Prince Ian found that life at the dragon’s lair wasn’t all that bad. He missed his siblings and being outdoors and practicing with the soldiers at the castle, and he resented the loss of his freedom, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet, and enjoyed spending time with Mikhailo. However, one thing he soon grew very tired of was eating nothing but meat. The dragon didn’t seem to require anything else, for it was the only thing the villagers ever delivered, and Mikhailo – whose tasks included receiving the monthly tribute – just gave Prince Ian a weird look when Ian suggested he ask the people to bring some vegetables next month.

“That ain’t the deal they’ve got with the dragon,” he told Ian. “Ain’t nobody gonna listen to me if I go trying to change it.”

Yeah, real Prince Charming there, wanting Mikhailo to risk his life so Ian can stuff his face with fucking cucumber.

Undeterred by Mikhailo’s lack of enthusiasm and courage—

Fuck you.

—Prince Ian decided to take it up with the dragon himself. In the weeks since he arrived at the lair, he hadn’t met the creature again, not even once; he’d just heard the powerful swoosh of its wings when it came and went at dusk and dawn. Now he went up the stairs to the tower chamber and there he waited until night had fallen and he noted the scraping of claws against stone inside the room. Then he knocked at the door.

There was a long silence. Then the door slammed open with enough force to nearly undo it from its hinges.

“What are you doing here?!” the dragon roared, terrible in its fury. “I’ve told you to never come here!”

“You’ve told me to never set foot inside the room,” Ian reasoned, fighting to keep his voice calm. “And I’m not. I just wanted to ask if I may have the use of the small garden just outside the lair. I miss being outdoors and I could grow vegetables for Mikhailo and me.”

Jesus Christ, man, again with gardening? Thought you were over it.

“You may never leave the lair,” the dragon, a garden-hating meanie, snarled, and then he closed the door in Prince Ian’s face.

As he fucking should.

“Probably worried one of the villagers will spot you and, I dunno, mount a rescue,” Mikhailo said shortly the next morning when Prince Ian told him of his failed attempt. “Anyway, you’re a fucking idiot for going up there like that. You get it won’t hesitate to kill you, right?”

“Right,” Ian agreed. “But,” he added with a frown, “why hasn’t it yet?”

“You fucking complaining?” Mikhailo snapped, and then he stalked away, and Ian didn’t see him again for three days.

Listen, you get that I get that Mikhailo is the dragon, right? You’re not fooling anyone, Gallagher.

Then, one day, fed up with the dragon being a really annoying prick, Prince Ian grabbed a huge sword he conveniently found lying around in a cupboard, because the lair was a fucking pigsty, suitable for a pig like the dragon, and he went up the stairs and kicked in the door and he cut the dragon’s throat while it slept, and then he went off and found himself a nice prince to marry.

…

…

That’s not how the story ends.

…

Hey, where are you going? Come back- Jesus, I’m sorry, okay? Gallagher, I’m sorry. Just come back here. Tell me what really happened.

Prince Ian woke with a start on his pallet in the lair. He’d had the most vivid dream about killing the dragon—

A dream? That’s the lamest fucking— Ah, fuck. Sorry.

—but for some reason it hadn’t felt as satisfying as he had thought it would. For all that Prince Ian often fantasized about strangling the beast, it seemed he didn’t actually wish to see it dead. With that disconcerting realization in mind, Prince Ian went to break his fast, resigned to doing so on meat and yet more meat. But in the kitchen he found Mikhailo, and on the table in front of him was a pile of cabbage and carrots and onions. 

“Guess the dragon must have talked to the villagers after all,” Mikhailo muttered, refusing to look at the prince. “And, uh, there was this thing I wanted to show you.”

Without waiting for a response, he spun around on his heel and walked out the door. Curious, Prince Ian followed, through doors and up and down stairs he never knew existed. Eventually, he found himself standing in what appeared to be an inner courtyard. It was small and the walls surrounding it very high, but up above the sky was blue. Prince Ian turned his face towards it and for the first time since he came to live at the dragon’s lair he felt sunlight on his face.

“It’s a shithole,” Mikhailo said. For some reason he sounded a little nervous. “But if you wanna go outside, you can come here. And there’s dirt in those bins, so I guess you could grow stuff in them? Just gotta wear this hat. Anyone sees you, they’ll just think it’s me.”

Privately, Prince Ian wondered who’d ever be able to see him behind walls that high, but he wasn’t going to argue. Wearing an ugly had was a small price to pay for being able to go outside, and to have a garden.

He gave Mikhailo a small smile; Mikhailo smiled back.

“Mikhailo smiled back.” Yeah, you bet he was laughing his ass off, ‘cause he thought Prince Ian was a huge fucking dork.

Things were good for a long while after that. Prince Ian spent his days in the garden and in Mikhailo’s company, and though he still resented being locked away from the world it was easy to ignore that when he had something to do and when his plants started to grow and when he was with Mikhailo. The two young men became closer and closer with each passing week, and soon it seemed to Prince Ian as if they had always known each other. He could no longer imagine a life without his friend.

He suspected that Mikhailo felt the same. It was there in the way he laughed at Prince Ian’s jokes; the way he sought him out to do nothing but talk; the way his gaze sometimes lingered on the prince, the look in his eyes unreadable.

Prince Ian suspected that Mikhailo too wondered what it would be like to press their lips together and hold each other tight. Sleep together; map every inch of each other’s bodies.

Hang on a minute, you’re telling me they haven’t fucked yet? The hell they’ve been doing?

I told you. Hanging out. Talking. Laughing.

Jesus Christ, that’s so fucking gay.

Two men not fucking each other is gay? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. One day we really need to talk about all your internalized homophobia.

My interna-what? Ah, shut the fuck up. Continue with the story. All these interruptions ain’t doing much for the flow, you know.

Really? I hadn’t noticed.

Prince Ian became determined to find out if Mikhailo felt the same way as he did. He realized that he needed to be careful, however, and not push too hard, lest he spook the other boy. Even though he was almost sure he could see longing in Mikhailo’s eyes, there seemed to be some invisible hand holding him back. Every time Prince Ian was convinced they were finally getting somewhere, Mikhailo would suddenly pull back, as if stung.

Or as if remembering something. Himself, maybe.

Bu then came a cold, clear autumn day almost exactly one year after Prince Ian had been taken to the dragon’s lair.

Whoa, wait, now you’re telling me they’ve been hanging out for one fucking year and they still haven’t banged?

What can I say? Mikhailo’s a pussy.

Whatever. This story is unrealistic as fuck.

Prince Ian and Mikhailo had spent the afternoon together in the garden, as they almost always did whenever Mikhailo wasn’t busy with any of his mysterious chores (which he still refused to tell Prince Ian much about, but which sometimes took him away from the lair for days at a time). Once it started getting dark they went inside and dined on chicken and potatoes from Prince Ian’s patch, and as so often happened they started bickering and play fighting.

If that’s something that happens a lot you might have mentioned it earlier. Established it or whatever. Those mysterious chores too. What’s that all about?

Oh, my bad. Maybe I should start over? Once upon and time—

Nah, man, you’re good. Just a suggestion for next time.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

They were chasing each other around the kitchen when Mikhailo tripped over the muddy shoes he’d lazily left there the night before and fell to the floor.

You know these meaningful little comments ain’t actually clever, right? They don’t actually add anything to the story.

I like them.

Prince Ian, ever chivalrous, grabbed hold of his friend’s arm to break his fall, but ended up going down with him instead, pinning Mikhailo to the floor with his big, strong body.

Fucking finally.

Their eyes met and Prince Ian felt his heart starting to beat faster. He could see a faint blush spreading over Mikhailo’s face. Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved. Then, slowly, slowly, Prince Ian leaned in to brush his lips over Mikhailo’s. Mikhailo lifted his head to meet him in a kiss to end all other kisses, a kiss to inspire a thousand love songs.

Uh-huh, and then…

And then they went to Prince Ian’s room and had sex all night long. But when Prince Ian woke the next morning—

Wait, wait, what? That’s it? “They had sex all night long.” How about some fucking detail, man?

Fine.

After having great sex using lots of good lube all night long, Prince Ian woke up alone in his bed.

I hate you.

He went in search of Mikhailo but couldn’t find his friend anywhere. He looked in the garden and in the kitchen and he went to the sad little cellar chamber Mikhailo called his room even though Prince Ian had never actually seen him sleep there.

Because he’s the dragon and sleeps in the tower chamber. Great hint, Gallagher. Real subtle.

Fuck off.

A week passed and Prince Ian was starting to suspect that Mikhailo was gone for good this time. Perhaps the dragon had found out about their tryst and had sent him away? Or maybe Mikhailo was disgusted with what had happened and wanted nothing more to do with the prince? Prince Ian wondered and worried and feared, and when finally Mikhailo returned, stepping into the kitchen like nothing had happened, Prince Ian was so exhausted with terror and regret that his relief immediately transformed into fury.

He yelled at Mikhailo, called him names and demanded to know where he’d been. He named him a coward and—

…

Hey, what’s the matter? You okay?

Yeah. Yeah, man, I’m fine.

You don’t look— Listen, Prince Ian’s just being an asshole, okay? He saying a bunch of stupid shit ‘cause he’s sick and tired of not knowing if he means as much to Mikhailo as Mickhailo means to him. He doesn’t mean it.

…

Mick?

I mean… He probably means it a little. He’s not wrong.

No, he’s— Fine. He means it a little right then. But he is wrong, okay? He doesn’t really understand what’s going on with Mikhailo, but he’ll get it later. He’ll know he wasn’t being really fair.

… yeah?

Yeah. Okay?

Okay.

Great. Maybe we should speed this bit up a little—

Once Prince Ian had finished shouting, Mikhailo just stared at him for a long moment.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he spat, and then he spun around and disappeared through the door.

Prince Ian was immediately overcome with regret, yet he was still too angry and hurt and stubborn to run after the other. He went about his day in a very foul mood and when he went to bed that night Mikhailo was still gone. Prince Ian slept fitfully and in the middle of the night he woke to a loud crash, soon followed by several more. He realized it must have come form the tower chamber and after a moment of hesitation he grabbed his nightgown and rushed up the stairs.

So, he brought a nightgown with him when he thought the dragon was going to kill him?

Of course not. He found it in one of the rooms.

Yeah, okay, but why are there so many rooms in this fucking lair anyway? What’s with all the old stuff there? Didn’t the dragon build the place to live in like right before Prince Ian was sent there?

Mickey. It’s getting late and I’d really love to wrap this up and go to bed. It doesn’t really matter about the rooms. Can I just continue with the story?

Whatever, man. Just thought you should know there’s a bunch of plot holes in your little fairy tale.

 Once he reached the door to the forbidden room, the crashing noises had stopped. Instead, Prince Ian heard whimpers and moaning, as if from someone in great pain. It could only be the dragon – something must be wrong with it.

Yeah, ya think, Sherlock?

Prince Ian knocked on the door. There was no reply, other than more whimpers and moans. Steeling himself, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked.

That’s awfully convenient.

Stepping inside, Prince Ian found the dragon on the floor. It was clearly hurt, for there was dark blood pooling underneath it. As Prince Ian entered, the great beast lifted its head but said nothing and made no move to attack him. It seemed it was too badly hurt to pose any threat.

It occurred to Prince Ian that he could kill the dragon. He could go down to the kitchen and fetch the biggest knife there and then he’d be free and he could go back to the castle and his siblings and—

The dragon made a low, pained sound and let its head fall back to the floor, closing its eyes.

Prince Ian went down the stairs, but he didn’t fetch a knife, he fetched bandages instead. Though part of him cursed himself for a fool, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill the dragon, monster or not, and couldn’t bring himself to let it bleed to death either.

That’s a huge fucking mistake. Maybe the dragon never hurt him but it still kept him imprisoned. Prince Ian should be getting the hell out of there when he has the chance.

Hmm, yeah. Choosing to be locked up just to be the person you love does sound like a pretty insane thing to do.

Oh, fuck off. That’s totally different.

Sure, Mick.

By the time Prince Ian returned to the tower the dragon had lost consciousness. The prince set to cleaning and bandaging his wounds, having learned the art of it while training with a medical witch who lived at the castle. It took a great long while; the dragon was large and heavy and the cuts in its side long, if shallow. But Prince Ian was nothing if not determined and eventually he had the beast wrapped up.

As Ian moved to rise, the dragon stirred.

“The hell are you doing?” it muttered, blinking up at Ian. Then it spotted the bandages, and the ice blue eyes widened. “What the— Are you fucking insane? This is a... is a… real bad fucking idea… ”

It sounded… strange, and not just from the pain and blood loss, Prince Ian thought. Sounded not just slurred but softer somehow, in spite of the uncharacteristic cursing; sounded almost familiar; sounded like—

“Mikhailo,” Prince Ian whispered.

Ooooh, big surprise! I’m so shocked right now!

You know there are other uses for plot twists than to shock the reader, right? Or actually, I guess you don’t know, but if you picked up a book once in a while—

Yeah, yeah, whatever. What happened after this great and totally unexpected reveal?

The dragon lost consciousness again so Prince Ian went to bed and slept soundly and when he woke the next day he spotted Mikhailo leaning against the wall of his room, looking tired ad unhappy. He was even paler than usually and there was a stiffness to his posture that suggested quite a bit of pain, but other than that he seemed well enough.

“So,” Prince Ian said, trying for casualness as he sat up on his pallet. “You’re a dragon.”

Mikhailo shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“But only by night.”

“Yeah… We turn when the sun sets, and turn back again when it rises.”

“I didn’t know that about dragons.”

“No one around here fucking does. People realize how helpless we are during the day, they’d kill us in a heartbeat. My dad says— “

“Your dad?”

“The leader of the dragons. The really big, white one? This whole terror and extortion thing was his idea, once he realized that no one in this kingdom has a clue about dragons.”

“Oh.”

“He hates humans. Thinks they’re useless and weak. If he knew I kept you around instead of killing you, he’d have murdered us both.”

Jesus fucking Christ, laying it on a bit thick with the metaphysical shit there, don’t ya think?

You mean metaphorical?

I mean it’s fucking stupid, that’s what I mean.

Might be closer to allegory anyway.

Uh-huh. Nobody fucking cares, Shakespeare.

“So, anyway,” Mikhailo continued, “you should probably try to go as far away from here as possible. Find a ship and go across the sea or something.”

Prince Ian blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, man, you won’t be able to go back to your castle. No way to stay hidden there. I know this guy up in Dikno, he might—”

He fell silent as Prince Ian jumped up from the bed and crossed the space between them in two long strides, and then he gasped loudly as the prince’s lips found his.

It was another one to inspire love songs.

“You idiot,” Prince Ian said fondly when eventually they broke apart. “Of course I’m not going anywhere. Unless,” he added, suddenly shy, “you want me to.”

Mikhailo made a face. “No, you fucking moron, I don’t want you to go,” he finally said. “But my dad—”

“We’ll find a way to deal with him. We’ll figure out how to sort it out and set things right between humans and dragons. We’ll find a way, together. Okay?”

And Mikhailo the dragon looked at his prince for a long moment and then he smiled. “Okay.”

At his prince, huh. Surprised you got room for all those big words in your head when your ego’s taking up so much space. All right, then what happened?

They organized a rebellion against the leader of the dragons, I guess. I don’t really know. That’s another story.

What do you mean, another story? Is this it? You spend all that time setting it up but when you get to the good part with the fighting you just stop?

Yeah, it’s getting really late. Kid’s asleep anyway.

Kid’s been out cold since, like, before the dragons even showed up, man, don’t fucking pretend this story was for her. … you really not gonna continue?

Nah, I’ll continue. But for the next scene I figured we might try a little show, don’t tell…

Oh, really? What’s the next scene?

Make-up sex. Prince Ian fucking Mikhailo’s brains out. And hey, spoiler alert: Mikhailo comes four times.

Four times, huh.

Yeah. So… wanna know how it happens?

Okay.

Okay. It starts like this—

---

So, yeah. There we have it. The things we write for Gallavich Week… XD

I am halfway outraged that this is the longest fic I’ve ever written for Gallavich, but I’m rather pleased I managed to write something for this theme! Guess I’ll go to bed both proud and embarrassed and dead tired tonight. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Where I am, we’re half an hour past midnight, but seeing as it’s still Monday somewhere, I have decided that I’m posting on time. Yay me! @gallavichthings

[honey-hippie-harper]

through the burning shell

Hello it’s been 84 years.

This is fun :): I wrote this as a Christmas present for @obsidianfr3sk (YES DAWNIE KEEP POSTING YOU CHRISTMAS FICS DURING MARCH. YOU GO GIRL) and it’s a sequel to my other fic “through the bleeding shell” where I basically try to save Simon and Hugh from the queerbaiting MM turned them into by adding a certain degree of complexity to their relationship. This is a story about gays, grief and a dead friend + Simon defending Nova bc I don’t roll with Supernova. Hence, I am not morally obligated to obey canon <3

Anyway afgdhjafghsj i don’t think you need to read the first part to understand this, and I hope you like it <3. I don’t want to give much away, but this sort of turned into a collaboration that got out of control and @obsidianfr3sk might write a third part in the future ;)

through the burning shell

“There have been rumors that the public revealing of Agent N is to include a public execution as well.”

Being all together, right there, Simon saw Hugh narrowing his eyes, staring directly at Genissa Clark, formerly Frostbite, now neutralized, along with the rest of her team.

Well.

Almost all of them.

“That’s true.” Hugh started, and Simon couldn’t help but think he shouldn’t have answered. A part of him was getting a pretty bad feeling from this. “For his crimes against humanity, Ace Anarchy has been sentenced to death.”

“Why stop there?” Said Genissa. “I would argue that his accomplices deserve the same fate.”

The same fate.

His brain struggled to make a connection between that sentence and the one Hugh had uttered. At first, he didn’t understand. A couple of fast seconds later, Simon realized that, by saying “fate”, she was referencing something.

She was referencing, more specifically, Ace Anarchy’s sentence.

A death sentence.

Accomplices.

The Anarchists.

“Nightmare deserves the same fate.” Nova deserves the same fate. “Nightmare must die… And I want to be the one to do it.”

Nova must die.

And I want to be the one to do it.

A child killing another child, publicly, with the Renegades’ permission.

A child they had taken under their wing, Genissa Clark that is, killing another child, who had been in Simon’s house, who had touched Adrian’s heart, and who had made bad choices but was still a person. The official version of the events said she had stabbed Max, and Danna claimed she was Nightmare, but they hadn’t taken any declarations or anything, so that story might as well just change.

Simon couldn’t help but feel she didn’t deserve to die.

Maybe because she actually didn’t. It didn’t feel fair.

One thing was sentencing Ace Anarchy, the man who had lifted an entire city, leaving a ridiculously huge number of deaths in the process, who had stolen, broken and burned, who had killed a man (the mayor) and his pregnant wife, who had killed his own brother, sister-in-law and possibly his two nieces...and another, pretty different thing was to allow this 19 year old girl kill a 16 year old one, who had some crimes that could put her into jail for like 3 or 5 years, but weren’t horrible enough to give her a death sentence. She was a minor. She wasn’t yet beyond repair…

And if she was to be executed, then she was still a minor. She didn’t deserve to be humiliated like that. She didn’t deserve her life to be taken away with so little dignity.

Not by Genissa Clark.

Not like that.

And, stars, please, not now.

Not right now.

It was unthinkable, it was barbaric, it was animal, it was almost as if…

A quiet chuckle.

A quiet chuckle that, suddenly, interrupted his train of thought and, with all the pain in his heart, he was able to recognize in a blink.

Evander was chuckling.

Genissa Clark, nonchalantly, was blackmailing them. She was trading her silence for the legal permission to kill someone, in front of a crowded arena. And Evander was chuckling.

Genissa Clark wanted to murder Nova, and Evander was chuckling.

“Is that all it will take to quit their complaining?”

What else did he want?

“Works for me.”

Simon almost flinched to the audacity. To the severity of the implication. To the way he was saying it. So smug. So relaxed, so….Evander it almost made Simon mad.

That was so Evander lately.

Because, lately, Evander didn’t understand anything. Not even because he had a pregnant wife waiting for him at home. There was life inside that woman. Life that had come from him.

How couldn’t he understand?

How could somebody be so cold?

“These are lives we’re discussing.” Simon reminded him, shooting a look in his direction.

“Villains’ lives.” Evander responded. “Nightmare doesn’t deserve mercy any more than Ace Anarchy does. She was the one who neutralized them, so it seems fair to me.”

Villains’ lives were still lives.

Nova was a person.

Nova was...Nightmare, but before Nightmare, she was Nova, and Hugh and him had met her personally. Adrian had met her personally.

And, besides, with this logic, then all the Renegades were to be executed.

After all, Agent N was meant to be used by Renegades. They were the ones who were planning to neutralize people when they felt threatened. But when Nightmare did it, then she immediately deserved the death penalty.

Hugh would understand that. Everyone would understand that, just like Simon did.

They had to understand it.

Hugh had to understand it.

-.-

Yet, he didn’t.

Some time ago, Hugh had pledged to understand. Not directly per se, but he had pledged it in the name of his cause.

He promised he would understand.

And then, when he needed to understand the most, he didn’t.

He said he would.

Then he fucking didn’t.

“How can we run a city, much less an entire world, if we’re busy dealing with every trivial bit of bureaucratic nonsense that comes up?” He said.

“This solves two problems at once.” He said.

And he said that to Adrian’s, their son, face. Their son, who was just trying to help, by questioning how morally correct was to do something like that, just like Tamaya, Kasumi and himself had done, being ignored in the process.

“We need that right now. And we need to be united in this decision.”

“And why’s that, exactly?” Adrian asked. “Do we not want the world to know this is actually a dictatorship?”

In that moment, Simon knew Adrian had never spoken to Hugh like that. He had always been a pretty calm kid, who liked to question their decisions sometimes because, as a Renegade himself, of course he would feel uncomfortable or have doubts sometimes. But never had he called Hugh out. Not in that tone. Not with that entire bottle of venom flowing out of his mouth, melting his teeth, and mixing with his boiling blood.

Simon felt unable to tell him to stop, after his own voice had been ignored, and Hugh pretended Evander was the only one who mattered in the team. And it wasn’t that Evander didn’t matter.

It was just that he was wrong.

Besides, harsh as that sounded, Simon still couldn’t believe that those stinky, rotting, putrid, nauseating words had come from Hugh’s mouth. His Hugh. The man he had decided to marry, because he loved him so, so much, for him had been able to see him even when he was invisible. Literally.

Right in front of his eyes, Hugh morphed into a caricaturesque villain. His hands, which Simon had held so many times, were suddenly covered in both dry and fresh blood, red as an apple, but smelling like death.

Death.

The same death that was living like a parasite inside of his eyes, the only place that other people could harm. And the parasite was traveling through his system, all the way to his brain, spinning it around like a mirrorball, and eating from it like he was nothing.

Hugh’s hands were tied, too, and the strings were made of rope, a material he could easily tear apart, but seemed to have forgotten about that.

He was like a puppet, as the press, as society, and as tons and tons of eyes pulled from the ropes.

And nobody knew how to free him, not even himself.

“Do we not want the world to know this is actually a dictatorship?”

Adrian’s voice haunted him for days. The way in which he said that haunted him for days, and after a while, Simon just accepted he wouldn’t be able to get rid of it. It had become another one of the wounds he carried, open and bleeding, through life. The worst part of it all, was that Simon knew Adrian was right. That, at this point, everyone but Hugh, Evander and Genissa Clark were right.

But if he knew where had they gone wrong, and if he knew he didn’t agree with this monstrosity...why did it hurt so much?

How did you speak to a person who didn’t want to listen?

And, most importantly: Where were you supposed to get the courage to do it from?

 -.-

 Nova had spent seventeen days in Cragmoor Penitentiary when Adrian said he wanted to see her. He had been so mad at her, that it caught Simon off guard.

Not that he wasn’t able to understand it.

Adrian had had a couple of girlfriends and boyfriends throughout his life but, from what Simon could see, Nova was by far the one he had been the most serious about, to the point it almost seemed she was the one who would stay. Simon would’ve wanted to see his partner too, no matter how mad he was at said partner, if he knew they had been sentenced to death.

As fast as they could, knowing they were facing an authority (Adrian had asked them to be with him in the room), the wardens brought her right away, in a matter of minutes.

Through the glass, Simon saw her, on the metal platform, with her arms and legs being held, tightly, by braces, which were equally made of metal. For the look in her eye, Simon could almost hear her desperate begs for her visitor not to be Adrian. Yet, he had been, and he wasn’t alone, which, if anything, only made it worse.

Simon, from his part, was staring at two different glasses at the time. The one that divided them from Nova, and Adrian’s glasses, which revealed the pain he was penetrating Nova’s soul with, and also the rage he was entitled to feel.

But Nova looked small.

She, in fact, looked as small as she actually was.

She was almost a kid. She hadn’t yet started living. Yet, she was locked up here, and would only be taken out to be killed.

Nova’s body was shaking, just like Adrian’s. Her chin was quivering so much it almost seemed like she was cold, and Simon felt a twinge in his stomach. He felt nauseous and dizzy. And so evil and so guilty.

For some reason, he pictured a child, because Nova had been a younger child once, full of joy and innocence.

 He pictured a child. Just like that.

 Maybe she was wearing pigtails, had a gap between two of her teeth, and bruised legs, because she liked to play outside with her friends. Maybe, before she became Nightmare, she had something else to hold on to. Maybe she, like many people out there,  had hoped for the Renegades to come, and when they didn’t do it, something became numb, and cold, and she started freezing to death, just like she would remain freezing, suspended in History, as the interrupted life who was the proof the Renegades had become the one thing they promised they would never be.

And Simon didn’t want to be part of that, yet he was still here.

He was still here, thinking about how fortunate he was that Nova wasn’t staring back at him, but at Adrian instead, as selfish as that might’ve sounded.

Simon felt he had lost the right to look her in the eye, having been the one who promised her, on several occasions, that she could look into theirs.

With each one of his limbs becoming tense, Simon took a deep breath. His mouth tasted like bile, and his whole body was pounding along with this heart. It felt like one of those times when you were almost a hundred percent sure you were having a heart attack, despite knowing that, if that was the case, you would already be on the floor crying for help.

Next thing he felt was the sudden and strong urge to speak.

He would’ve liked to talk to Nova, but through this glass, she couldn’t hear anything.

Besides, Simon knew that this moment wasn’t about him, or Hugh. They were involved in it. They were carrying it in their backs like a cross, but it wasn’t about them. It was about Nova and Adrian. There was glass between the two. They could press their hands together through it, but they couldn’t touch the other’s skin. They couldn’t feel the air the other breathed in the short distance. They couldn’t kiss. It was scary. It was sad. And it wasn’t awfully familiar.

But it wasn’t about Simon or Hugh.

“Do you need some privacy?” Simon asked, perhaps to both of them, knowing one wouldn’t be able to hear him, even if she tried.

In response, Adrian turned his gaze away from Nova, staring at Simon instead, nodding.

“I think that would be nice.”

Before Simon could say anything else, Hugh reached for his son’s shoulder, and once he touched it, he caressed the fabric, and the skin beneath the fabric, briefly.

“We’ll be in the lobby.”

Adrian nodded again and then, after gulping, he said:

“I love you, okay?”

The weird thing was, he didn’t look them in the eye for much. He did, but he turned his gaze away pretty fast, barely leaving time to process his own words. For that reason, nor Hugh or him responded.

They left right after that, leaving Adrian alone inside the room.

With Nova, but alone.

 -.-

They dropped Adrian at the hospital once they left Cragmoon. There was barely any sound throughout the whole ride, except when Hugh asked if they wanted something from the store, and when they said goodbye to Adrian.

Obviously, Adrian couldn’t get close to Max. Not if he wanted to avoid being neutralized by him, but sometimes, according to Adrian himself, he liked to stay in the waiting room, and help the staff with whatever they needed, for he liked Max to know he came to visit often, and that he wasn’t alone, even if he couldn’t touch, or be in the same room with him. So they just allowed him to stay in the hospital as much as he needed. After all, it’s not like he was hurting anybody.

After that, everything was silent, all the way home, because, instead of driving towards the Headquarters, Hugh drove towards the mansion, leaving Tamaya in charge, under the excuse they would take a two hour break to have lunch together at home. She wasn’t so happy about it, but agreed anyway, because it’s not like Hugh had given her an option in the first place. He had just notified her. At this point, Hugh’s volume was getting the tiniest bit loud.  And Simon wasn’t talking about his voice.

Upon arriving into the house, Hugh threw the keys by the entrance’s table and proceeded to walk all the way towards the living room, to lay on the couch, one arm covering his eyes, without even taking his costume off. He didn’t have a reason to, because they were supposed to be back at the Headquarters in two hours and, besides, the elephant in the room was making it cold. Maybe he felt his armor would protect him from what they were doing, and from what they were still doing.

Sadly, the fabric of Simon’s costume wasn’t as warm. And as he took his mask off and placed it next to keys, he felt nothing but cold wind. He was back again at being Simon, and Simon only, without anything protecting him, in the same room as the husband who rarely ever kissed him anymore.

There was an elephant in the room, and it was killing both of them, though Hugh looked like he was already dead.

Simon tried not to pay attention to him, but when he was crossing to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but ask, in an unintentionally harsh tone:

“Are we going to have lunch or did you just want to make Tamaya more stressed?”

Hugh lowered his arm, staring at him with an arched eyebrow, lifting his neck just a little, to have a clearer view. Simon was starting to feel bad for having snapped at him, but not enough to take it back.

Sometimes you had to do the right thing, and sometimes the right thing was not taking it back.

His husband, from his part, looked rather confused, as if he couldn’t recognize the person in front of him.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked.

The question caught him off guard.

Was he okay? Simon wasn’t sure, nor did he want to answer. In times like these, Hugh wanted people to answer him what he wanted to hear and, sadly, this time Simon didn’t have any answer he would like.

“Did you take your pills, Si?”

Something inside of his body turned into a tight knot, and Simon turned his gaze towards him, in a violent act. He frowned so deeply he felt his skin itching, and though he knew that, under normal circumstances, he would’ve just interpreted this as a routinary question, this time it wasn’t the case at all. This time it felt like an attack. Like something Hugh had to take back immediately because it was not his place to ask it, that is:  a question he always asked anyway.

But not this time.

Because ,this time, he wasn’t okay.

“Don’t pull the anxiety card on me, Hugh.” Saying that left a bitter, disgusting firm on his mouth, right under his tongue, which was dry. He felt like he had just chewed on a pill.

“The anxie--” Hugh narrowed his eyes, shifting into a sitting position. “I’m not pulling that card on you. I’m just asking a question.”

“Then don’t ask that question.” Simon snapped again, heading towards the kitchen to get a class of water. His feet were making too much noise when in contact with the floor, and his mouth was too dry. It was making him crazy.

It was only then that he realized they still had something else pending, and for some reason that was enough to make him stay. Simon spun on his toes, facing him. Hugh was breathing heavily, and his brows were almost touching each other.

“You didn’t answer my question, though.” He told him, in a dry tone. “Did you want to have lunch with me or did you just think taking a break while Tamaya loses her mind would be fun?”

“If Tamaya didn’t want to be in charge, she would’ve told me, and you know that.”

“Tamaya talks back when she is given a chance to.”

An empty feeling of freedom filled Simon’s body, pushing his way into the hollow all his mixed feelings had been carving at the center of his stomach.

And it wasn’t just about Tamaya, really. It wasn’t just about how lately none of her ideas were taken into consideration. Rather, it was about how nor were Kasumi’s, or his own ideas, when they tried to speak up. It was about how things were getting weirder and weirder as time went by, to the point where Simon would see a very pregnant Tamaya in the hallway, apparently fine, but stating she didn’t know if her water was breaking or if she just really needed to use the restroom (the restroom where she didn’t fit in); it was about how everyone knew damn well that Kasumi wasn’t good at public speaking and that, if anything, it just worsened her selective mutism, and yet many important speeches were given to her; it was about how Simon felt like he was talking to a wall, and how that made him feel, suspect, even, that Hugh was back to being trapped in a closet he was already too big for.

It wasn’t just about that, in conclusion.

It was just the tip of a bigger and more messed up problem.

“Well, if you want Tamaya to go bathe in her Greek goddess shower-pool-whatever that thing is, then fine. I’ll call her, I’ll tell her to take the day off, and we go back to the Headquarters.”

 “That would be great, actually!” Simon laughed sarcastically. “But you know what would be even better?”

“I don’t, Si. You tell me.”

It was a rhetorical question.

The nerve.

“That we would act like a team. That we would stop lollygagging around and take realistic turns to have our breaks, because each one of us have lives, and we’re not the only ones who have needs.” And that was about Kasumi feeling like she couldn’t do it today but having to anyway; it was about Tamaya crying in the BBQ Sunday, explaining to her husband how she wanted her baby to be with her, as a baby bawled into her arms, trying to reach for his father, because she spent so little time at home her youngest son wouldn’t recognize her sometimes; it was about Evander claiming Sandy didn’t feel like being alone with her baby bump today, but showing up at work anyway.

And yes, they had pledged to do this, but they were supposed to be in it together.

“But how should I know?” Simon hissed. “It’s not like we’re a Council or anything.”

The bile was all over his mouth now, and Simon felt possessed. He didn’t know how to stop it, and the words just kept coming, and coming and coming, as Hugh stared, half-startled, half mad.

Simon felt like he was a loaded gun that was ready to kill everything that moved, for a reason and a cause.

All those repressed feelings. All those things he desperately wanted to say but never could. The anxiety. The desperate, insatiable craving for a touch that never came. For a kiss. For anything. For a sign. A sign of whatever. One single sign, that would just let him know Hugh was still here.

“It’s not like you needed the majority of us to agree to sentence that minor to death.” He let it go, and all the air, along with his soul, left Simon’s body. “It’s not like Evander and you needed such thing, did you?”

Hugh’s confusion frown suddenly shifted.

Then, all Simon saw was the embodiment of anger, with his cheeks becoming flushed, and his knuckles becoming yellow.

“So that’s what this is all about.”

There was one word to describe that tone, and that word was condescension.

To Simon, the gut-wrenching feeling of frustration that caused him was indiscriptable, and he didn’t wish it to anybody. He would’ve preferred Hugh to scream at him, or just refuse to answer at all, because he couldn’t take it.

He had had people talking down to him his entire life. He wasn’t willing to keep tolerating that.

And in the moment he stared into Hugh’s blue eyes, Simon knew there was no turning back. Because sometimes the right thing to do was not taking it back.

Others, it was not holding it back.

“No. In fact, it’s not about that.”

“WHAT IS IT, THEN?!”

“YOU TELL ME!” Simon howled, getting one step closer to him, and all the memories started flowing...more likely, overflowing, including that time when he had talked to Kasumi and Tamaya in the living room, just like as if they were teenagers, instead of grown ass people, about how Hugh was leaving, even though he was still right there.

Right there, looking like a corpse.

A blue, stiff corpse.

“Why don’t you ever kiss me anymore?” Simon asked, and his voice sounded way less threatening than he had intended. “Why?”

“Are you really going to pull that card on me?”

“I am going to pull it because I want to know!” Simon barked, pointing at his own chest, which was getting tighter and tighter with every second. “Why don’t you ever touch me anymore? Why am I always invisible to you, even when I’m not? Why are you so fucking cold all the time? Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?!”

Hugh wheezed, maybe pretending it didn’t make sense, or maybe pretending he hadn’t understood at all. Still smirking, he ran his fingers through his hair, and stared at Simon, scratching his chin, and clicking his tongue.

“So...Sex.”

Simon’s heart was pounding.

“Yes, sex!” He yelled, shameless. “And kisses, and hugs and my husband! That is what am I asking for!”

“WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO?! WE’RE BUSY!”

“WE’RE NOT BUSY NOW!”

“SO YOU WANT TO GET LAID NOW?!”

“I’M NOT GETTING LAID WHILE THINKING ABOUT HOW A CHILD WILL BE EXECUTED BY ANOTHER CHILD BECAUSE I WASN’T ALLOWED TO DO ANYTHING TO STOP IT FROM HAPPENING!”

“SHE TRIED TO KILL ME! SHE TRIED TO KILL MAX!”

“FIRST: AN ATTEMPTED ASSASINATION IS NOT ENOUGH TO GIVE SOMEBODY A DEATH PENALTY, AND, SECOND: THAT’S WHAT GENISSA SAID!”

“ISN’T THAT ENOUGH?!”

“THAT’S NOT ENOUGH!” Simon screamed, covering his ears with hands.

He didn’t know why, specifically, the ears, knowing that, in reality, his eyes were the problem, because every time he closed them, he saw Nova in that chair, like an animal. And he saw Genissa standing in the lobby, playing with them like puppets; he saw Evander’s despicable smirk when he told Genissa to go ahead; he saw Adrian’s furious eyes as he called his own dad a dictator; he saw Hugh.

Mostly, he saw Hugh, and the caricaturesque villain version of him, which Simon despised with every inch of his being.

Then he was back at the beginning. At Nova.

Nova, who had tan skin, pitch black hair and slanted blue eyes. And Nova, who looked familiar when she smiled, because she looked similar to that man who had come to the Headquarters asking for help, whose smile looked similar to the other person who carried their blood.

And Simon couldn’t help but consider it as a real possibility. And if he happened to be right, then they were failing her.

For the second time.

“It’ll never be enough, Hugh.” He declared. “Because she…”

Simon’s internal knots became tighter, to the point they were suffocating him.

“How do we know who this girl is?” he questioned. “How do we know it isn’t her?”

“Her, who? What are you talking about?”

“Her. The one we failed to protect.” Simon felt a tear slipping from his eye, as he became closer and Hugh walked backwards. “Uh? How do we know that? How do we…?”

But something stopped him.

 And that something was Hugh’s eyes, turning grey as chromium.

He was breathing fast. Faster with every second, and where maybe he saw anger, Simon saw nothing but deep, stored pain, flowing out of him like sweat, or like the tears that weren’t there.

There was Hugh’s bleeding shell again, protecting him like he was a small child curled up on the floor, in a ball, through a polarized surface where Simon and him couldn’t touch, and where nothing could hurt him, while everything could at the same time.

There it was.

The despicable, horrid, bleeding shell.

Except this time it wasn’t bleeding. No. No.

This time, the dense, bubbling blood was falling off it, reaching Simon’s feet, and the shell was in flames. Tall, untamable flames, that were burning the roof and everything surrounding them.

The shell was burning, while Hugh was inside of it, and nobody could get him out before he was burned to death.

Why didn’t he let anyone help him?

Why did he insist the flames weren’t there?

Why couldn’t Simon hold his hand?

Why was he so far?

“We didn’t fail to protect her. She died.” Hugh declared, and when Simon saw his lips quivering, he realized they weren’t talking about Nova anymore.

“She didn’t fail. She died. “ Simon saw the silver painting Hugh’s fingertips, as tears started rolling down his face. “She died! SHE DIED, WHEN IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME, SIMON!”

The bleeding shell was burning, and Simon still couldn’t find his way in.

“IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME! AND SHE DIED! SHE DIDN’T FAIL TO PROTECT ANYONE! SHE DIED! IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME! SHE DIED, SIMON! SHE DIED!”

Their eyes met for a couple of second, and the connection vanished after a blink.

“IT’S NOT HER FAULT SHE DIED, IT’S MINE!”

Hugh was sobbing, like a small child, and Simon was too.

“...It’s...it’s mine, Simon. Always has been.”

And they were so far, despite being so close, that they were left with holding themselves tight.

Because there was no way to get into the burning shell, for Hugh, strangely as it sounded, had never said those words out loud, because he thought the picture on the wall behind him, the one with the woman wearing a floral pink dress with their son -who was also hers- sitting on her lap, would hear him and that would make her sad.

Yet, Simon knew she wasn’t sad at the moment.

He knew her well enough to know she would’ve been disappointed, instead.

Anybody would be if they had to see their family kill the one thing they had died trying to protect.

“No.” Simon declared, calmly. “But I’m not going to go and try to convince you otherwise because I know it’s not the right time.”

Hugh started shaking.

“Si…”

“And I won’t be a part of this, either.” Simon declared, firm, still staring at the picture through the corner of his eye, yet still fully focused on Hugh. “From now on, all you’ll get from me is silence in regards to the issue. I’m not willing to be a part of it. I don’t agree with this. I will never agree.”

“You don’t understand.”

“And I’m glad I don’t. In fact, I hope I never do.” Simon wiped his tears with his palm, and before continuing, he tried to find his Hugh one more time.

He was still there.

Simon hadn’t yet given up on him, but he didn’t feel like telling him that at the moment.

For some reason.

“If Adrian wants to see me, tell him I’ll be at Kasumi’s.”

“Simon.” Hugh grabbed him by the wrist, and a simple wave from Simon’s hand was enough to get it off. Way too easy, for a person who happened to have super-strength. “Simon, please. Don’t do this again. Please. SIMON!”

But Simon did it again anyway.

Later, he wondered what Adrian had felt when he abducted Max from the hospital and left a note for them.

He also wondered what everyone else had felt when the real Nightmare showed up.

Not that he was mad at them.

He just wondered what they had felt.

[snickiebear]

Hello hello nadia, i’m in a leesaku mood today so pls indulge me with a three-sentence fic for this lil prompt “you are my best friend and I’ve known you platonically for years now but every time you look at me I get fireworks in my chest and butterflies in my stomach” tysm ilyyyy ❤️❤️❤️❤️

haha... this is, two days late. NIASDUKDSK IM SO SORRY THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST YOURE THE BEST ILY

side note: this is.... kind of what you wanted? AND LMAO ITS NOT THREE SENTENCES AGAIN WHOOPS

side side note: this is now crossposted bc i liked it a lot tbh :")

a cocoon in the heart, a spark in the brain.

It starts with a glance. An innocent, fleeting look. Naruto’s smile is too bright to look at for more than a handful of seconds and Sasuke’s glare is too dark to find anything of interest, so Sakura glances away, as she always does.

She glances away and there is Lee, dirtied and bloodied but he holds Neji’s hand, Tenten tucked under his arm, and is laughing, tears streaming down his face. He must have felt her eyes because he looks over and sends her a beaming smile. 

And. And her heart picks up, her breath catches. 

She quickly looks over to Naruto and Sasuke, being blinded by the light and dark both, and tries her best to not think of why one look from Lee can breed butterflies and moths in her stomach. 

.

.

.

They rebuild the village and everyone endures. Sasuke leaves once more because he is a boy who has never known staying, he has never stayed long enough to put roots in, to know how to stay. So, Naruto and Sakura let him go. 

(If she is being honest, Sakura is more than happy to have him leave. Sasuke will always be a rotten fruit in the tangle of her feelings, something that she will never quite understand, something that will haunt her no matter what she does. If he is not there, she does not have to think about it. He’s like a curse, and it hurts her to think that but it is true.)

Kakashi is the Hokage and Sakura is still laughing at him, clutching her stomach and howling at her friend’s “misfortune” as he calls it.

“Mah,” Kakashi half drawls, half pleads. “Must you laugh at your poor ex-sensei?”

Naruto is losing his absolute shit as they clutch each other to stay standing. “Kaka-sensei you do not look good in white.”

“It,” Sakura gasps, wiping tears from her face, “It-It really washes you out!”

Naruto’s knees give out and they both tumble to the ground, a mess and tangle of laughing limbs and leaking eyes. 

Kakashi sighs heavily from his desk but she knows he’s having just as much fun as they are. Kakashi is her best friend, she knows how he is when he’s drunk out of his mind and when he’s trying to bite back laughter. 

The door swings open and Lee steps in with Team Gai flanking him. Neji recovered incredibly well thanks to Sakura’s magic hands (as Naruto has deemed them) and they’ve been taking low ranking missions since he was deemed fit to return to duty. 

It takes a few moments for Sakura and Naruto’s heaving, snorting laughter to subside as Kakashi clears his throat, his eyes crinkling up in the way Sakura knows he’s really trying not to laugh. 

She looks up and glances at Lee, to find him already watching her, his eyes soft and smile softer. Sakura is a God Slayer along with Naruto and Sasuke, she has faced down hundreds of opponents with only her raw fists and come up victorious, she has dragged people back from the brink of death with a tap. 

Sakura does not blush. Out right refuses to. 

“Hey,” All breathless and raw from laughter.

Lee’s smile widens as he steps forward to offer his hand, she takes it without hesitation and thanks the God whose heart she ripped out that he was wearing gloves. She can feel the heat through them nonetheless. Sakura does her best not to shiver as their eyes meet. 

“You guys heading in or out?” Naruto asks after he hauled himself onto his feet, not hiding the way he eyes Lee and Sakura’s hands. The entire room’s eyes are on them. 

“In,” Tenten says slowly, and Sakura does not blush as she carefully extracts her hand from Lees and does not think about why there are fireworks exploding within her mind, why she misses the heat and the way his hand encompasses hers. 

.

.

.

She sees him everywhere now. 

At the Rusty Kunai, at the training fields, at lunch, sometimes even in the hospital. And every damn time he smiles at her, she feels like she’s coming back to life and being stabbed in the heart. 

Sakura has no idea if this was love or just lust. What she felt for Sasuke was not love, that was obsession and cruelty. She had crushes on civilian boys but they were too soft, unmarred compared to her countless scars, visible or not. 

Ino stares at her as if she’s the stupidest person in the world and Sakura smacks her for it. She hopes it leaves a bruise. The Bitch. “Stop giving me that look, Pig. I’ll hit you again, don’t tempt me.”

Ino glares as she rubs her arm, sticking out her tongue. “It isn’t my fault you aren’t using that big forehead of yours! You’re telling me that you two drink together, train together, you go to lunch together, he even visits you at the hospital because he knows you haven’t eaten or slept. And then you tell me you get all those stupid fluttery feelings and you don’t know what it means?”

And well. When she puts it like that. . .

Sakura pouts and crosses her arms, “It's confusing!”

“You’re a genius. An actual genius, Sakura.” Ino deadpans. “Your IQ is literally right next to Shikamaru’s. Lee has been in love with you since we were twelve! There is no way you don’t know what this means.”

Groaning, Sakura slumps into Ino’s lap, hiding her face in Ino’s thigh. “When did you become so smart?”

“When I made out with Hinata and then fucked her.” Ino says easily and Sakura laughs. “What? Don’t laugh! It's true!” 

Ino cackles when Sakura pinches her calf.

.

.

.

Lee moves with such elegance that Sakura aches with it. 

This boy made man who had known nothing but sweat and hardship, who still cups things with such tender and care, who moves so fluidly and hits so brutally.  

They are both the earth, solid and unyielding, they are the water, the hills, the mountains. They are unbreakable because they have broken themselves apart, pushed themselves past the very limit to reach where they are.

Sakura and Lee are 20 and they have saved the world. 

Now, they tear apart the training grounds just to keep life interesting. 

With every dodged fist her heart quickens because Lee is smiling and laughing, calling friendly taunts as she grins right back. 

This is nothing like Team 7’s spars, all bloodied teeth and snarling as Sasuke underestimates her again and again and again. Kakashi, Sai, and Yamato know better. Naruto is learning slowly. Sasuke never pays attention enough to know.  

No, sparring with Lee is like dancing, is like thriving, and a fresh breath of air at night as fireworks light up the sky and a butterfly lands on your nose. 

She lands a kick to his ribs and spends him flying back as she advances swiftly, pinning him down with a hand on his chest, knees on either side of his hips. 

A long pause as they try to catch their breathes.

They’re both breathing heavily, Sakura cannot tear her eyes away from him as he reaches a hand to tuck loose hair behind her ear.

“Lee,” She breathes, ignoring the way her face burns and the way butterflies have swarmed her insides, how her heart is raging against her ribcage. “Lee I-”

“Sakura.” Lee says, voice deep and rumbly and cracking. “Sakura, will you go out to lunch with me? Forever. Well, hopefully forever- you are so very Youthful, you are incredibly Strong, you do not need my protection, but Sakura, let me protect you anyways, just as you will me. Sakura-”

She channels her inner Ino and leans down to kiss him, all lips, teeth and tongue. His hands settle on her waist and he flips them without breaking contact and if they weren’t in public, well. . .

Sakura pulls back breathless and wide eyes before forcing the words out, “I’ve known you for years Lee, you’re one of my best friends.” Her hand on his chest can feel the way his breath catches, the way his heart is pounding. “Everytime you look at me I get fireworks in my chest and butterflies in my stomach. They’ve bred and infested my very insides, my brain blooms and rots with the thought of you.” 

He is shaking beneath her, staring at her as if she is Divine and Righteous and she cannot think of anything else she would want except his eyes on her. 

“Lunch?” She breathes, hand at the base of his neck. “I would like to have lunch with you. Forever. If the offer still stands.” 

Lee smiles wide and bright as he stands, pulling Sakura up with him, “The offer will always stand, Sakura. For you, there is very little I would not do.”

She kisses him again and hand in hand they go to lunch.

Facts:

The very first day Lee saw Sakura a cocoon formed within his heart, everytime after that more would form, more would crack.

The butterflies and moths have a home in his heart but only come alive when they see her.

They never die, no matter what he does.

He saw her crack the world open with a first, saw her tear open a God’s chest. He was the first thing she looked at after. He thought he would become alight with it all.

Lee loves Sakura. He always has, he always will. His heart has a butterfly garden full of fireworks just for her.

Her laugh makes his skin prickle, makes his muscles loose. He is addicted to it.

She looks at him like she sees the green of the trees and the blue of the sky. Lee revels in it.

Sakura loves Lee and it nearly breaks him.

He will take her out to lunch until the day they die and well after.

The butterflies and moths and fireworks never go away for either of them. It is the beauty of it all.

[generic-usernumber6601]

@gay-vampire-with-a-violin remember that creepy list about abandoned churches that I said id write stuff on? This is that.

Tanner stared at the list, unsure wether to laugh or burn the offending paper. Some old man on the street saw him up by the church, and snuck up on him. Tanner thought it weird how he didn’t hear the man, and how he had just handed him the list with no questions and no answers. He turned around the corner of the outside wall of the church and was gone.

Studying the list again, Tanner found a few holes. How was that man to know that sleeping in the church after sunrise would poop Tanner in another dimension? The man was very much still in this one, so he had to have not slept there past sunrise. Even then, if he had, he came back so that part would be untrue too. Tanner walked around the back of the building, looking for any holes as he kept scanning the list again.

Most of them didn’t make sense. Don’t sleep on a pew. Don’t bring wine. Don’t bring a flashlight. Reading things doesn’t work? Books can’t be altered so they’re blank, or so their languages are wrong after they're published! What was so wrong with wine and pews? How did that man know to give this list to him?

Tanner shoved the list in his backpack, frustrated at the little amount of sense it made to him. He found a hole in the massive brick wall of the church shortly after, just big enough for him to squeeze through.

In the church, a shadow danced with joy. A new victim. A new plaything. The shadow watched the newcomer with great interest as he stepped through the wall and into what was once the back hallways. It smiled, and followed along.

Walking down the hallway, Tanner found himself at a stairway. He could either go upstairs, downstairs, or turn around. The light from the hole was dimming, so he dropped his travel bag to the floor, pulling out a flashlight and a map of the building he was able to snatch from the local shop. Flicking his flashlight on, Tanner got a look at the dirt and layer of dust that covered everything. The concrete of the stairs leading downward was cracking, leaving its stability in question. The wood of the stairs leading up was rotted and smelled of mold, and one foot on the bottom step told Tanner all he needed to know; Danger.

Tanner spun around and walked the other direction, hoping to find a way to the other floors that didn’t involve questionable stairs. Passing the hole he came through, his flashlight darted to a door, coming off of its hinges and a dirty stained glass window at the top of it. Wood rot was set into the door, and what was supposed to be its twin was on the floor in shambles, as if someone had thrown something through it.

The shadow watched from the ceiling inside what was once where services were held. It smiled to itself as it watched the man climb through the door, looking at the bowl of once-holy-water. ’Touch it‘ the demon thought, not wanting to spoil its presence to the newcomer yet.

Tanner was disgusted at how the water looked. Filled with leaves, grass, worms and mold, the dish holding it couldn’t be seen below the filth. He drew back, wanting to throw up. The rest of the room wasn’t much better, with holes in the roof and walls. Some collapsed areas ruined pieces of art, the podium where a priest would once stand, and the pews dotting the room. The pews that weren’t collapsed were rotted, and a squirrel ran across Tanner’s field of vision.

What Tanner didn’t see was the shadow eating the squirrel whole, and advancing towards him.

In the distance, an organ plays it’s melody, haunting but sweet. The demon smiled, making itself known.

Tanner didn’t like the organ sounds. They were nice, but he was supposed to be alone. He hadn’t heard anyone else enter, but maybe they’d entered through another way?

Tanner turned around, and saw a being of pure black. The only reason Tanner could comprehend that it was even there is because he could see bright colored clothes on the beast. Terrified, Tanner turned around and ran, looking at the ground.

He hit a wall and fell backwards, his head pounding. As he was losing consciousness, Tanner could hear the sound of many people laughing, their voices reverberating off of the church walls.

[hillbillied]

Hillbilly and 49?

Send me a prompt with a character/pairing. 49. “I’m a level 72 Rogue and if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it and I will kill you.”

Andy assume Eddie’s cheating on him.

Well, he doesn’t assume. It’s the first thought to occupy his mind. It’s dissuaded by everything he knows about the man, falling away with the comfortable knowledge that his tall, handsome boyfriend would never do that to him. Or be able to hide it. Or hide in such a pathetically comical way.

This line of thinking dissuades all the other Worst Case Scenarios. It’s not infidelity, or some kind of addiction (Eddie’s not sneaking crack and anything less he’d share). It’s not secret party planning (Eddie hates those) or a previously-unknown child (the day Eddie trips into a straight relationship is the day Reagan rises from his grave to proclaims gay rights).

Andy’s left to wonder; what occupies Eddie’s Thursday evenings? Where does he disappear to until the early hours, wearing one of his ‘fancy’ shirts? (His description. They’re neat short-sleeved numbers, casual with nice patterns.) What has him crawling into bed with flushed cheeks from grinning too hard, kissing Andy’s temple and holding him tightly?

It must be something unusual, otherwise Andy would know. Eddie’s a private man, but an honest one. Andy lies awake on Thursday evenings, his latest novel left to rot on the bedside cabinet. He used to enjoy the time to himself; now, it haunts him. When he asks, Eddie says he’s goes to see some “friends.” He rubs the back of his neck as he says it, so Andy knows that’s not the whole truth. He doesn’t have the heart to pry further.

One haunting Thursday, Andy gets a phone call. Eddie’s been gone about half an hour.

It’s Elmo Haney and he sounds pissed. “Yeah, Ed forgot a bunch of shit we need for tonight’s game.” Gunny explains. He pulls away from the phone for a moment to distinctly call ‘yeah, fucker, I’m givin’ him the story’. He returns to an excited Andy. “And he won’t call ‘cause he’s being a little bitch about it. But it’ll take you half the time to swing by here.”

Andy is embarrassed by how giddily he cries “Of course!”. Elmo doesn’t comment, just describes what he needs to bring. It’s stashed in a wardrobe shoebox. Andy studies it on the drive over; several game books (cellophane wrap sill present), some elaborate dice, and pieces of a large wooden map. Those last bits are handmade, which explains Eddie’s time in the garage of late.

Eddie meets him at Haney’s door. He’s sucking on a cigarette like this is some kind of deathly serious exchange. Andy’s face-splitting grin only makes Hillbilly’s pained expression cut deeper into his features.

“So,” Andy says, searching for the right words, “It’s… Dungeons and Dragons?”

After a single sigh, the Eddie he knows and loves returns; cold stare and gruff statements.  “I’m a level 72 Rogue.” He says. “An’ if y’tell anyone, I’ll deny it.” It’s not enough of a threat, so he adds; “An’ I will kill you.”

Andy’s smile beams with pride more than amusement. (There’s still a lot of amusement.) “Well, have fun.” He chuckles, “I love you.” He turns to leave but Eddie stops him. 

“Y’gotta come inside.” He says. Andy’s grin softens. He doesn’t want Eddie to feel he has to share everything. Hillbilly see this, rolls his eyes, and adds; “Gunny said y’gotta.”

“When did Gunny Haney ever tell you what to do?” Andy asks. He receives an unimpressed scoff from Hillbilly as if he should know better.

“Gunny’s the DM, darlin’.”

[poemsforpersephone]

The third and final book rec list for fans of The Last Sun!

The Infinite Noise by Lauren Shippen has really cool empathy powers which, although not the two way bond Brand and Rune share, does remind me of the emotion reading aspect in TLS. The m/m relationship in it is also super sweet. 

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzie Lee. This one I’m recommending because the protagonist is a snarky asshole just like Rune, and the writing style is so well done. It’s m/m and genuinely such a fun and quirky book. Also the cover art is gorgeous!

Silver in the wood by Emily Tesh. This is an LGBT novella where a wild man called Tobias lives in a place called “Greenhollow,” , where, and I quote, “Old secrets better left buried are dug up, and Tobias is forced to reckon with his troubled past—both the green magic of the woods, and the dark things that rest in its heart.” So im recommending this one simply because of the involvement of secrets and troubled pasts haha. 

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir. The front cover of this one gives me The Hanged Man vibes like, all the way to the bone, which is initially what prompted me to rec it on this list. But also: “Gideon has a sword, some dirty magazines, and no more time for undead bullshit.” Idk about the dirty magazines but the rest of it scREAMS Rune. and the main character is a lesbian!!! yay!! 

The Black Veins by Ashia Monet. “In a world where magic thrives in secret city corners, a group of magicians embark on a road trip—and it’s the "no-love-interest", found family adventure you’ve been searching for.” It’s like someone looked into my heart and picked out my deepest desire and then wrote it and gave it life. This book is super diverse and super awesome. 

The Deathless Girls by Kiran Millwood Hargrave is a f/f take on Dracula basically. I’m recommending it because the main character and her sister go through a traumatic event similar to the loss of the sun court, when men come and burn their home to the ground along with their people and they’re captured and taken as slaves. It’s about family, friendship and survival, and it’s beautiful. 

The Never Tilting World by Rin Chupeco. An LGBT book where climate change deniers are the villains? ... you have my atttention. 

Prosper’s Demon by K.J. Parker. This is about a morally questionable exorcist!  It’s a satirical, interesting take on the topic of possession with a kick ass cover. 

The Wishing Heart by J.C Welker. An LGBT fantasy novel where our protag, Rebel, finds a jinni’s vessel and is thus thrust into a whole new world of trying to keep said jinni from everyone else and find a way to free her! The world building is awesome and so are the characters.

Tarnished are the Stars by Rosiee Thor. “A secret beats inside Anna Thatcher's chest: an illegal clockwork heart. Anna works cog by cog -- donning the moniker Technician -- to supply black market medical technology to the sick and injured, against the Commissioner's tyrannical laws.” i have the hardbook version of this and the cover??? is so?? beautiful.

The Weight of the Stars by K. Ancrum. TALKING OF PRETTY COVERS. “Ryann Bird dreams of traveling across the stars. But a career in space isn’t an option for a girl who lives in a trailer park on the wrong side of town. So Ryann becomes her circumstances and settles for acting out and skipping school to hang out with her delinquent friends.”

Predatory by Brooklyn Ray. WERELEOPARDS FRIENDS!!!! god damn wereleopards im?? so happy. m/m 

The Lost Coast by Amy Rose Capetta. FOUND FAMILY QUEER WITCHES. need i say more. 

Portraits of a Faerie Queen by Tay LaRoi. The fey run amok in this one! f/f with a gorgeous front cover.

Unbroken by Brooklyn Ray. step 1: rent haunted house. step 2: fall in love with witch-turned-demon who inhabits it. step 3: profit???

The High King’s Golden Tongue by Megan Derr. This one is lovely! Nice world building with an emphasis on languages and kingdoms, and a lovely m/m romance that builds from kind-of-enemies-but-not-really to lovers. the audiobook of this is great. 

Salt Magic, Skin Magic by Lee Welch. SORRY YOUR BOOK IS SET WHERE? MY HOMELAND? MY COUNTRY MY COUNTY MY HEART? we never get any attention imma go cry in the corner. its a historical fantasy m/m romance in YORKSHIRE gosh im here for it. And let me tell you... this is one fantastic book. I really, really enjoyed it.

Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner. fantasy, m/m, lotsa swords!

Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst. f/f fantasy with a princess who has fire magic in a kingdom where magic is forbidden! 

Freedom’s Fate by Jennie Taylor. SPAAAAAAACE i love books in space.

Pegasi and Prefects by Eleanor Beresford. “Charley's final year at Fernleigh Manor is complicated by a runaway pegasus, unwanted Games Captainship, a dangerous new rival and, most of all, falling head over heels in love with another girl. What is a reluctant Senior Prefect to do?” catch me while i swoon.

The Necromancers Dance by SJ Himes. m/m vampire/necromancer romance, urban magic and fantasy, very fun and smooth read, a little bit insta love but not totally. 

The Star Host by F.T. Lukens. “Ren grew up listening to his mother tell stories about the Star Hosts – a mythical group of people possessed by the power of the stars.” a m/m fantasy book set to a sci fi fantasy background.

Empty Vessels by Nicholas Williams. “Lucas Mahler babysits clones all day, but he's trapped under the legacy of his body-builder father and his genius girlfriend. When Lucas tries to rise above, he's murdered. Waking up in the body of a clone, Lucas embarks on a mystery full of blood, old friends and lost loves.” idk the whole clone thing in this just always reminds me of lord tower making all the different fake versions of people he knows lmao. 

BOOKS NOT YET OUT

So, the thing is. 2020 is very close friends, and some awesome books are even closer. These below are books I’ve not read yet, since they’re not out and I am a poor ARCless girl, but they’re books you definitely want to keep an eye on.

Witches of Ash and Ruin by E. Latimer. Bisexual OCD protagonist who is a witch D: its everything i could want. 

Wild Sky by Zaya Feli. LGBT fantasy with dragons! It sounds so, so fun.

Girl, Serpent, Thorn by Melissa Bashardoust. “A captivating and utterly original fairy tale about a girl cursed to be poisonous to the touch, and who discovers what power might lie in such a curse...”

The Fascinators by Andrew Eliopulos. “The Raven Boys meets Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, about an openly gay high school senior in small-town Georgia.” m/m fantasy which looks super sweet.

Cemetery Boys by Auden Thomas. “Yadriel has summoned a ghost, and now he can’t get rid of him.” THIS SOUNDS SO COOL oh my god. Yes PLEASE. 

When We Were Magic by Sarah Gailey. “A sly, witchy dark comedy about four teens whose magic goes wildly awry.” Magic, darkness, comedy, what’s not to love for fans of the tarot sequence??

The Extraordinaries by T.J. Klune. I absolutely love T.J.  Klune’s writing so I can’t wait to get my hands on this. m/m superheros!! friends!!! get excited!! I think anyone who likes how witty K.D. is will enjoy this writing style. 

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune. YES ANOTHER ONE this looks so good too we are BLESSED. “A magical island. A dangerous task. A burning secret.”

Fragile Remedy by Maria Ingrande Mora. “Sixteen-year-old Nate is a GEM—Genetically Engineered Medi-tissue created by the scientists of Gathos City as a cure for the elite from the fatal lung rot ravaging the population. As a child, he was smuggled out of the laboratory where he was held captive and into the Withers—a quarantined, lawless region.” The idea of the Withers kind of reminds me of the westlands.

The Fell of Dark by Caleb Roehrig. UHM im always here for lgbt vampires in young adult fantasy fiction. The author says that “this book is gay and filled with monsters” which also fits the last sun so i figured it belongs on the list lmao. 

Ruinsong by Julia Ember. “In a world where magic is sung, a powerful mage named Cadence is forced to use her power to torture her country’s disgraced nobility at her ruthless queen’s bidding.”

[the-queen-of-the-light]

Supercorp Haunted House AU

But not in the way you’d expect ....

The town that Lena goes to boarding school in is old and has a lot of history. Aka it might be kinda haunted. At least that’s what all the other kids tried to tell her when she transferred. She always just assumed scaring her was another way that they were trying to pick on her. Always so creative, the lot of them.

Out at the edge of town though, there was this one old house hidden from view by dense woods, and passersby could only catch a slight glimpse of it at just the right angle from the old cobblestone road that ran past it. No one would dare step closer off the path. It was especially haunted, or so Lena’s dorm mates said. The locals never went near it. Never even acknowledged it was there. Safer that way.

But during the fall of the year, before Lena took her A-levels, something changed. A low murmuring began among the locals about the house. She heard it when she’d wander into town to head to the bookstore. Something’s awoken in that house. Lena, of course, didn’t put much stock in it. Her dorm mates though, they went wild, constantly telling stories of how they’d hear banging and wailing coming from inside the house whenever they wandered past. Even one girl, who’d been brave enough to sneak out at night to take a peek, claimed she’d seen strange eerie glowing coming from between the trees.

Lena knew they were just bullshitting her. They had to be. 

She was almost a little hurt because she’d thought after all the years she’d been there that they’d at least moved past picking on her—even if they still didn’t necessarily get along with them all.

Somehow though—Lena still isn’t entirely certain how her argument against the existence of ghosts and spirits and demons and the whole lot had gotten so twisted around on her—she finds herself here at dusk, standing in the middle of a semi-circle of her dorm mates urging her towards the tree line shielding the house.

If she was so confident, then prove it—they’d dared her.

So here she is, regretting her earlier stubbornness because honestly, all potential ghosts aside, a house abandoned to time for lord knows how many decades—possibly even centuries—couldn’t be structurally sound. Certainly it wouldn’t safe for her to spend the entire night in the house, haunted or not.

Yet her Luthor pride and willfulness wouldn’t let her back down from the dare even if she logically knows the dangers. So she slowly makes her way up to the house, using her phone as a flashlight and hoping that the door will be chained up and leave her with an excuse that won’t wound her pride too severely.

Instead, she finds a fair amount of shattered windows, others covered by rotting wooden boards, and worst of all, the front door cracked, the knob and locking mechanism having been torn completely from their casing.

A growing ball of anxiety settles in her chest, and as she turns to look back towards the road she’d come from, she sees nothing. Her dorm mates had left, taking her bike with them. She hopes that they’ll return with it in the morning at the very least and that she won’t have to walk the miles back to campus by herself.

Behind her through the cracked door, Lena hears a soft sob. Distant, but distinct. Nothing like the wailing one would expect given the ghost stories circulating around town. An abandoned baby some claimed. A child victim of the home’s last owners others said. A housewife held against her will in the cellar was the most recent she’d heard. All fantastical and tragic, and none of them true, she was quite sure. But that didn’t make the cries coming from the supposedly empty house any less concerning.

Despite it, she pushes on, the door creaking open, and at the sound, the gentle sobs fall silent. Lena freezes, fearing what may be waiting inside. But as she peeks around the door, she sees nothing, just a decrepit entryway that had seen better years. The thick layer of dust coating every surface muffles the sound of her footsteps, but judging by the trails of footprints clear of any dust, she isn’t the only visitor recently.

Maybe other stupid kids like herself—and she rarely classified herself as stupid but right in this moment she knew it to be true—venturing into a ‘haunted’ house. Maybe a lost camper or a homeless person in need of shelter. All she knows, judging by the sniffling she can hear coming from behind the door to her left, is that she’s not alone in the house and she really, absolutely, most certainly should turn right around and walk back to campus immediately.

Instead, she turns towards the door. Logic and reason scream at her to do the exact opposite and return to safety especially when, at the creak of the old floorboards beneath her feet, the delicate sniffling stops, and a faint hum and ominous glow come from under the door. But curiosity gets the best of her. Curiosity and something akin to empathy born from the lonely tears she’d heard. So she does the exact opposite of reason and pushes the door open.

…. And finds pushed back against the far corner of the room, a small slip of a girl close to her age—blonde and thin, dressed all in white that looks ragged and dusty—curled in on herself as she holds her limbs as close to herself as possible. But most curious of all, in an already extremely curious situation, are the girl’s glowing blue eyes.

Literally glowing.

The adrenaline high must have gotten the best of her because she definitely passes out. She awakens to find the girl much closer now. She’s hovering over her with concerned and significantly less glowing eyes.

Although Lena can’t control her gay enough not to admit that despite the lack of glow, they still had a pretty twinkle to them.

[scripted-dalliances]

Faithless Fairy Tale

Title: Faithless Fairy Tale

Word Count:  5432 words

Summary: Laura and Sweeney get a happy ending. (Canon up until the last episode.)

Author’s note: I haven’t posted to tumblr in six million years and it shows by the fact that I still don’t know if I even posted this right, and if I mess up I’m sorry and just tell me. All of this is Neil’s and it’s pretty obvious I’m only playing in his sandbox. *There are a few direct lines from the book, between Laura and Shadow, freakin’ important ones I hope they one day put in the show.

Despite what one might presume given…well, his everything. Mad Sweeney does better in the company of women than he does men. Sure, he can drink and fight with the lads, take the piss and make them do the same with a dirty joke, but when it comes to the grit of his bones and silence of the night, its women that make him feel more at ease.

Its just the nature of his being really, women believe in the likes of fairies and leprechauns more easily than men. It is their kind that want something a little bit wild and uncontrollable, and free. Its really only a woman who could understand and appreciate a dual nature. Not good nor evil, not nice or mean but ever changing in opinion given the direction of the wind.

Men. Men wanted firm rules. Give and take, all the details finely written down like a bloody equation.

I pray this much, I sacrifice this much and in return by this time I shall have received my list of demands or else some other bloody God gets my belief.

Men wanted Gods of War. Gods that kept their dick hard and Gods to take away their pain.

Leprechauns were by nature then, seen more as little devils. Annoyance that were more likely to steal and trick them than to help.

So its hardly a thought given to him, that when all settles down. When the three of them fall into a routine of travel; making pit stops every five hours it seems to either piss, eat or pray, he keeps closer to the bitch dead wife rather than the Genie Rubber.

“Why are you on my side?” Laura bitches, the second he sits down. The worn red seat of the ancient Waffle house is at best, a fucking bench with a whisper of a pillow above it. His weight makes it whine and crack, like a living beast about die.

“Shut up and order. Oh, that’s right you can’t because you’re dead, so how about you shut it anyways or else you can go back to the cab and rot.” He bitches right back, only to get her tiny fist shoved into his side. Clearly she is holding back, as he does not fly across the room, but it does make him keen like a whelp and curl up to protect the rest of his insides. “Fuckin hell!”

“Tell me to shut up one more god damn time, Ginger minge and I swear I will give you a very unwanted vasectomy with a fucking fork.”

Across the table, Salim with his wide doe eyes and soft heart begs them to stop.

“Please, we are in public.” He says, like he is their mother and they are just two rowdy kids as opposed to what they really are. A 6'5 leprechaun and 5'1 dead woman about to fist fight in a Waffle House at three am.

It continues on like this, him without thought keeping to her, even when she breaks his bones and insults everything about him seven ways from Sunday. Like she’s got a stick up her pert little ass a mile long and just as wide with his fucking name on it.

He can’t say he doesn’t probably have a matching one with her name on it.

He pays no mind to it, but of course she does.

“Is it the gay thing?” She questions  apropos of nothing. They had been sitting, watching Salim pray on the side of the road from within a little coffee shop. Its shit, the coffee but they have amazing doughnuts that Sweeney eats several of.

“What is?”

“Why you never seem to want to be near Salim.”

He tilts his head toward her, “I’ve just spent three days stuck in a fucking mini piece of rolling shit with the man, with hardly a breathing inch between us. If I was any fucking closer, I’d be inside the bastard, and it’s my fucking name he’d be thanking five times a day.”

She waits a beat before answering.

“So do you want him to be? Are you jealous because of the God thing or the sex? Or is it a weird combo where you are just a repressed homophobe with God Issues?”

“…What the fuck.” He whispers in ancient tongue. “Did they pickle your fucking brain, dead wife?”

“Just an observation.”

“Oh. Is it now? JUST A FUCKING TERRIBLE ONE.” He roars, the patrons of the shop sleepily look over but ignore him after a second. He shoves a doughnut into his mouth and chews through his anger. “I ain’t jealous, Gods are fucking high horsed pricks. Fuck the lot of ‘em. And I ain’t got nothing against any bloke who can take it up the arse with a smile, not my slice of cake but you don’t live as long as I do and not get curious.”

Laura smirks, as if he has confirmed something for her. Like a child, he has the sudden need to steal it from her and horde it.

“-and before your pickled brain can get too many rotted ideas. No. Salim isn’t the ugliest bugger I’ve laid eyes on, but he isn’t making me twitch down below.”

“Gross.”

“So are you, dead wife.”

She rolls her eyes but continues. “So what is it then? You always seem to hang out with me, and we both know its not my winning personality.”

Sweeney takes a sip of the shit coffee and looks out the window to Salim. “Does it matter? Maybe I just want to keep track of you. You and my coin.”

“That’s not it. For one, we both know if I wanted to lose you I could. Two, you can’t keep track of shit, example A.” She gestures to herself, “-and its weird.”

“Is this your shit way of saying you don’t want to be friends, dead wife? And here I thought we were on our way to braiding each others hair and trading friendship bracelets.”

“Fuck off.”

“Heaven above, you have no idea how much I wish I could.” He sighs deeply, wishing he had such a choice. That she didn’t have his coin, that she didn’t look like-

But she does. She fucking does and maybe that’s the part of it. Laura Moon is the haunting mirror of Essie, the color of their hair different, and skin not as freckled but there she sits. Just as mouthy and unwilling to bend against the course of nature as ever. The only difference being that Laura did it out of pure stubborn will, where Essie had done it out of faith. Faith that had brought him with to the new world, and just looking at Laura reminded him of that fact. Made it feel like there was a hole in his chest, missing something vital.

The worst part was that, given different circumstances he wouldn’t have minded. In another reality, where she had a beating heart and no husband to chase, he would have chased that feeling. Stupid as it was, as mean as she could be. He would have tried to fix the feeling with crass words, rough sex and shades of affection. Try and figure Laura out, what she believed in and try to make her believe in him, as a lover or a man.

He thinks in a different life, he would have been happy to try.

-but they aren’t in that world. No, instead she’s dead as a fucking door nail and he’s just the unlucky tool that did it. Her piece of shit husband the reason why, even if he didn’t know it.

Instead, the hole in his chest just gets infected by guilt. With what feels like several bleeding centuries of it. From the loss of Essie, to the own sad truth of what he has become and even if she is a cunt, Laura hadn’t deserved to become a pawn in some God’s half assed plan. She wasn’t meant to die, scraped across pavement like roadkill with a man’s cock in her mouth.

“Come on, he should be done soon.” She says, drawing him out of his thoughts.

Sweeney nods, finishes his drink and follows her out. Salim is just packing away his rug and hat as they approach the cab. Laura making a beeline for the passenger seat (is if her tiny legs could somehow beat his stride if he put his mind to it.) And he once again attempts to shove his frame into the back seat. As always he fails. Curled up, with his knees bent, his boots still push against her seat.

If he was in mood. He’d kick it.

Kick it like a fussy toddler on a six hour flight.

-but decides he likes how his balls are attached to his body and keeps himself in check.

+

They lose Salim, the cab and the helpful buffer between within seconds. In hardly a days drive from that, Sweeney finds himself face first in a fucking window with an red, white and blue popsicle up is his arse like it’s fourth of the fucking July.

And his coin.

His fucking coin had, by the grace of gravity knocked right out of Laura’s corpse. His problems solved, he had it back. Not freely given per say but his once more never the less.

But then he looks down at her; once more smeared ungracefully and undignified on the road, this time dry and hollow. Her chest split open, showing him the pale white curve of bones that protects her heart and lungs. She is flayed open, and he should want nothing to do with her.

Still he does not walk away.

He roars, stomps and loses his god damn mind. All in his ancient tongue, all but lost to time, to the heavens above.

He isn’t evil. He isn’t.

(He puts it back, because there is a hole in his heart, a renewed sense of self and it’s the biggest middle finger to fucking Odin he can think of. He doesn’t want a new start, doesn’t want to be absolved of this sin and mistake, he wants Laura to have her revenge, even if it means she’ll probably wring his neck. Even if it means his own death. He’s done being a fucking coward.)

He puts the coin back into her and they continue their journey.

+

“What do you believe?”

“Everything.”

Death has done a lot of damage to Laura Moon’s insides. She feels empty, like there is a growing hole in her chest -but not physically. No, physically she can feel the cold, the dry pull of limbs as they move with every step. She can feel the odd heavy weight in her guts, of fluid never fully drained and of maggots growing. Making it feel like she has to puke or shit, but not really. She is in her body, she feels it, but it’s obvious to even her that the decay is setting in.

She thinks about Mad Sweeney and his stupid words. Yer meat will slide off your bones

She hates that his words manage to stick, place a bit of fear in her. She hates that even for a second, she believes him.

-but the truth is, she is coming apart at the seams.

Can there even be a resurrection if she’s a pile of moldy meat?

Laura watches Easter break out the big guns, watches in passive disillusionment as the woman draws life out and back into her, like breathing. Watches as she seemingly turns into a bundle of brightly colored flowers as the Earth turns hollow and dead as Laura herself; and all she can do is feel is pissed off. A Goddess of this power, who could have brought her back to life, can’t. All because she wasn’t just dead. No not just murdered.

She was a fucking sacrifice. A lamb slaughtered for an uncaring God.

So she politely clears her throat, to get their attention.

“I’d like to have a word with my husband.”

Shadow smiles up to her, like she’s a gift for all of three seconds,before his expression falls. As if remembering something.

(And it pierces her heart, like a bullet, because she isn’t stupid. It doesn’t matter what those gods of death had said. He’s not grateful for her return, he’s not able to forget or forgive her sins. He isn’t her puppy any more. Confessed by the man himself.)

Wednesday takes one glaring look at her, and then to Mad Sweeney behind her and butts in like he’s reading from a dramatic play, “Might have to take a rain check on that m'dear. As you can see, things are heating up, might not be too good for you…considering your,” He pauses, eyes going over her appearance, as if he can taste the rot on her, “-let’s say delicate condition?”

“I’m dead, not fucking pregnant you asshole.” Laura spits out.

“Laura-” Shadow attempts to call out to her; but he does it in that stupid soft voice of his, the one that she’s so familiar of. The one that is to calm her, to gently tell her to reign it in and not start a fight. He’s used it at her family’s dinners whens he got to mouthy with her mother over something stupid, and it’s the last straw. 

She will not stand by and let him protect this asshole god from her wrath.

She starts walking down the steps, hears Sweeney follow, and makes her way to the group. Intent on ripping them all a new hole, physically and mentally. First Wednesday, then Shadow and then maybe the rest of them too. Sweeney as well. Fucking everyone.

-but she gets about a foot away before Wednesday gives her a smirk.

“What is it that you really want, Laura. Your man or your life? What are you really afraid of? Death or being alone? What is it that you believe in, that makes you chase Shadow?”

“Fuck you, I want both, I love him. His love brought me back!”

The old man’s devil of a smile, grows wider and she can see his two colored eyes sparkle with amusement. He is laughing at her. It makes her want to break every bone in his body, slowly.

“Did it?” He questions, looking back at Shadow curiously, “Did you?”

Shadow, looks like he’s a deer caught in the head lights. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and Laura’s rage turns into dust. The bright light he seems to effortlessly shine with starts to dims. Flickers like a candle in the wind and all she wants to do now is cup her hands around it, protect it.

Please. Please don’t go out.

“I…I gave her the coin, but I didn’t-” He admits slowly, confesses each word with a stutter before it all comes out. “I didn’t know it would bring you back Laura.”

The light goes out.

He gave her a gift he didn’t mean to give, it’s not his love that keeps her on this plane of existence, it’s a fucking mistake. She’s been following him blindly, just like Salim and his Jinn, just like him and his Gods but here she is. Before him, and the truth is a little less like heaven and more like the hell she probably deserves.

She doesn’t really know what to do with that.

“He killed me Shadow,” She spills the secret with a lot less gravity than she thought it deserved, but now she’s not even sure he’d care. “He might have ordered Ginger minge over there to do it, but it’s him that wanted me out of the way. It’s him that sent you to prison. That ruined my perfect plan. He is the reason our lives went to shit.”

Shadow glares -there’s just enough righteous fury in his eyes to make the light flicker back on, but then Wednesday is once again talking and swaying the breeze.

“Am I?” He questions, and Laura goes to kick him.

“Shut the fuck up, with your stupid questions. Yes, yes you are!”

-he moves out the line of her kick too fast for her to track.

“Ah. So. It was me then who planted that dangerous plan to rob your place of work?” No. That was Laura. Fed up and bored with her life once more. “It was me, that asked you to get Shadow involved?” No. That was Laura again. “It was me, that after a year and a month…a baker’s dozen of months, that caused you to start fucking Robbie? That pushed you to bend over and suck his dick?”

Her own words, phases and classless tone comes back to haunt her. She doubts that Shadow told the bastard any of this, and knows that it’s just him. As a God, reading her sins like they are printed on her face. The truth of her actions, that still would have damned her even if she was still alive. That was all Laura, screwing herself over.

“Tell me. What would have happened if you had lived that night. If you hadn’t of died.” He opens his arms, looking to the crowd now as if they have the answer. Everyone is silent, old gods and new, even Shadow. Laura feels suddenly, like she’s on the chopping block. Like she’s once again, sitting before the God of Death, and being told to weigh her heart against a pure white feather.

She already knows the answer.

“Tell me Laura Moon -Laura McCabe. Who used to try and suffocate herself in a hot tub with bug spray when no one was looking, when her husband didn’t make her feel any more -what was your life going to be?”

It’s in that moment, that Laura realizes she’s too dead to cry. There’s nothing to give, even though there’s a growing crack in her being. Wednesday’s rips her apart, with his accurate accusations. Spilling not her blood, but her secrets. The one she never thought she’d ever have to share.

“Oi, you fucker!” A voice finally rings out, Sweeney’s roar. He dares to venture into the fray. Pointing a finger at the Norse God, “You are on trial here, not her. Whatever her life might have been, good or fucking terrible, that was her right. It was her fucking life to live! You bastards,” He glares out to all them watching and sneers, “Old Gods. New Gods. Fuck the lot of you. Same pricks, different fucking names that’s all. All greedy, all selfish. When was the last time any of you did anything fucking productive? You scramble and you fight, and you demand worship, like any of you deserve it. Well, surprise. You fucking don’t. None of ya, and all this is,” He waves his arms out, striding forward to Wednesday to spit directly into his face, “All this bloody is, is a war to find out whose the bigger cunt to a bunch of dumb mortal motherfuckers who don’t fucking need you.”

Sweeney laughs, “They never have, and that’s why they forget. That’s why, you can suck the life out of his whole damned planet-” He points to Easter, with a grin , “Like a toothless whore, and it won’t matter. They’ll just assume it’s nature. It’s the planet dying. They’ll fuck off to space before building you an alter, love. And maybe they’ll have their gadgets and their little stories on the box, but once again they’ll be focused on survival. Those things will be pushed into dark little boxes of the old times, won’t they?”

“He’s…got a point.” Techno Boy Wonder says in reply, he isn’t exactly eager for this war. He just wants his kicks, his slice of pie and then honestly, to fuck off and mind his own business again. “Why are we fighting them. Like really. If it doesn’t matter if they win or lose, then what does it matter if we fight? This is twenty-first century. No one is going to start plucking out eyeballs for the old geezer unless they’re already crazy.”

Media is slower to reply, but even she softly admits, “And then they’re nothing but mad men. Delusional. Cults do have a nasty habit of burning out before too long…”

-and just like that. The tides and winds are changing.

“There won’t be a war.” Media decides. Grabbing her hat off the ground. “Too much trouble. This was…impressive.” She says to Easter, “but he’s right. Without our meddling, they’ll figure it out. Call it something else. Cover it up and forget it.”

-and just like that, Media and Technology Boy leave.

Easter too, sullenly walks back into her home. Her earlier joy fading with every step.

It’s not a fitting end, but it’s an end never the less.

+

There’s a fight of course, a violent one, but it’s just between Mad Sweeney and Odin. Laura breaks it up by slicing Odin’s head off with his own blade. Just as he was about to snap Sweeney’s head off.

It’s not really important, because honestly, Laura doesn’t want it to be.

He’s better left forgotten.

+

“You didn’t mean to bring me back.”

“No.”

“You don’t want to see me.”

“It wasn’t that,” Shadow hesitated, “No. I didn’t want to see you. It hurt too much. At first I just thought…I don’t know what I thought, but looking at you, it hurts.”

Laura bows her head, it’s not surprising. This talk with Shadow. It’s simple and blunt, like a hammer doing it’s job, and nailing in her coffin once more. It’s time to bury what is between them, because it’s pretty clear even if she wasn’t dead, their marriage was.

“I want to bring you back. I don’t want you dead.” He tells her, but it’s not with passion as so much guilt. He wants to right a wrong, not get her back. Not fix things because he wants to be with her.

She is, of course hurt by this fact. Splinted between knowing she’s lost such a good man because of her own stupid fault and the growing sense of fuck it, you never really wanted him, did you? You were bored with him before you died, before he went to prison. You were just holding on to something you didn’t deserve, a Goddess with a single mindless devotee.

“I love you,” She said, dispassionately. “I know you loved me. You spoiled me, gave me everything…and it would have been enough. Should have been.” Admitting it is easier in death, because what does she have to fear? Wednesday was wrong. She doesn’t fear the nothing that comes after death, and even when she was with Shadow she was alone. Laura doesn’t fear anything, just as she doesn’t believe in anything. All she wants is something in her life that doesn’t make her feel like she’s dead. She wants to feel her blood pumping inside her veins, not just because her heart is pushing it but because something is causing it to. “I wasn’t unhappy with you Shadow, I was unhappy with life, and I suppose in a way I guess that does include you even if I never thought of it like that. It’s only in death that I can admit that to you without holding back. And that’s the truth of it. I was always holding back.”

“You could have shared. I would have-”

“You would have told me you loved me. You would have told me it’s okay. Maybe taken the step to get me to a doctor, who would have medicated me to hell and then I would still be this. Dead on the inside.” She points out, “I’m not a nice person with a lot of issues. I’m broken, Shadow and that’s just who I am and you’ve always been too good of a man to say so. That’s why I think…I think I followed you, I believed in you. Or rather I wanted to. I mean, I don’t believe in any Gods or that shit…but I knew you were a good man, and you could do something. Anything to fix me.”

“…You still don’t believe? After everything you’ve seen today?” Shadow asks her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the kitchen counter. Easter had all but disappeared into her rooms. Leaving the trio to themselves. Sweeney was recovering in the living room while they had gone off to talk.

Laura shrugged, indifferent. “Nah. I mean. Ginger Minge out there said it didn’t he? Doesn’t matter what they are or aren’t, they’re still pricks. And anyone can be a prick, so it stands to reason anyone can be a God. Seems kinda like that’s a shit existence any how.”

Shadow cracks, smiling just a bit. “I suppose it does…but what about you? You’re still dead, Odin might have been the only one to bring you back…”

“Actually, I’ve got a theory about that.”

+

“Let’s make a deal.”

Sweeney attempts to open his eyes, but really his face is bruised and swollen he only manages to see out of one. And all he gets for his trouble is the smug mug of the bitch dead wife. He frowns.

“Fuck off.”

“I mean it. Let’s make a deal, Lepercunt.”

“I also mean it. Fuck off.”

She pinches the skin between his wrist and his hands, causing him to scream so loud the house windows rattle.

Laura smiles. The bitch.

+

It goes like this.

“I’ll believe in you if you believe in me.”

“That’s not how it fucking works, dead wife.”

“Oh yeah?” She questions, standing before him. Despite being half his fucking height, she manages to make him feel nervous. “How does it work, because I’m going out on a limb in saying that you’ve got no fucking clue. Hell, I’ll gamble and say, none of you dickwads do.”

Maybe. But he doesn’t tell her that. Just glowers and mutters under his breath in another language how he can’t believe his fucking luck. Lack of luck.

“You told me you were a king once. Don’t you want to be one again?”

Sweeney stays silent, giving her any words is like selling his soul. Maybe he owes it to her, but fuck her, he’s not giving it without a bit of a fight.

“All you need is someone to believe. Really believe, and maybe a new story right? A reinvention. A rebirth.”

He catches on, what she is selling ain’t new, but fuck him…it sounds good.

“A resurrection.” He adds.

+

There is a new story.

One of a man, of a bird, of a saint and a trickster. Who came to America on broken wings and lost his crown, his coin and belief. (Oh yeah, Americans love a good immigrant story, of someone who lost everything and got it all back, Laura laughs.)

A hundred years, give or take, he spends wandering like a curse. Each road familiar, each day a repeat of the last. He makes deals with the devils, with the angels and even the ghosts but none of them change anything for him. All his pain, all his luck good or bad, doesn’t matter. It’s fleeting and he starts looking for an end.

He finds the end in a girl.

He murders her, leaves her dead on the side of the road because a mean ugly God told him to. Told him this was an important piece to bury, to shove out of the way for the grand end the once king was looking for.

-but the dead girl, she doesn’t stay where he puts her. She leaves the comfort of her grave, she tracks the sun and the moon until she finds him and once she finds him, she puts her hands around his throat and demands life.

The man who was once a bird, whispers to her he has none to give. None to share. All he has is the name of the God who wanted her dead. The girl takes it, though no heart in her beats or blood in her veins and she has nothing but luck of the damned on her side; she finds that God.

Hidden behind the shadows of the moon and sun, he stands and judges her.

In any other story, she and the trickster would be punished. She would have been struck down for her disobedience. For thinking she could get her way, just because. The trickster would have been killed, just like he wanted.

In any other story, neither of them are heroes and therefore their story ends with death as punishment. The bitter lesson of what happens to the boys and girls who don’t follow the rules.

-but that isn’t this story.

In this story, the girl doesn’t have a drop of fear in her and so she spits in that God’s eye. She blinds him, steals his blade and cuts him right out of the sky. The girl, who is just a girl and nothing more, kills a God.

She sheds her death, her mortality and becomes a God Slayer; something feared by those who rightfully should, and unknown by those who don’t.

It’s in her new embrace, that she brings the faithless man’s story to an end.

Because now he believes.

So she gifts him with a new crown, one of bronze and steel. She gives him wings not of a bird, but of hope of a new world. She takes his heart as payment, but fills it with something stronger than just faith.

She fills it with love.

+

“That’s a bit sappy.” Laura muses. Bright and warm, more so even before all this. Next to her, Sweeney fiddles with some precious trinket -that he promptly shatters between two fingers. He is still getting used to having his strength back.

The God of Death, Anubis as she now knows looks up from his brother’s book. Where their new story is written. Ink fresh to the point it’s still semi-wet.

“Gods and mortals alike, like a good love story.” Is all the man says. He is not pleased per say by the events. He still feels like he’s been cheated, after all. Laura McCabe should have died and vanished into the nothing of the world. It had been his job, and for whatever reasons, that had not come to pass. Not by his own lack of powers, but because the budding of hers.

She’s not a God. She is not holy or known enough to garner attention of mortals…

but she is something new.

Free of the restrictions dealt by most, she is a story now. Told between Gods like a promise. She can not be killed, she can not be reasoned with or bribed. She is an end and a beginning and there is something simple and absolutely terrifying about that truth.

All she needs is Mad Sweeney; not because of love, but because of everything else. He is now the start of her story as much as he is the end. He makes her, unmakes her and cycles between the two. He is her murderer as much as he is her savior. Without him, there is no life, no death and no story.

Doesn’t mean she’s nice to him, though. Why would she?

“Come on, Fire Crotch. I want Burger King.”

“They have shit fries, Wife.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Laura waves him off. A gold band around her finger catches the light. It’s a matching one to his own. A melted down version of the coin, split between them. Forged into rings by some God too afraid to tell them no, and given back to the other in a ceremony of marriage. Not a pledge or a vow to some other God, but to each other.

Laura puts her sunglasses on, and slides her arm between his. She’s strong enough to still throw him across the room, but now he’s strong enough to take it. She likes that. Seems fair.

“Come on, husband, let’s get the fuck out of here before I get bored.”

He laughs, “I can always throw you into the fucking river, wife. Try and drown ‘ya like old times. Would that amuse you? A little of tickle of death?”

“Little tickle of death? Sounds like a good name for your dick.”

His laughter turns into a bark, “We both know what I pack ain’t little, wife.”

They leave the funeral home, bantering like this all the way until Anubis can’t hear them any more. After which he sighs deeply in gratitude.

They exhaust even death.

[kaspmatic]

From a young age Eddie knew that his mother had complete control of the household and when things didn’t go her way, there would be hell to pay – an emotional torture rot with manipulation tactics at their finest. It was easiest for Eddie to play along, to appease the monster in which he lived with, if only to have some healthy semblance of a childhood. But he hated it, hated having to pretend and appease. Always having that nagging conscious in the back of his mind to go out and adventure, to explore, to be who he was truly… But Sonia Kaspbrak had wanted more than just total control of the home she wanted to have total control of each and every aspect of Eddie’s life; his health, his social life, and who Eddie was as a person. The manipulation tactics would dive so deep – fear driven at every chance she could get. Eddie would eventually succumb to the manipulation. Become so torn down that it was just easiest to be who his mother wanted him to be – instead of who he was meant to be.

Throughout the years Eddie had heard his mother rant about “the gays” more times than he could count – he’d completely lost track. Whether it was a rant about how “all the gays have AIDS”, “being gay is a sin”, or “all the gays go straight to hell” ­– he would remember them. Every single one of them echoing in his mind as he grew up. Every single time he even thought about looking at another man. Each and every verbal lashing, every fear driven tactic, would be remembered. A distant echo that Eddie couldn’t shake and anytime he even thought about coming out any time he wanted to make a move on the one person in his life he was falling for – he never could. Completely overtaken with fear of how his mother would react to the news. A fear driven so deep inside him that he often scolded himself for those thoughts. Hated himself for having impure thoughts about other men.

After lashing out at his mother at the age of 13 and putting forth the effort to call her on her bullshit – he made a choice, he made a choice to move on and live his life as he felt he should live it. For years, it was the first time that Eddie truly felt comfortable – Sonia hated having a rebellious son, but it gave Eddie the freedom to do more things for himself. To try new things and explore things he even hadn’t even truly been able to explore.

Richie had always had his attention and he hadn’t realized it until his later teen years but he was in love with him – the object of his secret affection for years – but during this rebellious time he felt more comfortable with it. But that didn’t stop the nagging voice of his mother from ringing through his mind anytime he saw the other or he thought about him in a certain light. Fear stricken, Eddie never made that move. Far too afraid to come out of the closet as it was much easier remaining inside. Hiding. On top of that he didn’t think he could handle the rejection – if Richie knew how he felt he was nearly sure he would lose him and Eddie couldn’t handle losing him in any aspect.

One night, Sonia Kaspbrak was giving one of her infamous homophobic hate speeches because of an episode of Geraldo that completely “triggered” her. Angry with his mother Eddie lashed out, standing up to Sonia and completely putting her back in her place – right where Eddie believed she belonged on the subject. Seeing red, Eddie ranted and raved about how one day he was going to be old enough and he was going to find a man he loved and marry that man – and if that day came his mother damn well better get her shit together or get the fuck out of his life.

As you would expect – this did not go down well with Sonia Kaspbrak.

An argument ensued. Insults were thrown back and forth between the pair before Eddie – furious with his mother – stormed out. With nowhere to go, Eddie decided he was going to wander through town. He didn’t have anything to fear anymore with Pennywise being dead and the majority of the Bower’s Gang being dead or locked up – so he travelled where his feet took him. He needed to cool off. To find a place he could just think for himself as far away from Sonia as he could.

Hearing the trickle of water below his feet he sighs, eyes slamming shut for a moment as he took a deep breath before brandishing his pocket knife. Feet carried him to the Kissing Bridge where he began carving an “R” with a heart around it. So, wrapped up in what he was doing on his second pass of his handiwork, Eddie was none the wiser when the newest gang of bullies’ in town surrounded him. Beating him to within an inch of his life and slashing him with his own pocket knife before tiring of the abuse and deciding to make it fun – they let him run.

That night, a bruised and battered Eddie went exactly where he wanted to go. Straight to Richie’s to ask for help. Despite knowing he was going to wake the other up – he didn’t know where else to go or who to trust.

But the beating, only beat Sonia’s fear tactics into him deeper.

Dealing with his homosexuality was never easy and it was a constant battle between what he wanted and what he thought he wanted – what he thought he needed. Dealing with his homosexuality would haunt him for years to come – a battle of the heart versus his mind, one that was always a constant battle waging war. Even when he found someone who he thought of as a great friend – but nothing more – he had doubts. Doubts that would keep him so distant and unhappy he could hardly bear it – but things would begin to spiral out of control and the woman’s grasp would start to take over his life.

This woman is Myra.

Eddie never shared a true connection to Myra and even at the proposal of marriage he all but cringed at the idea of marrying her – but there was something ever so familiar about the way she “cared” for him that he couldn’t quite put his finger on (at least until his return to Derry). Eddie held doubts about marrying Myra, still struggling with being homosexual but he knew that it was just easier – easier in society to be a straight man with a wife, a dog, a nice car, a good job. It would appease those around him and maybe – just maybe – he was straight after all. Who knows? He had never slept with anyone because he didn’t share that connection – that bond with anyone.

But Eddie wasn’t happy and part of him knew he would never be happy with Myra.

Never in all their marriage had Eddie attempted to sleep with his wife, there was something completely off putting about the act itself. He could never really or truly pinpoint why – but it was there. A distinct factor of disgust anytime she had tried so he made every effort to dodge it until she completely gave up trying.

Myra was controlling in every aspect of his life; with his heath, with his social life, and with who he was. She was nasty and emotionally abusive, manipulative even.

It wouldn’t be until Eddie received the call from Mike that he would make the connection – that he stood in his own way of happiness, by marrying his mother.

[acioo]

MASTERLIST OF 1000 VERSE IDEAS ! ( 2 / 2 )

                  under the cut are exactly 1000 verse tag ideas under the following categories:                   brotp, enemies, exes, fwb, otp, parents, siblings, toxic relationship,                   unrequited, & wanted connection with exactly 100 tag phrases per each one.                   please like or reblog this if you found it helpful !

BROTP :

you ask if i think it’ll hurt like this forever

we’re not those kind of kids

one can’t function without the other

people are good at heart

the kids with no religion

nobody hates the truth like we do

endless dumb fun

they turned her into a nightmare so i’m going to be theirs

for her i can try to be human

we are syrup in coffee and hands that bite

more than friendship but less than dating

we make the king scream for mercy

extensions of each other

all the gods, heavens, and hells are within you

this time we are not afraid

we win because we do not know how to lose

we will be monsters alone in this world with only each other

you look at me with this heady mixture of awe and love and bottomless trust

a sweaty summertime tangle of lips

our nights are perfumed in obsession

he’s lighting a cigarette even though he would never let you touch one

i took care of that thing for you

let them remember me

the only one who really knows anymore

all you have to do is ask

the best at making me feel better

piggeypack rides & inside jokes

living in each other’s back pocket

the impractically rebellious & the impractically kind

the best thing that’s ever happened to me

all you need is love

i will remember. will you?

i like you more than i planned

but we hold on

i love you inside & out

best friends with an idiot

not used to people sticking around when things get bad

here comes trouble

sitting on the library floor

sending out emails for the cult meeting

strange women society

making forests quiver

my one kin

where i go you go

our meeting was bad for society

a true friend & hot piece of ass

to a fading friend

a dynamic duo

then we fight together

don’t tell anyone the big bad wolf is a puppy in disguise

ideas that seemed good at three am

i know i’m a shit friend but oh god i’m trying

the gang screws the government

dead boys club

friends can break your heart too

can’t stop us

there is thunder in our hearts

bro homie man calm down

bored & covered in paint with an idea

i could be your family

we can be heroes

teenage feelings

i can’t live without you

i want to be loved but don’t feel like i deserve it

don’t give up! you’ll be great someday

i tolerate you

who made you think you weren’t worth it

if we fall we fall together

we are the kids you can never kill

we hurt & burn & bloom

friends that became family

alive by spite alone

as long as we don’t die this is going to be one hell of a story

local dumbasses knew what they were getting into but did anyway

just children thrust into war

it’s like being friends with a five year old child who’s also an alcoholic

double trouble

i’m pretty cool but also i cry a lot

unity ; standing together as one

you’re pretty neato

in the end you’re my very best friend

just get in the fucking blanket fort

oh for fuck’s sake here we go again

please don’t leave me like the rest

something about you made me feel alive

sitting on a rooftop at two am & talking about life

whatever you do you’re still my best friend

i’d do anything to keep you safe

so what are you doing this weekend?

let’s be miserable together

trouble usually finds us

my annoying best friend

i’d do anything to make it up to you

all we have is now

down for whatever

we’re good at surviving

death doesn’t discriminate

you suck less than most people

platonically calls you babe

so i did a stupid thing again

ENEMIES : 

better him than me

always ready to argue with you

the only thing that comes easily is the anger

laughing at your worthless jokes

awe-inspiring & ferocious & terrible

hell is other people

the game was getting a little old

plenty of monsters know how to play at being human

dream on fucker

you and me now! for worse or for better

she tears at my lungs

still working on going to hell

tangle them in bedsheets & take their heart

stop brewing up wicked things

fucking unbelievable

are you done yet?

you should be scared of me

the problem is you

monsters aren’t meant to live happily ever after

testing my patience

leave or die

this a warzone

give me a break

can you take a punch?

let my thorns prick your fingers

made of threats

you were an iceberg & i had no lifeboat

fighting & fucking

see you in hell

sinking my talons into your neck

bang bang you’re dead

keeping you at a distance

a fire blazing between us

i will taste the copper tang of your dying breaths

don’t growl at the wolf

the only thing she makes me feel anymore is rage

try to scare me, i dare you

what does it take to make you angry?

you are dumb and an ass: dumbass

sorry you evil prick

you look like shit

a lifelong rivalry

please stop talking

seeing them brings only pain

i’ll swallow my blood before i swallow my pride

i choose violence over peace

stupidity isn’t cute

i’m not cutting myself up for you again

sometimes hearts are vacant

i can’t stand a mess of a person

no enemy is safe

using poetry in a street fight

i don’t care if you burn

i tried to be kind

rot in hell

you want battle? i’ll give you war

hate spitting out of each other’s laugh

choose your last words this last time

not to sound bitter

true evil is above all things seductive

basically i’m a badass / basically he’s a moron

i hope the halo burns when i shove it down your throat

we should really have angry sex sometime

i liked your nose before

allergic to you

he’s not a monster, just a villain

stop making others suffer for your personal hatred

aren’t we all sinners

am i an asshole?

i’m going t hell anyways

do not tell me what i can and can’t do

you don’t know shit about me

they paid the price

you underestimate my power

an eye for an eye

people are poison

wanted: dead or alive

as mad as a dad in traffic

to make out with you or kill you

martyr me i dare you

i hate you more than you hate yourself

please stop framing me for murder i didn’t do that one

do not touch me

sorry you’re an asshole

throwing rocks evolving to throwing insults

asshole of the year & competition

you tried to cross the wrong person

if i’m cute when i’m angry you must find my phenomenal

done being a brat yet?

you are the villain of this story

bringing a murderous rage

an abomination among us

everything about you is wrong

i’ll be nicer if you’ll be smarter

gay judgement

some people should get punched in the face

better than you

a strange game of chess with only two royals

what doesn’t kill me might make me kill you

pain is but fuel to my rage

EXES :

suddenly we are strangers again

we deserve a soft epilogue

you changed everything

she didn’t realize she was saying goodbye

we are good people and we have suffered enough

it’s never been rustier

the people you love don’t stay dead

healing takes time

maybe it was the timing or the toxicity or the lifetime

you haunt me

your relationship will one day dazzle a psychologist

suddenly, everything is okay again

you say you hate him (but it’s so clear on your face)

i know i’ll see your face again

still overthinking why he stopped caring about you

when i think of january i think of you

everything is just so wrong!

part of why you can’t trust men

sorry to my unknown lover

i forgot just why i left you

he doesn’t believe in anyone but himself

he never saw himself the way i saw him

they haunt her dreams

she now knows the trouble of underestimating troublemakers

i’d hold her like she was china instead of plastic and she’d get oh so bored

somebody always has to love more

being apart from your soulmate hurts

i hope you’re thinking of me

you will always fall in love

our love did not know how to die quietly

if memories could bleed, if dreams could scream

taste of broken trust

we have fallen a long way

your love should be unconditional for one person or nothing at all

the devil’s love song is for the rest of her kind, not for you

all the signs screamed stop, but we could not see them

i see you holding hands and i feel angry

i’d give anything for you to hold me one last time

now i’m alone in the dust

if you ever fall in love again please fall in love with me

i don’t want us to be strangers again

still looking as good as i left you

i can’t find you in the body sleeping next to me

losing her was different from the usual pain

you couldn’t patch up the holes in his heart

i’m sorry for coming in and fucking up your life

you wonder if you knew him once ; you cannot remember

the world doesn’t stop for any of us

love is but a neurological con job

not heartbroken

no more love notes

love will tear us apart

you made me think i was good

girlfriend from hell

i don’t know if you noticed but i’m long gone

left in the dust with the taste of broken trust

the people i’ve left & the ones that i kept

send my love to your new lover

you know you should have stayed

we really cared for each other

do you still think of us

your name is synonymous with hurt

it still hurts

she didn’t learn how to love early enough

i hope hurting me haunts you for years

i feel sick when i remember how i opened up for you

loving you has fucked me up

you don’t fall until it’s over

i miss you so much it hurts me every day

you both think the other is staring at the ground

it always gets worse before it gets better

he isn’t coming back you thought

all the sparks were gone

i should hate you

you chose to burn me

sometimes endings are made of teary eyes & the saddest of smiles

i never really got to say goodbye

you used to call me baby

maybe one day i’ll feel nothing

me so sorry

you broke my fucking heart

who said i stopped loving you?

picking up the mess you left behind

the boy who broke her heart is the only one who can make it feel whole again

you tried to love me & i tried to let you

what i do isn’t up to you anymore

what’s a soulmate to a rebel?

it was never like that

what if your heart’s a liar?

what was i supposed to do?

accepting the love we think we deserve

maybe i’ll meet you in another life

she could’ve been your moon but you were focused on dimly lit stars

stay i whispered as you shut the door behind you

i don’t want anyone else to ever touch you

we outgrew each other in angry uncoordinated ways

you left & the world kept going

a letter to the boy who stole me

this thing was a masterpiece before you tore it all up

she’s no longer your girl

FWB :

him and his pale long fingers tangled in your hair

same kiss & lips ; never the same touch

his cold lips against your neck

slender fingers on your upper thigh

nothing sets you off like how you want him

free sex training lessons

can’t differentiate between lips & hearts anymore

his mouth is your confessional

he’d never let anything real happen

what we do is secret

this is no longer safe ground

“ my parents aren’t home ”

the only legacy we’ll leave is the graffiti beneath the high school bleachers

we are the avoiders

just us ; you find out

desired but never loved

you lost track of the rules

you taste like sunshine

it’s so different when we wake up

thrill chill fulfill me

with both of his hands, his eyes, his mouth

star-crossed knuckles at breakfast time

marking you the darkest shade of red

she’s the breathe on the back of your neck

i draped her thighs over my shoulders and drank

the kiss was a one time thing

the possibility is electric

the lie: it doesn’t mean anything

chapstick that started on someone else’s lips

and i keep waking up in your bed

it was supposed to be just once

is it the alcohol or the taste of him

she tastes like every dark thought i’ve ever had

she touches you like you're fragile

he tastes how he sounds: honeyed and warm

countless one-night stands

we say that it is just sex but it’s getting blurry

my heart is too big just for one of you

i’ll seduce you with interesting scientific facts

shining every night

our chaos is what sets us apart

no feelings he said

passionate as a sin

we keep telling ourselves that nothing is happening

just friends don’t kiss like that

i’m in like, she’s in love

me you and the moon

two girls one bed

this sort of lust isn’t allowed

the signs scream do not touch

her gaze is too gentle for your hard fingers

we didn’t get the chance to get past that bed

you’re in my veins, you fuck

it hurts ; lusting after the lion boy

vulnerable and yet still strong

touching everything but her heart

we don’t speak besides assurances

i taste good & bad in you

we call this bravery

this started as friends

drinking her in

lost in translation

maybe i asked for too much

what’s love to a fuckboy

i’ve never even kissed you

yes but only because you asked

they were a poem in four parts

go somewhere with me

you are my two am thoughts

please don’t use me i am broken

eat me! love me! consume me! devour me!

be a slut do whatever you want

feelings of detachment

there’s more where that came from

you are what i desire

you already know how this is going to end

sexual history: often

catching feelings like a disease

don’t get attached

send nudes

everyone winds up kissing the wrong person

gets turned on by danger

i bruise like a peach & i’m twice as sweet

the warmest light is your body

that's fucked up but i like it

that’s gross! (unless you’re up for it?)

gay hooligans

i will gladly slam you against a wall and make out with you

suck my dick written in pretty calligraphy

a best friend who occasionally gives you orgasms

you look cute when i’m doing you

in the gay way

come over and eat what my mom made

i want to respectfully have sex with you

seducing you with interesting science facts

teasing you is what i’m best at

i know what i want & i’m gonna get it

desired but never loved

can we just be strangers again

do you feel like a young god

OTP :

love her, but leave her wild

i lived to love, my darlings

you are my sunshine

tell me i’m good for you

you’re my mess

of all the things my hands have held you are the best

it was like loving the sun

how sweet it is to be loved by you

he makes you feel like when you were at the top of a hill and your bike’s brakes stopped working

the overwhelming desire to kiss

i want to hold hands & waste time with you

i wanna spend the rest of my sunsets with you

we loved with a love that was more than love

i want to be in your arms

your heart could fill an ocean

a love that is not easily buried

you love like the world ending

i find your laughter in the softness of humanity’s neck

i want to explore haunted houses with you

no one’s made my heart beat this fast before

i’ll steal you the moon

sometimes i feel like i’m going to collapse under the weight of your eyes

you understand now why they lost their minds

heaven’s a place on earth with you

he loved you like he discovered fire

did my heart love till now?

your smile lifted the world off of me

i care what you think

a love that makes the god’s jealous

you can only think of his name

no butterflies in my stomach: just shooting stars & supernovas

please i beg quietly don’t give up on me yet

known as something the star’s made

a roaring war when you touch

in her kiss i taste the revolution

the thoughts of him kick drum your veins

touching him feels like a leap of faith you didn’t know you had

tangled in each other

the lies & truth of love

people can read it in your eyes & how you hold each other

he makes you immediately sober up

making your blood tremble with something you don’t understand

he loves you so much more than you do

just kiss me again

one love two mouths

i fell in love with a heart that beats so slow

holding moonlight in your hands

i wanna come home to you

you don’t ever have to go

kiss me like you miss me

fuck you’re beautiful

that star reminds me of you

acknowledging the bad, embracing the good, & growing

my whole sky craves an island of tenderness

she was the moon & i was the stars ; our sky was glorious

he’s not just a boy and that scares me to death

sunlit lovers

spilling like honey from our lips

way too in love

my first & last love

she is what keeps me going

only a fool for you

you’re my future

love comes slyly like a thief

3rd base is when they see you having an anxiety attack

wrapped in your arms i felt like everything could be okay

you have the sweetest soul i have ever seen

i’ll suck your dick if you take your meds

grab the monet & let’s gogh

and i’d choose you ; in a hundred lifetimes, worlds, any version of reality

in the end they died

tragic backstories & height difference

may we meet again

in love with an idiot

you’re so weird (don’t change)

i love you fucker

wanna go to hell together

finger guns but like with emotional attachment and a lot of love

you’re a disaster wanna date

lonely for only you

i can’t believe you’re real

you’ve shown me the light

i wasn’t even looking when i found you

i always think about you

my partner my soldier my fault

worth your weight in gold

my favorite piece of art

we deserve happy

i’ve always belonged to you

great things take time

baby be my lollipop

he was pretty cute for a monster

stopping time one kiss at a time

can’t meet your soulmate if you don’t makeout with strangers

take me back to the night we met

you complete me

soulmates aren’t just lovers

a montage of love

when is a monster not a monster? when you love it

loving you because of & despite the bad

PARENT :

please stop destroying what is left of your heart

laying on the roof of your ‘97 pontiac

he inherited his mother’s charm

knowing how it feels to be cast away

they say: you’re a little too much for me

daddy issues written on your forehead

cosmically impossible

who would want a kid like me?

a letter to my daughter

please don’t give up on me

repeat after me: everything will be okay

her father’s daughter

blood of warriors

anxiously waiting to call that line

a bad childhood doesn’t equal a bad life

we’ve made it this far

her mother cried the day she was born

we didn’t think the monsters could ever be like us

even though there were tears there were tissues too

fearless children who love the light

they forced her into greatness

she calls her parents by their names

i will love you & love you & love you

wasn’t working well from the starter

so afraid of an empty nest

are you proud of me, mama? papa?

inherited her mother’s black anger

a figure in the distance, a movie reel of old pictures

everything my mother prayed i wouldn’t be, i became

you taught me so many things about myself didn’t know

i never did learn much of anything from my mother

the wolf in this fairy tale

loved the point of madness

master of fate

raise hell, kid

he came out of the womb like hannibal sacking rome

didn’t your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting

to love to the point of madness

when i was just a little girl, i asked my mother, “what will i be?”

he loved her more than his whole life

when will i be good enough for you?

it’s all good when i have you by my side

maxing out daddy’s credit cards

i took nine months to form your heart, do not let anyone break it in seconds

mother says there are locked rooms inside all women

my poor mother begged for a sheep but raised a wolf

every place my mother prayed i wouldn’t go, i went

mother, know, i have pasts inside me i did not bury properly

mother never taught me that just because someone desires you doesn’t mean they value you

born with a thick skull

the people who were supposed to love you more than anyone in this world

spoken to with corporate coldness or demonic tongues

parents who loved them the way we once loved angry gods, leaving offerings and praying for gentle winters

birthed in the form of cherry blossoms

hiding from their dark clouds, boarding up the shutters

kid, you’ve got to love yourself

what came first: humans or despair?

legacy was more important than anything

a lonely child born to lonely parents

it feels so scary getting old

i’m but my mother’s daughter & because of this i can do anything

my parents strength & anger lives in me

original family disappointment

sorry i’m a shit daughter

i love you baby

please come home (i hope you’re okay)

demonic possession & daddy issues

fight for her

just like her father

until every last galaxy dies you have me

which to ask forgiveness for: what am i or what i’m not

i will always stay with you

family first

fairytale childhood

those raised in glass houses

daughter of smoke & bone

one love one house

to die knowing your life was my life’s best part

gay on my mother’s side

nobody’s ever going to love me this much

a collection of horrible people

using “heir” like we are in a shakespearean play

cursing me with happiness

following a set of unwritten rules

this was not the boy they used to know

it just made him kind

to have a precious few people back

you hurt. it’s okay, i hurt too

thank you for always being there for me

was that a compliment?

she was overpraised as a child

better / not bitter

somebody somewhere cares

the oldest or coolest person on earth

fuck you dad

i’m so very proud of you & how hard you’re trying

thank you to someone who always saw the best in me

it ends or it doesn’t

i swear i’m trying my best

they could never see eye to eye

SIBLING :

comparing the twin scars on our forearms

let’s run away together

i love you even though i shouldn’t

two types of the same fool

well used to tragedy

merry band of weirdos

to my siblings: please stop

hurt my sibling & i will kill you

broken dreams club

world’s okayest sister

future cellmate

a force to be reckoned with

your smile lifted the world off me

don’t even think of touching her

a good bro

we may not have had a lot but we had each other

the scorned brother & the only one to make it still

the one with it all

you think you deserved the pain but you didn’t

i can’t remember who the dead one is anymore

i love you / you are not alone / you are daylight

it makes me so mad that they did that to you (and me)

she holds up my sky

always together

i am aware of who you are and what you do

i’m coming for all the monsters that ever touched him

we have blood made of gods and heroes

take back our skin

six am sunrise shining down on us

take back our streets

it’s time to tear their castle down

you don’t know what it’s like to not be wanted

built on the same pretty lie

we learned the truth too late

as golden as they come

no matter what i have you

a drop dead moron

together they’re a fucking hurricane

sour milk children who hiss and spit in father’s eyes

burning down the streets we used to roam

entitled to financial compensation for all this drama

neverending bickering

you used to be so kind

“ even her mugshots were cute “

we have claws for a reason

not mature enough for this

he tried to make everything okay (but he failed)

raised to give themselves a reason to be prideful

they only inherited the same sad eyes

born into needless wealth

carbon copies of one another

sometimes… i can’t even recognize you

the only person that appreciates the irony of legacies like her

the looks she gives him when she sees how he’s tearing himself apart is too much

together they paint an imagined picture of their long gone parents

we were only ever told how to tumble not how to fly

we trust the siren song to call us home

born into the silver of the moon

we are not like the others

i like being alive at the same time as you

your voice is the only answer to my problems

thank you for loving me through it all

if your life must be a battle, don’t fight it alone

promise you’ll come back for me?

never fall for one of them

our old man is a bad man

we’ve all got our secrets

billionaire boys club

sorry i’ve been mean

afraid together

rich girls don’t have hearts

everything is changing

don’t tell them i killed my old self

watch your fucking language little one

why are you always so mean to me

mayhem caused

born to think like martyrs

i’ll find the bad dreams off if they come to get you

something that happened a long time ago and continues to affect us today

there’s nothing wrong with being different

an unremembered bond

don’t touch him

remember you can’t save everyone ; but have to try

no longer making our parents proud together

a golden cage is still a cage

surrounded by idiots

where’s all the time that heals

the hippies

like realizing stuff

you were alone before they left you

please don’t leave me

we met evil when we were only children

the kids with the big big plans

why the fuck do you put up with me?

i feel at home with you

have you seen her?

fighters but not by choice ; by heart

not totally useless, possibly a bad example

star child are you listening? i died that day

i might be an asshole but i’m your favorite asshole

TOXIC RELATIONSHIP :

every time she knocks i can’t help but let her in

in these empty church halls religion shifts and turns and blurs

you feed me small bits of your petrified heart

our love is a monster

lulling me to a hundred year slumber with your kiss

love from the lips of people who don’t understand such a thing

just pretending you don’t know he’s going dark again

a love that’s not easily buried

you were never a saint: i loved in shades of wrong

dipped my hands in holy water just to touch her

they wanted you to save them first

i don’t have any more control

how do you still love me after i’ve broken you

he doesn’t feel anything much less love

you have to let me go

make an altar of this stolen flesh

i love you even with your hands around my throat

i call her the devil cos she makes me want to sin

at least it’s something

these violent delights have violent ends

you were crying, but it was beautiful

i will never know who you were supposed to be

the crazy kind of love

pretending to forget how our scars got there

when love kills

he’s suffocating you but you don’t want to breathe

i will make you crumble to the ground

my heart beats in starts until the spell is broken

there’s a body lying next to him

just let me cry a little longer

i did not know desire does not mean value

killing each other with toy guns

it was a lesson in listening to your head over your heart

i wanted too much and you wanted too little

we weren’t meant for each other

he’s bleeding out

you filled up where used to be empty but only with black

you made me lose my softness

the ones who like me the most are always bad

they threw each other to the wolves

we pretend this works

you say my eyes are getting too dark now (boy, look at my mind)

someone could love you more

you’re my today & tomorrow & i am your yesterday

something about you makes me want to do things i shouldn’t

you taught me how to love wrong

you watch her crumble under the weight of your sins

maybe you were the poison and not the cure

loving him was your destruction

you don’t know why you jumped after her

you always tasted like blood a little too damn much

cities fell when you left me

you make my heart shake bend & break but i can’t turn away

i may not know what love is but i know this isn’t it

it’s easier to destroy something you love than let it leave

did you ever really love me at all?

oh god i am bleeding oh god i am bleeding oh go

 i don’t want to be alone

why did you clip my wings

this is breaking my heart

you made me cry you fuck

self destructive tendencies aren’t a relationship quality

i’m a bad influence but damn i’m fun

fear makes the wolf look bigger

don’t believe his lies

not everyone you lose is a loss

i’m so scared loving you was the only good thing i ever did

you still feel like home

i love you (not delivered)

set a fire down in my soul

heartbreak is not beautiful

i should have trusted my trust issues

kiss the boys and make them die

i think i need you because you don’t need me

they broke the wrong parts of me

i could tear you apart if i wanted

we both wish this was better

and in the end all i learned was how to be strong alone

this destruction will be your rebirth

so the poem hurt you (it was supposed to)

he looks at you like your his entire world

i’m an entire person not a vague concept you dreamt

a perfect match but sadly matches burn

never fucking good enough

loving you could be so fun if i wasn’t so blue and you weren’t so numb

i call your name but it’s fading

you were nothing before you met me

everything i didn’t say

this girl wasn’t like wildfire — she was wildfire

it hurts

teenage tragedy

please could you be tender

a wolf will never be a pet

always disappearing on me

nothing ever ends poetically

why do i still love you?

we are the monsters

am i the villain in your story?

i’m sorry i stabbed you. i love you.

i can’t do this anymore

UNREQUITED :

i’ve fallen in love with someone who can’t be reached

cosmically impossible

just one kiss would solve it all

you’re looking at me how you used to before i broke your heart

what do you know of loneliness? of heartbreak? of biting your tongue to draw blood?

i could never regret meeting you

you don’t even realize how amazing you are

the story still ends

you’re all that’s left for me

i’m so glad someone so beautiful exists at all

i can’t ever believe that anyone ever really starts to fall in love with me

even though you want to speak you say nothing

you want to ask if he meant it when he kissed you

something hurt in you the same way rainclouds hurt before they break open

i’ve been in love with you for so long

unable to stop worrying what she’ll say when she finds out

no proof & one touch

killing me silently

god you hated me or hated that you loved me at least

an insatiable desire

i don’t want to be your friend i want to kiss your neck

the ones you love become ghosts inside you

can’t shake the memory of the summer you stomped my heart out

time doesn’t fucking heal anything

i just needed you to know once

never enough

you sit there & your tongue is tied

the best i can do is a fake smile & dead eyes

maybe one day i’ll stop thinking about you

give me a try

god grant me serenity to not destroy myself with want for this boy

i yearn for her to see past the veil

your glance lingers too long

please look away ; you are too much

a warmth i am too numb to feel

i just don’t want to get hurt

like pandora’s box

a love that makes the moon blush

you don’t have to say anything

our lips do not cannot never will touch

if they don’t come back, you sleep in the middle of the bed, make enough coffee for yourself alone

is it just that you’re not good enough

when he leaves you stay behind like always

she said i love you so damned much, just not like that

the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth and she is too soft to not save

you could never hold her like she deserved

i never needed anyone (until you)

in dreams i meet you in warm conversation

to bathe in one’s own blood

i’ve never felt more alone

we wake in lonely beds in different cities

i probably couldn’t live with or without her now

like a sun is trying to escape me

you consume me

if i told you i loved you what would you say

eventually but not today i think it will stop hurting

i’m drowning myself in alcohol when i really want to drown myself in you

i always think about you

i can’t imagine not loving you anymore

i’ll be your slaughterhouse

i don’t want realism, i want magic

i loved the idea of you more

how to unlove someone

i love everything you hate about yourself

the truth is i’m in love with you

i woke up wanting to kiss you

in a room full of art i’d still stare at you

you made me forget myself

there was just something about you that made me feel special

warning: you must fall in love with me

platonically hurting hands / burning

this bed was fit for two

treat her better

does she hold on to you the way i used to?

i just want to pretend

you make me feel lonely & loved at the same time

holding onto your call

i’m sorry that i fell in love tonight

i can barely breathe

maybe if my heart stopped beating it wouldn’t hurt so much

still sleeping like we’re lovers

maybe it wasn’t you but the idea of you

there’s nothing i can do except bury my love for you

it was all fun and games until i fell in love

you’re looking through me & i can’t see past you

you’re never gonna love me so what’s the use

you hurt me so why the fuck am i apologizing

somebody catch my breath

learning to live without you

please don’t say you love me

my love for you was never much of a choice at all

meeting you felt like wandering into a dream

i’m sorry i couldn’t hold myself back anymore

this is me letting you go

just waiting to feel your touch

living with a shattered heart is hard

you can’t love a legend

i know what we are & what we are not

all that’s left are echoes

my memories were loud enough to drown the silence

WANTED CONNECTION :

you want them to fill the void in your heart

you want them to take away the emptiness

you want them to make you feel complete

i can feel it under my skin

i might really become somebody someday

we are in daylight now

too rich & divine

a whole universe in my mind

a wildness in you

desire is the kind of thing that eats you and leaves you starving

full of heartache and poetry

i am worthy and powerful

we do not perish

let us be reborn in the morning light

her eyes are closed

someone will strike a match on it and they’ll explode

they have something bad inside of them

hurricanes of thoughts

some quality content

desire washes over in waves

the beauty that is yet to come

six feet deep

i cannot afford luxuries like rest anymore

this body's a curse

it’s a great day for being sad

love is love is love

partners in crime

a short story on indiscretion

even a curse sounds holy

biting down upon my lips

a queen’s rise

the words that burn my life

an amorphous kind of reality

your life was a long line of fine

like hell you’re doing that

not violent or malicious: a result

softness as a shield

he can’t fake that

begging for a second of time

thank you for your interest in a life full of pain

please try again & again & again

the person you were & the person you became

no maps of the change

the right way to fall in love

can we just live in the moment?

living life on a line

an ex-almost

my braveheart

it’s always more with you

stay alert & stay alive

come on baby light my fire

ballpark music

am i making sense?

coming out of my cage and i’ve been doing just fuck

everybody knows i’m a mess

murder! intrigue! sex! drugs! classics!

forget about it

you still hurt

do not go gentle into the good light ; rage rage against the dying light

i don’t want to relate to anyone

we should talk

we will be gods

don’t forget me

water in vodka bottles

taking trains to nowhere in particular

say you love satan

just trying to not get arrested again

in the sewers again

the devil’s music

who’s going to stop me?

a date in hell

only the good die young

survivor riddled with arrows

i have seen the future

talk to me (i’m scared to speak)

drive him wild with hints that you know when he will die

are you afraid of yourself?

you are necessary i need you

i like you more than i planned

the sun will come up

i got by own back

help the ghost find his past life

sent here to make shit worse

and all i loved i loved alone

survival mode is not meant to be how you live

your thoughts kill you, don’t they?

as far as anyone knows you do not feel anything

i am so in love (please do not break my heart)

i hope you know how loved you are

fifteen minutes late with starbucks

alluring like wildfire and summer storms

wake up

not afraid to heal

don’t panic

i took care of that thing for you

i made me

midday criss not midlife crisis

just survive somehow

what are some of the ways you’ve died?

the hero of this story

[dr-gloom]

Spookmonth Fics Masterpost

Read them all here on AO3

Simply Meant to Be - Day 1 

Summary:  Virgil really loves Halloween, and parties. Especially Halloween parties. Patton really loves Virgil.

Ship: Moxiety

Tags/Warnings:  Human AU, costumes, Virgil is non-binary, Remy is genderfluid, hence the costume

This is Halloween (Everybody Make a Scene) - Day 2 

Summary:  Patton really wants to go trick-or-treating and manages to convince his boyfriends, but not everyone is as enthusiastic as him about the idea of adult trick-or-treaters.

Ship: LAMP/CALM

Tags/Warnings:  genderfluid Patton, Nightmare Before Christmas all over the place, I’m not sorry, some anxiety but let’s be honest I can’t write anything with Virgil without him freaking out at some point, mean suburban mom, can anyone feel my distaste for the suburbs yet?, Human AU

The Pumpkin King - Day 3 

Summary:  Halloween is coming up and Patton wants to carve pumpkins with his friends-turned-roomies. Virgil hasn’t even looked at a pumpkin in years, and the others are about to find out why.

Ship: no ship

Tags/Warnings:  Human AU, pumpkin carving, lots of angst for like the first half, mentions of cancer, minor character death but it’s just mentioned

But Who Here Would Ever Understand - Day 4 

Summary:  Patton and Virgil have both had hard days at work, so they decide to take a little walk and talk about Serious Business™.

Ship: Moxiety

Tags/Warnings:  Virgil has Borderline Personality, Patton is a transmale, poor bois, hot chocolate, sweaters, sunsets, Human AU

There Are So Many Things I Cannot Grasp - Day 5 

Summary:  Logan hates the fall, because all he can see is the death of nature. Patton loves the fall, because he can push his boyfriend into a pile of rotting plant bodies leaves!

Ship: Logicality

Tags/Warnings:  Human AU (which I always forget to tag), idk what else to tag?, jumping in leaves, hhhhhh what a mess, I can feel the leaves scratching me no thanks

How Could I Be So Blind? - Day 6

Summary:  Virgil has never understood the point of decorating. Much less decorating for a season.

Ship: Moxiety

Tags/Warnings:  Human AU, Non-binary Patton, Patton is an elementary school teacher, decorating for fall, there’s like one ‘oh shit’ moment but everything’s okay, cute dorky gays

This Looks Like Fun - Day 7

Summary: Patton’s been getting a lot of questions about the cookies people see his boyfriends eating in his videos, so he decides to make a video about them!

Ship: LAMP/CALM

Tags/Warnings: some swearing, Virgil eats like, everything, very ridiculous, Human AU, Virgil goes by Anx on Tumblr and his boyfriends try to respect that

I Must Be Dreaming - Day 8

Summary: Virgil has never been to a fall festival before, but he really wants to go with Logan. 

Ship: Analogical

Tags/Warnings:  Human AU, a little bit of angst, will I ever be able to write straight-up fluff? Who knows, cute boyos

I’ve Never Felt This Good Before - Day 9 

Summary: Virgil and Roman have been together for a few years now, and Roman’s been planning something big. He loses his patience and decides to spring his plan into action on Halloween.

Ship: Prinxiety

Tags/Warnings:  Human AU, dorks, cutie patooties, hella gay

Life’s No Fun Without A Good Scare - Day 10 

Summary: Roman talks Patton into trying out the corn maze. They totally don’t get lost.

Ship: Royality

Tags/Warnings: Human AU, useless gays, some swearing

Don’t We Love It Now - Day 11 

Summary: Patton drags Logan along to a hay ride. Logan does not like hay, but ey loves Patton, so ey doesn’t complain. 

Ship: Logicality

Tags/Warnings: Agender Logan, hay rides, little accident, it’s fine though no one’s hurt, Lo’s a sap for his sap

Instead of Throwing Heads - Day 12 

Summary: Logan takes Virgil apple-picking. 

Ship: Analogical

Tags/Warnings: slight injury, dw it’s okay, gay nerds pickin apples

Year After Year (It’s the Same Routine) - Day 13 

Summary: Patton loves many things, but Friday the 13th is not one of them. 

Ship: LAMP/CALM

Tags/Warnings: superstition, cute poly boyos, Patt’s not all that into religion because lots of ppl use it as an excuse to hurt others, but he doesn’t have a problem with ppl being religious, cute phone contact names

I Can’t Believe My Eyes - Day 14 

Summary: Virgil has a secret. Roman is more than thrilled to discover it. 

Ship: no ship

Tags/Warnings:  Logan is non-binary, Dee has vitiligo, bois obsessed with caffeine, idk man it was just funny

Make You Jump Out of Your Skin - Day 15 

Summary:Deceit really loves October. 

Ship: no ship

Tags/Warnings: sympathetic Deceit, Dee plays pranks, it’s funny, s/o to @lucifer-in-my-head​ for helping me with Patton’s idea.

Why, That Looks So Unique (Inspired) - Day 16 

Summary: No one makes couples costumes for polyam relationships. The boys decide to take matters into their own hands, with a little help from Steven Universe. 

Ship: LAMP/CALM

Tags/Warnings:  costumes, fusions, halloween, roman’s good at art (unlike me), cute boyos

And How You’ll Scream - Day 17 

Summary: Virgil talks Patton into watching a Halloween movie with him, despite how nervous they are.

Ship: Moxiety

Tags/Warnings: non-binary Patton, halloween movies, cute supportive boyfriends, patton gets scared but virgil comforts them

Feels Like Tragedies At Hand - Day 18 

Summary: Virgil doesn’t sleep. He isn’t capable of sleeping anymore, and he hates it. But one night, Thomas can’t sleep either. 

Ship: platonic ThVi

Tags/Warnings: shitty summary, ghost virgil, witch thomas, idk are these really monsters?, sorry yall, reference to death

Something’s Waiting Now To Pounce - Day 19 

Summary: Virgil and Patton go to a haunted house and someone gets too scared to finish what they started. 

Ship: Moxiety

Tags/Warnings: Human AU, this is based off of a real event, i went to a haunted house with my friend, i was virgil, some spook/angst/suspense(?), minor swearing

Won’t The Children Be Surprised - Day 20 

Summary: Patton convinces the others to explore a supposedly haunted carnival with him. It… doesn’t exactly end the way they’d thought it would

Ship: platonic LAMPDS

Tags/Warnings:  Human AU, haunted carnivals, spoopy, remy’s a butt, is he real? no one knows

Only Dust And A Plaque - Day 21 

Summary: Logan hated not knowing what happened. He wished he would just be left alone. 

Ship: no ship

Tags/Warnings:  human AU, ghost logan, angst, idk sad logan, minor violence but no one is hurt

Here Lies Poor Old Virgil - Day 22 

Summary: Virgil had been the one to always talk Patton into visiting the graveyard, but this year Patton has to go alone. 

Ship: Moxiety

Tags/Warnings: human AU, major character death, really freaking sad, I’m not sorry, poor Patton, poor Virgil

You’d Better Pay Attention Now - Day 23

Summary:  Virgil’s up late and gets scared by something unexpected.

Ship: no ship

Tags/Warnings: virgil gets spooked, it’s dumb

When You Call “Who’s There?” - Day 24 

Summary: Roman gets out of rehearsal pretty late one night, and has to walk home alone. He lets himself get a little too paranoid. Or does he?

Ship: romantic or platonic Prinxiety

Tags/Warnings:  Human AU, hella suspense yo, roman’s an actor, virgil is mentioned, very spooky walks home

It’s Been Dead For Much Too Long - Day 25 

Summary: Not all ghost stories are told by the living. 

Ship: no ship

Tags/Warnings:  Human AU, graphic depictions of blood/gore/violence, seriously if you’re at all squeamish you probably shouldn’t read, ghost!Roman, ghost!Deceit, death, suicide mention, animal mutilation, murder

Somewhere Deep Inside of These Bones - Day 26 ((sequel to Day 21))

Summary: Remy had heard all the stories growing up, so naturally he wants to see what the truth is when he still believes in the ghost that lives in that rundown house downtown. 

Ship: no ship

Tags/Warnings: Human AU, angst, poor Logan, things are all coming together, Remy and Declyn are dorks, ouija board usage, i do not condone such acts of foolishness

With Lives on the Line - Day 27

Summary: Roman brings his boyfriends to the imagination, and things go horribly wrong. 

Ship: LAMP/CALM

Tags/Warnings:  violence, but i mean like, fist fights, uhm, idk what else

Can’t Shake This Feeling That I Have - Day 28 

Summary: Patton wants to play Outlast with Virgil. How could he say no?

Ship: platonic Moxiety

Tags/Warnings: it’s a horror/suspense game so, creepy, suspenseful, anxiety attack, some swearing, Human AU (I keep forgetting to add that one to my fics whoops)

Something’s Up With Virgil - Day 29 

Summary: Remy throws amazing Halloween parties, with a crazy money prize for his costume contest. Virgil wants that money. 

Ship: Prinxiety

Tags/Warnings: Dragon Witch costume, Virgil’s unfairly hot, based on @em-be-lievable‘s Dragon Witch AU, Human AU, College AU

What Have I Done? - Day 30 

Summary: Roman ate the last of the Crofter’s. He could only imagine how furious Logan would be.

Ship: no ship

Tags/Warnings:   intimidation, servitude, Roman wtf, belittling, slight swearing, Human AU

Join You By Your Side - Day 31 

Summary: This was by far the scariest thing Virgil has ever done in his life. He’s planned for this day for months, put up with things he never would have before, just to see this day happen. All for Remy. 

Ship: Sleepxiety

Tags/Warnings:  flashbacks, cute nerds, self deprecation, halloween festivities, I’m trying to tag this without giving anything away, Human AU

[xoleahbeanxo]

Rick and Morty: One Shot

The Song Remains the Gay

Just a little head canon that turned into a one shot. Sue me!

A soft pluck of the strings and a deep bellowing tone sang in tune with the whine of his fingers slipping along the ribbed string. He switched the cord against the thread and strummed a long fluttery note. It wasn’t perfect, no, but it was precise. It was how he wanted it to sound. Nothing concrete ever sang his soul, only the faltering tone of a hesitated strum depicted his warped mind.

“That’s beautiful.” She said.

She kept her voice low as to not disturb his creative process. Not that it mattered; he was in the zone, right where he wanted to be. Punctuating that thought with a quick E – F switch before grinding the cords to a halt, picking up with a sloppy strum that came out louder than he wanted or maybe it was exactly what the music needed. As he strummed the cigarette in his mouth bobbed in time to his music.

The flair and finish of the unwritten song vibrated his nerves, his bones; it left him feeling high and hard just as he wanted it to. That was after all, why he played. Music was the ultimate reason for so many things in his twisting scientific mind.

Rick stopped playing. His fingers still vibrated with the tones that lingered in the room. He took a long drag from the cigarette, holding it inside of him until every inch was warm.

The bed behind him shifted and he felt a warm body pressed against his back. Naked flesh ran the entire length of his spine, warming the cool skin. At first they were just lips against his thin neck and then teeth teased the already purpled mark she’d left earlier in the evening. He winced at the tender flesh before taking the cigarette from his dry lips.

“Diane,” He laughed. “Y-you’re like a fucking vampire.”

“You know you like it, darling.” She whispered hotly against his neck.

If that wasn’t enough to cause his already hard cock to bounce, her gentle drawl did the trick easily. They both laughed like idiots in the quiet of his trailer.

Diane fell back in the cot. Her tight curly brown hair fell around her face. She wore Rick’s loose fitting tank top that did little to cover anything up but that’s how he liked it. Her soft pale flesh carried the tan lines from her days helping her family on the farm. He could see the slope of her B sized breasts peaked with plump nipples that always teased a need to be touched. Her hips, curvy and beautiful, were creased by a pair of pink panties a size or two too small. Not that he minded, they were usually off, immediately after the show and his face bathed in her milky white thighs. He gave her an encore that left her screaming his name half the time, and the lord above the rest.

“That song,” She asked, taking the cigarette from him. “What’s it called?”

“Diane’s cradle.” Rick laughed lewdly.

Diane snorted and choked on the azure smoke that coursed through her lungs. Rick smirked at her, watching her tits bounce with each convulsing jolt. It rolled deep in his groin. Even though he’d spent himself inside of her twice already; he was ready to take her again.

“We should call it Beth’s cradle.” She joked.

“What?” He asked wryly.

“Well, you never know.” Her tone lilted.

She caressed the rounded part of her belly. The pouch there was made from too many snacks and soda rather than from the question that hung in the air now. Rick just stared at her.

“What y’all lookin’ at like that, magic man?” She teased, propping herself on one elbow.

Rick stared at her for a long moment, though he didn’t see the her he once did. She wasn’t that same stupid sixteen year old groupie that showed up at his trailer one night after a show. He’d almost sent her away but she’d been so desperate for a hug that he let her stay. Too bad the hug only came after he did but he still he let her stay.

Afterwards, he sat on the cot, strumming away as she kissed his back and neck affectionately. When the morning came, so did he and sent her out to get breakfast, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to be there when she got back.

What was the big deal, he thought, he’d given her cab fare that was enough?

The following night, it was the same thing. She stood bathed in the porchlight outside of his trailer. She wore a short skirt and a shirt that barely covered anything just the way he liked it. All she wanted was a hug and he was weak to her and took her again.

This went on for week until he grew to expect her there on his doorstep. So much that he found himself happily waiting for her outside. Now the hugs came first, and so did the kisses, and the long talks, and the belching contests, and the foul jokes. And sometimes, he never came at all. And the song’s first notes were created.

***

Rick rested in the lawn chair outside his trailer. He was hunkered down over his guitar. His fingers found the notes of the song that he’d been working on for almost a year now. The title read Diane’s Cradle but it had since been scratched out and Beth, written in pink ink, took its place.

He stopped to make an adjustment in pencil before starting again.

“Well, Rick?” The voice asked.

He’d almost forgotten that Diane was standing there, even though he’d seen her coming up the way. She always came when she heard him play but he rarely came when she was around anymore, so it was easy to ignore her.

“Well what?” He asked, tired from his long days on the road.

“Should we call her Beth?” Diane asked.

She cupped her small pouch beneath the long white blouse she wore.

Rick didn’t hear her though. All he could hear was a distant whining in his ears like the feedback of wily amp. Soon it was joined by the rapid bumping of the snare drum of his heartbeat. He looked at her. Her lips were moving but he heard nothing that she had to say. Slowly, he nodded his head.

And the baby’s name was Beth. And the song became nameless.

***

           Rick sat in his trailer, sweaty from his gig and yet his soul begged to be sated for the mediocre show hadn’t been enough.

He played the tune that had haunted him for just over a year now. All the pieces were falling into place. The notes on the page were near perfection and he could play it without the music sheets.

It was the song that lured her to him again. It was the same song that came with a steady knock on his trailer door. And Diane stood under the pale porch light. Her hands caressing the heavy belly that hung out from beneath his tank top that barely covered anything just the way he’d come to hate.

Diane’s smile was so desperate for a hug and he invited her in. Unfortunately for him the hug came after she did and he would have to listen to her talk about Beth.

Then in the morning, she’d come again. He sent her to get breakfast and she knew full well he’d not be there when she got back and would never be there for her again.

And the woman’s name was Diane. She had a child named Beth and the song remained the same, unheard and nameless.

***

Rick pulled the helmet off. His breath ragged as he teetered on his feet. Tears filled his eyes and ran down his stubbly cheeks. No matter how hard he tried, he could halt the hitching sobs in his chest. He looked at the red tube clutched in his shaking hand. ‘Goodbye Diane’ was what the label said on the side of it.

“Diane,” He whispered, his voice trembling.

At hearing the name, there was a moment of clarity. His eyes moved to look at the three other tubes sitting on the table. His three worst memories in a room full of otherwise bad decisions. Through the pain, he knew what he had to do.

Rick passed through his lab, picking up the old ruddy guitar case that sat in the corner. He set it on the table and opened it. The old acoustic guitar had seen better days but still made his chest swell.

There, lying across the face of the guitar was a stack of music sheets. The title at the top consisted of many corrections because Rick never felt strongly towards anything that could inspire the name of his song, at least, until now.

He scribbled something on the title line next to the others before tossing everything back in the guitar case and started up the ladder to the garage, then to the kitchen. His thoughts guided his feet up the stairs, and into the all too familiar bedroom.

“H-hey Rick!” Morty said.

The boy lounged on his bed focusing on the small handheld game device that beeps and blooped noisily. Without saying anything, Rick snatched up the device with one hand, flicking open a portal with the gun in his other. He tossed the device through and deactivating it all in one fluid motion.

“Aw geez, Rick! Wh-what the fuck was that for?” Morty squawked, sitting up in his bed.

“Keeping you from rotting you – you’re fucking brain, Morty!” He grumbled.

“Y-you’re a real dick, you know that?”

“Sh-Shut up, Morty, I-I brought you something.”

Rick held up the battered guitar case.

“Aw, is that, like, your old guitar. God, Rick, are you – are you going to sing me a lullaby or maybe a love song.” Morty laughed.

“Well, Morty, if y-you must know, I was thinking about teaching you how to play this guitar. It might get you laid f-for a, you know, a change.”

“Might get you laid, more like it!” Morty scoffed.

“What?”

“I – I said I’m really excited, Rick.”

“That’s what I thought y-you said, you fucking piece of shit.”

Rick slammed the guitar case down on the bed, nearly hitting Morty with it. He flipped it open and jerked the guitar roughly from its cradle by its neck. The music sheets inside fluttered around before slowly swooped in to land on the floor around Morty’s feet.

“Wh-What’s this?” He said scooping up the front page before Rick could grab it.

“It’s a song I’ve been fucking with for a – for a few days now.” Rick lied.

“Morty’s Cradle,” Morty said, looking up at him with great big eyes. “I-I don’t know, it sounds pretty gay to me, you know?”

It was Rick’s turn to scoff as he snatched the paper away along with his guitar, starting to shove them back into the case.

“No – no, Rick, I’m sorry. I was just, you know, I was just teasing you.” Morty laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that’s ah – that’s really funny there, Morty.” Rick gritted his teeth.

Rick thrust the guitar in Morty’s lap roughly before settling in on the bed next to him. Morty adjusted the strap around his neck before looking to Rick for a little more guidance. He helped the boy line his fingers up just right, and passed him an official “Flesh Curtain” guitar pick.

That’s when Morty strummed his first cord. It wasn’t perfect, no, but it was precise. There was something surprisingly optimistic about the look on Morty’s face. It reminded Rick of a distant memory that he struggled so hard to forget. It left him desperate for a hug but no one came to stand under his porchlight. And the song was finally heard and it finally had a name.

[wallyaxiom]

task 04; journey of the featherless

❝ He wasn’t like Wally. He wasn’t this ray of sunshine that turned assholes like Jafar into decent people❞

Describe your character; How do you see your character in your own eyes and not based off the bio. How have you developed this character into your own?

SO A LOT HAS CHANGED SINCE THE LAST TIME I WROTE THIS LMFAO. How do I even describe Wally??? He honestly means so damn much to me for many reasons mostly because he’s the character i‘ve had the longest. I’ve had him for maybe 8 years??? and he’s truly come leaps and bounds from where he once was. Wally is the actual human form of sunshine. He just emits light and love wherever he goes. He has one of the biggest hearts around and sometimes that gets him in trouble. He sees the good in everyone (except maybe auto but you know auto’s a d i c k). Wally has really come into his own these past few years. He’s learned to love himself, like, genuinely love himself. That has always been wally’s biggest struggle. All his life he was told he was nothing and treated like absolute trash by the BNL gang and the axioms. when he first came to walt he was this stuttering insecure mess, basically austin. He was scared of his own shadow and afraid to be loved, even touched. Now that’s not the case at all. He’s genuinely happy. he’s very confident with himself. Now that i’ve played wally long enough i’ve gotten to explore more bits and pieces of him and he’s quite feminine and he’s not ashamed of it he embraces it. He doesn’t feel like he has to hide who he is anymore because he’s married to one of the most understanding, supportive and loving men ever. Wally is a fighter. He’s come so damn far and I am proud of my little bean. 

What’s your favorite thing about your character? what’s your least favorite?

There’s so many things about wally that I love, I love how carefree and spirited he is. I really love how fucking sassy he is. like my boy has SASS. But really my favorite thing about Wally is his ability to love just about anything and anyone. Which is one of his down falls as well, because he just sees the good even in the worst of people and Wally just wants to fix the broken. I would say that i don’t like how he still has a lack of faith in himself. He doesn’t hate himself as much as he used to but he doesn’t believe in his capabilities. also he’s a fucking tease like rip oliver spade. 

What are some of your favorite relationships your character has formed? (Friendships, relationships, yada ya)

omgomg I love wally and silvermist. she’s the little sister he’s always wanted (before he knew marjoire existed rip me!!) and they’re just so pure and cute. I also love his relationship with Aurora. They’re both hopeless romantics and becca i’m so sorry i’m trash with replying but like their friendship has to flourish even more because they’re very a like and wally adored her. his relationship with donicia is so sweet too like omg they rot my teeth.

i’ll throw in next gen too because do i REALLY want to make more posts than I need to??? the answer is no. 

HELLO I LOVE SAD BREAKFAST CLUB THEY ARE MY LIFE. THEIR DIIFERENT PERSONALITIES AND DYNAMICS MAKE MY HEART SO HAPPY LIKE IVE ALWAYS WANTED A SQUAD AND NOW I GOT ONE AND EVERYONE IS JUST SO PERFECT AND WODNERFUL AND FUCK WIL I EVER GET MY OWN SAD BREAKFAST CLUB IRL??

cyrus and austin??? binch I love them

fucking daisy and austin are the cutest, purest ship i’ve had and god i love them so fucking much like when 2gen rolls around i’m always so pumped to have them like I love them that much i miss them when we’re not in next gen world i just love them so fucking much it’s fine i’m fine ya’ll wanna see pics of their kids in the future?? they CUTE

allison and remus oh my gOD they hurt me but i’m so excited to see where they go like allison totally likes this boy and remus, god bless his soul, deserves so fucking good already in his life. they’re gonna hurt me i know this they’re going to kick me in my feels but I am ready for the pain ahead

bee, you already know i’m pumped for nina and nikki. my lil gay heart is thriving. can their ship name be spaqueen??? lmfao. listen it’s hard to come up with a ship name for them lET ME LIVE.

dj and kennedy are silvally 2.0 and i cry about it on the daily. 

Do i really need to get into walliver tho? Like we ALL know they’re story. They’re soulmates. I love them. they’re my longest ship. they my first married ship w/ kids. They make me believe in love and i’m pissedt and that I haven’t found my oliver yet. universe wyd !!!

Has your character changed you in any way? Or do you yourself in yourself in your character?

Wally’s changed me a lot. If anything. I’ve played many characters, and my biggest problem rping is that I can never connection with a character. I don’t see a story. There’s only one other character i’ve connected with the way I have with wally, but in all honesty Wally is the character I hold closet to my heart. Because I think there’s a bit of wally in all of us. We want to be loved and give love. We want to have hope in something that’s bigger than ourselves. That there’s this light at the end of the tunnel in whatever we’re searching for. We’re all just dreamers and I guess that’s the best way to sum up wally. He’s a dreamer and a believer. I give Wally a lot of praise, but it’s because he’s the thing i’m most proud of. He’s apart of me, and he’s as weird as it sounds, he’s help me grow as a person. Sometimes I wish I was more like Wally. I wish I could be happy about life and enjoy the little things and just love everything and everyone as much as he does. I’ve been told i’m sunshine before so I guess wally and I are a lot a like. So wally’s a big part of me and always has been. Like I said, wally’s just a good person. He’s the good in me I wish I had more of to be honest. or at least showed more of. 

Do you think your character has had a big impact on Walt? Is it a good impact or bad?

I think Wally’s had a good impact. In all honestly, I didn’t think people were going like wally, or like, not really pay attention him. Yet this fucker’s impacted a good chunk of people. I just, sometimes I cry about it that so many people like him and that he does effect so many characters. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside that I finally did something right with a character and it only took years of roleplaying. aye.

Favorite thing your character has done and worst

FALLING IN LOVE WITH OLIVER MY GOD THAT’S THE BEST THING HES DONE. listen to me when I say wally STRUGGLED for years to come to terms with his sexuality. and when he finally fell in love with Oliver oh my god it was the most freeing experience ever for him and he found his best friend and soulmate. The worst thing he’s done?? lmfao the fucking coma. That story arch haunts me to this day. 

What is some progress you hope to have with your character in the future?

I want him to finally give acting a chance

What is one thing you would tell your character?

Honestly, i would tell him i’m proud of him and how far he’s come.

What has been YOUR favorite thing about walt?

My favorite thing about Walt is just how much it’s grown. When we started this roleplay, I was so afraid it was going to flop and people would be like 'oh it’s just another Disney school rp big woop’ but I was proven wrong because over the past views year. sure we’ve had or ups and downs. we’ve had drama that we DON’T speak of or speak of whomst but  walt’s grown into something that I never imagined it could be. we’ve all became a huge family and that’s just…it’s my favorite knowing that. So thank you guys. Walt wouldn’t be what it is without you.

Has your experience been a positive one? (BE HONEST YO.)

I’ll be real sometimes I get stressed out about everything. I’m always doing a million things at once rp and in real life. but i do love this place and all of you and i want to give you all the best roleplay you could ever be a part of. i’m not a perfect admin or rper for that matter but i’m trying. 

Got a favorite memory? Share it!

walliver’s wedding or when they got engaged. I waited fucking YEARS for them to finally be married and now that they are has me shook on the daily. kaitlyn truly left me in the dark and knocked me tf out with their engagement. Like I remember that day so vividly. I was actually crying and screaming because it finally happened. Then I had to wait a damn YEAR for them to get married. a  y e a r.

What are you looking forward too in the future?

More bios, more members, more ships, more everything because I love you all.

Have you had a favorite event? Favorite plot? Share it right here

fucking next gen is my jam ya’ll already KNOW. I also really loved the superhero and 50′s event and i’d love to bring them back one day. also 3gen??? i want that. maybe it’ll be a thing but it’s my jam too. 

Favorite character that’s not your own and why

i have a lot of characters to praise people on so please don’t freak if you’re not on here bc i’m gonna be biased as fuck as always (since it’s wally and he’s my fave bc again biased) and say Oliver. Ya’ll know how much I love oliver spade. I’ve been kaitlyn’s best friend and ship partner for years so i’ve grown an immense love for Oliver. There’s so many layers to him like I always say. He’s a shit head but he’s such a good person. he cares so much about his family and only wants the best for them. he puts others before himself and often forgets to do something for ollie for once. he’s such a hard worker and uhm ya’ll wally’s mans is hot as fuck. have you seen him lately??? like damn. I just love oliver spade with all my heart. Like i can’t even put into words how much i love him because i’ve said it so many times. Oliver has a special place in my heart. 

Ideas, shoutouts, request, dedications, questions? Put ‘em here!

why the fuck am that binch. someone explain.

[cloudninedreamer]

The Demon in the Mansion

Based on this post about gay Beauty and the Beast

Just ignore it and it’ll go away. Unfortunately for Laurel, that advice worked better for bees and wasps than it did for stupid straight boys. She leaned against the wall, waiting for her ride as she prayed for this wasp to go away.

“And then I finished the dude off! You should’ve seen it, I am a master!”

“Mmhm. Veeeery interesting, Chad.” Laurel nodded absentmindedly and returned to the book in her hand. But no matter how hard she tried she just could not get immersed in the fantasy world. The pest was too distracting.

Some had told Laurel they couldn’t believe she kept brushing Chad off, and she could kind of see it. His hair was golden like the sun, his eyes a similar color He had a strong jawline and golden-tanned skin, fairly dark for a boy who spent most hours indoors playing games, but still much, much lighter than Laurel’s dark brown tone.

There were a few problems with the possible match up though. Number one, he was rude and a know-it-all and didn’t understand the word “no.” Number two, he was a man. Not that he could figure out that she wasn’t into men. Even now, as Laurel continued to try and block him out, he was prattling on about his latest… Magic tournament? Honestly, he claimed to be the top in so many games Laurel couldn’t keep track.

And then help arrived in the form of an old rusty pickup truck. “Laurel!” Its driver called as they stepped out. “Time to go! C’mon!”

“Wait, Laurel,” Chad said, grabbing her arm. “I was just thinking, maybe we could go—”

And Laurel’s savior grabbed her other arm. “Sorry, Romeo, but her sister’s waiting. Gotta go, bye!” And they yanked Laurel their way, breaking Chad’s (practically nonexistent) grip and hurried Laurel to the truck.

“Welp,” the driver said as they climbed in, “I just saved your life.”

“I was fine.”

“Yeah, but seriously. You should just tell him to fuck off. It’s just two easy words. Or two other easy words: ‘I’m. Gay.’”

Laurel laughed, but said, “He wouldn’t believe me if I told him.” She tucked a strand of long black hair behind her ear. “Thanks for the rescue, Soph.”

“Any time. Now let’s go. Belle will be at your house soon.”

Sophia was an interesting friend. Pale skin, tall and wiry, they were loud where Laurel was quiet. For starters, Sophia’s hair was bright teal, always tied back in a ponytail. They had a multitude of piercings including, but not limited to, their ears, lip, nose, and navel, and their makeup was always done with winged eyeliner and blue lipstick. Not to mention the ripped jeans and too-small shirt that showed said navel piercing, and the tattoo on their back, though Laurel had never had a really good look at it before.

“And thanks for picking me up.”

“Least I could do. You don’t drive, Belle’s at work for another thirty minutes, and she gives me free food. Win-win-win.”

“Is food all you think about?”

“Of course not.” Sophia gasped dramatically as if wounded. “But I’m a hungry college student. You’re a college student too. Don’t you understand me?”

“I’m a well-fed college student,” Laurel corrected. “If you budgeted better, you would be too.”

“Blah, blah. I don’t have monthly funding from my parents and a working big sister like you.”

The two drove on, finally reaching Laurel’s home. It was small, two bedroom, one bathroom, but it felt like family. As Laurel dropped her bag in the living room, she noticed a casserole on the kitchen counter with a note.

“350 for 20 minutes. See you soon!”

Laurel fired up the oven. As she returned to the living room, Sophia had already made a home on the old couch and was watching after-school cartoons.

Laurel shook her head as she sat next to her friend. “Aren’t we a little old for this stuff?”

Sophia whipped their head around to stare at Laurel, aghast. “Never!” Then, as if to prove a point, they turned the volume up a few clicks. Laurel sighed but didn’t protest.

The front door opened as Laurel was pulling out the casserole, and in walked her older sister, Belle. Belle looked exhausted, with a few bags under her dark eyes, but a smile was on her face. She was still in her simple white and gray office clothes, and her black hair was done in cornrows tied into a low bun.

“Hey, Belle!” Sophia greeted, spread along the couch. “How was your day?”

“It was fine, thank you,” Belle replied. “It’s good to see you again, Sophia.” She looked toward the kitchen. “Hello, Laurel.”

“Hey, sis.”

“Don’t serve it yet. I just gotta change and I’ll be right back out.”

A few minutes later, Laurel had gotten out plates and silverware and a coke for Sophia and a water for Belle and was in the middle of grabbing some iced tea when Belle reappeared, now in a simple purple sundress.

“Alright!” She said, beaming. “Dinner!”

Dinner was a simple affair. It was just each person grabbing their drink and a plate of food and sitting on either the couch or the floor (Sophia had given their spot on the couch up for Belle’s sake) and they watched more cartoons.

Sophia left shortly after dinner, leaving the two sisters to talk.

“So tomorrow’s Saturday. Any plans?” Belle probed.

“Nope.”

“Any girls?”

“Nope.”

“Well what about boys?”

Laurel just shot her sister a look as Belle cracked up.

“Sorry. I just keep hearing about this one guy… Chad… what is his last name?”

“I don’t know. ‘Wiltsfordshire’ or something like that.”

Belle snorted again.

“He’s an asshole anyway,” Laurel continued. “Wouldn’t date him if I were straight.”

“I know the type. You should just tell him to fuck off.”

“Sis.”

“What? It works. I’ve had to tell boys to fuck off before.”

Laurel sighed before changing the subject. “What about you, sis? Anything?”

“Work. Same as always. Probably will have to work late. But you’ll have a casserole in the fridge and you can invite Sophia over if you want as long as they don’t cause our neighbors to complain.”

“When should I expect you then?”

“No later than eight.”

It was nine o’clock the next evening when Laurel started to really worry.  She’d started pacing at eight-thirty, but traffic sucked a lot. Maybe she was stuck there. But at nine, it was nearly panic mode.

And that’s why five minutes later she called Sophia.

“What’s up?” Sophia asked.

“…My sister hasn’t come home.”

“Didn’t she say she’d be at work late?”

“She told me she’d be home an hour ago, and if something had come up, she’d have called me.” Laurel took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. “Look, I just need a ride.”

“What for?”

“I tracked her cell phone.”

“Uh, what?”

“We have permission to in emergencies. This is an emergency.”

“So you want me to drive you to wherever Belle’s phone is.”

“It’s just outside of town,” Laurel said. “Please, Sophia.”

Silence for a moment, then, “Alright. I’ll be there in five.”

They found Belle’s car next to an old mansion.

Everyone knew of the place. Years ago, it had been home to a rich family, but now they were dead and the mansion was left to rot. And now, it was said, the place was haunted by a monster and ghosts. It was all dark and windows were broken and various statues that had looked elegant in the past now looked sinister.

Laurel took a quick once-over of the car before she found why her sister had stopped. “Flat tire,” she told Sophia. “Shredded, really. She’s probably nearby.”

Sophia nodded. “I’ll check surrounding houses. You look in the mansion.”

“Why the mansion?”

“Well the nearest house is a good minute while driving away, and it’s chilly. It’s probably warmer in there.”

That was fair logic. So the two split up, Sophia returning to their truck and Laurel slowly entering the mansion.

“Hello?” She called. “Belle?”

Silence, then almost what sounded like a voice. Belle? “Sis? Are you here? You never answered my texts, I was getting worried!”

The voice moved, so Laurel hurried toward it, following the sound through a few hallways before coming to… a parlor?

“Belle?” She called, and a figure moved inside.

“Laurel!”

“Sis!” Laurel threw open the door, rushing into the room and her sister’s arms. “Belle, I was worried.”

“I know, but you have to get out of here!”

“What do you mean? We’re both going. I saw your car, but Sophia can—”

“No, Laurel. Listen. The stories were true and now you have to go.”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“Laurel, listen—”

The door slammed shut. Belle’s breath hitched into a sob, and Laurel slowly turned to see a figure right in front of the door.

“Who are you?” A voice hissed, gravelly and breathy.

“I—my sister. I came for my sister.”

“She can’t leave,” the figure growled. “She’s my prisoner.”

“Wh-what? But…” Laurel swallowed. “Please, not Belle. She doesn’t deserve this!”

“It’s too late. There’s nothing you can do.”

“I…” A thought crossed Laurel’s mind.

Belle noticed. “Laurel!”

“Take me,” Laurel offered.

“No!” Belle exclaimed. “Leave her be! I—”

The figure seemed startled. “You would take her place?”

“Please. Just let her go,” Laurel begged.

“Very well. But you can never leave.”

Belle was protesting, but Laurel just said, “Let me see you first.” And the figure stepped closer, into the light.

White. That’s all Laurel could see. This creature, this demon, its skin was paler than the moon in a sickly, paranormal way. Spider webs of cracks were all over its skin, most prominently along its shoulders and right cheek. Dark spots covered its body wherever cracks didn’t. Wings spread out from its shoulders, dark as night and leathery like bat wings. It had fangs that were long enough to hang out from its mouth, also black, and had a deep-set brow. It had hair in patches along its scalp, matted and dark in color. The only thing vaguely normal were its eyes, which were a more human green-gray in color, but its pupils were slit like a cat’s.

Laurel gasped, afraid, but spoke. “It’s a deal.”

Belle was screaming. “Laurel! No! You can’t do this! Spare her! Spare her!”

“You will leave,” the demon growled, “or you will face an even worse fate than hers.” The demon dragged Belle from the room and, Laurel figured, the entire mansion. Alone, in a quiet, dilapidated mansion, Laurel fell to her knees and sobbed.

Laurel didn’t know how much time passed before there was a quiet tap at the door. Startled, she looked up as it opened and in walked four people. People. Laurel almost started crying again knowing she wasn’t alone.

There were two men, one tall and muscled, his skin a warm russet brown, the other shorter, thinner, with gingery curls, an older woman with short white hair and a soft face and a young woman maybe Laurel’s age with blond hair braided to the side and a wary look.

The old woman knelt beside Laurel. “Oh, dear. Are you alright?”

“My… my sister… that thing… it…”

“I know, we saw. We heard. That was very brave.” The woman turned to the man with red hair. “Timothy, get her a cup of tea.” The man, Timothy, nodded and hurried out the door.

“Let us introduce ourselves,” the young woman said. “My name is Rose, Timothy just left, she’s Marie, and this is Carlos.”

Carlos nodded. “We’ll apologize on our Lady’s behalf, but I know it won’t do much.”

“Lady?” Laurel asked. “That thing is a Lady?”

“Doesn’t act like it now,” Rose said.

Timothy returned with an old china teacup, handing it to Marie.

“Here,” Marie said softly, “drink this. It’ll help you feel better.”

Laurel took a sip, and the warm liquid did soothe the ache in her throat, and she felt herself calm a little. “Thank you,” She said. “…Are you trapped here too?”

“Of a sort,” Timothy answered. “We’re the servants of this mansion.”

“Servants? But if your master’s a demon, then—”

“Oh, we’re basically ghosts,” Rose said. “Watch this.” And she completely vanished from sight. Laurel almost dropped her teacup, taking another sip to calm herself as Rose reappeared.

Marie tsked. “Rose, we want our guest to feel welcome, not afraid.”

“I figured we’d get that out of the way.”

Marie turned back to Laurel. “What is your name, dear?”

“Laurel.”

“Well, Laurel, it’s almost time for dinner,” Timothy said. “Carlos, have you started?”

“Sí, cariño.”

Laurel recognized the language as Spanish and understood the yes, but not the second word, nor why Timothy was suddenly blushing. Before she could mull on it further, Carlos was gone. Laurel had a feeling she’d have to get used to the servants appearing and disappearing at will.

Marie looked to Rose. “Rose, could you go get our Lady for supper?” Rose nodded and disappeared as well.

“She’s going to eat with me?”

“She should,” Marie said. “She should at least try to be civil to you.” A thought crossed her mind. “Is that not alright?”

Laurel took a breath. She was going to be stuck here. She would not cower before that thing. Better face her fears sooner rather than later. “No, it’s fine.”

“If you’re sure.” Marie bowed, and Laurel gave a soft protest. Laurel was just a commoner too. But Marie waved her off. “Follow me to the dining room.”

When they arrived, Timothy and Rose were already there. Marie approached them. “Is she—?” Rose just shook her head.

“It looks like you’ll be eating dinner alone,” Timothy told Laurel.

That was fine enough for Laurel. Put off facing her fears. Just a few minutes later, as Laurel was seated, Carlos came out of the kitchen with the food. It was basically a feast. Steak, turkey, and ham cooked to perfection, delicious mashed potatoes, fresh baked bread, carrots and corn and fruits of all kinds. Laurel ate as much as she could and dessert, a simple but extraordinary chocolate cake.

“It was amazing,” Laurel said to Carlos. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. It’s been ages since I’ve been able to cook.”

“Well, you’re welcome, then.” Laurel wiped her face with her napkin, and a thought crossed her mind.

“Are you going to sing?” She asked Carlos.

Carlos seemed startled by the question. “Where did you get the idea for that?”

Laurel shrugged. “Just a story I read once.”

“Well, I can.”

But before he could open his mouth, Timothy was covering it with his hand. “Please don’t encourage him. He cannot sing.”

“Tim! That’s not fair. I can!” Carlos protested. “You’re embarrassing me in front of our guest.”

“Okay, fine,” Timothy relented. “He can sing, but he really shouldn’t.”

Timothy and Carlos then began to bicker a bit, English and Spanish flowing between the two, sounding liked a mix of terms of affection and straight up insults. Marie rolled her eyes at the two and asked Laurel, “Did you enjoy your meal, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

“That’s good. How about we get you to your bedroom then, hm?” She turned to the other servants. “Timothy, is the room ready?”

“S—I mean, yes Marie,” Timothy answered and then returned to his conversation with Carlos without a beat, now completely in Spanish.

“Since they’re so busy, I’ll show you the way. Will you need anything else? Tea? Milk?”

“No, no,” Laurel replied. “I’m just… really tired. Some rest will help.”

“Well, here’s your room. I’ll wake you for breakfast.”

“Thank you, Marie.”

Marie bowed. “Sleep well.” And she was gone before Laurel could protest. She found the room was in fact ready, with a freshly-made bed and clothes in the closet that more or less fit. Laurel changed and crawled into bed, falling asleep as her head hit the pillow.

“Honestly, you’re being a child,” Rose said, glaring right at the demon.

“What does it matter?” The demon snapped. “It’s not like being kind would make a difference. She didn’t ask to be here.”

“Kindness makes all the difference. The others and I have already won her over by being kind and talking to her and trying to make her feel welcome.”

The demon only growled.

“Don’t you want to break the curse?”

“Of course.”

“Well you’re running out of time. It’s been forty-nine years already.”

“So?”

“So if you want to break it, you need to foster somebody’s love, and love takes time and it might take a year and guess what, the only one here is Laurel.”

“Laurel?” The demon was actually confused.

“The girl’s name. Which you might’ve known if you’d come to dinner.” Rose sighed, moving her hair out of her face. “Listen. This is your last chance. If you don’t want to break it, then go ahead and let me and the others know so we don’t get our hopes up. If you do, you better clean up your act, control that temper, and show the girl some civility.”

The demon recoiled as if physically struck, and Rose relaxed. “Alright. I’ll leave you then. Good night, Lady.” And Rose disappeared.

“This might sound weird, but do you have a library?” Laurel asked Marie.

“Of course we do. Shall I take you?”

Laurel nodded, and followed the spirit through the halls. The paint was old and chipped, the carpets shaggy and rough, splintery wood… Laurel wished to know what it once looked like, when the mansion was new and beautiful. More startling were claw marks along ceilings, as if something—someone—had crawled along them. Laurel had a good idea who.

Finally, they arrived at the library, a large room filled ceiling-to-floor with books. Laurel couldn’t hide the awe and splendor from her face.

Marie smiled at the girl’s reaction. “If you need any help, or get lost, just yell for us. Someone will show up and help you.” She turned to look at a corner, above the shelf. “Have a good time. Alone.” And she was gone with a bow.

Laurel had run to a shelf already, scanning along the books. Then, a few rows above her arm’s length, she saw Pride and Prejudice. She looked around for a ladder or stepstool or something.

When she turned back toward the shelf, the book was being held at her eye level. “Here.”

Laurel screamed, falling on her butt, and she realized it was the demon. It—she—was in the air, using her wings to hover, and had a startled look on her face. Laurel picked herself up and managed a dignified expression, taking the book. “Thank you,” she said, and turned and walked away.

“W-Wait.” The demon flew over Laurel’s head to reposition in front of her. “I-I wanted to talk.”

“I don’t.” Laurel turned away again, going to sit in one of the chairs in the library.

The demon watched her for a moment, but just said, “Very well.” When Laurel looked back, the demon was gone.

It happened the next day too. This time, Laurel had picked one in her arm’s reach, The Count of Monte Cristo, but the demon reappeared.

“Um, what are you reading?”

Laurel didn’t speak, only lifting her book so the demon could see the cover. The demon nodded quietly. “I… I wanted to apologize about… a few days ago. I was rather monstrous and cruel and…” Laurel had returned to her book. “Right. You probably didn’t hear me. I’ll leave you be.”

The demon was leaving, but picked up a soft, “I heard.”

The demon came to see her once every day, while Laurel read. Every day she asked what Laurel was reading. Of Mice and Men. The Important of Being Ernest. Books like that. Some, Laurel knew were happy or sad. Some she’d never read before. Ernest was such one, and Laurel had a new story to add to her favorites.

Fifty-one books she read. The fifty-first was The Great Gatsby. She’d had to read it back in high school, and was one of the few she’d actually enjoyed from that year.

The demon approached her, as she did every day. “Hello. It’s… a lovely day. Not too hot either. I…” Laurel was still silent. “Sorry. I’ll leave you be.”

“You don’t have to.”

“What?”

“If you want to speak to me, you may,” Laurel said.

The demon seemed taken aback, but sat in a nearby chair, telling her how the leaves were green and the sun was bright and the view was beautiful from the mansion.

“I guess I’ll have to go outside later today,” Laurel said.

“May I… accompany you?”

Laurel swallowed. The demon had huge fangs, terrifying claws. Laurel could be killed in an instant by the demon. “I’d rather be alone for that.”

There was no anger, just a little sadness. “Very well,” the demon said.

“But you can stay for now,” Laurel offered.

The demon did. They had conversations most days after that. And the outside was a beautiful view.

Sixty-three books later, she was reading The Little Prince as the demon hesitantly took a seat near her, a book in her own hand. Laurel glanced up to see the demon was reading Pride and Prejudice.

The demon started to become a welcome presence, much to Laurel’s shock. They would read their books, sitting next to each other. The demon would every so often gasp or laugh and tell Laurel the quote or scene that had gotten a reaction.

Sixty-five books later, the demon was reading The Count of Monte Cristo, but this time growling softly at the book as if it had offended her firstborn.

“Is something the matter?” Laurel asked.

The growling stopped and the demon hunched over slightly, embarrassed. “It’s nothing. Just… the words are so small in this book.”

Laurel nodded. “Sometimes they are.” Laurel placed a bookmark in her book, setting it aside. “If it would help, maybe I could read it to you?”

“Uh…” The demon took a moment before nodding, handing over the book.

“Where should I start?”

The demon again looked away. “The beginning?”

There was no mockery, no insults. Laurel just calmly opened the book, and began reading aloud.

After that, somedays she’d read books to the demon. Other days they’d just read in silence together. Laurel was honestly startled at how normal this felt, but… she felt like the demon was her friend.

During one of these readings, Laurel told the demon she forgave her.

Sixteen books later, it was Romeo and Juliet, when Laurel had a thought. She stopped reading aloud, in the middle of a soliloquy, and the demon looked up at her.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing bad. I just never realized. Do you have a name?”

“…Yes.”

“What is it?”

The demon was silent, afraid. Afraid of judgement. That honestly was mostly likely not going to exist. Finally, she relaxed enough to speak. “Caroline.”

“Caroline.” Laurel smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Laurel.”

Caroline grinned back. “I know,” she said, clearly appreciating the humor.

So, Laurel went back to reading aloud.

A few hours later, they’d finished reading, and lunch was served. Caroline had started eating with Laurel after book seventy-three, and after book one hundred twenty-seven, meals were commonly filled with laughter and conversation, to the servants’ delight.

After lunch, Caroline left to go to her quarters and the servants started to clean up.

“Is there something I can help you with, Laurel?” Timothy asked.

“Yes, actually. I had a question.”

“Yes?”

“Why does Caroline have a human name? I thought she was a demon and most have… terrifying names.”

The servants had gone quiet, before Marie sighed. “I’ll tell you.” She walked over to Laurel. “Lady Caroline wasn’t always a demon. She used to be human. We all were.”

Laurel nodded. “I… sort of had a feeling,” she said. “But how did it happen?”

“Long story short?” Rose said. “Magic.”

“Yes,” Carlos agreed. “But it’s a bit more complicated than that.

“I’ll tell the story,” Marie told them. “Lady Caroline was born a human, to wealthy parents. A Lord and Lady,” she began. “But they died when she was young. In their will, they said that the four of us would take care of her through her childhood. As such, she was…” Marie paused as if to think the right word.

“Spoiled. Greedy. Selfish,” Carlos supplied.

“Carlos!” Marie scolded.

Carlos shrugged. “It’s true.” He set down the plates and turned to Laurel. “So it was a dark night. Cold, rainy. We’d just finished supper. So we were all cleaning up when the doorbell rang. Everyone had their hands full. Marie, and I were cleaning up, and Rose and Timothy were preparing the fireplace, so we asked Caroline to answer the door for us. Almost threw a tantrum over that request.”

“She did, though, after some persuading,” Marie took over. “She answered the door. And there was a woman begging for shelter. She had nothing to give and was a bit… unsightly. So Caroline refused.

“And… well, this is according to Caroline, so it’s hard to say how accurate, but the woman transformed into an enchantress with hair like snow and a wine-red dress with roses designed upon it.”

“As the enchantress prepared her spell, Caroline begged forgiveness, but it was too late. And she laid a curse upon Caroline. She became a monster and the rest of us lost our physical forms. Cursed to stay the same, never changing even as the world does, until it’s broken.”

“But how do you break it?” Laurel asked. “I want to help.”

Marie and Carlos exchanged looks. “It’s not our place to say. Frankly we’re pushing it telling you the story, but I think Caroline will understand that.”

Laurel nodded, sighing. “But,” Carlos said, “you could ask Caroline herself. We can’t promise she’ll tell you, but maybe she will?”

“That does sound like a good idea.” Laurel stood up, smiling at the spirits. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” As Laurel turned away, the two faded from sight and a quick glance allowed Laurel to see the dishes still moving, being washed, by an invisible presence.

She reached Caroline’s room relatively quickly, and knocked on the door. “Caroline?” She asked. “Can I come in?”

It only took a moment for the door to open, and Rose stood there. “Caroline says yes. What is it?”

“I was hoping to speak to Caroline,” Laurel said as she entered, then quickly added, “Privately.”

“Of course.” Rose bowed to Laurel before she could protest then disappeared as the door swung shut behind Laurel.

“What is it?” Caroline’s voice rang out. Laurel followed the sound to find Caroline sitting on her bed. “Laurel?”

“Y-yes. I mean, hi.” Laurel took a breath. “I just wanted to talk.”

“What about?” Caroline tilted her head quizzically. She patted the bed beside her so Laurel sat down.

“I heard the story,” Laurel started. “About your… curse.”

There was silence save for a few deep breaths from Caroline, though Laurel didn’t know if she was calming herself from anger or panic.

“And?” Caroline finally asked.

“Well, they said it could be broken. But they didn’t tell me how. They said it wasn’t their place.”

Caroline sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean? But I want to help!”

“The curse can be broken, yes. But it’s basically impossible.” Caroline sounded so defeated, broken.

“Then I’ll make it possible,” Laurel vowed.

Caroline made a sound, maybe a breath of laughter? She spoke again, “Maybe. If you can break the curse, you’ll know when it happens I guess.”

Laurel sighed, knowing protesting wouldn’t get her anywhere. “Can I ask another question?”

“Hm?”

Laurel bit her lip, unsure of how to phrase it without angering the demon in front of her. She’s not a demon, she reminded herself. She was cursed. Finally, she spoke, “why are you so specific about the… woman’s… appearance?”

“Because it’s not,” Caroline replied. “That’s all I can remember. Hair white as the snow and a red dress with rose designs. But I want to remember more. I hate her! She ruined my life! Made me… this, and I can’t even remember her face!” There was a thud and Laurel flinched. Caroline looked to her hand to see she had dug her claws into the bedpost and quickly retracted them. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not my bed,” Laurel replied. “It must hurt that someone did all that to you.”

Caroline nodded. “It does.” She sighed. “I want to be me again. With all my heart. But I know it isn’t going to happen.”

She looked so broken. Laurel’s heart ached at the sight and she gently placed a hand on Caroline’s shoulder. That was enough for Caroline to break, and cry. She cried and Laurel just held the demon—the cursed human—through the night.

It was fifty-four books later that Caroline realized she loved Laurel.

“Timothy? Carlos?”

“Yes, Caroline?” Timothy responded.

“I need to do something special.”

“What is it?” Carlos asked.

“I don’t know. But it’s for Laurel. I’m… I’m going to tell her I love her.” She paused as her servants gasped. “So, it must be special. Do you have any ideas?”

“Well you could go for the traditional,” Carlos offered. “Flowers, chocolates, promises you don’t intend to keep…” The last was accompanied by a pointed look at Timothy.

Timothy gave Carlos a hard nudge, interrupting. “You know her best, Caroline. What would she want?”

Caroline thought. She thought about their time together, the books shared. The way Laurel would read them aloud and then stop and sigh at… That was it!

“I’ve got it.” Caroline told the servants her idea. At their enthusiastic nod, she went through the mansion and told Marie and Rose so things could be prepared. Then she went to find Laurel.

She found Laurel in a tree. Caroline almost missed her at first. Then she was wondering why the hell Laurel was in a tree.

“It’s a good reading spot,” Laurel answered, still nestled against a branch. “Plus, the blossoms smell nice.”

“Well, I… um… I wanted to talk to you.”

“Go ahead.” Caroline couldn’t see her face, but she knew Laurel was smiling, listening, even with her nose stuck in a book.

“…Face to face?”

Laurel stretched. “Catch my book,” she said, and dropped it into Caroline’s awaiting hands. Laurel then grabbed hold of the branch she’d been resting on moving to hang off it before dropping to the ground. She turned to Caroline. “Yeah?”

Caroline felt her nerves again. So much could go wrong. Sure, she was willing to call the two of them friends, but that didn’t necessarily mean… She took a breath, calming herself.

“I was wondering if you would join me for dinner tonight,” she finally said.

“Of course,” Laurel said. “We eat dinner together every night.”

That wasn’t what she meant. “No, I mean…” Caroline thought the words through. “A special dinner. The two of us all… dressed up like those dances you’ve read about.”

“Oh. Well, I’d love to,” Laurel said, her face turning gloomy, “but I don’t have a fancy dress.”

“That’s… not a problem. I have one I think should fit… and if not then Marie could fix it up quickly… if you want.”

Laurel was silent a moment and Caroline could breathe. She was scared. What if Laurel said no? What if she hated Caroline? What if—?

“Okay,” Laurel finally said. “That sounds wonderful.”

Caroline couldn’t hide her smile. “Great. Great!”

“You pulled me out of a tree just to ask you for dinner?”

“I wanted to ask to your face.”

“You could’ve come up. You can fly.”

“Not that close to branches. And I can’t… I wasn’t allowed to climb trees.”

Laurel took her book from Caroline’s hands. “Do you want me to show you?”

Marie found them both nestled in that tree across from each other, Caroline reading aloud to Laurel. She reminded them that dinner would be soon and they should start getting ready before returning inside to continue preparations.

When it was time for Laurel to start getting ready, she washed, and Marie came to the room to do her hair, only tying back a lock of hair in the back. And Rose arrived with the dress. She bowed to Laurel again, (Laurel was convinced that Rose was just doing it to spite her now.) and the two servants left the room for Laurel to get dressed.

The dress Caroline had picked for her was bright yellow and sleeveless, with clear gems all along the bodice that Laurel didn’t doubt were real. As she slipped it on, the skirt flowed loosely around her legs and was floor-length. It was beautiful. It was perfect. As soon as she put it on, Laurel felt like a princess, taking a little bit to twirl for her mirror.

Finally she called in Marie to help with finishing touches. Luckily only a little stitching of a hole or two was needed, and then Laurel could accessorize and meet Caroline for dinner. Laurel only put on a silver bracelet for jewelry. Slipping her feet into flats, she took a breath and wished herself luck.

That was the moment Rose appeared, knocking on the wall gently. “If you’re ready,” she said with yet another bow, “Caroline is waiting.”

Laurel nodded, standing. “Do I look okay?” She asked.

Rose smiled. “You look amazing. Wait until she sees you.” Laurel nodded and followed Rose out of the room.

Caroline was pacing. She was ready, but nervous beyond belief. What if Laurel didn’t come? What if she hated the outfit? What if…?

Caroline was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of footsteps. She looked up to see Rose, who bowed and said, “Lady Caroline, Miss Laurel.” And she was gone, leaving Caroline to look at Laurel and suddenly feel inferior in her looks.

Caroline’s dress was a dark blue, contrasting greatly with her white skin. Her dress had short sleeves in order to hide the rather large cracks along her shoulders. Unlike Laurel’s Caroline’s dress only fell a little past her knees, keeping the skirt above her hooves so she didn’t trip. A silver necklace hung around her neck, and she was twisting her hands nervously, not looking, at her, waiting for Laurel to speak.

“You look…” monstrous, disgusting, terrifying… “Lovely.” Caroline hadn’t been expecting that. Her head jerked up to see Laurel beaming at her. And she… oh, Laurel, she was absolutely stunning. Caroline quickly told her so before the thought left her. Laurel laughed softly, bringing her hand to her mouth as if to quiet it, and Caroline plunged deeper.

The nervousness was dissipating. Caroline approached Laurel. “Dinner?” she asked, offering Laurel her arm.

Laurel took it. “Only if we dance after.”

“D-Dance?” Caroline asked. “I don’t know if I can dance. I haven’t since—”

“Don’t worry,” Laurel said, “I’ll show you.”

But first, dinner. Carlos really had outdone himself, Caroline could tell from the smell. Laurel sat across from Caroline and the two made some simple small talk. Both of them gave their compliments to Carlos just as Marie showed up.

“Lady Caroline, Laurel,” she said with a bow. “I tuned the grand piano in the ballroom if you were wishing to dance?”

At the word, Laurel’s face lit up with Caroline sunk lower in her chair. Laurel just laughed lightly, standing up and moving to pull Caroline to her feet—hooves.

“I-I don’t think I can dance,” Caroline protested.

“Please? I won’t judge,” Laurel said.

Oh no. Caroline couldn’t say no to that face. She finally nodded and with a slight squeal, Laurel led Caroline to the ballroom, brimming with excitement.

As they arrived, Marie sat at the piano. “I’ll start with a simple waltz,” she said.

Laurel took Caroline’s hand, resting it on her shoulder. “I’ll lead first.” Caroline almost jumped as Laurel placed her hand on Caroline’s waist and took Caroline’s free hand in the other. “It’s okay. Just follow me.”

The music started, sweet melodies filling the air and Laurel took a step. Laurel was flowing to the beat so smoothly, so perfectly, and Caroline was stumbling along like an animal. Laurel didn’t seem to mind, only murmuring, “relax.”

The song ended and Caroline almost lost her balance as Laurel stopped.

“I’m sorry. I told you, I’m no good.”

“No, you’re doing great. Just don’t think about it so hard.” Laurel motioned to Marie and music started again. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

So Caroline did. Her steps smoothed, she was flowing, and the two floated around the ballroom as if they were flying. Laurel twirled Caroline, then kept their floating. Caroline wasn’t thinking. She was feeling. The music with its soft beats, the light with its warm glow, her own heart, filled to the brim with love.

As the song ended, Laurel asked, “Would you like to lead?” And Caroline did, twirling Laurel close to her body, letting the two spin and float and fly around the room until both were beaming like the sun. As the last song ended, Caroline gazed into Laurel’s dark eyes, sparkling like stars.

“Laurel? Would you like to go to the balcony?” Caroline asked. Laurel nodded, and Caroline could feel the smiles of her servants behind the two.

Outside, the moon was shining brightly and stars danced to their own heavenly melody. Now was Caroline’s chance. She had to say it, she just had to. “Laurel? Are you happy here with me?”

Laurel nodded, but there was sadness in her eyes. “What is it?” Caroline asked.

“My sister. I haven’t seen Belle in so long, she must be so worried. I… I miss her.”

Laurel was so hurt. It reminded Caroline of her hurt, longing to be human again, longing to be loved. But Laurel could never love a demon, and her hurt could be remedied.

“You should go to her,” Caroline said.

“What?”

“Go to her. You’re free.”

“I… thank you.”

“I just hope… you remember me.” Caroline swallowed a sob as Laurel hugged her tight.

“I’ll never forget you. I’ll… I’ll come back. I promise.” That was the last touch before Laurel hurried away, to her home of humans and people she loved who were human.

When her servants demanded why later, all Caroline could say was, “Because I love her.”

Laurel was in a bit of an awkward position. She had changed into the clothes she arrived in and prepared to leave when it hit her. She had no way of going home herself. She knew based on the time that Belle was probably asleep. Left her with only one option.

Laurel turned on her phone for the first time since she arrived at the mansion and dialed a familiar number.

“Sophia? I know this is a weird time. Could you pick me up?”

Laurel had been right about Belle being asleep, but she was very awake when Sophia’s noisy truck pulled up, and even more so when Laurel hopped out.

Belle ran up to her sister. “Laurel? Is that really you?”

“Yes, it’s me sis.”

That was enough and Belle pulled Laurel into a warm embrace. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I know.” Laurel tightened the hug and the two stayed that way until Sophia cleared their throat.

“I know this is a great sister reunion and all but maybe we should get inside.”

The three did so, Belle sitting Laurel at the couch. “How did you escape? That… thing…”

“She let me go,” Laurel replied.

“She?”

“The… demon… it’s hard to explain, but… she changed. And she let me come back to you.”

“Well, whatever happened,” Belle said, “I’m just glad you’re back, and okay.”

“Yeah… for now, at least. I…”

“Wait, Laurel,” Sophia interjected, “you mean you wanna go back there?”

“The reason Caroline—that’s her name—is like that is because she’s cursed. And not just her. The servants there are cursed too. And I promised I would help break the curse.”

“Oh no,” Sophia said to Belle, “she’s determined.”

“We can talk about that later. For now, you are staying here, with me, and I don’t have to worry about losing you.”

Belle wrapped her arms around Laurel, pulling her close. Laurel had missed this feeling. She didn’t know she had been, but now, in her sister’s arms, Laurel was just at peace. Sophia slipped out before long, and the two sisters fell asleep like that, snuggled close, each knowing that her sister was safe and sound.

That lasted about a day. Sophia called the next evening. “Laurel?”

“Soph?”

“So, word is out that you got back.”

“Really. How did that happen,” Laurel said sarcastically.

“It wasn’t me!” Sophia protested. “Anyway, your ‘knight in shining armor’ found out and realized you were in that creepy mansion the whole year?”

Chad. Ugh. Laurel really didn’t want to deal with him anymore. “What’s your point, Sophia?”

“He’s decided the stories are true and he’s going to kill the monster of the mansion.”

That got Laurel’s attention. “What?”

“He wants to kill the monster—Caroline, you called her? Um… you might want to do something…”

“Well, give me a hand then. Or a ride.”

“I can’t. I’m nowhere near your place and you need to get there fast.” Sophia’s voice had changed. Serious, somber, wise. But it slipped Laurel’s notice as the door opened and Belle walked in from work.

“Bye.” She hung up, and hurried to the oven, which she turned off. “Belle, I’m sorry. I know I just got back, but I think Caroline’s in trouble.” Laurel took a breath. “Please take me back there. Please.”

Laurel didn’t look at her sister’s face until Belle placed a hand on her shoulder. And when she nodded, Laurel decided she had the greatest sister on the planet.

Laurel and Belle arrived at the mansion quickly, Laurel jumping out of the car to see… a bunch of boys covered in cardboard? It was hard to tell in the lack of light, but finally Laurel could make out a few swords, shields and the like. They were wearing cardboard armor. LARPers. And they were all trembling, talking among themselves in hushed whispers.

Laurel approached one she vaguely recognized, tapping him on the shoulder, he jumped at the touch, whirling around with fear in his eyes. Then he relaxed when he realized it was Laurel.

“What are you doing here?” Laurel asked.

“Chad told us to come. He said we’d fight some demons. He’s… one of the leaders of our group, we figured it was a roleplay… it’s not. There are real monsters in there.”

“Okay. Where is Chad?”

“He ran in, fearless.”

With her information gathered, Laurel returned to Belle. “Belle, I have to go in. You don’t if you don’t want to…”

“I’m not letting you go alone,” Belle replied.

Laurel shot her an appreciative smile, and rushed off toward the door. The boys around were too scared for themselves to notice or try to stop them. Laurel knocked on the door. “Rose? Marie? Timothy? Carlos? It’s Laurel!”

There was silence for a moment, the boys having finally noticed and staring. Then the door creaked open.

Rose stood there, shocked. “You came back!”

“Of course I did,” Laurel said, hurrying through the door. “Where’s Caroline? Where’s Chad?”

“Chad?” Rose asked as she closed the door behind Belle.

“The leader of those guys. Tall, blond, perfectly punchable face…”

“I thought we chased him out. He was in here, yelling about killing the demon. About…” Her head shot up. “Caroline!”

“Where is she?” Laurel demanded.

“Her quarters. I… I’ll get the others!” And Rose was gone.

Laurel meanwhile, had taken off. She ran as fast as her legs could take her and accidentally left Belle behind in the process. She didn’t notice. She didn’t care. She had to get to Caroline before…

Laurel burst through the door to Caroline’s chambers. There was no one inside, but there were things overturned and the window was open. Laurel ran to the window, looking to the roof. It was hard to see, but with what light Laurel had, she could make out two figures, one of them having skin pale as the moonlight.

“Caroline!” She screamed. “Chad! Stop!”

The thinner, taller figure looked up when Laurel first screamed. “Laurel,” she breathed, and turned her attention to her attacker. The man, Chad, had old weapons, a sword and a dagger. He may had been overpowering her at first, but now… Caroline had something—someone—to fight for. She raised up, spreading her wings and overall making herself look massive. Then she snarled and jumped at him.

Claws raked his skin, but not deep enough to kill. As Chad ducked forward, Caroline leapt into the air, landing behind him and shoving him to the ground. His sword clattered on the roof, out of his grasp. She could do whatever she wanted. She could kill him, digging claws into his throat until he choked on his blood, but a stronger part, a newer part, called for mercy.

As Caroline made her decision, she heard footsteps. “Laurel!” Caroline looked up to see her love, her life, an expression of pure unadulterated joy on her face.

And Laurel watched as that expression twisted into one of pain. Chad let out a laugh. He’d stabbed Caroline in the stomach with a dagger. Caroline winced, yanked the dagger out, and glared at him.

All at once, Chad’s triumphant smirk turned into fear. “You think you can kill me? You can’t,” Caroline hissed. “Get out.” Caroline tossed the dagger away. It didn’t take long before Chad was gone, face white as a sheet, and the sounds of whimpers trailing behind him.

Laurel quickly hugged Caroline. “Thank God. You’re alright.”

Caroline pulled away uncomfortably, holding a hand to her stomach. Laurel looked down to see red leaking from between Caroline’s fingers. “W-Wait. N-No…”

“…I may have been faking. This actually really… hurts… I…” Caroline took a breath and fell to her knees. Laurel knelt beside her as Caroline sunk down, resting her head in Laurel’s lap. “I’m sorry, Laurel.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Caroline just looked up at Laurel as if Laurel was the most precious treasure known to humanity. “At least I got to see you again… one last time.”

“No… please…” Laurel begged. Caroline’s eyes closed, her breath stilled.

And Laurel sobbed. “No! You can’t leave me like this! Please! I… I love you, Caroline…”

And then everything was white. Light filtered from nowhere, so bright Laurel couldn’t see and had to look away. But she felt the weight of Caroline’s figure disappear. Before she could act, the light vanished, leaving Laurel to look frantically around before her eyes settled on a person lying on the ground in front of her.

Laurel couldn’t move, could only stare at the young woman. Her clothes were too large and torn, so it was difficult to properly see her figure, but she was slim, slimmer than Laurel was and maybe a hair taller. The woman’s hair was bright red and her skin was very fair and covered with freckles. And the woman stood up shakily, as if unused to standing on two feet.

The woman ran her hands over herself, silent, standing still as if in awe, and then she looked up right at Laurel. Her eyes brightened and she smiled a gapped-tooth smile and stepped toward Laurel. Laurel stiffened and the stranger stopped moving.

“Laurel?” The stranger asked in a soft voice, higher than Laurel’s and lilting like a bird’s song. “It’s me.”

Caroline? But it couldn’t be… Caroline was gone… wasn’t she? Nervously, Laurel stepped forward, slowly reaching a hand to the woman’s face. Had Caroline turned back into a human? Laurel pondered the thought quietly. But how could Laurel recognize her? Everything was different. The woman’s face had a squarish shape, with cracked lips, a flatter nose, and round eyes that were… Laurel’s breath hitched. They were a soft green-gray color. And the way they looked at Laurel. Laurel recognized that look.

All at once, Laurel let out a sob and tightly hugged Caroline, who stiffened for a moment before hugging Laurel back. “It’s you. It’s you.” Laurel murmured like a mantra.

“It’s me, Laurel. It’s me. I’m okay. Everything’s okay now. I love you.” Caroline had never told Laurel before.

Laurel released her in surprise before smiling. “I love you too.” And she leaned in and kissed her. Caroline seemed taken by surprise, but only for a heartbeat before she kissed Laurel back. As they parted, she rested her forehead against Laurel’s, taking in the moment.

“This is you,” Laurel breathed, both a question and not at the same time.

Caroline nodded, beaming. “Yes. You brought me back. You saved me.” Her smile widened and a laugh escaped. “It’s a miracle!” And they kissed again.

“So Laurel, it’s good to see you’re back from that haunted mansion all safe.”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, Chad,” she huffed. “It’s not haunted.” That wasn’t even a lie. With the curse broken, all the servants had returned to human forms and most had gone their separate ways. Laurel quickly noted that Carlos and Timothy had been all too eager to run off together, just as she had suspected. Marie and had left as well, leaving Rose who wanted to stay with Caroline. And with the remaining fortune left within the mansion, Laurel’s household and home grew significantly larger almost overnight.

“Sure…” Chad said. “I know what I saw. I saw a demon! With my own two eyes. I faced it down, fought it, and lived! Pretty brave, huh?”

“Probably a figment of your imagination,” Laurel replied, turning away.

“Hey!” Chad grabbed Laurel’s arm. “Laurel, c’mon. You know that—”

“—Is there a problem?”

Laurel sighed in relief as her savior appeared, while Chad only huffed. “No thanks. Laurel and I were just talking. Go along.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m just here to get Laurel. Belle’s waiting for us, after all.” Caroline was smiling, slipping a hand into Laurel’s. “Now if you could let go of my girlfriend so we could go, that would be perfect.”

Chad dropped Laurel’s arm in shock. “Girlfriend?”

Laurel smiled as well. “Yes. This is Caroline. My girlfriend.”

“But you aren’t gay!”

Laurel stifled a chuckle, and she and Caroline walked off hand-in-hand, leaving Chad to mutter on repeat, “but she’s not gay.”

Laurel released her giggles once they turned a corner. “Did you hear him? I think he finally gets it.”

“He’s still in denial,” Caroline laughed. “That was great.”

“Yeah.” A kiss. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Anytime.”

Caroline was going kiss Laurel again when a voice called, “Laurel! Wait up!”

Sophia ran up in a hurry, slightly out of breath and laughing as well. “Did you break Chad? He’s going off about how you’re not gay.”

Laurel laughed again. “Yeah. I introduced him to my girlfriend. Oh! You haven’t met! Sophia, this is Caroline, my girlfriend. Caroline, this is Sophia, my best friend.”

Caroline smiled and shook Sophia’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Same to you.” While Sophia’s face looked happy, there was something else unreadable in their eyes that quickly faded as they studied Caroline. With introductions complete, Sophia turned back to Laurel. “I just wanted to ask. I think he may finally leave you alone.”

“If not now,” Laurel said, “a few more times seeing me with Caroline should knock it into his senses.”

Sophia nodded. “It’s good to see you so happy Laurel. You deserve love. You both do.”

Caroline stopped a moment. There was something about the way Sophia said those words, as if they knew Caroline and cared about her just like they did Laurel.

Before she could ask, Laurel said, “We better get going. Belle’s waiting for us. See you later, Sophia!”

“Goodbye,” Caroline said.

“Bye!” Sophia waved as the two turned around, but Sophia made no move to leave yet, just watching them. They were so happy, the way they leaned into each other, smiling brightly, the way their gaze lingered. The way Caroline’s arm was wound around Laurel’s waist as if she were the most precious thing she’d ever found.

It had worked. They knew she was running out of time. It was a gamble, setting the chain in motion. Who knew if Belle would go in the mansion, if Laurel would take her place, if Caroline would fall in love… but she did. She’d learned to love. And she gained love. They both found their happy ending and deserved it. And now it was time to let them go.

Then, in between blinks, Sophia disappeared. But if someone had been watching them that whole time, hadn’t blinked, they may have glimpsed teal hair turn to pure white curls and street wear change into a long red dress with embroidered roses just before Sophia disappeared. Perhaps you would call it witchcraft. Perhaps you would have called them a witch.

It didn’t matter though. Because that witch, that enchantress, was gone, leaving only a handful of rose petals where they had stood.

[tripstations]

Travel Through Canada and the U.S. This Summer Holiday

This month, we are celebrating two nations’ days by reading our way through Toronto, Montreal, and 1930s Kentucky.

Chai Factor is set mainly in Toronto.

The Chai Factor

In the Chai Factor by Farah Heron ($22.99, HarperCollins Canada), Amira Khan is just about done grad school. She comes back to her grandmother’s Toronto home to work finish her paper in the quiet of her basement apartment to discover her grandmother has rented it out to a barbershop quartet, who are practicing for an upcoming rehearsal.

While a small town north of Toronto gets mentioned in this book, Toronto has centre stage and Heron, who calls Toronto home, describes the city perfectly.

“The giant maze of hallways and escalators of Toronto’s Union Station was a nightmare to navigate on the best of days, but in the early hours of the evening rush, it was a sea of people as well.”

We spent a lot of time on Toronto’s transit system as Amira takes the TTC, its subway and streetcar, from place to place including its downtown waterfront.

Amira also spends a lot of time within Toronto’s public library system including the Toronto Reference Library, the “perfect place to lose a couple of hours in research.”

We get to hang out in the Sparrow, a local haunt, which in real life is now closed, but during the book Amira and her friend Reena hang out there frequently. “It was the kind of place with brewed coffee at all hours and decent beer on tap. And a killer Sunday brunch.”

There are a lot of Canadianism in the book.

“Reena giggled again. ‘All right, all right, sorry, Meer. No boyfriend, just school work. But you have to admit, this is funny. A gay, Muslim, lumberjack barbershop quartet living in your basement. You couldn’t make this up if you tried’…”

The Canadian apology: “Years with a temper worse than Hades’ meant she knew when to grovel, and being born and raised in Canada meant she knew how to apologize.”

Amira and Reena walk to a downtown beer festival, and Amira notes Toronto’s multiculturalism.

“The sun was setting over the horizon, bathing the sky in a rosy, almost otherworldly glow. There was nothing Amira loved more than Toronto in the spring. She was born and raised in the city, and she loved that her home was the kind of place with a Peruvian coffee house next to an Afghan Kebab shop, next to a Jewish deli wafting with the scent of bagels from a wood-burning oven.”

The Birds That Stay is set in Montreal and surrounding towns.

The Birds That Stay

In Ann Lambert’s murder mystery The Birds that Stay ($19.95, Second Story Press), set in Montreal and the towns surrounding the city, we learn the history of some of the place names including Ste. Lucie, “the village of eight hundred or so souls about six minutes from her house and an hour northeast of Montreal, was named for a fourteenth-century saint who blinded herself because she could not bear to witness all the sins in the world. Or she popped them out herself to discourage a persistent suitor, having sworn to preserve her virginity, of course. Every July, a few hundred Italian Montrealers emptied out of yellow school buses and paraded her statue (a woman carrying her two eyeballs on a platter) through the four streets in town.”

Police officer Romeo also mentions how the towns are named after saints, suggesting the irony as the province is “staunchly secular.”

“Saint Lawrence, after whom the massive river that encircled Montreal was named, has been roasted alive. Sainte Agathe had refused the advances of a Roman perfect and for that had her breasts cut off. Saint Hippoltye had been torn apart by horses.”

We learn that maybe you shouldn’t drive in Quebec.

“She made the first hair-raising turn onto the 329, accelerating like a torpedo not to get rear-ended. Driving in Quebec was unlike anywhere else, really. Crosswalks? Don’t even think about it. Drivers tried to hit people in them.”

We learn about Quebec’s food – hot dogs ‘stime’ (pronounced “steam-y”) or toastes, and poutine – french fries covered in melting cheese curd, drowned in brown gravy or “la sauce brune”

Hockey gets mentioned, although Remeo admits not liking the sport: “All Canadian boys were supposed to play hockey. It was something that was never questioned. It was like baseball to Americans. Soccer to Latin Americans. Cricket to Indians.

“Romeo’s shameful secret was that he never liked hockey. He didn’t see the point of chasing a puck for hours and hours on end. He didn’t like the hyper-masculine bravado of the coaches and the desperation of the fathers for their sons to be the best. Every Quebecois boy was supposed to dream of playing for the Montreal Canadiens, and every father seemed to think it was a possibility.”

The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek is set in the 1930s in Kentucky.

The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek

The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek by Kim Michelle Richardson ($22.99, HarperCollins Canada) is set in 1930s Kentucky at a time when people were out of work and starving. Then U.S. president Teddy Roosevelt created jobs to help get people working including the Kentucky Pack Horse Project, which saw mainly women deliver books and other reading materials to some of the hardest to reach places in Kentucky. One such woman was Bluet, nicknamed for her blue skin.

Despite the hardships and sadness – and there is lots in this book – there is also beauty as Bluet appreciates her home and it shows in her descriptions of the places she travels to deliver her books.

“At the mouth of the woodlands, Junia (a mule) rooted herself to a halt and perked her ears. After a bit of coaxing, I urged her on into the belly of the woods. Inside, dark earth, leaves, rotting logs and crawling moss rose among the pine saplings, cottonwoods and honey locusts and the canopied the beaten path, pulling me deeper into my thoughts.”

Book Women travelled through tough parts of the countryside to deliver their parcels of books, magazines, and newspapers, but after going through woods and streams, Bluet finds herself on Lovett’s Ridge:

“Layers of dark-blue mountains stacked in the distance, at every turn their cuts rolling, deepening, then lightening to shades of blue-greens from the day’s passing clouds. The air blew fresh and breezy. Scents of apple blossoms lifted from a nearby tree, and honeysuckles clung to a crumbling split-rail fence as swallowtails and fat-legged bees flitted above the old timbers and dipped for nectar. Ii was a alive. You could feel the heartbeat of this mountain…”

We celebrate Independence Day in Troublesome Creek.

“Women carried cakes, pies, and tasty eats and arranged them on red-checkered cloth tables. Menfolk sliced watermelon and made a dandy spread of deer sausage and other game they’d trapped for the festivities. Folks gathered at the Company store to chatter. Families claimed patches of grass in shady spots and spread out quilts and baskets groaning with prized recipes.”

A copy of these books was provided by HarperCollins Canada and Second Story Press for an honest review. The opinions are my own.

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