#they are the savior the doctor needed in moments of pain but they’re also the tragedy he never could have avoided

[thetorturedlovergirl]

it’s crazy how much in common Rose and Clara have like it makes me go crazy.

They both have the same role in the doctor’s life but with a different approach.

[multifandomfix]

No Better Savior — Audrey Lim

Summary: You get a terminal diagnosis that devastates both you and Audrey, but Audrey is set on finding a surgery that will save your life.

Word Count: 688

Warnings: Angst, reader has a “terminal” diagnosis

As you sat in your hospital room under the harsh and unflattering light, the air felt heavy, weighed down by the results now hanging over your head. When the doctor left, you and Audrey found yourselves facing an uncertain future. The words from the doctor still echoed in your mind. Terminal. That’s what you’d been told. The only known possible surgery was too risky.

As you looked to your wife, you noticed her on the verge of tears. Normally filled with such determination, they’re now clouded with sadness. The news hit her hard, almost harder than it hit you, and it was your diagnosis. You can see the struggle of her fight to maintain her composure. It’s written all over her features. It's a devastating blow for both of you, a sudden shift in the trajectory of your lives that neither of you had anticipated.

The room is filled with a tense silence, broken only by the occasional stifled sob from either you or Audrey. Finally, Audrey takes a deep breath, her voice breaking as she speaks, "We're going to fight this, okay? We're not giving up."

You nod, grateful for her strength, even when yours feels depleted. The journey ahead seems insurmountable, but Audrey's resolve becomes a flicker of light in the darkness.

Days blur into nights as Audrey immerses herself in medical journals, consults with colleagues, and explores every possible avenue for a solution. Her dedication is unwavering, a testament to her commitment to you and the belief that there must be a way to defy the odds. It touches you, that all consuming dedication, but sometimes instead of a cure, you just want her.

You’ve told her you don’t want to be a test subject. You don’t want to spend your remaining time with her suffering. Though that narrows her potential options for you, she understands. You know she does. It would have to be surgical. A procedure that was new and innovative, and it either worked, or it didn’t.

Amidst the delicate balance of her search and taking care of you, Audrey finally discovers a promising lead. It’s a groundbreaking surgery that, while also somewhat risky, gave you a chance, a real one. The spark of hope reignites in her eyes as she shares the news with you, her voice laced with cautious optimism.

Prep begins almost immediately. Shaun would be your surgeon, having studied the procedure nearly as much as Audrey had since she found it. If she were allowed, she’d do it herself, but she’d have to settle for observing and guiding from the gallery.

The day of the surgery finally arrives, and the operating room becomes a place of anxiety for Audrey for the first time since her intern year. Shaun’s hands move with adept precision as always, and while she still can’t shake the nerves, she trusts you in his hands completely. The monitors beep rhythmically, each sound a note of anticipation as well as dread.

As the surgery progresses, Audrey looks at the clock about twice every minute. It’s a delicate procedure, and time is of the essence. They’re not running behind, but she can’t help but worry regardless.

Then, a moment of profound relief, the surgery is complete and the tumor removed. A scan would have to be done to see if it was removed completely, but that would come later. Right now, you needed time to recover. Shaun emerged from the operating room to a waiting Audrey, his exhaustion was masked by a triumphant smile. He believed he’d gotten it all. Only time will tell.

In the days that follow, your recovery inches forward. You’re in a bit of pain, managed as best as it can be, but you feel lighter, both literally and figuratively, you supposed. Each step forward is a small victory. And when the scan comes back clean, no tumor, you share a cautious but celebratory hug with Audrey. The once distant future begins to take shape with renewed possibilities. You couldn’t have done it without her, without Shaun. You owed them both a debt you weren’t ever sure you’d be able to repay.

For anon

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @nclgsticore, @ayanthegreat28, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @bitchr-mkay, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure

Audrey Lim: @gothtrash6969, @thenazwife

[animepopheart]

Wonder Egg Priority, Episode 7: The Scars to Prove It (or, Love for the Moms, the Cutters, and the Drunks)

Wonder Egg Priority (WEP) has felt like the successor to Puella Magi Madoka Magica in many ways throughout its run, but in episode seven, it almost went full Madomagi by driving the stakes to their utmost height—to the death of one of the main characters. But as has been consistent with WEP, what it did instead, after some moments of true worry, is to instead deliver hope in the face of pain, resolve against overwhelming circumstances, and strength in weakness.

The series returns to Rika Kawai’s story in this episode, which starts with her turning 14. And on her 14th birthday, after leaving her hungover mother halfway asleep at the bar she works at and which they call home, Rika opens up to the rest of the girls, explaining that she doesn’t know her father (it could be any of five possibilities, or even more) and her mom won’t reveal any further information about him. As she trashes her mom, Neiru and Momoe are incredulous, which only drives Rika away from them. And though Ai goes to comfort her, Rika is in a terrible state of mind as she enters her next fight.

This was a difficult episode to watch. They’ve all been somewhat hard since the series never shies away from brutal and violent situations impacting young people, but I found myself squirming especially here as Rika’s cutting takes center stage. At one point, she decides to cut herself and it seems certain she will, before her turtle-like partner, Mannen, prevents it from happening.

Challenging, also, is how strained Rika’s relationship is with her mother, who’s life revolves around drink—alcohol both pays the bills and helps her forget how miserable her existence is. And in the midst of all the bad behavior in this episode—the usual Rika talk, her mom’s alcoholism and neglect, and the selfishness all around, one begins to feel deeply sorrowful for the Kawai women. Yes, Rika is often obnoxious, but her family life is in shambles, and she still exhibits goodness, including a curiously gentle relationship with Mannen. And Rika’s mother is a tragic figure, used by men and quite on the road to an early death, it would seem, unable to lift herself out of the gutter as she tries, in her own sloppy way, to protect and reach out to her daughter.

It’s in this hopelessness that Rika turns again to cutting, and then finds herself tempted by something even more dangerous. Her foe this time is a religious leader who led the egg, a follower who continues to believe in him, to commit suicide as a way of “connecting” with the universe (Heaven’s Gate, anyone?). Rika decries the ghoul as a charlatan, but is confronted with her own weakness when the egg shows her own scarred arm to Rika, revealing that she can tell that the latter cuts just like she did. And then she explains that Rika can be released from this pain.

The scars, evidence of what Rika does to cope with her pain, now become the weakness that they truly are, revealing how hopeless she feels, and how powerless she is against the mechanizations of her family life. And defeated, she’s about to allow herself to be killed when a surprising savior comes along—a turtle. Mannen attacks the spiritual leader, to Rika’s surprise as well, until she remembers that he has imprinted on her. Rika is Mannen’s mom, and as he did when he prevented her from cutting, Mannen is again protecting his mother.

The conclusion that Rika reaches is unusual but inspiring. She understands, in this moment, the need to protect one’s mom, finally admitting to herself in a de facto way that maybe her mother is in need of love, too. It’s funny to consider the need that mothers have for love since culturally and socially, they’re always seen as the providers of it. But of course, they need it in return, especially when they falter. My own mother is sick right now, and I think of the support I need to give her and the lack of that I’ve provided through the years.

Warning: Screenshot involving cutting after the jump.

My mother was a good one, however. Rika’s, on the other hand, has struggled with the charge, which reminds me of a story from one of my favorite books, The Ragamuffin Gospel, about another bad parent—a far worse one, in fact, and a real one. I’ll quote part of the passage from chapter seven:

“‘Our daughter Debbie wanted a pair of earth shoes for her Christmas present. On the afternoon of December 24, my husband drove her downtown, gave her sixty dollars, and told her to buy the best pair of shoes in the store. That is exactly what she did. When she climbed back into the pickup truck her father was driving, she kissed him on the cheek and told him he was the best daddy in the whole world. Max was preening himself like a peacock and decided to celebrate on the way home. He stopped at the Cork ‘n’ Bottle–that’s a tavern a few miles from our house and told Debbie he would be right out. It was a clear and extremely cold day, about twelve degrees above zero, so Max left the motor running and locked both doors from the outside so no one could get in. It was a little after three in the afternoon and…’

Silence.

‘Yes?’

The sound of heavy breathing crossed the recreation room. Her voice grew faint. She was crying. ‘My husband met some old Army buddies in the tavern. Swept up in euphoria over the reunion, he lost track of time, purpose, and everything else. He came out of the Cork ‘n’ Bottle at midnight . He was drunk. The motor had stopped running and the car windows were frozen shut. Debbie was badly frostbitten on both ears and on her fingers. When we got her to the hospital, the doctors had to operate. They amputated the thumb and forefinger on her right hand. She will be deaf for the rest of her life.'”

Max—a real person, mind you—was a successful, well-liked man, but his drinking problem led to an unconscionable decision and profound failure as a parent. And yet, this book is about grace, an idea which to humans feels unjust, but  which has the power to change hearts and tear down walls, sometimes literally.

Could Max be given grace? Could Rika’s mother? If not directly, she’s done her own physical damage to her daughter in the form of those cutting scars (difficult and perhaps triggering images below). As mentioned earlier, the egg that she’s helping knows her pain and insists that letting go of everything, including life itself, is the way to peace. After all, to a young, suffering girl, what else could these scars mean?

But in the midst of giving up, in the moment that she actually capitulates (and this episode takes you 99% to the edge, both in the cutting scene and in the apparent death scene), Rika experiences something powerful. She experiences grace.

Have you ever been challenged to forgive someone when you don’t want to, when you feel completely in the right? Maybe it’s easy for you, but perhaps it isn’t. The girls surrounding Rika experience differing degrees of this with her sometimes maniacal and often hurtful behavior. Ai forgives easily. Momoe gets fired up and then equally seeks to make peace. And Neiru…well, Neiru holds onto “justice” more than love (setting up what I imagine will be the most powerful transformation in the series of all, in true Homura fashion). But in the moment that Rika is about to give her life, the girls yell out their love for her, even Neiru, and then more profoundly, without any hesitation, Mannen puts his own life on the line to stop the death from occurring. Rika has already given up, but this turtle hasn’t—not for his mother, whom he loves very much.

And experiencing that love from a different angle, Rika is changed just a bit. She begins to see her weakness as a “mother,” failing her turtle-child, and thinks of her own mom who is overwhelmed by hurt and a failure as well. And if just a little—for as the final scenes indicate, it is just a little—the path toward forgiveness begins.

But a little bit of grace is like a little bit of a flood—its power overwhelms, and it defeats the enemy, whether that means bitterness, a physical person (or manifestation of one), or the devil himself.

When Rika returns from the event, having killed the cult leader monster, it’s interesting to note that she isn’t a wholly different person. She’s changing little by little. And her scars remain. In fact, as she admits, she probably will cut herself again. But strangely enough, those scars now represent something different. They show someone trying—failing, yes, sometimes considerably and maybe very often—but trying, and only able to try because love was shown her, and through that, she is now able to show love as well.

You may have such scars in your life, physical or emotional, battered by the world and by people. I hope that you can develop relationships that help you heal as well, and that you’ll also remember that there are other scars which are meaningful to you, but which you cannot see on your person, scars that were borne out of a desire to heal you. Christ took the piercings, on his head, hands, feet, and side, so that while your heart and flesh may be cut, your soul need not be. And through his wounds, you may be healed.

The grace offered through Christ is one that, as he explains about everlasting water at the well to the Samaritan, for now and through eternity. The egg seeks peace forever by dying, but Jesus, unlike the cult leader, died for us so that we may not have to. He took the nails, the cross, and the spear so that we don’t have to inflict pain on ourselves and receive the punishment of our actions against him and others. He is our scar.

That’s grace. That’s the power that it has. And it can reach anyone—even a terrible dad, an alcoholic mom, a tempestuous child, and, and most significantly and personally—you.

If you’re suffering and in pain, maybe self-inflicted, we encourage you to explain such to a parent or trusted adult and ask for help. It’s a difficult first step, but one that will help you begin recovering. And we also advise that you turn to Christ for help—in prayer, community, and scripture. He provides people to us that will aid us in our times of need, as well as himself and the Holy Spirit if we are believers.

Additionally, there’s a scene in this episode where triumphant, Rika concludes that cutting is okay. That’s said in the context of her moving forward bit by bit and forgiving herself for her failures, even the upcoming ones. That’s an important lesson, though we must certainly be careful not to let it be a license to continue cutting with impunity.

Wonder Egg Priority can be streamed through Funimation. Read more of our articles by signing up for our weekly newsletter.

[stickynotestoletters]

Yandere BNHA Boys pt 2

Okay, this is a continuation of the first yandere ones I did because I wrote that in basically a night and was too tired to do more, I'm probably gonna post some after for the pro heroes and villains if I have time, I might finish those on the weekend then post it.

This is just a bunch of headcanons I have about the boys in BNHA and what they’d be like as yanderes. Only the really fluffy or good things about them listed here. Neither of these works are a good depictions of a real yandere and make sure to be careful to identify yandere traits in real people around you. It’s a very dangerous world and stay safe!

sorry if you were waiting for me to come out with these and I literally took forever lol, link to the first one is here. It's basically just me comforting myself with the sweet things that I think they would do as yanderes.

Warnings: Brainwashing, blood, gore, death, trans headcanons, body dysmorphia, nonbinary they/he Sero, they/them pronouns + nonbinary headcanons for Tokoyami, he/they nonbinary headcanons with Shinsou, a little NSFW because if I don't specify then they are aged up (around 20-25 is where I imagine the timeline that they actually captured you and have a hero carrier going for them already), manipulation, regular yandere things, kinda just turns into dumbass horknee headcanons at some point after Shinsou (sorry lmfao), objectification

Sero Hanata

so basically the first time they saw you they immediately wanted to come up to you

they love to give you back hugs because once you stop trying to fight them he's gonna be so honored you finally trust him

Big time slut [non-derogetory] for you

Likes to have an apartment that's high up, probably a secured penthouse with lots of windows

If you're afraid of heights they will get a ground bed for you two, they would also vibe with a low hanging hammock if you allow it

they really really like just putting you on a custom made leash, not inherently in a sexual way just in general likes to have it look like that with their tape on you at all times

they really really like it when you come to them for hugs and comfort

If you're a trans reader, if you want a binder he will get you one as soon as you ask, cried when you told him about it.

they cried way more than you though...

Was very accepting as an nb person as well

they custom made you a tape binder of his

Kinda as a joke but high key felt like they were gonna combust at the thought of you wearing that for them

Takes you to pride but you cannot speak

only takes you to pride after they are 1000% sure that you're not gonna speak to anyone but them

Takes you to it as a part of their float because they'd been invited onto the Hero Float

You are in a costume that's exactly like his, helmet and everything, you aren't allowed to be looked at

After that though, it's gonna be your choice to go or not to go

they trust you a little more after you run away from some assholes though and after that sometimes lets you take your helmet off during pride, you have to give them a lot of kisses though

When/if you ever consider any type of surgery he is 110% on board

they demand that you have to have it performed by someone who has done this a million times before, trusts no one else

If there's a way for you to go through it without the surgery they're excited but he's more excited if there is surgery because they love the idea of you being so cuddly and clinging to them for their comfort

Tokoyami Fumikage

haha they're in love with you

like, intensely in love with you the moment they first meet you

Dark shadow thinks you're adorable but says nothing more about their obsession with you

when you met them before UA they absolutely cannot handle being around you in a 10-foot radius

Eventually, though they do try and become a friend of yours

After that, it's a hop on the manipulation train, my dude

they basically make you see them as your savior from a mean uncaring world

they love talking to you about things that make you happy and loving you in little ways

hugs, hand holding, a lot of time it's just a little peck (haha) on the cheek

they love living with you though, like really love it

they like baking and making dinner for you

but especially baking

like really, baking

the manipulation they use makes it seem like everything is okay when you only talk to them so that's what you do and to you, it seems so much better than anything you could do

they haven't come out to you by the time you come out to them so your trans journey really helps them figure things like that out as well

The first time you explain that gender is a made-up construct they're like "yeah......isn't that how everyone feels? Like, not a gender????" we love this for them

you both kind of heal each other through this process

they like seeing you when you're most comfortable so they get you as many binders as you need

also gets you a custom binder like Sero but with feather designs, not like stupid printable patterns but something that is soft and the softness isn't feathers it's regular fluffy cloth

idk I'm not a designer that's why I gave up and became a writer lmao

they also get you a compression corset because they're emo

if there is surgery it takes a lot of time to convince them

they don't ever want you to regret anything they helped you with so it takes a lot of long-winded conversations about it

there was a lot of nervousness on their part because (this is just my headcanon) they were almost convinced to get surgery to construct their face to look human-like

they had a lot of their family tell them that, because of the way they looked, they had less of a chance to become a hero, they were immensely traumatized by this and thus wants to make absolutely sure you were okay with this

but when they finally find themself comforted by you about it it happens quickly and in the safest way you could possibly imagine

Shinso Hitoshi

Shinsou didn't want to approach you at all, he was so scared you'd run away or tell him he's a villain

they always thought that they weren't good enough for you

he loved you but you needed to say hi first

and you did

so he whisked you away

they like to just brainwash you into tasting certain types of food when you're craving them instead of just getting you food

he likes to talk to you in a voice like he would talk to a kitten, not like husky or anything sexy, but something cute and adorable

especially when you're brainwashed and can't say anything to him

He likes to give you lots of soft stuff like I'm talking pillows upon pillows and squishmallows

once he gets his own house they get it in a place that's more comforting in the dark than in the light

they really like the dark and outdoorsy vibe anyway so if they choose a place somewhere in the forest to keep you what's the added bonus if no one can hear you scream?

a little bit of spice; he has this whole a/b/o fantasy (idk it's his vibes that he'd read that fanfic and stuff lmao) and kinda treats you like you were an omega

sometimes if you guys do have sex they'll brainwash you to act like an omega or once he's more experienced with bodily manipulation involving their quirk they'll make you do all of the......omega things

when you come out to them, if you're trans, they're definitely gonna not care

like if you need comfort and stuff about it they will not make a big deal about it

he legit is like "okay .....can I still fuck you or?????"

HE JUST GIVES OFF REALLY HORKNEE VIBES OKAY?????

definitely brainwashes you into not feeling dysphoric anymore though

like loves it when you come up all sad to him and uncomfy just to ask them to brainwash you

he melts over you cuddling them after those times though

if you want surgery they're gonna make sure that it's between him and the doctors that y'all are there

like no one knows you're there, completely off radius, in and out like nothing (he's basically a cryptid in the woods by the time you guys have the surgery, so they wanna make sure no one questions it)

Monoma Neito

bold of you to assume that man can express literally anything when he wants to just sit you on his lap and look at your pretty face

love at first sight taken literally but not in a shallow way

he loves just having you around him

kinda treats you as an accessory at times, talks like you're a purse or something and people don't really comment but it's really freaking them out sometimes when you don't speak up on it

likes to say he's the only one to understand you cause he's afraid you'd leave him

a hardcore fan of collars though

definitely has lots of jewelry that represents him even though you don't go out he still loves the idea of it

big time cook

loves providing for you, never lets you do a damn thing other than watching pre-approved cartoons and hobbies

absolute fucking disaster about hugging you

always has to be touching you

he thinks you're so fucking gorgeous and body worships you even out of the bedroom

if you're trans he will definitely be weird about it at first

he's just diet transphobic

he's not denying it but sometimes he's like "Are you sure???" and stuff

he clears this up with the help of you being pissed enough to not eat or talk to him until he apologizes

he then educates himself on it and comes to the conclusion that he was in fact being an asshole

talks to you about binders and stuff like that

doesn't really believe in surgery, he would never allow you to do that just because it would be too painful for him to see you go through

he instead literally searches the whole fucking globe for a person with a body-altering quirk to make sure you don't get hurt

he seeks out homophobes, transphobes, and other dumbasses on the regular just to kill them like literally it just started out for your approval but now it's just for fun

Anyway, the villain one (if I do it) will probably become just horknee brain rot cause I am a slut. Request some stuff and I'll try to put up some works if y'all want ig.

[harrypotterandthefandomaccount]

In Your Arms

request:  Hello! I’ve been on your blog for a while and I really adore it, you’re an amazing writer, dearie! ❤️ I have a strange request, like really strange. A year ago I had a stillborn baby boy, and it’s still quite bad with pain. I was depressed, and beyond suicidal. As my journey to heal,  seeing fictional characters go through struggles that I faced make it better. I understand completely if you’d rather not. But perhaps a single reader, Harry’s younger sister when they’re adults of course. Maybe she used a donor, and in her pregnancy at six months she has a stillbirth after buying everything, and getting herself excited. Mainly, showing her struggles and everyone attempting to make her feel better. Perhaps, even a sweet moment of her baby in ‘wizard’ heaven with Sirius, Remus, and her parents. Taking care of him, and eventually the reader is reassured someone is taking care of her baby. Something every mother wishes for when it happens❤️ thank you so much, I send my best regards and love💓💕

warnings: depression, post-partum, stillborn death, anxiety, character death, sad death, suicidal thoughts

note: i really hope i did okay with this. i read this article to get more information about stillborns and the impact it has on mothers and their families. to the requester, i really hope i did okay with this. you are loved.

-

nothing, no feeling, but pain.

you knew something was not right when you started feeling deep pressure on your stomach only five months into your pregnancy. something was off, and as much as you wanted to ignore it, you had to go to St. Mungo’s.

by Merlin, you wish you ignored it.

the doctors scrambled, trying to find a way to rid your body of the contractions, to delay your baby’s delivery but there was nothing they could do. you could feel the tears and sweat running down your face as your twin, harry, gripped your hand, telling you everything would be okay.

you just wanted to hold your son.

harry told you it would all be okay, molly wiping the sweat from your forehead as she whispered encouraging words to you. you cried, not wanting to push as you knew what would happen to your son - you weren’t ready to let go yet.

as the doctors instructed, you pushed and pushed until the doctors told you to stop - your boy had entered the world. molly took him from the doctors, swaddling him in blue cloths and walked over to you, giving you a small smile.

you were tired. everything felt like jelly, but as you saw molly carrying your son, you sat up, ready to hold him. as he was passed into your arms, you smiled and cried.

“what’s wrong, dear?” molly asked, wiping back your damp hair.

you shook your head, “he’s beautiful. he is absolutely breathtaking.”

harry leaned over your side, looking at his nephew, “looks just like his mom.” he smiled, kissing your head as he smoothed your hair. over your head, he looked t molly, wondering what was going to happen.

a doctor stood at the side of your bed as you looked up, “what is going to happen to him?”

she gave a sad smile, “his organs will slowly start to shut down until he stops breathing, but he won’t be in pain. he’ll be okay.”

you looked back at your son, a bright smile on your face as your thumb grazed his cheek, “my beautiful boy. . .”

your bottom lip quivered, “can - can he be a donor?” you heard your son’s breathing, focusing on the rise and fall of his tiny chest and belly.

the doctor nodded, “yes, he can, but it is your decision, ms. potter.”

you swallowed, “can i spend more time with him, please?”

she nodded, “of course.”

molly held your hand under your son, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, “have you thought of a name, darling?”

you nodded, your lip quivering, “fred.”

molly hummed, kissing your forehead. harry kneeled beside you, “beautiful name.” molly paused, “what do you need?”

“i just, um,” you swallowed a lump in your throat, “can i spend time with him? alone? i’m so-”

harry stood, “don’t apologize. . .we’ll be outside. i love you.”

you gave a sad smile, “i love you, too.” molly left right behind harry, giving you one last glance before leaving.

you knew they were telling everyone about what was happening, your son’s name, the difficult decision you had to make. but it didn’t matter. you were here, with fred, and he was the most beautiful baby you have ever seen in your entire life.

“oh, my sweet darling,” you started, “you have so - so many people waiting for you up there. your grandpa james, grandma lily, uncle sirius, uncle remus, uncle fred - whom you’re named after. they are going to take such good care of you, sweetheart.”

tears began to fall down your cheeks, your breath quickening as you realized he would not make it. you swallowed, “and, you’re going to be a savior, just like uncle harry. you. . .you are so loved, my darling. and,” you grazed his cheek again, “and i am going to miss you so much. you have a special place in my heart, you know that?”

his breathing then became wheezes, and somehow, the doctor knew, carefully walking in and closing the door with multiple nurses and a NICU cart behind them.

“i have to let him go, don’t i?” you asked, memorizing your son’s facial features.

molly opened the door, heading over to your side in a rush, “nobody is forcing you to do anything, darling. you take as much time as you need -”

“but if you wish for your son to be a donor, then yes. i am sorry, ms. potter.”

you leaned in, kissing fred on the forehead before whispering, “i am - i am going to miss you terribly, my love. don’t get in too much trouble.”

the doctor walked over to your bedside, watching your emotions carefully before you turned to her, “please take care of him. i don’t want him in any pain.”

she nodded to you, her red hair bouncing, “of course, ms. potter. your son will be in good care. he’ll be okay.”

with gentle hands, you carefully handed your son over to the doctor, who then put him inside the NICU cart, leaving quickly to preserve his organs. you covered your mouth, ugly sobs escaping you as molly pulled you close.

“i miss him!” you cried, snot and tears running down your face as the others waited outside, holding hands and wiping their own tears.

all you wanted was a baby, your own little baby - with a significant other or by donor - that was all you wanted. but now, it had been taken from you, ripped from your grasp. how were you supposed to live with yourself? how were you supposed to go home and look into the nursery without falling to your knees? how were you supposed to survive?

-

the shades hid the light of the sun entering your room. it was. . .nice, hiding from the world and laying within your plethora of covers. there was warmth, but also cold. you didn’t have a pregnant belly anymore, nor did you have any cravings or odd mood swings.

you wanted to hold fred again. you ached to kiss his cold, little cheeks again, or to smell him once more. you wish you had more time.

you had turned into a cocoon, refusing to leave your safe space unless necessary. no visitors were allowed, but you’d let people know you were breathing - not okay, but alive.

you felt like you failed.

you had done everything right. how did you lose him? what did you do wrong?

everyone had told you that it wasn’t your fault - but why did it feel like it was?

harry knocked on your door every single day. he still has yet to skip a day, but it has only been a week, so who knows. ginny stands beside him, telling you that you are strong, that you’ll get through this.

you scoffed every time.

molly drops off food every day, whether it be some cookies or a whole lasagna. she stands at the door and tells you how her day went, and you knew she was wiping her own tears. she’d stand there for about an hour and once you knew she left, you’d go and grab the food, putting it in the fridge until you had the stomach to eat.

ron and hermione came by twice, shoving cards and your mail under the door, telling you how much they miss you and your smile. you wanted to go out and laugh with them about old times, but you just couldn’t.

then his ashes came.

you remember being so excited when you first found out you were pregnant, rushing to buy all the supplies you needed as your girlfriends took the stress off you, buying the items for you instead.

you remember painting the room with george, harry, and ron. well, they painted and you ate pizza, giving tips as they got each other covered in the baby blue hue.

you remember finding out the sex of the baby, holding harry’s hand as the nurse told you it was a boy. that was when you knew his name was going to be fred, and harry admired you for it, calling you an adirmable sister.

however, you also remembered when you first got home, shuffling over to the couch and wrapping a blanket around yourself. you remember how your breasts ached, producing milk when there was nobody to produce it for. how the bleeding felt as if it went on for ages.

at first, you felt numb at the sight of the urn, but in a good way. he was here, finally, in his home. maybe not in the way you expected, but he was home. fred was home. you placed him on your dresser, perfect line of sight for you to see him. just to make sure your baby was okay.

standing up, you shook your legs and hobbled over to the shower, turning it on and stepping in immediately. the heat felt good, washing away the dirt and grime that had formed over the past week. then, brushing your teeth felt good, felt productive.

then, you called molly, asking if you could come over for dinner, and if harry and ginny, ron and hermione, could come, too.

she cried once she hung up, her answer being a choked, “of course, darling.”

it wasn’t what you planned, but it is what happened. you came to terms with that as you looked off into the field from the burrow. you miss fred terribly, but you knew he was okay. it was odd - sometimes, you’d hear a baby’s laugh and you’d see someone who was the spitting image of remus or sirius, lifting a baby in the air and seeing their smile light up the world. you saw those as signs - signs that fred was being taken care of.

and you were okay with him not being in your arms.

[definitelynotcesia]

Promise

Okay so I wrote this on 2018, and posted it on my *imagines* instagram account on 2019. Sadly, I can't access that account anymore so I couldn't post the last part of the story.

pairing: park jimin x reader

genre: kinda sad but not really

word count: 1k

warning: mentions of serious medical condition and suicide

if you ever need someone to talk to, please know that my dms are always open to hear you out.

It's already 6 in the afternoon. Classes are already done and there is barely enough students you see around, most are in the field playing sports. You ran through the empty hallway towards your locker because you forgot to take home a book you need to study for tomorrow's quiz.

I want you to be your light baby, you should be your light

You were frozen in your tracks when when you heared someone sing. The song... it was something you're very familiar with. But you were puzzled because it's impossible anyone knows that song. You wrote that for a friend. For him.

"It can't be possible." You thought as tears slowly stream down your face. "He's gone. I must be imagining things." You were about to start walking again when you heared guitar strums.

Deoneun apeuji anhge

Nega useul su issge

I want you to be your night, baby

You could be your night

Ibami neoege soljighal su issge

The voice sounded very real. It was a man's voice. The voice of someone you knew by heart even when two years have passed. You searched where it is coming from. Your heart wants to believe he's true but your mind keeps telling you it's impossible— that he's dead.

Two years ago, you we're in a hospital bed with multiple tubes connected in your hands, arms and another tube to aid your breathing. You were very frail and bald from all the painful chemotherapy you have been through. But what's even more painful is seeing your family suffer as well. Your family almost got bankrupt. You thought it would be useless for them to save you so you decided to just end everything there.

It was 6 in the afternoon, sunset glow getting through your room's curtained window. It was peaceful but lonely. You take the pill bottle in your hand and poured as much tablet in your hand.

"Why are you counting your medicine?"

You were taken aback by someone else's voice. It was from a boy about the same age as you. Also dressed in similar hospital robe as you, he has black hair, small eyes and chubby cheeks. "I'm Jimin. I'm at the room across yours"

"Why are you here?" You asked with irritated tone.

"I got bored and I heared I have a new neighbor so I came here to visit." He explained while sitting comfortably on the chair beside your bed. "I guess you are bored too since you started counting your meds already."

"Are you stupid?"

"No, I'm Jimin."

"Can you just get out."

"Uhmm it depends. If you put down that bottle and promise me not to think of doing something stupid again."

Your mouth gapped open. You wanted to protest but closed it back again.

"You promise?" He held out his pinky.

"Okay whatever." You answered.

"Promise me." He said and shook his hand in from of you.

You rolled your eyes and took his pinky finger and intertwined it with yours, "okay I promise"

He smiled causing his eyes to smile too. You noticed how cute he is when he smiled. "What's your name?"

"Y/n"

"Nice meeting you, y/n." He stood up and headed towards the door.

Little did you know, it was the start of your beautiful friendship. You visit each other's room and talk about so many things. Both your past and all your dreams in the future. You cheer each other up when one have to go for another chemo session. Each day becomes less lonelier with him.

Just as when you started to get better, he started becoming very weak. He wasn't allowed to visit you anymore. But you insisted to go on his room everyday. You wrote him letters. You even composed that song for him. Like how he came into your room on that day and made a promise with you, your song is a promise too.

Intertwine our pinkies

And promise me now

But things have to happen. You were discharged from the hospital and flew to the Philippines. You were not able to say goodbye to him. The last thing you remember is the deafining sound of the machine beside him, all lines turned straight. Doctors and nurses rushed in and you were forced to go out. You don't understand, he was still smiling but all of a sudden he is fighting for his life. He is not giving up, you know that, because he promised you.

It was from the choir room. As you get closer you don't understand how his voice resembled so much of Jimin's. Your heart raced as you twisted the knob. You opened the door and you can't believe what you saw.

It was just an old television playing a recording of Jimin singing the song. It seemed like it was recorded in that hospital, he looks exactly like the last time you saw him— only a little bit tired and sickly. The song ended and you cant stop your tears from flowing.

"Hi Y/n, 잘지네서? 아 정말 보고 싶어 (How have you been? Aah, I really miss you). I don't know if I'm still around when you see this but I want to tell you that I like this song so much. I always hold on to the promise we made. You may not realize it but you were the reason I was able to find the light for myself. It's like you turned the switch on and I didn't even realize it was there. Thank you so much Y/n. I really miss talking to you but I don't want you to come back here as well. Aahh, thinking about it makes me sad but I always play this song when I remember you. I hope you're living your life well, my y/n." He finished it with his eye smile.

You dropped to the floor unable to control your own breathing. You realized how the pain never left you ever since that day. Its almost impossible how your heart is taking everything right now but you swear you can feel it breaking. You miss him so much. He was your light too, your savior and strength. And you regret every single second of not being there with him for the last time.

Everything doesn't make sense right now. What's the point of letting people in our lives when they're not even there to stay?

Nothing else matter to you at that moment, until a hand touched your shoulders. You turn right away and couldn't believe your eyes.

"I don't break promises, Y/n."

— end.

cesia's masterlist

[kookiebunnii]

🌒 one. trouble

pairing: jinyoung x vampire!reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: mentions of blood, death

Absentmindedly running your tongue across your retracted incisors, you briefly brush your hand against your lips before pulling back to examine the blood smeared across your fingertips. Swallowing thickly, you let out a brief sigh before facing the horrified nurse in front of you.

“Really, you don’t have to look that frightened,” you say, unable to help the small smirk that tugs at the corner of your mouth.

The woman opens her mouth, seemingly ready to scream until you quickly grip her forehead with a practiced but gentle motion. Her widened pupils slowly glaze over, as you take a second to examine the way she’s helpless in your grasp. Her pulse thumps insistently under your fingertips, and it takes everything within you to control your fangs from making an appearance again.

“Forget everything,” you command, the words slipping off your tongue with ease.

Nodding robotically, the nurse is motionless—awaiting further instructions. You remove your hand from her form to look away momentarily with annoyance. It was tiring to continue doing this every week. Having to find a new hospital every few months just to avoid suspicion and blood deficits, ensure every witness’s memory was erased, endure the pains in your jaw that grew fiercer with each passing day…it was enough to drive you crazy.

“Dispose of the bag,” you press the empty blood bag into her outstretched hands.

Her eyes are still covered with a grey mist as the woman grips the material tightly before marching down the corridor on your left. You stay and watch her until she turns the corner before making your own exit.

Outside, rain was sprinkling. Watching as a single lonely car leisurely glides across the wet pavement, you wonder if you should move to a different location this weekend. This city had already offered everything it could, as you left no stone unturned to identify evidence of vampires. The coven you found here had burst into erratic laughter at the mere thought of a vampire trying to find a way to die. Realizing that none of them knew any more than you did and quickly tiring over the insults thrown your way, you spent the rest of your days doing your best to identify any outsiders. Most vampires gathered into covens to ensure that their movements could be effectively hidden while also guaranteeing a steady blood supply. However, you have encountered a few individuals like yourself who operated solo—preferring to freely wander without the politics of coven life.

The rain barely registers against your cool skin, and the scent of fresh rain feels like a much needed wake up call. You wouldn’t be able to find the answer you sought here. Brushing a wet strand of your obsidian locks behind your ear, you considered where you would go from here. It felt like you had investigated every nook and cranny since you were bitten 200 years ago. The thought of giving up is tempting, but you knew you would just remain tormented for another 200 years. At least through searching, you had a hopeful possibility to look forward to.

When you reach the sullen one-bedroom apartment you had been occupying for the past few weeks, you quickly shake out your windbreaker and hang it up on a coat stand near the entrance. Bounding up the stairs, you find the bathroom with ease and automatically turn the silver handle of the faucet to watch the clear water gush over the sink.

Running your blood-stained fingertips under the flow of water, the red that swirls down the drain is mesmerizing. When you finish washing your hands, the pale and gaunt face that stares back at you in the mirror explains why the nurse had seemed so terrified. Even though everything about you looked human, the dark black locks and pupils you developed after turning were anything but. You still remembered the way your hair had looked before it turned a deep raven. This color that didn’t expose any shine or highlight even when you were in the sun reminded you that you couldn’t ever be human again.

Sick of seeing your tired-looking features, you do some quick stretches to relax your tense muscles from the escapade earlier. It was difficult to find a lone wandering nurse since hospitals nowadays seemed to be bustling with doctors even at midnight. However, the process was a lot less stressful given this particular establishment had quite a few blind spots in their security system.

The blood type you enjoyed tonight was O it seemed, as the copper taste lingered on the roof of your mouth. You still remember when it disgusted you, when you cried bitterly over the corpse of a stranger because you couldn’t control your thirst when you first turned. You remembered being taken in by your mentor shortly after, all the while avoiding any news reports possible. Seeing the face of your victim across every newspaper in town reminded you of the unbearable evil you were.

English Breakfast tea was your favorite choice on rainy days. Stirring the cup you just finished brewing, you watched as the rain outside began pouring down harder than before. The loud droplets landed unceremoniously across the windowpane before streaming down in dozens of unpredictable tiny rivers.

You hadn’t seen your mentor since you arrived at this town. Perhaps you lost him after the chase back in Venice, but you knew that he was an experienced enough tracker to find you soon.

“I wish he understood.”

The words echo throughout the room, feeling useless with no target audience and no response returned. Smiling sadly, you set the half-empty teacup back on the table. He couldn’t understand because he didn’t realize how painful your existence was. Watching your family, your friends, and your future dying without you was an excruciating torment you wouldn’t even wish on your worst enemy. The agony was worse than anything you felt before, worse even than the night you were bitten. Back then, it felt like your body was literally on fire as it was being completely transformed into the one you knew now. But after all of that, you couldn’t contact anyone you knew. It was better for everyone you loved to believe that their Y/N was dead instead of meeting the monster you were.

You sense him before you see him, so when you turn around to see Mark standing in your living room, you aren’t surprised. Pulling out a chair next to the dining table, you sit down with a sigh before gesturing to another chair across from you.

“Have a seat,” you give your mentor a halfhearted smile before intertwining your hands across your lap.

He doesn’t budge. The past few times he’s caught you, you were already dashing away from him to your next location. It’s been years since the two of you have properly spoken, and you don’t fault him for being taken off-guard by your eerily calm disposition.

“Mark, you can sit down. I’m not going anywhere.”

Still refusing to talk, he strides forward in broad strokes before resting in the seat across the table from you. Even though vampires don’t age from the moment they’re turned, Mark looks weary. He looked younger when he was smiling and teaching you new things. After you left him without notice, it seems that the ordeal has taken a toll on him in more ways than one. It seemed that everything about you now was primed to continually hurt others.

“Stop running, Y/N,” the first words he speaks to you in this encounter are ones you’ve heard hundreds of times from him already.

A tired groan emits from somewhere within your chest, as you close your eyes slowly. He still doesn’t understand you.

“You will not find what you’re looking for.”

The teacup flies off the edge of the table before shattering into several pieces on the ground below. To his credit, Mark doesn’t even flinch at your outburst. Pitch black eyes meeting his own, you look at him with your jaw clenched tightly.

“If you have nothing else to say, leave,” doing your best to inject as much steel into your words, you hope that he would actually listen to you for once.

Why couldn’t he just leave you to hurt alone? You couldn’t afford any more collateral damage.

Mark refuses to break even when his eyes met yours. All vampires had their features change after being bitten, and for a moment it almost feels as if you’re looking at a reflection of yourself. The two of you were more than just physically similar. Being people of few words, but having hearts filled to the brim with wanting to protect others, the two of you didn’t quite fit into the image of a dangerous vampire. He must think that chasing after you all these years, begging you to reconsider annihilation, was his way of protecting you. But he was far from your savior, he was the only person you had left. He didn’t deserve to spend his time, however infinite, running after a lost cause like you.

Regaining your composure, you straighten and tug on the cuffs of your casual black blouse. Being emotional was a weakness, so you refuse to let your voice crack under the growing sadness you felt. You would never give up on the promise you made to yourself after realizing how lonely being a vampire was.

“I’m leaving the city tomorrow morning. Don’t follow me this time. I respect you as my mentor, the one person that took care of me when I was at my weakest. But I need to do this for myself, the longer I live, the more I hate this pitiful eternity,” you lean your head back in your chair to examine the ceiling.

In an instant, Mark’s at your side and breaking into your view of the same ceiling. Within his eyes, you see something you can’t place your finger on. You give him an amused chuckle when defiance finally flares into those midnight eyes of his, realizing that he was once again too stubborn to see reason. How many more decades would pass until he let you go?

“You’re being selfish, Y/N.”

His words hurt you more than they should. But you’ve dealt with far worse trauma, so the tears easily remain within your waterline. Instead, you begin laughing and it’s such a horribly empty sound that it  frightens even you.

“I’ll be selfish then,” you spit bitterly, standing up from your chair to glare at Mark with your full height. You’re still plenty shorter than the man, but at least it gives you a sense of power. Unconsciously, your fangs begin elongating and the action  catches you off guard slightly with embarrassment.

Chuckling, he softly places his fingers against the curve of your jaw, “You still have a long way to go, if you can’t control little things like this.”

Giving him a glint of your fangs with a snarl, you pull away from his grasp before stomping over to the coat stand to grab your jacket that’s still moist from the evening shower. Although it is still pouring outside, perhaps it would provide enough of an escape for you so that Mark would have a hard time pinpointing where you were heading.

You think you have a head start, but your mentor is skilled enough to sense your emotions before you knew them yourself. Knowing he’s right on your heels, you keep running through the bitter cold. Vampires don’t easily get tired, and with the renewed anger fueling your every step you easily lose sight of him as dawn’s first light peaks through the clouds.

Sunlight doesn’t turn vampires to dust like some movies portray, so it was relatively easy for you reach the inner portions of your new conquest without drawing attention. Daylight rendered vampires relatively weaker, but otherwise failed to differentiate a vampire from a normal human. You observe the stirrings of the city in the early morning—an elderly businessman sipping a coffee on his way to work, a gaggle of schoolchildren skipping and chattering excitedly, and the occasional homeless person lying on a bench. Even if all this life was happening in front of you, it felt like it was happening behind a screen that you could not penetrate. Detached, you merely stick your hands into your pockets and start looking for somewhere to take shelter. For you to do any investigating, you needed somewhere to head back to at the end of the day.

It seems that this new location is a bustling metropolis with very little abandoned housing that you can find. You didn’t have any money either, meaning that you couldn’t even rent a place if you wanted. The whole ordeal was making you a bit frustrated, but you were determined to stay. If there were so many humans here, it had to mean a good number of vampires resided within as well. They always followed the blood.

The day quickly passed as you spent hours simply circling various streets in search of some semblance of a residence, however poorly maintained, if only to avoid resting out in the open. Doing so was dangerous even if most people wouldn’t mess with a vampire. Besides, Mark would be able to find you a lot easier without a roof over your head. It seemed that you would also have to vary your times spent wandering outside, to avoid being tracked.

It seems that your luck has finally run out as you crumple against the side of a building for the night. The alley was the only empty one you could find. It was prime real estate in your book, given that there were very little trash bags tossed carelessly in this particular alley and no one else was sleeping nearby. Pulling together some flattened cardboard leaning against the wall, you lay down while looking up at the stars. This certainly wasn’t the best accommodation you’ve had, but it also wasn’t the worst. It would suffice for a few nights, but it definitely wasn’t a long-term solution.

Vampires didn’t need sleep daily per se, but you found that the act still made you feel more refreshed in the mornings. You found that you could fall within a very light sleep, since your senses were tuned to be constantly aware of potential threats. Sleep was one of the few acts you could attempt to enjoy, to fool yourself into believing that you were someone normal.

Just as the desire for normalcy passes through your thoughts, the familiar ache returns to your throat to remind you of your real identity. The slight discomfort is still bearable, given that it is only the first day since you’ve fed. Before, a blood bag held you over for at least a week. Nowadays, it barely satisfies your cravings. You weren’t sure what exactly was happening to you, and you definitely weren’t going to try to find out. Only bad answers awaited.

You bring your hand up to your chin, tracing the pain that blossoms slowly from your throat to the beginnings of your jaw. The motion reminds you of Mark, the way he had briefly looked at you earlier the way he used to…back when he looked at you like a troublesome sibling he was trying to discipline instead of a dangerous runaway. You can’t help but smile when thinking of him. He was the closest thing you had to a friend, but that also meant he was someone you cared for too much to hurt.

When you’re finally free, you hope he won’t feel guilty. There is nothing he can do to stop you.

You turn on your side, curling up into the fetal position in habit. As a human, you used to sleep in this position most often. It was oddly comforting, and even as a vampire, the position soothes your worries greatly. Your hand stretches outwards towards the dark alleyway, as if reaching for something you’re unsure of. When your fingers curl inwards, the crescent-shaped marks your nails leave into your palm have an unusual beauty about them.

The rest of the week passes with little success to celebrate over. At this point, the dull ache had grew into a ferocious burning, to the point where you were practically wincing into every step you made. Without blood, vampires became seriously weak to the point where injuries would lose their ability to regenerate instantly. The thirst also grew hard to ignore, as entering crowded areas became a liability. You wouldn’t be able to control yourself in a crowd and biting a human in front of hundreds of witnesses would be a difficult clean-up operation.

Forget finding a lead. Forget finding a place to stay. You needed to locate a hospital, stat.

Unfortunately for you, the hospital here seems to be swarming with people today. Even as you hide in the shadows, observing the ins and outs of the building, you feel your incisors begging to be exposed. Your pupils alternate between brief flashes of scarlet and the shade of obsidian you’re accustomed to. You were too crazed to enter that hospital right now to wait for a passing physician to help you out without accidentally harming a passerby.

Cursing under your breath, you force yourself to walk towards the quieter outskirts of the city. Here, there are a few scattered apartment complexes and only lone individuals walking on the streets. Keeping your hood up to hide your changing features, you hurry along the corners of the buildings, hoping for someone to walk by the secluded areas you were prowling.

You hated biting humans, and it was your personal decision to never feed on a live person if you could help it. Even if the bite left no visible mark and memories were easily wiped, the act felt like it was also slowly sucking the humanity out of you. Perhaps it was a futile and stupid attempt on your part, but you had been relatively good at following this rule of yours.

Growing impatient, you almost black out with the pain that’s beginning to course throughout your entire body. If you go unconscious here, you wouldn’t be able to control the frenzy you may enter after awakening. It would easily expose your whereabouts to Mark if the human televisions and mobile devices were buzzing about corpses devoid of blood.

Scanning the four sides of the apartment complex you have your eyes on, you see a small opening in one of the windows on what appears to be the second floor. Without hesitation, you scale the side of the building, gripping whatever protruding ledges you could to reach the windowsill. The sun was slowly dipping under the horizon, so you hoped that it would be dark enough that no one would report you for your suspicious behavior.

Pushing the window up with the remainder of your strength, you tumble inside and fall abruptly onto the wooden floor of the apartment. Clumsily, you stand up while balancing most of your weight on the dresser next to you. You try your best to adjust your eyes to the faint lighting within this bedroom, as your vision grows bleary with your need to feed.

Immediately, the scent hits you. It smells absolutely delicious, very similar to how one’s favorite comfort food would smell when you’re desperately craving for sustenance. Your frame is shaking at the sudden attack of having everything you desired so close, and you whip around to acknowledge the still frame of your victim.

Even through your delirious state, you note that he is quite handsome. Eyes closed in a deep sleep, his features are so relaxed and unaware that guilt still manages to resonate within your chest despite your state of hunger. Brown hair slightly mussed, he makes a soft groan in his sleep and his hand moves slightly to rest on his chest, which rose and lowered rhythmically.

You don’t realize how close you are to him until you see your fingers brushing against the side of his face. His skin is soft, you note belatedly. Relishing the warm that radiated under your fingertips, you gently tilt his chin to the right so that his neck is exposed to your fangs which are now fully extended.

Swallowing nervously, you brush your nose against his neck to feel his slow and steady pulse against you. The scent is so prominent now that even without tasting him you were in euphoria. Resting your fingers behind his ear to better position his inviting skin to you, you press your lips against the artery you find so excruciatingly easily.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, the whisper fading into his skin.

Sinking down, you’re acutely aware of the small noise that escapes from your prey. The taste that spills across your tongue allows your precautions to fade away as you greedily take him in. God, the hot and live sensation of his blood was something else. This man was like the Michelin star meal of your dreams after you've spent your entire life eating microwaved versions of a meal. With each gulp, the pain you felt was dissipating into a feeling of satisfaction. When you do finally pull away, it’s a reluctant and half-hearted end. Licking the wound to quickly seal the marks, you pull your hand away in preparation to wipe his memories.

When you reach your fingers forward automatically, the poignant stare of the man within the bed stops you in your tracks. Awake and fully regarding you at your weakest state, you couldn’t help but once again note how good-looking he is. There is no fear in his eyes, and that alone is more than enough to make you waver. Even though you had just dined on his blood, he seems unwavering in his attention towards you.

“What are you?” he asks, and if the ordeal left him in any sort of discomfort, he does not show it.

All of a sudden, you scramble to your feet as if he had caught you doing some sort of sinful act. Taking one more hurried look at him, you toss yourself out the window nearest you. Running with the wind rushing past your ears, the noise grew so deafening that you could not think.

It is only when you stumble into the alleyway you’ve been calling home for the past few days do you remember: you never got to wipe his memories.

______________________

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[sendmyresignation]

You Got Blood On Your Money

Question: how do you make honest art? Is this not the eternal conflict as a creator- how to stay genuine to yourself and your art without tripping into the pitfalls that lay within fame or money or popular culture? Every creator must grapple with the fight between being seen and being sold. But very few artists struggle with this quite as visibly as My Chemical Romance has. From the inception of this band, which has always been more art project than musical endeavor, its members have tried desperately to convey a bone-deep sincerity fundamental to their work. From their very first song, the band proclaims itself as a savior to a generation that had been stripped of their will in the face of unimaginable horror. At the same time, there exists within their music a commitment to storytelling, a desire to fill the empty space in rock music with narrative and macabre and emotion that had been absent. Both of these elements manifest themselves into a band that very seriously considered it their mission to save people’s lives, as well as to create deeply meaningful art. But how do you save as many people as possible without being corrupted by the spotlight? And how do maintain genuine storytelling as you get further and further from the basement shows you got your started in?

These are questions that permeate their music at every turn, something that haunted each album and made itself known in each new project. And while there are many ways to dissect this particular struggle in their discography, nowhere is it more apparent than in the dispute between Thank You For the Venom and its reimagined successor- Tomorrow’s Money. These songs are noticeably similar in their structure as well as lyricism and imagery but instead of the latter building off of the other, they are inverses of each other. And they speak to My Chem’s long battle with becoming a legendary band in the midst of also attempting to keep their identities as artists and outsiders. And in analyzing their differences, it becomes reflective of the band’s main career-long conflict between the commodification of their art and the need to create something larger than themselves. And the question remains, were they successful?

Before we answer that, let's talk about Thank You for the Venom. To begin, it's important to note that Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge is an interesting part of My Chemical Romance’s discography because ultimately, it is unconcerned with legacy, but instead is centered on the immediacy of loss and the reactionary pursuit of revenge. In a record overwhelmed with death and grief, there is very little mention of the afterlife for either the living or the dead- characters are murdered but there is very little textual violence. Characters come back to life but there is minimal discussion of how they died or where exactly they were in death. However, that does not mean Revenge is not devoid of mythologizing- it just happens to be about immediate intention rather than a long-term commitment. It is because of this reckless drive forward almost to spite the odds that allows for Venom to exist as the band's declaration- it is their call to arms. Specifically, the track is a pronouncement of My Chemical Romance as renegades fighting against the fake, safe bands writing hits for money instead of survival or purpose: they “won’t front the scene” if you paid them, after all, but are instead running from their enemies. And not only are they an oppositional force, but they are pariahs, targets- something you can try to kill but will fail at. More specifically, in “If this is what you want the fire at will” there is an element of martyrdom, the idea that they are not just a necessary part of the very structure of society but also there is the implication that killing them is to concede to their influence and a necessary part of their lifecycle. Once you get big enough to become a target, you inevitably will be shot down- that is the final step of a great and honest band’s success. This also feeds into the album's wider ideas surrounding revenge as a concept as the greatest revenge is finding success in the aspects of yourself and, by extension, the things you create that other people thought were worthless (I don't think it's a coincidence so much of this album is steeped in comic book imagery and art and mixing punk and metal and theater when those are things the band would get shit on for enjoying). At the same time, this theme exists as the foundation necessary to create an anthem of survival- revenge is the fuel that keeps the protagonist, as well as the band, in motion. Look at the specifics of their thesis- “Just the way the doctor made me” and “You’ll never make me leave” are both reconciliations with the self in spite of the prevailing narrative against them. That connects to the way this song is a statement of a savior and a martyr twofold- “Give me all your hopeless hearts and make me ill” as a representation of the band taking on the pain of others to keep them both alive. All told, in Venom there is perseverance in the face of a large, unimaginable adversary. It is a threat directed at your enemies. It’s living as free and ugly and completely yourself as you can until they shoot you down in a hail of bullets. And then even that end is itself a victory.

Here, at its core, Venom is really the singular instance in the entire album where the band reconciles with an image. And the image the band creates for themselves is as outcasts in opposition to the "scene" and as a revenge plot, proving to their audience the value of authenticity and survival and rubbing it in the faces of those who doubted them. These themes about what My Chemical Romance is and what their goals are is something they wrestle with for the rest of their career- how do you say lives, reach an audience, and remain a fighting force against the societal norm when you exceed your mission and become part of the fabric of popular culture? But that is for later, at this moment, Revenge imagines no future. Only this desperate battlecry.

By contrast, Tomorrow’s Money is dealing with the aftermath. Functioning as a cynical reimagining of Venom, the song is structurally, thematically, and even lyrically reminiscent of Venom to an uncanny degree. First and foremost, the songs are structured the same- a slow build-up into a whispered intro, a multi-part chorus, the exact same chorus-verse layout, and a strikingly similar solo. Looking at the two Toro solos more closely, they both feature more building up as well as tremolos, triples, darker tones, and what sounds like a slide progression just ripping through both of them. Tomorrow’s Money is mimicking Venom pretty clearly here- either as a direct reference or because Venom is so reminiscent of the condensed MCR sound that they’re ripping off to make their point. And looking deeper at the themes present in Money specifically, just like Revenge, there is a clear lack of legacy- “we got no heroes ‘cause our heroes are dead” calling back to the very real disillusionment of Disenchanted that’s placed specifically in a song about becoming part of the machine, being heroes themselves, to nod to the fact that the very mission of the band is dead as well.

Simply put, Money tackles similar issues as Venom about fame and audience and creating art while using much of the same language and metaphors to completely invert the claims found in the “original”. To start with, both songs use the verbage “bleeding” to associate with a kind of suffering for your art that was an aspect of their previous band ideology. Namely, it’s the idea that the audience makes the band ill through the “hopeless hearts” as much as the “poison” does. The “what’s life like bleeding on the floor” of Venom is paired with “you’ll never make me leave” is a statement of defiance and survival against the odds while still bearing the burden of other’s pain. Money, on the other hand, explicitly says they “stopped bleeding three years ago” as a rejection of this leftover martyrdom prevalent in Revenge especially.  But it also refers to their newfound luxury of comfort, they have a way to stitch themselves together that they didn’t have before. These implications transition directly into the ideas surrounding health, vitality and living- specifically surrounding both doctors and infection. Speaking of the former, Money has an interesting lines in “If we crash this time, we’ve got machines to keep us alive” and "me and my surgeons and my street-walking friends" because they speak to both becoming a part of the “industry” by mentioning mechanization but also specifically evokes the living dead. In the MCR canon, the idea of the undead (both vampires and zombies) are antagonistic forces that represent the outside world, specifically fake people or the music industry. And zombies, in general, are already rife with allegorical connections to consumerism, like how Dawn of the Dead, a known mcr influence, is directly about materialistic culture. Vampires, subconsciously or not, are often representatives of exuberant wealth as well as beauty and desire. They’re also blood-suckers and leeches that someone in this narrative has fallen in love with, as if colluding with the enemy and allowing them to literally drain them and their life force. Thus, in describing themselves as essentially undead (when they crash, they’re revived) as well as directly collaborating with the undead, they are connecting themselves to the very forces they’ve been fighting. But perhaps the most interesting aspect of this association is how they specifically relate it to survival, the only way of staying alive is to accept them, to allow themselves to be hooked up to the machines that make them undead in the first place. Almost as if you make it far enough not to tear yourself apart, you’ll eventually assimilate into and become part of the industry. 

This idea of unavoidable assimilation is compounded with the multiple references to viruses- “You're loaded up with the fame. You’re dressed up like a virus” then being reemphasised with “We’re gonna give it for free. Hook up the veins to the antibodies, got it with the disease, we’re gonna give it to you”. Both these lines condemn fame but also implicates themselves as part of the contagion that is celebritidom at the same time it depicts this process as unavoidable. Not only that, they’re the ones spreading it at the same time they condemn it. This duality, possibly even exaggerated hypocrisy is buried deep into the foundation of Money. Even the ending line, as angry and inflammatory as it is- still names them as complicit as the "I’ll see you in hell" implies that they're going to hell too. Looking even deeper, there are multiple references to the dilution of their message:  “Choke down the words with no meaning” and “The words get lost when we all look the same'' both representing meaninglessness in the lyrics while “the microphone’s got a tapwire” is reminiscent of wiretapping or even the surveillance company Tapewire, suggesting their words are under scrutiny, they are being monitored and that could be one of the reasons for meaningless words. All of these lyrics reference, with subtly or, in the case of the last one, very obviously about the sellibility and how rigid the label of “emo” is and how they couldn't escape it - they may not have gotten paid to front the scene, but they sure did inadvertently lead a cause. And being put in that position was clearly very stifling, striping them of their artistry. Even looking at the response to Black Parade, it's clear that popular culture at large did not appreciate the record for its genuine message but for the moment in time it represented or the aesthetics it called back too. In many ways it was taken at face value- “words with no meaning” or just another dark, death obsessed emo record. What Tomorrow's money is is a rejection of the glorification of suffering and nativity of Venom in the face of becoming pop culture icons but it's also, in a way, reconciling with a perception of failure and loss of creative control that will haunt My Chem for the rest of their years.

Ultimately Tomorrow's Money is representative of the band's response to the gradual shift of My Chemical Romance, as an entity, away from martyrs to an accepted part of the music industry and culture. How do you reconcile with that? In this moment, in a post-Black Parade era, they try taking everything down with them- becoming a whistle blower to their truth. But perhaps most importantly, this conflict lays the foundation for Danger Days as both critique of industry’s commodification of art, as well as the reutilization of the obsession with legacy and death in their next project -no longer can they let the machines revive them, they have to get out of the city, yell incendiary graffiti at the top of their lungs, and explode in brilliant colors. It was time to return to calls to arms. It was time to return to the power of not just of death but of living on long after it, the album the act of becoming folk heroes for a new generation. And while the bright lights didn't last forever, by scrapping Conventional Weapons and starting over in the name of artistic integrity they truly created a legacy of material unrivaled in its sincerity, reach, and cultural significance. 

As we know, the story didn’t end there. The final chapter used to be closed, and ending with "I choose defeat I walk away and leave this place the same today" as the conclusion of their career. This was not the explosion Gerard wrote about, not the doomsday device but a quiet goodbye, a silent curtain call. It's another round of disillusionment finally fully-realized. And yet, the Reunion seems to be a direct contradiction to their farewell- in some way they did come back because they were needed, because their absence was a gaping hole in music at large which suggests they did change things, that they do have a noticeable effect on the world they inhabit. Looking at A Summoning for even a moment, the picture illustrated to the viewer is that they are an otherworldly power. That they are an entity that you plead for the return of, the hero and the savior on clear display. And regardless of how you feel about the postponement, you can never talk away that fact- some force bodily brought them back in their narrative, that it was human interference that started the resurrection. And that it was primarily through art, especially that video, that they declared their forced-to-be unfulfilled intentions. I've always liked to believe that we've cycled back around, that the cynicism of Conventional Weapons and then later Fake Your Death has had its moment but now it's time to return to that world of rebellion in this era of the desert- the reinhabiting of reckless living and creation. Again, we must ask: what does it mean to make art for the masses? I don’t think we’ll ever truly find the right answer, but I think My Chemical Romance have always tried their best to solve the equation.

[mtk4fun]

Katniss Everdeen’s Mental Health Toolbox

I’ve probably read The Hunger Games trilogy at least a dozen times now. And what’s become more and more apparent to me with every reading is the vast quantities of mental health advice that author Suzanne Collins has woven throughout the books. In these particular times, it might be useful to remind ourselves of the things that helped Katniss survive the circumstances she endured. Below is a compilation in no particular order. Katniss pays attention to the good. So I focus on the one really good thing that’s happened since I landed in the arena. I have a bow and arrows! (THG p. 19)

She uses self-talk to calm herself. I use a technique one of the doctors suggested. I start with the simplest things I know to be true and work toward the more complicated. The list rolls in my head…

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. My home is in District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. I escaped. The Capitol hates me. Peeta has been taken prisoner. He is thought to be dead. Most likely he is dead. It is probably for the best if he is dead… (Mockingjay p. 4)

She mentally stops scary thoughts until she is better able to deal with them. I push the thought (about Cinna’s death) away because it’s impossibly painful to dwell on without losing my fragile hold on the situation entirely. (Mockingjay p. 12)

She uses activity as a distraction. “Want to hear them do a real song?” I burst out. Anything to stop those memories. (Mockingjay p. 122)

He (Finnick) sits under the safety light in his space, knotting his rope, not even pretending to rest…“The more you can distract yourself, the better, he says.” (Mockingjay 154 &156)

She uses happy memories to calm her troubled spirit. I sit on the side of my bed (after discovering Darius is an Avox), elbows on my knees, forehead on my fists, and watch the glowing suit in the darkness, imagining I am in my old home in District 12, huddled beside the fire. (Mockingjay p. 218-219)

She uses the technique of acting “as if” to give her courage. I want to run away...But there’s no one here but me. I try to capture the calm demeanor my mother assumes when handling particularly bad cases. (THG p. 256)

She stills her fears through sensory means. I know velvet because my mother has a dress with a collar made of the stuff. When I sit on the (velvet) couch, I can’t help running my fingers over the fabric repeatedly. It helps to calm me…(THG p. 34)

I sit back on my bed cross-legged and find myself rubbing the smooth iridescent surface of the pearl back and forth across my lips. For some reason it’s soothing. (Mockingjay p. 33)

She recognizes that physical touch brings comfort in times of distress. Finally, Gale is here and maybe there is nothing romantic between us, but when he opens his arms I don’t hesitate to go in. His body is familiar to me. (THG p. 38)

…the warmth of Rue at my side, her head cradled on my shoulder, have given me a sense of security. I realize, for the first time, how very lonely I’ve been in the arena. How comforting the presence of another human being can be. (THG p. 209)

We manage the darkness as we did in the arena wrapped in each other’s arms, guarding against danger that can descend at any moment. (CF p.72 )

I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. (Mockingjay p. 388)

She recognizes that she has emotions and takes an inventory of them. I dig around inside myself, trying to register anger, hatred, longing. I only find relief. (Mockingjay p. 384)

She feels her grief. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. “She’s dead.” (Mockingjay p. 386)

She spends time in nature, relishing its healing properties. The woods became our savior, and each day I went a bit further into its arms. (THG p. 51)

We could be above ground. Out in the woods. We could be ourselves again. (Mockingjay p. 36)

It is the old Katniss’s favorite kind of day. The woods awakening after the long winter. (Mockingjay p. 385)

She understands that after loss basic necessities, familiar belongings, and pets can bring comfort. …there were more than enough clean, white living compartments (for the refugees from District 12), plenty of clothing, and three meals a day…..They were safe. They were being cared for. (Mockingjay p. 8)

My mother hugs the wedding photo tightly against her chest and then places it, along with the book of plants, on our government-issued chest of drawers. I hang my father’s jacket on the back of a chair. For a moment, the place seems also like home. (Mockingjay p. 19-20)

Prim just sits on the floor weeping (happy tears) and rocking that awful Buttercup, who interrupts his purring only for an occasional hiss at me. (Mockingjay p. 19)

She values her relationships knowing that they keep her centered. I drink in his (Peeta’s) wholeness, the soundness of his body and mind. It runs through me like the morphling they give me in the hospital, dulling the pain of the last weeks. (Mockingjay p. 22)

This is one of the few good things about 13. Getting Gale back…..we’ve managed to regain our friendship. (Mockingjay p. 28)

She practices her passion, and even views projects as a way to heal. We hunt, like in the old days… it’s about as close to happiness as I think I can currently get. (Mockingjay p. 53)

“Doing the cake was a kind of therapy.” (Mockingjay p. 228)

I tell him (Dr. Aurelius) about my idea for the book…. We (Katniss and Peeta) seal the pages with salt water and promises to live well to make their lives count. Haymitch finally joins us. (Mockingjay p. 387)

She keeps herself busy. I try to follow Dr. Aurelius’ advice, just going through the motions… we learn to keep busy again. Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out, and then raises geese until the next train arrives. (Mockingjay p. 387)

She practices forgiveness. I’ve been trying hard to mend my relationship with my mother… My time in the arena made me realize how I needed to stop punishing her for something she couldn’t help, specifically the crushing depression she fell into after my father’s death. Because sometimes things happen to people and they’re not equipped to deal with them. (CF p. 31)

I had to forgive Finnick for his role in the conspiracy that landed me here. …it takes too much energy to stay angry with someone who cries so much. (Mockingjay p. 12)

She accepts the reality of a difficult situation. Just accept that it will be a bad night I tell myself. (THG p. 279).

And yet there’s something calming about the idea that this torment could come to an end. (Mockingjay p. 167)

She learns to live in the present. “That’s one thing I think my head doctor might be right about. (says Johanna) There’s no going back. So we might as well get on with things.” (Mockingjay p. 239)

She learns to avoid self-pity. Finnick and I sit a long time in silence…”How do you bear it?” …“Better not to give into it. It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.” (Mockingjay p. 156)

Katniss counts her blessings.  …on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I’m afraid it could be taken away. That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do. It’s like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years.  (Mockingjay p. 390)

[monsieur-hadrien]

Harry Potter Fanfic Recommendations continued...

I did one of these lists back in June, and y’all KNOW! that I have even more to share with the world.

This list is a mix between crossovers and single-fandom fics, and are drarry or rarepair-centric, but either way I’ll mark which are which when I get to it.

If you want to see what I’ve been enjoying lately, check out my bookmarks on the Archive

Man of Iron, Child of Magic by zathara001

Harry Potter and MCU, no slash, 107k word count, 32 chapters, completed, teen

In the aftermath of the Chitauri invasion, Tony Stark sorts out his priorities - including one he didn't think he had.

Okay I followed this one from the beginning as a WIP because this is exactly the fic that I was looking for. Tony being Irondad for Harry is the most wholesome thing ever, and Uncle Steve is also 20/10. I will say, this fic is not as dark as a lot of this hp/mcu fics of this trope because it happens in Harry’s younger Hogwarts years and his childhood isn’t too ruined just yet. It focuses a lot on Tony’s growth as a father rather than working through Harry’s trauma (which, don’t get me wrong, that happens as well). Harry still has the naive outlook on life that a child should have and it just makes my heart swell.

Although this fic is done, the sequel has not been uploaded yet, as this fic was just completed late August, but don’t let that deter you. The author is a sweetheart to interact with on new updates (which were quite frequent).

Golden Boy’s Dance by Madriddler

Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, 57k word count, 13 chapters, completed, explicit

Two years after the defeat of Voldemort and Harry is feeling useless. Jobless and suffering from PTSD, Harry spent his days going from horrible interview to horrible interview hopelessly looking for a job. Feeling completely useless, Harry, with the help of George, turns to a new profession that Harry never even thought of : being a camboy. Pleasuring himself for money and people's entertainment, Harry hopes to find a use for the Savior of the Wizarding World in this Peaceful Era.

Yeah so uh,,, this is a total guilty pleasure kink fic and I’m not at all ashamed for putting this fic on here. I won’t even lie, sometimes it felt a bit cheesey, but the porn was so well written it didn’t even matter. I swear to you this is porn with plot and lots of it. Harry works through his post traumatic stress disorder in ways that may or may not be slightly unhealthy, but beyond the porn, it’s really about Harry being okay in his own skin, as someone with mental health issues and as a sex worker. It was a hell of a good time to read and I definitely cried for Harry a time or two.

A Dented Old Street Sign by orphanghost

Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, 27k word count, one-shot, completed, mature

Draco knows they aren't the only students who will be completing their NEWTs this year, but they are the only ones whose home fireplaces were disconnected from the floo network by the ministry.

At least, Draco assumes as much until he sees the light falling out from the front door of one of the other rickety old houses in front of them and the three figures cast in its warm glow. For a moment they look like some sort of strange, many legged creature. An acromantula, or a particularly massive Blast-Ended Skrewt. Then Draco hears Pansy make a disgusted sound beside him and the light falls in a less blinding way, and Draco can see that it is actually Potter and the Weasel carrying a large couch between them, and Granger fluttering around them with her wand out, seeming concerned.

I don’t think I’ve laughed this much reading a fic in a long time. The golden trio and the Slytherin gang live in the same neighborhood while attending their 8th year at Hogwarts and i swear to fucking god, the amount of mutual pining and angst between Harry and Draco is fucking ridiculous, but you can’t help but love them anyway. Sometimes I wanted to throttle them and then shove them into a closet together so they would just t a l k but like in a good way. also the Christmastime atmosphere is something I just live for.

Words Unread, Things Unsaid by PinkCrupps

Harry Potter, no slash Harry & Snape, 18k word count, 7 chapters, completed, teen

What if the Dursley’s were a little crueler, and a little smarter? What if they didn’t want Harry going to school because they didn’t want anyone to see the bruises?

What if Harry had to leave for Hogwarts, carrying a shameful secret? One that Severus Snape is determined to discover.

When I say this one hurt, I mean it h u r t. I feel so bad because when I first read the tags I laughed when I saw the illiterate tag because I make the “I can’t read” jokes often but then I read the fic and i felt SO BAD OMG.

I am no fan of Snape, let it be known, but this fic, I think made me feel like he actually deserved a bit of a redemption arc (even if it’s fanon). This whole time, all I could think of is giving harry a big hug and never letting him go.

I said this in the notes of my bookmark, and I stand by it: “

I feel like the hurt/comfort tag on this one is also meant for the reader”

What Happens to the Heart by Mossycoat

Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 33k word count, 18 chapters, completed, mature

With no girlfriend, no job, and no idea what he wants, Harry has decided to let life go on without him. If only prophetic dreams, demanding ghosts, and Draco Malfoy would let him.

If you need a pick-me-up after the sadness for the prior fic, may i recommend this one. Seer!Harry is a headcanon that I had never seen before this fic, and I was not let down whatsoever. We love a fic where the OCs are wonderful and the writing style is immaculate. The incorporation of tarot and divination into the chapter names and plot also makes my babywitch heart s i n g!!

Wrong Place, Wrong Time by Relevant_Peach

Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 70k word count, 15 chapters, completed, no rating specified, but probably teen/ mature for mental health tingz

Draco Malfoy would do anything to find a cure for his son's life-threatening disease. When he crosses paths with an old acquaintance, it unleashes a string of events that will uncover secrets and deceptions. Will Draco be able to look past the misdeeds of his old lover's past? Will Harry ever find the family he longs for?

Ah yes, who knew that pain could feel so good. Everything seems to be fine until it isn’t with this one.

Turn by Saras_Girl

Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 306k word count, 14  chapters, completed, explicit

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

oh my goD yes a classic we love to see it. This is one of those fics that is long but doesn’t reallly feel like it is? This is definitely another feel-good fic, even if it doesn’t seem that way in the beginning. Not only does it focus on Harry and Draco’s relationship, but also their relationships with their family, specifically their children. It’s just really heartwarming whenever Harry get’s all fatherly with his kids. ugh I swear I don’t want any but this is just SO ADORABLE! Plus Blaise Zabini rights thank you very much.

Also Boris can suck my left toe.

There’s a Pureblood Custom For That by Lomonaaeren

Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 105k word count, 36 chapters, completed, mature

The day that Harry stops Draco Malfoy and his son from being bothered in the middle of Diagon Alley starts a strange series of interactions between him and Malfoy. Who knew there was a pure-blood custom for every situation?

This is another fluffier one, and I have absolutely no shame. Draco is just trying so hard to get through Harry’s thick, clueless skull and Harry is just trying to understand. They’re just so adorable I can’t. And Harry defending Draco’s and his relationship after people are like fuck naw just warms my heart. Like yes Harry, protect ur mans you adorable himbo you.

Our Own Demons by Emmalie22

Harry Potter, MCU, Harry Potter & Tony Stark, Harry Potter/Peter Parker, 119k word count, 24 chapters, WIP, teen/mature

Tony Stark. Genius. Billionaire. Philanthropist. Ironman. (Reckless. Lonely. Father.)

Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. Wizard. (The Master of Death. Survivor. Breaking.)

Tony Stark never thought he would be a father. But when a lawyer comes knocking and truths become evident, he realizes that he can’t let his son walk out of his life. For Harry, acknowledging his relationship with Tony is a last-ditch effort to gain freedom and control over his life. Although the journey might not be easy, Tony and Harry learn to heal and become a family, facing trials and tribulations on the way such as a scheming Death, a Mad Titian, Dark Wizards, dangerous Doctors, and living Wards.

I’m so sorry to give you a WIP that hasn’t been updated in 10 months, but I couldn’t let this one slide. I’m so attached to these characters it’s unhealthy. I’m not gonna lie, this fic was the product of a very hyperspecific filtered search on AO3 but I’m not even mad at it. Tony is Harry’s father but unlike the other fic on this rec list, Harry is a bit more grown up and bears a lot of the scars of 5th year (y’all don’t need me to specify with that one). It’s a lovely family dynamic and super fluffy Peter and Harry wow we love to see it. Harry is also super fucking smart AS HE IS! I will never get over people calling him stupid ugh Harry rights. But yes, author friend, if you see this, update when you can I’m so in love with this.

If anybody wants me to do more specific lists, I will totally do so. Just reblog or private message me. And if you have any other fic recs, please do so too because I’m always looking for something else to read.

[ariesrondeletia]

Yandere Kanae Kocho x Reader: Guardian

AAAAHHH, I’m so sorry, you guys. I really meant to be good about updating, but I got writer’s block and shut down for a little bit. This is even one of my requests, it’s a special thing I wanted to do in honor of a match up @darlingyanderez​ gave me. I’ll get working on your requests tomorrow, I’m really sorry. Also, this didn’t really go the way I was hoping, so I’m sorry if it’s extremely bad. 

tw: gore, murder, dark behavior, suggestive themes

Word count: 1,209

Prompt: Guardian

She was a butterfly. From the way that she danced in between demons drenched in moonlight. From the way her hair flowed behind her. From the way she smelled like fresh lilac blossoms. She was your savior. The demons lay dead at her feet when she stepped towards you. You had expected pity for being so weak, but her eyes didn’t hold pity. They held some sort of affection. Her gaze warmed your heart. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. It seemed to be the only thing you could say. 

You looked up at her in awe from your kneeling position. You had expected to die and yet fate had given you a flower. The flower leaned down to be eye level with you. You took in her feminine appearance, soaking in every bit of attention she gave you. A smile bloomed on her face as your adoration for your savior became more apparent. Her left hand reached out for you and you melted into her touch. Her eyes trailed your figure before saddening.

“You’re hurt. I’m sorry, I should have gotten here earlier. How bad is it?” Her hand touched your injured side and you gasped at the pain. She retracted, looking guilty for causing you pain. 

“At least you got here.” You tried to stay optimistic. “It’s not such a bad wound anyway. I’ll be fine,” you coaxed, attempting to stand as a show of just how fine you were. You crumbled, legs falling as they failed to support you. Kanae was there in an instant, catching you before you hit the ground. Her arms wrapped tightly around your abdomen, nervous to let go. 

You stayed there for a moment, neither of you wanting to pull away. She was so close you could feel her breath against your lips. She smelled floral, if you knew yours flowers you could probably identify which one it was. Her butterfly clips caught the pale light, seeming even more dream like than before. Her eyes would have glowed beneath the moon if you had the courage to look at them. But her eyes were too much for you and you stared at her rose lips that were nearly pressed against yours. You wanted to run your hands through her hair, but your face flushed as you thought of how rude that would be. 

You pushed yourself off, missing the disappointment in Kanae’s eyes as you did so. You held out the smooth bark of a silver birch to your left. You glanced back at her to see her lovely haori was now coated in your blood. It would most certainly leave a stain and you felt slight gilt for maring something so beautiful. 

“I’ll be alright. The village doctor lives about a kilometer from here and if I can get there I’m certain I’ll pull through.”

“I’ll take you!” You turned in surprise. Why did her voice sound so desperate? “What I mean is, as a pillar it is my duty to ensure the safety of any victims of demons. I will take you there,” she said, collecting herself. She pulled you into her arms, lifting you up to carry you bridal style. You didn’t push away this time. She took off and you wondered how someone so delicate could move so fast. She darted between trees as if she already knew the path to your home. 

You glanced up, her expression was one of ecstasy as she held you tightly. A little too tightly. Her grip dug into your skin as if she was terrified of letting you go. It made you think she wouldn’t. Actually, your savior was a little strange, wasn’t she? She seemed so happy to be near you, it was almost clingy. And when she killed those demons it wasn’t quite as elegant as you first thought. Didn’t she seem vicious as she decapitated them? They’re deaths were slower than they should have been. She was a pillar and could’ve killed them in a second but… you could remember the demons screams. You had found peace in them, knowing it meant you were safe but now they rung in your ears. It was agonizing. And she never asked where the doctor was, only running there like she knew where it was. Like she knew that your house was right next door. 

“Everything alright? We’re here and you haven’t taken any notice” Her honeyed voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You could hear her concern. Concern for your safety, it reminded you that she was sweet. She was your savior. You shouldn’t be thinking such nasty thoughts about her. 

“Yeah, yeah, my side just hurts is all,” you played it off. Her worry intensified but you tried to ignore it. “Can you put me down? We’re here after all.” Her grip didn’t loosen and for a horrible second you thought she wouldn’t let go. That you’d have to run from her to get free, but then she gave a small sigh and allowed you to wiggle free. 

You knocked on the door, but wasted no time in bursting in when you weren’t given an answer. You limped into the rather short building, supported by Kanae who clung to your side. A balding man in his sixties was busy doing paperwork. He glanced at the two of you before bolting up. 

“What’s the injury?” he asked huriddly.  He had already grabbed a towel and was beginning to staunch your bleeding.

“It’s on her side, due to puncture wounds,” Kanae answered. “Before we get to that, I’d like to be the one giving her treatment. I have training from the butterfly estate. If you could just show me the supplies, I can take care of her injury myself.” Kanae smiled gently, but there seemed to be an underlying threat. ‘Don’t touch her’ was all you  could hear from her words. An unusual harshness was building behind her smile. The doctor, fortunately, picked up on the danger signals and directed you two to an operating room to the left.

“You could’ve just let him handle it,” you said, peeling off the wet fabric of your kimono. It clung to your skin due to the blood soaking through it. Now that your skin was bare you couldn’t help but cringe at the sight of your flesh ripped open.

“I need to make sure that you’re properly cared for, that’s all. Now lie back while I fix it, love.” Kanae began to stitch you back together. She would stop every minute or so to sop up blood. You hissed in pain with every movement, but even though it burned, Kanae’s touch was kind. You knew she was trying to cause the least pain possible for you. Her eyes would switch from focusing on your injury to hungrily taking in your mostly nude figure. It wasn’t long before her deft fingers had completely fixed you. 

“You did amazing, your side will heal in no time!” she said, placing a cool washcloth against your forehead. “I hate to leave, but I have to return to Oyakata-sama. I promise I’ll see you again, (Name).”

“Wait-” you gasped. “Why… why are doing this for me?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m your guardian angel. I exist solely for you.”

[aion-rsa]

The Walking Dead: What “Here’s Negan” Changes from the Comic

https://ift.tt/3cPPtnS

This article contains spoilers for The Walking Dead season 10 episode 22.

Negan (no last name given…or needed) is one of the most unexpectedly beloved characters on The Walking Dead. Loquacious, charismatic, and unfailingly vulgar, Negan practically jumps off the page of Robert Kirkman’s comic series, and makes a big impact through Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s performance of the AMC series.

Over 193 issues of Kirkman’s comic, it became clear that the writer was just as enthralled with the brutish villain as the fans were. It would have been easy to kill Negan off at the end of the extended All Out War arc. Rick even slashed the man’s throat! But Kirkman made sure the jerk lived to fight another day and he soon became an integral part of the Whisperer War before finally retiring to a life of quiet contemplation in the woods.

Prior to Negan gracefully exiting the pages of The Walking Dead, however, Kirkman and longtime illustrator Charlie Adlard presented his origin story in a miniseries called “Here’s Negan.” Told over 16 short chapters and published in its entirety in 2017, “Here’s Negan” tells the story of how a lowly gym teacher came to be a bat-wielding, leather jacketed badass in the post-apocalypse. 

Not that readers needed a reason to love the antagonist more, but the miniseries added a new sympathetic layer to the character and revealed how he broke bad. Now, in the finale of its six extra season 10 episodes, The Walking Dead TV series will be doing the same thing.

The Walking Dead season 10 episode 22 “Here’s Negan” serves as a fitting conclusion to a super-sized year for the show, while also filling in some of the blanks on Negan’s story. Here is how it does so along with what it borrows and what it changes from its comic miniseries inspiration.

Lucille’s Introduction

The characterization of Negan’s wife Lucille and her failing health going into the zombie apocalypse represents the biggest similarities between “Here’s Negan” on the page and on the screen. In fact, there’s really only one key difference between the comic and the TV adaptation. In the comic, Lucille dies right as the zombie apocalypse breaks out. In the show, Lucille makes it to at least seven months into the end of the world.

Aside from the time and setting difference, much of Negan and Lucille’s arc remains the same. The “Here’s Negan” comic reveals that Negan was every bit the charming asshole pre-zombies that he is now. The story opens with Negan, a gym teacher, mercilessly schooling three kids in a game of ping pong in his garage. Because he’s Negan, he can’t quite help but cuss them out upon his victory (just as he does while pwning some n00bs in a game of Gears of War in the episode). Lucille overhears Negan behaving inappropriately in front of the children and begins to tell him off. Unfortunately, shortly into her admonishment, she passes out.

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The story then cuts to the hospital where Lucille’s diagnosis is revealed. Shortly thereafter Negan sleeps with the woman who he has been cheating on Lucille with (yes, even after hearing about her cancer). Thankfully, after that tryst, Negan finally breaks the affair off and returns to Lucille’s bed side where he apologizes and tells her he’s all in now. We get a fun little example of Lucille’s sense of humor (and maybe her current state of mind) when she tells him “What’s wrong with you? Why would you pick the sick one?”

Shortly thereafter, Negan is present with Lucille at the hospital when the world ends. Doctors rush into Lucille’s room to tell Negan to run as some seriously messed up stuff is underway outside and within the halls of the hospital. Negan refuses to leave Lucille’s side naturally, but she passes away suddenly and becomes Negan’s first introduction to the walking dead.

The TV series does an admirable job in picking out what works about the beginning of “Here’s Negan” while finding ways to improve everything else. Getting to see what Lucille is like after the fall is a great way for the audience to warm up to her. Even when suffering through another round of chemo, Lucille musters the energy to take down a walker when Negan can’t. 

This change also allows for Negan to mourn her loss more acutely when the time comes. Having to put down a zombified Lucille long after he’s acclimated to the world’s deadly new rules has a greater emotional impact than having to do so right at the beginning. 

On the Road

The TV version of “Here’s Negan” begins to deviate from the comic quite a bit after the Lucille origin story is out of the way. The middle portion of the comic miniseries finds Negan doing what pretty much every other character has had to do: wandering out on the post-apocalyptic streets, looking for company, community, and safety. 

While the TV Negan struggles to put down a single walker, the comic Negan is preternaturally gifted at both zombie-killing and survival. He encounters one group while promising he can hotwire a car (he cannot). Later on that night, Negan and the group face their first real test of the apocalypse when a horde of walkers attacks their campfire gathering. All of his new friends die, but Negan survives and loots the baseball bat that will one day become the new “Lucille” off of one of their corpses. 

Negan surviving while his new partners die becomes something of a recurring theme. We see a montage of Negan making new acquaintance after new acquaintance, only for them to prove incapable of making it in this harsh new world. When his latest partner reveals she sustains a zombie bite on her neck, Negan reacts in pure rage. 

“I’m sick of you people. You’re all fucking WEAK. ALL YOU EVER DO IS DIE.”

Negan wants to find someone strong, someone who can survive like him and who won’t break his heart by dying. He eventually finds just that in a group led by Dwight (hey, remember him?) and Sherry. 

Negan’s origin story in the TV series, of course, differs a great deal. Since Lucille is still alive in the apocalypse, Negan’s inciting moment to get him on the road and moving is the need to secure more medicine for her.

What’s interesting about this alteration for the show is how it potentially changes Negan’s motivation for society-building. In the comic, Negan comes to view strength as its own virtue – because in the new world strength is the only way to avoid pain. But the people that Negan comes across in the episode are anything but strong. 

Franklin and Laura (who fulfills Dwight and Sherry’s role as the “hey, I’ve seen that person before!” character) are unfailingly kind and compassionate. That only makes them an easy target for the Valaks Vipers MCs of the world. The comic version of Negan might be disgusted by Franklin and Laura’s charity and therefore weakness. In the show, however, it’s their selfless act that encourages him to take up the mantle of being the badass who can “save the world.”

Negan Becomes Negan

Speaking of being a badass, both the comic and TV versions of “Here’s Negan” feature a moment in which the character self-actualizes into the Savior leader we come to know later on. In the comic that moment comes when Negan gets a chance to display one of his only truly decent qualities: his hatred for sexual violence. 

Soon after Negan joins Dwight’s group, he becomes their de facto leader. He’s simply too strong and his survival instincts are too good to be ignored. The others start to follow him, not Dwight, because they seem to instinctively understand that he’s their best bet for survival. Eventually the burgeoning Saviors encounter another group and invite them in to join forces because strength can be found in numbers.

Unfortunately that group’s leader soon implies to Negan that the women with them are sex slaves. Negan acts quickly and instinctively, beating the man to death with his beloved bat. After the deed is done, Negan begins to ominously adorn the bat with barbed wire while telling the rest of the group that they’re free to stay. He articulates his new modus operandi in the verbose way that a newly-born supervillain can. It was Lucille who made Negan stronger and gave him the armor to survive when all the people around him couldn’t. Now with this new barbed wire Lucille, Negan will finally be able to protect those around him, shielding them from the evils to come.

It’s a typically overwrought Negan speech, blunted by the Glenn-murdering version of Negan we know is yet to come. But if you squint a bit, you can kind of see how Negan’s mission of protection could become one of subjugation and domination. Negan really thought he was saving the world, one swing of Lucille at a time, because he was the only one strong enough to do so. It wasn’t until he came up against the power of Rick Grimes’s egalitarian group that he realized he was mistaken. 

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Negan comes to a similar conclusion in this episode, he just takes a different route to getting there. After Lucille mercy kills herself and Negan is forced to put her zombified form down, he returns to confront the Valaks Vipers. Once the goons are dispatched outside, Negan can’t help but opt for theatrics once again. He puts the Viper leader on his knees for his very first “lineup,” though this time it’s a lineup of one. 

He tells the Viper the story of how he got into a bar fight one night that jeopardized his gym teacher career. All he wanted to do was to listen to “You Are So Beautiful” with Lucille at a bar. But one particular loud mouth had other ideas. So Negan beat him up. Now that the world has ended it seems like only the loudmouths and douchebags are left. Truly decent, selfless people like Franklin and Laura at a premium. And when you find them among the zombies you must do whatever it takes to protect them. Who better to project the weak and the meek from the monsters than the ultimate monster – Negan, himself. 

At that, my friends, is how you get a Negan.

The episodic “Here’s Negan” ends with a touching little coda where Negan lays his shattered bat to rest and finally, verbally says goodbye to the flesh and blood Lucille. His full eulogy is as follows.

“I’m sorry that I named a stupid baseball bat after you. I hope you found someone in the afterlife and you are screwing your brains out. Well, not really. But fair is fair. I miss you. I love the shit out of you. And I am gonna do your fighting for you.”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Here, The Walking Dead is borrowing directly from the comics once again, but not from “Here’s Negan.” Issue 162 of the comic series opens with Negan burying Lucille, which was destroyed in The Whisperer War. His parting words are nearly identical right down to “I’m sorry that I named a stupid baseball bat after you” and the colorful passage about brains being screwed out in heaven.  This is a particularly important passage for The Walking Dead season 10 to go out on. For while the comic version and Jeffrey Dean Morgan version of Negan have their differences, their stories start and end in the same place: Lucille.

The post The Walking Dead: What “Here’s Negan” Changes from the Comic appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/39I6sX8

[eriversible]

“Last breath” hit me with that pain

[ Send me “Last breath” for my muse’s last words to yours as they lay dying in their arms. ] // prepare yourselves 'cause this one's gon' be a long one my dudes

     When Aya saw that the white-haired commander of the Paranormal Liberation Front was unleashing noumus near Deku’s and the place he’s interning at, she didn't waste a single second before she went barreling out of the teacher's dormitory. She didn't listen to All Might calling after her, instead shifting into her noumu form to run off to the battlefield at frightening speeds. He's there. Even though it was being shown through live broadcast, she knew exactly who was really there: Papa.

       It was Papa. He’s somehow using Master's body like a vessel. Being aware of his presence practically flooded her body with j o y. Oh, how she'd love to hear him address her again. It'd been so long since she's ever heard his voice, she wanted to see him so badly again... But that feeling also brought a terrible pang of guilt and shame through her throat and guts at the same time. Even though she retrieved all her lost memories, her body was still reacting so joyously for her 'savior'... No, she should be full of fear for all the heroes over there, especially Deku. She knew both Master and Papa's capabilities, knew that not even the young hero could stop him. He'll die by Papa's hands. He might even die before Papa could reach him thanks to the other high-ends. All the heroes are gonna die... They'll die. They’ll all die...

               --Not on her watch.

    It was right before any high-ends specifically targeting Deku could lunge for him when a massive figure crashed in-between to leave a sizable crater on impact. Familiar black tendrils were wildly flaring out like a shield for her dear hero as the cloud of dust began to settle. That sheer amount of malice emanating from her tiny, little frame was enough to temporarily stun the noumus where they stood. This was Doctor's greatest creation, after all. Not even the combined powers of all the high-ends present could overwhelm her once she's like this.

            "NOBODY. HURT. DEKU."

    Deku was calling her name. He probably wanted to ask what she's doing here and why, then maybe tell her to go back before she could get hurt... But before he could even finish his sentence, one of her tendrils had suddenly shot out backwards to pick him up and pull him away from the sudden onslaught of attacks. They’re there to obey Papa and not her, after all. Even so, she easily blocked and evaded the barrage, all while having that one tendril gently place the young hero down on safer, solid grounds away from harm. Handling noumus was cakewalk for her. She had the powers to fight and win, so she'll use it for just that.      She'll use it for good. For Deku. Especially Deku.

    There was no need to worry about her getting hurt. Even if one did manage to land a hit, Aya had the power to quickly revert herself back to optimal conditions. Her strength, her power, her unquestionable combative skillsets there on the battlefield... Had she had the moment to think about it, she probably would've realized how this would've been the very first time Deku's actually seen her on the actual offensive. Deku would've realized how lucky he was on the day that they finally met again after her disappearance, when she was having other lesser noumus wreck havoc rather than causing it herself. What fell before him was a noumu massacre. She fought to kill the enemies without a shred of mercy. No being could stop her, not even Deku if he truly wanted to try and kill them off himself...

    ..The only thing that did stop her.. was him. Aya finally crushed the last noumu's head when his voice had finally rung out to her. He was congratulating her, praising her, prompting her to shrink back down to the body of a young girl with nothing more than dark mass coating her face, arms and back. It was him. He was calling out to her. It felt so wondrous to hear him again. Papa's voice alone held so much influence that it even drowned out Deku's desperate shouts to bring her back to reality...

    He and Master only wanted to test her, it seemed, to see her grow. She failed to keep her faith in him, but that's okay. Aya was just so important to him. He's so, so proud of her... He loved her, wanted her to come back. Papa was so willing to forgive her for everything she's done. That’s just like him to be so kind to someone like her. They both knew that they she still cared so much for him anyways. She did care about him, didn't she...?

       ... She did. It's true. It showed in her hesitation, and the way tears were soon rolling down her face. She missed him so terribly much. She's do anything for things to go back to much simpler times when all she cared about was just receiving his praise and love. In fact, she would’ve been perfectly fine had she never recovered any of her past memories. She wouldn’t have had to remember such a painful upbringing, instead believing that the one he provided was all she ever knew.      She could have that again, that blissful, ignorant life. He’s offering her to come back. Anything for Papa. He loved his sweet little girl, and she’d do anything for him...

    And yet.. therein lied the problem. Aya.. had to kill the boy behind her if she wanted that. She had to kill Deku, her light of hope that stayed even when she turned towards darkness. Turning to look at the young hero must've brought so much anguish and tension in the air. The look in his eyes hurt her so much... It was so tempting to forget everything, to forget all the pain and misery and suffering she went through...      ..But if there’s anything that Deku showed her, it’s that it’s thanks to those things that she became such a loved little girl who loved everyone back.      So she couldn't do it. She wouldn't.

She won't do it.     She won't be tricked and used anymore...!

Never, ever again--!!

          EVER!!

     Right. Aya didn't want to. She wasn't here for Papa. She was here for Deku. She was here for her own reasons. She came here because she didn't want Deku getting hurt in the first place. That’s her choice. Papa's words can't control her any longer. She was never even his to begin with. Aya didn't have any remorse over the fact that she was now turning the powers he bestowed upon her all against him. She's free from his control. Her fighting him would prove it.       And so, she fought, turning towards the embodiment of pure evil with such a fierce and determined look on her face. Aya fought so valiantly under her own accord. She fought, and fought, and fought until All for One finally found his opening. Landing a piercing blow through the black mass and its core's chest inside, he stunned her for just one second. 

     Just one second, and it was all he needed. Aya's reflexes may have prevented the shot from capacitating her head clean off, but it still ripped a terrible chunk off the whole upper right of her head. He’s damaged the head. A damaged brain for a noumu made it a useless, dead noumu.

It’s Game Over. She lost.           Aya.. can't function anymore.

    She stumbled. And then, she fell. Her fall made such a quiet impact against the ground. She should have listened to Deku. She should have listened, because then she wouldn't have had to hear such a raw, mortified scream come from the boy as he threw himself over just to pick her up. So much pain was in that scream... He shouldn’t ever have to make such a heart-wrenching cry. Oh Aya, what have you done...?      She.. She couldn't move her tendrils, or revert the damage. Her ruined head meant that she could no longer properly use her Quirks, so they dangled there uselessly as Deku pulled her desperately close to his chest, as if that’d stop all the horrors happening right before his very eyes..

    ..Deku was crying. He was so full of despair. It might be hard to tell with just one eye and a blurring vision that's quickly being consumed by darkness, but Aya could easily tell that he was crying, she could feel it. She could feel the tears spill on her face, his trembling, shaking hands struggling so much just to keep hold of her body, her tiny, frail little body. He sounded so unintentionally angry with her. His breaths were so heavy, so hoarse and painfully torn with despair, and.. he was so, so warm against her body. Deku was so warm, and she was quickly growing cold... Aya was wasting away too quickly in his arms. Death was fast approaching.      How was she even still alive at all, anyway...? Who knows...

“Dammit...! Why wouldn't you listen?” “Why did you have to do all that?!”     “Why couldn't you just leave!?” “Why Aya?!”             “Why?!?”

     So many why's... She.. really wanted to answer him. She wanted to say that it's all because he was always doing the same for her, always sacrificing everything he ever had and ever could have just for her. She wanted to tell him that she wanted to protect that glint of hope that's always been there for her, even when she was no longer herself. She was scared. She’s scared right now, fading away so quickly against her wishes.       If only she could apologize---no, if only she could just.. thank him for everything. He deserved so many thank-you’s, so, so many of them. It’s thanks to him that she could bring herself to behave as such up until the very end. It’s thanks to him that she learned to value and cherish the once thing he fought just for her: freedom. Freedom was such a beautiful thing. He fought so hard for it, and she just.. didn’t want it to go to waste... 

     ..And yet, there was only so much she could say in the last fleeting seconds of her life. So, she just.. smiled, so content with the decision she made, hoping all those thoughts and wishes and gratitude would be conveyed---that, along with a simple explanation over selfishness. How proud she looked to be selfish for once.

     “My choice. I wanted to.” Just as simple as that. 

          “For you, Deku.”      “..Thank you..”

[ktspree13]

Surf & Turf pt. 2

Warnings: brief mentions of cutting, small allusion to suicide, domestic violence, mention of murder, illness, concussion, mention of pedophilia, underage characters Word Count: 1,486 Summary: AU inspired by commission for @slamncram by @juls-art and a prompt on the thorki discord server. Prompt: slow burn surfer thor au where loki is spending the summer with laufey and his family at like. their summer home.  and they’re pieces of shit yk.  and he just hangs out at the beach all sad and alone and he sees thor, watches him because it’s pretty interesting and thor keeps catching him peeking.  starting up a summer romance and then trying to figure out a way to keep it going past august. ________________________________________________________________

He was sitting on a bench at the boardwalk, staring out at the beach when it happened again.  The mind-numbing pain followed by throwing up the entire contents of his stomach into the trashcan next to him.  Then came the piercing ringing in his ears and a tilt to the world before he curled up on the sand and passed out for a few minutes.  

The first few times it happened, there were people surrounding him, wanting to take him to the hospital, wanting to call the police, but he’d learned how to hide, how to manage.  

That day on the beach, he’d come home with puke on his shirt and Laufey had beat his head in.  When he was almost sent to the hospital the next day, returning to that damn Winnebago empty handed, his father hadn’t been much happier, slamming Loki into the metal shell of the RV, forcing him to sleep outside in the sandy dirt.  Not that he had such great accommodations inside…

It hadn’t been much better the past two weeks.  He walked around in a fog most days, had an episode like this one every so often.  

This time, when he woke up, Thor was sitting on the bench and he thought his life was over.

His stomach lurched again as he coughed bile up, weakly.  He tried to get his body to move, to flee, but he was just so tired and uncoordinated right now.  He’d been too tired to cut, even, since he’d met Thor, and most days that felt like a lifeline.

“Hey, easy.”  Thor had his hands up again, like he was in the wrong here.  Trying to be non-threatening, Loki guessed.  “I really think you need some help, Loki.”

“Mmm fine,” he mumbled.  “Tired.”  Loki coughed, trying to clear the awful taste from his mouth.  He’d gotten some of the bile on his shirt and would probably catch crap again.  “...Dad’s being shirt again.”  He wrinkled his brow.  Something in that sentence wasn’t right, but it hurt to figure out what.

“You aren’t fine,” Thor growled, lowly, like he was mad at him, a stranger, but trying not to be obvious about it.  “I think you might have a concussion.”

Loki laid there at Thor’s feet for a few more minutes.  It was a weird, tense silence.  “What’s it to you?” he asked, wiping his face from the bile and tears.  The headaches got to painful sometimes.  “I stole your wallet.”  He felt like he should point out the obvious.

“I gave it to you,” Thor sighed.  Loki could hear him take a deep breath before letting it out slowly, like he was trying to calm himself down, like Loki’s response made him so upset he had to work to respond.

“I fuckin’ stole it you pussy,” he shot back.  “Just forget my face, Thor.  Forget me.  I’m only supposed to slip in and out of here.  We’re leaving when the tourist season is over.”  He was probably revealing way more than he should.  “Grow a pair and let me go,” he groaned, working to sit up.

The sun was sweltering today.  He should’ve found a drinking fountain awhile ago.  Stolen a few wallets by now.  He shouldn’t be talking with blond surf gods who wanted to help him.  Thor put a bottle of water down in the sand next to him.  It was dripping in sweat, just like he probably should be.

He ignored it for a little while, but the longer Thor sat there, pointedly not leaving, the longer that water sat there crying, wore him down.  His eyes welled up, stinging as he wiped them again, his dirty long sleeve clinging to his scars.  He snatched up the water, struggling with the cap for a moment before he pried it open.

“Just go slow.”

He couldn’t help it.  When the cool liquid hit his tongue, he gulped it down, drinking faster and faster until he could feel it getting torn from his hands.

“Jeezus, Loki!”  Thor held the refreshing elixir out of his reach as he sat there, panting.  “I said go slow, or you’ll throw it all up.”  He watched Thor’s throat bob as he swallowed.  Noted the way he bit his lip staring down at Loki.

“Are you some kind of pedo?” he shot at Thor.  The blond stared back with a look of shock and revulsion on his face.

“Why would you even say that?”

“Because it’s true!  Some 20 year old playing savior to a minor—”  Loki coughed, stomach roiling a little.  Ok, maybe Thor had been right.  “Trying to fuck some tight young ass is more like it.  He steals, he won’t narc.  No one would miss him…”  Loki coughed again, throwing up a little of the water.  Thor was silent.

For a long time neither of them spoke.  But Thor did hand the water back, and Loki drank much slower, moving to sit on the bench, finally, stare out at the ocean again.

“Am I right?”  He was almost afraid of the answer.  He mostly didn’t want it to be yes.  He surprised himself by wishing Thor was actually just a good guy.

“I’m only 17.”

“How much cash you got?”  He took another sip.  “I might let y—”

“You’re sick, Loki.  You need a doctor.  I would never take advantage of you like that.”

He watched as Thor swiped a thumb over his eye.  He felt a little guilty.  He’d actually made the jolly green giant cry.

He leaned his head on Thor’s shoulder, letting himself believe for just a moment that he had a real brother in this world.  Someone to look out for him and take care of him.  A real home.  That he’d just done some kind of suicide jog with Thor and he was resting on the beach with him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, feeling Thor’s arm wrap around him.

“I’ve watched you all summer,” Thor confessed.  “Even when it was hard to find you.”

Loki took another drink, staring out at the water.  It really was a beautiful place.

“You don’t have to go back, you know.  I have a hideout you can stay at.  A buddy of mine built it when we were young.  It’s secluded, fully stocked.  No one would find you if you didn’t want them to.  Or you could come to my place.  My parents would be ok with it.  My mom could take a look at your head.  Or I could take you to the hospital...”

He let Thor talk himself out.  It was a new feeling for him, someone wanting to help and not seeming to want anything in return.  Strange.  The last person to do that was his mother.  And Laufey had beat the hell out of her before she died…  Hence the Winnebago.

“What do you want Thor?” he sighed.  He was just so tired.  And hungry.  He drank more of the water, slowly. “I just want you to be safe, to not have to live like this, to—”

“Why me?  Do you do this for all the street urchins?”

“Well, no—”

“Then why me?  What do you want?”  He sat up, staring over at Thor with a fire in his eyes.  He needed to know.  He needed to know what strings were attached, because he didn’t want the rug pulled out from under him.

“I like you, ok?”  Thor blushed, like he was ashamed of himself.  “Maybe I should pay better attention.  Maybe I should be helping more people like you.  I don’t know.  But I saw you.  And I wanted to help.”  He sat there, like a dejected kid who just learned Santa Claus wasn’t real.  Sad, pathetic, lost.  And Loki had to believe him a little…

He finished the water.  “How much cash do you have?” he asked, still feeling that fog inside his head.  “If you got a few hundred the bastard might not beat me tonight.”

Thor handed over a brand new wallet.  He could tell pretty quickly that there was more than a few hundred inside.  It also contained a key and an address.  Loki wanted to cry in that moment.  He couldn’t go right away.  He still had his things in the Winnebago.  The lone photo album he’d kept hidden all those years.  The only photos he had of his mom, and him.  The few times he was happy.  He didn’t want to leave it behind.  One last night and maybe he’d leave for good.

Thor handed him a bottle of gatorade.  He hated the stuff, but...electrolytes, he guessed.  He sipped on the sugary beverage as Thor handed him a sandwich, too.  “How do you drink this stuff?” he asked, scrunching up his nose in distaste.

“Open cap, pour in mouth, swallow.”  Thor grinned, mimicking drinking for Loki.

“Asshole,” he rolled his eyes.  But for the first time in a long while, he smiled.

[blushingjared]

Can Anybody Hear Me?

We Get What We Deserve Prequel: Can Anybody Hear Me? (Eventual Sam x Dean x Reader x Castiel)

Square(s) Filled: Forced to Watch @badthingshappenbingo  Ship: None Yet Characters: Season 14! Chuck, Reader, Reader’s Parent’s, Dean, Sam, and Castiel (Briefly Mentioned) Rating: Mature Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: Death of Parents, Religious Upbringing, Slight Torture, evil Chuck, Spoilers for the end of Season 14, Melodramatic Chuck

We Get What We Deserve Masterlist

Summary: You’ve grown up hearing stories of a vengeful God. How his wrath is mightier than anything known to man. You counted yourself lucky that you were never the reason for God’s Almighty Power; except now, you were. After losing your family and being forced into a permanent dream like state, by God. You’re used as distraction for Team Free Will, the three men that you’ve fantasized about for years. You know them as the saviors in your favorite books, but now they need to focus and try their best to save you.

A/N: So...I don’t know what else to say really. Let me know what you think and if this series interests you. Let me know and I’ll tag you. Beta’d by @sweetness47

A mother sits alone in a dark hospital room. To her right, her daughter sleeps peacefully in the hospital bed. Gentle sobs from the lonely mother mix with the continuous beeping noises of the machines that are keeping her daughter alive. The woman begs, pleads, with a trembling voice as she recites her prayers. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. I beg you Lord. Please release my daughter from this pain. I-I know you have your reasons Lord.” Her tearful eyes linger on her daughter for another moment before her hands drop from her prayer to gently take ahold of her daughters hand.

“If this be your will Lord, then give me the strength to withstand it.” She takes in a shuddering breath before slumping back and wiping away at her tears with the back of her hand. Minutes tick by as the mother becomes exhausted and falls asleep in the hospital chair, hand still clasped around her daughters.

One of the nurses in the ward glances up at the clock on the wall. She needs to make her nightly run through of the patients, mostly the ones with critical conditions. Grabbing her clipboard, she goes to stand and head to her first patient. Someone catches her attention though.

The man looks average in most ways, he isn’t too tall or short. Neither too handsome or too unattractive. He’s got soft eyes and a gentle smile as he wears a red suit jacket. She can’t put a name to the face, but assume he’s a family member of someone in her ward.

“Can I help you?” She asks, tilting her head as he steps closer. Though he looks average, the nurse feels some sort of energy radiating off of him and she isn’t sure how to place it.

“Yes,” The man clears his throat and rocks back on his heels. They must have been behind his back because almost out of nowhere the man produces a bouquet of flowers. “I’m looking for my niece, Y/N Y/L/N.” That name she recognizes, but gives him a sad smile.

“I’m sorry sir. Only family members listed on their contact information are allowed past visiting hours. I’m happy to take them to her though.” She reaches out to take the flowers, but Chuck pulls them closer to his chest.

“I think you’ll find I’m on the list. Chuck Shurley.” After a bit of hesitation, the nurse pulls the clipboard from under her arm to take a look through Y/N’s file. Right underneath  the girl’s mother and father, his name is listed. She could have sworn it was only the two.

“Well then, right this way sir.” Chuck follows close behind as they maneuver their way down the corridors.

“I didn’t hear much about what happened. Do you mind telling me how Y/N ended up here?”

The nurse gives a small ‘tsk’ before shaking her head. “It’s such a shame, really. The mother comes in with her daughter and husband, blubbering about..” She pauses to look back at the notes within the file. “That’s right, about Angels. Woman believes one of them came down and tried to take the three of them up to heaven.”

Poking her head inside, the nurse looks around the room to see if Y/N’s mother was asleep. She shakes her head slightly and sets the files on the table, Turing back to face Chuck. The name suited him, she thought, before performing her routine check up on the girl

“They were ready to be taken to heaven, until he just stopped and let them go. Apparently, her husband had already died and the angel was in the midst of taking her daughter. As far as it goes medically, their bodies were perfectly fine, they just stopped working. At least her daughter’s body was able to recover most of her bodily functions. Most of  her brain shut down though, not long after she was brought here. Sort of like a coma, but more like she’s in a really long nap.”

Chuck cleared his throat as he set the flowers down. “How’s the mom?” He asked as his gaze lingers on you, his head tilting as he narrows his eyes slightly.

“Inconsolable. She keeps begging for Heaven to come back down and finish what they promised. It’s insane, really.” A heavy sigh leaves the nurses mouth. “I feel bad. I really do.” With that said, she finishes her check up and heads to the door. “It’s good that they have more family. You need that in times like these.” Turning back around, the nurse shuts the door and leaves the room to go check on other patients.

Chuck snaps his fingers and locks the door, head turning to the mother and stepping closer. He smirks slightly as he snaps his fingers and both women awake.

Your eyes fly open and you struggle to breathe, with the tube that had been helping your body only moments earlier, still stuck in your throat. Though it’s barely there, you notice a sick and twisted smile on his lips. You try to call out for your mother, although nothing comes out.

Your mothers eyes lift to Chuck and before she can form words, she’s on her knees. Hands on the edges of his pants, pleading once more like she had during her prayer. “Oh Lord. You heard my prayer, you came back. I..I cannot thank you enough. Please, finish what you started. Take us with you.”

The man you knew as your Father’s murderer was standing right in front of you. You recognized him now. You knew what he was, but it all seemed impossible. It couldn’t really be him.

“Oh I will,” he grinned as he looked down upon your mother. He let his smirk drop to a frown as he snapped his fingers. You cried out, trying your best to do anything but something was forcing you down, an invisible pressure making you unable to sit up or pull the tube out to call for help.

Chuck was forcing you to watch as your mother’s body dropped to the ground, lifeless and nothing more than an empty shell. It only caused more tears to stream down your face, more pain to fill your heart. Not only had you been forced to watch your father die, now he had made you live through the same thing with your mother.

Taking a step over your mother’s corpse, he stepped towards you and smiled. With a snap of his fingers, the tube was removed from your throat, but the force was still there, still pining your body to the hospital bed.

“You...You can’t be real. This...This is just a dream.” You sob, knowing deep inside this was real, but unable to come to terms with what was happening.

“We both know that’s not true Y/N. This is real, all of it.” He grins and runs a hand over your face. “Oh don’t worry, I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

Resisting the urge to spit on his face, you stay calm and snarl at him instead. “I want my parents back.” A wave of sadness washes over Chuck and you half believe it’s because you’ve made him realize what his actions are. Of course he doesn’t and instead he pulls away from you, sighing in disappointment before ranting.

“No! Don’t you see? You and The Winchesters won’t fall in love unless you go through the same trauma of losing your parents to something supernatural. Think about it!”

“Sam and Dean aren’t real! They’re just characters from a book.” Chuck simply shakes his head, clearly you don’t understand.

“You lack imagination Y/N. I would have thought all that fanficition you write about my world would have made you more open to the fact that there’s more out there than you realize.” You desperately want to think he’s crazy, but the part of you that knows this might be true is growing more confident that..Supernatural was real.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You beg for an answer. “I’m nothing special.” A pained noise leaves your throat as he shakes his head.

“No, you aren’t, but I’m gonna make you special. Sam and Dean will be so busy dealing with you that they’ll forget to even come look for me.” Chuck grinned as he watched you look at him in horror. “Now, go back to sleep.” With a snap of his fingers, you fall back on the bed, asleep like he wanted.

Chuck picks you up and snaps his fingers, taking you away from the life you had once been apart of, and bringing you with him the the one you’d always dreamed of. He needed to bring you to Sam and Dean, but he also needs to plan things out, figure out the full plot of the story. Figure out where he wanted the story to go next, now that he had you.

So, he dropped you off in Lebanon, not five miles from The Bunker, right at the nurses station and then disappeared. He was confident in the fact that you would be found and then placed back under the care of doctors. He had things to do now, but he was certain you were going to enjoy your first dream.

Dean doesn’t ever really have good dreams. More often than not, he’ll have nightmares. It’s just something he’s had to deal with ever since he can remember. Tonight is one of those good nights. He dreams of saving a cute girl from a witch and getting a more than deserved thank you. It’s nice, the girl is pretty and more than eager to give Dean whatever he needs.

His eyes snap open as he hears voices begin to talk outside of his room. He grumbled and turns his body onto his side. “Do you think he’s ok? Dean didn’t say much on the drive back from the cemetery.” Sammy’s voice cut through the wood of the door as Dean pulled his pillow over his head to try and block out the noise.

Soon enough, Cas and Sam had walked away and Dean could sleep in peace. He remembered the girl’s face and her name from the dream. He didn’t know why she stuck with him, but it didn’t matter. When he drifted off and back to sleep, Dean thought of Y/N again. There was just something about her that made him feel that whatever God had planned for them, it would be ok.

[lilacmoon83]

Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 125: An Untold Story

As they entered the tavern, they looked around and saw many different types of people. There were what looked like Vikings at the dart board, a pair in a booth in clothing that suggested they might have been from Agrabah, and even a few people dressed in clothing generally found in the Land Without Magic.

Behind the bar was an olive skinned man, who eyed them knowingly and tossed the towel he was wiping the bar with away.

"Well...this is something. It's not everyday that the Supreme Goddess visits my humble little Tavern," Aesop said.

"It's been a long time, Aesop," Persephone greeted.

"Your Majesties," he said, bowing to all of them, except Van Helsing.

"You've been scarce lately, Van Helsing," he mentioned.

"Yes, well Transylvania is a shit hole. The bloodsuckers keep me busy," he said, as he sat down at the bar.

"I'll take some of that special brew you make though," he said, as Aesop poured him a very big glass of ale.

"We're not here to drink," Persephone chided, as Van Helsing began to down the large mug.

"She's right...we're here to pay a visit to Dr. Jekyll. One I doubt he'll enjoy," Hades added.

"I feel that we can do both," Van Helsing replied, as he continued to drink and Hades rolled his eyes.

"You are useless," he argued.

"Oh that's rich coming from you, blue hair," he quipped.

"Speak of the Devil," Aesop commented, as a bespectacled gentleman came into the tavern. Hades gave him a look for that comment.

"Sorry...bad joke," he offered, as they turned to observe the man.

"So that's him? Dr. Jekyll?" Emma asked.

"Don't let his appearance fool you...he's barking mad," Van Helsing said, as he concealed himself so as to not spook the doctor right away.

"Dr. Jekyll…" Persephone called, as the doctor approached curiously.

"Yes...to whom am I speaking?" he questioned.

"Persephone," she said.

"And Hades," he added. The doctor looked quite intrigued by that.

"It's not often the Gods of Olympus bother with this land...especially since they like to pretend that it doesn't exist," he commented.

"To what do we owe such a privilege?" he questioned.

"We have much to discuss, doctor and we are here to give you a firm cease and desist warning," she said.

"Cease and desist? I'm not sure what you mean?" he asked, playing dumb.

"Cut the mild mannered, well meaning act, doctor. We are well acquainted with your work and that you and Hyde have been making visits to the Land Without Magic," Hades replied. The doctor's well meaning smile changed instantly to a more devious smirk.

"The authorities in New York are generally overwhelmed with work. They'll hardly notice a few missing homeless people and prostitutes. In a way, you could even argue that I'm helping to clean up their streets," he said, causing Snow to gasp in alarm.

"Who are you friends?" Jekyll inquired.

"Never mind them...they are none of your concern," Persephone warned.

"Forget they exist if you know what's good for you," Hades added.

"Interesting...that must mean family," he said, as he looked between Snow and Persephone.

"Oh yes...the resemblance is quite striking. It is easy to see where your daughter gets her incredible, fair beauty," he mused.

"A Demi-Goddess…" he said, as he looked at Snow and then Emma.

"Two Demi-Goddesses, I assume," he stated, as David put his arms around Snow and made a point to put himself in front of his wife and daughter.

"Demi-Goddess blood...now that would be fascinating to experiment with," he commented, nearly causing David to launch himself at the doctor, but he was stalled when Van Helsing made his presence known. But the doctor seemed unfazed.

"You really should be more discreet, monster hunter. I've known you were here since the moment you entered this realm," he said. David turned to Aesop.

"Did you tell him?" he questioned.

"A little accusatory, Prince Charming…" Aesop retorted.

"I didn't tell you who I was," David countered, but the other man only smirked.

"I was the author at one time. I'm still familiar with all the realms of story, especially yours and your lovely Snow White's. It is one of the most prominent, though many other mainstream authors have gotten your story quite wrong," he mentioned.

"But as they have since their family stole the authorship from me, the Grimms got the honor of recording the real story of Snow White and Prince Charming; the tale of a legendary true love above all others," he added.

"Wow...bitter much?" Emma taunted and he smirked.

"And then there is the Savior. Another epic I was deprived of writing. The product of this true and legendary love that would break the Evil Queen's dark curse and save an entire population of damned people," he regaled.

"But I started it all. I paved the way for those authors...for entire Grimm family, only for them to toss me aside and bar me from ever picking up a pen again," he added.

"Yep...that's a lot of bitter," Emma commented.

"History even doubts my existence and all because the Grimm brothers wanted the glory," he added.

"We're sorry that happened to you, but this man is killing people and might be endangering everyone in our Kingdom and many others," Snow interjected.

"Not my problem, Princess," Aesop retorted.

"It will be if you help this monster again," Van Helsing said, as he prodded Jekyll forward.

"Come along doctor...time to release all the poor people trapped in your asylum," he said, as they followed him. But they missed the smirk on Jekyll's face, as he led them there.

~*~

The agents looked around the diner, seemingly confused by how normal it seemed. Neal stood up, motioning his son to stay with his great grandfather.

"Can I help you?" he asked, showing his badge on his hip.

"Law enforcement?" the woman asked.

"Deputy Cassidy," he introduced himself.

"Deputy...is there a Sheriff around?" she asked.

"Out of town," he replied.

"Then I guess you'll have to do," she said, as she flashed her badge.

"Supervising Special Agent Julia Isaac with the Federal Bureau of Investigation," she said.

"These are agents Mason, Cade, O'Bryan, and Quinn," she added.

"What can I do for you?" Neal asked, playing it cool.

"You can give us access to your criminal files. We're here to reopen the murder investigation into Kurt Flynn," she replied.

"Kurt Flynn...doesn't ring a bell," Neal replied.

"That's not surprising, given that it's a thirty-year-old cold case. But you do have Kurt Flynn's son in your custody and another man that broke this case wide open. We need to interview them too," she said, as she produced a warrant.

"This is a warrant for the seizure of your entire database," she said.

"I can take you to the station...just need to make a call really quick," Neal replied. She smirked.

"So you can have someone get rid of the files we want? I don't think so. You're going to lead us to the police station and you can do it in cuffs if you'd like," she threatened.

"Go…" Eli urged, as Henry ran out of the diner.

"Stop that boy!" she called, as two of her agents chased after him, while Eli and Neal were cuffed.

"So that's it...you just walk into town and take over? Is that warrant even real? Neal questioned.

"We're looking at castles and we saw a flying unicorn on the way here. Does it really matter if it's real?" she countered. Neal scoffed.

"That wasn't a unicorn. They have horns. Only a Pegasus flies. Get your facts straight," Neal joked.

"Cute...but will you be so smug when my agents catch up to your son?" she asked.

"He's a kid, but underestimating my son would be pretty stupid," Neal answered, as they were marched to the station.

"So you're Neal Cassidy, which is definitely an alias. So who are you?" agent Quinn asked. Eli smirked.

"I am Your Majesty King Elijah," he answered.

"Another comedian...that's fine. You'll be singing another song soon when you see what you're facing," Quinn stated.

"And exactly what is my crime? And I wasn't joking about the King thing. My castle is the one farthest north of here," he retorted.

"This is all insane," O'Bryan commented.

"Yeah...you have no idea how in over your heads you really are," Neal warned, as they approached the station. He could only hope that Henry found Regina before those other two agents caught up to him.

~*~

They followed a captive Jekyll onto the grounds of the Asylum, which was a dreary building surrounded by an attractive garden.

"How many people do you have locked up here?" Snow questioned.

"Most of my cells are full. But many are transients or mentally ill patients. To those that society has forgotten...I have given purpose," Jekyll claimed.

"Purpose? They're people you have locked up! You're killing them!" Snow shouted.

"I should have known that your daughter would be the bleeding heart type, Your Majesty," Jekyll commented.

"Take care how you speak of our daughter," Hades warned.

"Our daughter...isn't she the child that your wife conceived with a mortal prince?" The doctor questioned.

"Papa Hades is as much my father as my biological father is," Snow interjected, making him chuckle.

"Papa Hades...now that is amusing," Jekyll said.

"Yeah...keep laughing at my wife and you'll have done your last experiment," David warned.

"The great monster hunter, Van Helsing, hasn't been able to kill me yet. Do you really think you can, Prince Charming, is it?" He retorted.

"Do you really want to find out?" David growled in return.

"Charming...is that really your name? A little narcissistic to call yourself that, isn't it?" He goaded.

"If you must know, I gave him that name and he most certainly lives up to it in every way," Snow insisted, as they went inside the facility.

"Okay...let's start by releasing all these people and then you'll take us to the place you keep meeting the Dragon," Persephone said.

"Oh, I think not," Jekyll responded, as a high-pitched sonic wave blared from the intercom. He seemed impervious to it, but the rest of them covered their ears in pain and promptly lost consciousness. Jekyll removed some specialized, tiny pads from his ears, as Mr. Poole approached.

"Thank you Mr. Poole. Please put Persephone, her husband, and the monster hunter in a magic dampening cell," Jekyll ordered.

"And the other three?" He asked. He smirked.

"Oh, they are quite interesting. Bring them to my lab," he replied.

~*~

Henry ran as fast as he could through the woods, weaving around trees and cried out, as he tripped over a branch that was sticking out of the ground. He fell down, but then scrambled to his feet, intending to keep running. But the two agents caught up to him and cornered him.

"Easy kid...we just want to talk," agent Mason said.

"Yeah right...you just arrested my dad and he didn't do anything!" Henry cried.

"Actually, I put your dad's name into the database and he's a wanted man. His name popped up in Phoenix and Portland for grand larceny. Looks like he's been dodging the authorities for years," Agent Cade said. Henry looked fearful at that. Not only were they here to take one of his moms, but possibly his dad too.

"Come on kid, let's get you to the station too. You can at least say goodbye to him," agent Mason said, but a growling halted him in his tracks, as a giant wolf blocked his path to Henry.

"Oh my God...shoot it!" agent Cade cried. The wolf snarled and Henry hopped on Red's back, as she took off with him, even as the agents fired their bullets uselessly.

"I've never seen a wolf that big before," Cade mentioned.

"Let's get to the station," Mason said.

"Agent Isaac won't be happy that we lost the kid," Cade replied. He snorted.

"Yeah, well we're both lucky we didn't just get mauled by that wolf," he answered.

~*~

Snow mewled gently, as she opened her bleary eyes. She looked around and quickly noticed that her arms and legs were being held in place with restraints.

"Ah...you're awake," Jekyll said, as he approached.

"Let us go!" Snow cried, as she saw that her husband and her daughter were both in the same type of position she was.

"Oh, I'm afraid not, Princess Snow," he said.

"Queen Snow," she corrected.

"The last few hours of research and exams have been quite enthralling," he said, as she then noticed the machine that was in front of her husband, showing an x-ray of his chest and it was quite clear to see that he only had half a heart.

"Half a heart in his chest and half a heart in yours," Jekyll said, as she noticed the same type of device in front of her.

"Even in fairy tales, I never imagined something so fantastical could be possible," Jekyll mentioned.

"Well it is, but it is nothing scientific for you to study. It's true love," she refuted.

"True love...true love that produced this young woman," Jekyll said, as he referred to Emma.

"The resemblance between her and the both of you is quite obvious, but I wasn't sure it could possibly be so since she looks the same age. But the blood tests confirmed it. She is yours," Jekyll said.

"You didn't need a blood test for that, four eyes. You could have just asked," Emma grumbled, as she woke up.

"Emma…" Snow called, as her daughter tried to get her bearings.

"What the hell…" David growled, as he came to as well and found himself restrained.

"Charming…" Snow whimpered, as he looked at her.

"Snow…" he said, as he looked at the doctor.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded.

"What do you want?" he demanded to know.

"Relax, Your Highness...I am almost finished with my examinations," Jekyll replied.

"The blood samples I took were quite fascinating," he continued.

"I expected the samples to be extraordinary, because of the Demi-Goddess blood, but I found his quite fascinating as well. There is an extraordinary quality to it as well, something I've never quite seen," he mentioned.

"And it's in your daughter's too," he added.

"Because of that...I have determined that she is the perfect candidate to test my serum on," Jekyll stated.

"Like hell…" David growled, as he pulled at the restraints with all his might.

"Your serum?" Snow asked with trepidation.

"Yes...so far, my serum has failed to complete the separation between a person's good side and their dark side. But I believe your daughter, due to her lineage and this strange anomaly in her blood, that she may be strong enough to survive it," Jekyll replied.

"Survive? You have tested others and they didn't survive?!" Snow exclaimed, as she started to panic.

"I'm afraid so...but you have nothing to worry about. I'm sure if anyone can survive, it would be the Savior," he said.

"You sick psychopath! We're not letting you test your insane serum on our daughter!" Charming cried, as he pulled on the restraints with all his might.

"Oh, I'm afraid that I'm going to do just that and there is nary a thing you can do about it, Charming," Jekyll responded, as he readied a syringe.

"Mom...dad…" Emma said, as she looked at them and a tear slipped down her cheek.

"I love you…" she said, clearly scared beyond belief at what was facing her. Snow began to sob and fruitlessly tried to get free.

"Emma…" she cried.

"Please don't do this! She's our baby...please!" she pleaded to the cold, unfeeling monster of a doctor, but her begging was paid no mind. David struggled desperately with the restraints and Snow's cries pierced his heart.

"Please! Please no!" she cried for their daughter, as the doctor approached her. Charming felt the fire coursing through his veins and as much as he had been leery of it up until now, he gave himself over to it and his arms glowed red, as he literally burned his way through the restraints.

"How did you…" Jekyll started to say, but he was cut off, as David punched him in the face, breaking his nose on contact. He cried out in pain and fell to the floor.

"Curse you…" Jekyll seethed, as the syringe lay broken on the floor and he glared up at the prince. David ignored him and undid Emma's restraints, as she hugged him tightly, before they both scrambled to undo Snow's.

"Mr. Poole!" Jekyll called, as the large man entered the lab and stood menacingly in the doorway. David cut him off, as he barreled toward them and ducked his large fist, before landing one of his own in the other man's gut. They traded blows and David ducked another jab to the face, taking the opportunity to punch him in the jaw. Mr. Poole hissed in pain and touched his chin, feeling that there was burned skin left by the prince's fist. He looked at him questioningly, before charging again. David was ready though and threw him over his shoulder. Mr. Poole went crashing into the doctor's lab table and equipment, including the large beaker that held all of the existing serum.

"NOOO!" Jekyll cried in horror, as he glared murderously at the prince.

"Do you know what you've just done?!" he screamed.

"That was years of work, you foolish brute!" he cried.

"That was all the serum I had in existence!" he ranted.

"Good...then maybe it will stop you from hurting anymore innocent people!" David shouted back, as the Doctor tried desperately to scoop some of the existing serum up into an empty vial, but it was a futile effort.

"You're going to pay for this, Prince Charming!" he screamed, as they noticed that a small fire had started, thanks to the Bunsen burner being upturned and making contact with the various liquids that now stained the floor.

"We need to find your parents and Van Helsing and get out of here," David said, as he ushered them toward the exit of the lab.

"Stop them Mr. Poole!" he cried. Unfortunately for them, they did not see that the fire had spread to the medical equipment present and the oxygen tank ignited, sending a plume of fire through the room. David pushed the three of them through the door and they escaped the flames. But Jekyll and his cohort were not so lucky and they both cried out, as they were caught in the inferno that was now the lab. Snow gasped and turned away from the sight. Mr. Poole was completely engulfed and the poor man's cries slowly dissipated, as he perished. Jekyll growled and tried to crawl toward them. He had suffered burns on his face and body, but was still very much alive at the moment.

"This isn't over…" he growled, as he cried out and started to convulse. They watched in horror, as he changed into someone else, who they could only assume was Mr. Hyde.

"Run...we need to get everyone out of here, before this whole place goes up!" David cried, as he ushered his wife and daughter forward. They hurried through the corridors, as an insane and badly burned Hyde chased them.

"Snow!" Persephone called, as they rounded the corner and entered the cell block.

"Mom!" she called, as Emma tried to use magic on the lock.

"This is a magic dampening cell," Hades said, as they realized it wouldn't work.

"Maybe we can melt our way through, like you did with the restraints," Emma said to her father, as they both put their hands on the bars and began to do so. Van Helsing smirked.

"You're both learning fast...that's good," he said, as he looked up to see a deranged Hyde coming at them.

"Whoa...what the hell happened to him?" he asked.

"An oxygen tank exploded on him," Emma replied, as they melted enough of the metal away for the three of them to slip through. The rest of the cells were not dampened by magic, so Persephone and Hades used their magic to snap the locks on all the cells.

"Everyone out! This whole place is about to go up!" Hades called, as they started filing people toward the exit.

"Get them out of here...I'll get the rest with magic," Hades told his son-in-law. David nodded, as grabbed Snow and Emma's hands, before leading them out.

Within a matter of minutes, the entire asylum was completely engulfed, but luckily they had gotten everyone out, with the exception of Hyde.

"Oh Snow…" Persephone gushed, as she hugged her daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter.

"Do you think he survived?" Snow asked with trepidation.

"It's hard to say. Even Jekyll and Hyde have their limits, but since he was Hyde, I wouldn't count him out just yet," Van Helsing replied.

"He was going to test his serum on Emma," she said fearfully, but then put her arms around her husband.

"But then Dad saved me. He burned his way right through the restraints," Emma said, with pride and Snow kissed him passionately.

"We need to relocate these people and then find where this Order that the Dragon is working with so we can shut them down," Hades said.

"Uh...most of these people are from the Land Without Magic," Emma whispered.

"And Jekyll said most of them are homeless," Snow added. Persephone nodded.

"Can any of you show us where you were taken from when we get to New York?" she asked.

"I...I think I can," one young woman said.

"But who are you people?" she asked.

"That's a very complicated story, but just know that we're going to return to New York and you'll all have beds to sleep in tonight," Persephone answered.

"What about all this stuff we've seen? Who the hell is going to believe any of this?" a man asked.

"No one and trust us, it's best that way," Hades replied, as his wife used a key to open a portal to the Land Without Magic.

After they left, a badly burned and injured Hyde crawled from the burning building. He yelled out a blood curdling scream of rage and agony, promising that he was not done and he would seek revenge...