#this little child— her youngest ward— she’s been telling her ever since they met that it’s good to feel and think things that don’t matter

[sincerely-sofie]

How would Sen react if she found/met someone that was a human, that had been turned into one of the artificially made constructs like her?

She’d be jealous of them for having an excuse to be broken.

[greytoiletpaper]

Bathe Me in the Purest Water (I Don’t Feel Clean)

Yeah, so I wrote this like a couple months ago and i only just caught up with the manga and just... wow. I loved it, and I guess I just want this solidified here :). And yes, this fic was originally inspired by this comic, I love it so.

AO3 link

It is a shrieking wail bouncing off the walls of the Todoroki household at ungodly hours of the morning that has Touya bolting upright drenched in a cold sweat. Briefly, he wonders how fucked up it is that he thought he was hallucinating the sound. It is nothing like the cries of his siblings he has long since memorized. Yet, something about the sounds is so raw and so young, that refuting them as little Shouto’s cries is impossible.

Touya finds himself sprinting from his room, searching all over for the source of Shouto’s wails. The awful noise rings from every room and in his eardrums that he even considers whether the youngest Todoroki somehow developed a second quirk. Enji would have a field day with that. His mind is compartmentalizing, but joking is the only way he can stay sane when Shouto’s wailing turns into screaming. When he stumbles into the kitchen, he wishes that the joke was reality rather than the sight that greets him.

There is a kettle in the shaking hand of his mother while she mutters her husband’s name under her breath. Her eyes dart around every part of the room except the screaming face of her youngest son. A raw burn is on Shouto’s face, marred and angrily red as if a scalding liquid has run over it. There is evidence abound to figure out what happened, but that is yet to be Touya’s concern. For the rest of his life, no sound will ever haunt him as much as his baby brother’s screams turning into a weak gurgle.

He misses the way that Rei flinches when he moves closer, how his mother shrieks her husband’s name even though Enji only returns home from his mission tomorrow. Instead, all his attention is on the brother who looked up at Touya like he hung the stars curl up in a ball and shake. It is five seconds later when his other siblings rush into the room that Touya snaps out of his fugue. He gathers Shouto in his arms, whispering frantic platitudes in his ears and praying for the health of his baby brother.

Todoroki Touya is twelve when he has to bandage half of his five-year-old brother’s face. Their mother is sent to a mental health ward the next day, and their already-burning family peels more at the edges.

---

It is beautiful, the way that its form crinkles and curves at the edges. In all of his time with Cremation, he has never seen the azure flames seem so… gentle. Endeavour’s fire is like his rage, pure concentrated firepower that is only broken by small, consistent licks of flames at the edges. Touya’s flames are akin wildfire, they lash and lance and branch out in a chaotic collage that only he seems to be able to tell discern the individual licks of flame. Yet, in his hand, the flames seem so docile in their current shape, made of small bits of fire that skirt and weave themselves in a trance-inducing pattern.

Their shape is simple, but the forget-me-nots that his flames have formed are the product of the past three weeks of hard work and practise. Since Enji has stopped training Touya in favour of Shouto, he has had so much more time to focus on fine-tuning his quirk. His father taught him how to make his flames hotter and so much more destructive but here before his eyes is the proof that his fire can be used to make something instead.

He tries not to be guilty at the fact he gets to have this while his baby brother is beaten black and blue the floor below him.

Across him, his mother’s face lights up in her scarce, genuine smile that reminds him that even with all her cracking pieces, Rei Todoroki is still a mother that loves just as much as she is hurt. (She is so very hurt and there is nothing he can do to take it all away). It is thanks to her that he even learned controlling his quirk is possible.

It seems ironic, that he learned how to destroy with his flames from his pro hero father but is learning fine control from his civilian mother.

“That’s a beautiful flower Tou-chan,” He blushes at the nickname, but his mother is rarely happy, so he does not protest. “I hope one day all of you can do this with your quirks, it’s such beautiful artwork we can make with what we have been given.”

With her ice, his mother forms a beautiful, twinkling rindou flower and cups it in her hand. It is breathtaking to look at, seemingly ethereal with the frost emanating and little flecks of snow dancing in the lamplight. It is rare for Rei to use her quirk and every time, Touya is lost in the way that the ice seems to flow and skirt as if a small part of a blizzard appeared and made her craft. If he looks closer, the movement of his mother’s ice is familiar, shifting and undulating in ways so, so similar to how his fire is in his hand right now.

The quirk doctors said Touya inherited his mother’s constitution, everyone assumed it meant he was weak. He can apparently control his fire as if it were an ice quirk. Using Cremation for too long makes him feel like he is physically melting. In hindsight, he should have realised just how literal the quirk doctors were being.

---

He read in a textbook once that sometimes twins can swap their intended quirks in the womb. Fuyumi grabs the kettle from its undoubtedly searing bottom without even a wince, even though she has an ice quirk that freezes her arm at just a second’s usage. For the time being, it was the furthest thing from his mind. Shouto only barely breathing and all Touya wants is to hold someone so young and already so scarred in his arms and take all his tears for himself.

---

A week later, Enji puts Shouto back into training. Everyone protests this, but there is hardly anything they can say that can sway their father when he pulls his Endeavour face and disregards them in his own way of lovingly shoving his other children to the ground. Does Touya feel some satisfaction that the old man hesitated for a second before he lays his hand on Fuyumi? A little, but it fades as quickly as it came when there is still nothing stopping the prick from forcing their baby brother from being put back into what is no doubt extra hours to make up for “valuable training time gone to waste”.

Enji’s words, not his.

Frustration, anger and pain – so much pain – is what spurs Touya into action. He leaps onto Endeavour’s back, furiously trying to pry Shouto from the sick bastard’s hands and earns a knee to the gut for his efforts. Enji leaves him in the hallway and even though his other siblings are moving him to his room all he can think is how his baby brother looks so afraid as if he knows this time there will not be a mother to comfort any of them afterwards.

---

He wakes to the sound of Shouto’s tears slightly muffled in the central courtyard. The sun is only on the cusp of rising but sleep had eluded him for hours regardless. In the morning rays, his baby brother’s face is a mess of tears and aborted hiccups. A pang sounds in his chest, Shouto is so young (they all are) and he already has to learn how to make himself silent in fear of the flaming shadow that is their father. There is a small patch of ash by Shouto’s feet and soot on his face. Touya has a hunch as to what happened, but it never hurts to see his brother’s perspective.

“What’s wrong, Shou?” His question is met with silence, so he pushes on. “Did you burn yourself?”

Only an idiot would ignore how Shouto flinches at the question, so Touya crouches gently to make himself seem as non-threatening as possible. His baby brother does not relax, but a soft mumble just barely escapes him.

“It’s scary.”

“What’s scary?”

“His half.”

Touya frowns, just because Enji is why Shouto has fire, does not make it solely their father’s fire. Even then, no child should live in fear of their quirk. Although, looking down at the skin grafts on his wrists, Touya is in no place to judge his baby brother’s fear.

“Why do you think it’s scary?”

Another silence stretches out, and Touya can see his baby brother’s struggle to process the words. He almost changes the topic when the rest of Shouto’s confession spills out.

“It looks too much like his. I don’t want to burn myself too much and I still can’t control it. But dad keeps pushing me and- and I don’t want to-.”

Shouto looks like he is going to explode with tears, the wicks of flame and ice coming off him signal how close he is to a meltdown that would no doubt bring their father in screaming. Without thinking, he pulls his brother close, enveloping his tiny shoulders with his arms and making soothing motions on his back. While Shouto quietly sobs into his shoulder, Touya ruminates on how to comfort the boy with how to control his fire, which is the exact train of thought that makes him huff a laugh.

“Hey Shou, I’m going to try teach you something Mom taught me. You wanna see?” Looking at the soft, tentative smile Shouto gives him when Touya pulls away, he cannot help but be drawn by how much it reminds him of their mother’s. He holds out his hand palm up before his brother. “She taught me how to control the pieces so that it hurts a little less.”

The courtyard is thrown in shadows highlighted by the blue of Touya’s flames, and he can see just how enamoured Shouto’s face is in the azure light. He has the curls of his fire shift and form the forget-me-not that he has been practising making for so long.

“See Shou? Fire is not always that scary.”

Shouto only makes a small noise of assent, his eyes still entranced by the small dancing movements of his eldest brother’s fire. He reaches out, hesitantly, and tries to cup his hands around the flames.

“Can I learn how to make one?” The change in attitude throws off Touya for only a moment, but the shy, almost hopeful look in his brother’s eye would never have him say no even at gunpoint. He smiles.

“’Course Shou,” It is still a gamble trying to see if Shouto can use his fire this way, but Touya cups his brother’s hands anyway. “Try making a little fire first.”

The flame in Shouto’s hands starts off as little embers before igniting into a small flame just about the size of the boy’s fist.

“If you start off small and make all the pieces of your fire slow down even just a little, you can make things with them.”

Shouto frowns at the words, mulling them over in his head as the fearful parts of his face fade away into the focus he is exhibiting now. Slowly, the licks of flame seem to move in a blend of wild, yet seemingly calculated movements as they form into a stem. Shouto giggles even as it holds the form for all of five seconds before they give out. Touya laughs at the adorable pout that crosses Shouto’s face and holds his hand out for a high five.

“That was a great job, Shou!” It is. Touya took way longer to have that kind of focus and he held the stem for only half the time. He says as much. “Don’t worry that you can’t make the full flower right now. Mom and I can teach you. One day, your flames make a shape that means a lot to you and you only.”

As he ruffles Shouto’s hair and the boy gives him that look like he hung the very stars, Touya sees the shadow of his father crossing the walkway above them. Moment over, Touya picks his brother up and faces him away from Enji while staring the man down.

“You want something to eat?” Shouto makes a mumble that roughly translates to ‘cold soba’ and Touya laughs in spite of himself. “Come on buddy, I’ll take you to mom and fix some up for you.”

---

The water scalds his skin and his thoughts are a jumble of painmakeitstopmompleaseimsorry on half of his face. It is not just the water that hurts, but the knowledge that that can be reminded to him is how half of him has fire just like his father’s. As the searing pain finally starts to die down, little but important pieces of him (memories of nights huddled with a mother to see his fire as his own, his brother making those shapes with his hands) seem to leak out with his tears.

---

Touya dies in a fire starting from his seventh attempt to pull Shouto from training with Enji. Touya dies when his wildfire swarms him and his skin blisters and melts. Touya dies as the skin grafts are stapled on to his body and even without nerves in those places, he can still feel the flames as they enveloped him. Touya dies… and Dabi rises from his ashes.

[littlemisswolfie]

Hope That You Fall In Love (And It Hurts So Bad)

Part II>

Somehow I never posted this here oops--

I’ve always loved @umisabaku ‘s Designation: Miracle fic series on Ao3, and I love to see a half-Canadian protagonist in anime because no one ever thinks being half-Canadian is cool, so I love Sk8: The Infinity, and I figured, hey! Why not combine them! And this happened.

TW for  mentions of child experimentation and torture, a scene where it is heavily implied Nanako trades sexual favors in exchange for custody of Langa, a few scenes where Langa has nightmares, a brief moment of Langa having a panic attack, non-graphic descriptions of Oliver developing liver cancer, discussions of death and funeral arrangements, a non-graphic scene of Oliver dying, and the beginnings of Langa's depression.

Ao3

Hasegawa Nanako didn’t quite know what she was getting into when she got contracted by a private company straight out of nursing school. She was young and trusting and desperate for money after her parents died and left her with their debts, and the recruiter from Teiko Industries handed her a quote that was three times the average pay for nurses, so she took the job. She signed the stacks of NDAs, went through with the extensive background checks and drug tests, and underwent a psych evaluation before she even stepped foot into the lab that would change her entire life.

She wants to quit as soon as she figures out what was really going on. Human experimentation, torture, training children to be assassins… the whole thing makes her skin crawl. But, again, she really needs the money. No other job she could get right out of school would pay enough to chip away at her parents’ debt and pay for her apartment and car and food. So, with a heavy heart, she shows up for her shift five nights a week, and she’s assigned to the hospital ward that cared for Generation Infinity.

They’re the youngest generation so far. Eight years younger than Generation Miracle, which, Nanako learns from a particularly chatty coworker, was the most successful Generation by far. “They’re almost all Successes,” the other nurse says, cheery, like they’re talking about some sports game or a litter of kittens instead of living, breathing children. “They just had to scrap O394, but the others are all still promising. Well, maybe not B452, but still. That’s six out of fourteen! Imagine that.”

Nanako doesn’t want to imagine that. The thought makes her stomach churn. The casual talk of killing children…

“Maybe Infinity will be even better!” the coworker chatters on. “If our Orange Three can actually fly… think they’d give us a raise?”

*

The Project she sees most often during her shift is GI-B423.

Nanako knows there isn’t much hope for him. He’s only two years old, but he’s barely developed even the slightest invisibility. He doesn’t even display any Latent Overflow, which was supposed to be inherent in every Project. The scientists still make him wear the shock bracelets (horrible things, Nanako wanted to rip them off of him with her bare hands) and still send him to that torture chamber they stole from Orwell, but he’s already a Failure in their eyes.

To Nanako, he’s a baby. He’s tall for his age, with curious eyes and an unfillable stomach and a wonderful smile when she could wrench one out of him. He winds up in the hospital ward so often because of his reckless behavior. He tries to copy everything the other Projects do, particularly GI-O376’s jumping and GI-B531’s speed, and even when he doesn’t hurt himself trying something stupid, his heart rate elevates and he gets shocked.

“You should be more careful,” she says to him one night as she patches up a scratch he got when he scraped  his arm on the wall of his cell trying to touch the ceiling. “I’d hate to see them hurt you for being reckless.”

Those eyes, too smart for a toddler, stare into her soul. “You’re worried about me?”

“Yes.” There’s no use denying it. Even if she didn’t care too much about this child who will probably be killed by the time he’s ten years old, it would be cruel to deny caring for a boy this young. And maybe she’s selfish, for feeling like this about GI-B423 and not the other children, but the scientists care about them plenty. They are Successes.

GI-B423 will never be a Success. So she has to care about him, because no one else will.

*

Nanako quickly comes to realize she’s one of the only people in Teiko that thinks of the Projects as human. This lets her see things no one else does.

So, a few years after she starts working, she notices GM-B425 is planning something.

She’s sure he’s fooling the others. The scientists and doctors and contractors think of these children as weapons, unfeeling, unthinking save for their direct orders. The Miracle Projects are generally allowed free reign of the facility as long as they stay out of the private offices and labs, so Nanako will take her time at the vending machines to watch them, and she notices the way GM-B452 watches everyone else. He’s the closest thing to a Success a Black will ever be, Nanako has heard, but he’s still going to be scrapped soon.

Nanako knows what desperation looks like.

She makes a choice.

*

“Let me get this straight,” says Honda-san, the director of Generation Infinity. He’s an older man, probably pushing sixty, with graying black hair and dark, mean eyes. He’s watched her with a predatory gaze from the first time they met when she first started. Nanako’s always known she’s a pretty woman, one of the few things her mother gave her, so it wasn’t like she was unused to attention from old, greasy men. “You want to resign, and instead of a severance package, you want to take GI-B423 with you?”

“Yes, sir.” Nanako’s wearing her best dress (and if it’s cut just low enough to be flattering, well, that’s just a bonus) and she did her make-up and she is being as polite as she can possibly be. “I’ve made more than enough money here to pay off my parents’ debts, and I was never cut out for work like this in the first place, so I see no reason to continue in my current position when you could hire someone more suited for the role.” She’s been saving since the day she started working. She never eats out, she doesn’t go out drinking, and she takes five minute showers. She’s debt-free, with savings to spare.

“And GI-B423?” Honda-san leans forward on his hands, his wrinkled brow furrowing further. “What use could he have to you?”

Nanako inhales and brings a hand to her stomach. “I’ll never be able to have children,” she says, the truth burning her throat. “I had to get a hysterectomy due to my endometriosis. I’ve come to care for GI-B423 as my own child, and you know as well as I do that he’ll never be a Success. If anything, he’s more noticeable than the other members of his Generation. Why spend the resources continuing to believe he’ll develop the abilities you would need him to? Why dissect him as if anything about him could better future Projects?” The words sting, tasting sour in her mouth. She hates saying these things about GI-B423, but it’s what she needs to do. “If you can get him on my family register, that’s all I ask. We’ll leave the country, and you’ll never hear from us again.”

Honda-san makes a considering noise, and, after a moment, he places his hand on her bare knee. His wedding band glints in the overhead light. “I might be persuaded.”

Nanako tries to smile.

*

Later that night, as Nanako is slipping her dress back up over her shoulders in the room of the love hotel Honda-san rented for the evening, Honda-san says, “What name did you want for him?”

“Langa,” Nanako says. “His name is Hasegawa Langa.”

*

Langa is confused, at first. “Where are we going?” he asks Nanako when she loads him and his meager belongings into her car. He’s never been out on a mission, so this is probably the first time he’s ever seen a car. “Does R0132 know where I am? He’ll get mad if I’m not at training.” He rubs at his wrists, finally free of those awful shock bracelets, like he can’t believe they’re gone.

“I don’t work here anymore,” she tells him. “I quit. Do you know what adoption means? It means I’m going to take care of you from now on.”

“So… I don’t live here?”

“No. And you’ll never have to do training again, or wear your shock bracelets, or go to Room 101. You can eat as much as you want. And you have a name.”

“A name?”

“Yes. Your name is Hasegawa Langa. You’re my son, now, and I’m your mother, and that means I’ll love you and take care of you for the rest of your life.”

Langa blinks. Then, he says, “Okay,” and he lets her buckle him in.

*

Two days later, they’re on a plane to Canada.

*

A month after that, nestled in their new apartment in Squamish, Nanako holds Langa in her lap and they watch, together, as Generation Miracle escapes from Teiko.

“Will they come for us, Mom?” Langa asks.

She squeezes him around the middle, perhaps a little too tight. “No, honey. As long as we keep our secret a secret, we’ll be fine.”

 Nanako hopes she’s right.

*

The military never ends up knocking on their door, and Nanako thanks God for small mercies. She and Langa are doing everything they can to blend in, like normal immigrants. Nanako’s working at a nursing home, and Langa is enrolled at the local Catholic school, and they both attend Mass on Sundays and Wednesdays. Nanako makes friends with the other women in the apartment building and she tells them all that Langa’s father got her pregnant and walked out on her, so that’s why he’s not in the picture, and Langa dutifully goes along with the sentiment when asked. Langa isn’t making a lot of friends, and that would worry Nanako, but mostly she’s glad that it means there’s no danger of Langa accidentally telling a kindergartener with no filter about his time at Teiko.

He still gets nightmares, sometimes. Nanako never saw the inside of Room 101, and she wishes Langa never had, either. She never let him see the press images of how the JSDF found Teiko when they went hunting for the scientists, because that would only make the fear worse. Hell, she woke up in the middle of the night sometimes, catapulted out of a dream of fire and screaming, bloody children, guilty that she couldn’t save the rest of them, guilty that she only loved Langa and not the others, and she’ll never make Langa feel that, too. He has enough on his shoulders as it is.

Then, for Langa’s first Christmas outside of Teiko’s walls, Nanako uses up all the PTO she’s saved and they take a trip to a ski lodge, and there they meet Oliver Campbell.

*

Oliver, as it turns out, also lives in Squamish, as he tells Nanako one night over boozy hot chocolate after Langa has been put to bed. “I’m a firefighter,” he says, “though, when I was younger, I wanted to be a pro snowboarder.”

“I could never,” Nanako laughs. “That’s a little too dangerous for me.” Then, because the alcohol makes speaking secrets easier, she says, “Langa would probably love it, though. He’s always been an adrenaline junkie.”

Oliver looks surprised. “He seems like such a quiet kid.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen him when he was—when we still lived in Japan. Scrapes and broken bones everywhere.”

“Well, then, he’s lucky he had such an amazing mother to patch him up.”

Heat floods Nanako’s cheeks. “What good would my nursing license do if I couldn’t even take care of my own kid?”

“And… Langa’s father?”

“Not in the picture. It’s just the two of us.” Please don’t ask anymore, she begs. There’s something about Oliver that makes her want to be completely honest, and that could end very, very poorly.

“Ah,” he says, instead, “I’m sorry about that. Wherever he is, he’s really missing out.”

Nanako thinks of Honda-san, of his leer and his sweaty hands and his potbelly dragging against her back, and says, “We’re better off without him, trust me.”

*

The next day, Oliver starts teaching Langa how to snowboard. Just like Nanako thought, he takes to it like a fish to water, and even when he falls, the snow cushions his landing, so he just laughs and jumps right back up to try again. She watches from the sidelines and smiles, feeling warm, because this is what Langa deserves. He deserves to be a normal kid.

*

“When are you guys going home?” Oliver asks over dinner one night, a few days into their stay at the ski lodge. They’re having breakfast for dinner, a phenomenon Langa was very pleased to learn about, and Nanako ordered him three helpings of Eggs Benedict.

Langa is too busy shovelling peameal bacon into his mouth like he’s never eaten in his life to answer, so Nanako says, “Boxing Day. We don’t have any family in the area, so we’re just doing Christmas here.”

Oliver leans back in his chair. “That reminds me! Why did you guys move here, anyway? If you don’t have family here, I mean.”

Langa only barely doesn’t tense up, and Nanako promises to give him extra dessert for his restraint. “We needed a fresh start,” Nanako says. “I got pregnant with him while I was still in nursing school, and by the time I graduated, my parents had both died, and I got saddled with their debts. We stayed in Japan long enough to pay the debts off and save enough money to move, and we just… left. Where we went didn’t matter much, honestly, as long as it wasn’t Japan.”

“Your English is pretty good,” Oliver notes. He genuinely just sounds curious. “Both of you, actually. If I didn’t know you were immigrants, I would think English was Langa’s first language.”

Langa swallows a huge mouthful of English muffin and egg and says, “I know French, too! And some other languages.”

Nanako takes back her internal promise of extra dessert as Oliver’s eyebrows migrate up towards his hairline. “That’s very impressive,” he says. “Where’d you learn all those?”

Langa shrugs. “Around.”

“We learn English all throughout school, in Japan,” Nanako cuts in. “When I knew we were going to move abroad, I taught Langa, too. And he started teaching himself French when we decided on Canada. He’s a quick study when it comes to languages.” Oliver still looks a little unsure, so she rushes to change the subject. “When are you leaving the lodge, Oliver?”

“I’m checking out of my room on Christmas Eve. My parents always throw a big Christmas party at their cabin in Princeton every year, with all the aunts and uncles and cousins. It’s a riot, especially when we play Pass the Ace.”

“Pass the Ace?” Langa asks. “What’s that?”

A playful glint enters Oliver’s eye. “Oh, Langa, my boy, do you have any loonies on you?”

*

The three of them spend the next few days together. Langa wakes Nanako up as soon as the sun rises and they go downstairs to meet up with Oliver, who spends the rest of the morning teaching Langa how to snowboard. Then they go to the bunny slopes to toboggan, and at night, they eat dinner together, and Oliver and Nanako stay up long after Langa goes to bed to drink and talk.

Nanako’s surprised at how easy it feels to be around Oliver. Even before she started working at Teiko, her dating life wasn’t exactly active. Sure, she’d hooked up with a few guys in college, and she had a boyfriend in high school, but there was never a connection, not like this.

“Here,” he says, the night of the 23rd, “let me give you my number.”

“Really?” Nanako asks, even though she’s already pulling her phone out of her pocket.

Oliver gives her a confused look. “Yeah? I mean, unless you didn’t want to meet up back in Squamish—”

“No, I do!” Nanako rushes to correct. “I do. It’s just… I mean, with Langa…”

“Hey.” Oliver reaches across the table to take one of her hands. “Langa’s a great kid. Any guy who got scared away by him isn’t worth the time of day. I like you, and I like Langa, and I would love nothing more than to get to know the both of you better, if you would allow it.”

Nanako flushes again. She likes this feeling, like someone is looking at her and seeing her and still liking it. She knows she shouldn’t, that Langa’s secret could be in jeopardy if she gets too close to the wrong guy, but she can’t help it. “I think I will,” she says. “Langa would probably never forgive me if I took his snowboarding teacher from him.”

And Oliver laughs, and it’s one of the most beautiful sounds she’s ever heard, right under Langa calling her “Mom.”

*

She and Oliver start officially dating not too long after Christmas. He’ll come to the nursing home with Tim Hortons when she’s working twelves, and he picks Langa up from school and helps him with his homework, and he invites the two of them over for dinner at least twice a week because he knows Nanako is often too busy to cook. When it comes time to celebrate Langa’s birthday, Oliver buys him a brand new snowboard, and Langa throws his arms around his neck and chants “thank you”s into his hair.

He brings them to his parents’ cabin for Victoria Day, and his family is just as kind as him. His nieces and nephews do their best to include Langa in their games, but they don’t push when she shies away and hangs out by the buffet table instead, and his mother, Barbara, hugs Nanako like she’s an old friend rather than a stranger.

“Hey, Langa, wanna swim?” Oliver’s dad, Ray, asks, gesturing to the small pond nearby. Some of the other kids are already splashing around in it, and it is getting warm, so it’s no wonder he’s suggesting it.

Nanako tenses, but Langa just shakes his head. “I don’t swim very often,” he says in that serious way of his, and she releases the breath she was holding. She’s never taken him swimming since she adopted him, because she can’t be certain no one will see the GI-B423 brand on his upper thigh. He doesn’t have many scars, other than the faint ones around his wrists he usually wears long-sleeved shirts to bulky bracelets to cover up, but that one in particular would be very hard to explain away.

Oliver gives her a curious look, but she just shrugs like she’s seen other parents do when their kids are acting weird, and he gives her that lopsided smile and everything is okay again.

*

A month later, Nanako terminates the lease on her and Langa’s apartment, and they move their things into the small house Oliver owns. Langa’s a little confused about why Nanako says he can’t sleep with her as often as he used to now that they’re living with Oliver, but he doesn’t complain. After her, Oliver is his favorite person in the whole world.

*

They go to the ski lodge again for Christmas, and Langa barely stays off the slopes the whole time. He’s only seven now, but he snowboards better than people three times his age and with a decade more experience.

“He’s a prodigy,” Oliver says, watching him jump a worryingly high way into the air. “He could go pro.”

Nanako hopes he doesn’t. She doesn’t want him to attract too much attention to himself. “Maybe,” she says. “But he’s a little too spacey for that, I think.” Oliver laughs and puts an arm around her waist, letting her melt into his side. “Maybe.”

*

That Christmas, surrounded by the Campbell clan, Oliver gets down on one knee and asks Nanako to be his wife. Nanako can see Langa over Oliver’s shoulder, bobbing his head up and down like a bobblehead, and she lets out a wet laugh and says “yes.”

*

It’s a quiet wedding, at the cabin in Princeton, with just Oliver’s family and some of Nanako’s friends from work. They include Langa in all of their wedding photos, and he hugs Oliver and calls him “Dad” and Oliver almost cries.

This is it, Nanako decides. This is all she needs. Her husband and their son and the life they’ve made for themselves.

As long as no one finds out about Teiko.

*

Langa’s been very good about keeping it all a secret. He never talks about Teiko, or his Generation, or the powers that should have developed but never did. He doesn’t take his bracelets off around anyone, even Oliver, and when he has his nightmares, he quietly wakes Nanako up so she can slip out of bed and comfort him until he falls back to sleep.

Things aren’t perfect, but they work.

Until Generation Miracle is put back into the spotlight.

*

Nanako studiously never brings up the Miracles. Sometimes people will ask if she has an opinion on them, and she always says no. If a news segment is playing and talking about them, she’ll change the channel or turn the TV off. It’s been harder to ignore all the media attention lately, since Teiko’s more insidious designs are suddenly being brought to light. She’s not sure who is suddenly talking, or why, but she’s more than happy to bury her head in the sand and pretend it doesn’t concern her.

Until one day, when she gets home from work, and sees Oliver and Langa sitting on the couch and watching as a teenage boy with light blue hair and a calm fury Nanako only ever saw in one person says, “All we have ever wanted to do is be free.”

Nanako lunges for the remote to change the channel. Oliver squawks in surprise, but she kneels in front of Langa, who’s sitting rigid, like a stone, and takes his hands and says, “Are you okay, sweetie?”

He nods robotically, and she winces. He’s retreating. That’s not good. “Hey, baby, breathe for me, okay? In for four, hold for five, out for six. Just like we used to.”

Langa sets about his breathing exercises, and Oliver stands up, looking more concerned than she’s ever seen him look. “What’s going on? He got all quiet as soon as that news segment started.”

“Oliver, it’s a long story—”

“If my son is having a—a panic attack, or something, I think I deserve to know why!”

This is what she’s always dreaded. She has to come up with something. If she brushes him off, he’s just going to keep digging, but if she says something too complicated, she won’t remember what she said later and it will bite her in the ass. I shouldn’t have gotten him involved, she thinks, mournfully, already picturing the divorce proceedings and custody battle and Langa missing the only father he’s ever known. I knew it was too risky.

“GI-B423.” Langa gasps, and Nanako whips her head up towards him.

“Langa—” she starts, panic rising in her chest, at the same time Oliver says, “What?”

“My designation,” Langa says, he’s still clearly upset. “GI-B423. The twenty-third Black Four Project in Generation Infinity. Failed experiment. GI-B423…” He continues muttering, clearly back in that awful place, and Nanako throws her arms around him.

“Shh, baby,” she coos, rocking him back and forth, feeling him tremble against her. “That’s not you anymore, remember? You’re Hasegawa Langa. You’re eight years old, you’re in year three, and you live with your mom and dad in Squamish, British Columbia.”

She repeats this mantra a few times, drowning out Langa’s, until he stops trembling so much. His little hands grip her scrub top like she’s a liferaft in the middle of the ocean. She’s no stranger to this feeling; most of his nightmares result in a similar embrace. Her neck is damp from his tears and snot, but she keeps on rocking him, letting him cry himself out until he falls asleep.

Throughout it all, Oliver watches, silent.

*

Nanako carries Langa to bed and tucks him in for an impromptu nap, and braces herself for the awful conversation she knows she has to have.

Oliver is still sitting on the couch, silent, staring at the wall behind the TV. “Well,” he says, before Nanako has a chance to say anything, “a few things make more sense now.”

“Oliver…”

He looks at her, meeting her worried gaze, and sighs, opening his arms. She falls into his embrace readily, collapsing against his side. In his arms, she feels safe, like nothing can touch her here. “Tell me your story,” he says, playing with her wedding band, and she does.

*

Nanako won’t say things are perfect after Oliver learns Langa’s secret, but they’re certainly easier.  

Now, when Langa has his nightmares, he can crawl into bed in between his parents and not have to worry about revealing anything he shouldn’t. Oliver’s always been better at calming him down, too, so having his help in soothing Langa’s nightmares is a huge deal. Nanako doesn’t have to be on the lookout for evil scientists or government agents all on her own anymore, now that Oliver is also keeping an eye out.

The three of them sit on the couch together to watch the coverage of the Special Diet, and when the Miracles are declared not dangerous, Nanako almost cries.

Maybe they can finally be free.

*

And so, the years pass.

Things are never perfect. They wouldn’t have been perfect if Langa wasn’t a genetically engineered child designed to be an assassin, but even then, things are a normal amount of imperfection. Langa still has trouble connecting with kids his own age, but not in a weird way, just a kid way. Nanako and Oliver have their odd disagreements, though they never go to bed angry. Oliver goes out drinking with his coworkers from the fire station more often than Nanako would like, but he never drives drunk and never gets angry or abusive, so she doesn’t try to make him stop. They get enough money to buy a larger house just outside of Squamish, and Nanako starts up a garden in the backyard in the spring and summer. In the winter, they spend more and more time on the mountain as Langa falls more in love with snowboarding.

And he does love snowboarding. He’s always pushing himself to go faster, jump higher, do more. Nanako is nervous that he might want to go pro, but he never brings the possibility up. He just wants to snowboard with his dad. He doesn’t care about the money or the glory or anything else. As long as he has his board and the snow and Oliver, he’s happy.

And then Oliver gets his diagnosis.

*

It starts small. He’s less hungry than he used to be, “But your food is as delicious as it’s always been!” he says with a flirty wink. The fifteen-year-old Langa rolls his eyes.

Then, he starts losing weight. He was always fit, with not a lot of fat on him, so when he starts losing weight, Nanako gets concerned. “You’re not trying to diet or anything, right?” she asks, staring at his narrower chest.

He shakes his head. “I’m probably just getting old, honey. We didn’t get to go on the slopes much this winter. I’ll start jogging to get my muscle mass back up, if that’ll make you happy.”

Langa goes on these runs with him. He’s always been an active kid, since Teiko was training them to be super soldiers, so he always has too much energy. The extra activity is good for him.

Oliver, on the other hand, doesn’t benefit as much from their daily jogs. He keeps losing weight, and every once in a while, he complains of abdominal pain. “No, Nanako, I’m not going to the doctor,” he says when she gives him a worried look. “It’s probably nothing.”

Then, on Canada Day, Nanako is woken up when Oliver bolts out of bed to be violently sick in their ensuite bathroom and notices his skin is jaundiced, and the next day she packs up him and Langa and they all go to the hospital together.

*

Liver cancer.

Stage 4.

Treatment options.

Life expectancy.

Langa shuts down.

*

Oliver deteriorates quickly after that.

He’s in the hospital more often than not, and when he’s admitted two weeks before Thanksgiving, everyone knows it’s for the last time. Nanako and Langa are there as often as they can be, sitting with him and holding his hand and desperately trying to pretend he’s not about to leave him forever. The nurses even buy Langa a cake when the three of them all collectively forget his sixteenth birthday.

When Langa is at school or sleeping in the waiting room, Nanako and Oliver go over his will. He’s leaving everything to Nanako, of course, but he says she should let his cousins come and take a look at family photos after she decides what she wants to keep. He also writes a letter for Langa, but doesn’t let Nanako read it. “It’s for him,” he says. “He should be the first one to read it.

“I don’t want a funeral,” he tells her, voice weak. “Don’t spend your money on that. Don’t make Langa go through that. Cremate me and bury me next to my grandparents, and go out to lunch after.”

“Okay,” she says.

“I wish this wasn’t happening.” For the first time since he got his diagnosis, Oliver starts to cry. “I don’t want to leave you and Langa. I want to see him grow up and fall in love. I want to see your hair turn gray.”

“I want that, too,” she says. She grips his hand tightly and lets her own tears roll down her cheeks. “How am I going to do this without you?”

He tries to crack one of his crooked grins. “You’re a smart lady. You’ll figure it out.”

*

A few nights later, Nanako and Langa are woken in the middle of the night, and they rush to the hospital. They get there in time for each of them to hold one of Oliver’s hands as he takes his last breath.

*

Like Oliver wanted, he’s cremated and buried in Princeton, next to his grandparents in the Campbell family plot. His parents take them out for lunch at a Swiss Chalet, and Langa barely eats. He has the letter Oliver wrote him clenched in his fist. He hasn’t read it yet; the envelope is still sealed.

Nanako won’t push. He’ll read it when he’s ready.

*

They go up the mountain that winter.

Langa stands at the top of the slope and stares down it. He does this for twenty minutes, and walks back to the lodge.

*

“We can’t stay here,” Nanako tells Barbara a few weeks after Christmas. “It’s—it’s killing Langa, being  here without Oliver. He’s not eating, he’s barely sleeping…” She chokes back a sob, and melts into the warm embrace her mother-in-law offers her.

“You’ll always be family,” Barbara assures her. “Do what you need to do. We’ll always be here if you need us.”

*

“I’m thinking we should move back to Japan,” Nanako says to Langa later that night. She doesn’t really want to go back to Japan, but Teiko is gone. For good, now that the Miracles thwarted their attempt to build a new one near Hawaii not long after the Special Diet. There’s no reason not to go there, when that’s where they came from and the country in the world most comfortable with mutant children.

Langa, still blank, says, “Okay,” and then nothing else for the rest of the night.

*

They sell the house, find an apartment in Okinawa, say goodbye to the Campbells, and get on a plane to the country they fled almost ten years ago.

I hope I’m doing the right thing, Oliver.

[micahrodney]

Thread; Chapter 4 - Through The Looking Glass

The following is a commission for Matthew Caveat Zealot.   The morning of the memorial service was especially bitter and cold.  A slight drizzle had started which threatened to turn into lake-effect snow at a moment's notice. Kevin made his kids pack up everything just in case they couldn't make it back to the hotel, and the trunk had a fully stocked emergency kit. It was something of a Brown family tradition to prepare for the worst, but this quality had been more pronounced since the accident.  

“How's this?” Neil asked, fiddling with the knot on his tie.  

“I don't suppose you'd consider a clip-on?” Travis teased, moving in to correct the full-hearted but half-studied attempt at a Windsor knot.  

“Can't tie a tie, little bro,” Dawn said, waggling a mock judgmental finger. “They aren't teaching you anything at that school.”  

“You're just upset that I'm not in the psych ward,” Neil shot back, running a comb through his hair while Travis fiddled with his tie.  

“Injustice of the century,” she smirked.  

Kevin, Kim, and Rocky were already downstairs eating the continental breakfast and no doubt having “adult” conversation.  Travis was still in the kid's group but only by virtue of sharing a room with Neil.  Dawn had been dressed since 7 AM, but only because Kim woke her up by loudly dropping her make-up kit on the bathroom floor a half-hour prior.  

She looked quite nice in a simple black dress with matching leggings, though Neil wondered what their mother would have said about the heeled boots that she wore with them.  Combined with her unique hair coloration, the whole effect was very “Bride of Frankenstein”.  But then Dawn had always been avant-garde in her fashion sense.  

Travis was wearing a chocolate brown suit with a charcoal tie.  It didn't quite match but then Travis didn't own much in the way of suits.  Not that Neil could talk, he had only ever owned the black suit that his father bought for him for the funeral three years prior. Wearing it to every memorial service since probably did not help the mounting anxiety and grief.  It was as though a bubble was forming in the pit of his stomach that threatened to consume him the moment he let his guard down.  There was the choking sensation followed by the slight urge to vomit.

“There you go.  Dad will be proud,” Travis announced, completing the adjustment to Neil's tie.  

“Cool. Can you tell him I did it?” Neil joked, his stand-by for keeping the nerves in check.  

“If you think he'll believe it,” Travis replied with a weak chuckle.  

A moment followed, where the three youngest Brown children sat in uncomfortable silence. They knew what happened next and each was dealing with it in their own way.  Dawn was aloof as she always was, but she wasn't drowning her senses in her electronics. There was a stillness to her mind that was a precursor to the waves of emotion that would inevitably hit her around the halfway point of the service.  She had notably forgone mascara today, the easier to pretend she wasn't crying.  

Travis felt compelled to “big brother” more, and Neil's clumsiness with his tie was a perfect opportunity to let him express that.  He wanted to reclaim some of the control he felt he had lost in his life after their mother's death.  This was especially potent considering his past addictions. Travis had been balancing on a tightrope across a chasm of chaos for so long, and this day was the hardest one of the year for him.  

Neil was unsure how Kim was coping.  She was the oldest, he was the youngest and their age gap meant she had been out of the house for most of his life.  He had gained a portrait of his older sister in the family meetings and stories from Travis and their father.  Still, it was fascinating how incomplete these recountings were.  Humans were complicated but at least when you lived with somebody for a time you got to understand how they behaved. Without this context, everything else in their life was as shrouded in mystery as if they were a stranger, and carefully curated stories never did them justice. Sometimes it baffled him how little he really knew about somebody so close to him.  

As for Neil, jokes, pointed asides, flippancy: these were his allies.  It was not that he was going to try and avoid feeling sad.  The pain would come and he would fully experience it, making no attempt to hide his tears when the time came.  He just didn't want to cross the bridge yet. Things had to go according to a schedule.  If he could contain the emotion, then he was in control of his emotions.  Perhaps he and Travis were not so different.  

“So,” Travis said, breaking the silence.  “Breakfast?”

---

Saint Mary's was Colleen Brown's church as a child.  It was just a few blocks from the river and had a rich history to it, about which Colleen could recite paragraphs at a moment's notice.  It was founded in 1850 and much of the original foundation was still intact.  While clearly weathered, the chapel was remarkably beautiful.  

The centerpiece was, as always, Christ the Redeemer upon the cross just above the dais.  He was flanked by John the Baptist and St. Peter.  Further out on the walls adjacent to the stage were the Virgin Mother on the left and Joseph carrying a depiction of the baby Jesus on the right.  As far as Catholic churches went, it was a fairly humble affair.  There was just something inherently wholesome about the building which Neil found comforting.  

The only people in attendance at this quiet ceremony were the Brown family, Rocky, and a couple of Colleen's friends about whom Neil knew very little.  All in all, there were roughly ten people including the priest.  

Father Dwight McMahon was a person who Neil had come to know, at least somewhat. He was a family friend long before he took to the cloth.  Their mother had described him as an “inspiring young man”, though how they had initially met was unclear.  However both Kevin and Colleen had taken a liking to the young man as though he were a foster son, and he had often attended any family occasion of note, at least for the past six years. It seemed only right that he, having joined the clergy around the time Colleen passed away, preside over the ceremony.  

“Let us pray,” the Father began, as was his custom.  

The attending lowered their heads respectfully and clasped their hands together.  

“Most Holy and Gracious God.  We meet before your sight this day in remembrance of your daughter Colleen Angelica Brown, who departed three years ago.  We seek your guidance and comfort as we honor her memory and uphold the traditions of her family.  We thank you for your blessings and tender mercy, for surely you are the light and the way.  In humble gratitude, we pray.  May our lives please you, oh Lord.  Into your embrace, we offer ourselves. For what lies on the journey ahead, God only knows.  Amen.”  

Dawn swallowed hard. Travis's head was lowered.  Their father could barely keep his eyes open.  Kim was already openly weeping, and leaning on Rocky for support.  As for Neil, he just felt empty.  There was a pit where his heart should be.  It was the same as every year.  A horrible reminder of what he had lost.  Neil forced himself to look up at the Reverend, to try and connect with the man who had begun reading off the life story of his mother.

He let out an audible gasp, perhaps mistaken as a sob for how Travis put a consoling arm around him.  But it was not grief that overcame Neil, but terror.

McMahon had been wearing the standard black cassock, but now stood draped in off-color robes with a wide-brimmed hood.  In that instant, the nightmares he had forgotten about came screaming back into his mind.  The deep pit, the darkness, the pool of suffering, and the frozen temple in which gathered a black mass of robed skeletal figures.  

“We all want to go home,” McMahon said, his voice now hollow and raspy. “We can never go home.”  

“We just want to go home,” came a pale imitation of Dawn's voice from behind him.  

“End our suffering,” Travis uttered, his bony hand now clasping itself around the back of Neil's neck.  

Neil wanted to scream.  He wanted to react in some manner, but it was as though every joint in his body had locked up.  

“This is a nightmare,” Neil said to himself.  “I've fallen asleep and this is sleep paralysis. That's all it is.”  

Hail began to pelt against the windows of the chapel. A ferocious wind burst open the doors, wood crashing into brick with a loud crack.  

“You cannot go home,” came a stern and familiar voice.  “Because your home no longer exists.”  

At once, Neil stood up, suddenly free of the grasp of terror that had consumed him. He turned to the figure who now stood in the doorway; purple translucent lines containing a field of glowing stars.

“Rem,” he choked.  “Is that you?”  

“It is us,” Rem replied simply.  “The thread of this one is broken, difficult to follow.  But we have finally found you.  You must come with us. The Dreamer awaits.”

“Go where?” Neil asked, still processing the new reality. “I'm in the middle of my mother's memorial.”

“Are you?  You are here. Your body's location is ultimately irrelevant for our purposes,” Rem explained.  

“Am I... asleep?” Neil asked, desperate for more information.  

“Approximately,” Rem replied, his voice growing sterner.  “There are complications to that term, but it is perhaps the closest understanding you will grasp. At first.”  

“Go home,” the phantom priest bellowed.

“Want home!” screamed the nightmare Dawn.  

“Your thread is broken,” Rem explained again.  “But you still exist. Were you any different, you would be as they.  Lost in time and space, a shadow of your former self.”  

The shades moved closer to Rem, their movements foul mimicry. It was as though they were marionettes with a few cut strings.  

“Home!”

“Home!”

“We want to go home!”

Rem raised his hand.  “Your homes are no more.  You return to the Dreamer now.”

With a wave, the chapel and all of its inhabitants vanished.  The fabric of reality melted away, revealing a field of stars in which the two now floated. The great planet on which Neil had spent several eventful hours in the prior dreams was directly beneath them, as was the iridescent star.  

“You have seen this world as it once was.  I will show you what has become of those who once dwelt upon it.  Soon, you will understand, Neil Brown,” Rem announced.  

Without warning, Rem placed his hand on Neil's forehead, covering his eyes in bright pulsing light from the stars within.  His retinas burned, his head throbbed, and soon he felt nothing as the light overtook him.  

---

Neil shook himself awake and leaned forward, gasping in shock as the sleep paralysis wore off.  The dream had been especially vivid, and utterly horrible. But at last, it was over and Neil was in the safety of...

“Where the hell am I?” He exclaimed.

The young man was surrounded by stars, safely observed through translucent panes held in place by a silvery steel framework.  He had been lying on one of several identical beds, though he appeared to be the only occupant, each raised high off the ground the better to appreciate the cosmic light show.  The air was crisp and manufactured, the low hum of some alien technology thrummed somewhere beneath him.  

This was not a dream.  

“You are awake, Binder,” came Rem's rigid voice from just behind.  

Neil turned to greet the figure once more, though he noticed that his would-be savior was now wearing a silvery robe which seemed far more opaque than the rest of him. His footsteps were a musical chime on the metallic floor.

“What is this place?”  Neil asked, repeating his concern now that a supposedly sympathetic ear was present.

“We refer to it as The Cradle,” Rem explained. “Throne of the Dreamer and safe haven for the Somni.”

Neil tilted his head slightly.  “I mean... could you start from the beginning?”  

“Nox will give you a more thorough explanation.  I am to take this one to her,” Rem replied.  “Please accompany me.”  

Rem gestured towards the center of the room, where a railed circular platform hovered a foot or two off the ground.  Just above it was a tunnel through the ceiling which went up quite a ways.  The lift could hold perhaps three of these Somni at once, but Neil barely took up a tenth of the space.  

With a slight jolt, the lift began to rise.  Neil almost lost his footing at the sudden momentum but was able to steady himself.  After the initial shock, the rise was smooth and swift, rocketing the two of them up several hundred feet. The lift tunnel was illuminated by pure white rings of the light in even intervals.  The effect was almost hypnotic, not that Neil felt any desire to sleep.  

The lift finally reached its destination, placing the two of them on the rear wall of – there was no other term for it – a space station. The room was massive, at least ten times the circumference of the galactic dormitory they had just departed.  The silvery steel framework branched out around the room creating a dome-like structure, offering a mostly unobstructed view of the cosmos.  At ground level, a variety of holographic panels were erected, forming a semi-circle opposite the lift.  Indecipherable glyphs relayed incomprehensible data at lightning speed, observed by a host of these Somni.  

In the dead center of the room was one particularly large well-like structure, above which hovered a glowing cerulean orb, bound up in crisscrossing threads of white light.  At varying intersections of the impossibly dense thread were tiny golden spheres. A horrible sense of deja vu overtook Neil as he beheld the gentle turning of this web.

“You behold the Threads of Fate,” said Nox, moving out from behind one of the holographic terminals on Neils' left.  

She was adorned in a cerulean robe with golden pauldrons.  There was a royal aura about her, and given the uniform attire of all the other Somni in attendance, it was clear that she was the one in charge.  

“I,” Neil began, but words failed him.  So much was happening so quickly. He had no idea where he was, what he was doing there, and what his family must be going through with him suddenly gone.  

“This must be quite troubling for you,” Nox offered, grasping his shoulder in a comforting yet strangely hollow grip.  It was as though he was being touched by a ghost.  

“This is just so confusing,” Neil explained.  

“Perhaps we should start from the beginning then,” Nox said.

She gestured to Rem who busied himself at the central well.  With a few flourishes from him, the scene changed, and the cerulean gem in the center took on the appearance of a planet.  

“Millions of years ago,” Nox began. “We Somni lived as you do.  Mortals upon the blessed planet of Somnus. Ours was a paradise, and from our bountiful came a wealth of technology and hoarded knowledge.  In time, we began to become aware of not only the existence of other planets throughout the universe which sustained life but entire planes of reality apart from our own.”

The planet's image changed slowly, with a number of the continents now covered in sheets of ice, while others succumbed to wildfires and volcanic eruptions.  

“However this knowledge came at a terrible price.  We suffered calamity after calamity, which we later discovered to be deliberate attempts to destroy us.  The Somni had grown too powerful, and we were becoming a threat.”

“A threat to who?” Neil asked.  

The image shifted once more, a black cloud now consuming the entire planet.  

“We came to call it Kosmaro: the Nightmare.  It is an entity as old as time itself, in constant combat with the Dreamer.  One creates, the other destroys. As the final catastrophe rent our world asunder, the Dreamer reached out to a select few of us and granted us with these forms.”

Nox gestured to the room at large. Neil only noticed then that several of the Somni had gathered round to witness this retelling, starry gazes twinkling gently in the dim light.  

“So,” Neil interjected delicately.  “Why am I here?”

Nox let out an approving noise; a musical hum exhaled from her like a sigh.  “For you are a Binder.”

“I've heard that term a lot lately,” Neil replied. “But I have no idea what it is.”  

Nox turned her attention back to the well.  “It comes down to the Threads of Fate. The history of our universe is one full of opportunity and choice. Yet several events are preordained and must occur according to the whim of the Dreamer.  Their dream, their plan.  Yet the incidental day-to-day interactions upon which new realities may come to exist are immaterial to them.  No matter how many threads are created, all will eventually converge upon a Crossroad.”

Nox pointed to the bright golden stars floating around the threads.  Neil could now notice in greater clarity that thousands of these strands all seemed to converge around every one of these points.  

“This is a multiverse then,” Neil offered.  

“This one is familiar with the theory,” Rem said almost approvingly, before returning to his usual stoicism. “Though their kind has barely begun to scratch the surface of the implications.”  

“With a Binder in their midst, perhaps they will learn more,” Nox chastised. She then elaborated.  “You see, Neil.  Kosmaro has been attacking these Crossroads.  And when a Crossroad is destroyed...”

With a wave of her sleeved arm, a single golden star flickered out of existence.  The white strands that connected to it floated about aimlessly for a moment, connecting to nothing and seemingly adrift in the void. Another wave and a second Crossroad vanished.  Now those few threads which had been connected at both points faded from existence.  

Neil swallowed hard, as he remembered the desperate cries of those phantoms.

We want to go home.  

And what had Rem said?

You can't.  

“My family,” Neil sputtered.  “Are they dead?”

Rem, frank as ever, immediately responded.  “A few thousand variations of this one's family have been lost to the phenomena, but they number among several quintillion lives.  It is of little consequence one way or the other as far as you are concerned.”  

“Rem,” Nox warned, her tone approaching annoyed while still retaining its ethereal quality. “The thread from which you originate has not been lost. However, it and many other adjacent threads remain in jeopardy. It is fortunate that we discovered you when we did.”

The image above the well zoomed in on a small section of the web, Two Crossroads were now enlarged, with the threads between them more easily distinguishable.  What Neil had once taken for a few hundred were in fact several thousand.

“Binders are Somni who are able to traverse the Threads of Fate to repair the damage done.  Kosmaro is as old as time itself, and thus the strain on our universe is an inevitable part of it.  Some day in the future, Kosmaro shall, eventually, win the battle.  But Binders do their part to delay that unhappy hour as long as possible,” Nox explained.  

One of the golden lights dimmed into a dull grey, and the threads were once again floating about in tatters, loosely connected to the other.  It looked like a badly frayed knot.  

“And to do that, Binders must enter these Crossroads and set the actions right.  Things must play out according to the will of the Dreamer. If they are successful,” Nox touched the dimmed Crossroad once more and its light returned, setting the strands right again.  “Balance is restored.”  

Neil was doing all he could to keep his head straight.  In summary, there was a multiverse full of temporal weak points, and these strange alien beings were saying he was one of a select few capable of repairing it.  

“How?” Neil spluttered out finally.  “How am I supposed to fix those? I've never seen anything like this before.”

“It is better to show you rather than tell you,” Nox said.  “But for now, you should return to the world from whence you came.  Rem shall be in contact with you, and will come for you when the time is right.”

“Rem?” Neil asked nervously.  The stern specter had not done much in their brief interactions to inspire a sense of camaraderie in him.  “Can't it be you?”

“Nox is the Voice of the Dreamer.  She has matters well beyond the scope of managing this one,” Rem sighed.  “I shall serve as overseer and – if the need arises – protector.”  

“Take heart, Neil,” Nox said soothingly.  “It is a long road you have ahead of you, but we shall be your allies every step of the way.”  

With a popping sound, all the lights on the station dimmed.  The room slipped away to darkness, and Neil Brown felt himself falling once more into nothingness.

[cristinablackthornkingson]

Shadowhunters Short Story #58. Baby Lightwood-Bane #4.

It is a chilly February day in 2016 when Magnus and Alec Lightwood-Bane receive the news that will change their lives forever.

It has been two years since Magnus and Alec adopted their youngest child and first daughter, Anna Catarina. Anna is almost two now and has remained a very happy, content little girl. She idolizes her brothers and is best friends with little Mina, as well as Clary and Jace’s daughter Lucie and Simon and Isabelle’s son and daughter George and Jessie. 

Right now Alec is sitting in a room that he and Magnus made into a type of schoolroom for the boys (and Anna when she’s older) working on some history with Rafe, though Alec takes Rafe to The Institute to train, he works on the academic side of his (and Max’s) education here at home, often with help from Magnus. Max is in the living room finishing up a lesson with Magnus and Anna is in Magnus and Alec’s room, taking her nap. 

“Okay Rafe, can you tell me the story about the first Shadowhunter? What was his name, how did he create Shadowhunters, stuff like that?” Alec asks, pulling the textbook away from Rafe so he can test him on what they just learned. 

“Uh well he was a mundane in the 11th century and he was a crusader, and he was really worried about all the demons coming in through the void, so one day on his way to Constantinople he met a warlock- like papa- and asked him to summon Raziel at Lake Lyn. He did and when Raziel was summoned, Jonathan begged him to mix his blood with his to create a new superhero race of people who could defeat the demons. Raziel saw that Jonathan had good intentions so he agreed and then gave him to The Mortal Instruments- like Uncle Simon’s band’s name!- then Jonathan used the cup to turn his sister Abigail and his best friend David into Shadowhunters. David and Jonathan were inspired by the story of Jonathan and David in the Bible, so they took that story and created a ceremony where they took eachother’s blood and spoke the oath and put the runes on each other and became the first ever parabatia, but their bond was broken later when David became the first Silent Brother- like Uncle Jem use to be a Silent Brother- and that’s really all we know.” Alec smiles proudly at his son, he was sure to pass all his exams in a few years with flying colors, he could do wonderfully at The Academy if he chooses to go there when he’s older.

“Good job buddy, but remember when you’re writing about this in your tests don’t mention anything unrelated like how Uncle Simon’s band is also called The Mortal Instruments and that Uncle Jem use to be a Silent Brother, okay?” Alec gently says. He doesn’t mind Rafe’s brief diversions from the story, but an examiner certainly will. 

“Okay, I just got excited, sorry.” Rafe quietly says, feeling embarrassed that he got distracted like a little kid .He’s almost 10 now, he’s a big boy, not a little kid anymore, like Max who’s still only 8 or Anna who really is only a baby. 

“It’s okay buddy don’t be sorry, you know I don’t mind you adding in little things like that, but an examiner who doesn’t know us and our family won’t understand it’s relevance and importance and could mark you down, okay?” Alec gently says. Rafe nods his understanding. “Alright, I think that’s enough for today, how about you?” 

“Uh-uh.” Rafe agrees. 

“Come on, lets go see if your papa and Max are finished, then I’ll wake Anna up and we can go to the park if you like.” Alec says, closing the textbook in front of him. 

“Uh-uh! Can we have pizza for dinner, please?” Rafe begs, turning his big brown eyes to his dad, knowing Alec can never resist his eldest child’s puppy dog eyes. 

“Well I’ll talk to papa but I certainly think you’ve earned it today, and I’m sure Max has too.” Alec says, ruffling Rafe’s hair as they walk out of the schoolroom. 

“I’ll go ask papa!” Rafe exclaims, darting out to the living room before Alec can say another word.

When Alec steps into the living room he sees that Magnus and Max have finished their lesson, and both boys are asking for pizza for dinner, so Alec quietly slips into his and Magnus’ room and make his way over to the crib by the bed, where Anna is sitting up, rubbing her eyes. He gently scoops her up and snuggles her close, breathing in her scent and pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“Hi baby.” Alec whispers, as Anna clutches his shirt and buries her face in his chest. “Oh sweetheart are you still tired? Did you have a nice nap?” He softly says, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Come on, lets go see your brothers and papa, that will wake you up.” He grabs her pacifier from the crib and makes his way back into the living room, which has now been cleared up. The minute Anna sees Magnus she perks up and reaches for him. Magnus smiles broadly at his daughter and takes her into his arms, smoothing her hair down and kissing her forehead. 

“There’s my girl, I missed you.” He softly says. 

“Papa’s girl aren’t you Anna?” Alec says in an amused tone, lightly tickling his daughter’s cheek, causing her to squeal with laughter and squirm away from him. 

“You just love being with papa because you know I’ll dress you in something amazing while your daddy would stick you in the first thing he found, isn’t that right my sweet Anna banana?” Magnus lightly says, holding her above his head which makes her scream and giggle with delight. Magnus loves having a little girl to buy adorable dresses and outfits for, there is such a small selection for fashionable boy clothes, especially when those boys are 10 and 8, but for a 2 year old little girl, the sky’s the limit. 

“I just don’t understand the point of putting her in a designer outfit when she’s only going to end up getting half of her meals all over it and ruin it.” Alec says, as Magnus settles Anna back onto his hip. “Our daughter is the messiest little thing alive, you know that.” 

“Yes but at least she’ll be fashionably messy when I dress her.”  Magnus points out. 

“She’s going to end up like Jace if we’re not careful.” Alec teases. Magnus gives a fake gasp of horror and covers one of Anna’s ears. 

“Don’t you dare say such a thing!  You’re going to confident like papa, right Anna? Not an arrogant fool like Uncle Jace.” Magnus coos. Anna smiles up at him in delight and clumsily claps her hands. 

Half an hour later, the little family are walking toward the local park, Alec pushing Anna in her stroller, Magnus at his side and Max and Rafe running up ahead. As they walk, Magnus’ phone begins to buzz in his pocket. 

“Hello?” He answers a few seconds later.

“Hey, it’s me.” Catarina’s voice comes down the line and a smile breaks out on Magnus’ voice. 

“Oh Cat! Good to hear from you! Listen, Ragnor, Tessa and I are going out next week, do you want to come?” He asks, as Alec walks ahead a little bit so as not to listen in on Magnus’ private conversation. 

“Id love to however I actually called about something in specific.” Catarina tells him. 

“Oh what’s that?” He asks. 

“Well a few weeks ago the hospital asked me if I could work on the maternity ward for a while, cover maternity leave ironically. A couple of weeks ago a young girl was admitted with bleeding, thankfully she and the baby are fine, but I grew close with her and got to talk with her a lot. She’s only 16 and not ready to be a mother yet at all, she’s planning to place her baby for adoption, I showed her yours and Alec’s profile and she took to you straight away, she’s not in hospital anymore but we keep in touch and she’s always asking me things about you and Alec, she really wants to meet you, if you’re interested.” Magnus stops dead in his tracks when Catarina finishes her story. Not long ago he and Alec agreed that they would like to extend their family for the last time. At one point in time Tessa had been an adoption consultant and helped bring together many children and parents, so she helped them create a profile book, which she then took a few copies of to give to any clients she and Jem got who were looking to place their child for adoption, and Catarina took another bunch to do the same. 

“R-really? We only made up the booklet a few months ago.”  Magnus says in a breathy tone, beginning to walk again and running a hand through his hair. 

“I know but it can happen very quickly, I know with Max, Rafe and Anna you all found each other by fate, but with a profile book to show expectant mothers and adoption consultants it can happen much more quickly.” Catarina explains. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No! We do! I mean, I’ll have to speak with Alec about it but I’m certain he will want this as much as I do, what’s the mother’s name? Is she mundane, Nephilim,what?” Magnus asks.

“Her name is Molly Bridgestock, she’s a Shadowhunter, from a very high up, proud, old Shadowhunter family. Her parents threatened to kick her out if she didn’t give up the baby, when I heard this I offered for her to stay with me or offered to contact Tessa, see if she and Jem could help, but Molly says she’s doing this adoption on her own terms, she loves her baby but she knows she can’t give them the life they deserve, though I do worry how her parents will react when they find out you’re a Warlock and you and Alec are a gay couple, Molly is completely fine with it, she was awe-struck when she saw Alec’s picture, truth be told I think she has a little crush on your Consul Ligthwood.” Magnus laughs lightly, not surprised that this young girl has a crush on his gorgeous husband, he can’t understand how everyone in the world isn’t in love with Alec. 

“That doesn’t sound like a good home for any child, is Molly safe?” Magnus asks in a concerned tone, more than willing to take in both this young girl and her child, if need be. 

“She says she is but I just don’t know, her parents are very ‘traditional’ if you know what I mean.” Catarina tells him. 

“Yes unfortunately I do. I’ll talk to Alec and get back to you, in the meantime can you give Molly my number and address and let her know our door is always open for her? We would take Molly in and help her raise her baby herself if she wants.” Magnus softly says, wanting to do all he can for a child in need. 

“Of course, talk to you soon.” Catarina says, before hanging up. 

Over the next half hour or so, while Max, Rafe and Anna tire themselves out in the park, Magnus explains the whole situation to Alec. Alec agrees to meet Molly and adopt her baby if that’s what she wants, or to take her in and help her raise the baby, either, whatever she wants. 

Magnus calls Catarina back and arranges a meeting with Molly for a few days from now, at their home. 

Three days later, it is a bright, breezy day, oddly warm for the middle of February. Alec has just gotten back from dropping the kids off with Maryse, while Magnus stayed behind to make sure everything was perfect for Molly’s visit. She is due to arrive any minute now, and he and Alec are doing everything they can to stay calm.

At 2:00 p.m. on the dot, there is a light knock on the door and Magnus and Alec exchange nervous glances, before Magnus goes to answer the door. When he opens the door, he is struck by how young the girl standing in front of him looks. According to Catarina she is sixteen, but she barely looks it, with brown skin, long black hair falling around her shoulders and bright green eyes, she looks like she should be preparing for her first Clave Exam, not preparing to have a baby.He can’t help but think that this could be his daughter or one of his nieces in the near future, and his heart goes out to this young girl, who is doing this alone with no support from her family. He doesn’t understand parents who turn their back on their children, no matter what his kids do he will always, always love them and support them.

“You must be Molly.” Magnus says, smiling warmly at the young girl standing in front of him. 

“As far as I’m aware.” She replies with a grin. ‘Sarcastic, Rafe is going to love her.’ Magnus thinks to himself. 

“Come in and make yourself at home, we’re so glad you wanted to meet us.” Magnus says, guiding her into the living room where Alec is waiting. 

“I’m glad you agreed to meet me, I’ve considered a few other people as parents to this baby, but when Catarina showed me your profile book it just felt right, I mean the idea of my baby being raised by The Consul and The High Warlock of Brooklyn is pretty amazing.” Molly says, her hand resting on her protruding stomach. 

“I’m glad you think so, though our kids often seem to think we are the worst dad and papa in the world because we won’t let them have chocolate for breakfast, I don’t know why we let their aunts and uncles look after them anymore honestly, their grandmother feeds them properly but Alec’s brother and sister seem to only feed them junk.” Magnus says in an amused tone.Though really he can’t complain, the last time he and Alec looked after Mina, Tessa had nearly throttled him when he sent Mina back hyper as hell.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband being a hypocrite Molly, a few weeks ago we were looking after one of our nieces and Magnus gave her basically all the chocolate in the house, her mother almost killed him when she found out.” Alec says in an amused tone, as Molly and Magnus walk into the living room. Molly laughs lightly and says 

“Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same, are your other children here?” Magnus indicates for her to take a seat. 

“No, they’re with my mom, we thought it would be best if this first meeting is just the three of us, but if things work out you can meet them another time.” Alec says. 

“Alright.” Molly says with a smile and a nod. “I don’t have that many questions for you, just one.” She adds. 

“What is it?” Alec asks, grasping Magnus’ hand in his. 

“Would you be okay with the adoption being open? Or at least semi-open? I want to be a part of the baby’s life, I want to be able to visit him and watch him grow up, and be there for him to ask questions when he’s older, and I don’t want the fact that he’s adopted to be a secret from him, I’m not saying I want to be his mother or anything, but I’d like to be like an Aunt to him.” Molly quietly says. She knew from the minute she found out about the baby that she couldn’t fully part with him forever, she knew placing him for adoption was the best for him, but she couldn’t hand him over and never see him again, though that’s exactly what her parents want. They wanted to send her away for the duration of the pregnancy and arrange to have the baby adopted out themselves, a closed adoption. They claimed it was for Molly’s sake and to save her reputation but she knows better, she knows it’s for their sake and that they’re ashamed of her and her baby,

“Yes we are absolutely fine with that, we never personally set out to have closed adoptions with Max, Rafe and Anna, it just worked out that way really, we know nothing about Max’s parents, he was abandoned, Rafe’s parents were killed in the Dark War with Sebastian, and Anna was abandoned too, but we’ve always been open to any form of adoption.” Magnus explains. “My friend Tessa Carstairs use to be an adoption consultant, she can help with the legal side of things.” He adds. Molly smiles and visibly relaxes. 

“Okay great, you can ask me any questions you have now.” She says, glad to have at least one worry off her mind. 

“You said ‘him’ when talking about the baby, do you know you’re having a boy?” Alec asks in a hopeful tone. He’d like to know if he and Magnus are going to have another son or daughter, he’ll be thrilled either way but he would like to know before the baby is born. 

“No I don’t know for sure, I just have a feeling he’s a boy, but if you two want to find out I’m happy to ask Brother Enoch at my next check up.” Molly replies.

“How far long are you?” Magnus asks, trying to calculate by the size of her stomach, even though he knows that’s not very accurate. When Tessa had been 6 months pregnant with Mina, Magnus had thought she was full term and asked if she was far from her due date, Tessa had almost killed him. It’s surprising Magnus is still alive, the amount of times he’s done something to warrant leaving Tessa ready to kill him.

“5 months, I’m due at the beginning of July.” Molly tells them, rubbing her bump. 

“I’m sorry if this is a sensitive issue and you don’t have to answer if you don’t  want to, but is the father in the picture?” Alec gently asks. Molly blushes and shakes her head. 

“No, I-I don’t actually know who the father is, it was a one-night stand, I don’t remember his name, what he looked like or anything, so you don’t have to worry about him.” Molly quietly says in a tone of embarrassment. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed Molly, these things happen, it doesn’t make you a bad person or anything.” Magnus gently says. 

“I’m sorry I brought it up, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Alec softly says. 

“No it’s okay, you have a right to know.” Molly says, taking a breath to ward off the tears. 

The three of them continue to talk for another hour or so, getting to know each other and their situations. 

“Well.” Molly says an hour later, once they’ve spoken about anything and everything. “I made up my mind before I even met you, I’m choosing you as my baby’s parents.” 

“Thank you, we promise we will give your baby the most amazing life, and you can be as involved as much as you like.” Alec says in a strained tone of joy. 

“I know things aren’t great at home, you could stay with us if you like, you can stay for as long as you want, we have the room and we could take care of you and the baby.” Magnus offers, unable to not offer help to a child in need. 

“That’s very kind of you but I actually recently moved out of my parents house, I’m staying with a friend and their parents are extremely kind and good to me.” Molly says. Magnus relaxes at this, knowing he won’t have to worry about his child and the mother of his child as much. 

“Well I’m glad, but please know that our door is always open, before and after the baby is born.” Magnus gently says. Molly smiles broadly and says

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” That night, for the first time in months, Molly is able to sleep peacefully, knowing her child is going to have the most wonderful life, being raised by two of the kindest, most caring people she has ever met.

Over the next few months, Magnus and Alec tell their friends and family about the baby and start to prepare for their child’s arrival. Shortly after meeting Molly, she invited them to attend her 6 month check up with Brother Enoch, where it was confirmed she was carrying a boy. Max and Rafe are thrilled at the idea of having a little brother, though Anna isn’t too sure about it yet.  

Alec insists on decorating the nursery by hand, not allowing Magnus to use his magic to fix it up. This is the first time they’ll have a new-born, Max was almost 1 when he was adopted, Rafe was 5 and Anna was a few months old. This baby will be days old when they bring him home, and they’ll get to be there for his birth, get to hold him and love him straight away. 

While Tessa was helping Magnus, Alec and Molly with the legal side of the adoption, she offered to deliver the baby, having spent years as a midwife (Alec wondered if there was anything Tessa hadn’t done.) and delivered hundreds of babies, including her own grandchildren. Molly happily accepted and ended up having the majority of the rest of her prenatal check ups from Tessa.

They decide to name Ragnor and Tessa as the baby’s godparents. Ragnor was surprisingly good with children, Mina absolutely adores him and is always asking about her Uncle Ragnor and it never fails to make Tessa, Catarina and Magnus laugh, to see their foreboding, grumpy green friend, wrapped around the finger of a little four year old.

Right now, its the last week in  June, and Molly is due in just two weeks and Magnus and Alec are gathering together just a few last things for their son. They picked out a name a few weeks ago but decided to keep it a secret until the baby is born. 

Currently, Alec is sitting at the kitchen table with Anna in his lap, scribbling on a piece of paper, while he talks with Clary, who is sitting across from him at the table, with her and Jace’s newborn son Stephen, asleep in a sling across her chest. 

“So how’s Lucie adjusting to having Stephen around?” Alec asks, knowing that his little niece was not too happy about having a brother, when Clary was pregnant. 

“Really well actually, she adores him. I was painting the other day and had Stephen on a blanket on the floor beside me, I looked over at him at one stage and found Lucie curled up beside him, telling him stories, it was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” Clary says in a fond tone, looking into the living room, where Jace is standing with Lucie on his back, her arms linked around his neck. Lucie is such a daddy’s girl, she has Jace wrapped tightly around her little finger and has done since the day she was born. Jace is a big softie when it comes to his kids, he’s happy to sit and have tea parties all day with Lucie, and he loves to sit at the piano with Stephen and play for him. Often on sleepless nights, Jace will take Stephen downstairs to the music room and play for him until he falls asleep. 

“Hopefully Anna warms up to her brother just as well, Max and Rafe can’t wait to meet him, but Anna isn’t too sure about him.” Alec says, running his hand over his daughter’s blonde curls. 

“I’m sure she will, Maryse was telling me the other day how jealous you were of Izzy when she was born.” Clary says in an amused tone. 

“Oh no, did she get out the baby pictures again?” Alec asks. Maryse loves to tell embarrassing stories about Izzy, Alec and Jace to Clary, Magnus and Simon, and the kids love hearing stories about their parents as little kids. 

“Of course, I never realized how much Jessie looks like Izzy, if you put a baby picture of the two of them side by side you could hardly tell the difference, and Stephen is his dad’s twin.” Clary says. 

“And Lucie is your twin, Jocelyn showed me your baby pictures the other day, when she and Luke were looking after the kids for us for a while.” Alec says with a smile. Little Lucie has ginger red curls like her mother, as well as her pale skin, freckles, green eyes and her bone structure, all she got from Jace it seems, are his eye shape, mouth shape and nose shape.

“Ugh of course she did, Stephen I promise I’m never going to be as embarrassing as your nana okay?” Clary coos, dropping a kiss to her son’s curly blonde head. 

Just then Alec feels a hand on his shoulder, and twists in his seat to see Magnus standing behind him.

“Hey, you okay? You look worried.” Alec gently asks, taking Magnus’ hand from his shoulder and pressing a kiss to it. 

“I just got a call from Tessa, she and Jem are with Molly, she asked them to come around because she was bleeding a bit and having pains but she wasn’t sure if it was labor or not and didn’t want to worry us if it was nothing, but Tessa’s checked her over and it is labor. They’re at the Basilias.” Alec’s eyes widen and his heart begins to race, their son is going to be born in the next couple of hours, they’re going to be parents again. 

“You guys go, I’ll call mom to come pick up the kids and Clary and I will stay with them until she gets here.” Jace says, coming up to stand beside Magnus. 

“Really? Are you sure?” Alec ask, trying to keep the panic out of his tone. 

“Positive, now go, you don’t want to miss your son’s birth.” Jace says, taking Anna from Alec and lightly shoving his parabatia toward the door.

Magnus and Alec quickly gather a few clothes and such for the baby and quickly portal to The Basilias,which is now located in New York.

When they arrive, Jem is waiting for them to show them to Molly’s room.

“Is Molly alright, is the baby alright?” Alec asks in a frantic tone filled with worry. Jem smiles understandingly, having been just as anxious and worried when Tessa was in labor with Mina. 

“They’re both fine Alec, Tessa gave Molly a painkilling spell so she’s much more comfortable, there are no problems with the baby either, come on I’ll take you into Molly.” Jem calmly says, gesturing  for Magnus and Alec to follow him.

Jem leads them into a sterile white room with an en suite bathroom, a bed,a few chairs, a tray by the bed and a nightstand. Molly is half lying half sitting in the bed, propped up by a mountain of fluffy white pillows, dressed in a white and blue hospital gown. Tessa is standing beside her, talking quietly to her.

Magnus and Alec stay with Molly throughout the rest of her labor, while Tessa and Jem come in from time to time to check up on her and the baby. 

When it comes time to push, Tessa sits at the bottom of the bed, ready to deliver the baby, Jem stands off to the side so that he can be on hand if anything goes wrong but he’s not so close that he’s crowding Molly, and Magnus and Alec stand on either side of her. Molly grips both Magnus and Alec’s hands in hers, drawing strength and comfort from them being there. She is just so glad she isn’t doing this alone.

Her labor is long and painful and as the time goes on, the painkilling spell begins to wear off and Molly begins to feel almost everything, while growing more and more tired, feeling like it will never be over. 

“Oh God I can’t do this anymore.” Molly weakly says, as the contraction eases and she leans back into the pillows, grimacing in pain. 

“Of course you can, I know how difficult this is for you and how painful it is, but you are so close, I can see the baby’s head, you’re almost there now.” Tessa gently reassures her. 

“You’re doing so well Molly, like Tessa said it will be over soon, then your life can go back to normal, you won’t have to deal with all this pain and morning sickness and all that anymore.” Alec gently says, squeezing her hand encouragingly, trying his best to be helpful. He’d never been present for any birth before, he had no idea how to comfort a laboring mother. He knew he should’ve asked Jace for advice, even though he was more of a wreck during Lucie and Stephen’s births than Clary was. Maybe he should’ve gone to Jem, or Simon.

“I just want it to be over.” Molly weakly says in a teary tone, her breath hitching in her throat as another contraction hits.

“I know darling I know, and it will be soon, and it will be all worth it, I promise you it will, I know this isn’t a typical situation but you will get to be in your baby’s life, you’ll get to hold him and love him as much as you want, while carrying on with your own life, knowing that he’s in good hands.” Magnus calmly says, rubbing soothing circles on Molly’s back. He can’t imagine how bittersweet this moment must be for her, not long from now she’ll get to meet and hold her baby, but she’ll also be placing him with someone else, unless she changes her mind at the last second, which is something Magnus has been worried about for the last 4 months. 

At 4:21 p.m. on the 16th of June 2016, Molly gives birth to a beautiful healthy baby boy, who looks just like her, with tanned skin, a mop of black hair and vibrant green eyes. 

“By The Angel, he’s perfect.” Alec says in a breathy tone, gently stroking his son’s bloody cheek, once Tessa has laid the baby on a blanket on Molly’s chest. 

“Molly you did so well, you are absolutely amazing biscuit.” Magnus softly says, gently squeezing her hand and brushing her hair back from her face. Normally Magnus reserves that nickname for Clary, but he has a feeling he and Molly will grow to be as close as he and Clary, and the nickname suits her.

“Thanks.” Molly says in a breathy tone, still trying to catch her breath, feeling as though she’s just run a marathon. 

"Hello little one, your siblings are going to adore you, and your grandma is going to spoil you rotten.” Magnus quietly says, turning to look at his son. 

“Anna is going to be so mad she’s still the only girl.” Alec says in an amused tone, knowing how much Anna wanted a sister, she thought it was only fair that the baby be a girl, since she already had two brothers.

“Do you want to hold him?” Molly asks, once Tessa has helped her wrap the baby up to keep him warm. 

“You hold him first Alexander.” Magnus says. Alec carefully and expertly gathers the baby into his arms, and is instantly brought back to the first time he held Max, then Rafe and then Anna. Holding his son he feels a sense of peace settle over him, and somehow he knows that his family is complete. 

“Hi baby, I love you.” Alec quietly says, taking the baby’s tiny hand in his and pressing a kiss to it. 

“What are you going to call him?” Molly asks, as Magnus joins Alec and slips an arm around him and their son. 

“You tell her.” Alec encourages his husband, stroking the baby’s hand with his thumb. 

Magnus looks from his baby to Molly and proudly says

“Henry, his name is Henry Jonathan Lightwood-Bane.” 

“Oh, after our Henry?” Tessa quietly asks in a tight tone, as Jem slips an arm around her waist in an attempt to comfort her. Magnus smiles sadly and nods, grieving for his old friend. 

“Yes, Henry was one of the greatest friends I ever had, he was a wonderful man and I can only hope my son grows up to be like him too.”  He quietly says, looking down at little Henry in Alec’s arms. 

“He’d be honored Magnus, and with parents like you and Alec, you can be sure he’ll grow up to a wonderful young man.” Jem kindly says, which makes his wife tear up even more. 

“And you say you don’t have a way with words, James Carstairs.” Jem laughs lightly and presses a kiss to his wife’s temple and whispers to her 

“Well it seems we’re going to have to come up with a different middle name for our son.” Making sure that Magnus and Alec aren’t looking, Tessa rests her hand on her belly and softly says

“Nathaniel, William Nathaniel.” 

Just a few hours later Magnus and Alec head home with Henry, with promises to send Molly lots of pictures and an open invitation for her to come visit whenever she’s ready. 

That night, back in Magnus and Alec’s loft, little Henry lays sleeping soundly in his bassinet by his parents bed, while they try and settle Anna in her new room. Half an hour after being put to bed, little Henry wakes up and starts to fuss when he realizes he’s alone. Just then two figures materialize either side of his bassinet. On his right is a tall thin man, with kind hazel eyes and wild ginger hair, dressed in a white shirt, a red waistcoat and black trousers. On the left of the bassinet, is a small thin woman with flowing brown hair and kind brown eyes, dressed in a flowing teal evening gown, that looks like it’s from the Victorian Era. 

“Shh little one you’re alright, don’t cry sweet boy, you’re safe.” Charlotte Fairchild soothes the baby, reaching out to stroke his cheek. 

“He’s beautiful.” Henry Fairchild quietly says, marveling at the tiny creature in the bassinet, bringing him back to when his boys were little. 

“Oh he really is, I can’t believe it’s been so long since our boys were this little, or our girls for that matter. Oh Henry can you believe they named him after you?” Charlotte asks in an excited tone. She and Henry had been shocked when they learned this little boy’s name from Will, who would often come and go to see Mina and Kit. Henry was and is honored and delighted that his old friend still thinks about him and has named his son after him.

“No I’m still rather shocked, but delighted. I’m so happy for Magnus Lottie, he was so miserable for so long before he met Alec.” Henry softly says, smiling down at the little baby. 

“Me too, Alexander is so like Gideon, and he looks so much like Will, it must hurt Tessa terribly.” Charlotte says in a concerned tone. She’s always looked out for her Tessa, and has always worried about her, even though Jem has always been there to keep her safe and Tessa is more than capable of protecting herself.  

“Our Tessa is stronger than that, she has learned how to cope with her grief, the sight of anything that reminds her of Will no longer drives her into despair and she’s happy now too, now she has Jem, Christopher and Mina.” Henry says. 

“True enough, now we better get this fussy little boy settled, if he’s anything like his name sake he should be dead to the world in no time, isn’t that right sweet boy?” Charlotte coos, smiling as the baby grabs at her hand and stares up at her in awe. Henry smiles warmly at his wife and says 

“Where did you think Matthew got his ability to sleep through anything, from? But you’re right as usual Lottie, you should sing to him, our four always loved when you sang to them.” Henry suggests. 

“Well it’s been years since I’ve sang a lullaby, but I suppose I could try.” Charlotte shyly says. 

In no time at all, Little Henry starts to drift off to the sound of his Aunty Charlotte’s voice, while his Uncle Henry sits beside him and holds his little hand, assuring him that he’s not alone. 

[rosaxlunar]

❝ I NEVER HAD THE CHANCE TO BE SOFT. I WAS ALWAYS BLOODY KNUCKLES AND SHARDS OF GLASS. I WANTED PEOPLE TO BE AFRAID OF HURTING ME❞

 &&. ( catarina volkov ) was just spotted in amsterdam. rumor has it ( she ) is a ( 32 ) year old ( alpha werewolf ) who resembles ( juliana harkavy ). ( she ) has been said to be ( determined & loyal ) but also quite ( vengeful & merciless ).with all the chaos surrounding the magical underworld, ( she ) has chosen to align with ( no one / the russian bratva ). ( she ) is currently serving as ( the sovietnik to the russian bratva ). hopefully the city doesn’t devour them whole.

001 ☾ THE BASICS

NAME: Catarina Volkov AGE: Thirty Two Years Old DOB: May 8 - Taurus GENDER: Cis Female SEXUALITY: Bisexual  NATIONALITY: Dominican Russian  SPECIES:  Alpha Werewolf ALLEGIANCE: Russian Bratva THEME SONG: Desperado - Rihanna PERSONALITY TRAITS: ( + ) Charming, Determined, Protective & Loyal  ( - ) Stubborn, Vengeful, Merciless & Bloodthirsty.

002 ☾ IN DEPTH

When one has lost everything, fear ceases to exist. When the heart is crushed, defensive walls rise to protect whatever shattered pieces are left behind. and when a little girl comes back home to find the bloody wreckage that left her a complete orphan, when she sees the dead bodies of her mama, papa y hermanita… something inside her dies too. For the rest of her childhood she was but a shell of her former self. Forever haunted by the tragic loss, the sounds of her screams still echoed in her dreams, those cursed nightmares that immortalized the horrid sight. Sometimes she would close her eyes and the metallic smell of the blood pooling on the ground would invade her senses, making it hard to breathe. 

She used to have everything, born and raised in the outskirts of St. Petersburg, Russia, Catarina lived a relatively normal life, loud and colorful with the right amount of messy, but it was a blessing in an otherwise monotonous environment. Her papa would always say his prayers and thank god for bringing the dominican beauty that then became his wife, into his life. He would often tell Catarina stories of how he saved her from the bloodthirsty monsters and the following journey that led to them falling in love. Stories of how he learned spanish for her, and she learned russian for him, how even before the verbal communication was set, they still managed to understand each other without ever saying anything at all. These are the stories she would fall asleep to late at night before bedtime and then they became the stories she would repeat to her baby sister when she was introduced into her life. With stars in her eyes she would share the fantastical story of how love conquers all and how she and her sister were born from that love. She was happy and everything was wonderful…but that was when they were still alive.

If she had been any other child, the tragedy that left her with no parents, and no other family to take her in, would've seen to her being placed in the system. A more likely alternative would have seen her running and fending for herself in the wild. However she was the child of Anatoly Volkov, her papa had been a brodyaga for the brotherhood. Proudly serving under the previous Pakhan, he did his job and he did it well. He could have been more, could have made it to Kapitan, but her papa always put his family first, refusing to climb the ranks if it meant more time away from them. Her father’s devotion to the Bratva meant that instead of being left to fend for herself, someone in the brotherhood felt compelled to take her in, and so she became the ward of the Brava’s bookkeeper. This moved her life in a direction that was unforeseen. Being the bookkeeper’s ward meant she was taken deeper into the harshest reaches of Russia, where the prominent Valentina family lived. And it was there where Catarina met her best friend, the one person that was able to spark a flicker of her old light. Viktor Valentina. It was in his company where she learned about the truth of who was behind her family’s murder, and it was there where Catarina pledged her eternal loyalty to the brotherhood if they would help her get revenge for what was taken from her.

So she grew up, training and working beside Viktor, ignoring all the normal things kids and young adults would do, and instead perfecting her hand to hand combat, mastering various weapons training, perfecting her russian, spanish and english and focusing on becoming the strongest version of herself in order to fulfill the promise of revenge she had sworn. She blossomed from a scrawny girl with wild curls, into a woman who could skin anyone who tried to hurt her alive with her very claws. She embraced the power she had from her Alpha status, and on nights of the full moon, indulged in the rut with those brave enough to take her on. This never distracted her from her mission and on the twelfth anniversary of her family’s murder, as a twenty four year old soldier of the bratva, she was finally able to enact the revenge she had thirsted for so long, the goal that had given her purpose all those years. She hunted and slaughtered the very same though much older hunters who had taken her whole family from her. She also ensured to kill their families (if they had them)  for she knew better than anyone, how dangerous revenge could be, and would not tolerate anyone targeting the bratva for her revenge. She never once, felt an ounce of regret for it in her soul. They might have been her first set of kills, but the certainly weren’t her last and she didn’t discriminate based on species. If they were a target, they were eliminated. Were it not for the Valentina’s opening their hearts to include her in their little family, it’s quite possible Catarina could have been driven to a fully corrupt soul and mindless killings in her wake. For she enjoyed the rush of power that came from taking a life, a little too much. Instead she channeled that energy, that thrill, to climbing the ranks of the brotherhood and doing whatever was necessary to help the Bratva rise in power.She may be an orphan at heart, but she had found her pack and she was never letting go.

003 ☾ FUN FACTS

Timeline Recap: ages 0-12 happy with family, age 12 : family murdered by hunters, age 12 meets the Valentina’s, ages 12-24 trains and is indoctrinated into bratva, age 24 : retaliation after the hunters who killed her family, ages 24-32, climbs the ranks of the bratva till she is second in command and Viktor’s right hand. 

Not many know this, but Catarina is a classically trained pianist. A musician at heart, in the quiet moments between missions she also taught herself how to play the guitar,  the flute and other random instruments at her disposal. Sometimes she’ll just serve herself a bit of vodka and play and sing at the piano whenever she wants to not think about anything, or more accurately when she wishes to escape the nightmares that still plague her. 

Catarina is very protective over the Bratva, the brotherhood were her saviors, they kept her safe and when it comes to the Valentina’s they saved whatever piece of her heart she had left after her relentless pursuit for revenge. She’s willing to do anything in the name of Bratva, even if it comes at the cost of her soul. Bratva is the only family she has left.

While she is undoubtedly the closest to Viktor, not just as his right hand man, but also as his best friend, she also loves and cherishes Tatiana and Dimitri Valentina, so much so would be willing to risk her life for their safety, no questions asked. Which is why ever since Tatiana’s kidnapping, Catarina has been worried sick, her nightmares and flashbacks of the loss of her very own sister intermingling with the new horror for the Valentina’s. 

Catarina originally stayed behind when Viktor rushed to Amsterdam in search of his omega sister Tati. She stayed to help Dimitri with his new responsibilities and enforce his rule now that Viktor was out of Russia. Now weeks later, she is finally joining in on the search, and will do her utter best to find the youngest Valentina so they can all go back home.

004 ☾ WANTED CONNECTIONS

hookups/flings: my girl hasn’t had time or the frame of mind for love, not really, but she has needs and never goes too long without a little loving, so lets plot for this if you want!

bratva relationships: even tho she loves the bratva, that doesn’t mean she loves everyone in the organization, we can have them be friends, or be frenemies or be little shits to each other! I’m open to everything!

Literally any other kind of plot! I am open to all sorts of connections! 

[thewriterwithnoplan]

“You know him?”

Summary: Y/N is a simple girl of simple interests, she’s strait forward in what she wants and that’s what attracted Tim Drake. The adorable couple is close as could be sharing each and every secret. At least Tim thought he knew everything. Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Word Count: 1421 Warnings: None.

Y/N = Your name. L/N = Last name. Y/A = Your alias. N/N = Nickname.

Y/N wandered up the driveway of Wayne Manor, hands stuffed into her pockets in an attempt to ward off the cold. It had begun to snow during the week and hadn’t relented since. Gotham was always cool in the Winter months though this year it seemed the temperature had dropped an extra handful of degrees. Not that the woman minded, she had lived in the cold for most of her life.

Y/N reached the door and greeted the Wayne butler, Alfred. Giving him a smile, she kicked off her shoes and shuffled inside. Her socks slid precariously over the cool marble flooring. Knowing the way, she clamoured up the grand staircase, following several long hallways until she found the right door. Rapping her gloved fist against the door she awaited a response.

A muffled yell of what she assumed to be was Come in, answered. Y/N entered, immediately realising the answer had actually been, Wait a moment. Tim Drake stood halfway through his closet door; a shirt half pulled over his messy hair. With a quite chuckle the girl approached the blushing boy, helping him get the right limbs into the right part of his shirt.

“What would you do without me?” She snorted, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to make it the least bit organised.

Grinning Tim pecked Y/N on the cheek, “I suppose I’d just have to walk around half-naked.”

Rolling her eyes Y/N tugged her boyfriend from the room, through Wayne manors many halls and out the door. Hand in hand the couple trotted back down the drive and to the car Alfred had organised. Saying her thanks, Y/N let the kind man help her in. She was glad she did when Tim tripped on the curb into the car in a rather inelegant way.

Pulling a face at the snickering girl Tim sat up, making sure to dump the snow that had collected in his hair onto her lap. With an indignant squeal she threw it back, starting a rather hilarious game of hot (or rather cold) potato.

“Try to be civil Master Tim,” Alfred told the ward when they’d arrived at the café.

“It’s just coffee Alfred,” Tim rolled his eyes. “What am I going to do, spill it on myself?”

Y/N pulled a face reminding him of the time he’d done just that. He remembered a week later, finding a picture of the fiasco in a magazine. It had been very amusing for Tim’s brothers and even more so for his beloved girlfriend.

Taking the advice into account, albeit reluctantly, Tim hopped from the car. This time avoiding slipping on the ice slicked ground, only for Y/N to barrel into his back and sent them both tumbling to the floor. Alfred drove off, leaving the giggling couple kissing on the side-walk.

Hauling the two of them to their feet Y/N ushered Tim into their favourite café. It’d been where they’d met in fact, when Y/N still worked there, before she’d been fired for slacking off with Tim. They walked in and claimed their usual seats, the waited brought over the prepared drinks for the pair of regular customers.

“So,” Y/N sipped at her drink. “How’s life as a side-kick?”

Tim face palmed, looking the grinning girl. “I’m not a side-kick anymore.”

A muffled snort escaped the woman as she gave a rather un-lady-like snicker, “Oh I know, I know Boy Blunder. Just one of the bat brats.”

“Like you’re much better,” He hissed even as he chuckled at the nicknames. “Aren’t you playing good cop for Jason? Doesn’t that make you a side-kick?”

“Hey!” Y/N cried indignantly, “Y/A is not a side-kick. If anything, Jason is my side-kick.”

“Try telling him that,” The third boy wonder snickered. “His favourite topic is about how cute his little apprentice is.”

“Aw is Timmy jealous?” Y/N teased starting a rather lengthy back and forth that lasted several cups of coffee on Tim’s part. The conversation stretched even after that, ranging from Tim’s work to more on their nightly activities. After a handful of fun filled hours at the quaint café the pair decided to walk back to the manor.

It was getting late by the time the couple ascended the stairs of Wayne manor, being greeted by the ever-lovely mannered butler. Alfred had then dragged the two in for a full recount of the date, being their number one supporter. He’d then sat them down in the dining hall and demanded they both stay for dinner.

“The others will be here in just a moment,” The kind old man had muttered before striding for the kitchen. The butler was quite right, the first and second boy wonders wandering into the room. Having a rather dull conversation about gun prohibition, that Y/N – being a gun using anti-hero – snickered at.

The two men’s eyes had lit up and before Y/N or her boyfriend could comprehend it she was wrapped the boy’s arms. Dick had been a little less welcoming, not knowing the woman as well as Jason. After another hearty joke about adorable apprentices the four were seated.

Alfred had quickly brought out a basket of garlic bread proclaiming that Bruce had called ahead to say he was going to be a few minutes late. So, the conversation flowed smoothly about anything and everything, as it always did with Y/N and the Wayne wards.

“How are the new rubber bullets going N/N?” Dick piped up, interrupting an argument about whether Tea was better than Coffee. “I do hope you’re using them.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Jason answered for the girl, who smirked at her partner.

“Exactly,” Y/N gave a hearty-laugh. “Not the same feel as real bullets, I mean the noise is so bleak. You want Bang when the rubber bullets give you more of a Snap.”

“See!” Jason yelled before pulling a face at Tim. “Why in God’s name is she dating you?”

“Drake has a girlfriend?” An incredulous voice rang from the doorway. Tim rolled his eyes, Jason following suit as Dick grinned. Y/N turned herself into a pretzel to catch a look at the new person.

“Sure does, Demon.” Jason snarked. “Y/N this is Da-”

“You little brat!” The woman hissed, surprising the four Robin’s and the Bat who’d just now entered. Flinging herself from her chair in a fluid movement, she stalked to the boy. “Do you have any idea-?”

“Y/N?” Bruce Wayne’s eyes widened as the woman stared down his son. The woman who had been nothing but polite, going so far as to keep his sons in check. Even if she was more anti-hero then masked crusader, he’d always welcomed her into the “Bat-family”as the press called them. “I’d prefer you didn’t speak that way to my son.”

“Your son?” The girl blinked, turned to Bruce and then back to the youngest Wayne. “This is your father? Bruce Wayne is Talia Al Ghusl’s beloved?”

The younger boy gave a toothy grin, leaping at the woman and engulfing her in a hug. Y/N lifted the boy up spinning round once before setting him back down. Still he refused to let go and continued to cling to the woman’s stomach. The Wayne Wards looked on horrified as the Demon’s grandson himself hugged the kind hearted woman.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Y/N hissed, pulling back to look at the boy properly. “You couldn’t send one messily letter to say you were safe? I had to haul ass to Gotham just to come looking for you. Gotham.”

“You know him?” Tim interrupted, having left his chair to stand beside his girlfriend.

“Father, Drake I want you to meet Y/N L/N my grandfather’s apprentice and my bodyguard.” Damian introduced formally though the grin on his face was the brightest his brothers had seen on the young Wayne’s usually solemn face.

“You are from the League of Assassins?” Jason gaped at the girl.

“Your welcome for dragging your ass out of the Lazarus Pit by the way,” Y/N snickered alongside her charge. “Damn you were heavy though.”

“Now that you’ve met everyone Y/N there’s a more pressing matter at hand. Who has Drake kidnapped to play his girlfriend,” The demon hissed at the man.

“That’d be me Damian,” Y/N grinned down at the feisty child who had begun rolling up his sleeves in a rather calm manner.

“Square up Drake.”

[haughttopics]

For the tropes, 32 and 52?

I’M SO SORRY THIS HAS BEEN LEFT IN MY INBOX FOR SO LONG BUT I REALLY STRUGGLED BECAUSE THIS ISN’T MY THING, but i tried for you so pls accept my sincerest apologies…

32: pregnancy fic  52: marriage of convenience 

nicole had always known she was head over heels in love with waverly earp, ever since the first day they met in elementary school. sure she might not have realised at the time, but when she looked back after having the realisation™, she knew it had been since the first moment she laid eyes on her

it didn’t take long for the pair to become the best of friends, each never being that far from the other. until waverly met champ hardy…

nicole had always dreaded the inevitable moment of waverly dating a boy (she could never let herself hope that her best friend would ever be interested in girls, in her), but she never faltered in her supportive duties for the best person in her life

at first he treated her right, and as much as nicole hated that he got to be with her she was at least grateful for that. until he started to pressure waverly for sex, and when she refused because she wasn’t ready he became angry and unbearable

it soon became common knowledge around high school that champ was ‘playing away’ and waverly spent many nights crying in her best friend’s bedroom, in nicole’s arms, but never voicing the reason why. the red head would never pressure her to explain but it began to tear her apart inside

prom soon arrived and as waverly was going with champ, nicole wanted nothing more than to spend the night literally anywhere else on earth. but waverly had pleaded her to go, ‘i don’t want to be there without one of the most important people in my life’ she said. and nicole knew this girl could talk her into doing anything

waverly and champ, as to be expected, were named prom queen and king, and nicole spent most of the night in her own company sat on the bleachers not really paying much attention to the world around her. until she heard a scuffle and a moan just below. she looked around the corner and saw champ hardy with stephanie jones…

nicole saw red and wanted to hurt him there and then, but instead she turned on her heel to go and find her best friend. she eventually found her sitting against a wall in the library (because of course she’d be there)

she sat down beside her, noticing the hip flask in her hands that she recognised as belonging to the older earp sister. she looked at waverly’s tear soaked face, took the flask from the smaller girl’s hands to place on the floor and held her whilst she sobbed

eventually the tears stopped falling, and nicole wiped away the last few away with her thumbs. they gazed into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity, until waverly whispered ‘sorry, i should be used to this by now’. and something inside nicole broke, ‘waverly, nobody deserves this, especially not you. you are the sweetest, kindest, funniest, most intelligent person i know and you deserve the whole world. not some dumb jock who can’t see just how lucky he is to have someone as truly special as you.’ 

before nicole knew what was happening, waverly pressed her lips softly against hers. nicole knew this was wrong, waverly was still with champ (even if he was a scumbag) and she could taste drops of whiskey. but her body responded in kind of it’s own. soft pecks became hungry and hands found their way into each others hair. a moan escaping waverly quickly brought nicole back to reality, ‘waves, we can’t do this,’ she said breathlessly. ‘oh my god, n-nicole, i’m so sorry,’ waverly stuttered as she quickly got up and ran from the library

graduation came and nicole hadn’t seen waverly since prom. she arrived and took her seat, eyes scouring the crowd for where waverly should be sitting but coming up empty. when it was time for the valedictorian speech, she was confused when she saw someone other than waverly on the stage. until she heard someone whisper ‘i heard waverly finally gave into champ and they’re at his place now.’ 

all of a sudden the red head couldn’t breathe, she stood up and ran as fast as she could. she ran all the way home, even though her car was in the parking lot. tears blinded her vision but her legs worked on muscle memory alone. she ran into her room and submitted the application she’d hesitated to do so for weeks, because she wanted to tell her best friend first. that she was applying to the police academy in the big city and she’d have to move away for a while. but none of that mattered now…

a year had passed, nicole had graduated at the top of her class despite being the youngest, and continued her training at one of the precincts in the city. she’d thought about going home, but the pain of leaving purgatory without so much of a goodbye was too much, even now

one miserable rainy night, nicole returned home to find someone waiting at her door. hand gently touching her holster, she approached with caution before announcing her presence to the back in front of her, ‘excuse me can i help you?’ the person turned around, clearly drenched from the rain, and nicole’s stomach dropped. waverly…

nicole brought her inside and let her dry herself off, giving the brunette some spare clothes to change into. sitting on the sofa with hot mugs of tea, waverly told nicole everything. about how sorry she was for running away after the library because she thought she’d ruined their friendship, about how she regretted missing graduation, about how bad things had gotten after nicole left. ‘nicole, i’m so sorry for everything. and i’m sorry for showing up here unannounced after so long. but i didn’t know what else to do. because, nicole i’m, i’m pregnant. champ refused to believe it was his and broke up with me, and my d-da-ward kicked me out because he can’t abide a child born out of wedlock and, nicole i’m so sorry i didn’t know where else to go,’ waverly sobbed

nicole instantly put her arms around the smaller girl, trying her best to soothe her. ‘waverly it’s okay, you’re always welcome here. always. and you’re not alone, you’ll always have me for as long as you want me. it’s going to be okay. and i know that you’re scared, but i’m here. i’m not going to let you go through this alone.’ 

waverly slept in nicole’s arms that night, just like they’d done many times before. but when she woke, she realised she was alone in nicole’s bed. she wandered into the kitchen and found nicole working hard on her macbook. she looked up and smiled when she noticed waverly, and quickly made her some tea and sat with her on the couch

‘okay waves, this might sound a little crazy, but hear me out. i want to take care of you, of you and the baby. because after everything you’re still my best friend and i love you, and there’s no way on this earth that i’d let you struggle with this alone. so i’d like you to move here with me, if you’d want to. and this is the bit that might sound crazy, but i think we should get married too. just for the sake of hospital things, legalities, parental rights and lots of other things, it would help me be able to take care of you, of you both’‘you’d do that for me?’‘i’d do a lot of things to you’‘for-for me’‘yeah that too…’

the next few months passed in a blur. nicole and waverly got married in the courthouse and began researching together everything and anything they could to do with parenting. they eased right back into their friendship as if time hadn’t passed at all since that night in the school library. nicole had pushed her feelings down, because this was all that mattered to her, waverly being happy and safe

waverly’s feelings however began to shift, or more accurately, resurface. she knew she had feelings for nicole long ago, but was afraid of her father. the night of the library finally gave her the courage to act on them, but she thought nicole was rejecting her. so she ran away and forced herself to stay with champ, to forget those feelings. when she found out nicole had left, she felt empty. the sun didn’t shine as brightly without her. and she knew she if she was going to make it through without her, she needed to lock her feelings away

one night, waverly began to get worried as nicole should of been home a couple hours ago. she’d sent a few texts but hadn’t heard anything back. suddenly the front door opened and nicole stepped through, and instantly waverly knew something was wrong. she was covered in blood…

‘nicole!’ she rushed over to her ‘jesus nicole, are you okay?’‘it’s - it’s okay waves, i’m okay. this, this isn’t mine…’waverly knew nicole’s job was dangerous, but it hit her in that moment how much she’d regret it if something happened to the red head and she didn’t know how much the brunette truly loved her. waverly threw her arms around nicole’s neck and kissed her hard, trying to pour every emotion she had into it. nicole eagerly kissed waverly back and they both felt the stars around them. waverly broke the kiss after a couple of minutes to whisper the words her heart had known for a long time,‘nicole, i love you.’

fanfiction trope MASH-UP

[tealeaves-1912]

Marvel Mafia AU (name pending)

Hello! This is the first chapter of the story I wanted to post. Here’s some backstory

My friend and I made marvel gen 2 characters, and I decided to add them into a story. That means that some of these characters belong to me, so please do not steal or reference off of them. I will state which characters belong to me and which ones do not

I will put warnings for a lot of big and little things, so please watch out for the red warning sign.

The chapters are all in the POV of a character, and the first ones are introductions of the main ones.

WARNING: brief descriptions of violence, open wounds, hospital visit, cuss words, kidnapping.

Anastasiya belongs to me and her name is pronounced Ah-nah-stah-SEE-uh

Anastasiya

“My name is Anastasiya, I am the second youngest of 7 children. I was ten years old when Mama saved me from a group of Russians who take young orphans and try and brainwash them for something big. I spent my childhood stealing money and food from the local gas stations after my dad died and my brother left. It was just me, my siblings, and Mama for a short time.”

“One day I came home and my youngest sister died. Food income was very slow because of the snow but I at the time did not realize she was starving. Three years later my first Mama joined her.”

“I was separated from my siblings and was stripped from my clothes and drugged. As I have said before to you I do not remember it I just remember who saved me.”

“She had red hair and moved her body in a way that distracted the guards as she took them down.”

“дядя met up with us and we lived happily ever after!”

“Oh honey, we both know that isn’t trueeee”

“Mmh? How would you know? But anyways back to my answer to your little question. Mama saved me from the people who were trying to take me, I believe you are familiar with them? Red room? Brainwashing bastards? Any other names you can think of? Let me know while I continue. “

“My brother, haven’t seen him since I was 6. He left without a trace. Never bothered to search, never cared. “

“Anything he said before he left?”

“Listen hear женщина (woman) I was six, what do you remember from being six? “

“She’s holding out on us”

“Oh? Am I? How would you know? Unless you know something I don’t?”

“Listen here girly, tell us what we want to know and maybe you will get out of here without a scratch.”

“I’ve been down here for what? Twelve hours? How’s the weather?”

“She’s stalling. Would you like to say anything to the tape before we lock you back up?”

“Mmh? Oh yeah!

“And what’s that?”

She has a hideous grin on her face at the moment, it shows off her golden front tooth and the witches wart on her nose wonderfully. Of course no offense to witches, wonderful people really!

“Мат!” (Checkmate)

Throwing my body back wards was easy since I spent the entire time undoing the ropes around my wrists, the landing was not however. It had never been my strong suit, jumping up from my back. Mama could do it perfectly every time, I’m lucky I didn’t make myself look like a fool just now. With my hands undone the leftover chair pieces fell from my back.

This part is always my favorite. When the guards tried to stop me, I used his fist to lift myself up and wrap my thighs around his head, I gave my lower body a quick twist and his neck broke. With the next guard I slid under his legs tripping him, he hit his head on the metal cabinets and knocked himself out.

Damn, these people really have underestimated me I’m offended! Two guards in the room?

“Ahem”

Oh, right, how could I forget about this one?

“I’ve let you have your fun, now do we really have to do this?”

Getting in to my stance I noticed she had a gun on her right.

I marched towards her and she decided at that moment to pull out the gun. How stupid is she!?

Grabbing and twisting her wrist I got her to drop the gun and took it as my own, pointing it at her instead.

“N-now”

Nope not doing this monologuing!

The trigger pulled back with my finger shooting a perfectly round hole through her forehead.

Leaving the room I shot any guards that tried and come towards me and exited the underground building.

“Come on, come on Mama!”

Just then the sound of a helicopter filled my head as it flew above me. I saw дядя (uncle) in the window as the ladder dropped down.

I was almost pushed out of helicopter as soon as I stood in it, the only thing keeping me in was my hand on the bar of the door.

“Боже мой, о чем ты думал! ты мог умереть! Вы ранены? что случилось?”

(oh my god, what were you thinking! you could have died! are you hurt? what happened?)

“Mama I-“

I didn’t get to reply before she dragged me over to the seat to look over any wounds.

Mamas face was scary. She looked mad but also relieved. дядя looks weary of Mama. Of course he is. Who wouldn’t be? Everyone is afraid of Mama even when she’s happy.

“Bullet wound in the upper thigh”

damn, how did I forget about that? The damn guards had decided to shoot me when I tried to get away when they first took me.

“Sorry Mama”

I’m slightly ashamed. I shouldn’t have gotten shot. If I’m being honest with myself I also shouldn’t have tried going on this mission.

“How long have I been gone?”

“Twenty-Five hours.” дядя said

No, I have not been gone for Twenty-Five hours! How long was I out for? I can’t respond to that.

“You never replied to our calls so we were forced to track you using the tracker” дядя said again when I didn’t say anything back

I got up and moved to the table as Mama ushered me forward.

The anesthesia took over me and my world went black.

——————————————

Beep, beep, beep

Would someone turn that alarm off?

I tried to reach up under my pillow but something was stopping me. I opened my eyes and of course! I’m in a freaking hospital!

Sitting up and taking the IVs out I take a look around.

Never mind, it’s the lab

Planting my feet on the ground and my hands on the bed I push myself up and onto my feet. It feels like any injury I’ve gotten is healed now. I take a look at the bullet wound and all that’s left over is a curricular part of skin that’s whiter than the rest of my body. Letting go of the blue hospital gown I walk out of the Lab looking for preferably Mama.

“I thought you were never gonna wake up!”

My body went against what I wanted to do and flinched at the loud voice. “Hello Bruce”

The owner of the voice walked out from behind the wall in his signature lab coat and young child in tow.

“ANA! YOU WERE HURT AND PAPA FIXED YOU ALL UP!”

Wincing from Cliffs voice I hugged her back.

“Cliff, inside voices remember?”

“Sorry papa”. She looked kinda ashamed but I know it’s all a front.

This kid could fake anything, she could even lie like a professional. One time she came home from school and had somehow managed to convince her teacher that the dog literally ate her homework. We don’t even own a dog. That’s what you get when you allow impressionable children to hang around Lilith.

“I’m okay Cliff”

Bruce turned around and shuffled a bit while I hugged the Ten year old. “Here you go Ana”. He handed me my stuff and pulled Cliff along leaving me alone to get changed. Did they really find stuff from the back of my closet?

Laid out in front of me was a pair of yoga leggings, a muscle shirt I haven’t worn since 2014, and under garments. Who chose this stuff? Getting the clothes on my body I was relieved to find the shirt still fit me. It was quite long Five years ago so now it was the right length and I haven’t grown outwards to much besides the breast area.

As soon as I walked out of the lab I was hugged by my blood brother. His name is Harley, I hate his guts but I probably couldn’t live without him. He’s the son of the owner and CEO of a company I can never name. He also happens to be a part of the secret organization that the majority of us are also in.

[nigiyakapepper]

magic | voltron; allurance

For Allurance Week 2017 Day 1 - AU: Modern w/ Magic

Summary/Excerpt: “Hey baby, if I were an enzyme, I’d be a DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes.”

That was Lance McClain, obnoxious flirt, with unfairly pretty handwriting and meticulous notes, never without hand cream and a glass bottle of gourmet-looking tea, whose best friend made the. best. cookies in the entire world.

magic | ao3

“Have a nice day, Mrs. Reyes!”

“You too, dear!”

The door closes with a merry jingle and Allura sighs, a small bemused smile playing on her lips. She looks around the shop—at its shelves of homemade tea, candles, oils, dried herbs, jars of spices and powdered roots, crystals, glass eyes to ward off evil and hammered gold amulets to protect the wearer from various things, and thinks, This is my life now.

She supposes she remembers how this started. She was a nervous freshman in college, about to embark on the treacherous, glorious road to becoming a surgeon just like her father. A boy had waltzed into her bio class, stopped dead when he saw her, beamed like a kid on Christmas, sat beside her and delivered the most awful pick-up line in the history of pick-up lines.

“Hey baby, if I were an enzyme, I’d be a DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes.”

That was Lance McClain, obnoxious flirt, with unfairly pretty handwriting and meticulous notes, never without hand cream and a glass bottle of gourmet-looking tea, whose best friend made the. best. cookies in the entire world.

(She was also wearing a skirt that day.)

Somewhere in between the professor pairing them up for the final requirement of the semester, spending endless hours in the library, enduring the cheesiest pick-up lines with increasingly fond exasperation, and arguing over a lot of things from the cohesion of a paper to whether or not sugar scrubs were really good for your skin, Allura fell in love.

It wasn’t anything monumental, only a realization that built up in moments and made itself known in the quiet afternoons they spent together.

“Lance, you’ve already read this week’s chapter?” “I have to. I’m bad at studying. It takes a while for me to understand things.”

“Hey, Princess!” “Ugh…kill me.” “Nope. Nu-uh. Eat this turkey and cheese. Get through Wednesday’s report then ask me again, okay?”

“Hunk wants to change majors?” “Oh yeah. But he’s on scholarship so he has to stay in Engineering for at least a year.” “Why is he taking Biology with us?” “Because he’s crazy? Who takes this course for fun? Apparently him!” “He knows you need his madeleines.” “God yes, we need his madeleines.”

“Good morning, Princess! Are you today’s date? Because you’re ten outta ten!” “Aaaand it has been zero days since our last pick-up line.” That’d been Hunk. “I’m surprised you didn’t use that for tomorrow. Eleven out of ten,” she’d replied, more amused now than annoyed. “And miss the chance to tell you you’re beautiful today? I would never.” Hunk laughed as she rolled her eyes.

“'Llura, why did you decide to be a surgeon?” “Well…it’s always been something I thought I’d head towards. There aren’t a lot of women in surgery, you know?” A pause, where Lance had waited for her to go on. “I know it sounds silly, wanting to follow in my father’s footsteps, but wanting to break new ground. I won’t be surprised if my connections get me places, because I know that’s how it is in medicine. But…but I want to make it on my own too.” Lance had smiled at her, when she looked up from her hands that she couldn’t keep from fidgeting. “Nothin’ less from our Princess.”

“What about you, Lance? Why do you want to be a nurse?” “I wanna take care of my grandparents, then my parents, when they get old.” “Your grandparents are still alive, aren’t they?” “Mmhmm, both sides. After I get my license, I’m gonna go back home and take care of them.” Allura had made a noise of confusion, to which Lance followed up with, “Grandpa on my mom’s side owns a shop. I want to help him run it.” “What kind of shop?” “…a magical shop.” Allura had looked at him, and Lance made a strange face that was sheepish, defensive, and proud. “We sell magic.” A pause. “What?” “Nothing. It kind of makes sense.” “What does?” “With the tea. And your energy.” “You believe me?” “Sure.” Allura was familiar with some traditional doctors because of her father’s work. “I’ve been with you on days we get an hour of sleep and you clearly aren’t human.” Lance had waggled his eyebrows at her. “Now that might just be talent—oof!” “Your liver is going to pay in thirty years,” she said, her palm on his face.

“Going home for the weekend, Lance?” “M’thinkin’ about it. My brothers are taking the bar exam soon and I’d rather not be home.” “You’re that kind of youngest child?” “The ‘you’re our seventh offspring, go do whatever you want’ kind? Yeah. I was thinkin’ of going with Hunk but his nieces are over.” “I could stay with you.” He stared and Allura flushed. “I mean not go home either. Stay at my own dorm, but keep you company. So the long weekend won’t be too boring.” She tried to ignore the way her heart squeezed when Lance smiled like the sun.

Small gestures followed that. Lance brought her tea along with his own, and sometimes enchanted coffee. They literally burned midnight oil when they needed to—a soothing, energizing blend of eucalyptus, lavender, lemon, and rosemary while cramming for Finals Week. When she was stuck on a paper for History, he placed a gorgeous oval of Tiger’s Eye on her laptop keyboard, “For focus,” he said brightly.

“This question might offend you,” Allura told him one day over lunch. “Hmm?” Lance was in mid-bite. “Have you ever thought…well, have you ever thought of magic not working?” “Oh, loads of times.” He swallowed before continuing. “Grandpa explained it to me once, like, he’d do the rituals, brew those teas, and make all sorts of stuff not because he believed them, y’know? But because they worked. Like sometimes he’d do things to prove they wouldn’t work but they do. So he keeps doing them.” Allura smiled.

Somehow, like that, four years pass. They spend even more time together after Hunk shifts to Food Science, despite the increasing number of classes they don’t share. Lance invites her over to his house for lunch one weekend thinking nothing of it, until his mother asks, “Are you two dating?”

And before Lance could sputter out his embarrassed denial, Allura took hold of his hand, looked at him and said, “Why not?”

He sputtered anyway. “I mean…are you sure?”

“I’m sure, you silly. Even if I don’t know why myself.”

His chin had scrunched up in the most adorable way and he stared at her in some sort of weird defiance she didn’t understand until she heard his next words, “Allura, I swear I’d never ever put a love spell on you. Pipo, tell me you didn’t.”

Lance’s grandfather laughed a hearty belly laugh that warmed up the dining room. “You don’t leave matters of the heart to magic, mijo. Though I get why you think I would.”

“Hey!”

Allura herself had taken Lance to meet her own parents the weekend after that. Her father was already alright with him but pretended to be intimidating anyway, because it was fun.

She smiles at the memories. And here she is now, supposedly studying for med school, but the shop is peaceful, the air heavy with summer heat, earthy scents, and something else she’s becoming increasingly aware of since she’s met Lance—a pleasant thrum of energy that can be directed into anything from sleepy to electric.

She moves from the counter to peek into the office, where she knows Lance is working on some spell jars. She has mind to tell him to take a break, when she stops and watches.

Lance’s eyes are closed. He is surrounded by candles and his body sways to the easy beat of Wang Chung’s Dance Hall Days. He was never one for sitting still in anything. He meditates in movement, and going into a trance is no different. Allura’s breath catches when he opens his eyes. They’re unfocused yet a brighter blue in the glow of candlelight. His face is relaxed, lines smoothed out and cut in sharp shadows. His whole self is seemingly charged enough to vibrate out of his skin, body barely containing raw energy waiting to be directed. He starts singing a little, more loose and free.

It looks like a whole lot of nothing, but Allura feels drawn to him, like a stray thread of light’s hooked into her navel and tugs her forward. She smiles as her heart swells, feeling a bit like she’s too big for her body too.

“What about you?” “What about me?” “Do you believe in magic? And don’t say what I know you want to say—” she said, catching Lance’s smirk a little too late. “—If the universe has allowed me to meet you, then yes I do.” “Dear god…” “You walked right into that one, Princess.”

END

[waldos-writing]

World Hungers for Bones: Chapter 8

Nobody Writes a Letter -June 17th, 2000-

Who in their right mind decides to live in Nebraska? Not just that, but in a little you couldn’t find on your average map? Who rolls their dusty old Cadillac through town, looking for cheap accommodations at a shitty little motel called the Tempest Inn when, get this, The Gold Star Stay is right next door but the thing is condemned? Two motels. In Jonas, Nebraska. But that isn’t even the start, because besides moving to Nebraska to a little town you couldn’t find on your average map and staying at a shitty little motel called the Tempest Inn across from The Gold Star Stay, there was also a promise thrown into the mix. Oh yeah. Promise to meet up at the only burger join in town. Two motels. One burger joint. Three bars. A comic shop. Priorities were out of whack.

Anyways, right, promise to meet up at the only burger joint in town every day and go over some new spells with a skittish little twerp who fought what he learned the entire time. Yes decided she liked that best about him, but damn if it wasn’t at least a little aggravating.

But who does that? Yes had half a mind to change her name to Nobody; it suited her better. Somebody else held that epithet.

She was an early riser. Yes came up before the sun and liked it that way. She picked out amulets from a small velvet bag she kept on her person, one she’d Written all over. It gave her silver moon rings and bells on bangles and the little tiger-eye stone earrings. She dressed and brushed her teeth and looked through the Book. It was a peaceful ritual.

Yes was just about done deciding what they were going to learn that day when there was a knock on her door. A quick three tapper, soft, discreet, and gone before she had a chance to ask, “Hello?” or “Who’s there” or “Whad’ya want?” Yes closed the Book and tucked it up into her leather vest so that it made a blocky shield over her heart. Almost obscene, just snug enough that she didn’t mind.

Yes checked the peephole first but saw nothing. She rested scorched fingertips on the door for a moment. Nothing to feel, but there was that unmistakable scent of cinnamon and orange peels.

“How?” she whispered and whipped the door open.

Empty.

Yes shot her head out the door and looked left, then right, expecting a mob. He liked to send out goons before he showed up on his own. Made it neat and tidy for his arrival. But, instead of goons, there was an envelope on the floor with a small black rock placed on top to keep it from drifting away in the wind. Yes stared down at it in silence. She almost kicked it away and turned to slam the door.

“Alright,” she said the floor. “Alright, fine. You wanna go? I’ll go.”

There was a name on the letter in short, clean lines. He had her name. Nobody was the only one left who had it. He held her in those lines. He grabbed her in that ink.

Yes punted the rock away with a swift kick and dragged the letter inside. When she closed the door and locked it, she drew her wards and locked it again and again, doubling down, tripling down.

Yes stared at the envelope with her name as she sat on the bed. She’d have to read it. She’d have to face it, sooner or later. The Book’s corners dug painfully into her stomach rolls, but she didn’t move to relieve the pressure. She’d graft her skin over the Book and lock it in her chest if it meant she’d get away.

“Well,” she said, resigned, painfully tired, but read. “Shit.”

  It was No’s idea to go to Burger King, of course. He said that since he still didn’t really know her and he wasn’t going to just let some stranger figure out where he lived right off the bat, they needed a place. No got a ride in a big old pick-up truck from a girl who was juts barely old enough to drive. She had dark hair in twin braids and a face that matched his. That was the unnamed oldest sister. Turned out No had a big family, which was something. Yes didn’t know why she was surprised. Maybe because she’d been an only child and many of the other witches she knew were the same. Most were only children, many had lost parents, grand parents, hell the trunk of their family tree. Lot of orphan witches. It’s how it was, she thought, but she thought wrong.

“Hey there,” said Yes, swinging her keys on a rope lanyard. “You hungry?”

“I ate,” said No, like he did every time. “Are you?”

“Nah,” she answered in kind. “You ready?”

“Ready.”

This was their routine, their ritual. Then they’d get into Yes’s caddie and drive out to the hills. No might not trust her with the location of his family, but he seemed easy enough with hitching a ride. Kids have dumb priorities.

They got into the old beast and started for the road. No didn’t have any more trouble with the door, which stuck sometimes. He knocked it with his cane and it popped open for him easy as grease. Yes had taught him the sigil for the door on their first ride and he had it down so quick, she wasn’t even sure she saw him draw it anymore.

“What’re we learning today?” asked No as he slide his hand over his chest, the closest thing he had to a seat belt. Magic would hold him better anyways.

Yes touched her pocket where the note was burning hot as fire. The thing would probably engulf her in hellfire by the end of the day. Dramatics and hyperbole, sure, but Nobody had her name and number and it was up.

“Gonna teach you something special, kiddo,” said Yes and revved the old Cadillac’s engine.

It wasn’t a long drive. Shorter still cause it was so early and no one really out on the road except a few ranch hands and busy morning people. Yes had her eyes peeled wide for anybody walking along that didn’t look like they belonged. She wasn’t a regular yet, but she was good with faces and familiar with the usual crowd. None of them were wearing black coats, none getting out of a gunpowder gray BMW, none of that familiar aroma. Her heart was pounding hard all the same.

“Are you alright?” No asked.

“Hmm?” Yes could see out of her peripheral that he was watching her, reading her. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” said No. He studied her hard and she didn’t care for that shit at all. “You keep looking around like somebody’s gonna pop out and shoot you or something.”

“Or something.”

“What?”

“Nah, nothing. It’s nothing.”

Yes wrung the steering wheel, trying hard to relax. She touched her bangles and adjusted the rings so that the smiling moons looked up. The bag had picked them for her. The bag knew what she needed, always did. Yes fingered the cat-eye earrings. Those were last. They had to be last to count.

“So, you’re alright?” he asked again, persistent.

“Sure am,” said Yes, her heartbeat thumping in her throat hard enough the artery might burst.

“Mm,” said No and bit his lip. He looked away, focusing on the road stretched out ahead of them. “Okay.”

The hill where they first met and subsequently practiced for two weeks now was a couple of miles outside of Jonas. It was technically the property of a Mr. Flowers, some rancher from Arthur, but the space was out in the open and no one had said nothing when they were there. Yes saw the hill coming up, saw No all quiet and sullen in the seat next to her, and kept driving.

“H-hey,” he said, pointing out the window as the hill came and went. When it was in the rearview mirror, he twisted around to watch it. “We…we passed it. Where’re we going?”

“Mm,” said Yes and nodded.

“You’re not gonna tell me?”

“Not yet,” she answered, and grimaced when she did. It was like she had just admitted to kidnapping.

“Why?”

“Just a surprised,” she said and gave him a small smile. It was not a confident one.

For a moment, in a crazy panic, Yes thought, hell, let’s do it. Let’s go. She thought she was going to just keep driving. She’d take them all the way across Nebraska and then maybe out west, see where the Cadillac ended and then they’d walk and hitch a ride and keep going until they found the ocean, and then beyond the ocean. She’d heard there was a way you could find Atlantis. Fine, she thought, let’s go find Atlantis. She’d already got No to trust her, she’d just take him with her and No, more powerful than she’d ever be, would protect her. He’d be by her side until the end. Nobody could never get her then.

Yes was ready to smash her foot on the accelerator and just go, go, go, but No had a ratty backpack on his lap. He dug around in it and finally pulled out a small action figure of a cowboy on a palomino. He looked at it, head tilted and nose scrunched up, before he finally sighed and said, “Jamie.”

“What’s that?” Yes asked, trying to be casual.

“It’s just one of Jamie’s stupid toys,” No answered, reverently brushing the plastic finish of the horse. “He must’ve stuck it in there the other night. We were fighting about…something.”

“Fighting about what?”

“No, it’s stupid. It’s nothing.”

“Aw, come on.”

“It’s just stuff,” he mumbled and shoved the cowboy toy back into his bag. “Dumb stuff. He’s….” No sucked in another breath and pushed it out between his teeth. “He’s the youngest, right, so he fights a lot. We fight a lot, I guess, you know. Boys. My mama always says that. The others fight too, but they like to use their words instead and it’s really mean stuff, I mean, it hurts just the same as how we fight, but, I don’t know, it’s not the same either. I mean, Ruthie will still hit, but I don’t think that’s fair. You can’t hit a girl, even if it is Ruthie, right? She’s better at her words anyhow. Meaner.”

“Lot of sisters?” said Yes.

“Lot,” No answered and scowled at the window.

No had the older sister, the girl with the dark hair in braids. And there were others, too, not said by name. Yes didn’t know how many. And then there was little Jamie, the fighter, the youngest, the one with the cowboy toy that No held carefully, like he was afraid to break it even though it was plastic. There was a big family waiting for him, this little fragile kid.

“Ssssshit,” Yes hissed, kneading her forehead into lumpy wrinkles and tight planes, back and forth, back and forth. Family. He had a family. He had to have a goddamn family, didn’t he, just to much everything up.

Yes slammed her foot on the brakes. She even threw her arm out to protect No as the Cadillac’s old breaks squealed in angry protest. They locked up and the car fishtailed a little on the dirt road, but Yes kept that nose pointed towards the horizon until they ground to a halt. The two of them lurched and fell back into their seats. Then there was silence, dragging on for a minute and then a minute more, threatening to eat up the rest of time at the rate they were going.

“What was—”

“Look,” said Yes, cutting him off, slicing the air with the side of her hand. “You’re a smart kid. You’ve got guts and you’ve got brains and you’ve got a hell of a life for you. It’s coming up fast, I just know it. I can feel it, can’t you?”

No put his claw over his heart again, paying attention to the vibrations. He was wide-eyed, almost on the verge of tears. Or, not tears, no, just shock. Maybe not even shock. Maybe just acceptance.

“I don’t have much time left,” said Yes, specifically not touching the pocket with the letter. “Not here, anyhow. In Jonas. I’ve gotta move on and keep trekking if I want a life for me too.”

“You’re leaving,” said No quietly, not desperate, but very understanding for a kid his age.

“I don’t want to,” said Yes and she took his shoulder and gave it a firm, loving squeeze. “You know I don’t.”

“Mm.”

“I don’t! Hell, I thought I was going to put roots down, almost ready to dig my toes in,” said Yes.

“Do you mean that?”

“Have I ever lied?” Yes asked, assuming it was rhetorical. No shocked her when he answered, “Yes.” Not her name. Not the name they joked about. It was an answer. She blacked, let go of his shoulder and asked, “When?”

“Today. When you said you were alright, even though you weren’t.” No looked up with his big wet eyes. “You’re afraid.”

“Oh.”

“So this is the last time I see you then.”

“I suppose,” said Yes, even as it broke her heart.

They stared out at the empty landscape. It was all yellow and brown fields scraped across the earth and beaten by wind and rain and human hands. It seemed impossible to think there was anyone out there. They could’ve just been plucked out of existence and thrown away into a void dressed up to look like Nebraska. Wasn’t that a thought? A void. Well, Nobody couldn’t go there, could he? Not to a purgatory like that. But, if that were true, if that was the way to go, Yes didn’t like it. Felt too much like giving up.

“I’m gonna give you something,” Yes said to the windshield. “It’s very important, not just for you, but for all of us.”

“All of us?”

She reached into her vest and tugged at the small book. It had once been a journal. The cover was worn and the pages were old, spotted with stains with fox-eared edges. It was thick, too, and there were little post-its tagged throughout with questions and amendments. The four previous owners never dared write in the actual pages. Yes brushed her thumb up and down the fabric of the spine.

Singing back to her through her memories, Yes could hear Dominic Velasquez say, “It’s gotta go. You carried it here and now you’re carrying it to him.”

“Who?” she had asked, her neck sore on the patch of rock in the desert.

“No,” the Two readers answered in unison and laughed hard just as the fire popped and spit little firefly embers up into the sky.

“No,” said Yes and laughed too, softer, sadder. She handed the Book to him without saying more. He took it, holding it with due respect.

Yes turned the car around and pointed it back towards Jonas. The sun wasn’t high. The radio didn’t work and the cassette in the player was jammed in good. Yes could have turned it on but decided the orchestra of wind and gravel and tires and engine played just about the best damn symphony she’d ever heard.

“W-wait,” said No, coming out of his reverie. “You’re not going to teach my anything today?”

“Nope,” said Yes. She put them into fourth gear and smiled at the sky. “I’m teaching you goodbye, I suppose.”

“I know goodbye,” said No. His fingers were white on the cover of the Book.

“I know you do, No,” said Yes.

The wind felt good in her hair. She was going to miss it like a sawn off limb.

There was another beat between them as they digested the moment, until the kid couldn’t hold it in. He doubled over, miserable in the bucket seat and Yes almost didn’t hear him.

“What was that?”

“It’s John,” he said louder.

“Oh, that’s alright.”

“Where will you go?”

He looked small. He looked younger, a little shrimp with his crutch and his big eyes and his limp hair. He was afraid when he shouldn’t be, since he now had the Book. Or, maybe he definitely should, but he shouldn’t know. Yes felt a great big stab in her heart, that empty feeling of losing the Book and the relief that came with it and the shame of that relief too. Her head was dizzy.

“I’m gonna go where Nobody won’t find me,” she said with a sad twist in her smile.

Yes topped the car outside the burger joint. She opened his door and he sat there without picking up his crutch. The Book was open to the front page with the old scribble in rusty ink: Property of Margot Telling.

“Is this you?”

Without asking, the two embraced and held on a long time. He was brimming with emotions, with questions, and Yes could only hold on a moment. It burned. Her scorched fingertips gripped him tight like they’d hold on forever, but then she let go. He sniffed and wiped his nose with his forearm. She batted her eyes quick, thankful for the round prem-o sunglasses.

“You’re gonna be good.” Yes’s voice was rough. She coughed to clear it so she could try again. “You’re gonna be good. You’re a natural.”

“Thank you.”

No got out of the car and stood on the sidewalk to watch her drive off. He didn’t wave and neither did she and that was fine. Yes stared at the filth stacked up in the back seat. There were just a few belongings that made up life breeding in the old Cadillac. It wasn’t good, but it was good enough. It had to be. Yes punched the music on and sped away, her eyes blurry until they weren’t and her cheeks wet until they weren’t.

Okay, you know where people actually plan to go? California. That’s the ticket. West coast. The witch in question hadn’t been to the Golden State in years and that highway was playing a siren’s song. She raced across it, her Cadillac the damn ship ready to crash on the rocks. When she was good and gone, she unrolled the window and let the crumpled note sail off in the wind, whipped in the wake of her car. Queen cheered her on through the speakers like the damn champion she was. And California called her too. That was the place to be until it wasn’t.

Previous - Chapter 7: Dinner At My Place

Next - Chapter 9: Cooking Lessons

[egrets-not-regrets]

Tangles

PART 1 Fury blinked at the sight of her eldest brother hauling in their struggling youngest under his arm like a sack of potatoes. While it wasn’t all that unusual, especially when War needed a bath, it was strange that the youngling didn’t look particularly dirty this time. “Let me go!” The little Nephilim growled. The Firstborn glared at the child, “No. You are going to get your hair fixed right now. I have had just enough of your wailing!” War whined, “But I want to go and play!” Death roughly shook the squirming bundle, “You want to go and play? Fine, I’ll just cut off all your hair then.” Their youngest sibling gasped in horror, “No! Don’t do that!” “Then behave.” The eldest deposited the sulky War into Fury’s lap and a comb in her hand, “Fury, could you? I do not have any more patience to deal with the mess in his hair. You seem to have a magic touch for this.” Fury laughed, “Of course.” She combed her fingers through War’s mane and frowned when she encountered a mess of knots. “How did this get so tangled?” she asked while slowly detangling the nest in the child's hair. Death heaved a great sigh, partly from exasperation and partly from relief, “I don’t even know. I will come back later to retrieve him.” With that, he left their little abode. When she was sure Death was out of the earshot, Fury turned to War, “Now, how did you get your hair looking like a roc’s nest, little one?” War squirmed uncomfortably in her lap and mumbled something under his breath. His sister paused, “Come again? Don’t mumble, I can’t hear you.” “... Strife said he could make my hair look like yours…” He replied rather unhappily. Fury raised a brow, “Is that so?” her grip on the comb tightened, “I will have some cross words with my dear brother then.” She growled. Blue eyes widened in panic as her youngest sibling turned to her, “Please don’t! Strife said he would tell everyone and make fun of me!” Purple eyes softened as Fury affectionately petted War’s head, “I won’t, little one. Just don’t let Strife trick you like that again.” Her mind was made up though, she will teach Strife a lesson he won’t forget! They lapsed into a comfortable silence while Fury continued to gently unravel the knots in her brother’s hair. War then turned to look at his older sister again, “Fury?” “Hm?” “Will my hair ever look like yours?” Ah… so here was what started it all… she wryly thought. Fury struggled to keep her laughter in, “Most likely not, there is only a small number of our kin who has this kind of hair. Why ever would you want hair like mine?” The child sighed, feeling a little dejected, “It looks so nice.” Fury felt flattered. She never thought much about her strange floating hair, it wasn’t the biggest of her worries except sometimes getting in the way of training. Death used to help her comb through her mane when she was younger, but even it puzzled him the way it seemed to defy gravity at times. Eventually she was left to care for it on her own which wasn’t such a big problem as long as she maintained it on a regular basis. War’s face scrunched up as his elder sister hugged him and kissed his cheek, “You are too adorable, little one.” She laughed. “I’m not cute and I’m not little! I’m going to be a big strong warrior one day like Death!” Fury chuckled, “Of course, little one.” She ran the comb through War’s hair once more to make sure no knots remained and petted his head before lifting him off her lap. “Up you go. We are done here.” She then stood and took his hand in hers. “Let’s go find our brother then.” PART 2 “Oof!” Fury turned to look at the young nephilim she reversed tackled onto the ground. “War! Don’t startle me like that! You could have gotten seriously hurt!”  She waved her gauntlet covered hands at him, “How many times have I told you?” she scolded. Bright blue eyes looked up at her as War got up and rubbed his aching backside. He grinned, “Not enough for me to not do it again.” His sister ‘hmphed’ and ruffled his white hair. “Cheeky little imp. Strife is rubbing off on you.” “Hey!” The youngling warded his sister’s hand off his hair. “Stop that!” Fury grinned evilly and suddenly trapped her little brother in tight headlock while rubbing her metal-covered knuckles onto his head, “Stop what? I can’t hear you...” she teased. War yelled, “Stop messing up my hair! Fury!” He kicked and squirmed to no effect. His sister tackled him to the ground, “Do you yield?” The young nephilim glared defiantly as he continued to struggle, “Never!” “Too bad.” Fury cackled as she easily flipped him over and started poking and tickling his stomach, being mindful of her claws. War tried to bravely hold it in, but it was all too much. He started laughing and squealing, “Fury! Stop! Stop! I can’t breathe!” His sister backed off while War laid on the floor trying to catch his breath. “Pfft!” War huffed, blowing some hair away from his face as he sat up. Fury chuckled at his state, “Now what did you want to ask me?” “Um…” her younger brother scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. Fury raised a brow expectantly, “Well?” “Uh…” War pulled a comb out of his pocket and gave it to his sister, “Could you… Could you help me untangle the knots in my hair? I got most of them out, but I can’t untangle these ones.” She looked at his hair suspiciously, “Did you go swimming and let your hair dry without combing it through again.” “… Yes…” he mumbled. Fury clucked her tongue in annoyance. “Why not ask Death?” War frowned, “He threatened to make me look like Strife if I came to him for help one more time…” he paused, “...And he yanks on my hair… You’re gentler.” Fury laughed as she pulled War in front of her and gave him her gauntlets to hold, “Alright. You’ll have to sit in front of me, you’re a bit too big to sit in my lap anymore.” “I’m not that big!” PART 3 (A/N: I have no specific timeline for this except for the fact that this is after War got his arm cut off.) It had been a long time since they had last met, let alone had a mission together. As much as he can maintain his hair with his one good arm, this was getting a little ridiculous. The golem-like arm while useful when bashing open treasure chests and ripping out hearts of their enemies, is completely useless when it came to more delicate work. Like combing out the tangles in his hair. At least she was least likely to laugh at him for it. War was not one to fuss with his hair much. It wasn’t a priority, between his hood as slight protection and some occasional brushing, it was fairly easy to maintain. However, some tangles accumulated over time and it was getting more difficult to comb through. He felt his sister’s arrival even before seeing her. “War.” She greeted him with a slight smile. “It’s been awhile.” “Fury.” He replied, “You’re mission went well?” The Black Rider breathed a sigh of relief, “For the most part. I am glad to be done with those pompous angels.” Her brother let out a deep chuckle at the statement. “So, I suppose you have something to ask of me?” Fury looked at him expectantly, “You’re not one to call for nothing but small talk.” War grinned, “I can’t spend time with my favourite sister?” Fury punched him lightly on his shoulder “I’m your only sister, cheeky imp. What is it you want to ask?” War pulled a comb out and handed it over to his sister, “Could you help me comb out these knots in my hair? I’ve done as much as I could given...” Her brother looked pointedly at his golem arm. The female nephilim sighed, frowning as memories of that incident was brought to surface. Fury shook her head to clear her mind then ran her fingers through her brother’s mane, smiling fondly, “Did you not brush your hair through after going swimming again?” War grumbled, “I did not have the time and before you ask, no, I will not ask Death.” “Alright. Alright.” Fury chuckled as she pulled the Red Rider to sit on the floor in front of her and handed him her gauntlets before starting on untangling the knots. They spent the moment in silence with War occasionally fiddling with the gauntlets in his hands as he did when he was young, while Fury combed through his hair. She gave his hair one last comb through before petting the Red Rider’s head to signal that she was done. “You’re the only one who can pet my head like that. Don’t tell Death or Strife.” War growled, lacking any real menace behind it. Fury grinned and petted his head affectionately, “Your secret is safe with me.” Her brother turned to look at her before standing and pulling her up in the process, “Thanks Fury.” She smiled, “You’re welcome, little one.” “I’m not little anymore.” War’s face twisted in distaste. “Of course, you’ll probably flatten me if you tried to sit in my lap.” His sister teased. She couldn’t help it, her youngest brother made it too easy. “Fury!”