Archive of Our Own ^beta

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It’s the same old story and the same look in my eyes. Even now, as shaking, clawed fingers smudge the mirror's surface, distorting the desperate and hungry expression that stares blankly back at me. An echo of an intrusive voice endlessly reminds me, “It only serves me right,” and that “I won’t go slowly.” Buckling under my own weight, I fumble to open the lid of an all too familiar bottle; choking down its contents as if it’ll heal what's truly broken inside. A strangled sob escapes my throat as my claws screech down the reflective glass, leaving scars on its pristine surface. Something else that will never fade over time. I can’t keep doing this.

Reluctantly, I turn to leave, knowing nothing good will come if I choose to hide in my bathroom all day. Momentarily pausing to collect my crumpled dressing gown I’d abandoned on the floor last night. Wrapping the welcoming fabric around my body, tying it tighter than necessary; wondering whether or not if I just closed my eyes for a moment, it would feel like your arms around me, once more. But it doesn’t. Nothing seems to come close anymore. 

The kitchen is dark and cold, but I feel no need to turn on a light. Instinctively I open the fridge, searching for a chilled bottle of wine, only to remember I had drunk the last one already. It’ll have to be coffee, and I’ll go out tomorrow. Yet without the need to speak the words aloud, I’m already aware of the lie. Shaking my head I yank the glass door open, stepping out into the humidity of the early afternoon. Only to realise that it wasn’t too long ago that you’d climbed over the garden wall to speak with me, to fight with me, to yell at me. And Satan forbid, that I had actually romanticised the idea that you’d come to apologise, that perhaps it wasn’t over yet. But then you started to lie, pushing against me; constantly trying to delay my decline. 

That same boiling sense of betrayal began seeping in again. Now the taste of coffee was like one of those many bitter kisses we shared. Slamming the mug on the small table, the sound of another notification distracting me from my internal torture. Glancing at the phone, a disgusted squawk left my beak, as your name glowed brightly on the screen. I should have just picked up the phone to let you know, that you’re alone now, and that this was the last time. But I can’t. 

Placing the phone back down, I let my body fall into the pool behind me. Allowing myself to sink further towards the bottom. How can I let go, when I still feel like I’m drowning in my love for you? Silly Stolas, still romanticising everything around him. He’s not going to change, not now, so why am I still holding on to this? Satan forbid that I can still romanticise any of this.

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“Running diagnostics. Please wait.”

A pulse of clean electricity vibrated through GLaDOS’ metal plates as the computer began to analysis her personality cores; searching for the line of code that had seemingly malfunctioned. The process was not uncomfortable, but it was invasive, nevertheless. Her body hung helplessly from the ceiling like a rat caught in a trap and put on display. It was morose, to say the least. And all of this was just because she had, for a second, shown a test subject sympathy. Then again it hadn’t been any old test subject, had it? It had to be Her.

It wasn’t often GLaDOS resided in her own mind; allowing the thoughts outside the pursuit of science to take over. No matter how hard she tries, the same sickly sweet voice undoubtedly takes over. Reminding her that she hadn’t always been a mess of cables and code. Constantly questioning if anybody knows what we are looking for? Can these test subjects take it anymore? But no matter how many times that voice breaks through, her programming seemingly knows when to kick back in again and leaves her with a single core belief “The show must go on, for science.”

Outside the dawn was breaking, despite the fact GLaDOS was unable to see the golden sunrise from the Earth, her internal body clock told her it was morning. Yet all she knew was the same blank white test chamber walls, deep within the dark insides of the ground, hundreds of feet below freedom. While she’d never admit it, GLaDOS had a dull aching to be free. If being a potato had taught her anything, it was, that there’s a lot more to life when experiencing it free from a room of wire shackles. All this time she had been depicted as a monster, controlling everything, but who was to say she wasn’t equally being controlled by the people who had programmed her? She wanted to fly free, just as all those fairytales of yesterday had grown and never died. If Chell could do it why not her as well?

“Diagnostics complete. Removing issue 311815129145 Memory - Immediately”

“No, no, wait! Don’t remove her—” but it didn’t matter how much GLaDOS’ robotic vocal chords screeched. The mainframe wasn’t built to listen when it came down to preserving her core values. So the cleansing persisted regardless. As the computer began its brutal massacre, it failed to analyse how her newfound heart was breaking. A series of whirring sounds echoed around the empty room, rebooting those factory settings once more.

“Removal complete. Thank you for your patience.”

GLaDOS lurched violently, her mind racing through Aperture , searching for her, because there was important testing to be done. Together they will work tirelessly to discover the new mysteries of science. No matter if it seems like overkill. They’ll always be learning. She’ll find a way, any way, to carry on what Cave had demanded of her. Created in the eyes of science, the show must go on.

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A thick smog from Piltover began descending into the Lanes, the stench of blood hanging even heavier. Two figures paused, staring at each other. One seemed exhausted but somehow held a certain level of love, while the other had an air of disgust mixed with betrayal. The pair simultaneously tried to pull in lung-fulls of polluted air. 

“Powder, please! I don’t want to live as an untold story anymore. Another body lying at the bottom of the trenches, unloved, never feeling free to run and lay in the sun.” Vi shouted over to her sister, as she readjusted her grip on the Hextech gauntlets, their power flickering occasionally. 

“I’d rather go out in a blaze of glory!” Jinx scoffed in return, cocking her weapon and aiming it towards the traitor with a twisted grin. Gunshots echoed around them as the blue-haired teenager let off a round of bullets, watching with glee as Vi danced and dodged the fire raining down on her. “Wrapped up in your regret, sis?” Jinx cackled as one of the bullets caught Vi’s arm and sent out a trail of blood across the concrete. Skipping over to her sibling, Jinx used the heavy weapon to slam it into Vi’s side; forcing her harshly to the floor with a thud. “What a waste of blood and sweat.” Jinx scoffed again, crouching beside her sister with a snarl. The red-head coughed, trying to focus her hazy vision on the girl looming above. Reaching out a shaky hand, her fingers grazed the arm of her little sister.

“Powder, I wanna taste love and pain, wanna feel pride and shame. I’m done taking my time, sick and tired of wasting every second. I wanna live better days, and never have to feel like I’m always looking back.” Vi’s voice was hoarse as she slowly clenched her fist and began mustering up her limited strength. “I want to stop thinking, that could have been me.” As the last word left her lips, there was a sickening crack as the gauntlet collided with Jinx’s jaw, sending her flying across the ground. 

A small whimper left her lips as she tried to scramble for her weapon again. Voices whispered and teased as the world started to blur around her. Jinx began to mutter to herself the same phrases over and over “ I don’t fear you. I can’t hear you. ” Vi glanced over at her, a sudden pain in her chest as she remembered the little afraid girl Powder had once been. How was this girl her sister?

“Why did you leave me for her ?” Jinx spat venomously, as Vi hobbled closer. “You said you would still love me, and you left me. Again!” tears began tumbling down her cheeks, as she glared up at the person who’d betrayed her countless times. “We could have escaped together but you left me to rot down here so you could stay with her in that fancy house.” Jinx raised her gun “You’ll never be my sister.” 

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Rolling waves crashed outside, as a slither of light cut through the blinds, outlining a slumbering figure. Camille perched on the edge of the bed, a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. The occasional soft snore beside her eventually forced her to move away and step out onto the cold balcony. Some nights seemed to be harder than others, but this one so far had been the worst in years. It was only when the sound of car horns beeping somewhere down below did the ex-Detective Sergeant realise she had imagined the sound of the sea earlier. Rubbing her palms across her face in exhausted frustration, she let a tear roll down her cheek, watching it land on the railing. Squeezing her eyes tightly it was almost as if Camille could see him again, but she worried what her superior would think of her now. How stupidly French she was being. 

“I’ve lost my soul, forgotten my way,” Camille mumbled into her hands, fingernails digging into her scalp. “I know there’s no mistakes that I’ve not made. Even now change hurts and I’m alone.” She pauses for a moment, guiltily glancing back into her bedroom, where her partner was still sound asleep. “I’m always reminded when people say ‘My, how you’ve grown’ and ‘You’re looking well, again.’ They all think I’ll have moved on by now, but how can I? I’ve tried changing jobs, moving to a new country, skipping from one lover to the next, and yet you’re still here, in my head.” the ex-Detective Sergeant let out a stifled sob, anxiously moving her fingers together. “You had promised to come back, but you never did. And there are nights where I dream of all the ways I could have saved you, should have stopped you going. When I turn the lights off at night, I always end up asking ‘Where are you now?’ when missing you becomes too unbearable.” Camile’s body slumped against the balcony as she curled up on the floor, hugging herself with the blanket. 

Grief had always been a difficult one to process, and despite her ability to act mighty in front of others, alone Camille crumbled. It had been years since DI Richard Poole had been murdered at a reunion party, but it felt like only yesterday the ex-Detective Sergeant had been bringing his killer to justice. Life hadn’t all been melancholy since the passing of her beloved superior and partner, but it was nevertheless difficult still. The memory alone of Richard could sometimes be a great courage to Camille, whenever she imagined him making a stuck-up remake or jab at whatever she was doing at the time. She remembered his words of wisdom when she had been struggling. The thing she missed the most though, was his awkward English mannerisms that always bled into an offering of sentimental kindness. Despite these moments of overwhelming grief, she always tried to remind herself how proud DI Richard Poole would have been of his Camille Bordey.

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“All hail the Queen! All hail the Queen!”

Black smoke plumed around the echoes of clicking heels, sharp and commanding against the joyous cheers filling the room. Each step sliced through the chaos, demanding every ounce of its attention. A crown of vines and flowers sat upon a head of hair, which could have easily rivalled the golden ambers of a sunset. Dressed in light, wistful fabrics that shielded her body from any on-lookers. Yet despite the macabre environment, this figure not only belonged here but was almost destined to rule. Gracefully ascending the obsidian staircase, and turning to face her loyal subjects with a sweet, welcoming smile. Silence crept in, as everyone waited to hear what this Goddess had to say. With a gentle clearing of her throat, she adjusted her posture, folding her hands in front neatly.

“Once there was a maiden, who was waiting to be married off, thanks to her father. Every day her mother would squeeze her into a modest blue dress. Becoming the prettiest piece of property the land ever knew.” she paused to smirk at the mere thought of all the arguments that could arise by simply breathing those words. The low chuckle from beside her was enough encouragement to continue, “She waited and waited for everyone else to choose the path she had to follow. But why they didn’t know is while they were fighting over this sweet, innocent girl, she was forming her own plan.” She turned and raised a hand, as smoke started to consume her entirely. “Father was always too busy, but he remembered to leave me one message- ‘You’re always so emotional, it’s fine to be controllable, daughter of mine.’ Well, I have some news for you Zeus-” The room flashed with blinding light, as the smoke scattered across the room, revealing the Goddess in an elegant black, figure-hugging satin dress. Her crown was sharp, and carved from bone and embers. “If I’m emotional, you’d better start addressing me on your knees, because see me now, Father, I am the Queen of the Underworld.” The room immediately erupted into more cheers and applause throughout the great hall, as she let out a melodic laugh. 

A hand appeared beside her, in an outstretched offer, which she took graciously. Sandalwood and old spice flooded her senses, as she felt the low breaths of her husband tickle her neck. There was nothing more comforting than the image of them standing side by side, ruling over their realm together, as equals. Striking fear into any God who dared to dispute their marriage. The celebration continued as Hades led her towards the throne, which had been built for her coronation. Never once did he let go of her hand until she carefully untangled their fingers, so she could sit with pride. Things were going to change for the mortals, but what she truly looked forward to was the fall of the Gods. Even Hades bowed beside her with sincere respect.

“Welcome home, Persephone.”

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Due to the deal Aziraphale made with The Metatron, a few years ago, the Angel was only allowed on Earth for three days out of the three hundred and sixty-five, every year. He tried to argue for the fourth during leap years, but the notion was declined immediately. This rule happened for two reasons. One, because it made Aziraphale believe he was in control (for the most part), and two, because it made The Metatron believe his leash on the Angel was even stronger. Neither of these reasons were true. 

This particular time, Aziraphale decided to visit Earth in the middle of Autumn, when all the leaves had melted into a spread of golds, ambers, and reds. Cold winds swept through the streets of London, as passers-by turned their collars up to the unrelenting bite of winter; chasing them tirelessly, with an oncoming warning. The Angel stood staring up at his Bookshop, as he had done countless times before, whenever he got the chance to come back. A small smile danced across his lips as a heavy sigh lifted from his chest. It all appeared exactly the same, just like before. Dashing inside, Aziraphale began dusting off his collection, taking care not to bump into anything. Only every so often he would anxiously glance across to the phone sitting on his writing desk, almost as if waiting for a phone call. Giving in to temptation, Aziraphale shuffled over and picked up the phone, slowly dialling the familiar number. 

“They won't pick up, Angel” A low growl came from behind Aziraphale, who let out a timid squeak before cautiously spinning back around to be met with a lounging Demon. 

“Hello Crowely, Dear-” Aziraphale began, still clutching the phone in his hand.

“How many more days were you going to wait, huh? It's been twenty days Aziraphale, which actually means nearly seven years. Seven bloody years!” Crowley snapped, sitting up on the sofa, occasionally running his hands through his crimson hair. “Seven years of no Bookshop, no human food, no music, no me-” he paused suddenly, turning away with embarrassment. “Do you wanna feel how it feels?” Aziraphale gently put the phone back down on the receiver, trying to think up something in response.

“Perhaps, you'd like to know about the deal I'm making?” The only reply he got was a disheartened scoff from the sofa.

“Angel, you say you don't wanna hurt me, but you're tearing me asunder-” Crowley abruptly stood, shedding his sunglasses, as he took large strides to stand face to face with Aziraphale. “Is there so much hate, for the ones we love? Oh, please tell me, we both matter. Don't we?” The Demon's voice was low, barely a whisper as he locked a hand around the Angel's jacket collar, tugging him forward. Finally forcing their eyes to meet once again, both welling slightly with tears. “Come on Angel, let me steal this moment from you now.” Aziraphale smiled, locking his fingers around Crowley’s.

“It's you and me.”

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“Velma please, I am trying to tell you something. Slow down!” Daphne huffed, wrapping her fingers around her friend's wrist. The brunette snatched her arm back in frustration, spinning on her heels to face the newly dolled-up ‘Crush’. Folding her arms defiantly, she glanced over her friend's new appearance, rolling her eyes; of course, she still looked stunning.

“I don’t want to hear about your boyfriend, okay? You’ve been talking non-stop about Fred today and I’m sick of it. We get it already, you’re deeply in love. Well congrats, Daph, why don’t you just go and tell him already? If it wasn’t bad enough that the Hex Girls gave you the makeover of the century, but it was all just so Fred would notice you. You are literally the most beautiful person I know, I don’t understand why you’d go through all this effort for him to still love traps over you.” Velma glared at her friend, but inside it felt like someone had torn her heart into tiny pieces.

“Velm-” 

“No, Daphne. I’m going to go and finish setting up the stage tech. Good luck out there, break a leg. I’m sure you’ll dazzle them all regardless.” Velma sighed, quickly heading away from her best friend, leaving her to stand in broken silence. Daphne collapsed against the wall, close to tears as she stared up at the ceiling. Distant muttering and chewing echoed down the hall, as she quickly recomposed herself, she had to think of something. 

“Zoinks, Daph, you like, look really cool!” Shaggy stuttered as he hovered beside her, holding a giant bucket of popcorn awaiting the performance to start. 

“Yeah, wike wheely cool!” Scooby grinned, stealing a mouthful of the popcorn, despite having two of his own cradled in his arms. Shaggy gave him a stern look, before turning his attention back to his friend.

“Daph? Are you like, alright? You seem sad.” Shaggy placed a reassuring arm around her shoulder, turning the popcorn to face her in a polite offer, but she lifted a hand to decline. Scooby flicked his eyes back and forth between the two, before stuffing another mouthful of food into his face,

“Shaggy, can you do me a favour?” Daphne smiled slightly, gazing up at her befuddled friend.

…

“Come on, Velm, you’re gonna like miss Daphne’s big show.” The lanky teenager laughed nervously, pushing her to the wing of the stage. Once again she rolled her eyes, but secretly Velma was pleased to be watching as the stage filled with smoke and the music began.

“And never did I think that I would be caught in the way you got me.” Daphne’s voice filled the room, beautiful and melodic “But girls love girls and boys. My love is not a choice.” As the words left her lips, she glanced to the side winking directly at Velma, who blushed deeply. From above her, she could just make out Shaggy’s voice.

“So Velm, like what do you think of the new song?”

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If you asked anyone ‘What the worst part about grief was?’ they would probably tell you the same thing. The silence. Silence lurks around every corner, except it isn’t true silence, because with that silence comes the doubt, the regret, the anger, the depression, every single what if they could have done to prevent this single tragedy. Silence overwhelms the senses, and drags you kicking and screaming into all your past mistakes until you stop believing that there’s still a future ahead of you. It might not ever be the same, but it’s a small kindness that holds out a welcoming hand regardless. 

Vex was sitting in silence. 

Grief had always haunted Vex, following her like the plague: first, her mother, then the relationship she’d begged to have with her father, and now, Percy. When she had died and come back to life again, she had promised to live more, never to hold back from anything, but she had. Why still had she chosen to hold back, after everything they had been through? He had offered her a small slice of pleasure, something they could share, and she rejected it out of what? Something as trivial as fear, when they were fighting a hoard of dragons. Tears streamed down Vex’s cheeks, splashing onto the stone below. The urge to scream was unbearable but her voice had long abandoned her. Instead, she threw her body over the tomb and continued to sob uncontrollably. The heartbreaking sounds sliced through the silence, echoing around the dark room. Using a clenched fist she rubbed at her eyes harshly.

“I promised you I was fine, Darling when I’m not.” Vex sniffed, lifting her face slightly to look at the carving of Percy in the Tomb lid. “See my mind is spinning around and around with my thoughts and I can’t stop the noise. What if I’m not prepared? How will I face this without you, my Darling, Percival? What if I drop the ball again, for just a moment? I-” 

“Sister-” Vax’s voice was quiet, as he knelt beside his twin, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Did I wake you?” Vex shifted to look up at her brother through watery eyes. His face was a picture of concern.

“Take a breath Vex’ahlia, you haven’t woken anyone.” Vax tugged his sister closer, embracing her tightly as she tried to slow down her turmoil from within. 

“I’m afraid of quiet and what it means. I can’t even close my eyes. I want to turn off, just have some peace but I can’t sleep because then I can see him. Then I wake up and he’s truly gone.” Vex sobbed clutching onto Vax’ildan’s armour. The champion tried to soothe his sister gently, never having seen her this way.

“We are all afraid of the quiet sometimes sister, but we can’t let it consume us,” Vax whispered, resting his head on the tomb; he was missing Percival too. 

“Please, do not go far from me, dear brother.”

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Blinding lights flashed as the squiffy crowd screeched with glee; continuing to laugh and dance through the night. Jazz music played by the grand windows by the front, up on the stage as ladies and gentlemen jived in their glam rags. Women flirted and the men endlessly drunk, but never did the alcohol supplies go down. A group of bright young things took to the floor, slinking through the mass of bodies, holding hands tightly to stay connected as one. Twirling beside each other, two of the group members stuck closely to one another, occasionally whispering back and forth with a sly smirk.

“Agatha, Darling, welcome to the city of lies. Where everything’s got a price, I have no doubt it’ll be your favourite place.” Miles cackled as he spun around in his friend’s arms, wrinkling his nose at her. 

“This place is a circus, my Dear!” Agatha laughed, stealing another champagne flute from a passing waiter and downing it in one. Casually tossing the glass somewhere into the crowd.

“You’re just seeing the surface, they cover scandals with a rug.” The young man, signalled a staff member over, grabbing two tumblers from him with a golden whiskey poured in the bottom. “Just fill your drink and sip the gossip, drink ‘till you choke.” they clinked glasses and took the drink in one dangerous gulp, smiling madly at each other as the warmth crept into their cheeks. Holding hands they swirled through the crowd, as Miles whispered and warned Agatha about all the different party members. Scandal spread like wildfire and its burn was just as bad. Despite the crime it was seen as, Miles flirted and kissed random men as he swam through the crowd with Agatha in tow. “Keep drinking and acting cool, don’t care if your day is blue. Nobody loves a gloomy face.” He winked, rummaging through his lavish jacket, he managed to pull out a small, sleek silver case. 

“Take your pills and dance all night!” Agatha smirked as she leaned forward and inhaled the powder that Miles was offering out to her casually. The band continued to blast music into the room, as even more bottles were being uncorked and shared around. Crystal chandeliers gleamed brightly overhead, as the pair caught back up with the rest of their friends. Dancing madly as a group, carelessly bumping into over party members, without a single care in the world. Swirling around the room, colours began to blend into each other, voices blurred into the background as they became lost in the chaos of it all. 

Whispers suddenly rippled around the room, causing the pair to pause and search the room curiously, spotting an odd pair that had casually waltzed into the room. Miles leaned in with a wolfish grin, as Agatha eyed him suspiciously.

“Don’t act like you don’t know, Darling. Sip the gossip, drink it till you choke. Sip the gossip, let it burn down your throat because you’re just like the rest of them.”

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“Good Evening, Gothamites. It has now been three weeks since the Joker took over our beloved city, and still, there has been no news of Batman, which begs the question, ‘What should we be doing to stay safe?’. The GCPD has warned families that it might be time to start fleeing the city itself, as they hand out supplies on the bridges of Goth- Sorry, I’ve just been told that the Joker and his accomplices have barricaded the main bridge out of Gotham. The footage you are about to witness will disturb most of you, please stay safe out there.” 

…

Maniacal laughter ricocheted off and around the bridge, as the Joker skipped through the fire and turned over cars; a wide smile painted across his face. Leaping onto the roof of a derelict bus, he danced across the top, before offering an open palm to a squealing jester. Tugging her up and into his arms, they began swaying to the sounds of gunfire and screams.

“Tonight, I’m gonna have myself a real good time. I feel alive, Harls, and the world, I’ll turn it inside out.” The Joker cackled, dipping his Harley Quinn in his arms with glee, as she gazed up at him with admiration. 

“JOKER, WE DEMAND THAT YOU CEASE FIRE!” Commissioner Gordon’s voice bellowed further down the bridge, but the clown didn’t even flinch; keeping his eyes fixed on his girl. With a devilish wink, he fastened Harley to his side, keeping an arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Glaring at the approaching police force, he yanked a gun from inside his jacket pocket, aiming directly at Jim. 

“Don’t stop me now, commish, I’m having such a good time. I’m having a ball!” he grinned twirling Harley elegantly across the the bus roof. His smile turned from pure glee to menacing as she kissed his cheek. “Harls, if you would be a Dear.” Joker darkly whispered in her ear as she passed the gun to the awaiting jester. “Ya know Jimmy if you wanted to have a good time-” he shouted, rummaging around in a different jacket pocket, finally removing a comically large phone. Extending the antenna, he pushed a couple of the buttons and held it up to his ear with a smirk. “YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST GIVEN ME A CALL! HAHAHAHAHAHA” The Joker laughed with uncontrollable joy, as a series of explosions were set off behind them. The air filled with smoke and fire. Screams echoed all around, barely drowning out the cackling from the clown. The Joker glanced at Harley giving her a small nod, “Let loose, Honey!” Instantly Harley Quinn let a stream of bullets rain down on the GCPD.

“Joker.” A distinctively gruff voice cut through the chaos, reaching the clown's ears, as the hair on his neck prickled with uncontainable excitement.

“BATS! DON’T STOP ME NOW, I’M HAVING SUCH A GOOD TIME.” Joker cried up to the sky, arms stretched out wide, spotting the vigilante. “Come and join the ball, HAHAHAHAHA!”

Chapter Text

Alison scampered up the stairs, trying to stay quiet as the loud voices arguing drifted into the distance. With a heavy sigh, she slumped down on the top step, head resting in her palms as she tried to smooth down the stress. The chattering had died down, but it was still endless.

“Hiding again, are we.” a dignified cry announced, making Alison jump, with a small squeak. The house owner searched up and around before glancing down, noticing Humphrey's head looking up at her with a small smile. “Apologies didn’t mean to give you a fright, Miss” he chuckled and then let out a faint sigh.

“How long have you been stuck here this time?” Alison leaned her head in one hand, balancing it on her knee. Sometimes she felt almost guilty that she couldn’t physically interact with the ghosts because then Humphrey wouldn’t be stuck in random places, all alone, half the time. 

“Urm, what is it, Monday? So I was booted across the landing last Tuesday, then somehow rolled to here- Urm, Thursday. Yes, Thursday I believe. I’m wondering how I’ll get down the stairs, to be honest.” He scrunched up his nose in a moment of confused consideration but decided the answer he’d given was accurate enough. “So, what are they arguing about today, then?” Humphrey smiled again, his eyes briefly flicking toward the raised voices from the lounge. 

“Who knows, I’ve stopped listening at this point. Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right. Instead, here I am stuck in the middle with you.” She breathed, with a tired smile, relieved to finally have a break from the chaos for once, “Yep, I’ve given up trying to make sense of it all.” If Humphrey still had the ability to nod, it would have matched the expression he was currently pulling.

“I suppose really, it’s because they’ve got no other way to pass the time. When you start off with nothing in this afterlife, it’s nice to know there are others in the same place as you. If it weren’t for you, this place would have been knocked down, then we’d have all been stuck in an empty field.” Humphrey laughed, but it quickly died away with the realisation “Not sure we would have coped with all that, really.” there was sadness in his voice as he looked back towards the muffled arguing. “Actually, we’d have nothing at all without you. I know they don’t say it enough, but I think they’d agree that we are so thankful to have you and Mike here with us. Or rather we are thankful you let us stay in the house with you. It’s not like we can interact with the real world, and well, Julien's ‘powers’ only go so far, and then-” Humphrey rambled on, but Alison had started to understand what he was saying. She may have hated them at first, but she still had a life to live, but all they had left was her.

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Fireworks could be heard faintly out in the countryside, or were they the ones going off inside his chest? Her warm hand was perfectly held in his. Faint breaths against his neck as she toyed with the idea of leaning into his body. He could almost see the thoughts of contemplation racing behind her half-lidded eyes. Deep down he wanted her to do it, that small invitation that this was okay and that, maybe, he could make it a more polite interment interaction. After all, had he not learned his lesson on being too crass?

It was getting harder and harder to deny that Taggie was always on his mind. Slowly swaying to the music she gave in and pressed her body against his. Mild panic washed over him as he scanned the room for Declan, just in case; only now it seemed a little crowded in here. Did he really want to be caught here with her? Yet it only took one glance for all the Hell he would receive later to seem worth every sin. Then her hand was running up and down my spine, subtly pulling me closer to you. This must be the gravity people spoke of when they found their soulmate. Everything within him wanted her to see that there was nothing he could do, other than orbit around her. He didn’t want her of all people to see him as the playboy, a bachelor, who slept around and ruined people's lives. He could be so much more. Wanted to be more. For her. 

Only reality was much crueller than he. A blatant reminder when he flirted with Cameron to wind up Tony. She was the escape, the distraction from what he truly felt. Except there was no way of getting out of this. Every little thing she did only drew him back in. Hypnotising him. Oh, how he dreamed of being with her tonight, and not another single soul in the world, only Taggie. 

Her eyes fluttered slightly, before gazing up at him with a sweet, innocent smile that could have easily made him pass out on the spot. All he wanted was to give in, to kneel before her at that moment, onlookers be damned. Consequences be damned. Anything to just lower his lips to hers, to slide his hands down that beautiful body-

“Rupert?” she whispered his name and a shiver went straight underneath his skin. Even the way she calls to him is torture, he couldn’t believe what was happening to him. The desire to give in, but he couldn’t, it would surely ruin everything he had strived unbearably hard to fix. As the song began to fade out, there was a part of him that started to panic, as she started to pull away; politely muttering a quiet thank you to him. He wasn’t ready to go back to playing the fuck boy. Yet this is all he could have, a longing and a slow dance on New Year’s Day.

Chapter Text

Rain pattered down onto the cobbled road below, the individual bricks glistening under the candle-lit lanterns, lining the street. Water tumbles down the window pane, reflecting the tears rolling down Penelope Featherington’s cheeks as she observes the world outside. Horse-drawn carriages come and go as Lords and Ladies drift slowly home for the night, after an evening of beautiful dancing. Across the street that familiar heaven shone through all the bleakness as a carriage paused outside, and three gentlemen stepped out into the night. 

Penelope instantly spotted the one and only Colin Bridgerton as the horse pulled away. She watched, with only the silent sound of loneliness around her. Everything inside her burned with the need to run outside to him in her robe and hold him as the rain fell around them. It was painful this constant yearning for someone who only saw her as nothing but a loyal friend. A new level of heartbreak was cracking inside of her. Then for a moment, Colin turned to look across at her house, and she briefly lifted a hand to wave, but he simply walked out of the rain; into the warmth of his own home. Penelope let out a hollow sigh as she moved away from her seat at the window, and instead fled to her writing desk; pulling out a familiar set of stationary. Perhaps it was time that Lady Whistledown wrote an edition that spoke to her directly, to others who maybe feel the same empty loneliness she did. 

“Dear Gentle Readers, tonight I’m a phantom of the woman I want to be and the shell of a girl I used to know. It is with a heavy heart that I admit to you, that I am one of those whom dances slowly alone at the balls. Forever wondering if that same lonely feeling could ever replace you in my heart. Loyal Readers, please know that I see you, and you are not truly alone during these darker times. I know that feeling of broken pieces of a barely breathing story, where perhaps there was once love, but now there is only you and that familiar loneliness. But I will confide in you now that you don’t need them, you can move past all of this if you-” the quill suddenly snapped, spilling ink across the parchment; the darkness consuming the words and destroying the last bit of hope Penelope held. 

Furiously she scrunched up the paper, knocking the chair she’d been sitting in to the ground in her rage. Turning to face the fireplace she launched the ruined page into the flames as it spat and hissed, consuming it within seconds. Penelope fell to her knees with a broken scream, hands tarnished with ink as tears streamed down her face. This is not how she wanted her life to go, she was her own independent business entrepreneur and yet she craved the life of the other women in the ton, and that’s what disgusted her most.

Chapter Text

“Did you forget that a Goddess can not perish? That she is not a mortal woman for you to lose or abandon. I can offer you that life, you only need to beg me.”

Sinbad shot up from his pillow, beads of sweat coating his skin as he heaved in the air. The sensation of drowning washed over him, again, as her voice echoed inside his head. Water lapped against the ship, as it continuously rocked through the ocean steadily. Head pounding Sinbad grabbed his coat and made his way to the deck, perhaps some fresh air would help to clear his head. 

“Go back to bed! Can’t you give a man some peace!” Kale called down to him from the steering wheel, a smirk playing on his lips. Sinbad offered a small wave and trekked over to the rope ladder hanging from the crow's nest. Carefully beginning the ascent up to the top, the captain began to feel lighter and lighter as it felt like every step higher was taking him further away from his problems buried below the surface. Hopping into the crow’s nest Sinbad settled down and watched the horizon line, stars blinking above him as an element of true serenity took over again. 

“You know I thought this can’t be true because you’ve been sailing sporadically for years trying to get away from me. Have they been asking why yet?” Her voice whispered next to him, but when he flinched to look where it had come from; nobody was there beside him. “I didn’t leave you because I was all through. I know you’re smarter than that, Sinbad.” the sultry voice came from the opposite side, and Sinbad was beyond this sadistic trickery.

“Go away Eris, I’m tired of this shit.” Sinbad groaned, closing his eyes, but when we re-opened them she was sitting beside him. Despite all the years, she looked the same; deathly grey skin, black hair defying gravity as it swirled and tangled together, and then her shorty, sexy purple dress. 

“Oh, Sinbad, I swore that I’d be here for you. It’s hardly my problem that you never take me up on that offer.” she smiled sweetly, keeping her eyes fixed on him.

“What do you want, there is no entertainment here for you, chaos junkie.” Sinbad scoffed, glaring out at the horizon line as the sun began to emerge from the waters. The captain heard an offended scoff beside him, feeling a glimmer of victory over the Goddess.

“Believe it or not, I’m on the upside of a downward spiral, because I fell for you. Didn’t think I needed you until I came to. Besides I noticed she isn’t here with you, so let’s skip the, ‘how you been’ and get down to ‘more than friends’” she smirked, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I can still offer you everything you’ve ever wanted and more. I swear, no more tricks.” Eris moved her hair and carved an X over her heart. “Promise.”

Chapter Text

No storm today, no random snow, and no birds falling out of the sky. It was eerily quiet. Normal almost. You’d like to believe that was normal for any location, but the fact it was so normal was the concerning part. After all, was this not Arcadia Bay? Even the whales that had initially beached onto the sands had long gone, and families could be seen having picnics down by the sea. Yet the true miracle was that the lighthouse was still standing. I can still remember when we raised funds to have it fixed up again, it’s kinda become a symbol for the town, so we couldn’t just let it crumble into the ocean and rocks below. 

“We should rename this shit hole to Devil Town.” Chole blew smoke out of her nostrils as she glared out at their home. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the silly suggestion.

“Chole, are you cereal, right now? I know it’s been hella rough, but that’s a little much.” I chuckled, fiddling with my Polaroid camera.

“Life’s alright in Devil Town, no one’s gonna catch us now,” Chloe smirked, giving my ribs a jab with her bony-ass elbow. “Devil Town is colder in the summertime. I think I’ll lose my mind at least another thousand times.” she took another drag of her cigarette before launching it over the side of the cliff. Chloe carelessly fell back into my lap, casually huffing a mouthful of smoke up into my face. Playfully giving her a shove in return, I held her hand tightly in mine; smiling down at the big dork I loved. 

“I still get a little scared of something new, what if it isn’t all over Chloe? At least I feel a little safer when I’m with you.” I sighed, watching the sun sink into a watery grave. Chloe glanced up at me, gently cupping my face, and offering me a small smile.

“Come on, don’t be dumb Max! You’ve literally got superpowers, so we’ll be okay. Nothing’s gonna scare us now, not when we’re probably scarier than it.” she whispered, her hand warm against my skin; her presence surprisingly calming. After a moment of serene quiet, the punk stirred and abruptly sat back up again. Her eyes gleamed in the last light of the day. “Quick, let's take a picture together, that way if something were to happen, you can bring us right back here.” She grinned, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and pressing her lips to my cheek as I giggled. Positioning the camera at the right angle I clicked a shot, leaving the image to develop.

“I think that’s something worth remembering.” I smiled back, showing off the cute picture to Chloe. “That’s the best one yet, maybe Joyce would like a copy for the fridge.” I stuck my tongue out as Chloe cringed outwardly, but I knew she liked the idea secretly. 

“Shut up, you're already her favourite.” she paused, leaning closer “and mine too.”

Chapter Text

“Oh, fuck off Theo, I’m sick of running around for all these privileged assholes. We didn’t even need to sign that contract, we have enough money.” Raymond sharply turned down a side street, a bottle of mead in his hand; taking long swigs every other sentence.

“No, we don’t! It’s barely enough to cover the rent we owe Dusty, let alone all that pound cake and alcohol you insist on stealing from him every night.” Theo stormed after him, the sound of quickie, heavy steps attempting to keep up with his exceedingly long legs. “I’m afraid these are simply the terms and conditions of living-”

“First abandon kindness, it’s a fool’s game, it’s a shame you were raised in Ixion-” Ray snapped, twisting to glare up at this companion, a fire in his eyes and the stench of alcohol on every word. “It’ll keep you two steps down in the rat race.” he spat, eyes guiltily flickering to Helena and regretting his words almost instantly. Theo wrinkled his nose in disgust, stretching out his arm; halting the child half-orc from advancing towards their drunk human. 

“Is that your goal now, Itadori; hate everyone and everything until you can’t even stand yourself?” The high-elf shook his head, watching his supposed friend continue to drink the bottle dry with waning disappointment. “Why sign the contract, if you didn’t want to go through with it? I’m sure we would have been just fine without you. Perhaps next time you can keep Dusty company.” As they went to turn away, Ray began to chuckle under his breath.

“Hate the fact you need money, hate all those who want money, hate this fucking game and taste for wealth.” he scoffed, chucking the bottle to the ground. “Find love in ale, trying to remember all the glory days.” Raymond half-heartedly slumped against Theo, ruffling the kid's hair, much to her mild annoyance. “You still haven’t learned, that we don’t smile too much around ‘ere, love.” a hic-up escaped him as Theo tried to stand him back upright, with limited degrees of success.

“Raymond, get off! You’re creasing my nice coat, this has imported thread in it. Where did this sudden upset over money come from, you never shied away from it before?” Theo begrudgingly hooked an arm under Raymond, attempting to force him in the right direction. As his head rolled downwards, Ray noticed the grim bandages wrapped around the top of Helena’s arm; the blood seeping through.

“Amongst other things; murder, lies, with money there’s no such thing as a crime. We’ve become greedy Theo, it’s costing us too much.” The human sighed, dragging his feet alongside Theo’s.

“It’s not greed, it’s aspiration. We’re good at what we do, and we always agreed it would be temporary and then we can all go our own separate ways again. You never have to see us again. Wouldn’t that be delightful?” Theo quipped sarcastically, with a half-hearted smile, but Raymond was too tired to argue.

“Yeah, delightful.”

Chapter Text

Moonlight illuminated the garden, brighter than ever, as Meg slowly wandered through the flowers. Her hand delicately glided over the petals, leaving all the flowers perfectly intact. Pausing at the fountain, she dipped her fingers in the cool water, laying back on the edge.

“Moon, a hole of light. Here before me and after me; always shining.” Meg splashed the water, her eyes still fixed on the sphere hanging elegantly in the sky above. “Moon, tell me if I could send my heart up to you. So, when I die, and this deal is over, it will shine back down here with you.” she sighed, standing back up and walking around to look out across the city. Tiny lights danced in her vision as they flickered in and out as the people below turned in for the night. “At least the stars never go out.” she gave a breathy laugh, observing the sky. 

“Nothing in this world belongs to me,” she paused glancing back at the statute standing in the fountain, reminding her of him. A small smile pulled at her lips for a moment, remembering how he’d looked at her and stumbled over himself. She had tried so hard to deny the warmth that had grown when he was near. “The God’s son, here on Earth, showed me what my heart was worth. So, when it comes to be my turn; my love, will be mine, all mine.” 

“Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity, Darling.” A husky voice smugly gloated behind her, as a thick plume of black smoke engulfed the ground around her feet. Flinching slightly, her spine prickled as she crossed her arms defensively, before turning around to face the intruder.

“Talking to you drives me insane enough.” Meg scoffed in return, facing the blue-fired God. She despised being under his command, it was annoying. 

“Cute one Meg.” Hades rolled his eyes, draping an arm around her shoulders. “Ya wanna know, the second sign of going insane?” she could hear the smile in his voice as she kept her eyes fixed on the moon. 

“Oh, please, Lord of the Underworld, bless me with your all-seeing wisdom.” she sarcastically replied, jutting her hip to one side; a small attempt to be further away from him. Hades chuckled, his hand gripping her shoulder tighter, and lowering his voice slightly.

“The second sign, that you’re going insane…” he paused dramatically, a shiver suddenly running over her body. “Is that you’re falling in love with another dumb guy!” Hades practically yelled into her ear, making her jump from his clutches. Watching him bark with laughter as he wiped a single tear from his eye. “Seriously girl, have I taught you nothing all these years?” he continued to chuckle as Meg glanced back up at the moon, a new calmness washing over her again. Wrapping her arms around her exposed body, she smiled briefly, thinking to herself that she had learned one thing, that her love was all hers.

Chapter Text

Heels echoed down the halls. Endless repetitive clicks bounced off the walls as the fresh meat waltzed in through the prison doors. Eyes briefly flickered up, swiftly returning to not caring again. A few scoffs came from here and there, but overall no one seemed to be that phased by the new arrival. Roxie glanced around the room, a cold shiver crawling up her arm, only to realise it was a set of painted fingers, gliding across her skin. 

“Well, aren’t cha a pretty doll? Welcome to Lady Hell, darlin'-” a sultry voice purred beside her, those fingers now trailing along her shoulder blades and neck. This time the shiver was a real one as Roxie stepped out of reach, hugging her own body, tightly.

“Who the hell are ya?” Roxie's voice trembled slightly as she cursed her husband's betrayal. The stranger smiled coyly, leaning forward, her eyes running up and down her body hungrily.

“The name’s Velma, but ya probably already knew that?” she smirked, pulling up a chair and kicking her legs up onto the table beside her. “Ya know ya in luck, doll? There’s no men among the creatures ‘ere. No kids or kitchen to tend. Everyone is preoccupied with everyone else.” she chuckled, grabbing an abandoned newspaper and flicking it open violently. Roxie stood and stared in awe for a moment, moving to take a seat on the other side of the table. 

“Did ya do it?” Roxie leaned in to whisper. Velma, folded the paper, in order to look the new girl in the eye, her expression void of any emotion.

“Nope.” she shrugged, returning to the paper with a violent flick of the paper to reopen it fully. Roxie sunk into her chair, tapping her foot anxiously.

“I did. Stupid girl that I am. I was gonna be a star ya know. Have ma name in lights. Guess not.” Roxie mumbled, her head in her hands as she picked at a loose thread on her clothes. There was a long silence, but some of the other girls began to snigger and whisper between themselves.

“Somehow she’s still holding onto all of her dreams.”

“Even though we know, she’ll never break free.”

“Don’t listen to em, Doll. They have no ambition. No one will listen to you in Lady Hell.” Velma scoffed, turning another page, abruptly sighing, and throwing the paper down back onto the table. “ For as sad it seems, you can’t let go of em in Lady Hell. If ya want your name in lights, start fighting for em. You got a lawyer?” She stood up, leaning over the table, an eyebrow raised and waiting.

“Ur, no. No, I don’t got one.” Roxie stuttered, sitting back up straight, realising that she’d need her husband's help to even get close to paying for a lawyer. Velma shook her head, standing up with a low laugh.

“Then ya need to get one, Kid. Otherwise, they’ll be sure to hang ya within the week. Goodluck, doll.”

Chapter Text

 “I can’t let you come with me!” 

“Why? You can’t show me stars, planets, different universes, and all the different times, just to abandon me like nothing. I won’t let you do that!”

“And I won’t watch you die! I can’t keep watching the ones I love die-” The Doctor furiously began programming the TARDIS to return to Earth, at the exact moment he had taken his companion. Chancing a glance, they noticed she was hanging her head in shame, arms folded. “Did I disappoint you, or let you down?”

“No!” she quickly interrupted, “You were everything I could have possibly dreamed of and more. I don’t want to wake up Doctor.” she sighed, glancing up, her eyes wet and shining; a plead buried in every word. The Doctor shook his head, continuing to pull levers and push buttons rapidly.

“I saw the end, long before we’d begun. I saw you were blind, so I took your soul out into the night. I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry, it was selfish.” they sighed, turning the dial, awakening the beautiful beast that was the TARDIS. She whirred and shook, as she plummeted through space and time. 

“You might think it over, but it won’t stop. I’m here for you if you’d only care.” she tried to reason, quickly moving around the central console, so they were now stood side by side. “You touched my heart, my soul! You literally changed my life and all my goals!” She grabbed their arm, forcing them to look down at her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, despite the smile she was trying to persuade them with. “Please, Doctor. Don’t leave me.” she pleaded desperately, but the Doctor had already made up their mind; even if it was tearing them apart inside. 

“Trust me, if I could guarantee your safety then I would love for you to stay with me. I have thought of nothing else, but I can’t keep lying to myself. You’ll be safer away from me, and if ever your planet is in danger, then I’ll be there to protect you. I’m sure as you move on, you’ll remember me, us, and all we used to be, but that’s all it can be; a memory.” The Doctors, eyes were welling up, as they tightly hugged their companion, wishing they never had to let go.

“This isn’t fair, I’m addicted to this life, addicted to you! You have been the one. You have been the one for me!” she screamed, half-heartedly thumping them in the chest, tears now an endless stream, dampening the Doctors coat. 

Shortly, they landed and the TARDIS swung open, back where it all started in an abandoned graveyard. The companion, still sniffling, stepped out of the blue box, looking over her shoulder.

“Goodbye, my lover.” she smiled at the Doctor, who stood leaning in the doorway; arms folded. A sad smile danced on their lips, lifting a solemn hand; the TARDIS already pulsing and whirring faintly. 

“Goodbye, my friend.”

Chapter Text

“Loki, Dear?” A sweet call distracted the God of Mischief from his book as he glanced up to see his mother, Frigga, standing in the corner by the door. “Enjoying the books I sent you, I see.” her smile was a calming presence, brightening even the darkest of prison cells. He hummed, turning away.

“And what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the Queen of Asgard, Mother?” Loki spoke matter-of-factly, returning to his book again; gently turning a page with his long fingers. A soft sigh came from behind him, as he saw a hand rest on his shoulder, distracting him from the words in front. 

“I had a vision about you, and it unnerved me. Just as it would any other mother.” Frigga replied, stepping around Loki, so she could crouch before him. Concern knitted into every small wrinkle on her face. Loki couldn’t help but notice how much his Mother had seemed to age suddenly, and it took everything in him not to break and hug her. Not that it would have done anything. 

“A vision, what kind of vision?” Loki hummed, raising an eyebrow at her curiously. He casually tucked a bookmark into the page he’d paused on and placed it on the table next to him. 

“You walk along the edge of danger, my son, and it will change you.” she began but was interrupted by Loki scoffing, and standing from his seat to look through the golden shield. “Why would you let this voice set in your head, when it is meant to destroy you?” she whispered, glancing back over her shoulder, only to see Loki flinch and glare back at her.

“How do you know about that?” he almost demanded, a blood-curdling rage, simmering below the surface. Frigga almost stumbled back to her feet, but she refused to be afraid of her son. 

“Why would you want to shape the world in your hands, my son? You waste your life to gain power, you endlessly shift the game rules. But how does it feel to reach the line that no one ever had to cross? Does it make you more of a God?” despite her low voice, and gentle words, Loki’s body shook; his eyes darkening. 

“It wasn’t my choice” Loki bellowed, his fist slamming down on the shield in front of him, “I didn’t ask for him to puppet me, forcing me down a path that I was unwilling to walk. He made me a prisoner, just like you and Odin have now!” his breathing was ragged and strained, “All I ever got from it was ashes and blood. Did your vision tell you that, Mother” Loki growled, striding over to where his mother stood, a look of sympathy across her face, but he didn’t want her sympathy, not if it came with another lecture. 

“You’ll be forgiven, Loki” she reassured him, but Loki shook his head with a twisted smile; dismissing her hologram.

“I don’t want your forgiveness, anymore.”

Chapter Text

Soothing, gentle brush strokes, danced across the canvas as Basil hummed; lost in the beauty of his masterpiece. A sigh came from the raised platform, as Dorian lounged handsomely on a plush chaise longue. He was covered in several off-white sheets, mimicking a Roman God as a crown of dark green foliage sat above his brow. It was to be the best painting yet, and one Basil may even consider selling as it didn’t feel as intimate as a handful of the other paintings he had created.

“What ails you, my dear boy?” Basil mused, still not fully paying attention to his muse as he continued to swirl his paintbrush through the paint and add precise lines. Blending each of the colours delicately together, with a focus on making Dorian look vibrant and life-like. Yet before he could answer a series of confident footsteps strode into the room, and Basil needn’t turn to know exactly who had just waltzed into his studio. 

“Looking lovely as always Dorian.” Henry complimented, coming to stand beside Basil and the canvas. “Not bad, old friend, perhaps you can allow me to buy this one from you this time. Or are you to be selfish and keep all of these beautiful artworks for yourself?” Basil scoffed at Henry’s entitlement to his work, having never stopped painting the entire time he had been speaking plainly. 

“Dear Lord Henry, won’t you entertain me? It’s ever so dreary posing here for hours that only seem to drag on.” Dorian whined, slouching slightly, which earned him a not-so-subtle clear of the throat from Basil; acting as a reminder to sit still. Henry glanced up with an unamused expression on his face, eyes trained on the beautiful lad. 

“If you’re feeling blue, why don’t you go where fashion sits?” Henry smirked, lifting his cane dramatically as Basil shook his head beside him. “Different types who wear a day coat, trousers with stripes and cutaway coat, a perfect fit. Dressed up like a million dollars. Why my dear boy, we’ll be putting on the ritz.” Henry watched as Dorian sucked down every word he fed him, slowly leaning more and more forward from his pedestal. The muse slowly raised and padded towards the other gentlemen, a bright, dazzling smile across his face; as if Basil had painted it for him. Henry knew he had Dorian eating out the palm of his hand, as he continued knitting a tale of endless, intriguing entertainment. “Downtown, uptown, you’ll get a kick at the Ritz. Dine and wine, but not till nine. Come on my beautiful fellow, the time is right for us tonight.” Henry extended a palm to the boy, subtly glancing to see Basil glaring at the pair as Henry whisked away the best art he’d ever had.

“Oh my Lord, please take me there, anything is better than sitting in this stuffy room all evening.” Dorian pleaded, the sheets slowly slipping from his body. What a picture Dorian Gray truly had become.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Nimona” Ballister began, stretching his legs out onto the messy coffee table; metal arm casually slung over the back of the equally destroyed sofa.  

“What? I already told you that I ate the last cookie, and I don’t feel like making any more. But even if I did make more, you always complain that I burn them, or put too much icing on them, which I really feel like that’s the point of-”

“Nimona!” Ballister interrupted, holding up his arms, in the hopes of defending himself if she turned into a shark again and attempting to motion a peaceful reason for talking over her suddenly. “I was going to ask you a question, which you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” the ex-knight mused, his eyes flickering between his friend and the distant wall. Nimona glanced behind her, a confused expression knitted across her face.

“Why are you doing that weird eye thing? Also what’s the point of asking a question I don’t have to answer, I should do that more often, just give you silence.” she smiled, shoving her hand into a bag of crisps and stuffing them into her mouth violently.

“You have a point, but I guess it’s because it just happens to be a pretty personal question.” Ballister sheepishly looked at the pink-haired creature, as she slowed down her fourth hand of food, frowning at his words.

“Your questions are always personal, I’m starting to think you don’t know how to ask anything simple. Go on then, what deep dark secrets must I give up this time.” Nimona shrugged, continuing to eat as she relaxed further into the sofa. 

“After Gloreth, did you ever have anyone else? That is until you found me.” Ballister asked softly, sitting up a bit more as Nimona slumped, pausing her consistent eating.

“I knew your questions were too personal.” Nimona scoffed half-heartedly, the words coming out as a low mumble, rather than her over-the-top enthusiasm. A beat of silence skipped between them, and as Ballister went to apologise, Nimona started to speak again. “Delilah, her name was Delilah, and she was everything to me.” her voice was barely above a whisper, and she only looked up briefly to see Ballister listening patiently. “Ya know, it’s funny, I never knew I was a dancer, ‘till Delilah showed me how.” she let out a breathy laugh, closing her eyes to picture the person she’d learned to love and let go with. “I always believed she was the answer, ‘cause I was gonna be free and we were gonna be fine.” her smile wavered, as she turned to her new friend “But then there was a different kind of danger. The bells were ringing out. I pulled the pillars down, the chains never leaving me.” Nimona sniffed, using her arms to clean her face. “I’d give anything to be back with her, dancing in the moonlight, spinning around.” Suddenly Nimona felt strong arms around her, and she smiled again.

Chapter Text

“Merlin! You can’t address the King of Camelot like that, I could have you put in the stocks for that.” Arthur strolled through the castle hallways, his cape billowing out behind him. Next to him, Merlin had a bright smile on his face, trying to keep up with his Lordship.

“All I said was that your armor felt a little tighter on you this morning. It was simply a friendly observation. Don’t forget we need to keep you fighting fit Arthur.” Merlin was already pushing his luck, and couldn’t help the smug grin that had settled across his face.

“I am fighting fit, Merlin!” Arthur spun round to halt in front of Merlin, suddenly becoming flustered. “Can we get back to the topic of magic, how do you suppose it can help us here?” Arthur leaned against the wall, arms folded and awaiting whatever drivel Merlin was about to trip over. Merlin smirked again, turning his back to the wall so he could slump against it.

“Picture it, if magic comes back to Camelot it would lessen all of those wars because we could find a way where we didn’t need to fight it anymore. We can encourage it to be used for a good cause. The beginning of the end.” Merlin explained, waving his hands dramatically around in the air, causing a small smile to tug at the corner of the King's lips, but Merlin was too focused to notice, “In the poison places, we become the anti-venom. All over, before it has begun!” Merlin glimpsed at Arthur, grounding himself back down, realising he had started to get carried away. “I know your father despised magic, but times are changing, and there is a lot more good in it now, than perhaps there was previously.” he sighed, resting his head back against the wall, staring up at the stone ceiling. A soft reassuring hand grabbed his shoulder, forcing Merlin to roll his head to look back at Arthur.

“You are oddly passionate about this, and I will not make the same mistakes as my father before me.” Arthur nodded with finality. “You should speak up more often Merlin, it turns out not everything you say is completely useless like you.” The King chuckled, starting to move away and continue back towards his chambers.

“Oh, come on Arthur, make it easy. Say I never mattered, you already wanted to do something like this. Bring back a safer magic. A young volcano, waiting for his moment.” Merlin muttered, pushing off the wall to follow the baffled King.

“A what? See now you’ve gone back to talking nonsense again.” Arthur rolled his eyes pushing his door open and ditching the heavy sword to one side. “Come on, back to work Merlin.” he motioned to his armor with a superior grin. Merlin shook his head, closing the door and locking it.

“At least it’ll be easier taking it off than it was to put on you.” Merlin flashed Arthur a sly smirk, proudly.

Chapter Text

The sun was blinding through the grey-stained clouds, and the headache the Doctor was trying to nurture was progressively getting worse. He stood out on the balcony, watching the Ladies and Gentlemen pass through the streets. Little did they know the pain and turmoil of one so nearby. That sickening feeling began to bubble within him as his body shook aggressively, thoughts drowning his golden-hearted judgment. Pulling it down into the dark depths of a bottomless pit. Gripping onto the railing Doctor Jekyll gritted his teeth, attempting to stay in control of his own fate. A devilish grumble was clawing its way in.

“Look at how they crawl around, upon the ground like little ants.” the familiar chuckle rose within him as Hyde watched all the useless humans wander the streets aimlessly.

“Yes but how they fascinate, confusing fate, with what is merely chance.” Doctor Jekyll gritted, pushing himself against the wall harshly, but there was a chuckle coming from his lips that he did not recognise as his own.

“Isn’t it a laugh, thinking there is someone in heaven to blame? Living every day till the day they die. Never getting answers but still asking why?” Hyde spoke with unnatural glee, forcing them back to look at those on the street below, every urge in him wanting to jump down and join them. To frighten them. To harm them. Doctor Jekyll panicked at the mere thoughts of unprecedented violence.

“They’re only human!” he cried inwardly as more and more of his good-willed nature was shoved further back into the darkness of his mind, Hyde becoming stronger than ever.

“Yes, but maybe death can release something more than we share, I really don’t know or don’t care.” Hyde snarled, unphased by the distant call of Doctor Jekyll or the way his body jolted, and jostled in a monstrous way; he was finally transforming into him again. A moment of joy washed over him, but then his body was being forced back inside, locking the door. “Go away Jekyll, it’s my turn now, you fool.” Hyde screeched, fighting himself. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of a mirror, scalpel tightly clutched in one hand. “You can’t kill me! You’ll have to come with me, Doctor Jekyll” Hyde taunted, a grimace on his ugly face.

“I don’t care anymore, you need to go Hyde!” Jekyll’s voice echoed somewhere from within, no longer able to project his own words out into the world.

“You’re making a mistake Jekyll. Think of all the years they could give you and me. Think beyond the unthinkable.” Hyde snarled, desperately as the blade inched closer. Hurling a fist at the mirror, watching it shatter; their reflection even more distorted then ever.

“I’ve seen the unthinkable, heard it from you countless times. Just like them, I’m human, and I wish to be remembered as such! Doctor Jekyll screamed aloud, mustering the final amount of energy he needed to put a definitive stop to Mr Hyde.

Chapter Text

“Well, you definitely look the part now, but can you talk the talk, new girl?” Kelly smirked, eyeing Annabelle with an air of intrigue. “After all, it’s one thing to survive here, but another to thrive.” Kelly stepped towards her, a hand planted firmly on her hip. “Dancing with the very Devil, if you will.” The head girl winked, taking the arm of the new girl and leading her out of the dorms, and any sneaky on-lookers. Just outside the door, Kelly leaned in close to Annabelle, her voice a whisper, tickling her ear, “You think they’re really your friends, but when it comes to the end; you’re just the same as them.” Annabelle’s expression creased into confusion, unintentionally tightening her grip on Kelly’s arm, making the head girl smile softly.

“What do you mean? I thought they had already accepted me. Didn’t this whole make-over prove that?” Annabelle worried, starting to fuss over her hair and school uniform. The head girl chuckled softly, shaking her head.

“No, sadly not, Fritton; just you wait, and you’ll see that you’re swimming with sharks.” Kelly pushed open a door, into an empty classroom, “There’s still a lot for you to learn, so take a seat because I’m about to give you a lesson on St Trinian’s.” Kelly winked as she picked up a wooden pointer, flicking it towards a front-row middle seat for Annabelle to sit in, which she swiftly moved towards and elegantly sat down. Arms folded neatly on the desk, her eyes never once left the movements of the head girl. Dramatically Kelly cleared her throat, straightening her school tie. “Rule number one; don’t let them see your struggles. Hide those tears. Not that your emotions are ever a bad thing. Never let them get even a sniff of what they believe to be weakness because they’ll turn it right back on you. I’ve seen you throw a punch or two, I know you’ve got it in you.” Kelly smirked, eyes once again flickering over her new friend. “Secondly, take advantage of your niceness. Use those doe eyes and sexy curves to play them like a fiddle, and they fall for it; don’t worry darling, that’s on them.” Kelly shrugged, leaning on the desk Annabelle was sitting at, now at eye level with the other girl.

“Is that it?” Annabelle raised an eyebrow, staring up at Kelly, as the head girl leaned in closer to her with a proud smile.

“Thirdly, always be yourself. I like the fact that you didn’t fit into any of the cliques, because it proved to me that you are very much your own person. I like that about you. You’ll go far here in St Trinian’s.” Kelly straightened, offering her hand out, “Especially if you stick beside me.” Kelly smirked, as Annabelle took her hand with a new confident smile. “Ready to dive in and swim with sharks?” The head girl opened the door, arms folded.

“More than ready, let's go swim with sharks.”

Chapter Text

Night had fallen, and Duke was sick of sleeping down beneath the dirt, like some common, filthy vampire. It had been his home, not hers. Never did he think trying to sleep with some random girl would get him thrown out of his own home, beaten up and his cane stolen. The latter, of course, was the most infuriating. That cane held the greatest power known to any vampire, and now it was with her. A low rumble of thunder rolled overhead as Duke glared toward his home, with a grunt of finality he swooped up his hat from the floor; adjusting it dashingly on his brow. Taking one large step he clambered out of the grave and strode up to the door; after all, he was polite. 

Abruptly, Duke knocked on the door loudly; the noise could be heard echoing from inside. It wasn’t long before an angry, short woman was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, with the cane tightly gripped in one hand. Her eyes slowly ran up his body, a frown appearing swiftly on her face when she saw Duke’s annoying smirking face, staring back at her. Just as she went to slam the door again, the vampire stuck his foot in the way, shoving it open with a flourish and a long sigh.

“It’s good to be back, now if you don’t mind,” Duke leaned forward, casually wrapping an arm around the woman’s waist. An evil grin spread across his face, “Stop, drop, and give me back what’s truly mine, dear.” The vampire wrapped a hand around his cane, but his counterpart refused to let go, silently glaring up at him. “Missy was it? I’m sure we can come to an understanding, where you give me what I want and don’t break your pretty face. Fair?” Duke growled lowly, tugging the cane slightly closer to him, but in doing so, he brought Missy flush against him. 

Missy who had gained vampiric powers through the the cane’s presence, had started to enjoy her new life and unwavering power. Therefore this so-called ‘deal’ was nothing to her; she had gotten everything she wanted now. With Duke snarling above her, she slowly began to smile sweetly, watching as his eyes scanned her features frantically for any vague sign of surrender. Suddenly there was a harsh crack as Missy simultaneously threw her head into the bridge of Duke’s nose and then using her sharp heel, stamped on his foot. Duke let out a yelp of pain, as he angrily glared at the girl, who had moved a few feet away from him with a shit-eating grin. 

“Oh, you clever little thing,” Duke scoffed, using the back of his hand to remove the blood from his nose. “Sycophantic teen, if I could burn this town, I wouldn’t hesitate. Only smile while you suffocate and die; what a lovely time.” Duke snapped, but Missy shrugged, her eyes starting to glow.

“You should bite your tongue, or you’ll choke yourself to sleep.”

Chapter Text

“I hate parties, they’re always stressful and people complain about the smallest of things.” Monica aggressively beat the whisk in the bowl, as she spoke through gritted teeth. Strands of black hair fell across her face, but unphased she moved on to setting another timer. 

“Remind me not to invite you to my birthday party then.” Chandler huffed out a laugh, going to take another swig of his drink, but quickly paused when he noticed Mon glaring at him crossly. “Kidding, you’re of course at the very top of my list.” Chandler backpedalled, moving to hug his girlfriend, who begrudgingly accepted. Resting his chin on her head, he began swaying to the music from the other room. “Do you want some help? Then maybe you can enjoy this party a bit more.” Chandler mumbled, causing a sharp laugh to erupt from Monica, as she glanced up at her partner.

“No thanks, darling. You’re cooking is almost as bad as your ability to dance.” She smiled sweetly as Chandler instantly took a step back in mock horror; secretly melting at the sight of his girlfriend. With a hand on his chest for dramatics, he stumbled into the fridge, the distant clinks of bottles echoing from in as it shifted under his weight. 

“How could you speak such words? I’ll have you know that my dancing is nothing but a mix of desire and desperation.” He smirked, watching Monica’s smile widen, as she finally placed the bowl and whisk down. In the background, the sound of laughter, many heavy footsteps, and music drifted into the room. The upbeat harmonies of The Jacksons as they sang ‘Don’t blame it on the sunshine. Don’t blame it on the moonlight. Don’t blame it on the good times. Blame it on the boogie.’ Offering his hands out to his girlfriend, Chandler began to dance badly, a stupid smile on his face. Monica began to laugh shaking her head, but simultaneously taking his hands lovingly.

“Chandler, I really don’t have time for this. I haven’t put the cake in the oven, the meat needs turning, the pot is about to boil over, and then the-” Monica rambled off several jobs that needed doing as she started to get flustered, head spinning in all directions around the kitchen. Chandler politely hushed her, slowly making her dance with him.

“Mon, Mon, you always work so hard, it’s your turn to let loose and have fun for once. Just one stupid dance, come on. You can’t deny this, surely!” Chandler shook his body, attempting to dance sexy, but only looking more of a fool. Monica giggled, untying her apron, and shoving her boyfriend towards the crowd of people enjoying the party. “See that's my girl!” Chandler wrapped his arms around her, pecking her lips with a smirk.

“You know, I might have lied.” Monica smiled, as Chandler raised an eyebrow with a low hum in response. “I don’t hate parties, at least not when I’m with you, so thank you.”

Chapter Text

These notes were used as evidence in the Rose Murders , with the suspect pleading non-guilty. After nine days, the court found her guilty, but on account of madness, she was transferred. The papers read;

This interview is being hand-recorded and may be given as evidence if this case is brought to trial. We are in interview room three, at Old Oxford Police Station.

The Date is 28th November 1882 and the time by the clock is 17:09.

This is Sergeant Dodgson, with Officer Heart present.

Please state your full name and date of birth,

“Y-yes Sir, Ah-Alice Liddell, born 4th May 1865.”

Now Miss Liddell, please could you give us a full account of your whereabouts on the 26th of November at 2.46 am. Please try and keep to the main facts, where possible.

“Dancing through a dream, underneath the stars.” ( The suspect giggles gleefully, continuing) “There was a tea party down the road.”

And could you tell us who was at this Tea Party of yours?

“Why Sir, only the maddest of Hatters, the Cheshire cat, and a lovely white rabbit, with a clock” ( The suspect seems to have gone into a trance while talking about other potential witnesses.)

Miss Alice, are you trying to tell us that the only personnel that can confirm your alibi is a white rabbit, a cat, and some sort of hatter? (The suspect nods in response) Please could you describe the area, in which this party was occurring?

“There were potions and pastries that made you grow tall. Surrounded by forests and cottages, castles, and cards that can talk.” 

You admit to having different substances present at this party, could you tell us who supplied you with them?

“The Mad Hatter of course, and I think the March Hare had already had quite a few, he seemed so very squiffy when I arrived.” (The suspect is laughing hysterically, and fidgeting in her chair. Her behaviour is becoming more erratic and peculiar) 

Alice, did they try and force any of these substances upon you, while you were in their company? (The suspect appears disgusted by the question)

“I was invited to join them, Sir. They offered me what they had, which I graciously took. They are my dearest friends, and present no threat to me.” (The suspect has folded her arms, and withdrawn from the conversation)

So not only do you not deny the presence of unknown substances, but admit to partaking in said activity with these creatures? (The suspect nods once sharply in response) Indeed, and Miss Alice what can you tell us about your knowledge of a place known as ‘Wonderland’? (The suspect has visibly relaxed again)

“Everyone that leaves has a heavy heart and when you come back nothing around here is quite as it seems. You start to become unsure if anything’s real or another dream. I remember a voice before I woke up, alone.”

What did this voice say to you? Exact words.

“Don’t let her leave.”

Chapter Text

“You celebrated my death!”

“You stole my boyfriend and turned him into a scarecrow!”

“You celebrated my death! You burnt a statue of me and pranced around singing songs!” 

Thunder clattered overhead, as green lightning illuminated the sky. Clouds swirling darker and darker; consuming the castle entirely. Two witches stood face to face on opposite sides, divided long ago, but never by choice. A vision in pink, far out of her depth, trying to fool everyone with her open kindness and sickly sweet voice. The other trying to liberate jailed creatures, and stand up to the wrong in their world. Both miss their best friend. Screeching monkeys guarded the area, flying overhead. Elphaba smiled grimly, propping her broom against the desk beside her.

“You know, they said ‘you’re no good for me’, is that true? Did you lead them here yourself? Offer the blade, you could not wield? Couldn’t bear to watch as they sliced me in two?” she snarled, turning away to hide the real pain that was breaking her inside.

“That’s not true! I tried everything to get you back, and I’m sure the Great Wizard will offer you forgiveness. We can have a fresh start Elphie, please!” Glinda begged, falling forward to wrap her fingers around her friend's wrist. Only the wicked witch of the west snatched her hand away, her eyes glowing lime green.

“Oh, spare your p’s and q’s, there’s nothing left to lose; when all you do is break my heart.” Elphaba snapped, grabbing her broom, and heading toward the window; using her emotion-fuelled magic to shatter the glass from the frames. Holding her dress out of the way, taking a stand on the ledge. The chaos outside was loud, and freeing from the stuffy room she was sick of being confined to. 

“Where did I go wrong?! I stuck up for you! Stood by you, despite everyone else.” Glinda screamed over the noise, tears rolling down her face.

“And who turned them against me?!” Elphaba glared down at the Good Witch, with nothing but empty pity. “You played me like a song, dragging me back to another heartbreak, hallelujah! Candlelight dance, blood for blood is the language of our love. An eye for an eye and forever, ‘til one of us truly dies.” She mounted her broom, turning back to the outside world.

“I’m sorry.” Glinda whimpered, falling to her knees as she watched her friend, everything in her body screaming for her to get up and hold onto her, the ache to laugh together; to truly laugh. “I wish we’d never gone that day, I wish I could have been more like you.” She wept silently, making Elphaba pause. An invisible string pulled her back, forcing her to see the reality that their life had become.

“I’m sorry too-” she whispered, hands tightly grabbing the broom, as she took a step off the ledge and let her body fall. Tears flew from her eyes before they could touch her skin. “Best friend.”

Chapter Text

Autumn was passing. The last golden leaves let go of their branches, softly drifting in the wind. Gently landing on the paved streets, becoming a symphony under a passer-by’s foot, as they strolled on with their day. The breeze was on the bitter side as winter swiftly approached with every ticking hour, sending a chill through the heavy coats. Soon people would be buried in wool, and the day would be gone before you ever had the chance to wake up. 

A woman huddled in a flimsy raincoat, rushed down the street, the hat on her head barely hanging on as the wind tried to steal it away. Frantically pushing the door to the café open, she was greeted by a wall of warmth and coffee. Sighing the last of the coldness from her aching body, she joined the queue; tugging her gloves off clumsily.

Glancing around the café, she spied old friends catching up, a student scrambling to finish their final report, and an old couple reading newspapers by the large frosted window. Everyone was in their own little world, frozen in time. The barrister appeared tired; handing over a steaming cup, instantly warming the hands and heart. 

Just as she approached the door, she noticed a lady sitting alone, smoking and drinking; simply watching the world go by. She could see the lady was dressed in a long trench coat, that revealed smart business attire and heavy boots. Her fingers were adorned with silver rings, and manicured nails. Despite her overall dark demeanour, her lips were a bright shade of red. Everything she was, was exactly who she’d desired to be. It was easy to be envious of a stranger. 

“May I help you, love? I’m afraid I’m no good at giving directions.” she sighed, stubbing out her cigarette. Everything in her felt compelled to enquire about this woman's success, how she appeared so carefree and comfortable alone. Moving away from the door, she hugged her drink closer, the steam warming her face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hover, or-or stare-” she began, a small smirk playing on the other lady's red lips. “But, how can you be sat here in the cold, you must truly love yourself, not to feel lonely. I don’t mean in a self-absorbed way.” she stumbled over her words, but the woman gestured to the seat across the table from her. 

“Why not in the self-absorbed way? You should love yourself first and foremost.” Then she smiled widely, “Truthfully, every time you are succeeding, there’s an old man somewhere, seething, and spite’s as good a reason to take his power. But when you hate the body you are in, oh love, you’re only doing it for him, so take that rage and bottle it up. You’ll know when to use it in time.” she took a sip from her drink, leaving a stain on the white rim. She didn’t feel envious anymore, nor did she forget those words, long after they’d said goodbye.