"I Have Something Of Yours."

Christmas with the snarky, morally gray anti-hero notoriously known as Shadow!

Warnings: none

I know a LOT of people take the days near Christmas off from writing or doing anything, but I literally have zero friends in real life to hang out with for the holiday or do fun stuff with so I just decided to write instead 😭 (wallowing in self-pity because I'm such a dislikable weirdo I guess LOL-- on the sorta bright side at least I'm making new friends on Tumblr?? Even though most of them are anons at least I kind of feel appreciated I suppose--)

This is a short story about Shadow learning about the human holiday called "Christmas" -- and getting an unexpected surprise in the process.

Shadow glided down and elegantly landed in front of the lab's front doors, shaking snow from her wings. She’d originally wanted to go on a short flight around the city to stretch her wings, but it was snowing so hard it was hard to see anything, and she didn’t want to accidentally crash. There had to be at least four inches deep already piled up on the ground.

Shadow walked into the main room of the lab and was hit with a blast of bright colors. She halted and stared dumbly, trying to process all the colorful lights draped around and a... literal tree in the corner? Who cuts down a whole tree just to stuff it indoors?!?

And in front of the tree was Thomas, hanging little round balls on the evergreen branches.

Shadow quietly approached from behind, head tilted to the side in confusion as she watched the human work, tying strings to decorations to the branches. She curiously reached out and flicked an ornament experimentally with a finger, making a quiet clink sound.

"What in the entire universe are you up to, Thomas?" She asked warily. It looked like a unicorn had puked random decorations all over the place in a general theme of red and greens.

"ACK!" Thomas jumped in surprise, instantly dropping the ornament he'd been fiddling with as he startled.

Shadow snatched it in a hand before it could hit the floor, raising a questioning eyebrow at it. "Why are you putting these things everywhere?"

Thomas's face turned red with embarrassment. "Can you NOT sneak up on me like that?!?" He squeaked. "You're like a literal ghost -- you're everywhere!"

"I'm not sure whether to be offended or complimented by that statement." Shadow wrinkled her nose, carelessly tossing the ornament in the box with the other Thomas had been taking out. "Mind explaining why it looks like a hurricane of colors tore through this place?"

"It's uh, a human holiday." Thomas rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "You decorate trees and houses and cookies and eat a ton of sugar and stuff. And some people host large gatherings and prepare giant feasts. There's also making gingerbread houses."

"And why must you bring a tree indoors to decorate it?"

"Not everyone does it, in fact a lot more people go and put lights on the trees in their yard -- but it's a human tradition to cut down an evergreen to light up a room. And then we put these cool things on it--" Thomas bent down and grabbed an ornament from his box, shoving it eagerly into Shadow's hands. "Go ahead and try it! It's fun."

"I think your definition of 'fun' is vastly different from my own," Shadow grumbled. But she humored him and hesitantly hung the ornament's string on the tree, adding to the dazzling sparkle. It was kind of pretty, she had to admit. But she'd never say it out loud.

"Oh! And there's one more part of the tradition, it's the most important one--" Thomas darted off and returned holding a small yet colorful box with a fancy bow on top. "Humans buy awesome gifts to give to each other! So here's to your first human Christmas!" He held it out, and Shadow cautiously took it with a puzzled frown.

"I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that it's so small," she said gruffly.

Thomas rolled his eyes with a chipper laugh. "Lighten up, Shadow. Just open it!"

Shadow raised a skeptical eyebrow at the gift. "If this is one of those pop-up-scare things I've heard so much about, I'm going to seriously kill someone," she growled.

Thomas paled, reaching to take it back. "Sheesh, I didn’t realize you were so sensitive! Fine, I'll keep it!"

"Ah-ah!" Shadow raised the box above Thomas's head where he couldn't grab it, holding it just out of reach. "No taking it back. You gave me something, and you'll live with the consequences of your choices like a responsible kid."

"I'm 19 years old," Thomas scowled pointedly.

"And I'm 312 years old. Your point?" Shadow rolled her eyes dramatically, bringing the box back down so she could open it.

Thomas made another determined grab for it, but Shadow spun and swatted him like a fly with one of her white feathered wings, using it as a shield to block and keep him from snatching it.

"Shadow, come on, cut it out!" Thomas snapped, trying to reach over her wing instead -- with no luck.

"You first," Shadow growled back. She found it amusing how fast the human was trying to backpedal his gift after her threat -- which meant it was definitely one of those pop-up-scare things. Her threat had been a bluff, of course -- she wasn't actually going to kill anyone over a Christmas gift -- but Thomas wouldn't assume that, considering how morally-gray she was in general. He fully believed it to be a real possibility, which was perfectly in line with her past actions.

And Shadow couldn't help having some harmless fun with him, watching him sputter and panic uselessly in terror, believing her every word like the idiot he was. Well, mostly harmless fun -- the human might suffer an actual heart attack with how much adrenaline was rushing through him right now.

"Hmm, interesting," Shadow chuckled as she shook the box lightly, listening to the contents rattling around. She barely bit back a cruelly delighted laugh as she watched Thomas turn a few shades paler. The human was right, Christmas was fun.

"Whatever did you get me, human?" She purred teasingly. It was all a game to her -- but not for poor Thomas, whose heart was practically jack-knifing out of his chest. After all, Shadow was known to be violent and aggressive at times -- he had no way of telling she was in a relatively good mood today.

Shadow slowly untied the bow, taking her sweet time and using her wing to keep Thomas at bay. She held the lid on tight to keep it from springing open on her as she let the ribbon fall to the floor.

A mischievous smirk twisted her lips, and in a swift movement she aimed the top of the box at Thomas and let go of the lid.

Her intuition was right: it was one of those pop-up-scare-things. A coiled up plastic snake came shooting out of the box and smacked the human straight in the face, startling him.

Thomas yelped in surprise and flinched backward hard enough to trip and end up sprawled on the floor, a cartoonishly shocked expression on his face.

Shadow burst out laughing. She rarely ever laughed, unless it was sarcastic. But this was a genuine laugh for once, at his expense. Her wings shook with the force of it as she cackled evilly, clutching her ribs. "Oh, I think I DO like your gift!" She laughed between breaths. "That was priceless.”

"That was mean," Thomas sputtered indignantly, face flushing red with embarrassment.

"No meaner than trying to jump-scare the most lethal person in existence!" Shadow retorted, still laughing her head off. "You humans have the weirdest holidays!”

Thomas smiled sheepishly as he got back to his feet. “It’s a time of happiness and family gatherings. There’s nothing weird about that.”

“It's probably not weird to you because you live in the ‘world of weird’ on a daily basis – this stuff is normal for you,” Shadow chuckled. “I’ll admit though, you’ve piqued my curiosity. What else do you humans do to celebrate Christmas?”

“Oooooh you’re really going to like this one!” Thomas chirped. “Let's go outside!”

Shadow raised an eyebrow, but followed him to the front of the lab, watching as he bundled up in warm jackets and donned a hat and gloves. She didn’t bother copying him; she was naturally extra hot-blooded due to being a Falkry. The cold didn’t get to her as bad.

Soon the two of them were walking down the street to the local park, snow crunching underfoot. It was cold enough that their breath came out in foggy puffs.

“Okay, so have you ever heard of making snow angels?” Thomas turned to his white-winged Falkry friend excitedly.

“Ah, the age-old tradition of getting frostbite. I’m familiar,” Shadow answered sarcastically. “But I think I’ll sit this one out. Don’t want to damage my feathers.”

“Pfft, buzzkill,” Thomas snickered. “Then try this instead–” He bent down and suddenl;y scoffed up a handful of snow, flinging it at Shadow.

“Hey!” Shadow nimbly sprung out of range. “Oh, you will pay for that!”

Thomas blinked, and she was gone. “What the–Oomph!" His voice choked off when he was suddenly flattened beneath a massive wave of freezing snow that crashed down on him from above. He quickly scrambled out of the aftermath and shook the frozen flakes from his hair, dancing a little as he tried to reach the stuff that had fallen down the back of his shirt. "Ack! Cold! Very cold!"

Once he had finally rid himself from the last of it, he looked up in confusion to see where it had come from, and spotted Shadow perched on a bobbing tree limb directly above him, laughing hysterically. The limb was devoid of any snow, and it was clear that she had intentionally jumped on the branch to knock the snow down on him.

"Seriously?" Thomas huffed, scowling up at her. "Was that really necessary?"

Shadow raised her hands innocently, still laughing. "Sorry, sorry, I just had to. You make yourself such an easy target. I couldn't resist. You should've seen your face!"

Thomas wordlessly bent down and scooped up a large handful of snow, packing it tightly together.

"Wait, what are you—?!" Shadow’s voice cut off sharply as he chucked the newly made snowball up at her with all his strength, and she yelped in surprise as it clocked her in the face with a pfft sound, knocking her out of the tree. Her wings flailed wildly for a moment until they caught the air, halting her descent.

"What was that?!" She shouted from above with a shocked expression on her face, hovering in the air and sputtering from the snow that had gotten in her mouth.

"It's called a snowball. We humans use it to start snowball fights," Thomas called back.

"Snowball fights? So it's like... a non-lethal war with packed snow?" Shadow asked.

"Basically. But emphasis on non-lethal!!" Thomas leaned down and scooped up two more handfuls of snow and launched another round at her, which narrowly missed her face again as she smartly dodged to the side.

"Oh, it is so on human! Prepare to be destroyed!" Shadow let out a war cry and swooped down towards him, sharply pulling up at the last second so that her wings flung up a powerful gust of snow that covered Thomas head to toe. But he was not so easily beaten, and he revealed a hidden snowball he was hiding behind his back. Shadow was close enough that there was no way he could miss.

Her eyes widened for a moment in realization before the snowball hit her square in the chest, making her stumble back. It was all the opening Thomas needed to launch a barrage of snowballs at her, his arms becoming a blur as he threw one after the other, madly scooping handfuls from the ground, not allowing a moment's reprieve. Shadow used one of her wings as a shield against the attack, ducking her head behind it as she scooped up a snowball of her own.

Then, she moved her wing aside and threw her handful at Thomas as hard as she could with Falkry strength. It hit him in the stomach hard enough to knock him back into another pile of fluffy snow. She wound up for a second throw as he scrambled to his feet, and let it fly, this time smacking him square in the face in an explosion of white fluff.

Yeah, maybe Shadow was enjoying this whole ‘Christmas’ thing after all.

Main Masterlist

Masterlist featuring Shadow and Thomas-related stories

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@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

The audience roared, the energy electrifying.

"And there he is, folks! The Scarlet Fist! Our reigning champion remains undefeated!"

Jay panted from the center of the amphitheater, slick with sweat and blood. He smiled and licked the blood from his knuckles, eyes wild.

"What's this? A new challenger approaches! It's none other than the Sandstorm! He is the reigning regional champion two years running, but does he stand a chance against our all-time champion?!"

A sand mage sauntered into the ring. Powerful, cocky. A showboater. Jay let him demonstrate his power, twisting and forming the sand into a dragon. He flew atop the dragon and spewed balls of sand that blew craters into the ground and boundary walls. The audience cheered.

Jay rolled his shoulders. The sand mage had fans in the crowd. He should play around a bit and make it look like a challenge. One of the sand balls flew in his direction and he dodged. Then another, and another.

A snake made of sand came into form and coiled around Jay, stopping him from evading. Jay pretended to struggle in the snake's grip. The audience loved drama. He punched through the snake's body and the sand crumbled where he touched.

Spikes emerged from the ground, and Jay managed to evade mostly. He didn't think the audience noticed a bit of the spike crumbled away before it could pierce his foot.

Half of the snake struck again, and Jay yet again dodged. The snake hit the floor and burst into a mound of sand.

The mage swooped down with his sand dragon. A fatal mistake. Jay leapt on top of the dragon, and it crumbled mid-flight. They both tumbled and rolled onto the ring.

The mage stumbled back, exposed.

"Y-you must be cheating!" The mage shrieked. Jay laughed, because of course he was. This mage was woefully green. Jay tried to prolongue the fight a bit longer before punching out the unfortunate young fighter.

"Who else wants a piece?" Jay taunted.

--

It was a good day in the ring, and Jay had full pockets. He took his win to the local bar and was enjoying the open tab from his latest admirer. He was downing a pint when a young man slid into the chair beside him. The young man hardly looked the type for fighting rings, too nervous and too bookish, but Jay had seen all types. Possibly with coin.

"Business or pleasure?" Jay asked with a crooked smile.

"I-I know your secret," the young man stammered.

For a moment, Jay's smile flickered. "Oh, you think so?"

"You're no mage," the young man said, adjusting his glasses. "You're a walking power dampener. An, um, impressively powerful one, at that." He shrunk a little at the wild look in Jay's eye.

Jay's eyes darted around, and he grabbed the young man by his scruff.

"Keep your voice down," he growled. "Who sent you?"

"No one," the young man said. "I... I need your services."

"Business, then."

Jay released his hold. The young man smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt.

"Uh, well, m-my name is Lucas," the young man stammered. "I... I'm a student at Wingcrest University, and I'm studying for my Greater Healing degree with a concentration in Healing Ethics. Particularly, my thesis sheds light on the misuse and abuse of healing magic, as well as dangerous magic practices that are unfortunately commonplace."

He shifted. "Most healing centers deal with surface injuries and cosmetic healing and neglect internal injuries or cause clots from dangerously rapid healing. This is common knowledge among Healers, but it's largely considered a necessary evil that occasionally we'll lose some patients. I wanted to argue for stricter policies and show that such tragedies are, in fact, avoidable." He fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve and bit his lip.

Jay rolled his eyes and groaned. He was going to get this kid's life story. He wasn't really interested in the inner workings of Healing Magic, and an attractive patron across the way was exchanging flirtatious glances at him.

"Sorry, I, uh, tend to ramble," Lucas mumbled. "S-so, um. During my research I stumbled upon a dangerous conspiracy. Depreciating healing magics."

"Where do I come in?" Jay asked, patience thin, eyes elsewhere."

"Oh. Yes." Lucas pulled back the collar of his shirt. "I-I may not look it, but I've, uh, been afflicted with a Wasting Curse. Are you familiar?"

Jay glanced over the sunken black and purple handprint, a hallmark of the Wasting Curse. "I've seen it in the ring. You need a Disenchanter," he said. "You should have no problem paying, being a student of Wingcrest. Get it treated sooner rather than later. It's not something to ignore."

"I-I've been," Lucas said. "To several."

"Well, yeah. It takes a few days to reverse." Jay said. "You need to be patient and follow your healer's advice."

"You don't understand," Lucas grit. "I've been to three different Disenchanters who claimed they can help me. But... The curse was custom-made, a variant they could have never possibly encountered before. It uses a form of malicious regeneration interlocked with my healing magic. A fitting punishment for my meddling."

Jay passed his glass back to the bartender for a refill. "So what does that mean?"

"Trying to remove the Wasting makes it spread," Lucas explained. "Each Disenchantment brings the curse closer to my heart."

"Listen, kid, that's awful," Jay said, "That really is. But what do you want me to do about it? You need a professional."

"I need a bodyguard, first of all," Lucas said. "Someone unaffected by magics."

Jay fixed him with a long, tired stare. "I'm not a body guard. Check the guild nearby."

Jay moved to slip away from the booth, but Lucas grabbed his arm. "I also need a strong power dampener. Someone who can block my magic and slow the spread of the curse."

"They sell power dampeners everywhere nowadays," Jay said dismissively.

"Yours is extremely, exceptionally powerful," Lucas said with a note of desperation. "I could fill an entire amphitheater with power dampeners to achieve a fraction of what you are. Whoever cast it on you was a master of the craft."

The flirtatious patron cast a final glance before leaving. Jay flopped back to his chair with a sullen expression.

"Listen, I know this isn't... How you want to spend your evening," Lucas worded tactfully. "But this is life or death for me, and I am willing to pay you very, very handsomely. Name your price."

"Give it a rest, kid," Jay sighed. "Just... I'm not a bodyguard. I have shows scheduled. I can't just walk out in the middle of a season."

"But I--"

He drained another pint. "And you're right, you do ramble," Jay grumbled. "You give me a headache." He patted him on the back and shoved past. "Good luck, kid."

"I'll tell," Lucas said.

Jay stopped in his tracks. "...What?"

"I'll tell everyone your secret."

Jay set his jaw, and turned with a raw fury. He grabbed the young man and pushed him back into the bar counter.

"You want to die tonight?" Jay hissed.

"You left me no choice," Lucas hissed back.

They stared each other down. Lucas shivered.

"You... You might as well," Lucas whispered, his voice cracking. "I'll be dead soon anyway." His lip quivered. "I'll be dead by morning."

Jay's anger faded. He took a deep breath and righted the young man, and smoothed out his rumpled shirt.

"Don't cry," Jay said. "Don't..." He shushed him.

Lucas made a good effort, trying to hold it in. This wasn't exactly the place for tears. He choked a bit and a sob escaped.

"I'm going to die, and so, so many people are going to die, because it's more profitable to keep them sick," he whispered. "They don't want my research getting out, and I'm not going to be able to save anyone."

"Oh... Shoot." Lucas's knees gave out, and Jay caught him just barely. He could feel his shirt get moist, and he gently patted his head. "Shoot, kid."

"All good, Jay?" The bartender called out.

"Yeah," Jay called back.

"Something for the kid?"

"I'm 27 years old," Lucas grumbled, wiping his eyes. "I'm not a kid."

"Yeah, grab one for the..." Jay paused for a double-take. "Wow, really? 27?" He eased the young man into a chair.

"I mean, I'm in graduate school," Lucas muttered. "...Was."

"Okay, yeah." Jay scratched his chin. "Listen, fine, I'll help you out. I'll tell my manager I have an injury from the last match and take the flack. In return, I need half up front."

"R-really?" Lucas lit up.

They discussed the amount and terms of payment over drinks.

"I appreciate your cooperation," Lucas said.

"And one more thing," Jay said, very somber. "This is very, very important."

Lucas nodded.

"Don't tell anyone about the whole... Power thing," Jay said. "I mean it."

Lucas frowned. "I will uphold my end if you uphold yours. I am a man of my word."

"... Fine, I'll take that," Jay said.

You are a gladiator that can win fight after fight against even the most powerful wizards. Your secret? You were cursed as a kid to nullify any magic that came close to you.

"Consider it done, my king," said the Right Hand, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"S-Surely you can't be serious, y-your highness," the Advisor balked. "P-please, you must--"

The King grabbed the Advisor by his collar. "When I begged for an audience with my father, when I pleaded with him to spare my mother, what is it you said?"

"T-the king's word is law," the Advisor murmured, a haunted look in his eyes.

The king's hand tightened. "And when my sister and I were banished to the Northern Wastes, what is it you said?"

"The... The's king's word--"

"And when my sister was ill, and I pleaded for my father's mercy, what is it you said?"

"P-please, sire--" The Advisor gagged and kicked as the King lifted him from the ground.

"Be thankful I pity you," he spat. "As spineless and self-serving as you are, be thankful I find you pitiful enough to spare your life." He dropped the Advisor bodily, and he scrambled away on hands and knees.

"Be thankful I'm sparing all your miserable lives," the King said, addressing the throne room of what was once the most powerful subjects in the kingdom.

"My king," said the silver-tongued Duke. "It pains me to hear of the trials you have endured, but not all of us are culpable in your treatment. Perhaps we could--"

The King rounded on him. "You? YOU of all people?"

The Duke huffed. "You intend to make enemies of us? To destroy our lives for petty scores?"

The throne room ignited in cacophony, with constituents screaming in indignation. The Rebels, donned in the armor of a royal guard, sprung to life to quell the screaming masses. The Right Hand went for his sword, but the King shook his head. Subjugated, the throne room silenced once more.

"How readily you have all forgotten," the King said, "whose blood is on my hands. Be forewarned that I do not shy away from spilling more, but I will not be like my father."

He gave the Right Hand a long and weary look. "I... choose to not be like my father."

"You are to be banished to the Northern Wastes," the King continued, voice hard. "You will be given a forenight to collect your valuables, and then will be escorted to the border by my men. Your families will be given the option to join you or to remain here, stripped of their titles."

"How do you expect us to survive?" The General snapped. "Winter is almost upon us!"

"Perhaps it is unkind of me to leave you without options," said the King. "So, you may choose. Execution, or exile? I can promise you a swift and painless death."

"If you think you've heard the last of us, mark my words--" The General began, but the Right Hand removed his blade, and the General silenced with a whimper.

From the scabbard of the blade came a thick, impenetrable mist that permeated the room. The Advisor scrambled to the King's boots on hands and knees, shaking and pleading, "Oh God, spare me, spare me! I'll go to the Wastes! Just no! Please, I have a family! I'll do anything, please!"

The King pulled his boot back and looked away, a mixture of discomfort and disgust. "Right Hand, stop. This wasn't our agreement," he said firmly. Too long, the Right Hand glared back. Though the Right Hand was shorter and of a smaller build, in that moment he was much more imposing than the King.

"It isn't?" He said, a hint of a threat in his voice. "After everything?"

"No. They have families." The King said, voice distant. "I won't be like my father."

The Right Hand laughed mirthlessly, but nevertheless he drew back the mists and put away the scabbard.

"You will all be escorted to your homes to prepare for the long journey," said the King. "If you attempt to flee, you will forfeit your lives."

Most who had seen the mists in battle left quickly, and any who attempted to linger were forced out by the Rebels. Alone with the Right Hand, the King slumped in his throne.

"It's time for me to collect on our bargain," said the Right Hand, breaking the silence.

The King froze, then turned. "After everything?" He breathed. "And-- now? I thought that--"

"I made you king," said the Right Hand, gripping his chin. "I upheld my end of the bargain rather marvelously. Your enemies are in gone, and you bathed in the blood of your father. You have everything you ever asked for."

The King shuddered. Though he hated the man, and did not regret ending his life, the memory of the slick, metallic blood coating his mouth made him sick. His father's blood. The former King.

The Right Hand narrowed his eyes, which began to faintly glow. "I upheld my end of the bargain. Do you intend to keep yours?"

The King grimaced and closed his eyes. "One year."

"One year?" The Right Hand glowered.

"One year. I..." The King struggled for words. "Consider this a revised contract. One year. And I will pay interest."

"I'm not interested in gold," said the Right Hand. "You know that. What else could you possibly offer me?"

The King could not meet his eyes.

"Why are you stalling?" The Right Hand pressed.

The King handed him a slip of paper, then hung his head.

The Right Hand sucked in a breath. Then, slowly, he smiled.

"One year then," he said. He clapped the King on the back. "With interest. It's a deal."

The King covered his eyes with his hands.

"What is your first decree as king?" "My generals and advisors are all banished to the Northern Wastes." "Wh-What?" "My father's empire was a ruthless, evil rule that destroyed the lives of his subjects. All those in leadership are banished. If you return, you will be killed."

"P-please don't kill me," Hero whispered.

Villain recoiled. "Who said anything about killing you?"

"You did. Multiple times. You have a knife to my throat."

"That-- THAT WAS FLIRTING!" Villain shouted in exasperation.

"WHO FLIRTS LIKE THAT?!" Hero screamed.

"Ugh. This is all wrong." Villain cut Hero's ropes and put away the knife. "Listen, I completely misread the situation. Just... Just go."

"Wait, no, we need to talk about--"

"There's nothing to talk about," Villain said quickly.

"Yes, we do! Clearly we need to communicate!"

"No. Let me die of embarrassment alone," Villain grumbled. They moved to leave, but something slapped their wrist. A handcuff.

"You're not going anywhere," Hero said, tightening the other cuff to their own wrist.

"Did you just CUFF ME?" Villain screeched.

"We're going out and having a proper date WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT."

"That's what I keep saying!" you cry. "I'm mid at best!"

"You are," they growled.

You fidget in your seat.

"And yet," their eyes flicked at you, seething. "And yet, they chose you."

Your eyes cast downward. "Y-yeah."

"Why?"

"I was... There, I guess," you say with a shrug. "It was chance. They needed a writer, I just wanted to be part of something. I didn't know I'd be creating a whole new dimesion to save the world. I swear."

"They should have chosen me," they growled. "Do you know how long I worked for this? And they pass me up for some rando they found on the street?!"

"Y-yeah. I mean... Yeah!" You stand up. "Why would they choose me? I'm not ready for this yet! I should quit."

"Wait, wait, wait," they said, gripping your arm, looking even angrier. "Don't just quit. Do you have any idea the kind of opportunity you have right now?!"

"Wait..." You look at them, anxious and unsure. "I thought you said--"

"You can't just throw away an opportunity like this!!! Do you even know what you have?!" they pulled you back down to your seat. "You don't deserve this opportunity-- frankly, don't quit your day job. But... But you walk away, and there's no way you'll get back in."

"So..." You nibble on your lip. "What now, then?"

They give a long suffering sigh. "You're going to need my help." They pulled out a pack of red correction pens.

"So you're the so-called writer I've heard soo much about, huh" flips quickly through the pages of your drafts and scoffs "pathetic"

Hi, welcome. I'm chaotic-scraps and I post scraps on here. Pronouns are dealer's choice.

If I complete a story on here, you have witnessed a miracle. I occasionally reblog other stories and/or art/comics/animation.

Feel free to leave asks/requests.

You see their name on caller ID. Tears form in your eyes. You collect yourself and pick up, only to hear the line disconnect.

The man who strides in is haggard and unkempt. He looks at you with a dead-eyed expression and a look of utter despair.

"So, uh, here goes," he says. "People say you have some kind of power. And I just... I'm wondering if you can check my red string."

"Of course," you say. The request is not unusual. "I'll even tell you who's on the other side, if you like."

You find the start of the string and motion for him to follow. He trails behind you wordlessly, his eyes glued to the floor.

Outside, you can see the string disappear into the horizon.

"We'll take my car," you say.

You drive down the road in silence, following the twists and turns of the string. Sometimes you lose sight of it and have to retrace your steps. It's a bit difficult to pinpoint one string in an area full of people.

Finally you reach a residential building. The string goes straight into the walls of the third floor.

"We can stop," the man whispers. He sags in his seat and buries his head in his hands.

"You recognize this building?" you ask.

He nods quietly.

You touch his shoulder gently. "Then why--"

"It'll never work," he mutters. "My roommate, he's so... Oblivious."

You tilt your head. "Have you shared your feelings?"

He laughs. "So, so many times. He just doesn't get it. He doesn't think... Two guys..." He sighs and shakes his head in resignation. "I need to move out."

"You don't have to explain it," you say gently.

"Do you want to come in for some tea?" he asks.

You nod.

You walk up the stairs behind him. The string pulls taught as you reach his floor. You walk down the hallway, glancing at the various apartments, and pause at the door that the string leads to.

"Why are you stopped over there?" he says. "I live over here."

You blink, then follow him. He hesitates at the door. "I think he's home," he says.

"He can't be. The string leads down the hall," you say.

He opens the door. "Oh. Hey, roomie," he says.

His roommate waves back.

He gestures for you to sit.

You shake your head. "I have to tell you something," you whisper.

"Don't worry, he's got a headset on and he can't hear you right now," the man says.

"He's not your soulmate," you say.

"What?" he squawks.

You look at the string. It pulled taught straight into the wall.

"Come out to the hallway with me," you say. You knock on the door the string leads you to.

The man who answers says, "Oh no. Is your roommate being dumb again?"

Your client hesitates. He experiences a moment of realization.

"Oh. Y-yeah," he says.

"I got your favorite snacks," says the man who answered. "Also I need to share this new show with you. I know you'll love it."

Your client looks at you uncertainly. You smile.

"Oh, you're, um, welcome to join too," the man who answered says.

"No, you two have fun," you say with a knowing smile.

Your client smiles. "Thanks."

Some say that an invisible red string is tied around the fingers of soulmates meant to be together forever. As it turns out, you can see these red strings, and have therefore created a highly successful matchmaking business.

im not usually big on hero x villain whump but today im thinking of the two hottest roles in them. villain and medic. i want to combine the two

villain's own medic treating them

"doctor's orders"

"i said bed rest"

"you might be a criminal mastermind or whatever but believe me, those sutures do not care"

villain's medic being the only one in a cushy position

"you know medic, if anyone else talked to me like this, they wouldn't have their tongue now" "but i'm not anyone else, am i?"

villain's own medic being their favourite on the team

"they're the most useful"

"all of you other idiots are practically useless"

villain being their own medic because i guess the evil budget only allowed for evil henchmen

the enemy medic begrudgingly treating villain

"i'm only doing this because i have principles"

"i'm under oath"

"suffering is suffering, and i just can't bear to watch it"

the enemy medic sabotaging villain's recovery

"i've never wanted to leave anyone to suffer before... that changed today"

"you know what's in this syringe? no? good"

evil medic moments?? so good. top tier. both a villain and a medic hold so much power and im just ahdhfj feral for them