#All aboard the angst train

[fistfuloflightning]

from the first

to the last

[klonoadreams]

Idia:living people can get through the Gates Of Underworld.

*Floof walk through*

Idia: AYO!

Post Ignihyde chapter is everyone trying not to say anything about it to floof while the entirety of Pomefiore fusses over her because Vil is on red alert after his close call but also has no fucking clue on how to deal with it like "hey, are we going to talk about it any—"

Rest of the OB gang: NO.

Idia already like on the verge of an anxiety attack because his mom WOULD use this as an excuse to examine the very girl her son(s) often talk about like, first it's Ortho sending messages about this fluffy Yuu (ewe), then post chapter 6, she starts to notice "oho?? Ortho too?"

Because the sheer hilarity of Floof is Idia trying to constantly shove her on Ortho when Ortho was trying to push her towards him.

And then uh oh, both Shrouds have a crush, but theyre still like "you should be happy" while floof is just blissfully unaware that the Underworld did not affect her at all. :V

[gay-dorito-dust]

"I wanted to be unforgettable. Indelible. I wanted to haunt their hearts and minds—to be everywhere and nowhere, spectacular and out of reach. Only in the chaos did it dawn on me. Being remembered is not the same as being missed."

Author I just stumbled upon this quote & idk why it reminds me of ghost reader

You are absolutely right anon, this quote is quite literally ghost! Reader.

Ghost! Reader wants to be remembered and not missed and they’ll make that known by helping dipper and Mabel, keeping them safe from the unsafe poltergeist during summerween, meanwhile making Stan and Ford’s lives miserable as they possibly could.

They want this to be wretched into their hearts and minds forever, remind them all of what they did to them unfairly while tucking dipper and Mabel tightly in their beds, wishing them the sweetest of dreams and safest journeys home.

‘I’ll miss you great aunt/uncle y/n.’ They’d both say in their sleep.

‘I’ll miss you beautiful kids too.’ You’d whisper back, knowing they can’t hear you. ‘Til next time my ducklings.’ You then saw your bracelet and Mabel’s bracelet close together on Mabel’s bedside table and smiled, before looking over at Dipper’s side of the room and seeing him clutch the mothman plush you bought him tightly to his chest.

You will certainly miss these two and wished that you could’ve spent more time with them before dying. Now it was time to haunt Ford and Stanley by possessing the tv or lab equipment until the dawn of the new morning.

[super-rangers]

Time for chapter 4

[jadedloverart]

Lena Lucifer (2023)

"I wept tears, bitter tears, over you..."

[oraclesandomens]

New phone, who’s dis?

[breakfastteatime]

“Cal?” Kata asks as she pats soil over some seeds. “Yeah?” He's distracted by the blood blooming on his fingertip. He shoves it in his mouth, tastes blood and mud. Gross. He takes another look, sees fresh blood welling up already. “What’s up?” "How did Papa die?"

Hello friends, I finally wrote a fic based on that one comment Merrin makes post-game about Kata asking what happened to Bode.

Clickbait title: Breakfast Tea Can't Even

[doublerainbow-if]

How would the RO’s react if the MC pushed them out of the way of a speeding car and got run over in their place?

Back with the angst everybody. This will be unspoken crushing stage for maximum damage.

M doesn't have time to process before they bolt over to you. The sirens and yelling around them fade into silence as they take in your mangled body on the pavement. They drop onto their knees as they search for any sign of life in your body, slowly turning manic in their quest for even just a spark. A heartbeat, a breath, just anything. The cold reality sinks in as you lie unmoving before them, your eyes blank with your body marred by blood and gore. M screams so loud that it startled the citizens and first responders. A scream full of despair and regret as they had lose the only light within their life. For having your time cut so short, for never saying their true feelings before you were taken away from them. Again. They scream themselves hoarse as the pandemics lead them away from the body, it is no longer you after all. Your soul is gone and nothing but an empty husk is left.

L is dazed as they pick themselves off the ground, a fiery visage being the first thing they see. The car is torched from the ruptured gas tank, metal screaming from the the flames surrounding it. Their mind is quickly catches up to the moment before the crash, of your hand pulling them away from the car. Their eyes frantically scan across the wreck to find you. You have to be fine, you have to be. Then they see it, your jacket snatching their attention in an instant as they run over towards you, a relief laugh falling from their lips before they see the true horror waiting for them. Tears burns their eyes as your body was almost unrecognizable from all the damage, your jacket only being the marker for your identity. They don't know what happen next as everything went black. They found themselves waking up in a hospital bed, an air mask over their nose and mouth as they take in their surroundings. But they break down once they remember your body. Heavy sobs echoing through out the room as they are consume by sorrow.

B is running harder than they have before, their legs and lungs burning from the excessive exertion. But they paid no mind for their pain, it is not as important as finding you. They saw how hard that vehicle hit you, they need to save you. They won't lose you like this. The tears are stinging their eyes as they try to find where you landed. But there, they see you curled against yourself just in front of them. They sprint towards you, dropping to their knees in a slide. They don't care about the cuts on their knees as they try to assess your injuries. The red seeping from your stomach is not good so they tear off their shirt to stop the bleeding, crying out for help. They try to remember their training, keeping the fabric firmly over the wound despite how hazy your eyes look. The relief on their face when help arrives is crushed when the responder pronounced you dead at the scene. Their mind blanks out as they stare down as their blood soaked hands and the puddle of blood your body left behind after you were moved. The tears were finally released, curling themselves in a ball on top of the blood. They failed. They failed.

J has never felt so weak in their life. The surprised on their face when you pushed them was replaced by horror as your body was hit by the car. Their body couldn't move as they stare at your body laying in the road, their mind simply couldn't comprehend that this happening. This couldn't happen. Please God no. Not again. Their tattoos tingle as they made their way towards you, their body numb from what is their nightmare come alive. They couldn't cry or do anything as they drop by your side, taking in the damage you substain. They can see that there was no life left in your eyes, mercifully at least that you went quick. But that dark thought masked only how their heart permanently shattered at the sight before them. They can tell you were gone when they gingerly pulled your upper half towards them, your head having no tension as it freely moved. Still no tears are shed when they cradle you against their chest, firmly holding you in one last embrace. The paramedics have to pry them away from you when they went to received your body, a desperation to keep you close to them filling their body. Something die in them that day. All of their hope were killed when you died. Now they are hollow, never to be whole again.

V is screaming when they see you get hit. They don't care how emotional they seem, they quickly make their towards you. The tears are falling down from their eyes as the full extent of the damage you taken is made clear. Their hands are frantic to help, a manic glint in their eyes to figure out how to stop this. To stop the pain, to turn back time, or just stop the bleeding. They don't care how much their pants is soaking from the blood pool coming from you. They try to remember what to do as they cover the bleeding with their hands, declarations for you stay with them echoing throughout the air. They get more frantic as you lose consciousness, desperately keeping you awake until the paramedics arrive. But the blood keeps coming and they see the life finally leave your eyes as your body goes limp. The screaming begins again. The paramedic arrives to them gripping you tightly, crying and begging into your unmoving chest to please open your eyes, to speak, to breath, to live. They ended up getting knock out for how hysterical they are, but they will never forget your eyes. They will haunt them forever.

C can't do this. They stay put on the sidewalk, focusing on the pain on their palms and knees instead of the gruesome image in front of them. They can feel that wallow of sorrow filling up in their chest, their whole body shaking from what they couldn't believe happen. They can hear someone asking if they were okay but they remained exclusively focused on you. You were dead. You were dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. That mantra rings throughout their head as they shakingly make their way towards you. Their steps are unsteady as they wish to run, to turn back time, but mainly for you to please breath. They collapse by your side, their body no longer handling the emotional strain coursing throughout their being. They grip your shirt tight as they pull them themselves closer to you until their head rested against your chest. No matter how much they wished, no heartbeat or breath greet their ears. They cry. They cry out all of the anguish that they finally figured out was filling their body. What couldn't it be them? Why? Why? Why not them?!?! Nobody is around to answer as they pass out on top of their true (lost) love.

Avery feels something like they're not in their body. Looking out from the outside at the situation unfolding around them. They remember the before vividly. The two of you laughing over take out coffee and silly stories, the shock from you pushing their bulky self into the sidewalk, and finally the despair as the car runs you down. Their mind finally pulls them to the present, a painful feeling on their knuckles is what they first notice. Their mind takes all of the little details. They are kneeling on the road, the car door is wide open, you were laying motionlessness beside them, and the bloody beat up face directly below them. They are kneeling over the driver, pure rage consuming them again as they hit them over and over. They never stopped punching. That darkness in their soul has free reign now and it will have blood spilled. Anger and hatred for the retched scum who took away their happiness so unceremoniously, they just don't care anymore. Blood splatters against their face and knuckles more and more until the driver's face is nothing more than a mess of gore and flesh. They can feel the handcuffs on their wrists as they are dragged away from the scene, but never leaving you out of their eyesight. They don't care anymore. They already lost their will to live.

Kahula is praying to every deity in the world right now. They are not religious but they need divine help. The blood keeps pouring from your despite them pressing it down with a jacket, trying to remember the first aid lessons B taught them. They bamble to keep you conscious, drawing your attention to them instead of the light you keep muttering about. They periodically scream for help, but never fully leaving your side for a second. They have to believe that the world wouldn't so cruel as to take you like this. They just found you, they were going to finally confess. You were their soulmate regardless of society said. They can't lose you. But they can feel the life leaving your body, the breathing coming out more slowly and shallow as your eyes close. They yell out their feelings, hoping that maybe you can hold out for little longer. They can see the paramedics sprinting over to you, they leave their bloody jacket and start making compressions. They don't know if it would help but they need something. Please just breath, breath for me. Please, please. The medic pulls them away from the body, the word please falling from their lips like a chant. Their fire dies that day. For what are they without you there.

[kaleahdraus-art]

"My Bond With You"

(3 page short KalpasEmile comic) 🔥🗡️

Loosely based off from the Marcia Funebre chapter of HI3. Instead of stumbling upon his "other self" in the somewhat dream sequence, Kalpas meets the ghost of his old friend. ಥ‿ಥ

let them be together mhy please

[pearlparty]

Hi!!! I’m a huge fan of your work and have been dying to think of a request for you and I finally have one. I was wondering if you could write an angst fic about the reader feeling like Austin is embarrassed of her bc he hides his face in their paparazzi fics. I would love to see you create this story and make something beautiful out of it <3<3

omg babe I am so incredibly sorry that I literally didn’t register this as a message until just now. I never get messages like this so I totally missed it. I will happily write this for you, dear anon, and hope that you see it—I love this message and it warms my heart to (albeit belatedly) see this. You’re a darling and I hope you know how much this means months later.

(But I’ll get straight on it for ya. Also idk how angsty you want me to go, so I’m going to feel it out and see if hurt/comfort or hurt/no comfort is the vibes, but it could absolutely go either way tbfh I like to hurt my own feelings sometimes)

[a-single-fan-tear]

I have yet to finish the hazbin hotel fic I started.

I have however, started 3 more. And yes, they are ALL filled with angst.

[past-imperfect-if]

Just wait for the angst with Shaerian and Derian… I have some scenes planned that will be angsty but I think you all will enjoy them.

“I don’t hate you Shae… I hate what you’ve become, and I hate myself for not being able to stop it from happening. But to hate you? I could never do that.”

[sprnklersplashes]

i've got nothing to believe (unless you're choosing me)

ao3

wylan hendricks has been revealed as wylan van eck. the fall-out, predictably, is messy

Kaz dismisses them with a thump of his cane. Normally at this point, Jesper begins to feel the hum of anticipation, rumbling at the back of his mind. The mood should shift now as the job moves from idea to reality, and with it, Jesper’s heart should pick up. The doubt and the excitement should be giving him a high the drinks and cards can only dream of.

This time though, it’s different. This time, he sinks against the wall as the rest of the crew file out; first Inej, then the sombre-looking Fjerdan, then Nina trailing him. Kaz directs them each to different rooms, and doesn’t Matthias alone until he’s safely out of the room and down the hall. Then, with a gloved hand on the doorknob, he looks back inside. There’s a slight clench in his jaw when he looks at Jesper, and casts Wylan a glance before looking back at him. Jesper swallows thickly. Kaz’s eyes are harder than ice and he presses himself further into the wall. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” is Kaz’s instruction. “Either of you. I need you two intact and preferably civil for the job.” And with that, Kaz Brekker is gone, the door shut tightly behind him. 

If you wanted civil Jesper thinks. Maybe keep a closer eye on Nina and the Fjerdan. 

Silence falls in the room. Wylan takes more time than necessary rolling up the plans he and Matthias began. Jesper stays where he is, restless energy rattling inside his still frame, but he allows himself to look at Wylan now. Craning his neck, he sees a pricey-looking set of pens, held together in a roll of quilted fabric. Just one of those would fetch a nice price on the East Stave pawnshops. 

“Nice pen set,” he finally says. “Did Daddy buy it for you?”

Wylan looks up at him, his eyes half-hidden by his hair. Slowly, he rises from the chair and tiptoes around the table. Jesper forces himself to breathe as Wylan gets closer, his hands clasped behind his back like a kid at a recital. 

“You have questions.”

“Hell yes, I have questions, Wylan,” he spits, pretending not to notice how Wylan flinches. Some small, sour part of him thinks good. Why should he be the only one uncomfortable here? 

He stalks across the room and turns on his heel before finally asking,

“How could you not tell me?”

“I never wanted you to find out like this.” Wylan rushes to meet him, his voice breathy and shame creasing his soft face. “Not like this and certainly… certainly not from Kaz.”

“Did you want me to find out at all?” And that’s the million kruge question. 

Wylan’s chest expands as he inhales, his jaw tightening. Silence descends on the room, a lack of an answer rolling around like thunder during a storm on the frontier. And if Wylan’s silence is the thunder, Jesper’s body provides the lightning; his veins crackle and fizz and sizzle all around his body. It takes all his strength to remain still, hell, to remain in this room. Not to cuss Wylan out or run to the nearest Makker’s Wheel. His fingers are unsteady as he touches his revolvers, but if it unsettles Wylan, he doesn’t show. He’s too busy gnawing on his nails, a habit Jesper used to be enamoured by, and trying to answer what should be a very, very easy question. 

Finally, he replies “I don’t know”.

Jesper scoffs.

“I don’t know,” Wylan repeats, louder this time. “What did you want?”

“An answer, Wylan!” he replies. “I wanted to know if you even thought about trusting me enough to tell me.”

“Of course I trust you!” He’s practically shouting now, a red flush burning his cheeks. “I trust you more than anyone-”

“Not enough though,” Jesper interrupts. Wylan blinks, and that moment is a realisation for both of them. He hasn’t had time to process how exactly he felt about this. But now he’s said it and it’s like he’s stepped out of his body and said it not just to Wylan, but to himself. 

Wylan trusts him, just not enough.

Just like Kaz trusts him… just. Not. Enough. 

He sees them both laid out before him, two parallel lines. Kaz and Wylan. He meets them. He likes them. He goes out of his way for them. He falls for them. Does jobs for Kaz, gives Wylan a key. He didn’t do it with an ulterior motive, or maybe he did. Either way, both stories have the same ending; his efforts weren’t enough.

Realisation crashes into him, and he sinks onto the chair. Self-pity lines his throat, clogs his lungs. The walls press in around him as the floor tilts, leaving him queasy. Saints, he needs to get out of here. He needs to get out of here and find a table and play until the cards shred his hands.

“You know…” He clears his throat and tries again. “You know, what you said to me that day in Shu Han… it changed something for me. Outside Neyar’s house. What you said about me hiding who I was. It changed a lot for me.” He sniffles, his thumb pressed into his palm. “You changed a lot for me.”

“I remember,” he replies.

“Yeah?” He lifts his head, not caring that Wylan’s seeing him cry. “Then why did you do the same thing, Wylan? The whole time you gave me crap about hiding the fact that I’m Grisha, you were hiding something pretty big too.”

“It’s not the same thing!” Wylan shouts back. Jesper’s standing now, his heart pounding, his hands curled into fists. Wylan’s breaths come in heavy, laboured pants, as if he’s run the length of the canal. “Being a Van Eck is not the blessing you think it is.”

“Yes, I’m sure living in your daddy’s mansion was such a pain for you,” Jesper replies dryly. “Tell me Wylan, how hard was it to be waited on by servants and have all your hobbies paid for?”

“Now you’re being cruel,” he says. Maybe he is. Words are just falling haphazardly out of his mouth. Whatever happens afterwards will happen. If he even stays around that much.

“I thought maybe you were like me,” he says. “That you probably understood what we Barrel rats are like.” He shakes his head. He’s not sure who he’s really shaking it at. “But now I get it. You’re just a pampered little prince who ran away so he could play at being a thief.”

“That’s not what happened-”

“Then what did?” he asks. “What made a little precious merchling come to slum with the rest of us sobs? You’re a bit late for teenage rebellion.”

“What makes you think you need to know everything about me?”

“I’d like to know something about you,” he replies. “Something, something that’s real. Because frankly, I don’t even know if Wylan is your real name.”

“It is!” he shouts back. Jesper recoils from the words as if Wylan had pulled a gun on him, and then there was silence. Everything that was said is splattered on the walls, and Jesper can hear it all. Hear how angry he is. How petty. How betrayed and hurt and well, immature he sounded. All of the things he swore he’d never be with Wylan. He hears it all, and his gut sours.

When he dares to glance up, he sees Wylan huddled on the floor, his back to the door. His head is in his hands and his knees are against his chest.

“I wanted to tell you,” he says. “So. Many. Times.”

“Then why didn’t you?” he asks. His voice cracks, and he realises it’s because he isn’t yelling or laughing any more. He’s begging. Begging as he does with Kaz, just tell me . “Why didn’t you?”

It takes a long while for Wylan to answer. Jesper watches him the whole time; his fingers link and unlink, he licks and bites his lips, his chest stutters as it rises. The silence stretches out, pushing seconds into minutes into hours, and Jesper can just watch and wait and hope without knowing what he’s hoping for.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d do,” he finally answers. “If you’d go back to Kaz with it or let something slip or…” His voice is small, broken. Defeated. He pulls his knees closer to himself. “I didn’t know. And I couldn’t take that risk.”

Jesper’s head falls back. He wanted the truth. But maybe he didn’t expect it to feel like this, like a tidal wave crashing over him and pulling him under. He closes his eyes. The room is silent. Maybe if he’s lucky, the wave will drag him away from here.

When he rises, it’s slow. His joints creak as his stiff muscles move carefully. Wylan’s gaze follows him, his chin rising in time with Jesper’s body. He waits until he’s standing before he speaks. He pulls on his sleeve if only to avoid Wylan’s eyes.

“I’m going out,” he says. “I’ll be an hour. That should be enough time for you to move your things back to your workshop and leave your key on my table.” He’ll probably be more than an hour, but that’s his business.

“What?”

“I’m not going to hoard your stuff Wylan,” he grumbles. “Saints knows what I’d do with half of it.” He crosses over to the door.

“Jes-Jesper, wait.” Wylan scrabbles to his feet, his limbs unsteady, grasping the wall to stay upright. “Jesper just, just, please, listen I-”

“Listen to what Wylan?” He’s closer to him now, so close that he can see the red-rimmed eyes and spiked lashes. So close that he could reach out and take his hand. And he wants to, damn it. Because Wylan is upset and all he wants is to hold his hand and make stupid jokes until he laughs again.

“I have listened, Wylan,” he says. “I listened and I get it. You didn’t want to tell me because you thought I mess it up or do something with it and maybe I don’t blame you. I might have done the same.” He laughs and it sounds a little too much like a sob. “But you’re not who I thought you were. And there’s no point in us doing this if we can’t trust each other.”

“Jesper, please .” He’s almost screaming now, and he grabs desperately at Jesper’s wrists, the way a drowning man grabs pieces of driftwood. 

(He’s reminded of the way Wylan held onto him after the Fold like Jesper was the only thing keeping him alive. He remembers the way he had held him like he’d fight the world to keep him by his side) 

“Jes, look at me.” He does. His hair tickles Jesper’s forehead. His breaths ghost along Jesper’s collarbone. His foot brushes his and it would just take him turning his wrist for them to be holding hands. He’s so close Jesper can feel the worried beat of his heart as if it were his own. “Jesper, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” Cool, slender fingers caress Jesper’s cheeks, and he sighs. He hadn’t realised how hot he was. “I never meant to hurt you. I should’ve told you, I would’ve told you-”

“Would you? If you could go back and change it, would you?” It’s more than a question. It’s an accusation. Jesper watches as Wylan’s eyes widen. His mouth falls open, but nothing comes out of it. Just a small, feeble croak that hurts more than any amount of speech ever could. 

“That’s what I thought.” His fingers brush over Wylan’s. He doesn’t need to look down to know where the splotches of ink are or where he’s bitten his nails the most. He also knows that if he kept his finger travelling downwards, he’d find the spot on Wylan’s inner arm where he’s most ticklish. 

That giggle fills his mind, too light and too good for what they’re dealing with right now.

Instead of finding that little spot on his arm, Jesper takes Wylan’s wrists and pulls his hands off his face. It takes more strength than he thought possible to let go of his hands, but when he does they stay in the air, half reaching for Jesper’s jacket. In his mind, Wylan curls his fingers around his lapel

“I wouldn’t have trusted me either,” he confesses. Wylan shakes his head at that, the ghost of a protest on his lips. Jesper’s mouth quirks, but there’s no warmth in it. “I wouldn’t have. But that doesn’t… that doesn’t change anything. Not for me.”

“Jes-”

“I don’t mind you coming on the job with us,” he continues. “You’re a good demo man no matter what Kaz says and he’s right, you’re valuable leverage against your father.” Wylan winces at that. Not for the first time, Jesper hates himself.

Not for the first time his fingers itch for the cards.

“So this is it?” Wylan asks. “After everything we’ve been through… this is it? You’re just… you’re just leaving?”

Against his better judgement (what’s left of it anyway), Jesper looks up. Wylan’s face is streaked with tears, his hazel eyes torn by a hopelessness Jesper didn’t think he possessed. It occurs to him, in that moment, that he’s never seen Wylan cry. Not once. Not even when they came out of the Fold and he was shaking so badly Jesper had to guide him to a chair and hold him against his chest. In the months they’ve been together, Jesper has never seen Wylan cry. 

Until now.

He brushes his hand against Wylan’s. His skin is cold, and Jesper flinches. When he speaks, he feels like he’s forcing the words to crawl over barbed wire to get out.

“Those things… I did with Wylan Hendricks.” He pulls his hand back. “Wylan Van Eck… I don’t know him at all.” His hands curl into fists at his side. His heart thumps loudly, relentlessly, like the rattle of machine gun fire. Sweat trickles down his back, pooling at the bottom of his spine.

He needs to get out. Now. Because if he doesn’t, he’s going to explode and probably take Wylan down with him.

He has to fight against Wylan’s grip to get out. Nails scratch against his coat, his skin, his grip weakening and strengthening on Jesper’s arm. Each touch is colder than the last and Jesper’s skin tightens.

“No, no-Jesper, please, Jesper, I’m sorry, I-”

He closes the door between them, and Wylan’s voice is silent. One shaking hand grips the doorknob, the other lays flat against the wood. If he listens, is quiet for once in his life and just listens, he can hear the muffled sobbing on the other side of the door. Without meaning to, his forehead falls against it. His knees weaken and knock against the wood as they fall to the floor. He waits there, for what feels like forever, kneeling beside the door with his hand on the handle.

He could turn it. He wants to turn it. Despite everything, despite the anger that still fizzes in his veins, he wants to turn it and lift Wylan into his arms. To kiss his temple and carry him home and to hold him and to be held . 

He looks at the handle. Wylan is still there; the quiet sobs still shaking the air. Of its own accord, his hand turns just a fraction, and that’s when it hits him again. Wylan Van Eck. Son of Jan Van Eck. Merchant’s kid turned Barrel Rat. Their shared months fly past Jesper’s eyes, but this time his gut sours. Because every time, Wylan was living in his space, with a key to his room, and thought Jesper couldn’t be trusted. Apparently, nothing he did was enough to prove it. 

Evidently, Wylan made his mind up a while go. Now, Jesper can make up his.

His hand steadies. The handle straightens. The sobbing doesn’t stop. His heart keeps thumping, thumping, like it’s trying to escape his body.

Slowly, Jesper stands. He lets go of the handle. And then, slowly, he walks away.

[melodythebunny]

a chapter/part 2 of this: https://melodythebunny.tumblr.com/post/700953725666279424/congrats-mrcharning-you-suceed-in-giving-the-gurl

Carrie just stared at the plate in front of her. She was in no mood to eat. And definitely in no mood to talk. Ever since her brother's disappearance she'd been quiet.

"You have to eat, consume, devour your food. You'll need, require, the energy."

Across from Carrie sat Beatrice. She was reading the morning newspaper and sipping on some coffee. Carrie's nose crinkled at the smell. She never did like coffee and with her added cat DNA it just made it all the more unbearable…

"Not hungry." she said finally. Beatrice sighed. Not wanting to force her friend to do anything. Her eyes reflected worry at her refusal to eat. There wasn't much she could do though. She had found Carrie breaking down in the middle of the street. There had been a mini commotion due to the traffic jam she had unintentionally caused. The villainess knew the feline wasn't in a good mental state to deal with the onlookers or anyone in general, so she led her back to her place. That was a couple of days ago.

She knew more than most people about Carrie. Even more than Two brains. She remembered the time before either of them became villains. Beatrice hadn't changed much, still sassy as ever. Carrie on the other hand…Carrie had changed. Not just physically but mentally as well. No longer an open book, but now closed off. But still, Bea knew better than to force her friend to say what was bothering her.

After finishing her breakfast, she took her plate and cup. She left Carrie's, silently hoping she would eat while she was away. Being she had no crimes scheduled for the day, Beatrice still had her shifts to cover at the copy shop.

"I have work now, presently, today. There should, ought, must be a package arriving in an hour." She checked her watch. Yep, in exactly one hour her new coffee maker will arrive. Beatrice wouldn't exactly say she was upset at Carrie for breaking it. However, Coffee was a must in the blonde's eyes. Couldn't start her day without a fresh cup of hot joe with some ink in it. Coffee was for the energy and ink because her body now required it. Being fused to a copy machine had caused some changes to her bio make up.

Carrie nodded slowly, still sulking. Her mind is still thinking about her brother.

He was out there somewhere. She had to find him. But how…? She didn't even know where to start. It was aggravating and made her feel helpless. She hated it. Her claws dug into the table scratching it. She paused, not wanting to tear up anything else. Beatrice has been nothing but considerate since Carrie had been staying here.

It wouldn't be fair for her to damage her friend's property. She removed her hands from the table. As much as she wanted to tell her, she just couldn't bring herself to. She couldn't drag her friend's or anyone else into the situation. Still, Carrie knew she couldn't find her brother on her own. She had to tell someone. The feline got up, not bothering to eat anything as she debated.

---

Dr. Two brains stretched his arms out. They had been feeling a bit cramped from him constantly leaning on them. He decided to take the rest of the day easy. After dropping his daughter off to school, he returned back to his lair.

"Probably should try out yoga more…or at least more stretches," he thought to himself. It was quiet in his lair which gave him time to think or peacefully plan out his next crimes sprees. He had wanted to try out something that wasn't cheese related. After a lot of protests from his brain roommate, Squeaky, he was close to a compromise. Good thing he had quite a hefty stock in cheese items. Estimating it would roughly satisfy the fiendish mouse for three days. Better than nothing he figured if he wanted to pull this off.

His nose twitched as he suddenly became uneasy. His eyes darted around feeling like he was being watched.

His heart raced as he felt his fur stand up. Letting out a startled squeak as he saw a familiar figure hop down. Carrie.

"Ah- hey Carrie. Didn't expect to see you here!" two brains said. He clutched one hand over his chest where his heart was beating wildly. He hadn't heard her approach nor had any idea she was stopping by. She wasn't wearing her bell.

He did miss having her around. It felt rather off when she decided to go out on her own. Just when he got used to her being around. He often heard his henchmen saying they missed working with her. Speaking of…they were off doing some errands. "Haven't seen you here in months if I'm being honest." He adds, grabbing a piece of cheese, trying to fight back the sudden nervousness and shyness. She didn't say anything, which he found a bit odd. Still he tried making.a conversation with her. "How's life?"

Aside from ex-boss and ex hench cat, Dr. Two brains didn't think he and Carrie were really close. Carrie had always kept herself at a distance most times. And there was the issue of her being well a cat. So he was surprised at himself for sounding so eager she was back. Was she looking for a crime team up? It had been a while since he's done one. The vigilante paced to and from. She was quiet but he could tell something was bothering her. Her lips pressed together.

"What's got you so worked up anyways?"

Carrie began explaining whatever that was bugging her.

She was speaking too fast for him to register everything she was saying. "They who?" All he got from her rant was someone took her brother. Wait-

"Brother?!" Two brains shuddered. Sweet cheddar cheese. There was another one. The mad scientist has only just begun getting used to the feline being around. "Yeah…..no thanks…" he bit down on the cheese he was holding. He shook his head. "It's just cats and I don't mix well." you're the only exception. He mentally added.

He didn't even know she had a brother. She never once mentioned family. Or any friends or people she knew. (Apparently she already knew Lady redundant woman. Huh…) Not that Dr. Two brains was prying. There were many things he didn't like sharing about his past. Still, there was an unexplainable urge to want to find out more about Carrie.

"Please." She said more softly. It sounded like she was close to crying. Or crying again giving how it looked like she already had. "You're the smartest person I know. I didn't know who else to ask for help" she stared pleadingly. There was a look on her face like she was distraught. And he hadn't seen her that way since …

since well…

He could hear squeaky screeching but he didn't care. He placed his cheese down, his mind already made up.

@ninjastormhawkkat @blueweirdness @liloskull343 @dualnaturedscientist @spaaceeboyy @lartmacabre

[hqbaby]

7 hrs to the next fyi chap!!

[torilaa]

Here's a little preview of the next chapter of Fragmented (and the last chapter in the Korriban arc).

Verena’s body was heavy in my arms as I carried her through the halls of the Sith Academy. 

If I only got there sooner. Shut up. If only I’d given in. No. This is your fault. Stop it. “Cut them down.” Stop. She’s just like the others…the others you failed. No. A tool. Just a tool of war. She was never a tool. In the end, we are all just hunks of meat no better than a blaster or a lightsaber. That’s not true. Stop lying to yourself. I’m not. Stop. Lying.

My mind went back and forth like this, from guilt to denials to flashes of memories I didn’t recognize. The truth was there. I’d failed Verena both in life and with her death and there was no way that I could repay her. Ever.

The fighting around me was deafened and those that were my enemy tried to attack only for Mandalorians or for Yuthura’s loyal to defend me. If someone did manage to get a blow it…well, it wouldn’t matter. Carth had the coordinates to the Star Forge. I wasn’t needed anymore.

No. You can’t give in now, remember? You are Revan. You need to act. If you don’t, you really would be an evil shutta, wouldn’t you? That and you need to save Bastila. She’s all that matters.

And the thought of Bastila…it really was the only reason I could keep moving.