#I'll edit it later

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) john price knew he would marry you the first time he saw you.

john price met you in the rain.

the memory of the encounter remains etched in his mind like a timeless portrait. as the years pass and his recollections fade, the moment of your first meeting remains vivid and unblemished.

the sky, a somber shade of ashen blue, was adorned with brooding clouds of a dark and furious pearl grey. thunder roared in the distance, while lightning ominously streaked across the sky. the rain, a gentle drizzle, tapped rhythmically on his freshly trimmed lawn and his parked truck. seated on his porch, cradling a cup of tea, john's loyal english mastiff, simply known as 'dog', slumbered beneath his chair.

he'd only had a few more days left until he was back in the field, and despite having needed a couple of days to rest, john was ready to get back to the familiarity of work- especially when there wasn't anyone waiting for him when he got home. ( well, besides 'dog' )

john had always been content with his own company, finding relief in the quiet moments spent with his loyal dog. the peacefulness that came with his aloneness had become a sanctuary, a place where he could escape from the disorder of the world and his position; and find solace in his thoughts. but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months and then further, john's heart began to yearn for something more.

the familiarity of being alone, once a source of comfort, now felt like a hefty weight on his shoulders. the emptiness that had once brought him peace now seemed suffocating, as if the walls of his home were closing in on him. he craved for a wife who would eagerly anticipate his return home from his weeks away, someone to hold close and shower with affection.

the stillness that had once brought him solace now echoed with a deep longing for intimacy. the sound of his footsteps seemed hollow, and the absence of life within the house filled the empty spaces of his home with a haunting void. john couldn't help but yearn for the day when his despondent home would be replaced with the joy of shared moments and the love of another.

he craved for the warmth of another's touch, the feeling of intertwined fingers and loving touches. he craved the sound of laughter filling the air, the kind that could only come from shared jokes and inside stories. john imagined the simple pleasures of cooking together, of sharing meals and conversations that stretched long into the night.

and despite himself, despite not wanting to feel anything. his heart ached for the intimacy of whispered secrets and stolen kisses, for the comfort of knowing that someone was there to catch him when he stumbled, unconditionally. he yearned for the simple pleasure of waking up next to someone, their presence a constant reminder that he was not alone anymore.

john price, for the first time in what felt like decades; craved for something more.

john's focus is abruptly interrupted by a thunderous slam, causing his weary eyes to shift from his tepid cup of tea. his piercing blue gaze fixates on the source of the commotion across the street. as he observes, his attention is captivated by you, and while being lost in his own melancholic thoughts, he realizes that the rain has intensified, pouring down relentlessly.

there you stand on your porch, engaged in a heated argument with a man. your gestures are animated, your lips downturned in a pained frown, and your brows knitted together in irritation.

the rain's melody drowns out all other sounds, leaving john in a world of silence from the conversation. yet, even amidst this deafening quiet, he cannot tear his gaze away from you, your eyes widening in disbelief as the man retreats into the house, slamming the door shut. price watches as you fish out a pair of car keys from your pocket, walking briskly down the porch stairs and to a car that sits in the driveway. you're immediately drenched in rain from head to toe and john finds that you still look breathtaking regardless.

inexplicably, the two of you lock eyes, and your lips pull into a thin line, your words barely audible over the pouring rain but he catches them nonetheless. "what the hell are you lookin' at?!" then you slip into the car and speed down the street before he can even process what he's heard. slowly a smirk pulls at his lips, the crowsfeet around his eyes deepening.

john price, wanted you.

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

can I request a Vox x reader fluff where they've both been struggling to come to terms with their feelings but when something (you can decide what) happens and the reader gets hurt really badly, he confesses

ANOOOOOOOOON!! YOU. GET ME. SO GOOD. HOW DARE YOU HIT ME UP WITH ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES?? Literally, give this trope to me as many times as yall want. I'll find a million ways to write it. Reap the repercussions and enjoy the food you beautiful homie, you!

Star-Crossed Idiots [Vox x Reader]

Vox refused to believe it.

Velvette had been the one to call him out on his shit first. Unlike him, she had a semblance of emotional maturity that meant she was perceptive to shit that flew over his head entirely. While he didn't understand why he found himself going out of his way to spend time with you, Velvette figured it out in a matter of days. The very fact that he had kept his involvement with you a secret was suspicious in itself. Not to mention, Velvette realized before he did. When she discovered his feelings for you, she found it hilarious. And a touch pathetic.

"I mean really Vox, you have zero reason to even know them," Velvette scoffed as she sipped on the frappuccino he had used to buy her silence. Things were already messy enough with Valentino. He had no intention of the pissy moth hearing of this until whatever this was, was sorted.

"Yet you constantly check in on their phone activity, go out of your way to run into them on the streets, and now they're even working for you just because your needy ass wanted an excuse to see them on the regular," Velvette listed as Vox did everything in his power to avoid eye contact.

Vox buried his face in his hands and groaned while Velvette rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't it just be easier to ask them out at this point? I love you, darling, but you're making this so much more complicated than it needs to be."

"No," Vox growled as he looked up and shot her a warning glare. "Do you have any idea how much shit we'd be in if I just started dating some random sinner? And that's only if the feelings were mutual."

He ran his hand down his screen with a huff, turning to look at Vark swimming up to the glass. While Vox had originally had the aquarium extend to the meeting rooms for a sense of looming intimidation, he'd found quite a bit of comfort in his sharks being able to follow him through the tower.

"Look, for all we know, I'm just pent up," Vox tried to reason. It sounded fake, even to his own ears, but he was in denial. There was too much bullshit he'd have to face if he really was as whipped for you as he feared. "It's been a shit couple of weeks. I probably just need a break and a good fuck and this will all be something you make fun of me about next week for ever entertaining in the first place."

Velvette shook her head, sighing as she pulled out her phone and started to scroll.

"Whatever you say."

---

You refused to believe it.

There was no way you fell for Vox of all people. For starters, you told yourself you'd never love again! Every time you'd tried, disaster followed. It didn't help that any potential match was one to be made in Hell. Granted, you knew not everyone in Hell was bad. There were a lot of sinners who you firmly believed belonged in Heaven or some sort of equivalent.

But even so... Vox was definitely not one of those people. Not that that was the important part or truly mattered. You were no saint either, you were also in Hell.

"I don't see what the big deal is toots," Angel Dust sighed as he watched you give Fat Nuggets attention to keep your hands busy through the stress. "There are worse people to have a crush on."

"There's better too," you whined. "I'd rather not have a crush at all," you muttered bitterly as your hand continued the soothing action of petting the teacup pig.

You'd originally been on the production team for one of Valentino's studios. That was how you befriended Angel Dust and why Vox scooped you out from under Valentino to work on his own set. He told you it was because he valued someone who had an ear for audio balance, but Angel said he'd only offered you the new job after the overlord walked in on the cameraman flirting with you right before.

"Why not just fuck the guy and see if it's a matter of heart or a matter of-"

You laughed as you covered Angel's mouth with one of your hands. "Okay, okay! Don't... finish that sentence. I won't let you taint poor little Fat Nuggets ears with your porn language."

Angel snickered as you pulled back your hand. "But you see my point, right?"

"I do," you sighed. "But that's... not really my style. If anything, I think it'd just hurt to see him after something like a casual fling. The idea of him wanting my body, but not me? Yeah no. I'll choose the healthier option of repressing my feelings, thank you very much."

"I'm telling ya, he's into you," Angel groaned. "I've seen the way he is with people he thinks are hot. I've seen him with Val. You're different, toots."

You smile sadly at Angel and put Fat Nuggets down on the bed. It was clear you didn't believe Angel and he was on the verge of ripping out his fur because of it. The two of you were so unbelievably oblivious it was gonna kill him again. "Thanks, Angie but... it's okay. Really, it is."

He sighed and eventually let it go. The two of you talked about other things for a while before Charlie peeked into his room to ask for your help on something. Once you were gone, he rolled over the conversation in his mind as he tried to think of ways to get the ball rolling on your love life.

Angel shook his head with a sigh and pulled out his phone. He scooped up Fat Nuggets and flopped back in his bed as the dialing sound filled the room. The line connected, and he was quick to the point.

"Hey, I know we don't really talk, but I've got an idea."

---

"Really Angie, I don't think this was necessary," You grumbled as you tugged down on the all-too-short skirt of the outfit he'd squeezed you into.

"Oh, but it was and it is," Angel grinned as he took your hand and twirled you in the entry hall to the club. You rolled your eyes and let him spin you in jest. He'd asked you to come with him to one of your old coworkers' birthday parties.

Apparently, one of the rules was to dress like you'd get hired to dance at the club. At least, that had been Angel's excuse when you questioned why he was hovering over you as he did your hair, and makeup and held up several outfits to your body that you doubted would fit.

Despite the discomfort of getting all dolled up, you were happy he'd invited you. It had been a while since you saw your old friends. That being said, it would have been more fun if you weren't tugging down your skirt every two minutes. You weren't the only one hyperaware of how much of your skin was exposed. Nor of the way the fabric hugged your frame tightly. Several of your old friends had suggested you return to the studio with a job in front of the camera instead of in the shadows of the set.

You'd been having a good time, sticking to the corner of the room with some of your old friends to watch the drinks while the rest were out on the dance floor. One of the drunker sinners of the bunch accidentally knocked over some of the drinks while she'd been telling a story about the recent cam show she did. You volunteered to go get more napkins from the bar. One of your friends came with you to reorder the ruined drinks and the two of you had nearly pushed your way through the crowd when you heard a familiar voice call your name through the noise.

Vox didn't have to fight through the crowd the way you had. The second sinners saw the glow of his screen, they were quick to move out of his path. Your friend touched your arm, pulling your attention away from the approaching overlord. They winked at you and told you they had the drink issue handled.

When you turned, you caught Vox's screen flickering from pink to his usual blue. You had never seen any color other than the "You don't get to sleep" blue light, so you assumed it was just a trick of the flashing dance lights above.

"I didn't think you'd be here," you say to break the tension. This wasn't the first time you'd seen him in casual wear, nor was it the first time you'd seen Vox since realizing you had feelings for him. Even so, your heart was beating hard just from the sight of him.

"A-Ah yeah, well," Vox stammered as the music blared through the busy room. "Velvette wanted to drop by. She said something about wanting to check the place out as a potential venue for an upcoming show."

"Just the two of you?" you ask, perking up slightly.

"It was supposed to be," Vox chuckled dryly. His grin was tired and forced as he looked to the side and scanned the room. "Valentino heard we were coming here and tagged along. I don't know why, but Velvette got really heated about it. Something about him fucking up her plans..."

"Oh," your shoulders drop. You cringe internally, wishing you could take back the bitterness in your voice. You hoped it wasn't too obvious, but the way Vox was looking at you like you were some sort of a puzzle told you everything you needed to know.

You actually loved Velevette. She was sassy and cutthroat but had a kind side to her as well. Valentino however... He'd been the source of a lot of suffering for the people you cared about. While the more obvious examples of Angel Dust returning to the hotel looking like shit came to mind, so did the times you had to comfort Vox after being yanked this way and that by the moth emotionally.

That was actually how you'd realized you'd come to care for him as deeply as you do. He'd been standing alone in one of the meeting rooms with a distant look on his face. When you found him and asked him if he was okay, he tried to play it off with his usual bravado, but couldn't. He never cried in front of you, he only vented his frustrations about Valentino and you listened. You sympathized. And eventually, you found yourself wishing you could be the one to treat him better.

Vox opened his mouth to say something, only for Valentino to slip his arm around his shoulder, appearing out of nowhere from the crowd.

"There you are baby," he purred, his fingers immediately slipping under the collar of Vox's vest. You resisted the urge to gag as Valentino took a long puff from his pipe and blew the majority of the smoke in your direction.

"I was wondering where you up and fucked off to," Valentino grinned as he leaned down to nip drunkenly at Vox's shoulder. "You left me all alone with our little fashionista, "Valentino scoffed. "She's in such a bitchy mood."

If it wasn't bad enough that Valentino was practically drooling all over Vox in front of you and pretending you weren't there, insult was only added to injury when Valentino grinned at you with sharp teeth when he called Velvette bitchy.

"Come back and unwind with me," Valentino hummed as he started to kiss up Vox's neck. "Some of my best toys are here tonight. Don't you want to play?"

If Vox had any doubt he was in Hell before, he had every reason to confirm the fact at this moment. He'd fallen out of love with Valentino, but the almost... the almost killed him. To make it worse, he was completely frozen, letting it all happen in front of you. He made no moves to stop Valentino, he made no moves to reciprocate. He simply froze.

Unable to watch any longer as Vox continued to fall for the very same game of tug-o-war he told you he was done with, you bite your lip and turn on your heel. You can't tell if you heard Vox say your name or if it was just a trick of the crowd.

"Anyone else gonna drink this?" You asked as you rejoined your friends still at the table and pointed to one of the more full glasses left on the table. When your friends who were sober enough to answer said you could go for it, you tossed it back in one shot.

You griped to one of your friends who had stayed behind to watch over those too drunk to make good choices. The two of you had been having a damn good venting session about how stupid you felt your feelings were when the entire bar swayed. Your words slurred as your body grew heavy.

One second you were sitting up, wondering why your friend looked so concerned. The next second there was a sharp pain against the temple of your forehead, followed by a heavy thunk, more pain, and darkness.

---

Vox had been desperately searching the dance floor for any sign of you. He'd torn away from Valentino and the moth hadn't bothered to follow. Vox would... handle that another time. For as much as he denied his feelings for you this morning, the second he saw the hurt look in your eyes he knew he had to tell you. There was no way he could ignore the sharp lurch in his chest at the sight of you.

He didn't know what it meant. He couldn't tell if it was just a sense of betrayal after he'd been so open with you about Valentino or if it was something more. Every time he found himself wanting to talk about his true feelings on anything, he wanted to talk to you. Every time he had a rare second alone in the middle of the night, the only touch he craved was yours. Yes, he had a history with Valentino, but he didn't actively want that. He wanted you.

He finally spotted you across the room, sitting at a table with one of the whores he'd seen at Valentino's studio and getting way too close to them for his liking. He made his way through the drunken idiots who were too far gone to notice him, keeping his eyes on you as you started swaying dangerously.

You tried to reach down for something on the table and Vox swore as you lost what little balance you had and fell over. Someone got in his way so he didn't see the impact, but somehow he heard it. Through all the noise he heard the sharp thud and the panicked swearing of the person you were with after.

Vox was suddenly shoving every idiot out of his way, ignoring their shouts as he ran into the small clearing and found you on the ground with blood seeping from your head. He was immediately on his knees, scooping you up as the sinner who'd been with you started freaking out.

The only thing Vox could hear was a high-pitched whine as he pulled you to him and tried to frantically find where you were bleeding from. Half of your head was dripping with blood and he vaguely registered your friend saying your head had hit the edge of the table.

"Just s̴̢̃ḧ̸̺u̸͇͋t̷̯͂ ̷̬̂u̶͖̓p̵̳͗!̶̳͌," Vox snapped as he whipped up and affixed the sinner with a violent glare. He didn't care that half the club was looking at him. For once, he didn't care that he'd made a scene. Logically, he knew something like this couldn't kill you, you were all already dead. But his hands were shaking violently and the buzzing in his head was getting louder because you weren't moving.

Everything around him flashed with bright blue light as he held you close and teleported out of the club without even thinking about it. The two of you reappeared in his room back at the tower and he let out a shaky breath as he placed you down on his bed.

Not knowing what to do, Vox quickly crossed the room and threw his bathroom door open as he searched for anything he could use to stop the bleeding. He was muttering furiously as he nearly ripped the hinges off the cupboard under the sink looking for anything he could use.

Vox let out a loud, angry shout as his body kept glitching. His movements were jerky and he'd hit his head on the sink twice now. Just as he was about to have an absolute meltdown, he heard you groan from his bedroom. His head snapped up and he turned around at the sound of your voice so fast he was surprised he didn't snap his own neck.

Vox yanked a towel off of the wall and scrambled across the nylon tiles as he fell into his room with all the grace of a CEO that he clearly had. He swore, picking himself up and coming over to you as you sat up and clutched your head.

"Shit, that stuff was stronger than I thought," you groaned. "Note to self, don't just chug random alcohol at the club." you tried to laugh, only to hiss as the pain in your head doubled down due to the movement.

"You're a fucking idiot," Vox sighed as he sat down next to you and lifted the towel to your head.

You flinched at the contact, and Vox grabbed your wrist with his free hand. "Stay still," he frowned, pressing again on the wound. "You're still bleeding."

Trying not to do more damage, you stay as still as possible while he tries to stop the bleeding. The silence is heavy between the two of you before you mumble quietly.

"Sorry..."

Vox blinks, frowning down at you. "For what?"

You avoid eye contact the best you can given your current condition and fist your hands on your thighs nervously. "For acting like an idiot. You've told me about how hard it is with Valentino. I should've said or done something and not have gotten..."

"Upset?" Vox finished for you quietly. You flinched, unable to read the tone in his voice. He sighed and slowly lifted the towel from your head, before lowering it. "Why did you?"

"It's stupid," you bite your lip, hand drifting up curiously to see how bad the wound is. Before your fingers could brush against your hair, Vox's hand grabbed your wrists again.

"Try me."

You couldn't say if it was due to the pain, blood loss, or alcohol in your system, but the moment you finally gathered the courage to look him in the eye, you said fuck it. Vox gasped as you surged forward and pressed your lips against his. He'd barely had a chance to process the feeling before you were already turned away from him and rambling some bullshit about how you knew he didn't feel the same.

He took your hand, ignoring the anxious nonsense flowing from your mouth, and lifted it to his lips. Your speech died on your tongue as his lips pressed against the palm of your hand.

"Do you have any idea how much you've been on my mind?" He growled softly, his lips trailing up your arm slowly as he practically worshiped your skin.

If it wasn't for the fact that your blood was still on his hands, Vox would have been so much more rough with you. He would have grabbed you and crashed his lips against yours. He would have torn the fabric that hugged your curves so tightly off of your body and shown you just how badly he'd been needing you.

Instead, he made do with tracing his claw under your chin and guiding you to face him properly. His eyes searched yours for any doubt or sign that you'd acted purely on adrenaline and not something more. When your breath hitched and your cheeks flushed, he knew. As he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, as his arms snaked down and pulled you flush against him like you'd break, as your fingers found a home in his vest he knew.

You wanted him too. You fell for him too. This wasn't a game of "do they, don't they" like the one he'd played with Valentino for so fucking long.

His breath hitched, his arms tightening around you before he slowly pulled back and laughed breathlessly.

"Does this mean we're dating?" you ask, smiling at him like he'd hung the stars in the sky.

"God that sounds cheesy," Vox grimaced. The phrase felt so... high school bullshit. But it wasn't wrong. He wanted that. He really wanted that with you.

He reached down, hesitating before his clawed hand gently covered yours. "But yeah... I guess it does," he smiled softer than you'd ever seen before.

[arobraindead]

this might be just me but people really don't think of the horrid henry characters as complex (on both sides).

I'm talking about Peter and Henry.

A lot of people see Henry as simply a victim but he's not innocent either.

Just like Peter. So many people see him as an asshole but he's not and yet, he's also NOT innocent.

Both are just kids but there not innocent either.

Peter may have a lot of pressure on him by his parents but he is still an asshole, Henry may be abused by his parents but he's ALSO an ass. (more specifically a misogynist).

I feel like people only see them as one or the other, not both, not as complex characters.

[wisteria15]

DESPAIRDUO HURT/COMFORT!?!?

Thatcher, stood outside leaning against the cold, rough brick wall of the MCPD. Beside him, Adam sat down idly on the floor, staring up at the bleak, gloomy night sky. It had been tough for both of them after all the shit that went down back at Adam's place. Adam was still scarred, they both knew that. His life had been flipped upside down, the guilt of his past wrongful actions crushed his self-worth, and his new unwelcome body had completely shut him down. He would rarely speak, and his monotone words would only rasp vague responses towards Thatcher's questions.

Thatcher knew how it felt to get his identity snatched away from him, to be replaced and pushed away from his friends. But it wasn't the same for Adam. Adam is the replacement, Adam was the one who pushed his friends away. He had no control over it. It was all wrong, but it was never truly him. Adam was stupid and blind, always under the influence of alternates. Yet over the last three days, Thatcher yearned for Adam to regain his self-worth, to love himself, to see how he's not a sadistic alternate and how he's much more than just a cog in the machine.

The demons belittled him, they mocked his parental care and love for a criminal that was of the same species which had murdered his best friends in cold blood and single-handedly destroyed the population of Mandela County.

Calmly, Thatcher gazed up at the sky, taking comfort from the cigarette that was in between his fingers. There was no sound. No cars, birds or people. no anything that made a place lively. He continued smoking, and the smell of tobacco filled the cold air. It stayed silent for a few minutes.

"Give me one."

"Huh?" He quickly looked down to his left in surprise.

"Please."

"Adam...?" He didn't expect that. At least not so soon. Adam had never outright demanded for something. Especially something like a cigarette. He'd isolated himself and always felt ashamed whenever Thatcher made an attempt to talk to him. As if he himself was nothing but a burden.

This excited Thatcher even more. Although it was a surprising request, it was an opportunity to finally connect with Adam.

"You... You want a cigarette...?"

"Yes." Adam looked up at him. his face was blank and serious as always. Except his eyes had hints of lingering desperation. As if he needed this badly. Thatcher was weak. He couldn't say no, especially to Adam.

"Alright, kid." He reluctantly handed over a cigarette. Despite his eagerness before, he almost regretted saying yes. He knew the dangers of smoking and Adam's body seemed fragile, especially internally. The night when all his bones broke and snapped was burned in his brain. It trapped his mind from sleeping every night, including today. His desperate attempt of setting all of Adam's bones back in place and wrapping it up in very bare cloth only healed him a bit, that was something Thatcher felt slightly felt proud of. Yet, that entire interaction haunted him, every single moment during the day and the night.

"But, why?" He couldn't help himself, if he wanted to understand Adam, he'd need to make the most of every interaction between them.

Curiously, he waited for his answer. The night grew colder and the silence drew out. Adam's blinding white irises stared at him thoughtfully. Awkwardly, Thatcher shifted uncomfortably and his gaze dropped a few times before quickly reciprocating his eye contact. He couldn't mess this up, not now. It was unbearably silent, but he knew he had to stay patient. And so he did.

Finally, Adam blinked out of his trance and looked down.

"I want..." He sighed sadly.

"...to feel... Again." He tensed up and folded in on himself with his long arms wrapped around his legs and his head buried in his naked chest. He shuddered miserably and went stiff. The cigarette was still in his hand, but it was crushed from the pressure of his fingers.

Thatcher's heart sank. He felt so much determination for him. He knew how he felt. For the past 17 years, his only shred of hope was Dave, but nothing felt complete. He never felt whole.

"Oh kid..." He muttered out of sympathy, he reached out for him but immediately retreated his hand. He didn't want to disturb him but he wanted to comfort him so badly.

Instead, he slowly crouched in front of him.

"What do you feel like right now?" He asked gently, keeping his voice low.

"Empty, as if... I'm starving... But not of hunger." He quietly said, still crouched in his stiff, painful position. He never looked up, but Thatcher still tried.

"Y'know, drugs isn't the way to feel better," "and I know it's quite hypocritical of me to say that, but don't take me as an example." His words were gentle and calm. Thatcher shifted into a more comfortable cross-legged position, facing Adam.

"I-I'm not trying to lecture you, kid. But, I... am here for you." Adam's entire body slightly jumped from that in surprise. It was a good sign. Thatcher continued.

"I know that things... Haven't been the best for us, but, I care for you. I... am not scared of you, not at all, kid." Adam shivered and trembled, Thatcher could hear the poor boy catching his breath.

"Stop it." He pleaded, voice breaking. Thatcher reached his hand out, softly patting his hair.

"Listen, you've had your identity ripped apart from you. I know how that feels."

"Shut up."

"And-"

"Shut UP." Adam's voice distorted even more at that last word, breaking and trembling out of anger. Thatcher scooted closer and began to soothingly ruffle his hair. Thatcher continued when he felt Adam relax from it.

"You've been wronged, Adam, by THEM. You're also a victim, no matter what you think."

"NO! I am THEM. I wronged OTHERS." He sobbed, his head finally turned up at Thatcher. Half his face was still covered by his lanky legs but his eyes and nose bridge was visible.

He could do this, he was finally making progress. His heart ached for the poor, weeping alternate in front of him.

"Adam..." He slowly moved his hand down to wipe his tears. Adam flinched suddenly, his eyes widened in shocked.

"Lieutenant, why?" He asked shakily.

"Why are you doing this... For ME?" He still cried continuously

"Because you deserve it, kid. No one deserves to go through what you're living right now. You have regrets, I know. So do I, but you can resolve them. I know you can." Now Adam was fully facing him, his entire body was relaxed and Thatcher continued to rub his face gently.

"You are so much more than what those alternates say you are. You... are much more human than me." "I-I have ruined lives myself," He thought of Ruth. He thought of the Heathcliffs. He thought of every single phone call that he never went and helped.

Adam stared at him in awe. The tears stopped.

"And I will NOT fail you too, kid." He declared confidently. His heart pounded hard and he locked eyes with Adam, his gaze never wavered.

For a moment, it was silent. Thatcher slowly put his hand down next to him. His pulse raced quicker, had he made a mistake?

Suddenly, Adam lunged at him, all muscles tense. Thatcher gasped and froze, his heart skipped a beat. Why? He's different, he's not a normal alternate!

Unexpectedly, Thatcher felt two boney, long arms wrapped around his torso and his vision was blocked by a flat, thin-skinned chest. He felt a surprisingly light weight on his legs.

"Kid...?"

"Thank you...So much, lieutenant..." Adam mumbled, if it weren't for how close they were he probably wouldn't have heard it. Thatcher's heart bloomed inside, and he gladly hugged him, feeling his cold, almost-watery back and his slightly protruding spine.

Adam eased up in his arms, carefully resting his pointy chin on top of Thatcher's head. Thatcher exhaled in relief and enjoyed the heartfelt moment.

The night continued its gloom above their heads but they weren't afraid, not anymore. Thatcher reflected back on the nightmarish encounter back at Adam's home. Ever since that, he felt even more despair whirling in his heart. But now, he felt like his youthful self back in the 1990s, full of hope and determination.

Everything had changed again, but not for the worst. Now, Thatcher finally had a goal, to not fail his kid and to protect him forever in this merciless world. He'd no idea where these overprotective, parental feelings came from, but, he knew he always wanted a kid.

Adam's grip tightened on him and his breathing became even. Thatcher smiled genuinely and reached his arm out full-length to pat Adam's head.

"Come on, kid," He softly whispered. "Time for bed."

[harleyshahas]

If you're taking requests - Blackice for the touch prompts? 👀

33. Tasting their smile Or 45. Feeling their temperature

(Or 58. "Forever Mine" kisses from the kiss list, I'm indecisive and like giving options lol)

(Also I (platonically) love you too ♡)

33. Tasting their smile for @gilly-moon

Jack's smile was always so bright, so welcoming, so warm.

Maybe that didn't really make sense for a creature of ice and snow, but he was warm. His eyes sparkled like the rising sun with his fun and mischief, and his smile was just as blinding.

It pissed Pitch off.

It pissed him off because he had watched Jack from the shadows, had seen that smile waver and fall, had seen those eyes grow hazy with tears that never fell, had seen the cloudy storm of emotions play out, and it was all just as beautiful. Jack's moods could affect his winter if he wasn't careful, and more often than not, especially in the beginning, Jack would forget this. He would bring his fun and snow, the children would play, but the moment a child walked through him that fun would shift, darken. Clouds would roll in, and what had once been a soft flurry perfect for sledding would grow and grow until fat flakes nearly blinded all who were caught in the blizzard. Parents were left confused, children fearful, and Pitch loved nearly every second of it.

But that damn smile always came back.

Even before Pitch attacked the Guardians he wanted to see that smile wiped off that pale face, wanted Jack to let loose with his power, watch the world be covered in ice. But instead he had to watch Jack prance around with those damned Guardians, had to watch as they took his best chance at reclaiming his power, had to watch as Jack smiled and laughed with them.

It made him sick.

Even now, after three years of quiet exile, he watched as Jack played with the children in the little town they shared, smiling and laughing and throwing snowballs. The kids here actually saw him, they played with him, going so far as to tackle him to the ground and pile snow on his head. Jack laughed all the while.

Pitch watched. He watched every day that Jack was around, tasting his deeply buried fears ofThis won't last andThe next time they'll walk through me like the rest andWhen will they leave?

Jack's fear continued to sustain him even after all these years. Pitch wasn't sure how he felt about that.

It wasn't until one day close to Christmas after a rather exciting snowball fight that Jack finally noticed him. The sun was setting, casting an orange and fiery glow to the snow and Pitch marveled at the way it didn't melt. The children said their good-byes to Jack as their parents called them home, all of them giving the winter spirit a hug as Jack gave them a near teary smile. As the last one left, the boy who had stood against Pitch that fateful Easter weekend, Pitch had sneered, his low growl echoing in the following silence. Jack whirled around.

He saw Pitch at the base of a nearby oak tree, Pitch contemplating briefly if he should run, but he decided against it. This confrontation had to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner? With that in mind, he stepped out of the shadows, crossing his arms as he leant against the tree.

Jack's eyes were wide as he stared at him, mouth dropping open slightly.

Pitch smirked. "What's the matter, Jack? The rabbit got your tongue?"

The younger spirit shook his head, but his eyes remained wide. "You're alive..."

Pitch snorted. "Course I'm alive. It takes more than some Nightmares to kill me. Did you really think you'd seen the last of me?"

"No - I didn't..." Jack trailed off. His staff was held loose in his hands in his shock.

"Fear is a powerful thing, Jack," Pitch continued. "If left to itself, it grows and festers. It survives."

"Is that what you do?" Jack asked. His bright eyes cleared, his brow rose, but still he did not raise his staff. He took a step towards Pitch.

"It's what I've always done," Pitch stated quietly. He watched as Jack came to a stop barely three feet from him, watched as Jack watched him. "There will always be fear, therefore there will always be me. I didn't lie about that."

Jack's brow furrowed and his grip finally tightened on his staff. Pitch did not move. "Then what did you lie about?"

"What use did I have in lying?" Pitch said. He pushed off the tree, Jack tensed his grip, but the Boogieman only placed his hands behind his back, gripping one wrist with the other hand as he brushed past the small spirit. "I laid all my cards on the table that day and everything I said, everything I offered, was true. It's your choice to believe it."

"Choice..." Jack muttered. Pitch glanced over his shoulder. Jack stared down at the snow with a bitter twist to his lips. "You chose to attack the Guardians, the kids, even if you can never fade away?"

"What use is living if you can't share your life with someone?" Pitch watched as Jack's head jerked up, staring at him once more with wide eyes and mouth open. Pitch took a step to half turn to him.

"Family..." Jack whispered near brokenly and Pitch could only nod.

"I definitely didn't lie about that."

Silence fell over them. Jack watched him with that heartaching expression, his eyes hazy with tears that could not fall, and Pitch didn't comment on it. He stared down at Jack, gripping his wrist so tight his nails were starting to break through his skin.

Jack was... achingly beautiful, even in his melancholy. He had seen the rage, the bitter anger and resentment, the fearful turmoil, every time those bright eyes looked at him back then, and every time he was so, so beautiful. All the love and light and laughter was meant for everyone else, but this, Jack's most deeply buried feelings, all the ugly faces he wouldn't dare show the children, those were meant for him.

Pitch turned away. Something bitter and vile was clawing up his throat, his nails digging into his skin. Shadows roiled around him, the darkening night darkening further.

He didn't want those ugly feelings. But he did deserve them.

He took a step away, the nearest shadow wrapping around his foot as he prepared to return to his lair.

"Hey, wait a minute!"

Pitch stopped. Jack darted forward on the wind, stepping down just in front of him. He chewed his lower lip between his teeth, something shining in his eyes Pitch had never seen before, not to him.

"What?" he asked. Pitch wasn't sure if he sounded tired... or confused.

Jack chewed his lip some more. His grip tightened and loosened on his staff. "Do you wanna... I don't know, have some fun?"

More silence was swallowed up by the snow around them.

"What?" Pitch was definitely confused.

Jack snorted lightly, covering his mouth. Pitch blinked down at him. "Sorry! I mean, you just... seem like you could use some fun in your life, I guess." His eyes were sparkling in a way they never had before at Pitch.

Pitch loosened his grip on his wrist. "I think your idea and my idea of fun are two very different things, Jack Frost."

Jack was definitely grinning behind his hand. "Maybe, but I think there's a way we can meet in the middle. There's a Christmas horror movie playing at the local theater." His hand dropped and his grin was mischievous. He looked up at Pitch from under his lashes. "Wanna help me scare some humans?"

The smile that tugged at Pitch's lips was slow, menacing, and positively delighted. He bowed with a flourish, holding a hand out dramatically. "Lead the way."

Jack laughed and hopped in the air, Pitch followed from the shadows. He was led to a cinema, popping up from the shadows behind a small crowd of humans already in their seats and waiting for the show to start. Jack landed next to him. He gestured to the back row where no one was sitting, and Pitch followed him. From there, they had a decent view of the movie goers. The audience was silent with anticipation, the title card played, and the tension was palpable.

Jack leaned in close to him, as if anyone could hear him, and Pitch indulged him, leaning down to meet him. "Wait for my signal," was all he said. Pitch nodded, then sat back to enjoy the show.

The first five to ten minutes of the movie took place indoors, but any time a character stepped outside Jack would tap his staff to the floor. The temperature in the theater dropped, and the audience visibly shivered. Some looked around themselves, their nerves lighting up and Pitch breathed it all in. Pitch caught on quickly, his shadows roiling in the dark corners of the theater everytime a character entered a dark room. Tension rose as the humans muttered amongst themselves. One even pointed at his shadows.

As the movie went on, Jack worked a breeze through the room. Someone yelped. At another point, Pitch encouraged his shadows to dance at peoples feet. More than one person jumped. At the next jump scare, a shadow tugged on a woman's hair and she screamed. The rest of the audience jumped and the tension had reached the ceiling by the time the third act had started.

Jack was shaking in his seat. Pitch glanced over, worried for half a second that this wasn't actually what he'd had in mind, that he had messed this up somehow, that he was scaring Jack away.

To his absolute shock, Jack was laughing. He was laughing so hard he was shaking, near doubled over with a hand clamped over his mouth. Delighted tears clung to his lashes and his feet practically stamped the floor through his giggles. A smile twitched at Pitch's lips.

Jack had never laughed for him before.

He leaned down. "Ready for the big finish?" he whispered against a pale ear, his voice husky with the power he had fed on, and maybe with something else he didn't want to name just yet. Jack looked up at him with shining blue eyes, sparkling like the sun on a chilly winter morning, hand still clamped over his mouth as he nodded vigorously. Pitch smirked back. "Then watch the master at work," he preened.

He instructed the shadows to calm a little, relegating them back to the corners. The audience seemed to calm with them, the tension still high, but enough to make them relax and enjoy the final moments of the movie. As they watched, Pitch moved his shadows out of their sight, snaking them up through the aisles to wait at unsuspecting feet. Pitch lifted a finger, tapping Jack's staff and Jack got the hint, providing a final chilly breeze that immediately had the audience on edge. Anticipation was thick.

And then, as the music swelled and the killer was revealed, the hero screamed and the audience screamed with him as shadows brushed against revealed skin, pulling on hair and brushing against cheeks and hands, tugging feet and poking their backs sharply. Pitch cackled as someone broke down into sobs.

As the credits rolled, the humans cheered, clapping and laughing and crying in equal measure. Pitch shadow traveled to the front of the room, standing before the humans on a pedestal of shadows, and taking a low bow. When he looked up, not a one of them was looking at him, and he expected that, and he expected the hurt that inevitably came with it, but he did not feel it. Instead, he felt warmth as there in the back, perched upon the tip of his staff, was Jack Frost, clapping wildly along with the audience and smiling that blindingly bright smile right down at him.

Jack had never smiled at him like that.

But there he was, clapping and cheering and smiling just for him and Pitch felt warmth fill his insides, felt a lump lodge in his throat. He looked away as the audience left, followed them out quickly through the shadows. Jack joined him not too long after.

"That was amazing!" the younger man cheered excitedly. "That was so cool, I've never been able to get a reaction like that! I can usually get a few shivers and some laughs, but man! I've never gotten them to scream like that! You have to teach me how to do that! How do you know how to time it so well? I've seen that movie like five times now and I still can't get it right, but you - that... that was awesome!" Jack continued to ramble, arms waving wildly as he gestured back to the theater, to Pitch, to the humans who walked by still gushing about their experience. His smile was so bright, so welcoming, so warm, and Pitch couldn't stop himself from leaning down, from tasting that warm cold with the barest brush of lips against the corner of Jack's mouth.

Jack froze.

Pitch pulled away. He looked down at Jack with a softness he hadn't felt in eons, smiling gently down at the now wide eyes gazing back at him. "I had... fun, Jack," Pitch muttered. "I'd love to do this again sometime. If you'd like."

Jack swallowed, his throat visibly bobbing with the action and Pitch wanted to taste that too. "Um... okay... Yeah, we should - we should definitely do this again..." He smiled again, slowly, softer this time, his cheeks flushing a pale purple. "Thanks, Pitch..."

Pitch smiled back. "Anytime, Jack. See you around." And then he sunk into shadow.

From a darkened alley nearby, he watched as Jack stood there a moment longer. The boy reached up, pressing his fingers to his lips. Another smile tugged at them slowly, bright and happy, and he laughed in a way Pitch had never heard him laugh before. It was gentle. It was shy. There was a joy in it that didn't come from snowball fights and sledding with children or from spending time with the Guardians. Pitch smiled.

That was his laugh. That laugh was for Pitch and for Pitch alone.

And he couldn't wait to find out what it tasted like.

---

I've never done a prompt like this before so I hope I did it right!! Thank you for the ask, you're always so good to me so I hope you like it!!

I am accepting title ideas!

[tomatoswup]

phone calls

summary: two old rotary phones begin the connection between two souls. One from the past and another from the future.

warnings: angst, literally angst, sad vash :(, hurt/comfort but its not the comfort you think it is. kinda more like an acceptance comfort

pairing:vash x reader

-inspired by the movie "The Lake House"

A/N: am i a fiend for writing angst? yes. do I like reading it? NOPE. wanted to get this out before I hustled on school work hehe. But fun fact this was originally longer but I rewrote and condensed it b/c I thought it was too long for just a one shot lost media typa beat. honestly i don't think i wrote this right but fuck it we ball. I recommend reading this with the saddest song you have bookmarked. Enjoy!~

"Hmmm...Well you got some personality to you.” You mumbled, staring at the old red vintage rotary phone sitting in front of you. How did you come to achieve this old relic of time? Well in short terms, you liked to think about it like an equation.

Old attic + mischievous white cat = you adventuring to go find said cat and to your dismay, said cat scares the living ever hell out of you making you lose balance and fall backwards into endless towers of boxes.

Fun times right?

Those bruises weren't gonna be….

But that was the least of your problems at the moment. As expected, the rotary phone suddenly started to ring, shaking and clicking in itself, making you sigh in disappointment. Grabbing the phone, you yanked it up to your ear “Hey, yeah I don’t think this is gonna work.” You deadpanned “Now we know that we're always gonna be connected, what is this? The 5th time?"

"Damn and I thought you hanging up would’ve solved the problem. I don't think we could connect with anyone else though! I asked the farmer about it and he had no idea!" Chirped the male on the other side of the line.

Of course! It sounded like a normal conversation between two individuals but even Einstein himself would've been baffled at these circumstances. Imagine this, you find an old phone and you had been playfully talking into it until a voice actually responds without it being connected. Strange right? And no, you were sure you hadn't been seeing any strange figures on the sides of your vision.

Now here you were, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on alongside the man who had introduced himself as Vash The Stampede.

"21st century my ass, Google isn't doing shit!"

"Wait hold on now, did you just say 21st?"

"Yeah? Something wrong?"

"Uh well.. It's just that its actually the 32nd century."

You blink a few times "No, it's not. My calender literally says it's the 21st century. It's general knowledge."

"No I'm pretty sure its the 32nd century!" Vash snapped back.

Silence filled the air on both sides.

"WAIT A MINUTE-"

And thats how the unknown man from the future and you hit it off.

After this discovery, the two of you talked on the phone for a while, sharing things about each of your own time periods. And you slowly found yourself enjoying the conversations you would have with Vash who you soon found out, was pretty goofy in his own way, but kind. And unknowingly, Vash felt the same way.

What was an accidental and odd situation turned into practically an everyday thing for the both of you now.

After work, you always looked forwards to that red phone on your nightstand until one day, you decided to decorate it with cute little stickers because why not?

After all, it was fasinating to hear things about the future. Sometimes you'd laugh at the way Vash described it, like something out of an old wild west movie.

"It's all just desert! Really!" He groaned out as you chuckled, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you put books and CD's away on your bookshelf "At least you can make some cool sandcastles or something!"

"With what water?"

"Your tears." Snorting, you listen on as he whined through the receiver. "Hey but just imagine me helping you build them! Makes it hurt less."

Vash let out a exaggerating sigh "But seriously, it's not always sunny were you live?" He asked curiously.

"Nope!" You smiled, slipping one of your favorite books into place "It changes every so often really. Depending on the season." You hummed out, looking out the window to your right to see the drenching rain down with its spring showers.

"Season?"

"Sometimes it rains and sometimes it gets super cold. Other days it just gets too hot and if we're lucky, we get days with perfect temperatures. Its never the same but I guess that's the beauty to it here. Every day is a new sight no one could really get tired of. "

Or a new headache.

Vash stayed quiet on the line, and you imagined how he looked like deep in thought. Eyebrows furrowed, his supposed pointy blonde hair messily spread out across his pillow, and eyes as blue as the sky looking up at the ceiling in concentration.

…Okayyy that’s enough out of you.

He didn't say the eye part himself but you liked to ponder on the idea.

"That sounds beautiful.."

And to that, you smiled. "Yeah, it kinda is."

But something in your head made you stop and look down at the book you had in hand, unsure if you wanted to say anything.

"Hey Vash.."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry that I'm the only person you could really reach with this thing. I know you really wanted to talk to your friends.."

"Why are you apologizing? It's not everyday I talk to someone from the past! From even before No Mans Land!”

You sigh and slip the final book away to which Vash adds in one more sentence. "And even if you weren't, I like talking to you."

You scoff in good humor "You're lying blonde."

"NO I"M NOT!" Vash gasps out dramatically "Oh how you hurt me so!"

"Hardy har har." You chuckled, shoving a box of things you wanted stored away in the corner of your room. "At least I know I'm speaking to someone as beautiful as the nightsky!" He huffed out trying to sound manlier.

“Yeah? Now how could you tell that?"

"Because I know a pretty and kind soul when I hear it."

E-Excuse me?

Your face flushes red "Alright cowboy are you trying to soften me up?"

"Pftttttt nooooooo~"

Your conversations never ceased to end, and when talking to Vash about practically everything, it felt...comforting. To know there was someone to listen to your struggles, and listen to his own. It felt so intimate.

Sharing about your life on Earth, the things you do and him speaking about his own life and travels around his home planet.

One day, Vash and you had been talking for the night and he mentioned something that gave you a sense of familiarity.

PROJECT SEEDS.

A large project that's been reported on the news for more than a few months now so of course you caught onto that. You've watched their segment on TV before. Something about bringing life to other planets?

You knew the Earth was dying, scientists had announced that someday in the nearing future, the very sun that shone down on you, would destroy you. But did that really matter to you anymore?

The project had been accepting registrations for boarding their new ship incase it happened. Your sister got to register in time but you had been too late. All the slots were filled.

That was a very odd day to say the least.

But that didn't stop you from speaking to Vash.

"Vash, do you ever think you'll see me in the future?" You pondered one night as you were cuddled up in your blankets, the cold being unbearable this winter season.

"Well, I hope so. Sometimes it gets tiring speaking into a thing of metal and plastic hehe.." You could practically hear him playfully grin through the receiver.

You gripped the handle of the phone tight as tears threatened to leave the corner of your eyes.

"I hope I get to see you one day Vash.."

He went quiet for a moment.

"I do too.."

That night, you slept with the phone held to your chest as the fluttering feeling in your stomach never ceased. And you didn't want it to.

Vash had made it a routine to call you every night at exactly midnight to check in on how you were since he couldn't really do it in person either way. And every time he called, it felt as if he heard your voice for the first time all over again. The warmth in his chest made him smile when you answered the phone with the nervous pitch in your voice.

"Vash?"

He found it theraputic to listen as you talked about your day, the normalicy and peace No Man's Land and that his own life had lacked.

Hanging out with friends, reading in libraries, and more.

How he loved it.. Hearing you speak so fondly, so excited, it felt refreshing to Vash.

You were full of life

And Vash wouldn’t trade it for anything.

With every time you spoke his name, he felt like melting into a puddle. He just wanted to hear you repeat his name over and over again, and no, he'll never get tired of it. He could spend an eternity laying in the dusty bed of the farmer’s home just listening to your voice. Listening to your worries, your hopes, and the momentary jokes you would tell him.

But as the days passed, after one full year and a half of the two of you speaking over the old rotary phone, you answered the phone one night with a change clear to Vash. You sounded so weak, so sickly and out of breath.

"Are you alright?" He asked, hearing loud shuffling and things falling on the other line.

"I-I'm fine!" You coughed out as Vash peeked out the old wooden window in the room he was staying in, spotting Wolfwood and the broadcasting girls waiting for him to join them.

"Are you sure?" He breathed out in honest concern, feeling his fingers fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.

"I'm fine Vash, seriously." Your voice weakly echoed through the receiver "Just a little sick, that's all.."

"Please make sure to get some rest okay? I'll ring you when I come back."

"Promise?"

"I promise lov-" Vash caught himself, quickly shutting his mouth.

"Hm?" You hummed out in question.

"Sorry a fly got caught in my throat! Hahaha!" He played off before sighing.

"Take care of yourself, for me okay?"

"I will, I will.." Before Vash put the phone back onto the base, you said one more thing.

"Love you." And with that, the familiar ding of the phone receiver on the other line rang through Vash's ear, signifiying the end of the call.

And Vash was left in utter silence and awe. Love. Love you said. Him?

A fond expression instinctively grew on his face, yet the churning feeling in his stomach wasn't one of butterflies, but one of dread. He couldn't help but leave with the gut feeling that something was wrong.

When Vash returned back to his room and picked up the phone at the same time the two of you would call each other at every day, there was no reponse.

He called your name and no sound came out of the other end. So he put the phone back down onto the base and lifted it back up again to his ear as the same dread slowly seeped into his chest. The room was starting to feel a bit more heavier than usual.

"Hello?" He breathed out nervously as he felt his forehead start to sweat.

"Come on.." He muttered to himself worriedly. Maybe you weren't home in time and had gone to the doctor. Yeah, maybe that's the reason. So Vash left the phone alone for the night for the first time but the prodding feeling in his chest didn't leave.

He tried the next night.

No response.

Maybe you had stayed over your parents' for the day.

He kept the phone by him whilst he napped, waiting for the ring of the phone to wake him up like an alarm, but that didn't come.

He tried the next night, the next night, and continued for the next 3 months until finally.

One night, Vash just stared at the old red phone that hadn’t rung since that day, anticipating at least one final call, one last goodbye from you. Sitting on the bed side, he kept his eyes on the phone until finally Vash couldn’t hold it anymore and cried. Clear waters falling down his cheeks as he tightly held the phone to his chest in desperation.

Did you forget about him?

Did you find the love of your life and decided not to bother with him anymore?

'Come back.'

'Dont leave me please.'

'I love you."

'Please speak to me.'

The string of desparate thoughts ran through his mind as the burning sensation grew in his chest. He can't breathe. He gasped for air as his quiet wails filled the night.

Don't go.

The morning after Vash permanently left the farmer's residence. Of course, he took the phone along too, incase you ever decided to ring back but to Vash's dismay, it never did.

And Vash thought back to you, from time to time, stil wondering if you remembered about the red phone that sat in your room and the idiot blonde on the other side of it.

2 years had passed since that night, and both Vash and the gang found themselves in the city of Augusta for their annual merchant gathering, an event in which all the merchants from around the planet come and trade their valuables or tools in a big, single event.

Crowds of people flooded the streets as the stands were all surrounded to the brim. Vash had been walking beside Wolfwood, who was talking about some bounty hunters causing trouble around when something red caught his eye from an stand that they had walked past, causing Vash to stop in his tracks. Eyes widening in realization, he rushed over to the stall, leaving Wolfwood in the dust.

"H-Hey where are you going!?!" Wolfwood called out but Vash ignored him. His leather clothed hands slammed down on the stall table, the young man who managed the stall yelping in surprise.

"H-HOW CAN I HELP YOU?!" The man nervously shouted out as Vash reached over and picked up a very familiar red rotary phone "Where did you get this!?" He exclaimed in urgency. "How'd you get this!?"

"I-I-" The young man quickly cleared his throat and regained his composure at the sudden burst from the tall blonde-spiked haired man.

"It's a very old device! Back during the old days according to my great-grandmother!"

Vash looked down at the red phone, very dusty but he was able to make out the sticker decorations and doodles that were scattered around on it. Inspecting it more, he turned it around to the back and saw something melancholic.

"12:00 PM Midnight" was written on the back of the base with black marker. The time the two of you would call each other every night those years ago.

"Sorry, is.. is there anyone I could talk to about this?" Vash apologized, giving the young man a somber smile as he held the phone to himself, as if someone were going to rip it away from his grasp.

The man observed Vash for a moment, before nodding and giving Vash directions to his great-grandmother's home, right outside the border of Augusta.

"There you are!" Wolfwoods' voice rang out angrily behind him "The hell did you see now?!"

Vash turned to Wolfwood and simply gave him a smile "We're gonna be paying a visit."

It didn't take long to reach the old worn down home and greet the owner of the property, a small old lady to which surprised Wolfwood that she hadn't kicked the bucket yet.

Vash, of course, elbowed him in the rib for that one.

Seeing the phone in Vash's arms, the lady let out a small smile "My, I haven't seen that phone since I was a child..." She quickly showed Vash and Wolfwood inside, explaining how the phone came to be here.

"According to my grandfather, our lineage began with two sibilngs who were born and raised on Earth. When Earth neared its end, the daughter of the family was able to escape whilst the other sibling unknowingly stayed behind on Earth."

The old lady snapped her fingers to Wolfwood and waved him over "Be a dear for me and put this on the table."

Watching Wolfwood put a very old and deteriorating box on the table, the lady continued.

"Well, the sibling died before the daughter left Earth, so in attempt to preserve her family's memories, the daughter took some of her siblings' things, something to remember them by."

The old lady points to the phone in Vash's arm "That was one of them. And here-" The lady patted on side of the box "-are the things she was able to take with her. Check them out yourself." She softly motioned Vash to come closer with her frail, wrinkled hand.

Hesitating for just a second, he took slow and steady steps towards the box, biting the inside of his cheek in attempt to not just cry.

Damn, he sure felt like a cry baby these days.

Putting the phone down besides the box, Vash reached into the box and pulled out various things. Old shirts, CDs, a wallet, wired headphones, books, and something he never thought he'd ever see in fine print that made his breath hitch.

A colored photo I.D and on the side of it, your full name printed in black.

It was you.

These were your things, these shirts you've worn, the CDs you've listened to, the wallet you used in your day-to-day life, but he kept his eyes on the I.D.

Vash stared at your photo, the features you've described to him once were in his hands, proof of your existence.

He couldn't hold it anymore, how could he? Silent tears ran down his face as the small giggles he let out, turned into full on laughter.

He laughed and laughed whilst holding the I.D close to his heart.

You didn't purposely leave him.

You hadn’t meant to.

The same gracious laughter morphed into sobs as he grabbed everything he had taken out of the box, and enveloped them tightly into his arms.

This was the first time he was able to physically feel you, even if you weren't there yourself. He wished the smell of the favorite perfume you had gotten one day had still lingered onto your shirts, he wished he could've shared and listened to your favorite music alongside you. And he wished you were beside him, looking through all these things with him. He wanted to hear you reminsce your past and your present again.

Oh he wished.

Vash spent hours at the old ladies' home, looking and observing every single one of your belongings. There were some he remembered you talking to him about, and others he didn't recognize.

But it was time for him to leave and Vash knew it.

Looking up at the sky outside, he softly smiled, caressing the small compartment he had your I.D pocketed in.

"C'mon needle-noggin. Time to get your ass moving!" Wolfwood shouted ahead of him.

Letting out a large exhale, Vash muttered out a few words before running to catch up with the priest "Wait up!"

Behind him, two objects were left behind in the sand, placed neatly besides a metal nameplate.

The two red cherry rotary phones glistened in the sun, one filled with stickers and the other covered in dirt and scuff marks as your name plate, that had been cleaned of any dirt or scratches, continued to sit in peace as the windy breeze passed on by.

"I'll live on. For the both of us."

[hikatamika]

📌

Art Gallery || Support Me || Mailing List || Blog || Links

Hi, I’m Hika (they/them)! A black, queer, comic artist, graphic designer, and web designer based in the US!

I love magical girls, the supernatural, manga, anime, video games, and my OCs. (I'm tryna be better about fanart tho.)

Enjoy your stay!

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

Please ignore the timestamps indicating I woke up, replied, then wrote 350 words of pwotr commander introspection. The grip this game has on me is insane [I love it so much!] I totally didn't spend my morning thinking about alauns morality and charecter direction. <- lying through my teeth.

Thank you all for the kind words and interest in the prev drabble!

[vulpinesaint]

pspspspsps poetry mutuals come here... new quiz... making you the patron saint of something...

[tizeline]

Oh? What's that? Ya'll want the next part of TSAU's story? Well fuck you you're getting this fucking thing instead.

[the-apocrypha]

"We'll fix it in post" is a phrase from the film industry, but it is inherently funnier when it's spoken by a writer because--tragic--you are also the post-production team.

[paintedcrows]

Some Fords! (and Martin K Blackwood is also there)

[shslpunkartist99]

Punk I think you forgot to put Xeno for "People that came from outside"

I've forgottennnnnn

A lot

Cuz I was tired and was using old notes that didn't have everyone--

[brosif40]

I hate him soooo much, plus a bonus Ford

[fysebastianstan]

Sebastian Stan attends The 2024 Met Gala Celebrating "Sleeping Beauties: Reawakening Fashion" at The Metropolitan Museum of Art on May 06, 2024 in New York City. (Photo by John Shearer/WireImage)

[iwastoldtherewerecookies]

y'all, my friend is going on a work trip next month. A train trip. Through mountains. living my dream this guy is. he has to leave his gf behind, and she loves trains, so he's living her dream as well, but STILL. He said he'll write super often, and I know he bout like 10 notebooks, and I'm excited to read about his adventures.