#RELIVING HIS LOVED ONES DYING OVER AND OVER AGAIN UNTIL TIME ITSELF DIES | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

walkingdaryls · 4 years

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right here

pairing: loki x reader

request: Hi! May I request a Loki x Female!reader? One where Lokis nightmares are getting so bad that he has lost sleep and is terrified to sleep because he actually thinks that when he wakes up, the mortal woman (reader) hes fallen in love with will actually be dead and she is heartbroken by how much pain he is in so she comforts him? If you're ok with it, bonus points if she is pregnant with his baby and he dreams of Thanos killing her or she dies from complications

warnings: violence, nightmares, kinda angst, etc.

thank you so much for the request love!!!! i got so caught up while writing, that i realized i forgot to include the whole pregnancy thing. so sorry about that! i hope you enjoy it nonetheless :)

The night you realized Loki wasn’t sleeping was a few weeks after an Avengers mission almost went wrong. There’d been a slip up with keeping an eye on security. Backup was sent in to where you were hacking their security systems, flying past Tony’s radar, which almost lead to you being killed. Loki and Steve were nearby and managed to help you escape, thankfully. It was a close one, but you managed to get out unscathed, while also bringing down a few assholes.

It was kind of a near-death experience, but you managed to get over it after a few days. The mission was over, you and your team were fine, period. No need to fret.

Loki, on the other hand, was doing more than just fretting. After hearing your ragged breathing through his earpiece two-weeks beforehand, begging for help as you were held at gunpoint...Loki couldn’t get it out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. He’d seen slip ups during missions countless of times before, but this one just struck him the hardest. Seeing his mortal love barely make out made something shift inside of him. After that day, he found himself watching you practically everywhere you went. He kept an eye on you during training. Held you more tightly in bed at night. Held your hand during dinners. Kissed you harder.

Then the mere thought of losing you began manifesting itself into his dreams — well, nightmares.

Only it wasn’t just a playback of what’d almost happened during the mission. It was the same mission, same situation, except usually with gruesome endings. Instead of you making it out alive, Loki heard a gunshot go off, cutting you off mid-cry while he was stuck in the other room with Steve. Sometimes, the nightmare would end with him almost, almost getting to you on time, before watching your throat get slit last minute.

The nightmares progressively grew worse as the nights went on. They became more disgustingly gruesome. Your screams were amplified, cries shriller. And the worst part: he never got to you on time.

And after every single nightmare the first couple weeks, Loki woke up with a quiet gasp. He’d touch his forehead and feel it damp with sweat. His hand would shoot out gently towards you, just to make sure you were alive and okay. He’d never wake you, and thankfully you were a heavy sleeper, but he’d always watch you for a few seconds in the dark just to confirm that you were intact.

Loki felt punished by his nightmares. No matter how hard he tried, he never managed to wake up before you died somehow. Almost as if his own mind was forcing him to watch you suffer. It was pure, pure torture to him.

Loki used to relish in the idea of sleeping. Especially if he knew you’d be in his arms, wrapped deeply into him. But the nightmares took that from him. Loki began putting sleep off as a whole.

He tried staying up as late as possible and falling asleep only when his body was absolutely begging to. But even with just an hour or so of sleep, the nightmares still managed to show up.

He occupied himself with books, tea, whatever he could possibly do without waking you at ungodly hours. Because that was the thing about Loki — when it came to his own suffering, he kept to himself. Besides, he couldn’t bear the mere idea of telling you what he saw you go through in his nightmares.

His illusions made it easier to conceal his suffering from you. His dark under eyes and sickly pale skin were illusioned to keep his God-like features constant. And with you being so busy with minor missions and reports, you didn’t notice.

That is, until his exhaustion got the best of him, and he somehow forgot to put up his usual illusion before bed one night. The only light in the room were the lamps next to your bed, making you two glow slightly.

When you happily returned from the bathroom with your skin care done and pjs on, you audibly gasped upon seeing Loki.

“Oh my god,” You whispered. Loki looked up alerted, and immediately made his way over to you. He saw you cower just a bit, which made his face fall. Only a few seconds passed before he realized the mistake he’d made. He found himself not able to look at you in the eyes.

“Loki...” You whispered, reaching out to him, but he shamefully looked away. No point in putting the illusion up at this point.

You couldn’t believe the state he was in. The bags under his eyes were the deepest shade of purple you’d ever seen before. His glowing, pale skin had now looked gray, sunken, and lifeless. And worst of all, the mischief in his eyes seemed to be gone. It made your chest twist painfully. You couldn’t handle seeing him in such a state.

He tried his best to ignore you, and climbed into the bed, turning the lamp off. But you refused, and followed him into the bed. You reached over him, flicking the light back on. Loki attempted to turn it off, but you pushed his hand away.

You tenderly held him by the jaw, forcing him to look over at you carefully.

“Loki,” You whispered, “W-What happened?”

He shook his head, “It’s silly. Don’t worry about me, my love. Get some sleep.” He tried his best to keep his brave face, but the tears threatening spill from his eyes told you different.

Now it was your turn to shake your head, “No. Not fair. Loki, I do get to worry about you! I’m your girlfriend, and I deserve to know what you’re going through. E-Especially when it has you like this — in such a-a horrid state. What happened, Loki? Please. I-I’m scared.” A quiet, small sob escaped from your mouth. And Loki definitely noticed.

Loki’s eyes became desperate as a tear rolled down his cheek. His hands came up to his face and settled on top of yours that were still caressing him. He took a few seconds to find the right words.

“I can’t sleep, my love. I haven’t been able to.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Nightmares?” Loki’s eyes shut in desperation, not wanting to relive the image of your terrible dead.

“Y-Yes. The same one. Over and over again,” His voice had a bit of anger laced inside it.

“How long as this been going on?” You squeezed his hands gently, a reminder that you’d always be there.

Loki sniffer, “Ever since the mission a few weeks ago in Mexico. Where you...almost died.”

Immediately your heart sank. You saw the pain flicker in Loki’s eyes when he mentioned the almost-incident. And you suddenly felt guilty. You almost died, and you moved past it like nothing happened. Didn’t even check up on Loki.

“Oh, Loki. I’m so sorry. I-I’m so sorry. I should’ve checked in on your afterwards-“

Loki furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes widening in bewilderment. “My love, this is not your fault.”

“I should’ve made sure you were okay,” You whispered. Loki only spilled a couple more tears as he shook his head in comfort and rubbed your cheeks tenderly.

“You must be exhausted,” You said sadly, running a finger over the bags under his eyes. Loki exhaled, wanting to look away from your alluring gaze.

“I don’t think I’ve slept more than two hours a night for the past three weeks.”

You abruptly sat up all the way, “What?!” Your soft tone was now gone.

Loki’s head stayed against the headboard as he watched you carefully, “I-I’m terrified of them. The nightmares. Better to busy myself awake then let myself succumb to the terrors.”

Your shoulders fell in defeat, and you crawled back to Loki’s side.

“My God...” You breathed out, “Are they about what happened in Mexico?”

He meekly nodded, “Except they all end terribly.”

“W-With me...dying?”

At that last word, Loki couldn’t take it anymore. He rushed to sit up on his side of the bed, and held his head in his hands. He was now full on sobbing.

In the time of you and Loki’s relationship, you’d seen him cry a few times, obviously. But full on sobbing...that was different. And you hated it. You hated it because it broke your heart into a million pieces to see him in such a state. It pained you deeply knowing he didn’t dare to look at you in the eyes when he cried. You were still trying to teach him that vulnerability was okay.

Sniffing, you calmly made your way next to him, and didn’t hesitate to start rubbing your hand up and down his back. You didn’t say anything, not wanting him to feel anymore under pressure. Loki sobbing in front of you was already embarrassing enough for him.

You leaned into him, “Loki, I’m right here, okay?” He didn’t answer.

So you continued, “Baby, I’m right here. I’m alive, and doing just fine. Here with you. Okay? I love you. And I’m never gonna leave you. You hear me? Never.” You kissed his exposed neck softly.

“Y-You can’t promise that,” He breathed out.

“What?”

Loki finally mustered up the courage you look at you. He fiercely held your face in his hands. You didn’t dare move.

“In Mexico, I almost lost you.”

You smiled softly, “But you saved me. And I’m here now.”

He smiled too, but it was a small, sad one, “But what’s to say another mission like Mexico will never happen again? We don’t know that. And nothing, NOTHING makes me tremble in fear more than the mere thought of not being able to protect you. After every nightmare, I wake up with my heart practically in my throat as I check to make sure your body next to me is alive and breathing.”

You sighed, bringing his hands off your face, and into your own hands on your lap. You leaned forwards, placing a chaste kiss on Loki’s lips before speaking.

“Loki, whether you have noticed or not, that is my biggest fear as well. You are the love of my life. I love you so much, Loki. And knowing that there might be a moment where I can’t save you scares the living shit out of me. Trust me, it haunts me when I think to much into it. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Thinking too much about it. I don’t want to scare you anymore, but technically, either one of us could die at any moment. But what good will it do to us if we’re constantly grabbing at that horrible thought? What good does it do to live in fear every second of every day?”

Loki was at a loss for words. He played with your intertwined hands in your lap with his eyebrows furrowed and mouth shut.

You released one of your hands, and brought it up gently to smooth out some hair that’d been blocking his face partly. Almost as if instinct, Loki’s body leaned into your touch. Loki inhaled sharply, and shut his eyes for a few seconds.

“You’re right,” He breathed, “But those nightmares — they’re what really terrify me. How can I not think about you dying, my love, when those horrid images of you drenched in blood terrorize my mind every night?”

You winced, continuing to run your hand through his raven hair, “I know they must be terrible. And-And I’m sorry. I hate you see you in such pain. But maybe opening up to me like you just did will help. You won’t go to bed with such a weight on your chest anymore.”

His eyes told you that he gained at least some hope.

You continued, “Second, as much as I know you don’t want to...wake me up if you have a nightmare.”

“No-“

“Shh!” You played a finger on his lips, “I don’t care if you don’t want to. Just wake me up. Knowing that I’m aware, and there for you could help you ease back into sleep. At least, that’s what my mom used to do for me when I was little...okay?”

He sighed, “Fine.”

“You need your sleep, Loki. Seeing you like this genuinely scared me. I need you to stay healthy and intact too, you know?” You watched him carefully.

His eyes flickered to yours, and he practically sighed in defeat. He hated seeing you so conflicted and hurt.

“I’ll try my best. Like I always do for you, my love.”

You smiled, a full smile, and pulled him into a kiss. His hands quickly made their way to the sides of your face, slowly deepening the kiss that practically made you melt for him.

Both of you broke away after plenty of seconds, but simply touched foreheads and remained there with your eyes closed.

“I’m here, okay Loki? And I love you.”

“And I, you. More than anything.” Another heavy kiss.

You pulled back, “Time for bed?”

Hesitating, he nodded slowly. You continued to hold his hands as the two of you lied down against your soft pillows.

Rolling to your side, you watched Loki with puppy eyes, “Would it help if we slept in each other’s arms tonight?” You and Loki always fell asleep touching each other in some shape or form. Holding hands. A hand on someone’s waist, and so on. But never full cuddling the entire night.

Loki nodded, looking at you as if you had stars in your eyes. He immediately opened his arms to you, and you happily obliged. Snuggled up into his chest, Loki suddenly felt much more comfortable.

You yawned before giving him a sloppy, yet warm kiss on his neck.

“I’m here. Always.”

And that night, Loki’s nightmares returned, but you were there this time to make sure Loki knew he’d always have you by his side.

Always.

#x reader #imagine #loki #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki odinson x reader #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #loki x reader

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the-cookie-of-doom · 3 years

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📖 alternate dimensions/time travel for Steter (me trying to narrow it down, did it work?)

alternate dimensions/time travel for Steter (me trying to narrow it down, did it work?)

NOW we're cookin! (Pasted it bc as soon as I opened the answer window, your ask disappeared. Might be because of the heading font?)

I've got exactly 1 AU that fits this desc: Survivor's Guilt. (Technically 2, but the second is more of a reincarnation type story)

This story has presented an interesting problem for me, because it's technically Pitch (Peter/Mitch), except Mitch is still Stiles; just Stiles from the future. Obviously he can't tell anyone he's from the future, so he falls back on an old nickname that predates Stiles; this one drawn from his actual name. His parents usually shortened Mieczyslaw to Mitch.

So: Stiles for younger self, and Mitch for future self, but they're both the same person.

The future... does not go well for the pack. They all get killed off one by one, until Stiles is the last one standing 10 years in the future. After he buries the last one, he can't take it anymore. He's the human, he never thought he would be the last one to survive. it's not fair. So he performs some forbidden magic to tear a rift in reality and travel back to the beginning, before it all started. Unfortunately it's not an exact science, so he ends up part way through season 1, once things have already kicked off. And his younger self is damn stubborn; he has to change his plans from staying away from the supernatural at all, to keeping himself and his friends alive.

I'm going to put the rest under a cut and just copy what I have from my notes, because it's much more organized!

Stiles is determined though. Mitch gets there shortly after Scott has been bitten, and the wolf is out of the bag, and Stiles is so fiercely loyal that he won't abandon his best friend. Mitch wants to grab him and shake some sense into him, but he's a stubborn asshole and that won't work. He tries to intervene in other ways when it becomes clear that Stiles will not be put off this course, tries to keep him far away from Derek. And hindsight is 20/20, he's able to prevent a lot of things. But a lot of things still work themselves out anyway, interdimensional lynchpins that will always happen. The Hales will always die, Scott will always get bitten, Stiles will always foolishly fall in love. And Mitch hates it, having to watch Stiles make all these same mistakes over again, because he's already lived them. He's seen the consequences play out, felt the pain of everyone he loves dying horribly, leaving him the only survivor because surviving is what he does, like a fucking cockroach.

The best he can do is try to teach him everything he knows, all the knowledge he's had to pay for with pain and blood, in hopes that it will prepare him for what's coming. And along the way, something starts to unfold between him and Peter and that is just... so complicated. Mitch doesn't want to deal with that, he knows he shouldn't get involved, he's fucked up enough with everything he's doing here, falling in love with Peter is the last thing he should be doing. 10 years ago, when he was still Stiles, bright-eyed and not destroyed by the world, the kid he sees running with wolves like it's no big thing, Mitch wouldn't have even considered it. He remembers how much he hated Peter, always suspicious, watching with a careful eye. It's a distant memory, like the ghost of once-familiar perfume. More fresh is the memory of his grief, when Peter picked the wrong moment to start being altruistic, and got himself killed for it.

But he's not sixteen anymore. He's not the same optimistic kid mooning over Derek's bad boy with a heart of gold schtick, thinking he can fix him and heal the damage done by Kate (and god help him but he did, somehow). He's older and jaded and bitter, and Peter is everything ne needs and doesn't want but does, desperately. Peter, so damaged that being with him is like looking in a mirror, because Mitch has lost everything too, can sympathize with Peter now in a way he never could before. Peter would do anything to get his revenge, and Mitch would risk everything, break every sacred rule of magic, to save the ones he loves.

Peter gravitates to Mitch, drawn to his pain like a moth to flame. There's something so familiar about him, but Mitch keeps everything hidden, doesn't let any of them get close, and Peter has always loved a challenge. A good mystery is just what he needs to focus on, to temper his more murderous impulses. Now that he's older, Mitch is less Stranger Danger and more reluctantly attracted, and it's so easy to let Peter in. To not be alone anymore, after so long. Of course Peter puts it together. He doesn't say anything at first, but he watches, sees the way Mitch and Stiles interact with the world, the way they mirror each other. Mitch isn't nearly so spastic, doesn't talk as much. he's not an anxiety-ridden teen anymore, he's a broken confident adult. But they have some mannerisms that are impossible to mistake, and Peter wonders how no one has put it together yet. Then he remembers that these are stupid puppies; Scott can't be bothered with anything that isn't up Allison's skirt, Boyd and Erica only have eyes for each other, Stiles is too busy not listening to Mitch to hear the way their verbal tics are exactly the same, and Mitch does his best to avoid Derek, the only other one who may notice. It hurts Mitch to be around him, because somewhere, that bright-eyed kid that's dead and buried still loves him, and the pain of losing him will always be an open wound. Scott thought it hurt to break up with Allison, but he doesn't know true loss. But he will. They all will in the end.

Mitch and Chris get on well of course. Chris is the one that trained him into the killer he is now, almost like a second father to him. Aside from Peter, Mitch spends time with Chris, warns him about the dangers Gerard represents, especially towards Allison. Chris isn't one to blindly trust, but he does investigate into the situation when dear old daddy comes kicking around.

And when Mitch sees his dad the first time... It's some innocuous meeting, maybe they're in a bar. They strike up a conversation, John offers to buy a round, and it takes everything in him to maintain his composure when all he wants to do is collapse into John's arms and cry, because the only thing worse than losing Derek was losing his dad, holding him in his arms as he bled out, hearing his breath stop, seeing the light leave his eyes. The nightmares of that night still haunt him.

Mitch is gonna feel so conflicted about his attraction to Peter, especially at first. Bc part of him still remembers what it was like to love Derek but there is no way he's touching that with a 10 foot pole even if he's not the same kid that was in love with him, and maybe he wonders if he's just trading in for another Hale? that wouldn't be fair to anyone.

And like that is the least of his concerns, who knows what's going to happen if he starts something with Peter now. But he's been so lonely, starved for touch and affection. And Peter knows, he more than understands. He spent 6 years in a coma, longing for the same thing. He wants to give that to Mitch now, to both of them, if Mitch will just let him

it's a clusterfuck trying to deal with it, and Mitch is trying to fix things, but he doesn't know how. he's not omniscient. All he knows is that something went wrong, Y caused Z but he had no idea about X. He only knows the things he was directly involved in, and there are layers of schemes, unseen factors that will be uncovered this time around as fate continues to set itself straight even as Mitch keeps messing with the timeline

eventually Mitch has to admit that he wants what Peter is offering, desperately. He's not as cold as he pretends to be, and it's stupid to keep denying them both. He's already breaking every cosmic rule by coming back here to change things, and the universe keeps laughing in his face. So he may as well go all in here.

and maybe, briefly, Peter wonders if Mitch still loves Derek. But he doesn't; Stiles died along with the rest of his pack, leaving Mitch in his wake. Everything Stiles was is gone in him not everything, he's still fiercely loyal, hopeful beneath his jaded pessimism, enough to challenge the universe itself like Icarus on his waxen wings nothing left but the memories.

Mitch is reliving his own mistakes getting involved with Peter, just like Stiles is with Derek, and god knows what the consequences will be this time. But they can't be worse than any he's already suffered, the total destruction and devastation of everything he held dear, leaving him a burnt out shell of a man. Peter can empathize. Can't take his pain, but can maybe help to dull it, help shoulder the burden of it, show Mitch that he doesn't have to be alone anymore

And I think I know how stiles figures out Mitch is him: something happens. One day Mitch and Peter are just doing something, it’s a pretty normal day. But then something seemingly innocuous happens and Mitch has a moment of oh shit realization and he just takes off running because Stiles is in danger

Because you know, he doesn’t know the exact dates that things happened, especially in the beginning. It was so long ago. But something will happen, some small thing burned into his memory, and he’ll remember. And he doesn’t get there in time of course, the damage has been done. Leaving stiles with a wound to perfectly match a scar Mitch has from the same incident.

Mitch does manage to avert enough to change the future. But that means he doesn’t become who he is. If the pack doesn’t die, Mitch never comes to be, he never has to come back in time to change things, never falls in love with Peter. So he ceases to exist. But even though he fades away, the memories of him don’t.

"We did it," Mitch gasps suddenly, eyes wide like he can't believe it. Something in him shifted, something intrinsic. Like a damn had broken and all of his suffering was washed away by the cool waters of relief and happiness, the kind he hasn't felt in years. Not since before he lost everything. "Peter!" And Peter is watching him with pure, unadulterated excitement, because they've averted the catastrophe that would have befallen the pack without Mitch's intervention.

And then Mitch starts to fade.

Peter is grabbing for him, but his hands pass right through like Mitch is just a ghost, and then there's less than that. His very molecules are ceasing to exist. He doesn't exist anymore, Mitch realizes. "I'm sorry," he tries to say, a second too late.

Peter is left standing there staring at nothing. An empty space. There aren't even any ashes to prove that Mitch had ever been there, vanishing between one heartbeat and the next.

Peter doesn't realize what's happened at first. Doesn't want to, his fast mind lagging behind. "No," he whispers. Everyone is staring at him. Stiles is looking on with mounting horror, Derek mirroring him. It's the Sheriff who catches him when he collapsed, arms strong around him. "No, no!" It's all Peter can say. This can't have happened, it's all a mistake. Mitch will come back to him, he has to. It can't end this way.

Distantly, Peter knows he's crying. John is too, Peter can smell his tears. Of course he is, he just watched his son fade out of existence. Of course, he still has Stiles, still gets to watch him grow. Peter has no one. Derek comes to him, followed by Stiles. He's crying too, on the ground with him. Derek has a hand on his shoulder. Melissa is covering her mouth with her hands, eyes glistening. Even Argent's stony mask has broken as Peter falls apart in front of them.

Peter throws his head back and roars, so loud it shakes the trees around them. The earth quakes, the preserve trembles in fear. But the world keeps turning, the universe continues on, ambivalent. What is one human life in the grand scheme of things?

Everything, he is everything.

#cookie writes #survivor's guilt #a nice little but of angst at the end there #thank you for the ask!

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ayatosmlktea · 5 years

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Vampire au request? Levi & reader are hunters. During one mission he thinks she dies but he finds out later she was turned during the chaos. She stayed away because she knew he hated vampires because they killed farlan and isabel. So he hunts her and she thinks hes trying to kill her, so she runs but he just wants her back. Maybe he relives old memories between them when she slips away. Angst please. He doesnt catch up to her either... yet... 😏 if it's too specific feel free to spin off it lol

A/N: I’m really sorry if this is too long but holy fuck I got so inspired! I love supernatural shit! ❤️

𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 ❤️

Y/N’s head throbbed painfully, her eyes unwilling to open. She had experienced her fair share of hangovers throughout her early adult years but her throat had never felt drier than it had in that moment. Her body felt like it had quite literally died and been resurrected all in the same night. Swallowing what felt like sand paper she weakly rolls onto her side forcing her eyes open.

“Hey shes awake!” An unknown female voice shrills.

“About time. Thought she was actually going to die.” Another voice laughs, probably male but possible female.

“Poor girl must be famished.” The first voice cackles. On cue, her body was flooded with the aching desire to drink something. She felt both starved and thirst at the same time. Y/N’s eyes begin to focus in the dark, two figures were in the room with her. One was sitting on a large crate, one leg dangling over the edge while the other was bent at the knee resting on the edge of the box.

Another girl was kneeling in front of her, box dyed pink hair pulled up into two buns on either side of her head. The entire situation itself was weird enough but what made her blood run cold was the bright yellow eyes staring back at her.

The memories of the previous night all crashing in at once.

It was supposed to be a simple hunt! Erwin had tipped them off about a small vampire nest lurking on the outskirts of downtown. It was one they had been tracking for a while now but each time they got close the nest always vanished within hours. They were drawing attention to themselves, recklessly pulling whatever bodies they could grab into their dingy hideout and leaving them drained scattered throughout the city. It was disgusting. Every time they had to fight vampires Y/N was always reminded of the way their two friends had tragically died. The rain didn’t seem like it was going to let up any time soon, the streets becoming less crowded the farther they walked. It was oddly quiet, the sky was dark grey casting a gloomy mood over the city. It didn’t take them long to find the hideout, either they were lazy vampires or they wanted to be caught. It was strange and Y/N had a heavy feeling of dread sitting in her stomach.

“Don’t you think this is too easy?” She hissed to Levi who has busy pulling their concealed machetes from a duffle bag.

“Doesn’t matter, just take them out as quickly as possible. Vampires are dumb fuckers Y/N don’t over think it.” His words were gruff but she knew how uncomfortable he was. Despite his hard exterior he hated this as much as she did, probably more. The nest was fairly small, neither of them sparring the creatures a second chance as they decapitated one after another. Years of being seasoned hunters had made their reflexes faster, they had decided to split up their chances of ending this bloodbath were faster that way. Levi didn’t have to think twice about it, Y/N was more than capable of taking care of herself especially against lower level vamps. Scoping out every inch of their underground nest, Y/N was satisfied that she had managed to take out every one there. Pulling out a cloth she wiped the blood off her hands, setting down the machete at her feet momentarily.

It was a stupid mistake, she should have waited until they were safely above ground before letting her ground down. A rustling noise behind her catches her attention, before she can grab her weapon a hard blow to the back of her head knocks her unconscious.

“Why didn’t you just kill me?” She demands, glaring daggers at the vampire on the crate.

“Don’t you think this is much more fun?” The girl squeals, in her hand was a recognizable blood bag. The sight alone made her want to throw up.

“So what, I’m just going to sit here and watch you sick fucks drink blood for fun?” Y/N sneers, the hunger she had felt earlier now almost too intense to process. Never in her life had she felt such an insatiable need to eat something.

“You still don’t get it do you?” There was no hiding the amusement written all over his face and it made her heart drop into her stomach. Her hand wanders up to her chest revealing her biggest fear. She had no heartbeat.

“What the fuck did you do?” She shrieks unable to fight the wave of panic washing over her, angry tears slid down her cheeks - well at least it felt like they were. Moving her fingers up to her eyes she felt nothing, it was the strangest thing she had ever experienced. It felt like she was crying but there were no tears, she would never cry again. Faster than lightning the brunette was at her side, his fingers gripping her hair in a painfully tight grip she was sure would have ripped her scalp right off her head if it wasn’t for her undead state.

“You really thought I was just going to sit there and let you and that stupid midget come in and wipe out my entire clan?” His voice was calm but there was an undeniable rage seeping into his tone.

“You didn’t think it was a little too easy?” His words make her eyes squeeze shut with regret, she should have pushed harder.

“I’ve been thinking about this ever since Detroit, you remember that don’t you?” His lips were uncomfortably close to her ear sending shivers all the way down to her toes. She knew what he was talking about, it was probably their biggest nest kill. Yanking her head back at an awkward angle their eyes meet.

“You took something special from me that night so what better way to return the favour than to take something away from you” Once again the feeling of crying but not being able to takes over her senses. His grip on her hair doesn’t give up as he drags her to her feet over to a dingy mirror on the wall.

“Look at yourself, you really think he’s going to love you when you look like that?” Y/N doesn’t want to look, she knows already what she’s going to find. But she can’t help her eyes drifting upwards, anger and despair swirling around her stomach. Her eyes were bloodshot, iris’s the colour of liquid honey and her skin was ghastly pale.

Two distinct marks in her neck were enough to send her hurtling towards a full blown panic attack. Levi. He was never going to forgive her, their last moments together hadn’t been sweet or memorable. And now she was going to have to live with the reality of being a monster.

“Fuck you!” Her hands desperately trying and grab onto anything she can grab onto. The sudden feeling of a strength she could never have possibly known before was crawling under her skin. Her nails claw at his face leaving three long gashes but no blood comes out.

Rather than the rage she had expected he merely looks content. Her head begins to feel fuzzy, static over taking any thoughts she had as his eyes glow a little brighter.

“Sit” he commands and her body willingly obeys. Horrified at how powerless she is to his control over her mind she can do nothing but watch as he takes the bag of blood from the pink haired girl and brings it over to her.

“I apologize for not having anything…fresh after all you did ambush our nest. This will have to do for now but in your state I’m sure you’ll enjoy it” Tilting her head back with ease his sharp nail pokes a hole into the bag. The smell suddenly overwhelms her senses. It was the sweetest thing Y/N had ever smelled and she wanted nothing more than to rip into the bag and devour every last drop. The hunger growing inside her now too unbearable to ignore and almost painful as drool shamelessly pours down her mouth.

“Open up love” he smirks watching her helplessly obey his commands. The first drop was heaven it ignited every nerve in her body and she was ashamed to admit how good it tasted. Despite wanting to spit it out and scrub her tongue until the taste no longer lingered there Y/N couldn’t deny how strong it made her feel.

Before she knew it the entire bad was empty, the hunger still there but only a dull flame now. Releasing his hold of her, her body collapses against the wall. There was no going back now, she couldn’t be saved and Levi would never forgive her. Y/N had turned into the one thing he hated most and the thought of never being able to touch him again made her feel even more dead inside.

♡ ♡ ♡

Levi was distraught, no distraught was not strong enough. He was…going out of his mind seemed more appropriate. He should have listened to Y/N when she had voiced her concerns but he had been too caught up in his own feelings to realize that they were walking into a trap. It had been almost a month since then, he was sure she was dead. Levi tried not to think about the worse possibility of being kept as a feeder, it made him sick to think that she might be suffering.

Levi had forced Erwin and Hange to help him find her body, he wouldn’t have any peace of mind until he could confirm with his own eyes that she was dead. He was barely sleeping, every time he closed his eyes her face haunted his dreams. Levi felt guilty he’d left her alone. His snarky attitude masking his discomfort had worked against him, he could barely remember what her lips felt like or what she smelled like and it was making him increasingly angry. How could he let himself forget her so fast.

Levi had his hands dug deep into the pockets of his leather jacket, his duffle bag resting against his hip. The air was dry and cold, but Levi didn’t care. Every night since they had been separated Levi had gone out every night looking for her until dawn.

Levi was sure he was going to die. The malevolent spirit in front of him had it’s hand buried in his chest - literally gripping his heart. It was the worst pain he had ever felt and there was no one who was coming to his rescue this time. Y/N had been on another hunt and Erwin was taking care of his own shit.

He hands claw into the floorboards trying to read for his shot gun loaded with rock salt. It wouldn’t be enough to kill it but it would at least give him a few minutes to breathe. His fingers just barely graze the handle of the gun, the edges of his vision are slowly turning black. A loud gunshot rings in his ears, the weight on his chest lifted causing him to gasp in as much air as possible.

“Jesus seems like we only meet up when I’m saving your ass, pretty boy” Y/N smirks reloading her gun with another round of rock salt bullets. Walking over to him she stretches her hand out offering her help.

“You didn’t save my ass, I had it under control” He grumbles but accepts her help anyway. Standing up he rubs his chest, the dull ache of the spirit’s nails digging into his skin still throbbing.

“Whatever you say doll” She chirps resuming her search of the vacant house for the remains that was trapping the ghost to the house ignorant to the pair of grey eyes trained on her swaying hips. Levi hated to admit it but without her help he probably wouldn’t have survived. They finished the job fairly quick after that, finding the cursed stuffed animal and burning it in the backyard putting the spirit to rest.

“Damn Levi, these are pretty deep” she winced at the sight of bloodied claw marks on his chest. Y/N had insisted she tend to his wounds as soon as they checked into a motel before they had a chance of becoming infected. The sight of his bare torso had her feeling light-headed. There was no denying Levi was incredibly attractive but she liked playing with the air of sexual tension that seemed to loom over them. The room suddenly seemed too small for two people and despite her best attempts at self control she couldn’t help her hands trailing down his body.

“Something wrong Y/N?” Levi’s smooth voice only added to the fog that was clouding her mind and agains her better judgement she found herself unable to resist kissing him. Levi’s complete shock at her actions left him unable to respond. No one had ever been so bold, usually he was the one making the first move and honestly, it was kind of attractive. Just as fast as she had kissed him she pulled back, her usual cockiness replaced with embarrassment the blush on her cheeks tugged at his heart.

“Sorry I didn’t- I just like you and uh- you looked cute” Levi didn’t say anything as she stuttered over her words, merely cupping her face with both his hands and bringing their mouths back together.

Levi sighed bitterly at the memory, since they had been inseparable. Giving up their hunting on their own to work together. His feet moved on their own, carrying him through the dead city weaving through empty alleys until the sound of gurgled screaming caught his attention. Running towards the sound he tries to squash down the building feeling of apprehension building up. His suspicions had been on the mark as usual, except what he saw before him was worse than he had ever imagined. If it was possible Levi was sure his heart had stopped beating for a few seconds.

“Y/N?” The person before him stilled at his words, her shoulders visibly tense.

♡ ♡ ♡

Y/N really didn’t want to give into the insatiable thirst she felt for blood but Eren, the clan leader, had told her that as a newly turned vampire the desire was going to be unbearable until her body adjusted to the change. Without blood she was weak and she couldn’t run away if she was weak, they would catch her within hours. It disgusted her at how far she’d fallen, doing the thing that had killed her two best friends and becoming a monster.

And then he just had to show up. She froze at the sound of his voice, it was almost like they had never been apart and the smell of him. GOD it was enough to get drunk off. She could smell everything, his fear, love, and bitterness. Allowing herself one last glance at the man she could no longer have she looked back at him, not bothering to wipe the blood away from her mouth. If her heart was still working it would have been beating erratically in her chest at the sight of him, leather jacket and ripped jeans. His black hair messy and neck just inviting her over for a taste.

The look in his eyes was unreadable, but as soon as she saw him reaching for his back she sprinted off faster than he could catch up with her, grateful for her newfound inhumane speed.

“Y/N wait goddamnit!” He shouts after her but as much as she loved him she didn’t want to die. She kicks herself for allowing herself to believe that Levi would spare her life. They were hunters, well he was. It was his job to rid the world of monsters like her. They could never be together. The realization was bitter, nonexistent tears wanting to fall from her amber eyes. She didn’t stop running until she was miles away from him, returning to their new nest. Y/N didn’t want to come back but until she was strong enough to kill Eren she couldn’t survive on her own.

“Fuck she’s a fucking vampire!” Levi shouted in frustration over the phone. His worst fears coming to life were surprisingly not as big of a deal as he had imagined them to be. He would rather have her alive over dead any day, but at what cost. Every time the image of her bent over a corpse with blood dripping down her face flashed before his eyes he cringed. But that was Y/N, his Y/N. He couldn’t give up on her so easily.

“If you can bring her back I think there’s a way we can reverse the transformation” Erwin replied sounding faintly distracted.

“Hange’s been working with some other hunters across the country and she said they’ve found ways to turn a vampire back into a human but it’s not easy.”

“I don’t care! I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back.” Levi would track her day and night if it meant he could hold her in his arms again. Vampire or not she was the love of his life and there was no way he was letting her slip through his fingers.

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slothgiirl · 5 years

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live. die. repeat. (a noah marshall x mc fic)

i. visions are seldom what they seem.

“But this is how it has to be,” Noah says as fear clamps down into your spine, all the horrors of the last few weeks crashing down on you at once and you can’t process it, can’t deal with it anymore. You break down there, trying to wrap your head around Noah and Jane and Redfield and Noah holding Eva’s knife.

You lay there, gaping like a fish out of water, your mouth still in a perfect O of surprise as the knife enters your stomach. Maybe it’s a mix of shock and adrenaline that hasn’t let out since, since Dan, god that feels like years, but it doesn’t hurt, not as much as seeing Noah’s unflinching face.

He’s made up his mind, not the scared boy who’d realized what Jane had in store for his friends when he’d led you down here.

After everything.

“Noah,” you whimper, wanting a sign that this was still the same Noah who’d gone into the woods with you to save Dan. The same Noah who’d. . .

Your hands feel cold around the knife, blood oozing out slowly. There’s an ache building up as you realize that you’re going to die there. As your body responds to getting stabbed by this boy who you thought you could trust. The boy who held your gaze without even trying.

He has the decency to look ashamed then, a green tint to his face and then you’re really slumped against the floor, energy leaking out of you as the blood continues to seep out, coating your hands entirely.

Jane draws near, the shadows that now make up her. . .essence, like a childhood nightmare of what darkness is, swallowing you whole, nothing like the darkness of turning off the lights. No, this time it’s crushing, like some kind of underwater pressure bearing down on your chest as everything disappears from view.

At least the rest of your friends are okay. At least they’re alive. It’s cold comfort when the boy who had been causing all these feelings, warm and there and you couldn’t help but smile when he was there had killed you.

You’re sob is choked by a scream as the darkness consumes you.

The birds scatter when they hear the shadows scream.

ii. If I know you, I’ll know what you do.

You wake up with a choked sob, scream, you don't know the difference anymore, an ache in your gut. You can still see his face, Noah's, as he stabbed you, as dead as you'd been a few minutes later. You wake up in your room, alone, your parents god knows where.

It had been a nightmare.

You take a deep breathe trying to steady yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. It doesn't make the feeling go away, as you take shallow breaths, on the verge of breaking down crying. It had felt so real. All of it.

But if you start crying now you don't know if you'll be able to stop and you have school in the morning. Noah. Dan. Ava. You haven't talked to any of them in years. It's just you and Lily together in loneliness.

Fuck.

Your phone buzzes, shining blue in the dark of your room.

You cover your face with your hands, and let out a frustrated scream, “get ahold of yourself!” That's as much as you let your grip slip before, grabbing for your phone, nested in your tangled bedsheets, damp with sweat. You must have fallen asleep watching youtube.

Dans name flashes on your phone, just like…

It can't be.

You drop it, a cold chill running down your spine. No. No. It was just a dream. “It was just a dream,” you whisper to yourself and force yourself to open the text, replying before you can think.

It wasn't real. Your alive.

You haven't talked to Noah Marshall since before Jane died. Hadn't seen him since the funeral.

Lead builds up in your stomach as you text Dan, too eerily similar to your dreams. You can't remember what he'd said exactly in the dream or what you had, but the situation is much the same. If you couldn't remember maybe it was because you can't read in dreams. So it's fine. You're fine.

Dan knocks on your window and you've been here before, but you still ask “how’d you get up here,” you ask, already fearing the worst.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” Dan says. The same words he’d said before. The same way as in your dream.

Your phone buzzes again, Dan’s name lighting up. You glance up at the Dan in your room, who isn't really Dan but you already knew that, a scream tearing itself from your lungs as you watch him climb into your room, the illusion shattered. The thing that wears Dan’s face grabs you and you kick and tear at its flesh, dirt making its way under your nails, and it can't be. It was just a dream, a nightmare.

You'd died.

You spend the rest of the night laying on the floor, where you'd fallen, where Redfield had left you, staring up at the ceiling, unable to think beyond the monster in the woods. It was all real. And it was all going to happen again.

You don't sleep.

You find Conner on your way to school, looking every bit as handsome as you’d pictured him in your dream. Maybe this was Redfield messing with you. If he was back. Sending you that dream to throw you off from the get go. You take a deep breath and try to calm down.

Lily coming up to you oblivious. “It’s been a while,” you tell her, happy to see that the real Lily isn’t a mess after Jocelyn had ditched her at prom. You remind yourself that it hasn’t happened. Probably won’t even happen. “How was your summer?”

You try to smile as she tells you about Portland and okay there’s been too many coincidences. Maybe it was real. You swallow thickly and try to keep a smile on your lips when all you want to do is curl up into a ball and not deal with this.

Ava glances your way, looking down at you puzzled, but says nothing. Then there’s nothing to say as Cody and Britney get into it, rage turning your vision red and for once you can think about something other than dying.

You spent the rest of the day trying to catch a glimpse of Noah, your gaze wandering about the halls. Somehow you know you won’t, that it won’t be until the pep rally that you’ll get to see him again.

No that wasn’t right. You’d see him for the first time this school year.

It had felt so real.

That was a fucking mess. He'd killed you to save Jane, the monster that had been Jane. And just when you'd started, when the thought of going to prom without him seemed like the worst thing in the world because it wouldn't be right. You didn't really want to go if he didn't. And well shit you thought he'd been, that he'd cared at least half as much as you did.

Even now there's no one you want to see more than him, but your not sure you want to either. That dead eyed look he'd had in the end, it's burned into the backs of your eyelids. You don't know how you'll react seeing him again, oblivious, or maybe even as he'd helped you save Dan he'd already been planning on betraying you to the monster.

When had you lost him? Had you ever really had him? Or were the years he’d been alone damaged him irreparably?

You’re a coward. As soon as Lily and you try to find seats, as soon as you meet Noah’s gaze and feel bile rise up your throat, you decide to squeeze in besides Lily, butt hanging off the side of the bench.

You can’t do it.

There’s an ache where he’d stabbed you and you can’t.

You spend the next few weeks in a constant state of paranoia. Just like, you’re willing to admit, as you and Noah drag Dan out of the woods, the first time around. Somehow you were reliving the events all over again. Except this time it’s worse because you know what’s going to happen and you still can’t stop any of it.

You’re jumpy and tired from not sleeping and a sick part of you wants to skip to the end where Noah stabs you. The deja vu feeling never goes away even if you’d forgotten exact words over the course of the days, you know you’ve been here before.

You’ve gone to the game and watched spiders invade. You get the pleasure of coming home and finding Cody’s body left to you like a gift a cat might bring home a dead rat, Jane’s doing. Redfield. Jane. You still didn’t know what to think. Noah had seemed so sure but you couldn’t picture Jane, your best friend, wanting you or any of your friends dead.

It doesn’t keep you from talking with Noah, from him winding his way into your empty heart all over again as he sits alone by the pool, looking unsure about having come. You’ve oscillated between avoiding him and clinging to him, reaching for him. It gets harder as the days go on and it’s Noah with you in the woods. And Noah who’s ready to go fight Redfield himself if he has to and surely he didn’t know then, now.

It’s easy to forget, to separate the Noah who you loved and the Noah who betrayed you. He hasn’t yet and you cling to that hope.

You cling to that hope as you walk down the stairs into the house, knowing full well that Noah’s led you down there. You see the doubt in his eyes and panic consume him as Jane forces you all to play are you scared, trapping you in your seats. Maybe he wasn’t as lost as you thought.

It’s that alone that keeps you from yelling and screaming at him the way everyone else is. Silent on your way to the grave. You know how this ends. You swallow hard.

“I didn’t,” Noah tries, his pleas falling on deaf ears, “Jane-,” he catches your gaze. You can’t help it even now. Even here all over again. You look to him, the panic in his wide brown eyes, lips pressed together like he’s five seconds from falling apart. It makes your chest hurt to see him like this. To be back here.

Why couldn’t your second chance go differently?

“I had to help her,” he tells you, ignoring everyone else, willing you to understand, “I had to help my sister. I know you would have done the same.”

It’s then that you realize that he still doesn’t know that she’s going to kill one of you, most likely you, because that’s how it happened last time and apart from a few words here and there, it had happened exactly like it had last time. It’s with a heavy heart that you respond, looking away like the coward you are, “Noah, she’s needs one of us to die.”

He shakes his head, finally cracking.

Stacy looks on in contempt, looking too much like her mother as she frowns, less scared than over it. Even Lily looks away, unable to hold Noah’s gaze. And then Jane’s asking if your scared and it’s too late.

Again.

One by one your friends fly back, disappearing from sight.

Then it’s just you and Noah.

This time, his hand shakes as he stabs Ava’s knife into your stomach, trying to fight Jane’s influence off. Her own shadowy hand wrapped around his. It makes the cut jagged.

It hurts more than the first time. “I’m sorry,” he tries as tears fall down his cheeks and there’s too many emotions tied to him to know if you’re sorry for him or if you hate him for making this happen all over again but it makes your heart ache as he holds you gently so as not to aggravate the wound he gave you.

God this is so fucked up you think, as he sits down with you. And there’s the small part of you that forgives him for being tricked by Jane. He hadn’t known. Blinded by his love for his sister. It’d be touching if you weren’t lying here dying because of it.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles like a broken record, looking down at you.

You try to speak, but blood wells up in your mouth. You choke on it, noise a strangled rasp and Noah shuts up, his hands putting pressure on the wound in your stomach as he tries to stem to blood flowing from it, a steady drip that leaves you cold and tired beyond words. He won’t stop looking at you as you bleed to death in his arms like he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face, tears matching the flow of blood.

It’s too much. In the end you look away, swallowing down the blood in your throat as Jane approaches, her darkness engulfing you once more.

It’s a relief this time.

iii. i know you i walked with you once upon a [nightmare]

The buzz of your phone wakes you up. Dan. Again. This time you know it’s real. Just as real as the last two times have been.

You still reply. To the real Dan out in the woods somewhere. This time you’re going to change things. You’re going to make this as easy as you can for your friends. You’re going to keep Noah from betraying you all.

You know how things play out so maybe that’s why this keeps happening. Maybe you’re going to live through this again and again until you get this right.

“Jane I know it’s you,” you call out as Dan raps at your window, “Go away.”

Jane, this time as she is, not disguised as Dan appears inside, your room to small to contain a creature of shadow and darkness and somewhere inside is the little girl you used to play with so much you practically lived in each others houses.

Her eyes glow like the dying embers of a bonfire, elongating the shadows already there.

She stares at you, tilting her head.

For a second you think there's recognition and a brief hope flares up in your chest. You might be able to stop it before it even begins. Then the embers of her eyes spring to life as the darkness grows thick in your room right before she comes at you like a howling wind that tears down trees.

Your back hits the wall, a blinding pain surging from your spine, from your bones. You cover your head with your arms but she’s-it’s gone. Dissipating into the night.

If it wasn’t for the fact that you’d been through this twice already, you wouldn’t have believed she’d been here at all.

You try to get up, wincing from the pain in your back, spreading further with each movement you make. Definitely real.

Third time’s the charm. So this time you’re determined to do everything in your power to keep your friends as safe and sane as could be.

You go into the woods with Noah once more, hand clutching a baseball bat, Noah lighting your way.

The cops ask the same questions as the flashing red and blue lights break the cloak of darkness that surrounds you. Little old Westchester, surrounded by woods, only one highway leading to the nearest city. If you answer mechanically, a beat to soon, they write it off as panic.

Your eyes stay glued to Noah, even as the ambulance drives off with Dan. His hands shaking even as his voice stays steady as he answers as best as he's able without going all supernatural creatures took Dan on them.

The cops finally leave you alone, while they look around and write reports. Useless stuff.

You sit on the curb, hugging your knees as Noah paces in front of you, jaw tight. Tomorrow he'll tell everyone he couldn't sleep. Too many nightmares.

But it doesn't have to be that way.

“Noah,” you offer as the commotion starts to die down and you already know they're about to drive you both home. Back to your empty house.

He stops pacing in front of you. Hands stuffed into his pockets, as his wide doe eyes meet yours.

What if he says no?

You've barely exchange a word in years as far as he knows. He hasn't been through this before.

Swallowing thickly, you utter the words you think have the best chance of him going along with your plan, “Can-I don't want to go home to an empty house right now.” Hilda the kindest fluff ball had scarred the shit out of you twice already.

“Your parents aren't home,” he asks, shaking his head and being purposely obtuse, “guess some things never change.”

“Can you stay with me? I mean,” you run a hand through your hair and blushing is so not the right feeling you should be having right now, “just so I'm not alone? Doubt I'll be getting much sleep,” you trail off, gazing hard into the tree line rather than having to meet Noah's heavy gaze.

“Uh,” he clears his throat caught off guard for a second and it hurts to think that somehow he ended up killing you because you just can't understand how that happens, before continuing in normal Noah fashion. “Like a sleepover,” he grins through the haunted look in his eyes, the same as yours, no matter how many times you've been here, is still there.

It'll only get worse.

“Yeah,” you snort, rolling your eyes, “like a sleepover. The part right after you've watched a horror movie and have to go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

The cops drop the both of you off on the curb. Don't even check if there's anyone home. Fuck this town. No one turns a blind eye like them.

He's been here before. But he still lets you lead and fumble with the key and god is this house empty. Two whole floors to yourself. It's somehow even more empty than usual.

“Have you let your mom know,” you ask because now that he's here you don't really know what to do with him. You place Candy on your nightstand and sit down as he looks over your things. Gone are the toys and dolls from when you were close.

There's some posters from National geography and bands from when you were in middle school and hadn't yet realized how far the nearest concert venues were.

“She won't care.”

And boy can you relate.

You kick your shoes off, biting back the rush of heat threatening to bloom brightly on you cheeks, as you find an old shirt and yoga shorts, “I'll take the floor.”

“What! No,” Noah says frowning so deeply his forehead wrinkles up, “I'm not making you sleep on the floor. Didn't you used to have a guest room?”

“I've been sleeping in the guest room,” you admit, realizing belatedly that for him, this all only started yesterday. For you it's been months of avoiding your room. “I can't-not when it was here.”

“Ohhh,” Noah jokes, “so your trying to leave it to me.”

“Fuck you,” you snipe back. “I can fit into the couch in the guest room. That way you can take the bed.”

“Such a good host you turned out to be.”

“Shut up Noah. Now get out I have to change.”

Noah laughs, but leaves and you prefer this to the silence. To tossing and turning all night without a wink of sleep.

He clearly still remembers it all as well as you because you find him in the guest room, flipping through the tv channels. You can't help but stand in the doorway for a second and wonder what your life would have been like if Jane had lived.

It's easy to go from there. To sit down next to him on the bed and laugh at bobs burgers like your life isn't a literal horror show.

The clock reads two in the morning before you turn off the lights and neither of you moves, or brings up the couch. And you fall asleep planning how your going to save everyone this time.

This time Noah won't kill you.

This time you watch in horror as Noah slices his own wrists open and he dies in your arms as you desperately try to caulk the flow of blood. It's worse. It's a hundred times worse than dying which is just cold and lonely because you can't save the boy that you love.

Because that's what this is. Why else would watching Noah die feel like your heart’s been ripped out as well.

It's with bitterness filling your mouth like the metallic taste of blood, that you think that it's only for a little while.

iv.

You avoid Noah like the plague next time around.

Letting him go by himself into the woods. Letting him save Dan by himself.

It's too much for you and you know it's hurting him. You know how it'll end if you drive him away but every time you see him you can't help but want to burst into tears.

Sometimes you do.

Turning before he can see the tears in your eyes.

Lily catches on fast. As you walk home together. “I'm sorry,” she tells you, taking her hand in yours. “I know you and Jane were always the closest.”

You swallow thickly. Anger and hurt welling up like blood in your mouth. “Do you ever think how Jane's been dead longer than we were ever friends?” And she's been alone all this time. Stunted.

“Not really. I try not to think of it. Or I tried. Guess we can't ignore it now.”

“We don't have to talk about this,” you tell her. Lily clearly doesn't want to deal with any of this. Jane's death so many years ago was bad enough.

“No. It's okay. You’re always here for me. It's the least I could do. But. . .Noahs hurting to.”

And then Cody and Jocelyn show up.

For once you’re glad to see them.

You don't let Noah go find Dan alone this time. Though you are so tired of waking up to Jane. To Dan and Redfield and the bruises that ring your neck.

There's a sullenness in you that will take the others another few weeks to build. But then you've been here before. You've died four times. You’re sick of this purgatory.

Noah picks up on it right away. Noah who used to let you and Jane wrangle him into playing barbie and tea party where you'd play out the latest soap opera storylines that your housekeeper watched.

You browse the shelves silently and brush off Connor after a stilted conversation. You don't even feel bad about it.

“You blame me too don't you,” Noah states sounding as hollowed out as you feel, as he looks at the flashlight you already know you’ll buy him. “Just like my parents.”

“Noah I don't-,”

“Don't lie to me,” he utters harshly. “I can see it in your face. Well guess what. It's your fault. Not mine. If you had just made Jane leave the first time, we would've never met Redfield.”

He shoves roughly by you, sending you bumping into the shelf. And okay you deserve that. For this time. And the last.

It's time to confront the real issue.

You died. Noah had died. And yet the cycle went on. Nothing had changed. You'd been convinced that it was about Noah but you were wrong. Your feelings clouding your judgement and this was all so messed up. But who else.

None of them ever remembered.

You had to talk to Jane.

Jane listens for a second and then there's only darkness.

You call out to Jane as soon as Dan knocks on your window. Dying has gotten old. And you refuse to get to close to Noah again, no matter how it hurts, you won't watch him die again.

“I know it's you Jane. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm such a bad friend but I didn't know! I couldn't have know or I'd have gone back for you.”

The darkness coalesces in your room and glowing red eyes peer back at you.

There's no way for you to gage the intelligence. No way to tell if there's enough of the girl you knew left in there.

Silence reigns for a minute. The longest minute of your life.

And then she sends you flying back, hitting the wall at just the right angle. There's a sickening crack ringing in your ears as you wake up again.

Starting from scratch again.

So that didn't work. Maybe you have to go to her. So you let her scare you and choke you and then wake up to skip school.

Not like your parents will care out in Yemen. Or was it Iraq now?

Either way the school will call and you'll make up some lame excuse like you had a fever.

You'll grab Dan on the way out. If it works.

“Jane,” you call out as the ruins come into sight. “Jane I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to come. Jane Marshall. That's you!”

A shadow looms in the doorway.

“Jane. Do you remember?” You halt, waiting for a sign of recognition.

“Fr i e nds.”

“Yeah Jane,” you say, “It's me. Your best friend. Though I'm not very good at it.” You reach the doorway.

The idea of a hand reaches out towards you, looking a lot like what a child might draw for arms, and you let out a breathe.

Maybe this will work.

Her grip is cold, like walking through the fog of halloween haunted houses, and firm as it closes around your wrist and your courage gives out. You can still feel the throne of the bruises lining your neck.

It's too late to back out.

She leads you to the top of the stairs. “Everyone plays together.”

“No Jane. That's not the kind of help you need.”

Her eyes flare, the red coals burning brighter than stars, light extinguished by her presence. Her presence at your back and you manage half a scream before she shoves you down the stairs.

Your limbs ache as you reach the bottom. Sharp pain running up your spine before sudden numbness sets in.

At least it's a change from Noah killing you.

“Redfield hasn't been here. He hasn't been here for ten years,” Noah states, a deadness to his voice that you hate.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean Noah,” Stacy yells, sick of all this shit. At least she doesn't have to remember.

He opens his mouth to speak.

“It's Jane,” you sigh. They all turn towards you, their gaze burning holes and you won't look at Noah. Not till later, when it's just the both of you.

Prom feels like a million years ago but you know that tomorrow you'll do it all again. “Jane's been stuck here since she died.”

“No,” Lily shakes her head, tears falling from her eyes, “No! You're lying.”

“You knew,” Noah says, the hurt clear in his voice, as he looks at you and you can't help but look back. How many times have you been here? How many times have you looked into his eyes as you died?

“I-”

“How long have you known,” he growls, hurt solidifying into anger.

“No-,” Lucas shakes his head, deep in denial even as you watch the shadows clumsily take human form. “That's not true. Jane died!”

This time, Noah looks on passively as you gasp, blood flowing from your side as you die. The darkness is a welcome respite from his cold dead eyes.

Noah flips through the channels as you pull the covers over yourself. It's cold but shorts are the way to go.

You wait for him to leave the tv on bob's burgers. You've lost count of the times, the variations that all lead up to all of your friends in the ruins, to your death. You study his profile, the aristocratic angle of his nose, the swell of his well formed mouth.

In every cycle, you do your best to save everyone and yet you have nothing to show for it. Dan’s always hurt. Andy gets hurt. Not to mention you dying.

It's time to be a little selfish.

God only knows how many more times you'll live through this. At least Noah’ll make breakfast in the morning.

That does change.

Pancakes. Omelettes. Toast with tomato and the leftover chicken you'd forgotten about.

“What,” Noah asks, a slight smile on his lips, so different from the fear from your earlier trek through the woods.

“Nothing.” You look down at the blanket, navy blue stripes, boring and therefore perfect for the guest room.

“Than why are you looking at me like that.”

With months of pent up emotions, you tell him “I'm just glad you’re here.”

Noah smiles, ducking his head down, “I know what it's like to live in an empty house.”

“I'm sorry I wasn't there for you,” you reply. You hadn't been there for anyone. But at least most of them were doing okay given everything. Dan needed help, but he at least had Stacy. Who did Noah have? Who did Lily have?

“Me too.”

You lean in, closing the distance between you, pressing your lips against the edge of his softly, before pulling away.

The surprise is written into his features. Noah swallows and you wait for him.

“I-I'm sorry I just can't right now.” Which isn't surprising. Not when you've heard him say these words before. Right as dance approaches.

“Sh. It's okay,” you respond, shifting away, “I understand. Just-just know we're going to get through this Noah. I'm not abandoning you again.”

Noah takes Jane's place in the most peaceful way. “It's time for me to take over.” He utters as the darkness embraces him.

Finally, you can't help but think. Finally it's over.

You wake up to your phone buzzing. “UGH!” You fling it against the wall. “Don't even try it Jane,” you tell like a crazy person.

This time you get out of bed and march right into the woods. No Noah. No Ava. No Andy. Not that it ever matters if Ava and Andy come. You just end up chickening out from inviting Noah to stay at your house.

No Candy.

It's dark but you've walked this path so often it's ingrained into your bones. The beasts aren't out.

You still grab the first large stick you can find.

Sure enough Dan’s in the clearing. Still conscious for once.

You rush to his side, “I'm going to get you out of here,” you tell him, wrapping an arm around his waist, letting him lean his weight onto you.

He shakes his head sadly, “you shouldn't have come. I shouldn't have come.”

“It'll be okay,” you lie.

“Listen to me,” he urges, “now he can leave!”

She, you mentally correct, frowning. Everyone plays together. But then why could Jane leave as soon as Dan came. As soon as you can rushing to save Dan. “Shouldn't we all have to come? But then when only Noah and I,” you tail off. It still always happens. And Pritch’s spell had held for a little while.

There's still something you don't understand. Some variable you've overlooked. Jane's a dead end. She always attacks first and then you're dead.

“What are you talking about?”

You look at Dan, having forgotten you were dragging him through the woods. His leg is still broken but he doesn't look like he's about to be comatose. “Let's just get you out of here.”

You leave Dan at the hospital more than a little aware that it's nearly three in the morning but you can't put it off. If you die walking alone in the middle of the night it won't be for long anyway.

Pritch’s house is always foreboding. Exactly like a witch's house should look. Plants growing wildly in the corner. Wind chimes dangling even in the still night.

You don't flinch when here none creature barks at you. “I'm here to talk about Redfield.”

For the first time, you say everything that's happened to you. How you keep reliving the same thing over and over and over again with no end in sight. You word vomit in Pritch’s living room until the tea grows cold and the sun rises.

Her lips purse. “So it's not Redfield.”

“No. And this,” you say waving your hands around, “can't be a coincidence right!”

“No.” She confirms.

“So what do I do? The rules changed. It's Jane. And we've set her free!”

“She's not free yet,” Pritch corrects arching a brow and daring you to contradict her.”

“But. . . I rescued Dan?” And you had. That was real. It hadn't happened last time.

“I've checked. And nothing.”

You take a deep breathe. “Every time me and Noah rescue Dan she's set free. But then why is the emphasis on everyone!”

“You just said it yourself,” Pritch replies. “You and that boy of yours. The rules changed. But Jane's memories of you and her brother are the only ones that survive. I think Jane believes she must play the game, but it might just be the three of you that are connected.”

“otherwise I wouldn't be here,” you slump back in your chair, setting the teacup down. “Not that I'm complaining. Dying is not it.”

“Many have trifled with the power to worse ends,” Pritch concurs.

“So then what do I do! I don't want to die and I don't want Noah to die but also I have to set Jane free!”

Pritch rolls her eyes, “How the fuck should I know? I'm just an old woman. I don't have all the answers. Now go to school or you'll be late.”

If you and Noah can set Jane free from the ruins, you think as you walk to school, maybe you can also free her from living a quasi life as a shadow monster. You'll have to tell Noah. Or go with him alone to the ruins. Somehow?

When you get to school you learn Dan died last night at the hospital and okay you know a sign when you see one. No saving Dam too early.

You go to Jane, impatient to start over.

There's a satisfying feeling to the sound of your spine cracking.

You wake up again. This time you're ready. It's game time. Game mode. The final round. Some other sports metaphor that Andy would know.

You yell at Jane to fuck off and all you have to show for it are bruises around your neck. Whatever. You can deal with that.

You go to school, and go off on Cody.

“My hero,” Ava grins as she walks with you and Lily. “And I thought I was the cool badass one.”

“No,” Lily smiles, “you're the bad boy with a heart of gold.”

“Ahhhh the cheese,” Ava laughs, “my one true weakness aside from rainbows and unicorns.”

“Of course,” you grin and then wait for the assembly to be called.

Waving Lily off to go sit with Ava as you plop down by Noah, almost forgetting to ask, “is this seat taken?”

“Knock yourself out,” Noah replies evenly, unburdened by the hundred different times you've lived through this and shit you've been waiting to hear those words, anticipating the start of you and Noah. Everything has to go right this time. Everyone lives and Jane finally gets to rest.

“Sit your stupid ass down,” Cody yells.

You flip him off and stand for a moment more than you have to.

Noah looks up at you, eyes crinkling as he chuckles. “You're such an asshole.”

“Only on a good day,” you grin.

You watch the pep rally and wait for the black out.

It still sends chills down your spine.

Ava and Andy don't come with you which you're glad for. It's always a coin toss to whether you can convince them to come. You haven't found out the secret to swaying them and it doesn't matter now. Soon it'll all be over. As soon as you figure out how you and Noah can set Jane free without any bloodshed.

Maybe even spare Cody's life which should give you unlimited lifetime good karma.

They're not coming which means you can now shanghai Noah into coming home with you and not dealing with any nightmares. Keep him from betraying you. And the fact that you're in love with him helps too. Any time you can steal with him is a plus.

Noah sighs, rubbing his hands over his eyes, as you come to a stop among the aisles in Gunther's hardware. “This has been haunting me for years. What we did. . .what he did.”

You take Noah's hand in yours, “You can't blame yourself. I know-I want to blame myself to for being a stupid little kid but that's just it Noah, we were kids. We didn't know any better.”

Noah closes his eyes but doesn't pull away. “My parents blamed me.”

“Fuck them. Fuck them for not being there for you when you needed them,” you respond with a burning conviction. Your parents were negligent, but they didn't make you feel like shit either.

“The worst part is that,” Noah continues after taking a deep breath, his caramel eyes meeting yours, “this sounds lame as hell, but the day I lost my sister, I lost my whole family. My mom. You guys. Everyone.”

You rub Noah's hand in yours with your thumb, making small circles, “You didn't lose me.” You steel yourself for what follows.

“But I did.” Noah pulls away, studying the different lamps, scrutinizing them.

“It won't happen again. I'm not leaving you again.”

You find yourself watching bobs burgers with Noah once more. No matter how many times you've been here, you never pay much attention to the episode. Noah's given up any pretense of watching the tv, staring holes into the ceiling.

“Dan’ll be alright. As soon as we fix things.”

“You sound so sure,” he replies, shifting so he's facing you.

“I'm just trying to be positive,” you admit. There's been so many times and they've never worked. You've always messed things up. “The power of positive thinking.”

He cracks a smile as you both lay there.

You wake up to scrambled eggs and bacon. “This is much better than the cereal I usually have,” you tell Noah, grabbing a fork and taking a piece straight from the skillet.

He smacks your arm away with the spatula, “that's just sad,” and plops a strip of bacon in his own mouth. It's easy to fall into a comfortable routine with him. Both of you eating from the skillet before booking it to school.

You wave him off and barely make it to homeroom on time.

You're all sitting down together going over last nights events. You can't hear a word mayor green is saying. And you don't care.

Dan will be okay as soon as Jane's free. Then the power will just be some neutral thing out in the woods. You should really talk to Pritch about setting up a containment system.

“-I can barely believe it and I was there,” Noah adds. “Shit I don't think I would've gotten any sleep by myself.”

You blush brightly and avoid Noah's gaze at all costs but Ava still raises her brows.

“I'm sorry I thought Basketball was more important that this,” Andy admits. “I'm just glad Dan will recover.”

“Basketball isn't dumb Andy,” you respond. “This whole thing sounds crazy.

“Well,” Stacey points out, “we still have to figure out how to stop anymore freaky things from happening. Any ideas?”

Yes, you think but say nothing. You still have time. You'll have to tell Noah and hope he believes you for long enough to go and talk to Pritch. Would just telling Jane she can move on work? Or maybe you just want someone else there to soften the blow?

Ava walks up besides you and Lily, “so do you guys want to walk in the same direction at the same speed after school?”

Lily laughs, “Ava, the bell just rang.”

“So?”

You nod, “ok but I have an errand to run first.” The longer you can keep Cody and Jocelyn under the radar the better it will be for everyone. You might as well be named a saint now.

Ava tells you both about her surgence of power and Lily talks about Britney much to Ava's eye rolls.

You take your keys, switching the swiss army blade your mom had given you years ago out and jam it into Cody's tire. That should keep him out of your hair for a while. And then Connor would get rid of them before the game.

“That's her errand,” Lily squeals.

“What a badass,” Ava grins. “That dick definitely had it coming.”

“Yeah well,” you shrug, “I like to be proactive.”

“I can tell,” Ava smirks, “so you and Noah last night? You can tell me all dearie…”

“Well you don't sound at all like a witch who eats children.”

She cackles and you can only guess how often she's practiced that in her room, “only the naughty ones.”

“Wait Noah spent the night at yours,” Lily asks for clarification.

“Yeah,” you sober up, you weren't even that far in and your mind was already frayed thin. You still had to make it to the ruins. Dan was safe. No one had died. And as long as you beat Jane to Pritch and convinced Noah, you were home free. There were only a thousand things that could go wrong in that time. “I just didn't want to be alone in my house after…”

Ava rounds on you, “wait, Your parents are still awol?”

“Didn’t you have that Nanny,” Lily adds, “Mrs. Garcia?”

“Used to being the key words,” you catch them up to date, “she decided to move in with her eldest daughter down in Arizona. I mean she was old the entire time I knew her. Still sends me birthday cards and christmas cards though.”

“You are the definition of a latchkey child,” Ava notes. “My parents would kill me if I had a boy in my room.”

You roll your eyes. She's not going to let this go anytime soon. At least this calm won't last long. Hopefully a flat tire keeps Cody out of your hair for a while.

“My parents don't know I like girls yet,” Lily admits with a blush, hesitant to share after being bullied at school for daring to walk by Jocelyn.

Ava barks out a laugh, “oh you're bad Lily,” before she turns down her street, closer to town than your house, and then it's just you and Lily walking home together.

She seems happier today, even with everything going on, now that Brittney asked her on a date. It's strange to think of them together. You hadn't even realized they were once friends; can't imagine a nice Brittney or just one that doesn't give everyone shit.

Even after all these cycles you don't know what to make of them. Sometimes Lily and her work things out and she's tolerable but others...and then there's the times when Lily dies and it doesn't really matter.

“I really hope that Stacy's right about Brittney,” you comment, glancing over at the trees. Without Cody and Jocelyn, nothing should happen. But you had learned to be careful.

“I hope so too,” Lily confides, “it's just-she used to be-well not nice. Not like you. But she was my friend and I think she liked seeing my reaction when she did something bad. But harmless stuff like stealing candy or lip gloss.”

“What happened,” you ask, because this is all new for Lily even though you already know about Brittney and camp and how she basically ditched Lily to go be a bitch with Jocelyn. The woods stay quiet.

Lily shrugs and tells you about camp all over again.

You hate that you won't get to tell Lily how brave she is even if she's not like you or Ava, ready to throw fists at Cody and Jocelyn, but you would like to never see a dead body again. And Lily's plenty brave without your help. At her core there's steel or else she'd have given up on Britney years ago. It's the quiet loyalty that matters the most. That will see your friendship through tough times.

You get home and sit in the grass, waiting for Hilda to run over.

Instead of heading straight for the gym, you loiter around the parking lot until you spot Connor. He stands out easily in the crowd with his long blonde hair and the same tall build that he shares with his sister.

“Does Stacy seem a little off to you,” he asks by way of greeting.

“She must be under a lot of stress,” you muse playing the part. You’re in the long stretch of the days now, the lull that sets your teeth on edge. Andy always saves the game. Getting pizza after with him and the team depends on how your mood is; if you want to keep the mask on.

You couldn’t wait for this to be over. It had to end?

What if you did everything right but it turned out this was what being trapped by the power was like? Was this how Jane had gone mad?

Fuck. Fuck.

Your smile drops for a second while Andy makes the winning throw. You can’t let yourself think like that. Gotta snap out of it.

“Your buddy did it,” Connor grins, betraying the fact that he hadn’t completely left Westchester behind. He still had some school spirit in him yet.

“Yeah,” you try, snapping out of it, before cupping your hands around your mouth and yelling, “King Kang,” the way you had the first time.

Andy catches your eyes and smiles even wider.

If this is really the last time, then you want to do it right. You’re going to eat pizza with them all later.

Britney ignores you, focusing her attention on Lily. You let them go off. Once you had followed them and Britney while callus, wasn’t actively trying to be a bitch to Lily so you know she’s in good hands.

One thing you will avoid this night is playing are you scared. It’s fucked up after how many times you’ve had to sit through it and die. Besides, Cody always dies after this. Always. You’ve tried brushing him off but he’s nothing if not persistent.

Waving to Connor you head to the kitchen where Tom’s mixing some type of drink. Mixing juices and alcohol that were not meant to be together.

“Want one,” he offers, as you open the pantry where the chips are. Tonight you’re dragging Noah to Pritch’s. It’s the only time that you’ll get. You won’t let Jane attack the dance. It’s your homecoming and you’re going to make sure it’s one to remember.

“No thanks,” you demure, “Not if you put V8 in there.”

“Hey,” Tom says, narrowing his eyes, “how’d you know I put V8 in here?”

You let him wonder and go find Noah.

He’s just sat down by the pool and you have a little window before Cody and Jocelyn show up. You open the chip bag as you take a seat next to him, “the party’s inside.”

Noah chuckles, “not really my scene.”

“But you still came,” you note, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Shut up,” he mutters.

“No really,” you continue, nudging the conversation along, “why’d you decide to come tonight?”

Noah shrugs and mumbles, “you’re going to think it’s dumb,” he blushes and your dumb heart speeds up even though you know where this conversation is headed. Baby Jane’s. Which is fine. It’s fine.

“I bet it’s not.” You’re sitting close enough to him that your shoulders touch. It’s an intimate bubble you never want to leave. And how messed up is it that after everything you still want him in a way you’ve never come close to having. “What if I tell you something dumb?”

“It won’t be as dumb,” Noah protests, but lets you continue.

“No, really. It’s so dumb. I got points off my Language arts homework because I misspelled ‘orange’.”

“You mean,” Noah smirks, gazing into your eyes with and intensity that has you blushing, “the most phonetically sound work in the english language.”

“See, that was dumb.”

“I came because…,” he trails off, staring at the ground. You reach out, unable to help yourself, covering his hand with yours, with a gentleness he could shake off easily if he wants to. This is a first. “Well, being with your friends in a place you hate is still better than being alone right?”

There’s ten years of pain and loneliness in his voice that it breaks your heart all over again.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess you’re right,” pulling away for once as you pull your knees up to your chest.

His gaze snags on the grill and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You know what happens from here. Somehow you have to get him to Pritch’s and soon. You remember Cody and Jocelyn for the first time since you found him here, just like he always is.

“What,” you ask him.

Noah turns to you, shrugging, “I don’t-I. . .” He leans down and catches your lips with his and kisses you. And wow. Wow. This is a first. Your heart speeds up in your chest. Blood rushing to the tips of your fingers, to your hands that itch at the desire to run your hands through his hair.

You don’t.

With a depthless pool of regret, you pull away. “Noah,” you whisper, voice choked in your throat with raw emotion, “I have to tell you something.”

“What,” he responds, confused.

“Not here. . .just-do you trust me?”

He nods.

“Okay.” You steel yourself, leading him along, his hand intertwined with yours, and waving Andy goodbye as he catches you both leaving.

The road is empty and quiet even at nine on a Friday night. And dark as you reach the edge of main street.

“What’s going on,” he asks, “you don’t live this way.”

“You said you trust me,” you try, taking a deep breath.

“Okay but where are we going?”

“Pritch.”

He stops in the middle of the road. “What! Why?”

You turn to him, “She’ll know how to help.”

His lips thin in understanding. “And this had to be right now? Why didn’t we bring the others.”

Taking a deep breath you start, “Noah. It’s not Redfield. He hasn’t been there for ten years.” Your hands shake and you can’t force the last few words out. Digging your nails into the meat of your palm you continue, voice breaking, “it just has to be us okay! Just trust me enough to go to Pritch.”

He nods, but doesnt take your hand again. The rest of the walk spent in silence and you’re not fucked up enough to restart all over again just to feel his lips against yours because you love him. That’s been your constant through all these lives.

You love him enough to settle for a world in which you’re both alive.

Pritch raises an eyebrow at you once she opens up. “Took you long enough to come by.” You start, thinking for a second that she remembers. “Idiot kids releasing Redfield,” she mutters, shaking her head as you lets you both in.

“It’s not Redfield,” you say for the third time that night.

“It’s Jane isn’t it,” Noah breaks in, sitting down on the matted couch, putting his head in his hands.

You nod, locking gazes with Pritch. “How do release a soul stuck in the power.”

“Can’t be done,” the old witch scoffs.

“Bullshit.” You huff, refusing to take a seat, “you messed around enough with the power. I know you did. Jane’s a little girl. She doesn’t deserve this!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gone-”

Noah’s face twists in anger, “we were kids!”

Pritch sips her tea. “Only the idiots who-”

“It’ll work with the both of us,” you retort.

For the first time that night, she studies you, truly paying attention, “you’ve been touched by the power too haven’t you?”

Noah turns to you as well, “how did you know?”

“Jane-she,” you let out a sigh. “She told me.” And then you lie. “That night. I thought it was just Redfield messing with me but she’s been giving us all these fucked up gifts for a reason.”

He turns from you after, frowning as he studies the woven rugs.

“Something must take it’s place,” Pritch finally answers, “The power doesn’t just let things go without reason. It never freely gives. Like all things in nature there is a balance.”

“So one of us has to die,” Noah surmises.

“No you idiot,” she places her teacup down with a clang on the coffee table, “just take my dog. I can make more. It’ll accept that and let the girl’s soul be at peace.”

Noah pauses in front of the runs. Pritch’s vine dog yapping at your heels. Swallowing thickly, he turns to face you. “It has to be all of us or it won’t work.”

“It’ll work,” you urge.

“How can you be so sure,” he asks with a thick layer of suspicion on him. Noah still won’t meet your gaze.

“It was us showing up to save Dan that freed her.” You run a hand through your hair, “I know it all sounds crazy and you probably think I’m wrong but I’m not Noah.”

‘’That thing,” he cries in denial, tears in his eyes as he meets your searching gaze, “it can’t be Jane.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him close and he lets you. “I hope it’s not, but either way after tonight it’ll be over.” God you hope so. You’ve never been this tired in your life. Not before AP exams. Not after flying in an airplane for twenty hours.

He buries his face in your hair, his arms pulling you in closer to him. “We’ll talk about it after. . .right?”

“After,” you ponder, unable to imagine not waking up in your bed to Dan. To Redfield. To Jane. Heart skipping a beat in your chest as you wonder if there is still hope for you and him, for Noah and you yet. If he meant the kiss the way you hope he did. If he wasn’t taking it back after tonight.

“Just-after.”

“Okay.” you step into the clearing before calling out, “Jane! Jane I’ve come to save you!”

Blue eyes appear in the doorway.

“Jane,” you continue, crouching down to pet the vine dog, “I’ve brought you a friend so you won’t be lonely anymore. Since I’ve been such a shitty friend. Jane I’m sorry it took this long.” You can sense Noah behind you, waiting for any recognition.

“F Rien ds!” The shadow surges forward, stopping mere centimeters from your face, letting out a sound approximating a whistle.

“Holy shit,” Noah mutters.

“b ro Th eRrr!”

You smile, tears flowing freely down your cheeks now, “yeah. Yeah it’s your twin.”

She turns from you to him, back to you.

“You can rest now,” you finally say, not sure how arcane dark magic rituals work.

The vine dog barks.

And the shadow that is Jane snuffs out like birthday cake candles.

The light hurts as it hits your eyes and no amount of tossing and turning will make it go away. You crack an eye open. Noah’s jacket still thrown over your desk chair.

The boy in question missing.

So it had been real.

Holy shit.

You’d actually done it.

Jumping out of bed, still in last night’s clothes, you run down the stairs bursting in on Noah in the kitchen. “You don’t have anymore baking power,” he tells you before flipping a pancake.

You can only stare at him from the doorway, shameless as ever.

He rolls his eyes, “and you need to buy eggs.”

“I can do that. . .in exchange for food of course.”

“Of course,” he laughs, before sighing. “It’s really over isn’t it.”

“Yeah.” You step into the kitchen. “Yeah, it is. What are we going to do now?”

“Go back to not speaking,” he says bitterly.

“Noah, I’m sorry.”

He snorts humorlessly, “We didn’t-you wouldn’t talk to me for years and then Redfield appears back in our lives and suddenly all of us are hanging out again and you’re doing everything I wish you would have after Jane-except that thing was Jane all along and I don’t know what to do! I feel so fucked up about everything. About Jane. About my parents. About you but I also can’t stop wanting to see you around but I can’t-couldn’t think with Redfield let alone the way you look at me sometimes like you have stars in your eyes or some other ridiculous cartoon shit.”

Noah grips the stone countertop, resting his weight against it.

“We all handled what happened badly,” you try to put into words everything but nothing will be enough, “and you didn’t deserve any of it. Neither did Jane. But I’m here for you now, whatever that means for you.” Anything, anyway, as long as he’s in your life.

He straightens up, standing tall in front of you, his eyes meeting yours with a raw understanding about how you felt for him and the ball was now in his court and how long has it been since someone loved him this badly. Badly enough to let him decide.

You both share absentee parents now.

Noah runs a hand through his hair before letting out a sigh. “I was waiting to kiss you until it was all over,” he admits, blushing red all up his cheekbones, “but I couldn’t help myself.”

Blushing back just as fiercely, you reply, “I’m glad you did.”

“I’m glad I did too.”

“Can I kiss you now,” you ask him, already taking a tentative stepforward.

He nods.

You go to him, pressing your lips against his well formed mouth with an urgency, convincing yourself this was real and not some trick and he kisses you back with a gentleness that slows you down and lets you soak in the feel of his lips against yours and now you have time. Now. Now. Now.

When the tightness in your chest becomes unbearable, you pull away, breathless, looking up at him.

“Help me with the plates,” he tells you.

“We should go on a real date,” you respond, already balancing the glasses and plates and jug of milk. “Pizza?”

“Why would we buy pizza,” Noah waves his hand around with a fork in hand as he drenches his pancakes with maple syrup, “when I can just make it.”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“Hey,” he smiles, sitting nonchalantly at your table, “have I ever told you about Baby Jane’s?”

“No.”

#it lives in the woods #choices #pixelberry #noah marshall #ilitw noah #noah x mc #mine #did i write a 10000 word fic for noah marshall???? yes #did the style also change half way through!!!#yes #it did #unedited bc we die like men #i replayed the whole book for this fic #and will also write anouther fic for noah soon

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the-unknown-storyteller · 5 years

Text

Lost Family

Warning: Gore, Blood, Self-Harm, Dismemberment, Probably Inaccurate Depictions of Grief, Sleep Deprivation and Dissociation which I apologise for, Fire, Minor Character Deaths

Please don't read this if any of that bothers you. Stay safe.

Sequel to Graceless Friends

"Mirna? What's wrong?" Azule asks, noticing that his friend's stopped in the middle of the road. There's a contemplative look on her face. He takes a few big steps backwards and waits for Mirna to finish her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, it's just… it's Link. No one here has seen him leave his house for days! Grandpa Trov said that there's always light coming from behind one of his windows, night and day!", Mirna explains, looking at the basket full of fruit and vegetables in Azule's arms, then back at Azule himself.

"It just makes me uneasy. Link doesn't seem like the type of person who would hide away in his house. I mean, he's usually away on a journey or outside helping us with our fields and chores. Everyone's just worried, including myself. I'm sorry, Azule. It doesn't even look like he's going out to buy food…"

"No, no, I understand what you're feeling, don't apologise" he reassures her. "I'm worried about him as well. I believe you were right when you said that something was wrong with him a few days ago." A nod.

A market stall not too far away from them sells all kinds of bread and baked goods, the warm smell of the fresh rolls wafts through the air and invites them over. Mirna tilts her head, humming at the idea that's beginning to form at the back of her head.

"You know, he's helped this village so incredibly much, I feel like we owe him at least this," Mirna says, pointing at the loaves of bread, as she slowly walks towards the stall. Azule follows, nodding his head in agreement.

Together, they assemble a basket, filling it with juicy looking tomatoes and bell peppers. A bunch of fresh carrots, apples and a fine salad head with big and luscious leaves are added to the pile. They throw in a few of the biggest mushrooms they could find in the marketplace, before they finish it all off with a big loaf of bread, still warm to the touch.

Satisfied with their gift, they exchange a grin and make their way to Link's house.

For the first few days, Wild doesn't manage to rise from his bed. Grief weighs down on his bones, seemingly pushing down on his entire being. It squeezes his lungs in a way that makes it hard to breathe, hard to get up and do something, anything.

He stays in bed and he ignores the gnawing feeling in his stomach. The pounding and throbbing in his head from the lack of water keeps him awake at night. Which is fine. He even welcomes it because he doesn't want to sleep. Sleeping means being trapped in a nightmare, reliving that one day over and over. Seeing all of them di-

He knows his heart won't be able to handle that. So instead, he stays awake as long as possible, until his body gives out and shuts itself down, forcing him into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

After some time, he can feel himself space out and drift away. His head is suddenly stuffed full with cotton, muffling his thoughts and dulling the piercing ache behind his eyes. He lifts his arm, momentarily unsure if it even belongs to him or if this is actually someone else's body. He lets it fall back down onto the bed. He can't find anything to ground himself with, so he watches as he floats away from his body.

After a couple of days, he feels his body actually get up to drink some desperately needed water and eat at least an apple, the survivalist inside him screaming at and fighting for him to stay alive. The water and food wakes him up from his dream like state, but not enough to pull him entirely back.

He sits at his table, staring down at his second half eaten apple. He slowly turns it in the vanishing light of the setting sun, thinking back to last night's nightmare.

He is standing in front of a house. Groups of flowers are hanging from the balcony in deep purples and gentle blues, splashes of white sprinkled in between them. Vines climb up the right side of the wall, proudly showing off the vibrant red of their blooming buds.

He can hear voices coming from within. The gruff sound of a proud father, the gentle tone of a loving mother, the energetic screams of a little girl… accompanied by the roaring laughter of a boy. Small footsteps rush through the house, followed by even smaller ones. More laughter.

Wild closes his eyes and focuses on those sounds. His chest aches with the vague knowledge that this is something that he's lost in his deep slumber. That he's left behind.

He takes a deep breath.

One moment, the air smells of lavender and the promise of ripe apples, the next it is replaced by the pungent smell of smoke and fire, making his eyes water. With shock, his eyes snap open, only to be met with the sight of red. So much red.

He starts forward, his panicked mind screaming at him to do something. But he finds that he can't move his legs, can't move his hands and reach for his sheika slate or his ice arrows or something.

All he can do is watch.

The roaring fire climbs up the vines at the side of the house, which have shriveled up and died in the span of a view seconds. Wild tries to hold back a sob, as it sets the roof ablaze. It climbs through the windows, trapping the family within the dying house. All of them locked inside the fiery storm. All of them except for their son.

Hands fly up to block out the horrible and terrified screams that follow, but they just ring through. Wild presses his hands to his ears even harder, but the screams sound even more clear that way. He tries to squeeze his eyes shut, but finds that they just fixate on the scene before him instead.

By the time the roof caves in, Wild is screaming names that he can't remember, crying for people that he doesn't know anymore.

The dream, that was very much not a dream, nags at the back of his head and reminds him that he's already lost his first family.

And now I've lost my second one as well, he thinks bitterly, tears burning behind his eyes. The empty feeling in his chest pulsates with a strange ache to it. He taps his finger against his half eaten apple, which is a deep red colour.

With sudden but vicious anger, he takes up a kitchen knife and stabs it into the apple. Again and again, furious about his past and his present and his fate bestowed upon him by the damn goddess. He keeps at it until the apple is reduced to bits and then he throws the knife aside and starts to thrash his home.

He sweeps the plates and bowls off the shelves, throws his chairs against the wall until they break. He smashes one of his few vases against the floor, the water seeps into the wooden floor boards while the silent princess lays broken on the floor.

He stomps over to his weapon collection and starts to rip them from their displays, uncaring of the damage that he does to them. Tridents fall to the ground, small daggers, shields, amor. Consumed by his rage, Wild doesn't take notice of one particular broad sword that's barely staying on the wall.

As he bumps against it, it comes loose with a clang and cuts deep into his right hand, almost severing it off. Wild stares at his arm with horror, blood drips down his now useless hand. He drops to his knees, cradling his severely injured limb.

A wave of nauseating pain rushes through him and he empties the contents of his stomach onto the floor, dry-heaving when his systems has purged everything there is to purge. His whole body shivers, as his chest hacks and coughs and gasps for air.

The sight of his own blood makes him dizzy, the way his hand limply hangs from his forearm makes him sick.

"M-mipha." He calls. Shock prevents him from doing anything, but watch his arm bleed and bleed and bleed. And then, slowly, light blue tendrils rise from his skin and start to stitch everything back together. Strips of flesh rejoice and form new skin on top. Bone mends itself and in the end, his hand is good as new. A last wave of pain rushes through his arm before it stops at last. Wild breathes deeply.

And then he starts to think and to contemplate and the thoughts in his mind turn grey, then darken further into an inky black.

If my families keep dying, then I'll just make one on my own. His fatigued and crazed mind thinks, marvelling at the way his stitched together hand moves. Painstakingly, piece by piece if I have to.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #hero of the wild #lost family #sequel #tw blood #tw dismemberment #tw self harm #tw grief #tw gore #tw sleep deprivation #tw fire #tw dissociation #tw character death #addison writes

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sethrine-writes · 5 years

Text

Daughter of a Devil - Ch. 14

Main Characters: Father!Dante & Daughter!Reader

Words: 1654

Warnings: Dante being a shit

Summary: Being a parent wasn’t easy, nor was there such thing as being perfect at it. Good news for Dante, seeing as how he doesn’t have the slightest idea in hell what to do with a child. Sometimes, he was certain that fighting off a horde of demons was a far better match than keeping up with his own daughter. Well, at least he wasn’t going down without a fight.

A/N: I remember enjoying writing this chapter so much! It was just as delightful editing it and reliving the whole thing. Enjoy!

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Chapter 14 - Goodbye, Potential Boyfriend (14 yrs.)

The relationship between you and Hunter had started out as a simple friendship nearly two years ago when you had advanced into the “junior high” stage of your teachings in the private school Dante had thrust you into (only courtesy of the Dean who owed Dante a huge favor after saving his ass from a horde of swamp creatures).

It was nothing new to you, as you had many friends that were boys. Your only guess as to why at that time was because you could relate to boys a little more because of the teachings of your dear ol’ father. Many of the girls didn’t much care for the same things that interested you, and that was cool. You had others who did, and Hunter had been one of them.

When said friend moved up into high school, however, you began to see him in a different light. His hazel eyes seemed to catch you more often when you glanced at him from the corner of your own gaze. His sandy blonde hair had a much more appealing look to it than the year before, and that smile…it was enough to make your heartbeat quicken and butterflies flutter in your stomach.

It was hard enough keeping such strange yet perfectly normal emotions at bay, and there was more than one instance you were sure he knew of the crush you had on him. If he did, he didn’t voice his concerns or consequent lack of them, so you continued on with your friendship within the charade of feeling just friendship.

The last thing you wanted was for your father to catch wind of your little crush. God only knows what he would do when – no, if he ever found out.

As any normal friend would do, you invited Hunter over to Devil May Cry with the assurance that your father had been called out on a mission that morning and wasn’t expected home until much later that night. It was hard enough keeping secrets from the old man as it was; you didn’t need him harping on you just for bringing a “friend” over, a boy friend, no less.

“Devil May Cry, huh? I’ve heard a few people talk about this place before.”

“You…you have?” you asked nervously. It wasn’t a secret that the shop was renowned around the city and bordering towns for getting rid of “unwanted” problems, but you were afraid of the rumors ruining Hunter’s interest in spending time together.

“Yeah, just a few things, nothing bad, I swear.”

“Oh, well that’s good, I guess.”

With a hidden sigh of relief, you grabbed the key that was around your neck and unlocked the door before entering the shop with your crush right at your heels. You watched Hunter’s reaction as he took in the surrounding area, his honey-hazel eyes wide with fascination. It wasn’t often children his age were able to see the shop’s interior, nor was it often that the place was as clean as you had gotten it the night before just for this occurrence.

“Whoa, nice place.”

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks at his statement, though you tried desperately to brush it aside by moving forward toward your father’s desk.

“Thanks. My dad, uh, likes to collect artifacts from various locations around the country. He’s really into the weird and freaky, as you can see.”

“Weird and freaky? I think this stuff is pretty cool!”

You could have sworn you felt your heart leap in your chest.

“Really, Hunter?”

“Yeah, I sure do! Do you think I could, maybe, see that shrunken head thing over there on the shelf?”

You looked over at the shrunken head your father had named Artichoke, or Artie for short. Why he had decided on that name, you weren’t sure, but you did know that your father loved that thing more than most of his other little trinkets, for whatever reason.

Well, what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt, right?

You smiled as you moved behind the desk, and reach for the little shrunken head with several small braids running through his hair and stitching over his mouth and left eye. With careful fingers, you plucked Artie from his perch atop the wooden shelf, turning and nearly tripping over your own two feet with how close Hunter had gotten. You hadn’t even realized he had moved in behind you!

“Whoa, careful, there! You could hurt yourself!”

You gave a somewhat nervous laugh, fully aware of the arms that had found their way around you. He was just being polite as any young man should be. It was just your imagination that he was pulling you closer; it was just your imagination that the look in his eyes changed from amused to almost tender; it was certainly your imagination that made you think he was moving in much closer….

“H-Hunter, what are you...?”

Hunter’s face had closed in mere inches from your own, and you swore that if you had died right then and there, you’d have been one happy teenage girl just for him being as close as he was. And he was moving closer still! Did that mean that…that he was going to kiss you?!

“(Y/n), I –“

-Click-

In a flash of pure, embarrassing agony, reality came crashing back down on you. With a hesitant twist of your head to the right, your wide eyes fell upon the one person you had hoped would never, ever meet Hunter.

Wait…when the hell did he even get here?

“Dad?”

Though you had called out to him, Dante kept his eyes focused on the lad he currently had Ebony pointed at, the boy’s eyes wide with fear as he turned and stared straight into the barrel. Dante’s baby blue eyes were calm, as was his expression, though you could tell he was masking what he was truly feeling in that moment.

You weren’t sure if he was being serious or playful, but either mood would be a call for disaster.

“So, Hunter, was it?” he started off nonchalantly, as if he were just discussing casual business with Morrison, “I see you have an interest in my little girl, here. Well, allow me to explain something to you, and get it through your head quick, because I won’t explain it again.”

As a follow up to the suspenseful warning, Dante pulled out Ivory and held it out with Ebony, Hunter’s eyes twice as wide than they were previously.

“Dad, stop it! You’re scaring him!”

“You see, Hunter, that’s my precious little girl, right there, and if you’d like to, oh, I don’t know…date her, then you’ll have to beat me at a little game. I gotta warn you, though, I never miss a shot.”

It took only a moment to process what had been said, and just like that, Hunter was scrambling away and out the door as if death itself had given him the choice between living and dying.

You watched, despaired, as your crush flew out of the shop, a sad sort of ache entering your heart at a missed opportunity for something more. As you looked at your father, however, that ache flared dangerously until your own eyes darkened with the rage that coursed through your veins.

“You…you are such a…A JERK!” you screeched, balling up your fists at your sides. You were dangerously close to hitting your own father, the only thing keeping you from doing so being that he had two guns in his hands at the moment.

He wouldn’t shoot you, of course, but you didn’t want to chance accidentally damaging anything in the shop, should he misfire upon the impact of your fist in his face.

Apparently, you weren’t angry enough. Dante merely brushed off your anger as being hilarious and began laughing justly, holding his stomach as if it were too much to take in.

“Did…did you see the way that kid’s face looked? I’m surprised he didn’t piss his pants!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?! You pointed a gun at his head!”

“Psh, relax, Squirt, they aren’t even loaded. Besides, if he truly likes ya, he’ll come back and won’t be afraid of a little challenge.”

That was the final straw. Knowing the guns weren’t loaded, you reared back and put as much force as you could behind your fist as you threw it right into your father’s jaw. Surprised, Dante was knocked back a few feet, though there was no initial damage done. He rubbed at his lightly stubbled face, giving you somewhat of a pout.

“Hey, that kinda hurt.”

“I don’t care! You’re…you’re…you’re such an ass! That is the last time I ever bring anyone over, ever again! I swear, when I get my gun, the first shot I make is in you, Daddy!”

With the final word in, you gave one last, heated glare to your father before storming up the stairs, making sure to hit each creaking step hard with the sole of your shoe as if further proving your hate towards him at that very moment.

Dante watched as you went, still rather amused at the whole incident. Sure, he could have handled it a little better, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun if he had.

He moved to sit in his big leather chair, deciding that it was best to let you let off some steam before he attempted to make amends with dinner and your favorite dessert. He paused momentarily when his foot collided with something on the floor, looking down just as something rolled beneath his desk. Curious, he reached beneath it just as he heard your bedroom door slam shut, nearly hitting his head against the top of the desk when he popped back up and eyed the item with a fond, confused look.

“Artie, my little buddy! What in the hell are you doing on the floor?”

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #devil may cry dante #reader #reader-insert #dante sparda #Daughter of a Devil

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meitonapalace · 5 years

Text

Hallowegal 2019

A/N:- Please accept my sincere apologies for the delay in Regal 2. It is coming along, slowly but surely… I’m hoping it’ll be finished relatively soon. Thank you everyone for your patience, I hope you find it worth the wait. But for now, on Regal’s anniversary, please accept this short scene! And thank you to @friskyhellspawn for allowing me to borrow their OC for it! Love you fam! <3 (Warning: contains book 1 spoilers)

xxx

For a while, he had heard rumours, of a beast of the forest. Taka had been hesitant to believe them, of course. When his people came to him, saying there was something in the forest, near the sight at which they had fallen… Taka didn’t believe them. They claimed it could see them. They claimed it had chased them, but Taka didn’t believe it. Nobody in this world could see them. They were spirits, alien to Earth. Unable to join its life force, unable to return home. Taka and his army were destined to wander Earth, spirits lost, for all eternity. He believed that, until he saw it with his own eyes. Or rather… evidence of it. A man of his race approached him, with a bloodied stump where his arm had once been. The creature had attacked, and claimed it. The blood was fresh, not taken by human weapons. This was… something else. Something that could see them. Something that could hurt them. “Don’t go in the woods, Sire.” A soldier warned… yet again. “It can kill us!” “How?” Taka spoke. “We aren’t part of this world.” He looked at the man. “Is it human?” “No.” the solider shook his head. “I… I don’t know what it is. But it can see us.” “… I see.”

He wasn’t afraid. He felt no urge to keep away. Instead, he felt drawn. To the forest, to that creature… it could set him free. That was all Taka could think. All he could believe. This thing… it would set him free. He nodded at the man, and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “Thank you, for coming here with me.” Taka said. “I am sorry I brought you here.” “Sire…”

The solider watched, baffled as Taka began to walk towards the forest, towards his certain death. “Sire! What are you doing?” He ran to the king, and attempted to pull him back. “It will kill you –” “How long have we been trapped on this world?” Taka growled, pushing him off. “If this thing can kill me?” He smirked, and watched the horror form on the soldier’s face. There must have been excitement in Taka’s eyes; there must have been such a keenness upon his lips… because he could feel the ecstasy filling his soul, and he made no effort to hide it. This was it… this was the thing that would end it. And in such a way… “I will enjoy the fight.”

The soldier tried to stop him, but Taka went all the same. Running towards the forest, without even looking back. He told his comrades they didn’t have to follow; he told them the choice was theirs and it was true. They could stay if they wanted, and he wouldn’t think less of them if they did. But him… he was done with this world. He was done with wandering, he was done with regretting. And he was… restless. So, so restless. His thirst for blood carried him into the darkness of the woods and he hoped the creature would show him no mercy. He was ready for a fight.

He ran through the trees, his senses alight. He listened, he smelt, he watched… he stopped to study his surroundings, and realised he was lost. He had kept track of his own movements; he should know exactly how to leave. But he didn’t. He couldn’t escape. And it excited him. The woods… had trapped him. It was… soothing. Taka exhaled, and allowed his eyes to close. He allowed the memories to flood his soul, memories of the last time he was trapped in a dark, cruel place, with nothing but his own fear to keep him company. The Hive… his home. He could feel it, in this place. He could feel it around him. The coldness of his room upon his torn skin, the hardness of the floor upon his bare, tired young feet. The smell of his own blood in the air, the feeling that he couldn’t fully sleep in case he was disturbed by someone who wanted to harm him. His own shaky breaths were his lullabies, the sound of his neighbours being beaten and bruised… … That place was the safest he had ever known. And he felt it now. It was… comforting.

Taka could hear breathing, though. He could sense he wasn’t alone; he could sense eyes on him. A faint snarl came from nearby, followed by sinister laughter. It was all around him, as impossible as it was. He wasn’t afraid. The creature would come for him… and he would let it.

He started to run. Not because he wanted to get away, but because he didn’t want it to be over so soon. He wanted to enjoy his death. He wanted to be pursued, by something besides the humans. Something that wasn’t sent by his gods. He wanted to die by the creature’s hand, and he wanted to revel in leaving the world. He wanted to remember what it was like to be a child; he wanted to relive the fear he’d only felt in the dark safety of that place. He could hear the laughter, he could hear the snarls. Drawing closer, although Taka ran fast. “Come here…” A voice echoed all around him, growing louder as it spoke. “You won’t get away…!” Closer… louder. Still, Taka ran. Then he threw his neck up, and jumped.

He grabbed hold of the web he had hurled from his mouth, onto a tree branch and he gazed down at his pursuer as he swung over its head. He had seen it coming. Of course he had seen it coming. It must be this place, or the fact that he was nearing the end of his life… but he felt once again in his youth. Having to flee, as fast as he could, from someone who wanted to kill him. His mother. So many times he had caught the vicious end of one of her moods – and so many times he had caused it. He’d run from her, because he didn’t have the authority to kill her first. He’d fought her as gently as he could, but she’d brought weapons to the fight. Guns, knives, flamethrowers, bombs. The woman was a lunatic, he wasn’t afraid to say that anymore. Her persistence knew no limits and if he didn’t dodge, he didn’t live. They had been terrifying times… but looking back, perhaps the best in his life.

He cut himself loose to drop down in front of the creature, and before it he stood his ground. It looked like nothing he had ever seen. Clothed, and shaped somewhat like him, and like a human… but in place of its head was a skull, a ram skull. A skull with hair, and eyes alight with excitement. It held a knife in its hand; it walked upon hooves. … What was this? “Why can you see me?” Taka asked. “I’m dead.” “Mmm…” The creature purred, its eyes glowing as it sneered at its prey. “Tasty one… so am I.”

It wanted him to run again, Taka could sense as much. He knew bloodlust when he saw it; even upon the face of a skull he could see its thoughts. He could smell its excitement; he could feel its keenness to hunt, and kill. Of course he knew it; he had it himself. He knew this creature wanted to chase him, and have its fun with him… But he wasn’t going to run. He wanted his fun with it as well. So, he charged.

He let out a snarl, and in battle they engaged. The creature was clumsy at first; clearly it had never had anybody fight it before. But fight back it did. Taka growled as they fought; blocking its attacks and throwing at it his own. It hurt him… even when he blocked its attack it hurt him; the strength of its arms shattered his bones. He relished in the pain. It reminded him of the beating he’d got from his father, when he’d impregnated his first wife. He hadn’t enjoyed that. He had hated that. But… it had been when he was young, and free. He missed being young and free…

Slash! Taka cried out, at the sharp pain of a knife in his body. He could feel it, greater than he’d ever felt anything before. Never had he felt pain like it! The fibres of his muscles burned around the blade, as if it were forged in the depths of hell itself, and still hot from its birth. He felt his blood spill from his being, faster than blood should run. He was dying… “Hahaha…” The creature snarled in excitement, joy within its eyes. Did it think it had killed him? Did it think it would be able to cut him again? No! Taka fought through his injury, as great as it was. He smacked the creature down, only for it to rise and do the same. He threw a fist into its skull and relished in the crack that followed. But the skull wasn’t broken, although Taka’s fist almost was. What was this thing…? Why couldn’t he damage it? It was like a god… and that soothed Taka even more. The last time he’d fought a god it had defeated him, and there was no shame in losing to a god. But, this god… this was the god he wanted to take his life. This wasn’t the Gaiamira. This wasn’t human. This god was worthy of him. “Ugh!” “Rrrrrra!” The creature howled when Taka pierced it with his claws, but its howl soon turned into laughed when it grabbed his hands and pulled. Taka gritted his teeth, hissing as it did exactly what he thought it would do. Yes… grab him. He could feel it breaking his fingers, his palms. He could hear the cracking of his bones echoing through the forest, and he relished in it. Because he wanted a challenge. He kicked against its body, and threw it to the ground. It pulled him down with him, and they wrestled against the mud. It struck him with its knife, time after time, but Taka struck it back. Bloodied and sliced he fought it, unable to do anything else, and he saw his brother in its eyes. The greatest fight he’d had with Thoit… the battle for the throne. For hours they had fought, to the death. It was supposed to be to the death. To win the crown, one brother had to slay the other, and to slay each other they had tried. With every cut the creature made, Taka relived his brother’s claws. With every strike Taka threw at it, he felt Thoit’s body against his hand. As he tore at the creature’s shirt he remembered Thoit’s bloodied clothes, shredded and spoiled as he bled underneath. Thoit could have died that day. Taka could have died that day. One of them should have. But Thoit… he hadn’t wanted to. He had sensed Taka would win, and he had known he was supposed to carry on fighting until Taka did… but Thoit didn’t. He didn’t carry on. He ended it, against his own pride, before Taka could kill him. Not because he wanted to live… but because he wanted to see his brother crowned. He’d wanted to witness it for himself, because he’d held in his soul pride… for Taka. More than for himself. … Fuck. Taka remembered that now. He remembered Thoit not wanting to kill him, in case he missed him. Damn… did Taka miss him.

He leapt to his feet and fought, to the death in Thoit’s name. He stood opposite the creature, his claws as sharp as its knife, his teeth as bared as the nakedness of its skull, his eyes as filled with bloodlust as its own. But… one of them would not be spared. Taka knew the creature had no intention of letting him go; it wanted to gut him too much. And Taka… he had no intention of living after he had been defeated. It was time now… it was time. As he stared the creature down, each of them trying to hold dominance over the other… Taka knew the next strike would be his end. He could feel on his clothes too much of his own blood. “Come, then!” Taka cried. “Finish it!”

The creature did. It lunged at him, and Taka fought against it. He refused to go without fighting, but he knew it was a fight he would lose. Still… a fight he enjoyed. It had been so long since he’d fought someone worthy. He struck it more than it had ever been struck before. Although he couldn’t kill it, he hurt it enough. More than it was used to, much more. And it got excited. It slashed at him. And slashed at him and slashed at him, laughing in malice as it butchered its prey. Still, Taka fought. Until he became too light-headed to stand, and his legs dropped him to the ground. Like Thoit had dropped to the ground, and bowed his head in defeat… Taka looked up, at the creature that would slay him. The beast of the forest, the undead entity… whatever it was. The thing that would set him free. He stared into its eyes, and he didn’t dare break its gaze… until he could stare no more. In one sweep, too fast for Taka to escape even if he’d tried, the knife sliced across his face and took his eyeball with it. The ligaments tore from his socket so easily it was as if they wanted to go. Taka fell onto his back, so that he could still face the one who had slayed him. He heard the laughter as it marvelled at his injuries, and he felt the knife in his skin. He felt his guts being pulled from his body, he felt his blood spilling onto the cold, dark ground… and he felt an overwhelming sense of peace.

#taka #hallowegal #halloween #oc #shriggy #death #regal #God of war

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 5 years

Text

Reliving An Old Nightmare - Chapter 2

<= Chapter 1

Summary : Snatcher is having so much fun being a human again ! (no he really, really doesn't) Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337299/chapters/53502898

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Chapter 2:

Walking was a horrible experience. Snatcher had been human before, but he certainly didn’t remember it being that hard. It should be easy, moving a foot after the other ! At least it was when Snatcher possessed someone. Yet, being in control of his own body was considerably different and difficult. He couldn’t tell exactly why, though he supposed that possession simply controlled one’s will to move and talk, instead of really controlling a body.

This was getting ridiculous.

The old ghost had found a rather long branch and started to use it as a cane. While walking without anything to keep him steady was completely impossible for the moment, having a branch as a third leg did help him not to stumble too much. He still did, and walking was still painful, but at least no one was there to see it, especially that hat wearing brat. He would never hear the end of it otherwise.

-“If only I could just float again...” He groaned, clenching his hands around his walking stick. He knew he couldn’t fly anymore. His powers mostly came from stealing souls. As a human, the old ghost never had any real power and now that he was back in that fleshy form, he was left with nothing. He remembered how magic felt like inside of him, so he knew when he didn’t have any. It made him feel quite vulnerable, though he hated to be seen that way.

He was in Subcon Forest, he was sure of it. Even though it didn’t look like it at first, he could still recognize it. Admittedly, he hadn’t spent too much time in it while he was alive, but after his death, it had become not only his home, but also his minions’ one. Still, finding his way around was not smooth task. He did know every inch of his forest, but mainly after Vanessa’s outburst. Before she froze the village though ? That was another story. Branches and trees didn’t look the same, foliages were different, and the most noticeable thing was the fact that this forest was inhabited by a lot of animals. In the one he became familiar with, everything was dead. And when something was not, it usually was to hurt other living beings. Here though ? He could hear birds chirping, small cries of animals, there were movements in bushes... This forest was full of life.

It... Didn’t feel like home to Snatcher. This was part of a past that he wanted to forget as much as possible and walking through it only made him terribly ill at ease. He stopped moving, as he started to think : where was he going ? It wasn’t like he could have stayed where he woke up, however he didn’t really know where to go, apart from reaching the doors of Subcon Village... What about his minions though ? Did they remember too ? Did... Vanessa remember ? The world was still in an “unfrozen state”, compared to the one he came from, so that was rather both a good and a bad sign. Good, because that could only mean Vanessa wasn’t as lunatic as she had become before locking him up in the cellar. Bad, because if Vanessa didn’t remember, there were chances that his minions didn’t either. Though, maybe it wasn’t that bad, as he had never told them about his true identity... After he died, he had denied all of his past and his name, choosing a new one before becoming the new king of Subcon Forest. He had become so furious about his old self that he had never wanted to be associated with him again. But now... His situation was pretty ironic in itself. If he did find any minion remembering things before the flash, then... Snatcher wasn’t sure about what he would do. Would he tell them ? Or would he play the role of the ignorant fool in love with a crazy ice queen ?

Speaking about her... What was he going to do ? If he couldn’t find any way to reverse this situation quickly, he would not only need to find a place for this body to sleep, but also a place to prepare a plan. And since he only learnt how to breathe again the same day he woke up here... He was sure that his chances of survival in the wild were pretty low. He had to be careful now that he was stuck in a fleshy being. He had been used to immortality and powerfulness for so long that his position was utterly humiliating. If he died here and now, he wasn’t sure about what would happen to his soul and he really didn’t want to find out.

He shook his head : all of this was way off-topic. He needed to think about what he was going to do now. Going to the village surely was the worst idea of all, because of the unknown waiting for him there, and mostly because of Vanessa being there as well. However, there were much more problems about this idea. Subcon Village was full of people he had known all through his short life –people he had seen dead or frozen forever. The thought of going there and seeing all those persons, each one of those he used to know as a human... It made him so sick. Waves of nausea hit him hard the more he thought about it. It wasn’t like a hundreds of years into the afterlife could erase the trauma coming from being shackled in a cellar, dying from coldness and hunger...

He wanted to think about something else so much, but then his parents’ faces came to his mind and he almost immediately threw up whatever was in his stomach. He had to lean on a nearby tree to not fall down. His body felt very weak at the sudden and he had trouble to breathe. The spirit didn’t know what to do : he had seen most of his victims panic and having trouble to stay calm, yes, but what about him ?

He put his hand on his heart : it was beating fast, undeniable sign of his state. Was he scared ? Him ? The terrifying Snatcher ? How ironic ! He would almost laugh out loud if he didn’t have a risk of choking while doing so.

A few minutes passed. All he could do was waiting in silence, as he started to feel better as time flew. It probably didn’t last very long, but it had seemed like an hour to him. He didn’t want to experience that ever again.

-“Being trapped in a human body is the worst !” he mumbled, wanting nothing more to kill something out of frustration. If only he still had his laser beams ! At least, that would have helped him to feel a little better about what was happening. Though, it surely wasn’t the most discreet way of relieving stress, so the ghost supposed it wasn’t all bad... But he was still disappointed.

So, no more thinking about his dead-but-now-alive family. There was another huge problem about coming back to the village : he knew where he was, sure, but when ? He knew he had been brought back before Vanessa’s outburst, but how long before ? Was it days, months ? Years...? He threw a look at himself : he didn’t look much younger than the day he died... So perhaps no more than a few months. He winced : at that time, he was studying law abroad. If he did come to the village when he was supposed to be miles away, how would he ever explain it ? He could invent an excuse for the villagers, but for Vanessa and his parents ? They would never believe him, especially Vanessa. Plus, he hadn’t talked to his parents for hundreds of years ! How was he supposed to know how to talk to them now ? Maybe they used to be close before, but after everything that had happened... It certainly wasn’t the same anymore. Over the years, Snatcher had become quite cold-hearted-

He felt the feeling of nausea coming back, so he quickly decided to put those thoughts and bad puns away once again. So, going to Subcon Village was a bad idea. What was next ? He wasn’t limited to the forest anymore like he used to as a ghost. He could go somewhere else if he wanted to. However, there weren’t many towns near Subcon Village... It would take him days to find one, if he didn’t run into an inn first. But what would the people at the inn say if they ever saw him ? If they recognized him as the Prince and if it came to Vanessa’s ears... Knowing her, she would imagine he was there for a woman, and it would lead to a new outburst. Did he even have the money to pay for an inn ? He rolled his eyes at himself : he didn’t even think to check ! He started to look in the pockets of his red coat, finding a few coins, then checked the ones on his pants. Nothing.

Well, so much for being a prince. Didn’t wealth go with royalty ? He scoffed at his old self. If only that fool had thought about having more money in his pockets before leaving-

Snatcher frowned : why did he wake up in the middle of the forest in the first place, if he was supposed to be abroad ? It didn’t make any sense ! His old self didn’t even visit the forest that much. So why ? The more he thought about it, the less he could understand. Time travel was the kid’s forte, not his. He could feel a migraine coming. Oh, that was so unpleasant... He put his fingers on the sides of his head, pressing hard on his temples.

Going to the village was a bad idea because of Vanessa. But not going there was also a bad idea because of Vanessa.

Relationships were so difficult... He let out a long annoyed groan. He knew where he was going to go, eventually; he just didn’t want to accept it. Ironically, the most safe solution was still to go to Subcon Village and pretend to be the dumb prince, at least until he learned what or who broke the timepiece.

-“This is going to be awful...” Still, he straightened and dusted his coat, sighing.

He didn’t have much of a choice. He never really had any, in the end. He just hoped that if someone had to remember other than him, that it wouldn’t be Vanessa of all people. He put weight on his walking stick and glowered at it : what about that ? How was he going to justify this, on top of the fact that he came back home way earlier ? He had no idea about that.

-“I guess I’ll have to improvise. Luckily, I’m good at it.” He said first with confidence. Though, thinking about where he was going made him more than anxious : “... Hopefully.” He added, while rubbing his wrists nervously.

There was no way this could end well.

Just as he was about to start walking again, he heard a noise behind him, something he couldn’t recognize. He turned over, afraid of having been discovered by someone. He wasn’t ready yet ! He needed to know what to say before engaging in any conversation : if he made the slightest mistake, it would all be for nothing. But instead of seeing a person or an animal like he thought he would, he spotted something very different. It looked like a crack, but floating in mid-air, without being attached to anything. It emitted a bluish light, almost dazzling, so much that Snatcher had to squint.

Well. This was certainly new.

He rose his eyebrows, sceptic. He knew what magic looked like and he could tell very well that this was not. Plus, magic had been around Subcon for a lot of time and both in his life and afterlife, he had never seen something like that. This was different, in a way that wasn’t very reassuring. What was it ? Why was it here ? Why did it appear near him ? And especially... Was it dangerous ? There were so much questions, but no answers. All he could do was staying motionless and waiting for anything to come. However, he waited a few minutes, wary, but nothing happened. The crack remained the same no matter how long he examined it. After a while, the old shade decided it probably wouldn’t represent a threat to him and he came closer. He went around it to see if the crack would move or follow his stare, but it didn’t. It just floated, completely still.

-“Just what are you ?” he spoke to himself rather to the abnormal breach. Without thinking about it, he raised his hand and moved it towards the crack. The reaction was immediate and before he could touch it, it disappeared in a flash, without leaving any trace behind. Snatcher remained unmoving for a few seconds, not knowing what to do, staring into empty space where the crack used to be.

First, waking up in a human body and now this ? It couldn’t be a coincidence. Both were linked, the ghost was sure of it. He frowned again, not liking where things were going. He hated not knowing what was going on around him. It gave him the impression of being someone’s fool, someone’s little toy. He was the one playing with people, not the other way around. Yet, he could feel there was more to this story than just a broken timepiece and he was going to find out what or who chose to play with him and make them deeply regret it.

He waited a few minutes, wondering if something else would happen once again. Though, nothing seemed to appear out of nowhere again, so he decided to leave for the place he didn’t want to see the most. Each time he made a step, a flash of memory would blind him very briefly : he would see the place of the village, the market full of life, the flower shop, the front of his ex’s castle, or the cellar... His face grew pale and he felt the nausea coming back full force at the sudden image. Could he even do this ? If he felt so ill just thinking about it... How was he going to go there, or even walk through it ? This was going to be so much more difficult to handle and he knew it very well. But what other choice did he have ? He took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together : he had survived worse things than that, he could handle it ! In the best case scenario, he would be back in his own version of his forest, in his ghostly form and all would be well. Or, in the worst case scenario... He would either be frozen to death or shackled back in the cellar.

His body started to shiver from the thought of that last possibility and Snatcher hated himself for being so weak. He had no other choice, so he had to go, and that was final. Though, that did little to stop him from shaking.

Being a human really was the worst.

He continued walking for a while, trying to remember where was the village despite the forest looking very different to what he used to know. His legs hurt the more he walked and soon it became hard to move at all. Who knew that it would be so difficult ? He was about to lean against a nearby tree to rest but then he saw something through the trees in front of him. He squinted, not sure about what it was, but then it hit him.

What he was seeing... Was one of the ramparts of the village.

There he was. So close from the village and only hidden by several trees from the guards’ sight. A wave of panic hit him as he realized what he had to do next :

-“I can’t do it...” He murmured in a rushed tone, as he grabbed his head with both hands : “I can’t do it, I can’t do it !”

There was no way Snatcher could walk in there and pretend everything was fine and normal. All those people were dead and all the kids that his ex murdered became his minions ! There was absolutely nothing normal and fine about all this ! This entire town was part of a past that he wanted nothing more than forgetting about it. How was he supposed to enter and be the dumb prince he used to be ? He couldn’t, because that fool had long been dead and buried.

His breathing sped up considerably and soon it became hard for him to calm down. The old ghost couldn’t help but letting himself slide against the tree he was leaning on, to sit on the ground. His heart was beating very fast, too fast, and he felt his eyesight becoming cloudy. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, he didn’t know what was happening to him and he was going to die alone without having learnt anything-

He curled up, trying to inhale as much air as possible but coughed, too panicked for that. His whole body seemed to turn against him and he had no idea how to deal with it. His mind had become hazy and nothing made sense to him anymore. Why was he here ? What happened to him ? Why, why, why, why ? His hands moved on their own and rubbed his wrists again and again and again and again-

The ghost didn’t know how long he stayed like this. Minutes, hours ? Who could tell. After a while, Snatcher managed to calm himself, feeling the fear settling down inside of him. He looked all around himself, afraid of having been spotted by any of the guards. But no one was coming to him and the shade let out a huge sigh of relief. If a guard had come and seen him like this, he had no idea what he would have said or done. The last thing he wanted was to attract attention on himself, especially Vanessa’s attention...

-“Okay.” He said, breathing in deeply. He used his cane to get up, ignoring the feeling of dread in his stomach. He could do this.

He had to do this.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

=> Chapter 3

#Reliving An Old Nightmare #RAON #snatcher #vanessa #hat kid #A Hat In Time #fanfiction #my art

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mezzomercury · 5 years

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Bohemian Rhapsody in Blue: Prologue

Heathrow Airport

May 2017

A tall, young woman arriving from New York was looking around the luggage claim in one of Heathrow’s many terminals, as if waiting for something or someone. She paced as much as she could, given she had large suitcase, a carry-on bag and a pet carrier than contained not one, but two cats inside, all on a trolley that she wheeled around. She scanned her eyes around the room, watching suitcases arrive from different parts of the world on the endless line of conveyor belts, watching their owners scramble to pick them up upon seeing them. She paused in her tracks, suddenly thinking about how her late father worked at this very same place, doing the same job as the luggage handlers that were seen all around the terminal. The young woman smiled to herself, trying to imagine her father as a youngster, with the long hair he had back then juxtaposed with the eyesore of a yellow vest that would have been part of his uniform. No matter how many times she was told about this throughout her life, she still couldn’t comprehend it. The idea of her father, who secured his place in history as a musical legend, starting off from humble beginnings at this very same airport with a blue-collar job seemed so impossible to her.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard a familiar whistle across the spacious corridor, causing her to perk up and look for who the sound belonged to. Scanning the room again, she found the person she was looking for: An elderly man, somewhere in his seventies, with silver hair, an almost cartoonish moustache, and his arms covered in tattoos, was waving in her direction with a big smile plastered on his face. She ran to him and put her trolley aside before giving him a great big hug.

“Uncle Rog!” she exclaimed, half expecting him to pick her up just as he did when she was a child, but she was now slightly taller than him and was strong enough to probably do the same with him if he permitted.

“There you are, Eliza dear!” he replied happily, offering to assist her with her luggage trolley once they broke their hug apart, “I swear, you get more beautiful everyday.” She smiled, blushing as he interrupted before she could respond,

“We gotta get going, I’m parked right out front, but it’s not the most legal place!”

She giggled and followed him out of the door towards his car. Some things will never change, she thought.

After both Roger and Eliza placed all of her belongings in the trunk of the car, Eliza got in the front seat, keeping her cat carrier with her on her lap as she sat down. Once Roger sat down in the driver’s seat he hastily turned on the ignition and pulled out of his parking spot, making his way towards the city.

“Everything went well? Flight was smooth and all?” he asked, trying to make small talk as he noticed the woman beside him fumbling with her cat carrier.

“Yeah, well, as well as it can be coming from JFK.” she joked while checking on her two cats.

Both of her cats were hairless, with giant marble-like eyes, leading her to name them both Gollum and Smeagol upon adopting them. Roger chuckled and followed-up,

“Your mum will be so happy to see you. She wanted to come with me, but she’s stuck in yet another rehearsal. You know how it is.”

She nodded in response while looking out the window, contemplating the ultimate reason for her visit.

There was a brief moment of silence before Eliza quietly asked, “So, how’s the film going?”

She was a bit reluctant to ask this, since she was still unsure about the idea of a movie being made about her father, but she knew it would happen eventually. Her question caused Roger to grin in excitement, as he felt like he was about to start rambling,

“It’s going splendidly, dear. They haven’t started filming yet, but we already met the cast and crew, and everything is coming together quite nicely.”

She listened intently as he added,

“You should meet the guy who plays Fre--I mean, your dad. He’s absolutely perfect. I could have sworn it was your old man when I saw his audition tape.”

This caused Eliza to sigh softly and with a slight tinge of sadness behind it. Her father died when she was only five years old, but not a day went by that she didn’t miss him, or even think about him. He was her first hero, he was the reason she got into music in the first place. All the songs she wrote, all the albums she released, all the awards she won; they were all for him. Frankly, she was disturbed by the notion that someone could try to portray her father, as if they were trying to replace him and take credit for his influence. Of course, she knew whoever this guy was, he probably wasn’t intending to do any of that, but it was still very off-putting that someone could apparently be “just like Freddie Mercury,” so to speak.

As these thoughts were racing through her mind, one of Eliza’s hands found itself fiddling with the locket around her neck, a gentle reminder that her father will always be with her, both literally and figuratively, as some of his ashes were safely kept inside it. It was a secret that she kept from the world, save for her other late father Jim, who gifted it to her. Now that he was also gone, she was the sole possessor of this knowledge of where Freddie’s remains were kept, and she preferred to keep it that way. Suddenly, she was startled as Roger noticed her spacing out, and was brought back to reality with him trying to speak to her again,

“You can come down to the film studio sometime if you’d like. I’m sure everyone would love to meet you.”

Her stomach dropped at the idea, but she nodded and tried her best to respond.

“Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

She wasn’t sure if she would actually get the courage to do so, but the invitation was still there. While trying to change the subject, she then told her pseudo-uncle,

“I gotta get together with Rory first. I’ve just been dying to see her.”

Roger smiled as she mentioned his daughter. Rory and Eliza were as best of friends that anyone could get, even though they were across the pond now. They were inseparable as children, being that they were the same age, and both grew up into bright and vivacious women. Eliza even served as the maid of honor at Rory’s wedding a couple years ago, as Rory swore to do when the time came for her, if it ever happened.

“Of course, dear. She’s been talking about this all week. Won’t shut up about it, if I’m being quite honest.” Roger joked, making Eliza giggle.

As the car hit a major traffic jam before entering Central London, Eliza found herself looking out the window again. What if I made a big mistake coming here? She thought to herself. Sure, she would get to see her mother, her family, and her friends, but with that also came the pain of losing both of her fathers resurfacing as it would. London would always be her home, but that home came with just as many bad memories as there were good ones. It was the biggest reason why she left to go to school in New York, and why she had no urge to return there once she graduated. She had a comfortable and relatively quiet life, with her brownstone townhouse in Brooklyn, her two cats whom she treated like her children, and her music career that she fully immersed herself into. Of course, she would have to occasionally step into the spotlight every time she released a new album or song, but at the end of the day, she had the choice to be very private with her personal life, coming and going into the media-driven limelight whenever she chose. Would this film alone destroy all of that? I was doing so well before all of this.

Eliza thoughts back to what her father Jim, “Papa” as she called him, would say to her throughout her formative years, “Just give it a try. You’ll never know if you like it or not until you do so.”

Oddly enough, he first coined this expression when he was trying to get her to eat brussels sprouts when she was seven, but over time it struck a chord with her in a way she never imagined, as he began to use it for all sort of things she was hesitant to try. She eventually adopted it as sort of a mantra, turning it on in her mind like a record whenever she felt in need of it. It helped her get through a lot of the bumps in the road called life, and she said it to herself almost daily after Jim passed seven years ago. The memory of his endearing Irish brogue saying that phrase was something Eliza could hear exactly as he said it all those years ago. Now, in the context of going to a studio where they were making a movie about her other father’s life, risking opening old wounds that still felt so fresh, and the possibility of her reliving things that contributed to her Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, she heard it again at this moment that she probably needed it the most. Just give it a try. You’ll never know if you like it or not until you do so.

She took a deep breath in as Roger pulled the car in front of her mother’s flat in the elegant neighborhood of Knightsbridge, mustering up the courage to face what would become a very interesting period of time head-on. Alright, I’ll give it a go. I’ll do this for you, Daddy and Papa. I love you now and always.

Permanent Tag List: @siriuslovesmarlene, @r-ahh-mi, @unknownauthor, @yousaycoke-isaycaine, @ramibaby, @rami-malek-trash, @eyeballchambersgirl, @onexlittlespark, @rami-hoe, @xtrashmammalstefx, @wanderlustnightwanderer

#bohemian rhapsody in blue #freddie mercury x jim hutton #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor #freddie mercury imagine #queen band #queen imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #rami malek #micaela's fics #my stuff

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shprka · 5 years

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Goodbye (a merthur fic)

Title: Goodbye

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Written for: MerlinMemoryMonth May 2019

I chose Path 3: A life lost / A life lived (which I swapped to better fit the story, sorry)

Summary: Reincarnated Arthur and Merlin revisit places from their youth to finally put the past to its rightful rest. Their final stop is the castle where everything started. Or at least what was left of it

Read under the cut or on AO3

Arthur tried focusing on his surrounding - the humming of air conditioning, the steady clicking of heels from the corridor, the insistent buzz of a stray fly, the deep breaths next to his ear.

No matter how much he tried the sleep wouldn’t come. He stared at the ceiling, unseeing, mind wandering.

So much has changed since he died.

Arthur had had a hard time to adjust to this new world. He got so much to learn it was only better that he had a - not always patient - teacher to guide him through all of it.

Of course there were the hard days, when Arthur locked himself in their room and refused to deal with any more technology for days on end. But after a year those days were few and far inbetween.

Most days he was happy, content. WIth the man he loved more than the world itself on his side throwing insults and endearments on him in equal measure. With the weekly therapy sessions, dealing with the abuse and emotional constipation he suffered over the years. Changing the view on masculinity, femininity, sexuality and identity day at a time. Learning to be a better man for it. Expressing love, receiving it, cherishing it and sharing it.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was on a right path.

So much has changed since he died.

The world had, of course. Although with the world Merlin has changed, too. He was not the same man he was. Arthur wasn’t even sure he was the man he claimed to be all those centuries ago. Possessing magic, lying to him about it… They even had a few couple therapy sessions with five different couples who all struggled with their relationships. Four of them were married for years, only Merlin and Arthur and Jamie and Carol young and willing to work on themselves. Tough neither Arthur nor Merlin could be considered young. Merlin was centuries old and Arthur felt like it.

Though seeing other people’s stories put a lot in perspective for Arthur. Some things were done for love and maybe should be forgiven, but not forgotten. But some you had to let go. That’s the natural way of things. Sometimes no matter how much anger and resentment he cultivated in himself there was no point in holding a grudge against someone whose motives you could finally understand so clearly.

Yeah, Arthur was getting so introspective there days, who would've guessed.

As much as Arthur changed himself, became a part of this new era that he learned to accept and even love, he prided himself more in learning about Merlin more than anything else. What he’d done for so many centuries. How he stopped anticipating Arthur’s return at some point - which Merlin was reluctant to admit but Arthur understood. There is so much faith you could put into a dead man and an uncertain prophecy.

Merlin had lives on his own, many of them, all filled with friends and lovers, happy and joyful. But as an immortal man it could not last forever and he had to bury them, so many of them, or sometimes run away from them, just to keep a memory of them, unblemished and full of life. The choices he made were not always the right ones.

He liked to joke about getting immortality, because he needed so many centuries to finally stop being an idiot. Arthur laughed and agreed not to ruin the mood not because he agreed.

He thought Merlin’s immortality was a curse. But if it was it would’ve stopped working a lot time ago. Merlin explained to him that the magic was slowly dying, but as long as he was standing it did not die completely. Though Arthur found him many times clutching his heart, crying for the slowly dying traces of magic across the world. Arthur held him steady and silent at those times, not knowing what to say.

They did not talk about Camelot at first. Not a single word. Merlin did not say and Arthur did not ask. And his therapist wouldn’t be too thrilled if either of them would start to talk about how they were the legendary King and Sorcerer as their names suggested. She was not qualified to deal with that, though Arthur would like to see her face after. Dr. Strauss had exactly one expression and Arthur always appreciated her no-nonsense attitude, especially when dealing with him. Merlin deemed her a bit too harsh, but that was exactly what Arthur needed at the time.

And there they were - 12 years later, a bit bruised and battered two parts of one whole who finally fit together. There was the last thing from their past they still didn’t deal with - and it was high time to finally put the last of their past to rest.

They fought about it on the beginning, but finally came to the same conclusion. The people and places they knew stopped existing so long ago and the only one who knew them all by heart was Merlin.

Merlin became Arthur’s guide through all of this. Firstly they started with the end - with this damn lake, this damn mountain he killed Mordred on. Slowly, they made their way north through Wales.

They lived in Wales for a while, when Arthur still was getting used to this new era. Merlin wanted to live somewhere outside of Cardiff, but with easy access to trains and such, because Arthur for the longest time couldn’t sit in a car without getting an anxiety attack. Trains were easier somehow, and it proved to be a good opportunity to observe people living their normal busy lives. Arthur learned to be invisible and in the end he quite liked it, not getting recognized by anyone, not being bothered and being made to perform his kingly duties.

Royalty was still there and the head of the country was Queen Elizabeth, an old lady and a public figure. Though the country was run by the Prime Minister and parliament. And other countries - when had the world gotten so big? - didn’t even have kings or queens and everyone were believed to be equal, which of course upon closer inspection wasn’t the case.

Merlin hated politics and explained only the basics, but Arthur followed the news religiously complaining about things and idiots that were today’s politicians, frustrated he wasn’t able to change the world. Though he enjoyed his freedom too much to give it up and get intrigues and stabbing in the back again.

Anyway they’ve bought a cottage and lived for the longest time near the past they tried to forget. Merlin was always fond of this place, because he still could feel magic coursing through those lands, thrumming with energy, flowing through Merlin back to the earth and air and sea. The Crystal Cave, which Merlin once told him about, the source of all the magic in the world, was located somewhere within the country, Arthur guessed as much, though Merlin never confirmed it.

What Arthur never thought about is that they were for years so close to the places lost and Merlin carried that burden alone.

It was the last stop on their long journey and it was 2 hour drive from their first real home, their little heaven they spend the quietest slowest days in. They haven’t visited the place, they sold it mutual agreement that its time has come and they did not want to find out if the elderly couple that bought it from them was still enjoying it.

They booked a small room at a hotel, though it was a hotel only in name. In was one of those traditional places that was all about the real authentic medieval experience - of course without pissing in a bucket, rough sheets and with air-conditioning on. It was more like a tavern. Which was strangely fitting, Arthur had to admit. He wondered if Merlin did it on purpose.

Arthur let out a quiet laugh to himself, which was enough to wake Merlin up, though as lazy as he always was he was slow to wake, eyes still closed, burrowing into Arthur neck and sighing heavily, before his body went slack again.

Arthur though he’d gotten back to sleep, but then he heard a quiet huff, and words rasped against his shoulder, “I can hear you thinking, you know.”

“Oh, so you’re a mind-reader, too now, are you?”

“Prat.” Merlin thwacked him in the chest with open palm, which was too half-arsed a blow to do him any harm or to make a point.

“It’s nothing. Go to sleep, love.” His fingers found their home in Merlin’s dark locks, massaging his scalp.

“Stop trying to distract me.” Merlin protested half-heartedly, craning his head into Arthur’s fingers. “

Arthur smiled to himself, “Am I distracting?”

“You know you are.” Merlin grumbled, but then quietly he asked, “Want me to take it away, so you could get a bit of rest? We have a long hike ahead of us tomorrow.”

Arthur debated with himself, if it was worth it. Merlin with a whisper of a words could make him fall asleep without dreams and nightmares altogether. He used to do this after a worse night or two, but they haven’t done it in a while. Though Merlin was right, of course. They couldn’t drive and most of the way over the mountains they’ll have to walk by foot. Arthur needed rest, lest they wanted to relive their past that much and Merlin would have to save him yet again, while Arthur just went ahead not considering his health and generally being an idiot.

“Yeah, alright,” he decided finally.

He closed his eyes and the last thing he remembered was the softest brush of Merlin’s fingertips on his temple.

***

They were walking for about forty minutes now and when they reached an open space, some kind of field, Merlin stopped, hands on his knees and panting heavily.

“Oh, come on, now, Merlin. Don’t tell me you’re tired already.” Arthur laughed. So many years and he still couldn’t catch up with Arthur’s fast pace of walking. Pity there weren’t any horses around.

Merlin hanged his head down, putting his finger up, telling Arthur to give him a moment. Arthur waited with his eyebrows up, until Merlin finally caught his breath and said, his expression apologetic, “We’re here, Arthur.”

Arthur frowned, looking around and well, there wasn’t anything much to look at, to be honest. It was an open clear field, with some flowers here and there. He could see sheep on the fields a mile or so forward, a forest on the left side and…

“Here? That’s it?”

Merlin nodded seriously.

Arthur threw his head back and laughed.

He threw his backpack on the ground, yanked his hat from his head and went a few steps before he threw himself on the grass, not caring a bit about any possible insects and mud. He laughed again, closing his eyes against the sun and that famous welsh wind that made his eyes water on such an open space.

He knew Merlin must think he’s finally gotten mad or something, but he didn't care. Besides they both were just about right amount of mad to put up with each other.

Arthur was so worried. After all they’ve seen. After all the tears they’ve spilled…

They visited their friends graves. They’ve put Excalibur next to Gwen’s tomb that no one would ever find. They’ve spilled the best irish whisky on the rocks that became Gwaine’s grave. They’ve written letters and put them into bottles and buried them for all the knights and friends they didn’t know where were buried. Merlin spent an entire afternoon collecting herbs he put on Gaius’ grave.

No one would ever find out about those places, those tokens Arthur and Merlin put there, because Merlin's magic wouldn’t let modern world to disrespect those people and their story. And Arthur had to agree. One of the worst things of in this century was desire to make everything a tourist attraction, to cash in on everything.

And they’ve let Camelot rest. And let King Arthur and Wizard Merlin be only some legendary characters of public domain now.

It was a great kingdom once, Camelot. And that was the best irony of all that there was nothing left of it now. Not even a rock. Just an open field. Like nature made a point of forgetting it, erasing it from the world.

“Arthur?” Merlin said, still standing next to Arthur’s backpack, as if unsure of coming closer.

He rarely sounded uncertain with Arthur these days and Arthur couldn’t help but laugh. What, he thought Arthur would just kick him in the arse or yell at him that the Camelot they knew was no more? Like it was somehow his fault.

“Come here, you giant idiot,” Arthur said exasperated, patting the ground next to him. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, “Join me in this marvelous castle of mine.”

Merlin snorted and left his backpack next to Arthur’s, sitting on the cold ground at Arthur’s hip. He looked down on Arthur, biting his bottom lip, dark curls escaping his beanie, eyes so impossibly bright and full of love.

“Is the throne too hard on your skinny backside, my lord?” Arthur teased. To be honest some rocks were digging in his own arse cheek and shoulder, but he didn’t give a damn when Merlin laughed and swatted him in the chest not at all gently with a shout, “Worry about your own backside!”

Arthur snatched a hand before it made a next attempt at his life. Arthur tugged at it before Merlin fell on his chest, knees digging into his thighs before he found comfortable position, elbows on the ground on both sides of Arthur’s head.

“You’re a bit of a prat still, you know that?” Merlin’s warm breath on his lips.

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have any other way.” And Arthur kissed him before he could protest.

When they both came out for breath, they were panting and laughing, before Arthur finally shoved Merlin on the ground next to him, snorting at Merlin’s indignant squawk.

Though he didn’t protest much, not even thrown an insult. He just gazed in Arthur’s eyes, tears slowly forming, before he took Arthur gloved hand and kissed his bare fingertips.

Arthur had no more tears left in him so he let Merlin cry on his own, sometimes brushing tears from his cheeks.

What he had left though was love, so much love. For this man in front of him, for all of their fallen friends and families.

They’ve spend so much time dwelling on the dark times, but they weren’t always dark. Those lost years were filled with love and laughter and smiles and such ridiculous situations that no one would ever believe in.

“Hey, love, remember that time you took off my trousers with your magic in front of my uncle and all the royal advisers?”

Arthur smiled softly to himself, while Merlin sobbed harder. Arthur kissed his hand and thought, ‘We’ll live.”

#merlinmemorymonth #merthur #my fic #merlin #bbc merlin

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amethyst-noir · 6 years

Note

Now, because I love to watch the world burn, here’s a really angst filled prompt. After Infinity War, Stephen purposefully poisons himself, made to slowly break apart his soul to completely erase any chance of reviving him afterwards. Wong and Tony don’t notice anything until Stephen’s almost dead. So when they find Stephen unconscious, it becomes a race against time to save the Sorcerer Supreme. (Bonus angst, the reason he poisoned himself was for guilt over giving up the Time Stone)

Anon! How dare you! That's…horrifying! Brutal! Gruesome! I stopped breathing for a moment when I read itfor the first time! I love it and wrote this in two evenings when I shouldhave done other things. Considering you want to watch the world burn Isincerely hope that you like this total angst-fest. But I still managed towrestle some kind of bittersweet ending from this. More bitter, admittedly, butat least it’s not pitch black. ;) I still don’t know anything about the comicsso this is pure MCU mixed with my own fucked up imagination.

The title is, once again, taken froma song. They’re locking up the sun / Thelight of reason gone / N’ hope has been successfully undone - Locking Upthe Sun, Poets of the Fall.

TW for attempted suicide via reallynasty magic and major depression. Stephen’s not in a good place but there are externalforces at work. (I just couldn’t bear to make him that desperate withoutoutside “help”.) He and Tony still have to live with theconsequences, though.

The nice and fluffy promptfills arestill coming, promise. It’s just that this one came along, hit me over the head,and demanded to be written RIGHT NOW AND DAMN THE CONSEQUENCES.

LockingUp the Sun

Stephen found references to the spell years ago whenhe was still a novice at Kamar-Taj. Back then the daily pain had been bad buthe’d just found new hope. When he’d read about it he’d shuddered, horrified atthe mere concept and unable to imagine how somebody could be that desperate. Itwas overkill anyway. Dead was dead and you didn’t come back from that.

How naïve and clueless he’d been back then.

Being a powerful master on the cusp of being named thenext Sorcerer Supreme had its perks. One of them was unsupervised access toWong’s domain - the library of Kamar-Taj. It was easy to work his way throughthe references in various books until he finally held the tome that held theactual spell in his shaking hands. He looked and it and shuddered all overagain. It was horrifying. Gruesome. Dark magic at its worst.

It was what he needed - deserved - after all he’ddone. It was the only way he could really be sure that this death would finally stick.

Stephen felt relived, despite everything that awaitedhim in the near future. He was willing to pay any price to finally end it forgood.

It would be slow and painful; the book had warned. Thegradual breaking of the connection between his body and his soul would taketime and he would feel every agonizing second of it. Stephen didn’t mind. Hecould live, or rather die, with pain.

His hands were shaking far more than usual when hetraced the sigils over the tea he’d brought with him and murmured theincantation. As soon as he was finished he took the cup and drank it withouthesitation. The let it vanish immediately afterwards; there was no reason toleave any trace of what he’d done behind. He felt nothing but a slight twingein his chest but that would soon change, he was sure of that. He carefully putthe book back where he’d found it and left the library. Another meeting withthe other masters and his duties here would be done. Forever. Then he wouldcollect the Cloak, which he had left behind in his quarters because he knewthat it would have tried to stop him at any cost, and return home to theSanctum.

And wait for the end there. Despite what he knew hestill hoped that it would come sooner rather than later.

The same night he woke up in the worst pain he’d everexperienced. His hands, his neck, his back, his chest - it was waking up afterthe accident all over again but without the benefit of painkillers to get himthrough it. The book had been right; he could feel the first fractures in hissoul. He gritted his teeth, let the tears flow and knew that this was just thebeginning. It would get worse from day to day until finally…

He couldn’t wait for the moment when he’d take hisfinal breath, secure in the knowledge that nothing and nobody could and wouldbring him back from this.

I’m coming, the promised the waiting darkness. Just a littlewhile longer and I’ll be with you.

He should have died years ago in that car crash. Heshould have bled out, or drowned, or the impact should have snapped his neck.He was just correcting a mistake, that was all.

As predicted the pain grew worse almost by the hour.His familiarity with chronic pain didn’t help one bit - this one was pure hellwith no relief except death in sight. He couldn’t concentrate, he couldn’tsleep, he could do nothing but curl up in some corner and try to endure itwithout screaming. He’d left the Cloak downstairs and locked himself into hisbedroom. He’d never leave it again. Wong would probably be the one to find hisbody after he didn’t show up to the ceremony to make him Sorcerer Supreme. Itcouldn’t be helped but Stephen regretted it nevertheless.

Despite everything, Stephen reveled in theexcruciating pain. He’d made so many mistakes, in first life as well as the newone he’d been granted after the accident. He’d laughed in the face of rules,he’d misused magic and - worst of all - he’d dared to take on theresponsibilities of the Sorcerer Supreme and given away what was not his. Andnow those in charge wanted to gift him with the title for real, when he’dalready proven over and over again that he wasn’t even worthy of the magicalabilities he already possessed. The slow breaking down of his soul was the onlyfitting punishment; the fading away into nothing, after he gave the Eye ofAgamotto away, had been far too kind. And then he’d been brought back from thatanyway.

A new wave of pain passed over him and Stephen chokedon his breath. This time it was not the poison but the thought of Tony thatmade him double over and cry out in misery.

I’m sorry, he thought for the very first time since he’d made the decision to usethe poison. Ever since he’d realized that his feelings for Tony Stark hadchanged from tentative friendship to the very first stirrings of love he’d beenafraid. Afraid of being found out, afraid of the inevitable rejection. Eventhough the poor man’s engagement hadn’t survived the arrival and eventualdefeat of Thanos there wasn’t any sign that that Tony felt anything butreluctant friendship with him. They’d met a few times for lunch or dinner,sure. They’d talked about a lot of things, but nothing too personal. Or hadthey? It was hard to concentrate and his memory had become blurry in the lastfew days. They had only touched once and that had been when Stephen hadstumbled and only Tony’s lightning fast reflexes had kept him on his feet. Ifhe really concentrated he could still feel Tony’s grip on his left arm and heallowed himself the luxury of recalling the moment in every detail. He couldn’tremember another moment in recent memory when he’d felt as safe and protected.

Stephen’s sacrifice had been worth it, yes, because itmeant the world still had living, breathing Tony Stark in it. But that didn’tmean that he didn’t have to be punished for his transgressions.

Another sliver of his soul broke away and for a whileStephen forgot about everything but the pain.

Soon, the darkness whispered. Just hold on for a little while longer.

Seven days after he used the spell Stephen finallyslipped into unconsciousness. His body still fought the magic and triedeverything to keep itself alive but it was no use. By now Stephen’s soul wasalmost completely severed from his body and the parts that had been cruellybroken away had withered and died without their anchor.

It was the day Doctor Stephen Strange was supposed totake over the responsibilities of the Sorcerer Supreme and when he didn’t showup Wong was the one to visit the Sanctum to look for his errant friend andformer pupil.

“Boss, there’s a call for you.”

“Not now, FRIDAY. I’ve still got this report togo through and after that…”

“It’s Master Wong. He says to tell you that it’sabout Doctor Strange.”

Well, that got his attention. Tony barely knewWong, had met the man only a handful of times after Thanos’ defeat. ButStephen? That was another matter. They were friends, even though there oftenwere long periods of time where they didn’t speak to one another because oftheir busy, hectic and pretty incompatible lives. Come to think of it he hadn’theard from Stephen in about two weeks or so. Time for a call, hedecided. He had some cool new stuff to show off and he kind of missed thecompany of an intellectual equal who was also funny and very nice to look at. “Puthim through.”

“Mr. Stark? It’s about Stephen. I need yourhelp.”

No hello, no nothing. But there was an undertone inWong’s voice that put Tony on red alert. “What happened? I can bethere…”

“Now,” Wong finished the sentence for himthe same moment a portal formed in the middle of Tony’s office. Wong put downthe phone and just spoke directly to Tony. “The idiot has done somethingto himself and now he’s dying.”

Tony didn’t even think about the obvious answers tothat. Like: Did you call an ambulance? or Do you want me to get himto hospital? or the most important one And why do you call me?Instead he got up, made sure that the Nano-reactor was on him and steppedthrough the portal with only the tiniest hint of trepidation. Other, moreimportant, questions and feelings where crowding out the rest. “Where’sStephen?” he asked the moment he stepped through the portal. Wong lookedafraid and frenzied - both things Tony would never have him thought capable of.

Instead of answering Wong just grabbed him by thesleeve and dragged him along the hallway to the door to Stephen’s bedroom wherethe Cloak was fluttering around in a panic. The bad feeling intensified as Tonylooked between Wong and Cloak. “Stephen?” he asked and was surprisedhow quiet and weak his voice sounded.

“Is in there.” Wong gestured to the closeddoor. “It’s magically blocked and I can’t break the spells. I’m hoping youcan blast the door open.”

“And how do you know that he’s not just sleepingin there and we’ll wake him up for nothing?” Tony didn’t think so, notwhen he took the behavior of the Cloak into account and Wong’s uncharacteristicanxiety. He’d already activated the suit and configured a cannon before Wongcould answer.

“He should have been in Kamar-Taj today for animportant… meeting. When he didn’t arrive on time I did a quick locating spelland it showed him here. There’s no reason for that and so I did another spell.It revealed that he’s not sleeping but actually dying behind a magically lockeddoor.” Wong gave it an affronted look and a kick. “It’s bad so hurry up and let us in!”

Wong’s final shout got drowned out by the noise of thedoor splintering in a thousand pieces. Tony was the first one through theremains and the dust of the blasted door and scanned the room, the Cloak behindhim, while Wong was still coughing in the hallway.

“Stephen?” There, in the corner, that washim, wasn’t it? “Stephen!” Tony shouted before sprinting over to thebody lying on his side on the floor before the window. The suit was alreadyretracted back into its reactor by the time Tony fell to his knees besideStephen. “Stephen?” he tried again, far more quietly this time. Hecarefully reached out to touch Stephen’s neck to feel for a pulse. His handswhere still shaking slightly, so he was not dead, but he didn’t look aliveeither. To pale, to thin, to cool and far too still apart from the shaking. Washe even still breathing? “What have you done to yourself?” Stillpressing his fingers to Stephen’s neck and counting the too weak and slow pulsehe moved over to the side to make room for Wong. “FRIDAY? What’s thestatus?” he asked while Wong performed some complicated looking handmovements, complete with muttered non-English.

The sensors in Tony’s glasses painted a grim picture.“Heart rate is dangerously low, as is his temperature. Brain activityalmost at zero.” FRIDAY lowered her voice to a whisper. “Death isimminent, boss.”

Tony closed his eyes for a moment to not see thediagrams anymore and swallowed. “Wong?” Despite everything he hopedfor a better diagnosis from the sorcerer but he only got a shake of his head.The Cloak, which had approached cautiously, reached out to touch Stephen, too.Tony moved out of its way to allow it easier access. Its agitation was clear tosee.

“I can confirm what your lady is saying. He’salmost completely gone.”

“But why? He was healthy two weeks agowhen we last met! He couldn’t deteriorate this fast!” Panic tried to clawits way back into the forefront of his mind and Tony fought against it with allof his will. He had no time for it. “He was looking perfect two weeksago,” he repeated, helplessly. Tony had been this close to asking him outon a proper date but hat hesitated at the last moment when Stephen hadmentioned something big coming up in Kamar-Taj. Another time, Tony haddecided. They had more than enough of it, after all.

Wong just looked down and Stephen with tears in hiseyes. “Why?” he whispered. “Why did you do that toyourself?”

Wong’s words brought him back to reality. “Whatdid he do? And don’t tell me that it’s some magic secret or God help me…”

“Suicide,” Wong interrupted. “He killedhimself in a way so gruesome and brutal that a non-sorcerer can’t evencomprehend it.”

Killed himself. Not tried to. Tony concentrated on the faintheartbeat under his fingertips. “He’s not gone yet. How can we savehim?”

But Wong shook his head. “We can’t. He poisonedhis soul, ripped it away from his body, piece by piece. It’s a drawn-out andvery painful death. There is no way of saving him. The spell is designed toprevent exactly that.”

“No!” Tony refused to accept that. He’d losttoo many people, most of them in brutal ways, but not one of them to suicide.He’d been tempted from time to time, sure, but to actually do it? In a manneras brutal as Wong had just described? That Tony couldn’t understand. Just mix afew pills with alcohol and get it over with. Or go out in a blaze of glory whilesaving the lives of others.

There had been no warning signs, whatsoever. Two weeksago Stephen had been the perfect company for a nice dinner - charming and funnyand so much Tony’s type that he could barely keep his hands to himself. Thesigns had been there, he was sure that Stephen was also interested. But stillhe’d managed to restrain himself from just kissing Stephen on his beautifullips. I should have done that. Maybe he wouldn’t have…

“You said it ripped apart his soul,” thewords left a bad taste in his mouth and his stomach heaved. Poor Stephen. Why?What hurt you so bad? “Is there a way to… I don’t know… put it backtogether?”

“The poison weakened the connection between hisphysical form and his soul and fractured it in the process. Then… pieces of it,for lack of a better term, broke off, bit by bit.” Wong took both ofStephen’s still shaking hands between his own. “The severed pieces witherand die immediately. The process is painful and takes days. Death is theinevitable end, there’s no antidote and now way to stop it once it started.He’s already gone. His body just hasn’t realized it yet.”

“There has to be a way.” Tony’s voice hadbroken completely and he could see almost nothing through the veil of tears.There had to be a way. “There’s still something of his soul left,right? Otherwise he would be dead?”

“Stark, Tony, he’s already…”

“Yes or no, Wong. Is there still something of hissoul left?” That beautiful, wonderful soul that deserved only happinessand the best things the universe had to offer but had to suffer through so muchinstead. Too much, Tony’s subconscious supplied. He didn’t know whatexactly had broken Stephen in the end but it didn’t matter. They would find away through it, he would drag Stephen to the best therapy money could buy andhe would watch over him 24/7 until the stars burned out if that’s what wasnecessary to keep him alive.

Another incantation, more murmuring but at the endWong nodded. “Not much, it’s literally hanging on by a thread, but he’sstill in there.” Tears stained his face and he looked as stunned as Tonyfelt. The big Why? still hungin the air between them.

The idea was crazy, Tony knew that. He knew almostnothing about magic and the little bit he knew he could do without. But he’dmanaged to fall in love with a sorcerer and was determined to bring him backfrom the dead. So, magic it was. He would learn everything necessary to keepStephen by his side. But for that to happen he had to save him first.

“So if his soul was ripped… away,” God, thewords were hard to speak and Tony concentrated once again on the faint pulseunder his fingertips while his other hand grabbed on to Wong’s and through themto Stephen’s. “Can we give him a new one?”

Wong looked at him as if he was crazy. Rightfully sobut by now the idea was here and crystallized more and more with every second.“His body has lost its connection to his soul, right? But what if we givehim part of another, healthy one? That can act as a bridge between his brokenone and his body? Could we save him that way? Can we heal him?” Can Iget him back to tell him that I love him?

The are you crazy? look had morphed into an youare crazy look. “You want to transplant a soul, Tony,seriously?”

“Basically, yes.”

“And I guess you’re offering to be the donor, amI right?” Wong fast far to perceptive but right now it saved them precioustime. He was already thinking it over, planning and Tony could barely sitstill, desperate to do something. But one look down at Stephen stilled allthose impulses. Tony could feel death approaching. He’s not yours. Not yet.You’ll get him when it’s time. Not now. He still has some much to do. To live.

“Theoretically speaking…”

Tony didn’t like to repeat himself. “Yes or no,Wong.”

“I can try. But there’ll be consequences. Forboth of you.”

“Will we both be alive to face thoseconsequences?”

“If it works? Yes.”

“Then do it. You can tell me about later.”

Wong looked at him for a long moment, judging hissincerity. He gave in with a nod. “Give me a moment. I’ll have to getsomething.” Wong more or less ran out of the room.

Tony gathered Stephen up in his arms and held him close,with Stephen’s head on his shoulder. A partly formed armor gave him enoughstrength to pick Stephen up and carry him to his bed, the Cloak flutteringbehind them. “We’ll get you through this,” he promised theunresponsive man in his arms before he laid him down gently, “and I’ll getyou all the help you need. I don’t care if you’ll hate me for it but I can’tlet you go. You deserve so much better”, than pain and misery anddeath. But he didn’t speak those words out aloud, they had no place here.He wanted to press a kiss to Stephen’s lips but resisted the temptation. First,he had to get Stephen back and then through this depression or whatever it hadbeen that had forced him to such extreme measures. Then, and only then, theycould talk about them and their eventual future together. If Stephen everforgave him this invasion of his privacy. But Stephen would be alive. That wasall that mattered.

“Ready?” Wong asked a few minutes later andlooked at them nervously.

“Ready,” Tony confirmed. He still had onehand on Stephen’s neck, tracking his pulse, while holding Stephen’s right handwith the other one. He bent down and whispered a quick “I love you”into Stephen’s ear before he closed his eyes and let Wong’s magic wash overhim.

It didn’t really hurt. There was the sensation of somethingbeing ripped away from his chest but it faded almost immediately and hadn’tbeen really uncomfortable to begin with. The arc-reactor, in all the time ithad been inside of him, had been far more painful. But it was still a… strangesensation and not really pleasant.

The loud gasp that Stephen gave as the piece of Tony’ssoul in him began to repair the damage was the last thing Tony heard before hehimself slipped into unconsciousness.

“You’re his link to life,” Wong told himhours later, after he’d woken up. Stephen was still fast asleep but hisbreathing and pulse were better and a little bit of color was back in his face.Tony was beside him on the bed, close enough for their bodies to touch, whileWong was on Stephen’s other side, watching them both like a hawk. “If youdie, he dies. That’s a fact. So if you want him to live you might want torethink your current career.”

That was unexpected but not really a surprise, themore Tony thought about it. “That’s one of those consequences youmentioned earlier.” Fuck, giving up being Iron Man had not been on hisimmediate agenda, despite the constant nagging of his friends to step back andtake better care of himself. He looked down at Stephen. He wasn’t doing it forhimself but for someone else. It was easier to stomach this way. “Okay.What else?”

Wong just looked at him and shrugged. “How shouldI know? This has never been done before. Congratulations, Tony, you and Stephenare the first true soulmates outside of fairytales and popular fictionfantasies.”

“Soulmates? Great.” Tony looked down atStephen and the queasy feeling intensified. Stephen Strange, doctor, sorcererand apparently majorly depressed guy that had just tried to kill himself in themost fucked up way imaginable, bound to Tony Stark, the guy with the survivalinstinct of a moth drawn to a flame, according to his friends. And the rest ofthe world. A match made in heaven. Hell. Wherever. “We’re lucky when wesurvive until the end of the year,” Tony muttered. Wong sighed and lookedheavenwards as if to ask for help.

“I didn’t say anything about you. You’llsurvive his death. Just not the other way round.”

God, this got worse and worse. “Any more unwantedresponsibilities you want to dump on me? Am I responsible for his feeding andbedtime, too?”

“Would do him a world of good if somebody finallywhere. You do realize that he’s a mess, right?” Tony was beginningto, yes. “And don’t forget that this was your idea.” But Wong lookedat him with kindness. “Thank you. I would have missed him.” Wongtouched Stephen’s trembling hand. “We’ll see how everything affected hismagical abilities when he wakes up. There could be trouble on that front,too.”

Great. Tony was beginning to doubt of he’d done the rightthing in his panic but one look at Wong, and the affection with which he lookedat Stephen, put those fears to rest for good. He’d done the right thing, now he- they - just had to live with the consequences.

“It began after I came back from the shadowdimension.” Eight hours later Stephen was sitting up and holding a mug oftea in his trembling hands, aided by the Cloak around his shoulders. He barleydrank from it but used its heat to warm up his fingers. He didn’t have thestrength to look at his audience of two but forced himself to tell the story asfar as he’d been able to piece it together. “I went there the day afterour,” he paused for a moment, “date.” He looked up at Tony andsmiled slightly. “I would have responded to your overtures more if therehadn’t been the ceremony in two weeks’ time. I wanted to get this over firstand come back to you as the Sorcerer Supreme. It would have given me and usmore freedom to pursue this thing between us.” The smile vanished. Now, hewould never be the Sorcerer Supreme, instead he could count himself lucky if hecould remain as guardian of the New York Sanctum.

“I think I brought something back fromthere,” he finally continued. “It began shortly after I’d come back -I just felt so depressed, desperate and hopeless. Soon I could think aboutnothing but making it all stop.” Wong took the mug out of his hands andTony cradled them between his own. “I think I can remember everything butit wasn’t me, you understand? I haven’t thought about killing myself inyears and I’ve had more than enough deaths anyway.” Tony leaned over andpulled him close for an embrace and Stephen followed willingly.

When he’d woken up restrained by Tony’s nanotech he’d almostpanicked, before he realized that his two friends where there and watching overhim. It turned out that Tony and Wong were afraid that he’d try to kill himselfagain as soon as he woke up and had reacted accordingly. Their surprisedreactions, when Stephen had just looked around in wonder and asked them whathad happened and why he was tied down, would have been funny if it hadn’t beenso heart wrenching. Stephen had seen Tony cry before but never over him andWong’s tears had been equally hard to watch. Their despair had been palpableStephen felt like shit for putting them through this trauma and with every wordof their story he’d felt worse.

Maybe it would have been better if they’d found himtoo late but Stephen loved his life too much to not be thankful. No matter theinevitable frustration in the future. At least he had one, even if it was boundto Tony’s. Dying together with someone had never been on his list of things todo but it seemed that destiny had other plans for him and had shortened hislifespan considerably. But at least he had some time left. Concentrate onthe positive.

“And now?” Tony’s tone was so carefullyneutral that Stephen wanted to smack him. “What do you want to donow?”

Not killing myself, he wanted to snap but Stephen held himself back.“Honestly? A shower and something to eat. Whatever it was, it’s gone.”With the better part of my soul. It made Stephen shudder. He could feelthe emptiness inside of him and it was an abomination. Wong had assured himthat it would continue to heal and that he would feel better in time but thefact remained that he’d lost most of himself and it had been replaced withsomething alien. Still, he felt better than he should have, all thingsconsidered. He was grateful for Tony’s sacrifice even though most of theconsequences would only reveal themselves in time. “You don’t have to bookme the next therapy session available and I don’t need a suicide watch. I’m thesame I was two weeks ago.” Minus a few vital parts, substituted by the manwho was looking at him as if he was the sun and the moon in one. And while heprobably could use therapy for a myriad of reasons being suicidal wasn’t one ofthem. Been there, done that, hadn’t been to his taste.

Stephen preferred living, but that was no longer up tohim alone. He gently disentangled himself from Tony’s embrace. “And whatabout you? What are you going to do know?” He had no more rights to demandanything from Tony than he had two weeks ago and whatever decision Tony made ithad to be his own, unburdened by his new responsibility for Stephen’s life.Tony had survived being Iron Man for over twelve years know, Stephen had allthe faith in the world that he could continue to do so. But still…

Tony shrugged. “Retire, I guess.” He put afinger to Stephen’s lips to stop the forthcoming protest. “It’s somethingI should have done long ago; after Thanos at the latest. Pepper and Rhodey arehaunting me almost daily with their pleas to stop putting myself into mortaldanger every few weeks.” His fingers left Stephen’s lips and caressed hischeek instead. “Turns out I just needed a good reason to stop and I thinkthat I’ve finally found it.” He smiled at Stephen. “We both deserveto rest now, I think. But not the eternal kind.”

Wong just smiled indulgently as Tony leaned forwardand enveloped him in the tightest, most welcome hug of his life. “Noregrets,” he whispered but Stephen knew they would come. Trading Iron Managainst Stephen’s life wasn’t the best bargain but it had been the only oneavailable.

While Tony held him he could feel Wong embracing himfrom behind. He looked up at his best friend and managed a weak smile, despitehis tears. “Thank you.”

They’d sort everything out. Eventually. Hopefully.

=/\=

#ironstrange #stephen strange #tony stark #wong #amy writes #inbox #promptfill #Anonymous

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tumblunni · 5 years

Text

I had a really weird dream involving Dr Maddiman. Its a shame i can barely remember any of it and also it seems i woke up before it ended? Like i just had this overwhelming sense that allll the plot threads were gonna be wrapped up any second now and then BOOM awake. So just a whole bunch of random stuff happened with no real explanation at all.

It was some sort of post apocolyptic setting i think? Humanity was in these small isolated cities fighting against some sort of invading army but we never actually saw the aliens themselves. And some part of my brain was like "it makes sense its the same rules as a hairdresser and the design takes cues from a pack of AAA batteries". I have NO idea what that means! So basically everythibg was super vague and undescribed and dream-me just had a sense of already being a long time fan of this series and knowing enough to fill in the gaps. Apparantoy this was some sort of adaptation of a thing id already seen, but id been told the ending was different and more accurate to the manga? Also i wasnt actually a person watching this show i was still the protagonist of the show yet i acted like i'd been reincarnated and relived this week a million times or something

ANYWAY the way dr maddiman comes in is that he was some sort of 'brilliant but dangerous' expert the government had hired to help our fight against the aliens. It wasnt really explained why he was.. yknow.. maddiman. Like is this meant to be that ghosts also exist in this sci fi universe? Was he a half alien hybrid instead of a yokai? Was it just human maddiman with the personality of yokai maddiman due to ptsd...? In any case he didnt seem entirely tethered to the laws of reality and nobody knew exactly how he pulled off all his scientific miracles. He was treated as the only guy who could understand the mindset of the aliens, but that also made him dangerous because he trapped in the delusion of everything being okay and fun and happy and he often did evil things by accident while having good intentions. But they didnt have anyone else who'd cracked the code of the alien weaponry so they had to put up with him. He was just sorta assigned a crack team of secret agents whose job was Be The Old Man's Friend So We Dont All Die. Dont let him realise how the world is all destroyed and such, just play along with his goofyness and try and remind him to do his important work while dancing around why its important. it was super creepy how he was locked up and gaslighted like this!! And he was all 'oh im sure when im done with my ultimate experiment i can go home to my wife and kids' and yeah it was implied here that the same backstory applied :( 'distract the old man and validate his false opinion that his family is still alive and waiting for him' :( poor sci fi madds :(

Oh also for some reason he seemed to be wearing elements of Adventure era Dr Eggman's outfit? But just the general style of the coat and the wearing goggles that he never actually uses. And he had a very warm and cuddly autumnal colourscheme

Anyway i was part of the Super Secret Grampa Cherishing Division whose job was to act as his assistant but also secretly be packing a bazillion weapons to neutralize him if he poses a danger to humanity. But i started to genuinely care for the guy and question the 'any atrocity is permitted for the sake of saving the world' philosophy of my bosses. Also it was just very weird how it was this post apocolypse alien fighting action thing yet i didnt see ANY OF IT cos this story was confined to this one laboratory. It was surreal hearing about all this stuff happening offscreen!

I think Maddiman's main project was some sort of dimensional transport thing using salvaged alien tech? It was just a door in his lab that usually led to a closet but if he got it working itd teleport us straight to the alien base and save the world. And a lot of it wasnt explained but i got this great sense that itd all come together with a great twist ending evebtually but then i woke up before i got that far. Same for the reveal of this maddiman's new sci fi backstory and soooo many other dropped plot threads. Alas!

So anyway: closet. Closet with one of those bead curtain things cos i was thinking about them when i fell asleep. It was supposed to be a teleport but when it malfunctioned it had really scary negative effects warping people's biology and stuff. I remember one of the test subjects was sent in for a five day trip to a specific alternate dimension but then when they came back itd been several years and theyd had to survive in a deadly wasteland and been mutated into a hellbeast. And maddiman had a huge breakdown because he felt like his recklessness and optimism towards this experiment had caused this mistake to happen, and he'd never realized just how awful the consequences could be. He was babbling motor mouth discussing theories for where it went wrong and there was something like 'we'd only tested it for one day trips and assumed that just programming two of them would equal two days but actually with each additional number on the screen it multiplies the days by 3" And there was something about like...the bead curtain was the machine rather than the door itself? Like trying it on a bunch of different doors around the lab to try and find a way to cure this person.

And there was some sort of artificial intelligence computer with the personality of an adorable lil girl, who helped maddiman do calculations and stuff. She missed the mistake in this calculation cos her concept of linear time and the limits of human organs was kinda undeveloped. She only existed within the realm of numbers after all, and didbt even have functionality to record footage of her human friends's faces. No idea wtf a human looks like! So maddiman was lost in his desperate grief of potentially accidebtally killing or at least mentally scarring a person and the government would probably kill them now if they saw they were a super mutant. And he was sobbing and begging this AI to help, his last resort was her maybe being able to see a brainwave that he'd missed. But she was freaking out cos she didnt even fully understand why maddiman was crying let alone what to do to fix it. Eventually she did manage to find a solution theough some simple different logic thing that she had from her perspective as a computer. And that person was saved but still traumatized and maddiman had a moment of realizing just how high stakes everything was and freaking out. He was like 'whats wrong with my head, why didnt i notice that, why was i so reckless, why cant i seem to grasp basic human logic that i need right now" Having a big existential crisis of 'wait how did i even get in this lab, where's my family and why do i seem to have superpowers'. Protagonist mission: hide all the goddamn mirrors to avoid this weird ghostgramp (...aliengramp??) from realizing he's dead (..or an alien??) and losing control of himself. And everyone was running around talking about 'containment procedures' and poor maddiman didnt know that if his panic attack continued he might just straight up be killed for outliving his usefulness. So the protagonist was desperate to help him calm down and it sucked SO MUCH cos they had to lie about his past and weave the web of deception around him again for his own safety. In the end they just hugged him close until he calmed down, and all the other employees were like GASP THEY ACTUALLY TOUCHED THE EVIL DANGEROUS SUPER EVIL MAN and protag was like 'i am 1% away from slapping the next bitch who insults this grandpa'. And it was super depressing cos once he'd calmed down he seemed to start forgetting that anything bad had ever happened?? And he was really panicking and scared cos he didnt understand why he was forgetting, and he knew he had to cling onto something important but he didnt know what. And then five minutes later he was back to haha cheerful nothing is wrong and i love doing my fun science in this room im never allowed to leave. And protagonist was crying the tears that this poor gramp wasnt allowed to cry :(

Also actually i think maybe he was a ghost AND an alien? Like he was a scientist who died in some sort of tragedy back when the aliens first invaded, but along the way he'd been infected so his body got back up as a twisted combination of human and inhuman. And this was something unique to him, like he just happened to have a genetic mutation in his blood that was totally undetectable in life but happened to mix unpredictably with this alien virus to turn him into a hybrid instead of just killing him. So the government was very interested in finding a way to replicate this and create new supersoldiers, as well as just taking advantage of this dude's confused mental state that granted him a unique understanding of alien tech that made him more effective than other scientists. And, of course, also made him easy to manipulate :(

And i also had a feeling that maybe his backstory was mixed up with Adventure dr eggman? Like here it seemed he had a daughter instead of a son, and she had a similar death to Maria Robotnik where she was assasinated by the government he worked for, and it tipped him over the edge. I think Maddiman-alien-scifi-dude originally died trying to save her from being used in some sort of experiment? Like she was already dying of a disease and thats why maddiman took this job to have access to powerful government technology to try and look for a cure. But when the whole alien apocolypse happened, the evil government decided to use her for experiments cos she was 'basically dead anyway'. Theyd just lie and tell maddiman she died of her illness. So this was how they found out that this particular family's bloodline had a mutation that let them form a viable hybrid with alien dna. They were turning this poor kid into a monster in the basement while lying to her dad about her being dead! And maddiman was about to commit suicide from having no reason to live anymore, with the hell of this apocolypse world and the false impression that his kid was already dead. But somehow monster-daughter sensed this or something and broke out of containment to try and save him, and when he saw her he was able to recognise her even in her twisted state. So when the soldiers gunned her down in front of him and fed him some lies about this not being his daughter, he just completely snapped. He tried in vain to fight back and take down as many of them as possible in revenge, but well he was just a simple round dad with no ability to fight a government. So he was unceremoniously executed along with his kid and they shoved the bodies back in the lab to continue testing. "Damn that overemotional science dad, he made us execute our most valable test subject! But at least this way we can analyze his corpse to see if the mutation is passed down on the patrilineal side." But at some point during the fight, monster-daughter's blood had splashed on her dad and gotten into his bloodstream. So the seemingly dead body suddenly got up out of the morgue and started sucking people's blood or something. And this led to the current situation where they have him locked up cos he's a valuable test subject but also hey he has 100% reason to kill all of us and we're screwed if he remembers his past. Also i think the computer AI thing was his subconcious attempt to recreate the personality of his daughter even if he couldnt remember she'd ever existed :(

Anyway at some point things escalated and there was this final showdown versus both the invading aliens and the evil governmebt guys. I think there was some corrupt greedy politician dude who stole maddiman's teleporter tech and sold us out to the aliens cos he wanted money and power or something. And probably predictably the aliens just threw him off a bridge after he gave them the thing, because seriously even this evil army thinks these government dudes are too evil!

So this big actiony event was happening and Maddiman was freaking out like 'no no no i cant leave the lab everyone wpuld be mad at me, i dont even know what its like outside this room' even when he was in the middle of being attacked by aliens. He was forced to face his repressed memories to survive, and he naturally had a massive fuckin freakout! And i think maybe when protagonist character was trying to protect him he accidentally lashed out with his powers and hurt them, and he was so horrified thinking another person he cared about was gonna die because of him. Protagonist was like 'dont worry gramps its just a scratch' but he'd already freaked out and run away into the battlefield to his heavily implied death.

BUT THEN at some sort of moment of dire need, he came back all powered up and re-memoried and was like 'i have every reason to despise humanity but im not gonna let more children die because of these damn corporate monsters (and also literal monsters which are infinately less scary)" And he did some sort of great sacrifice to save the protagonist at the cost of his own life, and it was super dramatic falling from a building into a lake of fire or something. While sobbing and smiling peacefully thinkibg "did i atone for my sins? Will i be able to see my family again?" As his smiling face sunk beneath the flames and the protagonist cried out into the abyss...

Aaaaand then i dont really know what happened in the big battle and i also never found out wtf the solution was to fixing the transporter thing or how the aliens invaded or any of the million plot points that were non gramp related.

I just remember that when we all saved the day and defeated the baddies we found that maddiman had actually survived and it was a big hugs reunion. He was like "OH YEAH i totally forgot i literally already died once and regenerated from it, and this was the entire start to my story. My bad!" *shrugs inexplicably not dead arms*

So yeah in summary im glad my brain summoned up a universe where my favourite sad granddad is literally immortal now, but also why did it torment him with an even sadder plot than his original one

#weird dream tag #the sequence with trying the teleporter curtain on different doors actually took up the majority of the dream #it was ridiculously long and i wish i could slap my brain and be like 'geez save some time for explaining gramp backstory more!'

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burclay · 6 years

Text

Lasting Memory

Yaz came in at the worst possible moment, with the cold bluish-white of Torchwood on the screen, Rose Tyler saying, “I’m never going to leave you,” and the Doctor curled in on herself almost underneath the TARDIS console, not even crying, just staring, empty, at her memory.

This new regeneration is energetic, curious, fun-loving-- until the others leave, and the Doctor is weighed down by her sadness, her grief, her guilt, her fear. She's doing a good job of hiding it, until Yaz finds her curled up on the console room floor, staring at a video of an old friend.

(Sadfic about thirteen's desperate need to process her emotions. Thasmin is very implied but definitely present.)

AO3

This regeneration was energetic.

That was maybe one of the first things the Doctor had noticed, after the basic physical checklist-- she had dropped from the sky and immediately started asking questions, grinning, calling the others her friends without a second thought. She had gotten through their first adventure with a frenetic energy she just hadn’t had in her previous body, and for a moment, a shining moment, even amid the pain of rebirth, she had let herself believe that maybe she had finally gotten past everything that had weighed her past few selves down, finally rid herself of the guilt of the Time War and the loneliness of all the years after, and maybe she was finally ready to move forward.

It wasn’t until everything was over (everything was over and a woman was dead, the Doctor reminded herself, over and over and over, Grace O’Brien had died for them, for her) and the Doctor was walking back to the mechanic shop where they’d found a dead man (nothing the Doctor could’ve done about that one, best to absolve herself of the guilt and move on, worry about the one she could’ve stopped), it wasn’t until then that everything came crashing down, burying the Doctor in sadness and guilt. It was only years and years of dealing with this sort of thing that kept the Doctor walking, step by step, back to the shop, where she immediately started trying to distract herself with mechanics and metaphysics and finding her TARDIS. (It only sort of worked-- she was moving all sluggish, and she couldn’t stop thinking about Grace, splayed on the concrete, and she had warned Grace, said not to come back, and Grace had come back anyway, but it was still sort of the Doctor’s fault, and what if Yaz or Ryan had fallen off that ladder, or Graham had gotten electrocuted, or Kyle from the train had jumped and missed his mark, and those thoughts swirled in her head while she tried to get to know her new sonic screwdriver until the pain and exhaustion of her regeneration hit her and she fell asleep, passed out on the concrete floor.)

The thought of her TARDIS was all that got her through the week or so between that and Grace’s funeral, all that kept her from being crushed completely under the weight of her sadness. The thought that all she had to do was fix up this microwave, calibrate those beams, track down the right coordinates, and she’d see her ship again, be able to sit in the console room and fiddle with bits of the insides and hear the noise of the engines again-- it kept her going, stretched itself over the Doctor’s grief and guilt and worry until she could almost pretend it was all there was.

Grace’s funeral came and went, somehow both easier and harder than the Doctor had expected, and then Yaz insisted on buying her new clothes, and then the Doctor realized she needed help with her contraption to get the TARDIS back anyway, and all of this seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, where she was energetic and friendly again, her sadness pushed so far down that she almost forgot about it.

There was a brief moment, between pointing the sonic screwdriver and opening her eyes to see the abyss of space, when she felt some kind of weight lift, some kind of freedom. In that moment, she truly believed that when she opened her eyes it’d just be her and the TARDIS, and she could lie on the floor of the console room and just feel for a while, the TARDIS humming around her.

But then she opened her eyes to nothingness.

And she turned her head to see Ryan, Graham, and Yaz behind her.

And she only had enough time to think, They’re about to die, when there was a flash of light, and the next thing she knew she was in a medipod and being energetic again. Or more specifically, annoyed, but who needed specifics?

She managed to keep up her outward-focused energy for what amounted to a full day walking through a desert planet with a whole big group. The whole time, she was thinking about the TARDIS, her TARDIS, that would surround her with warmth and give her what she needed before she knew she needed it, but then when they got to the end the TARDIS wasn’t there, and that was… that was the last straw.

She felt the sadness (and fear, and guilt) come crashing back. She didn’t even care that it was in front of the others. The lines between her-with-people and her-without-people were blurring, and they were all going to die on this miserable, miserable desert planet, and her last act was going to be letting down people who trusted her, again, and there was nothing more she could do.

She almost cried when she heard the noise of the TARDIS engines.

And again, giddy with relief and excitement, when the TARDIS opened its door for her.

And again when she felt the rush of familiarity walking in, seeing the brilliantly new interior, all fixed up and ready for her. She forgot all of her exhaustion when she watched the others walk in, amazed at what they saw, and then when she got to pilot it for the first time, hopping around, she felt such a sense of belonging. She was home, or as close as she could get, anyway.

The engines ground to a halt and the Doctor checked the monitors. They weren’t in Sheffield.

Their second stop wasn’t Sheffield either.

Their third stop was, but it was in 2904.

The fourth wasn’t.

After the fifth, the Doctor made the executive decision that it was time for a break-- the others were clearly exhausted, and the TARDIS was not cooperating. She got the TARDIS to create bedrooms for everybody and showed them where to go, and then she wandered back to the console room and sprawled across the floor in relief and in defeat. She had a lot to mourn, a lot to atone for, a lot to worry about going forward.

She didn’t know how long she was lying there, but by the time the others were up, she was energetic again, running around the TARDIS console like she was just a friendly miracle worker with a quirky little machine.

Eighteen stops and one uncomfortable adventure later, they were in Sheffield, and the Doctor could feel the sadness settling in again. It was hitting her that she was about to be alone, without the chatter and support of these three, and she wasn’t sure she could handle it--

Except that she had to handle it, because the ones who traveled with her always, always got hurt or died or worse.

Even so. She could feel herself cracking. Her facade breaking down.

She didn’t know how to describe the feeling that rose in her when Yaz asked her to tea. Elation, maybe. Relief. She hadn’t messed up anything in these one’s lives yet, then, if they still wanted her at tea.

Her frenetic energy came rushing back, and it held through a whole mystery all the way up to the goodbye. She was back in the TARDIS, almost completely given over to her sadness, when the Yaz, Ryan, and Graham walked in and said they wanted to stay. Instantly, the sadness was replaced with worry, and guilt, because they didn’t know what they were getting into and wasn’t it the Doctor’s job as the person with more knowledge to keep them from making this mistake?

But Yaz was sure, and Graham was sure, and Ryan was sure, and the Doctor felt tears hovering in her eyes as she asked if they wanted to press the lever with her.

Having them around was going to be good for her, at any rate. Which-- the thought made her feel selfish when she thought about all the ways it might hurt them, but-- at the very least, she wasn’t going to be totally alone.

She took them to all the sights, all her favorite places, and a few new ones she’d been dying to try back before she’d literally died. They saw forests, oceans, cities, museums hundreds of years in the future, theater hundreds of years in the past. And the Doctor kept up her energy through it all. To Yaz, Ryan, and Graham, she was an excitable and quirky-but-mysterious maybe-alien with a magic spaceship, and she wanted to keep it that way. It wasn’t hard, really; this regeneration really was energetic, as long as there were other people around and a mystery to solve.

But whenever they went back to the TARDIS and the humans had gone off to their separate corners to sleep, any energy the Doctor had left seemed to dissipate, leaving her alone with nothing but her thoughts, and her thoughts weren’t exactly good company to keep. Sometimes she’d ask the TARDIS to play videos of her old friends on the monitors-- the psychic link meant that she had been able to upload any number of precious moments to be relived again and again and again. Or she’d go underneath the console and bring out some of her boxes, pulling out Amy’s old reading glasses or the shirt Rose had left or one of Donna’s hats and letting herself remember the people who had owned them, their smiles and their laughs and the ways they had walked. She missed her old friends, and she was afraid of letting her new ones down, the way she’d let down Bill or Rory or even River, in the end.

She had hoped that the others would never find out about this side of her. That they would continue to accept her energetic self, taking her hints of a greater sadness in stride.

She shouldn’t have been so naive.

Yaz found her on a particularly bad night-- she had been revisiting her worst moments on the TARDIS wall, people who had died for her, people she had failed to save. The tree lady from the end of the world. Astrid from that replica of the Titanic. River Song, in the library, before the Doctor had even known who she was. Yaz came in at the worst possible moment, with the cold bluish-white of Torchwood on the screen, Rose Tyler saying, “I’m never going to leave you,” and the Doctor curled in on herself almost underneath the TARDIS console, not even crying, just staring, empty, at her memory.

She didn’t hear Yaz come in-- it wasn’t until there were footsteps right next to her and a concerned, “Doctor?” that the Doctor looked up to see a barefoot and pajama-clad Yaz and immediately realized her mistake.

The TARDIS shut off the video without the Doctor even having to consciously think it. She jumped to her feet.

“Yaz! You’re awake!”

“So are you,” Yaz said. The Doctor couldn’t quite gauge how concerned she was, which was unsettling-- she didn’t want Yaz to worry.

“Yeah, well, I don’t need much sleep,” the Doctor said. “Time Lord and all that.” This was true, but it was also true that the majority of her sleep lately had been on the console room floor, halfway through a happy memory, sometimes with someone else’s clothes in her arms.

“I sort of figured,” Yaz said. She glanced at where, moments earlier, a larger-than-life Rose Tyler had been projected onto the wall. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Fine,” the Doctor said. “I’m always fine, Yaz. Been two thousand years and I’m still fine.”

Yaz raised her eyebrows, and the Doctor shrugged.

“Some days are harder than others. Well, some decades, really, but decades are short, in the grand scheme of things.” She could feel herself cracking a little. She had to get Yaz out of there. “Really,” she added. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, Doctor,” Yaz said, raw empathy in her voice. She didn’t leave-- in fact, she did quite the opposite. Before the Doctor knew what was happening, Yaz was holding her, and she was holding Yaz back, her head buried in Yaz’s shoulder, trying her absolute hardest not to cry.

“You weren’t supposed to see this,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against Yaz’s flannel pajama shirt. “I’m not supposed to be all sad.”

“You’re just supposed to be who you are,” Yaz said, her voice soft next to the Doctor’s ear. “It’s okay to be sad.”

The Doctor didn’t answer that, but she didn’t let go, either. There was comfort in hugs-- a comfort she’d forgotten at some point in the last few centuries. She didn’t really feel less sad, but-- maybe she felt less alone.

“Who was she?” Yaz asked. “That woman?”

The Doctor stepped back and glanced at the now-blank TARDIS wall.

“Her name was Rose,” she said. Her voice broke just a little bit. “I can-- I can show you. If you like. Some of the happier memories.”

“Sure,” Yaz said. “It’d do you some good to talk about this sort of thing, you know.”

“Maybe,” the Doctor said. “Don’t really want to bother you lot about it. I’ve got a lot of-- history. And a lot of it isn’t very pretty.”

“We don’t need to know everything,” Yaz said. “Just-- maybe if you’re sad, you could tell us once in a while. That sort of thing.”

“Maybe,” the Doctor said. She turned to the TARDIS console and ran her fingers over a few buttons, mostly for show. When she turned around again, Rose was back on the wall, grinning from the meadow in New New York.

“Can I just say,” the Rose on the screen said, “I love this? Traveling with you? I love it.”

And the Doctor’s old old voice saying, “Me too.”

“Is that you?” Yaz asked. “How long ago did you travel with her?”

“Don’t know, really,” the Doctor said, her eyes fixed on the screen. “Something like a thousand years. Three bodies ago. We were-- we were good, together.”

“A thousand years,” Yaz echoed. “You really are old.”

“I really am,” the Doctor said. She looked back at the screen. The image shifted to show Martha, clapping in the middle of a crowd at the Globe.

“Who’s that?” Yaz asked.

“Martha Jones,” the Doctor said. “A good friend of mine, way back when. She’s all right, actually, wound up in London, working for UNIT. Died peacefully of old age and all that. Brilliant woman. Wouldn’t call me the Doctor at first because she was in medical school and thought I had to earn it.” The image shifted to Martha, leaning over the Doctor with a stethoscope with curiosity in her eyes.

“Did you?” Yaz asked. “Earn it, I mean.”

“In her eyes,” the Doctor said. She remembered when Martha and Rose and Donna and everyone else had been in the TARDIS together, after they’d defeated the Daleks-- and because she was thinking about it, it came up on the screen, everyone dashing about and laughing together.

“What’s that?” Yaz asked.

“Suppose it’s sort of my old fam,” the Doctor said. “Everybody together. After we sent the Daleks away. Didn’t last long, you know. They all had lives to get back to. Rose lives in a parallel universe with a human version of me-- long story. That’s him, in the blue suit. And Donna-- that’s Donna, the redhead-- she’d absorbed a bunch of my regeneration energy. Had to erase all her memories of me.”

“No wonder you’re so sad,” Yaz said. “Isn’t there anyone else?”

“Not really,” the Doctor said. “There was a war. This great big Time War. No one really made it out. My whole planet got destroyed.” She paused. “Well, not really, turns out, but it might as well have been. Thought it was. But the Time Lords don’t like me all that much, either way.”

The Doctor felt a hand in hers, fingers tangling together. She looked at Yaz, who was looking at the Doctor with a compassion that the Doctor had seen from her a number of times, but never directed at herself. The Doctor tried to smile back, but she didn’t know if it came across. Instead, she just held eye contact with Yaz, feeling the heat from her hand, a quiet understanding passing between them.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Yaz said. “Anytime. I mean it.”

“Thanks, Yaz,” the Doctor said, knowing she would never dare.

But Yaz didn’t leave, and this time when the Doctor fell asleep, it was with friends onscreen and Yaz right next to her, still holding her hand.

It was still hard, after that. She was still sad. She still hid it. But sometimes she’d say something offhand and Yaz would make eye contact with her, and then later when the others had gone to bed they’d sit in the console room and the Doctor would show Yaz more of her memories, or maybe open her boxes and pull out a scarf or a book or something, and Yaz would tell the Doctor all about her childhood in return. The Doctor still never asked for help, still collapsed a little anytime the others left the room, and on top of that was overpowered with the knowledge and fear that Yaz was a human and humans didn’t last all that long, but despite all that-- she felt a little better. A little less alone.

#doctor who #dw #thasmin #thirteenth doctor #fic #writing

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dead-night-harringrove · 6 years

Note

Modern au ghost Billy who was killed by Neil for being queer who lures Steve in and kills him so he won't be alone for all eternity

((this took a different direction and I’m SO SORRY KAI. Also to anyone else, I highly recommend reading the tags in case they don’t fit your blacklists))

Billy’s been alone for so long now, cursed to each day feel the pain of his own skull shattering beneath driving fists. Though there are days where he fades, where his essence splinters off and scatters through the eternal Void, mostly he simply…remains. Each day, like clockwork, his soul collapses in on itself in memorial pain. He is forced, endlessly, to repeat the cycle of his own death. He had not wanted to believe it at first, that he was dead. The first time he faded, however, was what had finally caused him to break.

The house was empty when he’d returned. Completely bare, with no furniture or signs of life. Thick layers of dust had covered everything, and he’d attempted to run out the door to see what the hell was going on. He’d been launched backwards into the house, blood pouring from his face as he screamed until no sound could come forth from his throat.

That was then. He’s since learned from the two other families who’ve lived in the house since he died, that it’s been over 30 years since his murder.

The first family had been nice enough, and he had tried to engage with them in an attempt to nullify the constant mind-numbing blandness of death. Really, it was the boredom that bothered him more than anything. He was always moving, driving forward in life. The family hadn’t appreciated his attempts at communication, however, growing unnerved enough to leave after three months of living there. The second family had stayed longer, but he could tell they weren’t going to last. It angered him, and he’d began lashing out in frustration. Couldn’t they see he wasn’t hurting anyone? He just didn’t want to be alone anymore!

They had fled the night he’d accidentally slung half of the kitchen into the living room all at once in a fit of rage.

Now, he waits for the next family to arrive, and prays they won’t leave him. He’ll make them stay if he has to. Billy’s wish is granted sooner than he had expected, in the year of 2018 the new patron’s calendar read. The newcomer was the only one who moved in, taking advantage of the cheap price of the supposedly “haunted” house. A college student, it looks like, studying complicated mathematics. His hair is long, almost to his shoulders and styled into a dramatic chestnut mane. He has a lithe frame, not incredibly thin but lean and all limb. The papers littered across the counter in the kitchen are addressed to Steven S. Harrington. Billy wonders what the S stands for only briefly, because otherwise he doesn’t care. He’s entranced by the boy’s, Steven’s, apparent grace and his beauty.

The memory of why he was murdered, 34 years prior, resurfaces suddenly. At the mercy of his own flesh and blood, his father, he’d been outed after getting caught with another boy’s lips against his own.

He’s suddenly overwhelmed with emotion as he realizes he can’t handle another person leaving him. Steve can never leave him, he can’t be alone forever for something he couldn’t help.

So he stays low, trying not to cause too much disturbance at first. Instead of acting out, he observes. He learns that Steve is bisexual, something that surprises him at how easily he says it and expresses himself. Billy is absolutely fascinated by the technology the living boy owns, things that when Billy was alive would have been considered nearly sci-fi in their advancements. Steve draws a lot, and he also runs a blog. Billy learns that Steve’s ex-girlfriend, Nancy, is also bisexual and is dating a girl named Kali who is an out and outspoken lesbian. Nancy’s other ex, Jonathan, is close friends with Steve as well and calls him one night freaking out over some big-name musician coming out as pansexual. That’s how Billy finds out Jonathan himself is pansexual, though he’s not sure what that means. If he wasn’t any smarter, he’d probably assume Jonathan was attracted to pans. That’s stupid though, so Billy dismisses the thought.

He learns that 2018 is nicknamed “20-gay-teen” and feels a bitter twang run through his chest at the fact that he doesn’t get to enjoy this. What they so freely embrace and enjoy in themselves and take pride in, he was killed for. If he’d made it to 18, if he could have just made it a little bit longer, he could be alive right now. He could be married, to a man he loved because queer people can get married now, apparently.

The night he learns the clever nickname is the first time Billy lashes out around Steve, knocking over a baseball trophy on his dresser. Steve abruptly shivers, the temperature in the room dropping albeit Billy can’t feel it.

It’s the first time Steve’s witnessed anything strange in the house, and it makes every hair stand on end as he remembers he did, in fact, decide to rent a supposedly haunted house. He’d scoffed at the notion at the time, but now he wasn’t so sure. As a rational person though, he couldn’t decide the house was haunted just by an isolated incident.

It escalates, steadily. Billy can’t stand it. He’s angry; why does Steve and his friends get to enjoy being themselves while Billy suffers, alone and doomed to die everyday? His father isn’t even around anymore, and yet he still relives his death. The pain, the shock, the emotions, they never fade as he slips into what he calls the False Sleep. His presence temporarily drops down, and he’s unable to do anything until the turn of 3AM. He’s not really sure why, probably something to do with stupid ghost logic. After all, Billy can walk through walls but he can’t go through the ceiling and he can’t sink through the ground. The most inaccurate thing anyone’s ever gotten in a ghost movie was the spirit being able to float or fly. Billy can confirm that he’s still a victim of gravity, unfortunately.

Billy throws things, sometimes at Steve. Steve can’t really leave, either. Being a college student and having to juggle all of his debts, he can’t afford to just up and walk away. So he suffers through it. He curses at the spirit, looks up the history of the house and learns that the kid who died in the house was named William, but everyone called him Billy. He tells Billy to fuck off in the most polite manner one can achieve when dealing with an asshole ghost. The activity in the house calms after that, and for a while Steve believes maybe Billy left.

Billy, however, has returned to observing. When Steve had addressed him by name, it had been nice. Billy hasn’t heard his name, hasn’t been addressed personally, since he was alive.

The first time Billy witnesses one of Steve’s panic attacks, he himself panics. He’d felt Steve’s anxiety and emotions rushing off of his form in waves, and had rushed in as soon as he could. Steve has scratches on his arms from where he’s digging his own nails into his skin, and Billy wants to reach other and pry his hands away from his arms. He impulsively tries to, and Steve feels goosebumps spread across his entire body. “Billy,” Steve says his voice so softly, tears dripping off his face so softly as he looks up directly at Billy but also through him. He’s looking in the right direction though, and Billy’s breath stutters in his chest. It’s the absolute worst time to be jerked out of Steve’s room into living room, feeling nonexistent punches landing on his body and his bones snapping and face crushing beneath long-gone pressure of hateful fists. He lets out a cry of pain and anguish, begging for mercy just this once… when three AM rolls around hours later, however, he curses fate for forcing him to suffer as he rushes to Steve’s room. He’s not asleep, staring down at his phone as he scrolls through Instagram mindlessly. Billy comes closer, and the signal of his phone degrades until nothing loads. Billy settles himself beside Steve on the bed, though nothing changes. It’s like he’s not even there, but Steve puts his phone down regardless and lays back on the bed. “You scared me earlier… you were there and then you were just gone. I felt you disappear. It was weird. I feel like I shouldn’t be this casual about living with a ghost but what can you do, right? I wish there was some way I could talk to you, but I’m not about to bring a Ouija board in this house. Fuck that shit. You know, Jonathan heard you one time when we were in a call. He said it sounded like you called me an asshole. You’re the asshole of the two of us though, you know? Always throwing my shit around the house and taking my things and hiding them from me… who does that? Is it really necessary?”

Billy giggles mindlessly, knowing Steve can’t hear him but he finds a lot of humor in the only thing that’s ever been transferred across their worlds was calling Steve an asshole. He sobers quickly, however, when Steve continues speaking. “Sometimes, I feel like dying. I want to, you know? I…I tried once. I know one of these days I’m going to end up trying again…life fucking sucks today. The world’s ending and no one’s doing shit about it and I’m just tired of it.”Steve sighs, and Billy feels his stomach pitch in sadness. He wishes he could do something to ease Steve’s pain, but nothing comes to mind. Billy settles for just being there, at the very least. Steve’s not alone now, even if Billy wants to do more than be a presence. Eventually, Steve falls asleep.

Time progresses, as it is prone to do. Steve is mostly okay, though Billy can feel the building waves of pain flowing out of the older boy’s body. He takes a moment to follow that train of thought, finding humor in the fact that Steve is older than him by societal norm, but by technicality Billy is 51 years old. He’s an old man now! He laughs to himself, and Steve shivers. “I hope you know every time I actually hear you, it’s like either a small child or a demon crawling up from the pits of hell. Your voice is not what it’s probably supposed to sound like,” he says idly. Billy snorts, knocking over a vase on the kitchen counter just to be a pain in the ass. Steve curses, looking over at the vase from where he’s sitting in the living room. Billy watches the debate play across his face before Steve decides he’ll sit it up later. Rolling his eyes, he props it back up himself.

It’s nice.

The first time Billy walks in on Steve with his pants off and his hand in his boxers, his brain backfires as it tries to catch up. His door was closed, dumb ass, he doesn’t usually close his door, runs through his mind as he tries to backtrack and leave the room but the image is going to be in his head for eternity. It overwhelms him enough to fade for a few days.

When he returns, it’s with a shout and the picture frames on the wall rattle all at once. Steve jolts, looking around in a panic. “Billy? You’re back! You just vanished, I was worried you were gone for good…”Steve looks worse for wear, and Billy sees scabs on his arms. Guilt rises up in his throat as he goes over to sit beside Steve on the couch, and the music that had been playing from his laptop slows to a stop as it enters an endless buffering cycle. Billy wishes he could explain the fades to Steve, the temporary gaps in time as he scatters across existence briefly. He wishes he could say anything to Steve at all, and restless anger spurs his soul into frantic energy. The television flips on, off, and then on again. Steve frowns, scrubbing a hand across his tired eyes. “I thought you were gone.”

When Billy comes back from his next fade, it’s to the overwhelming sense that something is terribly wrong. Turning around from where he stands in the living room, he sees Steve’s bedroom door down the hall is closed again. He feels a pull towards it and he phases across the house, brushing through the door as an intense suffering hits him like a wall. The calendar on Steve’s wall reads different, by a drastic amount, to when Billy had last looked at it. It’s been three months, which isn’t the longest he’s ever disappeared for but he’s also never had a reason to stick around. Steve is curled up in a fetal position on the floor beside his bed, drooling and shaking violently. He retches, but can’t move himself into a different position not to choke on his own saliva and throw-up. His breathing is shallow, and too slow. His skin is paler than usual, and Billy’s eyes scan the room when he spots the bottle that’s rolled beneath the bed. He jerks it out, and sees it’s empty. The top is further beneath the bed. Ativan, Steve’s anxiety medication. He overdosed on what’s supposed to help him. “Steve!” His voice is foreign to his own ears, desperate as he glitches directly beside him. Steve’s eyes, glassy and unfocused, immediately turn to him. He’s crying, and Billy brushes his fingers along his forehead. Steve shivers, and retches again. “Make it stop…Billy, make it stop…” There’s nothing Billy can do, he can’t call 911 and even if he manages to, they’ll never make it in time. Steve is too far gone, that much Billy can tell. He can feel it, Steve’s spirit is closer than Billy’s ever felt it. So, he thinks and he feels tears spring in his eyes as he reaches into Steve, grabs hold of him. It’s a foreign feeling, his hands are somewhere inside of Steve but not at the same time. He grabs on, and he tears him out. Steve is slung from his body and he screams as he’s suddenly overwhelmed by everything. His hands go to his chest, scratching at the phantom intrusion of cold hands gripping his heart and squeezing the last of life from it. His eyes lose their amber hue, fading into a blank white with a gentle gold back-light. Turning to look at where he’d been laying moments prior, life fading, he looks at his body in mute horror. That’s his body. He’s not in it. He’d actually done it, he’d lost control and… a sob tears out of his throat, followed by a series of aborted gasps as he feels cold tears wash down his cheeks. Suddenly, he’s jerked away from his lifeless corpse and turned around to face a solid chest and a tear-streaked face. In an instant he recognizes the face he’s looking into, he’s seen it so many times before in newspaper clippings and articles online. “B-Billy?” his voice is wispy, echoing in his ears. Softer than he’s ever heard himself. He sniffles, and Billy smiles wryly. “Yeah, it’s me. I, I’m so sorry… I didn’t realize, I didn’t know it’s been three months since I faded. I never should have left…” He says it, even though he can’t control the fade. Steve will learn that soon enough, he’ll fade too. Steve reaches up, takes his face in his hands and just looks at him. His eyes are wide, full of both fear and wonder. Billy’s pulse quickens in his veins, uselessly since he doesn’t have a heartbeat to pump blood through his body but- whatever. It is what it is.

Maybe it’s in an effort to distract him from what just happened, what they’ve both done, or maybe it’s Billy’s own desires finally being something he can act on, but he shifts just enough to press his lips to Steve’s. Steve gasps against his lips, but doesn’t move away. After a beat, he presses back against him. There’s nothing heated to it, nothing more, just a comfort they both take part in.

Billy leads him out of the room, out onto the back porch to watch the sunrise. While neither of them know what’s next, both are content to finally have someone to spend forever with. Neither are alone anymore, and for now that’s enough.

#harringrove #short fiction #tw: violence #tw: suicide #tw: overdose

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