#anyways love you bye!!

[plush-rabbit]

A/N: I can't come up with a title so,,,, yeah!! Anyways, I've had this saved in my drafts and I miss writing and even with spring break!! my professor still gives us homework. So, here I am. this is just a thing where like reader is an angel and falls and like it was gonna be a short series, but like,,, i never finish my series (except for ciays)

Word Count: 3.1K

-

You sit with a pit in your stomach. Your legs are causing the items on the table to shake, and you can't stop the dread that is looming over you, cold and heavy. There's a shift beside you, and a hand cups over your thigh, a feeble attempt to get you to stop moving. You can only flinch in response. 

“Can you just- I don’t know, fucking chill or something?” His hand gives you a squeeze, before pulling back and crossing his arms. “They aren’t gonna do shit to you.”

“Lucifer fell because he asked too many questions,” you counter, gasping for breath. The room feels too tight, too full and empty all at once.

Beside you, he scoffs. “Love to break it to ya babe, but you aren’t him. You’ll be fine.”

“Exactly,” you hiss, hiding your face in your hands. “I’m not him. I’m- I’m a low ranking Angel. I- Oh Father, I don’t hold any type of status. I’m going to fall,” you voice breaks and tears are in your eyes, horror and fear making you pale.

“You’re not.” He’s harsher this time, and pulls you to look at him. His name is on your tongue, and he interrupts you. “I’m vouching for you. And so are the rest of my girls. You’ll be fine.” He loosens his grip on you, and smooths a hand down your hair. “Chillax, babe. I know you’re a little goody-two-shoes, but this is nothing. You’ll probably just get demoted or some shit.”

“Adam.” Your hands grasps onto his, and you want to believe that he’s right. “But what if-”

The door opens, and you both whip your head around, watching as Seraphim walks in, her head held high and face lack of expression. The pit in your stomach swallows more of you.

Your rise from your seat, and Adam begrudgingly follows. “Sera-” you clear your throat- “I uh- Seraphim. Good evening. I- I thought we were not allowed to meet before the trial,” you look around the room, and for a moment, you have hope. She wouldn’t go against orders, so perhaps she’s here with good news. You give her a tense smile, and she walks to the desk, her wings taut and folded behind her. 

She sits at the chair with her arms folded over the desk. “I wanted to be the one to deliver the verdict.”

Your brows furrow, and sit back down, your ankles crossed over one another, and your body leaning towards Adam’s. His hands reach over the space between the chairs and you grasp onto him, nails digging into the clothed covered skin. 

“The verdict?” You ask in a whisper. “But I hadn’t- What about my trial?”

“It was decided that you would not have a trial.” Her voice is like stone, unwavering, strong, and heavy. 

“Decided by who?” A chill runs down your spine, and it’s as if you can feel a presence around you.

“If there’s no trial then how do fuck do you all even have a verdict?” Adam, as always, is crude, and it only furthers the sickness deep in you.

“Adam,” you say in a high pitched voice. 

He turns to you, and squeezes your hands. “Well? What is it? Community service? A demotion in rank? Paperwork?”

“Sera,” your chest is tight, your bones pricing into the tender flesh, “why didn’t I have a trial?”

“Look, the demotion can’t be that bad, right? I’ll look after them. Make them my assistant or something. I got shitload to do anyways, they’ll keep me on it.”

“Sera,” you plead, “I was promised a trial. I was told that it would be fair.”

“No trial is good, right? Means it was easy to consider your fate.” You flinch. “You get to be my assistant. Don’t worry babe-” he tugs on your hands for your attention, but you’re fixated on Seraphim and that way that they look at you with somber eyes- “I won’t work you too hard.” The playful tinged words make you sick. 

“Sera,” you croak, leaning away from Adam- “my trial. It was promised.”

She calls your name, it’s whispered like a prayer, uttered like a curse and laced in sorrow. You know your outcome, before she can even say it. “I’m terribly sorry.” Your body goes cold. “It has been decided that your punishment for questioning the beliefs and practices of Heaven will be the taking of your wings and The Fall to Hell.”

You can taste the bile. It burns, the acid fills your mouth, and it makes your eyes burn with hot tears. 

“What the fuck!” Adam shouts, your hands are let go, and you stare into her eyes. You can hear the chair squeak as it’s pushed away and it nearly topples over. Adam goes to you, short strides to grasp his hands over your shoulders. “That isn’t fucking fair! They were promised a trial, so where the fuck is it?” He’s furious, and the hands around you bring you no comfort. 

“I’m terribly sorry.” Seraphim looks at you as she speaks. “For the both of you.” Her eyes dart between you and Adam.

“I didn't mean to,” you whisper, your nails digging into your clothes. “I promise that I-”

“Come on Sera! I've done worse shit than them. Can't we just look the other way?”

“Adam, I need to speak to them alone.”

“Like fuck I’ll-”

“Adam,” you breathe out. He looks at you, moving to kneel in front of you and you look at the demonic mask, and you want to retch. “Let us speak in private, please. I’ll meet you outside.”

He looks at you, through the golden eyes of the mask. “Fine,” he huffs. He stands, and presses a kiss to the top of your temple. You wish that you could return the gesture- that you could look up and kiss him back without worry. “Yell if you need me,” he whispers to you. You nod, unable to mutter a word to him.

The door clicks behind him, and you’re left alone with Seraphim- something that you’ve never had the opportunity to experience. Perhaps if circumstances were different, you’d be more ecstatic. 

They call your name, and she holds her hands out to you. Like a trained dog, you place your hands in hers, and you let the tears fall.

“Why am I falling?” You ask, gaining no comfort from her hands.

“Emily- one of the younger Seraphim- has begun to question certain aspects of Heaven. I fear that the questions won't settle.”

“So this is- I’m meant to scare her? To remind her of her place?”

Seraphim sighs, and she lifts a hand, tracing a delicate finger along the back of your hand. You hate the ways he says your name- like she still cares for you. Like your name is sweet as honey. As if she has the right to speak to you with care and love. “You must understand that Emily is still so young.”

“And a higher ranking than I am.” You turn away from her, but you can’t pry your hands away. You want comfort, even if it's given by your judge and even if the hands that hold yours are going to be stained in gold. They say nothing to your comment, and you hold their hand tighter. “When?” You croak out.You dig your nails into their skin- it’s cold, and as much as you want to hurt them, you cannot.

“By the end of the week.” Their words are spoken without wavering. “You’ll be confined in one of our holding rooms for incoming souls for the time being. You’ll still be allowed visitors. The spectacle will be watched by only those that you allow, and by the high-ranking angels.” You let out a sob, and bow your head. “It will be quick. With the ranking unbeknownst to the rest, it will be an Exterminator who will remove your wings. They’ll be wearing one of the ceremonial robes. After the removal of your wings, you’ll be-” she pauses and you can already feel the emptiness.

“I’ll be cast out.” You look up and she nods, her hands squeezing yours. 

“Understand that if I could will it any other way, I would.” 

You look at the hands holding onto yours, and you think about how someone will have to clean your blood. How they’ll get on their knees and wipe the ichor from the floor, how the rags will drip in riches and stain their hands in sin. Your wings flitter in response. 

“You said an Exterminator?”

“Lute has been tasked with your severance.”

“Why not Adam?”

Seraphim looks shocked. “I- I would not wish for him to be the one to remove your wings. If it were any other, I believe he would do an excellent job, but since it’s you,” she trails off. “I do not believe he would be able to commit.”

“But Lute can,” you say.

“Yes. She is able to put her feelings aside, and do her job.” Seraphim pauses, their eyes are trained on you, and a few look at you in pity. “However, if you wish for it to be Adam-”

“No,” you interrupt. “No, you’re right. He wouldn’t be able to.” Your wings feel heavy. “Sera?” She hums in response. “How soon will I be cast out after my wings are removed?”

“Effective immediately.”

-

You lay in your new bed- the mattress new and solid underneath you. It’s nothing like the one back home. You can’t seem to get comfortable, all that you can do is lay there wrapped in Adam’s arms, pulled close to his body where your breath tickles at his skin. “You can run,” he says quietly into your ear. “I’ll leave the door unlocked, and you can run.” His act of defiance brings tears to your eyes. 

“Adam,” your voice breaks.

“The Exterminators will be the ones tasked with chasing you down.” You feel the way his hands grip your skin, clawing and desperate to keep you beside him. “They won’t get you. They’re loyal to me. They’ll listen. You can live on Earth.” 

When you close your eyes, tears trace down the curve of your face. “Lute is the one performing the severance of my wings,” you tell him a hoarse whisper, unable to keep the horror out of it. Even speaking about it is enough to send a pain down your spine and at the base of your wings. His nails pierce into your skin, pinching into the softness of your stomach. His wings flutter, and they are heavy above your body. “She’ll do a good job,” you comfort. “A clean cut that will make it easy to heal.” There’s bile burning in your throat. “Please don’t be upset with her after the event.” His arms wrap tighter around you, and his wings hide you from the outside, curving over your body, cupping you and holding you. Your hands hold onto him, at the nape of his neck, trying not to look at him, but commit his touch to memory. “I don’t think you should be there.”

“Like fuck I won’t,” he seethes, the venom in his words are unable to hide the tremor. 

“Adam,” you murmur, “I’m serious. I- You shouldn’t see me like that. I- I know that I would look for you after it happened. I- I can’t ask for you to see me so broken.”

“I’m going,” he tells you in a tight voice, his breaths coming out in gasps.

You nod, and swallow the pit lodged in your throat. “Please don’t stop it.” He whispers your name, and lets you go, coming up to a sitting position. His wings still stretched, touching you so gently. You look up at him, tear stains glistening on your cheeks. “This is my fault. I’ve accepted it. I know I’m going to plead and cry for mercy, but ignore me, Adam.” Your hands find his, and you hold onto him desperately. “Don’t fight for me. Let it happen.”

“You should run away,” he tells you again. “We can run together.” Tears glisten in his eyes, and you don’t recall ever seeing him so upset. 

You smile, but it trembles and falls, and tears spill out. “Where would we go?” You ask in a quiet voice. 

“Earth.” His jaw tightens, and you don’t comment when his voice cracks. “We’d take a bunch of gems from here and sell them there. We’d be rich.” You try not to let the quaking in your chest show, the soft stuttering that threatens to release a storm. “We’d sing in some dingy ass club, and I’d use my blessing to make us famous.”

You laugh, and it’s clouded by tears. “I thought we were in hiding?”

“We’d be in disguise,” he counters, a hand prying away from your grip to wipe away the tears. “We’d settle after a few years, get a nice house in a big city. Gamble, drink, fuck. Maybe have a few kids in like a hundred years.” He smiles when you turn your head to kiss his palm, your other hand going to curve over his. “We’d have a nice life.” He lays over you, hiding his face into the crook of your neck, and presses his lips to the warmth of your skin when your hands tangle themselves into his hair. “It’s a nice plan, right?”

“Of course,” you say through tears. “You always come up with good plans.”

-

You stand in a stadium, dressed in white, your back exposed and your wings fluttering about no matter how much you will them to still. No one fears that you are going to run. Not when there are archers lined, and not when the Angels are watching you. You see Adam, and he wears his mask, standing with his arms held behind him. 

You wish you told Seraphim that he wasn’t allowed. 

Chains bind your ankles and wrists. The iron pinching your skin and irritating the flesh. You’d take this pain a thousand times over than what’s about to happen. 

“For questioning Heaven’s beliefs and practices,” the voice echoes around, “we sentence you,” your name sounds empty, and you can’t breathe, “to have your wings removed and to be banished from Heaven.” You do a stupid thing and glance at Adam and he looks away at your glance. You feel a tinge of pain, but it’s better this way. “You will now have your wings removed.”

You turn your head, and see Lute. She’s shrouded in white robes with gold accents. Her hair is tied, and her wings are pinned behind her. She does not cast you on any type of look and you're grateful for that.

Her gaze is steeled. You know her. She knows you. She’s seen you at your worst, and you’ve seen her at her best. You’ve shared meals with her- broken bread and drank wine together. She’s been in your home. Her smile has always been sharp, and there are moments where it’s tender, vulnerable and saved for those closest to her. 

She does not smile at you. She keeps her gaze focused on you, and you can’t help but tremble, the iron of the chains clinking together. You look away, and you’re grateful you had nothing to eat the morning of. You were grateful you were not given the choice of a last meal. 

“On your knees,” Lute tells you in a strained voice. 

You hope Adam won’t be mad at her. You hope that if he  is, that she can take it.

You flinch at the chill touch of the sword. Your wings flutter, and you bite your tongue. You should make your case once more. You shouldn’t be here. You only asked a simple question. This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be here. There’s a point against your back. You look up and find Adam. You need him to save you. You can run away with him. You’ll live the life he wanted. You’d do anything. You’d be his. You yelp as something sharp cuts into you. You’d never disobey Heaven again. You’ll never ask again. You’ll be content. Please, Father, you’ll be good.

“Stay still,” she says, breathing out the last word in a plea, and when you cannot, she’s forced to continue. 

The tearing is a sharp pain. One that makes you writhe and scream, your throat raw and the sounds unbearably loud. Every twist and turn only further aggravates the wound, skin pulling and muscles bare for the Angels to see. Warmth runs down your back, caressing the small part of your back and spilling onto your legs and thighs. Your hands slam into the ground, clawing at the porcelain floor. Through tears, you can liquid gold, shining and shimmering.

The cool air is agony against your open wounds. You’re warm, and wet, and the final strip of skin is pulled away from you. The heaviness of your wings are gone from you, and crane your neck to see them land with a heavy ‘thud’ away from you. The base of the ivory feathers are drenched in gold, and you can only think about the misery you’re in, and you reach for them. You need them back, you want them back. You’d sew them onto yourself if you could, but you can’t leave them here.

Your eyes glance around, wide and horrified, searching the crowd, and you roll onto your back, screaming once more, and calling for Father, your eyes landing on Adam. Legs block your view, and heavy hands lift you, pulling on your arm, and stretching the raw muscle. 

You can hear someone, but your own screams overpower the other, and for a moment, you’re in the air, lifted and unable to breathe, until gravity pulls you down.

It’s a searing pain. It burns your skin and the whips of air slash against your back and body. You’re beaten and battered, carried by the air of Hell, and your screams only echo around you. The ground is unforgiving, a crater forming around you as you land. Gravel and sticks push against your skin. Your body lays crumpled on the floor, limbs twisted around each other, and your body is a mix of gold and dirt. 

Weeds twist into your hair, and the stench of Hell makes you retch. You cry on the ground, alone and numb. There is no Father here; there is no warmth for you here. In a shay breath, with your hands clawing at the dirt, you wish for death. You wish for the demons to pry you apart and for your body to never recover. 

-

And far away, tucked away in his castle, eyes looking up at the heavens, Lucifer sees a shooting star streak across the sky, and his heart drops. 

[panstarry]

my final from last semester that i made into a zine. cooked this one up in a couple hours before the critique (the ink was still wet!), so it's very raw and kind of sloppy but the sentiment is there. i love you trans people of color. we are the backbone of this community 🌟

[themisterhip]

I get brat vibes from 1998 Vash  (≧∇≦)/

[noideawhatidobutfit]

the zoro-being-good-at-math-while-luffy-barely-knows-what-two-plus-two-equals-to trope is actually canon yall

[lucabyte]

an ending (x)

[swedenis-h]

Change

[last-in-line-for-hell]

Time Passes

[kitamars]

i have nothing for halloween so take some yokai ginhiji doodles so you know im not dead ndnjvjd

[geeks-universe]

Cooper Howard x F!Reader (not to spoil it, but you know I love my crossovers so…)

The Fallen pt. 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once, when the world was younger and you were still naive enough to believe in fate, you asked your father about love.

He’d laughed then- a deep, cheery kind, that spoke of a wisdom you could never hope to achieve.

“In time,” he’d promised, taking your hands into his, “You’ll learn that love comes in many forms, and the love you choose will always be the greatest.”

Even after everything, after years and years of disappointment, of cruelty and emptiness, you couldn’t forget his words.

So, in an act of rebellion, you chose love.

You chose the love of your brother, the brother who would lose everything, who would fall from Grace, just for defying fate.

You chose the human race, who turned their back on you, who hurt you over and over again.

You chose a better life, that seemed impossible most days- but sometimes, just sometimes, everybody lives.

And you chose wrong.

The world tore itself apart, and just when you wanted to believe it could find itself again, it would fall into the greatest trap in human history: greed.

The love in your soul turned to dust, like the cities you’d once roamed, crumbling until all that remained was an empty space and broken dreams. You’d held onto what you could of yourself, desperate to piece together the fragments into something that resembled the person you’d been, but there was no hope. The spark of hope you’d once kindled and raised to an inferno was doused, nothing but ashes in the ocean of your disappointment.

There were still a few things you couldn’t abide by, however, and Cooper Howard dragging an innocent woman through the desolate Wastelands was one of them.

You’d happened upon the scene by accident, just passing through, but the familiarity of the figure had you lurking longer than what was normally deemed safe.

“Coop?”

Your voice was gentle, like the beginning strums of a sweet song. Cooper wasn’t sure how the harshness that had etched itself into your demeanor never invaded your speech, but he would be eternally grateful. It was a goddamn godsend he didn’t believe he ever deserved.

“Well, now,” he drawled, careful to keep the smile that threatened to peek through hidden. “Last I heard, you were headed East.”

You had no such reservations, and even the years of guilt and pain couldn’t wipe away the upturn of your lips. For an action so small, it sure did radiate in a way the sun never could.

“I did, but it didn’t stick,” you shrugged, grabbing the straps of your backpack. Never one for subtlety, you gestured at the vault-dweller, who had been eyeing you with a keen interest.

She had been quiet, obviously, for the sake of herself and how Cooper might react to her asking for help. Now that you’d acknowledged her, though, she started speaking up, much to Cooper’s chagrin.

“I’m Lucy,” she said, tugging harshly at the restraints around her neck. “I’m looking for my father.”

You nodded, and the fluttering in Lucy’s heart slowed, fear mixing with her initial curiosity. You knew the ghoul holding her captive, the chances of you helping her were slim to none, but she tried to remain optimistic. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a good person on the surface.

“Might be hard to do with that,” your eyes flicked from her neck to Cooper, with a pointed raise of one brow.

He let out a low whistle, leaning back with the confidence of a man who’d lived long enough to not be afraid of shit. If it were anyone else, friend or not, he would’ve shot them dead and been done with it. He didn’t need to answer to anyone, but something deep in his chest forced his hands steady.

“She broke my vials,” he explained, cautiously avoiding your gaze. “Seems only fair she gets me more.”

“He used me as bait!” Lucy argued indignantly, trying to take a step towards you only to be tugged back by Cooper. “I had to do something.”

“Your father,” the word is strained, a haunting in your eyes Lucy can’t place, “Where is he?”

Lucy tried, once again, to walk to you. Coop, however, was keeping her on a tight leash, refusing to let her near you. It’s for his benefit, he tells himself, even if some small part of him does it for your protection.

Over the years, he’s run into you many, many times. No matter how hard he’s tried, it’s like fate keeps bringing him back to you. At first, he’d been downright horrible to you, terrified to admit that there was something in your eyes that made him feel human again. Slowly, ever slowly, like a stubborn weed you grew on him, and it’s been impossible for him to deny the way his body reacts to you.

“Coop,” you chide, your voice like velvet, enveloping his skin in a soft warmth. Fuck, he did love it when you used his name.

You gave Lucy a half smile, and the growl that threatened to leave Cooper’s mouth got caught in his throat as he realized you weren’t walking to her, but to him.

“I’ll get you the vials, just let her find her dad.”

He stood a little taller as you approached, planting his hands on his belt as he ran his tongue along his teeth.

“Darlin’, I ain’t doing this for the hell of it,” he replied, and then paused. “Mostly.”

You reached your hands out, carefully enveloping them around where he was grasping the rope. In all his years, he hadn’t recalled a single touch ever stirring his stomach the way yours did. You’d only ever touched him once before, and it was a brief graze of his cheek. This was intentful, and it felt a hell of a lot more intimate than it had any right to be.

“Please,” you breathed, and he could see the despair in your eyes - eyes that were far too old for someone who looked so young. He could never quite piece together how you fit in this world, or how you managed to look as if you’d stepped right out of the past just to have this moment with him.

He sighed, maintaining a scowl for all he was worth. Cooper Howard would not let you see the effect you had on him.

“Thank you, Coop.”

His stubborn heart skipped a beat as he clenched his jaw, his expression emanating annoyance. You weren’t perturbed, however, turning away to free Lucy.

“I’m (Y/N),” you introduced yourself, careful not to irritate the marks on her neck further. Cooper was rough around the edges, you knew that, but you saw the man beneath the armor in the little moments, the times he couldn’t quite hide who he was.

It intrigued you, made you think about yourself and the person you’d become. Perhaps, you had been too hasty in throwing that person away. Maybe, that part of yourself was still alive too, buried underneath layers of armor.

“Thank you,” she was sincere in her gratitude, and that tiny piece of yourself flared, begging to be remembered.

“I could help you too, you know,” you offered after a delayed pause, chasing the optimism she held tightly onto.

No matter how hard you tried, your soul fought back, demanded to be whole again.

“Really?” Her surprise morphed to joy, and you found it contagious.

“Now hold on just a damn minute,” Cooper interrupted, not pleased with that development. “Your services are required elsewhere.”

“I’m capable of servicing more than just you.”

His leg twitched at the insinuation, at the way you looked at him from beneath your lashes with an innocence he doubted you possessed.

“But, since you asked so nicely cowboy,” your smile was devious, your tone far too sultry for the sweltering heat of the desert. “You first.”

Lucy’s brows were to her hairline, unsure what to make of the dynamic between the two of you. Her entertainment, however, was cut blissfully short when you threw a canteen towards her, which she caught instinctually.

“Now you’re coddling her, sweetheart?”

You took a moment to wrap the lasso Cooper carried around into a neat loop, your gaze locked with his as you approached once more. Lucy was too preoccupied with her water to notice the two of you sizing one another up.

“Don’t be jealous, Coop,” you grabbed the front of his belt roughly, forcing him a step closer to you.

He fell into the motion, tracing his eyes dangerously slow from where you gripped his belt to the soft curve of your lips.

“You’re still my favorite,” you promised on a breath as you tucked his lasso securely into his waist.

His hands snatched your wrists before you pulled away, and for a brief moment, the intermingling of your breath was all that interrupted the silence. His gaze was a challenge, and yours was far too playful.

It was damn near unfair how you could walk through the apocalypse and still look like you belonged on a fucking billboard. There was an unnatural allure around you, and he wasn’t sure if it was the twinkle in your eyes, or the smoothness of your skin, or the gentle bur of your voice- but holy fuck you looked like an angel that’d accidentally stumbled into hell.

The silence was interrupted by Lucy clearing her throat, an awkward smile as she caught your attention.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but-“

“It’s okay,” you assure her, grazing your fingers along Cooper’s palms as you step from his proximity.

“Vials first, daddy dearest after,” you reminded them, taking the lead.

Lucy was more than happy to walk beside you, while Cooper trailed a small distance behind. Where Lucy was insistent on speaking, keeping up a steady conversation through the long trek, Cooper preferred to observe.

First, he focused on the way your black jumpsuit hugged all the right areas, tight enough it could be considered a damn sin. That train of thought was dangerous though, and left him with an ache he knew he couldn’t satisfy on his own.

So, he instead focused on the way you effortlessly dodged Lucy’s line of questions, and redirected the questions to learn about her. It was curious, that. As much of a tight lipped bastard that Cooper was, you were doubly so. Through the years and the friendly encounters, he’d let some of his life slip in conversation. Nothing substantial, but you certainly knew more tidbits than anyone else.

He, however, didn’t know anything about you. He knew what he observed, but you never told him anything about your past.

It helped pass the time, sifting through your noncommittal answers to make assumptions about the life you lived.

It was difficult though.

Sometimes, you talked about things like you’d witnessed them, even though it would’ve been impossible. He didn’t know your age exactly, but if he had to guess, he’d put you at maybe mid-twenties, and that’s at the oldest. It was damn near a miracle you didn’t have any missing limbs or obvious scarring. You looked as unmarked as a damn vault dweller, and he was starting to think that perhaps you had been one.

“Have you always lived on the surface?”

He never thought he’d be thankful for the damn vault dweller, but it was nice having someone try to pry some answers out of you.

“That’s a harder question to answer than you’d think,” you laughed a little coyly, like there was a joke that only you were privy to.

When it was obvious you weren’t going to continue speaking, and Lucy had far too many manners to push any further on the subject, she asked another question.

“Why’d you help me?“

Your gaze turned toward the setting sun. It had been over half the day since you’d decided to help them both, and the sun was just now slipping below the horizon. The three of you would have to rest soon.

“It’s hard to forget the person I was,” you admitted lowly.

The symphony that was your voice turned decidedly melancholy, unnaturally so. Normally, it sounded more like a romantic string of tunes that captured the essence of life. This, however, was sad, dead.

“Maybe the world needs more people like that,” Lucy provided, and Cooper didn’t miss the flash of guilt that devastated your expression.

Curious, indeed.

“I’d reckon that’s the last place we’ll find ‘fore the sun disappears,” Coop states, pointing to a rickety, old house, somehow still standing against the desert in defiance.

“It’s as good a place as any for the night,” you shrugged, leading the small group to the rest spot.

Where Cooper was cautious, weapon drawn, you were careless, opening the door like you knew nothing was in there that could hurt you. He felt a twinge of annoyance that you would be that reckless, knowing the dangers of the Wasteland. He was many things, but a protector was certainly not one of them.

“Here,” Lucy tried to hand you back the canteen you’d gifted her earlier as you settled yourself down in a corner.

The building was definitely empty, and provided some amount of protection from both the elements and any creatures lurking about, but there wasn’t any intact furniture. You’d found a relatively comfortable pile of sand and laid your pack down, as if it were a pillow.

“Keep it,” you refused to take the offering. You were honestly a bit surprised she had even saved some for you.

“But you haven’t had anything to drink all day.”

It was an oddity that Cooper had noticed too. While both he and the vault-dweller had taken an occasional sip of water or a bite to eat, you hadn’t done either, and the brutal pace you’d set hadn’t reflected that.

“Believe me, “ you said, turning your back to your two traveling companions. “I’m okay.”

Obviously unsatisfied with leaving the conversation, Lucy frowned, but obeyed. Her probing look to the ghoul warranted no answers, and eventually she found her own patch of sand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days passed along in a similar manner, and the more of you that the two observed, the more confused they became. They didn’t voice their concerns, however, far more focused on the destination you had in mind.

“It’s…”

Lucy trailed off, side eyeing you with a questioning look.

“A lab,” you supplied.

“Right, a lab!” She echoed enthusiastically, deciding it best not to point out that it was very much in a state of disrepair and the likelihood of anything surviving the looting prevalent throughout the Wastelands was little to none.

“Sugar, I don’t have the time to be fucking around right now.”

It was the closest tone to anger that Cooper had spoken to you since his first year of knowing you. In the past two days specifically his coughing had grown more severe and more often.

You’d explained a generalized version of what would happen without help to Lucy after the first night, and since then she’d been a bit more apologetic to the ghoul, even if he was a dick.

“Stay out here,” you ordered, not waiting for their inevitable protest as you slipped into the decrepit building with a loud screech of the door.

At the very least, your traveling companions didn’t follow you into the descending hallway, which was more than you expected.

Whatever source had powered the underground facility had died years ago, leaving the bulk of the supplies sealed tight behind an impenetrable door. The bunker was lined with 2 feet of lead, and a door weighing many tons. It was nigh impossible to get in, and if you were anyone else, you would’ve considered it a lost cause.

Instead, you cast a glance back towards the faded light where the entrance was, ensuring that you were not followed while you grabbed hold of the door handle.

You sighed, yanking with a great deal of force until the door made a loud pop, coming unhinged and falling to the ground with a deafening thud. There was a hushed murmur from where Lucy had yelled down to you, but you didn’t bother replying, instead focused on the rows and rows of vials.

Most of the initial testing sites were still secret, a forgotten part of history that, despite their usefulness in the current state of the world, had fallen into the cracks of negligence. Luckily for you, and by extension Cooper, there was enough supply to last him damn near a year if he could ration and store it properly.

Just as you dropped the first vial into your backpack, which was in a convenient metal container, you heard a distinct whooshing noise. You didn’t need to look at the falling object to know who had decided to drop by, and with an exasperated sigh, you tilted your head toward the ceiling of the very dark, very cold bunker.

“Brother…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you think we should check on her?” Lucy was having trouble keeping still, straining her eyes down the dark hallway. “What if she’s hurt?“

“She ain’t hurt,” Cooper shot back, leaning back against the dingy building and crossing his arms over his chest.

“She could be de-“

“Finish that sentence and you might find yourself there, sweetheart,” He threatened, his fingers reaching down toward his holstered gun.

Maybe it’d be better to keep her mouth shut, but after a tense silence, and quite literally nothing better to do, Lucy couldn’t help herself.

“So, you and (Y/N)-“

“Do you like breathin’? ‘Cause I’m getting the distinct feeling that you certainly do not.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you look at her with this-“

“I have no qualms with blasting a hole through your head ‘nd tellin’ her you decided to run off.”

“And then there’s the way she talks to you-“

“I’m gonna stop you right there, sweetheart. If one more word comes out of your mouth, it’ll be the last.”

The two met stare for stare, the threat lingering in the hot breeze between them. Lucy had no doubt she was beginning to grate on the ghoul’s nerves, but she also didn’t really think he’d harm her, not when it was obvious you’d know it was him that did so.

He wouldn’t risk you being upset with him.

Probably.

And because Lucy really didn’t know when to stop talking, she spoke one more time.

“I know that you think I’m naive, and maybe I am, but I do know that life is unexpected and people die, like, a lot.” She dragged in a breath, envisioning her last, and only, memory with her mother, surprised that Cooper had actually let her speak for this long without interrupting.

“Especially up here, so maybe, just… keep that in mind.”

The silence stretched, and for a long moment, Lucy was sure he was going to shoot her. Or at the very least, not answer.

Ever so quietly, however, in a low grumble she heard him mutter, “I know.”

The air felt significantly less murderous after that, and she left the ghoul to contemplate his complex feelings on the subject. She might not fully understand the extent of your connection, or even why you felt that way towards him, but she could appreciate the raw emotion that sparked in the conversation between you both.

If anything good came out of her coming to the surface, besides bringing her dad home, she hopes it would be them realizing the gift they have. Idly, she thought about the knight she’d met back at Filly. That was the first real connection she’d had with anyone, as silly as it was to think about.

“I’m glad nobody’s shot,” you interrupted the quiet contemplation, the smile on your lips not quite reaching your eyes.

Whatever happened in the mysterious lab couldn’t have been good, but you seemed entirely unscathed outside the haunted, nervous look in your eyes.

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Cooper greeted, tipping his hat back a titch so he could inspect your person. If he took a little extra time to appreciate the curves of your body- well, who could blame him?

“It’s cleared out,” you rattled your pack in the air before you, nearly dropping some of the overstuffed vials.

Coop let out a low whistle, and Lucy commented, “That’s enough for a lifetime.”

“Not quite,” you laughed, passing along the top one to Cooper. “But it will certainly last a while.”

While the ghoul tended to his needs, Lucy and you wandered further into the Wasteland, eyeing the pipboy on her wrist with the directions to the head.

“So the head for your dad?”

There it was again. The sourness in your voice at the word “dad”. Lucy wanted to ask without being too terribly intrusive, but let the subject drop.

“Did anything happen in the lab?”

You bummed, shaking your head. It was clearly a lie, further proven by the frown that settled on your lips. There wasn’t a lot of yourself you trusted other people with, especially not when it came to your family, but your soul was burning with the desire to shed your armor.

“My brother’s name is Lucy,” you said suddenly, unprompted. “Well, his nickname.”

Lucy, at the very least knowing where the boundary was, decided not to press her luck. Despite seeming to be such a small piece of information, she could see the effort you put into sharing it nonetheless.

“Lucy?” Cooper echoed, having snuck up at some point to follow you.

You weren’t bothered that he’d overheard though. On more than one occasion you’d wanted to share pieces of yourself with Cooper.

“Lucifer,” you provided his full name, a twinge at the top of your shoulder blade, where your battered, broken wings began, ran down the length of your spine.

“Like the devil?” Lucy inquired cautiously.

A laugh crawled up your throat, and before you could stop it, you were giggling heartily, nodding your head.

“That’d be the one, yeah.”

She didn’t understand the truth you were telling her. You knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t possibly fathom the implications that ensued with that knowledge either.

Lucy casted one quick glance at Cooper, then cleared her throat and claimed she was going off the path to use the bathroom quick.

There was a tense silence that permeated the hot, desert air when she left, a new development that neither occupant knew how to navigate. Finally, Coop broke it.

“Ya know, you’ve never actually talked about… all o’ that.”

Your family.

He didn’t say it in so many words, but you could fill in the unspoken topic without much thought. You hummed, acknowledging your own secrecy regarding your past.

“Sometimes it’s better to leave the past buried.”

Coop breathed out a laugh.

“Don’t I know it.”

The smile you gave him was genuine, albeit small. Hesitantly, you reached out towards his gloved hand, grasping it lightly between your own. You didn’t have anything you really wanted to say, didn’t need to, actually. He could see it in your eyes, the gratefulness shining in your bright gaze, clearing some of the guilt that stayed stagnant on your person.

“The vaultie reminded me today,” he drawled, his voice even lower than normal. If you didn’t know him any better, you’d say he was almost flustered.

“People die.”

You waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, you raised a brow in question.

Cooper felt his heart jump to his throat. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bare himself- not now, maybe not ever. The world felt like it started spinning around him, and he pulled his hand from yours, cradling it to your chest.

“Just hope you’re not one of ‘em, darlin’,” he finished lamely.

You swallowed, deciding it was better not to push. Not today.

“You too, Coop.”

Words simmered between you. Dangerous, terrifying words. But Cooper couldn’t get them out, couldn’t get past the panic that played his heart like a damn fiddle.

And you, well you couldn’t let go of your guilt, couldn’t see past the pain of watching the world go to shit and not doing anything to stop it.

So those words stayed unspoke, utterances of the heart, but not of the lips. Maybe, if they were never voiced, they could freeze, and eventually crumble, like time did to all.

Lucy returned then, and the unlikely group continued on as before, leaving the forgotten words to decay away in the dry sand of the Wasteland

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

After Everything was Fixed (but you were still broken) arc3 be like,

this is a little smthn I like to call, “Moon attempts to make a move, and it went,, better than expected??”

(theyre both idiots your honor)

(The idiot he wants to smooch [but whom does not have a mouth] in question:)

(it u!!!)

(I drew this entirely bc I kept thinkin abt how fucking funny it is that when Moon (or Sun) kisses Readerbot it would make this CLANK noise like hitting two plastic plates against each other. Like can you imagine ur a night guard walking around doing ur job and u hear this weird repeatedly clattering noise and ur like ???? is smthn broken so u track it down and find the daycare animatronic sitting on the floor of the daycare with a staffbot and he’s holding their face and giving them a bunch of tiny bonks on the face with his face. Like. Can yOU IMAGINEEEwHEEEEEEEZE)

[shima-draws]

THANK YOU for giving me the excuse to draw them some more...I finally got to doodle one of my favorite headcanons for them too :")

Grovyle's very sensitive when it comes to other people touching his hair (it's a trust thing) and Pip is one of the few people he will actually let touch let alone actually style it at all. I've wanted to draw her braiding his hair for ages 🤧

[themisterhip]

The sillys 🧛😝✨

[collophora]

This fic is leaving rent free in my head since a week so go read it: Haunting by @iiidunno : https://archiveofourown.org/works/54832273/chapters/138984958 [Edit] ok I put half a BG 'cause really It was bothering me

[beannary]

guys you have to trust me I will totally NOT go insane over Desi Donnie I am totally normal about this

(I simply HAD to do fanart for @mudlarkspur's fic it has taken over my whole mind and is ruining my every thought I'm so obsessed with it)

[dreamsy990]

some of the less nice thoughts about being aroace

extras below the cut

sketch

closeups on my favorite panels

bonus: adios

[bl0odsharkk]

HELLO HI drops mlp tf2 designs and runs away

IM IN LOVE WITH HOW EVERYONE TURNED OUT can you tell i already made lots of headcannons just by looking at them?

hope you like them:3

+ alt version of support under the cut

yes i know i should have drawn a merpony sniper but im too tired ok AJSDJKABD (also i hate their canon design so if i drew them i'm going to redesign the heck out of them so im doing that late 👍)