#her eyes are sunken and looking empty or something behind the eyelids

[mishy-mashy]

(small spoiler about the cloak post)

I forgot if it's shown in the memory snow Ova or just in season 1, but Petra can recognize Emilia in her cloak (and unless you were conscious of that, you'd never even realize it happens, I don't even think Emilia really thought much about it) and people have pointed that out as "oh the cloak has flaws" but it's just revealed later (7 or 8th arc I can't quite remember) on that Petra just has Special Eyes™ and can just see through any and all illusions as more come up later and she's essential for dealing with it.

So there was a reason for her recognizing Emilia, that was for shadowed for her nearly 10 years prior

OHHHH

And this shows in the anime too, when Petra turns to Emilia without the cloak on and is like "You're the girl that always came to our morning calisthenics" when Emilia always wore her cloak then. Other than 'cause Subaru said, this is the start of the kids asking Emilia to join them on the dragon carriage

But it's like- so subtle, because then Petra says ", right?" at the end (might be different in other translations, but that's the one I know), as if she's not certain herself, but SHE IS

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

hi hello!! i love both your mer aus theyre wonderful omg

could we mayhaps have more of gaz seeing through remora readers shit and being so over it? like (if i remember correctly) he likes annoying the real her out when he feels like shes sunken too deep into the brainless lil fishy thing, but what exactly does he do? now that im actually thinking abt it i lowkey just wanna see them sass each other lmao

-- monstie >:3

pspspsps mer Gaz enjoyers @thoseofmonsters @persephone-kore-law @cod-z

47 / 1.2k

...

You peek out of the water's surface next to Gaz. He's laid out on a smooth, flat rock, sunning. You'd think he's indulging himself, but he does this all the time.

"Gaz?" you pipe up. "Aren't you drying out?"

Gaz peels an eyelid open, squinting in the sunlight as he glances over to you. The motion is lazy in the heat of the day. "Nah."

You glance up at the gulls gliding by overhead. You don't trust them. "Well... aren't you hot?"

"S'pose. Not uncomfortable, though." Gaz closes his eyes again, basking leisurely. He pats the rock next to him, offering the open space. "Sit with me."

"No, thank you."

Gaz cracks a single eye open at that, frowning. "Why not?"

You clutch the edge of the rock with nervous hands and glance over your shoulder. "There are boats over there. Humans."

"So? You like humans.”

"When they're in the water," you mutter. You eye the boats in the distance. They're small, but they're not diving boats. "But not like that."

Gaz rolls onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow to look at you. He doesn't so much as glance in the direction you're looking. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you if that's what you're worried about."

"Don't they look at you funny? When they see you up here?"

"Maybe." He rolls onto his back again, stretches his arms overhead, arches his back, and lets out a content sigh. Then he laces his fingers behind his head. "Don’t care. I like being out here. They can ogle me as much as they want."

You notice the boats aren't coming too close, either. "They don't try to talk to you?"

"They do." The corners of Gaz’s eyes crinkle. "I ignore them. Most get the message pretty quick and steer clear.” He glances at you. “What's wrong? You're more skittish than usual.”

You grab his hand and tug it. "Come on, we need to go back to the reef now."

Gaz peers down at you over the ridge of his bicep. "Not quite yet." He closes his eyes again. "I’m comfy."

"Please?" You rummage around your brainthoughts trying to come up with a reason. "I need your help with something."

"With what something?"

"With something. And you're the only one who can do it."

"Yeah?"

"And it has to be now."

He smirks at your pitiful efforts to budge him. Your persistence is cute. "And what is this it that I have to do right this instant?"

"It's... taking me to the cliffs where the seabirds nest."

"You know how to get there."

"But Ghost will get mad if I go alone.”

"Then say I took you. He's asleep. He won't know."

You huff. "Gaz, that's lying."

Gaz rolls onto his side again to look down at you. "Oh, tsk, tsk. Poor little thing. Always so honest and forthcoming yourself, aren’t you?"

Heat pinches the hollow of your throat. He's shaming you.

Gaz leans in, his voice low and lazy. "Tell me something, darling. Do you pretend your head is empty because you can’t help yourself, or because you’re afraid not to?"

You sink down into the water until only your eyes peek out. Heat licks all the way down your chest, radiating against the cold water. "You're being mean."

"Am I?" he croons, his lips curled smug. "I don’t like it when you play dumb. Makes me want to be mean."

If you were a bolder creature, you'd call him a brute.

He reaches out and gives your ear a fond flick.  "S’cute when you pout."

"So you're not coming with me?" you mumble.

"Mm, I didn't say that." Gaz glances up at the sky as he pretends to consider your wants. The corners of his mouth tug up into that dimpled smile of his that never quite disappears. "I'll take you there if you lay with me."

You grasp the edge of the rock again, pulling yourself closer again in relief. "You will? By the cliffs?"

"No." He pats his sunning rock again. "Here."

You look down at the salty, ocean-smoothed stone. "But people will see."

"Don’t care." He pats again, more firmly this time. "Come up. Get warm. You're worrying so much it’s wearing me out just watching you.”

You glance over your shoulder again. It's not like you haven't laid out in the sun before. You like to snooze in the sun as much as any mer. But it always seems to attract attention. Human attention. You're not scary-looking to them like Gaz is. You're more like a novelty. A bauble. Something from old sailing stories.

Humans get way too close to you if you give them the opportunity.

Gaz watches you. “You really think I’d let anyone lay a hand on you?”

"No, but..."

Gaz reaches out and gently grips your face, turning you to look at him again. “Now," he says calmly.

You nod at the command. "Okay. Now. Yes." For Gaz. Your fingers flutter over the edge of the rock as you look for a place to pull yourself up. You try to tune out the ambient human noise behind you.

Gaz helps you pull yourself up out of the water, depositing you on the sun-warmed rock next to him. You end up on your side, mirroring him chest-to-chest.

You stare at his collarbone. "Hi."

He slides a warm, rough-skinned palm up under your jaw to tilt your chin. “Hi yourself.”

His sharkshin feels strange when it’s dry. Not bad, but... strange. Still smooth, but grainy with salt. And it's cold up here. Even in the sun, the breeze makes you shiver and duck into Gaz's chest. You still feel so exposed with your bare back to the busy shallows.

“Relax. Fussy thing.” Price’s words. Gaz pulls you against him, one arm curled over you. Then he stretches out on his back, bringing you with him to sprawl over his chest. He drapes his hand over the fin that trails down the base of your spine, rubbing his thumb over the arch of your lower back.

"Better?" he asks, his voice barely above a rumble against your ear.

"I guess so." Not really.

"Don’t pout. No one’s gonna come up to you while I’m here, you know. Only thing snatching you off these rocks is me. That make you feel safe? Cuddling up with the most dangerous thing here?”

You give him a flat look, still feeling your earlier embarrassment. You’d push him off this stupid rock if you could.

His grin widens. "Don't look at me like that. You started this."

"I'm telling Ghost."

"Tattle-tale."

"Hmph." You wriggle over until you slide into the crook of his other arm with your hand on his chest. This way, you can see the humans and their boats over him, but you're mostly hidden from view.

"Sullen little…" Gaz's other arm slides over your back, holding you snugly to him. One big hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing in a way that makes your eyelids flutter. His mouth is right next to your ear. "Now will you stop flinching every time a boat passes?"

“Okay."

"Good. Now stay," he orders in a low voice, "and stop wriggling."

...

more mer au / more Gaz / masterlist

[world-of-virbrisk]

"String of Stars"

Before there were stars, there was only the moon. But before there was the moon, there was only an empty night sky and a lonely goddess.

TW- implied abuse near the end

-2.1k wip-

written by @invisiblehoman

Mori sometimes could still remember when the night sky didn't have any stars. She remembered the emptiness of it all. The long time that nothing occupied it the way the sun did for the day. The darkness that filled the land, making it near impossible to see. Something was missing but she never knew what. It pestered her as she stared into the void of the sky. Stared as it changed colors into her beautiful morning, colors she created filled her eyes. Every night she watched, waited for her solution to cross her mind on why it felt wrong. Surely her day sky wasn't this empty?

She can't remember when it happened, but eventually, there was light one night. A soft, light, gentle, it almost rocked her to sleep with how calming it was. It was comforting, just enough dark to encourage rest, and just enough light to bring a sense of safety.

Sitting in the grass fields that swayed at her very breath, she stared off into the distance. The horizon line went on for miles.watching as the grass formed waves among itself. To one side lay a warm figure in the cool, crisp air. Damir, She could see the soft light that emitted from his eyes faded under his lashes. The middle of his back pressed against her hip as she sat. Her knees pulled up to her chest. The fabric of her dress bunched up with goosebumps across her arms.

She remembers Damir always seeming so peaceful during the night. Instead of the furrowed brows and crossed arms, he lay relaxed. All tension gone, his face becoming soft and tranquil. Something that she only saw of him when he thought neither she nor Suwon were looking. She smiled at that, a warm memory of its own.

But it was at this moment she realized that her vision of him was much clearer than before. What was once only a small portion of his face illuminated from his own light was now nearly his entire side. With shadows that hid away from something. Something from above her. In quick realization, she looked up, but this time, something stared back. It was pale and quite round. It emitted such a soft glow. Near impossible to look away from, and yet she felt that she didn't want to.

månsken is what she called it, Lunae lumen even later on in her life.

In her opinion, it was beautiful, and even thousands of years later, she finds herself gazing at it. Highlighting the white snow caps of her mountain.

The memory of being sad when it finally lowered was one she could remember clearly. The rise of Damir telling her that the night was officially over. It would have been a shame if not for the fact that just lightly, she could still see it. Faded behind a translucent curtain of soft blue. It didn't leave, and she hoped it'd stay like that forever.

That next night was when she finally saw Suwon again. He sat beside her as Mori watched her Luna, or måne at the time.

Suwon was a cold creature, chilling to the touch but thrumming with life and magic under his thin skin. He looked a little different than her or Damir, but in her opinion, it was just as delightful. His face was long, parts of it hollow, instead of eyelids and lashes his eyes were sunken. The only thing visible was a small dot that moved around in its dark cavity. His hands were different, but so were Damir's. While she had rounded fingertips with what she dubbed nails that stayed transparent to a degree, Suwon had pointed ends, a hard nail thicker by three times her own. His hands were thinner, quite elegant compared to Damir's strong and wide ones. Damir nails layer like her own, just on top of boxy fingertips. But his nails are a solid black color. they matched Suwon and her hair almost perfectly.

They felt familial in a way,she knows they've always been there, can't even remember a moment where it was just her in the lonesome space of void and matter. Even long before, there was a ground to stand on.

A soft nudged to her shoulder cause Mori to look at her brother (she doesn't remember when she started calling him brother)

"Do.. you like it…?"

His voice was soft, filled with a sense of worry. She could feel the buzzing of his head as he waited anxiously for her response. She couldn't help but smile at him, a full joyous grin of teeth, her eyes squinting close as she looked at him.

"She is lovely, I don't think I could go back to existing without her again"

The hard line of Suwon's back dropped almost immediately, Mori could feel the energy of his nerves come off him in massive waves. He hadn't misjudged her desires, and for that, he allowed himself to relax.

As Mori turned to look back at her Luna, she could see Suwon reach behind her, and a gentle hum from her other side was made. Damir didn't care much for the sky the way that she and Suwon did. His developing domain resided underneath hundreds of layers of vegetation and rock. At first she thought he was strange for this, but as she visited his home, she understood why he chose it. While not completely comparable to her sky, the caverns had their own beauty. The way the water flowed down the cliff like edges, past layers of colorful stone. Strange but vibrant plants filled out areas. It was nice, exciting sometimes, so Mori never judged his disinterest in her sky.

Ignoring the small movements from both behind her and to her other side, she turned back to Suwon. Damir let out a small huff as he gently sat up himself. His long limbs were not quite sure what to do with themselves. He also turned to Suwon.

Suwon’s magic was always strong, Mori could feel it even as he simply sat next to her. And it was clear he wished to show them both something.

"I was thinking about how to fill out the sky within my domain and I discovered something" As Suwon talked his hands started squeezing the air, at first he did it carefully but then as he pressed his palms together a small surge of energy was created. He began squeezing harder before a small ball of light was formed. It grew until it was just smaller than his palm.

A quiet huff before he spoke was made. "I discovered that I can make these, and that they can be made huge, even float extremely well once they become a certain size."

"They float?" Damir was the first to question, his body now leaning closer just over Mori's shoulder.

"Yes! It's what I did to create that!" In quick movement, Suwon pointed to Mori's Luna. He then continued his explanation.

"That is made of a solid rock, but this," he looked down at the ball of light in his hand. " It's like your sun, it would be called a stjärnor ,and instead of being super big and close they can be far away and-" The ball was pushed in the woman's hands as Suwon began to spin out a fine thread of magic. He then took one and wrapped it around the sphere in his sister's hands. "I discovered that if I attached it to another one I can make what I call consolations, the threads won't be visible but I saw that for the few that I placed my Valdarin started making shapes from them!"

Suwon seemed to almost shake with excitement. This explained where he had been for the past few days.

"They connected them?" Was Mori's question.

"Yes, yes! And then they started creating stories! Some of them even began using them to navigate the abyssal sea."

There was a pause. He seemed to remember he needed to tell them something.

"When I was figuring out how to make your måne I realized it would look lonely by itself, so I started coming up with other things" another small pause before he held up the thread with the ball of light on it.

"Once I realized that it would take a long time to fill both yours and my sky, I thought we all could do it together and make the shapes for our creatures to discover."

Suwon’s voice wobbled just a bit near the end of his sentence. It was clear he put much thought into this but was afraid of being shut down.

"I bet I can make better-looking consolations than you both can." Mori jabbed at her companions.

Damir jumped at the sudden excitement in his sister's voice. He looked between the both of them. They stared back at him with pleading gazes that he had joined them.

A puff of air left him as he chuckled at their antics, moving himself closer to the smaller man.

"You both and your skies are something else. Alright, show me again how you did that"

Mori pulled her hair to one side as she began mimicking Her middle brother's motions from before, listening to Damir's quiet exasperation of struggle, forcing his own magic to behave. Laughing out loud as she watched him use too much physical strength and completely crush his first attempt. Even Suwon had to turn away and giggle as their eldest sibling dusted the magic powder off his face.

Not even Damir could hide his own amusement at his goof up.

~~○~~~○~~~○~~~○~~~○~~~○~~~○~~~○~~~○~~~○~~

Thousands of centuries later, and their constellations still stand. Except now as Mori sits next to her window, a book lays on her desk filled to the brim of human stories about the stars. Across from her sits, a woman who she never thought would be willing to be this close to her.

Wendy.

She watched as the young woman tried her best to compress the air between her hands. The solid force that would just barely start forming would crumble mer seconds later and disperse into the air again.

Mori could feel the frustration building within Wendy, but what confused her was the feelings of sadness, fear, and guilt that came off in various waves. She did her best to remain positive as an attempt after an attempt failed. Each time, Wendy seemed to become more and more distressed.

"Wendy honey, it's okay. If you want, we can try again tomorrow. Maybe today is just a bad day for your magic."

Instead of calming down her guest, Mori's words seem to cause even more distress. In one last attempt, the girl started pressing the air, trying to concentrate her magic into it.

Finally, a small speck of light started forming. It grew very slowly, but it was enough that mori truly believed Wendy might actually make a star today.

Until her hands collapsed on it, and small sparkly dust went everywhere.

The emotions from Wendy hit Mori hard. When she expected anger, she was met with fear and guilt. It was when she noticed Wendy shaking as she kneeled on the floor. Her voice cracked as she tried to apologize to Her fellow goddess.

"I.. can do..i-it, I can..please.. I can….I-"

There were tears forming at Wendy's hollow eyes, her white pupils growing in sizes as she seemed to become fearful of her surroundings.

Mori got off her seat and knelt in front of Wendy. As she went to gently wipe tears away from her eyes, she froze.

Her guest had flinched almost aggressively, her ears pinned back, and her face turned away. As if she was expecting to be hit. Her pleas continued but much quieter.

It was then that Mori remembered something the eldest God told her about this young woman.

Changing her hand position to an open palm and holding it just a few inches from the younger goddess face. Mori waited gently, cooing Wendy into looking at her.

After a few minutes, Wendy finally did look at her, ear pensively pinned, eyes clearly searching for something that wasn't there. Mori felt her heart ache just a bit as she watched the goddess study her and then look down at herself, then the hand near her face. Her breathing labored, but still restrained, as she finally looked back at the elder goddess. The white dots of her eyes faded as she very carefully allowed her cheek to press into the offered hand.

The tears streamed almost non-stop, quiet whispers of I'm sorry and I'll do betters were lost to the rooms, books and carpets. Her body shook as a hand reached forward and grabbed Mori's dress.

Wendy's face was brought into the taller woman's neck. Her own face is framed by the tall antlers. Her other hand gently rubs the top of the girl's back as the girl's hands clutch and claw as the fabric between them.

Making stars could wait until tomorrow.

[tiens-letters]

Oohh another request haha. I love this thank you and i hope you like it :>

were the bruises to your heart worth it?

Childe angst

You mulled over your sister's words for the nth time today. Her voice playing on loop inside your head, drifting in and out of a mundane daydream.

"why are you still with him?" you wondered as well as to why you still stuck with Ajax, all these days in 3 years of being wit him. Perhaps it was devotion, it was love to persevere even in the wrath of crumbling times and yet why does your heart ache a little more these days he's been far from you.

The days when he would come home, wounded and tired you were there to nurse him back. Back then it was something you'd do out of care and worry, which was until these recent days where it felt as if it were a job you didnt want to do as he would shrug you off instead and locking himself in another room. You barely remember the time where you both shared a quiet night basking in each other's presence, with limbs in a tangle and your forehead upon his beating chest, it was almost none existent as the home you both had felt so utterly desolate, void of the homey ambience.

Youve endured a month of his uncalled behaviour, breaking you even further as things slipped from your grasp leaving you empty and in agony. There were times you'd silently let tears fall as he slept so soundly beside you, unbothered by your pain. He's become more and more as the harbinger you forgot him to be and not your darling lover Ajax.

He never noticed your puffy eyes, sunken cheeks and dwindling weight yet he noticed all the small mistakes youve made. Where one day, left you with a bruise on the arm due his snake like grip after blowing up on you right after he came home from a long journey to sumeru.

You left. 

Childe came home earlier than expected, once again tired and nursing a few minor wounds on his body. All he wanted was your touch on his skin as you lulled him to sleep only that to his utter surprise that the house was empty. Perhaps you went out for an errand or for another pot of your favourite flower that you kept in the small garden at the back.

Not giving it too much thought, he lounged on the couch awaiting your return, eyelids soon drooping as the soft pillow coaxed him to sleep.

As the grandfather clock swings its pendulum, the sound echoing through the whole room signifying the arrival of midnight, an eerie sound waking Childe back to consciousness. Groggy from rising he scanned the room only to find it darker than before, if it werent for the nearby lamp he switched open, he swore he couldve been swallowed by the darkness.

Were you not home yet?

A dreadful feeling washed over him as your presence was nowhere around the house. He called out for you as he rushed through the halls, a sliver of hope vanishing every corner turned and every door opened led to nothing but misery.

You always leave a note as to where you are going and yet it was another one out of the many abnormalities in his home.

"Darling? Please i hope youre not playing with me!" he calls out to no one in particular, denying the fact of your existence gone with the wind. Your clothes were all intact and so does your other belongings. He thought of every possibility of what couldve befallen his lover, mostly gravitating towards the worst of the worst case scenarious and may the archons forbid, he would never recover from the blow.

"Where are you?!"

Then it dawned on him after much pondering and pulling his falling parts together. The things he did, the words he said it all came flooding through him like a rushing cold river, hitting him fair and square in the chest and came forth an otherworldly pain and regret. He gasps, almost suffocating by the weight of his sins and he wished he had died right then and there in atonement for his crimes.

Soon his vision became bleary as eyes misted over with tears that fell freely from his ocean eyes. He ruined it. Ruined you.

And yet he could not let you go.

Days seemed to pass by so fast that it had already been 5 months of liberation from Ajax's presence. You were slowly building yourself up once again, the temple that was torn down by a single crack, slowly being rebuilt brick by brick.

Your love for Ajax, even if it left quite the bruise to your heart, it was still there, lingering in the air and a part of you missed him so. You wondered how he would be doing, you wondered if he looked for you just as you did when he didnt come home on the date set, you wonder if he wept when he couldnt feel you next to him, just as you did 150 days ago. You wondered if he ever called your name all the while giving a lingering kiss to the painting that hung on the foyer. You wondered if what you both had, had any significance to him at all.

"Stop doing that." you jolted from where you sat, the book falling off your lap as you met your sister's stern glare from across the room.

"Stop doing what?"

"You are thinking about Tartaglia again. Its been over 5 months and that blundering fool never made an effort to find you much less apologize for what he did when you were still there." there was anger in her voice as she recounted the day you came to her door, teary eyed and just utterly torn. Never once did she felt like murdering someone so bad, especially when it had you, her only family involved.

"Im sorry, I-i just--"

"Hush now." she came over in her elegant strides to take you in her arms, the familiar scent of your mother's favorite perfume stayed on her like second skin and you were so grateful that you had her. You let yourself cry in her embrace in quiet comfort.

Childe never stopped.

Secretly searching for atleast a tiny clue of your whereabouts wore him down to the bone and yet he never gave up. How could he? Even if he thought he was so undeserving of you he still pushed on to right what wrong he's made. The details gathered had been insufficient to serve as a lead making Childe more desperate in his attempt to search for you. Nights were spent on scouring places and information seeking and his work, only done in the daytime. He never wasted a wink on sleep as it was an obstacle to getting closer to you and even when his body collapsed due to exhaustion of overworking all he could think was you.

The search has led a certain fatui informant who works for one of the harbingers. With a note slipped in secrecy on a specific time containing an address on the small parchment. It was all Childe needed to fuel his buried hope as he took off towards snezhenaya.

He never imagined he'd arrive right in front of the iron gates that encased the whole estate atop a mountain. The wind bellowed stronger than before as the snow rained harder upon the place. Luckily, he was born in this region and had survived throughout. 

He wondered why you came here, to such a dreadful place but then again, anywhere was better than right by him.

Trying to push open the gates only to be repelled by cryo magic, burning through his gloves and into his skin, leaving fresh burns on his palms as he gasped in pain. Whoever lives here clearly didnt want anyone trespassing much less had a fancy for guests.

He was starting to grow cold as his energy was slowly being siphoned by days of travel, it would only take a matter of time before he passes out.

He calls out, hoping someone inside would hear him.

And you did, only that it seemed like the wind but the time you looked outside the library window, you saw a person outside the gates. The familiar ginger hair tousled with the wind and as you strained your ears to hear and that was when it filled your ears, Ajax's voice. Something you havent heard in quite a long time.

As quick as lightning you stood, half running half gliding through the halways and down the stairs, there was no coherent thought, only him. He was freezing outside the barrier and you pushed yourself more to reach him.

Your figure stepping out through the door was almost like a dream to him. Your name oh so longingly leaving his bluing lips.

"Ajax!" you were in time as you caught his figure which seemed lighter than before. He clung to you, legs desperately tryinf to hold him up. You were here, right in his arms, alive and warm.

"Im sorry. Im so sorry. Please I love you." he rambles on, like a mantra he apologizes over and over again, sobbing and stumbling on his words as he held you so achingly close "Forgive me. Forgive me..."

"Step away from him this instant." your sister, Signora hisses from behind you, just as you were about to coax Ajax she already had a cryo dagger aimed at his head

"Sister please!" you plead, your panic growing as you saw Ajax huffing in labored breaths "Let him come inside or he will freeze to death."

Signora sees the urgency in your eyes and the undying devotion you still hold for the man in your arms. She dematerializes the dagger with a wave of her hand.

"Fine but if I see tears in your eyes then dont you ever dare stop me from what Im going to do to him."

"Thank you sister." you smile at her as she steps backs inside the house and you follow in after her with Ajax leaning on you for support. Once inside, you had him lay on the couch by the fire after helping him out of his winter garments and replacing it for a knitted quilt.

"Im sorry." bloodshot ocean eyes looked at you with so much guilt and a love that you almost forgot "I-i im so so sorry."

"Lets talk about this after youve rested." this time you couldnt look at him, the ache in your heart throbs from the bruises it still nursed. You stood before falling further only for him to catch your shaking hand with his equally shaking one.

"Dont leave." he whimpers, the fear of abandonment increasing as he pleaded for you to stay. instead, you let go of his hand and placed yours instead over his eyes making him uncharacteristically shriek surprising you even more, making you think what other worldly pain he was experiencing as of  the moment. "No! No No.  Please Its dark." 

Ajax cries as he thrashed around because he feared that if he sleeps he would go back to the nightmare of you not by his side and that would leave him all cold and alone just like in the past. he didnt want to go back there, not now when he's seen you. As much as he'd hate to admit, he was truly and utterly terrified but you had to let him rest and with the help of your vision he finally succumbed to a dreamless, peaceful sleep. Only that he calmed down did you notice how much he's lost, where your once sunken cheeks, puffy eyes and weight loss now transferred to him and it made you sick to your stomach. your lips found his forehead as you wished him a good rest, you left the room after bandaging his burned hands to gather yourself for when he finally came to his sensible self.

when you thought it was going to take a full day for him to wake up  only to find him stumbling about in the living room calling your name on his lips like a broken record. you immediately rushed down and burst into the room to find him clutching his head and gasping breathlessly. he looked crazed until he caught sight of you standing by the door, a worried look on your face was when he finally came to. he ran to you, clung to you like it was the last day of the world to live and sighed into your welcoming smell. 

"are you alright now?" you ask him as you part in arms width 

"Hit me." he tells you in all seriousness in his worn out state 

"W-what?" you were certain he was still out of it until he grabbed your hand in an attempt to hit himself to which you stopped immediately 

"Hit me! Scream at me all you want. Call me words Ive called you. Ive broken you! Do you not see that?!" funny how he couldnt see himself, he who's become worse over the course of the months . his tone rose and fell until it was only a whisper above his panting 

"Just dont abandon me." he shuts his eyes, steeling himself for your judgment  until he felt your hands on his face again, making soothing circles on his cheek 

"look at me Ajax." you coax him and he did and he could see assurance and the love for him still remained and he wanted to cry again but tears have long gone abandoned him and left him in such a regretful state, he truly didnt deserve you and you never deserved to be treated that way. "Youve hurt me yes and nothing can change that but I wasnt planning on you leaving you. I couldnt as I love you too much that I wouldnt imagine life without you but Ajax, the things you did to me, to us,  was painful." 

"I know and Im so sorry." he held himself from rambling as the pain in chest grew even more burdensome, something he would willingly carry as he vows to himself to never hurt you and if he did  then he would tear himself down "I love you" 

"and I to you Ajax. Just promise me that when you are having a hard time, let us talk it out and not result to screaming and painful banters." 

"I promise darling. on my life and everything in this world. I vow to never cause you pain like I did and to only give you love and care that someone like you deserve." 

there he was, your Ajax. He was home. 

[colossal-fallout]

AOT HEADCANONS

! NSFW ! 18+

Various characters thinking about you while pleasing themselves. Do not read if you are under the age of 18.

The desire for you spreads throughout them like wildfire, lust so strong it's asphyxiating. For whatever reason, tonight you can't be with them...

Eren

Again...? Eren sighs to himself silently as the familiar primal urge begins to take hold.

Tossing and turning, he's trying to sleep, but he can only see you behind his eyelids. Your lips. That smile... That ass.

He silently scolds his cock that is hardening underneath the cloth of his PJs.

He starts by rubbing it slightly over the material, teasing himself slightly and imagineing it's your fingers, slightly grazing against it as you lower your pretty face down...

He doesn't handle teasing well at the best of times, so his hand quickly finds itself down his trousers and wrapped around the tip, already starting at a steady pace.

He flicks through memories of you in his mind, bouncing on his lap in sheer bliss and panting his name in a desperate attempt to stay quiet.

Fuck, those lips...

It doesn't take long for him to finish, his load small and watery as he's already had numerous tugs thinking of you that day.

Reiner

Reiner has wanted you, no - needed you, for the longest time. He's thought about touching his dick thinking about you a few times but as we all know, at the core Reiner is a gentleman and it conflicts his moral compass.

BUT... If you've already had sex and you're together he has no qualms about it.

He'll do it in the shower, the only place he's guaranteed privacy.

Failing to resist the burning temptation, he grabs the base of his girthy king of a cock and slowly runs his hand all the way up his length.

He starts tugging, his broad shoulders hunched as he places his free hand on the tiled wall, his eyes closed and mouth agape, imagining or thinking about how amazing you look naked.

What he wouldn't give just to see you like that right now.

He begins to pant, his rhythm and pace picking up, imaging you biting your lip and speaking to him.

"...I want you, Reiner."

"You fill me up so good..."

He grits his teeth when he climaxes, a loud, gruff, grunt as his jaw clenches.

His orgasm is that strong, it buckles his knees a little; he slips slightly, almost losing his footing.

Good job he did it in the shower because his cum shot is thick and theres a hell of a lot of it.

Levi

Levi is stressed and tired, as usual. He rubs his eyes at his desk after an ass load of paper work.

The sun had sunken below the skyline hours ago, yet here he was alone, tired and now horny.

Levi oozes "alpha" vibes so he just sits back in his chair, opened his legs and pulls it out, remembering you were in his office earlier.

Running his tongue over his bottom lip he slowly strokes it for a while, warming himself up and wondered how you'd react if he just flat out asked you to ride his face into battle.

After a while hes pumping it at a nice place, sitting up a little now, his eyes closed and imagining you running your tongue up his shaft and begging for him.

"...Fuck." he whispers with ragged breath as he gets close, this free hand gripping the arm of his chair.

He grunts when he unloads, followed by a sharp gasp and a hissed inhale through his teeth.

Once he's calmed himself, hes annoyed at the thick, white mess he now has to clean off his hand, trousers and the floo- is that some on the desk? How even...?

Porco

Porco has to bite onto something to stop himself from grunting when he thinks of you.

You just turn him on at a level he didn't think possible.

His thick dick throbs in his hand as he works it, twisting it slightly at times.

This dirty dark horse even spits on his hand, relishing the wet feel and imagining it was your tight puus pulling him in nice and deep.

He whispers your name a few times, the bed slightly clunking against the wall with his strong movements.

Just you wait 'til I get my fuckin hands on you...

His load is pretty big, spurt after spurt as he watches it cover his stomach and chest.

Y/N should be here to lick this all up. Every last drop I give her...

Jean

Oh you better believe this guy has been planning to think of you while stroking himself all damn day.

It helps that he draws and he's definitely drawn you at some point.

He'll be blushing the entire time both with arousal and awe, thinking of how perfect you'd look squirming under him while he's buried inside of you.

His teeth clamp onto his bottom lip as he imagines you moaning his name.

Holy shit, how is she so hot?

His sheets bounce up and down as he pumps, his head tilting back and thrusting his his hips slightly, really getting into pretending he's pounding into you.

He'll get carried away pretty easily, calling out your name and grunting dirty things into the empty room.

"You like my dick, huh? It's all yours baby..."

When he cums he grips the sheets sometimes even slamming his fist down on the bed while cursing.

He instantly feels slightly embarrassed he got so carried away. He just wants you so... damn... badly.

He cleans up promptly but he knows it'll be a matter of minutes before he's thinking about him down your throat again.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Can you write something where a Supervillain was an absolute jerk to hero, but when she finds him, tortured, sick, and left to die, she helps him anyway?

Thank you!!!

Sure thing! Sorry this took a while. I had a million ideas for this and had to focus in on one.

Dear Diary

Warnings: fevers, delirium, left to die, betrayed, Stockholm Syndrome (implied, not directly stated), fungal infection, exposed bone, broken ribs and nose, starvation, implied neglect, bathing, stripping of clothes (non-sexual), blood, crying

~

Hero sat down at her desk, illuminated by a small lamp and pulled out her worn, leather notebook. She opened the first thirty pages to an empty one, taking brief notes of the way the pages were clearly, neatly filled out top to bottom.

Then, she took her pen- an object of sentiment, nearly as old as her, and gifted to her by her late grandfather- and wrote, as neat as the previous pahlges, in her cursive sign:

Dear Diary,

Then she stopped writing and glanced over at the sleeping figure in the nearby bed. His brown hair tousled, but neat. Old injuries securely bound by more bandages than Hero cared to admit. His once flushed and feverish skin, now placid and evenly moist, was completely neutral with no signs of that agony that brought screams that still haunted Hero at night.

Smiling, she changed her writing to a more easy going print and started writing.

I apologize for not writing recently. It's been so hectic that I think I need a vacation. So, before I tire my hand out complaining, let me tell you about the past couple weeks...

Two weeks ago:

Hero drove smoothly over the recently tarred road. It was night and the sky was absolutely glamorous with stars and constellations of all sorts of celestial bodies. She sighed, contentedly, and aimlessly tapped her fingers against the black steering wheel. She hummed no song in particular as cheery eyes scanned the long, expansive track in front of her.

Until suddenly, the monotonous road was broken by a Ford stranded across the center. Thankfully seeing it immediately, Hero flashed the lights on top of her patrol car, and stepped out with her gun in hand.

A F250, manual with only two seats, but it was empty. Hero raised her gun again and stalked to the other side. Nothing, just an eerie, sporadic vehicle in the middle of a county road.

She whisked open the door. The acrid smell of tobacco and liquor plummeted into her nose and she grimaced. But, like the exterior of the whole truck, there was nothing in the cab.

"Hmm." Hero shrugged, and slammed the door shut, slightly annoyed. She was about to call it in when she heard a tiny, pained whimper.

She tensed, bringing her gun back up again, and spun around. Nothing. Not even a deer or a racoon.

Then, the whimper sounded again.

"Who's there?" Hero asked, but she was starting to think it was just a young fawn or a toad or something.

But it sounded so human.

"Help."

The plea, the breathless plea, sounded the still air. Hero, now completely able to locate it, bounded to the bed of the truck and looked in.

To find a man, bloodied and bruised, with sweat glistening across his dirtied face. He seemed to be conscious- at least awake enough to call for help, as weak the call was- but his eyes were half-lidded and dazed. Blood, still fresh, streamed from a very broken nose.

"Sir?" Hero asked, lowering her gun and putting it in the holster.

The man's eyes opened slightly and he looked at Hero with wonder. A small smile formed on parched, ruined lips. Tears seemed to flood his eyes and he started to cry.

Baffled, Hero climbed into the truck and gathered the man into her arms, mindful not to hurt his neck or spine.

"Hey buddy," Hero cooed, concern evident in her voice. "Are you okay?" No, obviously.

"She-she left me," Supervillain rasped. "She left me here." He started to sob, clawing at Hero's shirt. "Villain left me."

Wait Villain? The stuck-up, obnoxious, feminine bastard that acted as if the world bowed down to her? Hero looked down at the shivering man. Villain, as arrogant as she was, wouldn't hurt a person to this grave extent, unless...

Unless it was...

"Supervillain?" Hero asked. The man turned his head and only then did Hero recognize the sharpness of his jaw and those dashingly handsome golden brown eyes. He let out a hoarse whine and pressed his face back into Hero's leg, chest rattling with broken ribs and mucus.

It was him.

Hero pushed the man off her lap and scowled. He didn’t deserve comfort, or love. Heck, he deserved whatever catastrophe Villain wreaked upon him.

But, after that cruel shove, Supervillain started to scream from the pain of both his horrific injuries and the fresh feeling of betrayal again. He curled his battered form into himself and started a nonstop crying session.

Feeling awfully guilty, Hero laid her hand on his hot shoulder and sighed. She took it back, no matter how mean or terrible a person is, they didn't deserve this.

Before Hero knew it, Supervillain was asleep in the back of her car. As she drove home, night shift forgotten, she thought of her plan. He needed a bath to wash the injuries out and to see the full extent of them. And then he probably needed stitches and a few bones set.

She glanced in the rearview mirror at the limp body. He was breathing, but very subtlety. If it wasn't for the periodic moan or a distressed cry here and there, one might've mistaken him for dead.

Hero shook her shoulders out and looked back at the road, slightly paranoid that she would stumble across another hazardly placed truck. Specifically a manual F250 owned by a certain woman named Villain.

But of course, she didn't. She arrived at home safe and sound, turned off her car, and gathered the now unconscious supervillain in her arms.

"Okay bud," she whispered, hauling him in a bridal carry as she made it to the door. If he wasn't so starved and lightweight, he would've been a big problem to lift.

She opened the door, then immediately in a sudden instinctual rush to hurry, locked the door. She took Supervillain to her bedroom and laid him across the floor. Then, she took off his shirt to reveal a whole menu of wounds.

He had, across both his sides, large purple- nearly black- bruises around his ribcage. They greened at the edges, leading to his torso where cuts and puncture wounds made up a revolting soup. His broken ribs barely had anything in the terms of flesh or muscles on them. Only skin.

His abdomen was sunken in, remnants of days without food, revealing high, pointed hip bones. Hero winced, running a finger lightly across a particular large cut. It was so deep that it revealed the ivory bone beneath. Supervillain, even in his unconscious state, stiffened and whimper pathetically.

Sleep was not an escape from the pain.

Hero stripped the rest of his clothes off. Even his legs and lower body were covered in those red and purple marks. She picked him up again and carried him to the bathtub where she delicately showered the dirt and grime out of infected wounds and off his face.

When it was over, Hero was dumbfoundly shocked at the lack of color in his ghostly face. He didn't wake throughout the process; he was throughly exhausted and sick. Fever raged behind those closed eyelids, appearing in his hot breaths and lolling head. Hero put some old shorts of her's that she bought at a garage sale a couple months ago. They were way too big, but maybe a bit of foreboding told her that they may be necessary one day.

Then she scooped him back up and carried him to her room, laying him on top of the bed, and got to work on stitching and bandaging the wounds.

Supervillain stirred when the needle accidentally pricked a bruise. The second his eyes opened, he screamed and tried to thrash away.

"Leave me alone! Leave me alone!" He yelled. "Villain? Villain! Help me, please!" He started to sob, pressing his cheek into the pillow. "Please... V-vill...ain."

"Shh, shh," Hero laid a hand on his shoulder. He tensed and made a blubbering sound. "You're safe, okay?"

"No, no... I-i want Villain," he sniffled, tears streaming down his face like a waterfall. "I-i need her."

Hero felt her heartbreak at the desperation taut in Supervillain's voice. She gently placed her hand on his forehead in an attempt to comfort and check his fever. He was hot, super-duper hot.

Supervillain pulled away from the touch, watching her with wary eyes. Hero gave a small smile and stepped away. He didn't trust her and her presence might freak him out more. So she stepped away and went to her desk, back facing him.

After a while, his sniffles ceased. Hero took the risk and glanced at him to find him asleep. She sighed, the poor guy was so sick and hurt and tired...

Hero walked back over and went to work again. She applied some antibiotic ointment on some of the more severe wounds, hoping the infection wasn't too deep.

She was about to get to work on tending to his legs, when something in his hair caught her eye. It was a tuff.

Curious, she went over and gently pulled on it to find that it just fell out. A feeling of nausea rose in her throat as more and more hair fell loose. Crunching her brows together, she cleared a hole spot on his scalp to reveal reddened, puffy and dry skin.

A fungal infection. She recognized this from when she took zoology classes in high school. They went on a field trip and the staff gratefully allowed them into the vet area.

Hero rummaged through her medical supplies and found an antifungal cream for athlete's foot. She hesitated, not knowing if something for feet would be good for scalp.

But it was all she had, and something was better than nothing.

So she spread the cream on Supervillain's head, watching as the rose colored flesh glistened with newfound moisture.

Then, she went back to work on stitching and cleaning the wounds of his lower body.

When that long feat was done, she went into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of frozen peas. She wrapped it in a towel and placed it on Supervillain's forehead. Even unconscious, he whimpered and relaxed into the new, relieving sensation.

Hero started to pace. As the minutes ticked by, his breaths seemed to get shallower and shallower and then would increase in a sudden gasp. Periodically, his eyes would flutter open, but only for a moment before he passed out again.

She ended up sitting on the other side of her bed, far away enough to not scare him if he ever regained consciousness enough to be aware of her, but close enough to monitor him.

Hero felt herself dozing as she watched Supervillain's chest rise and fall, but suddenly he awoke fully. She started backwards, then froze. Maybe he would fall asleep again...

But he stared crying, mucus filled lungs heaving. Then he started sobbing, then wailing.

"Villain!" He cried, loudly. "I-i need you." He pulled his legs into himself and Hero did nothing to stop it- too petrified about him hurting himself if he got too spooked.

"Please," he mumbled. "Please, please, please. Don't leave me. Leave me... please no. I don't want you to, I love you please."

Hero's heart broke at that.

Supervillain went silent, apart from nonstop screams of fear and incoherent begging. It got to the point where Hero had to roll him over and gather him into her chest.

"Hey, shh, shh," she cooed, rubbing his back. "It'll be okay. It'll all be okay. Deep breaths... that's it. Breathe in, breathe out. Good job."

Supervillain calmed down and clutched at Hero's shirt. He buried himself into her and fell back asleep.

[gumnut-logic]

All of us love a mischievous squid.

-o-o-o-

Everyone knew Virgil was the musical soul in the family. He played, wrote and occasionally bled music. It was a constant in their home and the few times it was missing due to illness or absence, it was painful.

The man could sing if he wanted to, but that was a rare thing. He could dance with the grace of any ballroom dancer, his rhythm and style even outshining his eldest brother, Mr Lady-swooner himself.

Music was part of Virgil’s soul.

So, what happened late one Wednesday night after one too many rescues and ten too many drinks was quite surprising to them all.

The Tracy brothers weren’t big drinkers. They couldn’t afford to be due to their occupation. Both Scott and Virgil had been known to down a late night sniff of whisky on occasion. John had his boutique beers, but honestly, he wasn’t home very often to drink them, and space and alcohol was never a good combination.

Gordon fancied an odd cocktail from time to time and had the liquor stash to back it up, but most of the bottles were dusty and a couple well past their expiry dates. They just didn’t have the time or the opportunity to really let rip.

But it was Wednesday. The last rescue of five had been an avalanche and they always sucked. The boys had congregated in the living room…and it was a living room, not a damned comms room because International Rescue was down for a good forty-eight hours, Grandma’s orders.

They were all exhausted, but none wanted to sleep. They wouldn’t admit it, but there was fear in what they might find behind closed eyelids after such a shitty day, so they just sat together.

At first it was quiet. One or two words, fragmented debrief, until Virgil put an end to it and demanded John come home. Now!

Fifteen minutes later, the middle brother, just as exhausted as the rest, slunk into the living room and made a seat his own.

But there was little talking, each caught up in their own thoughts.

“Screw this.” Gordon jumped to his feet. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” And he disappeared around the corner.

Scott didn’t pay much attention, his eyes on John, assessing his condition and fast coming to the conclusion that his brother hadn’t slept in at least the last twenty-four hours judging by the bags under his eyes.

“John, have you eaten.”

Turquoise darted in his direction. “Have you?”

A blink and Scott realised he hadn’t. He had been too occupied keeping track of tired brothers. “No.” Honestly, he wasn’t hungry.

“Then you understand.”

A glare in his brother’s direction. John just turned away.

Scott’s lips thinned, but then his attention was taken by Alan, who was slowly tipping sideways on his couch, eyelids drooping. “Alan, you should go to bed.”

“Don’t wanna. Wanna stay with you guys.” His head landed on the couch cushion and two seconds later he was snoring.

Scott sighed.

“I have cake. I have popcorn. I have drinks.” Hurricane Gordon slammed into the sunken lounge and a pile of popcorn, chips, a rather large cake and a bucket of candy landed with him. The whole mess was dumped on the table and the aquanaut disappeared again.

Scott just stared at the pile of food.

“Well, that’s the healthy option.” Virgil’s voice was pure sarcasm.

“Do you really care?” Honestly, Virg.

“Not really, but the principle is there.”

Scott rolled his eyes. Just in time for Gordon to reappear with half his alcohol stash, several of John’s beers and whisky. Glorious, golden whisky.

Now that was a very good idea.

What happened after the appearance of the alcohol involved a movie Scott didn’t pay much attention to, far too much carbohydrate…c’mon, caramel popcorn, yes…and a lot of alcohol.

After all, they were down for forty-eight hours guaranteed and how often did that happen? This was an opportunity for them to focus on themselves and despite their exhaustion, there was finally a little relaxation in front of…the Enterprise?

“Who gave John the remote?!”

“I did.” The feminine AI’s voice danced through the room in amusement.

“Eos! That’s cheating!”

She giggled. “I thought Gordon was cheating when he stuck it in his drink.”

Scott turned to his aquanaut brother who was dressing the sleeping Alan’s hair with popcorn. “Gordon!”

“What?!” The cocktail in his hand had an umbrella and a remote control garnishing it.

“You drowned the remote.”

“Huh?” He looked at his drink. “Oh.” And he pulled it out of the concoction and started licking it clean.

“Augh.”

A blur of red plaid and Virgil snatched the gadget from Gordon’s fingers and flicked it into the nearest pot plant.

Gordon appeared forlorn for its absence for a whole second before turning to his drink and sculling it all in one go.

“Gordon!” This time it was Virgil yelling his name.

The aquanaut had blue curacao for lipstick. “What?!” It was a direct echo of his same exasperated response moments earlier.

“Take it easy.”

“I don’t want to take it easy. I’m having fun.” With that he grabbed a bottle and dumped something red into the same glass with the blue, resulting in a rather unpleasant purple.

Scott groaned.

Which only earned him an assessing stare from Virgil.

A sigh. “Relax, Virgil. We’re home, we’re safe. Let your hair down a little.”

He was going to regret those words later.

The stare turned into a glare, but moments later, Gordon was ribbing Virgil about drinking and somehow he got under the engineer’s skin because there was a drinking contest.

Unfortunately for Gordon, swimmer’s physique or not, apparently Virgil was more brawn and could simply just absorb the stuff.

Gordon ended up snoozing in a sea of popcorn beside Alan.

John started giggling.

Scott raised an eyebrow at the small pyramid of empty beer bottles beside his space brother.

“How many have you had?”

“It’s a tetrahedron. Work it out.” John placed a single bottle at the top of the pyramid and smirked at Scott.

This was definitely a very bad idea.

His own whisky glass was only half empty. He needed to fix that.

It was warm going down.

Gordon started snoring, loudly.

“Okay, that’s it. Time for bed.”

“Don’t wanna go to bed.” Virgil put on the soppiest puppy dog face Scott had ever seen.

John cracked up laughing.

Oh god. “No, bed, now.”

“Okay.” And Virgil stood up.

And took a quick step to the left, then the right, before managing to stabilise himself somewhat upright, but listing slightly to one side.

It was that moment that the movie playing on the holoprojector burst into music.

Music? What the hell were they watching. He stared up into a haze of rebooted retro nineteen fifties and a song about a car and lightning.

“Ooh, I like this one.”

What?

And Virgil was suddenly dancing. Well, it could be considered dancing in some circles, but it mostly consisted of a lot of poorly coordinated butt wiggling and a lot of horizon pointing arms.

The jumping on the couch was really not called for.

“Virg?”

But his brother was lost to the music and dancing his heart and his coordination all out.

“C’mon, Scott, get up and boogie!”

Of course, Virgil was loud enough to wake Gordon, who took one look at Virgil and fell off the couch.

There was far too much butt wiggling happening.

“Virg, come down from there.”

He was completely ignored.

Scott needed more alcohol.

The bottle of golden oblivion smiled at him.

Screw it.

He wasn’t quite sure what happened next, but the result was a broken lamp and Gordon on the floor laughing hard enough to break a rib.

“Eos, play Jailhouse Rock.” John managed that between giggles. Scott idly noticed that the tetrahedron had become modern art and was attempting to defy the laws of physics.

It failed with a smash and rolling of bottles two minutes later.

And Virgil was still dancing.

Classic Elvis Presley at full volume, enough to wake up every lifeform in the caldera.

The butt wiggling had morphed into hip waggling and some kind of leg shaking that threatened to faceplant his brother on the floor.

“Virg, please get off the couch.”

“I am having fun, Scott.” Each word was enunciated clearly as if the man was having trouble putting the syllables together. “Letting my hair down.” A grin and Virgil shoved his fingers into his hair and completely messed it up until it was sticking out in all directions. Suddenly a hand was almost in Scott’s face. “Join me?”

There was something in his brother’s deep brown eyes, something beyond the alcoholic haze, something desperate, something…sad.

Scott never could refuse a brother his help. So, a moment later, he found himself standing on the couch as Virgil shifted his dance moves into something that involved some shoulder rolling and a goofy grin.

Scott found himself grinning in return.

John said something half drowned out by the music and the room was suddenly filled with an old dance favourite from his teens.

Virgil actually let off a laugh and moved into a sloppy dance routine from their childhood.

Scott couldn’t help himself and at some point, he just let go.

-o-o-o-

Alan woke from one of the weirdest dreams of his life. It involved music and Thunderbird Three dancing to a beat, her arms waving about.

It took him a moment to work out exactly why.

The dream was saner than reality. Scott and Virgil were standing on one of the couches…dancing.

Alan blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Was that the Macarena? It was hard to tell. Virgil was so uncoordinated, he could have been servicing Two in his sleep for all Alan could discern. Scott was smoother, but he was leaning at a teetering angle.

Frantic eyes located his two other brothers.

John was sitting on the floor beside a pile of empty beer bottles. He had a dob of cake frosting on one eyebrow.

That left Gordon.

The strawberry blond was sitting on the floor in front of Alan’s couch.

“Gords? What’s going on?”

Gordon turned around and a soft smile curved his lips. “Big bros are letting their hair down.” The music suddenly paused and Gordon sat up straighter. “Eos, Dance Party 2054.”

More music erupted from the overhead speakers and vibrated the glass walls.

Alan found himself bopping to the beat.

Virgil climbed up off the couch and onto the hardwood floor, apparently so he could really let loose. His plaid shirt was undone and swirling around him as he moved.

Scott tripped over the top of the couch and almost faceplanted on that same hardwood, but he saved himself the bruises with those half-sharp reflexes of his. A moment later he was up boogying with his brother.

It was an odd sight.

“Are they okay?”

Gordon’s voice was quiet. “No, but they will be.”

“What about John?”

Gordon shrugged as they both eyed the slouched astronaut. “Not sure he has it in him, fresh down from Five. He’s safer on the floor.”

“What about you?”

Gordon snorted. “I’m good.” He chucked down the remains of his drink before turning to face his little brother. “Wanna dance?”

Alan’s eyes widened. “How are you?” His eyes bounced to the empty bottles on the table, the stained glasses and limp umbrellas.

“What? Do you really think I can’t outlast Virg? The man is a drinking wimp. Only took two good ones to get him dancing with the fairies. Letting him win was the hard part.”

“Win what?”

A snort. “Virg thinks he can drink me under the table. He’s small fry.” The aquanaut stumbled to his feet and Alan eyed him. Gordon had definitely had a few. “You aren’t allowed to kill brain cells. However, you can have fun, dear little brother.” He held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

He blamed sleep fog for the automatic yes that found him up and out of the sunken lounge, careening around the room laughing his ass off.

-o-o-o-

“John, what is happening?”

The astronaut blinked dopily. Maybe he had had one too many, but with each one, the voices faded just that little bit more. Calls for help he was desperate to answer.

And the silences that followed.

“They’re dancing, Eos.” It was obvious really.

“I’ve never seen them act like this before.”

“Doesn’t happen very often.” If ever. What was Scott trying to do with their father’s chair? “Eos, could you please close the doors to the balcony.” Gravity did suck after all.

He took another swig of Swedish beer as the giant glass doors slid smoothly closed.

“Can you access the room lighting?”

“One moment. I have control, John.”

“Good. Reference the 1970s disco movement and see if you can replicate any of the lighting involved.”

“FAB.”

A few moments later and the room’s lighting went nuts. The holoprojector flickered and shone dancing rainbows on the rafters. The atmosphere changed radically as the whole room pulsed and flickered in beat with the music.

Virgil froze for a whole five seconds in the middle of the room, staring up at the glass ceiling before bursting into a massive grin and throwing himself into a full on fit of dancing to the song that was screaming out of the speakers.

Scott was pirouetting with his father’s chair in great rotating circles.

Gordon was attempting some kind of retro-breakdancing. Though at this point, the only thing that was going to be broken was pot plants.

Alan had a grin on his face and was the most coordinated of them all, jiggling along to the beat with a grin on his face.

Another figure appeared in the entrance to the room. It took John’s entire remaining intellect to realise that it was Grandma.

Something stirred in the back of John’s head, something about getting in trouble, but he had no coordination to connect the dots so gave up. Besides, the Grandma figure was only standing in the doorway watching.

“What is the purpose of all this activity?” Eos’ voice was ever curious.

“It’s fun, Eos. An attempt at stress relief.” To wash the pain away.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was vaguely aware that he was being ridiculous, but he was beyond caring. The music pulsed through him and lifted him up. He just let it all go and rode the beat.

He was too exhausted to care about anything.

Except his brothers.

He always cared about his brothers.

Scott was astride their father’s chair and was riding it across the room in a completely undignified manner. Gordon was laughing his ass off at the sight and Alan was beside him in that. Even John was grinning as the eldest coasted past.

Virgil spun and let the air stream around him.

Round and round and round.

Oh dear, too round.

He staggered to a halt, but the world kept going. He stumbled.

A hand caught him. “Take it easy, honey.”

The blur turned into his grandmother in her dressing gown.

“Grandma!” He drew her in to a massive hug. “I love you, Grandma.”

Her tiny arms hugged him back. “Virgil, you’re drunk.”

“No, no, I’m dancing. Wanna dance, Grandma?”

She was looking up at him with concern on her face.

“Smile, Grandma. You need to be happy.”

He needed to be happy.

She reached up and touched his face, her hand cupping his cheek.

He closed his eyes and leant into her palm as the beat throbbed around him.

-o-o-o-

The sight of his grandmother sobered Scott immediately. The chair beneath him drifted a few more feet before he brought it to a halt.

Grandma caught Virgil as he stumbled and they were hugging. Something about that simple gesture clenched his heart.

He clambered off the chair and staggered awkwardly. Okay, maybe he had a few too many. He forced himself upright, kicking some spine into his vertebrae and made his way over to his grandmother.

Virgil was all plaid and gentle eyes as she cupped his cheek.

“Grandma?” Scott’s voice wavered with his step.

Eyes as blue as his own turned towards him. “Scotty, you need to sit down before you fall down.”

He frowned. He had a chair a moment ago. He looked around.

A hand caught his cheek and drew his gaze back to his grandmother and those blue eyes.

A red arm wrapped around him and drew him in. “Scott, you are my big brother.” The statement was declared with so much love as he was pulled sideways into Virgil.

They almost fell in a heap. It was Grandma who steadied them.

“You boys need to go to bed.” A concerned frown and she called out to the ceiling. “Eos, kill the light show and the music.”

The silence that fell was so sudden, Scott almost fell with it.

Virgil stumbled and Scott held him upright.

An almighty crash off to their left and Gordon upended one of the large pot plants near the glass doors. Potting mix scattered across the floor. Gordon rolled over and sat up covered in the stuff. “Who turned off the music?”

Grandma straightened. “It is time for bed, young man.”

The dopey aquanaut looked up at his grandmother and squinted. “Grandma, is that you?”

She ignored him. “Alan, come here, sweety.”

Alan, who was yawning fit to break his jaw, wandered over as bidden.

“Yes, Grandma?”

She snaked an arm around his waist and drew him in. “Time for bed, Allie.”

Virgil reached out an arm to snag his littlest brother, but suddenly Gordon was in his way and he got an arm full of fish instead.

Virgil did not seem to mind. “Gordo! My wingman, my copilot, my fish in a barrel.” Red plaid squeezed tight. “Love you, bro.”

Scott blinked. That was three. Where was the other one?

A glance at the lounge found John sprawled on the floor up against one of the lounges, fast asleep.

“Oi, Johnny!”

Scott jumped at Virgil’s yell and so did John. Bleary turquoise peered in their direction.

“Get over here, little brother, group hug!”

Wha-? Scott’s head was so foggy.

But John was stumbling to his feet. Something told him this was a dangerous thing. As the astronaut wobbled over, Scott moved to help him, but found himself snagged by cast iron red plaid.

Fortunately, Alan picked up on his fellow spaceman’s difficulties and hurried over to give him a hand. A few moments of wobbly astronaut and John was standing with them.

Virgil immediately reached for him. “Johnny!”

Unfortunately, he didn’t let go of either Gordon or Scott when he did and, damn, Virgil was strong. They ended up in a huddle, Alan and Grandma awkwardly caught up with them.

“I love you guys.” Virgil’s voice was muffled up against John’s shirt. Scott had caught Grandma and Gordon had grabbed Alan. Virgil had his face mushed into John’s shoulder.

John looked like he had stuck a finger in an electrical socket and didn’t know why his hair was on fire.

“We love you, too, Virgil.” It was Gordon’s voice, muffled by Alan’s hair.

Something lodged in Scott’s throat and he found himself hugging the pieces of brother and grandmother he could reach.

Apparently, it was something they all needed, because they stayed there holding each other for a full minute.

Just long enough for Virgil to fall asleep against John’s shoulder and let off a snore. It took Gordon and Scott to catch him to prevent them all from falling in a heap.

The group hug dissolved and the focus became getting certain brothers to their bedrooms. Grandma hovered and helped where she could. Scott took Virgil, while Gordon switched to helping Alan with John.

The family went their separate ways.

Grandma followed Scott up to Virgil’s rooms. The engineer faded in and out, declaring his love for any and all brothers several times on the way up. But by the time they made it to Virgil’s room, the engineer was getting heavy.

“C’mon, Virg, not much further.” Scott was ever so glad of that as his head was still trying to swim against the current.

Letting him gently down on his bed, the man immediately curled up into a ball, fully dressed and obviously not caring. Scott undid green shoelaces, dumped boots on the floor with a clatter and yanked the covers up and over his already snoring little brother.

A hand smoothed crazed hair back into its more familiar style and Scott unfolded from the bed.

A glass of water appeared on the bedside table and he turned to find his grandmother looking at him fondly. He blinked. He had forgotten she was there.

She held out a hand and as he took it, he was drawn into a quiet hug. She was ever so little up against his bulk. “C’mon, Scotty, let’s get you to bed.”

“I’m okay, Grandma. I need to check on the others.”

She sighed, but let go a single nod.

As they left Virgil’s rooms, she didn’t leave his side.

A visit to John’s room found him in bed, but the wrong way around, his feet on the pillow, his head hanging off the end. It took some prodding and yanking, but Scott re-orientated him. A quick check of the gravity support systems in his clothing were functioning properly – the alcohol probably wasn’t helping. Grandma materialised with another glass of water which was placed on John’s bedside table.

Quietly. “Eos, are you monitoring, John’s systems?”

“Of course. He is well, Commander. Do not concern yourself. I will watch him.”

Scott’s eyes closed without permission and he had to force them open again. “Thank you, Eos.”

The AI didn’t answer.

Grandma took his arm and led him from the room.

A check on Alan found him on the floor, but that was nothing unusual. Gordon had probably dumped him there. The kid preferred the rug to his bed and Scott meant to talk to him about it, but…life.

Gordon had fallen asleep in the corridor outside his room.

Scott rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t be surprised if the brat had done that on purpose. After all the entire night’s fracas was obviously engineered by the aquanaut. A fond sigh of exasperation and he pulled his little brother into his arms and dragged him into his rooms.

Dragging fish was considerably easier than dragging two hundred pounds of engineer.

Scott threw Gordon onto his bed and covered him up. Fingers brushed hair off his face.

Scott sighed again and had to prevent himself from curling up beside his brother.

“C’mon, Scotty, your turn.”

Scott mumbled something even he didn’t fully comprehend and let his grandmother lead him out of his brother’s rooms. One of the aquariums blurped at him as he walked past.

And finally, he was in his own rooms and his own bed. Grandma handed him a glass of water. He guzzled it before burying his face in his pillow.

He opened his eyes as a hand brushed through his hair. “We love you, Scotty. Don’t you ever forget that.”

He blinked slowly and managed a smile up at his grandmother, but her fingers caressed the side of his face, forcing his eyes to close again and he drifted off.

His dreams were kind.

And full of loving family.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[prettyboyreid]

safe

Request: can you do a spencer reid imagine based on season 9 episode 23 and 24 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Spencer experiences what is possibly the worst twenty-four hours of his life, and so does his wife.

Warnings: spoilers for Criminal Minds season 9 finale, lots of talk of blood, gun violence, normal Criminal Minds content

Word Count: 4,623

She almost didn’t even notice what happened.  She almost kept firing at the unsub inside the restaurant.  She almost carried on as if nothing had even happened. 

Almost.

Spencer had pushed her and Blake out of the way at the very last moment, somehow knowing they were in the line of fire after only a few bullets had been shot at them.  She thought he would’ve gone back to behind the car door he had been crouched behind, but the second she heard Morgan running towards them, her heart sank.  She felt the weight of the world crash onto her shoulders that couldn’t bear it.  She dropped her gun before running over to him, hoping the bullet had hit the Kevlar and not him, that the wind had just been knocked out of him and he would get up in a minute.

If only she had been so lucky. 

Morgan held pressure to his neck as she scrambled over to his limp body, trying to assess the situation the same way her husband would have if it were the other way around.  Her hands soon replaced Derek’s much larger ones before he ran into the building, chasing down whoever it was that had shot his best friend, his brother.  

Spencer’s eyes looked heavy, like it took most of his strength just to look at her.  She gave him a soft smile as she held him, doing her best to try and at least make him feel comfortable.  He always told her that he felt safest with her. 

“Hey, hey, keep your eyes on me, Spence.  You’re gonna be alright,” she promised, repeating those four words to him over and over again like a mantra.  The promise was more for herself, knowing she was the one that probably needed to hear it more than him.  She watched as he tried to open his mouth and say something to her, but he couldn’t even muster up more than the necessary breaths that kept him alive.

“Don’t try and say anything, okay?” she soothed him, looking up only for a brief moment as she heard the sirens of the ambulance she assumed Hotch had called approaching quickly.  “You need to save your strength.  The ambulance is almost here, and we’re gonna get you some help.”  She used the back of her hand that wasn’t pressing down on the fresh wound to wipe away a few tears she had let slip, not wanting him to see her cry right now.  She was supposed to stay strong for him, and that was getting harder and harder the more she watched his gaze fluctuate between her and his eyelids. 

The ambulance had arrived much quicker than she expected.  Once the paramedics had reached Spencer, the ringing sound of bullets had long subsided.  The buzzing of the possibly fatal hit, however, buzzed in her ear like radio static, and the longer she watched him the louder it became. 

The EMTs quickly mounted him onto a stretcher and ushered him into the ambulance, holding cloth to his neck to stop the bleeding.  She looked back at their Unit Chief quickly to make sure it was alright for her to go, and he nodded.  Y/N quickly climbed into the car before the doors closed. 

She laced her hand with Spencer’s much larger one, though it was just limp and nearly lifeless.  He could hardly keep his eyes open, practically choking for any air he could get as he struggled to stay stable in the back of the ambulance.  The vehicle lurched forward before quickly driving off towards the nearest hospital, the paramedic riding in the back with the couple continuing to hold pressure on the bleeding wound. 

“We’re almost there, Spence,”  she whispered to him, her gaze glued to him as she gave him a weak smile.  By this point, since she wasn’t even sure he could see her, she let her tears flow freely.  She felt weak, like she was about to break the second he left her side for surgery.  

She didn’t want to let him go; she wanted to hold his hand through every step to let him know she was there for him.  She worried that he wouldn’t feel her next to him in surgery, worried she had gone back to work, forgetting about him.  

“Keep your eyes on me, okay?  I’m not leaving. I’ll be right here. Eyes on me,” she told him, wincing slightly as the ambulance pulled to a stop.  

The paramedic that had been driving ripped the doors open seconds after they had stopped, helping pull Spencer out of the vehicle and set the wheels down to the ground.  She had hopped out of the ambulance and quickly followed them in, her mind tuning out the jargon they were yelling at the doctors as he was pushed down the white sterile halls towards the surgery wing.  She focused solely on him, watching as his eyes slowly closed just as he was pushed past two large red doors, forbidding her from staying with her husband any longer. 

She stood in that spot for a while - somewhere between five and twenty minutes, she wasn’t really sure - until a nurse carefully approached her.  The young woman rested a hand on her arm, catching Y/N’s attention before she turned down to her. 

“Is there anybody you’d like me to call?  Family, maybe?” the nurse (who she had deduced was named Evelyn, based on her name tag) had asked.  It took her a few moments to respond before she nodded, wanting to wipe her tears away the way Spencer would before she remembered his blood had been caked over her fingers. 

“Uh… um yeah.  Penelope Garcia.  I have her card somewhere and I’m sure she’s on her way but… I just need to be sure,” she said, sniffling a bit before looking around the hospital as she dug through her pockets.  She pulled out a few small pieces of paper, sifting through them before she found the one she had been searching for.  She handed it over to the nurse with shaking hands, letting out a sigh before she let her eyes shift between her and her hands. 

“Where’s the restroom?” she asked quietly, knowing she should clean herself up before she caught more than a few judgmental stares.  The nurse pointed her in the direction of the nearest one, giving her a soft, sympathetic smile.  Y/N thanked her quietly, following her directions before pushing the heavy door open with her elbow and making her way to the sinks. 

She scrubbed the dried maroon blood from her nervous, shaking hands, the entire scenario replaying in her head as she watched everything swirl down the drain.  Even after her hands were clean, she continued rubbing them down with thinly foamed soap and freezing water, hoping it would take away the memory of watching him hang on for his life by a thin, narrow thread.  

It was wishful thinking, but it didn’t stop her from trying. 

After a few minutes, she twisted the water off and grabbed a few paper towels from the automatic machine beside the sinks, rubbing off any excess water that still remained.  She stared at her hands, wondering how long she would have the picture in her mind of her holding his neck, praying to whatever God there was that his eyes would stay open, that he would keep breathing.  The very thought made her lose what little lunch she did have into the garbage can by the door, holding her hair back quickly as she coughed up anything left in her stomach. 

She ran her hands back through her hair as she tried to at least get a hold of herself, splashing some cold water on her face and rinsing her mouth out.  (She made a quick note to herself to ask Penelope to pick up a travel toothbrush and toothpaste set at the airport whenever she landed.)  She looked herself over in the mirror, her skin pale and sunken in as if she had aged ten years since this morning, though given what she’s been through, it didn’t feel like much of a stretch.  

She made her way out of the restroom and back to the waiting room, letting out a sigh of relief as she saw Alex sitting in one of the chairs waiting for her.  Y/N gave her a soft smile, sitting in the empty chair next to her before leaning back into the plastic cushioning.  

For a few minutes, she stayed silent.  Both of them did.  There were no words they could say that would comfort the other.  They both felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, knowing that it should have been one of them that was on that operating table, not Spencer.  

Spencer could do no wrong in either of their eyes.  He was a protector and a lover.  He didn’t kill anyone unless someone else was in trouble.  He hated having to use his gun unless it was necessary.  He always tried to talk people down as a first option, even if they came at him with a knife.  

“He’s gonna be okay,” Alex assured her softly, her focus trained on a stack of untouched medical and gossip magazines across from them.  She didn’t rest a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she didn’t try to give her a hug - not that she needed either.  Her presence was all she needed right now, and that was enough. 

Those were the only words spoken between them until the most colorful woman entered the hospital a little over an hour later, looking around nervously and curiously before her eyes landed on the two women in the waiting area.  She walked quickly over to them, the clicking of her heels being the only sound in the room in the early hours of the morning. 

“Any news?” she asked the two of them, digging into her purse before pulling out a toothbrush and toothpaste before handing it to Y/N.  She gave her friend a soft smile, sticking the two items in her back pocket before shaking her head. 

“No, not yet,” she said, clearing her throat as she checked the time on her phone.  “They took him in a little over two hours ago.  They should be almost done, ideally,” she added, folding her arms across her chest as she looked around the room.  Only a few other people were there - an older couple who looked like they were grieving, a small family who looked anxious (but in a good way), and a middle aged man and what looked like his young daughter.  Most of them were tired and exhausted.  No one could really blame them.  

“He’ll be alright.  He has to be.  It’s Spencer,”  Penelope told her, sitting down next to her before resting a hand on her knee.  The anxious wife gave her a smile, though anyone who could see her could tell it wasn’t genuine; it wasn’t her normal smile, one that would light up a room like a Christmas tree.  

As if on cue, one of the doctor’s came into the waiting area, one of his hands shoved into the pocket of his lab coat while his stethoscope hung loosely around his neck.  

"Y/N Reid?” he called out, reading the name off of a clipboard before looking up around the room.  She stood up quickly and made her way towards the doctor.  She held her arms crossed over her chest, sniffling a bit before shifting all of her weight onto her right foot.

“Is he okay?”  She wanted to ask if he was alive, that was all she cared about right now.  But she thought he was too selfish to ask that, so she asked the next best question.  The doctor softly nodded, and Y/N let out a heavy sigh she hadn’t realized she was holding in. 

“He’s stable.  He flat-lined when he was on the table, but he’s alright now.  A few centimetres to the right and he would’ve died.  He was very lucky,” the doctor informed them.  She squeezed her arm a bit as she listened to him, desperately wishing she was squeezing his hand instead.  However, she nodded along as he spoke, telling her about his condition and how long it would be until he could be discharged. 

“When can I see him?” she managed to croak out, her nose scrunching up a bit as the smell of the hospital finally caught up with her.  She had been so focused on Spencer, she hadn’t paid attention to anything else, including the sickly intoxicating scent of the sterilized building. 

“He’s still asleep, but you can come back to his room.  We can’t say how long it’ll be before he’s awake, so it could be awhile if you need to go-”

“I’m not leaving until he’s awake,” she said a bit too quickly, mentally kicking herself as she thought of how rude she probably sounded.  The doctor, thankfully, nodded understandingly, before leading her back towards where his room was.  

She shoved her hands in her pockets as she followed him quickly, looking back towards Alex and Penelope before nodding back towards his room, indicating that they should come as well.  Penelope gathered up her purse and offered her hand out to Alex before the two of them hurried behind her. 

It was a short walk from the waiting area back to the post-op room where he was resting, but to Y/N, the trek felt like it took hours.  Her body had been drained of all of her energy, and she wanted nothing more than to take him home, back to Washington, D.C., back to their house they had just bought and back to their bed.  She wanted to make him dinner again, to pick out his suit for the day while he picked out a pair of mismatched socks that only the two of them would ever see.  She wanted to sit on the couch and watch Doctor Who and Star Trek with him, listening to him make small comments about the science and physics behind every little detail and why it is or isn’t possible. 

But it wasn’t about her right now. 

The doctor pushed the door open carefully so as to not disturb the sleeping Boy Wonder, letting the three of them in before disappearing down the hall yet again.  His wife quickly made her way to his side, her hand lacing with his limp, nearly lifeless one as she sat down in one of the uncomfortable chairs much like the one she had been in for the past few hours.  Garcia reached into her bag, setting up a few little figurines from some of his favorite sci-fi shows on the table in front of him.  Blake sat in one of the seats across from the bed, crossing one leg over the other as she watched Spencer patiently. None of them made a sound, hardly took a breath, as if their presence would wake him up immediately.

It didn’t take long for the three exhausted women to fall asleep, despite the freezing room and hardly cushioned chairs.  

Spencer had woken up about an hour after they all fell into their deep slumber, smiling weakly at the sight of some of his closest friends waiting for him.  He used his free hand to rub at his eye tiredly, the slight movement of his body enough to wake up Y/N, who hadn’t let his hand go even as she slept. 

She let out a heavy sigh as she saw he was awake, letting her head rest against their intertwined hands.  “You’re okay,” she breathed out, kissing his knuckles softly before she looked up at him.  Her eyelids were heavy, her short nap not nearly long enough to make up for the drowsy feeling that overwhelmed her body.  

“You told me I would be, didn’t you?” he said in a groggy voice, slowly and carefully pulling their hands up to his mouth to kiss the back of her hand.  She smiled brightly at his comment, running a hand back through her hair with her free hand.  

“Get some sleep, angel.  You look worse than I do - which is saying something, considering I was just shot in the neck,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

He always knew that she took everything to heart, especially when it came to him.  Even when they started dating - almost eight years ago by now - she was overprotective of him.  Whenever he put himself in danger (which was far more frequently than she would have preferred), she did everything in her power to keep him safe.  So, he knew that right now, she probably was physically pained to see him like this, that she wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep until she knew that he was going to be alright. 

“I’ll be fine.  Can I get you something?  They have Jell-O downstairs, some pudding, I think Garcia brought-”

“Y/N.”  His voice was as firm as it could be, but it came out more like a plea.  She looked down at him, her eyebrows knitted together as she waited for him to continue.  

“We both need rest, alright?  I’ll take you up on your offer for Jell-O in a few hours, but you and I both need sleep, okay?” he told her, squeezing her hand three times softly.  She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she listened, but nodded after a few moments.  

He scooted over on the small bed until his side was pressed against the plastic rail that prevented him from falling off.  He patted the now empty spot on the firm mattress, tugging on his wife’s hand softly to pull her up to him.  She smiled softly at his offer, standing up and sliding into the bed next to him.  She thanked whatever God there was that he was the width of a toothpick, or else both of them would have never fit on that bed.

The second she was next to him for the first time in more hours than either of them would like, he pulled her flush against him with the rest of the strength he had.  She rested her head on his flat chest, taking in the familiar scent of coffee and old books that followed him no matter where he went.  Her arms delicately wrapped around him, not wanting to hurt him in case any part of him besides his neck was still sore.  He did the same to her, letting out a sigh as he let his head rest against the rock-like pillow the hospital had provided for him. 

Spencer fell asleep almost instantly, easily exhausted from everything he had gone through that day.  Y/N, however, couldn’t sleep for the life of her.  She worried that if she closed her eyes, something else would happen to him.  

Instead, she listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat, a sound she’d forever be grateful for being able to hear.  She assumed that was what kept her up - the beautiful sound of his heart that had stopped for only a few moments, the sound that proved to her that he was alive and that he was okay.  

ー

Alex was the first of the three to wake up.  Y/N looked at the digital clock on the bedside table once she noticed the older woman stirring, noting that it was just past three A.M.  Blake sat silently in her chair, checking any emails and calls she had missed from the team.

Penelope was next.  She gave the couple a bright smile as she saw Y/N curled up next to the doctor in his hospital bed.  She fixed the figurines she had set out earlier just to make sure they were perfect for him, before sitting down in her seat again, patiently waiting for him to wake up so she could smother him in hugs and affection, grateful he was alive. 

Spencer awoke for the second time just before four o’clock, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he looked around at the surprisingly bright room considering the hour.  Penelope rushed to his side, checking over his face and his injury to make sure he was alright.  Y/N was forced to get off the bed as Penelope called for the nurse, who took his vitals quickly so he could get some more rest. 

Once she was sure that Spencer was alright, Penelope insisted that Blake head back to the team to help them catch the people who had done this.  Now that Spencer was involved, it was personal, and the BAU wouldn’t stop until they caught whoever had done this.  

Penelope had flipped open her laptop so she could help the team from the hospital, and Y/N had left to get some snacks for Spencer, wanting him to be as comfortable as possible.  

It wasn’t supposed to take long, five minutes max, but when the fire alarm went off, she was ushered out of the building, her arms full of Jell-O and banana pudding.  

She tried to look around for Penelope and Spencer, but she grossly underestimated how many people a Texas hospital housed.  She tapped her foot anxiously against the concrete as she waited for them to be in the clear to head back inside, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she looked at the other patients and families waiting.  

She worried her husband was cold and uncomfortable, just wanting to rest a little more and have a snack.  She worried that they weren’t able to get out of the hospital, that something had happened to them (despite her not being able to see any smoke or fire coming from the large building.)  

The second they were permitted back into the building, Y/N ran to the elevators, pressing the button for the fourth floor quickly and repeatedly until the large metal doors closed, her feet tapping against the metal flooring as she held tightly onto the food she had nearly forgotten about by that point. 

She snuck through the crack in the door once the elevator cart had come to a full stop, making her way through the halls as she searched for her husband's room.  She could never understand why hospitals always seemed so hard to navigate.  She had just made it down to the nurse’s station when she heard the sound that repulsed her, making her nearly lose her balance and her knees buckle. 

Gunshots. 

She dropped the little packages of food as she bolted down the hall, every last drop of adrenaline propelling her forward towards the sound that rang in her ears.  She found herself in the doorway of Spencer’s room, letting out a heavy sigh as she saw Spencer safe and sat up in his hospital bed.  

She looked down at her feet to see a nurse, a gun by his hand and a syringe by the other.  When Y/N looked up again, she saw Garcia holding her husband’s revolver with shaking hands, Spencer carefully taking it from her before tossing it over towards his bag of clothes. 

“...You saved my life,” Spencer breathed out to Penelope, hardly noticing his wife had entered the room.  “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I heard that. It makes it better.  Thank you for saying that.”

“Thank you for doing it,” he said to her, giving her a soft smile before running a hand back through his tousled hair.  

Penelope looked up as Y/N arrived at Spencer’s side, looking between the two of them as the doctor’s wife awaited an explanation as to why Reid had to be saved twice in less than twenty-four hours.

“That guy… he was disguised as a nurse.  He tried to give me carbenicillin.  We tried to tell him I’m allergic, but he didn’t listen,” he explained, still visibly out of breath.  She couldn’t blame him; he’d been through too much for him to not feel drained.  She grabbed a water bottle Penelope had gotten for them earlier when she had first arrived, twisting off the cap before handing it to Spencer and looking towards Garcia. 

“Spencer hit it out of his hand, but then he drew his gun, and I didn’t know what to do so I just grabbed his gun and squeezed and now I feel like I can’t hear anything,” she explained in one breath, sitting down next to him as she tried to process the entire situation.  Y/N looked down to Spencer, checking him over quickly to subconsciously make sure he was alright. 

She wouldn’t have been able to take it if he had been shot again. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he assured his wife, reaching out to hold her hand.  She sat at the edge of his bed, lacing their fingers together as she let out a soft sigh when he gave her a smile.  

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, princess,” he teased her, doing his best to make light of the situation.  Leave it to Dr. Spencer Reid to try and joke about his near-death experiences.  She rolled her eyes, leaning over and kissing the top of his head softly. 

“I’m never leaving your side again,” she told him, almost as a promise to herself.  He grinned up at her, chuckling weakly as he laid back against the pillows.  

“You say it like I would have a problem with that,” he smiled, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.  Despite all he had been through that day, the bright glow of the LED lights in the room highlighted Spencer’s face perfectly, and if it weren’t with the large bandage on his neck with a maroon spot, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell he had gotten shot.  

“C’mere,” he said to her, opening his arms out as he made room for her in the small bed yet again.  She laughed a little bit, always loving how affectionate he would be when no one else was (or, in this case, very few people were) around.  He was like a giant puppy that thrived off of cuddles and kisses.  She could never complain, though. 

She made her way into the spot he had made next to him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before finding comfort against his warm, thin body.  Her head rested on his chest once again, waiting a few moments to make sure she wasn’t hurting him before finally letting herself settle down.  His arm wrapped around her to keep her close while her fingers traced abstract shapes on his clothed chest, letting out a deep sigh as they sat there in silence.  

Garcia had since left the room with the nurses who had escorted the “nurse” out of the room and down to surgery, leaving it to just be the two of them in the hospital room, the only sounds being their soft, heavy breaths and the hum of the bright lights neither of them could be bothered to turn off. 

It didn’t take long for the two of them to fall asleep.  Maybe it was the fact that they were finally alone together.  Maybe it was the fact that she finally really knew he was safe, that the people who were trying to hurt him were being locked away or in surgery, where they couldn’t get to him.  Either way, she let the buzzing hum of the lights lull her to sleep, letting herself relax in his touch for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours. 

They both were as safe as they could be, and it was the most comforting feeling in the world. 

@justkurotingz​

[lorei-writes]

Radio Call

Nobunaga x MC Angst

Written for: Dice be Nice Event Request: @mineko811​​ Roll: Nobunaga + Post-Apocalypse AU + “Of course. I know you, after all.”

Well, the dice wasn’t too nice this time around, it appears. I think that there’s only one other combination that gave me an idea for angst, haha ^^”

Content Warnings: implied major character death, death, minor character death, corpses, the apocalypse, deadly illness

It was not quite like anything they pictured it to be. There were no bombs, no metal shells, no ashes and rampant military threats, no eclipse – and of all things unexpected, sun rose just as it did on any other day. The beginning of it was not defined, shifting and presenting itself as any hardship to overcome, humans growing stronger together to push through it with mutual support. The beginning was loud, full of inspirational chatter and wishful remarks. And the end? The end was silent, all sounds having already died.

It was not quite like anything they pictured it to be. There were no bombs, no metal shells, no ashes and rampant military threats, no eclipse – and of all things unexpected, sun rose just as it did on any other day. The beginning of it was not defined, shifting and presenting itself as any hardship to overcome, humans growing stronger together to push through it with mutual support. The beginning was loud, full of inspirational chatter and wishful remarks. And the end? The end was silent, all sounds having already died.

His heels digging into the ground, Nobunaga pushed onto the door with his shoulder, wood refusing to move by as much as an inch. A grunt leaving his lips, he took a couple steps back, fully intending to charge and break through the obstacle with brute force... “It’s no use.” Her voice cut. His fists clenched, Nobunaga turned around to face her, sunken eyes staring at him blankly. Combing her hair back with her hand, Mai sighed, defeat having seemingly settled within her form as she held back a cough. “You’ll only hurt yourself. We should look for a house to spend the night in.” “Judging by the medical tents around, they could have stored the medicine he –” “Power has been out for ages. Even if there was any left, it deteriorated.” Mai stepped forward, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I don’t infect anymore. We should focus on heading south to rejoin with the group who sent that radio call. That’s our only chance,” she added in a low voice, turning her gaze away.

The end was silent – and yet, it wasn’t universal. Not at first.

A stone shattered the window pane, dull thud signalling the end of its fall. Careful as not to get hurt by the shards, Mai looked back at Nobunaga one last time and pushed herself up to enter the house. “Is anybody in here?!” she shouted, already knowing the reply. Her lips pressed into a thin line, she moved deeper inside, floorboards creaking with each of her steps. The corridor stretched long before her, filled with stench she had far too many chances to familiarise herself with. Hair standing on the back of her neck, she pushed the inevitable away in time, her feet directing her towards the kitchen, pictures of the residents of the house staring at her from the walls.

A discarded pot sitting on top of the burner, the contents of it having already rotten away; a puddle of black slime-like substance pooling around the fridge in a protective manner; an empty cat bowl still waiting around to be filled – and a few dozen other little things, all too common for her to notice them anymore.  Numb, Mai reached to open the cabinets, stories upon stories of plates staring at her from above. Was there any use for such a number of them in this world? She left them behind, closing the doors as to open new ones – her face lit up. Something beat behind her ribs, her hands trembling upon finding a sort of treasure chest: hard sugar candy. With near-religious piety, trembling fingers unwrapped one silver wrapper, soon pushing the contents into her mouth. Mai gasped, pushing the rest of them into her backpack.

The scouting was successful, the ground floor having gifted her a single new needle, few bundles of thread, sterile gauze, disinfectant, batteries and enough canned food to fill their stomachs for the night. Unwilling, she turned her eyes towards the staircase. The smell was obvious, although she still had to check… Partially for herself, partially for the corpses she was sure to find lying in beds.

The end wasn’t universal. The rich bought medicine and hid themselves – and they were safe, safe for the longest time while the rest… The rest succumbed to the illness and met their end. The rich were safe! The rich were safe until the illness changed. And then… Then the medicine did not work anymore – and this was something their walls could not defend them against.

Spoons clattered against the inside of the cans, fire burning in the fireplace for the first time in months, flames consuming the chair legs. A silver wrapper glimmered in the dim light, discarded over the floor. His back resting against the wall, Nobunaga stared at the ceiling, her head lying in his lap. “How many, fireball?” he asked, stroking her hair tenderly. “Four. Rather fresh too, at least compared to the previous town. They might have heard the same radio call and were preparing to set off… I can’t understand why else they wouldn’t eat the candy.” Nobunaga hummed in agreement.

“I think we should ration it, though,” Mai yawned after a moment. “I thought it was already agreed on. You didn’t trust me enough not to mention this?” he joked, rough thumb brushing against her cheek. “Of course. I know you, after all,” she laughed, her eyelids growing heavy. “I think you should sleep. I’ll join you soon enough.” Mai did not reply.

The end was silent, save for a few voices calling from a different world.

Nobunaga put the batteries inside of the radio. One hand covering her ear, he reached into the pocket on the inside of his coat, his nails grazing against a tape.  Deftly, he pushed it inside the compartment, one he never spoke much about – it would be a shame to reveal a secret of this kind, much more so after his friends put so much effort into…

Track 1. Mitsuhide’s voice called quietly from the machine. “Is anybody in there?” Loss of signal. “My group is heading south. We are planning to organise at the second passing point. Is anybody still alive?”

Track 2. Masamune joined. “We need water, but we can go on with what we have. We found the medicine.” “A new group jo –” Signal got lost, cutting Mitsuhide off.

Track 3.

“Ieyasu Tokugawa here. We are approaching the first passing point.”

Track 4. Mitsunari.

“An infected camp found between first and second passing point. We are moving our settlement to the very border. We are fine. Keep –” The recording cut off. White noise. With trembling fingers, Nobunaga pressed forward.

Track 6. Hideyoshi.

“I hope you never had to discover this tape, Mai. If you did… I hope you’re well.” Coughing. “Mitsunari did a great job with the radio… So I really hope…”

Track 7. White noise.

Track 8. White noise.

Track 9. White noise.

Track 10. Mitsuhide.

“I hope this tape made it to you safely, Nobunaga. We shall meet again when the last wave is over.”

Holding back a cough, Nobunaga switched the radio to receiving.

Silence.

Tag list: @datenoriko, @nad-zeta, @tsubaki3192, @missjudge-me, @ikemencrossedmyth, @nuttytani, @thesirenwashere, @milas-imaginarium, @kisara-16, @yukas-clover, @alerialumina , @cheese-ception , @iamryxx​, @cottonfluffballofdoom, @ozziegrl71,  If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, if you have some preferences (for example: you’d rather not be tagged under some series, etc.), please, tell me.  If you don’t want to be tagged anymore - please, do not feel bad about it, just say so :)

[writtenfan]

Party Consequences...Aftermath of Another Gabriel Party.

Part 1: “Hangover Morning”

SpnLucifer x FemReader

Warning: Sexual Themes, Swears, Drugs mentioned, Tortured Lego Pieces and Poor Villa “Re-decorating”

You squint hard enough to start seeing those swirling red, green, and blue shapes in your eyes. 

This only made the sweating and lightheadedness worse.Your face is planted on the hardwood floor, you press your lips against some thin fabric and partially open one eye. A faint light from the unknown source, causing you to smoosh your forehead against the fabric. But you glimpsed a series of white bedsheets under you. 

You feel uncomfortable and sore.

You hear some shuffling and moaning behind you and feel the bedsheets move as something drags across the floor, stopping at your side. You let out an annoyed groan as the sheets pull underneath your stomach.A hand falls against your back and lays there. Tapping their fingers like they were playing the piano.You flip your head to your side and leisurely open your eyes to see the back of matted blonde hair and the neck rolls of the back of their neck. His arm twisted in the most uncomfortable position ever. You feel his legs plop down onto yours, and he grunts into the thin sheeted floor.. 

Lucifer. 

The light screams at you. Not literally, but it feels like it.

You feel his arm and hand on your back as he comfortingly continues to play piano on your backside. Gradually his hand goes limp, holds, and squeezes any fat he can, gently. You do this to him often, and this gesture makes you smile. Something heavy falls on top of you and squishes his hand against your back.This thing is a whole person, and they lay sprawled out on you, stomach first, their mouth drooling onto your neck.You let out a loud raspy cry as you feel the spit running down the side of your neck. The body was flung from you back. 

 You hear the loud thud and a pained husky whine as something shatters.

Lucifer sets his hand back down on your back and pats it weakly. Still not moving the rest of his body. 

You squirm at the drool running down your neck and decide to get up. You press your hands against the floor as if doing a push-up and only buckle and try to stay up using your elbows. “What the fuck...t...a what?” You stop yourself from puking as you say this by taking a deep breath.

You attempt to widen your squinting eyes as you feel Lucifer's hand fall to the ground beside you.  You sit on your butt and press your back against the couch. Rubbing the back of your neck against the cushion to get rid of the spit. You're in a big room, a fancy beige and cream room with plants, black marble tables, Brown hardwood floors. Black couches and chairs and a lot of glass, some with colorful water running down it. Big windows. Big windows, letting light in. Bad light, your eyes hate it.

You turn your head away from the windows on your right. To the left, there was a person, wild brown hair. With their green shirt ripped and pulled down, showing off their bare shoulders. They had on dark blue jeans and no shoes, no socks, and sleeping under a round wood table with long metal legs. You felt intense love for this table, but why? But you recognize the ass that is stuck up in a face-to-the-floor fetal position. 

Gabriel.

You look up at the ceiling as you sigh. Someone...someone made multiple scribbly glittery terrible devil taps on the ceiling, multiple ones in fact. One of them completely useless because each sigil was a drawing of a dick. 

You push yourself up onto the now-empty couch. There was a bottle shoved into one of the cushions, and a ripped up box of...condoms. Wow, there were blown up condoms, like balloons on the other side of the couch, just sitting there. One had a lego guy inside it, headless. This makes you worried.

From this new height, you watch the motionless bodies around you. Lucifer, sliding his hand to his side, not moving any other part of his body besides that arm. Gabriel. Still face down ass up.

You turn your body slowly and look over the couch. Next to a smashed vase, and on their side, long hair completely covers their face.

Baraquel.

The angel that you met a month ago. At one of Gabriel's other parties. They have a female body. But they don't like being confined to gender labels. They are quite the fun angel, awesome butch vibes.

You look hesitantly towards the window. Someone was clutching their knees and smooshing a condom balloon between their legs. While also resting their forehead against it. They have the smoothest bald head, and the sun made it shine like a halo. They're  wearing black yoga pants and a crop top. You look up at the demon trap on the ceiling. You look back down. Oh crap.  

Lamech.

She was tapped in the Devil trap. Not the dick one, of course. But a rather pink... bloody.... glittery one nonetheless. You blink, look down at your feet and look up at the ceiling again, then glance back at Lamech. The demon. Looked at you with full-on black eyes. You jumped back and press a hand to your chest, and let out a loud whine. You curse at them weakly as a grin popped on her face. She raises her head and leans back against the window.“Let me out...and I promise I won't beat up Gabriel while he's out cold.” She moves her head as far as the circle would allow her and looks at Gabriel's body with a smile and flickers her eyes back to their human browns. 

You groan and turn your head as you hear Lucifer actually move his other hand while out a guttural growling moan. Hot.

“You say you don't understand that, but you rub your eyes and crawl across the couch towards her. When you reach the other arm of the couch you move yourself hands first towards the ground and end up smashing your face softly into the floor as you climb off of it and continue towards her. Once you get to her, you sit criss-cross applesauce and lookup realizing how high the ceiling was from the safe and secure ground.  You reach your hands up the ceiling. You tell them you can't stand up or you'll vomit. Lamech lays their head back onto the condom balloon, defeated. You apologize and tell them you'll get them out as you turn your body and scoot over to Lucifer, the bottom of shoes in front of you. 

You feel so sick. 

You call out to Lucfier in a painedwhine as you start to crawl on your hands and knees over to his body. 

Your eyes trail up his wrinkled dark blue jeans and up to his wrinkled, what you assumed, sweat-stained white buttoned shirt. You admire his popped up collar, the spiked wild hair, and the stubble on the side of his face, traveling up his jaw, across his chin, and under his lips. His sunken eyes closed in a sweet calmness.

Once you got your hands next to his shoulders and your face on the same height level as his. You lower yourself on top of his back and push your hands under his body. You give him a tight hug with your legs and hands as you rub the side of your face against his shoulders and backside.

You call him Luci and let the I linger in the air as you rest your chin on his back and look at his face.

His closed eyes twitch, and his whole body moves as he takes in a shuddery breath through his nose. He scrunches up his face and flutters his eyes open, automatically locking his eyes with yours with raised eyebrows. His neck rolls move with his face as he starts to flip over on his back. 

You rise on your knees and lower yourself back down on his hips once he turns around. Your knees hug his sides as you place your hands on his lower stomach, playing around with his shirt that was crumpled up.

 His hands slide to your calves and rub them gently as he closes his eyes and leans close to your ear.

“You're giving me a hard-on.” He whispers in a giggling croak as he lays his head back down . 

You glance underneath you for a second and laugh as you press the side of his face against the floor and sigh for him to stop.

“Hey, you stoooop...” He fusses in a muffled snicker as you take your hand off his face, and he turns back to you. He opens those eyelids to show you some very sleepy and attractive blue pupils. He slides his hands up your calves to the side of your thighs.

You tell him to heal you, or you are going to die as you lower yourself on his stomach, sliding yourself up to his body so that your face is back to the same level as his. You support yourself on your elbows and play with his hair. 

His smile makes his cheeks move up, and his wrinkles more prominent. You kiss the lines on his forehead, and you feel his hands move from your thighs to your waist and up your back.

“Okayyy…” He sucks in his lower lip, nodding at your request, and lets his lip pop back out as he closes his eyes and leans his head back. You feel a warm sensation on your back and lay down on his collarbone as this feeling travels throughout your body. It feels so good as it traveled to your head. You feel your senses coming back to you. The need to puke disappears, the headache was gone. The feeling stops, and you stay lying down on his chest.

“Now me…” He says matter of factly, poking at his chest.

You rise back on your knees and press your hands on his chest cracking up as you pretend to heal him. 

He starts shaking and convulsing, and you snap open your eyes and ruffle his hair angrily telling him that it wasn't funny with a  laugh as you rise to your feet. Looking down at him as he holds both of your ankles with a mischievous smile.

You hear something move in front of you. Gabriel lays down flat on his stomach and lets out a soft groan. 

“You guys are disgusting… the least you could do is share some of that love with me (y/n) I’m feelin’ lonely ova' here.”

 He grunts as he slides himself backward using his hands and sat up, spinning himself around to face you. His eyes droopy, and unable to look clearly at your face and holds up his arms to you and flexes his hands, gesturing for a hug.

You feel Lucifer's grip tighten around your ankles, and you look down at him he's pouting.

 “Get your own girlfriend Gabriel.” He whines, his voice gentle and playful, a false sense of comfort.

WHAM

You snap your head to the couch as a hand slams into it and ahead along with an entire body pulls itself onto its feet. Glaring at Lucifer angrily.

“That's what I’m trying to do.” Gabriel says softly, not looking down at his brother, keeping his eyes locked on you, still gesturing for you to help him up. 

“Keep trying and I won’t try... not to impale you.” He had a smile on his face, looking up at you with blissful eyes as he talked to his brother. Not good.

You tell them both to stop as Lucifer lets you shake yourself from his grip. You step over his head.

 SMACK

He smacks your rear with such swiftness you accidentally kick the side of his head.

“OWwwww Owwwieee owwwieeee…”  He whimpers as he shakes his head back and forth and rubs his eyes. You look down at him and turn around and squat next to his face. You start fussing at him and call him stupid while you laugh.

“I’m not stupid...” he says softly with a smirk and a false hurt tone.

“He deserved that.” Baraquel hissed as they glanced over at Gabriel and started shuffling to them. “You didn’t have to toss me into a fucking vase Lucifer.” They grumbled as they lifted Gabriel up on his feet and patted his back.

“Well, I thought angels could fly….am I right? Isn’t that your fault for not sticking the landing? ”

He laughs as he stops rubbing his eyes and looks up at you, putting back on his pouting face. “Kiss my boo-boo.” He sniffles.

“There was no room besides we don’t always land on our feet like cats.” Baraquel mutters.

Lucifer mocks them by talking with his hand and mouth. “Shaadduuup...” he groans. You smack his hand and looks at you hurt. 

You keep staring at his face and can't help but lean forward and kiss his temple. You feel the hairs from his chin against your neck as his lips press against your larynx. He then gently trails his teeth against your skin as if biting an apple, but not biting down.

You jerk back and tell him to stop being nasty as you roll your eyes smirking, getting back on your feet.You turn to face Gabriel as he pretends to throw up and then holds his stomach. Before sprinting to the actual bathroom around the corner and actually hurling into the toilet.

“GUYS, LET ME OUT!” Everyone snaps their heads to the sound, well except for Gabriel. You notice Lucifer wincing in pain at the sudden increase in volume.“Aye, no shouting. Please.” Lucifer cries as he starts to pick himself up into a sitting position. Smacking his lips and looking at his shirt and pants.You turn back to him. You start to ask him to help them out when he flicks his hand as if it was nothing and scratches the bridge of his nose, looking at a few legos pieces on the floor.

The trap disappears, and Lamech stands up and brushes off herself while stretching her legs. “Thank you, my king.” She says in a surprisingly formal tone.Lucifer scrunches his face and nods waving in the air. “Yeah yeah. Don’t mention it…” he grumbles as he cracked his knuckles. He looks up at you and smiles, adorably. Ugh.

She takes a step out of her overnight prison and doesn't wait to dart towards the bathroom, taking a sharp turn and grabbing a beer can off the round table. You see her vault the thing at high speed into the bathroom and then a loud shriek from Gabriel. 

“Attacked I’m being attacked! Curb your Demon Luci!” The shower curtain falls, and Lamech walks back into view a content look on his face as she dusted off her hands.

“Nice throw~,” Lucifer says as he gets up on his feet and stands up to his full height, trying to crack his back. While also (towering over you/standing close beside you). He swings his arms back and forth and claps softly with every swing.

“Alright, I’m happy for now.” Lamech yawns. Baraquel smirks at Lamech but sneers once they looked at them. 

“You ask the group what happened last night as you rubbed your eyes. Then you wonder how they even managed to get drunk. You gesture across the room as Gabriel walks back and rubs the bottom of his shirt against his face. Showing everything underneath. You squint and look away, knowing that if Lucifer caught your eyes glancing, for even a second. He would become very hostile towards everyone in the room, except you, to make himself feel better. Not exactly healthy, but hey, you were getting there. You feel his eyes against the eye back and top of your head.

 “I spiked the drink with a little magic hocus-pocus for us celestials~” He chucks as he drops his shirt and smooths back his hair. Walking close to Baraquel and putting an arm over their shoulder. “ But I hardly remember a thing... and I’m loving it.” He talks to Baraquel, and they roll their eyes.

Lamech walks away from Gabriel and sat on top of the table Gabriel was previously resting under. They glance at Lucifer and then averted their gaze. Looking nervous and embarrassed as he catches them looking from the corner of his eye.

“I remember a bit of the last hour before it reached 2:00am.” She pointed to Gabriel

“You finished your last devil trap after reversing your own gravity and then told me to...look behind me..and tripped me Into where I was stuck for the night.” She grumbled. She pointed to Baraquel, "I vaguely rememberLucifer trying to make you mad, but you wouldn't budge because you knew he would smite you." You felt Lucifer nod as he rubs his chin against the top of your head. 

“I really wish you would’ve lost your coool... Bar-be-cue…” Baraquel glared at Lucifer and then at Gabriel, who was now slumped on their shoulder trying to stay standing. 

“Whatever, Hakuna Matata!” Shouts Gabriel as he snapped his finger and was suddenly all cleaned up, hair sorted, clothes ironed, and shoes on. “If more of tonight was meant to be remembered, it will come to us later on. Now. Who wants to go swiiiming?!” He sang as clicks his heels, and another dress change and this time. A...a Speedo. 

Everyone glances away, and Lucifer covers your eyes pressing his big ol’ hands against your face. “Ok, Nobody wants to see your worm down there.” He groans.

“Wow, and I thought I was small.” Lamech chuckled to themself. Gabriel scowled at them and then at Lucifer.

“Hey. This “worm” gets a lot of early birds, guys.”

“Why are you even judging his vessel. It shouldn’t matter, it doesn’t reflect his true self.” Baraquel huffs.

“There are no birds that would peck at that scrawny thing.” Lucifer scoffs.

“Damn you angel's are always so lame. First, with the whole eating God's dick and doesn't show true self shit, boring high ground shit."

“Yeah? I can tell ya! I have a lot down in my bang book, and what about you huh? Your just jealous that I have game, experience! And guess what, I have a feeling you make (y/n) cry with tha-“ 

“-what’s with you demons and your hot ass breath, and the lust for Lucifers abusiveness?! Baraquel's voice covers Gabriels as they point angrily at Lamech.

“Ugh, alright.  Just because I haven’t been practically living in the red light district doesn’t mean I’m rusty.” He puffs out his chest. “And trust me (y/n) is more than satisfied...Unless you want me to get into the details~”

The corners of his mouth rises as he squints at his brother.

“LALALALA NO!! No!! I never had an older brother, I cant hear youuu!” Gabriel shouts as he covers his ears and moves away from him towards the glass dining table. Lucifer follows him with an impish smile on his face. “Sometimes, we get freaky and whip out the-“ 

You slide down and sit on the floor pressing your head against your knees. You don’t hear what he says, but he lets out a high-pitched laugh as Gabriel slams his hand on a chair, breaking it.

Everyone continues to bicker and shout at each other. Lucifer actually stepping into Gabriel’s face after he made a what you can guess was a rude comment to Lucifer, and the two start puffing out their “feathers”.

 Baraquel ended up giving Lamech the cold shoulder and moving as far as they could from the Archangels as possible, Lamech follows still not done with them yet.

You stand up and grab your swimming clothes casually hanging on a plant and walk out the door. 

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

I have absolutely no motivation to write (even though I open my WIP docs every single day and stare at them for like an hour) so here, have this beginning of a draft that was supposed to be my NANOWRIMO 2018 project. 

“Inside every black hole that collapses may lie the seeds of a new expanding universe.” 

― Sir Martin Rees

Jim never truly got used to the feeling of still warm blood, clotting and drying against his skin as the vessel grew cold beneath his hands, their chest sunken and still and their eyes open and unseeing. He hoped he never did. 

With a swift tug, he pulled the knife from the flesh, the serrated edge catching on muscle and bone until it finally slid free with a wet, dull sound. The hilt was slick against his palm. The wound gushed fresh blood, dark and acrid, as the cork stoppering it was removed. 

With a tilt of his head, he extended a stained hand and lowered the eyelids of the deceased, closing them to the world forever. He turned his own gaze to the stars above, incanting a silent prayer for the dead as he knelt. 

Rising slowly from his crouch over the corpse, he wiped the blade clean on his trousers before resheathing it against his calf. He would tend to it properly later. 

The blood gathered, dark beneath his fingernails. 

What, will these hands ne'er be clean?

A contemptuous smile crept across his face as he stared at the stains on his skin. At times, he felt they seeped to his very soul.

He seized his communicator, flipping it open and pressing the call button. 

“Kirk to Enterprise.” 

“Captain. Am I to assume that this communication means you were successful?” 

With a glance at the body, he replied, “Affirmative, Mr. Spock.” 

“Locking on to your signal now, sir.” 

Energize.

_______________________________________________________________

Spock stood at attention behind the panel of controls in the transporter room, half-interestedly watching Mr. Scott at his task of attempting to beam the captain back aboard following his negotiations with the Berilian council. They had agreed readily to join the Federation, and Jim’s final task has been a simple one: obtain their signatures on a treaty avowing their claim that they would never again wage war against a nearby Federation settlement. Having not been at war in several earth years, they were entirely willing. The meeting had been brief and the captain had requested beam up a mere hour after descending to the planet’s surface, assuring them of his success in their last transmission. 

“Bloody electrical storm--” Mr. Scott muttered angrily as he adjusted the controls yet again. 

Spock turned to him, critically eyeing the computations on screen and the curiously empty transporter pad. “Difficulties, Mr. Scott?” 

The engineer looked up from his duties, a sheepish expression crossing his face as he realized he had been overheard. “Apologies, Mr. Spock… this storm-- the electrical currents are interfering with the dematerialization. If I cannae lock onto his signal more firmly--” 

“Do you require assistance?” 

Mr. Scott shook his head, “No, I dinnae think so-- I just need to-- there!” With a victorious crow he slammed his hand against the button to energize. The transporter pad whirred to life, particles swirling through the air before reforming to reveal their captain. 

Their captain with blood staining his shirt. 

“Jim!” Scott cried in alarm, as Spock simultaneously moved forward to assist and ascertain any injury. 

“Captain--” he began, already reaching for his communicator to summon the doctor if necessary. 

He was not anticipating for the captain to step swiftly out of his reach and to command, voice steely and eyes hard, “As you were, Commander.” 

Spock was not often taken by surprise, but he found that he had no response to the unexpected words and unusually cold tone with which they were spoken. After several moments of silence, he found his voice and began again, “Captain, I merely wished to establish the source of your injury. Given the blood on your sleeve, I assumed-- perhaps wrongfully-- that--” 

“Exactly, Mr. Spock,” Jim replied, stepping forward dangerously, his forehead nearly touching Spock’s, his eyes narrowed. Then, gritting out each word, he repeated: “As you were, Commander.” 

Mr. Scott, hovering uncomfortably at the control panel as he watched the abnormally hostile interaction between the two, cleared his throat. 

“Em-- ‘scuse me for butting in,” he said, “but Captain, you’re wanted on the bridge.”

The captain’s gaze shifted to the Scotsman, his posture relaxing slightly as he removed himself from Spock’s personal space. “Thank you, Mr. Scott,” he replied flatly before returning his gaze to Spock expectantly. 

Spock stepped aside. 

Jim squared his shoulders and made his way from the room, the doors closing behind him and leaving the remaining officers in stunned silence. 

“I thought you said things went alright down there,” Mr. Scott said incredulously. 

Spock met his eye with concern. “It would appear I was mistaken.” 

________________________________________________________________

When Uhura summoned him to the bridge, quietly and with the distinct tone of someone hoping not to be overheard, Len knew that there were only two options awaiting him when he arrived. 

The fact that she hadn’t come straight out and told him who it was narrowed his options down. So either: 

1. Spock had gone and done something stupid and gotten himself sick or injured somehow, but was being a stubborn ass about it, thus leaving Nyota-- sometimes the only one among them with any sense-- to bring it to his attention at Jim’s request, because she was much better at the batting of eyelashes and feigning of innocence than their captain was on his best day and there was less chance of Spock holding a grudge. 

or

2. Jim had gone and done something stupid and gotten himself sick or injured somehow, but was being a stubborn ass about it, and Spock and Uhura had exchanged enough worried glances across their stations that the communications officer had taken matters into her own hands, because batting of eyelashes aside she could knock Kirk sideways into next week and they all knew it. 

She hadn’t sounded particularly urgent, just concerned, which both sparked his curiosity and set him at ease. Had anyone been in any true danger, he would have been informed. Just the same, he quickly gathered up his medkit and made his way to the turbolift and up the levels to the bridge. 

Stepping out of the lift he scanned the bridge, gaze sweeping across each station. Nothing seemed out of the norm, aside from the fact that Spock wasn’t at his post. Feeling eyes on him, he met Nyota’s concerned stare, tilting his chin towards the science station questioningly. She shook her head minutely in reply, her own chin jutting swiftly toward the captain’s chair to their left. 

Damnit, what had the kid gone and done now? 

Jim’s familiar dirty blond hair and gold adorned collar were visible over the straight edged back of the chair. He didn’t appear to be in any visible distress; the lines of his shoulders were sharp but not rigid-- alert, but not tense. Of course he couldn’t be sure without doing a full examination, but so far nothing was ringing any alarm bells for Len. 

Which of course raised a red flag all on its own. 

He raised a questioning eyebrow back at Uhura, silently asking her to clue him in on why she had secretly called him up here if everything was fine, when Jim spoke. 

“Doctor McCoy,” he called without turning around or in any other way acknowledging Len’s presence, sending Chekov and Sulu turning in their own chairs, startled. “What brings you to the bridge?”

Doctor McCoy? Sure, Jim called him that occasionally-- when professionalism called for them to stumble through introductions without having to awkwardly explain the moniker the kid had adopted for him immediately after meeting in all their booze soaked and blood stained glory-- but rarely; and nothing indicated that the situation called for it. So either Jim was aware of something he wasn’t, or the kid was royally pissed off. 

Neither boded well for them. 

“Thought I’d come make sure you were still in one peace after the negotiations,” he replied with just enough snark to provoke Jim’s usual easy banter with him. 

Jim, however, didn’t rise to the bait. Without any further preamble, he asked, “Who called you up here?” 

Len blinked uneasily. Jim had never been one for placing blame, and that wasn’t a question he had ever asked of Len before, at least not in that tone. Running his tongue over his lower lip he rocked back on his heels and replied, sure to keep his tone neutral, “Can’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

Jim was out of his seat in an instant. Anger plain in his expression, he turned to face Len for the first time since he had arrived, giving Len a clear view of the rusty patches of drying blood on his command tunic-- the obvious reason that Uhura had summoned him, the captain’s odd behavior notwithstanding. 

“Jim,” he began, shocked, “there’s--”

“It seems--” Jim cut him off, “that my crew is determined to undermine me today.” 

Len frowned in confusion. Something was wrong here. Jim was acting strangely, and Len wanted to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible. The sooner he could nip a patented Jim Kirk temper tantrum in the bud the better. With a scoff he replied, “Determined to-- Jim, what the hell are you--” 

“Captain,” Jim interrupted icily. “You will address me properly on the bridge, Lieutenant Commander.” After a pause, he relaxed minutely. “Return to your post, Doctor McCoy. We’ll discuss it later.” 

Len’s mind raced; countless explanations for Jim’s odd behavior flew through his mind at breakneck speeds: alien viruses, blood infections, fever, chemical influence… 

“Sir,” Uhura cut in, “incoming transmission from Starfleet Admiralty. They’d like to get your mission report.”  

Jim tore his gaze from Len’s, waving a hand in her direction as he reseated himself in his chair, effectively putting an end to their conversation. “On screen, Lieutenant.” 

The view of the stars ahead flickered and gave way to a projection of Admiral Pike, a broad smile on his face as he greeted the captain. 

“Jim! Good to see you, son… I hear things went well down there?” 

The resulting silence stretched just a bit too long to be natural, and Len found his gaze drawn back to Jim. He had gone perfectly still where he sat, his eyes wide and focused on the screen with a frightening intensity. 

After far too long, he replied. “Yes, sir… all went according to plan.” 

_______________________________________________________________

Pike’s eyes flew to McCoy’s, a troubled expression crossing his face as he looked to the doctor for reassurance. Jim bit back a harsh laugh; did the two honestly think he didn’t know what they were doing? They were clearly concerned about him, which was wildly amusing considering he and the doctor had discussed specifics that morning and Pike-- well… 

“Would you like specifics on the mission, Admiral Pike?” Jim asked, folding his arms across his chest, watching the older man’s eyes widen at the sight of the staining on his sleeves; he’d taken care to wash his hands before making his way to the bridge, but hadn’t dared change his clothes. Something was off with his crew. They were acting suspiciously, and he had no intention of wasting any time with petty tasks that could allow him to be caught off guard. 

Pike blinked back to attention, stammering a bit as he answered, “Of course, my apologies, Kirk. I got distracted for a moment there--”

“Understandable, Admiral, given the circumstances,” he replied easily, shifting in his chair to lace his fingers together, resting an elbow against the arm while taking care not to activate any of the controls there. 

"Jim," Pike's expression was wary, concerned. Weak. "You’re acting a bit… you feeling alright, son?"

"Well," Jim replied, picking at a nail and smirking. "I suppose that depends on your definition of alright. You see,” his eyes snapped up to meet Pike’s gaze through the screen. “I could have sworn up and down I left you drowning in your own blood, old man."

[shadowywerewolfqueen]

True Love’s Kiss

“Cas, I need you to come back to the bunker. It’s…it’s Dean,” Sam said into the phone, trying to keep the tears out of his voice.

“What happened? Is Dean alright?” Cas asked, voice full of concern.

“Just get back to the bunker as soon as you can. There’s not much time.” Cas heard a sob just as the call ended.

He slid the phone into the pocket of his trench coat and hurried to his car. He drove for the next few hours, pushing the speed limit the whole time. He parked the car in front of the bunker and hurried down the winding staircase. The war room was empty, so Cas checked the kitchen and found it vacant as well. He turned when he heard footsteps behind him.

Sam halted when his hazel eyes landed on the angel. “Hey Cas. Glad you could make it.”

Cas moved until he was standing directly in front of Sam. “What is going on? What happened to Dean?”

“It’s my fault,” Sam answered, shaking his head. “We were going after a witch and I got knocked into a shelf. Dean rushed to me and was distracted which gave the witch an opening to cast a spell at him. He dropped to the floor unconscious and nothing I’ve done has woken him. I don’t know what the spell is. All I do know is he’s wasting away; it’s only been about four hours and you would think Dean hasn’t eaten in a month. At this rate, he’s got maybe a couple hours left.”

Cas placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and squeezed, trying to offer some form of comfort. “I’ll go look at him and see if there’s anything I can do. Have you done any research into the spell?”

“I’ve tried, but I didn’t hear any words or see the ingredients she used. All I know is there was a green flash of light when the spell hit Dean. There’s hundred of spells that have a green glow to them,” Sam explained with a sigh.

“We’ll figure this out Sam. We won’t let Dean… we’ll save him,” Cas said with false confidence. Sam was right, there were hundreds of possible spells and they were short on time. If any kind of counter cure were required, trying to acquire or make it would require time they didn’t have. Cas hoped his grace alone could heal Dean.

Cas left Sam standing in the kitchen as he walked towards Dean’s room. He gasped when the hunter came into view. Dean’s normally luminous soul was severely dimmed and parts of it were flickering, on the edge of extinguishing. Cas moved closer and struggled to keep the bile from rising into his throat. Dean’s cheeks were hallowed, and his eyes sat in sunken eye sockets. His lips were chapped, and his skin had lost most of its golden glow causing his freckles to stand out even more than normal. Cas pulled the blanket that covered Dean’s body and had to look away. Every one of Dean’s bones were prominent, his skin stretched so tight it looked like it could tear at any moment.

Cas pulled the blanket back over Dean before rushing out the room. He went back to the kitchen and found Sam standing at the counter nursing a beer. Sam spun around to face him, his face hopeful as he looked at Cas. “Well, please tell me you know the spell and how to save Dean.”

“I do,” Cas said simply.

Sam set the beer down as his face erupted into a smile. “Ok, that’s great! What do we need to do?”

Cas looked away, unable to see the light that died in Sam’s eyes as he said, “There’s nothing either of us can do. There’s only one cure for the spell that was cast on Dean and it’s something neither of can give him.”

Sam rushed forward and grabbed Cas’ shoulders in his hands. He shook the angel, fury pouring from his very pores. “What the hell does that mean? How do we save my brother?”

“It’s a curse, one inspired by fairytales. The only way to save Dean is with true love’s kiss. So, unless you know Dean’s true love, he has at most an hour before he withers away to a husk.” Cas’ voice was full of despair as he said, “You should say your goodbyes Sam. There’s nothing we can do.”

Cas gripped Sam’s hands and forced them from his shoulders. Sam backed away, tears starting to fall down his cheek as his face crumpled. Cas turned on his heel and walked out the room, unable to handle the anguish already starting to flood Sam’s soul.

Cas walked until he stood outside the bunker next to his car. He stared at the sky above, praying for a miracle that he knew would not be answered. Cas had known Dean for less than two years and in that time, he had defied Heaven’s orders and outcasted himself all for a stubborn hunter. Cas had never known what free will was before Dean and now he could never imagine not having it. Dean had taught Cas so much, more than his four billion years of life ever could. More importantly, Dean had taught Cas about love. It had taken the angel months to figure out his feelings for Dean, but he finally understood that he was in love. Even knowing Dean could never reciprocate his feelings, Cas would never not adore the hunter.

“Please Father, don’t let Dean die,” Cas prayed before walking back into the bunker.

Sam looked up from the map table, a beer clutched tightly in his hand. His eyes were empty, any hope he had was gone. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a large gulp. Sam choked back a sob as he said, “You should go say goodbye. He’s got minutes left.”

“I’m sorry Sam, I wish-I wish there was something I could do,” Cas replied with a hopeless voice.

“So do I Cas.” Sam stood from the table and walked away, the bottle hanging loosely from his fingers.

When Cas entered Dean’s room again, he could barely look at him. Dean was nothing more than skin and bone and his breaths came out as labored wheezes. Cas trudged across the room, having no desire to do what was on his mind. If he couldn’t save Dean; the least he could do would be to end his suffering. He stared at the once handsome face and felt his heart shatter into pieces. “I failed you, Dean. I was supposed to watch over and protect you. This life was cruel to you, I hope you will find peace in death.”

Cas reached out and trailed his fingers through Dean’s short blonde hair before dragging a single finger down his temple, across his cheek, and settling against his lip. Cas knew he would never get the opportunity to hear Dean say that he loved the angel. He didn’t want to miss the opportunity to tell Dean how he felt. He let his mouth hover over Dean’s as he said, “I love you” before softly touching his lips to the hunter’s.

Cas was about to let his grace end Dean’s life when suddenly the body beneath his inhaled a large breath. Cas stumbled back as he stared at Dean. Before his eyes, he watched Dean’s body start to fill out, gaining the fat and muscle he had lost in the past few hours. Dean’s skin once more had a beautiful golden tan to it. Suddenly, his eyelids flickered before revealing bright green eyes. He slowly turned his head to look at Cas, a smile stretching his lips wide.

“Cas,” he rasped.

Cas could barely believe what he was seeing. “Dean, is this really happening?”

Dean slowly sat up, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his neck. He held his hand in front of him which Cas took. Dean pulled the angel in between his spread legs, staring at Cas with wonder. He reached out to run his thumb across Cas lips. “I’ve felt so much for you, but I never imagined you could feel the same.” He smirked as he added, “It would be me that got hit with a spell that could only be cured with true love’s kiss.”

Cas gasped at the admission. “You knew?”

“Yeah. After the spell hit me, I was in like this black void and the witch showed up and told me what the spell was doing and how to break it. She said it’s what I deserved for killing her boyfriend. Guess it’s a good thing she didn’t know about the angel who’s secretly in love with me.” Dean smiled brightly as he stared at Cas.

“I guess it is a good thing,” Cas whispered before leaning forward and capturing Dean’s lips in a passionate kiss. They didn’t break apart until Sam walked into the room, ecstatic that his brother was alive and also had finally admitted his feelings for Cas. He was tired of the constant silent eye fucking the two did every time they were in the same room.

Tagging: @lonewolf34500 @notwithd @starrynightdeancas @flowersforcas @cockleslovesdestiel

[amalgamau]

Chapter 3

When we last left off Bismuth reformed and the shards were placed in the fountain. Also there was less thank 200 of you holy crap! Thank you guys for being interested! Without any further wait! Welcome back to the Crystal Gems! >=)

Directory

First | Previous | Next

The bubbles rested gently on the water, drifting off into the pool for a moment before popping and sinking into the water. For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened as the shards began to sink to the bottom of the fountain. The silence was deafening, only the sound of the water's currents were audible as the Fountain poured. Beneath the water’s surface, Amethyst's remains piled together on the fountain floor. Ruby and Sapphire's shards were stirred together by the slow moving currents. The dust that was once Pearl became a foggy cloud in the water, mixed with muddy sand and sparkling shards.

As the last of everyone's hope faded, and tears fell, choking sobs beginning to break the silence, a sudden light hum, and a pink glow rose from the water. Everyone turned and looked, suddenly full of anticipation and excitement. The hum grew louder. As the moment dragged on, the pink light faded into a sickly pale green, becoming near blinding before fading away.

Every second felt like hours. The longer nothing happened, the more agonizing it was for the group. After what felt like forever, Steven steeled his courage and peered over the corner into the fountain hoping to see any good news.

Before Steven could get a good look, a hand burst from the water, startling Steven as he stumbled back, falling on his rear. He recognized Garnet's hand as it gripped the ground, breaking the tile as it dug in with a loud and lengthy CRAAACK. 

"Gaaarnet?" Steven asked in sudden concern as a second hand reached out through the water and dug into the flooring. Steven scooted back slightly in concern as he realized that both hands appeared to be right hands. Something was wrong. Another arm shot out of the water, this one split into two at the elbow as the two hands slammed into the floor beneath it, cracking it. Slowly the figure lifted its head from the water, its head aimed at Steven, beginning to slowly peel apart its eyelids one at a time to reveal its five eyes. It stared through Steven as he scrambled back in fear.

"G-garnet? What's wrong?" Steven stammered in fear as he got to his feet. Garnet opened their mouth to speak, but the only noise that could be heard was an echoed moan turned into a scream, the voices of Ruby and Sapphire wailing in tandem.

Garnet crawled out of the Fountain, maintaining eye contact with Steven and the group as they did. Once fully emerged, she looked down at their hands and then further at the shards that were once Ruby and Sapphire, permanently fused together. The two rings that had symbolized their union and their brightest moment were now embedded into the stone that held together all that was left of them. She gripped her head tightly with all four hands as tears began to leak from every eye. She then let out an inhuman wail. The sound of torment in their voice was obvious as Ruby and Sapphire screamed through Garnet's mouth. Steven got up and began to walk towards her, hand outstretched in concern when a figure erupted from the water, landing next to Garnet on all fours.

Pearl had emerged and looked up at the duo, half her face a smoothly polished sandstone-esque gem hybrid. The spot where her eye would have been was sunken in and covered by a shadow. The other eye appeared glassy and blank, as if there was no mind behind it. She opened her mouth, the half not covered by her new sandstone-like gem. From her mouth came an ear-piercing, staticky scream. 

The group flinched at the noise, clutching their ears as Pearl wailed in tandem with Garnet. Pearl crawled out of the Fountain, hunched over staring at the group with an empty and feral expression. When the screaming stopped, Steven moved his hands from his ears, holding out a hand to Pearl.

“Pearl... it’s me... it’s Steven.” He said softly. Pearl looked at him with a blank expression and charged at him. Steven flinched as Pearl jumped at him, when another figure burst from the water. Amethyst shot out, her body a long snake-like appendage that snatched Pearl from the air, wrapping around her. Amethyst's head faced Pearl's as she struggled against the grapple. Amethyst let out a high pitched screech that sounded off, as though reversed. She spun sideways, letting go of Pearl mid spin and launching her into the fountainhead. The statue crumbled as Pearl slammed against it with a loud crack. Piping snapped from inside the statue causing water to gush out from the mechanism in hissing sprays. 

Pearl screamed a loud, agonized scream full of static and noise. As Amethyst turned to Steven, Bismuth and Connie tried to calm Garnet down. Steven looked up to Amethyst's eyes, one much larger than the other that seemed to move with the head's momentum, the other trained on Steven. She leaned back, ready to slam into him. As Steven moved in towards Amethyst, she swung at him full-force. Steven put up his shield, blocking the attack, then dropped it and grabbed her in a hug.

"Amethyst! I'm here! It's ok! Please calm down!"

Amethyst froze, turning so her eyes met Steven’s, her one regular eye tearing up.

“¿uǝʌǝʇS” 

She spoke slowly, but Steven was unable to understand her.

“A-Amethyst... I... I can’t understand you... If you’re in there... please...” Amethyst pauses, then nods. “˙˙˙ǝɹǝɥ ɯ,I ʇnq ˙˙˙ʇɥƃᴉɐɹʇs ʞuᴉɥʇ ʇ,uɐɔ I puɐ sʇɹnɥ ƃuᴉɥʇʎɹǝʌƎ ˙˙˙ǝɹǝɥ ɯ,I-I” Steven sighed in relief and sadness.

“I have no idea what you’re saying... but at least you’re still there... I don’t know what to do! Everyone was shattered. I tried to help them!” He began to tear up as he looked at her.

“Something is wrong! I need to get through to them!”

Amethyst bent her body so she could put a hand on his shoulder

“˙noʎ uo ʇɹɐdɐ llɐɟ ʇ,uoʍ I ˙˙˙ǝɹǝɥ ɯ,I” She turned to the fountain, Pearl swinging wildly and crawling around the ruined fountain. Amethyst jumped up and charged at Pearl, wrapping her body around her again and holding her down.

“¡ʞo ǝq oʇ ƃuᴉoƃ ǝɹ,ǝM ¡ǝɯ oʇ uǝʇsᴉ˥ ¡uʍop ɯlɐƆ ¡lɹɐǝԀ”

Amethyst dragged Pearl to Steven, while Pearl struggled to get out of Amethyst’s hold. Steven reached out to Pearl, putting a hand on the gemstone half of her face while she struggles, grunting and growling with her static filled voice.

“Pearl! It’s Steven. I’m here, please... I love you! I’m here for you!”

As Pearl turned to Steven, her one eye began to tear up.

“S̷͎̓̃t̶̗̱̭̿́-̷̣̼͙͐Ṡ̴̩̆͗t̶͚̖̫̿̿e̸͓͔͔͒v̴̬̓͜ě̵̦̜͝n̸̜̥̼̉̆?̵̬͛̇ͅ” she asked, slowly going limp.

He sighed. “Yeah Pearl... It’s me... I tried to save you guys... I’m so sorry... I wasn’t fast enough.”

Pearl looked at herself in the water below as Amethyst lets go

“Ö̷͙̦̠́̒́-̵̛̗̯͙̽ó̸̹h̶̪͔̅̈́ ̴̟͈̔̂́s̴͚̿t̶̜̄a̸͕̽̌͘ȓ̸̫̰̖̅s̶̲̜̐̈.̷͕͎͛̕.̴̢͒͜.̵̨̠̐̓͘͜ ̷͔̄͝Ĩ̷̞̥.̶̲̋͗͝.̶̛̹̜̖͐͘.̶̦͍͛̓ ̷̳̣̫̃W̸͖̑e̴̢̤̔̒͊.̵̰̞͌͑̚.̶͕̰̬͂.̷̖͈́ ̴̬̔̃͛I̸̞̬̓͑ ̸̛̗̖c̵͙̐a̵̝̟͓͐̈́n̶̤̭͊'̵̺͌̄t̵͇͆̓.̸̟̲̄̄̃.̶̻͑̋.̷̠͔̋̉̅ͅ” she trailed off as Steven wipes tears from his eyes.

“P-Pearl.” he manages to choke out. “I’m so sorry...”

Pearl froze and looked at Steven, tears streaming from her one eye. She got down and put a hand on his cheek.

“S̴̢̑ṭ̸͑e̸̖͈͐ṽ̸͙̭́e̶͖̮͛͝n̷̻̮̒.̴̞͍̀.̶̥̬̈́.̵̘̟̋ ̵̝͒̿I̷̹̋̋'̶͕́m̵̻̈ ̶̤͑s̷͇̿o̴͋̎͜ ̸͓͍̾̿s̸̤̝͑̈́o̸͚̪̊̉ŗ̷̉r̸̬̍ỷ̶̰͌.̷̅͗͜.̴͖̚.̵̞̈́͑ ̴̗̟̀̓N̴̡͈̈o̵͚͊̀n̸̙̟͆̀ĕ̴͕͈͘ ̸̩̪̂̾o̸̮̯̍̋f̵̤͗ͅ ̶̘̆ͅṱ̶̐̍ĥ̸̬̟̈́ì̵͕s̸̺̀ ̵̟̇ï̶̲͝s̸̹̹̔ ̷̻̠̍y̴̻̰͐̇o̸͔̱̔u̸̮̼͊r̷̡͒̂ ̷̛̤̤́f̸̛̥ͅǎ̶̠͝ư̴̪͠l̴̛̠̅t̴͈̭͐̽.̵̨̑̔ ̶̨̥̃Y̴̹̬͐̈ǫ̵̙̌͘u̵̘̜͒ ̶̨͙͂ḋ̷̙͋͜i̸̟̳͗̆ḑ̷̬͆͋n̶̖̽͒'̶̰̅͘ţ̶͉̌̃ ̴̞͖͌̎d̵̹́o̴̢͛̅ ̴̛ͅt̴͍̅h̵̜͙̅i̵̘̳̎s̴̫̍̇.̸̙̙̊ ̴̛̙̯̆Ị̵͓̑́t̵̻͖̀̓'̵͔͋́s̴̪͇̈̅ ̷͕̀o̵̹͍̕ḵ̴̈.̵̻͂ ̵̉͜Ŵ̶̠͇̄ḛ̷̿̕ ̷̜͕͗̐d̸͉̟͘o̸̥̲̍ǹ̷̳͗'̸̮̰̈́͐ẗ̴͍̩́ ̴͓͐͜b̸̡̑͂l̶͔̭͐a̷̦͘m̷͇̐̏e̸̢͙̊ ̷̭̦̾y̶̪̒o̷̟͚͂ủ̴͎́.̴̟̥̓̾”

Tears streamed down Steven’s face as he put a hand to hers and then held it tightly.

“I... need to help Garnet too...” he said slowly. Amethyst and Pearl nodded and followed behind as he walked to Garnet. 

The trio walked over, with Connie and Bismuth standing next to Garnet, who was on their knees staring at their hands, crying in a mixture of fear and frustration. Steven walked around to her front as he reached out to her.

“Garnet... it’s Steven...”

Garnet flinched and turned away, once again crying out in the voices of Ruby and Sapphire.

“Go away! Steven please! We don’t want you to see me like this!”

Steven backed away for a moment before reaching for her shoulder.

“Garnet... I’m here for you.. I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop this... I didn’t mean for this to happen...” Garnet flinched and pulled away.

“They’re gone! Ruby and Sapphire... We... don’t exist anymore I... we... are all that’s left... I’m not a fusion anymore, I’m a MONSTER.”

Steven flinched, choking back tears and guilt.

“Garnet... no... You aren’t a monster... You’re made of love, remember?” Garnet turned to him, all five eyes streaming tears as they glared at him in frustration.

“THEY ARE DEAD AND GONE. I can’t be made of love if there is nobody left... I’m a shell of what I was...” 

She sobbed and buried her face in her hands.

Steven froze, looking down guiltily as he swallowed his emotion.

“I... couldn’t save them.. And I’m so... so... so sorry... But... you are still Garnet... and the things... the people... that you love... are still here... so there is still hope... right?” Steven’s encouraging speech trailed off into a search for his own reassurance.

Everyone was silent for a long time. Garnet didn’t move for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, she stood up, looking at everyone as she wiped her eyes. Steven swallowed before speaking up.

“We’ve... all been through so much... what happened... and what was taken from us... there are no words... but we’re still here. For better or for worse, we’re still alive. We’ll make the best of this, I’m sure... We’ve always found a way before... we can do it this time, too.”

Everyone looked to Steven, sad smiles shared by the group. The family embraced into a hug. 

Everyone stayed in the embrace for a few minutes, just comforting one another. When everyone finally pulled away, Steven took a deep breath before mumbling.

“So... about the diamonds...”

[agent-cupcake]

hiya i’m not sure if your requests are open but if they are could i please have them yandere prompt 7 with caspar!! i adore your work

7. “I’m trying to help! You had a problem, and I fixed it!” 

There was no name you could think to call yourself, no direct consciousness to cling to. No person living in the confines of your weightless head. There was nothing but an endlessly rolling sea of fog, your head cresting the waves every so often to grasp at a memory of a life you couldn’t remember.

You were a child, standing on the pier with your father —he was a naval engineer, the best in the Leicester Alliance— as you looked upon his newest warship. She was a beautiful creature, this ship named Claudia, everyone said so. You weren’t so sure. It was her face, you thought, her front —the bow! it was called the bow because ships always had different names for everything— was fixed with a frightening metal face. And she smiled. Not for you or your father or for the dozen others who had come to see this modern marvel. No, Claudia smiled for the enemies, for the Almyrans. Claudia, beautiful Claudia, would approach them with a scary bronze grin, Claudia would smile as she killed them. 

You were a girl, twirling in your new dress made of imported fabrics shipped in from the Empire on the eve of your first ball. You felt beautiful, weightless, ready to leave behind your childish toys and frocks and join the adults in their courtly games. But these games were dangerous, and not all smiles were honest. Makeup tears ran down your face as your mother told you —wiping the blackened tears from your cheeks so as to avoid staining the beautiful fabric of your new dress— to smile even when it hurt.

You were a woman with a face drawn and pale as you followed the evacuation orders of the ruling Duke Claude von Riegan. Imperial Troops were marching to take Derdriu. And they would win, everyone knew they would, even if all the Alliance soldiers armed themselves and formed defensive lines to keep them at bay. All of the fine naval weapons your father had spent his life creating were useless, now. No smiles, bronze or otherwise, would greet the Emperor when she conquered.  

You were a survivor, emerging from the war relatively unscathed and as a newly sworn part of the new Fódlan government under the command of Emperor Edelgard. Maybe that would have scared you, or made you go red with shame, but there was a smile that kept you from falling to those feelings. A true, warm, reckless smile. He had a name, you knew it. He had a name and a voice and warm, warm hands. 

Hands that had caught you when you fell, when you were dizzy and unstable as heavy black inkblots invaded your vision and pulled you under. What happened before the dark? What name had you called, whose hands had caught you?

You knew it! You knew, you knew, you knew-

“Caspar?” you managed to gasp out, trying to claw out of the fog and into the world using the name as an anchor. A warm, warm hand grabbed yours as you flailed, holding you still. Your eyelids fluttered, heavy and unfocused. He was blue. Blue eyes and hair, a color that was all at once soft and electric as it blurred in your vision. You could remember the color, from before the dark, before the falling. Before-

“Hey, relax, you’re okay,” he said comfortingly, his calloused thumb rubbing circles on your hand. You groaned in response, your body heavy and head fuzzy. It was too much for you to support yourself, your limbs wilting back into the seat and corner wedge of the wall. The familiar sway of a horse-drawn coach trundled beneath you. Your body ached in a thousand places from the uncomfortable position. And yet you couldn’t find the energy to move, to consider what was happening. “It’s fine if you keep sleeping, we’re not there yet.”

You groaned again, the words you wanted to say not finding cohesion in your own brain. Sleep sounded nice. Sleep was inevitable. So you let it wash over you, fading out of whatever reality you’d managed to find and into the grasp of memories unearthed by his voice. 

Now there was a new feeling, one that was very distinctly yours. It was sinking, drowning, dark, and cold. It held like chains, trapping you in the dark.

You were newly engaged and laden with the heavy weight of news you so badly didn’t want to voice aloud. Beside you sat the man with the brilliant smile. Caspar von Bergliez, that was his full name but you only ever knew him by the first because he had absolutely no regard for station and you enjoyed the thrill of ignoring propriety. He had his own heavy, horrible news.

“You’re leaving?” you asked to clarify, eyes wide with shock and panic. The salty breeze of the ocean air blew a fresh gust, bringing another wave of the familiar fishy, wooden scents from the docks, but there was no comfort in it.

“Yep, I got orders to leave tomorrow. I guess there’s some sort of dispute in Enbarr I’ve gotta go check out.” Caspar shrugged casually. “I’m not sure what it's about but it seems urgent.”

“Will you be coming back?” you asked, a hint of desperation in your voice. It was strange how quickly the terror had taken hold in your heart, considering that you knew he would have to leave eventually. But leaving now of all times, right when you needed his brilliant smile the most.

“Yeah, I have no idea,” Caspar said. “Thanks to you, I got my work here done in half the time I expected.” He smiled, as if not seeing the tragic irony of your help allowing him to leave sooner. “That’s actually why I wanted to meet with you today, ‘cause you’ve been such a big help.” He paused, uncharacteristically taking the time to consider his next words with a crease between his eyebrows. “I was wondering if maybe you could come with me... If you want to. We make a pretty great team, if I do say so myself, and I’ve been needing someone to keep me organized and stuff.”

You stared at him, jaw loose on the verge of dropping. Caspar wasn’t the type to lie, and you doubted any motive he’d have to make up something like this. Shock faded into something like anger. Not at the short notice of the invitation or the casual way he proposed it, although those were perfectly valid complaints. No, you were angry as you wondered why couldn’t he have asked you earlier?

“I can’t,” you said, but the wind caught your soft words and pulled them away. Swallowing hard, you averted your gaze, unable to look at Caspar directly. “I can’t do that. My father has... Arranged for me to be married. That’s what I wanted to tell you today.”

“What?” Caspar asked, his body tensing in a way you could feel through space between you. “You’re gonna say no, right?”

“I can’t,” you repeated. “Lord Pendleton is doing my family an honor by agreeing to the match.” You spoke the words you’d heard a hundred times from your parents with great care, a sick feeling in your stomach. Even saying the name  — soon to be your name —  was difficult, like a mouthful of medicine you had to force down your throat.

“Him? But you don’t even like that guy!” Caspar said. His voice was raised too loud for comfort in the relative peace of the breezy afternoon, making you flinch. Tears stung at the back of your eyes at this horrible arrangement of events, but you forced them back. Your mother told you to smile, no matter what. The one you mustered was a bitter, fragile thing, full of false humor.  

“That’s not the point of arranged marriages,” you said, forcing an even voice. “And I don’t dislike Lord Pendleton. By all accounts, he’s a fine man. His family has been working with mine for years. And, besides, everything has already been arranged. I can’t just break it off like that.” Not without making an enemy of both his family and your own, at least. Despite that logic, guilt formed a knot in your chest on top of the selfish pain. Denying Caspar when he was looking at you with such earnest eyes was harder than you’d have ever thought, but you raised your gaze to meet them, to plead with him. “You understand, right?”

Caspar frowned, his shoulders slumping a bit as the burst of passion faded. He nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I get it…” He sighed, running a hand over his face, into his hair. It was already tousled by the wind, but now the longer bits stuck up. It was cute in a way you absolutely loathed noticing. “If I had asked you before, would you have said yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” you agreed without hesitation. That made his frown fade a bit, although the thought didn’t bring you much solace. It was little more than an empty prize, a chest of fools gold. 

“Yeah, cause you like me way better, right?”

And again, you answered without thinking. “Of course I do. You’re… You’re a good man,” you told him. “You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had.” You deflated with those words, a hollow feeling in your chest. In contrast, Caspar’s chest only seemed to swell.

“Aw, I like you a lot, too,” he cooed, a strangely unaffected response to such a deeply personal confession. “A lot, a lot. And you know what? I have a feeling things are just gonna work out.”

Sending a sideways glance at Caspar, you felt a melancholic burst of affection. Maybe innocent was a strange word to describe a fully grown man, and perhaps an inappropriate one if you were to get right down to it. Condescending, infantilizing, and certainly unbecoming of the Minister of Military Affairs. And yet, it was the only description that came to mind in your hours with Caspar. He wasn’t innocent in the way of white flowers and doe eyes, but in an innate, childish way that gave light to his beaming smile and a captivating animation to his endlessly energetic attitude. And, yes, he was innocent when it came to women. Happily oblivious, or perhaps too distracted by everything else to be preoccupied with such things. Right then, it hurt. If he had offered marriage, perhaps you could have said yes. If he had shown any sign of romantic affection, maybe you could have justified taking his offer.

Heart sunken deep, you looked out to the ocean where clouds were building on the horizon. Not storm clouds, but the thick type that would bring a pointless oceanic gloom with them. You related to them far more than Caspar’s sweet optimism. “I hope so.”

You were a child and your father was carrying you in his arms, cradled to his chest while you pretended to sleep so he wouldn’t put you down. He smelled like the ocean, sawdust, and the achingly familiar scent of the cologne your mother liked so much. But, no. That wasn’t true, you weren’t a child and it wasn’t your father who was carrying you. Your body ached in the way it had only begun aching when you reached adulthood. The smell was wrong, too. Sweat and linen and leather.

Then there was a bed beneath you, a place you could finally lay flat. Still, the discomfort persisted, your brain relentlessly struggling against the dark and muscles falling slack. It was the thirst that finally got your eyes open and stiff body moving. The moments between wakefulness and the press of the cup to your lips was a blur, you couldn’t even remember seeing the water beside your bed. It was sweet, soothing your throat with each desperate swallow. Some of it dribbled down your chin, nearly choking you. Still weak, so weak, your fingers let the empty tin cup fell to the floor. Then your eyes closed again, ignoring the dozens of little pains you suffered. 

"Oh, so you are awake!” Your eyes opened to the familiar voice, watching him enter the tent. A tent? “That’s good,” Caspar said. “I was starting to worry you’d never open your eyes.”

“How long was I asleep?” you asked, the words coming without thought as your mind swam, too disoriented to focus on any of your larger concerns. It looked and smelled like the earliest hours of the morning when he had opened the tent, the air thin and bitter with a creeping chill.

“About twenty hours? Give or take some, yesterday was pretty hectic,” Caspar answered, looking up as he thought. Then he smiled, sitting on the edge of your bed and stretching, throwing you a sideways grin. “Did you know that you snore? I didn't know girls did that. It was pretty cute. Reminded me of this cat I used to take care of.” His tilted. “I kinda miss that little guy."

“Twenty hours,” you repeated, knowing the words had far more significance than you could give them. Fog clouded your brain, panic barely finding its way through when everything all felt so unreal, so far away. The water hadn’t done much to ease the sour, sandy flavor weighing down your tongue. Your body sagged, your head aching. Everything was so uncomfortable you could hardly stand it. Fear of the unknown, of the confusion, was beginning to take hold. “Last I remember I was… You were there?” you asked, looking at him helplessly. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Hey, don’t panic, everything’s okay!” Caspar said, looking a little panicked himself. “We’re an hour out from the old Empire border. It’ll be two days more of traveling before we get to Enbarr.” His face scrunched unhappily. “I’ll have to teach you how to ride long distances so we can make better time when we travel from now on. Traveling so slow is the worst.”

“We left Derdriu,” you said, cold with horror. Memories were slipping into place, more relevant memories. “I snuck out to see you off and... You poisoned me?”

Caspar frowned. “Believe me, I didn’t want to!” he emphatically told you. “But I was worried you’d make everything all complicated again. I knew you were gonna feel too bad about leaving to come with me without some... Help. Besides, it’s better this way. You’d be completely wasted as Lord Pendleton’s wife. He’s a chump and a coward.”

“So you kidnapped me?” you asked, overwhelmed and nearly breathless on the verge of hyperventilating.

“You said you wanted to come with me,” he said.

“It’s not that simple,” you protested, a hand rising to your head to halfheartedly massage your temples.

“See? You think too much, it makes everything so complicated. Now that you’re already gone, you don’t have to feel bad about leaving.”

“I can’t believe you did this,” you said, your eyes closing. Hunger gnawed at your stomach, a reminder of all the time you’d spent asleep, getting farther and farther away from your family.

“You like me, don’t you?” he asked. Your eyes opened. Caspar looked pleading, a tad desperate. Oh, so innocent. It made your heart ache, it made your empty stomach twist.

“Of course I do,” you said, choking on the words. He relaxed slightly.

“Yeah, that’s good. I’m glad,” he said, nodding. Awkward. 

A moment passed, Caspar looking intently at the tent wall with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. It wasn’t enough time for you to think, only to feel a washing sense of distress and fear. 

“Listen,” he finally said. “I know that I can be kinda difficult and reckless. I’ve even been called annoying, but you don’t ever make me feel like that. I didn’t realize what I felt until you said that you were gonna get married. I realized that the idea of you with any other man made me angry. Livid, actually. I kinda wanted to leave and fight Lord Pendleton right then and there just for thinking about marrying you.” Caspar’s posture was hunched, his eyes down and cheeks blushing bright red. “This is so embarrassing... I swear, I didn’t want to do it like this.” He finally looked up, his jaw set as if he was readying for a fight. “The thing is, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, protecting you and taking care of you. I know you didn’t want to marry that guy and that you’d be miserable, so even though it didn’t make me happy to do it like this, I had to take you. You understand, right?”

"No, I don’t,” you said, your voice a pinched, parched sound. Some part of you wanted to laugh at the horrifying juxtaposition of his confession and the situation, the morbid way they complimented each other. “I don’t understand why you would do this at all.”

“I’m trying to help!” Caspar said, pleading once more. “You like me way more than that guy, you wanted to come with me!”

“Why would you think that any of this is what I wanted?” you asked, meeting his shout with a shrill whisper and gesturing around the tent. Slowly, bit by bit, Caspar’s expression faltered, as if your unhappy tone was only just now invading in on his mood. It left you feeling cold. You had always known Caspar was a bit oblivious, but this was something else entirely. He truly hadn’t given a second thought to this, any of this. He thought this was for the best.

“Please don’t be upset,” he begged, moving towards you with imploring, innocent eyes. Then he smiled, and it was the worst one yet. So genuine and sweet, you felt as if you could actually see the love. Love. Caspar smiled and reached out to you with his warm, warm hands. “You had a problem, and I fixed it!”

[stanbillyhargrove]

Demons - The Rewrite

Chapter 22: Knife End, Walking Like A Dead Man

Billy’s POV

I pulled up to Steve’s house and was surprised to see his car sitting in the driveway. I was sure he would have gone driving around town some more even after me telling him to stay home.

I scooped Cat into my arms and walked up the driveway, shifting to hold her with one arm so I could ring the doorbell. Behind the door, I could hear someone running before the door flew open, a frazzled Steve holding back Rocky on the other side.

He saw Cat in my arms, pale, eyes sunken and his knees buckled, “is she..?”

“She’s just sleeping, Harrington. Calm down.”

Steve breathed out loudly and backed out of the way of the door with shaky knees, “come on, bring her inside.”

Neither of us talked while I hurried to follow him through his house to his room. Steve pulled the blankets down so I could lay Cat on the sheets.

"Need to get this dress off, she's soaked," I explained.

“Here," he offered me a sweater, "I’ll...get some more blankets,” he whispered, quickly walking away.

I knelt beside the bed, gently stroking her face with my fingers and listening to her faint breathing. As I looked at her face, I understood why Steve thought I was carrying her body. Everything about her seemed so sunken and frail.

Lifeless.

I eased the hem of her dress up her legs. Held her back with one hand and gently slid the dress off with the other. Pulled the sweater over her head and carefully eased her arms in.

It was huge on her.

I pulled the blankets over her and took a moment to roll up the sleeves and look at the scars on her arms again. Felt my stomach turn to lead, threatening to drag me down through the floor. Tears collected in the corners of my eyes again as I ran a thumb over the rough scab. Steve cleared his throat when he came back, making me look away to wipe at my eyes before meeting his gaze.

“I know, they’re pretty bad,” he murmured, layering more blankets over Cat.

I leaned forward and kissed her forehead before standing up to leave the room with Steve, Rocky trailing behind us.

“What was it like,” I asked as we walked towards the kitchen, “finding her?"

Steve turned to look at me with a huff, “horrible. The first time she called me she was off her face drunk and just, the way she talked sounded so, wrong, you know? I drove over as soon as I heard the message and found her passed out, just totally out of it. There was a bottle of pills empty on the counter. I dragged her into the tub and forced her to puke until she woke up.”

Steve dug through his fridge for a couple bottles of beer. Handed one to me and then grabbed a bag of peas from the freezer. Passed it to me without a word and waited until I pressed it to my jaw before cracking open his beer.

“Last time?” I questioned, taking a swig of my own drink.

Steve took a long gulp before looking back at me, “after you showed up here and kicked my ass I told Cat to go home, I was just so fucking pissed off and I thought it would be better if she left. Give us all time to cool down, you know? But we...it wasn't a fight really, but we'd been arguing before you got here and I just didn’t know what to say to her, after everything, so I just didn’t, I didn’t talk to her at all. I was fucking stupid. Then she called me again and left a message, begging for my help, thought I was mad at her. When I got to her place it was weirdly quiet. Like, nothing seemed real when I walked inside.”

Steve took a deep breath and downed the rest of his beer, pulling another from the fridge and opening it before continuing, “she slit her wrists in the bathroom. There was blood all over the floor, it looked like a fucking murder scene from TV. She was still awake so I wrapped her up to stop the bleeding and put her to bed, then cleaned everything up. Told her I couldn’t do that again, couldn’t hold on to everything by myself and that she needed to quit hiding everything. She got mad, started yelling at me...I tried giving her a fucking ultimatum, man, figured if I told her I wouldn’t be around while she killed herself maybe she’d want to get better,” he wiped at his dewy eyes with the heel of his hand, “nothing was enough, obviously."

I swallowed my beer with a gulp, my throat closing around a knot, “and you guys slept together?”

Steve nodded slowly, “yeah, the night before you showed up here. I picked her up from that party and brought her back here, she’d been staying here since the pills. She was drunk and high, thought maybe it would help her get past things. I had started drinking whenever it got to be too much, and I drank a lot that night. I’d been drinking before Tommy’s call and then downed a couple after bringing her back here, it was just so much shit, you know? And then she asked me if we could…and I just, I thought if it was a good thing for her then maybe that would help...It didn’t mean anything though.”

I hummed, taking a long pull of my beer before pulling a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket, “you mind?”

Steve shook his head and waved a hand at me, “go ahead.”

I tapped one out of the pack and held it between my lips to light it, pulling a hard drag off it before muttering, “what really happened at the party. Why did she end up with you. Why does she trust you more than me.”

Steve sighed, “she had been asking for us, someone came to find me but by then she was gone. I overheard those losers from out of town talking about leaving a girl upstairs passed out. It creeped me out so I went to check it out, see if I could help them get home, found her in one of the rooms. She was dead to the world, wouldn’t wake up. I straightened up her clothes and brought her back here to sleep it off, I thought she drank too much and maybe they backed off when she passed out but when she woke up in the morning she couldn’t remember much of what happened. They drugged her, slipped something in her drink."

He reached out and took the cigarette from my fingers. Took a long drag before continuing.

"Anyway, I had seen some of her scars at the party and then when I brought her here I took her jeans off, cause sleeping in jeans sucks you know? I thought I was helping but she’s got them on her legs too and then I saw how skinny she really was. Brought it up in the morning and she yelled at me that she was fine and told me not to say anything about it. So I didn’t, I just tried to be there for her, asking if she was okay, just checking in type stuff. Then the day Nancy and I broke up I went over to check in, I was just wanting to talk about what happened with Nancy and I found her bleeding in the shower. She was pregnant, between the drinking and not eating she made herself miscarry. That’s when it hit...what actually happened at the party. From then I was her go to for everything cause I knew already, I guess that was easier for her than saying it all out loud.”

Steve shrugged and smiled dryly as I clenched my jaw, vibrating with anger. I couldn’t stop the tears that burned at my eyes and started rolling down my cheeks until I wiped them away with the back of my hand.

She was pregnant?

“So she doesn’t eat? Like at all?"

Steve shook his head, his mouth tightening, “I tried when she was staying here, couldn’t get her to have much of anything. She was running a lot too. Even caught her working out in the middle of the night a couple times.”

“Fuck,” I growled, “I..Jesus fucking christ. Why her?”

Steve’s mouth pressed into a thin line, “don’t know man. Don’t know why they picked her, maybe they didn’t, she just was nice enough to accept the drink.”

I shook my head, “but she’s been fucked up since before that, how does someone get that fucked up? And she’s, she’s so fucking nice! How is she still so nice?”

Steve shrugged again, “I’m not sure.. I know I wouldn’t be,” there was a pause before, “hey, Billy?”

“Hmm?”

Steve looked down at the floor quickly before looking back up at me, “where did you find her? Why’d you come here?”

I exhaled a plume of smoke, “out in the forest, by the quarry. We used to go out there to get away from things, took me a while to think about it. Figured you'd been dealing with her already and I can't really bring her to my place.."

–

I spent the night talking with Steve, both of us drowning our feelings in beer until we passed out on the couches in the living room. I woke up with a start when Steve’s phone started ringing loudly and watched him jump up to grab it, still half asleep.

“Ello?” He grumbled.

He blinked hard a few times, trying to clear the fog in his brain before holding the phone out towards me.

“It's for you.”

I rolled off the couch with a groan and walked up to grab the phone from Steve’s hand, raising it to my ear with a mumbled, “what?”

Max’s loud voice rang through my ears, “it’s almost time to go to school, are you coming?”

“Fuck! Yeah, Max, I’ll be right there.”

I scrambled to hang up the phone and rushed around Steve’s house for my jacket and boots, stopping just before opening the door to look at him, “Harrington.”

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow and scratched sleepily at his chest, “hmm?”

“If she wakes up, tell her I was here. Tell her I’ll be right back.”

Steve nodded and nestled back into the couch, eyelids already growing heavy, “yeah, sure.”

–

Max was impatiently waiting at the end of the driveway, tapping her hand against her skateboard when I skid to a stop in front of her.

“Sorry!” I exclaimed as she pulled the door open and sat down with a huff, “slept in.”

Max just stared at me, “where’s Cat? You said she was okay.”

I sighed as I drove away from the house, “she’s still sleeping, I think. Steve’s watching her.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Max, I don’t think-”

She turned to glare at me, “tell me what’s wrong with her. I want to know. She’s my friend too.”

I huffed, too tired to argue with her, “it can’t go past you, Max. I’m serious. Don't tell Susan or your little friends. Don’t even tell Cat you know, okay?”

I waited for her to nod before continuing to talk, “Cat was drugged, at a party and..and someone hurt her really bad. She’s been hurting herself since before she moved here but it got worse after that. She hasn’t been eating and she’s been drinking all the time and… and, well, just hurting herself. And you might see how she hurt herself but you can’t say anything about it, okay?”

Max blinked, shocked, “why would someone want to hurt her?”

“Because they’re fucking sick,” I growled.

I was just pulling up to the school when Max asked, “how bad did she hurt herself?”

I had to bite my cheek to stop the tears that sprang forward, “pretty bad, Max. But she’s still here.”

Still alive.

For now.

“Can I come visit her?” She looked up at me, hopeful as I stopped in front of the school.

I smiled tightly, “I think she’d like that, Max. I’ll pick you up, okay? If she’s awake you can visit her.”

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed, “see you after school, Billy.”

–

I got back to Steve’s and passed back out on the couch, trying to sleep off the worst of my hangover. It was around noon when I woke up again to see Steve coming back into the living room with a plate of pancakes.

“Any more of those?” I asked, sitting up from the couch.

Steve nodded, his mouth full and mumbled, “kitchen.”

I got up to get myself a stack of pancakes and came back to flop down on the couch.

“You been up for a while? Where’s the dog?” I asked between bites.

“A little bit,” he mumbled, finishing off his breakfast, “Rocky’s out in the yard. Figured he’d been stuck inside long enough.”

“Has she woken up yet?”

Steve shook his head, frowning, “I haven’t heard or seen her.”

“Should we check on her?”

“I popped in when I woke up, to make sure she was still there. Could probably check on her again now,” he picked nervously at his fingers, “I’m worried about her.”

I sighed, standing up off the couch, “I know. I am too.”

Quietly, I walked into Steve’s bedroom to check on Cat. She was curled up on the side of the bed, one arm outstretched and hanging off the side, the other wrapped around a pillow. I knelt down beside the bed and gently ran a knuckle down the side of her face.

The dark purple around her eyes had faded a bit, making her face look a little less sunken. But she looked flushed now instead.

Her forehead was warm against my lips when I bent to kiss her gently and whispered, “hey, Baby, you gotta wake up for me, okay?”

I heard her stir as I kept talking through the lump in my throat, “you gotta wake up so I can help you, Baby. Max misses you, you gotta wake up and get better for us.”

“B..?” She rasped, eyes fluttering open.

I sat back on my heels to look at her face, a watery smile on my face, “morning.”

She smiled back at me and looked around sleepily, “why..?”

“I brought you to Steve’s place last night. Do you remember last night?”

“Not really,” she mumbled, nestling back into the pillows.

“You wanna get up? Have a shower? It’ll be nice and warm,” I coaxed.

“M sleepy,” she murmured.

“I know, Baby,” I tried to keep coaxing her, keep my voice light and my emotions in check even as my throat tightened, “I know you’re tired, but if we get you cleaned up and you eat something then you can go back to sleep, okay?”

She hummed, eyes closing again, “mmkay.”

I smiled and scooped her up in my arms to carry her to the bathroom, her fingers clutching at my shirt, dipping under it to seek out the warmth of my chest.

I hissed when her icy fingers touched me, “your fingers are fucking freezing.”

Cat nuzzled into my shoulder, humming happily when her nose touched my throat.

“Are you gunna let me put you down so you can shower?”

She shook her head, “no.”

I puffed, a smile trying to pull as I was adjusting her in my arms and walking to the living room where Steve was watching TV.

“Harrington,” I grumbled, “help.”

He looked towards us, eyebrows knit with confusion, “what?”

“Either hold her or start the shower.”

He jumped off the couch to take her from me, shivering when her hands touched him.

“Stevie,” she mumbled, leaning into his neck.

“Jesus,” he groaned, “your hands are like Popsicles."

I chuckled, leading the way back to the bathroom and turned on the shower as hot as was tolerable.

“Thanks, Steve,” I said, turning back to take Cat from his arms.

He nodded, “I’ll get some water boiling for drinks and find some clothes for you both.”

Steve left after giving a tight smile. Left me holding a shell of the girl that I had fallen in love with. A stark contrast from the bright, sarcastic girl that caught my eye and my heart. I gently lowered her feet to the ground, keeping an arm around her waist to steady her.

“C'mon,” I muttered, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

Cat nodded as I slipped my hand under Steve's sweater, sliding it up and off her body to fall on the ground. I sucked in my breath when I saw the harsh lines of her collarbone and hips and chewed the inside of my mouth.

They looked so much worse in the light. Harsh angles and deep shadows.

“Cat..” I breathed, running my fingers along her ribs.

She tensed when I wrapped my hand around her side, just under the jut of her rib cage and looked up at me with dewy eyes.

“Hold onto me,” I sighed as I crouched down to take her underwear off.

Cat’s fingers gripped my shoulder tight, nails digging in as I slowly slid them off. When I looked back up at her, her eyes were screwed shut and she was biting her fist as tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Shit,” I whispered, standing back up to pull her into my chest, “Baby, it’s okay. Shh, I got you.”

“I’m sorry,” she cried, “it’s just..”

“I know, Cat. I know, it’s okay,” I murmured into her hair, “c'mon, in the shower, before all the hot waters gone.”

She sniffed and nodded before letting me help her into the tub, sighing when the hot water hit her skin.

“Do you need me?” I asked.

There was a small, whimpering, “yes,” as my answer and I quickly tossed my clothes onto the floor to join her.

I took my time lathering her up from head to toe, gently rubbing her body and planting light kisses on her skin as she cried. Ran my fingers through her soapy hair, tipping her head back into the hot water and running my lips along her jaw.

Tried not to think about the strands of hair twisting through my fingers to fall to the floor of the tub.

The whole thing was so..

Intimate.

Close in a way I’ve never experienced before, in a way that hurt my heart and made it swell at the same time.

I kissed the salt water from her cheeks and held her tight to my chest until she stopped crying. When she was all clean and the hot water was running out I helped her step out of the tub and watched as she slowly wrapped herself in a towel before I quickly washed myself. I turned off the now cool water and stepped out of the shower to grab a towel and wrapped it around my waist.

Outside the door was a small pile of clothes that Steve had brought us. Sweatpants and t shirts for each of us. I helped Cat get dressed first, methodically drying her before pulling the clothes onto her body. She was once again standing in front of me, swimming in Steve’s clothes and I couldn’t help the pang of hurt and guilt that went through my chest when I thought of finding her here, in his clothes before.

Focus.

Can't dwell on that right now.

I quickly dressed myself and wrapped an arm around her, “want me to carry you again?”

Cat nodded, tucking her face into my chest. I bent down to scoop her up and started carrying her to the living room.

“Max misses you, she wants to come see you after school. What do you think?” I asked, trying to coax her into a lighter mood.

She hummed, “maybe...’m tired. Sore."

“I know, Baby. You can sleep a bit more in the living room, okay? Steve made pancakes, you want one?”

I gently set her down on the couch as she shook her head, “not hungry.”

Steve sighed and left the living room in a hurry, retreating to the kitchen with clenched fists.

I knelt down to grab her hands and looked up at her sadly, “Cat, please,” I tried to plead, to somehow get through to her, “please, for me. Just a little bit, okay? You'll feel better and then you can sleep a bit more.”

She didn’t answer, just looked down at our hands and chewed her lip.

Anger spiked.

My jaw ticked, “just. Fucking try,” I growled, ripping my hands away from her to storm out into the backyard before I could start yelling.

Rocky greeted me at the door, pushing his head into my hand for attention. I walked past him, pacing along the side of the pool for a while.

I shouldn't be here. I can't help her.

I'm useless.

Defeated, I sat on one of the chairs that wasn't covered in snow and cradled my face in my hands. Tears poured down my face, hot and angry as my chest started heaving. I heard the door open and close a few minutes later and soft footsteps crunching up behind me.

Steve sat down in a chair beside me, legs tucked up under him and held out my pack of cigarettes, “thought you might want these.”

I took them from him, tapped one out and stuck it between my teeth to light it.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

I stared out at nothing as I smoked, focusing only on the smoke filling my lungs and the burn it left behind.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I finally blurted out.

Steve didn’t look at me, just nodded solemnly, waiting for me to continue.

“I..I don’t..that’s not even her in there!” I pointed towards the house, anger lashing through me, “it’s like whatever made her Cat is gone. THAT is not Cat, THAT is not even a person anymore and I don’t..I don’t fucking know how to fix that! How to bring her back! I can’t sit there and pretend that that’s my girlfriend, this is worse than yesterday even! It’s like she fell asleep and fucking died but her body’s still walking around. She's a zombie, Steve! What the fuck do we do about that? How..?” I crumpled finally, full on crying.

Steve leaned towards me, wrapped one arm around my back and let me cry on his shoulder. I could hear him sniffling too, could feel when he moved to wipe at his face.

“We have to try, Billy,” he murmured, “I don’t know how, I don’t know what will work but we have to try. Try to just put on a brave face and be as positive as we can, just try to build her back up. That’s all we can do.”

I huffed, sitting back up, “I don’t think I can, she deserves someone better than me. Someone less angry than me. Someone who doesn’t want to shake her and scream at her.”

A puff of air rushed out of Steve’s nose, “I wanna do that too. Scream in her face and see if I can pull her out of her head. You have no idea, man, how fucking angry I am. But we’re it for her, the only support she has. So we need to get a grip and get back inside and just love her and hope that we can get her back.”

@charmed-asylum

[ghostsray]

Danny Zombie

(now that the dannypocalypse is over, here’s my second @phicphight 2020 fic, this time based on @burning-clutch‘s prompt: “Reverse ghosts au. What would the odd ball rogues gallery be if they were human? Or perhaps Phantom turned Fenton? How would the human cast be as ghosts?”)

(word count: 3591) (AO3)

(part 2)

The teenager climbed over the cemetary gates and dropped onto the ground on the other side, being careful not to break her guitar. Not many people found comfort in the burial park, but Ember McLain was not most people. She had decided early on that she was going to be a rockstar. Whenever she found herself stuck on a song, she found that coming to this place helped her clear her mind. She held her guitar in front of her and gazed across the moonlit graves.

In the middle of the night, in a lonely cemetary

Under the gaze of the moonlight, a place that's just for me.

Was that too goth to use as lyrics? She strummed her guitar softly and was about to try working out a melody, but she paused when she heard something. Moaning coming from behind that tree. She walked over to it and looked around. "Ew, gross," she said with a grimace.

The couple who was making out hastily stopped. They blushed, not expecting to get caught, before Johnny glared at Ember and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Ember countered. She smirked and added, "Honestly, I thought you'd be too scared to step foot here at night."

Johnny huffed, but Kitty cut in and explained, "There's no better place for privacy than an empty graveyard...or so we thought."

Ember rolled her eyes and stepped back from their make-out spot. "Whatever," she told them. "I just hope the dead are fine with you two fucking over their graves."

"Like you're one to talk," Johnny retorted. "Playing a concert to corpses?"

Johnny must have meant it as an insult, but Ember thought that sounded like a badass song title. She was about to tell him as such when Kitty suddenly shuddered. "It's cold," she commented.

Johnny gave Kitty a flirty smile that made Ember want to punch his face in. "You want to borrow my jacket?" he smoothly asked.

But Kitty didn't say that as romantic bait. Ember shivered as she, too, felt the cold growing around them. She slung her guitar onto her back and hugged her arms just as the wind picked up. And it picked up strong. Ember had to plant her boots into the soil to keep herself from being buffetted by the gust. Before her, Johnny and Kitty held onto each other.

"A storm?" Kitty exclaimed over the whistle.

Something wasn't right, though. The wind seemed to be converging into one swirling spot right inside this graveyard. Ember turned to face the direction the wind was moving to, her brown hair flying around in her vision. All of a sudden, despite the lack of clouds in the sky, a bolt of blinding green lightning flashed down and neatly struck one grave.

The afterimage of the flash was still lingering in her eyes when the whirlwind faded as quickly as it had started. A split second later, she felt the pressure drop and the breath leave her lungs, as if the earth was sucking up all the air. She shielded her eyes as a second flash of light appeared in the same spot (and this time, she could swear it came from the grave) before the air finally settled back to normal.

Seconds passed. Nobody spoke.

"What the fuck just happened?" Johnny finally broke the silence by saying.

Ember said nothing, only stared at the grave where the lightning had struck. Gingerly, she picked up her feet and began to walk toward it.

"Where are you going?" Kitty called to her. Ember glanced over her shoulder and found the other girl still in Johnny's hold, her dyed hair sticking out wildly from being abused by the wind. She was staring at her with wide, scared eyes.

Ember gulped and kept going. She was now close enough to the grave to make out the name etched onto the tombstone: DANIEL FENTON.

Ember stopped in front of the mound and realized she had no idea what she was doing. Nothing peculiar was evident in the grave, nothing to suggest that it had been hit by the strangely green lightning.

Then--a hand broke through the soil.

A scream rang behind her, one you would expect to come from Kitty but was actually from Johnny. Not that Ember could judge, considering she jumped ten feet in the air and backed away in bewilderment as the hand--the human hand sticking out of a grave--fumbled around for a grip and began to pull the rest of its body out.

Ember removed the guitar from around her shoulders and held it in her hands like a baseball bat, watching the living corpse with baited breath. The soil shuddered, then parted as a dirt-specked head poked through. Black hair, pale skin, and sunken eyes. The eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes that were as green and radiant as the light from before. Eyes that stared at Ember.

Ember screamed and swung her guitar at him.

The head bobbed in place comically for a second before it fell limp onto the earth. Ember dropped her guitar/weapon and scampered back. Now that the undead boy was unconscious, Johnny and Kitty gathered up enough courage to approach the grave and stand by Ember's side.

"What the fuck," Ember heard Johnny mutter over and over under his breath.

Ember tensed her muscles to keep them from shaking. Slowly, she moved back closer to the grave. When the body didn't stir, she dropped to her knees and observed him closer. His nostrils were flaring, air coming in and out. Breathing. Somehow, alive. Just to make sure, she tentatively held out a shaking hand and pressed it against his wrist. Her fingers were met with a soft but steady beat.

"He's alive," she said, unable to believe it.

"How?" Kitty asked, voicing the question that was in all their heads. "We just saw him crawl out of a grave."

"I--I dont know."

Ember watched the boy...Daniel Fenton? breathing softly. He looked so young and peaceful, it was hard to imagine he had ever been dead. Ember tightened her grip on the boy's wrist. Then she stood up and started to pull him the rest of the way out.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Johnny exclaimed. "That's literally a zombie."

"He's not a zombie," Ember replied with a grunt as she tugged him out of the earth. "Zombies are dead."

"Alive or not, there's no way that guy's a human. I mean--" He gestured wildly to the grave and then added, "I swear, this is how horror movies start. Don't blame me if he eats our brains when he wakes up."

Ember set Daniel on the ground and knelt next to him. She didn't understand what was happening, or how he could be alive after crawling out a grave, but she couldn't just leave him inside a grave. He couldn't have been any older than 14, a year younger than she was. As she observed him, she saw color seep into his pale cheeks, hiding the idea that he had ever been anything but alive and healthy. For a second, she found herself doubting whether she had imagined his grave, but a quick glance over her shoulder told her that the dug-up grave was still there, and a second look at Johnny and Kitty's expressions assured her it was no dream.

The boy stirred, making Ember jerk in surprise. She watched as he inhaled, then dissolved into a coughing fit.

"Are you okay?" she reflexively asked, then realized after she said it how ridiculous the question must have sounded after she had whacked him in the head.

Daniel's eyes flew open, revealing icy blue irises. That was weird. Ember could have sworn they were green before.

He took in a breath, then another, as if he was new to the sensation of breathing. He stared at Ember, then down at himself. He lifted one hand, then set it back down on the grass, touching the blades of plant with his fingers. Finally, he spoke in a soft voice and said, "It worked."

Ember wasn't sure what she expected him to say. Actually, she wasn't sure she expected him to speak at all, so hearing him say those two words startled her. "What worked?" she questioned.

He looked at her as if he only just noticed she was there, but he ignored her question. Instead, he tried to lift himself into a sitting position. In the corner of Ember's vision, she saw Johnny take several steps back as Daniel moved.

It took him multiple attempts to sit up. Each time he pushed himself on his arms, they buckled under his weight, and he fell back. Finally, Ember felt too sorry for him and offered him a hand. Daniel's eyes slightly widened when he touched her skin, and he flexed his fingers in the air after she let go.

Kitty, who was apparently braver than her boyfriend, stepped toward the boy and asked, "Who are you?" After a moment's hesitation, she added, "Is your name Daniel Fenton?"

He looked up at her in surprise, then noticed the empty grave behind her with his name on it. "Oh. Yeah," he said. "It's Danny."

"Danny," Ember said, testing the name on her tongue. "What were you doing inside a grave?"

Again, he didn't answer her. Instead, he asked, "Where am I?"

"Uh. Amity Park's cemetary."

"That's in the human world, right?"

The question caught her by surprise. "The...human world?"

"I knew it!" Johnny exclaimed. "This guy isn't human. Come on, Kitty, we're leaving."

Kitty looked like she was about to argue, but just then, the sound of tires on gravel was heard, and all teens turned toward the cemetary's entrance. In the night's darkness, they couldn't see the car or the person who came out very well, but they could see the beam of flashlight he held that roved across the yard.

Kitty cursed and muttered, "It's Walker." Then she joined her boyfriend in running away.

"Walker?" Danny asked. "What's a Walker? Is it bad?"

"Walker is a cop," Ember explained, "and yes, he's bad."

Ember turned to scram as well, but then she heard scuffling in the dirt and turned back to see Danny still struggling to pick himself up. He was new to all the tendons and ligaments in his limbs and the body mass he had to carry. Ember glanced at the cemetary gates, where the flashlight was bobbing closer, then back at Danny doing a good impression of the worm. Finally, she sighed, hooked an arm under his armpits and picked him up. He felt light and fragile in her grip.

"Come on, ghost boy," she said and dragged him with her to the back edge of the graveyard.

They reached the wall just in time to see Kitty disappear over the edge. Ember paused at the foot and looked up. She could probably climb over fine, but how was she supposed to carry Danny over?

Fortunately for her, she felt Danny's weight lighten at that moment and turned her head sideway to see he had finally learned to stand up on his own. He stood facing the wall, his arm still around Ember's shoulders. Ember thought she imagined a sudden chill spread from his hand through her body. A tingling sensation enveloped her. Then, with surprising strength for someone who couldn't push himself off the ground, Danny pushed them both toward the wall.

Ember yelped and closed her eyes, sure she was going to hit her face any second now. She went forward, but the impact didn't come. Cautiously, she opened her eyes again, then had to blink them several times to make sure she wasn't imagining things. Both she and Danny were on the other side of the wall.

"What--" She looked at their surroundings, which was very much not the cemetary, then craned her head around to look behind them, where the wall was still very much there. Her eyes landed on Danny, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw, for a second, his eyes glow a faint green before dimming back to blue.

"You--How?" After stammering for a while, she said, "What are you?"

Danny met her eyes with a puzzled expression. "I thought you knew. You said it yourself." Before Ember could ask him what he meant, he gestured to himself and said, "Ghost boy."

It took all of Ember's willpower not to faint then and there.

Danny glanced behind, then back at Ember. "Walker bad?" he said.

"Uh..." She shook herself back into alertness and said, "Yeah. Walker bad."

They kept fleeing.

There were two problems. One was that Ember's house was pretty far from the cemetary. The long walk between here and there had never bothered her, but that was before she had a ghost-turned-zombie shuffling by her side with Walker possibly on their tail. At the rate they were going, a snail could probably catch them easily.

Ember heard a pained moan come from Danny. That was the other problem. Despite how healthy he had seemed back in the graveyard, now his breath was ragged and his head was slicked with sweat. Ember looked down at him and saw his face turn green.

"You okay?"

Danny nodded, but he didn't look very okay. "Fine. I just need..." He trailed off before he could finish the sentence and gagged. Ember realized what was coming and quickly jumped away from him, and not a moment too soon. Danny bent over and vomited.

"What in the--?" Ember was really hoping she was done seeing the strangest that this day had to offer, but when she looked at the pavement, Danny's emptied stomach content was a glowing, lime green goo.

Danny's face stopped being the shade of guacamole, but it went back to being pale. His eyes were faint green under his half-closed eyelids. "Ah," he said. "My soul is still adjusting." Then he began to sway.

Ember caught him before his body could hit the floor. Her boot accidentally stepped into the puddle of vomit-goo, which disgusted her to no end, but now was not the time to worry about that. Even though Danny was light, she didn't think she could carry him all the way to her home. She glanced around at their surroundings, and relief flooded through her when she recognized the neighborhood. One of her classmates lived here. One who was fortunately too nice to turn down helping someone.

Ember dragged Danny to one of the houses, which was identical to every other in the neighborhood except for the adress. She rang the doorbell and waited. A minute later, the door opened, revealing a scrawny male teenager with huge glasses, buck teeth, and an upturned nose. "Ember?" he said, then noticed the unconscious boy in her arms. "Wh--"

Ember jammed herself through the opening and forced herself into his house, closing the door behind her. "Hey, Poindexter," she greeted. "Think I need to crash here for a while."

Sidney Poindexter glared at her, but he didn't refuse. "What did you do this time?" he said, then his gaze landed on Danny, and his eyes widened. "Wait--you didn't mug him, did you?"

"Nah, he was already dead."

"He's dead?!"

"Sort of. It's a long story."

"Hold up!" Sidney waved his arms wildly and declared, "I might do your homework for you, but that doesn't mean i'll help you cover up a murder!"

"I didn't murder him! Like I said, he's only sort of dead."

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

Ember set Danny on a couch. A trickle of green ran from his mouth, probably still there from his stomach purge. "Honestly, I'm not sure."

"You're not making any sense. Who is he?"

Ember looked at Sidney, who was waiting for an explanation with his arms crossed, as if that would intimidate her. She sighed and plopped herself onto the couch next to the unconscious sort-of-dead person. "Danny. Daniel Fenton. It was written on his grave."

"...His what?"

"Yep," Ember said, popping the 'P.' "He climbed out of a grave."

Sidney was speechless for a moment. "...He what."

Sidney came over to the couch and looked down at the body, noticing for the first time the soil that sprinkled his form. He raised his eyebrows at Ember. "This is a prank, right? It's not very funny."

"It's not a prank," Ember assured.

"So, what, you expect me to believe that this person came out a grave alive--or half-alive--and you brought him to my house?"

Hearing Sidney say it like that, it did sound awfully stupid. Ember sunk into the couch and sheepishly said, "Yeah...I'm not sure why I did that."

"This isn't funny," he repeated. "Who is he really?"

"I already told you. Danny Fenton."

"That can't be him, because the Fentons are dead!"

Ember looked up at Sidney. "You knew the Fentons?"

Sidney hesitated and shifted on his feet. "My grandma did. She said they were the city's whackos. They were obsessed with ghosts, even tried to build a portal in their basement, but I guess they failed because their house blew up and they died. A couple and two kids."

Ember let that information sink in. A portal into the ghost world. Now Danny had come from there to the human world. She remembered his first words in the graveyard: It worked. Could his parents, as ghosts, have completed their portal in the afterlife and somehow sent their son here?

"Okay, this is gonna sound crazy, but..." She told him her theory.

"That's prepostorous," Sidney said once she was done.

"I don't know, man. This whole day has been preposterous."

"You're telling me--" he pointed at Danny--"that this guy is a ghost. But he doesn't look like a ghost."

"That's because he got resurrected...or something. I'm not sure."

Sidney looked like he was about to make another argument, but whatever words he was about to say were cut off by a gasp.

Ember felt the couch beneath her shift as Danny's weight lifted itself off. By that, I mean it really did lift--the boy had righted himself into a standing position suspended in the air, a foot off the sofa. When he opened his eyes, they were bright green again.

At this point, Ember had come to expect the unexpected from Danny, so she was fairly calm about him hovering in mid-air. However, Sidney was staring at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Danny knitted his brows, as if he was confused by Sidney's shock. He looked down at himself, then understanding dawned on him and he looked back up and said, "Oh, right. Humans can't fly, right?"

Sidney opened his mouth and closed it several times wordlessly before he finally stammered out, "G-g-ghost."

Danny settled himself neatly down onto the couch, and his eyes returned to blue. He frowned. "Well, I'm supposed to be a human now, but apparently I'm still part ghost. Maybe I'm somewhere in between. Half a human, half a ghost."

"Great," Sidney said with a gulp. "You're a halfa."

Ember raised an eyebrow. "Halfa? Really? You couldn't have come up with a more creative word for hybrid?"

Sidney ignored her, instead turning his attention to the so-called halfa. "What do you want from us?" he demanded with narrowed eyes. "Are you going to kill us to expand your undead kingdom in the ghost world? Will you take over the living realm as your own?" He hugged himself protectively and questioned, "You're not going to steal our bodies, will you?"

Danny seemed amused by Sidney's suggestions. "No. I'm not the ghost king. I'm not doing any of that."

"Then what do you plan to do?"

Danny turned his gaze down like he was mulling it over. "I just want to live," he finally said.

For a long moment, there was silence except for the soft ticking of the grandfather clock from the hall.

Sidney hesitantly broke the silence by asking, "You're really Daniel Fenton?"

Danny shifted in his seat, but he nodded. "Just Danny is fine."

Sidney collapsed onto an armchair in the living room and rested his head in his hands. "Right. This is normal. Totally normal."

Ember studied Danny. He looked better now--his breath was even, and he wasn't vomiting any slime--though his skin was still a shade paler than what is generally considered healthy. Maybe that was normal for a halfa. She thought back on the night, which felt like a week long. All she had expected to do that night was play some guitar...

"Fuck," Ember said a little louder than necessary. The two boys turned their attention to her. Ember despaired and said, "I forgot my guitar at the cemetary."

Sidney raised his eyebrows at her. "You met a dead person, and that's what you worry about? You can go get it back in the morning."

"You don't understand. Walker's gonna see a dug-up grave and my guitar and think I robbed a grave."

"Well, I mean..." He jabbed a thumb at Danny and said, "You did take something with you."

Ember didn't find that very funny, but Danny laughed. A soft and cheerful laugh. She saw the boy smiling and felt just a little bit less angry.

"Oh, that reminds me," Danny said, and he turned in his seat to face Sidney. "You don't happen to have a way to contact the ghost zone, do you?"