#I wanna stick with black white color to make her looks ghostly

[mersei47]

Indira redesigned with naga inspiration. Officially my hardest to draw oc so far

[possum-rat]

Not fun memories involving fire

Previous 

Next

(Y/n) bolts up from a bed. Sticky hot sheets sticking to their legs. Someone took the time and effort to unzip most of the pant leg turning the cargo pants into shorts, and pull off the sweater leaving them in a whitish shirt.

Their head aching they press their palms to their temples in an attempt to relieve some of the pain. "(Y/n) It's been a while! How are you?" Wilbur's voice erupts cheerfully. (Y/n) drops their hands to their lap staring intently at their grayish-tinted hands. "T's only been a few weeks Wilbur." They murmur tiredly. "Uh no? It's been a few years. Like 6 years." Replies Wilbur confused. "You feeling okay?"

(Y/n) frowns slightly and replies "Nah haven't been for the past... Wait how old am I?-" There's a pause as (Y/n) counts on their fingers before continuing completely serious "Uh not for the past like 16 years. But hey I'm alive? With 1 more life!" Wilbur blanches. "How the hell- What? How'd you lose your first?"

(Y/n) freezes and coughs. "Uh. Long story?"

-----

"(N/N)? LOVE? WHERE ARE YOU?" A panic-filled voice shouts from beyond the burning cottage. As smoke fills (y/n's) lungs they cough violently as they look around for a small tuxedo kitten. "Ailuros? Where are you?" They wheeze. As the fire continues eating at any and all flammable objects (Y/n) runs toward a shucker box. Patting their hand on the burning embers they grab the Shulker box and quickly tap the air infront of them before placing the box inside.

a pitiful mew comes from beside their feet."Ailuros." The word spills from (y/n's) mouth before they can stop. The small cat leaps up onto their open arms. Clutching the cat close to their chest they run toward the nearest door. Kicking it open their greeted by an angry mob.

shouting and sadistic grins illuminated by the light off the flickering burning flames.

(y/n) backs up dropping the cat allowing it to run. "Lilith?" (Y/n) voice comes out below a whisper. Pulling a sword from their inventory they point it toward the Tall brutish men break down the front door. Sprinting out of the house and toward the opisiete window (Y/n) slams their foot into the side of the window. The tinkle of glass and sharp pain flashing up their leg make's (Y/n's) eyes water more. Jumping from the window the cool air is a welcomed reilef compared to the sweltering heat of the burning house.

Staring in disbelief at the sight faintly as if in the deepest corner of their mind a song begins to play. Melancholy and slightly sad.

"All my style

All my grace

All I tried to save my face

All my guts, try to spill

All my holes, try to fill

All my money been a long time spent

On my drugs, on my rent

On my saving philosophy

It goes, one in the bank, and the rest for me

It goes, all my troubles on a burning pile

All lit up and I start to smile

If I, catch fire then I change my aim

Throw my troubles at the pearly gates"

"(N/n) oh there you are! Oh, I was so worried!" Lilith's voice erupts from behind (Y/n) causing them to flinch still feeling adrenaline in their veins. "Oh thank god. I thought they killed you." (Y/n) murmurs as they pull the raven-haired girl into a hug. "Yeah I'm alive hun." The sound of metal against a sheath causes (Y/n) to tense up.

the cool feeling of a blade to skin causes (Y/n's) eyes to widen in fear. "Lilith?" They whisper fear evident in their voice. "Hm? What's wrong love?" Lilith asks calmly. "Why? Why do you have a blade?" (Y/n) asks quietly as they back up while Lilith grins and points the blade toward them.

"Tch. You afraid to die? Hm? Does death scare you?" She erupt coyly as she adjusts her long dark green blazer gently pulling a long slightly waves strand of dark hair off before rolling it in her fingers and dropping it to the ground. "Ye-yes. It does." (Y/n) mumbles quietly.

"Well (y/n) you should remember. Those stupid children's books you'd read? Percy Jackson? Love and death aren't as different as one might think. You shouldn't fear death." (Y/n) feels their heart beginning to beat against their heart as they back into a tree. As they scoot away from it they trip over a root and smack to the ground.

"You're pathetic." Lilith snarls. The world blinks in and out of existence. "How in the world do you think I could ever like-Love someone like you?" She scoffs "I mean. I only stuck around because you're the famous '(Y/n)! The famous Healer/Alchemist! You know Wilbur Soot. How the fuck do you think I'd ever love you."

she bends closer toward (Y/n) placing the heel of her boot into their throat. "Oh." (Y/n) says simply.

Death gently places a soft kiss upon (y/n) forehead.

-----

(y/n) rubs their neck nervously as they stand up. "Anyway. Wilbur, do you have a potion stand?" Wilbur nods and stands up. As the two of them walk out of the tiny little makeshift hut (Y/n) spots the distance figure of Tubbo and Tommy. Sprinting toward them wincing at the light.

"TUBBO!" they screech as they pull the Ram-hybrid into a hug. "(Y/n)? YOU PRICK I WAS TALKING TO HIM."

Tubbo wraps his arms around them in return. As they cling to each other (Y/n) stands up holding Tubbo like a child. "Jesus Christ- Wow you've grown," Tubbo says excitedly. "Welp I need to go to the nether to grab some supplies wanna come with?" (Y/n) asks more to Tommy than Tubbo.

the two agree, letting (Y/n) get more appropriate clothes on. As the trio walk-Run toward the portal Tommy asks confused "Why do you seem taller?" The familiar whurring of the portal fills the silence as (Y/n) pulls at the brightly colored sky blue sweater before rolling up the sleeves. "Uh that'd probably be the boots? Anyway what's happened? How've you been?" They say as they follow the other two boys.

"Oh not much, the usual. Well Part from being killed once." Tubbo informs as he walks infront of (y/n) his brown hair bouncing slightly as he walks. "Hm. So you both have 2 lives left?" They mutter quietly. "Okay."

Small whispers in their head begins creating a wave of sound.

"Keep them safe."

"Watch Tommy."

"Grape."

"Meow."

the voices eventually move on too chanting "Meow." Contentedly. The whistle of a fire ballT makes (y/n) jump. Turning toward the sound they shove Tommy's head down along with Tubbo's just in case. They flinch violently as a freezing feeling spreads over their cheek and neck along with part of their forearm.

The sudden alarmed shout of Tubbo and Tommy causes (Y/n) to jump and turn toward them in fear. "Are you alright?" They ask. The sound of a skeleton walking towards them causes Tubbo to tense up. "Tommy? Do you wanna stick with them? I just got a message from Wilbur." Tommy nods uncertainly. As Tubbo dissapears (y/n) turns toward the skeleton.

"Child. Is this human being troublesome? Do you need me to remove him?" (Y/n) shakes their head wincing at the pain in their neck. "Tommy, go with Tubbo." Tommy happily obliges.

The world seems to tip and swirl underneath (y/n) feet.

-----

The loud crash of something metal causes (Y/n) to bolt upright. " YOU'RE GOING TO WALK THE CHILD DUMBASS." Snaps someone from out of sight. Another voice replies quietly "Please stop shouting. The child is awake." There's shuffling before two faces appear. (Y/n) squints at the trio. The tallest of the three has broken chain-mail armor layered over a purple uniform with a crest of arms on the left-hand side over their heart.

The skeleton nods and groans as they sit down infront of (Y/n).

"Hello (y/n) It's been awhile. But you probably don't remember me. You were but a baby. I'm Theodore." He says in a deep slightly raspy voice. (Y/n) nods and scans around. Theodore points toward the smallest of the three and informs " the one over their beside the door is Loren."

Loren gives a shy wave before tapping the wood on the side of the door. ".. - .-..-. ... / .- / .--. .-.. . .- ... ..- .-. . / - --- / ..-. .. -. .- .-.. .-.. -.-- / -- . . - / -.-- --- ..- / -- -..- .-.-.- -.--. -.-- -..-. -. -.--.-" it takes (Y/n) a second to decipher the tapping. Before translating it to "It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Mx.(Y/n)" Loren wears an off white dress shirt along with a pair of dark plum pinstripe pants, and a black corset. They smile kindly before glancing toward the ground. "It's nice to meet you Loren." (Y/n) rasps.

"And that over behind you is Clementine."

(Y/n) try's to look toward the direction Theodore had said but a hand presses against their shoulder. "Here let me move hun." A poofy dark blue shoulder poof thingy floats into view. An orate old dress appears into view. Clementine smiles ghostly at (y/n). "You're going to hurt yourself hun. When's the last time you had a proper glass of Wither affect?"

"What? I- I've never had a 'Proper glass of Wither affect?' I'm pretty sure it'll kill me?" They murmer.

"PREPOSTEROUS! This is why you were so weak and frail. SEE CLEMENTINE I TOLD YOU." Theodore states exasperated. Loren sends a look like "I'm sorry about them." Clementine sights and daintily sits down on the bed beside (Y/n) "hm. Dear? Are you okay? Oh cra- Sorry excuse my vulgar language. Theodore pass me the Potion of healing?" (Y/n) frowns and coughs "I'm not- I'm pretty sure that I'm fully human. I don't think wither would help me."

Loren shakes their head and taps the wall again. "No no. Your right about the human part. You're part human, and part well us." They state as they point to themself Clementine and Theodore.

(Y/n) nods slightly and sighs in relief at the cool sensation of the liquid against the raw burnt skin. "OH CRUD- Sorry, but I really need to go find my friends. Do you have a portal by chance?" (Y/n) yelps as they sit up causing Clementine to jump.

Loren nods and taps "We have two compasses. One will lead you home and the other here. Please come back. We'd like to see you more as we're not able to go to the overworld. It get's quite lonesome down here."

(Y/n) nods and smiles as they pull on the fresh clothes the three of them had given. As Loren hands one compass (Y/n) realizes that the three of them have matching golden rings adorning their ring fingers.

-----

As (y/n) gets out of the portal they're greeted by a confused/concerned Eret. "(Y/n)? Where've you been?" They ask bewildered. (Y/n) frowns slightly and asks "Honestly no idea. But where's Tubbo and Tommy- wait I still haven't made a hous- nevermind." They look down to Eret and ask "so what's happened? I've probably missed something?" Eret shifts uncomfortably before saying.

"Uh so L'manberg was blown up everybody lost a life. Part from me and a few others. I don't remember who thought. Tommy has 1 life left I think." He trails off before turning the other way and murmurs "I betrayed them. (Y/n) I helped kill them. I've been dubbed a traitor."

(Y/n) nods understandingly "Hm. Well, if you did what you think is right then that's on you. If they're calling you a tratoir then so be it. I'll still stick by your side." Eret smiles slightly and says "You said you needed to make a house? Do you need supplies?" (Y/n) shakes their head before replying "Nah I'll get that stuff myself. I'll go visit Philza."

"By the way. Nice outfit." Eret says.

(Y/n) scans their outfit taking in the outfit for the first time. A purple shawl-type thing with golden detail over a pale off-whitedress shirt with poofy teardrop-shaped sleeves, tucked into black pants and blackish boots. Glancing at their arms they realize that they're wearing marble patterned like gloves. Affecticivly protecting them against the sun, and any harsh weather.

Tapping the air infront of themself they click onto 'Main menu'

There's a suck before a sudden 'Pop'

As they sit in an empty blank room they scroll through the options of 'Servers' eventually there gaze lands upon a server and seeing Philza's name amount the others They click.

[its-starker15]

Peter Parker's Journey with Makeup!!

Pt 1.

Peter likes wearing May's make up, however he does it in secret. He still a beginner and he doesn't know how she will react. May has been amazing when he came out to her, but theres a nagging feeling that she will be disgusted. One day May finds Peter applying lipstick in her bathroom, Peter is embarrassed, but May being the sweetheart that she is tells him that she knew that he was wearing her make up. So brings a small Ulta bag that she had under her bed with a few stuff for Peter. Peter breaks down and covers her in kisses. After that Peter wears it more often, until it's is an everyday occurrence. He learned that people in school don't really care, sure at first every one was surprised, but after a few days they didn't care. Even Flash told him he looked good. His confidence was an all time high. However he isn't confident enough to wear it in front of Tony. So every time he goes to the tower he takes it off in the car. Happy knows not to tell anything to Tony after he first saw him when he went to his house to take May out on a date. So he always carries some wipes in his car.

One Saturday morning while Peter, Mj and Ned where playing some uno cards, Tony calls Peter for an Avengers emergency, Peter doesn't think twice before donning his suit and swinging off to Tony. After they go back to the Stark tower and Peter takes his mask off, completely forgetting that he is wearing a bit of make up. Tony just stares course he can't believe how cute Peter looks, he always looks cute, but now. There was something stirring inside if Tony that he couldn't explain. Peter doesn't understand why he is staring, but then he remembers. He is mortified. He can feel his eyes burning so he puts his mask on and runs of the helipad. So he swing his way back to May's, trowing his make up under the bed in a trash bag along with his Spidey suit and hids under the covers. May find him in the same place asleep many hours later, with mascara stain face and blotchy face. May doesn't know what happened but cleans his face with some make up wipes and stays with him until the next day.

Peter wakes up by a thumping sound, when he tries to move he feels a weight on top of his stomach where Peter finds May sleeping on him. He moves as fast as he can without distrurbing May, how she hasn't woken up by the knocking on the door he doesn't know. He looks at himself through the mirror expecting black trails down his cheek but any make up that he supposed to have was clean off. A small smile graces his cheeks. He runs and puts the first pants that he can find as the knocking gets more frantic. The thumping gets even louder accompanied by someone calling his name. He recognizes the voice, but he doesn't want to believe it's him, he is probably disgusted with him. But a darker part of him tells him is him, that he is here to fire him. Cause why would he work with a disgusting thin like him. He makes his way to the door, when his Spidey senses makes the base off his skull buzz. He jumps back on instincts, suddenly the doors slam open, falling off his it's base, on the other side is Tony blaster on hand. When they lock eyes the worry lines on Tony's face melt away when he sees Peter in his Hello Kitty pajamas. Tony strides up to Peter and gives him the biggest hug, squeezing tight the sleepy boy in his arms. Peter is shock, sure him and Tony have hug before, but can count them on one of his hands fingers still free. He doesn't know what to do, why is Tony hugging him? Isn't he disgusted with him?

Tony takes a step back, but still but still maintaining two hands on his shoulders. He looks at Peter confuse face, his eyes red as if he fell asleep crying. Tony knowing Peter he probably did. Even though he is feeling relieved that Peter is okay, he gets serious. "Peter I have been calling you all morning!! You and May both, and neither of you answer me!" He tells Peter a small frown forming in his face. Peters face falls, a look of regret falls present of his face. " Sorry Mr, Stark. I usually have my phone on vibrate, and May's, well I don't know about May's. But I'm sorry for worrying you." Tony melts a little bit at the younger mans apology. "Don't worry Peter, just don't run away like that ever again. You hear me young man??" Tony advises. He was worry sick when he couldn't contact both of them.

Peter being reminded of his actions of the day before chimes away from Tony hands, suddenly self conscious of his shirtless torso. "I'm sorry for yesterday, you didn't need to see my disgusting self like that" Peter apologize, red coloring face traveling to his ears down to his chest, eyes burning. Tony face falls and rapidly tries to reassure the young man in front of him. " Oh, no, no, no nonononooo! Hey Peter I don't think you are disgusting!! No actually is the other way around. You looked beautiful, you looked more confident lately. Do you wanna know why?" Peter nods shyly " it's because you are being true to yourself," Tony licks his chapped lips "and Peter I'm so proud of you because of it" at the mention of this words Peters dams breaks, tears falling unabashedly. Tony takes Peter in his arms, hugging him tight against his chest. Peter hugs him back this time the soft hum of the arc reactor against his ears is comforting.

"Finally you made up" May's voice surprised them, making them break the hug. "Hi-uumm hi May, Morning" Tony greets May trying to act as if nothing just happened. Then a loud crash startles the trio. They all look back to see that the door had completely fallen off the frame. "So donut??" A sheepish Tony says as he holds up a box of donut from the coffee table where a second box of donuts was present with three cups of coffee.

A furious expression colors May's face as Tony tries to act as everything is fine. Peter makes his scape to his room to change and put some decent clothes. He has an internal fight with himself. Should he wear makeup or not. He was about to go out with none when he remembers Tony's words. So he plops down on the floor and gets the bag of under the bed. Peter prays softly under his breath hoping that they weren't broken. It seems that his "Parker luck" wasn't acting up this time since nothing was broken. He put everything is his night table and turns on the LED mirror that MJ gifted him. Peter doesn't have much since make up is an expensive hobby, but he has enough makeup that he can make do. He has to redo his eyebrows two times, and his eyeliner was even this time. Now it was for the trickiest step, the eyelashes. Every time he wears them there's a part of the lash that always stick up. He already worked that pair two times before. He knows is because they are from the dollar stores, but good lashes are around $20. He completely gives up on them and throws them away. They didn't work anymore. He throws a peachy lipgloss. He looked pretty, but he felt like his outfit was too boyish. A pair of scissors catches Peter eyes. An idea popped into his head, it could either go really good or bad. But there wasn't anytime to regret because Peter already took his white shirt off, and was cutting it up. He tries it once again, the white shirt that fell on top of his jean, now sit softly a little bit higher of his belly bottom. Peter felt pretty, he snag a blue flannel shirt on his way out of his room.

Peter tries to act as nonchalant as possible, but in reality in anxiety was through the roof. He didn't know how they would react. When May's eyes landed on Peter she smiled. "You look nice Peter" he blushes and sends a watery smile toward his beloved Aunt. That was just like her making him feel secure when he tries something new without make a big scene out of it. He kisses her cheeks as he snatches a donut from box. Biting into it, the sweet taste of vanilla filling his mouth. A small moan comes out. He expected Tony to make a comment, but when hi didn't he looks around to see him missing. Without even making his question vocal Mays already answering. " He down talking with the building manager, paying for the replacement of the frame and the door. Again." Peter snort, because it's true that wasn't the first time that Tony has kicked down the door. Actually this would have been Tony 5th time kicking or blasting the door down. " You know we should totally give him the keys to the apartment, he already has the code to enter the building, why not the door. " I confess to May , because knowing Tony this won't be the last time it happens. "Yeah but then he will be appearing out of nowhere, without any sense of privacy" she responds back taking a sip of coffee. Peter takes the last bite of second donut, and taking a third that by the looks of it is filled with Nutella.

Peterhear a pair of foots step coming our way, he concentrate on it's heart beat, recognizing it. "so I got good news and-" Tony says scaring May out if the chair making her almost fall if I hadn't step in and saved her. Peter make sure that May is okay before directing his attention to Tony. Tony's jaws is a little slack his eyes not moving from Peter's torso. Peter doesn't make a move to close his flannel, but he can feel his face heating up. Tony clears his clear history a little bit before smiling towards Peter and then starting again " as I was saying I got good news and bad news" May has a face of confusion on his face before biting the bate. " What do you mean there's bad news?" Tony puts his more dashing smile "well the bad news is that he kicked you out" Peter lost his breath at that. He looked at may and saw her face ghostly white. Peter took her hand and made her sit down and fetching her some water, Peter looked at her at Tony, but Tony was smiling. Why was he smiling they just got kicked out and he was smiling. Anger was bubbling at his stomach, Peter was about to lash out at Tony when he was interrupt by the cause of his anger. "But the good news is that I just bought the apartment from him. It took a little bit of convincing, but by the low price of 600 thousand dollars the building is mine!" Tony finished with a wicked grin.

"WHAT?!!!!" Both Pete and May screamed.

To be continued...

[ahoyscoop]

Prompt: Peter fractures his arm after a bad fall and tries not to alert Mr. Stark, which ends up not working, because Tony has a panic attack at the sight of him.

Peter’s always careful of his swinging. He has to beーflying a hundreds of feet over New York isn’t exactly the safest thing he could be doing. On top of that, there’s Aunt May who’s already lost everyone, so. He kind of owes it to her to not die.

So he’s not exactly sure what went wrong after he realizes he’s free falling and everything is going way, way too fast.

Karen immediately jumps into action without Peter even saying anything. Thankfully, she’s quick with her, “Peter, I’m activating the Impact-Absorber, okay? It’s going to be alright. Hang on.”

Peter wants to ask her a million questions about what just happened, but he feels like he’s not really hanging on tight at all. Falling feels like time slows down, but Peter knows he’ll hit the ground soon enough. He waits for impact, but it takes too long. Too, too long. New York looks pretty as he drifts.

--

“Peter? Peter, you’re okay. It’s me, Karen. You fell after your web fluid weakened and your grip slipped. You are six miles from Stark Tower. Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark?”

Peter comes to, feeling like Karen’s talking in another language. She’s saying too many sentences at once.

“Karen, Karen.” He can feel his right arm moving around, waving, telling her to slow down, but his other arm feels off. Wrong. Twisted, almost. “Karen, can you- can you slow down? I-just. I-I’m not getting what you’re saying.”

“I apologize, Peter. It’s Karen here. You’re injured.”

Okay. Shorter sentences. Cool. Understandable. “How bad?” He’s used to receiving the shorter end of the stick, and he doesn’t exactly feel much pain, so. Shock’s the best drug, huh.

“You have a fractured arm after the landing. The Impact Absorber of your suit took most of the damage, but you landed awkwardly. Are you in pain?”

Peter slowly inches off the ground. “Yeah, it’s starting to kick in,” he admits.

“Contacting Mr. Stark.”

“What? No, no! Cancel, Karen! No! Mr. Stark does not need to know about this!”

“Peter, I’m instructed to alert Boss when you’re in pain.”

“Karen.”

Peter can hear her sighing in his head but nevertheless, she cancels the command. He breathes a sigh of relief. The last thing Mr. Stark needs is Spider-Man on the bench.

--

Peter’s not usually this late. Tony slumps against the coach in the lab, his eyes closed. He’s actually looking forward to today’s session with Peter in particular since all his other projects have him drained. The kid has young eyes and can usually figure out a solution pretty quick. It helps that Peter doesn’t quit commentating while he works, which is always a nice distraction from the demons that constantly plague Tony.

His headaches have gotten increasingly worse lately and his attention span has decreased. He has to take breaks more frequently or black spots start dancing in his eyes.

“Hey, Fri, can you call Peter?”

She dials the call but it goes to voicemail. Knowing Tony, she calls again, only to receive no response. Tony asks for a couple texts to be sent out.

He waits.

--

The route to Stark Tower has never seemed longer. With every step, Peter feels a stab of pain shoot through his entire body, but he can’t risk taking a cab. First of all, he has his suit on, and he can’t change out of it because his arm’s bruising dark purple, and he can’t even move it anymore. He tucks his hand close to his stomach to avoid jostling it. So the route takes twice as long, despite Peter sneaking into the back of pickup trucks and taking the alleyways when needed. He decides that his best bet is to keep his arm tucked near his side, and by the time he gets to the Compound, his healing should take its course.

He doesn’t check his phone, because it’s in his left pocket. He doesn’t even notice it vibrating, because the pain is so disorienting. But he’ll be okay. It’ll heal soon enough.

--

Tony’s hands begin to shake thirty minutes after Peter should have arrived at the Compound. He’s anxious but he doesn’t want to invade the kid’s privacy all the time. Like, yeah, he’s overprotective, but he doesn’t want to make Peter nervous about it.

He’ll get here. He’ll get here. Soon. Soon enough.

--

Peter arrives in all his glory, an hour late, pain etched all over his face. Tony opens the door a millisecond after the bell rings, because he had resigned to waiting there to calm some of his nerves.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” he says, but the words are barely making it out of his mouth. He’s making a conscious effort to speak clearly. “Sorry for being late. I- I fell, and I didn’t wanna worry you about it, and I had planned for things to go as normal today, but my arm just. It started hurting, like, a lot? And I don’t think the healing’s working properly? And I figured that you’d be kind of mad if you figured out how bad it was later, so-so, um, yeah, I’m just telling you now.”

All his words seem to come out in one breath, and Tony doesn’t know how he makes any sense of it, but somehow, his mind connects the fragments and his eyes are adjusting and they focus on-

A very dark purple, disturbing, slightly-in-the-wrong-place left arm that Peter’s clutching close to his stomach. His skin is ghostly colored and Tony knows that if Peter’s admitted to being in pain, then the pain must be on an entirely different spectrum.

He launches into commands, his brain, once again, a step ahead of his body. FRIDAY is responding left and right and there’s calls being placed and he can hear? See? Bruce, maybe? He can feel his hands trying to clutch onto something, anything, anything, because Peter’s hurt, but it’s not Toomes, or collapsing buildings, or anything. Peter’s fine. A little worse for wear, but overall okay.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

Wait a second.

I’m falling?

Suddenly Tony feels arms around his shoulders, and he thinks he might be blind. Temporary blindness, they said. When he plummeted from the sky at a thousand miles an hour, and New York was falling around him, but he doesn’t remember seeing any of it. He doesn’t think he was able to. It was darkness, but Tony didn’t feel like he couldn’t see. So it might have been entirely bright. Either way, he’s taken back to that moment in the brief pummeling he feels.

Tony, Tony. Tony. It’s Rhodey. You’re okay. Just fine. Open your eyes, Tones. You can see, I’ve got you. Open ‘em.

It takes more than a few seconds to manifest, but he’s still falling through time. Only when he opens his eyes, Rhodey’s in front of him, and he’s looking very carefully at Tony, and holding him with even more care, as if Tony’s the most fragile person in the world.

In Rhodey’s world, he is.

He’s lowered onto the couch, but he can feel himself moving, restraining against Rhodey’s tight grip. He’s also….forgetting something. In the midst of that...panic attack, he realizes that he forgot Peter.

“Tony. Tony, don’t fight back. Relax, I’ve got you. Don’t fight it. You’re safe, in New York, everyone’s totally fine.”

He wants to believe it, but they said the same thing to him when Maria and Howard died. They said everything was fine, but they weren’t there for him anymore, and it was the worst lie he was told.

He doesn’t stop fighting Rhodey, because he can’t stop thinking about the news article from that day.

It feels like his brain’s walking through slush to effectively form a word, but he tries. “P...P..Rhodes- I, I-, please, Peter.”

He tries remembering what it was about Peter that made him anxious, but it’s too much now. He feels the panic rise again, and this time, he has enough sense to warn Rhodey.

“Rhodes, Fall. Falling. Catch me. Please.”

And then he feels Rhodey catching him again, because he does that best. The world goes a little haywire for him after that, but this time, unlike New York, he remembers.

The blindness comes in the form of white light.

--

Peter remembers entering Stark Tower to a frantic Tony, his hair a mess and eyes red, hands shaking. Peter had started to explain but things went haywire in seconds. Something triggered Tony, and before he could even try to listen for Tony’s response to his long explanation, Tony was making calls and ordering people for various tasks, but his words were slurring and Friday had heard enough of Tony in a panic state to understand him, apparently, because the next thing Peter knew, he was being whisked away to the medbay on a stretcher and Tony was falling. He doesn’t remember where the stretcher came from or how it got there so quick, or how it felt when they rolled him on his back and his arm was jostled violently, but it was so quick that it seemed to have never happened. He saw Bruce, who was in his white coat, and then there was Rhodey who was helping Tony who had collapsed, and Peter remembers that he had reached for Tony, because he was shocked to see his own arm outstretched like that, very dark and spotty and bloody,  and he didn’t know when it got that bad. Bruce had pushed him back onto the stretcher and told him everything was going to be fine, but Peter had felt confused and guilty because he had caused some part of this. He thinks he might have thrashed around and been a difficult patient, because there was a hint of green on Bruce’s neck, though it quickly went away and was softened with his smile. They tied him to a bed pretty quickly, so it must have been bad.

All in all, the whole ordeal makes Peter’s head hurt, so he tries to inch out of the bed in the medbay to find someone who can get him some pain meds. His arm’s in a sling and it still throbs, but he knows there’s definitely something wrong if his healing powers didn’t come into play.

He knows he can probably call someone by pressing a button, but there’s not much wrong with his legs, so he should be able to get up-

Bad idea, Peter thinks, as soon as his socks touch the floor. The sudden change in orientation causes a dizzy spell that he can’t just walk off, so he resorts to listening to his ailing body for once, and just-- Sits. Right on the floor.

They’ll find him soon enough.

--

Tony awakes to a high ceiling, and it takes him a few seconds to orient himself. Stark Tower. Ceiling. The Den. A figure pops into his view, and it takes a bleary second for him to breathe out, “Rhodey.”

“Hey, man. You gave us a real scare back there. Feeling okay?”

Tony tests his limbs and tries moving his hands, and everything seems relatively okay. “I think so, yeah.” When did talking get so hard? “Tired, though.”

“Makes sense. You had a panic attack, by the looks of it. Freaked out the kid, too, but he didn’t have to see most of it. He’s good now, though, don’t worry-” Rhodey says quickly, noting Tony’s sudden change in demeanor. “Here, lie back. Everything’s pretty okay.”

--

“He may have enhanced healing, but it’s not going to function properly if he doesn’t care for himself. I’m guessing he hasn’t had a proper sleep in about four days, Tony. Or a full meal. I actually found him on the floor. He may even be hallucinating at this point.”

Peter awakes to these sentences being spoken by none other than Bruce, who seems to be in a serious conversation with a frazzled-looking Tony. Has it really been that long since he properly slept? Or ate? He feels surprisingly okay, but then again, drugs really are something else.

Peter remembers that he definitely did get moved- his last memories certainly involve laying on the floor to rest his eyes. God, he’s a menace to deal with. No wonder everyone’s so concerned.

His heart rate must accelerate or something upon waking, because Bruce and Tony are by his side in an instant.

“Hey kid,” Tony says, but he’s not really smiling or anything, so Peter doesn’t know what tone to go for.

Peter goes with, “Hi, Mr. Stark,” and then he doesn’t know what else to say. His fingers find his way to Tony’s, and they wrap around and Peter feels okay again.

“You sure know how to make an entrance, Peter,” Bruce says, and he’s smiling all warm at Peter. He presses down on a couple areas and they must be bruised, because they make Peter wince.

Tony looks down at him sympathetically, tightening his grip around Peter’s (also bruised) hand. “I’m going to make you a suit entirely out of bubble wrap.”

“That’s not cool. I can’t swing around New York looking like a marshmallow.”

“It’s better than having you bedridden, Peter. You could have gotten even more hurt than you already are!” Tony’s voice seems to rise without him meaning to. “Sorry, I just- I can’t look at you like this. I don’t like it.” He pauses. “I can’t, I-I don’t want that on my conscious. Not again. Not you, Pete.” He breaks eye contact with Peter.

There’s no words he can say to make this better, but Peter also can’t move, seeing as Bruce has to restrain him to change his bandages so that Peter doesn’t unintentionally break the railings in the middle of the pain.

So, to say the least, it’s awkward when he says, “Sorry, Mr. Stark, I-uh-I really am. Honestly. I can’t really, uh, move, but like, would you mind a hug?”

The corners of Tony’s lips turn upwards just the slightest, and he lets Peter pull him closer with the hand he’s already holding, and they somehow make it work.

Peter can smell Tony’s shampoo and Tony’s holding him real tight, and it just. Feels really good. It seems to help Tony ease off the stress he’s under, too, because he closes his eyes against Peter’s neck and Peter can feel his eyelashes.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry. I hope you’re okay,” he whispers.

“It’s okay, bud. I’m okay, I just, I-I get worried about you.”

The hug lasts for a long time, and Peter’s world mends itself slowly, piece by piece.

[unholyhelbiglinked]

The Mitchell Incident | Chapter Fourteen

CHECK OUT THE STORY FROM THE START

Water dripped against the girls scrunched up features. Her stare so blue that it almost matched the clear edge of the very liquid she struggled to swallow. It wasn’t a normal sight, seeing a shorter girl with a head of fiery red hair pulled back quickly against the cold edge of a stream.

She was standing on her tip-toes, the black converse she strapped to her feet had the tongue sticking out and laces unkempt. The once white strings now looked a sickly grey, just like the white shirt the girl wore. She was covered in dirt- the water making a streak against her cheek as she sniffed and dragged her forearm against her skin.

The stranger huffed, furrowing her brow as she looked at the water fountain. Chloe Beale had never learned how to drink from one. Not in her Eight years of life on this earth. She would rather stay thirsty and dry-mouthed than subject herself to this humiliation, even if the hallway is mostly empty.

“Do you not know how to tie your shoes either?” A snarky voice griped, making Chloe’s chest tighten as she whipped her head to the right fast enough to make her lose a grip on which way was up.

She cocked an eyebrow at a girl who had clearly already hit her growth spurt. She was taller than Chloe, golden hair flowing over broad shoulders as a lanky girl stared at her with such grey eyes- grey eyes that looked almost white under the fluorescent lights.

“I uh,” Chloe forced from her throat “I meant to do that, actually.”

“Did you?” The girl responded, not taking much thought to the hostility of the gingers. Instead, she knelt down on the tile floor and started to stitch up the laces that hung at Chloe’s feet. She was too baffled to object, instead, she just obeyed when the stranger tapped her folded knee- gesturing for Chloe to put her foot on it. She did. “I’m Aubrey by the way.”

“Chloe,” She said timidly “Thank you.”

“It would suck if you fell.” Aubrey lifted her icy gaze up to meet Chloe’s for a few seconds, a smile poking through her lips. “I’ve been there before.”

“Yeah,” The smaller girl returned the smile as Aubrey straightened herself up, brushing her hands against her jeans. “I’ve been there.” ��

“After lunch, I can teach you how to use one of those things if you want.” The blonde suddenly seemed to grow shy as she knit her fingers behind her back, rocking as she shifted her weight from one foot to another. “You know… if you wanna sit with me or something. I’m just new here and-“

“I would love to, Aubrey.” Chloe cut her new friend off, lifting her chin towards the water fountain. “But don’t bother with that. I’ll never learn.”

She carried that same pensive stare that she did all those years ago, her grey eyes almost ghostly as she parted her lips slightly. It made Chloe want to close in on herself, to forget about the words that she had just uttered. It wasn’t like she had forgotten to tie her shoes like she did for most of the elementary school and into middle- this was serious. This was something that Aubrey didn’t know how to respond to.

She couldn’t even pull air into her lungs, the taste of heavy cream and chocolate still on her lips as she breath pooled in a sharp cloud in front of her. She knew Chloe expected her to speak, to say something other than gawk at her like a zoo animal.

“You’re uh,” She finally whispered, “You’re joking right?”

Chloe was silent. She wished with every ounce of her that she was joking. That she had never taken that job and pushed the metal edge of the shovel into the soil that day. She wished that she never shoved that taser into Beca’s abdomen or waited long enough to hear her story. She wished she didn’t die.

“No, I-“ she fought past the lump in her throat “Aubrey, you think I would lie about something like that?”

“How?” was all the older girl said, staring down at the sidewalk. Her eyes were glossy now, something that twisted the worms in Chloe’s stomach even more. They would never dull, not while she dug her nails into the soft skin of her palm. “I-I mean did you go to the hospital? Is that why you weren’t answering your phone that night? Because you fucking died?”

Her words were a mix of anger and pure misery. She got like this sometimes, flattened by the pure truth and the serious nature of the situation. It was usually attributed to something her father had done- but Chloe was never the cause. She was always to one to hug her friend close and bring her hot chocolate the way Aubrey loved it, with cinnamon on top.

“Gallagher.” Was all Aubrey hissed through clenched teeth, the movement of her eyes causing a single tear to streak against clear skin. “What did he do? Did he hurt you?”

“Bree,” Chloe let out a soft breath, running a shaky hand through knotted hair. “It wasn’t Gallagher. He’s a nice guy… it was Beca.”

“Beca?” She growled now, an inhuman sound for such a mortal girl. “Beca fucking Mitchell?”

Chloe nodded dumbly, knowing she needed to give her friend a moment.  

“How are you here, huh? If you really died… and they brought you back to the hospital then you wouldn’t be here right now, would you? Not in town or getting ice cream with me. I don’t… I don’t get it.”

She was spiraling, breathing heavily as Chloe quickly grasped her elbow, her touch soothing the woman almost instantly despite its cold nature. Chloe was still a calming person- even though her thoughts were anything but. “Aubrey, listen to me. Can you do that?”

The girl whimpered as she nodded, sniffing against the cold as she swallowed roughly- staring into Chloe’s eyes with such intent that it made the girl feel like she was on trial. Aubrey would be a great lawyer.

“When I went to my first shift a month ago, I was stupid. Stupid for not listening for Gallagher when he told me to turn the other cheek if I saw anything. I… I thought I was strong enough to handle anything that was really there.”

“Like a grave robber?” Aubrey asked voice pitched with worry.

“Like Beca.” Chloe sounded out, swallowing “She’s my cat.”

“Your what?”

Chloe let out a groan of frustration. “I have to stop using that as an example. Only Arum knows what the hell I’m talking about.”

“Your Greek Mythology professor?” She shook her head in confusion “Chloe what the hell is going on?”

Her friend was staring down at the ground, mind racing. She was suddenly understanding why it was so hard for Beca to give her this talk earlier last month. It was demoralizing. How did you explain to someone that everything they knew was wrong? Everything they tried to repress would come rushing back in an odd flash. She was hesitating enough for Aubrey to pull away a bit, but Chloe had a form hold.

“Beca’s mom murdered me last month.” She finally spoke, taking her finger and looping it against her collar before pulling it back to reveal the ghost of a bite that stretched across her shoulder and neck. “She sunk her teeth into my neck and ripped out my jugular like a fucking wild animal.”

A sharp intake of breath snapped Chloe back into being calm, into speaking to Aubrey softly instead of taking out her frustrations. The blonde’s fingers shook as she pressed them against the indentation that was forever there.

“Beca should have let me die that night, but she didn’t. I… I don’t know how she did it because she doesn’t want to tell me, but she did. She saved me and now I’m here. I’m here and I’m stuck like this.”

“Like what?” Aubrey drew her touch back as Chloe let the fabric fall back over the scar.

The red-head drew in a sharp breath as she clenched her eyes shut. She was playing with fire, putting down walls that Beca had convinced her to brick up. The hunger shining through just enough for a familiar pressure to from under her eyes, her jaw aching as she scrunched up her face in pain. Aubrey cocking her head to the side as she waited patiently.

The girl finally opened her eyes, the once blue color having seemed to a sharp crimson that could cut glass. Her lips parting slightly as her canine teeth continued to stretch until they looked more like a demon’s and less like a college girl. She hadn’t even seen herself like this, never giving up to look in the mirror- yet here she was, showing her darkest self.

Aubrey swallowed roughly, eyes searching her features as she ran her fingers over Chloe’s lips, her own parted slightly as she struggled to take in exactly what she was seeing, her thumb running slightly under Chloe’s eye as the girl leaned into her touch, not having felt anything like this in such a long time- an embrace she hadn’t let anyone conjure.

“Chlo,” She whispered, voice broken.

A smooth sob moved from Chloe’s chest, it was unwarranted, pushing past her throat as Aubrey wrapped her strong grasp around the smaller girl, letting her press into her chest as tears soaked into the fabric, wicking enough to make a slight chill overtake the blonde.

“I know,” She whispered, running her hand against her friends back, even though she had no clue.  

[forestgreenbpd-blog]

Field Research | Green & Gladion

Starter Call! | @unmaskedpotential

Alola was a fascinating place, wasn’t it? The water was fresh and the trees practically sang Kum Ba Yah while swinging in unison like a goddamn Lion King movie. It was a place of wonders – almost unreal. He could hardly imagine for a moment what it was like for the people living there; then again, they would probably find it drab, wouldn’t it? For simple, stupid tourists like himself, it was seen as a haven of sorts – beauty beyond beauty itself. It was exotic and new and captured the eye beyond anything he could imagine. For the natives, however, it was… everyday life, wasn’t it? Wanna ride on the back of a goddamn Tauros like nobody’s fucking business? Tourists would oogle till their eyeballs popped out, fervently nodding their heads like hungry dogs with a YES ABSOLUTELY. For the natives? Eh. Everyday life. Something normal. Yeah, we ride around on Tauroses like it’s no big deal – what of it.

Green was obviously the former – dressed in a button-down and khakis, his sunglasses resting atop the bridge of his nose, a pina colada never far too from his fingertips – he found himself living the high life of Alolan tourism, and he damn well knew it. Oh, he knew he looked like a goddamn tourist; he knew he didn’t fit in. And he didn’t rightly care. As well as looking vulnerable to pickpockets and whoever else would want to take advantage of him for being inexperienced in the lay of the land, it was also not very well known that Green was actually very well-versed in other cultures, and other places he was unfamiliar with;  with his grandiose Pokedex Project taking him across to vast regions just about anywhere that someone threw on a lab coat and called themself ‘professor,’ he knew many languages – dialects included – and believe him, it wasn’t the first time he was held at knifepoint right out the gate. But virtually nobody dared to mess with a man who – despite his size and demeanor and the fact that he certainly looked out of place dressed in khakis in a place like this – packed around a giant Rhyperior, or Gyarados, or Charizard by his side. Not unless they were… a fucking idiot, anyway. The moment they learned that the man was not only just a tourist, but researcher and Gym Leader Green, well, that only made stealing from him more valuable, certainly – but it also did well to get people to stay away. Or he got autographs. Which were… always nice. Always nice.

So here he was – Gym Leader Green – invited to the vast region of Alola to preside over the Battle Tree. The circumstances were all details, details that didn’t quite matter in the end; wouldn’t wanna bore you with those, now would we? The point of it all was that he was here now – an unsupervised twenty-three-year-old who still hardly knew how to be an adult – in the grand, tropical region of Alola all to himself; the only real thing he had to do was show up every now and then to the Tree to take on post-championship challengers. But other than that, and at any other point in the day? He had all the time in the world to do whatever he damn well pleased – and you’d best believe he was going to take full advantage of that. After all, his stay in Alola was going to be a whopping three months, to start. What the hell was he gonna do staying in a goddamn tree all day? I mean, don’t get him wrong, it was a nice tree – all hollowed-out and insulated with places to rest and get snacks and go to the bathroom and all that – but it was still a goddamn tree for Christ’s sake. A tree. Yeah. There’s bugs, leaves, all sorts of other unpleasantries – and honestly there’s no air conditioning in the way up top, and with all those torches burning around him and Red all day? Forget about it.

So just. Forget about the Tree for a minute. Put it outside of your thinkspace; just. Take the thought and slap it against the nearest wall – just put it out of your mind. Because Green did not want to deal with the Battle Tree by any means more than he had to, for various reasons (details, details, y’know?), so instead, he decided to deal with a place a bit more pleasant; however, here’s where he ran into his first set of problems with a place like Alola. It was a set of islands, right? And each island held its own sort of life, its own sort of civilization, and its own sort of problems. Poni Island – y’know, where the Battle Tree was – was known to be the most wild of the islands, largely uncivilized and uninhabited. It was known by many and all to be the most ruthless place before the Battle Tree itself. Of course, this wasn’t a problem for trainers like Green who carried around Pokemon strong enough to crush the surrounding wild Pokemon like bugs, but the fact of the matter was that it was… tough. Tough for anyone else, that is, but to Green, it was just another walk in the park (minus the sawgrass, goddamn it, and he was wearing shorts).

His exploration and overall avoidance and want of literally anything else but having to share a space with Red in that godforsaken, hollowed-out piece of wood led him to a tucked-away little corner of Poni Grove dubbed Poni Meadow. They certainly get creative with these things, don’t they. And it was a curious thing – these meadows dotted about the various islands. It was a point of research he could actually work on in the middle of this so-called vacation – hallelujah. Around the islands, there was a curious species of native bird called an Oricorio, and the little thing had a penchant for nectar that would be found in the flowers that they liked to drink from so much. The interesting thing here was, however, that each little flower’s nectar had the capability of doing something strange to the Pokemon, and it would change form and even type, albeit they still remained the same general shape and, well, they were still birds. Green found the little things fascinating, and the little gears in that pea-brain of his got turning. He could only wonder what’d happen if those little Oricorios got a tasting for some of the flowers around other regions – around Kanto, around Johto, about Orre (okay, but. Did Orre have flowers), and Unova. Already, he’d seen four forms of it around Alola alone. The possibilities… God, they could be endless. And, well, let’s not even go into the Alolan forms of Kanto Pokemon; Green just about lost his shit the first time he saw an Alolan Rattata.

So back to the Oricorio, and back to the Poni Meadow, and to the ghostly fog that loomed overhead and surrounding him, constantly, constantly giving a dreading sense of foreboding – did he ever mention that? Yeah the place was fucking creepy – and Agu-Agu-chan was there too; you could ask her. The trees around him were gnarled and twisted without leaves but only tangling, stringy white moss. Despite his want to research the Pokemon from afar (Sensu-style, was how they decided to describe this meadow’s Oricorio – a Ghost-type, with a bluish-purple coloring), that was… something rather hard to do when there was fog two inches from your face going around and obscuring everything. So he could only make out their faint forms from the distance, their looming shadows enjoying themselves in their stark, meditative silence. That was the thing about Oricorios, too – depending on the region you find them in, and the nectar they decide to drink, they act differently too; wasn’t that just interesting? – but there was something among the grass that made even their unshakable resolve… shake in their boots. The harsh crunch of grass below chased away the foggy shadows of Oricorio from their perches, from their rest, and they scurried and flitted away towards the sun and the trees – the only real good look he got of them, honestly.

Green could only wonder what the hell it was – chasing them away as they were – so as he looked to the distance to see what was making all that crunching and hustle and bustle, he could only make out the terrifyingly large form of… well, God, something looming amidst the grass. This thing was huge – seven or eight feet, if he’d have to guess – three rods – and a… a fin? On its backside there somewhere? – giving off a mechanical, eerie red glow. And you know what it is about the color red – it only ever means death. A panicked smile plastered on his face, and his instinctual nervous laugh creeped up his throat at the sight of it, before its eyes (the same red color too – to match, of fucking course) fixated on him. Approaching him, the Pokemon – and he guessed Pokemon loosely here – began to sniff around the air with its imposing beak and green, insect-like talons crunching their way closer, closer to him. “H-Hey there, Fido…” Green murmured, his voice barely even a whisper, his shock leaving his throat without a voice to speak with.

But before the whatever-the-hell-that-was got much closer – to do whatever it was that whatever it does – it bent its big gray head down and gently picked up a fat stick off the ground about a hairsbreadth away from Green’s sneakers. It then turned that big ol’ head of its back over to the faint sound of a boy’s voice, calling it – Silvally. So that’s what you name a big lug like this guy, huh? Silvally. Wouldn’t be Green’s first pick, that’s for sure, but… to each their own, he supposed. This, um, Silvally went rushing out back into the fog, towards an area where the sun shone real nicely and cleared it up a bit.

God, the thing was gigantic – a chimera-looking thing; none of it seemed to go together right, but rather like… a hodge-podge of parts and pieces. Silvally – its giant crest glowing red atop its head, its back tail a red dorsal fin, its eyes mechanical and glowing like LEDs. Silvally dropped off the big stick next to a boy dressed in black and gray, his platinum blond hair nearly white against the little stream of sunshine. He had a wide wide smile on his face, taking up the stick and waving it above his head, the Pokemon bending down and wagging its butt in the air like an excited dog. And the kid was cooing – cooing at this, well, whatever it was – like it was his baby, laughing and smiling as he waved the stick around, and the Pokemon’s eyes watched it intently, waiting for the moment the boy would toss it so it would give chase. What a cute little scene, he found – the little kid taking command of such a big… dog; he certainly treated it like one. Green finally decided to go towards the light there, rather than the foggier, darker, safer patches. The boy turned to look at him, a pretty light-green eye taking a gander at, well, everything else green about Green – the second of his hidden under a blond fringe. Green looked to this Silvally, then the boy, as he strode up to the two of them, and the kid… didn’t look all-too happy about Green being there, that was for sure. “Didn’t mean to, um… interrupt you, kid,” he gave a short nod to the each of them, “but, um… I’m a researcher, alright? And, um… Fido over there’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before. You seem to be its trainer – you got any idea what kinda species I’m looking at?”

[stardust-lightning]

Starchild: Dream Maker Chapter 6- A Satchel of Tools

      So the Dreamscape is collapsing and the Seven Elders are missing. That's one way to disturb your sleep…

It felt like the room became devoid of oxygen and everything stopped to a standstill.

“How...How is this possible?”

“My question is, how did they successfully kidnap the Seven Elders anyway? This means that since no one is in power, anyone can take control of Plasmatio and eventually the entire Dreamscape.”

“Right. Of course, Diávolos is behind all this. He’s the only one I know who can take out all Seven Elders. But how did the Nightmare Spirits escape from the Realm of Nightmares? The only way for that to happen though is that someone here has to have a strong connection to the Realm of Nightmares, to Diávolos, but it would have to be someone with a lot of power to pull it off...This isn't good…”

“It would be better if we thought about it more in the morning. Let's get some sleep while we can. I'm fine sleeping with other people, but don't try anything weird, 'kay?”

I didn't hear a response. I turned around to see him clutching the letter with a death grip and his face looking ghostly. He looks like he’s ready to cry.

“Zero?”

Out of the blue, he falls to the floor on his knees, holding his head and making shaky breaths like he’s hyperventilating. I immediately rush to the floor by his side, trying to see what was wrong. The poor thing is shaking so bad I can visibly see his trembling and his wide eyes flash fear in them.

“What’s wrong!?”

I realize immediately that he is having a full-blown anxiety attack. I place one hand on his stomach and the other around the back of his neck, trying to soothe him as his anxiety continues to attack him. His heart is beating so hard I can feel it. I quietly encourage him to take deeper breaths. I don't know much about anxiety attacks because I’ve only seen one in my lifetime, so I hope I'm doing something right.

“Zero, honey, breathe.”

It takes several full minutes before the attack finally numbs away and Zero is breathing normal again. I sigh in relief. It's actually stressful trying to help someone handle an anxiety attack because you worry if you're doing it right. I sit in front of him, taking his hands in mine.

“You okay?”

He nods as he takes his left hand out to wipe his eyes.

“That's good.” I smile at him.

“... Y-Yeah.”

We both sit in silence, staring at the ground.

“You, uh, wanna hug?” I ask gently, holding my arms out. He looks up at me, nods and comes in for the hug. I wrap my arms around his back and I feel his shaky arms wrap around mine. He lays his head on my shoulder, face facing away from me. I stroke his back calmly as I lay my head against his.

“Hey, um, if you need a chance to let your emotions out, you can talk to me.”

“A-Alright…”

“So what was all that earlier?”

“Oh, I j-just got panicky over what happened and my mind decided to make it worse by giving me horrible thoughts.”

“Oh.”

“Yup…”

I continue to stroke his back. A thought came to mind.

“By the way, this isn't weird, is it? It’s a little late to ask, but I have friends who aren't really touchy-feely people and sometimes I gotta ask.”

       “N-No! Not at all! I-It’s k-kinda nice, actually…”

“Gotcha.”

We remain in this position for several minutes. I hear him breathe quietly on my shoulder, implying he’s at peace. Eventually, we’re going to have to sleep. I tap his back to get his attention.

“You wanna try and get some sleep?” I yawn.

“Good idea.” He agrees as we get up from the floor and crawled into bed.

The rain continues to fall outside as it slides off the red terracotta tiles into the streets. That is the only noise in an otherwise quiet environment. Zero and I are sharing a bed with our backs facing each other. Zero is facing the wall and I'm facing the room and everything in it. We haven't said a word since the almost mental breakdown Zero had after reading the letter.

It was a couple of minutes before Zero made a sound.

“Psssst...y-you awake?”

“Yeah?”

“T-Thank you for being p-patient with me.”

“No problem.”

“S-Sorry for waking y-you up, just wanted to tell y-you that.”

“That’s alright.”

We finally slip to sleep as the rain begins to let up.

--------The next morning--------

The sun shone brightly in the window next to us. I blink awake to see the room become more lively with the colors now more visible than last night. I sit up in bed and wait a moment to be used to being awake. I turn next to me to see Zero still sleeping next to me with half of his face in the pillow. I smile and stumble out of bed to grab my galaxy coat. On the dresser, I find a tan satchel with a silver buckle and a small pin that depicts a rose with green leaves lined with gold. I open the satchel and find my sketchbook, a black paintbrush-looking wand with gold and silver lining, a white scarf, and a glass bottle that contains a mercury-like substance. The bed creaks behind me as I hear Zero sit up.

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty.”

“Good morning! What’s that?” Zero asks as he climbs out of bed and walks over to where I am by the dresser. He sees the items in the satchel and takes out the scarf.

“The scarf’s soft.”

“Yeah. I’m kinda curious as to what’s downstairs.”

“R-Right!”

After making an attempt to make the bed and putting our shoes on, I grab the satchel and swing it on me as I lead Zero down the hall and down the stairs into main room, which is the restaurant. Alena is helping another woman wipe down tables. Alena's father Santiago is wiping some glasses at the bar.

“¡Buenos días!”

“¡Hola!”

“Good sleep?”

“Yup!”

“Yes sir!”

“There's some churros on the edge of the bar if you want them!” Elena reminds us as she points to the plate. She puts the rag down and skips to the edge of the bar to grab the plate and set it on the table right behind her. Santiago joins us at the table to sit next to her daughter and the unnamed woman that was helping Alena earlier joins us at the table on the edge.

“This is mi hermana, Beatriz.”

Zero and I recognize the woman as the one who greeted us last night. The churro is still warm as they were made this morning. I take a stick and split it with Zero. I chose to dip mine in chocolate and enjoyed the sugary taste. Zero hummed in agreement as he happily chews on his churro stick.

“These are amazing!” Zero chimed in.

“Thank you!”

“Try dipping it in chocolate! It’s just as good!” Alena encourages him.

Zero does as Elena suggests and finds her idea to be a good one. We continue to eat the rest of the churros on the plate as the sun shines through the curtain. Outside, there are people walking around and there is the sound of hubbub in the streets. It is somewhat peaceful.

Peaceful, until we heard a BOOM sound like a bomb going off.

“SANTIAGO!” A man’s yell makes Zero jump in his seat and the rest of us brace ourselves. We all face the curtain as it is lifted by a young man who appears as though he has been running all over town, which he has. Santiago jumps from his chair and rushes over to the young man. The two begin to have a hushed conversation in full Spanish and their quick speaking makes it difficult for me to translate.

“I hope it’s nothing serious.” Beatriz chimes, worriedly.

I notice there are people running together toward something outside. I get up from the table along with the others and we follow Santiago outside. In the street, we follow the crowd down the street to an apartment complex where the front side facing the street is in crumbling ruins like something attacked the front. There is rubble of bricks and dust in enormous piles and the inside of the apartment complex looks like a tornado ran through. The noise of the crowd has mixed emotions, some confused, some shocked.

“Oh my God, what happened!?” Zero cried.

“Something attacked the front! Look at it!”

There are men scrambling to the rubble for looking for anyone who may have fallen victim and are buried. They toss away brick and stone away without so much as a hesitation. Zero makes a face that he sees something.

“Zero?” I turn to him.

“I see a hand!” He cries, pointing out.

“Where!?”

“Right there! Underneath that beam!”

The people around us notice Zero’s reaction, too and start to see where he is pointing at. They then direct the men to what Zero is talking about and work as a team to haul off the heavy steel beam. The men then proceed again to take out the rubble until the battered form of an older woman can be seen. Her skin is wrecked with cuts and bruises, and her body and hair are covered in dust. She coughs weakly as two men carry her out. Just as the men clear the scene, a woman screams in the crowd, pointing to the top floor of the complex, and we witness a ghastly sight to behold:

A solid-black ghostly being, four feet tall with blood-red half-circles for eyes, a Cheshire Cat-like grin, and scythe-blade hands stands on the edge of the building. There is a dark aura around this demon and his little giggle implies insanity as its sound is a creepy high pitch. It sways back and forth, staring at us down from above like it’s contemplating to jump off the building. The demon continues this act for several minutes, all the while the atmosphere becoming uneasy by the second. The demon then lets out an ear-splitting shriek of a laugh before jumping off and diving down unexpectedly right in front of the crowd. It lands with a rumble as it straightens up to greet us all much more in person. It then continues to giggle like a maniac in an insane asylum like the demonic abomination that it is.

No one in the crowd dares to move a muscle; we all stand too scared to move. One by one, more demons begin to pop up, some on top of buildings, others standing on the rubble and even some levitating off the ground. Counting, there are at least twenty of them in various places acting just like the first one:  staring with their bloody eyes and their maniacal laughing that increase the creepy factor of the situation.

I look over at Zero and his entire body is pale.

“What are these things?”

“A-A-Airika...t-these are t-t-the Nightmare Spirits.