#Some sad some random

[house-md-imagines]

chase & kutner both have adhd, house steals their meds

i have adhd (autism diagnosis.. hot damn!) (also normal adhd)

[scrunkle]

akechi character sheet cuz i love him!!!

[herprincess]

V&V HEADCANONS AGAIN!

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

-V&V would write/sing Everyone Knows That (the lost one or whatever)

-Velvet would write/sing that Zepotha opening song idk the name but it sounds very her

-Velvet wears acrylics because she picks at her nails and skin around them out of anxiety/nervous tic

-Veneer fights with his family at Thanksgiving over politics. Ever. Year. 

-When Velvet was around the middle school age, she wanted to be a ER nurse 

-Veneer wanted to do it with her just so they could still be together

-Sometimes they will say the same thing at the same time + finish each others sentences 

-Velvet used to get mad at Veneer when they were younger because she would watch videos where twin sisters would pretend to be each other at school, and she couldn’t do that with him because their hair obviously and some facial differences

-The differences they have obviously besides gender is Velvet having a more upturned nose, farther set eyes, lighter eyes, (you can see in the GIF if you don’t believe me lol she rlly does have lighter eyes than him) and a bit thinner, while Veneer having a rounded top lip, closer set eyes, darker eyes, and a more boxy figure

-Velvet has undiagnosed borderline personality disorder because her parents were convinced she was just a growing girl so she just started masking it to try and seem pretty and proper like the girls she’d see on TV shows, but masking it eventually built up so much that it exploded and that didn’t end very well

-Velvet is the one who picks the pickles off everything and gives them to Veneer

-Velvets hair is very heat damaged 

-It used to be wavy✊

-She would try and revive them after regretting all her years of straightening it but the pattern is destroyed

-Veneer was a roblox ipad kid and he used to steal their moms card for robux

-Velvet likes watching crime shows

-Which always creeped Veneer out

-Velvet choked on a piece of steak once and now she won’t eat it

-V&V used to make up dances to perform to their parents to try and convince them to take them somewhere 

-Velvet is allergic to peanuts 

-Veneer is allergic to penicillin

-Velvet was a allstar cheerleader but left because the toxic environment of her gym

-V&V were preemies

-I promise you Veneer isn’t as shy uwu innocent as some people make him out to be like did we watch the same movie?

-Vels favorite snack is pink frosted animal crackers

-Vens is zebra cakes

-From what i’ve seen in pictures, V&V are the around the same exact height, Velvet being maybe a bit taller

-Velvet is a hypoglycemic, so she did use the troll gem thing for fruits a few times on off screen performances if her sugar was low (if they even had off screen performances)

-Velvet was more shy when her and Ven were toddlers but as she started preschool, her extrovertism started to show

-As I stated in a previous post, I think it would be funny if V&V could both sing but acted like they sucked to make the other feel better 

-I can just see them looking at each other like 

Vel:😐

Ven:😟

-Veneer is lefthanded 

-He still grips his spoon/fork like he did in the table flip scene

-Velvet had a tooth gap growing up 

-They would both get in trouble because they would sneak watching Jersey Shore

-Veneer has insomnia

-If the twins had socials they’d be cancelled within a week because of Vel

-They both ran track at some point

-They both spend HOURS in Sephora 

-When they would chase each other, Veneer was the one who jumped on the bed and kick his legs so Velvet can’t get him

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[aries1144]

3 Dialogue Prompts, some sad, some random

“Listen to yourself!”

“I hear music.”

***

“My mom has lung cancer.”

“Still?!”

***

“Bank account is under M-Y-D-A-D”

“…ok that just spells my dad.”

“No, my dad.”

***

That’s it, bye bye cookies ٩(^‿^)۶

[adiresituation]

My trolls headcannons (some sad, some random) -

Calls poppy hot nonchalantly, is an alcoholic…

[flooryii]

i should post some ii headcanons but first i have to think about them

[remxedmoon]

go my hyucker (human gucker)

ssso my good friend pastell @startagainaprologue mentioned it was struggling with making a human design for the guide and i rubbed my hands together evilly and got to work. aaaaa this was super fun to work on!!!!! thankyou again for letting me draw this graaaa. as always my deranged character design ramblings are below the cut 👍

CHARACTER DESIGN BLAST

most of guide’s colors are slightly shifted to be closer to red and more… desaturated? my default bonnie colors clashed with the palette i usually use for guide so they got changed slightly. i did add the blue on the sash as a reference to my nille design however! and i tend to use cooler colors to represent countries outside of vaugarde, so you could interpret it as a link to the island. if you so desire :3

speaking of the sash, just about everything they’re wearing here is based on another character!! in this case, it’s meant to resemble nille’s waist sash! but with a different pattern. something something only having an imitation of what it lost. the stars are meant to represent siffrin and loop, and also just the universe in general. fun stuff!

i mostly just made their shirt longer for the sake of looking Different from normal bonnie? but combined with the sash it has the fun bonus of having a silhouette similar to siffrin’s cloak. not full intentional but hey! i’ll take it!

the gems on its tail are there to represent odile!! as well as referencing the ka buan tradition of compressing ashes into diamonds. you can draw your own conclusions there! and they go ding ding when it walks :3

the hat/halo isss probably self explanatory? it’s a way to fit guide’s Spiky Head into the design. the halo was added pafter pastell drew buns version of the design auau. i like both! so their hat can be whatever shape you please.

okay! nno more talking about clothes i promise. similar to my ghostlight loop design, i gave it spikier hair!! i have to give sponsors spiky hair to resemble their Spiky Heads. it’s the law. their hair was supposed to be shorter but. i’m pretty sure this is the exact same length i usually draw bonnie’s hair. oops? oh well it looks cute. the stars are honestly just there for fun i didn’t have anything specific in mind

in a similar vein, i changed their eye shape to match the eye shape on guide’s ref! perpetually Sad Looking. on the bright side they aren’t constantly crying anymore!

thheir body is. mostly the same? i decided to make their body Red Tinted for the sake of consistency and i removed the separated limbs aaand. that’s basically it? not much to say! i did add the halo bracelet around their wrist as a callback to the separation though. i didn’t do the same for its shoulder because i am Lazy 🩶

aaand i think that’s everything? well it Isn’t but i think everything else is self explanatory and frankly this is long enough as is. here is the """greyscale""" version as compensation 🩶

[bluerosefox]

Saying Sorry Will Never Be Enough

Feeling a bit angsty so I had this idea.

Danny is dating one of the Bats/Birds, and everything is going great, amazing even! They know each other secrets (from powers to everything etc), they have a wonderful place to live (even if its in Gotham), Danny is in college on the way to becoming a space engineer (and he does side jobs for unrestful ghosts), he's actually getting sleep again since leaving Amity Park, gets along with their friends and family (those who Danny or his partner still talk to, up to the writer), there is even talk about marriage and perhaps adoption/kids in the future between Danny and the Bat/Bird he's dating!

Everything is setting up for a good life in his future, something Danny didn't think could have after his accident. He was happy finally, and currently packing up his old apartment because he's moving in with his partner in a few days.

So he felt like his core was being pulled out of him when he opens his apartment door one day receiving a knock to find his parents, who had hadn't seen since they kicked him out of the house after coming clean about being Phantom (their words of anger and denial that their son was 'dead' and now a monster, still hurt)

Sure they didn't attack him or proclaim he's dead but still their last words and anger HURT.

Danny didn't give them a chance to open their mouths, both looking nervous and guilty, before he slams the door close and turns invisible, grabs his phone, and fly's out of his apartment to his partner's place in a panic attack.

His partner, isn't happy.

[sesamestreep]

I really feel like one of the best details in “A Scandal in Bohemia” that I never see people fixate on enough is that the story starts with Watson stopping in to see Holmes at Baker Street on a complete whim, because he happens to see that he’s home (and Watson is now married and living elsewhere). Like he doesn’t send word first, he’s not invited, he just shows up and surprises Holmes. Which is not that weird but then Holmes is like “oh good, I’ve got a case anyway, you might as well hang out!” which just makes it funnier when the King shows up and is like “I’d really rather speak to you alone, actually” and Watson tries to leave and Holmes is just like “anything you can say to me, you can say to my best friend John Watson, and if you ask him to leave, I would consider it a grave insult, you would be my enemy and I will not help you ever!!” And the king is like “…ok” and just moves on.

like, that is crazy behavior. Holmes is talking about how there’s probably lots of money in this case, and then almost turns away the client for…not knowing who the fuck Watson is?? He’s not even supposed to be there?? He just came to say hi?? “It is both or none”… girl, GET UP.

[anonymouscheeses]

Careful Gummi! You almost dropped your girlfriend! 😨

+no Pomni version if you want to use it!

(Also if you want u can tag me so I can see >:3)

My Gummigoo headcanons. Some sad some random. vvvvvvv

[froggerland]

I feel like just,, making stuff today so pspspsps come here nedconte enthusiasts (all 2 of you)

(I have no concrete design for le vesconte yet if I’m being so fr rn I didn’t even know who he was a week ago (plus he changes appearance so much?? Girl so confusing) but I do enjoy his vibe) (and I needed an excuse to draw sad wet ned)

[herprincess]

VELVET (some veneer) HEADCANONS

-had braces from 5th grade to the end of middle school

-favorite movie is mean girls but only watched it for regina and took ideas from her

-CHORUS 👏 KID

-mezzo soprano but leans towards soprano more than alto

-had a ragdoll cat named glitter when the twins were growing up

-my girl got her sm borderline personality disorder..

-pretty popular in high school

-she is actually the younger twin, but hates being known as such because it makes her feel inferior and pathetic, so she just lies about being older and veneer just goes with it (he will just tell the person she lied to after because he takes pride in being older)

-one time she let veneer curl her lashes because he wouldn’t shut up about it, and he accidentally ripped them all out

- she refused to go to school for weeks after that and smacked the shit out of him so she got grounded

-greys anatomy and slasher movie girl but veneer HATES watching them because he hates gore

-she loves angel food cake, and veneer prefers devils food, so they would always have a split cupcake cake on their birthday

-vel was the knife sibling and ven was the one running

-they used to steal lipglosses at walmart 

-cut her own bangs at age 8 and dragged veneer into it so they had some shitty bangs for about 2 years

-her favorite types of nails to get done is pink french tips

-middle name is vienna

-her and veneer’s birthday is july 25th ( dreamworks said they were leos if im correct)

-grew up as a dancer but was better at ballet than anything

-she also did gymnastics !!

-veneer did some basketball but eventually just did hip hop

-she was shorter than veneer growing up and grew about a *inch* taller than him in middle school and never stopped bragging about it

-#catperson

[turbotastico]

Homosexual Turblo and Angst Turblo

I don’t know how to caption this

[jadewritesficshere]

Steddie x female!reader thought 18+ only

Eddie blinks his eyes a couple of times to make sure he is actually seeing what he is seeing. He must be living in a nightmare.

You're laying back on one of the pool loungers. One leg dangling over the edge keeping your foot on the warm cement ground, the other spread over Steve's lap as he absently rubs his hand up and down it while he bitches to you about something from work. Your hand rubs up and down Steve's back in comfort. But that isn't the nightmare.

Your bright red bikini bottoms covering enough, but with your legs spread a bit more skin is shown then intended. Spread in such a way that makes Eddie want to just dive in. Get on his knees and worship you, rub his face over your mound as he licks and nips and sucks. Moan as the curly thatch of hair brushes against his face.

Except the curls of hair he is expecting to see peeking around your bikini are gone. Just smooth bare skin. And that isn't the only nightmare. Steve's chest is smooth like when he was in school on the swim team. Not a speck of that beautiful chest hair Eddie would curl into after getting hot and heavy. Not a single curl of the "love rug" he jokingly called it.

Eddie wants to weep. To throw himself down like a little kid and thrash his arms and legs around. Yeah, it's your body and you can do what you want, but he still is sad its gone. Eddie doesn't like change, and suddenly walking in to see both of his partners change something without any warning? Uncomfortable. It makes Eddie feel itchy.

Eddie can barely speak as he walks over and sits next to Steve. He doesn't respond to Steve's warm greeting. Doesn't respond to you asking how the day is. Just stares with big wet eyes at the sight in front of him. A pout on his lips.

A warm hand lands on his shoulder, gently squeezing. Steve's brow furrowed in concern, your wide eyes blinking at him.

"Shaved?" Eddie asks in a quiet voice, eyes darting to Steve's chest and then your clothed pussy. Steve lets out a huff of laughter, "Fuck, thought something was wrong man." Eddie glares," It is."

[tedshell]

calls ted hot nonchalantly / has attempted before

[pricetagged]

sacrum

It's not denial, and it's not grief. How can it be when you're not dead? Or: Simon visits your tomb. It wouldn't be the first time he got grave dirt under his fingernails.

2.7k words. GN reader.

Warnings: death; grief; unhealthy coping methods; denial; mild gore and horror; references to ghost's past (being buried alive); implied character death; unhealthy thoughts; grave digging (simon literally tries to dig you up).; unedited.

Look after yourselves please. Read the tags and skip if necessary 💖

_____________

He is overwhelmed with the smell of rot.

That sickly, sweet scent of decay. Vegetation and plant matter transmuting into sticky, pulpy mulch, life rendered into dirt. It's the white lilies that bother him specifically. They're resting there, creamy white petals blooming open and speckled with dustings of heady, brown pollen. It's like looking at his own pale, wan face dusted with pockmarks and freckles, a grotesque mirror image. Beauty and rage. He looks at them and they look back, open and pretty and sweet where he is not.

And they reek. In this place of dirt, in this place of twigs and soil and peaty, earthy humus how did they spray their perfume? An altogether too syrupy, cloying bouquet that stagnates around you, settles at his feat like dense, soupy fog.

He knew that you hated them - funeral flowers, you called them- and he scoffs, toeing at one of the drooping, lurid white petals until it wilts underfoot. Lachrymose, it seems to weep great fat droplets of dew or oil or whatever it is that cries out wet with a wave of pungent redolence. You hated them, and it's so fucking stupid that they're here now because you aren't dead.

He'd nearly bitten Johnny's head off when he asked about your favourite flowers, the sergeant's voice pitched low and thick like he'd half-swallowed the words before they'd even come out. 'Dinnae want to get her something she wouldnae like, but my ma always said that carnations were fittin' for-' the rest of the words seemed to whither, choked like weeds under the weight of his glare. He wasn't quite sure what he said next, only remembering the stricken, glassy look in Soaps eyes and then the weight of his Captain's hand on his shoulder hauling him out for some air. He'd shrugged that off, too. Roughly. Circled around to face him like a dog in a pit. His teeth ached, itched to bite, clamp down and shake and tear, but even mad dogs know not to bite the hand that feeds them. Instead, he'd bristled, hackles raised high as he shoulder-checked Gaz on his way back inside.

Heard them whisper, too, as he passed, hushed and soft like they were all too aware of his pricked ears and quivering, hungry jaw. Mandated compassionate leave, numbers for bereavement counsellors. Denial. Grief. It's a load of shit.

Holding back the words feels like throwing grit on the fire; it's a battle, suppressing the heat and the rage but feeling it pop and spark and simmer beneath the surface. It's not denial and it's not grief. How can it be when you're not dead? He'd crumpled the order of service program, all crisp white parchment and serif-fonted verses. He'd held it so tightly in his shaking hand that it tore and cracked, card-type rendered to clay under his heavy fingerprints. He held it like that, thought about ripping or tossing it but your face looked back at him from the front page.

Smiling. Beautiful. Flat.

True, it wasn't you, but how could he ever damage something made in your image?

It was that pamphlet that led him here, now. He hadn't attended the service, hadn't wanted anything to do with that absolute farce. Had ignored the phone calls, the knocks on the door. You were not dead, and he was not alive. True to his callsign, he existed in some hazy, temporal space. Sustained on rollie cigarettes and tepid tea. It gave his hands something to do, thumbing at filters and glossy, thin paper in lieu of something worse. In lieu of his darker vices. In lieu of disappearing altogether into The Ghost. Faceless form. Nameless, too. But even smoke and shadows move, and he found himself turned Orpheus, drifting past the souls and shades of the departed until-

Until he's face-to-face with those lilies and that little patch of moss on the corner of your grave. Just a little speck of green against black marble. Typical of you, to bring life into desolate spaces. For you to furnish something soft and verdant where others see only hard, cold, dark. You'd burrowed deep into his driftwood body, a little seed that cared not for his splinters and hollowness. He'd been shaped, fractured, by salt and pressure. Twisted into some gnarled, dead branch but maybe that was the beauty of it. Maybe that was a portent, a sign, that he could be useful to you. That you could climb on, cling on and let him pull you up. That you were nestled inside, marrow deep in the mulchy, spongey hollows of his bones. Not hard enough or weathered enough by yourself. No sun-bleached, ossein outer shell of your own.

No matter.

The soil was strangely warm, piled high, and packed tight above where you lay. He dug his hands in, scarred, meaty paws chasing the warmth that surely was coming from you. It was wrong, actually, to say that it was strange. Anywhere that housed you would be warm. He was. His lungs were burning, squeezing at him, oxygen burning like bourbon as it whistled down his throat and smouldered in his belly. His face was cold, though, mouth and nose numb and something wet leaking and pooling down at his chin where he's tugged down his mask. Confusion titled his head, eyes closed towards the sky, neck arched in the closest he'd come to prayer in years. It wasn't raining, but something was dripping down his face.

He'd knelt like this before, put loved ones into the earth and stood stoic under the pitiful gazes and awkward, pinched smiles of acquaintances and strangers. Unbidden, the words from Tommy's - god, Tommy, Joseph, Beth - funeral echoed through his mind. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable.

He'd done it.

Walked in shadow steps across the Mexican border leaking blood and viscera, yes, but undead. It is raised in glory, it is sown in weakness. He'd clawed his way out once. Dragged his weak, struggling body to the surface to draw gasping, ash-tainted breaths and haunt the earth again. He'd help you do the same. You need him to.

Soft thing. You needed him to help you claw at the rich, grave dirt above your body, great scooping handfuls until his hands were stained with it. It was keeping you down there all compressed and boxed in, and he just knows you'd hate it. Hate being from him, hate being alone and in the dark listening only to the writhing of worms and the footfalls from above. You'd always cry a little when he was deployed, resigned and beautiful as you sniffled your farewells. Not goodbyes, superstition or hope preventing you from ever uttering words so final. So severe.

It's not goodbye if I'll see you later!

He swatted hard at his ear, his temples, fingers puppeted by paroxysm as the rich, peaty marl below him turned to dust and loam. Just for a second. Just for a whisper, the air he was breathing was thin and acrid and tasted like sand. He squeezed his eyes shut, screwed so tight that phosphenes danced behind the lids. One breath. Another. He could feel the soil caking and cracking on his skin, smell the heady, peaty turf and he was back.

The last enemy that will be destroyed is death. There was no Vernon here. No Manuel Roba, no Zaragoza Cartel. Just you, the dirt, and the foolish reaper that thought it could keep you from him.

After all those years grave dirt lingered beneath his fingers. It slotted in, filled in the groves of his knuckles and nailbeds like the tide returning to rockpools and crags along the shore. His body was made for this, forged by this, hewn from rock and dirt and left to shamble in the shape of a man. It's why he was numb to it, why stones crumbled to pumice dust as he clawed ever deeper. It was easy to ignore the jagged little pits of sediment that dug under his nails, stabbing until he dripped red from the quick. Watering your grave, he gave an offering of blood, sweat, and tears. You must have accepted this tribute, been satisfied in this champion for your soul because he felt something tugging at his chest. Deep, behind muscle and fat and gristle his heart sped up. Pounding so hard it nearly hit his ribs. He could feel it, see it when he closed his eyes. His red string connected to yours, all twisted and threadbare and fraying where it bored down into the earth, but still there. Still vibrant and raw and red.

And so close.

It was different digging down. When he'd first been reborn, he'd had company. There was him, and a lump of festering meat. A sack of bones moldering beside him in the casket. Dead and useless. Until it wasn't. Until he'd nearly passed out twice, arm shaking and stomach seizing as he raised his broken fingers to what used to be its face. There was no air, just lungs heavy with copper and carbon. He'd been hysterically lucid, thankful that that sick fucks had at least broken his nose before they tossed him in the pit. Probably severed his olfactory nerves but it was a blessing, really, not to smell the putrid, festering thing that was oozing over his fingers as he scratched and gouged until he hit bone. He had enough of his senses to kick at the boards above him, contorting around the hollow spots in the hope that the pressure of the dirt wouldn't do him in. Not killed by fucking soil, not when the bastards who wanted him dead had already tried and failed with greater means.

Digging up was like drowning. Like being dragged away by a current, water pressing and squeezing at your head until your ears popped and your eyes bulged.

It was fighting the urge to breathe, body struggling and kicking so hard against a nature that didn't care. Cruelty from indifference. Lactic acid burning and cramping through muscles that you couldn’t stop moving. Stop moving and you're dead for real. Digging up was rage and hope, something fiery and heavy pulsing under the skin. He remembered some poem he had to memorise back at the state comprehensive. Hope is the thing with feathers. He was shit at English, never cared for it. But he remembered that because it was so bloody trite. He'd told the teacher, first time he'd ever volunteered an answer in her class, and she screwed her nose up at him. Sent him out for cheek. Only it wasn’t cheek. Hope was the worm wriggling around in his guts. The stupid parasite that fed off his fear and made him wonder if he could be purged of it. Those same maggots writhed in his guts, wriggling and squirming as he kicked and pulled up. And up. And up.

Digging down, though. Digging down was harder. He wasn't getting dragged down by the current; no, he was sloshing great bucketfuls of water behind him, wondering why the ocean wasn't yet drained. It was frustrating, endless. Some kind of wank Greek tragedy where he'd been cursed to repeat the same task, over and over again. To have what he wanted, just out of reach, the finishing line set and reset at someone else's whim. Tantalus, Orpheus, Prometheus. He knew what they'd done to offend the Gods, but what about him? What bargain had Shepard and Price struck to have him back? To have him stalk and hunt under their flags, their causes. Would you disappear forever, trapped in the caves of the underworld if he tried to look at you one last time?

His body wasn’t his anymore, hadn't been for a while. Not since Mexico, and maybe even before that. He was more ghoul than man then. Some kind of shambling hellhound they set loose and tasked to kill. But his body wasn't theirs either, not anymore. He'd folded you inside himself so carefully. Made a home for his heart and yours in the cradle of his ribs until he wasn't sure where yours began and his ended. He gave his body in service to you. His heart, his mind, the gristle of his ugly mug - all those chunks of meat were yours. What use was he, then, if he couldn't protect you?

Six-foot-something and 200lbs of weapon rendered flesh, and you're damned bloody right he'd use it to reach you.

Except, something was broken. Salt stung at his eyes; whether perspiration or tears he wasn't entirely sure. Because there were tears, he could admit that now. He could admit that to the magpies watching him from the cracked, weather-worn tombstones littered around. He could admit that in the thick silence - heh, quiet as the grave - settling eerily as dusk fell like a blanket.

'Fuck.'

Regret punched him in the liver, bent and stooped him under his face was buried in the upturned earth below his hands. The first word he'd said to you since his last mission and it was 'fuck'. He didn't even say it properly, just gasped it out as he crumpled in on himself like wet tissue. Voice all damp and cracking like even that one word didn't want to come out. Soul of a poet, him.

You knew he wasn't a man of many words, though. You'd forgive him.

He was tired now. Exertion drank from him, stripped him down to his crypt-cold bones. He didn't think ghosts got tired, but here he was shaking and kneeling in the hollow of your grave like a starving mutt. Pawing and pawing at you until his nails cracked and his fingers bled. It was sapping out of him, now, candle in his chest flickering lower as he got closer and closer to where you were waiting for him. His face was wet, the wind stinging at bitter trails that swelled over his pallid cheeks. Blinking sluggishly, he licked at his cracked lips. Apprehension lingered there, danced along the seam for a second.

Whatever he finds down there, whatever state you are in he will join. You will rise together or rot together, there is no other way this can go.

His breaths catch in his ribs, jumping too quickly past his diaphragm but not quite strong enough to breach. Instead, they flutter downwards. Or something does, something sets his fingers to shake as they brush against polished wood slick with condensation. It's so cold, you must be so fucking cold in there. It sounds hollow, too, knock reverberating like a church bell from where his clumsy, swollen knuckles bump across the lid.

A person cannot enter the realm of the dead more than once. Not while they're alive. So this is it.

And he's so tired, thoughts turning sluggish and foggy as he folds his body over yours. There's just that panel of wood separating you now. The closest you've been to each other in weeks. Christ, he's given so much of himself already. So much, from such a young age. He's not sure he could even go on without giving, without a mission. But he swore to you, swore just before he left that this was the last one. Told you that he'd speak to Price, ask for family leave or an active service break or something so that you and he -

so that -

so-

Fuck, he couldn't quite catch the thought before it slipped away. Couldn't quite get his eyes to open, either. Just feathery lashes fluttering against his cheekbones until he gave in. Until he let them drift shut.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to fall asleep here. Just you and him, together. He could picture it; your head must be somewhere just below his. You'd probably tucked a hand under your cheek, angled slightly to the right so that he could reach out and touch you from his left. His hand slid across the slick, dirt speckled board, tapping out the syllables of your name with his fingertips. Curled around each other, forever, in the cold, dark earth.

________________

Sorry, I hurt our boy 😢 Not really confident in doing Simon's PoV - I always write from reader's perspective but, uhh, not really possible here. Just had to get the idea out bc it's been rolling around in here, gathering dust. Maybe it's been done before? Idk.

Some biblical, wuthering heights, and Greek myth references. And no shade to emily dickinson; that's ghost's opinion, not mine!

Knight ghost part ii will be out this week (finally lol, yay). Then some of the other stuff I've banged on about.