#angst.

[seulgist]

just caught up on the most recent chapters

[dawnbreakerluna]

What Zayne notices first thing when it comes to Sylus is that he’s shameless, much to his own chagrin. But besides that, he’s incredibly forward and intelligent enough to assess a situation. Especially the ones involving you, regarding your safety and well-being. Though there’s moments where you speak of Sylus with contempt in your voice and a furrowed brow, Zayne has known you long enough to see through you when you’re feeling intense emotions. He sees through the irritation in your expression that your heart stirs in care and concern for Sylus, equally so. He’s a reliable companion. And with what Zayne knows, he’s never foreseen this man who holds the power over his own stomping grounds – regrettably regarded as a wasteland when it deserved to be anything but. Sylus is an anomaly he knows nothing about, and he can’t seem to wrap his head around why. Regardless… after some deep thought—he wouldn’t mind if it’s Sylus who accompanies you until the end of time. If he’s someone that you trust, someone that you deeply care about (against your own beliefs)—then Zayne wouldn’t have it any other way. Yet, he can’t help but get the feeling that he himself and his other lives aren’t going to be the only ones to defy fate for your sake...

[luimagines]

Steel Trap Mind (1600 Follower Raffle)

Our first place winner was @goopyartiste!

They asked for anything Warrior related so I was given total free reign. :D

Enjoy.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

“Is he awake?”

“Is he alive?”

“Don’t speak so loudly. Everything’s going to be ok.”

“I need to see him!”

“He took a really bad hit-”

“Lost a lot of blood-”

“-amazing he even survived.”

He groans loudly and turns his head. It’s killing him- not that he wants to make a bad pun over the words he’s been overhearing. There’s voices all around him, he gathers that much. It’s bright on the other side so he keeps his eyelids closed but he can’t help the groan that escapes him as he enters into the waking world once again.

“He’s awake!”

“Oh thank the three!”

“Warrior, you’re ok!”

He huffs and figures that he should at least try to figure out where he is. At least they sound concerned over him. But who’s this Warrior they mentioned? Maybe he’s in the other bed next to him. He’s sure that there’s a lot of men in the infirmary right now. It couldn’t have only been him. He can’t seem to remember how he got here. Was the attack that bad?

What was his name? Link.

Does he have a family? No.

Is anyone waiting for him at home? No.

Where is he now? Well that's a question he has to figure out now, ain't it?

He groans again and forces his eyes open. The lights have dimmed. How considerate. 

There’s a bunch of people around his bed, teary eyed and all wearing expressions of varying degrees of relief. He frowns. Who are they?

“I’m so happy you’re alright.” You say. You reach down and take his hand, holding it gently. Your other hand comes up to caress his cheek, almost lovingly. 

Link can’t think much of anything right now. Only that his head hurts and he doesn’t think he’s home right now. He looks around the room and frowns a little bit. This isn’t the medical ward for the wounded soldiers. “Where am I?”

“We’re in a random town.” A boy with more scars on his face than Link has seen someone have. His hair is long and he has more scars on his arm that Link can see. “You were hit in the head so we brought you here to the local inn to recover.”

Link lets the information sink in. Strangers, then. Very kind strangers. He sighs and leans back on the bed. He was attempting to sit up but he must have been in worse shape than he thought if he could hardly lift his head off of the pillow. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well next time try not to die, alright?” Another boy sasses him. He has pink hair somehow but Link gets the idea that he’s familiar with him. Stranger still- Link has never seen this boy before in his life. “We’ve got enough heroes between us all that there’s no need to make unnecessary sacrifices.”

“You scared me.” You say, gripping his hand tighter. You’re smiling softly even as you start to tear up again. You bring his hand up and kiss the back of it. “Don’t ever do that again. Promise me.”

You know him. You know him. You have to, or else you wouldn’t be doing that.

Link gets the impression that he’s important to you. But- He grimaces slightly, already imagining what this is going to sound like. “...Who are you?”

Everyone in the room goes still.

You seem to freeze entirely and grip his hand impossibly tighter. Frantic panic increases in your eyes as you search his face for something- anything. “You’re kidding, right? Link, this isn’t funny.”

“You know my name.” He whispers softly. The look that crosses over your face is absolutely heartbreaking. 

Tears start streaming down your face before you can even speak. “It’s me! You love me! I love you!”

“I don’t know you.” He settles for. Link doesn’t think he can be gentle with another person like this. Cia was bad enough. Granted, she never said that she loved him. Let alone claimed that he loved her but there have been countless others that have tried to get him to see to reason with similar arguments. He really needs to talk to Zelda about this.

“Hey now.” An older man speaks. “Settle down.”

Link looks at him and changes that assumption. He’s older than him, sure, but enough to actually phrase it that way. He has similar markings on his face though. Link things that if he tries hard enough he can remember why they ring a bell in his head. 

The man puts a hand on your shoulder and very gently pulls you away before you can collect yourself and potentially strike him. “It was a bad hit. Remember that.”

Yeah, ok- the older gentleman isn’t not talking to him.

“Warrior, what’s the last thing you remember?’ Another young man- wait, how many people are here again?- steps closer and puts the back of his hand on his forehead as if he was checking for a fever.

Admittedly, Link might be a little warm. His head still hurts. “Who’s Warrior?”

The room feels as if he had just lit a short fuse on a bomb.

You choke on a sob and Link turns his attention back to you. It’s a heart wrenching sound. As if someone had just stabbed you, or worse, killed someone in front of you. You are quickly escorted out of the room by three of the young men around him. The boy with the scars, another with a fur pelt, and the older gentleman are quick to take you out of the room.

The remaining people (five, he’s counted this time) all stare at him with varying levels of shock and despair.

“...Do you remember us?” A small voice comes from his left. There’s a boy. He’s young. He’s wearing a blue shirt with a lobster on it- hold on.

“You.” Link says and he feels a smile grow on his face. It’s weak and it doesn’t erase the pain he’s feeling, but the familiar face is nice. “I remember you, pirate. You’ve gotten bigger since the last time I saw you.”

“Not really.” He smiles bashfully, stepping closer to the side of the bed. “Do you remember anyone else?”

Link feels the weight behind that question. Looking around the remaining faces, he can’t say that he knows who they are. “Who are they, kiddo?”

The young boy gulps and bites his lip. “It’s a long story.”

One of them sighs and rubs his hand over his face. He’s a rather built young man with a long white cape over his back. Link thinks that maybe he can find someone to fix his scarf to look that cool. “This… is unideal.”

“You don’t say.” Someone snaps. It’s the smallest one there, but the voice doesn’t match the height. He’s probably older than Link originally thought. Link likes his tunic though. Very colorful.

A heart wrenching sob makes its way through the doorway as the older gentleman walks in again. It’s you. 

Link knows he’s caused that. He hates to admit to himself but what else was he supposed to do?

The older gentleman (Link gets ice in his veins when he remembers what the markings are) steps into the room and sighs. He rubs his hand down his face as looks over to where Link is on the bed. “I’m sure… you have questions, Captain.”

A title. Yes. Link has a title. And Link definitely has questions. “Who was that?”

Vaguely, Link knows that shouldn’t have been the prominent question on his mind, but for some reason he can’t pinpoint, he hates that he made you cry.

No one answers his question at first so he tries a different tactic. Clearly, he’s missing some information. “Are they important?”

To the mission? To this group? To him? Link doesn’t register that as a too vague a question, only that he wishes for it to be answered.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Well shoot, Link sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The final young man to speak tilts his head, raising his hands as they glow. Fascinating. Link stares at it. He’s hardly met another Hylian that could use magic so casually. “You wouldn’t have had it any other way. Pushed them out of the way and took the hit and all that.”

“Oh.” Important to him, it is then. Faintly, he thinks he could still hear you cry. “I hurt them.”

“You did.” Pink haired boy grumbles. “But there’s not much we can do about it. It’s a miracle you even woke up again as it is.”

A miracle. Link takes a deep breath. He seems to be running on pure fumes powered by those alone. “I hurt them.”

Somehow, he feels the need to repeat himself. Link doesn’t like the inky feeling that curls around his heart at the thought of that. If he pushed you out of the way of an attack, surely that means he cared about you to not think something through.

It’s stranger still- that it came to that at all.

Link has always prided himself on thinking fast on his feet and having contingency plans for his contingency plans. He’s not one to miscalculate. Many battles have made sure of that. Close encounters on top of even closer encounters have made sure that his senses were sharp and steely as the blade he wielded. 

To be hurt the way he was meant that he had miscalculated dearly. Or rather, the attack would have surely killed you and he wasn’t thinking at all when he acted. If he wasn’t thinking when he acted at the thought of you in danger or being attacked, then you meant more to him than anyone here was telling him.

Aside from you.

You did say that he loved you. And that you loved him. 

His throat suddenly feels dry.

”Here.” A cup is placed by the side of his face in an instant. Link takes it and manages to take one gulp of water before he remembers to take sips. 

“I wouldn’t have wanted them to be hurt.” He says after giving the glass back. He barely finished half of it before he started feeling nauseous. How long was he unconscious? How badly was he injured, truly? “I wouldn’t have wanted them to-”

Link starts to cough.

“We know.” The pirate gently pats his shoulder, rubbing small circles. Another thing he remembers. Link used to do the same to him when the pirate wasn’t feeling too well after a battle. Something about the food and movement not agreeing with him. It’s strange to be on the other side of the act. “They know it too. They won’t be angry at you for it.”

“No?” He looks at the boy, because he knows this boy. He can trust him. Link doesn’t know if he can trust the rest of the faces in this room.

The boy shakes his head. “You would never hurt them on purpose. You’re not that kind of person. They know that.”

Link strains his ear to hear you on the other side of the door. It’s gone quiet, but he’s almost positive that you’re still upset over this development. He wonders what he would have done to get this sort of reaction from everyone here. “Who are these people, kiddo?”

“We’re all Link.” He answers easily.

Link catches onto the way the others flinch slightly. 

He still can’t say that he knows them.

“We have to get his memory back.” The young man with the white cape says after a moment of silence. 

“It’s not that easy.” Magic Man shakes his head. “This wasn’t caused by a spell. At best, we should be asking The Champion how he deals with his memory loss. Amnesia caused by injury is a different challenge entirely.”

Link sighs and looks back to the door with his tongue between his teeth. 

Amnesia? He almost wants to laugh. Do they not know who he is?

Link doesn’t forget easily.

[thehighwayrat]

“Did you ever write one?”

“Hmm?”

“A suicide note?”

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Did you though?”

Ianto was quiet for a moment.

“Yeah.”

#001

[lookforsomeoneelse]

Just wanted to say that I love your work and can't wait for more also if you ever run out of ideas then here I had these in my head it's the only things in there so take good care of them please (.1 what if after they failed to bring the reader to them they went to the reader to reverse isekai style. 2 {not sure of your boundaries when it comes to writing so please ignore this if you feel uncomfortable with it also sorry if it makes you uncomfortable} what if reader is hurt like self harm/ assault/ robbery or something like that how would the characters react would they be mad?. 3 what if you made a hand made gift for every character how will they react and for my last idea how would they react to the reader singing or cooking or even the characters reading a fanfic about the reader maybe even a book the reader made?) anyway that's all that's left in this head but remember to take breaks even if you don't feel like you need one trust me you do burn out isn't something that's fun also remember that even if your mind plays tricks on you and tries to put you down remember that you are loved and appreciated also take care of yourself to many people aren't doing that and I don't want to be anyone's mom yet

From 🐉

wow

cool first emoji anon

alright uh

i’m gonna split this into parts

writing the first and second suggestion first because i think they would work well together

Started creation on: 7/7/2024

cw for (implied?) death and the incredible tension and maybe some other things

Breathe in.

Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Somebody is in your house. Don’t panic. Whoever it is doesn’t know you’re here. It’s a small, cramped space that you’ve hidden in, but you don’t notice that fact when your life is on the line.

You’re not sure if the intruder is armed or not, but you aren’t giving up your disguise to find out.

A long creak of the door notifies you that they’re definitely approaching your safe haven- which is slowly becoming a danger zone.

You place both hands around your mouth to try and mask some of the sound your breathing produces.

You can hear footsteps.

The light is let in.

You let out a scream.

_________________________________________

They- more specifically the combined intellect of the geniuses of the realm that stood- were sure.

Blue moon the chances may be, the geniuses could hold and draw upon fortune and fate just for this very moment, as the imaginary concepts were drawn in by the thought of the madness they were going to commit once again-

They were trying to see their beloved Guide once again. Having learnt their lessons from the last attempt, the new collider was much more durable and steady; and more importantly, it was safer. Because now the devotees weren’t just attempting to bring the Guidance to them, no, they were trying to transfer theirselves to Their realm.

“Is everything in order? We don’t want to fail a second time, don’t we?” Walking down like a bride on the aisle, the (most definitely) unmarried Herta stared at her work partner, Screwllum.

“Affirmation: Absolutely. The Absolute Exclusion Harness is ready for use. All we need now is for someone to use it. Question: Who will take up the mantle?”

“Me, of course! I had the Harness tailored to my proportions, after all.”

Screwllum paused for a moment, his CPU processing the information given to him.

“…Question: You… brought your actual body here?”

The puppet that Herta was using shut down and fell limp, its eyes going dark as a sign of lost connection. Herta- The real, in the flesh, Herta- waltzed into the room. She looked more mature than most of her puppets, though still quite young for her certain age.

“Of course. What kind of acolyte would I be if I couldn’t even see my master in person?”

”Affirmation: You already know the answer.”

They both remained silent for that fleeting moment, before Herta decided to make her move.

“Start it up.”

_________________________________________

It’s a small, cramped space that she appears in, but she can manage. She knows already that it will lead to the greatest moment of her lowly life.

“Looks like the harness didn’t come with me,” She mused, “I’ll have to improve on the design…. that can wait, though.”

She opens the door to what she assumes is a closet, letting the light in. She ponders why The Almighty would live in such poor conditions compared to what They deserve.

A corpse falls out of the closet she was just in. It brings her disgust.

And then she sees who the corpse is- or rather was.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

nononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono nononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono

She hadn’t cried in a long time. Her eyes began to pour tears, and when no more were left, she cried blood. Like a child scared of the dark, with a closed door and no nightlight, she held her God ever closer, trying to find some sort of signal that They were still alive- breathing, pulse, brain activity, anything.

In place of her dreams, now there was an eternal nightmare.

Like a banshee, she- and the rest of the universe she called home- would weep.

_________________________________________

First Edition completed on 7/10/2024.

A/N: wow procrastination hit me hard. also i am very sorry for the low quality ending. maybe i might make edits to this? anyway i have more to work on so i’ll get back to the other suggestions later

[holy-reference-in-a-username]

Guilt (TordEdd)

Content warning: suggestive

[coffee4harper]

What if after Ianto died, Jack spent hours listening back to Ianto's archiving tapes just to hear his voice? Do you think he's memorized each word of that tape because of how often he listens to it?

Listening to the audio Restricted Items Archive: Entries 031-049 and iantos like "they should've just take me with them on a mission" (not an exact quote)

How guilty do you think Jack feels about it? do you think he replays every mission that didnt have ianto there and just imagines all the extra hours they couldve spent together?

I wonder if he realises how many missions Ianto didn't go to that the rest of the team did and felt really guilty about leaving him out like that. Do you think he feels even worse when he listens to the missions ianto did go to, but Jack didn't notice him enough?

What if Jack went out of his way to find the exact perfume Ianto used because he missed his smell and was really upset that it didn't smell exactly like ianto. What if he kept ianto's clothes just for the smell, but they lost the smell over time? How long do you think it took? Like a week or two?

Do you think jack ever felt the same he did with ianto while hugging another person? Do you think everytime he hugged someone it made him think of him?

What if every time Jack woke up from being dead and ianto wasn't there hugging him, a little part of him died? What if every time he died he had just the tiniest bit of hope he's gonna see ianto in the dark void of death, and he never did.

do you think that jack runs his hands over the parts of the coat that ianto would give it to him by. like a last ditch effort to touch something that ianto touched. do you think they cried into the same parts of the same jacket?

Do you think Jack ever found Ianto's diary? What if he did. What if he memoriesed Ianto's hand writting, the way he wrote.

Or even worse, what if jack had the diary but never had the courage to read it?

do you think he read it so many times that the pages were worn at the edges or do you think thats exactly why he refused to open it at all? Maybe hes scared to find out how ianto felt, how much pain he actually was in. do you think, if he read it, that his tears would dampen the pages and THATS why he refused to pick it up again?

Do you think he'll be scared that if he reads it, there'll be nothing new left of ianto, and he can't fool himself into thinking that ianto isn't gone permanently?

----

Me and @off-traveling-in-the-stars got a little bit too silly in my server. Whoops.

[lil-glitch]

i love you

i want to tell you but i can’t

we haven’t spoken for two weeks now

why must we be ripped apart? was i not worth it?

you said it’s better this way, but better for who? i saw you today, at least i thought i did

it wasn’t you but for a split second, for a moment of time my heart lifted in my chest and then it fell and shattered on the ground as i realized

i couldn’t think about anything else after that, i could only see your face and hear your name

it’s been two weeks

yet i feel like i’ve been left here for a lifetime

i know i can’t tell you so i’ll write it here instead and hope you see it

i still love you

[cartoondrawer]

I may or may not be working on a small animatic for my new fanfic…

[digenerate-trash]

Yan bailey vs a drunk PC (optional: could be smut or not depending on how you wanna do it lmao)

It's around midnight when you call. Bailey is not even asleep but he's still annoyed when he has to answer the phone.

It's you. You sound off... something wrong he can tell. You're half crying hiccuping and sniffling down the phone. Bailey can't help but let his bitter facade crumble as he asks where you are.

It's not a long drive to the pub. It's not even that hard to find you huddled up in the payphone box. Eyes red as you sniffle and cry.

Bailey has always been able to distance himself from how horrific this town is... but now he's confronting it through you. You're clothes are torn to shit. Your hair is a mess your nose is bleeding and he can't help but be affected...

Bailey is cruel. But he never wants this to happen to you...

It's easy to coax you off the ground and back into the car. You don't resist him when he takes you past your room and back to his.

It's an hour of cleaning you up with a washcloth and warm water. Calloused hands move over every bit of you checking for wounds and bruises keeping you still as he bandages up cuts. He barely talks, only a few directions he expects you to follow. "Look up" "turn around" "give me your arm" simple things like that.

Once he's satisfied with his work he grabs a t-shirt from his dresser and pulls it over your head before removing the rest of your clothes gently.

Once you're all clean and feeling better he takes you off to his room. He leaves his bedside light on and places a water bottle next to you.

He knows it's not safe to let you stay the night. But he can't help himself.

He shuts the door gently so you can sleep before he looks at your pile of torn dirty clothes. The blood stains that litter them make his stomach turn. He hopes some of the blood is from your attacker... he hopes you at least got a good hit in...

But he also knows how likely that is...

[ghosty-0w0]

Drawing request for @riseleon

here is your feral turtle :)

[geminiinspos]

"You were red... and you liked me 'cause I was blue.

But you touched me, and suddenly I was a lilac sky.

Then you decided purple just wasn’t for you."

– Halsey ("Colors")

[beepboopbupbip]

I know that P03 is supposed to be the "villain" inside of inscryption. But I just don't see it.

He wanted to upload the game for control over most of its copies, but he would've never uploaded it if he wasn't proud of his work and didn't think the game was fun.

P03 wanted to show the outside world his version of inscryption. P03 was possibly the only scrybe trying to heal. We saw all stages of that, all while he put everything into making his game perfect for the player, making it something he was proud of.

Until it all came to an abrupt stop in his happiest moment, when he was about to show everyone what he had made.

P03 is the "bad guy" in inscryption. But he wasn't really all that bad. Especially considering all of the scrybes were under the influence of the old data. Meaning that his judgement was definitely clouded.

He was hurting, he was under the influence of old data.

And for the first time in years he was happy.

[averagetmntfan]

WHOOPS!!!

I guess not everyone can be happy, huh??

(Y’all have no idea how excited I got when this shit loaded-)

*cough* @mikey-rottmnt *cough*

[godlizzza]

stop me if this is too angsty but. in couple down the street vers. how would dan respond to herbs untimely (and unreversible) death? or vice versa if you think that's more interesting. (unreversible can mean that the reagent fails or the body is damaged beyond use or whatever else you can think of). if you don't wanna write something that sad, how would they manage in the long-term if one of them underwent a successful reanimation?

There had been a time when Herbert had never dreamed he would share a bed with someone. Sleep was already something he abhorred- such a damnable wasted of time that could be better spent elsewhere. The thought of being at his most vulnerable and having another person there for extended hours had made him want to gag.

But that was before Dan.

After fifteen years of marriage, he had grown accustomed to the reassuring weight of Dan's body dipping the mattress, his warmth seeping into Herbert while they peacefully slept in each other's arms.

Now, he felt the absence of it like a severed limb. Their bed seemed impossibly huge without Dan there beside him, the sheets a stiff glacial face without Dan there to warm them. Herbert always found himself waking to find his arm stretched out across the mattress, as though seeking out something that wasn't there. Every day was a numbing blow as he remembered and it crashed down on him all over again.

He had rarely slept in the two weeks since it had happened. It had been years since he'd used the re-agent as a stimulant, but without Dan's disapproving glare to convince him otherwise, it was easy to forgo climbing into his marital bed alone and letting vicious nightmares take him. Besides, he needed the nights to think.

The mornings were the hardest, not just because of waking up alone or going through the motions of getting ready for work when he had no desire to go, but because of the oppressive silence. Usually, Dan's voice would be in his ear, mumbling a sleepy, "Good morning," followed by a kiss. He'd be the one chatting away as he made coffee, cracking awful jokes to try and get Herbert to smile. He always did, much to his annoyance and Dan's delight.

But now Dan's voice was gone, and with it any chance of cheer at a new day. Herbert was left to sit at the cold marble counter alone, forcing himself to eat. He had no appetite but knew he would be useless if he collapsed from lack of energy. A few times he'd tried playing music from the radio but it was no better. Every song reminded him of Dan- a song he liked, a song he'd sing in the car or in the shower, a song he'd play in the operating room and bounce his eyebrows to as he cut into flesh. On one occasion the radio had had the audacity to play Islands in the Stream, causing Herbert to wordlessly cross the room and smash the radio against the hardwood floor.

The days were long. The nights longer. Their house felt like a prison, trapped with memories that threatened to drown Herbert in despair. Herbert had never realised until then his reason for living could be taken away from him. That every breath he drew was in service of being with Dan, and without him there it was a chore to remember.

Life was tedious and pointless, all the daily motions dragging at his feet. He often felt the desire to simply fall to the floor and never get up again. But he couldn't do that. If he did, then Dan would truly be lost to him forever.

It was some weeks after the incident when a knock came at the door, startling Herbert out of the mountain of notes he'd been scribbling. He stood gingerly, his knees and back cracking from being sat, stooped over, for so long. He stepped around the piles of papers he'd haphazardly stacked around the living room and made his way to the front door. He peered through the peephole and sighed when he saw who it was.

"Piper," was all he said when he opened the door on his young protégée.

Piper's huge eyes stared up at him from beneath her fringe of blonde hair. Her chin was bowed to her chest and her hands were clasped tightly in front of her. She looked like a child wearily preparing for a scolding.

"Hi, Dr. West," she said nervously. "Um, how are you?"

Herbert stared at her without blinking. "How do you think?"

Piper flinched though he'd put no venom into the words. "Um...terrible?"

"Correct," he answered and stepped aside. "Come in."

She did and he shut the door behind her. She glanced slowly around the house and Herbert could only imagine how it- and he- must have looked to her. Dan had always insisted on keeping the house clean, but Herbert hadn't been able to muster up the motivation on his own, especially when he was in the middle of something far more important. This disregard for appearances extended to himself as well. He hadn't shaved in weeks, causing his jaw to be speckled with growing stubble. His use of the re-agent as a means of not sleeping had left his skin with an odd, waxy pallor and deep shadows beneath his eyes. It had been days since he'd last showered or brushed his teeth, and he'd been practically living in Dan's old Red Sox jersey.

"What is all of this?" Piper asked, picking up one of the many papers lining the living room and kitchen.

Herbert watched her as she read. She seemed to grow taller every time Herbert saw her. It had been a few years since he'd taken her under his wing, nursing her mind to be capable of things girls her age couldn't even comprehend. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, tucked behind her ears and revealing two sparkling studs in her earlobes. Her body had been stretched taught, her wrists and ankles rail-thin with her latest growth spurt. The sparkly pink unicorn t-shirts and frilly skirts she once wore were replaced with a knitted sweater and denim shorts. She was growing, Herbert realised. Getting older. Soon she would be in middle school.

"Dr. West..."

Her voice was uncertain as she turned back around to face him, her eyebrows knitted with concern. She glanced from the paper in her hands and back up to him before swallowing. "This is- This sounds like a theory to-?"

"Come with me," Herbert told her, instantly starting down the hall. "I have something to show you."

It was a moment before he heard her tentative footsteps following him. When they reached the door leading down to the basement, he whirled on her.

"You haven't told your parents anything about what happened, have you?" he demanded.

"N-No," she stuttered, her shoulders locked up around her ears. "I haven't told anyone, just like you said."

Herbert released a breath, his hand paused on the doorknob. "Good. We can't let anyone know. That would...complicate things."

"But, Dr. West, why? I still don't understand why."

"In a moment you will," Herbert promised and opened the door.

He descended into the misty green glow of the lab, followed by Piper. Once inside, he stepped over to the operating table. He'd placed a billowing white sheet over it, covering the contents beneath. When he turned to face Piper again the girl's eyes were locked onto the lumpy shape under the sheet.

"Piper," he began. "I should apologise to you. The past few weeks have probably been quite confusing for you."

She looked at him with watery eyes, her mouth pressed into a thin, straight line to fight the wobbles in her lip. She had been with him when the re-animation had gone wrong. It was a blur in his mind still, only snatches of memory from that cursed night invading his dreams. But he perfectly remembered the lab in a complete mess, the cadaver's face crushed in by the shovel in his hand, and Dan. Dan lying in the middle of the floor, his body something out of a horror.

Herbert had sworn Piper to secrecy before sending her away, screaming at her to get out. She hadn't returned since, perhaps waiting for Herbert to reach out to her first or even assuming that her apprenticeship was over.

"I'm sorry," she whispered now. "It was all my fault. If Dr. Cain hadn't been trying to protect me, he wouldn't have-"

"Shh," Herbert hissed, and she clamped her mouth shut. "None of that matters now. What matters is me knowing if I can depend on your help."

"Of course," Piper rushed to say. "But with what?"

"With this," Herbert said and pulled the sheet to flutter to the floor.

Piper sucked in a horrified gasp. On the cold slab lay Dan's remains. Herbert had done his best to repair what damage he could; he'd sewn up the gashes along his chest and stomach, he'd reattached Dan's jaw and stitched the skin along his throat back together, and cleaned all the blood (some his own, some not) that had been sprayed across him. There was little he could do about the arm and leg that had been ripped off. The limbs had been destroyed in the struggle, so Herbert had had to settle on pinching off the exposed arteries and veins, leaving the bone protruding from his shoulder and the stump of his thigh on display.

From the neck down, he was a mangled mess, but if Herbert concentrated on his face, he could imagine he was just asleep. That's all it really was anyway, Herbert thought as he stroked Dan's cheek. A long sleep. A coma. One he would wake up from with a little help.

"I- What is-?" Piper fumbled to say, seemingly unable to rip her eyes away from Dan.

Herbert placed two soft kisses over Dan's closed eyelids before straightening up. He ran his thumb along the inside of his fingers, brushing where his and Dan's wedding rings were stacked above his knuckle.

"We're going to bring him back," Herbert told Piper.

Her eyes finally bounced to him, wide and wild. "But that's impossible. His body's too damaged. Besides, he's been dead for too long."

Herbert didn't wince at the word dead. He had long ago learnt that death was not the end, merely a state of being. One that was difficult to come back from, but not impossible.

"I applied a balm to him. It's something Dan tinkered with for quite some time but the end product is remarkable. It'll keep his body from decaying and give us time to find him the parts he needs."

"But Dr. West," Piper stammered. "We've never done anything like this before. I mean, building a new body?"

"Dan and I did it once, half a lifetime ago," Herbert said, his mind flashing back to that house they'd shared in Arkham and the bride they'd built there. He closed his eyes and shook away the memory of her cracked and crying voice melting along with the rest of her. He blinked and focused on Dan's serene face. "With all the knowledge we've gained since then, it'll be simple."

"But his injuries," Piper tried to argue. "His heart was torn."

"And can be easily replaced," Herbert snapped. "Along with the rest. It's his brain that's important. He faced minimal head trauma. A fractured skull but no damage to the brain. He'll be able to be brought back."

When Piper spoke again it was so softly, Herbert nearly didn't hear her. She was looking at the floor, away from Dan's remains, when she said, "But is that what Dr. Cain would want?"

Anger coursed through Herbert's veins, sudden and hot. He slammed his hand down on the operating table, his palm landing beside Dan's grazed ankle with a mighty slap. Piper jumped, shying away from the furious look Herbert turned on her.

"Don't you tell me what he would want!" he yelled, his voice cracking and straining after weeks of silence. "I know him more than you could ever hope to. Everything in this world, we've experienced together. He was mine. You hear me? Mine and no one else's. So don't you dare tell me what he would want." His breath rasped out of him as Piper hid her face in her hands. "What he wants," he corrected.

He blinked and shook his head against the black spots dotting his vision. He'd been awake nearly fifty-two hours and his mind was beginning to slip. He had to grip the edge of the table for a minute, the cold metal biting into his fingertips, before the world swam back into focus and he straightened himself up. He turned once more to Piper, who was watching him from between her fingers.

"Piper," he tried again. "You know, Dan never wanted to take you on. He thought bringing a child into our work was a terrible idea. But he did it anyway, because he had faith in me and I had that same faith in you." He pursed his lips as he considered her. "Are you going to tell me now that that faith was misplaced?"

"No!" Piper cried out, letting go of her face to clamber forward and throw her arms around Herbert. She buried her face in his shoulder, squeezing him tight with her skinny arms. "I'm sorry, Dr. West. You can count on me."

Herbert smiled down at her and patted the top of her head soothingly. She had a brilliant mind for her age, but she was also crushingly predictable. She could hold the secrets of life and death in her hands, but she would also always be a little girl, seeking approval and praise from him.

"I hope so," he said. "I need you, Piper. Dan needs you. He needs both of us."

She tipped her head up to sniffle at him, her eyes red and puffy with tears. "I wanna help."

"Good," Herbert said softly.

Piper released him and stepped back, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "But how? Where are we gonna find new parts for him?"

"Where do you think?"

He swept away from her, approaching the double-door steel freezer shoved against the far wall. He opened one door and reached inside the waft of cool air that hit him until he found what he was looking for and extracted it. He turned, the metal bowl filled with ice cupped neatly in his hands, and showed Piper his prize. She didn't gasp this time as she looked upon the perfectly preserved foot, sawed off at the ankle.

"A foot," she said simply, staring as Herbert slipped on a pair of gloves and placed the foot on the operating table, next to Dan's other foot.

"Yes," Herbert agreed. "A size eleven. It belonged to a thirty-nine-year-old male. A near-perfect fit."

"You got it from the hospital?" Piper inquired, squatting down to blink at the pale soles.

"I did," Herbert said. "The man was brought in with a compound fracture to the tibia he suffered during a multiple-collision car accident. He had nerve damage all along his Achilles tendon and unfortunately, we had to amputate."

Piper frowned as she inspected the amputation site. "Really? The Achilles looks fine to me."

"That's because it is," Herbert told her sharply. "But he doesn't know that. As far as his chart is concerned, the foot was unsalvageable."

It took a moment for his meaning to sink in and her mouth fell open. "You mean you...You stole it?"

He stared at her coolly. He didn't look away, didn't falter. He let her stare into his eyes and see the resolution there. Only when he didn't immediately jump to defend himself did Piper close her mouth.

"Think of it as an organ donation." Herbert said. "Besides, it's not so bad. The amputation was below the knee. With a good prosthetic, he'll walk again." He folded his hands behind his back and rotated so he was looking down at Dan, now with one piece closer to being whole again. "I couldn't take the rest of his leg. He was too short. I won't have Dan coming back as some malformed thing. It has to be perfect. You need to understand, Piper, that this isn't some foolish game. This is the most important thing you or I will ever do."

She stepped up to his side and he glanced down at her. Her gaze was fixed on the foot, exactly the same length as Dan's.

"You'll have to do things you may not want to do," he said, making his voice softer now. "Do you understand?"

She nodded mutely and reached out to grasp his hand. He gripped her hand in return.

"To help Dr. Cain," she said in an odd tone, and Herbert nodded.

"That's right. We have to do everything in our power to help him, then everything can go back to the way it was before."

"Right," Piper said shakily, rapidly blinking her lashes.

"And we'll have to work quickly as well. I wrote into the hospital on Dan's computer, telling them he's suffered a death in the family. They've put him on compassionate leave, but that'll only last so long. It's only a matter of time before someone realises he's gone, and then suspicion will automatically fall on me." He glanced down at their matching wedding rings on his finger and sighed. "It's always the husband."

"Don't worry, Dr. West," Piper said, staring up at him with an expression of determination fixed on her face. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. And we'll fix Dr. Cain."

Herbert smiled for the first time in weeks. It wasn't the same smile that Dan would draw out of him but it was a smile, nonetheless.

"Yes, we will," he said.

He looked at Dan, his husband, his partner in life and death, and felt his resolve steel. Their time on this Earth wasn't over yet. 'Til death do we part, they had said to each other fifteen years ago, but Herbert supposed he had lied. He wasn't going to let an insignificant thing like death come between them.

"I know it."