#but now I think of it more as him being the nothingness of the spell song

[hammerhead-jpg]

I hate living because I literally was holding out from drawing a Hush design for the longest time because I didn't want to give him a design before I knew his lore (I used to be a Blake is Hush theory truther) but a couple of weeks ago I was like "fuck it imma draw him whatever" only for a the most recent Avior audio to come out and everyone is like "yooo because what happened with Avior and Hush was basically mitosis what if Hush kinda looks like Avior" GURJZHKRIEHNKEJHDBFNGND

[lovebugism]

hi!! could I possibly request something with Eddie or Steve with their chronically ill gf? I have POTS and although I don't full on faint, I get super fainty often and can lose my vision a little sometimes from that, and I think it would be cute to see how either boys would be with a partner like that (IF NOT THAT'S TOTALLY OKAY, THIS IS A VERY SELF INDULGENT REQUEST)

i tried to make this more general since i don't personally have pots, but it ended up being very self-indulgent bc i do get fainting spells quite often so enjoy hahah :D — the one where eddie munson is a very panicky caregiver (established relationship, hurt/comfort | 1.2k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

The hottest day of the season weighs heavily upon you. The golden hour sunlight and sticky summer air seep into your bones, sucking all the energy from your already tired body. You feel a bit like a vampire now — a withering thing wasting away in the center of Eddie Munson’s bed, with nothing but a clicking fan beside you blowing hot air around the room.

Eddie seems largely unfazed by the summer weather despite his metalhead qualities, which should otherwise clash with the heat. 

He’s shed his leather jacket for the first time all year. The thrifted t-shirt he wears below it leaves his pale, tattoed arms on display. You can see the tendons in them pulsing every time he strums lazily at his acoustic guitar. His wild curls, more untamed than usual in such humidity, are pulled out of his face with one of your hair ties. A few stubborn strands stick to his face still — now a darker shade of brown, going damp from the sweat beading on his jaw and forehead.

You watch him tilt his head back to shake his bangs from his eyes, then smile to yourself when the attempt proves fruitless. His hair’s grown much too long now — enough to be perpetually frustrating. Not that Eddie cares to acknowledge it, anyway.

“I think it’s time for a haircut, Eds,” you try to tease, though the words come out strangely heavy on your tongue. They sound lightyears away as they spill from your mouth, and the thought alone makes you dizzy. Dizzier.

Eddie’s face, glimmering and softly flushed, screws in a boyish pout. “Don’t say that. You know I hate that word.”

“Look at your bangs, Eds! They’re way too long—”

The mattress squeaks softly under your weight when you go to reach for him. You’re barely able to sit upright without your head spinning. It’s like you blink once, and suddenly you’re underwater — vision blurry, ears ringing, the world swimming with various indistinct shapes. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and sit back again.

It takes Eddie a moment too long to notice.

“No, they’re not— See?” He pauses his strumming to muss at his curls. His ringed fingers tousle his already frizzy bangs to get them out of his eyes. He smiles all cheeky at you then, as he glances at you over his shoulder. His smile ebbs at the twisted look on your face. “Hey… You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer immediately, though the pinched look to your features never wavers. 

“Okay. Yeah,” Eddie nods. “But… Are you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut until it hurts — until blue and white stars start to twinkle in the nothingness. But even in the quote-unquote nothingness, you can still feel the world spinning around you. It’s like you’re on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean, swaying in time with the rocky tides even though you’re sitting still. The notion makes your swimmy head spin. 

“Yeah,” you repeat, pitched higher this time as you dig your palms into your eye sockets. A feeble attempt to ease the dizziness. “I just— I just got a little dizzy all of a sudden. But I’m fine.”

Eddie starts reeling immediately. “Shit. Are you… Are you gonna pass out?” he stammers and rises suddenly from the bed. He leaves his guitar at his feet as he rushes to you. The mattress bounces under you and makes you feel sicker. His panicking makes you feel sicker, too.

“I don’t think so,” you answer, voice quiet and faraway.

“You don’t think so?” Eddie echoes as he looms at your side. 

You can’t see him, but you know he’s there. You can feel his shadow and the heat radiating from his lanky form. His ringed hands sit awkwardly out in front of him, aching to comfort you but frightened of making it worse. 

“Do you— Do you want me to do something? Do you need me to get you anything? Like… Like a glass of water or—”

“Eds. I’m fine,” you interject a bit too firmly for your poorly state. “It’ll pass, just… Just sit down.”

“I can’t,” he squirms. “You’re makin’ me nervous, babe.”

“Standing on top of me isn’t helping, Eds.”

The boy sits gingerly at your side, then. He doesn’t move a muscle as he waits for you to tell him what to do. Obedient but hardly patient. He tries not to fidget too much, lest he add to your unease, but he buzzes with worry in the meantime. He watches with his heart in his throat as you finally take your hands from your face.

His wide, chocolate eyes dart over your pallid features. “You okay?” he whispers.

“Mhm,” you hum in the affirmative, though you haven’t yet tried to open your eyes. 

The mattress feels less like a wobbling water bed now, but you’re still scared of what the world will look like — if everything will be slightly askew or flipped upside down entirely.

“Can you try to look at me?” the boy presses gently.

You peek one eye open and turn your chin to look at him. The subtle movement ends up being an obvious mistake. “Fuck,” you curse in a quiet murmur, shutting your eyes when the world goes staticky again.

“Don’t move so fast, babe. You’ll pass out,” Eddie chuckles despite the panicked ache in his chest. 

He moves slowly so as not to jostle you too much — lifting his arm to rest over your shoulder and pulling you very carefully to his chest. His free hand covers your eyes and rests over your temple. He squishes his cheek against your hair.

The humidity doesn’t often allow for such contact, but the heat isn’t nearly as strong as Eddie Munson’s love for you. He holds you close in spite of the slightly agonizing way your skin sticks together, fully content to melt with you completely.

“‘M not gonna pass out,” you murmur, words sitting heavy in your mouth.

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs. “‘Cause slurring your words like you’re drunk all of a sudden is real convincing, sweetheart.”

“M fine,” you insist anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Well, the world’s not spinning anymore, at least.”

“Good,” Eddie hums, smacking a chaste kiss to your head. “Lay down for me, alright? I wanna get you some water. And maybe something salty. That shit’s supposed to help, isn’t it?”

You whine in protest when he starts to move. Less because of how faint you are, and more because of how little you want him to leave. 

“No. Later. Don’t move,” you grouse.

“I gotta make sure you’re alright, babe,” the boy laughs through the warmth blooming in his chest, a sparkling sort of pride perhaps, as you curl further into his side.

“I’m fine right now,” you mumble tiredly. “But if you stop holdin’ me like this, I won’t be.”

“Ah, right…” Eddie sighs in defeat. “Guess I’m stuck here then, huh?”

You nod slowly, cheek rubbing along the cotton fabric of his shirt. “Mhm.”

He smiles softly to himself, wider than he usually allows, ���cause there’s nothing metal about being a lovesick puppy. But, in truth, he’s happy to be stuck here with you — even with your swimmy head and humid air and clicking desk fan that’s hardly working now. The circumstances a mildly inconvenient, sure, but he’d take a billion inconvenient circumstances if it meant getting to be with you.

Lovesick puppy, indeed.

[random-posts680]

•I knew you’d be back•part 2

Part one here: https://www.tumblr.com/random-posts680/748793779031605248/dont-come-looking-for-me-part-1

A/N: guys holy moly I’m so sorry it took me an eternity to finish this but I hope you like it!

Warnings: maybe spelling errors, killing, death, royal family after reader, Feyd, blood, arena fights

Your hair was sprawled out as you laid on your back, it casted over the sheets of Feyds bed. Your arms were comfortably crossed over your ribs. And Your feet dangled off the edge.

Feyd mostly matched your position as he laid next to you. His arm closest to you layed out in the space between both your bodies. He itched to wrap it around you and pull you closer to him.

But unfortunately, how things were currently was as close as he was going to get. He wished to be something more with you, but even just being close at your side as friends kept him content. Silence filled the room before you inhaled to speak.

“Do you miss me?”

Completely taken aback by your question, Feyd turned his head to the side to look at you. His face contorted into an unusual look of concern. Your face stared at the nothingness of his ceiling until your eyes snapped to the side and your head slightly followed

There was no answer from him. He looked from your eyes down longingly at your lips then back up. You were unreal to him, something otherworldly, you were the most beautiful being he’d ever seen, and the most important to him as well. When he came out of his thoughts he looked back to you. Your face still awaited an answer.

“Why would I need to, when you’re right here?” His voice is gentle but still holds a bit of his rasp. Before you thought of an answer Feyd inhaled and continued “And I’ll never have to, I won’t let anyone take you from me.” There was that murderous gleam in his eyes that you’ve seen a handful of times. It was never directed towards you, god never, Feyd-rautha couldn’t stand the thought of you getting injured by his own hands, and it filled him with rage thinking of it being by somebody else’s.

You smiled at him, seemingly grateful at his answer and promise of protection. He returned your smile and inched ever so slightly towards you. His eyes trailed around the features of your face, they stop at your lips once again. This didn’t go unnoticed by you. You glanced down at his pale lips in return. Your faces began to invade the gap between the both of you.

Feyds arm reaches up and his cold smooth hand cups your face and pulls you in. His body heats up at the contact initiated. You close your eyes….and so does he.

Feyd-rautha twitches awake.

His mind recalls the images produced from his sleeping state. He remembers the odd question you asked him and his heart rate picks up when he recollects the end of the fantasy. It was like this most nights. Dreams and visions of you invading his mind, moments he’s had with you and moments he had wished to have with you.

The harkonnen desperately wants you back. It has nearly been 6 months since you seemingly disappeared without a single trace of where you may have gone. You aren’t dead, that is all that Feyd-rautha knows. And it keeps him determined to find you.

———————————————————————

Your ship wasn’t anything fancy. It could stay in space for long periods of time and is undetectable under any radar. It keeps you hidden, and that’s what you need most, especially now.

When you were found out to be residing on Giedi prime, you knew you had fucked up. You remember being awoken by your com that night ringing loudly. Once you groggily picked up, the call consisted of only a few sentences before you were on your feet and moving.

“Y/n, they’ve found you, you need to leave now! We have a ship ready for you at these coordinates!” The lady spoke on the other end. The coordinates were then listed on the screen.

You were grateful for the people at your job who were working to protect you from those who were out to hunt you, they believed in doing the right thing so when they discovered you floating through space, you told them your story and they took you in and offered you a job and their protection.

The truth is, you were the next Queen of your house, the standards for that queen were specific and high, one of the most important being you would need to be able to give birth to an heir. So from a young age you were tested for fertility so you could begin training, learning, and one day be married and give birth to an heir.

That was never fate.

A few weeks before you were to be married a freak accident occurred and it left you injured and to your houses dismay, infertile. Now, in most scenarios it wouldn’t have mattered if you were infertile but in your line of royalty there was information that could take down the entire nation of your planet that only a fit queen and king were supposed to know, and you were no longer of that standard of a fit queen due to your infertility.

You knew everything, and you were no longer going to be queen. This left them to having no choice. They were going to kill you and then begin training a different female relative of yours.

You were smart enough to realize their plans for you, so the night you found out of your infertility, you left. You knew they’d be after you the moment they realized you were gone.

Similar to when you ran away from your home planet you left most of your stuff on Giedi prime. Your heart ached a bit at the thought of leaving behind the good friend you had made here. You knew you couldn’t do anything about it so you at least gave him some attempt at closure when you scribbled down the note that he would later find. You’d miss him and he’d miss you ten times more. It’d drive him mad.

Along with the note that he found he also noticed his missing blade which brought you to the night prior. feyd had been showing you his collection of blades, you knew you shouldn’t have but you took one, you knew that someday your family would find you here and you wanted to be prepared. You hid the blade and as if you had foreseen the event, the very next night was when you would need to make your escape.

You dropped the note into one of your notebooks and slid the blade into your belt. You found the designated coordinates, and there your ship was. It hovered above the ground just enough for you to climb inside. You remeber looking back into the Giedi prime night, hoping that feyd-rautha would follow the one demand on that scribbled piece of paper.

Life after leaving wasn’t easy. You had plenty of battles and worked hard on combat training. The hardest part about leaving though was being away from feyd. You really did miss him. You cherished the moments you two had together and they often replayed in your sleep. With each day your desire to see him again grew.

Which led you to now, 6 months later, you are back, hovering just off of the atmosphere of the black and white planet. You know it’s a horrible idea to pay this visit but you need to see Feyd. The way you left him haunted you, you know you were his only form of support and you just up and left without any warning. You owe him the knowledge that you are sorry and willing to do whatever it takes to make it up to him.

You wonder what he is doing now, you wonder if he ever found that note, you wonder if he’d even cared that you’d left. You wonder if he’s missed you as much as you’ve missed him.

‘What ever he may think, I’ll find out myself’ you think, as your hand pushes the steering mechanism forwards. You ready yourself to enter Giedi prime once again. You flip the switches and type in your coordinates for landing. You push and your ship begins to fall into the planets gravity.

———————————————————————

Feyd-Rauthas arms are outstretched. His muscles exposed to the air within the threshold. Servants gather around him, painting the black shapes over his nearly white skin.

Ever since you left, this has been his only source of enjoyment. Killing those drugged slaves in the arena. His only way to cope with your disappearance.

Once his servants are done, he is handed his blade. The nervous harkonnen male avoiding heavy eye contact as he presents them. Feyds hands graze the tip of it and his reflection can be seen in its polished surface. Every time the blade is brought out he thinks of you and how somewhere in the galaxy you posses the missing one from his collection.

Feyd dismisses his servants, at this they all rush out, desperate to leave the presence of the na-baron. Unfortunately for the last servant to leave, the harkonnens blade penetrates her. The sharp object colliding with flesh sounds about 8 times before the sickening sound of a body against the ground follows.

Feyd-rautha walks out of his chamber Hungry for more meaningless gore. He scans the hallway, waiting for the next person to cross his path. Only about 10 seconds pass before a veiled being in all black turns the corner. Their back turned to him as they continue to walk.

The harkonnen smirks and follows quietly in pursuit. His presence going completely unnoticed by the target. Feyd-rautha readies his blade.

He grips onto the persons shoulder and pushes his blade straight to their jugular. Before he makes his next move, the person speaks.

“I thought you’d be here.” Your voice sounds through his ears.

Feyd-rauthas heart skips a beat, His knees almost go weak, and his hands begin to shake. Y/n? Is it really you? But It can’t be you, you left him without any indication of coming back, how could this be you? How could you have come back? The harkonnens mind races rapidly and his grip loosens.

With that, you slip out of it and turn to face him. You unveil yourself. Feyd-Rauthas heart races and his chest rises and falls unsteadily. His eyes stare down at you taking in the features he had missed so much. It really is you.

As Feyd stands awe struck You wonder what to do. It wasn’t like you could act casual ‘hey, I’m back after abandoning you for months and not telling you where I went!’ That would be arrogant and disrespectful. You know you owe him an explanation as to why you left but right now you are at a total loss for words.

His eyes hold hints of desperation and excitement yet his face displays utter disbelief. You wait to see if he’ll say anything but moments go by and he doesn’t. You take it upon yourself to speak first but regret it instantly when the sentences tumble out of your mouth and merge.

“Feyd-rautha-my lord, I’m terribly sorry that I left..-I I do have an explanation-“

You are cut off by his hands gripping you arms and pulling you into him. You look up at him before he connects your lips. His kiss is deep and full his hands are desperate as they go from your arms to your hair to push your face further in. You deepen the kiss too, making Feyds body warmer as you both stand.

After many seconds you both pull away for air. You’re shocked to say the least, as for the harkonnen he stares at you with desire, his eyes roaming you and his hands now feeling your waist, pulling you closer against his muscular torso.

“I’d like that explanation, we shall talk about it in my room. I will cancel my arena fight.” His voice is low and full of contained urgency. His heart hammers in his chest and it’s as if nothing else matters. You have finally come back to him.

He can’t take his eyes away from you as he leads you to his room. Once you two are there your lips meet once again and he’s ready to live out all the things he’s dreamed of knowing that you’re ready too. You love him and that’s all he’s wanted since the second he had met you.

Feyd-rautha is never going to let you leave him again, especially now. Your entire family and their army could come after you and he would be at the front line defending you with his life.

————————————————————————

Tag list: @freyagallileaevans

@saturnhas82moons

@flower-frog

@ruyaas-world

@aoi-targaryen

@gay-mashroom

@lechat-rouge

@alexa4040

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

Bloody Beetle | Part Ten

Summary: buckle up folks, it's the final showdown

Pairing: Steven x reader, Marc x reader, Harrow x reader, Layla x reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: fighting, deaths...

A/N: as always spelling and grammar are not my strongest skills so please be kind :)

Part Nine | Series Masterlist

- - - - -

Layla’s POV 

She wants to stop you from surrendering yourself, she knows it’s dangerous. 

But she also knows neither of you have time to think of another plan. 

As soon as you step out from behind the wall she wastes no time in sneaking over to where Osiris’ avatar is and pulls him to safety. 

“Hey! hey, hey…” She says as she tries to keep him upright and conscious. “How do we stop Ammit?!”

“This chamber is our most powerful place.” He wheezes. “From here we need to imprision Ammit in a mortal form.”

“A body instead of a statue. She’d be vulnerable… okay, how do we do it?” 

“We need more avatars than we have left…” he says before collapsing to the ground. 

“No, no no!” Layla tries to wake him, but when she checks his pulse she realises he’s gone. She thinks for a moment, pondering her options. Reluctantly she summons Taweret and agrees to be her temporary avatar. 

“I am so thrilled! We are gonna have so much fun together.” Taweret says excitedly. “I have a fabulous costume in mind.”

The sound of Harrow’s shout bounces off the walls, getting Layla’s attention. She peers around to watch. 

Harrow is stood in front of you protectively, talking to Ammit. Almost pleading with her. 

“What could she possibly do in the future that is so bad that she deserves this?”  

“She will be the one to kill you.”

Ammit’s reply sends the room silent. A few disciples spare glances at each other but no one dares make a sound. Layla notices the heartbreak on Harrow’s face. 

She watches as you try to stand, try to reason with Harrow, convince him Ammit is lying. 

She watches as Harrow turns to you, and reaches out to help you up from the floor.

She watches as he drives a dagger deep into your stomach and she has to fight with herself not to run over and kill Harrow herself. She knows with Ammit behind him he is too powerful for her to fight alone. 

She watches as everyone just steps over you, leaving you to die. Not a single one of them even pausing for a moment to consider helping you. 

As soon as they’re out she runs to you, calling your name. You manage to roll over and look at her and she sees the moment the last bit of life leaves you. Your body going still, eyes glassing over as you lay limp on the ground. She crouches next to you, checking and double checking for a pulse. Begging you to wake up, to not leave her alone. 

But that’s what she is now… Alone…

Marc is dead. You are dead. Without anyone to help her, she’s sure she will be next.

— — — — 

Y/N’s POV 

“Where am I?” You ask aloud, glancing at the bright white nothingness around you. “Steven? Marc? Anyone?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” A voice calls from everywhere at once.

“Hello?” You respond. 

“I am Osiris, god of the underworld.”

“…okay…” 

“I have granted you resurrection but I ask something of you in return… Become my avatar.”

“Uh, look I don't think I'm really the person to be asking. I don't know how to be an avatar, I don't even really know what it means… I just know that Marc said it’s bad. Like being a slave? And I really don't want that-”

“You won’t be a slave, you will be powerful.”

“I’m sorry, but my answer is no. And if that means you have to send me back to the Duat then… I accept my fate.” 

“I admire your honesty and bravery Y/N. But we need more avatars than we have left if we are to defeat Ammit.” Osiris speaks calm but firm. “Take the powers that come with being my avatar, use them to defeat Ammit and when the job is done I will take them back from you. I will expect nothing more from you. You may continue to live your life free from any burden.”

“So just like, a temporary deal? Right?”

“Yes.”

“And once Ammit is dealt with, I can just be normal again?” 

“Yes.” Osiris pauses. “Do you accept?” 

“I do.”

— — — — 

You gasp as you sit bolt upright on the cold stone floor of the pyramid, making Layla jump. 

“Y/N?!” She says, grabbing your arms to ground you as you flail around in a panic. “I got, I got you.”

You take deep breaths, clutching your hands to your stomach. You lift your shirt and watch in shock as the wound from the dagger closes itself, leaving you fully healed. Any weakness left from Harrow’s staff is gone too. You feel amazing.

“What… what just happened?” Layla says, wiping tears from her face and staring at your stomach. She helps you up off the floor. “You were dead!” 

“Osiris healed me.” You say, in shock yourself. Then you notice Layla’s outfit. Her mundane clothes from before gone, replaced with a gold and white Egyptian armour. “What are you wearing?” 

“Taweret chose it.” She says before explaining how she agreed to be her temporary avatar. You in turn explained the deal Osiris offered you. 

“Well, you look badass.” You say and she laughs. “Wait, if I’m an avatar too now, does that mean I get a costume too?” 

A bright light swirls around you and when it disappears you’ve changed. No more blood soaked clothes. Instead you're wearing green armour, similar to Layla’s, with white and gold fabric wrapped around your body. Attached to your back is a long golden staff with a hooked end. 

You look down at your clothes in amazement, then up at Layla. The two of you look at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. You don't really know why you're laughing, but after the stress of the last few days it feels like a welcome break. 

“So, what do we do now?” You says once you composed yourself. Layla sighs, shaking her head. 

“I guess, we try to save the world.”

— — — — 

The two of you head outside. To your surprise the sky is as dark as night, even though you're pretty sure it’s still daytime. The sky is filled with purple lights, flying up from across the city and towards the other side of the pyramid where Ammit is. 

“She’s consuming souls.” Layla says as you watch horrified. The more lights she swallows the bigger she grows. She’s already almost the same size as the pyramid.

“How are we supposed to stop her?!” You ask, looking around frantically. You look up at the top of the pyramid. Harrow is up there, a purple glowing light surrounds him as he chants in a language you don't recognise. 

Before you can say anything, someone flies up to the pyramid and begins to fight Harrow. You recognise the person to be the same as the action figure you found in the museum, dressed head toe in white.  

“Who is that?” You ask Layla, turning her attention to the scene on the pyramid. 

“Marc?” She gasps before turning to you. “Did Osiris resurrect him too?” 

“I- I don't know. Maybe? I didn’t see him after we made it through the gates-”

You stop talking suddenly when you notice Khonshu appear next to Ammit. He goes to hit her with his staff but she reaches out a scaly hand and stops him. They begin to fight as Harrow and Marc fly though the air toward the town, still fighting each other. Khonshu manages to knock Ammit over and she comes crashing down near near you. The force of her slamming into the pyramid sends a cloud of dust and sand over you and Layla. 

“Little bugs.” Khonshu says when he notices he almost flattened the two of you. “Go! Help Marc.”

Layla rolls her eyes at him as she wipes dust from her clothes before turning to you and nodding. You run away from the pyramid in the direction that Marc and Harrow had gone. 

The streets are chaos. Everywhere you look Ammit’s disciples are grabbing people, judging their scales. You watch as Bobbi grabs someone. They begin to shake then fall to the floor as a purple light emerges from them and flies up into the sky. Those who aren’t distracted staring at the dark sky are running, screaming, from the disciples. As you begin fighting off disciples you notice Marc laying on the ground on the other side of the town square, Harrow stood over him with his cane pointed down at him. It starts to glow purple. 

Layla swoops in just in time and knocks Harrow away. He fires purple light from his cane at Layla, but she reflects it with the golden armoured wings attached to her arms and it bounces back at Harrow. It sends him flying backwards into a crowd of people. 

You knock out the guy you're fighting and run over to Marc. His face now uncovered and he spots you over Layla’s shoulder as he’s hugging her. As you get closer his clothes change to a white three piece suit.

“Y/N!” Steven’s voice calls happily as he hugs you tightly. His hand finds the crook attached to your back. “Oh my God, that- that’s Osiris’ crook! Oh that’s bloody brilliant that! Wow!”

“Steven I know this is a massive deal for you but we have to stop Harrow.” You say, smiling at him.

“Right yeah, sorry you just- you look amazing!” He smiles, turning to Layla. “You both do.” 

You hear a scream and turn to see a woman with two young children being cornered by a group of disciples. 

“I’ll go. You two get Harrow.” You say and Steven places a kiss on your cheek before he and Layla run into the crowd and begin fighting. 

You run the other way, grabbing the crook and using it to pull the first bad guy away. You swing him round and send him crashing into the side of a nearby building. The others turn on you, but you effortlessly manage to dodge their attacks and one by one knock them all out. You help the mother and her children find somewhere safe to hide before turning your attention back to the others just in time to see Harrow fighting Marc. 

“You need only remove one weed from the garden. You!” He says, purple light blasting from his cane at Marc.

Marc grabs one of his crescent moon shaped blades but Harrow uses the power from his cane to control Marc’s hand. Layla runs toward them but Harrow sends the blade flying at her and it pins her arm to the side of the truck, before sending a huge blast of power at Marc, forcing him down on his back. On a building above them you see Ammit has also overpowered Khonshu, pinning him down with his own staff. 

Harrow advances towards Marc and you run, throwing yourself in between them.

“STOP!” You shout and Harrow looks at you like he’s just seen a ghost.

“Y/N..?” He says breathlessly. “You’re-”

“Alive? Yeah, I was surprised too.” You say sarcastically. “Why are you doing this? You told me you wanted to stop her!”

“That was before…”

“Before what?”

“Before I knew you would betray me!” He shouts, hitting you with a flash of power from his cane. It knocks you flying out of the way, rolling across the dusty ground. You feel like the wind has been knocked from you as you lay on the ground trying to get your breath back. Harrow advances on Marc again, raising his cane and slamming it into his chest. Purple light streams up through the cane, killing him slowly. 

“NO!” You scream, scrambling to try to get up but a heavy boot comes down on your back. Bobbi stands over you, keeping you down, forcing you to watch. You look over at Layla, she’s surrounded by disciples, using her golden armoured wings to deflect the bullets being fired at her. 

Marc turns his head to look at you before his eyes turn white. 

You can’t really describe what happened next. Something takes over Marc and sends him into a killing frenzy. He’s unstoppable as he takes on multiple disciples at once, slaughtering each one without breaking a sweat. He turns to you and you feel Bobbi remove her foot from your back. She backs away but Marc throws a blade at her and it lodges itself in her forehead, killing her instantly. He locks eyes with you and you don't recognise him at all. That’s not Marc anymore, and it definitely isn’t Steven. He winks at you before taking on Harrow. It doesn’t take long for him to overpower him. Its only as he’s about to kill him that he freezes, his posture changing. He drops Harrow’s unconscious body and looks around in horror at the war zone around him. 

“That wasn’t you, was it Steven?” He says and his suit changes. “Not a chance mate.” 

He looks at you and you get up, dusting yourself down as you make your way over to him.

“Are you alright?” He asks, placing his hands on your face and checking you over. 

“I’m fine, I’m more worried about you.” You reply.

“Marc?” Layla calls, freeing herself from where Harrow had trapped her. Steven changes back to Marc. “What the hell was that?”

“I blacked out.” He says. He looks genuinely worried. 

A rumbling from the building next to you draws your attention to Ammit dragging Khonshu away. 

“Get Harrow!” Layla says “I know how to stop Ammit.” 

— — — — 

Marc carries Harrow and you both follow Layla back to the tomb in the pyramid. Once inside Marc throws Harrow down on one of the stones.

“The power of the room will help us bind Ammit to Harrow’s body.” Layla explains. “Quick grab my hand so we can start the spell.” 

Marc takes Layla’s hand and you take Marc’s. The three of you start chanting the spell in an ancient language, the words must be given to you by the gods because you have no idea what you're actually saying. A circle of light fills the tomb, surrounding the three of you and Harrow. Purple light descends down into Harrow’s body as the spell works. Harrow gasps awake, his wild eyes looking at the three of you. 

“You can never contain me!” Ammit speaks through him. “I’ll never stop!”

“Do the honours, little bug.” Khonshu appears next to you and hands you the same dagger Harrow had earlier used to kill you. “Finish it! Leave neither of them alive.”

You look at the dagger, still stained with your own blood and feel anger boil inside you. You step up to Harrow, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him up to face you. His bright blue eyes stare into your own. 

“Do it.” He croaks. He looks utterly defeated, ready to accept his fate. 

You lift the dagger high, ready to plunge. Then you hear Ammit’s words from earlier.

‘She will be the one to kill you.’

You hesitate, thinking over those words. If you kill him now that means she was right about you. 

“While he lives, so does she.” Khonshu’s words ring in your ears. 

While Harrow lives, so does Ammit. Trapped in a mortal body.

“I said I wouldn’t kill you and I meant it.” You drop Harrow back down on the stone and throw the dagger to the floor. “There are worse fates than death.” 

You turn your back and walk away.

“Weak little bug.” Khonshu mocks but you ignore him. 

Layla takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“I have to finish this.” Marc says suddenly, taking one of his blades and readying himself to stab Harrow. “If not I’ll never be free.”

“Marc!” Layla shouts. “You have a choice. You are free!”

“The choice is vengeance! We cannot take the chance that Ammit finds a way out. She will kill again.”

“Now you sound just like her.” Marc says, throwing his blade away. “You want them dead, do it yourself. Now release us!”

“As you wish.” Khonshu says before disappearing. 

Marc’s suit starts to disappear, a bright white light shines out of his chest and fills the room. For a moment you’re blinded, and when the light fades you find Marc on his knees. His normal clothes have returned. You and Layla go to him, crouching beside him.

“Marc? Are you okay?” Layla asks, full of concern. He looks at her and nods.

“He’s gone.” He smiles. “Thank you for stopping me.”

“What do we with him?” You ask, looking over at Harrow still laying on the stone.

“Lock him up.” Marc replies. “He’s killed so many people there’s no chance he’ll never ever be released. He’ll be locked away until the day he dies. And then Ammit will be gone too.”

You can hear Harrow incoherently babbling away to himself, and you feel a sort of sadness creep in.

“You did the right thing Y/N.” Layla says, noticing the frown on your face. 

“Then why do I feel so… weird?” 

“Love…” Steven’s voice instantly makes you feel a bit calmer and he places his hands gently on your face, forcing you to look away from Harrow. “Hey, look at me… You died today. And then you came back. And then you helped save the world from a giant crocodile lady.” He says making you laugh. “That’s a lot to take in. You're allowed to feel weird. In fact I’d be worried if you felt normal after all that.” 

“I know he did some really awful things but I- I almost kind of feel sorry for him. Is that wrong?” You admit and Steven smiles lovingly. 

“That just proves even more that Ammit’s scales were wrong about you. You are a good person with a kind heart. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” 

He moves his hands to hold yours and you give him a small smile. 

“Thank you.” You share a kiss, before remembering Layla is currently watching you kiss her ex husband. You pull away, giving her an awkward smile. “We should probably get going.” 

“Yeah…” Steven laughs, picking up on the awkwardness of the situation. “Back to good old London town. Get this guy put away… behind bars… where he belongs…”

“Guys it’s fine.” Layla says, laughing at Steven’s awkward rambling. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Are you sure?” Marc’s voice again. He walks closer to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I know I wasn’t the best husband. You deserved so much more.”

“It’s okay Marc, honestly. We’re better as friends.” She smiles a genuine smile at him. “Besides, I’ve decided I’m staying here in Egypt.”

“What?” You say, moving to join them. “You’re not coming with us?” 

“While we were fighting out there, a young girl asked me if I was an Egyptian superhero and it made me realise, we didn’t have anything like that. But now we do. I’m going to stay here and work with Taweret to give more young Egyptian girls someone to look up to.” She smiles. “Plus, England is too cold anyway.”

“You got that right.” You laugh as you give her a tight hug. “you are gonna be the most badass superhero ever. But I’m gonna miss you.” 

“You too.” She says and turns to Marc. “Look after her, or you’ll have me to deal with.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

— — — — 

Some Time Later

You headed back to England with Marc and Steven taking turns to take the body. Though you knew Steven best, the more time you spent with Marc the more you enjoyed his company too. 

Ammit’s presence in Harrow’s body meant he became more and more mentally unstable. He spent a lot of time rambling incoherently and occasionally Ammit would takeover, shouting about how she would escape and make everyone pay. Because of this, Harrow was admitted to Sienkiewicz Psychiatric Hospital in London. 

A few days after Harrow was committed, you went to visit him. You don't know why, you just felt like you needed to be sure he was safely locked away. When the nurses first brought you to him, you almost didn’t recognise him. He was sat in a wheelchair, his ankles restrained to it. He looked lost, vulnerable. It made a part of you feel quite sad. 

“Hi Arthur.” You say quietly. He looks up at you blankly. 

“He’s on quite strong medication, so he may not talk very much.” The nurse explains and you nod. “I’ll just be on the other side of the room, shout if you need me.”

“Thanks.” You reply, watching her as she goes to sit with another patient on the far side of the room. You sit down at the table opposite Arthur. “How are you doing? Have you settled in here?” You ask but get no response. You start to feel awkward. You look around the room, trying to think of something to say. You glance down at the table and see paper with some lines painted randomly on it. “Did you paint that?” Harrow looks down at it and nods. “You enjoy painting?” He nods again. “How about we do some together.”

You grab two more pieces of paper, putting one in front go Harrow and the other in front of yourself, and you start to paint. Harrow joins in and the two of you sit quietly together making your own little pictures. 

When your picture is done you show Harrow and he smiles at the simple flower you have painted. He shows you his, just a triangle. 

“It’s good.” You smile. 

“It’s a pyramid. Like the ones they have in Egypt.” He says, slowly sounding more like himself. “Have you ever been?” 

“To Egypt?” You ask and he nods. “Yeah I’ve been, with you. You took me there, remember?”

He stares at you for a long moment, a flicker of something like hurt flashes on his face, and then he goes blank again. You try to make more conversation, but he doesn’t say much after that. 

Not long after the nurse comes back and tells you visiting time is over. You slide your flower painting across the table to Harrow. 

“You can keep this.” You say smiling. “Goodbye Arthur.” 

You get up and start to walk away. 

“Y/N!” He calls, making you stop and turn back. “I’m really sorry I killed you.” 

You didn’t say anything back, you just nod at him as the nurse leads you out. 

As you sign yourself out the nurse speaks to you. 

“That is the most alert and talkative we’ve seen him since he arrived. You must be someone important to him.”

Her words replayed through your head for the rest of the day and that night as you sat down to eat dinner with Steven you told him about it. 

“I’ve been thinking, I might go back and see him again.” 

“Really?” Steven asks. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“You didn’t see him today Steven, he’s different. The dangerous man that we knew is gone. Now he just seems so… lost. I guess a part of me feels responsible for that.” 

“Love…” Steven sighs, putting down his food to fully concentrate on you. “Harrow is where he is now because of the things HE did. The choices HE made. You gave him plenty of chances, even after he murdered you!” He reaches across the table to hold your hands. “Listen, Marc wants me to tell you not to go but I know that will make you want to do it even more.” He says and you laugh, nodding. “If this is something you really want to do, if it makes you feel better, then I think you should do it. Just, please be careful.” 

“I will.”

The following week you head back to the hospital and do some more painting with Arthur. It soon became a regular thing. The more you visited the more chatty he became. He started to tell you about life in hospital, sharing stories about the other patients and in turn you told him about your life. Although he initially looked hurt to find out you and Steven were now dating, ultimately he said he was happy to see you happy. 

If you hadn’t known him before, you wouldn’t guess this was once the leader of a cult intent on releasing a dangerous Egyptian goddess into the world. You’d never guess how much damage he had caused just weeks ago. And you’d certainly never guess that dangerous Egyptian goddess was now trapped inside him. There were hints occasionally that Ammit was trying to take over, to shout abuse at you, but Harrow always made sure she couldn’t hurt you. 

You didn’t talk about what happened in Egypt, you didn’t want to drag it all up again. He wasn’t the same person now anyway. And at least he’d apologised to you. Instead you chose to give him a fresh start, and just enjoy your weekly visits talking and painting with Arthur Harrow. 

—

—

—

—

—

Epilogue

One morning you woke up to a voice in your head. 

Osiris’ voice. 

“The deal is done. I release you from your duty.” 

“What?” 

“Ammit had been defeated.” 

“Yeah, but that was weeks ago.” You say, not understanding why he’s waited till now to talk to you. “We imprisoned her in Arthur Harrow’s body and they’re both locked up.” 

“I release you from your duty.” He repeats and you feel a strange sensation move through your body. Then nothing. 

“Osiris?” You call out, but no reply. “Well that was weird…” 

“You alright love?” Steven asks as he comes into the bedroom and hands you a cup of coffee.

“Osiris just released me.” You say confused as Steven sits on the bed next to you. 

“Well that’s a good thing innit?” He replies with a smile.

“Yeah, definitely. It’s just… why now? Why this exact moment instead of when we bound Ammit or when her and Harrow were first locked away? What’s so special about this morning?” 

“Osiris is a busy guy, maybe he didn’t have time until now. Or maybe you're just thinking into it too much…” 

“I just think it’s a bit odd that’s all.”

“That’s the gods for ya, all a bit odd. I don't think us humans are supposed to understand ‘em.” 

“You’re probably right.” You say before taking a sip of your coffee. “Anyway, where did you disappear to this morning?” 

“What do you mean?” Steven asks blankly. 

“I woke up in the early hours and you were gone.”

“I don't remember going anywhere… Marc?” He shifts and Marc speaks “Don't look at me. I thought we were sleeping all night.”

“Do you need the restraints back on the bed?” 

“Only if you want them back” Marc says flirtatiously, flashing you a mischievous grin. He shifts again and Steven comes back. “Oy, back off you.” He says to Marc before focusing on you. "I probably just went to get water and don't remember. Don't worry about it.” He kisses you on the forehead. “Right, I’ve gotta get to work, laters gators.” 

“Laters.” You laugh, and blow him a kiss. He mimes catching it and putting it in his pocket before leaving. 

You decide to put the Osiris thing out of your head. Steven’s right, there’s no point trying to understand the mind of a god. You finish your coffee before you get out of bed and get ready for the day. 

In the afternoon you head to the hospital as usual, and are surprised to see police cars parked outside the building. As soon as you step inside the nurse you’ve become used to seeing comes over to you.

“Y/N, please come with me.” She says, leading you into a small side room with a police officer inside. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Please take a seat.” The officer says and gestures to the chairs. You sit down in one, the nurse sits next to you. 

“What’s going on?” You ask, getting nervous.

“Miss Y/L/N, earlier this morning someone came into the hospital, murdered three members of staff and left with Arthur Harrow.” 

“What?! Who?” 

“We don't know yet. The CCTV cameras were damaged. All we have is a few eye witnesses who say they saw a smartly dressed man wearing a flat cap wheeling Harrow out of the building.” The officer explains, and you feel your heart start to race. If Harrow is out then Ammit could escape. The nurse notices your breathing has picked up and reached over to hold your hand. “I’m sorry, I understand this must be distressing. Harrow is your friend, correct?”

“Uh… yeah…” you reply, trying to focus on what the officer is saying and not the panic running around your head.

“According to the sign in sheets you’re the only regular visitor he has. Do you have any idea of who could have done this? Or why they would have done this?”

You search your brain for any options. The only people who really know who he is are yourself, Marc, Steven and Layla. You definitely didn’t do it. Marc and Steven wouldn’t have done it, and you can’t imagine Layla would have. You realise the officer is still looking at you for an answer. 

“No, no sorry. I- I don't think he has anyone else.”

“Here, take my card. If you think of anything give me a call.” The officer hands you a small business card and the nurse leads you back out the room. 

“Are you going to be okay? I know you’re quite close to him.” She asks, noticing how shook up you are she places a gentle hand on your arm. “Do you want me to call someone to pick you up?” 

“I’ll be fine, thank you though.” You smile at her as you reach the door out the building. “You have my number, will you please let me know if there’s any news?”

“Of course. Take care Y/N.” 

You head outside, and cross the street to where there’s a small park. You find an empty bench and sit for a moment to process the news and what that could mean. Who could have known Harrow was there? Who could have wanted him out? Maybe there’s another Ammit fanatic out there who wants her released? 

A shudder goes down your spine at the thought of her getting out. 

You take your phone from your pocket and phone Steven. It rings out. You roll your eyes and try Marc’s number instead, incase he’s got the body right now. They have separate phones and refuse to answer each other’s if it rings. His goes straight to voicemail. That’s unusual. You check the time, 4pm. Steven will probably be getting ready to leave work. 

Needing to talk to someone you FaceTime Layla, she picks up almost straight away. 

“Y/N! Hey!” She says happily, her smile drops when she see’s your face. “What’s wrong?” 

“Hey, uh… sorry to call I just, I need to talk to someone and Steven and Marc aren’t answering and no one else will understand-”

“Y/N, you don't need to apologise. What’s happened?”

“Harrow’s gone.” You blurt out and she stares through the phone at you. “Someone took him from the hospital this morning, they don't know who did it and they have no idea where he is. I’m scared, Layla.”

“Hey, alright, it’s going to be alright.” She says, though her voice has a hint of panic. “And you can’t get through to Marc?” 

“His phone is off. I think Steven will be leaving work soon.”

“Okay, you head over to find him. I’ll keep trying his phone.” She says and you nod. “Y/N?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s gonna be okay.” She says and you get the feeling she’s trying reassure herself as much as she is you. You nod and she hangs up the phone before you start walking toward the road, looking for a taxi. 

In the distance you see a white limo heading towards you. Usually you’d think nothing of it. You see a lot of different vehicles in London. But something about this one got your attention. The personalised number plate. 

‘SPKTR’

You can’t help but stare at it as it gets closer to you. Something in your gut telling you to run. 

The car slows down as it gets closer to you and you can just about make out though the windows that the driver is wearing a flat cap. The limo pulls over and stops next to you. The driver gets out and you stare at him confused. 

“Marc…?” It’s definitely Marc’s body, but the expression isn’t Marc or Steven. It’s the same one you recognise from Egypt. The one who so easily fought and killed all Harrow’s disciples. Another alter?

“Hola, mi amor.” 

He winks at you as he walks around the front of the car, past you and opens the door at the back of the limo for you. He gestures for you to get in. You hesitantly walk to where the door is and peer in. You have to slam your hand over your mouth to stop a scream from escaping. 

There on the back seat is Harrow, a bullet hole in his forehead. 

You back away but the driver pushes you inside and slams the door closed. You scramble to get out, to get away from the corpse, but the door is locked. You bang against the door, screaming for someone to let you out and then you hear a voice from inside the limo. 

“Hello little bug.” 

A/N: Thank you so so so much for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed this series as much as I loved writing it. please feel free to comment or send me an ask, I would love to hear your thoughts :)

Taglist :  @sleepylunarwolf / @ahookedheroespureheart / @sleepyamaya / @spicydonut25 / @kult6 / @uncle-eggy / @malaanii/ @toracainz / @pinkiestwinkie / @galacticstxrdust / @mateihavenoidea / @xmariakx / @oscarissac2099 / @whycantwebefriendz / @parkeepingparker / @scoliobean

[seonghwaddict]

EYES DON'T LIE — i. heat, physics and jeong yunho.

synopsis. you've always resented jeong yunho, and you were positive that the end of high school would've marked the end of your rivalry and hatred. yet now you find yourself in the same crappy hotel as him. assigned to be right next to each other much like the good old times. pairing. jeong yunho x fem! reader. genre. mini-series, fluff, slice of life, mature, academic rivals to lovers, non-idol au. chapter warnings. mentions of infidelity, immature teenagers, swearing. word count. 0.7k

playlist. chapter ii.

if you were asked to list three things you hated, it would have been the following:

1. heat

2. physics

3. and jeong yunho

first, it started with you two being in the same class for the entirety of elementary, middle and high school. you were an exceptionally hard working student; top of the class in every subject.

nearly.

because jeong yunho was just always equally as good as you. he just had to be. it’s not like either of you were first or second place. it was a shared space at the top. it was the most annoying thing. you hated it, but most of the time you refused to let it bother you. sometimes you thought about him too much, thinking about how if it weren’t for the constant arguing and you weren’t so petty, you could’ve been great friends. perhaps more.

unfortunately though, it seemed like his mission was to be a cocky smartass who just had to annoy you every chance he got.

like in chemistry class, you two were paired up out of a coincidental and greatly unlucky wheel of names spin. and he just wouldn’t stop taunting you.

“i think you’re doing that wrong.”

“one more word out of you and i’ll break this beaker with your face.”

“as if you could reach.”

“jeong yunho, if you don’t-“

or that time when you were assigned to sit next to each other in english for a full year. one day you walked in looking positively murderous because you hadn’t slept in three days. and he just wouldn’t mind his own business.

“damn, were you run over or something? who hurt you?”

“you. 5th grade spelling bee where you beat me by one word.”

“really?“

“no, of course not… actually maybe partially.”

or of course the times where’d you’d spit immature jabs at each other for no particular reason.

“you look stupid with your hair like that.”

“your lips are chapped.”

“stop looking at my lips, idiot.”

“i would but they’re so dry they might compare to your social life, it’s painfully hard to ignore.”

but then things got slightly more serious.

despite you warning her, your best friend started dating your mortal enemy jeong yunho in junior year. it wasn’t a surprise to you when they broke up and she came running to you, crying and stuttering out about how he absolutely broke her heart.

about how their three month long relationship came to a stop when he drunkenly admitted to cheating on her. multiple times. with different girls.

after that, any respect you had for him which wasn’t much anyway disintegrated into nothingness. though you did talk shit before, now it was a lot more frequent.

you found yourself and your best friend going on and on about how insufferable he was. how much you both despised him though you were usually the one throwing in more and more points.

to you, it was justified and perfectly valid.

he broke your friends heart, and soon after, you also heard about the things he’d say about you. spitting shit about how you thought you were “soooo much smarter than him” which you were and how you were “so obsessed with him” which you definitely weren’t.

you were more than relieved when twelfth grade came to an end. nothing could’ve ruined your day not even when the devil himself jeong yunho sauntered up to you with a cocky smile. you barely spared him a glance, even when he brought up the fact you were each other’s co-valedictorian—a title your school had come up with because they genuinely couldn’t choose who deserved it more.

after the ceremony, the two of your had to stand together for almost half an hour, receiving flowers and congratulations from teachers and parents alike. but, alas, before you knew it, it was over.

all the prolonged eye-contact and glares from across the classroom. all the accidental run-ins during your free periods. the heated yelling during debate club. analysing and picking him apart to find flaws, just to realise there weren’t any. the bickering. the frustrating and borderline flirtatious comments he’d make any chance he got.

it was all over and you’d never have to see him again.

playlist. chapter ii.

[ lilo's notes . . . ] and there is the first chapter. i hope you guys enjoyed this :)

[ networks . . . ] @cromernet @blankjournal [ taglist . . . ] @diorwoo @yuyusuyu @loveyluv7 @ad0rechuu @h-nji [ permanent taglist . . . ] @ad0rechuu @sankatchu

[mistym3adows]

We’re back! (More info under cut)

After ignoring the existence of this au for awhile I designed to revive the story but re write it to make more sense. In the original story, Leo was just supposed to die shortly after being pulled from the prison dimension and ends up in the afterlife with Gram Gram where life is like living in a retirement community, Leo finds a way to visit his family in the living world but only Mikey could see him. This was a concept that a lot of people seemed to like which made me really happy. But overtime, I started thinking that I didn’t really have much of a story. I didn’t even know what the end goal should have been. So I kind of just forgot about the whole idea. However, every once in awhile I would see that some people would find the dead au and like it which got me thinking about it again. I decided to sort of reboot the AU and rewrite the story. I first made this AU when I first got into the tmnt fandom so seeing how my art and story telling skills evolve like this is really cool to me.

✨ROTTMNT Ghost AU✨

The Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Alternate Universe (ROTTMNT Ghost AU) Is a retelling of the aftermath of the ROTTMNT movie. Instead of being freed from the prison dimension and reuniting with his brothers, Leo dies shortly after being pulled out of the prison dimension and his family is unable to save him. Instead of ending up in the afterlife with Gram Gram and all of the other Hamato spirits, he ends up in some strange limbo.

The only thing in this vast nothingness is a tiny island with a tree and a little pond (that is there for plot purposes)

Meanwhile Leo’s family is having a hard time grieving the tragic loss of their Baby Blue. Raph won’t stop training (blaming himself for the death). Donnie, not aloud to where his battle shell as ordered by Casey, only wears the waited hoodie Leo gave him on their sixteenth birthday. He has also resigned to secluding himself in his lab.

Meanwhile Mikey is trying to find a way to at least talk to Leo no matter how much Casey and Draxum say he needs to rest after opening an interdental portal. He goes to the Mystic library for answers and ends up finding a Spell that lets him communicate with the dead, with that spell, he manages to communicate with Leo through his limbo. Now, Mikey is trying to find a way to fully resurrect his brother, so they can all be a family again.

References: (yay)

[prismaticpichu]

Hey uhh… could I maybe suggest some ZackSeph fluff in the Gold Saucer? Like helping him win little plushies and stuff? 🥺👉👈💞

Heck yeah you can, my friend!!!!! That is TOO cute!!!! 😭😭😭❤️💕

~

ZackSeph, Gold Saucer Floof: Rigged Toss!

When Zack came bounding into his office that Friday afternoon, asking him with a luminous smile if he would like to take a trip to the Gold Saucer once off-duty, Sephiroth thought the answer would be obvious. What a ludicrous question… bubbled the reflexive response in his throat. Do you have any idea as to what kind of people spend their time and money at such a nauseating establishment? Do you really think you’ll be entertained by ferris wheels and video games of lower quality than the ones you own now? Do you truly think that is an appropriate place for SOLDI…

Somehow, the question had ended up dying on Sephiroth’s tongue, dissolving away into nothingness as he stared at those jubilant blue eyes gazing sunrays into his own. Maybe it was magic; a spell, some kind hypnosis, some kind of hidden mana of Zack’s to manipulate and change his mind.

Or maybe it was just that Angeal would say the same things he so desperately wanted to.

Regardless, as they stood within the bustling prism that was the Gold Saucer, bathed in all its blinding lights and golden roars, Sephiroth couldn’t help but spare a glance at Zack; smiling, a bag of caramel popcorn in his hands, his eyes wide and glistening and full of untainted youth that stood strong even after bracing the horrors of this world…

And Sephiroth knew he made the right decision.

“Having fun?” the warrior asked sincerely, veiled in a rich black cloak both he and Zack had suggested would be best to wear, granting them a private and un-swarmed experience at the theme park.

Zack turned to him with a grin of lightning. “Heck yeah I am! It’s everything a guy could ever dream of!”

“Heh.” Sephiroth chuckled. “You have quite the dreams then, my friend.”

Zack melted a little at the comment, beaming. “Yeah? And you helped them come true! One-hundred and ten percent attained!”

“Well… I don’t know about that.” Sephiroth crossed his arms, idly wondering what the other ten percent of that achievement was going toward. “You could have always come with your other companions. People who you wouldn’t have to persuade.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Zack laughed, then adding with a playful elbow, “Besides! Need someone to make sure I’m being responsible. Keep me in-check.”

“Oh? Is that what I’ve been doing?”

“Sure!”

Sephiroth eyed the bagged snack in his friend’s hand—also known as his “double dessert” after a funnel cake, cheeseburger, macaroni bites, a whole other plethora of fried food wherein Sephiroth couldn’t even remember their contents, an ice cream cone, lemonade, cotton candy, and a Mako Monster energy drink.

…Hmm.

“Well.” Sephiroth gave way to another chuckle, his eyes softening to something warm and genuine as he reached out to fondly ruffle his lieutenant’s nest of spikes. He couldn’t help it. “You know I said I’d look out for you.

Zack’s expression melted even further under the gesture, words and names unspoken tying them together, a touched and loving countenance brightening the prismatic night

Sephiroth couldn’t help but mirror it.

He was about to say something further when, suddenly, Zack pulled away, blue eyes widening to gaping oceanic caverns as his arm flew up like a bullet.

“Holy herring… look at that!”

Blinking, it took a Sephiroth a few moments to figure out exactly where Zack was pointing, peering through the starry clusters of tourists and decorations to eventually find he was directing toward none other than one of those classic carnival stands across the plaza.

Or, more specially, pointing at the gargantuan stuffed prizes flaunted above it.

…

Oh no.

Ohhh n—

“C’mon, bud…!”

And he was being yanked across the square, the hood of his nunnish cloak bobbing with the motion as they raced toward the stand, two chains linked, only coming to a stop once they were directly in front of the semi-startled employee.

“Whatcha gotta do to win one of those guys?!” Zack chirped, bullet-hand shooting toward the jumbo Elfadunk, Behemoth, Mu, Tonberry, Chocobo, Moogle, Cactuar, and—

Oh.

OH.

Oh you gotta be be kidding him—

Why was there was a jumbo Sephiroth plushie?

He pulled the cloak over him further.

“S’Real simple!” the employee drawled, then gestured to the game behind him—a phalanx of colorful bottles and a load of plastic rings stacked beside them. “Just gotta land every ring you got. Don’t miss a single one; our biggest prize is yours!”

“Sweeet!” Zack chirped. “Whad’ya say, bud? Should I try it?”

“Mmm?” Sephiroth blinked, snapping away from the exaggerated feline bowling balls that were the plushies eyes. “Oh—yes. Of course.” He withdrew the Game Pass from his pocket, having bought it upon Zack’s request that he wanted the full experience, then showing it to the employee like an ID for the Honeybee Inn. A nod and hum of approval later, and Zack was being a hand an arsenal of elliptical projectiles.

“Alright…” Zack took a couple steps back, steadying himself as if ready to pitch a fastball. “Let’s do this!”

“Take your time,” Sephiroth advised, watching Zack’s eyes crackle. “Concentr—“

And he was flinging the rings, one after another, thrusting them over the bottled terrain in rapid succession—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Miss.

Miss.

Miss.

Miss.

Miss.

Hi—no, miss.

Miss.

“Aww, darn.” Zack signed once he was out of projectiles. “Was close.”

Sephiroth shook his head.

“Good shot,” came his (rather pitying) response, the man tossing him a smile as he reached over to collect all the ricocheted rings. “Sorry, kid. But good news! You do get one prize for skimming one of the bottles.”

“I do?” Zack’s eyes lit up. “What is it?”

“This here!” the employee chirped, bending down retrieve something from behind the stand, then straightening back up to reveal a—

Oh.

Oh for the LOVE OF—

“A Sephiroth duckie!” Zack burst into spirited laughter, happily accepting the small rubber toy offered to him. “Thank you!”

Sephiroth studied the cursed toy, a plastic cascade of silver hair racing down its coated back and slitted green orbs staring death in the eye over a cheddar-orange beak.

“That is…” Sephiroth cleared his throat. “Interesting.”

As if remembering who he was with—or not, and just finding the situation amusing—Zack turned to him with a playful smirk. “Here! You can have this one, pal. Sephiroth’s an awesome guy, y’know.”

He plopped the toy in his hand before Sephiroth could protest.

“Can I try again?” Zack chirped, his eyes gravitating back toward the highest prizes like a magnet. “I really want one of those big guys…” And then, as if really remembering who he was with—or not, and just realizing he probably didn’t have a shot—Zack turned to him with a pleading smile. “You wanna give it a go, old pal? I’d bet my bottom Gil you can get all of them blindfolded.”

The employee let out a chortle before Sephiroth could even respond.

“No offense, SOLDIER kid; I like your spirit. But I’ve worked here for four years, y’see, and never has anyone actually gotten all seven rings.”

“…Why’s that?” Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, a ghost of suspicion rising. “It’s ring toss.“

“Yeah!” Zack agreed. “I mean… it’s skill, right?”

The man rested his elbow on the counter, leaning in closer. “Look. You seem like a respectable duo, right, and I don’t want you wasting your time here. So just believe me when I say it ain’t gonna happen.

“But—“

“It’s intentional, kid. Trust me.”

By now, Sephiroth’s eyes had narrowed to slits, his suspicion all but confirmed in a matter of seconds. What was this now? The game was rigged? Yes, he expected a claw machine to have such cruelty… But a ring toss game? An activity meant to test and reward one’s patience and concentration? An activity that was luring innocent hearts—his best friend—in with their wondrous, tantalizing prizes…? And his face was representing this treason?!

He squeezed the ducky so hard that it squeaked.

“Aww… Well, I guess we can always—“

“Let me try,” Sephiroth said suddenly; hard, focused, indisputable.

The man’s eyes widened. “Pal. Did you not just hear me…—?”

“Oh, I heard you.” The velvet voice had grown cold, almost cunning. “And I would like to test your little game.”

“Seph..?” Zack blinked, almost in awe. “What are you…?”

“Well, ‘suppose I can’t stop ya,” the employee (gladly) shrugged, gladly reaching behind his back to hand him the stack of rings. “Got plenty of rubber duckies in the stash.”

…

Alright.

That. Was. It.

Feline eyes constricted to needles as Sephiroth accepted the projectiles, taking several steps back, feeling the cheap plastic (wider than the necks, easily bounced), the man’s lips pulling back into a vague sheer and snarl.

“You see…” he said slowly, purposefully. “My friend here wanted one of your plushies. Very badly. And i made a vow very long ago to protect him—from monsters. From the evils of this world. And I do not appreciate him being manipulated in such a manner.”

Neither the employee or Zack had a chance to respond before the first ring had been thrown.

…

One.

Narrowing his eyes, focusing, Sephiroth threw the next projectile.

Two.

And again, and again, and again.

Three; four; five; six—

And he threw the last ring, calculated and perfect.

…

Seven.

The emplyee’s eyes blew to saucers.

Hit.

Hit.

Hit.

Hit.

Hit.

Hit.

…

And, yes.

Hit.

A perfect score; all seven landed; flawlessly rung the necks of seven bottles, all in a neat duck row. Sephiroth relaxed from his concentrated state as Zack let out a cheer, rushing over to his side and squeezing him with all the love and strength that a caffeinated, sugar-fueled SOLDIER could give.

“Yes..! Yes! That’s my bud! That’s my bud!!!” he cheered. “Woooooooooooooooooo! Woooooooooooooo! You’re the best you’re the best you’re the BEST! I love you I love I love you, man!!” And he pulled back, smiling sunbeams at his friend, his eyes wide and glistening and youthful…

And Sephiroth was smiling right back at him.

He was happy, after all.

Because Zack was too.

“Now…” Sephiroth said warmly, unable to mask the satisfaction in his voice. “Which one would you like?”

His smile blinding, Zack turned around, blue eyes tracing all the options once more.

“Hmmm… I’ll take the Behemoth!”

Meanwhile, the employee had become almost completely paralyzed; mouth ajar, eyes cavernous, skin slightly discolored. And it was in that moment when he turned around, his expression unchanging, reaching up to grab the jumbo Behemoth from above, that Sephiroth felt a sense of victory and justice unlike anything he had ever felt before.

He never smirked so hard as when the man relinquished Zack’s selected prize to its new and rightful owner.

“Yessss! Thank you…!” Zack took the plushie into his arms, its beastly frame nearly grazing the ground. “He’s so cute! Wait ‘till Aer sees this…”

It was only moments later that they were leaving that devilish stand behind, one plushie and one rubber duck less, off into the blinding wilderness that was the rest of the night to come. More food was consumed; arcade games were played; a ferris wheel was ridden up into the starlit sky, both SOLDIERs smushed to the corner in favor of their monstrous companion.

And when they returned home that night, Zack having fallen asleep on the train, Sephiroth carried his friend all the way back from the station.

It’s alright, Angeal… the warrior mumbled as he set Zack down on his couch, reaching to drape a blanket over his cherished companion. I think he had a good day.

[souliebird]

[[The Man and the Nothingness]]

series: Batman || Pairing: none || rating: Teen

Summary:

He doesn’t want to be Nothing.

He runs and runs and runs and he doesn’t even know where he is going. Not until there is gravel under his feet and he’s flying past pristine hedges.

Wayne Manor is in front of him and Tim forces his legs to move Faster.

He knows he shouldn’t . He knows he shouldn’t - but between Nothing and Batman, Batman will probably win

---

Or: Tim Drake is 10 years old and really, really, needs an adult.

Words: 5.3k

Tim is tired.

He is tired in a way no ten year old should ever be. He has bags under his eyes. His cheeks are a little hollow and his skin looks…well he is naturally pale but he just looks too pale.

He thinks he should try to eat breakfast today. He still has some of the toaster pastries Mrs. Mac bought. They are whole grain and vegan and even Mother approves of them and to Tim’s delight, they even taste pretty good.

But the thought of eating anything makes his stomach turn.

He lifts up his shirt. He can see his ribs.

He should eat. He wants to eat. He is hungry. But his body has been turning away anything that would actually qualify as a meal.

Tim isn’t stupid, he knows is he doesn’t eat, his body will give out, so he’s been trying his best to keep himself going with sports drinks and trail mix - things his body can actually tolerate. He needs to research more, find more things that round out his nutritional needs, but that can come later. He needs to get to school.

He can’t miss school.

He leaves the bathroom, gathers up his backpack, and starts walking towards campus.

He really hopes he gets over this bug soon. It’s been a month and whatever is going on with his stomach is starting to mess with him. Sometimes he just…forgets a word. Or he catches his hand shaking. He’s starting to get headaches as well. Which is all explained from lack of eating.

What isn’t explained is…

Tim’s eyes dart to the side.

The man looks like he belongs in the 18th century. He’s obnoxiously tall, even taller with his dumb hat. He’s rail thin but based on his perfectly tailored suit and coat, he’s rich. His feet don’t move. He glides everywhere, the tips of his shoes barely touching the ground.

He stares at Tim, looking completely unimpressed.

He always looks completely unimpressed and he is always staring.

Always.

Because he hasn’t let Tim have a moment to himself in Weeks.

He’s more than once thought the man is the source of his stomach problems. It would explain a lot - being haunted could cause his lizard brain to fall into distress.

Not that he thinks he’s being haunted. Because ghosts are not real.

He just hasn’t figured out what the man is and why he has latched onto Tim.

Probably due to the fact Tim is the only one who can see him.

He rubs his eyes. He can’t deal with this now - he has class. He can’t miss class.

His parents will be cross with him if he misses class.

He trudges into school and into his classroom. The man floats to the corner of the room and takes his spot there, staring unblinkingly at Tim.

Tim pulls out his daily workbook and starts working on the grammar practice on the white board, trying to ignore the way the man makes his stomach curl.

----

A dizzy spell sends him to the nurse’s office. He tries to curl himself up in shame - he can’t believe he lost his balance in front of the principal. How stupid can he be? He needs to pay attention to his surroundings more.

His mental chiding halts when the nurse, Miss Penny, finally comes into the exam room with a folder in hand.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Drake?”

Mr. Drake, because Tim is the richest kid at Logerquist Elementary and everyone knows it. Both staff and students are terrified of his parents' influence.

The Drake’s single handley paid for the school’s new auditorium.

He keeps his hands wrapped around his belly and offers a fake smile. He’s gotten so good at them, from all the galas he attends. “I’m fine now, Miss Penny. I forgot to eat breakfast and I guess I just got a little light headed.”

She smiles back - hook, line, sinker. “Now, now, Mr. Drake, with a growing boy like you, you can’t afford to miss any meals. Lunch is in a half hour. Do you think you’ll be okay until then or should I call your parents?”

He’s an expert at keeping his panic hidden and plasters his fear behind another smile, “I’ll be okay. Can I have some water before I go back?”

The nurse nods and flits out. Tim forces himself to not give a sigh of relief.

His parents are in London, at a conference. If they had to come home because Tim felt a little dizzy…

The disappointment would eat him alive.

Miss Penny comes back with a little paper cup full of water. Tim smiles and downs it, very aware of the being floating next to him.

---

Tim has broth for dinner. He gets away with it by asking Mrs. Mac what consommé is. He pretends to enjoy it, so she will let him have it again the next night. It’s too salty for his taste, but he keeps it down.

That’s all that matters.

She leaves promptly at seven, and once the door is closed and locked, Tim turns his attention to his not welcomed guest, “I’m going out tonight.”

He hadn’t gone out the two previous nights because he felt so awful, but now his belly is full and he has some energy.

The man says nothing, as always. Just stares.

Tim huffs and heads up to his room to finish his homework and to try to get a nap in.

The homework is nothing - Tim finished most of it before dinner, and it feels nice to crawl into his bed after setting his alarm.

The niceness only lasts a moment, because as soon as he is settled, the man is looming over him, right against the bed and staring down at Tim.

“Can you not?” Tim asks, rolling so his back faces the man and closes his eyes. It’s hard to sleep, knowing someone is just watching him. He can’t feel the man’s actual presence - he gives off no body heat and when Tim tries to touch him, his hand goes right through - but he can feel the piercing gaze.

It’s unnerving.

His stomach gets tight and a dull thudding is building at the top of his neck but Tim tries to ignore it all in favor of sleep.

He drifts off but doesn’t dream.

---

“They are all blurry,” Tim groans and slumps into his chair as he reviews his photographs.

He thought he had gotten such good pictures this week, too. He even tried different settings! It wasn’t fair.

None of them are worthy of his collection and Tim picks up his scissors to start shredding them. He’s meticulous as he works.

“It’s your fault,” he grumbles, glaring at his ghost’s reflection on his computer screen. “You kept distracting me.” He knows that isn’t completely the case, but Tim has taken to blaming anything that comes from his stomach bug on the man. Afterall - his presence was probably what was upsetting Tim’s system in the first place.

“You can at least tell me what you want,” he continues on, cutting the photograph in his hand into tiny uneven slivers. The shreds fall into a box he has to collect the scraps. “I mean, I could put you to rest or direct you someplace, you don’t need to constantly hover.”

He doesn’t get an answer. He never gets an answer.

He spends the rest of his Saturday destroying the developed photographs and the film. He can’t start a fire or boil the images away - so he has to cut them all up then pour black paint over the remains. Once it is all dry, he bikes around Gotham, tossing different brown paper bags full of black shards into different trash cans. He stops by different stores and uses his allowance to buy some things he needs.

He sits in Robinson Park when his leg starts to feel all tingly. It’s light out still and he sticks near the playground. Poison Ivy is out of Arkham, but Tim knows he doesn’t need to worry about her.

It’s everyone else he needs to worry about.

His leg stays numb for about an hour and Tim is more annoyed than anything. This is the fourth time this has happened in as many weeks. All he can do is wait it out.

He thinks maybe he should go to the doctor, but doctors require parents and well…

They are in Hong Kong now. Some sort of business deal.

He doesn’t know all the details, but they are supposed to be back in two weeks for some charity gala. Tim can’t really remember which one it is anymore.

It doesn’t matter much to him.

--

His mother’s hand is between his shoulder blades, pressing slightly to make sure his posture is perfect. She wants him to impress, so impress he shall.

His mother always has a carefully crafted guestlist made before every event - names, pictures, ages, business, hobbies, who is having a feud with who. Everything (almost everything) they would need to know to stay at the top of Gotham Society. Memorizing the list is the easy part.

Dealing with old ladies pinching his cheeks is something different. He endures and smiles and doesn’t leave his mother’s side until she gives the signal he has successfully buttered up the adults and she can go in for Business.

He goes straight to the restroom, and after carefully making sure no one else is there, empties his guts into the toilet.

His stomach hurts. He’d obediently eaten the dinner he’d been served but he regrets it so much. His throat burns so much - it's getting worse each time he vomits. Like he’s tearing up his insides everytime then pouring acid (stomach acid) over it.

He snuck a travel toothbrush and toothpaste in his suit because he knew this would happen and goes to brush his teeth once he’s finished in the toilet.

He shoves like six bathroom mints into his pocket then looks up to the man hovering behind him. He gives a weak smile, “We can do this.”

He gives a thumbs up then makes his way back into the ballroom.

It’s easy to find his father - look for anyone who the Drake’s would consider a vapid socialite and go the other way. Jack Drake is talking to a member of the board of directors of the Gotham Museum of Art. To Tim’s ears it sounds like there is going to be a new exhibit, ruins of some kind that his father helped uncover.

He’s allowed to stand and listen to the discussion - he even gets introduced. It is nice to just stand and rest and not have to work the party. Part of him wants to go sit in a chair, but he fears he’ll fall asleep accidentally, and oh wouldn’t that be an embarrassment for the Drakes.

No, he stands diligently by his father’s side until exactly ten, when his mother glides over and taps her husband on the bicep.

Tim’s grateful the event wasn’t attacked by any villains as he crawls into the backseat of the family’s sleek black sedan.

“Well, that was dreadful,” his mother says as the car starts moving, “who even planned this event? Those decorations looked like they came from a party store. Did you notice the centerpieces were plastic? They didn’t even use glass vases. People these days have no class.”

His father hums in agreement.

She scoffs again, “I cannot believe we came to Gotham for this - we should have gone straight to Paris.”

Tim runs his tongue over his teeth before daring to speak up.

“Mother, my stomach has been hurting.”

“Of course it does,” She says offhandedly, “I doubt any of that food was cooked correctly. Miranda had a shell in her risotto, Jack, a shell.” She glances at Tim as she pulls her phone from her purse, “We will get you a pepcid when we get home.”

Then she has her phone to her ear and the Mandarin is so fast and Tim can’t focus enough to translate it all. Not that he should be eavesdropping anyways.

When they get home, Tim is sent to bed without any medication or a goodnight.

----

Tim one hundred percent doesn’t think he can move.

He’s so so tired. His head hurts. And he’s cold. And Thirsty.

He looks to the man standing in the corner of his room. Tim forces himself to roll so he can look at him, “you wouldn’t be able to get me water, would you?”

He’s met with silence and hard eyes. Tim sighs and curls in on himself more, pushing his hands under his armpits. He can feel his ribs against his arms.

Maybe when he can summon the energy, he’ll go down stairs and get some more broth. Mrs. Mac made him a pot before she went on holiday. He’s got a tin of almonds by his bed but he doesn’t want to chew. Chewing seems….hard.

And if he goes downstairs he can refill his water bottle.

He just needs to get the energy.

Somehow.

He goes back to sleep instead.

----

He hasn’t given the man a name, because Tim is sure he must already have one and it would be rude to try and impose one on him. So, Tim decides he just needs to find it on his own.

He had tried asking, early on. He set up a letter board and pens and everything but the man had just done what he always did, so research was needed

He had started down a few different paths - the history of Gotham, the history of his house, his family’s history, but those had all led to dead ends. He needed to go another route.

So that is how Tim found himself sitting in Gotham Library, looking through a book about the history of men’s fashion. If he could pinpoint the era the man was from, he could at least go from there.

The suit was pretty distinctive in its tailoring at least.

He sighs as he flips to another page and runs a hand through his hair. He’s been sitting here for hours and nothing looks close enough. The darts are wrong or the width of a lapel is off and nothing freaking matches perfectly and Tim is going to be so upset if this dead guy got his clothes custom made to go against what was in fashion.

He drops his head into his hands and groans. He starts to grumble to himself when something tickles at his nose. He pulls back and there are strands of black hair tangled between his fingers.

When did his hair start falling out?

He looks up and the man is standing opposite the table from him. Staring.

Tim sighs again and starts reading about the trends in tie knots.

----

How exactly could Tim forget that today was an in service day? It was all anyone could talk about the day before and he just…forgot.

He rubs his eyes and sighs. He’s up and dressed and already at school, so there is no point in turning around and going home. His school bag is heavy, but he can deal with it.

The library would be his first choice but his head hurts and he doesn’t want to try to focus on reading. He’s already finished all his homework and school projects - maybe he can practice his photography. All his pictures have been out of focus lately and his good shots have been more by luck than skill.

More than anything, he just wants to sleep, but that would be unproductive.

He turns and starts trudging to the bus stop.

It hits him hard and it hits him fast.

The world spins and Tim has to squeeze his eyes shut so the swirling colors don’t make him vomit all over himself. He’d learned his lesson already.

Falling to the ground isn’t an option so Tim carefully kneels so it looks like he’s tying his shoe. He won’t lose his balance this way. He focuses on breathing - slow and steady to keep his heart from racing. An elevated heart rate will just make things worse.

He doesn’t know how long it takes to pass, but when Tim can finally stand again, he stumbles his way home and into bed.

---

The sun is setting when he wakes up.

He forces himself to sit up before he can manage to open his eyes. He feels like everything has been zapped out of him and he’s just a Tim-shell now.

He wants to fall sideways back into bed and nearly does.

It's the sight of the man that keeps him up.

His face is twisted into a scream, but no noise is coming from him. Only black. Black is pouring out of his mouth, down his front like vomit, but it's not - it's not anything, it's Nothing. It’s Void and Nothing coming from him, pooling around his feet and inching towards Tim.

And now that Tim is awake the Man is moving towards him.

He runs.

He doesn’t realize he’s still in his pajamas until he’s out on the sidewalk and his bare feet hit snow. It doesn’t matter because the man is right behind him, the Nothing pouring out of him. He knows, he KNOWS, if the Nothing gets him then he will also become Nothing.

He doesn’t want to be Nothing.

He runs and runs and runs and he doesn’t even know where he is going. Not until there is gravel under his feet and he’s flying past pristine hedges.

Wayne Manor is in front of him and Tim forces his legs to move Faster.

He knows he shouldn’t . He knows he shouldn’t - but between Nothing and Batman, Batman will probably win.

He remembers his manners enough to knock on the door instead of bang on it. The man is at the bottom of the steps, darkness dripping down him.

Tim knocks again, praying someone is home.

The door swings open and a man - not Batman - is standing in front of him. He looks kind and Tim for once in his life acts his age and blurts out, “Please help me.”

He’s swept inside the Manor and Mister Wayne’s Butler, because that is who he is, Tim realizes, is kneeling in front of him, “It’s okay, lad, tell me what is wrong.”

The man and his Nothingness are in the foyer now, standing beside the grand staircase, his eyes focused solely on Tim and Tim doesn’t fight the sob that escapes him, “he’s going to get me!”

He flinches when Mister Wayne’s Butler puts his hand on Tim’s shoulder. It’s quickly taken away and that makes Tim want to cry more.

“No one is going to get you, son, not here. You’re safe here.”

That does make Tim sob more - the man is right there, why can’t he see him? Why can’t anyone else see him? Why is it only Tim?

“What is going on here?”

Tim tears past the Butler and rushes to Bruce Wayne. He expects to hit the man’s legs but he doesn’t. Instead strong arms wrap around him and Tim is being hugged for the first time in a very very long time.

“Please help me,” Tim whispers and the arms tighten around him.

Mister Wayne nods instantly, keeping Tim tucked up against him, “Of course, son, tell me what is wrong.”

His voice is soft and friendly, like he’s at one of the many charity events Tim has seen him at. Not hard at all, like Tim expected Batman’s voice to be.

But it doesn’t matter because Tim is Safe. He’s Safe. Bruce Wayne is Batman and he’ll not let anything happen to Tim.

Tim sniffs and just…lets it all out, “There’s a man and he’s been following me everywhere. Everywhere! School and home and library and he never ever leaves me alone! And he makes me feel awful! I feel sick and I can’t move and he makes me really really tired! And now he’s going to hurt me, I’m going to be Nothing! I tried to help him but he never says anything and I don’t know what to do and I don’t want to be Nothing!”

The arms are so tight around him but it doesn’t hurt and it feels like Mister Wayne is trying to absorb Tim into his chest and Tim is completely okay with that.

“Did he follow you here?”

Tim nods.

There is a sound he doesn’t recognize, a kind of chuck-chuck, and he turns to see the old Butler holding a gun. It’s big and Tim realizes it is a shotgun, but before Tim can say anything, the front door is open and the man and his gun are gone.

Tim wants to yell that there is no one outside, but Mister Wayne is gently turning Tim’s head with his big hand so Tim is looking up at him.

“It’s okay, Alfred can take care of himself. You did the right thing coming here.”

He is suddenly scooped up and Bruce Wayne is holding Tim on his hip like he’s a baby. He hasn’t been picked up since he was three and he has no idea what to do with his arms or legs, but he does Not want to be put down so he just clings to the man like a koala bear.

Mister Wayne carries him deeper into the house and Tim just stares over his shoulder in horror as the man and Nothingness glide after them.

“What’s your name, son?”

“Tim,” he answers, eyes not leaving the figure behind him, “Timothy Drake…”

Mister Wayne hums softly, “You live next door, right?” Tim nods. “Where are your parents, Tim?”

Tim tries to remember. Paris? No, they left Paris, didn’t they? Morocco maybe? Or…or Madagascar? It starts with an M, he knows. Why can’t he remember?

“The…the Maldives.” He says hesitantly, because that sounds right. Janet and Jack Drake are in the Maldives.

Bruce Wayne doesn’t say anything as he carries Tim into a sitting room. He’s deposited on a big sofa and he doesn’t even realize how bad he is shaking until a throw blanket is wrapped around his shoulders. Bruce Wayne kneels, so he’s face to face with Tim. He’s looking over him with big blue eyes and Tim feels so embarrassed because he knows he’s snotty from crying.

Instead of chiding him, a gentle hand runs through his hair. Tim closes his eyes and he thinks the touch would be soothing if he didn’t know the man’s hand would come away with clumps of his hair.

He hears Mister Wayne swear and guilt pulls in his belly.

There are a few long moments of silence before Mister Wayne talks, and it’s still that friendly voice, “Would you like some hot cocoa, Tim? Alfred makes the best cocoa in the whole world.”

Tim blinks his eyes open and he wants to nod. He loves Cocoa and he hasn’t had any in so long. But he knows better.

“I don’t wanna throw up…” It’s hard to admit, but Tim doesn’t want to lie to Batman.

“Do you throw up after you have cocoa a lot?”

Tim understands what he is being asked and tries his best to not shrink away.

“I..throw up a lot. It feels like my body doesn’t like food anymore.”

“What…can you eat, Tim?”

Tim does squirm at that but answers with a mumble, “Consomme. And almonds. Unsalted ones. And rice crackers, but I don’t like them, but they have carbs and I need those.”

Mister Wayne inhales deeply before giving a soft smile to Tim. It isn’t fake, but it isn’t a happy smile. He’s trying to comfort Tim. “That’s right. You need carbs. And other things. I think, if we go in the kitchen, Alfred will be able to find something you can eat.” His smile is a little warmer. “I know Alfred makes his own broth and I’m sure we have some on hand.”

Tim gives a shaky nod, because he can’t deny Batman, and if Batman wants him to eat, he’s going to eat. Or try to.

He’s scooped up again, blanket included, and Mister Wayne is carrying him back the way they came. He wants to protest that he can walk, but he’s not actually sure he can, so he just clings. And maybe he clings a little tighter as they pass the man and his Nothingness.

At least he knows better than to try and mess with Batman.

The Butler, Alfred, is in the foyer when they come in, gun no longer in sight, “I didn’t see anyone on the grounds, Master Bruce, but I did let Ace out.”

Tim doesn’t know what that means, but Mister Wayne seems to because he just nods, “Alfred, can we heat Tim up some broth?”

A look is exchanged that Tim also doesn’t get, then Alfred is leading them into the kitchen, “Of course. A cup or a bowl, Master Timothy?”

Tim is unsure, but Mister Wayne is rubbing his back and that gives him a little courage to speak up, “A cup please.”

“One cup of broth coming up.”

He’s sat on the island counter and Tim feels more and more like a child. He knows he is, but he also isn’t. He tugs the blanket tighter around his frame and watches as the Nothingness glides into the kitchen. It goes right to a corner before turning to stare at Tim, mouth still gaping in a silent scream.

He forces his eyes back to Mister Wayne.

That comforting smile is still there and he wants to ask Mister Wayne to hold him again, but Tim's not a baby. He's just scared is all. And upset.

"Can I ask you a few questions, Tim?" He nods. "The man who follows you, do you know who he is?"

Tim shakes his head, "I tried to find out… he won't tell me. Or talk to me at all. He just… he just watches me."

"All the time?" Tim nods again, his eyes flickering to where the Nothing was standing. Watching him.

"And he makes you feel sick. That's why you can't eat, right?" Another nod, "can you tell me some of the other ways he makes you feel sick?"

Tim looks down at his hands. He doesn't know how to explain it.

He wonders if he can ask Mister Wayne to hold him again without seeming like a baby.

"It's… really hard to eat. And sleep. It's hard… to sleep when someone is watching you all the time. And.. lately I'm having a hard time remembering things… no.. words. Like I know the word but… it just gets deleted from my brain? Like before, when you asked where my parents were? I knew. I could point it out on the map, but my… my brain couldn't remember the name. And sometimes, my hands shake… and my.. limbs feel funny. They go to sleep. And I'm tired… all the time. I thought it was from not eating but even if i eat, I'm really tired. Like it's really, really hard to want to get out of bed. And my hair is falling out!"

Mister Wayne hums softly, showing he heard Tim.

Then there's a hand on his shoulder and it's giving the softest of squeezes.

"Tim, do you get headaches?"

He looks up at that, so confused. Mister Wayne is looking at Tim like he Cares and for a moment, in all his crying and fear, he feels like everything will be okay. He's wrapped up in a blanket that's Warm and the kitchen he's in feels like a home he never had, and even if he's just a little kid, Mister Wayne is taking what he's saying Seriously. He's not brushing anything off or dismissing him and he's doing everything he can to make Tim feel Safe and comfortable.

If he ever had any doubt about Bruce Wayne being Batman, it's gone.

The man in front of him is Batman.

Batman doesn't just fight the bad guys, he protects the people of Gotham the best ways he can. Tim's seen it.

He's seen Batman hand business cards to some college kids he found robbing a store. He said if they called that number, he promised they could have a job by the end of the week with a pay advance.

He saw Batman stand to the side as Robin delivered cups of coffee to some EMTs on break - a promise they were watched over too.

He saw Batman repair the wheel of an elderly waitress' bike after some jerks tried to mug her on her way home. Tim saw Batman hand her a small wad of cash and heard him growl about a better winter coat.

And now Batman's going to take care of Tim.

Tim's crying again but he knows he was asked a question, so he nods.

Mister Wayne is keeping his hand on Tim's shoulder and he's rubbing his thumb over the back of Tim's neck.

He trusts Mister Wayne - Batman - so much that he forces the words out of his mouth, "Mister Wayne?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"Can...I tell you something?"

"Of course, Tim. Would you like Alfred to leave the room so we can have privacy?"

Tim actually forgot the Butler was there.

If Batman trusts him, then Tim trusts him.

He shakes his head then he takes a deep breath, "I … don't think anyone else can see him.."

"The man who follows you?"

Tim nods, just barely. It had only just occurred to him he… hadn't actually mentioned that. And how was Batman supposed to protect him from the Nothingness when he couldn't see it?

The hand on his shoulder squeezes lightly, "I see." He doesn't sound upset or disappointed. Tim chances a look up.

Mister Wayne is still looking over him with concern.

"Is he here now, Tim?"

Tim looks to where the Nothingness is and nods.

The hand on his shoulder squeezes again and Tim looks back to Mister Wayne.

"You said he's been following you for a while. What changed that scared you so much?"

Tim pulls the blanket closer to him. Mister Wayne is still taking him seriously.

"I… he started… vomiting. And it's black and…"

"And Nothingness?"

Tim nods.

"Tim?"

"Yes Mister Wayne?"

"When's the last time you went to the doctor?"

---

A brain tumor.

Tim had a brain tumor.

It was benign, but that had been the cause of everything.

He still can't believe it.

It makes sense though.The man was a hallucination not a ghost. His own mind trying to desperately tell him something was wrong. He had finally snapped at himself with the Nothingness.

He's still in the hospital. The surgery went well, but he's still recovering. The doctors want his weight up more.

He's so happy to eat real food, even if it's just scrambled eggs for now.

---

Mister Wayne and Alfred visit him with a giant basket of stuffed toys. He's too big for those now but he kind of really wants to hug the bear dressed like Batman.

Alfred sets a thermos on his bedside table, telling him it's homemade tomato and roasted red pepper soup. Tim is so sick of broth and he can't help but grin at the man.

Before they leave, Mister Wayne hands him an envelope.

"Get well, soon, Tim."

"Thank you, Mister Wayne."

He waits until visiting hours are over and he's alone for the night to open the envelope and pull out a Get Well card.

The writing on the inside is loopy.

'Once you are feeling up to it, give us a call, Dick wants you to come around for some hot cocoa.'

It's signed by Mister Wayne, followed by a phone number.

Tim cries, and for the first time in a very long time, it's from happiness.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Actually, actually, actually! Idea! (But only if you like it.)

In HoS, it has literally been 10,000 years since all 3 died.

What if Shadow wasn't supposed to be all-the-way back? And the only reason he is is due to being the Hero?

What about Hemisi & Nabooru?

Who's to say Gdorf's magic would've even worked on them? What if they were already reincarnated by that point?

What if, even reviving their bodies would've resulted in little more than mindless puppets? (Honestly, I kinda wanna read about the shear horror on both their faces. Like, horror & panic on Gdorf's end & horror, but slight relief on Shadow's. Because he can only hope that whatever's keeping Nabooru from suffering the same fate as himself means that she's free.)

What if the only way to get them back fully was to do some pretty dark, nasty stuff? Like, legit bad, horrible stuff? What if Gdorf has to sacrifice their new incarnations to do so?

What if, in order to even bring Shadow back, he'd already done something bad? Though, due to the Hero's Spirit, he was able to get away with just the sacrifice of someone who'd been related to Shadow? Like a great x1000 times grandnephew or something?

What if Shadow learned of this? The betrayal.

Like, massive dark spell stuff. Which, I've always found it weird that he & the Twinrova were the legit only Gerudo with that shading, yet each of them used black magic.

So, that's what I think causes it. Black magic. Like, legit evil deeds.

Who knows, maybe that stuff actually corrupts the mind the more you use it? What if you have to stop cold turkey to stop the process?

What if Gdorf had stopped doing that stuff, but the Secret Stone tapped into that source & now it's sort of rotting his brain away?

Also, what's the deal with the Twinrova here? They evil witches? No?

Sorry, when I get started, my braims refuse to shut up. 😓

Don't be sorry, you're fine! ;D It's fun to talk theories and ideas!

Ganondorf would be so devastated if Nabooru and Hemisi were just mindless puppets, I think. But I also think he wouldn't give up. He'd just be like "Well, this is a setback, but at least they'll listen to me until I can figure this out better." I don't know if Link would feel much relief from it or just be plain horrified, it would feel like such a desecration to him.

If they'd actually reincarnated, though, and if Ganondorf needed to sacrifice them to revive them, I wonder whose Nabooru would be? The best person I can think of is Urbosa, which, uh, makes things difficult. Should've thought that one through, Gan, before your stupid Calamity wrecked teh place! >:|

But anyway, Ganondorf isn't using black magic - Urbosa and Riju have lightning magic, which Gdorf also has in OoT, so honestly it seems very much like the Hyurle Royal Family - they just have a high affinity for it. (also, not gonna lie, Twinrova plays absolutely no part in this storyline because I don't know what to do with those two, honestly)

What Ganondorf does have, though, which is unusual for his people, is healing magic. I thought it would be interesting to give him this gift, it would add another layer to him as a character, especially since he actually cultivated it a little. Here's a snippet from a draft I have tucked away (I have been writing entirely too much for this AU LOL I am gonna have to make a word document to organize it, honestly):

“Here, let me see your hands,” Ganondorf said, pushing Link away enough to gently grab at his wrists. He flipped the teenager’s palms up, thumbs brushing against them as Link hissed in pain. His skin was blistered angry red from burns, standing out easily against his all-too-pale, practically grayish complexion, and he knew his face probably was too. Ganondorf swiped at his hands again with his thumbs, and Link felt a tingling, warm sensation on them. The pain numbed into nothingness, and he glanced down, confused. The burns were gone. “How—you know healing magic?” He whispered, looking up at the man. “Is it the stone?” Ganondorf smiled a little, brushing hair out of his face to examine a burn on his nose. “Secret stones only amplify one’s power, Link. Of course I know healing magic. You thought I didn’t?” Link hesitated a moment before just saying what was on his mind, looking down and muttering, “I thought all you knew how to do was destroy.” “One has to burn the forest to make way for new growth,” Ganondorf replied simply, easily, as if it were just like gardening, as if people’s lives weren’t at stake. “A good king must know how to rebuild as well as how to destroy.” “You’re just full of idioms, aren’t you?” Link sighed. It was almost funny, having this conversation. Almost. “Because I’m right,” Ganondorf said firmly. “Nabooru and Hemisi didn’t seem to think so.”

[belit0]

Request: Izuna x reader (afab non binary) oral sex 👀 plz I know this man’s head game is legendary

DARLIIIIIIIIIIING I'M SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG!!! but I'm finally here, with Izuna food for my hardworking bestie😩💫

I really do hope this is okay, even if it took me that long lol (I'm sorry bby)🥹❤️‍🩹🫱🏼‍🫲🏼

"Meeting hall or my brother's room?" asks Izuna while he finishes polishing the last of his weapon, a repertoire of violence ready for the next encounter against the Senjus. He leaves the cloth he was using on the table, a display of all his sharp items in front of him.

"What?"

"Meeting hall, or my brother's room. Choose." He looks at (Y/N) with a smile that says more than a thousand words, waiting for an answer.

"I don't understand what you-"

"You’re making me pick?" And he assumes they would know how to play his game by now, but it never hurts to refresh his rules in order to be on the same page.

Receiving no response, he takes their hand and interrupts the letter they were working on, leading them out the door and to the location he has in mind. We can't say he didn't provide the opportunity for (Y/N) to take control, but in the absence of a decision (or realization of the facts, in this case) he will take it upon himself to fully steer the ship.

As we all know, Izuna is a creative person, too creative for his own good, and when an idea enters his head it is impossible for him to ignore it. Thinking of two potential locations where to destroy his beautiful (Y/N), pin them down, and make them feel the adrenaline of being discovered... it's an image with immense value.

He visualizes the expression they would give him if Madara walked in at just the right moment, or the panic he knows would run through (Y/N)'s body if the elders decide to have a meeting earlier than usual. It's the potential danger factor that gets him off without a hitch, risking everything to give them one of the most interesting orgasms of their lives.

He makes the decision in the corridor that divides both areas of the house, while his lover allows themselves to be guided, having a tiny idea of what may be planning.

The meeting room is one of the most spacious chambers in the entire household, separate and private from any curious onlookers wandering through the historic Uchiha residence, protecting any topics of conversation discussed within those four walls. There is no better place to make someone scream, in a good or bad way.

Izuna opens the massive doors with a single hand, making (Y/N) enter and close after them. To his knowledge, the next meeting should happen in an hour, plenty of time to put his talent into practice.

His lover looks at him blankly, trying to figure out what he has in mind without success.

"Get on the table." He simply indicates, moving the chair Madara should occupy if he were there. He helps them climb over the wood, and lays them down without warning by pulling their legs in his direction. They know better than to disobey one of his orders, accustomed to the consequences of not following his commands.

Izuna smirks in that way that only spells trouble, and gives no warning before devouring their mouth.

The Uchiha uses his tongue as a distraction, keeping (Y/N) focused on his lips as he rips off their pants, quick and effective movements almost as if he can't wait a minute longer. His technique is effective, too pleasurable to raise suspicion, and they are naked from the waist down in a few seconds.

"Tell me what you need right now, love." And while this may not have been their idea, Izuna knows he succeeds in turning them on too easily, unable to ignore the situation between their legs. Their head may not have planned any of this, but the Uchiha is certain that after a few good kisses, all (Y/N) can think about is being brutally fucked by him.

"I don't know..." They almost moan over his lips, and try to kiss him again but are met with nothingness itself as Izuna pulls back.

"Yes, you do, ask out loud (Y/N)."

"Please..."

"Please what, baby." And it's not a real question, for the Uchiha knows what they need. He won't hand it over until they admit it to him out loud, enjoying how (Y/N) fights the inevitable.

"You know..."

"No, I don't, and if you don't tell, I won't be able to give you any of it." The Uchiha rises and walks away, making (Y/N) prop themselves up on their elbows to look at him with pure frustration on their face. He brought them this far, semi-stripped them on one of the most important tables in the entire family, and now acts like he doesn't understand what they might possibly want.

The way Izuna casually manipulates the situation and puts them in the predicament of having to talk is a simple demonstration of how capable he is in the art of deception, turning tables, and feigning ignorance towards the situation. He folds his arms and looks at them with dark satisfaction, enjoying the sight of that wet cunt exposed against the wood.

"Say it, (Y/N)."

"Please..."

"Say it." He steps closer again and leans over them, one hand on either side of their body as he looks deep into their eyes, penetrating soul and life with those dark orbs. The universe stops as they lie under that gaze, exposing even the darkest desires throughout the world. Izuna could command whomever he wanted with the power of his eyes, without even activating that wondrous Dojutsu, and it is thrilling as well as dangerous.

They shudder upon feeling him approach their core with a curious hand. "What's wrong, (Y/N)?". He touches them with his fingertips, "Since when are things so easy with me? Say it, or you'll stay like this until the elders have their next meeting."

They gasp as his fingertips open their pussy, teasingly tracing their entrance, "Izuna.... please!" (Y/N) forgets the world around them for a second, and when an intimidating Sharingan shines inches from their face, they end up disarming under it. "Eat me up, please!"

"Such a good job, pretty one." It all happens too fast for normal people's comprehension, but (Y/N) moaned his name out loud when Izuna finally placed his mouth over their slit, feeling his hands reach under their thighs to spread them apart.

He takes his time with them, for with Izuna there is always a bit of torture in between. Instead of providing instant pleasure and release, he gave them slow, unhurried tongue strokes and watched them with delight as they writhed and gasped in pleasure. He dug his fingernails into the tops of their thighs to hold them in place whenever they tried to bring their pelvis closer to his mouth, laughing at their attempts as he continued to trace slow circles around their clit.

“Aren't you the most perfect little thing, trying to get what you want at the expense of my tongue? Tell me how badly you want it."

“Izuna…! I can’t!”

"Yes, yes you can, and you will bear it, love."

Their hips buck as he begins to move his mouth the way they crave, moaning loudly as he sucks on that little ball hard enough to make them scream. He laughs, ecstatic at their response, while displaying the skills he's built up after years of experience, as if the world was preparing him to provide perfect pleasure to (Y/N).

He works against them with fervor as they writhe on the table, two hands desperately seeking grip and support in Izuna's hair. His eyes narrowed as he observes them, unwavering in his determination to wait for them to inevitably beg for him to finish them off.

"Cry out my name baby, let everyone hear it, make everyone know who's the only Uchiha that knows how to eat this tight pussy properly."

He speaks with heavy seduction in his voice, deep and raspy from the eagerness he puts into the task at hand, gently inserting two fingers and then tapping them against that wonderful spot with energy.

His thumb concentrates on making soft circles on their clitoris, while Izuna enjoys the image displayed just for him. He feels important, powerful, because he knows he is the only one who can make (Y/N) feel this way.

"IZUNA! PLEASE!"

"Please what, (Y/N)?"

He attacks again with his tongue, full of decision and vigor as he concentrates on that wonderful pearl and his fingers continue their internal task, a combination of sensations too overwhelming to even think.

"LET ME FINISH PLEASE"

And just when (Y/N) thinks they are about to jump into that wonderful abyss, all pleasure suddenly stops, their throbbing pussy waiting to host a powerful orgasm. They moan helplessly, and find themselves with a look full of approval and love, enjoying every second of such beautiful torture.

"Say it one more time, baby. Just one more." He smiles and shows those white teeth shamelessly, expectantly, as if it hadn't been enough. Izuna has the power to subdue anyone he desires with his actions, clever words, and complicated emotions, always one step ahead of his victim.

It's a much worse story when it comes to sex, seeking complete surrender from (Y/N).

"Let me fucking come, please..." They whisper with need, capturing Izuna by the nape of his neck and joining lips in a passionate kiss, tongues knowingly and uninhibitedly intertwining. Sweet lips collide carelessly, leaving what will likely result in swollen mouths, but none of that matters.

All they focus on is how the Uchiha suddenly disappears from their grip, demanding a quick "finish all over my fucking mouth pretty one," and burying himself between their legs again, tightest hold ever and forceful decisiveness in how his tongue ravages their clit.

There's not much one can do under such an experienced tongue, and within seconds (Y/N) find themselves holding both edges of the table with overwhelming force, white knuckles, and arched back as their cunt throb over his mouth.

The orgasm is so forceful that it robs them of their vision for a second, light-headed and unable to concentrate on anything but the fire in their pelvis.

When they finally come to, they meet Izuna wiping the corner of his mouth, smiling with that infuriating smirk and admiring the masterpiece left on the table. "Looks like we're going to have to clean up, I don't want Aniki to sit in front of the mess I made."

[cookies-over-yonder]

disconnected memory

Willy's forearm disintegrates into nothingness, and the effect slowly travels up to his shoulder.

Flesh shifts in colour to a dark shade of red, before crumbling into fine bits of dust that vanish into thin air.

And whatever happens to Willy… happens to Cass.

⋆ or ⋆

The spell Scary casts on Willy goes awry, and Taylor is the one who pays the price

this is the first fic for my new au: My Mom DIED... and came back as a DEMON!? a.k.a. demon!cass au!!!

shout out to @llumimoon for helping me come up with the summary and also for being my brainstorm buddy for this au (and for being amazing in general🥰💖)

ao3

1 | 2

2. fear

⭒

The tension is so thick in the catbus, Nicky could slice it with his sword.

Taylor is sitting sandwiched between Nicky and Link. He's shaking, and there's a faraway look on his face. Every time Link has said anything to him, he's neither moved nor spoken.

Nicky knows better than to even try.

Taylor is out of it, and if Nicky's being completely honest with himself, everything is kind of fuzzy for him, too.

Before Nicky knows it, he and Link are helping Taylor out of the bus because the kid still can't stand up straight.

And now, here they stand at the front door of the Swift household.

Link asks Taylor for his keys, and a second later, he fishes them out of Taylor's backpack himself.

As Link slips the key in and unlocks the door, Nicky notices that his hands have a slight tremble to them.

As soon as the door is open, Nicky's stomach drops.

This was a bad idea.

This was a bad idea, because Cassandra's laptop is open on the coffee table.

This was a bad idea, because her wedding ring is on the couch cushion.

This was a bad idea, because once they walk in, Taylor is screaming.

And sobbing.

Nick Close never screamed, and Nick Close never cried.

" Taylor! " Link calls.

He's running, despite his unsteady feet, he's running into every room. Opening and shutting doors so fast they can barely follow. This is a gigantic house.

He trips on the first step up to the second floor and yelps. Nicky and Link run over and help him up. Nicky picks him up this time, and holds him tightly, because he's keen on escaping his grasp to continue running around this house.

"What is it?" Link says, and it's at that point that Nicky realizes Taylor has been muttering something.

"Where is she?" he asks.

Link and Nicky exchange a wide-eyed glance.

"We need to—" he tries once more to squirm his way out of Nicky's grasp before settling for shouting. "Put me down! We need to find her! "

Nicky sighs lightly. "Taylor, I… I don't thi—"

"Just fucking let me keep looking!" Taylor yells, and Nicky thinks he can see his eyes glowing for a second as he glares daggers, and he feels hotter than before.

Link puts up his hands in a placating motion.

"Taylor—"

" What , Link!?" Taylor snaps.

Nicky hears Link's breath catch, and his eyes go wide. "Uh…"

"Okay, okay, we can check the other rooms slowly ," Nicky starts up the steps with Taylor in his arm. Link walks beside him, silent.

Once they're at the stop of the staircase, Taylor squirms again. "Can you put me down now?" he asks, and all the fervor he had a moment ago is diminished.

Link hands Taylor his cane—Nicky hadn't even noticed until now that he'd been holding onto it this whole time.

When Taylor's feet touch the floor, his legs wobble and he collapses against Link almost immediately.

Taylor sucks in a breath through his teeth and the hyperventilating starts up again.

"Hey, hey, hey, okay, you're okay, Taylor, you're okay" Link hushes him with a sort of half-hug while holding him steady.

Link is good with soothing words. The way he says them, the tone of his voice, his actions, his expression, it all looks so right.

Nicky has no idea how to do that.

Did he learn it from Grant?

Come to think of it, back when they were still… talking—back before the world got fucked up, Nicky remembers that while he mostly felt very little, Grant would sort of… flip-flop. It was concerning, to say the least. There would be times when the light was lost from his eyes and his words had no soul to them, and other times when Nicky would see him barely keeping his breaths steady and most of the time, failing to.

Maybe it does… make sense for Link to somewhat know how to handle something like this.

"How're your pain levels?" Link asks so softly Nicky almost doesn't hear it over his own racing thoughts.

"Really bad," Taylor mumbles.

"Okay, that's okay, maybe you should let your dad keep carrying you then, right?"

Taylor nods, so Nicky picks him up again, and he calms down the tiniest bit.

Taylor is insistent on seeing the inside of every single room himself, so Link stays close as they peek through each door and Taylor scans each room.

The last place to check is Taylor's bedroom.

Link slowly opens the door, and again, Nicky notices the way his hand shakes.

Once the door opens, Taylor squeaks. It sounds like a squeak. It's some high noise from the back of his throat.

Then he lets out a breath.

And his voice is so small when he speaks.

"I thought…"

I saw her , Nicky knows. Nicky knows all too well.

He knows, and he holds Taylor closer.

"We—we should check downstairs one more… one more…"

"Taylor, I'm sorry, she's not here," Nicky steps into Taylor's bedroom, and he can feel Taylor tense up.

"No—I—I can't… I can't…" his breathing gets fast again, and Nicky is quick to take him back out of the room.

"Okay, you're okay," Nicky says, and he takes Taylor back down the steps. Taylor looks too out of it to notice, so Nicky seizes this opportunity to shut Cass's laptop with his foot, and kick the ring off the couch and as close to the trash can as possible. He'll take care of it later.

Taylor's hands are wet and clammy holding onto the back of Nicky's neck. His mouth is agape, his eyes are wide with a faraway gaze, and his face is red and stained with tears. His breathing is still staggered, and Nicky can feel his whole body trembling violently.

This environment is probably doing more harm than good.

"I have a, uh, I have an idea," Link says, and his voice is so small it's barely audible.

And before Nicky knows it, there they are, at the Oak-Swallows-Garcia household…

…for a sleepover.

⋆

[toastybagel-fanfiction]

the hotbox

{so this one was part of my purplephone and friends drabble collection on ao3 but the collection got no kudos so i'm going to put all of those here instead, like i probably should have done in the first place lmao. anyway enjoy!}

[note: this is a non canon deleted scene from my fic tell me what i want to hear but reading that fic isnt necessary for this oneshot.]

“Michael?”

“Michael, are you alright?”

Suddenly, Scott was sitting beside him, one hand on his thigh and the other on his shoulder. Michael hadn’t even realized he had zoned out until then, thinking that, perhaps, he was only imagining Scott’s voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, looking into Scott’s eyes, watching as they flickered with concern. “I guess I just didn’t expect to see you here today.”

“Yeah, well-” Scott shrugged, glancing off to the side. “Your dad needed to get something from the office, and being in the shop alone freaks me out…” His gaze returned to Michael, who was still looking back at him. Scott couldn’t help but smile. “And I wanted to see you, too.”

Michael grinned, knowing that he was probably blushing despite how much he tried to hide it. 

“You know,” he replied, leaning toward Scott. “Vincent’s on the cameras right now, and I’m sure he wants to see you.”

“I’ll try to catch him on my way out.” Scott reached out, hesitantly touching the darkened circles underneath Michael’s eyes as if they had just appeared at that moment. “You look tired. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, really. I’ve just been so busy with work and missing children’s cases, and on top of that, I’ve been having some weird dreams.” Michael grimaced before realizing what conversation he had just opened up. 

Scott was in those dreams.

Not only was Scott in the dreams, but he had a starring role, and he was oddly out of character compared to his real life self.

The next words out of Scott’s mouth were expected, but Michael still dreaded them.

“What were the dreams about?”

Michael sighed.

He could talk about it, though he never mentioned Scott’s presence in his dreams. That was the part that he would take to his grave.

“I was in a cabaret, but it was empty, all except for one chair. I sat down and the stage lit up…”

The show began.

Scott stepped out from the nothingness beside the stage and stepped onto it. 

Sometimes he wore his normal clothes. Sometimes he wore something more revealing.

Sometimes he wore the same outfit that he wore to the senior prom.

Sometimes he wore nothing at all.

Even though he hated performing for people, it was all that he ever did for Michael.

The band began to play, a soft drum beat shaking the floors.

“Michael,” Scott would say, crouching at the edge of the stage to brush his hand over the side of Michael’s face. “This song’s for you.”

Then, he would sing or dance and Michael would watch, physically unable to look away, as if Scott had cast a kind of spell on him. 

When the song drew to a close, he would applaud, his two hands joining in a vast sea of emptiness. If not for his applause, the room would be silent.

“Did you like the show?” He would ask sometimes, stepping down from the stage to sit in front of Michael.

Sometimes, he would stand for a while, silent, while the music continued.

Other times, he would run from the stage as quickly as he could in order to press his lips against Michael’s, holding him close.

When they pulled away, they both always had lipstick smeared across their lips, whether Scott had been wearing makeup during the show or not.

“Why did you do that?” Scott asked, a hint of fear growing in his eyes.

“What did I do?” Michael glanced around the room, confused.

Scott’s hands tightened around Michael’s forearms.

“Why did you kiss back?” he asked. “You know I love Vincent.” Sometimes, he added, “You know how I feel about your dad.”

In reality, Michael didn’t know how Scott felt about William. It was an odd detail that he never truly found the reason behind.

“Can we pretend?” Michael asked. “Pretend they don’t exist. It’s only us in this void; no one will stop us.”

Scott would take Michael’s shoulders after that, guiding him back into the singular chair before straddling his thighs. He nearly brushed his lips against Michael’s, but managed to make him wait.

“Yeah, we can pretend.” Scott muttered, moving even closer so that his hips were against Michael’s, making the man underneath him shudder. “I’ll play another song for you.”

The band started again.

[reriart]

I'm yours (Cal x Merrin)

Summary: Cal and Merrin share a sweet moment together after their second kiss.

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI; Cal's first time, fluff and spicy. I'm not native, so forgive me for my English. Contains spoilers for Jedi: Survivor and some hints of Star Wars: Battle Scars.

Word Count: 2,898

Read it also on AO3.

"The Order is gone, it’s time to leave it behind. And… I know what I want now."

"Took you long enough" Merrin said, smiling softly and gently cupping Cal’s face. The stubble tickled her fingertips a bit - those fingertips that usually were green and burning, made for kill and revenge - now were the softest and kindest of the galaxy. She leaned into the Jedi’s embrace, touching his lower lip for a second, then kissing him again. 

Cal was caught off guard the first time, barely understanding that he was being kissed, plus they were at the point of being killed. But now. Now things were different -- they were under Jedha’s starred sky, only the wind sweeping and whistling between the canyons, without the scary sounds of Empire’s tridents and blasters in the background. At least, not that night. 

He slightly opened his mouth, now fully accepting that contact, not rejecting it, not feeling guilty about it. Only the Force knew how much he needed all of what was happening: Merrin’s dark eyes closed, losing herself between his lips, her pale and tattooed skin, so so warm due to her dark, enchanted blood. Their tongues entwined, her body between his arms. 

Now he understood.

He understood why attachment was forbidden in the Order. Especially that kind of attachment. The mere thought of not feeling all of this ever again… 

"I love you" Cal whispered, breaking the kiss and looking at Merrin’s eyes, now opened and surprised to the point of being watery. She heard those words many times, from many people, and every time she felt different emotions: excitement, joy, and even nothingness. His emerald eyes were half-opened, already drunk by the kiss and the adrenaline that was running through his body. 

The last time that Merrin fell in love, it didn’t go well. The last time she heard those words, she wanted to burn and never reappear. She wanted to return to Dathomir with her sisters, dancing in the wind as ash. But she knew, with all of her heart and soul, that Cal would never hurt her. Never.

"From when?" she asked, the voice barely hearable. His eyes widened, expecting a different reply; the cheeks, that was already red, now were far redder, and he stuttered in an attempt to give her an honest reply. 

"I…I think since the first time I met you, on Dathomir" he admitted in defeat. Now he was looking away, searching for nothing between the dunes of sand. "I just needed a bit to realize it."

"But I was trying to kill you, Cal!" she laughed, covering her mouth with an hand. "You really had the time to fall in love with a witch that was resurrecting her dead sisters in order to literally chop you to pieces? You are weird, Jedi. I wonder if all of your kind are so stupid."

"I don’t think so," he said, now eyes fixed on her lips. He started to feel a strange sensation, something warm and liquid, into his chest, and slowly burning more and more, devouring his body and mind. "A Jedi shouldn’t fall in love" he whispered, kissing her once more, now his hands dancing over her body. I want to feel her skin under my hands, he thought, pushing her against the low stone wall. "But here I am, no longer a Jedi. As I said before, the Order has fallen. It’s gone." 

I want to feel her lips all over me.

"And what are you, then?" she questioned, her hands reaching that beautiful red hair that looked like fire, finally. 

He smiled, pressing his forehead against hers. "Yours" he whispered, letting his body take control. "A stupid, former Jedi knight, falling for the most beautiful, dreadful witch. Maybe you put a spell on…" and then, he didn’t have the chance to finish what he was saying. Merrin kissed him, more roughly this time. "You speak too much" she cut off, hiding a laugh. He looks like the Cal of more than five years before, that young, inexpert guy that had the guts to face her. That guy with the most boyish smile she ever saw. "And we don’t have that kind of magic on my planet."

They kissed again, and again, and again until they both ran out of air, but they didn’t stop. Merrin sat on the edge of the wall, trapping his body between her legs. Feeling something that wasn’t, definitely, his lightsaber. She flushed, realizing only at that moment that her body has an effect on Cal. He was purring at the sensation of the friction. It was everything so new. As a good (ex) Jedi he was, he never touched himself, much less grinding against a woman or well, anything else. 

He was getting more confident with the kisses, and a bit bolder with touches. "I wonder… if you have a personal room?" he asked while kissing her neck. "I don’t think I’m gonna stop myself. Neither I want to give a show to the all the monastery."

Merrin started to feel her inner magic tingling. Her fire getting more and more ravenous. 

"I share my room… with Cere…" she managed to reply, out of breath. "...what about the Mantis?"

Cal almost choked. "What about Greez? He’s probably sleeping there" he pointed out. "I don’t want him to hear…"

"To hear what?" she teased him -- her favorite hobby. But all these jokes she was making were just a way to hide her shyness and take time. Cal was her first human friend. The person that showed her there was an infinite galaxy outside Dathomir. An infinite number of planets, of species, of paths she could take to find herself. 

Cal didn’t reply, clearly unable to think straight, totally lost in thoughts. "You know what, I can put a spell for real and isolate the room. I always did it when I was training in the engine room in the past" she confessed (she genuinely didn’t want to scare the crew with her voice while doing her magic exercises, which were… pretty dark, considering her nature). "Like a bubble. But first, you have to catch me."

Then, she disappeared in a flick of a green flame, almost burning Cal’s jacket. He gazed at the sand sea just for a moment with a perplexed expression printed on his face.

"Merrin, I swear…"

"Swear what?" she asked and laughed, the voice coming from nowhere. Cal smiled, and he entered the monastery, looking for any trace of green magic. He saw her run and disappear, run and disappear until she reached the Mantis. He ran as fast as he can, jumping and using the Force, trying to keep her rhythm. But as always, she was the fastest. He saw her smiling at the entrance of the ship, then running inside. No trace of Greez, luckily. He was out of breath for many reasons, but he didn’t stop until he reached Merrin, which was in front of her room, arms crossed. 

Then, he pushed her against the door, lifting her by the legs, moaning her name between her lips. He opened the door with a gesture of two fingers in the air and entered the room with Merrin in his arms. Then, he used the Force again, but this time to block it. 

"I swear that I’m going crazy for you." Placing her again on the ground, he cupped his hands around her beautiful, pale-as-moonlight face, and kissed again her full lips, pushing her against the bed. "Tell me what to do, Merrin, " Cal begged, his voice low and his emerald eyes now dark as a forest at night, "and I will."

Merrin realized that probably Cal wasn’t aware of how a woman was under the clothes. Neither how to touch one. 

He was at her mercy. Something that made Merrin feel powerful on a side, but also dangerously aware of the fact that it was Cal’s first time. He was always so, so sweet with her, even when he shouldn’t have been. But that was Cal Kestis: the sweetest and craziest ex-Jedi of the galaxy. Innocent and brave at the same time. She didn’t want to ruin that moment. She had to act carefully.

A strand of red hair danced in front of those curious, hungry eyes. Merrin made him sit on her bed, not leaving his gaze for a second. She pronounced ancient words, her eyes full of magic, and a green bubble enveloped the room. "Greez proofed" she reassured him while pushing his chest to the mattress, and sitting on him. The witch could feel his excitement pulsating against her.

"Undress me, Cal" Merrin said, trying to doesn’t sound like she was giving an order. "Please." 

His shaking, callous hands moved to the rim of her leather jacket, and he pursed his own lips. He was trying to do his best to don’t make even his legs shake - damn, he spent hours and hours of his life meditating - but he failed miserably. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to search within him for a shred of courage, then he slowly started to undress her. The jacket, the shirt, the shoes, the leggings, until he found himself in front of her, almost naked, only covered with underwear. Cal heart’s was pounding so hard that he was sure that Merrin was able to hear it. The sensation of the lowest part of their bodies touching was intoxicating for both.

"W-what n-now?" he stuttered, now avoiding eye contact.

I want so much to kiss her there. They look so soft and warm.

Merrin raised an eyebrow. "I’m pretty sure I told you “Undress me, Cal” but it seems that you need some instructions" she commented, amused. She took his hands, noticing the bitten nails. How much pain does he hide, she thought for a moment. The witch kissed both, leaving them suspended in the air for a moment, just enough to remove her black bra, then gently placing them on her breasts. She felt Cal freezing on the spot, his eyes so wide open, the irises dark as the night itself that scanned all her tattoos and curves. "It’s ok, Cal. You can touch me, I won’t break."

Oh, Cal was sure that she wouldn’t break, but what about him? His brain was elaborating so many pieces of information that for once in his life, he was at the point to collapse on the spot. Her skin was so warm that was almost burning, but it was probably due to her non-human blood. He inhaled slowly, gently squeezing the skin. So soft.

"Mh, like that. You’re doing great." 

She moaned softly near his ear, gaining the shyest of smiles from him. He always appreciated praises, but… he didn’t know that it was like that also between the sheets.

He lifted up a bit, just enough to kiss and bite the sensitive and dark circles, so different from her usual skin tone, making her moan loudly. She took Cal’s left hand in the meanwhile, bringing it to the last covered zone of her body. First, she makes him touch the fabric, then Merrin led his fingers under it, straight to her core, arching her back while he was still kissing the skin. 

I’m going to die. She’s so perfect, I’m so dumb. Why it’s wet here? Oh, by the Force…

Cal’s brain shows no sign of stopping and when Merrin made him touch her more intimate spot, he utterly lost his mind. Pushing two fingers inside as she was instructing, he felt pulsing muscles and a rasping "Don’t stop, Cal, please". Her eyes were channeling some magic, glowing green. 

They kissed in a sloppy way, while Merrin was riding his fingers, wanting more and more. He was looking at her like a goddess -- and a goddess she truly was, for him.

But he wanted more, too.

"Merrin, please, I want… to feel you."

The witch had to stop herself forcefully, the pleasure so intense that she wanted to feel it forever. She slipped away a bit sadly, feeling empty.

"Want me to undress you?" she asked in a whisper, starting to unzip Cal’s jacket, already knowing the reply. He mumbled a shy yes while watching her remove all of the layers that were dividing the two of them. It wasn’t the first time: she already removed some of the knight’s equipment when she needed to heal his wounds. Many times, actually. He was red as his hair at this point, showing his muscular body, so well trained; his multiple scars from sabers and bolters and claws - which she kissed like were sacred until she reached his grey underwear, well highlighted by a trail of red hair on his stomach. She carefully removed the cloth, never losing contact with his eyes.

Merrin caressed his sensitive skin, which was glistening and of a pretty shade of pink, and felt her core throbbing in advance. 

"I…I can take care of you as you did before… if you want" she suggested, a hint of shyness in her voice that take herself off guard.

Cal thought about it, picturing things that made his ears burn. "I… I would like to… but I also want you. Can we keep this for another time?" he asked smiling nervously because he was just confirming that there would be other times. That he wanted her again and again. 

Merrin snorted. "Typical of you, Cal Kestis. Being so selfless," she commented, while slowly reaching for his lips, "but that’s also why I like you so much." Then she leaned on him, kissing and licking his lips, while his hands were traveling all around her skin like she was an holomap. That heat was driving him crazy. 

In an attempt of courage, he reversed the position, now framing her body with his. "So, you like me. It’s so nice to hear that" he laughed, catching a strand of white hair and moving it behind the ear, and he positioned himself, ready to be one with her. To break definitely the last rule of the Order. "I guess that being liked by a Dathomirian has its benefit, like, not being burned alive?" he joked, trying to push away the last feelings of guilt due to his past.

He expected everything, except this, because when they were finally one thing, it feels so new and unreal that it blew his mind, and Merrin covered her mouth instinctively, arching her back, fingernails dug into his muscular shoulders, shaped by years of training as Jedi and worker at Bracca. She felt so full of him, and he… he was feeling the Force pulling something inside him. He took her left hand, keeping it against the pillow, crossing their fingers together, and he started to move. 

At first, the movements were slow, calculating everything that was making Merrin purr, moan or whisper his name. Then, his thrusts were harder, deeper, the wet sounds and moans filling the room. He started to bite her neck and suck her earlobe, leaving marks everywhere. 

Then, the Force pulls again a string inside him. 

It was clearly telling Cal to do something, like using psychometry that he projected on objects to read the past, but it was different. A different power. Another gift he wasn’t aware of?

"Merrin, do you trust me?" he asked, panting and smiling a bit, considering that it was the question that the woman asked him before their first kiss. She observed him, not understanding the point. "Yes, Cal…?"

"Close your eyes and clear your mind."

Then he used the Force. Closing his eyes as well and thrusting into her, he left his mind floating in the everlasting power. He placed her hand above his heart. Both felt something like warm water relaxing their bodies, enveloping their souls. Darkness and light felt balanced as the sun and moon, black and white. Then…

When they both opened their eyes again, they were on Dathomir, in an (as BD-1 said) sacred room that Cal stumbled onto during his exploration, perfectly preserved and with a beautiful view of the red mountains and Domir, the red sun; around them were precious vessels, gold jewels, and ritualistic instruments.

Merrin had to blink thrice before telling something, still in Cal’s embrace and to the point of crying both for pleasure and happiness. They were on the ground, but feeling weirdly comfortable - like we never left the bed.

"What…? What’s happening? Are we on…?"

"It’s an echo of the Force. We’re still on the Mantis, I’m sorry" he whispered. "But I had this feeling, the Force pushed me to do it, to bring you here." It wasn’t the first time that the Force was doing weird things lately, but, considering Merrin’s expression, it was a good one. Their physical appearance was also different, they look younger… younger like the first time they met: his long hair and beardless face, her tiny frame. Her eyes were happy and at peace. She kissed him fervently, scratching his back, while he was pushing again inside her for his dear life. 

"I love you so much Merrin, please, stay with me forever" he begged, almost crying. 

"I will, Cal. I will" she replied, reaching the most intense pleasure of her life with him, abandoning herself between his arms, burning like she never did. "I’m yours." 

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

Bloody Beetle | Part Nine

Summary: the afterlife is quite what you expected it to be

Pairing: Taweret x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: it's the afterlife y'all... you dead...

A/N: please note as much as I did some research into identity disorders, it may not he 100% factual and is supposed to be taken in context of the story... as always spelling and grammar are not my strongest skills so please be kind :)

Part Eight | Series Masterlist

- - - - -

Floating. 

You're floating in dark nothingness. 

Your body weightless. 

Your mind empty. 

Just… nothing…

Then you hear something in the distance. 

A voice. 

A name being called. 

Your name. 

Closer.

Closer.

The voice gets louder, angrier, as it gets closer…

“Y/N!”

— — — — 

Your head slips from your hand as you jump awake from your position, leaning against your work desk. Donna, your boss, stands on the other side of the desk, looking down at you disapprovingly. 

“Is this what we pay you for? Sleeping on the job?” She tuts before continuing to rant at you. You ignore her, looking around the familiar museum inventory room as you try to shake away your sleep. Broken remnants of a realistic feeling dream flash in your mind, like a puzzle missing half the pieces. 

You had been in Egypt, that much is clear. But what were you doing there? Lots of people, unknown faces looking at you with hatred. Scales. A glowing purple light. A crocodile? 

You’ll have to tell Steven about this dream when you see him. Maybe he’ll understand it more than you do. Then you realise, he’s not here. 

“Is Steven not in today?” You ask suddenly, not really caring that you’ve interrupted whatever rant Donna was on. 

“Who’s that?” she looks at you blankly and you laugh. 

“Ste-ven.” You repeat clearly, emphasising each syllable. “Steven Grant? You know, the Egypt guy. Works with me down here like, all the time.”

“I don't know who you're talking about.”

“Steven!” You shout, getting frustrated now. 

“Don't matter how many times you say it!” Donna is getting more annoyed by the second. “There is no Steven that works here.”

“Is this some sort of joke?! I know you don't like him very much but even by your standards this is cruel!” 

“Okay, you need to calm down or soon you won’t be working here either!”.

“I’ll show you, look!” You grab your mobile and open the photos app. To your horror there’s not a single one of Steven to be found. “No! Where is it?! I took one just the other day… he was wearing one of those stupid pharaoh headdress things we sell to the kids. It was right here-”

“Y/N!” Donna snaps, snatching your phone and putting it down on the desk. “I don't know want to hear any more about your imaginary friend, alright? You’re wasting my time as well as your own! So unless you wanna be looking for a new job I suggest you drop it.”

You're about to argue back, but think better of it. Arguing with Donna is like hitting your head against a brick wall. 

“You’re right, sorry..." You say sheepishly, playing along. “I just got confused. I think I might be coming down with something.” 

“It’s alright.” Donna looks at you unconvinced but accepts it anyway. “Forget about it and get back to work.”

“Yes boss.” You say and she walks away, glancing back at you suspiciously before she leaves. 

As soon as she’s gone you pick your mobile back up off the desk to message Steven, but when you search your messages all the ones from him are gone. So you head to the contacts and scroll down to ’S’. Sarah, Shaun, Simon, Stuart… where’s Steven? You scroll up, thinking maybe he’s saved under ‘G’ for Grant. Nothing.

You consider for a moment calling the police. But what would you say? ‘My friend has disappeared, but no one remembers him and I have no evidence he ever existed?’ They’d either laugh at you or lock you up. Maybe you are going crazy… 

No. Steven was real! You remember him. The sound of his laugh as he would tell you a really crap joke he'd heard. The way his eyes would light up when someone asked him a question about Egyptian history. The smell of cologne whenever he bumped into you, which was more often than you’d think. He really was quite clumsy. That was one of the things you loved about him. And one of the things you had in common. 

You decide to go find J.B. Surely he’ll must remember Steven, even if he does always called him ‘Scotty’. If all else fails, you could at least get him to check security cameras. 

But as you step out from behind the desk, you don't notice the large box on the floor and trip over it. You manage to stop yourself falling by clinging on to the desk, but you send the box flying across the room, the contents spilling out everywhere. It's filled with action figures that you sell in the gift shop. You pick one up. 

At first glance you think it’s a mummy but then you notice, it’s a man. A man dressed all in white and wearing a white cape. You take another figure out, almost the same but this one wearing a white suit. 

You dig deeper into the box. It’s full of figures. Some the same as the two you’ve already got. Some with the skull of a bird and holding a crescent moon staff. A lady with dark curly hair. A crocodile... Then you find one that makes your blood run cold. A man, wearing a reddish brown outfit and sandals. He has shoulder length dirty blonde hair, and he’s holding a glowing purple cane. 

“Harrow?” You whisper, the name coming to you out of nowhere.

An image fills your mind; Harrow stood in front of you, plunging a dagger into your stomach.

You look down and realise your clothes are stained red with blood. Your heart and mind starts to race. Something isn’t right. You need to get out of here. 

You run to the door, swing them open and crash straight into someone. You look up and to your surprise see a tall hippopotamus stood smiling wildly down at you. 

You freeze as the two of you stare at each other for a moment. The hippo raises its hand in a waving gesture. 

“Hi!” A female voice. She sounds friendly enough.

“Uh… h-hi?” you stutter, trying to remain calm. 

“You're not screaming.” She says. You're unsure if this is a statement or a question. 

“Am I supposed to be..?”

“No, not at all. I’m just used to people screaming when they first see me. To be fair death can be quite traumatic as it is so I suppose to then come face to face with, well, me… must be quite startling.” She laughs. “You're handling this amazingly. Well done you.”

“Death?” You ask and her face drops.

“You didn’t know?” She says and you shake your head. 

“I thought it was just a bad dream.”

“Oh dear. I am very sorry, but I am afraid you are quite dead. Oh hang on! I have a thing I’m supposed to read…” She pulls a scroll out from her robe and unravels it before beginning to read. “Welcome gentle traveller to the realm of the Duat. I am Tawaret, goddess of women and children and I am here to guide you through your journey to the afterlife.”

“Wait wait wait, if I’m dead then why am I at the museum? Shouldn’t I be, like, in heaven or something?”

“Because the Duat’s true nature is impossible for the human mind to comprehend, you may perceive this realm as something more easily recognisable to you. Was this place special to you?”

You think back through all the happy memories you have here, in this room laughing with Steven.

“Yeah, I suppose it is.” You say with a smile. “But hang on, Donna was here. My boss. She was here earlier having a go at me as usual. How is that possible? Is she dead too?” 

“This place can appear as real as you want it to. Whatever would normally be here will be here, that includes people. But rest assured, she is very much still alive.”

“Then where’s Steven? He was always here with me, but Donna didn’t even know who he was!”

“Steven? Steven Grant?” She asks.

“You know him?” 

“I do. Goodness, how do I explain this?” She says, mostly to herself. “Steven Grant isn’t real.”

“Of course he is!”

“No dear, uh…” she pauses, thinking over her words. “Do you know a Marc Spector?” 

“Kind of. Not very well, but we’ve met.”

“Right! So… Steven is Marc.”

“I don't understand.” 

“Marc created Steven when he was young to help him escape the trauma he was going through. He may not have even realised that that’s what he did, but whenever life got too much for Marc he would become Steven instead.”

“No hang on, Steven told me that this Marc lives inside him. Are you saying it’s the other way around?” 

“Steven really believed he was who he was. He had no idea the truth.” She watches you for a moment. Watches as your brain ticks over everything and sadly the truth sets in. “I think deep down, somewhere, subconsciously a part of you knew. That’s why he’s not here. The Duat picked up on it.”

She was right. Ever since that night when Marc first spoke to you, a small part of you had wondered. Harrow had tried to tell you, in his own manipulative way. You just didn’t want to believe it; Steven wasn’t real. 

“I wish he was here.” You say sadly. Taweret puts a caring hand on your shoulder. 

“I know dear, this is a lot to take in. But as I said, you are handling this exceedingly well.” She smiles at you, holding out her hand. “Come, let me show you around.”

— — — — 

You follow Tawaret through the doors and to your surprise you're no longer in the museum. Instead you find yourself on a magnificent wooden boat sailing through sand.

“Where are we going?” You ask, staring out at the the amazing blend of purple, blue and gold that makes up the sky. It would take your breath away, if you weren’t already dead. 

“Hopefully to the Field of Reeds.”

“Hopefully?” 

“Yes, there’s just something I have to do…” she places her hand on your chest and pushes, reaching inside you and when she pulls her hand back out she’s holding your heart. You watch in shock as she away from you and places the heart on a scale. She takes a feather and places it on the other side of the scale. The scales swing a few times before settling in a balanced position. 

“Oh goody.” Taweret smiles. “I would have hated to have to throw you overboard.” 

“Excuse me what?”

“If they scales hadn’t balanced, you would not be permitted entry to the Field of Reeds. The dead would have dragged you down into the Duat where you would have remained forever frozen in sand.” She explains and you stare at her in horror. “But the scales are balanced, so no need to dwell on that.” 

You walk to the edge of the boat and look over at the sand below you. You can just about make out the shapes of human figures half buried in the sands, hands desperately reaching for something to grab onto. It sends a shiver down your spine. Taweret moves to stand beside you. 

“All these people had unbalanced scales?” You ask sadly.

“I’m afraid so.” 

“Do the scales ever get it wrong?” 

“That’s not possible.” Taweret says looking at you, she notices you look troubled. “Are you alright?”

“When Harrow judged me with Ammit’s scales, they were unbalanced.”

“Ammit is wrong. She judges based on things that might happen, what someone might do. We judge on what you have done." She turns to face you completely, putting her hands on your shoulder so you have to face her. She looks you in the face. "Believe me when I say, you are a good person Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“Thank you.” You say with teary eyes as the boat continues its journey. 

— — — — 

Eventually you arrive at the most beautiful place you have ever seen.

“Welcome to the Field of Reeds.” 

It’s indescribable. An endless view of golden warmth. Peace like you’ve never felt before. 

“It’s… I don't have the words…” 

“Enjoy it. You belong here.” 

You smile up at her. 

The peace doesn’t last long however, when suddenly you hear a familiar voice calling from a distance behind you. 

“Hey! Hey, hippo lady! You gotta take me back!”

You turn to where the voice is coming from. 

“Not this again.” Taweret sighs.

“Marc?!” You interrupt as you realise who is running toward you. He stops when he notices you. 

“Y/N? What- what are you doing here?” 

“Same as you.” You respond bluntly. “Harrow killed me.”

A range of emotions flash across Marc’s face. Anger and sadness being the mains ones. 

“I’m sorry.” He says simply, before turning his attention back to the hippopotamus next to you. 

“There’s nothing I can do Marc.” Taweret says before he can even ask. “Steven is gone.”

“What?” You look between Taweret and Marc in a panic, but Marc turns away from you. “What do you mean he’s gone?”

“The Duat has him.” Taweret explains. “When Marc died, the Duat split him and Steven into their own separate bodies in order to fairly judge their lives.”

“So Steven is one of those bodies in the sand?” You say in horror and she nods. “We can go back for him though? Right?!”

“It doesn’t work like that. If you leave here you can’t return.” She looks at Marc. “Please, enjoy your peace.”

Marc turns around angrily. 

“Peace?! There is no peace without Steven!”

“You don’t need him anymore Marc. You created Steven when you needed to cope with the worst parts of your life, but that’s over now.” She says, her voice gentle.

“So I get to go on to eternal peace, and he just…” Marc pauses. “Stays lost in the sand forever?”

A tear escapes down your cheek at the thought of Steven being one of those desperate figures you saw in the sand on the way here. Even though you now understand that Steven was only ever a personality created by Marc, he still felt real to you. You only really knew Steven. Your goofy, lovable, Egypt obsessed friend. 

“No.” Marc says suddenly. “I’m not good with that.” 

“Wait!” Taweret calls as Marc begins to walk off. “Think about this!” 

You watch him for a moment before turning to Taweret. She shakes her head at you, warning you. But you ignore her and run to catch up with him.

“What are you gonna do?” You ask. 

“I’m gonna get Steven back.” 

“Then I’m coming too.”

“Are you sure?” He stops and turns to you. It’s still so weird seeing Steven’s face but hearing Marc’s voice. “I can’t guarantee this will go well.” 

“He’d do it for it me.” You say and Marc nods.

The world around you starts to swirl. The golden sky turns dark and the reeds change to sand. Just ahead of you you spot him. Steven. Now one of the figures stuck in the sand. The two of you run over to him. His frozen hand is reaching out in front of him, a look of pain on his face. Marc crouches in front of him. 

“Steven. Looking pretty rough man.” He cries. “I don't know if you can hear me… From the moment you arrived, way back then, we were so young… You saved me. I survived because I knew I wasn’t alone. You were always there, alive, full of hope. I tried to protect that, and I failed. I couldn’t protect you.”

You feel a strange sensation in your feet and look down to see they’ve started to turn to ice, like Steven. Then you notice Marc’s hands have also started to change. 

“You didn’t abandon me.” He looks down at his frozen hand. “You didn’t abandon me. And although that field back there was looking pretty good, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna abandon you.” 

He tried to reach his hand up to hold Steven’s but his arm goes stiff. He looks at you and nods his head to gesture for you to come over. You crouch down beside him, looking into Steven’s terrified eyes.

“Hey Stevo. It’s Y/N. You know, Marc is right. You would never abandon the people you care about. How many times you stayed later than you needed to at work, just so I didn’t have to do inventory on my own.” You laugh as tears stream down your cheeks. “And I know you wouldn’t have left me with Harrow unless you had no choice. Because you are the best person I’ve ever met. You don't believe it, but you are. I should have told you that when we were alive. I should have told you how much you mean to me.” The feeling of your body quickly changing to ice spreading up your legs and arms. You manage to lift your hand to hold Steven’s.

Your body has completely changed now, only your head remains. You look at Marc. He reaches his hand up and places it over yours and Steven’s.

“You are the only real superpower I ever had.” He says to Steven as the ice takes over, freezing his head completely. 

You feel it creeping up the sides of your face. You fix your eyes on Steven and manage to whisper three little words as the last part of you becomes frozen in the sand.

“I love you.” 

— — — — 

The worst thing about being frozen in the Duat wasn’t actually the being frozen, but rather the fact that you were conscious the whole time. Forced to stare into the frozen eyes of the man you love, but unable to move or speak to him. 

All concept of time goes out the window. You have no idea how long you’ve been stuck like this, when suddenly you're aware of a rumbling sound and bright light shining to the side of you. As the light hits the side of your face its like warmth is being restored to your body. The ice melts away and you take a deep breath as life is restored to your body. 

You look over to see the giant ornate gates have opened, light pouring through them. You turn back to look at Steven, the ice is starting to melt from him.

“Steven…” you whisper and he looks at you, taking a big breath of air into his thawed body. 

“Y/N…” he smiles and hugs you before turning to a now unfrozen Marc. “Marc!” 

“Steven!” He says happily.

“You came back? What the hell’s wrong with you?!” Steven says, smiling as he helps Marc stand.

“Well I did a whole little speech there.” 

“It wasn’t that little.” Steven laughs, pulling Marc in for a hug. He turns to you, holding out his hand to help you stand. “I heard yours too.”

“I meant every word.” You say sincerely, looking into his eyes and he smiles as he gently places a hand on your cheek. 

“I love you too.” He whispers.

“Uh, guys.” Marc says from beside you. “As lovely as this moment is… we have a problem.”

You both turn to see what Marc is looking at. A giant sandstorm wave heading straight towards you. 

“Oh bollocks!” Steven shouts. “Come on, lets go!”

The three of you start to run, Marc struggling as his leg seems to be injured. Steven hooks one of Marc’s arms over his shoulder and you do the same on the other side.

“I’m slowing us down, just go!” Marc shouts.

“We’re not leaving you!” You reply, almost dragging him now. 

“Coming through!” You hear and turn around to see Taweret on her ship sailing towards you. “Osiris you old softie!” She calls as she crashes through the wave, slowing it down to give you time. “Now run!!” She shouts. 

“Hippo!!” Steven shouts, waving his hands in the air before Marc grabs him and pulls you all towards the gates. You run with all the strength you can muster and finally make it through the gates. 

— — — — 

“Where am I?” You ask aloud, glancing at the bright white nothingness around you. “Steven? Marc? Anyone?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” A voice calls from everywhere at once.

“Hello?” You respond. 

“I am Osiris, god of the underworld.”

Part Ten

Taglist :  @sleepylunarwolf / @ahookedheroespureheart / @sleepyamaya / @spicydonut25 / @kult6 / @uncle-eggy / @malaanii/ @toracainz / @pinkiestwinkie / @galacticstxrdust / @mateihavenoidea / @xmariakx / @oscarissac2099 / @whycantwebefriendz / @parkeepingparker

(if you want to be added to the taglist please let me know!)

[xplrvibes]

Opinion on the video? I feel you'll have funny or spicy things to say about certain parts of it, lol.

So, I haven't answered many asks about the video, simply because the first time I watched it, I watched it in sections and I feel like I missed a lot, so I had to find time and go back to rewatch it before I truly formulated an opinion and responded to anything.

I've done that, so I'll start answering some of these asks now.

To be completely honest, I did write up a very long post about the video, but I wound up scrapping it. It was long, wordy, and 100% bound to get me canceled on here, lol.

So instead, I'm summarize my thoughts here.

This video can basically be split into two parts: The Guests, and the Post Guests.

I might just skip over the whole part with the guests because honestly, I don't even know why they were there. They didn't seem into it, Larray especially wasn't taking it seriously, and I feel like everyone involved was just in it for the view farming. Honestly, the whole first 20 minutes was a skip for me, and I feel like this collab would've been better served in a regular video and not their huge project of the year that's supposed to break barriers and show who they are as people.

The Merry Knockers coming in and doing their thing was fine for what it was - again, I'm not fully feeling their vibes with this, but I'm not going to keep poking at it. It is what it is. So for what it is, it was fine.

I do want to point out one random thing, which is that Colby should go on Wheel of Fortune, cause his guessing game about what these knocks were spelling out was on point, holy damn.

Also, their message about the other side - I think at the end of the day, all anyone wants for the afterlife is for their best case scenario to be true, whether that be dark eternal nothingness or fluffy clouds with angels on them or reincarnation or something in between. We all just want peace, whatever that means for us personally. So, it was a nice message in that regards and it obviously meant a lot to then.

That's what matters. Impact.

The vibes changed the second the guests left, as they always do. Why snc can't just realize that and get comfortable being on their own more often is beyond me, but honestly- it just flows better when it's the two of them.

Now, the one thing I want to point out about this video is that they spent 90% of the time not acknowledging the elephant in the basement- Sam and his middle child tendencies rearing their ugly heads again.

I am going to tread very carefully here, but I'm also going to put it bluntly - what Sam did was selfish. They went into this with a pre-agreed upon idea and plan for the video and the basement in particular, and Sam tried to go into business and - as Colby eloquently put it - "take it for himself." And that's what that was, btw...it was not possession, it was not, "Oh wow, I need a quiet place to think about Grandma." He tried to go into business for himself and take the Big Moment of the video for himself, and when it failed, he sat back for three days and waited until the Big Moment - and a camera - was on them to tell Colby about it.

I would've been pissed too. In fact, I give Colby props for how calmly he handled it, cause I would've thrown some hands lol.

Just a shitty, selfish, non team player thing to do.

What cracked me up about this whole thing was how Colby checked him immediately with just a clenched jaw, a few disappointed words, and a mom look. That's all it took to get Sam backtracking like a motherfucker.

They seriously do act like a long suffering married couple sometimes.

Anyway, 3 minutes later and Sam is the only thing keeping Colby from drowning in the Conjuring Well, so that ought to tell you that they'll be just fine.

The Estes Method...ok. We need to talk about Dave, cause homeboy really just wants to get laid. Is that why he's tryjng to get everyone to go out into the woods? Like bro, you're dead, calm down.

Anyway, Sam's reaction to the "sex" answer was 10/10. Little bit of "what the fuck" mixed with a whole lot of begrudging respect.

Sassy, still-pissed Colby just reacting to Sam's shaking with a disgusted sounding "what are you doing?" also made me laugh.

In general, just know that the basement made me laugh.

The camera malfunctioning at the end - I actually thought Colby was turning it off at first, ngl. It just felt like drama for drama's sake. And then Sam had the bright idea to film it happening on his phone so we could see that it wasn't them - which they need to do more of, by the way - so that was cool.

The head popping up behind them when they came up from the basement: I need confirmation that nobody else was in the house before I even syart going down any possible road on this one. Sorry, snc, but that totally looks like a human.

Anyway, the video was fine for what it was. Psychology wise, there was some utterly fascinating parts to watch and dissect, they got some fun evidence, and there was a lot of snc alone time which is always a plus.

Overall, I'd probably give it a solid 6/10.

[litlunacy]

32 and 45 for the mc ask game! (for as many of your apprentices as you want to answer for)

I answered for all six of them this time!

32. Does their use of/skill in magic differ from canon? How so?

Well, the canon magic system seems to be a kind of soft one, right? Sometimes it's as simple as willing a thing to happen, like thinking of fire and summoning a flame, and sometimes whole entire rituals are required. There are also different classes of it, like green magic, alchemy, blood magic, etc. Also, everybody's magic has a different feel to it, and the Apprentice can pick up on it. So with that in mind:

Ximena's magic feels like a cool, gentle breeze, but can come off a terrifying gale if she's mad enough. It manifests itself in pale, silvery wisps when unfocused. And since her aunt was all green magic, and her dad is ridiculously powerful in the abstract formation of will, Ximena has a very good grasp on both. She is a powerful magician, and she often uses magic to do everyday things.

Lilith's magic feels very sharp, like a whipcrack. She has a very tight control on it and is extremely powerful. She knows this, and she will use it to her advantage. Don't ask her to do green magic though, plants aren't her thing.

Zuri's magic feels like...nothingness, emptiness, a cold dark void. And it kinda frightens her a little. It also gets away from her sometimes, especially if something happens to break her concentration. She has a lot of power that she doesn't really know what to do with. She does better if she has a partner to form a circle with.

Lorica's magic feels playful, like butterfly kisses and playing tag. She's a good magician, but she works better with a focus. That's why she keeps spare crystals in her bag.

Rajani's magic feels like spring, green and alive. Which makes sense, as their focus is mostly on green magic and healing. They do like doing stuff the old-fashioned way though, so you won't catch them using magic for most daily chores and stuff.

Bellamy's magic feels warm and bright, like a sunny summer day. He's a bit better at reading the cards than he is at magic, mostly because his attention tends to wander. He's something of a Jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none in magic; he can do a little healing, he can do green magic, he can manifest his will if he really tries, he works with a focus if he remembers to bring one. Don't ask him to do the fancy rituals or alchemy though, that's way too complicated. He does become a lot more powerful when when casting with a partner who can help him concentrate. Oh, and he can talk to animals. Which is just a very normal thing to him that always astounds everyone else.

45. Are they more street smart or book smart? Something else?

Ximena is a bit of both. She reads a lot and is highly intelligent, and she can navigate a lot of situations purely by bullshitting her way through them. She prefers to sit back and observe as long as possible before acting in most situations, or just cast a cloaking spell and dip if something is too much.

Lilith is book smart, but she's not exactly street smart. She does, however, have a very authoritative presence and can be extremely menacing when she chooses, and uses it to her advantage. If she starts speaking very slowly and precisely with that little smile, run.

Zuri is extremely book smart, but has no street smarts whatsoever. People are terrifying and confusing and why do strangers talk to her and can she please just go home now???

Lorica is a mix. She's well-read, but not a genius, and she can navigate most situations by staying calm and listening. Politeness is key.

Rajani is more street smart. They are intelligent, but they prefer reading people to reading books. They're also quite good at smoothing things over with little distractions. "Oh, let me buy you a drink, that's a lovely bracelet, hey did you hear about this..."

Bellamy is...neither. He's not an idiot by any means, but he tends to just float through life by being a good dude who smiles and laughs a lot. People like him. He likes people. And if he screws up, he apologizes. It works, at least most of the time.