#glass shattering sound effect

[jjcocker]

update time uhhhh pauline has curly hair now because i decided to try drawing it (i thought of thaf and decided to tru it out) and i likedit

[golurker]

i want to chew on him

[uunmitigatedpoppycock]

I love men that are tormented by the horrors ❤

[kuuwo]

I will never recover from this fic

[yaoyuren]

u guys dont know how much the tags in your reblogs make me smile btw i think its one of the things that brings me back here wwww

[grimalives]

WE COULD HAVE HAD DOURIF RIDDLER .!??

[oogaboogaspookyman]

Kekek it's so I can seduce people into giving me free shit~ ;)

ah- Are You Stealing

[luminarrow]

woah hey guys its me Dark Hero [Verb] [Verb][Noun]

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

Toji calls you pup or puppy sometimes and you've always thought that maybe it had something to do with you being so playful and energetic at times, but those were always just your assumptions. Not a single one of those assumptions was confirmed by Toji, so you took it upon yourself to ask for the truth...

"Toji?" You call, looking up at him from where you sit on his lap.

"Hm?" He hums in response, looking away from the commercial on the TV and down at you.

"Why do you call me pup? Don't get me wrong, it's cute." You smile, feeling the warmth of the seemingly endearing name in your stomach. "But, I wanna know why."

"Mm... do you really wanna know?" You nod, bubbly giggles erupting from your chest in anticipation. You're so excited for this reveal. It's been a mystery for months. "Well, it's because you let out these high pitched, little whimpers, that sound like a puppy when I touch you, sometimes."

Glass shattered. Illusion crumbled.

Your face immediately heats up. "No... No! Really?!" You groan, shifting to lay back in his arms while covering your face in embarrassment.

"Don't be embarrassed, baby. It's cute. You're a sensitive little thing." His hand comes forward to rub your tummy over your shirt.

You huff, an audible hum of annoyance sounding out. "Well, I'm never gonna do it again. I'm just gonna stop. I'm done. Never again."

"You wanna test that out?" He asks, mischievous eyes watching your pouty expression. You nod, accepting the challenge. "Sit on my lap properly, like you were before." You shift back and sit up straight against his chest. He pulls your hands away from your lap. "Keep these here, and don't move them. Understand?" he asks, placing your hands on his thighs. You nod, again, and grip onto them.

His left hand snakes up your shirt, his fingertips teasing the skin of your stomach until goosebumps rise. It goes further up once the goosebumps have spread all over, sliding beneath the cup of your bra to rub your already pebbled nipple. So far you've only let out a couple sighs, so he adds in his other hand. It slips into the front of your shorts and beneath your panties, until his fingers make contact with your slicked up slit.

"Already so wet for me, mama. What happened?"

"It's always like this for you," you say, quietly, suppressing the urge to whimper as the pads of his middle and ring fingers rub your clit in such a tediously, slow manner. Your hands part from his thighs and attempt to grab onto his forearms, causing him to immediately pause the movement of the hand that plays with your nipples as well as the one in your pants.

"Hey." His tone is questioning of your actions, but there's the touch of a smirk on his face, like he knew you'd need more than gripping his thighs to keep you from folding so quickly.

"S-Sorry. I'm sorry."

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. "Let's try that again."

Soon enough, those little breaths you released through your nose, became small, quiet whimpers, that you didn't think Toji would hear. He had to correct you so many times about the way you were sliding down his front. Eventually he decided to lift your bra entirely and just wrap his arm around your chest to hold you steady because of how much you were squirming.

"Toji, I'm gonna..." A louder whimper comes out, effectively bringing a victorious smirk onto Toji's face. He heard those quieter ones, but he didn't count them for your sake. You're his baby, after all.

He speeds up the movement of his fingers, his rough pads adding delicious friction to your sensitive clit. You tense in his hold when your orgasm hits, plenty of moans and those pet name earning whimpers, flooding out.

"There you go, puppy," he purrs, into your neck, slowing his strokes to not overstimulate you so fast. You grab onto the arm that's secured at your chest, your nails digging into his skin through the pleasure. He doesn't stop because you've already proven his point and he sees no reason to punish you anymore.

A few seconds pass and those whimpers return, accompanied by your thighs shutting around his hand. You curl up a little, holding on tight to his arm.

"Had enough?" He asks, stilling his hand between your legs.

"Mhm, no more," you mumble, sounding defeated after thinking back to the sounds you made and how this backfired entirely.

He pulls his hands out from your clothes and wraps his arms around you. "So pup and puppy are fair game?"

You sigh, and reluctantly nod.

[apollothetiefling]

It’s incredible how long you can ward off a mental breakdown with just the right amount of coping via telling jokes and memes and being completely fucking delusional

[gembreaker]

can't wait to get back in the mood to start playing again so that i can hopefully get to shb sooner rather than later and start making frankenstein parallels with kihceh & the exarch

[mountalodiel]

need to drop like £100 to fix my laptop tomorrow and im gonna fucking krill my shelf about it

[lactoseintolerentswag]

HAHA yes >:3c

Love that while online fandom in general is having a weird meltdown about the morality of enjoying anything darker than sanitized fluff in fiction, the Danny Phantom fandom is still sitting in the corner 16 years after the show ended with a blankie and cocoa and their 10,000th deep-fanon supertorture cannibalism vivisection psychological horror fic

[criminalamnesia]

Traitor part 8

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

here it is everyone :)) took me forever but it’s finally here! now I can disappear in peace lol. I’ll proofread everything later, but I hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations. thank you all for the love you’ve given this series. I hope this gives you some closure.

let me know if you want any drabbles from the series <3

thank you again!

after kyle finally leaves you alone, you slink back against the door, shutting your eyes so tightly stars dot your vision.

it never ends, does it?

apologies. worry. sympathy. pity.

it was in each of their eyes— the one-four-one. each of them trying to mask their pity for you behind sickening sympathy. you were exhausted of that look— not just from them, but from everyone you had walked past or looked at since everything had happened.

you open your eyes, scanning the room. what once had been a haven had become a hell. shattered glass sprinkled the floor near the mirror. clothes were still strewn about. you hadn’t bothered picking up what had been disturbed.

you’d be gone too soon for it to matter.

your phone rings then, the screen lighting up in the dimly lit room. you let the ring tone play for a second longer before you’re moving, reaching for the device on your nightstand.

it’s kate, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“hello?” you say as you answer the call.

“it’s kate,” comes the woman’s familiar voice through the speaker. “im on my way to base. should be there by tomorrow.”

you startle, eyebrows raising in confusion. “you’re coming here? why?”

you hear her sigh. “we can talk about it tomorrow. I need to meet with john, anyways. two birds, one stone and all that.” she tells you.

“can you at least tell me if the paper work is all set for my transfer?” you ask.

she doesn’t answer for a moment, and then:

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, sergeant. get some rest. you sound like you need it.”

you hear a click, and then the line goes dead. you furrow your brows as you look down at the phone in your hand.

why on earth would she come all the way here just to talk?

your mind is moving a mile a minute, and suddenly, it clicks.

laswell is coming here to do damage control.

you huff a mirthless laugh, dropping your phone as your hands come up to run through your hair.

you weren’t being reassigned. you were being discharged.

but was it at her insistence, or someone else’s?

you whip around, wrenching open the door and storming down the hall to price’s office. those you pass in the hallway give you bewildered stares, and suddenly you’re aware that you’re still in that damned robe, but you’re on a mission.

and when you start something, you see it through.

you don’t bother knocking as you reach price’s door. instead, you barge into the office, effectively interrupting an argument between price and simon. their voices die off, heads turning to appraise who had barged in.

price’s eyes widen at the sight of you, but simon’s face is as unreadable as always. the door clicks shut behind you, and you stalk towards the two men, your fists clenched as you seethe.

“you motherfuckers,” you hurl the words at them, “you fucking knew. you knew.”

“love, what are you talkin’ about?” price questions, his brows furrowed as he turns to you.

“laswell,” you say, and price’s eyes widen. he knows. and now he knows you know.

“whatever she told you—”

“she didn’t tell me shit,” you huff. “I figured it out. why the fuck else would she come here just to talk? she’s playing fucking babysitter, isn’t she?”

price doesn’t speak. your gaze flits to simon’s.

“I’m sure you were rooting for this outcome, weren’t you? couldn’t finish me off in that fucking room, but hey, this is just as good, isn’t it? sending me back to fucking nothing.”

“this job is my life,” you turn your attention back to the captain. “and you fuckers just can’t stop ruining it, can you?” your voice is raising, and tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’re becoming hysteric.

“all because of a fucking lie!” you’re yelling now, jabbing a finger into the chest of your former captain.

“calm down,” the sound of simon’s rough baritone leads your head to snap toward him. your eyes are wide, fury and terror blazing in them.

and he expects you to let loose. scream and hit and scream some more. but you don’t.

you stand there and you stare at him with those wide eyes. the rest of the room— hell, the world falls away— and it’s just him and you.

like it was on patrol during countless nights, your bare fingers dancing over his gloved hands as you prattled on about a show you liked.

on countless nights curled up in his bed, your back to him, pressed so close he could feel the beat of your heart in his own chest. his arms wrapped around you, one of your fingers lazily tracing the ink on his forearm. no words spoken, yet so much said.

in the field, when you and johnny bicker over comms and he takes your side. when you take a bullet to the shoulder and he holds pressure on it until evac arrives.

when he makes eye contact with you as you pin kyle to the training mat, finally able to overcome his strength. when price tells him you’re the rat and he doesn’t want to believe it.

it’s just him and you. a lieutenant and his sergeant. but it’s more than that.

it’s a deep understanding of this job being your life. of losing everything and everyone you hold dear. of finding family again in this team, and doing whatever it takes to keep that family safe.

and he fully realizes, then, what you have been condemned to.

what they condemned you to.

what he condemned you to.

he breaks from his thoughts as you slam your fist into his jaw.

price’s eyes widen, his feet carrying him forward to intervene, but simon waves him off as he cradles a hand to his jaw.

“let ‘em,” he grunts out, and price looks bewildered, but he nods. he takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides, and he lets you strike again.

“fuck you,” you seethe, and despite your best efforts, your voice cracks. emotion seeps in, and your eyes are wet as you swipe a leg out from under him, forcing him to his knees.

he falls with no grace, knees hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud. you’d cringe if this were any other circumstance.

instead, you deliver another blow, cracking his nose with the force of it. blood sprays out and wets your robe.

“ghost—” price begins from somewhere off to the side, but simon just shakes his head.

“fuck you, simon! fuck you!” you scream at him, and your fists are flying blindly as tears cloud your eyes.

and he just takes the hits. you subconsciously register the sound of the office door squeaking as it opens and quickly closes. price didn’t want to be a bystander any longer, it seems.

but he still didn’t jump in. was it because of ghost’s insistence? or because your captain didn’t want to watch one of his soldiers finally snap?

you finally stop yourself when blood drips from your knuckles. unsurprisingly, they’ve split again. there’s no doubt in your mind that there will be little scars between each of them once they’ve healed.

more to add to the reminder of everything. god, at this point you knew you’d never forget it even if you wanted to. even if you tried to. even if you did for a brief moment, those little white lines— discolored and jagged skin in the place of what should be smooth and unmarred, would be your reminder.

blood pools on the floor, a mix of yours and simon’s. you pay it no mind as you wipe the backs of your hands on your completely ruined robe. good— now you had a great excuse to throw the damned thing away.

you would’ve thrown it away anyways.

you bring your hands to your eyes, wiping away tears that had freed themselves their cage. you see simon clearly then, his face bloodied and yet still beautiful in that way of his. his nose is obviously broken. lacerations above his eye and on his cheekbones.

his eyes are staring back you, the icy blue of them never more intense than now.

you heave in your breaths as you look at him. his split lip cracks further as he opens his mouth.

“done?”

and you don’t have anything left to give, so you nod. then you slump to your knees, down onto his level, and you don’t look away from what you’ve done.

it’s no different than what you did to the doctor, or to countless enemies in the field. but, at the same time, it is different.

because it’s him, and he let you do this. he could have easily stopped you. he’d shown his strength against you numerous times on the sparring mat, picking you up and tossing you around with ease.

and yet he didn’t stop you.

“why?” you ask him, and it’s a loaded question. your voice is a watery tremble, and the word comes out as a whisper, but he doesn’t shy away.

he shrugs. “you needed it.”

he’s focusing on one aspect of the question— on why he let you hit him. you open your mouth to respond, but he surprises you by speaking again.

“least I could do,” he says.

you close your mouth, your chapped lips pressed into a thin line. why is he doing this now? saying this now? what changed?

“is it your fault, then? that I’m being discharged?” you find yourself asking, and you’re not sure if you want to know the answer.

maybe you just want a reason to hate him more.

“no,” he says, and you know he means it.

he never lied to you, regardless of any pain it may have saved. it was one of the things you had loved about him.

he sighs. “I didn’t want you to go.”

that surprises you. simon was never one to freely speak on his feelings. he had opened up to you during your relationship, but it was as if there was always an invisible line he could never cross. never did he utter the complete truth to his thoughts or feelings. and you had accepted that— because that is who he was.

and you would take him with all his walls if it just meant that you could have him.

“I don’t want you to.” he corrects himself.

the room falls silent around you. the part of you that still holds love for him yearns for his embrace at this moment. but you push that side of you down. you will not go crawling back, not after what happened.

“you’ve been an asshole,” you say, and he gives a curt nod.

“probably.” he concedes. “but I wouldn’ take anythin’ back. I told you, I meant what I said.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask. god, he has a horrible way with words.

“no,” he tells you. “nothin’ I can say can do that.”

you snort. you fall back on you haunches, your hands in your lap as you look at him.

“I am never going to forgive you,” you tell him, words full of so much hurt.

he nods again. “I know. I don’ blame you. don’ expect you to, neither.”

“but I’m…” he starts, and his lips crease in a frown. “im sorry.”

you just look at him. perhaps you had wanted an apology at one moment in time, but now? now none of it mattered.

“I hope so,” you tell him. you move to stand, and he remains still. he hasn’t moved an inch since you’d finished your assault.

“I hope you feel this way for the rest of your lonely life. I hope that you never forget what you did to me, and I hope that it keeps you up at night. because I can tell you with certainty that I will never forget. and I hope the others remember, too. I hope it tears you all apart from the inside. that it follows you around for the rest of your career.”

you breathe in, then out. “and I hope no one ever gives you the chances I did,” your voice is soft. “because I would never wish what you did to me on the next person you think you love.”

his face conveys no emotion other than the small frown still on his lips. his eyes, so cold, have softened the tiniest bit. you used to love when you could bring out that softness inside of him. when it was just the two of you, your hand in his, his eyes on you.

those memories would suffocate you if you let them. what could’ve been will suffocate you. you refuse to let it.

you turn and stalk towards the door, not bothering to spare him another glance. you open it, stepping out into the hallway, coming face-to-face with the rest of the one-four-one.

their eyes are all wide as they take you in. your bloodied hands and robe. the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. you pull the door shut behind you before you speak.

“i don’t care to speak to kate,” you say to price, your eyes meeting his. “fuck her for not giving me a chance. and fuck you for laying down like a damn dog and not fighting for your fucking team.”

you turn to johnny next. “you shove your sorries up your ass, mactavish. I don’t want your sympathy, and I don’t want your pity. I hope your regret eats you alive.”

finally, kyle. “and you,” you glare at him. “if anyone other than simon should’ve defended me, it should’ve been you. I met you first, kyle. you were my closest friend, my brother. and you turned out to be just another fucking lap dog.”

you shake your head, blinking away hot tears. “I want you to get me temporary housing and a car because that’s the least you owe me, after ruining my life. and I don’t want to hear from any of you ever again. if I do, I guarantee you I will not show you the mercy you think you showed me when you had me tied up in that chair.”

none of them spoke, and you didn’t give them a chance to as you pushed past them, heading back toward your room to change.

a yellow cab retrieves you from base the next morning before kate arrives. it’s still dark outside when you leave the shelter that had once been home. rain pours down around you, a raging storm hanging overhead as it had all night prior. perhaps it was a reflection of your mood. you liked to think that it was.

you toss your duffle bag into the trunk, shutting it before climbing into the back seat. you hadn’t bothered to pack anything other than a few pairs of clothes you’d recovered from the floor of your room. everything else could be trashed, especially anything the boys had given you.

the driver doesn’t speak— price had given him all the information he needed— and paid him— before he’d fetched you. it seems your final outburst— and beating simon to a pulp— had finally put some urgency in his movements.

none of them had seen you off, per your request. you thought it was the least they could do for you after continuously disrespecting your boundaries.

(unbeknownst to you, simon had watched you leave through a window.)

the driver turned up the music— some pop song you didn’t know the name of— and you slumped in your seat, your head turned toward the window as you watched the rain race down it.

you found yourself drifting off quickly, and you didn’t try to fight it. you’re finally free of that place and the men you thought were your family. free of the anxiety of seeing them around every corner. free of the hate that sparked in your heart every time you heard their voices.

you sleep, and for the first time since before everything, it’s peaceful.

you wake to the taxi driver talking to you.

“we’re here,” he says, knocking on the glass separating the front and back seats. “can you get out now? I gotta get home. it’s my wife’s birthday.”

you blink the sleep from your eyes, nodding before you even register what he’s saying. “sorry,” you mumble as you fumble with the seat belt.

you slip from the car, your boots splashing in a muddy puddle. you grimace as the murky water seeps in, wetting your socks.

you trudge around to the back of the car, opening the trunk and retrieving your bag. you’ve just shut the trunk and stepped back when the car is driving off, kicking up mud that further dirties your boots and jeans.

you pay it little mind as you look at the small cottage before you.

nestled between some trees, it’s beautiful. a shingled roof. light blue paneled siding. a small front porch with a rocking chair and a bench swing. a beautiful dark blue door.

your favorite flowers live in the flower beds surrounding what you can see of the house. it makes you wonder if its a simple coincidence or if simon or price planned it.

how long have they known that you would have to come here? that you would have no where else to go except for where they put you?

you vowed that this house would just be temporary. you would get away from it as soon as possible, putting the rest of the one-four-one behind you. you didn’t want any of them knowing where to find you.

the rain slows to a sad drizzle. drops prick your skin as you make no effort to avoid puddles, splashing carelessly to the front door. you can hear birds beginning to chirp, slipping out of their hiding places as the sun’s rays begin to illuminate the earth once more.

a new beginning, you think.

you reach a hand toward the door knob, twisting it open and pushing inside. it’s a cozy little place with wood floors and a brick fireplace. it’s furnished, but there’s no personality to it. it clearly hasn’t been somebody’s home.

the door clicks shut behind you as you toe off your boots and drop your duffle by the door. as you nudge your boots out of the way with a foot, you notice an envelope on the floor.

eyebrows scrunched in confusion, you lean down and scoop it up. your name is written on the front in a scrawl you don’t recognize.

who else knows you’re here?

perhaps you’ll need to leave sooner than you thought.

you push your thumb under the seam, ripping it open with little finesse. inside is a typed letter. it’s an offer, you realize. a job offer.

its got an american stamp on it, and its signed by a phillip graves.

a new beginning indeed.

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ DANCING IN THE DARK with vi, who's never really done this sober (really, like... she doesn't usually dance unless she's smashingly drunk) but she trusts you enough to let you lead her into it, a bit shy at first, the music sweet and slow, the city outside a shatter of broken stars, the skyline a forest of jagged towers, their glistening glass facades betraying every kind of weakness, every kind of fragility.

"relax," you say, your voice sweetened by the honey of laughter, the threads of it shaking down vi's shoulders as you smooth your fingers over her skin, "you don't have to be so tense -- it's just me."

"yeah well --" she chuckles, taking a deep breath as she tries to let go of the stiffness lining her muscles, "easier said than done. i don't wanna look like an idiot in front of a professional dancer."

you roll your eyes, your fingers toying in the baby hairs at the back of her neck.

"you've looked like an idiot plenty of times before --"

"alright, that's it --"

"i'm joking!"

you knit your fingers through her's one by one, pull her back with that pleading look in your eyes, the one she knows she can never say no to. she teeters on a held breath, caught between this and the insecurities that had always eaten at her. she breathes out; you smile; the world slows and slows till the moment is cupped in it's gentle palms.

"... fine."

she lets herself be tugged back into the orbit of you, the undeniable gravity -- it's not the first time she's thought herself a satellite, pulled into your spin, the way light seems to gather around you, and all the flowers seem to turn their heads (vi wonders if it isn't just her projecting; it probably is), but it's not like she can fight it, not like the sea's ever asked to be tugged along by the tethers of the moon, nor the moon to dance round the earth and the sun, ever out of reach but so tantalizingly close.

and yet -- and yet.

you settle one of her palms on your hips, hum beneath your breath, place her other hand over your heartbeat.

"here -- just like that." you say, swaying from side to side, her body swaying with you.

like this, she can count the steady thrum of your heart, feel the way it gathers as she leans in close, smiling to herself because it feels good to still have that kind of effect on you; and you're never shy about it, never one to hide when she makes your breath skid short or your lashes flutter closed.

she feels your thumb trace the line of her jaw, another shiver collecting at the base of her throat. she bites her lips, closes her eyes, wraps you in her arms. warmth gathers in her chest, prickling out till she can feel it in her toes and fingertips.

"see? not so hard, right?" you ask, your voice the shadow of a whisper against her cheek.

it's only then that she realizes your cheek is pressed to her shoulder, your bodies melded, curve for curve, edge by edge, her arms locked around your waist, your hands running soothing lines up and down her back. you spin in slow circles in the gathering dark, the neon-night outside casting faint shadows along the floor, the soft edges of your shapes painted in pinks and greens and shocking blues.

"hm, only with you," vi murmurs, letting her lips skim your neck, your shoulders, burying her face against your skin.

"yeah, i'd be pretty pissed if you did this with anyone else."

vi laughs, the sound rumbling through her chest to yours, making you giggle in return. she barely pulls back, just far enough to rest her forehead to yours, her eyes the color of a light-kissed sky.

"i... didn't even think i could do this with you."

you offer her a smile like a heart on a sleeve.

"well... i'm glad you did, anyway."

"yeah... you seem to be good at that."

"at what?"

"making me believe i can do the impossible... and then actually getting me to do it."

you run a thumb along the tattoo on her cheek, the tiny letters inked into her skin. just a few lines, and the weight of the world.

"it's because... impossible doesn't exist with you," you say, letting your eyes flicker over the delicate lines of her face, her features the stuff of a screen-director's dreams -- big eyes, long lashes, a perfect mouth. skin that tints pink at the lightest provocation, freckles scattered across her nose bridge like a handful of misplaced stars.

you kiss her, because there's nothing else to do in the moment but to kiss her. and for a while, vi let's herself be kissed. it was strange, in the beginning, to let herself be loved like this. like learning to ride a hoverboard, tentative and adrenaline-filled, the knots in her stomach twisting tight, and then tighter.

like falling, and then learning that the air might hold her up, if only she knew how to let it.

like flying, once she knew the extent of what the air might let her do.

you gasp as her lips track down your jaw to your neck, your fingers now fisted in her hair.

the song ends and the silence gathers around you like smoke. when vi pulls away, her eyes are dark.

"c'mon princess, that's enough dancing for one night, hm?" her voice comes out rough, the silk and gravel of a blue's singer's hymn, the texture of it chasing sparks down the length of your spine.

"mm, or maybe..." you smile wide as you spin her around, laughing as she yelps and almost loses balance, the pair of you toppling onto the couch, you sitting astride her hips, your palms propped on her startled, heaving chest.

"there's just another kind of dancing you're more interested in right now."

vi's eyebrows shoot up, but a second later, she's pulling you down, a deep groan working up her throat as she ravishes you with a breath-stealing kiss. you break away panting, your lashes fluttering as she tugs up the hem of your dress, giving your hips a soft pat as her fingers trickle up your ribs, lifting the dress off you.

she doesn't hide her hunger as her eyes rake up the length of you, the dress dropping from her fingers as she shifts the pair of you further up the couch.

"yeah, y'know how that you mention it -- there actually is."

[kayawolfhorse]

He sticks around for a while after the disappointment of his failed trap. There’s no one left to sue him over it.

The blood is just starting to crust over where it clings to Joel’s scabbard, and it flakes upon his skin. His clothing is still filthy, but it hardly matters—the grime is of this server, and will remain with it when he leaves.

Sunset blankets the world in fiery oranges and brilliant pinks, dripping darkness like spilled ink across cliff sides and into pocket-marked craters. In its wake, without the chaos of the wild cards, in the absence of any living thing, the silence is near-deafening. Joel sighs once, loudly, just to fill the space, and does it again when he thinks about how it’d annoy Jimmy if he were still here.

The bridge to the base is remarkably intact, and the planks creak beneath Joel’s steps. He spares Gem’s empty cobbled barn a fleeting glance and reminds himself that he’ll see her soon as he marches up to his car and sets about ridding his inventory of unnecessary junk in the grass next to it.

He can practically hear Grian’s insistence that he get on with it already, but one of them is dead, and the other has a car to fix, so Joel effectively banishes the thought and pokes his tongue out in the vague direction of the sky above him.

Joel works through the night. Exploded as it had been, just about every part of the car needs repairing. The exterior comes easily enough, and it’s by torchlight that he reconstructs the engine, using up the last stores of his and Gem’s iron before raiding Etho’s waterlogged chests to finish the job.

Just before dawn is about to break, Joel slides into the driver’s seat and gives the keys a turn. The engine sputters for a moment before roaring to life. Joel grins.

It’s a bumpy ride through the center of the map, and Joel doesn’t want to talk about the times he had to rapidly construct a bridge across the rivers to get across. Once the ruined bases are confined to his rearview mirror and all that stretches before him is unmarred terrain, he floors it, giving a whoop in delight as the speedometer climbs higher and higher.

The blue shimmer of the world border overtakes the frame of the windshield. The pale morning sun has just started its ascent. Joel pushes forwards, hands tight against the wheel, teeth clenched firmly together. Thirty blocks, twenty blocks, five blocks away—

Joel slams through the border to the sound of shattering glass, and his vision goes black all at once.

—☾—

“For the record, that should not have worked,” Grian says. “And did you really have to bring that here?”

Joel’s not entirely sure where here is. Grian looks mostly corporeal, though his edges waver like the illusion of water against hot pavement, and Joel himself feels pretty solid, but all around them is vast nothingness. Pearl and Scott are bright flashes of red and blue somewhere behind Grian, and Joel can just barely make out Martyn and Scar further back.

It’s a little dizzying, honestly, and Joel quickly resolves to not look down. Despite the nausea that threatens to bubble up in his throat, he makes no move to stop the smirk that spreads across his face. He gives the car’s hood at his side an affectionate pat, and is smug as he says, “Much like family, the car is forever, Grian.”

Grian buries his face in his hands.