#he's not looking at his Omega watch he's staring into the void

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 17: Alone

Summary: Your pack has left on their first deployment since you joined them, leaving you alone on base.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,866

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, ANGST, anxiety, fear, nightmares, PTSD, trauma, just super depressing overall.

A/N: I'm so ready for these next two chapters, you have no idea. Things are happening, things are gonna happen, it's just...so good. You'll see 🤭. They're pretty heavy chapters emotionally, but don't worry fluff will be coming very soon. I won't leave you hanging too much for too long.

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“We'll only be gone for a few days. A week at most. Dr. Keller will take you to and from meals and anywhere else you may need to go. If you need anything, contact Kate. We'll call when we can.” 

He leaves you with a kiss to your forehead. You’re forced to stand there and watch his back as he boards the plane, the ramp closing and sealing you off from them. They all looked guilty, as if it was their fault they had to leave, as if they were suffering as much as you at the idea of parting, even just for a short period of time.

You don't sleep that night. You lay in your bed and stare at the ceiling until far too late when you decide to abandon it for John's room instead. You slip under the covers, disrupting the immaculately made bed as you surround yourself with his scent. You’re on edge, the barracks far too quiet, far too empty. Every little sound has you tensing, holding your breath. The door is locked, yet it’s not the same without your pack there to protect you. If you scream, no one will hear you now. 

You manage to fall asleep at some point in the early hours, your mind plagued with horrible nightmares of monsters devouring and tearing you apart. 

You wake with the sun, dragging your feet back to your room. You miss the quiet sounds of your boys getting ready in the morning after their workouts, taking extra care not to be too loud. Now you wish for it. You want them to be loud and wake you, because then they’d be here with you. The hallway feels too empty, the barracks too large. You’ve spent plenty of time alone in the barracks, but it’s never felt like this. They’re not just across base from you, they’re probably in an entirely different country. 

You stare at their closed doors, all four of them feeling like voids knowing the rooms behind them are empty. Even Ghost’s closed door feels particularly empty. 

You shuffle into your room, locking the door behind you as you get ready for the day. You’re not quite sure what you’re going to do, now that you don’t have them around. You suppose you could just go about your day as you usually do while they’re at training, except you won’t have their inevitable return to fetch you for meals to look forward to. 

It’ll be days before you see them again. 

If you see them again. 

You force that thought back into the recesses of your mind. You won’t entertain it, not now while you’re still trying to process the fact that they’re gone. Even if it is a possibility. 

You’re sitting on your bed when the knock comes, clutching your phone in your hand. You don’t want to be without it, in case they call. You don’t want to miss a chance to talk to them, especially if it’s your only chance. Or a call from Kate telling you something happened.

You open the door, Dr. Keller standing in the hallway with a small smile on her face. It doesn’t feel strange having her in this space, even with the rest of your pack gone. She’s been here before, and you trust her. 

“How are you doing?” She asks as you step out of your room, closing the door behind you. 

“I don’t know.” You say, letting out a sigh. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” 

“I don’t blame you. Feels strange, being alone here, huh?” 

You nod. “Yeah. It’s too quiet. Too empty.” 

“I bet.” You follow her out of the barracks and into the cool morning air. “Let’s get some food in you and then you can take it easy for the rest of the day. I know this is a big adjustment, and it happened rather suddenly.” 

“Was gonna happen eventually, though.” You say. “For the three months I was with the CIA, they drilled it into my head that their job would always take priority over everything else. Still sucks.” 

“It does. Separation is hard for everyone in a pack, even if it’s short term. Add on the stress of their jobs and I can only imagine what it’s like.” 

“I’m trying not to think about that.” You say. 

“I think that’s the best thing you can do right now.” She squeezes your arm. “Come on, we’ll get the food to go and we’ll eat in my office. I usually do that anyway. It’s much quieter than the mess.” 

You get your breakfast, following Dr. Keller to the medical center. You are silently glad you won’t have to eat in the mess without the protection of your pack. The stares from the others might have been your tipping point, and without Ghost to scare them off, you’re sure it would have only been worse.  

“Make yourself at home.” Dr. Keller says, letting you into her office. “You can sit at the desk to eat, if that’s more comfortable. I don’t mind.” 

You take her up on the offer, sitting in the chair across from hers at the desk. She moves some papers out of the way before taking a seat herself. It feels almost strange, being so informal in her office, but then again, she’s always been more laid back with the formality between the two of you. 

“If there’s one thing I miss, it’s good diner food.” Dr. Keller says as the two of you begin to eat. 

You stare down at your porridge for a moment, having gotten used to the change in food over the last almost nine weeks. “I miss a lot of things.” 

“Would you ever want to go back and visit America?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You shrug. “I don’t know.” 

“I’m sure they’d take you, if you asked.” She smiles as you stare up at her in surprise. “I don’t think there’s much they wouldn’t do, if you asked. They care about you a lot.” 

“I’m starting to realize that.” You say. 

“Good. It’s reassuring to see such strong, natural bonds forming between all of you, despite how the situation came about. You’ve made a lot of good progress already, even with the few bumps in the road.” 

It falls silent between the two of you as you eat, finishing your breakfast. Your stomach churns with anxiety, hand closing around the phone in your pocket as if it might ring at any moment. It makes you sick, the thought of what they might be doing, what might be happening right at this very moment. 

“Can I ask you something?” You break the silence, needing to take your mind off your swirling thoughts. 

“Of course.” She says, looking up from the papers she’d been looking through. 

“Since I’m your only patient, what do you do all day?” You ask. 

She smiles. “I do a lot of things. After our sessions I log the notes I take and read over them, I make sure your medical chart is up to date, I read through a lot of studies and journals on new research and methods that may be helpful, I talk to colleagues all over the world, including here on base, and I sometimes go around the medical center and sit in on meetings and classes to keep my skills sharp.” 

“Do you ever feel like you’re wasting your skills here?” 

She shakes her head. “No. Before I took this job, I was caring for sometimes over one hundred omegas at various institutes. It was a high stress environment with long hours. While it was fulfilling work, there’s a high turnover rate for Omega Specialists in that field for a reason. Being a private doctor is a bit of a relief after that, and truthfully, the pay is considerably better.” She folds her arms on her desk, leaning forward. “It’s no less fulfilling than working at institutes. It’s nice to have the time to put together the best care plan for you and your needs.” 

“It is nice having an Omega Specialist to myself.” You say. “There were several at the institute, a lot of students doing their residency. They weren’t always...good at their jobs. A lot of them were just going through the motions, doing what the more experienced specialists told them to do.” 

“Unfortunately that’s rather common with residents.” She says. “Most of them don’t make it past residency. Like a lot of specialities in medicine, it takes a certain kind of personality to succeed as an Omega Specialist. Not everyone has it in them. I wish more schools and programs would take notice earlier before they get to their residencies and steer them down a different path.” She smiles at you. “Now my question for you. Would you rather hang out in here today, or would you prefer to go back to the barracks? You won’t hurt my feelings either way, nor will you be a bother.” 

You think about it for a moment. While your knee jerk answer is to go back to the barracks, what are you going to do? Sit alone in the silence and worry until it makes you sick? Sit in the rec room and watch TV alone and worry about your boys until the next meal time? As much as you want to be alone, you also don’t want to be alone. 

“I’d...like to stay here, if that’s okay?” You finally say, making your decision. 

“More than okay.” She smiles. “Make yourself at home, do whatever you’d like. Watch YouTube videos, dig into some books, take a nap. You won’t bother me in the slightest. You’re always welcome to hang out in here.” 

You look over the titles on the bookshelf, picking one that looks interesting before settling on the couch. You spend the day with Dr. Keller, relaxing in her office and going to meals with her. It doesn’t calm the anxious thoughts by much, but at least the loneliness is abated a bit. 

You return to the barracks after dinner, debating whether you should sit in the rec room or just go to your room. The rec room feels too open, too exposed without the safety of your pack, so instead you choose to retreat into your room, locking the door behind you. 

You let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping as tears gather in your eyes. Another night without them, another night without the safety and comfort of their presence around you. Another night knowing they’re not on the other side of the wall, a knock or a yell away. 

You fight the panic starting to bubble as you get ready for bed, your mind swirling with thoughts of something happening, someone breaking in, someone taking advantage of their absence to get to you. You know it’s an irrational fear. Most of the alphas on base ignore your existence, aside from the couple incidents you’ve had with them. The most they do is stare, though that’s to be expected as an omega. 

What if they’re holding back something more sinister, though? What if the only thing stopping them is your pack? This would be their opportune moment. 

You’re shaking, eyes wide in fear as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Sure, you’ve learned a few ways to defend yourself, but could you really utilize them? If the moment called for it, could you defend yourself enough to get away? Where would you go? Dr. Keller won’t be in her office all night. Could you run and seek protection from another medical professional that was still working? Could you find a different high ranking official on base and hope they’d help you? Could you go for the guards at the gate and hope they help you? 

Or would it be safer to run for the woods? Try to lose whichever alpha decided to attack you and hope you don’t get lost in the trees? You would just have to survive the night, and Dr. Keller would notice you missing come morning. What would she do, though? Call Kate? It’s not like the guys could just come home and help you. Would Kate even tell them something happened and put them at risk of getting distracted? What if something happened to them because of you? 

You turn the shower on as cold as it will go, stepping under the spray in your pajamas. You sink to the floor of the shower, letting the cold water snap you out of your panic and prevent you from distressing. No one’s coming through the door, no one’s going to try and hurt you. 

Your teeth are chattering by the time you reach up to turn the water off. Violent shivers rock your body, your hands and feet numb. You take deep breaths, feeling more awake and aware than you have since yesterday. 

The panic has dropped to almost nothing, your shaking now due to the fact you’re freezing. You strip out of your wet clothes, leaving them in the tub as you wrap a towel around yourself. You’re still shivering violently as you change into warmer pajamas, opting for one of John’s shirts and sweatpants. 

You slip under the covers of your bed, piling every blanket you own on top of the covers before tucking yourself against your giant bear. You won’t sleep, but at least you’re not panicking anymore. 

The days begin to blend together without the routine of your pack to keep you steady. Dr. Keller comes to get you at the same time as you expect for your breakfast, and then you spend all day with her, sitting in her office, keeping yourself occupied while you wait for an inevitable phone call. It will either be your pack calling to check on you, or it will be Kate with bad news. 

You’re not sure which is worse. The anticipation of a call from your pack letting you know they’re all alright, or the dread that it will be Kate telling you something happened to them. 

You’re still not sleeping well, the anxiety and the worry you might miss their call meshing with the nightmares that were already plaguing you before they left. You’re exhausted and strung out, the worry beginning to eat you alive. You’re constantly on edge, every little sound close to sending you spiraling. 

Your thoughts have slowly shifted from missing your pack to ruminating about the fact they might not be coming back. It’s a risk you’re well aware of. The kinds of things they do put them at risk, every deployment carries the risk of one, or all of them, dying. One thing goes wrong, one small freak accident and your entire pack could be taken from you. 

You’re not sure you’d survive that. 

Most omegas don’t. 

“Still nothing?” Dr. Keller asks as you sit there, staring at your phone for what must have been an hour at least. 

You shake your head. “Nothing.” 

“Sometimes no news is good news.” She says. “I know you’d prefer to have any news at all, though.” 

“I can’t stop thinking...what if something bad has happened?” You say, fingers trembling from gripping your phone so hard. 

“Kate promised she’d call if something happened, right?”

You nod. “Yeah.” 

“She’s a woman of her word, I can say that much. I’m sure they’re fine. They’re very capable soldiers. They wouldn’t be in Spec Ops if they weren’t, much less on a highly specialized team.” Dr. Keller stands up, moving to the closet. “It’s still hard, not knowing where they are or what they’re doing. I remember when my brother told our parents he was enlisting. Our mother cried for a week straight.” She pulls a pillow and a blanket out of the closet. “I still don’t think she’s completely forgiven him. It’s hard for omegas when someone leaves the pack, even temporarily, especially if you can’t have constant reassurance that they’re alright.” 

Your brows pinch in a frown at her words as she kneels on the floor beside the couch. “Your mom was an omega?” 

She nods. “And dad was a beta. Wound up with two beta children, though I don’t think mom complained much about that. We grew up in a big pack with lots of people around us. I think mom would have been worse off if it had just been her and dad.” She sets the pillow on the couch, gently prying the phone from your fingers. “Come on, lay down.” She directs you. 

You do as she says, laying down on the couch, resting your head on the pillow. She covers you with the blanket, tucking it up around your neck. “Is that why you’re so good at this job?” 

She smiles, setting your phone on the arm of the couch above your head. “Maybe. I think it gave me more empathy for omegas and the struggles you face every day.” She gently squeezes your arm. “They’ll be alright. They’re probably just as worried about you, as you are them. But, you need to get some rest. You don’t have to sleep, just laying with your eyes closed will help.” 

You tilt your head, glancing up at your phone. “What if I fall asleep and it rings?” 

“Then I’ll make sure you get a chance to answer it.” She says, squeezing your arm again. “I promise. Get some rest.” 

You let out a breath, not wanting to risk falling asleep, but you close your eyes anyway. It doesn’t stop the thoughts from coming on, the nightmarish images the anxiety feeds your brain flashing before your eyes. What if they’re lying dead somewhere right now? What if something’s happened to Kate and she can’t tell you? Would you ever find out? Would you ever know? 

Despite the anxiety prickling through your body, the warmth of the blanket begins to lull you into a false sense of security. Perhaps it’s the sheer exhaustion from your lack of sleep over the last couple weeks, paired with the exhaustion from your constant worrying, but you find yourself slipping between sleep and consciousness as you lay there on Dr. Keller’s couch. You don’t mean to, but you can’t help it as you begin to drift off to sleep. 

Screaming. It’s loud, piercing your ears. Something’s holding you, hands clutching at your form desperately. It hurts, nails biting into your skin, fingers gripping too hard, yet you don’t care. 

“You won’t take her from me! I won’t let you!”

You’re crying, sobs wracking your body as you cling just as tightly to the form holding you. 

Hands grab at you, squeezing and pulling, trying to free you from the constricting grip around you, but it won’t let go. You cling to it just as desperately, afraid of what will happen if you let go. 

You know what will happen if you let go. 

“She’s no daughter of mine.” 

The words bite into you, slicing through your skin straight into your very soul, the prickling pain of your own flesh and blood rejecting you making your skin crawl. How could he just let you go like that? How could he turn against you so easily, over something you have no control over? 

Pain erupts across your entire body. Something snaps, your ears ringing from more screams. You’re being pulled away from the safety of the hold around you, your body going cold as the warmth around you disappears. Hands close around you, fingers ripping into you as you're torn from your mother’s hold and into the unknown. 

“Easy, easy.” 

You’re gasping, breathing wheezing as tears choke you. 

“Deep breaths. In and out, nice and slow.” 

Your breath hitches, catching painfully in your chest. 

“You’re alright, you’re safe.” 

You force your eyes open, blinded by tears as something is tucked into your arms. You squeeze the bear against your chest, hiccuping as you fight for control over your emotions. You’re on the couch in Dr. Keller’s office still. You’re not at what was once your home, not stuck in the nightmare you’ve lived over and over. 

Slowly breathing becomes easier, your sobs quieting to sniffles. The tears still spill down your cheeks, dampening the fur of the bear in your arms. 

“You’re alright,” Dr. Keller says, rubbing your back gently. 

You slowly push yourself up to sit, pulling your knees against your chest. You press your palms into your eyes, trying to get the tears to stop. Dr. Keller shifts her position, sitting next to you on the couch. 

“How long have you been having nightmares?” She asks quietly, watching you as you try to calm yourself. 

“Since my heat.” You say, voice rough from crying. You wrap your arms around the bear again, holding onto it tightly. 

“You haven’t said anything about it.” She says gently, shifting slightly so she’s facing you. 

“I didn’t want to.” You say quietly, shame burning through you. She’s not reprimanding you, yet you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. “I shouldn’t be having them, I mean...it’s not even that bad compared to...compared to what the others have gone through. The kinds of nightmares they have.” 

“It might seem that way to you, but trauma is still trauma. It might not be the worst thing someone else has gone through, but it is the worst thing you’ve been through.” 

Her words give you pause. You’ve never quite thought of it that way. The kinds of things your pack does, the things they’ve seen, the things they’ve done, are far worse than anything you’ve experienced. The things you’ve experienced may pale in comparison, but they’re your experiences. No one else’s. 

“If you want to talk about them, that’s what I’m here for.” Dr. Keller says, leaving things open for you to decide what to do. 

You don’t have to tell her. She won’t force you to do it. She won’t force you to do anything, to say anything you don’t want to. It might be nice, though, to let someone know, someone neutral, someone who won’t tell anyone else. It might be nice to finally put into words the things that are eating you, have been eating you. 

You lay back down, curling up into a tight ball on the couch. You hug the bear close to your chest, letting it ground you. “My nightmares, they’re always about the day I left for the institute.” You start, taking a shaky breath. “I haven’t had them in years.” 

“You were sent early after your presentation, right?” She asks. 

“The day after.” You answer. 

“Being sent to an institute can be traumatic when done within the normal time after presentation. I can’t even imagine what being sent that soon was like.” She lets out a breath. “Sometimes when we go through something traumatic, the brain and body hold onto it, because we don’t feel safe enough to process it in the moment. The brain can hold onto it for years, until we finally feel safe enough. Then the brain can start to try and heal from that trauma without us even realizing it.” 

“You think that’s what’s happening?” You ask. 

“It’s possible. Going through your heat successfully, being claimed, building close bonds with your pack, all could aid in helping you finally feel safe enough to process that trauma. Things usually feel worse as the brain works through the trauma, which could be why you’re having nightmares about that event suddenly.” 

“Is there anything that will make them stop?” You ask. 

“There’s some things we can do together that might help the process. I’m more than happy to help you with it, if that’s what you’d like to do. If you decide to, I think it will be a good idea to set up appointments at least twice a week, at least at first.” 

“What are we gonna tell John?” 

She gives you a look. “Well, I’d advise telling him the truth. I think you should tell your pack about your nightmares. They can at least offer you some comfort and understanding. Of course, that’s entirely up to you and what you want to do.” 

You let out a sigh, getting comfortable on the couch again. Dr. Keller adjusts the blanket over you, squeezing your arm gently. 

“Think about it.” She says. “We can talk about it more after they get back and things have settled back to normal again.” 

You’re brushing your teeth when the call comes. You quickly spit into the sink, not even bothering to rinse your mouth before you’re answering, anxiety twisting your stomach into knots. You hadn’t even checked the screen to see who was calling. You’re just anxious to hear from someone after days of silence. 

“Hello?” 

There’s a beat of silence before the voice on the other side responds, the audio distant and slightly garbled, but you hardly notice. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” 

You fight back a sob, your inhale shaky as relief floods through you. “Alpha.” The title slips through your lips before you can even catch it, your body nearly vibrating at hearing John’s voice after so many days. 

“I’m here. We’re all here.” He says, distant voices sounding in the background. 

A smile tugs at your lips, happy tears blurring your eyes as you collapse on your bed. “Missed you.” 

“I know, we’ve missed you too.” 

You move to your bed, flopping down on the mattress in relief. “You alright? Is everyone alright?” 

“We’re alright. Few bumps and bruises, but nothing we haven’t had before. How are you holding up?” 

The urge to spill the truth to him is strong. You’ve been depressed and worried and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that you haven’t panicked about something. You’ve been having horrible nightmares and haven’t been sleeping. There’s an ache in your chest that won’t go away, and you’re afraid it might kill you if you don’t see them soon. 

“I’m alright. Sad cause I miss you a lot.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” There’s a sound on the other end, something you can’t make out and the line buzzes for a second. For a moment you’re worried you were disconnected, but John’s voice cuts through the noise again. “We’re finishing up here soon, and we’ll be home in a couple of days.” 

You can’t help but sigh in relief at his words. They’re alright. They’re all safe, and they’re going to be home soon. You’re going to get to see them soon, touch them again, smell them again. “Hurry back.” You say, your voice shaky with emotion. 

“We’ll try, sweet girl. We have to get going, but we’ll be back before you know it.” 

Saying goodbye doesn't hurt as much as you expect it to. Maybe it’s the relief from hearing their voices, from knowing they’re really alright paired with the knowledge that they’ll be home soon. Two days doesn’t seem so far now that you know that’s all that stands between you and seeing your pack again. 

You roll over in your bed, pressing your face into the pillows. Nothing smells like them anymore. Not their shirts that they scented before they left, not your pillows or stuffed animals. The couch in the rec room, and even John’s bed have started to smell more like you. 

The first thing you’re going to do when they return is get a big whiff of each of them, even if you have to tackle Ghost to do it. You want to refresh their scents all over everything, roll around in them until they’re the only thing you can smell. 

For the first time in days, you manage to sleep that night. It’s not much, but it’s a deep, nightmare-free sleep, aided by the relief from the constant anxiety that has plagued you. 

You update Dr. Keller the next day on the news of your pack’s imminent return. You elect to spend the afternoon in the barracks instead of her office, the building suddenly not seeming quite so empty now that you know they’re coming home soon. You clean up John’s room, making his bed again after you’d made a mess of it trying to sleep. They’re all going to be tired when they return, and you want to help them in any way that you can. You pick up your room as well, even though you know you likely won’t be spending much time in it for a while. You’re going to latch yourself onto them and not let go until the ache in your chest has disappeared. 

You bristle when the knock sounds at your door. You glance up from where you had been sorting the clothes you’d stolen from the guys from your own so you can get them to scent them again. You’re not expecting a knock yet. It’s too early to be Dr. Keller coming to get you for dinner, and she would have announced herself like she has been, if it was her. 

That means someone else is in the barracks. Someone you don’t know. 

Your mind races as you try to think of who it could be. You don’t know many others on base, and certainly no one that would enter the barracks just like that, unless it’s an emergency. Is there an emergency? You’re almost certain if there was an emergency on base, then there would be alarms going off or something. There’d be some sign that something was happening, but it’s quiet outside, or at least, there’s no noises you’re not expecting. 

The knock comes again, louder and sharper. Whoever is on the other side is obviously not going to just go away. You debate calling Dr. Keller, telling her someone is outside your door, getting her to help you on this, but instead you grab your phone, holding it in your hand as you move towards the door. 

You unlock it, holding your hand on the handle in case the person on the other side tries to force their way in. They don’t, so you open it slowly, just enough that you can see out. There’s a soldier outside your door. A woman. You don’t recognize her, but then again you don’t see many women on the base, and you don’t pay much attention to the other soldiers. 

Maybe you need to start paying more attention. 

She’s a beta, you can tell just by looking at her. She’s wearing scent blockers, keeping her scent from projecting into the barracks to erase the fact she was here. 

She says your name, staring at you with hard set eyes. “General Shepherd is waiting for you.” 

It takes you a moment to process what it is she’s saying. You’ve never met any of the higher ups on base. The person with the most authority you’ve met is John, but you know he’s only a Captain. There’s others above him, but you weren’t any concern of theirs, so you have never bothered to meet them. Even in your time with the CIA, the person with the most authority that you met seemed to be Kate. You hadn’t even been given names of anyone higher up than her. 

Apparently something’s changed. 

Something in the back of your mind begins to tingle. Something isn’t right about this. You should have called Dr. Keller, or even Kate. You shouldn’t have opened the door so recklessly. 

“But, I’m not supposed to-” You begin, unsure of what to do now. 

“It’s a direct order from your superior.” The woman cuts you off, her tone sharp and impatient.

You’re not a soldier. The only superior you have is John and he’s certainly not behind this. 

You wouldn’t dare say that out loud. Not right now. 

“Okay, okay.” You say, stepping back slightly from the door. “Let me just get some shoes on.” 

You close the door, staring down at your phone. You debate calling Dr. Keller or even just sending a text, but you don’t put it past the woman outside to barge in if you don’t hurry. You can feel the panic rising, the thought of someone invading your space so carelessly making the back of your neck tingle. So instead you slip on a pair of shoes, shoes you know you can run in, before you open the door again. 

She’s still standing in the hallway, stiffly at attention. Her gaze pierces into you, making your skin crawl. You close your door behind you, slipping your phone into your pocket. She doesn't say anything as she turns on her heel, walking down the hallway towards the door. You follow behind her, having to walk quickly to keep up with her. You’re reminded of your early days on the base when you would be escorted around by Ghost. 

You’d take those times back over this right now. 

Your palms start to sweat as you leave the barracks, dread starting to fill your stomach as you realize how much of a mistake you’ve made, leaving with this stranger. She could be taking you anywhere to see anyone. You’re not even sure General Shepherd is a real person. 

The thought of being led blindly into a room of alphas like a lamb being led into a den of hungry wolves nearly makes you panic, your steps faltering just slightly as you debate running. You could make it to the medical center quickly from here if you sprint the entire way. Would she chase you if you took off running? Would you get in trouble? Would the guys get in trouble if you did? 

You don’t want anyone to get in trouble. 

Especially not with this being the first time you’ve been on your own. They’ve put a lot of trust in both you and Dr. Keller in their absence. If you get into trouble while they’re gone, that might change things. You could ruin everything you’ve built by misbehaving. 

The woman leads you to a building you haven’t been in before, leading you down a clinical-looking hallway to a door. She pauses in front of it, turning to face you. You stare at her, still on edge. What if this is a test? What if they’re testing you to see if you’d just blindly leave with a stranger while they’re not there to protect you. 

You’ve made a big mistake. 

The woman holds out her hand, and you stare down at it dumbly. “Your phone.” 

You continue to stare at her hand for a moment, trying to swallow the nervous panic rising within you. You don’t have much of a choice now but to obey. Your hands are shaking as you pass your phone over, the woman pocketing it before she opens the door. 

It’s bright inside, the LED bulbs burning your eyes. You’re uncomfortable and uneasy, a dangerous mix for an omega, but the person inside doesn’t seem to care. He stands from his seat, towering over you. He screams alpha before his scent even hits you. You’re thrown back into the memories of your father, the way he carried himself, the way he stood. Back straight like a rod, hands clasped behind his back, face pressed into a stern line. 

He’s in uniform, decorated with more patches and pins than you could put a name to. Army, you think, judging by the color of his jacket. It looks like General Shepherd is a real person after all. 

You try not to flinch as the door clicks closed behind you, sealing you in this room with an unknown alpha. Though it’s only one, you still feel like the helpless lamb standing before a hungry wolf. 

No one will hear you scream. No one will care. 

“My name is General Shepherd.” He says, his voice gruff and laced with authority. “I am the acting commander of Task Force 141.” 

You’re not sure if you should say anything, or even bother introducing yourself. He probably already knows you well, even though you’ve never met him before in your life. 

“I was one of the driving forces behind the omega initiative, and I decided the 141 should be one of the first to participate. I also signed the approval for you to be assigned as their omega, did you know that?” 

You shake your head. “N-No sir, the CIA didn’t give me any names.” 

“Good.” His lips twitch in what you assume was supposed to be a smile. It doesn’t ease your nerves any. “They weren’t supposed to. I’m sure you’ve learned that confidentiality is everything in this line of work.” 

“Yes, sir.” You try not to flinch under his gaze, piercing and probing. The back of your neck is tingling, every single instinct in your body screaming at you to run, to escape, to get somewhere safe. 

“I came here today to ensure your pack was doing as they were instructed. I’m impressed with what I’ve seen so far. You’re getting along well with them?” 

You nod again. “Yes, sir. There were some...bumps along the way, but we all get along fine now.” 

“Good.” He closes the file on the table, taking a step closer to you. You fight the urge to take a step back, not wanting him to invade your space while you’re so vulnerable. “The success of this program is imperative to the future of the military and its functionality. You’re doing important work here with the Task Force.” His hand lifts, slowly pulling the collar of your shirt to the side so he can see your mating mark. 

You fight the urge to lift your hands and wrap them around the back of your neck, the instinctual urge to protect yourself nearly winning out as he stares at your mark. Your heart is pounding in your chest, the fear-driven adrenaline making your fingers tremble. Half a second and he could scruff you, half a second and he could overpower you. 

No one would know. No one would care.  

“I’m satisfied with what I’m seeing so far. Of course, the true measure of success will be their efficiency in their current task.” He steps back away from you, moving back to the table. “How have you been adjusting to them being gone?” 

“It’s been difficult,” You say, breathing for a second to collect yourself. “But I know separation can be a rough adjustment at first.” 

His lips twitch again in a twisted smile. “You’re a smart girl. That’s why I chose you for this position. You’re doing good work. Your efforts will change the course of military history, hopefully for the better.” 

Something about his words don’t sit right with you. 

You’re trembling as you exit the room, led out by the woman that had brought you to the building. Your breaths are heavy as you try to keep a grip on the anxiety threatening to overtake you. Your hand is trembling uncontrollably as she give you your phone back, your knuckles going white as you clutch it to your chest. You’re sweating, the cool air chilling your skin as you step outside. 

You barely remember the walk back to the barracks, numbly following the woman as she leads you back to your safe space. It doesn't feel so safe anymore, now that she’s breached it. She entered without permission, breaking that trust that’s so sacred to packs. 

She doesn't even seem bothered by it. 

She pauses outside the door to the barracks, staring down at you. You fight the urge to race inside and lock yourself in the safety of your room before she can change her mind and enter again, or take you somewhere worse. You stand your ground, meeting her gaze. 

“Thank you for your cooperation.” She says, as monotone as she had been the first time she spoke to you. 

You finally realize what it was that made her seem so off to you as you think over her words. 

She’s American. 

“Thank you for escorting me.” You say politely, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Have a safe trip home.” 

You quickly enter the barracks, speed walking down the hall towards your room. You want to burrow under your covers and hide until the guys return and you can feel safe again. You pause in front of your door, staring down at the handle. The back of your neck is prickling again, anxiety burning hot in your veins. Your hands have begun shaking again, clinging to the phone still pressed against your chest. You fight the urge to hyperventilate as you stare at your door, half of your brain telling you to run and the other half stuck, staring in shock and disbelief. 

Your door is ajar. Open just a crack, just enough to be noticeable by looking at it. 

You always close your door. You always ensure it’s shut every time you leave the barracks, even when the guys are home. You remember shutting it before you followed the woman out of the barracks. You remember distinctly listening to the click of the handle as you pulled it shut behind you in the quiet of the barracks. 

You stare at the gap, the line of the frame visible. It’s open. Your door is open. 

Someone was inside your room. 

NEXT ->

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[mikimakiboo]

Happier Somewhere Else

It's been a while since I wrote some Nightmare angst :)

Thankfully @somegrumpynerd posted a wonderful thought that gave me a boost of inspiration :D ( surprise surprise hope you enjoy :) )

Tw: some self hatred, mention of past bullying, slight abandonment issue, basically just Nightmare badly needing therapy and having a bad time™

- What would you like to do ?

Nightmare asked as Killer turned to look at him, taken aback by the question. His boss rarely asked him about what he would like to do, surely because the determination dripping skeleton always seemed pleased with everything. He was always so enthusiastic about everything Nightmare asked him to do or anywhere he asked him to go, that Nightmare just didn't think Killer would want something else. But his henchman had looked quite... down, lately, he often found him looking through the window, lost in his thoughts, spacing out during dinner or mid conversation, and so he had been worried that he could be longing for something else that Nightmare didn't think of providing, but now that a truce had been established with his brother, it would be easier to satisfy whatever need he had.

Killer thought for a moment, glancing at the window before looking back at Nightmare. Something he wanted to do ? He didn't want to do anything special, but... he did want to go out... did that count as something to do ?

- I... I want to go in the Omega Timeline... to see Color...

Nightmare didn't respond right away, and Killer saw him frown a little, was his answer not what Nightmare expected ? Should he have asked to watch TV instead ?

Nightmare kept staring at him for a few seconds before realizing that he was waiting for an answer.

- I.. sure, you can.. you can go see him...

He hesitated. Killer smiled, giving him a hug that Nightmare didn't know how to reciprocate, before letting him go and leaving to go to his room.

- I'm gonna pack my bag, I'll be back in five minutes !

Nightmare watched him leave, a feeling that he hadn't felt in years emerged in his soul and he had to take a deep breath to try and suppress it. He looked out the window. It was autumn, his favorite season, he loved watching the trees change color and the leaves falling on the ground, the trees in Dreamtale never did that, his AU had been stucked in a perpetual spring due to the Tree of Feelings. His boys always teased him when he called it autumn instead of fall, they always said he was so fancy and sophisticated.

- Hey, uh.. you're good ?

Nightmare turned, Killer was back with his bag on his shoulder. He looked worried. Nightmare forced a smile.

- Yeah, I'm good, I'll take you to the Omega Timeline.

He wrapped a tentacle around Killer's wrist and the two of them dissappear in a puddle, when the reappeared they were in a white void, a spot in the Omega Timeline that was far enough from the city as to not be seen. Nightmare wasn't welcomed here.

Color was already there, Killer must have sent him a message. He looked at Nightmare with suspicion, as he always did, not trusting him near his friend. The black skeleton let go of Killer, watching him run to his friend to hug him full force, his soul radiating happiness and excitation while Nightmare's soul only clenched in his ribcage. When Killer turned around, Nightmare was already gone.

Nightmare reappeared back in the living room, alone, his whole chest burning from the inside. He felt Dust's presence behind him.

- Hey, uh, I saw Killer running out of his room with a bag, you dropped him somewhere ?

- He's.. in the Omega Timeline..

Nightmare answered without turning around. Dust laughed.

- Off being gay with his rainbow boyfriend again ?

Nightmare forced himself to chuckle but he already felt his lips trembling.

- Yeah.. I'll.. be in my office, I have work to do, do not disturb me..

He said before teleporting, leaving Dust in the living room, confused.

He locked the door and went to sit on his chair. What had he done ? Why did he let him go ? Why did he let Killer leave ? Why did he want to leave in the first place ? Wasn't he happy here with them ? He thought he had been happy, he was always so.. so joyful when they were all together... had he been secretly miserable ? So miserable that now that there was a truce he saw his chance to leave ? To go be happy with his friend, like Dust said, because he wasn't truly happy here ? What did Nightmare do wrong, what did he not see, for Killer to want to leave this soon ?

Nightmare felt terrible, like a giant weight was crushing him and couldn't get up, he could never get up. He had thought that Killer was happy, he truly believed it, but he asked him to leave, and Nightmare hadn't found the strength to tell him no, to keep him away from someone who made him smile more then they could ever had. He didn't find the strength to say no, to lock him here and watch him be miserable and knowing he was the cause of his misery. Not again.

He didn't want to be the cause of anybody's misery, not again, not anymore. He had felt so bad, so guilty, each time a villager accused him of causing harm to them or their family. He didn't want to harm anyone, all he wanted was play under the tree with his brother, his brother was always so happy to be with him. He harmed him too. He harmed him each time there was a storm, Dream didn't like thunder, it always made him cry when it was too loud, he was scared. But where did fear come from ? It came from him. From his apples. He knew that if Dream was scared it was because of him, because he guarded those feelings, each time someone felt fear or sadness or despair it was because of him. He knew it. So if Killer was unhappy, it must have been because of him.

His gaze fell on the picture on his desk, a picture taken by Killer, on which there was everyone. They were smiling, Nightmare was in the back, watching them fondly, his boys, his family. He grabbed the frame carefully, holding it with both hands. He loved them so much... were they happy here ? Did they want to go too ? Should he let them go ? He wanted them to be happy, even if it meant they would be far from him...

He sighed, putting the frame back on his desk, he teleported to his room and fell on his bed. Dinner was almost ready, judging by the time, but he wasn't hungry. Horror wouldn't be pleased with him skipping a meal, but he felt like he would throw up if he ate anything. His chest felt too full, ready to explode, he felt like he had something in his throat making his cheeks tingle. He rolled on the other side of his bed, holding a pillow in his arms as his tentacles curled around him in a protective manner. He was breathing faster, louder, his lips were shaking. He felt pathetic. He didn't have the right to cry. He didn't have the right to feel sad that Killer was happy. He should be happy for him ! He should be happy Killer had someone who cared about him ! He should... he should have seen something was wrong... he should have guessed... it wasn't rocket science, he could never make someone happy, that was his brother's role, not his, it had never been his. His role was to make people miserable, and he was good at this job, so good that he himself felt so miserable at that moment.

He didn't find sleep this night, he just kept rolling over and over and over, listening to the others go to bed too. Horror had knocked at his door, informing him that his plate was in the fridge if he was hungry later. He wasn't hungry. He wanted to throw up. He felt disgusted, disgusted of himself for having neglected Killer so much he didn't notice he wasn't happy.

He got out of bed in the morning, later than usual, he felt heavy. He managed to drag himself to the kitchen and sit at the table where the others, minus Killer, were already having breakfast.

- Mornin' Night, want coffee ?

Horror asked, already making some pancakes. Nightmare nodded, not feeling like talking this morning.

- You look down, bad night ?

Cross asked him, worried, Nightmare was usually the first to get up. He nodded again and gave a small smile to Horror when he gave him his mug, sipping on the hot liquid.

He listened to them as they were having their conversation. Did they want to leave too ? Did they have places to go, people to meet, where they would be happier than here ? Did they know Killer wouldn't come back ? Did he already tell them goodbye ?

- You're sure you're okay ?

Dust asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. His hands were shaking on his empty mug. He looked at the hooded skeleton, and the hooded skeleton looked back at him, squinting. Nightmare looked down.

- I'm fine, just.. just thinking about.. about stuff..

He mumbled, not at all convincing, and he knew it. He got up before any of them could ask anything else and teleported back in his office.

Would they also leave him one day ? He couldn't stop thinking about it. Were they unhappy too ? If Killer was unhappy, were they too ? Would he be strong enough to let them go ? Would he be strong enough to get up after their departure ? Would he be strong enough to keep living without them ? Would he live or just exist ? Would they even want to hang out with him from time to time ? To ask how he was doing ? Who would they ask that ? Dream maybe ? How would Dream know ? They haven't spend time with each other for so long... maybe it was time for Nightmare to catch up with his brother ? Maybe it was time he finally did something right in his life ? Something good, instead of making everyone he met feel like a piece of garbage ? Maybe Dream would stay a little... ? At least out of pity... ? He was always so nice, surely he would accept to keep him company from time to time...

His phone buzzed on his desk. Nightmare looked at it, frowning, he rarely received any messages. He grabbed it, unlocking it quickly to see who wanted to contact him. It was Killer.

" You can come pick me up now :D waiting at the usual spot kiss kiss •3• "

Nightmare stared at his screen for a while, reading the message over and over again, until his phone locked itself on its own after being left untouched for too long. He saw his reflection in the black screen. He felt ridiculous. So ridiculous. He wanted to laugh, and he laughed, he laughed at the absurdity of the situation, he laughed until it turned into crying, until he cried and choked on all those tears he was fighting since he dropped Killer in the Omega Timeline, the tears he was fighting in bed, during breakfast, he let his soul pound faster and harder, his chest burn, his throat hurt, and his eye and cheeks sting.

He thought he had lost him, he thought he was gone forever and that he would lose the others too, he had been so scared, and for what ? For nothing. For nothing at all. Killer wanted to come back home, he didn't want to leave, he wanted to come back. He had been so scared, so scared to be alone again, to be this lonely little child again, this little child with no friends, no one to talk to, to play with... a terrified little child who just wanted to love and loved... he didn't want to go back to that, he wanted to stay with his boys, he wanted them to stay with him, they were so precious to him, his whole reason to live, he didn't bear the thought of losing them...

But Killer wasn't gone, they were all still here, all at home, they were with him, and he would make it last as long as possible...

- Hey you sure he got connection in this old ass castle ?

Color asked Killer. They have been waiting for Nightmare for almost an hour when he would usually show up not one minute after Killer sent a message.

- He probably got his head in a book, he's such a bookworm I swear.

Killer chuckled, sitting on him bag, humming happily. How could he not be happy ? He spent the whole day with his best friend and was now going back home to play with his other besties !

He truly couldn't be happier.

[miasmaghoul]

Oh :(

Oh Miasma why would you do this to me why would you make me sad about Omega like this........

But also.

Poof. Omega's just gone. Do you think it breaks Aether's heart to lose his mentor? Or do you think some part of him is happy for him because maybe, if the unholy father wills it, Omega might find Terzo again in another life?

Do you think Dew feels like his worlds been turned on its head? Relies even more heavily on Aether for a sense of stability without Omega there?

Sorry you've activated the sad Omega brainworms and I am in shambles

-Void

(Follow up to this ask)

I almost exclusively have sad thoughts about Omega, it's a curse 😔

Sad terzomega and dewther brainworm food below, but maybe with a little hope swirled in for flavor. Eat up 💜

I think he withdraws once Terzo goes missing, and with all the fallout after the fact...no one really notices. Except for Aether and Dew - they're at his door every day, always trying to offer what they can. Anything Omega needs, they'll make happen.

Omega needs Terzo. No one can help him with that.

I think they both feel it when he vanishes. Aether via the connection he has to all his pack members, and Dew senses it thanks to a chill he's never felt before. Like something's been chipped off inside him, something small but crucial. They wake up together one rainy morning, a week after the Cardinal was named leader, and just know everything feels...off. They dress together in silence, and walk just as quietly to Omega's chamber in the lower ghoul wing. Aether's hands won't stop shaking when he goes to open the door, but Dew does him the courtesy of not mentioning it.

Inside, on the perfectly made bed, they find the photo of Copia, a worn silver mask - and a pair of golden rings.

They hold each other for a while after that. Aether pins Dew to his chest and Dew clings to his shirt. No words, just contact. Reassurance that they both need so, so badly in the moment.

Then, knelt at Omega's bedside, they pray.

Aether prays he's found peace. That he's free of the stress and misery of being without the one person he'd found a true connection with. (If he peeks at Dew from the corner of his eye, he can't be blamed.) He prays that now Omega can rest, and that Secondo was right when he drunkenly told them all that the family Emeritus has it good in Hell. He prays that Terzo has been down there waiting, and that Omega can spend the rest of forever as happy as he deserves to be.

Dew cusses him out, brow furrowed in frustration as every bit of ghoulish profanity he can remember rolls through his mind. He sighs to himself once the wave of reactionary anger recedes, setting his elbows on the mattress and bowing his head - and all he can think to say is thank you. It's not enough, certainly. Nowhere near as complex as a goodbye should be, especially not to someone as important to him as Omega had been, but it's all he's got. In the end, he supposes that's fitting. Omega was never a ghoul of many words. He preferred keeping things direct - it was one of the things that Dew admired most about him. So maybe thank you is enough. For now, it has to be.

Aether's the first to stand, but Dew follows quickly. The join hands without so much as looking at one another, Dew leading the way to the door with purposeful strides. Aether grabs the old brass key from the dish on Omega's desk, and he pauses with one hand on the door handle. Takes one last look at the mask, the rings, and with one deep breath he commits every detail to memory.

Dew does not look back until he hears the lock tumble, and hold his hand out expectantly. Aether drops the key in his palm, and hand in hand the walk to the lake. It's still drizzling out, enough that their uniforms have gone damp by the time they reach the creaky old dock. Dew holds out his hand, and they stare at the key for a long moment. The little ghoul sighs, and Aether looks up to find Dew watching him with resolute eyes still watery along the edges.

"We gotta make him proud."

Dew says it so softly that Aether almost misses it, his mouth set in a firm line, and the fiercest sort of affection rips through his chest. He nods, biting the inside of his cheek.

"We will."

Dew throws the key towards the center of the gently rippling water, and they both turn away before they can see it sink.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Interesting Megs practicaly dealing with his relatives and Death itself ouch. magine when Op brings the allspark back Unicron senses it and brings Meg back to life to drop at their feet for them to deal with

Starscream: Master! You're alive!

Megatron:*free of his roommates now, looks very haunted,* I'm neither that nor dead.

Starscream:.. Uh what?

Megatron: I will never be fully alive nor leave this mortal coil. I will never be able to repent fully for my actions. I am leaving now so don't look for me. Do not fight in my name because decepticons are dead just like i am

Megatron: But if i hear about you lot or anyone else making a council i will come back to personally hit whoever over the helm. Understood?

Op: I missed you

Megatron: I am trying not to have a breakdown here

Poor Megatron. He will have no peace after being released from the Unmaker's grasp. In all seriousness, I do imagine his time floating around in Unicron's mindscape where all the Titans chatter would do him some good. Being able to hear them speak in their strange tones would have to adjust his view of reality.

So many giants staring down at him like he's little more than an ant, their thoughts booming and powerful, beating down on him like a relentless force. Entities far older than him, all wiser and ancient enough to have seen the birth of galaxies. He, I imagine, reeled in their presence, unable to handle their oppressive wills. Just a few weeks under them being more than enough to force him to think, especially as each tried to speak to him.

Moon attempted to call out to him, but so many millennia dealing with entities such as Unicron dampened his ability to recognize his limits and the weakness of others. Megatron, unable to handle the great Titan's calls, screamed into the void. Moon did not try and contact him after and instead merely observed the spark of the one the Autobots feared so greatly. Megatron could always feel Moon watching and listening. There was no respite from his gaze.

Mars did not speak often, but when he did, Megatron felt the earth shattering might of a being who held no love for him. Mars knew who it was that led their world to fall into its bitter state. He knew that Optimus and Megatron were the source, and while not angry at either, his bitterness did not lend Megatron any favor in the mindscape of the Unmaker. The few times he spoke up, his words were heard by all and embedded into Megatron's very spark.

"You who tore our world apart, do you not lament the loss? Was the devastation worthwhile? Did the sacrifices of beings far greater than you mean nothing?"

"I meant to give our people freedom."

"And yet you gave them war."

"It was the only way. Nothing would have changed without conflict."

"Perhaps. But the destruction had no reason to echo this long. Tell me, how many sparklings have been wrapped into your war?"

"..."

"I see you as a mere sparkling. Small, frail, foolish, easily demolished beneath my pedes. And yet I value each child of Primus equally. Do you understand? It matters not who you are or what power you hold. Under Primus, All Are One."

Pluto spoke only in visions of violence. Megatron saw destruction far greater than anything he had wrought. He watched planets burn in the wrath of a Titan angry at the loss of so many. He saw civilizations turned to mere ash. He saw a Titan hardly bigger than Omega Supreme throwing everything into a desperate battle against Predacons in order to defend another Titan and their charges. He saw energon split and scars gained.

Pluto did not speak, but his visions told Megatron more than enough. Violence had its reason, but in the end, it was dooming. To a being who watched stars burn out, Megatron's war, while brutal, meant very little. Pluto knew his anger, and in Pluto's sight, it meant nothing. Megatron never felt so small as when Pluto looked down upon him in distaste.

Unicron never needed to speak. The fact that Megatron resided within his mind was more than enough for the warlord to see visions of entropy that left him pondering the meaning of his existence. None of the Titans regarded him with warmth, that was save for Earth.

She was used to reaching out to her fragile offspring, and so her words were soft. She called out across the void, wrapping her attention around Megatron like a cloak. He never saw her, nor did he know who exactly she was. Unlike the Titans, she had no form that he could sense aside from a vague sense that she was below the ground of the terran world he once threatened to cyberform. Surprisingly, she held no anger toward him. Instead, he felt her pity and her sorrow on his behalf. She saw his mind and his memory and she whispered of how sorry she was that he'd been burdened so long. She swept him away into dreams of places he had never seen, some on Earth, and others somewhere amongst the stars.

She was a comfort, and through her murmurs, Megatron found a degree of peace and contemplation.

"You were held in bondage. I can see the echoes of your shackles. You hold them close to yourself even now."

"I serve no master, not anymore."

"You are a slave to your past and the pain it brought."

"I am not! I am Megatron of Kaon, Champion of the Pits! I have freed myself and my people!"

"That may be so. But the things you sought to escape from live on in your actions. The scars that dug so deep into your frame have now been mirrored on those around you."

"What?"

"Your anger has infected your fellows. Your once righteous rage has turned into something dark. Sweet child, you must let it go. It is not too late to end this madness which has possessed you."

Megatron listened to Earth and shook under the gazes of the rest. He was not sure how long he spent with them, but when Unicron forced him to return to the living realm, he was changed. Seeing everything from the perspectives of such mighty beings... everything felt so much more wasteful. He had not needed to destroy as much as he had, nor had Optimus needed to drag their war on in response to his madness. The pushed each other ever onward, but free of Unicron, Megatron decided to be the first to put an end to the cycle of madness.

When he turned and faced the Autobots, he knew that one day he would have to suffer for his crimes. But for now, he needed time to think and Cybertron needed time to heal.

And so he took to the stars, guided by whispers of the Titans that guarded Unicron so diligently. His thoughts drifted to Halley's Comet, and he found a destination. Perhaps there would be merit to traveling alongside the living memorial that was the youngest of the Titans.

[vroomian]

as the romans do, hana/radioapple, first meeting with lucifer

Lucifer was sitting in the bar/reception area, indulging in peaceful silence with Musk sitting behind the bar staring off into the distance. Keke was beside him, staring n the same direction. Must be a cat thing.

The door opened. Husk’s gaze snapped to it with a muffled mrrp. Lucifer stifled a chuckle, because he had manners, Alastor. He glances over to the door finding – a stranger? With a blink, he straightened up. In the month since he’s taken up residence there’d been no new clients at all.

This new sinner was on the shorter side, skin pale as Lucifer’s own, her face set in an impassive mask. Her eyes were black pits like a cannibal’s but there were small, pure white pupils that revealed that wasn’t this sinner’s damming vice. Other than her eyes and coloring she was the most human looking sinner Lucifer had ever seen.

The one mark of strangeness was the twin pair of branches that curled out of her head like horns. They were the same void black as her eyes, but on them was a riot of flowers, – all of them in grey scale, Lucifer realized.

He watched one bud sprout, bloom, fade, and wither as if in fast forward. Fascinating.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. Can I help you?” Musk drawled, sounding as if there was nothing he’d like less.

“Delivery for the radio demon,” The woman said. Her voice was surprisingly deep and raspy.

Husk made a face. “Gotcha.” He tapped the radio on the bar. “Delivery for you, boss.”

The shadows in the room flickered. Oh, great. This asshole. The radio demon in his full red glory sprang into existence in the middle of the lobby like Athena from the forehead of Zeus. He adjusted the sleeves of his tacky, tattered coat despite the fact they were perfect as always. Asshole.

“Now, Husker, what’s this about a delivery? I don’t recall ordering anything, but perhaps Rosie sent –” Alastor stopped dead in the middle of the room, staring at the woman.

Lucifer’s eyebrows raised. That was the most surprised he’d ever seen the Radio Demon. His smile actually faded a bit.

Alastor cleared his throat, straightened his already immaculate jacket again, and crossed over to meet the woman. She seemed content to let him loom over her, her entire body relaxed and loose in a way Lucifer had only seen Nifty be. The omega was intimidating.

Alastor’s hands were clasped behind him, so Lucifer got a full view of the almost nervous twist to them. “Hana, darling. What brings you here? I wasn’t expecting you to be back for another fortnight at least.”

The sinner – Hana – hummed under he breath. “I caught a broadcast and came back. You didn’t invite me to the party.”

The party? Did she mean the Extermination?

Alastor’s back tensed. “Vox remains a voyeuristic fly in the eye of the public.”

“True. But I wouldn’t have to listen for news about you if you just told me yourself,” Hana tapped his chest with her knuckles, gentle as anything. Amazingly, her hands stayed attached to her body.

Something like dread was starting to curl up in Lucifer’s chest. The way Alastor’s ears relaxed when Hana touched him, the easy way the stood together, the atmosphere as if they were the only two in the world – it was painting a picture that Lucifer couldn’t quite focus on.

There was no way. Not Alastor. Omega he might be but he was far, far too dangerous for any Alpha, no matter how strong they thought themselves.

It was a stupid idea.

Lucifer found himself pushing away from the bar, walking over to them. “Hey, bellhop. You going to introduce us to your friend?”

Alastor’s ears flicked, as if startled.

Lucifer’s stomach clenched. Alastor was never startled. He kept his ears on a swivel, especially around Lucifer. Deer thing. Or a paranoid overlord thing. Maybe some fun and terrible mix of the two! They were in hell after all.

The Radio Demon turned neatly on his heel, his normal smile in place. “Why, didn’t your mother teach you not to interrupt private conversations?”

“Hm. NOPE. I don’t have one of those,” Lucifer drawled out. Alastor’s eyes were flint and steel, striking up a blaze inside of Lucifer’s gut. “It’s a stupid human thing.”

“Oh my! Such disrespect for your own wife, and the mother of your child. Tsk, tsk, what would Charlie say?”

Bitch. Lucifer knew plenty about mothers and children! Not that Lucifer could say anything, or even show Alastor the stretch marks as proof of Lucifer’s own labor of love. “Don’t bring Charlie up to me, you absolute –”

“Al,” Hana said. Breaking into the now familiar cadence of a proper fight. “Introduce me.”

Alastor’s hackles immediately went down, his entire face softening into something foreign. It left Lucifer adrift, like a dancer whose partner vanish mid step.

“My apologies, darling. Where are my manners these days!” Alastor gave a deeply theatrical bow to Lucifer. “Hana, may I introduce our fearless, feckless leader and progenitor of my business partner, his majesty, Lucifer Morningstar. Sire, this is Hana. She is a dear friend, a trusted ally,” He took a deep breath, and his smile grew hard, staring at Lucifer as if daring him to say something. “And my mate. My Alpha.”

Absolute silence.

Something behind the bar shattered, but Lucifer was too frozen to look. The words didn’t register for a long moment. He stared at Hana. She was – Alastor’s alpha? What the fuck? Lucifer knew he didn’t truly understand how humanity’s secondary genders worked, but how could anyone manage to snag an omega as independent and dangerous as Alastor?

It was a good thing Lucifer didn’t really need to breath. All the oxygen seemed to be sucked out of the room. He could feel his forehead itch, horns threatening to break through skin.

The sinner didn’t seem surprised or even intimidated. Her hands stayed in her pockets. “Hey.”

“A pleasure,” Lucifer lied.

“Wait, wait one fucking second – Boss, was this the reason you were gone for seven years?” Musk asked, incredulous. “You were involved in a hunt?”

“Ah, that. Well –” Alastor paused. “Hm. I suppose it could be thought of that way. I certainly felt pursued.”

“Yeah,” Hana said.

Lucifer didn’t miss the way Alastor’s ears flicker towards the sound of her voice, attention firmly on his – his mate. Fuck. Lucifer felt his nails bite into his hands. The pain was grounding.

Husk scoffed. “A whole seven years for a hunt, though?”

“Well, of course, Husker! it’s a matter of principle! My mother didn’t raise me to settle. Seven years of hunting is the bare minimum for someone such as I.”

“You’re a slippery fuck,” Hana said, her voice still bland and cold. Standing next to Alastor, she seemed even more drab and lifeless. Seriously, how was this Alastor’s mate?

Alastor gave that polite fake laugh, pleased as punch. “I am a delight. Now my dear, why on earth have you come to the hotel? I have it on good authority you were out of the city on business.”

Hana gave him a very dry look. “Maybe it’s because I had to hear about my mate taking on the first man and leader of the exorcists from 666 news. Business could wait.”

“Ah. Yes, that.” Alastor cleared his throat, and actually looked a little embarrassed. Lucifer wanted to tear out his own eyes. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine!”

“You are,” Hana said, voice the slightest bit warmer, and her eyes giving Alastor the slow once over.

A flush rose in Alastor’s cheeks. He looked –

“So!” Lucifer broke in, his stomach in knots. How the fuck did Alastor of all people have a mate? Someone that worried about his safety, gave up business for him, complimented him, flirted, clearly cared? “You said you had a delivery?”

Alastor cleared his throat. “Quite right, sire!”

Hana’s dark eyes wandered slowly from Alastor to Lucifer, and it was like being crushed under the full pressure of the sea. Lucifer could physically feel the sinner’s attention. His wings puffed up in their pocket dimension. His forehead ached.

Oh. This sinner was powerful. Not an overlord, or Lucifer would’ve definitely remembered her. Was she new? But what new sinner felt like this?

“You’re the devil?” the sinner asked.

Lucifer bared his teeth it what could generously be described as a smile. “I am. Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell. As the bellhop said.”

That netted him a single slow blink. That strange sense of pressure intensified, and Lucifer had the unpleasant feeling of being a bug under a magnifying glass. Seriously, what the fuck was up with this sinner and why didn’t Lucifer know who she was?

Abruptly as it came, the attention faded, leaving just a sinner standing there. No indication of power. Not even a hint of danger. that trick, more than anything, made Lucifer’s blood run cold.

“Huh. Shorter than I thought,” was all the sinner said.

Asshole. She had barely six inches on him!

Before Lucifer could incinerate the sinner for her impudence, Alastor let out a tiny snicker.

“Isn’t he just?” Alastor reached over and scuffed a hand through Lucifer’s hair. It was so unexpected Lucifer forgot his anger. “Now, what did you bring me, darling?”

She gestured, and a large package poofed to existence. It reached Hana’s middle, and it was wrapped in butcher paper, revealing it to be – oh, ew. Was that a leg? Did Alastor’s mate bring him an actual leg?

“Do I want to know who’s that is?” Lucifer asked, already annoyed. Fucking sinners. “It better not bring trouble for the hotel. Charlie has enough on her plate.”

Alastor practically lit up like the marquee outside, red eyes glittering. “My dearest, you are a blessing! Did Rosie source it for you?”

“Nah. It’s home grown.”

What?

Alastor stilled, and Lucifer watched the red rise in his cheeks with a sense of something sinking inside of his chest. Red suited Alastor, though Lucifer would die rather than admit it. It was so easy to forget the man’s designation until the light of the lobby, soft and diffused, hit his long eyelashes and delicate cheekbones just right.

“Hana, my dear, you certainly didn’t have to –”

Hana tapped him on the chest again, closed fist and gentle. Alastor abruptly cut off. He looked down and captured the hand in his own. The white of the sinner’s hand contrasted beautiful with Alastor’s own black and red. Lucifer’s own traitorous hands twitched for his sketchbook.

“I am your alpha. You need, I provide.” She said. “Standard rates still apply.”

Alastor laughed. “You feed me, I feed you?”

“It’s only fair.”

“Just so,” Alastor said softly.

It had the ring of an old conversation, full of meaning that Lucifer wasn’t privy too. Like listening to himself and Lily, one hundred years ago. When There was a certain weight to history between two people, they could create a mess of language and inn jokes all their own.

Why did Alastor get to have that? He was a sinner of the worst type. And yet this awful cannibal, that egotistical waste of hellish air got to have a partner that not only accepted his strangeness but loved it?

If there was a proof that Lucifer’s parent was an uncaring one, it was here in this moment. He couldn’t help the way that his smile fixed on his face, fake and fully ugly.

[anamelessfool]

Ribbons & Ties (AO3 Link) Chapter 4

M/M, GEN (Ch 3 Here) 2000ish words

Terzo x Omega, Terzo & Family, Terzo & His Ghouls, Cardinal Marian is in there for like ten minutes

Tags: Domestic Fluff, Commitment, Rom Com Energy, There's a Wedding, Secondo is Papa Emeritus, Gift Giving, The ghoul names are all messed up sorry it is for plot purposes, I can't have Fluff without some Angst sorry

For reasons beyond Terzo's understanding, he wants to give Omega a present for the ghoul's "birthday". It proves to be a lot more complicated than Terzo realizes.

Art by @kabukiaku used with permission

Chapter 4 Below the Cut! (We like Reblogs, Comments and Kudos omnomnom)

Refusing the gift was an innocent decision. But tonight it felt personal.

4

The Satanic Church of the Void was populated mostly by humans, and therefore their wedding receptions followed the typical ebb and flow of drama and joy. There would be at least one person crying in the bathroom over someone else. Later on, maybe someone would trip over an errant step, or pull something from dancing too intensely. The bride’s bewildered family was already slipping table decorations into their handbags.

But the moon was perfectly at first quarter and the paper lanterns above gave a cozy glow over the entire courtyard. It was going to look fantastic in the pictures that nobody would go back to see.

Nihil had entrapped Copia in an excitable one-sided conversation about either plant emotions or the lost experimental recordings of Syd Barrett’s cousin’s next door neighbor that were perhaps too far out for modern society. Copia, well practiced in how to nod politely, discreetly read a book under the table.

Secondo and a few other magicians had created an impromptu Conclave meeting, a brooding theological discussion over cigars that was way too intense for the occasion.

Smiley baby Paul was in his glory, biting every unsuspecting family member he could before falling asleep in his mother’s arms.

Terzo watched most of this play out from the stage, occasionally striking up the band for a few numbers. He felt protected on his perch, although normally he would find a way to collect as many eager Siblings as possible for a raucous private “party” nearby. And some siblings all night had been attempting to get such a party started through a variety of tactics: staring at him through their wineglass, or lingering close to the stage suddenly deeply interested in the dance floor parquet or the lighting situation. He chose to ignore them, a rare action that surprised him.

There were a lot of things that surprised him about himself that evening. For one, the image of the couple standing united would not leave his mind. A crowd of people cheered them, celebrated them. Terzo felt a hungriness that he had no idea what could sate.

And the gift. His gift thoughtlessly chosen, and then politely declined. Refusing the gift was an innocent decision. But tonight it felt personal.

Marian appeared with a platter of hors d'oeuvres for the musicians. Alpha quickly grabbed it from her, pulling it up onto the stage and away. He paused, slightly offering some to Terzo. YOU FIRST, IF YOU WANT.

Terzo had his feet on the ground, leaning against the side of the stage, arms crossed. He had been feeling a combination of wistful and guilty this entire time, which ended up becoming a general sense of seasickness. He waved it all away. Alpha shrugged and dropped the platter on a stool, the rest of the ghouls drawing close. They snatched at the little appetizers, swallowing them under their masks toothpick and all.

Marian raised an amused eyebrow at them, then considered Terzo. “Wow, they can really tuck it away. Literally.”

Terzo shrugged. “They eat mostly for fun.”

“That so?” Marian frowned just thinking about it, then switched gears. “Did he like the gift?”

Terzo stared hard at the ground. “Didn't open it. Refused to open it.”

“Oh. Damn.” Marian blinked her eyes. She had been blinking them slowly this entire time and Terzo realized it was a desperate attempt to keep her makeup from running. She added, “Are you doing a speech later? At dinner?”

“Secondo didn't ask. He asked Copia, actually.”

“Damn,” Marian repeated. “That's…wow.”

A sudden tide of bitterness swept over him, and as usual he felt the compulsion to drag someone down in it with him. If he was going to feel this exposed, then there was going to be some collateral damage. “You and Copia have a lot in common, you know.”

Marian snorted. “Don't even…”

“You're both weirdly over-invested in Secondo,” said Terzo. “My brother’s had over half this room and nobody else is dabbing at their makeup about it.”

“Over-invested? Do I look—” Marian blinked furiously at him, her lips attempting to twist into a neutral expression. “Besides, I bet Copia’s mouth tastes like boot. Pass.”

Terzo cackled, a little too loud.

“Well I'm off to get drunk, if you want to join,” Marian announced as she straightened the cape of her vestments.

“With you? No thanks.”

Marian froze, her gaze sliding into his. She adjusted her biretta. “Get bent, your Eminence,” she said, then left.

***

STILL CAN'T WAIT FOR THE TWENTY-FIRST? Omega’s eyes crinkled into a smile behind the mask. IT WILL BE WORTH THE WAIT. TRUST ME.

Dinner had been over for nearly an hour and the party was winding down in preparation for the wind up of after dinner drinks and debauchery. Terzo and Omega had slowly made their way to a far corner of the stone arcade surrounding the courtyard. They sat on the low wall there with their backs to the festivities, shielded by the stage itself. They took the opportunity to hold hands despite Terzo's glum restlessness.

“It frustrates me you can read my mind but I can't read yours,” muttered Terzo. His eyes searched the floor. His blood was still boiling over about the gift for some indeterminate reason. He crossed his legs, uncrossed them, then resorted to resting his head on the ghoul’s chest. That action seemed to calm him down.

Omega wrapped his arm around him, softly petting. THIS WEDDING IS DIFFICULT FOR YOU.

“Perhaps that's it.”

EVERY PATH IS DIFFERENT. SO FAR YOUR PATH HAS BEEN WONDERFUL. They were in a secluded enough spot that Omega lifted his mask slightly and brought his face down to kiss the top of Terzo’s head. BECAUSE IT LED YOU TO ME.

“Stop,” Terzo muttered.

WHY STOP?

“You're just…” Terzo felt a stabbing guilty pain in his heart as he looked up at the ghoul. “You're too good for me.”

NOT THIS AGAIN. The thought almost sounded like a grumble, the frustration amplified through Terzo’s anxious mind.

“The gift I picked for you doesn't compare. Doesn't measure up in any way.”

YOU HAVE EXTRA TIME NOW TO THINK ON IT.

Terzo let out a bitter laugh. “I won't. I'll wait until the last fucking minute and then just find something useless to solve the problem. Like always.”

Omega cleared his throat and Terzo met his eyes. They were their usual clear blue-grey, but in that moment they had an uncustomary hardness to them. Terzo waited for the reprimand.

STAND UP. Omega watched as Terzo obeyed. The ghoul guided the smaller man in between his legs and pulled him forward, nearly against his chest. Their eyes met. YOU TRUST ME, YES?

“I do,” Terzo murmured. “But I'm always a little afraid when you ask me that.”

I NEED TO KNOW FOR CERTAIN, THAT'S ALL. Omega brought one of Terzo’s hands in his own. He began slowly, almost teasingly slipping the glove off, finger by finger. He finished one hand, then brought it to the front of his mask, pressing it to the metal as if planting a kiss. NOW THE OTHER. He repeated the process with the left hand.

Terzo felt the leather slide across his skin, and his mouth parted as his breath hitched. His vision blurred, his face collapsing in a near ecstatic grimace. Blood rushed across his neck, down his legs as he let out a small unconscious groan. The ghoul removed the other glove and it felt like Terzo was now more bare before him than if he truly was naked. “What are you--” Terzo could barely catch his voice, and the low purr of Omega's breath behind his mask smothered his senses.

The ghoul gripped Terzo’s hands now, and brought them to the back of his own blackened neck, encouraging Terzo to slide them up under his mask. Terzo’s fingertips studied the firm muscles that quickly faded into the incorporeal essence bound by the metal mask. A black hole. The rim of his physical vessel.

Terzo knew ghouls had no head or skull to speak of, and Omega himself had bared all to him on several occasions. Under the mask it felt as if Terzo had dropped his fingers into a warm bath, except there was no feeling of wetness, just a strange static across his hands. In his mind’s eye he saw the bones of his hands, stark white against an infinite blackness, as articulated and intricate as paper cutouts. He heard Omega exhale deeply, watched his chest fall, and he felt the weight of his lover’s breath envelop his entire body like a blanket of calm.

WORDS ARE STRONGER THAN THINGS. AND IF WORDS WON'T COME, SHARE WHAT YOU FEEL.

Terzo’s eyes flicked from side to side. They were in the far corner of the arcade, concealed by the stage. He had thrilled himself before with erotic games, near misses and fumbling just outside the public eye. This felt even more intimate to him with just his hands under Omega’s mask. The ghoul breathed out again, and again Terzo sank into his miasma of affection.

He thought about the hands clasped and bound. He thought about cutting the ties, rising to their feet as one. For an instant afterward he thought about a moment in his childhood blurred by the decades that had passed. Crawling through darkness, his shoes tied around his neck so his feet and hands could feel their way. He remembered the thrill, of what he did not know. It was perhaps lost to him. There was the feel of papered wood, cold stones across his back—cold stones all around him, holding him secure, safe. He opened the wooden box and opened his heart.

There was an overarching fear, a hesitation. Omega gave Terzo’s waist a supportive squeeze. Terzo felt a bolt of nerves, a shiver shoot up his arms, and he pulled his hands away, gripping Omega’s shoulders. “Too much,” Terzo whispered.

MORE THAN ENOUGH. Omega leaned his large head forward to rest across Terzo's chest.

“What was I even seeing?”

SOMETHING WITHIN YOU ALREADY. SOMETHING YOU NEEDED TO SEE.

“A prophecy?”

NO, A MEMORY. Omega stroked Terzo’s back with a huge hand.

NOW TERZO THERE IS SOMETHING THAT I WANT TO ASK OF YOU. ONE REQUEST.

“Anything,” Terzo said, wrapping his arm around the ghoul’s head and peppering the sculpted metal hair with kisses. “Anything and I'll get it for you, amore.”

Omega pulled away from him and wiggled his fingers excitedly. THE MINI BEEF WELLINGTONS. THERE HAVE GOT TO BE MORE ROAMING AROUND. I DIDN'T GET A CHANCE FOR SECONDS.

Terzo finally laughed out loud, planting another kiss between the ghoul’s eyes. “I'll move Hell and Earth for you, my ghoul!”

HAVE FUN. I WANT YOU TO HAVE FUN. Omega stood up to full height and gently replaced Terzo’s gloves on his hands.

“The cake will be out soon. They've been making it for days. Six tiers.” Terzo’s face cracked into a wicked grin. “I'm going to bring you the entire top, my love.”

I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY.

“I was quite the little thief in my day,” said Terzo. “Perhaps he's still in there.” Again the shred of memory returned, the feeling of his bare feet and hands on cold, pitted stone, scurrying through the dark, his younger heart hammering with excitement in a much smaller chest. Somewhere.

The ghoul’s moment of bonding must have knocked something loose inside him, something that had been buried for decades.

I'M SURE HE IS, TERZO. Omega rested a heavy hand on Terzo’s head. AND I'D LOVE TO MEET HIM.

NEXT CHAPTER (5)

My AO3 | Tumblr Fic List | My Terzo/Omega Fics

Please reblog! Thanks and have a lovely Solstice season!<3

[ahomeganeyatsu]

ABO au | omega!Caelus + alpha!Welt Yang

“Is there something I can do for you?” Caelus continues to stare at him. Eyes glittering with the same diamond dust of the void seen through the express’s windows.

The young man’s silence wasn’t new. He barely spoke the first time he joined their little crew. Not for lack of trying, but more due to a loss of words. There were just moments that Caelus would forget to use them. Like water slipping through his fingers. You could tell based on the slightly burnt touch to his caramel scent.

Welt usually just lets him work through it. Caelus was incredibly independent, despite his lack of knowledge on things people usually took for granted. Questionable habits aside. When needed, a pat on his head, a smile or a simple “Good work” from the older man could easily dispel his frustrated scent.

Right now, Welt can’t sense any of that frustration. There was an eagerness to him though, a hint of curiosity—a tinge to his usually sweet scent that’s faint enough to know it’s there but not know what exactly it is.

A minute of this passes. Welt allows himself to feel the concern that’s been growing from Caelus’ continued silent staring. “Caelus?”

His brows furrow, lips pressed into a determined line. “Your scarf,” the young Trailblazer starts. He chews his bottom lip and Welt tries not to press his thumb on the younger’s chin to halt the abuse. A flush grows on Caelus ears, creeping to his cheeks, before he meets Welt’s gaze. (And how has he not noticed it before? That Caelus hasn’t been meeting his eyes since he sat down next to him?)

“Can I have your scarf Mr. Yang?”

“I—” Welt closes his mouth, brows rising at the request. There was no reason to refuse him. He was taken aback by the suddenness of it, but Welt can’t think of why he shouldn’t grant it. “Whatever for?” he asks, already removing it from his person.

Caelus doesn’t answer, but Welt can tell the other doesn’t know why either.

When Welt hands over his scarf, he carefully wraps it around Caelus’ neck. The teen holds still, his fingers fidgeting on his lap. Like he can’t wait to bury his fingers on the material. Welt smiles at that.

He draws back and watches Caelus do so. And when the teen presses the scarf to his face and breathes it in, the “why” dawns on Welt. Caelus scent shifts into warm content, and he hears his sigh taper off into a purr.

“Thanks Mr. Yang, you’re the best,” his eyes crinkle as he smiles. His golden eyes sparkling even brighter. Caelus doesn’t wait for his reply. He climbs to his feet and runs out of the main car. Most probably to his room where his nest lies.

“Adorable, isn’t he?” Himeko comments. “We should probably get him checked at Herta Space Station just in case.”

“Yes,” Welt coughs. He’s sure there’s some data about the effects of housing a stellaron for an omega. He wouldn’t put it past Dan Heng to have already started looking into it.

He draws his gaze away from the door Caelus exited. His scent lingers in the main car and Welt knows all of them are basking in it. There was nothing like the scent of a happy, content Omega. And he knows their crew enough to know they’d give their all to keep it that way.

[abhainnwhump]

IMYM Chapter 7: Should've Could've Would've: Dream

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Moonlight washed over Dream, Cross, and Blue as they talked, laughed, and walked through the Omega Timeline. Epic and Fresh left one way and Dream, Cross, and Blue went the other. The void lacked a natural sky, so the moon and darkness existed because of magic. Weather also existed only by region, not as a whole. Currently, it was a cold breeze, whistling and whispering past them. The skeletons decided on one of the town paths lined with road on one side and buildings on the other.

“Oh! A chickadee!” Dream held his arm out for the black and white bird to perch on. The little animal bounced across his yellow sleeve, pecking between the stitches. Dream smiled. The bird’s talons and beak were too small to hurt. Rather, it tickled. Their body was warm from hot chocolate and their heart was warm with pride and love. Dream’s eye lights drew to the badge on Cross’s jacket, a shield with the letter O reflecting light. It was the entire reason he invited them tonight.

Cross watched them and shook his head. “I still don’t understand your bird-whispering powers. You can handle a hawk on your head and owls are where you cross the line.”

Dream mock glared at his boyfriend. Though to be fair, he didn't understand his gift either. It's been there ever since he was a child and he discovered it by pure accident. It was only birds too. “Have you ever seen their eyes? All they do is stare at you, for hours! And they turn their heads all the way around. Tell me that’s natural! It isn’t!”

“No, owls are tame. Geese are the evil ones.” Blue chimed in. “They're bigger, they're more aggressive, and their beaks and wings hurt! If you put them in a fight, the geese would win immediately."

"Hm, I don't know." Dream pet the chickadee. "They're not so aggressive when you're nice to them. I've never fought one, or pet one, but they're nice. And owls are smart, so they could outsmart the goose . . ."

"So it's brain vs brawl . . . the goose would still win. Cross, help me out, who would win?"

Cross seemed to be trying to distance himself from the conversation until now. He sighed. "I- fine. Dude, if you want to know so bad, here." Cross took a piece of gold out of his pocket, leftover change from the hot chocolate. He flipped it in the air and slapped it on his arm. He lifted his hand. "Owl wins, argument over."

They turned a corner and the Star Sanses base came into view. They may have called it their base, but it appeared more like a clubhouse with rainbow paint on the walls. None of the lights of the two-story building were on. Something was haunting yet beautiful about the way the moon lit up the left side of it. The chickadee ended her song and flew away from him. A tingle went through Dream’s body, though he wasn’t sure why. It was only some light. Perhaps he was still suspicious of Ink leaving them on short notice. He seemed to be in a rush, but Dream didn't believe the lie he wasn't feeling well. It wouldn't be the first time Ink left like that, so he was sure he had nothing to worry about.

It was almost like Blue read his mind. “Shouldn’t Ink be here by now?”

Cross squeezed Dream's hand and hummed, looking up at the building. “He said he was going to be. But knowing him, he probably took a detour to terrorize some AU. Or he fell asleep and shut the light off. I wouldn’t worry about him.”

“I guess you’re right.” Dream stepped up on the light gray steps and knocked on the door. No response. He rang the doorbell. No response. He tugged at the doorknob. Locked. At least it answered one of his questions. Ink almost always forgets to lock the door, so he wasn’t home.

Cross watched Dream pull a key out of his pocket and unlock the door. He looked back at the house. “Do you want me to stay a while, flower? I don't have anything else going on and I have a bad feeling about this."

Dream laughed, used to Cross's paranoia. He increased his positive aura to calm him down. “Weren’t you the one who said not to worry? No, but thank you. The important thing is you making it home safe.” Dream stood on his tiptoes to peck Cross’s foreskull. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you, my royal guard." He smiled at the last bit, looking down at Cross's badge, the mark of an official Omega Guard.

Cross looked reluctant, but he squeezed Dream’s hand and let go. “I will. See you tomorrow.”

After Cross teleported away, Blue pulled a key out of his jacket pocket and unlocked the door. The wood creaked into the dark interior. Dream flipped the light on. Everything was the same as they left it. He hung his jacket in a closet, eyeing the staircase. It was still dark. Maybe sleep would help his anxieties. It was a long day.

“Blue? I’m going to bed early, see you in the morning," Dream said.

Blue took off his hat and gloves and looked up at the guardian, who was halfway up the steps already. "Alright. Night, Dream!"

Smiling, Dream walked up to the second floor. He made it to the top and flipped the light on, illuminating the hallway. They stretched and yawned, ready to shut out for the night. He grabbed his door knob, but Ink's door caught his attention. It was half-open. Dream still sensed that strange negative aura he felt this morning.

Dream peered into the paint-splattered bedroom and searched harder for that negativity. Ink could've been struggling with something, and he wanted to help if he was. Unlike the morning, the strongest negativity source was not the corner. It was Ink's bed. He held out his hand to find an exact source, but his powers seemed to fail him. They sighed and were about to leave, but a faint teal light caught their eye.

With curiosity, he crouched down beside Ink’s bed. Something was under it; the negativity energy burned brighter than ever. Dream wrapped his fingers around the thorned stem of a glowing rose and the blue paper attached to it. Two of the bloody points stabbed through the paper, cutting off a few words.

Dream turned the lamp on and unfolded the note, keeping it as close to the light as he could. They recognized the quill-inked handwriting in seconds. He scanned the rest of the letter and gasped, his bones went cold. His hands tingled, paralyzed. They looked back at the rose and called out, “Blue . . . BLUE! BLUE, COME QUICK!”

Dream listened to the frantic footsteps as Blue ran to him. He had to brace himself against the door frame. His left hand carried a kitchen knife. “What is it? What happened?”

“Read this.” Dream handed him the letter. His breathing was shaking as much as his hands now. “It’s Ink, Nightmare kidnapped Ink.”

Blue took it with a confused look. His eye sockets widened as he scanned the paper. “Oh, that . . . that explains things.”

Dream clenched his humerus and paced in a small circle. “I knew something was wrong with him! He’s been acting strange all day, but I thought I was being paranoid! If I hadn’t been such a sugarskull this morning and forced him to talk, Ink would still be-”

“Hey!” Blue set his hands on his shoulders. “Don’t blame yourself! We were all with him today and none of us noticed either. Besides, he was being blackmailed and I believe in him. If he did get kidnapped, he’s cracking bad jokes and making Nightmare’s gang regret ever messing with him.”

Dream imagined Blue's words and let out the breath they held. “I- yes, you’re right. He’s going to be fine, he's fine!” Dream hoped if he said it enough times, he could convince himself it was true. It had to be. He looked over the letter again, smiling with new determination. “It says they went to Outertale. I’ll prepare to go and ask around in case anyone has seen them

The knight’s eye lights turned into stars, “Mweh, heh! That’s the spirit! But I’m going to help too. I’ll go with you and we’ll save him together. In the morning though, we won’t be very helpful in the middle of the night."

================================================

He’s going to be fine. Ink is going to be fine. He’s strong. Stop worrying, everything is fine.

Dream tossed and turned that night. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep. Visions formed every time he closed his eye sockets. He imagined Ink alone in Nightmare’s murky dungeon, shivering alone in a corner. Then he envisioned him gagged and tied up as Killer, Horror, and Dust used him as target practice. Nightmare laughed in the background, mocking. Cross told him stories of what happened to Nightmare’s prisoners. The torture, the violence, the personalized torment. None of them made it out alive. The guardian shuddered and channeled his thoughts to kittens and flowers. It helped a little. The torture was only an image, not a prophecy. Guardians could have prophecy dreams, but so far, he was lucky. He still couldn’t sleep.

He didn’t want to jinx it.

It wasn’t even the kidnapping alone that frightened him, it was the fact that Nightmare had done it. Nightmare was stronger than Ink, but luckily not by much if he played his cards right.

Dream sighed and sat up, turning their lamp on and picking their book off the nightstand. He flipped to his bookmark and read, hoping to get his mind on something better. He set his teddy bear in his lap. He knew it was childish for a guardian to sleep with a stuffed animal, but he found it comforting. He pet the plush’s white, almond-scented fur while he read. He used to love that smell when he was young and lived under the Tree of Feelings with his brother. His real brother.

While in the middle of his story, Dream's mind wandered to the one thing he was trying to avoid. How could he sleep like this when Ink is in danger? How could they rest while the entire Doodlesphere was at risk without its protector? Ink had never been kidnapped before, he was smart enough to escape. Or was he overreacting as it has only been a few hours? He was, he knew. But the last time Dream was too late to save someone from the dark’s call . . .

Please don’t forget who I used to be.

No, he wouldn’t let anyone go through that pain again. He promised.

Dream closed the book, set his bear in a sitting position, and slipped out of bed. He picked up his bow and quiver, choosing regular and a few poisoned arrows instead of his magic ones. The magic would draw too much attention, and Dream wanted to try the new herbal concoction he made. They made sure to step carefully so the wood planks stayed silent. Blue kept his door shut, he didn't even snore. They made it to the bottom of the steps and took their coat out of the closet. They had everything they needed now. So with a portal-

Dream gasped at a tug at his soul. His body was encased in a ball of blue light as someone turned him around. Blue held his hands on his hips. His eye sockets were bleary, half-open and sleepy.

“Dream! What did we talk about,” Blue yawned, “a few hours ago?”

Dream looked at his tired friend, ashamed. “I know, I’m sorry. I just have a feeling something terrible is going to happen if we don’t find him as soon as possible. I can do it on my own, please don't worry."

Blue thought for a moment. “Here, how about you sleep in my room tonight? Even if you don't, I’m watching you like a hawk and locking the doors. The last thing anyone needs right now is another one of us getting kidnapped.”

Sighing, the guardian knew he was right. "Okay."

Blue released his magic. Wrapping one arm around his shoulder, Blue led him away from the door and back up the stairs. Dream’s cheekbones glowed as yellow as buttercups.

Blue opened the door to his room. He had a blue rocketship bed in the corner of the room. Action figures covered a set of white shelves on dark blue walls. He also had a bookshelf and closet on the back wall. Painted across the ceiling were stars and constellations. It something they all worked together on.

Sleeping in each other’s rooms was not an unusual concept for the Stars. When the trio had slumber parties, they watched a movie with popcorn and sweets in their pajamas. Then they would all cuddle and fall asleep on the couch together. Dream also invited his friends to his room if they had nightmares or troubles in their minds. His aura and kind words could calm anyone down. He always let others vent to him. It was funny to him it was the other way around.

Blue wrapped an arm around Dream and flicked the lamp off. Having someone to sleep beside him relaxed Dream's thoughts. Ink would be fine.

================================================

As soon as the sun rose into the sky, Dream and Blue set out for Outertale.

The AU was always an endless ocean of night. Colorful stars of white, yellow, and blue, twinkled in the sky. The residents were the only ones who could tell the hour. But that wasn’t a bad thing. Somewhat, Dream could get lost in the stars and forget his problems for a while.

Blue carried the note while Dream held a clipboard. The clipboard had a list with the most likely AUs Nightmare could have hidden Ink. Creating it was the first thing they did this morning, so they missed some AUs. Dream also found pictures of the two. Despite the hope, the most likely answer was Nightmare took the artist to his castle. The castle was a pocket AU no one but he could enter.

His yellow boots were soon covered in moon dust. He followed the most potent source of negative energy he could detect. It was in the direction of the restaurant, so maybe Nightmare left some negative residue. Then Dream could try and use the energy to track him.

They made it to the front two doors of the restaurant, tucked between two other stores. The building was pretty: Ivory white with smooth walls, classy. The place seemed empty.

Dream and Blue walked toward the door. Blue tugged at the handle but it didn’t budge. He tried again. “We’re too early. It doesn’t open until . . . .” He looked closer at the door's sign. “Four pm. How about we ask around? Someone would have to have seen them, Ink isn’t exactly low-key. Neither is your brother.”

Dream hummed and nodded, chuckling at the comment about Nightmare. They thought searching around was the next best thing to do. He wondered what Ink was doing at this moment, pushing the morbid thoughts aside. “Of course. Where should we ask first? Someone could be working around, or Nightmare took him somewhere else after dinner?” He looked into the distance. Outertale was known for its tourism, so it made sense Nightmare would take him somewhere else.

Blue looked around. "I'll take the left side and you take the right! We'll meet back here in an hour. Got it?"

"Got it." Dream waved and set off to the right. Dream sensed the auras of the surrounding citizens. He searched for someone with a specific set of emotions. Perhaps paranoia, guilt, or at least uncertainty. It must be a lingering past feeling. Unfortunately, no one seemed to match that description.

The one that did hit him sent a small shock through his body, just because he wasn’t expecting it. Dream looked to the left and spotted a cat-like monster hiding their face under a hood. The guardian cleared his throat and walked over to them. He had a good feeling in his soul.

“Hi!” Dream waved over. The cat monster turned their attention to him. Dream smiled to look less threatening, more friendly.

"Can I help you?" The monster looked everywhere except at Dream.

"Yes!" Dream cleared his throat. “I'm looking for my friend who was kidnapped around here. It would’ve been around . . . I think seven o'clock? His name is Ink Comyet, he’s a skeleton, a little taller than me, carries around a four-foot-tall paintbrush. He wore a brown jacket last night. His eye lights change color when he blinks and he has a splotch of paint on his right cheekbone. “His kidnapper is named Nightmare Joku. He’s also a skeleton but with four tendrils spiking from his back. He’s also covered in black liquid and has only one teal eye. Usually, he wears a black waistcoat and a chained black cape, though I don’t know what he was wearing. Have you seen them?"

The monster thought about it. They nodded, aura anxious and uncomfortable. “I think I know who you’re talking about. I work at that place over there and . . . they were one of my customers. He didn’t cause any issues. They left and Joku took him through a portal. Ink looked happy enough, he was smiling and bouncing."

Dream messed with his thumb. "Did you see what was inside? Did it look like a castle? Or a dungeon?"

"I didn't see it, it was too dark." The monster looked uncomfortable and turned away from him. "Sorry I couldn't help you, I hope you two find your friend." As they walked off, Dream was left with more questions than answers.

Taking a moment to pause, Dream had to readjust the image in his head. He assumed Nightmare cast a spell on Ink and knocked him out in an alleyway with his magic. But Ink was happy? Someone would have to have noticed Nightmare cast the spell. Does that mean . . . no, he knows Ink, he’s one of his best friends. Ink would never betray him on purpose. Nothing Nightmare could offer could change his mind.

Nothing, they were best friends until the end.

================================================

A week passed; they still couldn’t find a solid trail to Ink. Each time they were close, Nightmare’s aura would fade. Dream proceeded to get more and more frustrated. The nightmares grew more graphic. The image of Ink lying on the floor, hoping for rescue was engraved into the back of his eyelids. He lost hours of sleep imagining it and refused to take any long breaks. They searched for at least three hours a day and did their job the rest.

Another week passed, and no luck.

Dream decided to try a plan that had been brewing in the back of their mind for days now. His negative memories kept him from doing more than considering it a possibility. But now, they were growing desperate. And it was so perfect, so obvious.

He cleared his throat as he approached Blue, who was sketching out a battle strategy in a notebook. Dream held his hands together. “Blue, I’m going to be gone for a few hours.”

Blue looked up from his notepad. “Okay. Just be careful and don’t be gone too long!”

“I won’t be, I’ll be back by sundown.” Dream waved his scepter and stepped into a portal he swore never to return to.

They stepped into a wasteland. Overgrown dull grass grew up to his knees. It looked more like a savannah than a green land. He still could picture the field of bright colorful flowers that grew where he stood. The nearby town was gray and long abandoned. There was nothing but bones and tattered clothes to symbolize people lived there at all. Dream sighed, the memories being too painful to bear. He set his sights on a large hill at the end of the village. Shifting their cape, they walked toward it.

Dream walked up the hill to his childhood home, a place he hadn’t been since breaking free of stone. The stump of his mother lay the same after five hundred years. The oak was worn from time, but still larger than any tree in the multiverse. The trunk was two feet tall and ten times as wide. It used to be twenty feet tall with large foliage, filled with tender gold and black apples. None reminded. Nightmare ate them all when he was corrupted. How did he eat nine hundred ninety-nine apples in such a short time? Dream didn’t know.

He swung one leg over the top of the trunk and pulled himself on top of it. A sense of nostalgia hit him. When he was about eight, he used to run as fast as he could to get back to the tree, challenging himself to jump up the branches. It was hard on some days because he was so tired from working. The villagers always wanted him to help, and Dream was willing to help. Too willing.

It messed him up, leading him to believe his only worth was as a living positive battery. That was why he was so grateful for Cross. While Dream taught him how to feel again and stop living in the past, Cross taught him he was so much more than this magic. Stars he loved him.

He never told Nightmare because he didn’t want to worry him. He was already so nervous and paranoid . . . and Dream was too late when he found out why.

Dream brushed the tree trunk, trying to refuel the connection with it. There should be a warm tingling feeling in his chest, but there wasn’t.

They sighed. “Mom, can you help me? It’s been a long time, I know, but one of my best friends is in danger. Nightmare took him away and I’m afraid he’s going to hurt him or try to turn him evil. I don’t want history to repeat itself. Can you give me a sign everything is going to be okay?”

Dream waited a few moments, staring into the swirling trunk. Nothing happened. The guardian sighed. What was he expecting? An arrow made of flowers pointing in the right direction? A bird to float out of the sky and give him a message? Nim to appear as a spirit and offer him guidance? She’s never answered him before, even when was still 'alive'. Dream didn't believe Nim was dead, she was essentially a goddess. Gods and guardians couldn't die, right? He couldn't die, Ink couldn't die, Error and Nightmare couldn't either.

Nightmare used to joke about how Nim only created them to save herself. She had no love for her sons, and Dream was starting to wonder if he was right. What mother would let this happen to her kids?

Dream curled into his knees and stared out to the broken village. “Ink, what did you get yourself into this time?”

[heaven-s-black-box]

Canon Ball?- ensemble

Return to File

Recovery date: June 15th, 2022

Description: A brief look at a beach day between The Bad Batch, Omega, Rex, Cody, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan.

Notes: N/A

Word count: 661

Back to Directory

“Commander Tano-”

“Ahsoka.”

“Right, sorry… Ahsoka, where’s General Skywalker?”

“Far away from the sand,” Obi-Wan laughed, stepping out onto the beach and taking a deep inhale of the salty sea breeze. “Him and Padme are off… exploring,” he snickered.

“Eck,” Ahsoka cringed, shrinking in on herself. “Disgusting, I did not need that image.”

“Aww what’s wrong Ahsoka, can’t stand the idea of- Oh god.”

Rex’s jaw dropped as he slowly caught up to what exactly Ahsoka was gagging at, and both her and Obi-Wan laughed at the morphing look of disgust. He was no stranger to whatever his general and the senator had going on, but it had never really… occurred to him.

“Never seen you make that face before,” Cody laughed, slinging his arm around Rex. “Finally figure out what your General does when he sneaks off with the senator?”

“I wish I hadn’t…” he mumbled, hanging his head. “Wait, how do you know what they’re up to?”

“I mean, they just had children, I think it’s pretty obvious. Plus General Kenobi doesn’t always realize that the void has ears.”

“The void doesn’t have ears, the commander with a non existent sleep schedule has ears, and I’ve told you to stop eavesdropping on me,” Obi-Wan scowled, glaring at Cody.

“Sorry general, won’t happen again.”

“Hang on,” Ahsoka cut in, “what else have you-”

“Hot! Hot! Hot! Hunter! The ground is burning my feet!”

The group turned to their right to find the bad batch walking down the path to the beach, Omega already dancing around on the sand. She was jumping between feet before Wrecker came up behind her and lifted her up off the sand with a boisterous laugh.

“We did try to warn you,” Tech sighed. “Ah, captain Rex, commander Cody, I see you’ve already settled in.”

“Hello!” Omega cheered and waved awkwardly from her position in the air.

The group headed out further towards the water, Wrecker carrying Omega on his shoulder. She stared out at the water in awe.

“I thought you lived on Kamino,” Ahsoka asked, slowly her pace to be beside Omega, “isn’t water nothing new to you?”

“Ya, but Kamino’s always so gloomy, this place is completely different! It’s like looking at the stars!”

Hunter jabbed his arm back and Crosshair sputtered.

“What was that for?” he hissed.

“No.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“Crosshair,” Hunter stopped, and turned back to him, “don’t even think about it.”

They were standing alone, a little away from where the others were setting out umbrellas and blankets. Tech had brought down a cooler, and Echo was securing the umbrellas to bases under the sand.

Crosshair smirked.

“Come on, it’ll be funny. You can even go in with her.”

“You’re gonna scare her.”

“That’s part of the fun. You can’t protect her from everything,” Crosshair brushed past him, “She’s going to get dunked.”

“Then I’ll just dunk you.”

“Hmph, it’ll be worth it.”

Before Crosshair could take another step, Hunter came up behind him and hauled him over his shoulder, grabbing everyone else’s attention. Crosshair thrashed about, pushing on Hunter in a half hearted attempt to break free.

“What is going on over there?” Cody yelled.

“Nothing to worry about sir,” Hunter replied, running towards the sea and tossing Crosshair in.

Ahsoka’s eyes lit up as she watched the sniper hit the water and she turned to Rex with a sinister smile tugging at her lips.

“What is-”

“Ahhhhhh!”

Obi-Wan was cut off by Rex screaming as he flew out from under the umbrella and into the sea. The Captain landed much further in than Crosshair, who was sat in the shallows, and began spluttering once he resurfaced.

“That looks like fun! Omega hang on!”

“What why- Ahhhhh!”

Wrecker lifted Omega off the ground and ran into the shallow water, before throwing her in like the other two.

Hunter stared in shock as Crosshair started laughing.

“I never said I’d be the one to dunk her, captain.”

[a-little-unsteddie]

wip wednesday!

to celebrate starting to post ch 2 of siyt, i figured i could do a wip wednesday to further push the writing for it or other project(s). so here are a few of my wips. i do work today, but i will be working on them as i work as i can :)

send me an ask with an emoji or name and i’ll write at least 3 sentences for it and post it with your ask.

my current wips:

🎤 stuck in your throat :: omegaverse au, rockstar!eddie, nanny!steve. steve is an omega and is hired to be eddie’s nanny while he’s on tour. currently finishing ch 3 and starting ch 4 :)

🪐 humans are space orcs au :: exactly what it says on the tin, i haven’t had a lot of energy to write so i haven’t finished chapter one yet, but i’m working on it still. human!steve, alien!everyone else

🍄 rot, ferment, & decompose :: witch!steve, commoner!eddie au. continuation of a steddiemicrofic prompt from september. steve senses some bs happening in hawkins, wayne is a victim of it. i just started writing this again, so there isn’t much.

snippet from 🪐

Steve leaned around a corner, trying to figure out where exactly he was on the ship, and saw a giant common room. It was a large, open space with large comfortable looking sofa/cushion hybrids. There were two passages in the room, one that he was entering in, and one that was about a quarter of the room away. It also had huge windows along one side, revealing the empty vastness. The room itself was void of any occupants, which was good, because he was in direct sight of most of the chairs.

Steve walked around the perimeter of the room until he reached the windows. His breath caught in his throat as he looked out at the endless darkness, littered with stars in constellations that looked nothing like Earth’s.

It settled in Steve’s mind then that he wasn’t on earth. He knew it logically, of course. It was kind of hard to forget when faced with such inhuman faces and behavior and languages as he tried to hide. It was impossible to ignore even as he made his way through the wilderness, because the sky overhead was so alien.

Even then, he was able to pretend that he was just imagining the difference. He was somehow still on Earth. Even though he knew he wasn’t.

Now, though, staring into the void, Steve couldn’t ignore it anymore.

He startled at the feeling of a tear dripping off of his chin, he hadn’t even realized he had started crying. He didn’t bother wiping away the tears, just stood there, feeling the way his life had fallen apart around him as he stared at the stars.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he was stood there when the sound of one of the doors hissing as it decompressed filled the silence that had fallen over the room. He twitched, but otherwise didn’t react, even as he saw the reflection of one of the aliens get closer.

He couldn’t stop the flow of tears that was falling down his face and dripping off of his chin and nose. He couldn’t look away from the emptiness, the neverending darkness. Some where, out there, was Earth.

Was he reported missing yet? Had anyone even noticed he was gone? Surely someone would have by now.

Steve choked on a sob, and slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. He knew Bat was standing just behind him, watching, but he couldn’t make himself move. He didn’t even want to think about what Bat was thinking about him right then, because every other time they’d crossed paths before Steve ran off, he looked terrified. Probably.

Steve choked out a high pitched sob as he landed heavily in a heap on the floor, unable to keep himself upright anymore. He had landed on his knees, then bent over them as he wrapped his arms around himself. He pressed the top of his forehead against the ground, his eyes clenched so tight that he saw spots of color behind his eyes. His body shook with sobs that echoed against the floor and reverberated around the room.

“I just wanna go home,” he cried out, slamming a fist against the ground before tucking it back against his chest as more sobs wracked through his body.

Why couldn’t he just go home?

[moonfurthetemmie]

aww the DS verses are hanging out <33 (Part 9)

No real warnings for this one, just assumptions of a ghost

Previous Next

“Sooo…” Nightmare gulped. “What, um…what are we going to do about that.”

Error bit her lip. “Probably call an exorcist.”

“I don’t think that’s going to completely solve this problem,” Cross whispered.

Hunter was outside. Talking to someone they couldn’t see. And was very distressed about whatever they were talking about. They could only catch a few words of what Hunter was saying.

“Maybe we could dip while he’s distracted?” Nightmare tentatively suggested, watching through the back door window.

“He’ll still be in our house,” Error said.

“We might be able to get help, though,” Cross mumbled.

“Who’d even help us?” Nightmare wondered. “Local authorities?”

“We live in a void. What ‘local authorities’?”

“It’s the Omega Timeline, you fool. I think CORE counts as an authority in this case. But as long as Hunter knows where the house is, he can get back.”

“I don’t think CORE would want to kick him out anyways,” Error added. “I think they’d feel bad about it.”

They all looked back out at Hunter. He was only getting more and more upset. Nightmare furrowed his brow as he watched.

“…I know you were joking about the exorcist thing, but I’m starting to think there is a ghost,” he said. “Every so often I can feel like, a fifth set of emotions or whatever, and I can’t tell where they’re coming from. But sometimes, like right now, I can tell. And it’s out there with Hunter.“

Cross and Error turned to stare at him.

“…what’s it feel like?” Cross asked slowly. “Is…is it angry?”

Nightmare’s frown only deepened. “No. It’s like…spiteful. And I think it’s having fun making Hunter upset.”

Hunter looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“…Ah, okay, that’s anger. I think we should dip.”

Cross whirled around and marched off. “Say no more! I’m fucking out.”

Nightmare took one more look out the door before following her and Error into the portal.

They ended up in an Outertale timeline.

“Um…hi, you three?”

They all shrieked and spun around. Nightmare did a shitty kung-fu stance and yelped, “HOW the hell did you-“

Blue had jumped back when they yelled, and now stared at them in confusion, just as startled at them.

“…oh, it’s just our Blue,” Error sighed.

Nightmare returned to his normal slouching posture. “Shit, man, don’t sneak up on us like that.”

Blue slowly lowered his hands. “You three landed right in front of me, I didn’t sneak up on you.”

“Irrelevant. You scared us, therefore you snuck up on us.”

Cross huffed. “Away from one Blue and right to another.”

“At least this one figured out what personal space is,” Error mumbled.

“Okay, yeah he’s objectively better, but I was going for like. Taco Bell,” Cross complained. “I don’t want to be in pretty space land, I want to be in delicious taco la-“ she cut herself off with a yelp as, for the second time in a relatively short span of time, a tall blonde man with glowing wings appeared before them.

He landed next to Blue with grace, flapping his wings a few times to catch his balance, and gave the Meme Squad a look that was oddly blank yet piercing.

Nightmare immediately felt his soul start to burn and stumbled away. “Can you stop doing that? That fucking hurts-“

“Agh, burning man-!” Cross quickly followed Nightmare. “Begone, foul demon!”

Error wheezed. “‘Burning man?’”

“I would prefer Delusion,” the winged man said, folding his arms. He regarded them with less suspicion, though. “I apologize for startling you; I’d mistaken you for your alternates from my multiverse from the air. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do about my aura, though.”

Blue inched away from Delusion, and laughed nervously. “R. Right. Delusion told me he ran into you three before.”

Nightmare coughed. “Yeah, he fucking appeared out of nowhere and was really vague and said he had ‘business to attend to’ or whatever.”

“Didn’t expect his business to be making a friend,” Cross said sharply.

“It wasn’t,” Delusion said simply. “I seem to be unable to return home for the time being, unfortunately.”

“H-he’s, um, been staying with me,” Blue offered.

Error narrowed her eyes. Blue didn’t normally stutter so much.

“Oh, damn, did your home get politely invaded too?” Nightmare grumbled.

Blue winced. “No, I did invite him in…”

“Seems to be a common trait for people from there so far,” Cross snorted.

Blue frowned. “You said something about another Blue earlier.“

Delusion’s wings twitched up, like a cat that heard an interesting noise. “Is our Blue here?”

Nightmare groaned. “He won’t leave our fucking house no matter how many times or ways we try to kick him out.”

“We tried to be polite about it,” Cross added. “And then he tried to tell him point black to leave. And then we tried to ditch him. He keeps coming back.”

“Currently he’s talking to himself in the yard,” Error mentioned.

“Or a ghost,” Nightmare said.

“I dunno-“

“Dude I’m like, 80% sure there’s a ghost,” Nightmare insisted. “There’s definitely another something there with emotions and I can sense it. There’s a ghost. Or a demon, I guess, since it seems to just want to make Hunter miserable. But a ghost might do that too.”

“Ok, sure,” Cross conceded. “Delusion or whatever the hell your name is, can you please take him so he’ll leave us alone?”

Delusion gave the slightest frown, and put a hand on his chin. “Well…the only place I could take him would be where I’m staying. Blue, would you object to…Hunter staying?”

Blue rubbed his arm. “I…I don’t know how I feel about having a ghost in the house. Do you know if the ghost is, um, malevolent?”

Cross shrugged. “We only heard bits and pieces of what Hunter was saying. Just heard someone about leaving a ‘them’ alone, and somewhere in there was ‘orange’? I don’t know-“

“No!”

The trio looked at Blue in surprise. He looked…terrified. “I’m not letting him into my house. Not an alternate version of him, and absolutely not a- a ghost.” His voice had started shaking.

“…Okay,” Nightmare said slowly. “You sound like you need to talk to someone.”

Blue opened his mouth to say something, but then he gasped and grabbed at his chest.

Delusion put a hand on Blue’s shoulder. “It’s alright. Take a deep breath.”

Blue looked away, still clutching at his heart. “I’m…I’m fine. I’m going back.”

He was very clearly not fine. Delusion’s brows furrowed as he watched Blue walk off towards his house, pulling his scarf over his mouth.

“…I don’t like that he recognizes that name,” Error muttered.

“I don’t know why I didn’t realize that was a name,” Cross said. “‘Blue’. ‘Orange’. I wonder if he knows someone named ‘Red’ or ‘Yellow’ or something, too.”

“I’m going to go with him,” Delusion said softly. “If you require more help with Hunter, I can try to find something that will work.” 


The trio of friends glanced at each other. “…We’ll keep that in mind,” Nightmare said finally. “Thanks.”

Delusion inclined his head, and began walking in the direction Blue had gone in.

“…That was weird,” Cross decided. “I don’t like Delusion any more now than I did before.”

“Yeah, no, he’s freaky,” Nightmare agreed. “Even ignoring the murder aura.”

“…Y’know. It seems like it only affects us—as in, us non-spirits—when we’re upset,” Error noted. “Weird that Blue didn’t seem to be bothered by it at first, even though he looked really nervous.”

“Maybe it just wasn’t, like, enough nervousness for it to try to fry him,” Cross suggested.

“Weird. Anyways.” Nightmare opened a portal. “Someone said something about Taco Bell?”

Cross cheered. Error’s phone rang.

“Wh- who the hell?” She answered it. “Hello? …Hunter?!”

“What?”


Error put the call on speaker so Cross and Nightmare could hear. “Dude, how did you even get my number?”

“Where did you guys gooo?” Hunter seemed to be ignoring Error’s (Very valid, given they made a point of not giving him any way to communicate or potentially track them) question. He sounded awfully distressed.

“…We just went to get food,” Error said carefully. “Take a chill pill, man,” Nightmare chided him. “You seemed busy, so we were just going to grab you something.”

Cross made a face. They had not been intending to grab him something, but now they had to.

Hunter was quiet for a minute before he said, “Okay…Where are you guys going?”

“Taco Bell.” Cross tried to leave the annoyance out of her voice.

Hunter suddenly seemed to forget that he was abandoned. He got very excited about the tacos. So excited they nearly missed what he said he wanted. Hopefully he didn’t realize how long they were actually gone for.

[williamvapespeare]

I had so may feelings about that stupid beautiful heartbreaking finale like, alright Daddy Dave hurt me harder...anyway here’s a little fic about Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo being sad in the immediate s2 aftermath, enjoy!

-

Hunter had never been a big talker. Sure, he’d share as much of an update as he could with his brothers over a drink or a meal. He’d chime into a conversation if he had something to contribute. He certainly never hesitated to direct his men to positions in the early stages of strategy, or to bark an order down comms in the heat of battle, but Hunter was no stranger to the whole “strong and silent” bullshit – because that’s exactly what it was, he’d realized, bullshit.

He found he couldn’t talk about Omega. Not after his initial vow to get her back, when Wrecker couldn’t quite meet his eyes, and Echo looked like he was still reeling from not only Omega and Tech’s disappearances, but a hundred others.

Hunter thought of his own squadron, then, down to three, and decided not to press the issue.

He wasn’t usually one to complain about quiet on the Marauder.

Only there was nothing quiet about the way Echo had hardly said a word since they left Ord Mantell. He would give an update when asked – “No response from Rex. He’s still out of reach.” – or answer simple questions – “No thanks, not hungry.” “It’s fine. I’ve had worse.”

Echo spent most of his time staring blankly out the Marauder’s front viewscreen, watching the stars float by with a sort of vague disinterest that suggested he was seeing something else entirely.

Hunter thought someone might have made a joke about it, once. Watch where you’re goin’, huh? from Wrecker, or I thought you were supposed to monitor your surroundings when piloting? from Omega, or even something from Tech, although from him it would have carried more judgement than humour, the rest of them might have laughed at it anyway. And that was part of the quiet too, Hunter thought; the emptiness.

Wrecker still talked to him, at least. Little nothing conversations that always seemed to draw more attention to what wasn’t being said.

“Morning, Hunter,” a note of surprise in his words.

“It’s not morning yet.” Hunter didn’t need to check the time to know.

Wrecker glanced down at him with a sheepish sort of look, ran a hand over the back of his neck brace.

“Yeah, well,” he said. “Couldn’t sleep either.”

It was an understatement and they both knew it. Clones required much less sleep than other organic species, but even still, the three of them combined had hardly come close to reaching anything like the recommended hours in the past few days.

There were dark smudges under Wrecker’s eyes, cut through by the thin white lines of scars on his left side.

Hunter shifted sideways, where he’d been leaning against the cold durasteel wall, and felt the still-healing muscles in his back complain as he straightened.

“You can join me on watch,” he offered, motioning out the viewscreen with one hand to the void of empty space outside.

“Sure thing,” Wrecker gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his good eye.

It was an empty offer for empty companionship. And when Wrecker dropped off to sleep again, a while later, with his head leaned back against the wall and his knees drawn up to his chest, Hunter almost wished he hadn’t made it.

Wrecker didn’t dream quietly.

Don’t you do it, Tech. Don’t you do it.

Hunter sat next to him, fixed his gaze on the emptiness of Mid Rim space, and hoped that something about his presence might be at least appreciated, if not comforting. He squeezed his hand into a fist at his side, to stop himself from reaching into his pocket for Tech’s googles. To stop himself from reaching for something that was already so far out of reach.

[enigmatist17]

The Past

Touch starved clones hc for the win

No, not romantically, just making that clear

----------------------

He never screams when the nightmares come.

Clone Force 99 doesn't really notice at first, usually returning to Kamino after every mission. Asides from having someone always on watch, more out of habit than anything else, sleeping habits went unnoticed.

Living on a ship, where you can’t really hide, that’s a different story.

He’s able to hide it at first, taking quick cat naps as they run around trying to understand what has happened to the Republic and the brothers they once could trust turned adversaries. He had to sleep eventually, and while doing their first job for Cid, it happened.

Tech had been piloting, and Echo had been told to rest so he could help them once they arrived. At first it was just the void, but then, it began. The Citadel, the way he never reached the transport before the world went dark, the lines of code imprinted on his eyelids and muted voices as he was mutilated, seeing the horror and anger in Rex’s eyes when he saves him, it cycles over and over until his mind snaps.

He doesn’t scream, instead his limbs lock to his side, the man lying as straight as a rod as he stares at the bunk above him. Brown eyes began to flick back and forth, reading code that was no longer there, yet his mind supplied that it had to be.

He doesn’t see when Omega runs past him, only to back up and wave her hand over his eyes. He doesn’t hear her calling out to Hunter, clearly frightened at the fact he was unresponsive to her calling his name. He doesn’t feel when Hunter takes hold of his remaining arm, exerting some strength to lift it up from the bed to get a pulse. 

Reality seemed to hit him the moment his hand was placed back down, and Echo jerked up into a sitting position, ramming his head into Hunter’s. Hunter lets out a curse as Echo scrambles back, looking around and taking in the room with a shudder.

No pod, no wires, no computer, no Techno Union with blades.

“Echo?” The voice, the young voice that sounded so scared, Echo sharply jerked his head, meeting Omega’s gaze. She had her hands up, clearly wanting to touch him, but holding back when Hunter held up two fingers as a sign to not move.

“Omega. Hunter. Marauder. Hyperspace.” He could see this, he could feel this, he could speak of it.

“That’s it.” Hunter slowly moved to sit on the bunk, and Echo didn’t move this time. Omega glanced over at Hunter before taking a step, then another when Echo just watched her with weary eyes. She’s soon holding the base of his mechanical arm, the scomp port usually taken off when he rested, and hugs it to her chest.

“I thought you were dead.” Omega isn’t sure why she’s whispering, and feels the way Echo slumps back against the wall.

“I’m fine…it’s just a nightmare.” He pats his lap with his other arm, and Omega hesitantly lets go to clamber up into his hold. He enveloped her in a hug the second she settled down, whispering something in Mando’a she didn't understand, and looked over at Hunter.

“He’s grounding himself, saying that he is here in the moment.” He translates, reaching out to place a hand on Echo’s leg. 

Omega had seen that clones liked to be affectionate to one another, always hugging, clasping arms, bumping against each other’s chests, sitting against each other, and hadn’t understood it for a long time. When she started to sneak out, she overheard conversations that the brothers all shared amongst each other, and eventually realized it was their way of retaining a feeling of humanity. They all knew they were just weapons, things to be discarded like broken toys when they died, so every act of sharing celebrations to loss had a physical touch to it all.

They would never understand a loving touch like normal people would, so in a way this was their way of doing the same thing.

Echo seemed to relax as he held her, and Omega closed her eyes as she focused on his heartbeat. When she opened them again, Hunter was gone, and the ship seemed to have landed at their destination. Slowly but surely Omega looked up, and was surprised to see Echo fast asleep, arms still wrapped around her securely as if warding off the world around them. Yawning, Omega just snuggled up back against his brother, and right before she drifted off again, she could feel Echo giving her a soft squeeze.

[alleiradayne]

In Through The Out Door | Art Master Post

Castiel was dead. Again. And it was all Dean's fault.

After failing to drink himself into an early grave, Dean finds a little resolve to pick himself back up and do the right thing: save people. With Sam and Jack by his side, and a little help from a few other survivors, they take on Chuck, restore the world, the multiverse, and everything's back to the way it oughta be.

Everything but Castiel, that is.

Dean clings to a death wish five miles wide after that. And he gets that wish, dying on a hunt. But the worst is yet to come when he wakes up and finds himself in the Empty. And he's not alone.

Chapter 11

Summary: Jack negotiates Warnings/Tags: None? Characters/Pairings: Jack, Amara, Billie, visions of Dean, Castiel, Sam, and Eileen Word Count: 1683

“Nibling.”

Jack turned over his shoulder where he knew she stood. Wreathed in the ethereal kaleidoscope of the cosmos, Amara cut an imposing figure. Even her glare unnerved him. A little. Not that he would ever admit that out loud. God, unnerved? Impossible.

“Auntie.”

“Something troubles you,” she prodded. “I know that look. I saw it on your grandfather’s face too many times. Confide in me. Do not turn into him.” 

Ah, yes. God’s tarnished mantle. He’d willingly foisted it upon himself. Sacrificed his innocence to save the world. So, of course, she was concerned. But for him, or herself? After so many millennia locked away, only to then be betrayed by both Dean and Chuck in the end, he supposed he could hardly blame her for being protective of her own well being.

As Amara stepped up beside him, Jack watched her out of the corner of his eye. Stoic as ever, she hinted at no other motives than the words she spoke. So Jack did as she asked. “It’s… my family. My old family.” 

Jack pointed and Amara followed, sifting through the visions of Earth and all its inhabitants. A hint of a frown turned down the corners of her lips. “They are no longer your burden to bear. You are the alpha and the omega. They hold no power over you. You are responsible for all life now.”

True. And yet… “I may have taken on the burden, but I am still… me. And they are still my family.”

He watched her carefully as she shifted visions, focusing on one in particular. “Of course,” she replied as she observed Sam and Eileen surrounded by books in the Bunker’s library. “They search for yet another cheat. Another loophole.”

“No. They are holding true to their promise,” Jack said as he looked past them. “There.”

She followed and saw something new. Something she, judging by her admittedly subtle reaction, had not expected.

Dean stumbled through a vast void with Castiel half-draped over his shoulder, barely conscious. Jack waited for her to comprehend the severity of the situation, to come to all the myriad conclusions he had over the last few days.

“What happened?” she asked, betraying nothing of her own feelings.

“Somehow,” Jack began, “Dean went to The Empty instead of Heaven after he died and both he and Castiel are awake. Something is wrong.”

Amara shook her head. “Wrong though it may be, Jack,” she began, sensing his thoughts, “You know we cannot do anything about it. What is the point of the promise if we break it?”

“It’s not just wrong, it’s… causing a very real problem,” he stated. “Dean’s presence in The Empty is… incongruent. Caustic.”

Amara stood firm, face unchanged. “Are you suggesting there was an error?”

“No, actually,” he said. “I believe this may have been one of Chuck’s last failsafes. And if I—if we do not do something about it, this world may end. All worlds may end. Just like Chuck wanted. Reality is already unraveling as it attempts to reject Dean.”

She continued to stare, but that stony look glazed over, drifting into the middle distance. Then a flicker of understanding flashed across her steel mask. “I can feel it…” she began, voice barely above a whisper. “The… splitting. Seam-ripping. Like a grown child’s aged and well-loved teddy bear.” She focused on him out of the corner of her eye, and said, “The Empty is rejecting both of them.”

For a long moment—not that moments ever truly felt long to him anymore—Jack and Amara stood together in the silence, watching Dean and Castiel struggle, Sam and Eileen search. Dean paused to adjust his grasp of Castiel frequently, and once they both stumbled to their hands and knees. Castiel collapsed completely then, and Dean openly wept as he failed to pick him back up.

“We have to do something.”

Amara turned to face him then. Barely. But it was enough to know he was reaching her. “We do not. They made their beds,” she stated.

“Did they, though?” Jack pressed. “Or were they manipulated? Forced to make impossible choices no human or angel could ever make.” He let her sit with that a moment, timing his next point. “Ignoring all of that, reality is still unraveling. We will not survive.”

“What if I told you we can’t?” Amara asked. “That we are not capable of touching The Empty?”

Jack shook his head. “You aren’t. But I am. I’ve done it before. And now I know how.”

“But that is not the free will you promised,” Amara insisted, her voice cracking ever so slightly. “What of your word?”

Words. Hollow, pointless things. Action. Now that meant something. His family, his real family on Earth, had taught him that. “For free will to truly exist, I cannot.”

Amara’s glare widened a fraction, but she said nothing. And that was all he needed to know he had convinced her he was right.

“How will you do it—”

A rush of wind buffeted his hair from behind. Jack was surprised it had taken that long for her to show up.

“And here I was thinking it was finally over,” Billie started. “But then I hear the two of you whispering. Meddling. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree it seems.” She turned to the vision of The Empty then and watched as Dean finally put Castiel back on his feet. “You still have my scythe.”

Amara eyed Billie, her stare narrowed, then shifted to Jack. He shrugged, unsure of what else to do. After a brief moment, she raised one hand, twisted her wrist, and a dark mist gathered. It coiled, coalescing until Billie’s scythe manifested in her grip, the blade arching between them.

“Reap me.”

Billie’s stare tore from her scythe just as she was about to take it. “What?”

“Help me save them and you can reap…” He sucked in a breath. “You can reap God. I’ll just be Jack again.”

Billie glared between the two of them once more, then settled on Jack. “Why?”

“You can feel it, right?”

A small twitch at the corner of her left eye betrayed her stoney countenance. “You know I can. And you know I do not care.”

“Because you think you’ll survive. Because you were here before God,” Jack stated. “No one will survive this. This was Chuck’s failsafe, one of many.” He laughed at a sudden realization. “Chuck had just over fourteen million different backup plans. Can you imagine that? Fourteen million ways to destroy everything he ever created? Just in case someone got in the way?”

Billie’s expression flattened if at all possible. “Get to the point.”

“I know how every single one of those plans play out. I know how they start, every step along the way, and how they end. And every single one ends with nothing. The Empty ceases to exist. The multiverse becomes even less than it was before. No Death. No Darkness. No God. Even time ceases to exist.”

The corner of Billie’s lips hinted at a smile. “He was tired.”

Jack nodded in an effort to hide his relief. “And too full of his own hubris to just leave.”

“Still doesn’t answer my question, though,” she pressed. “Why?”

“What I love about our multiverse is just how infinite it is.” He turned back to look upon The Empty, to watch as Dean and Castiel continued their struggle. “Come up with fourteen million contingency plans and there’s always room for one more. For the one you didn’t.”

Amara cleared her throat. “I cannot fathom he never accounted for you.”

“Oh, no, he absolutely did,” Jack said. “Several million times over, in fact. And yet… he never imagined I’d give it up. That I’d let Death reap God.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Amara said.

“Agreed,” Billie stated flatly.

“It is pretty far-fetched,” Jack said as he frowned, brow furrowed. How could he explain it? “I didn’t realize there was a problem until Dean died. But then I followed the thread. It had first come undone when Castiel sacrificed himself. Eventually, I discovered all those plans… all but one.”

He fell silent then, and neither Amara nor Billie spoke. Instead, they stood there, together, and watched The Empty. Watched as Castiel stumbled and Dean caught him. Watched as they felt the fabric of reality split apart, stitch by stitch. Watched as they slowly ran out of time.

“Why are you so tight-lipped about this?” Billie asked suddenly. Jack found her sidelong glare aimed at Amara. “What’s in this for you?”

Amara shook her head. “Nothing,” she sighed. But then a smile stretched her lips, breaking her mask completely for the first time. “Everything, actually. If God goes, so do I. In all things, balance.” She considered Jack one more time, then held out Billie’s scythe, haft-butt planted in the celestial space at her feet. “I’ll survive, same as Jack. But the Darkness and God cease to exist.” A coy smirk crooked her smile. “I miss Reno.”

Billie raised a brow at her, shook her head, then turned. “What about you?” she asked as she squared up to Jack again. “I get her angle. But you just became God. Are you willing to give up half the light of your world for a human and a…” Billie glanced past him. “Washed-up angel?”

Half the light of his world. He hadn’t thought of it quite like that. He’d known someone once who had sacrificed such. Or rather, God had known them. But they’d done it for their own benefit. Not that Jack thought himself above such desires; in a way, saving Dean and Castiel was personal. Selfish, even. But his price seemed a little steeper than just one of his eyes. And then there was the whole saving-the-multiverse part of the equation. So, yeah. More than willing.

Jack grasped Billie’s scythe, placing his hand over Amara’s.

Suck it, Odin.

Billie stared for a moment, unmoving. Then she placed her hand atop his, fingers wrapping around her scythe.

Then He spoke, and it was done.

“Deal.”

This series is complete! Reblogs are loved and feedback is welcome!

In Through The Out Door | Art Master Post

[mak-be-ghouled]

@thatfuckinjester

this was supposed to be about phantom and delta when phantom went on tour but ended us being mostly about omega

it was also supposed to be a happier ending but they had other plans apparently (i think there’s probably still hope for them though but that’s besides the point)

ANYWAY

more under the cut about delta phantom and omega

It’s not like Omega meant to abandon Delta. Not exactly at least.

A new quint had been summoned not long after Delta’s transition. Not long after Delta felt like he had finally deserved some amount of Omega’s attention, some of his love. 

Omega held Delta so close after the element transition, like if he were to let go Delta would disintegrate into dust, and maybe, in some roundabout way, Omega was right. 

This new quint though, Aether, he was summoned to go on tour, to replace Delta, to replace himself he supposed. 

Sure, Delta was a quint now, but he’s a new quint at that, most ghouls needed some mentoring when it came to their magic topside, but that was just training to master their element, Delta had no foundation, no training, all he had was two warring elements thrashing inside of him. 

And so, Omega was tasked with training this new ghoul, with preparing Aether for tour. 

Delta watched the two from afar, wishing someone would look at him the way Aether looks at Omega, stares in his eyes, loses himself in admiration. The way Omega looks at Aether, so much hope, so proud of his protege. 

Delta melts into the background. Drifts away from the pack, from the world. Finds comfort in the vast emptiness of the void. 

It's not until Omega sends Aether off on tour, off to spread The Dark One’s word, that he truly notices Delta's absence. 

A new calmness in the air that makes Omega sick. A calmness that didn’t belong. A lightning bolt struck through Omega's heart. A longing he had never recognized before. One he still doesn’t know the cause of now. 

That is until a new quint is summoned after Aether’s retirement. Another runt. Barely breathing and in worse shape than any of the ghouls have seen a ghoul in topside, let alone a quint ghoul at that. 

There's something familiar about this ghoul though. Something Omega can’t put his finger on. 

Maybe it’s not even the ghoul itself, but their magic. Something familiar but just far off enough that he can’t place it. 

With the summoning of this new quint the shadows feel less cold, less empty. Again they're being occupied by a ghoul that wants nothing more than to love, to be loved. 

Delta was the first runt to survive a summoning, he's seen how other runts have been treated, has experienced that treatment for himself, he sees too much of himself in Phantom to let him go through what he suffered. He’s back now, for Phantom's sake.

Now, its Omegas turn to watch from a distance. To watch the two quints. He understands what had been missing for all of that time. Delta.

But now that Delta’s back, Omega finds it hard to meet his eyes. Lost in a spiraling galaxy instead of a calm sea. 

He watches the way Delta cares for Phantom. Protects him. The way he should have been there for Delta when he needed him the most. The way he should have taken Delta under his wing, sure Aether was his responsibility, but he had enough love for both quints, didn't he?

Part of him wonders if he resented Delta, even if he loved him. Maybe that is why he put so much of himself into Aether. Maybe he thought Delta would be too much work, afterall, training a brand new quint was no easy task, even for Omega himself. He tries not to think about what happened to Delta during his absence, can't really wrap his head around it really. Is truly only distantly aware it happened at all, and that may be the worst part of it. Not remembering feeling guilty or longing for Delta. He's certainly making up for that now though, he thinks. Guilt eating him alive but still unable to go to Delta now that he's back, now that he has Phantom.

As the tour approaches closer and closer, Delta and Phantom count down their days with each other. They’re scared to be quite honest. For the first time Phantom feels like he may actually be safe, may have someone in his corner, and now he's going to be alone again. He's not sure he’ll even survive being alone again, not after this.

Delta is scared too, he doesn't want to admit that to Phantom, but who else does he have? Not knowing if Phantom is safe, if he's okay, hell where he is half the time is horrifying. He needs to be strong for Phantom's sake, that's why he's here, to protect Phantom, he can't be a part of his fear.

Without Phantom in the Abbey Omega can't hide in the shadows anymore, he's forced to confront Delta. He has to. Has to apologize for leaving him when he needed him the most. 

Delta won't hear it though, cant. He’s lost in a sea of worry and doubt without Phantom.

i'm sorry but tou said that you want more about delta and phantom and i just thought about delta asking about phantom's scars and thinking that he added more. and i might be writing hurt/comfort about them because i think we all deserve fluff-

JESTER YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME IK WHATEVER YOU'RE COOKING UP IS GOING TO BE INCREDIBLE

(that being said don't feel pressured to write anything just bc I said more, pls only write what and when you want to)

Your quint characterization is maybe my favorite thing I’ve ever read and has ABSOLUTELY inspired my own writing and I cannot thank you enough for that. Hopefully it's ok that I ran with your lighting/scar ideas for this little ramble about Phantom/Delta bc I agree we all deserve some fluff.

I got a bit carried away here's 1.6k words of Phantom/Delta hurt/comfort under the cut

Not sure how I feel about the ending but were just gonna ignore that

Phantom who is so drawn to Delta despite being so terrified of the magic they're said to harness, it's no secret Phantom is a runt, he has the scars to prove it. Something not as obvious is that most of the scars he wears don't have heroic stories defending himself from entire ghoul packs or even from scavenging around alone hoping to get lucky enough for food and a safe place to sleep for the night. 

No, Phantom wasn't alone in the pits, not always in the physical sense at least. A particularly powerful quintessence ghoul had it out for Phantom fairly early on, a lighting quint at that. No one, not even Phantom really knows what happened during these run ins. 

Nothing to prove they even happened beyond scorched skin. wounds that never fully healed, not how they should have at least. Etching lighting bolts into delicate skin. Branding him. 

When Phantom was summoned topside he was indescribably drawn in by a particular type of magic. A type of magic that felt dreamlike in a way, familiar and yet so distant. 

The closer he got to the pack though, the more he longed to identify this elusive magic. He thought maybe it was Swiss, buried somewhere deep inside him, he was a multi after all.

Eventually Phantom began hearing rumors about another quintessence ghoul, one he had never met before, one that had changed elements, one that was connected to water. 

When Phantom and Delta first meet it's electric in every sense of the word.

Delta has tried his hardest to keep himself away from Phantom, to protect him. Phantom had gone through enough and all Delta did anymore was hurt. Hurt himself, hurt others. He couldn't do that to Phantom too, not after hearing all that the ghoul had been through, not at the hands of another lighting quint.

Phantom was entranced by Delta though, it was his magic he had been drawn to. Part of him was terrified of Delta, put off by this distantly familiar magic, but the other was so desperate for it, needed it like his lungs needed air.

For the first time since the transition, Delta can stand to be physically close to another ghoul. Not once does Phantom ever jump back in fear or hesitation or pain from his unruly element. 

For the first time in as long as he can remember, Delta is... relaxed. His mind slows its never-ending racing. The elements warring inside of him fall calm and peaceful in a way so foreign to him it almost makes him sick. 

Despite his better judgment, Delta can't resist Phantom, there's just something so special about the little ghoul that he can't deny. He's so scared of hurting him, but he's even more scared of losing him and he barely even knows Phantom yet.

Phantom and Delta begin spending more and more time together, so deeply lost in the galaxy that is the other. Stormy nights are especially special for them though, something about their connection to the stars and lighting, it's just...them in a way.

Tonight is one of those nights. It's been overcast all afternoon and just started storming as the sun went down. Through patches of darkness that can only be assumed to be storm clouds, the stars and moon just barely peak through. Almost as if they're revealing themselves just for them.

Delta had set up one of the greenhouses as a makeshift observatory, full of soft blankets and the pair's favorite snacks, made complete with the old vinyl record player Mountain insisted on having in the greenhouse for his plants.

Delta wonders if they would approve of his music selection. But truly it doesn't matter, all that matters is that he knows Phantom loves it.

Finally, Delta hears the creaking of the rusted door hinges and looks up to see Phantom’s radiant smile, his eyes shine brighter than the stars in the sky and Delta has never felt more at ease than he does in this very moment. 

"Hi lighting bug" 

Phantom says as he takes in his surroundings, crawling into the nest Delta has put together for them. Delta chuffs, pulling Phantom close to him. 

The pair lay in a comfortable silence for a while, just taking in everything. Watching as lightning lights up the night sky. Pointing out stars and constellations as they appear and disappear behind the clouds. 

Experiencing love they'd never had, loved they didn't think they deserved.

At some point Delta's eyes drift from the sky, settling instead on his own universe, the ghoul laying just beside him. Delta wasn't sure he'd ever be able to love like this, and yet, here he is.

Phantom glances over to Delta, only to be face to face with the most loving look Phantom has ever seen, at least the most loving face he's been the receiver of. Phantom is overcome with emotion, can’t believe he's experiencing this type of connection with another ghoul, he's not sure he deserves it but when he's quite literally face to face with it, he isn't so sure anymore, and his eyes well with tears.

"Can-Can I kiss you, Nova?

Delta asks acting fully on impulse, not thinking, just doing. He hasn't kissed anyone since before he changed elements, hell he's hardly touched anyone since the transition, but before he can overthink anymore the corners of Phantom's month pull up into a small smile and he gives a shy nod.

Before he knows it Delta's hand is cupping Phantom's cheek and their lips are connecting in the softest, most genuine kiss. 

Delta feels like he's floating, like nothing will ever matter again as long as he has Phantom. 

Just as Phantom goes to pull away though, just for a breath, smiling against Delta’s lips the whole time, to wipe the tears that had fallen, Delta is ripped back down to reality. 

All of a sudden Delta is hyper aware of the lightning bolt shaped scar slashing through Phantom’s face, the scar that he has been holding in his hand.

Delta rips his hand away from Phantom's face, looks into his eyes and sees tears.

Why was Phantom crying? Did he leave that scar? Is he the reason for the lightning bolt tearing through Phantom's face? Did he hurt Phantom? The one ghoul he thought was safe from his own pain?

Delta tries to get away, thrashes and growls and realizes he...can't? 

Somethings holding him down and he's back in the summoning room, he’s back being strapped down and used as an experiment, just to see if a ghoul really can change elements. If a ghoul can be tamed, be useful again.

Distantly Delta hears Phantom's voice calling to him, floating off somewhere into the void. Slowly the warring elements begin to calm again and Delta is looking at Phantom face to face again.

He hates himself. Hates himself for the scar he left. The damage he did to such a beautiful innocent creature.

Deta hurts everyone he touches, he knows this, has seen it happen. Why did he think Phantom would be any different?

"Delta. Love. Look at me. What's going on?" 

Phantom's trying to act calm, to bring Delta back to reality, but he's scared too, he's not sure what happened, if he did something wrong.

"I- Im- so- sorry." 

Delta heaves out between panting breaths, and Phantom's never been more confused.

"Delta, what?"

"You- your face- I"

Phantom grazes his hands over the scarred side of his face, over the lighting bolt, Delta flinches back again- and 

oh

Phantom realizes he's never really thought about that, never really considered the connection between Delta's magic and his scars, never considered why he had been drawn so strongly to Delta, to Delta's magic. 

"I- I need to go, I don't want to - I can't hurt you anymore"

Delta sobs out, stumbling and trying to stand.

"Delta, please."

Phantom calls out and he sounds so desperate.

Delta was supposed to be a healing ghoul, he can't just leave Phantom hurting now. 

Delta tries to call on his magic but he just... can't. It's like he's run dry. 

He heaves into the ground and his mind starts clearing once again, he becomes distantly aware of a hand rubbing up and down his back, he tries to flinch away but he doesn't have any more fight left in him.

Phantom just keeps whispering to Delta, soft and loving words, words he knows Delta doesn't think he deserves, but Phantom couldn't think of a more deserving ghoul, keeps a steady hand on his back hoping to help ground Delta, he'd use a bit of his magic too if he didn't think it would make everything worse, so instead he settles on only affecting the physical realm. 

Finally Delta comes back down to earth, Phantom is able to explain as much as he remembers from the pits to Delta, how he thinks he got those scars. How it wouldn't be possible for Delta to have hurt him like that because in the pits he was a water ghoul. 

Delta tries to accept Phantom's words, he does, but can you really blame him for being so scared? It's not like hurting someone he loves, even if on accident, was something he hadn't done before.

[ghostyjellyfish]

God, what’s wrong with me?