#idk it might be awhile before i can make another full render like the chapter 1 fanart of vista

[macabre-discotheque]

some vista alegre moments i thought deserved to be put into art form

all of these are from chapter 3 lol, my favorite moments also like 3 other scenes from Pink Matter cause come on man

also I wanted to put cat in as pascal (but they have a specific design for this that I'll refine eventually) cause y yeah idk i hope you guys don't mind it was mostly cause people in the corpse puppet au draw their ocs in place of y/n and i was like HEYYYY

anyways uhh if you wanna read the fic, it got deleted off ao3 sadly but here's a little drive link I made for it before it got deleted!! Credits and everything 😎 By the way do heed the warnings if you wanna read cause like good GRIEF this fic gets heavy sometimes

[dvddggs]

To the Four of Us (Part Twenty Two)

premise: modern AU chronicling the squad as they make their way through college and deal with general life things. soundtrack song: Impossible Year - Panic! At The Disco full soundtrack: x (request songs and if I use it i’ll dedicate the chapter to you!) words: 2,155 (this was actually v emotionally draining to write so its a bit shorter oops) warnings: kinda strong warning for this one!! ptsd, anxiety, alcoholism, death mention (if i missed anything please let me know!!) a/n: scream at me. all chapters: x tags: @heythereitsloey @anitheunicorn @newyorkyoucanbeanew @lafbagxette @justafangirlwithanavy @iamgrayfox @ordinaryornate @schuylerjoon @angelica-peggy-eliza @trashyperson101 @crazydragon15 @but-if-you-had-to-choose @geespilots @marvelous-hamilfan @5p00kygh05t @panda-powers @and-maria @lafeyettegunsandships @schokoobananaa @allthegoodurlshavebeentaken @aphboi @hell-yes-puns-and-ships @aham-threw-his-shot-away @hesitantcat @nonstopspook @hamrevolution @writethewayout @alexander-did-you-know @allthegoodurlshavebeentaken @sun-tree @angelizaandpeggy @isis278 @idk-destiel @engulfedinstars @hamiltrashuniverse @ahrupe @just-me-an-asshole dedication: this isn’t specific but i hit 1.5k tonight so this is dedicated to all 1.5k of u that’s so amazing thank u so much 

It is dark. I am…alone? No. Not alone. Someone is with me. Someone is driving the car. I am in the backseat. Why? The streetlights illuminate the road ahead of us. Where are we going? Who is driving? Who is with me? I crane my neck, trying to see. Trying. His face hides. His? Hers? The dark face. There are no details. It is just a stretch of blackness, of emptiness. No eyes. No mouth. Something is wrong. The mouthless face turns to speak.

“John.”

One word. My name. Something is very wrong.

We are still driving. But something has changed. The faceless person is not watching the road. The hands are not on the steering wheel. We are swerving. Swerving. Speeding up.

We do not stop. We cannot stop. We are not going to stop.

I cry out. I am scared. I do not know what is happening. What is happening? Why is this happening? Why won’t it stop?

We are hurtling down the road. There is nothing to control the car. Why won’t it stop? Why won’t we stop?

I am frantic now. I try to push the faceless person. Turn around, turn around. Watch the road. Steer the car. BRAKE.

Please, for the love of god, brake.

Please. Please. Stop the car.

Am I saying this aloud? I cannot hear myself. The radio. The music is blasting. Too loud. I cannot hear.

“Turn it down,” I scream. Or maybe I whisper it. I cannot tell. I do not know.

The faceless person continues to watch me. Its head tilts side to side, studying me. Its nonexistent eyes bore into my frantic, wide ones. I am panicking. My heart is pounding.

Headlights.

There is a car coming.

I must be screaming at this point. I must be. I can feel my throat going raw. It hurts. My seatbelt is locked. We are going too fast. The tough fabric cuts into my chest. I am stuck. Trapped. Pinned to the seat.

I begin to cry. I am pleading. I am begging.

Watch the road. Steer the car. Brake. Save us.

“Put down the drink,” I hear myself say.

A violent flash of light. A horrific sound. A deafening crunch. A shattering of glass. A mess.

It is too late.

Too late.

My eyes ache. I am bathed in lights. Flashing.

Red. Blue. White. More red.

Loud squeals. Sirens.

I am laying on something hard. Cold. Wet. The road?

How did I get here?

I turn my head to the right. Beside me, the faceless person. Unmoving. Hurt.

I turn my head to the left. There, a young girl. Her eyes are closed.

People surround her. They move quickly. Scissors. Stethoscope. A look at each other. Palms on her chest. Pumping. Down, up. Down, up. Rhythm.

I breathe in. I feel fine. Why do I feel fine?  

I am standing up. No one notices me. No one acknowledges me.

No one sees me.

I am not here.

I am watching. Watching a horror movie. But it is right there. Right here. It is real. Is it real? How can it be?

“John.”

The voice again. I turn my body. The faceless person is, somehow, staring at me. Calling out to me.

Slowly I approach. I am afraid. I am shaking. I do not know what to think.

Who is this? What is this? Why am I here? Why won’t this stop?

“John.”

I try to respond. I try to yell. Who are you? Why is this happening?

“John.”

I feel myself start to cry. I fall to my knees. I do not feel anything. I am so, so scared.

“JOHN.”

Alexander shook John violently until his eyes flew open and he jumped up, wide awake. He was shaking, sweating, cold, crying. John looked around the room, dazed, while he caught his bearings. His chest rose and fell rapidly as Alexander rubbed his back.

“Holy shit,” Alexander whispered through the darkness. “Are you okay?”

John pressed his lips together and inhaled shakily. Before he could stop himself, he began to cry. The sobbing was almost hysterical.

“Shh…it’s alright. It was only a dream, baby. Only a dream…”

Alexander stroked John’s hair and whispered empty reassurances in his ear until his breathing slowed to normal and the shaking began to subside.

“What was it about?” Alexander asked after awhile.

“My—dad,” John managed to choke out. “Car crash.”

“It was just a dream,” Alexander repeated softly.

But it wasn’t. He didn’t understand. John couldn’t really blame him either—he would never expect him to understand, but still. He took another deep breath to steady his voice.

“What time is it?”

He prayed that it was late enough to justify getting up.

“It’s around three,” Alex replied gently.

Fuck.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep,” John whispered, voice wavering.

Alexander nodded and pushed the sheets back so he could sit up beside John. He pulled him into a tight hug and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Then we’ll stay up,” Alexander declared. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Slowly, John choked out what happened in his dream between the faceless man he now realized was his father, the car crash, the girl…

By the end, Alexander looked horrified.

“I’m so sorry, John,” he said. It was barely a whisper.

Alexander had no idea what to say—he had never been good with dealing with his problems and usually favoured shoving them to the side and forget about them. This, however, transcended the classification of “a problem” and jumped right into the category of “suffering to which words cannot do justice.”

He had no idea what to say. Alexander, the man of hundreds of thousands of words, had been rendered speechless by the tear-streaked, wide-eyed puppy boy who sat beside him in his bed. He was at a loss for words. John had been through so much during his life. So much suffering, so much hardship, and the car crash with his father had brought it all to a head. This was John’s breaking point. This was it.

“Can I tell you something?”

John nodded, wiping a tear off his cheek.

“When I first came here—when my dad first got me—I was a fucking mess. My mom had just died, I was sick…the doctors thought I was going to die too. And you know what? I pretended that I was fine. Every single fucking day I pretended that I was fine. John, it was exhausting. I was not fine. I was a wreck. One day, my dad came into my room—right here—and sat down on my bed and found me crying. He hugged me and you know what he told me? He told me that it’s okay to not be fine. I’ve never, ever forgotten that. You’re allowed to be a fucking mess right now, John. You have every right. This isn’t going to be easy, and there’s a lot of stuff that’s about to come your way, and everything is going to be really shitty, and it might stay that way for a long time. And you know what? I’m going to stay here by your side—I’m not going anywhere—and we’re going to keep on going until everything gets alright again, okay?”

John studied Alexander’s wide eyes. There was something new in them; he looked almost haunted. Alexander didn’t open up about his past very often—the speech shocked John into silence.

Finally, he spoke the only words he could think of.

“I’m just…so tired, Lex.”

And that was it.

John broke down in tears. They were not pretty tears—they were ugly, heavy, thick tears that splashed down his cheeks and soaked his shirt. There was nothing romantic about this kind of agonizing grief; it was suffocating. It was excruciating. John clung to Alexander while his nose ran like a tap. His entire body shook and his head pounded, entirely overcome with uncontrollable sobbing. Though it was three o’clock in the morning, he was not quiet. The crying continually omitted gut-wrenching gasps and pained groans. Once in awhile Alexander would swipe away one of John’s tears with his thumb, but each one was replaced by countless others.

They stayed like that for god-knows-how-long. Alexander holding John. John forcing his eyes to stay open so he could never again see the dream that had branded itself onto the insides of his eyelids.

“Everything hurts,” John whimpered after a short bout of silence. He had cried himself dry. There was nothing left in him—nothing.

“I know,” Alexander whispered, pushing his head softly into John’s neck.

He hated watching John in pain. He hated not being able to sugarcoat the situation. He hated holding him while he cried. He wanted it to stop.

If his life had taught him anything, though, it was that healing took time. Lots and lots of it. Even now, once in awhile Alexander found himself missing his mother, longing for her, remembering her hugs, wondering what his life could have been…

But over time, the pain had eased. The thought of his mother used to cripple Alexander into anxiety attacks, long and seemingly endless bouts of depression, and a fear of letting others love him. He was afraid of loving—afraid that anyone he loved would leave him. But now he had his John. He had his friends, and he had his father. He had found a way to live through it, to live until the next day…the next month…the next year…

And now it was John’s turn to heal. Alexander had vowed to be there for as long as it took, for as hard as it would be, through anything and everything.

“It’s going to hurt for a long time,” Alexander said softly, brushing John’s long hair to the side. “But I am promising you right now that it is going to get easier. Slowly, everything is going to get easier. You’ll see. But for now we don’t need to worry about that. For now, you need to cry.”

The sky began to lighten as a hint of the sun peeked in through Alexander’s curtains. “Do you wanna try and get back to sleep?”

John thought about it, then nodded slowly. He let Alexander lead him downward until his head hit the fluffy pillow with a soft thud. Through the darkness, he watched Alexander smile sympathetically. It was not the pity that John had so often feared he would receive regarding his father—it was loving sympathy, complete with a warm body wrapped around him, a squeeze of the hand, and a soft kiss on the cheek, which forced the last few of John’s tears out of his body.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes. He was asleep before he could count to ten.

Alexander lay in the darkness, mind spinning. He thought about his mother, about his father, about John’s father. About the girl in the car crash…

He was wide awake.

He picked up a phone to check the time. 5:12 AM.

Alexander sighed and sat up slowly, so as not to wake John. He looked so beautiful in his sleep, so peaceful. His hair feathered around his head in a sort of curly halo, and his long, dark eyelashes fluttered as he drifted through states of consciousness. His eyes were swollen and his cheeks were still red, but at least for now he could take a break from his busy mind.

Carefully, Alexander pulled the sheets back and headed downstairs to grab a glass of water from the sink. He heard the floorboards creak a bit, but it was nothing out of the ordinary in the old house.

The air itself seemed still and slow. The world was asleep. People were out of harm’s way…until they woke up and began their days and had to face whatever horrors would be awaiting them. But, for now at least, they were safe.

He tip-toed his way back upstairs, avoiding the steps he knew would creak more than others, and climbed back into bed. Right before he closed his eyes, however, a flash of light caught his attention.

John’s phone. A picture of the two of them. His lock screen. A message.

Alexander picked it up, curious as to who would need to get in touch with him at this time. Lafayette, maybe? He was six hours ahead, after all.

A missed call. A voicemail. A text.

After thumbing in the passcode he’d easily memorized (2-5-3-9, or ALEX), he opened the messaging app.

It was John’s brother, James.

Something was making Alexander uneasy. He hesitantly tapped on the name, causing the message thread to blossom open.

When he read the missed message, his breathing hitched in his throat.

James: Dad is dead.