#it’s star goop blood

[crimson-nail]

afterthought of martyrdom

[codacheetah]

I can't believe I made a post abt Loop's biology and didn't talk abt their guts. Sad

[fircballs]

her dick game goes crazy. if you even care

[unfried-mouth-wheat]

fellas, we need to bring back the romanticism movement

[leonsdolly]

Tammy Faye

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Synopsis: In which you love Leon so much, you'd do anything for him.

CW: nsfw 18+, angst, obsession, depictions of murder, subby Leon, oral (m receiving)

WC: 4.4k

A/N: inspired by Tammy Faye by Nicole Dollanganger !

Red, black, red, black! Your hands are painted with the brilliant scarlet hue as you scrub them vigorously under the freezing tap water. You glance up at the filthy mirror to catch a glimpse of yourself. Black streaks of mascara trickle down your cheeks, mixing with the blood splattered across them like unholy rouge on a Venetian mask. You force a smile through the cracked exterior. Pierrot gone rogue. If he’d stabbed Harlequin eighteen times in a truckstop bathroom less than ten miles from Raccoon City and made sure to pose him all special for a handsome cop to find.

It’s as if all you see these days are red and black. How you long to catch a glimpse of the blue that swirls your lover’s eyes. The faint baby blue shadow you had applied that morning was a poor substitute. You screw your eyes shut and try to picture the particular shade of cerulean that you live for. His lovely face is overtaken by the gut-wrenching smell of copper and mildew as you open your eyes and continue scrubbing at your flesh. No matter, you’ll see him soon. For now, you focus on washing away all evidence of your inundating love. You scrub harder and harder and harder. Jesus, how much blood could a girl hold?

After what feels like eons under the flickering fluorescent light, you turn the rusty faucet off and smile widely at your reflection again. If Leon were to see you now, would he be enraptured by the way your thick mascara coated lashes frame your teary eyes like a doll that’s been trapped in an unopened box, forced to watch the most heartbreaking scenes play out through the unrelenting acetate sheet? You shake your head forcefully, expelling those thoughts out. The cops will be here soon. A twinge of giddiness zaps through your heart at the thought. He’ll be here soon.

You reapply a fresh coat of red lipstick - Dior, of course, before taking one last look around the dingy restroom. It’s filthy, but it was your personal respite for the past few hours. You wrinkle your nose at the row of grotesque urinals lined up against the dirt encrusted wall. They were filled with mysterious liquids that made your stomach churn. Thick reddish-brown goop that lay still with unidentifiable objects submerged within like a bog in Hell. Who would even think of doing something as disgusting as sticking their hand in? You turn away and push the door open to be greeted by the warm summer air. The night sky looms over you, a black sheet covered in stars that twink and blink and wink down at you as if to say “your secret’s safe with us.”

While this truckstop is gross, its beauty lies in the fact that it’s tiny and desolate as hell. Sure, the city is less than ten miles away, but the dense forestry surrounding the Arklay Mountains provides some coverage along the highway, shielding this particular stop from careless eyes. If you weren’t careful, you could miss it altogether unless you paid close attention to the fading signs. And because this was in the middle of nowhere, there weren’t any workers manning the facility at night. You wink back up at the stars and circle around the bathroom towards the gaggle of deserted semi-trucks, towards the one with its back door unlatched and open for all to see, towards her. 

She sits up unnaturally, thanks to the crate you had propped up against her back. The emptiness of the semi’s trailer looks as if it’s about to swallow her for all that she’s got like a black hole. The shadows of moths fluttering against the lights dance over her, contrasting the stillness of her features. You tilt your head as you cross your arms and glare up at her. You’re still prettier, right? Her skin has taken on a sallow tone that appears even more unflattering in the harsh fluorescent light. Her hair is tangled and matted with blood. The black blouse she wears is torn and looks even darker with the stains covering it. You gently smack your lips, feeling the satisfaction of freshly applied lipstick. The whore got what was coming. 

Gone were the nights of crying on the kitchen floor as Tammy Wynette played from another room. Gone were the days of having to excuse yourself in the staff restroom at the station to wipe the raven smudges away from your eyes. Gone were the moments of sheer exasperation and disgust as you watched her touch his uniform clad shoulders and lean in close to let him brush his lips over her own.

You pull your dainty white lace-trimmed gloves out of your pocket and slip them on before padding over to the lonesome payphone. You deposit a quarter before carefully dialing the three digits that would summon your lover like Beatrice descending from Paradise.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I’d like to report a dead body at the old truckstop about ten miles south of Raccoon City.” Click.

You put the inky black phone back on the receiver before smiling uncontrollably. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as the anticipation of seeing him very soon washes over you. You love him so madly, you’re convinced the only way out of it is 500 mg of midazolam, 100 mg of vecuronium bromide, and 240 mEq of good ol’ potassium chloride.

The dense forest behind the truckstop beckons you with open arms, and you oblige. You skip over to a spot that will allow you to have a front row view of what’s about to transpire while keeping you hidden among the foliage. From here, you can see the girl sitting up with deadweight limbs like a marionette being forced upright with invisible strings. The strings are in your hands, but you were forced to seize control of them from her. Who knows what her influence would have done to Leon?

A bat of her clumpy lashes here, a hand on his firm shoulder there, and your Leon voluntarily hooked himself onto the strings, dancing to the tune she hums from her spot in the dingy break room. You suppose you can't fault him entirely; it's in his nature to grin bashfully and gaze at a woman who fawns over him with lovesick eyes. After all, that's what you love about your sweet rookie cop. Sweeter than candy floss, tantalizing in every aspect like a perfect little peach ready to be plucked from Eden. He just needs to realize that you had always been leaning against the counter of that break room, observing the two with astute grace.

“Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of the chief’s office?” You dissolved.

The first words he had ever uttered to you solidified that you wanted all his words, and you would give him yours. You can’t even remember what you had responded with, lost in the tranquility of his eyes and splendor of his smile. You didn’t miss the way those eyes softly ran over your cream silk blouse, caressing and thumbing over the first few buttons for a peek of something more, something buried deep within your soul. Those lips pulled back to beam at you, beckoning you to press every part of you onto them until you shed black tears from a warmth you weren’t accustomed to.

You hear the sirens approaching from your protected spot, silently thanking nature for watching over you while the love of your life approaches.

“Come get your gift, sweetheart,” you murmur. “It's all for you, everything I do…”

Your heart thumps faster as the sirens scream louder and louder until they reach the truckstop. The slam of car doors echo throughout the otherwise silent night air as the officers’ frantic voices jumble over each other. You hold your breath as you identify your darling's voice among the two; your heart is about to blast off for the moon, leaving a red heart-shaped chemtrail behind it for all to see.

Some tinkering with flashlights and crackle of walkie-talkies, and there he is.

Leon rounds the corner to face the semi’s trailer, face going slack as he takes in the stage you set for him. He stands transfixed before her, immobilized like he’s now the one behind the acetate sheet. A pretty Ken doll, waiting for someone to tug at his strings.

His partner, Officer Redfield, flanks the semi as he joins Leon. “Fuck.”

Officer Redfield wastes no time in flinging open the car door and jamming his button to radio dispatch while his partner pales in the moonlight. You can't really make out what he's saying to dispatch but the terms “DOA” and “requesting units” and her name float over to you. When dispatch has confirmed that backup is on the way, Officer Redfield walks over to Leon and hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Kennedy.”

Leon shakes his head, a little dazed, a little frantic, but pretty just the same, and your thighs clench together. “How could this have happened again, Chris?”

Officer Redfield sighs heavily as he gazes up at the displayed corpse with unease. “I don't know. Goddamn it…”

He says something about how great of a colleague she was and how the entire station would miss her, but you can scarcely hear him over the blood roaring in your ears. Your beloved had asked how something like this could have happened again. Again. He knew. He was at least putting the pieces together. Your cheeks hurt from beaming in the shadows of the foliage; he was acknowledging the gifts you had bestowed upon him. A girl from a coffee shop whose smile drew him in like a shrimp to an anglerfish. A brute of a man who dared to connect his fist to such a lovely cheek during a drunken brawl at a bar. Both posed for his lovely eyes only, their last moments entombed in the polaroids tucked away in your desk drawer.

I’ve done it again, you silently mouth to him. I’ve done it again.

He doesn’t show up to work the next day. Or the day after that and the day after that and the day after that, and your organs fail.

An entire week passes, leaving your heart to writhe in agony from his absence. You stare forlornly at his empty desk from your own, shuffling papers mindlessly and feeling your hand twitch towards the letter opener whenever Chief Irons walks by - the bastard was the one who granted your darling “time off” to “process his emotions.”

A feeling of solemnity looms over the entire station as it whispers in hushed tones about who could’ve ripped away its beloved receptionist, a young woman who was in the prime of her life. The collective mourning is enough to make you want to vomit all over her desk, covering the slab of wood in your spite. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

You skim your fingers over the mahogany surface of Leon’s desk, feeling every crevice he feels as he hastily writes up reports and laughs at the other officers’ jokes like an angel breathing life into humans formed from dust. You long to see his splendorous face again, long to hear the stumbling of his words as his superiors tease him, long to inhale his reassuring scent as you brush past him to heat up your food in the break room. 

“You friends with him or something?” Officer Redfield’s voice shatters you out of your reverie with a jolt. 

“Oh, um, kinda…” Your voice softens at the question. Were you friends? Absolutely not. You were something better.

“Well, a few of us are gonna take him out tonight. Try to cheer him up after everything that’s been going on. Hell, we all need to cheer up. That last one hit way too close to home, especially for Kennedy.” His expression grows solemn. Three unsolved murders in such a short amount of time doesn’t necessarily boast confidence in the local police department. “You should come.”

You’re hesitant to respond. While your instincts are screaming at you to politely decline the invitation and instead observe the gathering from afar, a part of you realizes that you’ll get to be close to him. The thought makes you flutter like a little lacy thing in the wind that’s been pinned to a clothesline for as long as it can remember.

“I’d like that, thanks for inviting me.” You beam up at Officer Redfield. “You’ve all worked so hard. You deserve to relax as much as possible.”

“I don’t know about that.” A heavy sigh escapes his lips, and it looks like he wants nothing more than to tip his head back and let the whiskey slide down his throat, burning and clawing and gnawing at his esophagus until his vision turns black. “That’s three families who are cryin’ themselves to sleep, wonderin’ why this is happening to them.”

“Right.” Your eyebrows raise together in a display of faux sympathy, and your lovely mouth twists in a way that one could interpret as a pout of sorrow.

Where was the collective empathy when you were crying yourself to sleep every night while he was undoubtedly hugging her to his chest as they slept peacefully without a care in the world? Where was the justice in forcing yourself to be satisfied by your own fingers knowing it was a poor substitute for the heavenly cock filling her up? Where was the sense in any of it?

You slip back into an easy grin. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Raucous laughter and clinking of glasses and billiard balls missing their shots surround you as you enter a bar that’s rather homely in its own way. Your nerves are powerful enough to puncture flesh as you had primped and fussed over your appearance beforehand. This is your first outing with Leon, and you know that looking like anything less than Aphrodite’s descendant is not an option.

You see him before anyone else, just the way it’s always been. A modern-day Adonis standing unsuspectingly among the mediocre. His beauty wafts over to you like the aroma of honey and vanilla and brown sugar brewing on a stove, sweet and utterly tantalizing. It wraps itself around you, commanding you to drink it in until you relinquish all control. You’ve already given it all up for him. Gazing at him like he’s your cult leader, ready to usher you into the New World where it’s just you and him and no one else. You’ll do anything to preserve that world.

You make your way over to the group, greeting them and exchanging pleasantries before ordering your own drink. He’s leaning haphazardly on the edge of a pool table, and you casually stand by him, gripping onto your glass with trembling fingers.

He looks rather exhausted. Faint shadows encircle his eyes, and his blonde hair is a little mussed. His clothes are slightly rumpled, and he looks glumly at the tequila in his hand. His cheeks are painted with a subtle flush from the alcohol. You try not to reveal the utter state of adoration he’s put you in as you speak up.

“How are you, Officer Kennedy?”

He throws you a sidelong glance, and you catch it with bambi eyes. “I’m… hanging in there, I guess. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

You feel as though he’s taken an ax to every single appendage as you giggle softly and tell him your name.

He gives you a small smile as he nods at you. “I see you in the breakroom a lot.” His smile heals the bloody mess he just made, regenerating your wounds until you feel whole again.

“I do too. I’m really sorry about what you’re going through. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.” You tilt your head sympathetically to show him you really care about his well-being. The angle also shows off your good side.

“Thanks,” he sighs. “I don’t know how something like this could’ve happened to her. Been beating myself up all this time wondering what I could’ve done to prevent this from happening. I don’t know. Sounds kinda crazy, but the other two cases we had felt pretty c-close to me too… You think I’m being real self-centered for that or something? It’s only my first year on the force, and I-I’m trying to process all of this. S’a shitty feeling…” His lets his drunken ramble fade away.

“I think you’re a good and kind person who is just trying to make sense of some horrible events that have happened.” You gently touch his arm as a way of offering comfort, and the feeling of his skin underneath your fingertips evokes an overwhelming surge in between your legs. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Officer Kennedy. You can’t blame yourself for anything.”

He blinks back tears that are starting to brim along his heavenly lashes, and your clit throbs underneath your dress. 

“I really appreciate that.” He smiles at you again which brings forth another wave of sticky arousal in your panties. “And Leon’s fine. Don’t need to do any of that ‘Officer’ stuff with me.”

“Leon.” Your favorite word in the world rolls off your tongue with practiced grace. He doesn’t need to know that you cling to the two syllables every night with frenzied cries as you try desperately to make yourself cum.

“Leon, what do you say we find somewhere a little more quiet? It can get pretty rambunctious and overwhelming in these places…” You lean in closer to gaze up at him underneath your pretty lashes, allowing your carefully selected fragrance to pull him under the depths of your desire, a siren calling out to the shipwrecked prince.

He lets out a stutter as the alcohol-induced blush dusted over his nose and cheeks intensifies further. It’s enough to put a Botticelli painting to shame.

“S-somewhere quiet would be good.”

You give his arm a gentle pat before leading him outside where the crisp night air kisses your faces, giving two lovers a proper welcome. The back of the bar is relatively secluded, and there is a small wooden bench that you promptly perch yourselves on. For the next minute or so, the two of you sit in silence. Your heart is about to blast off towards the moon as the realization that he’s here with his thigh pressed against yours hits you hard.

“Thanks for listening to me back there,” he finally murmurs with his eyes cast downwards. “I don't really want to get into that with the others.”

“Why not? They care about you, and want to make sure you’re okay.” I’m the only one you need, and I’ll make sure it stays that way.

“To be honest… I don't want them to think that I can’t handle myself. That I’m still just a stupid weak rookie who can’t compartmentalize his emotions like a real man.”

“Oh, Leon…” Darling, sweetheart, baby. “You don't have to prove anything to anyone. You’re a talented cop and a great person. You feel everything the way you want to feel. No one’s judging you or looking down on you for it. Trust me on that.”

You’re so caught up in reassuring him that you don’t realize your hand has floated up to cup his cheek until he stammers something unintelligible. You let your thumb rub soothing circles on his soft skin as you continue.

“I mean, anyone can tell how kind and sweet and smart and skilled you are. You have the respect of everyone at work, including mine…”

His flustered expression causes your breath to hitch as you gently brush his bottom lip with your thumb. You could write poetry inspired by the way his lips curve into a shy smile, pulling his faint dimples out of their slumber and letting sweet nothings be whispered to them under the moonlight.

“You want me to make everything better, baby?” You let your murmur be as soothing as possible, an elixir that promises to heal the broken man before you.

He nods bashfully as your forehead touches his. You let your hand fall from his face, and he whines softly at the loss of warmth, and as much as you’d love to mentally record the sound so that it’s playing over and over in your brain for those unfulfilling nights on the kitchen floor, you swallow it up with your own lips.

Your first kiss is what people go to war for. As your lips move together in tandem, you’re overcome with nostalgia for a time when the aroma of freshly baked apple pie wafts through the home and neighbors wave to each other over their white picket fences and Leon comes home with a twinkle in his eyes as he kisses you and the bundle in your arms.

This is why you did what you did.

He whimpers into your mouth as the kiss grows deeper. His hands roam down to your waist, squeezing gently at your sides as you let your tongue intertwine with his. You move your lips south, along his jaw and towards his neck where you set up camp. He lets out a whine as you press your lips particularly hard against the sensitive spot by his throat, taking care to pay attention to the two little moles peeking back up at you.

“P-please…” He gasps at another scrape of your teeth against his delicate skin.

“Just leaving a few marks to remember me by,” you coo. “Making my pretty boy even prettier.”

To your delight, his hips shift uncomfortably at your words. You lower your hand to meet his crotch, gently palming the growing bulge underneath his jeans. His head tips back, proclaiming open season on his throat to which you attack with vigor. Your thighs squeeze together as your lover pants towards the moon. You’re so focused on making your pretty boy feel good with your soft rubs and passionate kisses that you’ve scarcely paid any attention to the soaking gusset of your panties.

You slowly but surely lower yourself to the ground, internally cringing at the feeling of dirt on your knees. Oh well, it’s not the worst thing you’ve ever gotten on you. You perch yourself in between his legs and fumble with his belt buckle. His head returns to its original position as he gazes down at you with flushed cheeks and hooded eyes.

“Y-you don’t have to.”

“I want to, baby. I said I’d make everything better, right?”

“Mmm, yeah.” 

He sighs as you successfully unclasp his buckle and shimmy his hardened cock out of his boxers. You preen at the sight - it’s pretty, just like the rest of him, and weeping for your attention. You gingerly take it in your hands, marveling at the girth as you stroke it up and down with slow movements. He whimpers at the feeling and involuntarily bucks his hips up so that he fucks into your hand. You let him do this a few times before deciding enough is enough.

“What do you want me to do, sweet boy? Tell me, I’ll do anything you want me to.”

“Your m-mouth,” he whispers.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you,” you tease as you hover your lips over the head.

“Want you to put your mouth on it,” he says, sounding more brave. How cute.

You hum in approval as you plant a kiss on the flushed tip of his cock which elicits the sexiest moan you’ve heard from him all night. Your hips roll against nothing, seeking pleasure for the ache in your cunt, but you force yourself to ignore it. You can’t be selfish tonight.

You softly lick at the sides before working on enveloping his length with your warm mouth. You bob your head up and down, relishing in the heavenly noises escaping his lips. You savor the taste of him as you slowly lift your head off to suckle at the tip before diving back in again, letting each inch tease against your throat. Your cheeks hollow out as you gaze up at him through your mascara covered lashes, letting your eyes go hazy with pleasure.

“You’re so pretty,” he heaves as he grips onto the hem of his shirt for an anchor. It’s all too much - your puffy lips stretched wide to accommodate his girth, the black tears trickling down your cheeks as you take him in for everything he’s got, the way you’re massaging his balls to heighten his pleasure. “I’m gonna-”

You pull all the way off, and you swear he almost cries.

“P-please, keep going. Please make me cum, I was almost there…” Tears bead along his lash line, and he desperately reaches for you. Your heart swells as you feel your emotions crash over you at the sight of the man you love crying for you to make him orgasm. How far you’ve come since those melancholy nights on the kitchen floor.Their sacrifices weren’t in vain after all. 

You smile up at him and proceed to pleasure him in the way you can - the way he deserves. The lewd slurping sounds you make fill the air, and he tries not to thrust harshly into your mouth, but it’s all too overwhelming when you’re sucking his cock like it’s your favorite thing to do in the world.

He throws his head back and lets out a high-pitched moan as he bursts into your waiting mouth. You swallow his load, savoring the taste of his cum and trying to commit the feeling of it all into your memory. You pull off of his softening cock and press kisses to his twitching thighs as you observe his blissful state. His chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath. His cheeks are as flushed as ever and a bit of drool has escaped onto his chin. 

“Th-thank you,” he breathes.

“The pleasure was all mine.” You help him get fully dressed again and capture his lips in one more kiss.

“Do you maybe want to come over tonight? We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to… I-I just don’t think I want to be alone right now.” His eyes are begging, and who are you to deprive them of their desires?

“I’d love to.” You smile sweetly at him and take his hand to lead him to the car, winking up at the stars as you do.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Childe giving us a piece of the All-Devouring Narwhal (Lightless Mass, to be specific) for his birthday just has me thinking of Foul Legacy managing to take a hefty bite out of said Narwhal's hide.

Presents gift proudly.

~ The anon who wanted Kaveh but didn't want Baizhu or Ganyu

THIS IS SO FUNNY AND ALSO DEFINITELY SOMETHING HE WOULD DO

you know Childe LOVES taking a few hours off during his birthday to go wander around and fight various creatures, so you're not too surprised when the house is empty as you come home from work. every year you get him a little gift, and every year he brings you triumphant spoils from his little hunting spree- you wrap the tiny glass whale in a box with a deep azure ribbon, the paper decorated with tiny silver stars. Childe and Foul Legacy were always delighted by anything shiny... although you can't say you're that different. all of you have crow and magpie brains, at the end of the day. there's a click as the door unlocks, your hands neatly tying a bow, and you glance up at the sound of heavy, eager footsteps

Foul Legacy stands happily behind you, night-colored armor caked in starry blood and goop, looking very VERY pleased with himself- and for a good reason. between his sharp teeth and powerful jaws is a chunk of... something. it's dark and faceted and glittering with countless speckles of cold light, and Legacy proudly drops it on the table and nudges it towards you. whatever it is, it'll look perfect on your shelf of cool rocks, your hand raising and gratefully patting his head. Legacy rumbles, tilting this way and that so you scritch the BEST spots. when he opens his crystalline eye again there's a small gift in his hands, the very same one you wrapped, and he trills and chirps in delight upon seeing the delicate glass whale, gently scooping it up and placing it directly on top of the otherworldly fragment he brought for you

perfect.

[triglycercule]

killer uses the two inconspicuous black liquids that he makes: his eye goop tears and his blood (bc canonically i think it's black) to play roulette with people

when dust goes to drink his morning coffee will it taste like coffee grounds, iron and metal, or the indescribable taste of killer's magic determination (that shit's probably bitter as hell 💀💀)

horror uses soy sauce in his cooking. will the food end up tasting delectable or like the trojan war happened and the bodies never got cleaned up

in battle against the stars killer purposely gets injured and paints himself in blood. ink confuses this blood for paint and when he tries to manipulate the ink killer catches him off guard because it isn't ink. it's blood. ink is incredibly sourly sore after this

if killer could produce enough eye goop and coat himself in it (along with a cyan eye and tentacles) he could probably confuse dream into thinking he's nightmare. the only difference is the negative aura

swap gets captured by the bad sanses. the torture he's put through??? be stuck in a room with killer and 5 cups of black liquid. he has to drink all 5 if he doesn't spill. what's in the cups??? killer eye goop. killer blood. nightmare goop. black paint. liquid hate fron glitchtale. swap ends up powering through all 5 because hes goated like that but the taste of nightmare's goop haunts him in his dreams

[randomfoggytiger]

"It's Not a Choice, but a Calling"

(Thanks to the Discord prompts for: beach, sickfic, family vacation with William, and Scully wearing Mulder's shirt~)

Mulder, Scully, a nameless child, and their last night at a beach.

*****

The world, for once, is silent. 

The horizon separates its light from its dark, the cool, pristine black of the water rising up to consume the last embers of a dying sun. Shadows scurry across the shore while a curious giant explores the chasms of life below-- a finger poked here, a foot kicked there-- and its watchers rise behind like pillars in the dusk. 

In this celestial space between endless lines and the end of all things, paths stretching forward become another frightening possibility. Another road not traveled, another tragedy undiscovered. Every moon bears a face of the dead, every whistle an echo of their pain. 

“Scully, if,” breathes, dies the first voice, consumed by the power of that fathomless darkness.

“Hm,” answers the second. Stronger, coming alive from the stupor of old thoughts. “No, Mulder. Not a day.” 

The sun is consumed; and the stars blaze light, illuminated. 

*****

The cold stays by their heels, misting their windows and guttering their fire. Scully consults the old magic, silently searching for a lighter while Mulder winds up the stairs and to the left, tucks away their tuckered miracle with a chilly kiss and silent retreat. Tomorrow, they face a drive littered with pit stops: burgers and fries and sunburn salve bought and consumed between each pull-off highway shop. For now, she prays that the logs will ignite, hopes to spend one more night surrounded by homestead incense instead of the dry burn of artificial heat. 

Her one-in-five-billion reappears, face drawn in nonchalance, heater clutched in his left hand. He pauses, she pauses. “You wanted the fire tonight?” 

“Yes,” Scully replies, tossing the wand somewhere conscionable, “but it won’t start, anyway.” Standing, she watches her partner bend at the waist, fiddle with ancient dials nearly rusted into antiquity. “Why? Is your cough back?” 

“No,” Mulder drawls, warm and preoccupied. “Just feeling a little mucusy.” 

“I see.” 

“Thought I’d take it a little easy, tonight,” he adds, eyes down, ashamed to admit weakness. To come close to admitting weakness. 

There are days, she knows, when it is impossible to face one’s frailties. When the sound of the bath tap makes her want to run, run, run away until that paralyzing fear is gone. When she catches a glimpse of her inescapable horror in the mirror. When her panic is mirrored by Mulder’s slack face or shaking hands. 

Gripping his shoulder, she bends, too. “We don’t need the fire tonight.” Watches an exhale plume from his mouth in relief.

*****

There is nothing much to watch, and nothing left to read. 

Scully leaves him on the couch, darting from room to room until she finds her potion jar and a pair of long, woven socks. “For your mucus,” she instructs, pulling at Mulder’s shirt until he hands it over, disappointing him by transferring the goop on her fingertips to his. Divesting him of his beach sandals, she sets to work slathering the fleshy part of one foot, then the other, with Vick’s while Mulder sniffs, then snorts, behind her. “Don’t eat it.”

“Unlike our kid, Scully, I learn from my mistakes.” 

“Uh huh,” she parries, without bite. The marvel of this body, she muses. Protecting him from callouses, rot, and infection, no matter how he abuses it. 

“Scully, I can feel you thumbing my big toe.” His eyebrows, she knows, are dancing wickedly. “There something you want to share with the group?” 

Thumbing his foot once more, in reproof, Scully's too late to catch her chin tuck. She feels his triumphant chuckle tremor down before she hears it-- an all-too-rare shaking followed by its squeaky wheeze.

The floor is still chilly, the stones cold under her cold-blooded limbs. Expediency dictates that Scully cover Mulder’s feet with his socks and reclaim her perch on the couch. The old, haunting clock of an older, daunting age ticks in time with her movements, ringing out the hour once she's settled against her personal heater. 

Mulder holds out a hand for his shirt; but she curls defensively, triumphantly, away from his reach while slipping it over her head. “Wh-- hey,” he grins, charmed by her blatant thievery, “that’s my shirt.”

“Mm.” 

“My favorite t-shirt.” 

“Mm,” Scully hums, lazily blinking at his side grin and crinkled lines. At the razed haircut he’d wanted before they came here. At the path in his eyes she’d tumbled down, countless times, to his heart. “You’ll get Vick’s on it.” At his furrowed brows as he remembers her cure-all on his chest. 

Sighing with a smile under his breath, Mulder maneuvers her between the couch and his restless limbs, luring her past her protests by generously sharing heat. “I don’t think it’ll mind, Scully.” 

*****

Dawn will ultimately claim the dark, sending its shadows to wait in their corners, beaming upon its victims with a little word called hope. 

In a few hours, the heater will switch off and the house will whirl with final checks and final feasting. 

But, for now, all that is needed are dreams.

*****

Thanks for reading~ Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic, @illaisland, @agent-troi.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Gameplan

Hello! Another Drabble (second one i wrote) concerning the idea of Nightmare returning to his original form (Lovely Prompt idea by @spotaus )

First Drabble here Prev drabble here Next Drabble here

Warning, unedited and unbeta'ed. We die like my ability to spell anything.

----

Cross checks around the corner towards the street and waits for a moment longer before nodding "I think we are in the clear. We can talk here for a moment."

Killer just lounges back against a dumpster as he pants "Good! Cuz! I am not walking another step!"

Horror frowns as he searches his backpack. Slowly taking out some fruits "We need to stop this. We can't get the resources we need like this."

Cross groans as he rubs his face "I know I know. But we can't just settle anywhere! How do we explain..." He stops and slowly turns to look to the side at Dust.

Dust sits completely calm on the gorund, cross legged. Looking perfectly calm and content. With the still struggling Nightmare in his arms. Dust just sits there and looks at Nightmare with a raised brow and moves around a bit. Easily getting Nightmare to sit back in his lap with one of Dust's arm holding Nightmare around the middle wiht both arms trapped. And the second arm around his shoulders to pull him back easily. Nightmare looks grumpy beyond believe and Cross can't take it too seriously as Nightmare lost all his goop and corruption. All that remains is a perfectly normal and adorable tiny babybones.

Cross turns back to Horror and Killer and waits.

Horror looks at the scene before shrugging before turning back to prepare a snack for their now tiny charge. Looking calm as he moves.

Killer snorts "Why would we? Boss is tiny now. So what?" and he shrugs.

Cross groans as he rubs his face. He can admit that he will still need some time to get used to the change. But it is okay as he can accept it. After they found the old picture book and the just as old crown they had been putting together what actually happened. And well, even if they sometimes act dumb three out of four of them have university degrees of some type and Cross had always been one of the smartest soldiers.

That together with the known fact that Drema broke out of the stone young but grew up made the fact obvious.

It wasn't that they were in a situation of Nightmare having been deaged. They were in the situation that the Nightmare they had known had been an aged-up version of the real nightmare. Which is the very same grumpy babybones that Dust is holding right now.

Yeah. Cross just needs a bit more time.

Cross glares at Killer and focusses at the issue they need to actually fix "We know that!" he waves around them "But how do you think anyone is going to react to knowing we have Nightmare and that Nightmare is well... like this again?"

Killer hums and nods "I guess..." he turns towards Nightmare "How about a different name? What do you think Nighty? What can we call you?"

Nightmare glares with all his six year old force "Boss."

Killer snorts "got it tiny boss!" and he grins at Cross and shrugs "Guess that idea is a burst. anything else?".

Cross groans as he rubs his skull "don't you see the issue?! If anyone finds out about this they will try to take him from us and bring him to the Stars, if they don't just call the Stars!" Or worse. And they will think that killing Nightmare would be a reasonable solution to keeping him from aging up.

Killer actually glares as he radiates his blood- and LOVE-lust "Let them try."

Cross sighs as he rubs his face "what do you suggest we do?!"

Killer huffs "Obviously we do what we are doing now. We keep moving and universe hopping." and he nods.

Horror looks up with a frown "We can't do that. We will run out of resources. babybones need nutrients" as he says this he sits by Dust and Nightmare with the cut fruits. Nightmare focuses his full glare on Horror but Horror doesn't even blink. They have gotten used to this routine over the last few days and there is a good reason Dust and Horror do it.

Dust nods as he helps Horror by aiming the still struggling babybones "Not to forget his schooling. Now that he is young again he will need to relearn things. Can't do that while hopping from place to place."

Cross turns back to Killer and crosses his arms "See? horror and Dust agree."

Killer grumbles. "Fine! We find some stupid positive universe to hunker down in some abandoned building and do raids to get stuff. Easy!"

Cross crosses his arms "Still the problem of what we do if someone sees him. How do we explain that? people will think we stole him!"

Killer goes to speak. pauses and tilts his skull "I mean. Technically we did kind of steal him. Sure he was originally our boss, so ours. So we have the right to steal him again but still. Very much stolen."

Cross sputters "I! I wasn't serious!" well he was but not about the stolen comment!

Horror speaks up even as he feeds Nightmare, which Ngihtmare tries to fight but Dust is there to assist him. "Technically it wasn't stealing."

Cross sighs "Thank you Horror-"

"We kidnaped him." Horror finishes his statement as he manages to get Nightmare to eat a bit. Nightmare actually pauses and the stubbornness makes way for the much younger mind that enjoys the food and a tiny soft purr starts to leave the babybones. He doesn't struggle as much anymore as the second bite is brought over.

Cross stops and lets his skull fall into his hands "we are so fucked."

All three speak up "Language."

Cross groans louder. They are so fucked.

---------

First Drabble here Prev drabble here Next Drabble here

[ser-res]

hear me out

toxic dark cream but cross loves killer and killer does too and shatter doesn't approve of this

CW! Gore, Manipulation

shatter finds out and they're angry cause they see it as cross betraying them and cheating on them(despite cross probably getting forced into this relationship shatter made up)

so they decide to get rid of killer while cross watches

shatter pins killer down and they, out of pure curiosity, start to push killer's soul closer to his chest

killer starts to fight back, trying to push shatter's hand away because he knows what'll happen if his soul gets stuffed into his ribcage

shatter finds this amusing and intriguing, eventually they win the fight and successfully pushed killer's soul into his ribcage

it took a second but then there was the first crack, then multiple followed after and killer's pained groans

shatter dropped him to the floor and turned to cross, now satisfied by the reaction, "this is what happens when you decide to run off and find someone else."

cross covered his mouth in shock, taking a few steps forward because he wanted to heal killer, he loved him but shatter kept him back, restraining him with their tendrils

"stop! let me heal him, please! please, i won't see him anymore, just let me heal him!" he begged but to no prevail

"this is a lesson, cross. do NOT defy me, we're going home" cross froze, a few memories coming back, shatter sounded like his father and it scared him

cross took one more look back at killer, who was curled up on his side clutching his stomach and the sound of cracking was still present

killer looked up with a wavering and faint eyelight, he smiled and signed "i love you" and mouthed it

it was a silly moment that happened way back

...

cross showed killer sign language and showed him how to sign 'i love you'

"you're such a dork and that's cheesy, im never gonna do that"

they laughed it off, not knowing that this would be a touching moment in the future

...

cross teared up upon seeing killer sign it, his arms were restricted so he couldn't sign it back so instead he mouthed "i love you too."

killer relaxed and kept his eyelight on cross until shatter forcefully made cross leave with them

dust was sent out to find killer after nightmare realized killer wasn't coming back, he so happened to find killer on the ground bleeding out

dust quickly picked killer up and got them back home

killer was dazed unable to comprehend dust's words

"killer, who did this to you? killer? can you hear me? fxck, snap out of it damn it!"

dust noticed the absence of killer's soul but the glow was still there, lifting his sweater up he saw the damage

killer's ribcage was completely blown out, it was a miracle some of the bones stayed connected even if by a sliver

dust carefully extracted the soul and set it to the side, it was dripping with both determination and killer's blood

dust healed what he could without hurting killer but eventually had to call in nightmare because he was starting to freak out, feel sick from how much damage there was, and started to get hysterical

even nightmare was horrified by what it saw, even if it didn't show it

at this point killer had passed out, which was a good thing, as long as he wasn't dusting so nightmare healed the rest of what dust couldn't, its goop keeping the broken bones together

nightmare watched killer's soul while dust was taken out of the room by horror, who took him to the kitchen for a comfort snack even though dust felt like his nonexistent gut was churning and he felt like heaving every last bit of magic out

nightmare couldn't think of anyone who would do this, killer had no known enemies aside from the stars but even so he was well acquainted with them and they wouldn't do this much damage

silly little thought that i might make into a fic 👀

killer - rahafwabas

cross - jakei

dust - ask-dusttale

nightmare - jokublog

reminder, this is just my interpretation of shatter and not related to any other fics/stories of dark cream ":D

shattered - galacii-gallery

[ask-hotguy]

Infected.

Contains sculk infections, minor blood, and depictions of panic and pain

Words - 723

-=×+×=-

After a long, tiring day, Hot Guy dragged himself out of the elevator and to his room in the hero agency. He unlocked his door and entered. The place was nothing too special, mimicking a basic apartment someone would pay too much for in a big city. Unfortunately there were no perks to the pay for this place either, a big chunk of Hot Guy's hero paycheck having to be extracted for it each month.

The hero closed his curtains and made a beeline for the bathroom, exiting a half hour later in frustration. He grabbed the hair brush he kept on his nightstand, raking it through his hair, yanking on not only the knots but the strange substance that just wouldn't come out.

"Stupid- stupid goopy stuff! Get off!" He complained out loud. The gunk wouldn't move, and that just served to make him more frustrated.

His suit was absolutely covered in it too, black gunky goop clinging to the fabric like a stain on a white shirt. The hero glared at it in disdain before picking out a new set of clothes. Then he continued trying to get the stuff out of his hair.

He wandered towards a mirror and looked at himself, the way the gunk spread over half his head like a hair dye. He tried to brush it out again and only succeeded in ripping out some hair strands. "Ow.." He grumbled with no real pain.

The goop sparkled, almost like stars, before spreading further. He dropped his hairbrush in the sink. "Wait, no, you're not supposed to do that!" The hero shouted, reaching up and grabbing at it. It spread to his hand.

"Remain calm, don't panic, don't panic-" He told himself like a mantra, his chest already heaving, eyes following the way the sparkles shone and spread up his arm like veins. He tries to peel it off, scratch it off, even bite it off, only getting the taste of blood and a nasty stinging pain. He hissed and backed up into the bathroom wall.

He took a shuddering breath and looked up towards the ceiling. Where did he keep the bandages again? No, he needed more than bandages, he needed his medical team!

He turned out of the bathroom and changed a second time, throwing on a clean suit. He grabbed his gooped suit for his tech guy, running out of his apartment as he fixed his visor on his face. Hot Guy rushed to the stairwell and dashed down as quickly as he could, jumping steps and bumping into walls.

He was nearly to the Agency's basement when his legs gave out beneath him.

Hot Guy landed hard. "Gah-! No, nonono! Stupid supports! Why!?" He shouted, sitting up. The pain was getting worse, he was getting weak, but he had to press through. Hot Guy forced himself up and slid down the railing.

Unfortunately, though, Hot Guy's luck ran out. The pain shot through his skull like a kick to the head and sent him stumbling into the wall. He grabbed for air and collapsed a second later, silently praying for someone to find him.

Hot Guy blacked out.

-=×+×=-

Slowly, the hero brought himself to his feet. He swayed, blinking dazedly at the stairwell around him, then at the fire exit door on his right. He slowly pushed it open, then was startled at the fire alarm sounding. His limbs snapped into gear and he was out of the Agency faster than Hot Guy trying to escape meetings.

Sculk covered his entire right side, dancing up his limbs and splattered across his costume, the orange in his outfit covered with goop and stars. Behind his barely transparent visor, his irises were an almost neon tealish-blue, the whites of his eyes having gone black. Sculk dripped down his cheeks like tears.

The infected hero ducked into an alley, expression blank, right arm aching like no tomorrow. He didn't know what happened, what to do. What was his name again? What time was it? What day was it?

He closed his eyes and slid down to sit against a wall. A name would come to him if he thought hard enough. But he didn't want to think right now.. He just wanted to spread this new substance.

Oh, that made sense.

He was a Catalyst.

[letsunity]

With Thunder Comes Lightning

Summery: Peter and MJ tried again, but the spark wasn't there; they stay as friends to raise their soon-to-be daughter. Everything was going great until evil goop and a spooky vampire guy fall out of an orange portal. Little does Peter know that the biggest pain in his ass and future mutant best friend has landed right at his feet.

art by @Aba_zakyX

Chapter 2 -  Never Left Behind

Peter crouched on the rooftop, scowling at the location where his friends and co-workers were killed.

The police were gone, finally.

He swung down, landing outside of the police tape barrier. Even in the dark, Peter could see the damage. The road, pavement, and even the walls of buildings were horrifically corroded.

Anybody that lived nearby was evacuated, and the smell alone was telling. Toxic fumes that would kill a regular person hung like menacing mistletoe.

Peter can see the outlines of what used to be his comrades.

"Was there anything I could've done for them?" Peter asked, knowing his new buddy was standing behind him.

"No. They died quicker than most, so that's a small mercy."

It didn't feel like it.

Miguel stalked past Peter, making no sound despite his size. He wandered around the crime scene, examining the spots where Peter's comrades used to be.

He saw the eye markings narrow intently, analysing everything. He watched Miguel pause at a single spot, prodding something.

Hopping over the tape, Peter joined his side, finding charred bone sticking from the concrete. It made him feel sick.

It was a femur, and the size betrayed that it was Luke Cage's bone.

Peter had to lift his mask, emptying his stomach. Seeing his friend reduced to that made him ill. Regret, grief and guilt swarmed Peter like locusts to an open field. Ten plagues danced throughout his soul, and come to the final wrath, was no lamb's blood on his door to save him from the inner pain.

Pain fused and interwoven with anger.

That fucking thing killed his friends, stripped them to the bone and ate them. It was Peter's fault, of course. If he just listened, he would've been irritating Murdock about something dumb and boring.

He won't get those fun team-ups anymore.

"You were close," Miguel stated, though no emotion was in his voice.

"Yeah, we were," Peter answered, feeling a hollowness start to claw in his chest. "He helped MJ and me move into our new place. Cage was a good man. All he did was help people; he didn't deserve to go like this."

"The greatest stars shine the brightest but are snuffed the fastest. It's a saying in Nueva York. The good fall and become the stairs for the wicked to climb higher."

"How can somebody be reduced to nothing but a step?"

"By something that never valued life in the first place. Life tends to be most valuable when it's already gone."

"What book did you get that from? Because damn."

"My mother."

"Must be a smart lady."

"She was. Better than I could ever be."

"I feel the same about Aunt May and Uncle Ben. It's hard comparing yourself to great people when you're a major fuckup."

He heard a gruff of agreement.

Aunt May was a pillar of Peter's life, his mother figure, a great woman he aspired to be like. While Uncle Ben gave him the "With great power, comes great responsibility", May was the one who taught him what that meant.

It would be helpful if she were here. She always knew what to do, but Peter was a bumbling mess.

How could he be a father when he causes the death of his friends?

"Parker!"

Peter swivelled to his teammate, watching as Miguel stalked towards an alleyway.

"You find something?"

"A trail. He might still be nearby."

Peter could avenge them. He could do something right.

That bastard was going to pay for what he did.

He stuck close to Miguel's side, trying to see what he did. The other Spider behaved like a hunter, tracking his prey, slowly reaching a warehouse.

It's surprising how many of those there are in New York.

"Do you smell that?" Miguel asked, lowering himself cautiously. "Unnatural decay is always a sign."

He nodded to rot in the concrete walls that shouldn't be there.

Klyntarus sucked life from everything, even if it were inanimate.

The duo snuck towards a window, peeking into the darkness within. It looked abandoned and derelict, but there was far too much inside for that to be. There are expensive crates of valuables.

Although the date stated it arrived only a few days ago, the wood of the crates looked like they were left to the elements for years.

Unnatural rot, a tell-tell trait of Klyntarus' presence.

Miguel held a finger to the window, a claw popping out of the finger pad. He jostled the lock and pushed the window up slowly.

"How do I get some of that in my suit?"

"They're not part of the suit."

"So, you've got actual claws?"

"You stick to walls; I get claws."

"You can't stick to walls? Dude, seriously?"

"Not the time, Parker."

"What else have you got? Or don't have?"

"Silencio!" Miguel hissed, "We don't want him to know we're here."

That made sense.

Peter was still curious, though. He recalled how Noir had more endurance, that Penni was quick, and Porker had "Hammerspace". Then there was Gwen, who had far more agility than the others and Miles could go invisible.

Do all Spider-people have something unique to them?

It felt like Peter only had extra weight. That sucked.

The warehouse stank of decay. There's a scorched trail on the floor and suspicious mounds of former people. The gang must've been trying to protect them.

Out of curiosity, Peter looked in one of the crates, finding several packaged gadgets. There are all kinds of Apple devices, some Windows, Samsung, Sony and more. It must be a warehouse for a supermarket or a store, maybe even a shopping mall.

He came here to fix that sphere thing, didn't he? Eat the people inside and use the technology to repair himself.

Peter started to shake, his Spider senses going haywire. He webbed to the ceiling, attaching to it, unable to stop the shivering. He couldn't turn his head when Miguel joined him, his claws deep into the wall.

Fear sang throughout his bones, a NASCAR race of terror screeching in his very atoms.

The image of his friends melting into ash clouded his vision, a fog that was so thick it clung to the back of his throat. The weight of guilt caused his grip to loosen, but Miguel caught him.

Feeling someone touch him managed to snap Peter out of being frozen, Miguel's arm tight around his waist.

His fellow Spider released his grip, landing on a high support beam. He attached to it instantly, his fingers gripping the metal so tight that it dented.

A door opened, giving Peter something to distract himself with. He watched as Black Cat stumbled into the warehouse, but his senses warned that it wasn't her.

Miguel gripped Peter's shoulder, keeping him from going to her.

"Lo siento..."

He didn't understand what that meant. He would find out, though.

Black Cat shivered, gripping her arms as slime leaked from her face. He could smell the burning flesh already.

The skin went first, then the fat, the fascia and the muscle; it melted away until there was only blackened bone. That, too, was destroyed, reduced to mere ash.

Fuck, not Felicia. She was finally getting her life together with her new wife.

The offending sludge that took his friend twisted and coiled, creating a humanoid-like body. The "scars", as Miguel called them, pulsed akin to a heartbeat; those red eyes locked onto an office room.

"I'll distract him. Destroy the stabiliser."

"And leave you to fight him alone? Daredevil, Cage, Jones, She-Hulk and Iron Fist didn't do squat together."

"You burn, I don't. Simple as that. Move fast and get this over with, Parker."

Before Peter could argue, Miguel jumped to the ground, alerting Klyntarus.

"Ahh, 2099, you still live," Klyntarus chuckled almost gleefully. "I'll admit, you hurt me badly. I'm proud."

Safe to say that Klyntarus is distracted.

Peter crawled on the ceiling, making his way towards the office. It looked rotten, more than the rest of the building, so he must be hunkered in there. As soon as Peter destroys that damn thing, they can burn the bastard.

"Shove it. You know what I'm here for."

"You don't have a Venom Burst, so that'll be mighty tough. And your fancy trinket is broken, so negative on the backup, not even that sassy little assistant. You're all alone, 2099. Just the way I like you."

Even in his injured state, he was taunting and acting like he wasn't in danger. Hopefully, he was so up his ass - or the Symbiote equivalent - he won't realise that Miguel's distracting him.

Peter's senses were on the fritz, panicking like a bucking rodeo horse. He had to focus, though. The sooner they break this bastard, the fewer people will die.

Klyntarus wandered away from the office-like part, the tail-like appendage dragging on the floor. He was giggling, fixated on Miguel.

"Just like Alchemex Tower; cuando huiste como el maldito cobarde que eres."

Peter lowered himself to the floor as carefully as possible, using all two decades of experience. When his feet touched the ground, he crept towards the office, the pungent smell staining his suit.

Thankfully, Klyntarus was too focused on Miguel to notice him. Occasionally, narcissists were much easier to fight than competent people.

The door was melted like ice cream on a hot day, nothing more than squishy splinters.

On a desk that was soon to crumble was the damned sphere he should've stamped on before.

"Ahhhh, memories. That was a grand day. For me, of course. How is my old stomping ground? Been a while since I last visited."

That's right, big guy. Keep him distracted.

"Nueva was never yours. Nothing of my or any other dimension is."

Peter cracked his knuckles, uncertain how he was going to destroy it. It's already damaged; the parts strewn about were signs of an attempted repair.

All Peter had to do was undo the repairs. That should be simple enough. Right?

He picked up a crowbar lodged in the wall, potentially from a worker fighting for their life.

"It's cute that you believe that. It was always mine and always will be, just like you. You belong to me, 2099. You'll realise that soon enough."

What did Klyntarus mean by that? His damned curiosity was starting to interfere with the objective.

"I promised to kill you. I don't break promises."

"Aww, but you do, don't you? You broke the one to your whore mother and mistake of a daughter - I know you'll taste even sweeter than she did!"

Oh, fuck.

Miguel had a kid. He was a dad like Peter would be, and Klyntarus took that from him.

That's what he meant - isn't it? When he said that Klyntarus made him Spiderman. He took Miguel's family.

"Estás muerto!"

"Only on the inside, little Border Rat! And like little Gabrielle," he taunted, cackling like the lunatic he was.

So not only is he a genocidal dimension eater but racist, too. Great. A cherry on top of the corrupted cupcake.

Peter struck the sphere with the crowbar, hitting it as hard as possible.

He heard a demonic, distorted screech of surprise and rage. The ground under him started to rumble violently. He saw a black and red mass racing towards the office through the window, barrelling like a bat out of hell.

Glowing orange webs wrapped around the parasite, pulling him back.

With each strike, Peter could feel the integrity weaken, and sparks started to fly. His spidey senses were on fire, writhing with panic and terror.

His tingles screamed, forcing him to jump and stick to the ceiling. A spear-like tendril shot through the window, glass falling like spilt glitter. It reared back and went for Peter, trying to impale him.

He hadn't let go of the stupid sphere, digging his fingers so hard into it that they were beginning to bleed through his suit.

Peter pounced out of the doorway, swinging to the rafters. A thick tendril went after him but couldn't even graze his suit.

The spikes on Miguel's forearms had fused into blades, slicing through like a hot knife to butter.

"I will kill everything you hold dear!" Klyntarus vowed, chasing after Peter with astonishing speed.

Miguel leapt onto Klyntarus' "face", starting to sink instantly. He clawed at Klyntarus' eyes, following them whenever they moved to escape his onslaught.

"Go, now!" Miguel yelled, his mask disappearing. "¡Rápido, rápido!" his eyes were almost glowing as red as Klyntarus'.

Peter kicked a skylight open and started running.

Get somewhere high and far, beat this blasted thing and save the day. And don't you dare die, big guy.

As much as Peter wanted to go somewhere and focus only on destroying the sphere, he couldn't leave his comrade behind. It wasn't right.

It wasn't right when Peter left Miles behind. He should've treated the kid better. He can't change that, but he can do better now.

Klyntarus wanted Miguel alone. Unfortunately for him, Peter wasn't going to allow that.

Peter hopped to a rooftop, looking for somewhere to hide the sphere. He didn't know if it had an actual name; it didn't matter.

He found an old pigeon hutch-house thingy, and although it's about as flimsy as wet paper, it's still better than nothing. He carefully placed the ominous orb inside, hoping he wouldn't be the only Spiderman again.

It's nice to have someone like you around, even if they're a little prickly.

Great. It's somewhere safe.

Roughly.

Peter hurried back, worried at what that crazy thing could've done by now. He felt terrible leaving his houseguest alone, especially with how twisted Klyntarus was.

The skies began to open, rain falling with haste.

He was worried about MJ. He learned how vindictive Klyntarus was; it put her in grave danger. Their unborn child was at risk.

He didn't listen and was paying the price for it. He still wasn't.

Miguel told him to go, and here he was, running straight back to a fight he couldn't win. It would be wrong to leave someone behind to a monster like that. How could Peter ever live with himself knowing he let somebody die?

It's painful enough with his friends, his old captain, his uncle, his aunt - his entire family except for his best friend and soon-to-be child. Not even Felicia was around anymore.

He missed the other spiders - Noir, Peni, Porker, Gwen, Miles; they showed him he wasn't alone.

They taught him that he could be a better man.

That kid saved Peter's life in more ways than one. He gave Peter hope for the future again. He got Peter to face his fear of parenthood and wanted Miles to be the baby's middle name - that kid was an inspiration.

What would Miles think if Peter was told to run and didn't go back to help somebody? The hypothetical disappointment was terrifying.

He had somebody else to add to the list of fellow spiders.

In a way, spider people are a unique species, close but different to humanity. It's so weird - since he got bitten, he felt like he was the last of his kind, only to find others.

Peter crouched atop the warehouse roof, hearing the wrathful shrieking of Klyntarus inside. His spidey senses were terrified, demanding that he flee and never return as Miguel ordered.

Narrowing his eyes, Peter looked through the broken window, searching for any dark blue.

"Where is it, you revolting abomination?!" Klyntarus roared, smashing everything inside the warehouse. "Where!?"

Finally, Peter spotted his teammate.

Klyntarus had him pinned to the wall, writhing darkness constricting around him.

"Debajo del sofá!"

"Oh, you think you're being cute!?" Klyntarus seethed, tightening his hold.

"Soy tan mono!"

Peter needed to learn Spanish immediately.

In a rage, Klyntarus threw Miguel into the other wall, then slammed him into the floor with a tendril. With the velocity, Peter knew that it hurt, but even so, the other Spider was making fun of the parasite.

Yep, he's a spider.

He waited with his web-shooter at the ready. As expected, Klyntarus threw the other Spider again, and Peter fired.

The web attached to Miguel's back, and Peter pulled, his spider senses panicking as Klyntarus shrieked again.

"I told you to run," Miguel hissed as Peter aimed for the nearest building. "Why'd you come back?"

"Never leave a spider behind, twinkle toes!" Peter stated, feeling the roof under them start to shake. "That's not good."

A black tendril shot from behind Peter, wrapping around his arm and pulling him down. Although Miguel went to grab him, he only succeeded in scratching Peter's hand.

Those claws hurt!

"You!" Klyntarus roared, engulfing much of Peter's body with his mass. It burned, regardless of his superhuman endurance. "I will make you watch as I destroy everything you love, Parker!"

"I think you're mad at me," Peter snarked, despite the intense weight starting to crush his body.

"I h-AHH!" Klyntarus yelped, those horrid eyes twisting to... Why is Miguel biting his body!? "How dare-no, fuck, no!"

Light blue was growing through the red scars, burning the blackness around them. It quickly reached the part holding Peter, loosening the ironclad grip.

Klyntarus had no choice but to break away from the afflicted part, dropping Peter. The hot ash clung to Peter's suit, quickly hardening in the cold rain falling on them.

He felt hands pulling him as a distorted roar echoed in Peter's ears and the sound of crumbling.

Though his spidey senses were in a panic, Peter struggled to move.

Everything went dark for what felt like a few seconds.

When consciousness returned, he wasn't in a warehouse anymore - or he was, and lay in what remained. He tried to move, but having several tonnes of concrete on you sucks.

Peter's chest hurt, his hand burned like fire, and everything was too dark. His head was thundering.

Peter grumbled, feeling that his leg was stuck. He can move a little, meaning he isn't fully submerged; that's nice.

His eyes blinked, adapting to the lack of light. He saw red eyes, bright and vibrant, but his spidey sense wasn't reacting.

Even so, Peter hit the light.

"¡Ay, coño!"

Oh, shit!

"Miguel?" Peter panted, realising the spooky scars weren't around.

"Hijo de puta, who else?" Miguel hissed, "Try not hitting me while I keep us from being crushed. ¿Te parece bien?"

Everything hurts, but they're still alive.

"The hell happened, man?"

"Caused the building to collapse. You were stuck to the floor, so... I improvised."

When Peter's eyes were fully adapted, he saw what Miguel meant. The man was singlehandedly keeping the building from turning Peter into a paste.

He had it all pushing on his back, but he remained unwavering.

"You could've run," Peter said, unsure why he said it.

"Never leave a spider behind. That's what you said, araña testaruda."

He did. It felt good having that stupidity repaid.

By working together, they managed to push the concrete away, revealing the frigid rain.

Peter's entire body hurt, and he expected his comrade to feel the same.

He wanted a warm bath, hot cocoa, and to listen to MJ's dumb puns. Instead of dad jokes, they had mom jokes.

"Buddy, you allergic to hot cocoa?"

"¿Qué? What, is that a fruit?"

"We've got a lot of things to cross off a list, my guy."

A hot bath was more than warranted.

"My everything aches," Peter sighed, glancing at MJ as she brushed her teeth. "We made progress, at least."

"You two were pretty battered," MJ said, spitting minty spit foam into the sink. "Did you make progress against the evil goop or with Miguel?"

"Both."

"Hmm, there's a "but" in there."

"Miguel had a daughter. Klyntarus killed her. He taunted him about it." His best friend turned, sympathy and fear growing on her graceful features. "And he threatened us. I'm worried he'll come after you and our yet-to-be roommate."

It's an understandable fear, especially given what Klyntarus was.

He couldn't begin to know how Miguel felt. No wonder he was so furious with Peter.

Peter didn't even know the baby in MJ's organic oven, but he would die for them. He couldn't bare having that baby, and some sinister snot comes and takes them away forever.

"Do you think we should leave him alone for a bit?" she asked, wanting to be as accommodating as possible.

Her heart was even more gigantic than all forty-nine states combined.

On a side note, good for Hawaii for their independence.

"No," Peter answered, though he wasn't sure. "I think Klyntarus has kept him alone for long enough."

"I understand the holo-suit a lot more now. You don't need so much detergent to clean it. Also, I think he's allergic to that, too."

"We're gonna need a list."

"A lengthy one." Peter got up, cracking the aching bones in his back. With a sigh, MJ threw a towel into Peter's face. "I don't need to see your little Pete, and I doubt our guest does either."

"For the love of all that is holy, never call it that again."

"No promises."

Peter wrapped the towel around his waist, eager for some pop tarts.

MJ waved as Peter went to the kitchen, spotting their temporary housemate in the living room.

Although he'd like a nice snack, he wanted to see how his new buddy was doing.

He walked into the living room, amused that Miguel still had the sunglasses on.

"Concussion still there?"

"Photophobia," Miguel corrected, sounding tired. "Downside to perfect night vision."

"Do your eyes reflect?"

"Yeah. It's not great."

"And you've got fangs."

"I hate them."

"I think it's cool. You've got some venom that hurts him, too. Oh! Is that what a "Venom Burst" is? A bomb with your venom? That's cool."

Miguel grumbled, hiding his face in a pillow.

It's cool, though.

Where could Peter get fangs?

"Look, big guy, our door's open. We don't have a lock, but you get what I mean - I hope? If not, we're open to talk."

"About what?"

"How that motherfucker... I can only assume it's rough with MJ being pregnant."

"It was two years ago. That she..." he couldn't finish the sentence, but Peter knew what he meant.

Timewise, that would've made Miguel around twenty-five or twenty-four when she died.

"How old was she? If it's alright to ask."

"Eight."

"You were around seventeen or sixteen when you became a dad, huh?"

"How do you know that?"

"I have a thing with guessing people's ages. You look my age, but you're not."

"Well, fuck you too."

"I didn't mean it like that, big guy!" Peter said, quickly backtracking. "You've experienced a lot. That's what I meant."

"You could certainly say that. Is there a point to the inquiry? I'm tired. I don't want to talk about my dead family."

"Alright, let's have pop tarts and then sleep, possibly cry ourselves to sleep. Sound good?"

"Sure thing, little Pete."

That motherfucker has super hearing!?

While Peter should be mad, it's a little funny.

"Only if I get to call you little Miguel."

"Bite me."

"Is that an invitation or an insult?"

"Por el amor de Dios. I'll have something with cheese."

"Great, a toastie it is. I'll turn the lights down for you, big guy."

"Gracias."

He liked having Miguel here. The rapport was fun.

Special thanks to spider-the-bat for the borders!

[lagncx]

Stink bomb kisses pt2

Tw: body horror: zombie reader: Mention of Cazador: Astarion being captured: Astarion being a bit ooc: corny. Idk…

Wc: 3k

Enjoy.

Song quotes for this “fuck the rest of them, fuck em all, fuck em all but us.” Watermelon- Jane and John Q.

——-

Zombie reader

It was food time. Karlach sat on the ground next to the cooking pot Gale was tending to “Star coming?” She asked laying back with an omphf and a crack in her back Gale sighed “Don’t know…he’s been isolated from us since Tav and him separated.” Gale shrugged. Tav had separated with Astarion; their relationship was rocky. Tav didn’t really seem to show much interest in his needs disregarding his new freedom of choice.

The last straw was when Tav told Astarion “It’s not that big of a deal, love just drink her blood. You do it all the time” Astarion had dropped his mouth open, his eyes wide and glossy looking at Tav…the hurt, the pain was on his face and Tav just stared at him. Asshole.

Gale sighed, setting down a bowl in front of everyone “maybe I should bring him a cup of wine.” Shadowheart said, her eyes scanning the camp to see where he might be.

But where is he?

Alert rose in everyone as Shadowheart shared her thoughts through the tadpole. Astarion was missing. Karlach looked at her “hells? What do you mean he’s missing!” she said out loud. Shadowheart scratched her head “He’s been a recluse recently but never completely off grid!” Shadowheart reasoned.

Wyll stood up “Everyone search everywhere! I don’t care how long it takes to look in every nook and cranny till you find him! If you can’t find him, bring a piece of his damn hair. We already knew Astarion was at risk.” Wyll said hurrying off into the direction of the woods calling for Astarion. Everyone dropped their food and did the same, Gale sighed sadly at his bowl before taking one last bite and putting it down and joining the search party.

When he wasn’t found they came to the conclusion that He was kidnapped by one of the gur or Cazadors lackeys.

So it was time to plan “With his hands on Astarion we have limited time we have to move now!” Shadowheart pointed out. “Yea but how the hell do we find him?!” Karlach yelled she was burning up anger seethed through her. Gale hummed “Maybe…no.” Karlach growled “spit it out!” Gale sighed “It’s a small hope but scratch won’t be able to track him. There is… stinks.” He said, clearing his throat. Everyone looked at him “stinks?” Karlach said “it’s been weeks since they kinda exploded. Can we even get them back, and what makes you so sure they can find him?” Shadowheart said

Gale chuckled “stink is one of a kind…we can bring them back and now that I know more than I did before I think I can bring them back permanently and I know for sure they could find Astarion if he was an ant in a colony.” Gale hummed “Their name is all I need and a grave.” Gale smiled feeling smug.

——

You were stuck in your own repeating hell. It played the same Astarion hugging you and turning you back into the pile of nothingness you once were, just a zombie. “No importance to him” he would spit, “something to use.” He would laugh as you rotted down to the bone, your eyes oozing pus and tears. Over and over again. You sniffled as your body regenerated “no more please. Why am I here? What did I do to deserve this purgatory?!” You yelled defeated. You sighed it was the same you would call out to yourself and then Astarion would call out to you. You would be torn on where to go whether to choose yourself or Astarion and you always ran to him.

It’s pathetic really…you didn’t even know who he was before he brought you back as some zombie soldier yet you still clung to him in this fantasy turned nightmare. So you ran his way things could be different…no they couldn’t it was a loop. You ran towards him, seeing him in the distance before you fell through the ground, the combined body fluids and goop sucking you down into the soil “Astarion!!” You screamed before being put on the ground. The air was fresher and the smell wasn’t so damp. You felt intact. “<💙> ?” You gasped you stayed still waiting for them to say it again “…<💙>” you pushed yourself off the ground with a grunt, you pushed your tongue against the familiar stitch that Astarion put to keep that tear in your jaw in check. You looked at the wizard “Gale!” You gasped he smiled “look at you! I did a good job.” He sighed. You looked down at your clothes…your skin. Still slightly green but you looked..less decomposed your flesh still different colors in certain places but it doesn’t fucking matter.

You hugged him tightly “thank you thank you thank you for getting me out of that hell!!” You sighed. You opened your eyes seeing the group surrounding you “guys!” You smiled looking at everyone “hi <💙>” tav said. You upturned your nose as if you weren’t just smelling your own top lip. Tav rolled their eyes.

Before things could get off track wyll came up to you “listen <💙> we need your help, that’s why we brought you back and you're gonna be here permanently.” You turned to him “So who odo I thank?” You smiled. Gale raised his hand “yes yes…” wyll sighed “Look we’re cutting on low time. We have an issue and it’s about Astarion.” Almost like time went slow your eyes twitched faster than anything “He’s not here.” You whispered Gale waved at you with his hand looking at shadowheart “what I say. She can track her way to him…like a weird…soul bind thing.”

You furrowed your brows “He’s nowhere near here…What happened?! Where is he?!” You talked so fast your body of very little health still hasn’t caught up with gales spell making you bite off a chunk of your tongue falling on the ground. Honestly you don’t even notice. Halsin mouths drops and he just lets out a quiet sob. You look down at your tongue twitching around before grabbing it and shoving it in your pocket.

Everyone clears their throat. Wyll sighs “I’ll fix it up for you while we talk about what happened.”

You sat at the campsite while they all sat around you. You gulped mucus awkwardly “you guys…want me to…find him?” You said struggling a bit. Halsin nodded “yes, and soon. We’ll be right behind you. But we need you to find him.” You bit your lip piercing the soft yellow green flesh “I don’t know if I could…I’m not. His.” You frowned “soul tie…if he doesn’t want me around anymore it’ll just fizzle out. I knew he wasn’t here because I didn’t smell him.” You have had a great sense of smell since becoming undead. You've loved feasting and the smells were so distinct. But now you're here permanently. Still a zombie but less pus bubble waiting to explode.

“He still wants you around…cried for days when you took yourself out.” Wyll said “never seen him cry before.” Gale hummed. You looked down at your hands thinking of all the times Astarion would have you hold any books he found on his travels.

Or him humming a soft tune while he pushed your fingers back and forth cracking your knuckles to get that rigor out of you.

He was never afraid to touch you or disgusted by you. You loved him for that…love…that was all you needed.

You immediately scurried towards the fire on your knees and closed your eyes. Gale looked at you “Oh stink…you're doing it now.” He said excitedly everyone was confused so Halsin explained “a soul tie is fragile like a string to an instrument when you pluck it it rings and vibrates she's the string and she vibrates over the space and it can ping Astarions soul. It’s beautiful.” He sighed dramatically

You took a deep breath “Show him to me…please” you whispered to the gods above.

…just one more time…help me. Help him.

Suddenly like a drop of fresh water you felt it wash over you like a droplet landing on the soft silk of a spider's web you felt a chill run down your spine. You opened your eyes and turned towards the hill that overlooked the grand city.

“I can feel him. His soul is still tied to mine.” You got up almost lunging yourself down the hill before feeling hands holding you back “woah there!” Halsin hushed you. You scoffed “there’s no time to wait!!” You growled pulling against them, their fingers digging into your skin easily like putty.

Wyll pushed you on your ass. “I hear you. But listen.” You growled fussing under your breath “shut up and listen” Karlach whispered as kindly as she could to you. You closed your mouth and it twitched slightly.

Wyll sighed “When we get there our goal is to rescue Astarion…but when Astarion gets free he will want to take on Cazador.” You looked around the group and shrugged “Fine! That’s fine! We can beat him!” Wyll shook his head “Astarion will be deathly ill since he’d be so starved and beaten he won’t be able to fight like he can on a full stomach. And we have no right to take that revenge from him” you laughed “I’ll just give him my blood.” You said and everyone just sighed La’zel grabbed a dagger and sliced your face, hells you couldn’t even feel that.

“Foolishness! You do not bleed! You can’t provide that for him!” She reasoned with you.

Provide? I can’t…provide.

You pushed your tongue against the inside of your cheek, the skin peeling back and breaking from the force easily. Your tongue felt the air of the outside while it wiggled around…you were nothing more than some dead pound of flesh…

That’s why we can’t be in love…I’m disgusting.

You sniffed and pulled away “Then we’ll bring him back here…kicking and screaming if we have to.” You stood up silently. Everyone seemed pleased and Gale, Wyll, And Karlach joined you. “Sniff him out for us soldier! We’re right behind you.” Karlach said.

———

Astarion jolted awake the small dozing off between this torture of not being able to let his arms rest was starting to grow annoying. Astarion wasn’t sure what to do, if he should kick and try and get out or if someone would come for him. Why should they? Not like they could find him anyway. He grumbled trying to pull himself up but he was weak…tired. In times like these…he could really use you. He hated the way it felt when he was searching for you, calling you chewing on his lip when he started to consider if Gale had put an end to you and dumped your stink somewhere else, but he went to the same spot you both sat and looked at the stars where you promised to keep him safe more than his…”partner” had done. You cared and never saw him as selfish. He missed you…

Almost as on cue he felt something so familiar tug on his cold still heart…his soul had felt a vibration ring out. Yours…you were still bound to him which means you’re…here. Alive!? Not alive but on this plane!

He laughed to himself, tears falling off his cheeks…you were up and searching for him…course you were.

——-

You busted into the manor ignoring the shock gasps and yells from the servants. Karlachs heat melted their damn mouths…not actually but her aura was hot enough. You made your way to the room with the big door but you pulled away and looked around you like a fly was buzzing you saying “Fuckkk youuu”. You mumbled to yourself, Gale turned to you “what? What is it?” You backed up through the hall and your head turned to the wall and you immediately fell against it. “star….he’s in there.” You whispered. Before pushing down on the wall opening it and there he was bloody and beaten like a wilting rose you felt your legs crumple but you had to be strong you whimpered as you nearly ripped the rotting metal from his wrist. He was on his feet this whole time. You had your hands ready to catch him if he fell but he seemed to be alright with standing.

“Star?” You whispered your voice filled with the sound of mucus in your throat. He stepped towards you, his voice small and shaky. “…stink…you came.” Then he fell into your arms. You held him close, his body limp against you. You panicked and it was evident in the way your started to pick at your skin on your arms. Gale came up to you and whispered “it’s okay…just pick him up and we’ll head back to the camp. Quick as a fly.” He smiled reassuring you.

You smiled feeling Astarion cling tighter to you as you carried him in the safety of the familiar alleyways of the city. You decided to split from the rest since it would draw less attention. But before you took another step you sat Astarion down using one arm to help him stand “Star…hey, wake up.” You pulled out a spare shirt from your very very old pack. And put it on him “Raise your arms.” You whispered, pulling it over him. You weren’t sure if his…scar made him feel self conscious or if he didn’t like peering eyes. You weren't sure how to comfort him or talk to him so you chose to stay silent.

You made the shirt even and turned around hoisting him up on your back. Bless the gods for your zombie strength. Astarion wasn’t some small guy. You sighed softly and continued your way to the outskirts of Baldur's gate. You looked down

I cant provide hes probably starving.

You were lost in those thoughts before getting pulled away at the feeling of lips against your neck “I can walk on my own darling…please don’t pamper me.” He whispered. You shook your head “I’m not I’m not…it’s just you collapsed

immediately.” You said but let him down without any fuss. He wobbled slightly but held onto you. “So…where are we…” you shrugged “a trail back to camp.” He nodded and started walking. It was a comfortable silence to him but you looked troubled. He didn’t even need to ask

“I’m sorry.” You said that feeling rising the first time you exploded when you got sad, leaving this realm. You stopped walking feeling your skin rot almost like it was melting the way your skin dropped off your muscle and muscle to bone.

“I’m sorry I even left, and you got captured. I’m sorry you're starving and I can’t feed you…cause I’m not alive. I’m useless. And…that’s why you can’t love me. Because I’m not good enough. I didn’t think when you pulled me back to this ground to this realm that I’d…fall for you.” You felt yourself sinking like the ground was pulling you in. You remember this feeling…when you pulled yourself back to the realm of the dead. You accepted the comforting pull back into the cold void of your own thoughts remembering being curled up stuck in a loop of running to Astarion only for him to never be yours. He’d never be yours.

Suddenly you felt everything still..your thoughts, body, the world…your soul.

Almost like your soul was being washed over with cold water you felt the familiar weight of the world on you…the world…your world, Astarion. His arms held you tightly so tight you thought you’d pop like a stink bomb. You laid your head on his shoulder. It was like this for who’s counting…4 minutes

“I don't need you to make decisions for me.” He said softly, pulling away you saw his eyes a brighter red than ever before…side effects of hunger you guessed. “I don’t need you to pity me or feed me like I’m a newborn.” He frowned, making you look down “I’m sorry” you whispered. You felt hands rubbing the back of your knuckles massaging the bone, the soreness, the stiffness of death leaving those joints…just like when he used to before. “I don’t love you.” He said with a smile. You almost flinched away so hard you swore the rushing water in the river looked inviting.

“But…I want to.” He whispered softly his fingers letting go of your knuckles and intertwining with your fingers. “We truly have all the time in the world to get to know each other…and Gale got you cleaned up…you're not exactly…well rotting corpse. Unless you do that breakdown thingy again. But you won’t. I won’t let it get to that point again. And I want to know it all, what you like to do, your past, your future other than me. All that stuff. And I’ll tell you the same.”

You felt like your heart was beating…it wasn’t but gods it felt like it was racing. You nodded eyes wide open. “Come darling, let's get to camp”

—-

You sat down the chubby badger next to him “good?” You asked, Astarion laid in his tent “Hm?- what in the hells! Don’t- don’t put it in the tent!!” He grumbled pushing the dead animal out the tent starting to burn some type of incense “Were you raised in a barn?!” He scoffed. You looked at the badger carcass in front of you “blood is draining from it. You might want to eat it.” You blinked blankly making him snort and sigh, deciding to enjoy this meal. You turned your head away from his feasting looking down at your knuckles “Getting stiff my dear?” He hummed “no…you asked if I was raised in a barn?” You smiled at him.

Astarion looked at you, his face covered in that delicious forbidden red sauce. “Was I right?” He chuckled, you shrugged, “Well no, I was raised in a castle.” You said your fingers traveled from his neck where he slightly bent it from the ticklish feeling, you brought your fingers up to his face wiping his lips with your thumb before putting it in your mouth humming in pleasure at the semi rewarding taste of something more…organic. You opened your eyes seeing Astarion looking at you “alright first, that was hot. Second, The hells do you mean a castle?! And how the hells did you end up here!!” He yelled

— maybe…you both could work.

((((Uhm so this is for my person who requested a part two for the zombie reader headcanon it was way longer than expected uhm I’m tired help. Uh expect a Karl Heisenberg fic and I think breaking will continue.)))))

@chaoticbardlady99 (for u! 🥺💙)

[fading-adhd-hyperfixator]

TW.

This might become a chapter series~

THIS FANFICTION IS A XMAS GIFT FOR @calcium-cat!!! <3 IT TAKES PLACE BEFORE CHAPTER 21.

Major tw for drowning, blood, and trauma!

Plot based off of @orbital-inclination's Molten Dream oneshot and @calcium-cat's One Small Dream AU, plus her oneshot Shattered Dreams 1 and 2 on Ao3!

Please take this angst, Cal. This is only the first chapter, of course. Suffer as you made us feel with chapter 21 and 22~

Some things that should never have been said chapter 1 - the accident (Word count over 2000!)

Dream sat in his room, in front of the ripped up (and, now that he truly looked at it, it was bad, awful, just as horrible as-) drawing on the floor.

The ripped drawing, torn straight in half, showed him and Nighty. Well, Nighty before this. They were in front of the tree, the scribbled sun shining brightly. They had been holding hands before Dream ripped it.

Dream felt.. numb. Sad, angry, but he didn't want to alert Nightmare with his feelings, so he pushed them far, far down.

He didn't want to be here anymore.

He crumbled the pieces of the drawing, put on his cape, and waited.

He waited until he knew no one would be awake anymore. He had decided to break Nightmare's rules, to leave, to find a way out of this 'AU', they called it. (Dream still didn't understand the concept of 'alternate universes', he was still only just a child.)

He opened his door, hearing the almost silent creeak as it slid. Dream began to walk towards where he had escaped before, his footsteps falling silently on the stone below, as he began to let free some of that sadness by silently sobbing. His head ached. He wanted to get out now.. before someone caught him. As Dream wriggled through the window, he began to feel better. (Although the feelings he buried deep down threatened to stir, as he thought subconsciously what Nightmare would think.)

He began to run after a bit, his shoes making the leaves and sticks underneath crackle and snap. He had gotten far enough away that no one would hear him. He wasn't sure if that would be a bad thing or not.

(Of course, how would he know? He was purposefully trying to do this. He didn't want anyone to hear.)

~~~

"Dream, listen to me! Please-!"

"I CAN TAKE CARE OF MYSELF, NIGHTY!! I DON'T NEED YOU!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!"

His face fell, as Dream backed away before running away, far away. He began to lightly sob, as he processed this. His fingers gripped the soft grass below, as he-

..soft grass?.. The only grass around his castle was thick and piercing. This wasn't right. He glanced up. The Tree of Feelings.. and the village? He was confused, looking at himself. Purple clothing with gold accents. He gripped his forehead. A crown, with a moon engraving..?

This.. was not right. He needed to wake up.

And, as he felt the sharp, agonizing pierce of negativity in his soul..

..his eyelight opened. Nightmare sat up quickly, panicking at how sour and wrong this felt. He had never felt something like this before, not here. This was almost like a cry for help. This.. this was very, very wrong.

He pulled off the covers, silently slipping out and checking each room. All of them were normal.

..except for Dream's. Dream was gone. He was gone? This wasn't right, although Nightmare had very much established that before. This feeling was coming from somewhere else. Maybe he had left? But he knew the rules.Nightmare quivered, his negative goop dripping onto the stone floor as he pondered it.

...Maybe.. maybe he was still bitter from the fight. Maybe he didn't want to be with Nightmare and the others anymore. (Which, Nightmare would never admit this, but that possibility scared him more than death.)

He ran out into the (sickly) empty forest. So much fear filled him, he thought he would explode, as Nightmare ran through the forest, getting closer to the feeling..

He heard the rushing of the river. The river shouldn't be rushing right now. It was the middle of winter, for star's sake! Then it hit Nightmare that Dream could be inside the river. Inside.. those rapids.. the rushing water..-! He needed to find Dream. Now.

~~~

Dream couldn't see. He didn't know what had happened. Everything was cold, he had to hold his breath-

He had slipped, taken a few tumbles, and… fallen. Fallen into.. a stream? A river, perhaps? Dream couldn't tell. All he knew was that he needed to swim up. But which way was up? For all Dream knew, he could be upside down. He hit the bottom of the lake, crashing into a rock. Dream opened his mouth to cry out-

And water- horrible, bitter tasting, dirty water rushed into his lungs, his mouth-His lungs screamed for air, (metaphorically, skellies don't have lungs I'm just stupid) his eyesockets opened, and he spotted a light. The surface.

And then that light dimmed out. Dream was still conscious, he hadn't closed his eyes.. but what was blocking his vision..?

All he knew is that he was quickly thrusted out of the stream, coughing and choking out river water and bile onto the sandy shore below.

His vision began to fade as Dream collapsed, exhausted and scared. He didn't want this.. what was going on..?

~~~

Nightmare lifted Dream out of the rushing river just before he went out of sight, setting him gently on the shore as panic filled his soul, his entire being. “DREAM!!”

As Dream fell, he was lifted gently with a tentacle and taken into Nightmare's arms, as Nightmare hyperventilated a little. Sure, sure they were immortal to old age or any natural causes.

But murder or something like this could still kill them.

Nightmare frantically pulled out his phone, and sent a single text.

'River. Now. Bring monster candy and run.'

And he waited, holding Dream's shivering, small figure. Dream's soul was filled with fear.. and some incomprehensible emotion.. perhaps hatred? He looked down at the puddle Dream had choked out. How long had he been in that stream before Nightmare came? How long had he suffered?

Dream's HP was.. scarily low. Nightmare couldn't exactly heal it due to how terrified he was, but he could at least look for the wound.

There.

Nightmare lifted up Dream's wet shirt and stared at the fracture that ran through the back of Dream's ribcage and spine.

That.. that was bad.

Where were his boys?..Had they not woken to the text?Maybe he should call.Yeah, maybe that was it.

But as Nightmare stared at the bloody crack, he couldn't

move

a single

bone.

He couldn't even process how dull and cracked Dream's tiny soul looked. He didn't process Dream's health

slowly

depleting

to 1.

And, when he did, he still couldn't move. Nightmare stared at Dream's small, shaking body as panic set in, quicker and heavier than before.

“DREAM!! WAKE UP!!”

Where were his boys when he needed them?! He sent another frantic text, before calling Horror.

It took a moment, but eventually the phone was answered. “mmm.. boss?.. it's 3 in.. the morning..” Nightmare couldn't help but feel a twinge of humor at how ridiculously tired Horror sounded.

“You didn't get my text?..” Nightmare mumbled into the microphone in such a blank, sorrowful tone that disgusted him. He was the Guardian of Negativity, and he was upset. But, then again, he was upset over Dream.

“..I'm looking right now. You sound upset enough, I know it's probably important. .. I'll be there with Cross, Killer and Dust in a moment. Whatever it is, please be safe, boss.”

The phone clicked, as Nightmare realized the kindness in Horror’s tone.

And Nightmare sat there, holding Dream as he focused everything on making sure Dream didn't lose the last of his HP.

~~~

Horror pondered things while he dressed and woke the others. He went into the kitchen to wait.

Nightmare had sounded so sad..

He took a few bites of the leftover food that Killer had set out, before wondering why Dream hadn't come outside during all the chaos.

Probably just asleep.

It was too early for him, after all. He'd never get to sleep if he was up at this ungodly hour. He didn’t even know why Nightmare needed everyone, and he said he needed monster candy..?

All Horror knew is that none of his (brothers) co-workers were missing. It worried him.

Perhaps just a peek into Dream's room..

He started toward the cracked door, footsteps growing slowly faster when it seemed like he would never get there.He opened the door quietly, the whine of the squeaky hinges causing Horror to wince before looking inside.

Pieces of ripped paper and broken crayons on the floor. His Nightmare doll on the ground, like he had thrown it into the wall. Cape missing. Pajamas on the floor. Shoes missing. Bedsheets torn aside and strewn around the room.

Horror.. was now feeling his namesake, as he yelled at the others to hurry up. He ran as fast as he could to the medicine cabinet, grabbing every single monster candy they had and a few bandages, stuffing them inside his coat pocket.

He began to dash back out, before running into Cross. He almost knocked the oreo-looking skeleton over, quickly apologizing before trying to run again.

He felt a light pressure on his arm, and turned to Cross.“..You're never this upset, big guy. Tell me what's wrong, and take a deep breath, okay?..”

Horror felt a little relief, and sighed, explaining how broken Nightmare had sounded on the call....

and the fact that Dream's room was a mess, the small space no longer holding the small positivity guardian. Cross went silent at that, eye lights searching Horror’s face, concern and mild fear in them.“..Killer, Dust, hurry up. This could be something related to Dream. He's not in his room.”

Killer and Dust immediately picked up their pace, albeit not very much. Horror grimaced. “..I've got the candies. Grab some bandages and meet me out there.” Despite knowing he already had a few, he knew that he needed to prepare.

He ran out the door, eventually hearing the river rushing...

..and Nightmare yelling Dream's name. Oh, dear stars, his fears were true and Dream was hurt, he was hurt, Horror had a right to worry and maybe he would never even see that little smile ever again and yes that struck him harder than any blow he'd ever taken even from Undyne-

“HORROR! HERE, QUICK!!” Nightmare's dread filled voice cut Horror out of his panic attack as he ran over to look at Dream. Upon seeing how soaked, and shivering and cold the poor thing looked, he texted Killer ‘bring a towel.’

“Boss, tell me, is he hurt, how low is his HP, and how long has he been like this?!”

Nightmare took a deep breath before responding.

“He's got a severe fracture on his ribs and spine, I've been keeping him from dusting, he's at 1, and..”

Nightmare trailed off. Horror caught from the guilt on Nightmare's face, that Nightmare had not been here when Dream had fallen in. “..I brought bandages.” Horror mumbled before gently lifting the small bittybones’ shirt and taking a better look at the broken bones.

Oh.

Oh stars.

Oh stars oh stars oh stars oh stars-

“..Horror?..”

Dream was really hurt this bad? This could've killed him, he should've come sooner-“

..Horror, you're pulling at your socket, you're spacing out.”

And all that guilt came crashing down on Horror as he stared, filled with his namesake, at the bloody fracture.

“-Horror!”

He blinked as Nightmare waved his hand in front of Horror's face. He gently removed his fingers from the side of his face, feeling the sore pain of his soft eyesocket. “..We need to focus on Dream right now.”

Horror sighed and began to carefully wrap the bandages around the tiny bones, minding when Dream let out a water-filled pained cry through his unconsciousness, muffled through Nightmare's hoodie.

He turned Dream onto his back, popping a candy in his mouth before leaning back and attempting to take a deep breath.

That failed.

As did the next attempt.

He spaced out on the dark, cloudy sky, beginning to hyperventilate. He pulled his skull down in between his knees, barely holding back tears.

He stayed like that.

Maybe Horror believed that it was too late.

~~~

Horror still layed, spaced out in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Killer, Dust, and Cross had arrived, and they had gotten Dream back to the castle. All Horror could see was that frail, injured, tiny, shaking, cold, wet body. Did what he feel count as feeling traumatized?

He didn't register the hand waving in front of his face.

He, of course, didn't register the voice saying his name.

Until it got louder, of course.

That hurt his already aching skull, as he went to groan and hold his head, he felt cold tears.

Had he been crying?

He hadn't noticed..

His senses slowly flooded back, and he registered Killer's half-gloved hand waving in front of his eyesockets.He turned his head, to see.. Killer was worried? He didn't have enough strength to register what Killer was saying, until it hit a quiet, shaking level of worry.

“..Horror..? ..You okay?.. You're k-kinda scarin’ me..”

He shook his head and everything flooded back.

“Oh.. oh yeah.. yeah, I'm okay.”

Okay or not, he felt an aching feeling pulling down his soul like blue magic. Fear. Doubt. Guilt?

He waved Killer away.

“..You should try to get some more sleep. It's 3:37.”

“Ah- y-yeah- of course-..”

Horror turned to the wall, trying to begin spacing out again.

But he noticed that Killer.. never actually left?

He looked back, seeing Killer hesitate

.“..We’re both worried, Killer. You should go to Nightmare. I think Cross is doing first watch on Dream tonight.”

Killer was silent, as he nodded stiffly and left the room.After a while, Horror's eyesockets shut.He had fallen asleep.

But that nagging guilt still tugged.

~~~

Dream was tired. He could make out that much. He felt the pain. He felt the cold, until someone had wrapped him up. Someone had given him candy.. and bandaged him?His head still ached more than anything. Hadn't they fixed it? Or maybe that was the adrenaline in his soul wearing off.

From all he knew, he had hit the bottom of the river. He had passed out after.. Nightmare saved him? Was it Nighty?

He really didn't know right now..

He wanted Nighty now.

He wanted to hold his goopy tentacle. Dream knew that Nighty was not near. From what little awareness he had, Crossy was with him.

He wanted to wake up.

Yes, that was what Dream wanted!

He needed to get up! And apologize!

After all, it was pretty early.

Or maybe that was just his head aching that convinced him of the time.. it could be the middle of the day for all Dream could know..

Eventually, Crossy swapped for Rory.

He wanted a hug from Rory.

Dream was in pain again.Like when he lost his tooth, but a billion times worse..

Okay, maybe he was overreacting.

Even a child could tell that much.

---

It's mine and a few others' headcanon that Horror pulls on his socket when he's nervous! :3

I accidentally cut off the last few sentences, but I'll pop them into the next chapter <3

merry christmas everybody!!!

[every-character-ever-poll]

WEEK SEVEN LINEUP

Soooo. I've been gone a while. What was supposed to be Week Six became more like "Two Months" Six. My bad. I can't promise that random breaks won't happen, but I'll do my level best to not let them become longer than a week if they do (knock on wood - the last time I said "I'll try not to take anymore random breaks" i dipped for a month).

Anyways, here's a very delayed Week Seven! Thank you to everyone who stuck around while I vanished.

Darkiplier - Markiplier

The Puzzler - Generation Loss

The Extinguisher - Jerma's 2022 Holiday Awards Show Extravaganza

The Giant Rat - Rat Movie: Mystery of the Mayan Treasure

Candace Flynn - Phineas and Ferb

Venus aka Kanamori - Heaven's Design Team

Han Ying - Word of Honor

Michealangelo - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2014)

Carrie White - Carrie (all media)

Steve the Trooper - Chuggaconroy’s Pikmin videos

The Thunderhead - Arc of a Scythe

Haruki Nakayama - Given

A - Tomorrow Will Be Dying

Doris Frances Barbara - Blood & Syrup: A Vampire the Masquerade Podcast

Juliet Capulet - & Juliet

May - & Juliet

Castiel Supernatural - Supernatural

Derek Hale - Teen Wolf

Lúthien Tinúviel - The Silmarillion

Potamos - Wedding Peach

Jiang Cheng - The Untamed

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

Asterion - Baldur's Gate 3

Dalian - Dantalian no Shoka

Shulk - Xenoblade Chronicles

Solid Snake - Metal Gear Solid

Zanza - Xenoblade Chronicles

Kuu - Haibane Renmei

Cole MacGrath - Infamous

Captain Olimar - Pikmin

Raku-chan - Nyan Neko Sugar Girls

Annie Wintersummer - Unprepared Casters

Yona - Akatsuki no Yona

Shane Schofield (Scarecrow) - Scarecrow and Jack West Junior

The Medic - Team Fortress 2

Sailor Jupiter - Sailor Moon

Orbulon - WarioWare

Mike - WarioWare

Cure Honey - Happiness Charge Precure

Crazy Barks - Drawn to Life

Ninjini - Skylanders

Cure La Mer - Tropical Rouge Precure

End (Endymion) - Beyond the End

Kansuke Yamato - Detective Conan

Mr. Crow, AKA Aldous Vanderboom - Rusty Lake/Cube Escape

Vega - Street Fighter

Izumi Miyamura - Horimiya

Aldark - Drawn to Life

M. Bison - Street Fighter

Aoi Inuyama - Yuru Camp

Klara - Pokemon

Virginia Lewis - The 10th Kingdom

Muriel - Good Omens

Nene Kusanagi - Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage/Project Sekai

Michiko Malandro - Michiko to Hatchin

Suzuki Shinya - 10 Dance

Miles Maitland - Bright Young Things

Diavolo - Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

Burly, Blabberwort, and Bluebell - The 10th Kingdom

Natsume Takashi - Natsume's Book of Friends

Faust - Guilty Gear

Sugiki Shinya - 10 Dance

Cure Finale - Delicious Party Precure

Igarashi Vice - Kamen Rider Revice

Mitsumi Iwakura - Skip and Loafer

The Corinthian - The Sandman

Shizuku Hinomori - Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage/Project Sekai

Mickey Muldoon - The Magical Legend of the Leprechauns

Natsuki Shinomiya - Uta no Prince Sama

Sasha Braus - Attack on Titan

Virtue Courtenlock - Krillverse

Goop Lyn - veryextraincorrectfegbaquotes.tumblr.com

Jean-Francois - Bunny Maloney

Tome Kurata - Mob Psycho 100

Seras Victoria - Hellsing

Pang Pawaret - The gifted

Viren - The Dragon Prince

Brawne Lamia - Hyperion

Dai Lee - Let Dai

Haruka Kiritani - Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage/Project Sekai

Minori Hanasato - Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage/Project Sekai

Cube - Gather Ye Power

C-53 - Mission to Zyxx

Cynte - Endoparasitic

Ged/Sparrowhawk - Earthsea

Sniff - The Moomins

Soren Baltimore - Camp Here & There

Mellow - Endacopia

Eunhyung Song - Let Dai

Rufus - Deponia

Sheik - The Legend of Zelda

Lee Ping - Detentionaire

Kasane Fuchi - Kasane

Shigure Sohma - Fruits Basket

Aymeric de Borel - Final Fantasy XIV

Meta Knight - Kirby

Luka Couffaine - Miraculous Ladybug

Satō - Ajin: Demi-Human

Mudkip - Pokemon

Death of the Endless - The Sandman

[spiderh0rse]

Stark's Mind notes! Pt1, e1-5.

e1

Before I get into the video itself, the description does carry some interesting tidbits! Going forward, they'll always be listed as such:

Desc. Vincent Stark is 24, used to work at Black Mesa, and considers that place his personal hell. Right now, he reluctantly serves as Dr. Freeman's body double.

We start with an intro beyond the "face, series name" format! Going down the tram tunnel.

He is not happy to be doing this today.

When he left Black Mesa, it had the same tram monologue as it does now.

He is late.

He jokes about hiding in the bathroom stalls for a while, then implies he genuinely did used to do that.

Knows about Freeman being on parole! How!

Tries to rationalize being late.

Concerned about the safety standards of people welding stuff

Tourists apparently enter the facility from time to time

He's getting into character as Freeman by acting like he's still part of the company

hums Military Precision

"ba donk"

Does like how the area around Black Mesa looks

a tad unnerved by the tram shaking

talks to people when they're far out of audible distance. He doesnt know why he does this.

hums Hard Fought

SO bored by the train. Narrates the dramatic lights turning on

Thinks the decathlon sounds fun. Might stick around and do that in Gordon's place. Used to get first in it :>

considers himself an "athletic superstar" even if in a joke

Some of the departments the tram passes aren't ones he's really that involved in

Doesn't want any of his relatives to work at Black Mesa

"All of the gates today have played the waiting game with me. And so far? I'm winning." Silly.

Familiar with Star Wars, but mixes up the Republic and Empire eras.

GREEN GOOP PUDDLE. OSHA INCOMING

horrified at some guy being in danger. Can't do anything about it, really, so he gives up

his freeman impression SUCKS

Knows Barney, forgot he works at Black Mesa.

nervous laughter

"Horn"? Someone! Who works at Black Mesa

doesn't know Gina Cross. :(

e2

"Subtitles by Prinnamon" PRIN IT'S YOU

Freeman impression has improved slightly

attempts to assist with the computer crash

He's coming off as awkward and not neurotic. This is blatantly not a Freeman trait

Makes a very similar joke to Gordon's about the techno hell room

Stark Also does not know his way about

The architecture is new!

Gman's stare scares him

BAD PUN ALERT

He's... Hungry. He didn't eat breakfast.... Plans to steal a casserole.

doesnt know Freeman's locker combo. Implies he used to know

no mirrors in the bathroom,,,

applies an idiom about money to toilet paper

thinks the mk.v looks better than the mk.iv. calls it the 4.5. Ugh.

wants to turn off the HEV suit voice.

does Not know what "you're in the barrel" means

Sector C is not open to visitors.

It's 2009!

He did something when he left Black Mesa that could severely put him in trouble if people find out he's here

Deeply concerned with ethics and safety in the workplace. Blames Breen for it. That's part of why he left.

Warning signs are written in blood

Knows Otis Laurey. Considers security guards far more foolish than the scientists.

knows Dr Vance

bothered by safety issues

assures Eli the issues here aren't his probably

Breen wanted to recreate the big bang

tells someone to report a safety concern

drinks coffee

glib about his lack of a helmet

fun to watch a sample be bombarded with antimatter

thinks the AMS is pretty and likes the white noise

goes from pretty happy to be working to scared for his life

Scared and Whimpering at the vortigaunts

e3

wakes up having a hard time breathing

overwhelmed, can't think clearly

IMMEDIATELY puts all the blame for the ResCas and resulting deaths on himself

sees a bloody handprint and promptly breaks down about it

he's still on the security database in Black Mesa. Has level three clearance.

constantly torn between guilt and panic

does try and run down a list of things to do in this situation

he guesses a large amount of the facility has been impacted by the ResCas

"by Schrodinger's cat! He's alive" met with an "unfortunately." HEY.

immediately clocks a headcrab as an alien

goes from somber talking to Eli to yelling panicked swearing at some lasers

states that this is Literally Hell and the headcrab zombies on fire are Literal Demons

gets MEAN when he's scared and has a target he won't feel guilty for attacking

continues to have bouts of nervous laughter

familiar with Alien

witnesses some deaths directly, the elevator crash, promptly starts blaming himself again

repeating "I did this." on loop. There are better things that don't make you feel worse to say on repeat, pal (as prinnamon once put it: vince you have got to think of a better vocal stim than "i did this" and i do hope the quote is not minded. it sticks with me always)

e4

okay yeah he's just in the middle of a panic attack and has been for multiple minutes

implies the only reason he's not curling up and waiting for death is because he still has a task at hand to perform

doesn't want to get blood on his suit

makes a little tune about wanting to have a gun

stark you will cook slowly in that metal suit of yours

admits he suffered a breakdown, claims he's not crazy yet

you are not in fact staying calm, sir. You're in shock.

not impressed by Gordon's locker

deeply snarky surrounding near-death circumstances and his panic in them being derided

doesn't really like trophy hunters

can't save someone's life and promptly blames himself for causing his death

resolves to be strong and stand his ground. Runs from a zombie immediately

immediately attached to his crowbar

fine with killing the zombies

longs for a gun

"is it not?" <3

e5

"leaks"? I think, given a later line i poorly remember, he's talking about whistleblowing

"why are you Broken are you Jokin" kdfjkjf

LAUGHS he is DELIGHTED to solve a small problem

atheist

thinks he is going to solve all issues caused today. sounds SO happy about that

keeps snapping at the zombies and headcrabs

checked a clearly dead body for a pulse. doesn't know why he did this

internal monologue fullnames himself

still looking for weapons in random crates

comes up with a nice little ditty about breaking crates

"laced with blood" is one way to describe this room

doesn't have enough upper body strength to perform a pull-up

knows gordon goes to the gym. stark, however, does not

rambling very quickly when he realizes hes in a bad situation

"i'm not in the right state of mind" for. killing zombies? when is ANYONE in the right state of mind for that

tells a double-dead zombie to stay down decompose and not reproduce

does Not want to go into the vents. vent sharks

gets choked by a barnacle. calls them something out of a bdsm fantasy

he thinks he will LOSE to vent sharks

names a barnacle david. gets goofy with it

calls a houndeye a dog :> ouppy. ham dogs!

watches The Price Is Right

still not entirely sure whether all this is real

almost tells someone he Isn't Freeman, decides he doesn't care

he says he's never used a gun before. confident he can use one anyways. fool. <3

wants to take a minute to do nothing and rest. also wants to radio the surface immediately to get help as soon as possible

tells some guy he's responsible for everything happening right now