#its too late to feel sick over this Goodnight fuck the whole world .growls

[possuminnit]

just thought about aziracrow holding hands on that fucking bus in s1. Ruined forever

[moirai-au]

Not exactly shippy but 12 with Chase and Marv?

Timeline: early in Arc 5: The Orator

@immabethehero @bupine​ @tabbynerdicat @i-maybe-exist @its-ethan-bro @sandinthetardis @honestlyitsjustkenna

He’s running.

He doesn’t remember what he’s running to, or from. But he knows that if he stops, bad things will happen.

The black void echoes with disincarnated whispers, rising and falling like the tide. He can’t pinpoint their origin, and the words don’t make sense to him- he’s not certain they’re even words at all. And when he tries to focus on them, their meaning edging his awareness, so close- it trickles away like sand through his fingers, scattered to the winds.

There’s a pressure, somewhere around his head. The louder the voices, the stronger the pressure grow, bordering on painful before receding.

He hears a clock ticking, and laughter. It’s devoid of mirth, of light, of life. It makes his hairs stand on end. 

Something is wrapped around his wrists and neck, digging painfully into his skin- strings? Someone is screaming. Why are they screaming? It’s too loud, too close, the strings rub and burn and he can feel white-hot spears digging into his shoulder and he wants it to stop, he wants everything to stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop

s

 t

  o

   p

“Wake up!”

Mars’ eyes flew open, wild and unfocused. He arched off the bed with a choked gasp, his limbs tangled in his bedsheets and flailing around violently.

“Mars! Kid, it’s okay, calm down, you’re safe!”

He stilled, blinking into full awareness as his blind panic died down; David was standing over him, his hand squeezing his shoulder, his face twisted by the type of concern only a father would have. Mars looked around; he was in his room, the light from the corridor the only thing allowing him to discern his surroundings.

He took a deep breath, falling back onto his pillows, then grimaced; his throat was sore and dry as sandpaper, and he was drenched in cold sweat. Again.

“I heard you scream,” Dave said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Another nightmare?”

Ah. So the screaming had been his. No wonder he felt like he’d swallowed a cactus. “…Yeah.” the mage admitted. “Always the same. The others?”

“Downstairs. I don’t think they heard anything, this house has pretty thick walls. Good thing I was walking by.”

Mars nodded. Good. The last thing he needed right now was more people crowding him.

“Kiddo… what’s happening here? What’s wrong?” Dave asked. The mage rolled his eyes at his paternal tone. “Don’t call me that, you’re not that much older than me. And nothing’s wrong.”

The man stared at him with a deadpan look.

“I’m not lying!” Mars exclaimed indignantly, “That’s the thing! Everything’s been… normal lately. I don’t know why this is happening.”

“Well there has to be something! That’s the third time this week. You can barely eat. You look exhausted. For all I know this has been happening every night.”

The mage stayed silent. That alone told Dave everything he needed to know. “Fuck…” the dad sighed. “This looks bad. And you’re freezing. Are you sure you’re not sick?”

The mage blinked, porting his attention on the feeling of Dave’s hand on his shoulder; it was warm, very warm, almost too much for comfort. So either the snapback-wearing man was sporting a freak fever that was somehow not bothering him, or Mars’ body temperature had dropped abnormally low while he slept.

He growled, rubbing at the dark shadows under his glassy yellow eyes. “I’m not, believe me. Cecil checked already. Twice.”

Dave’s expression softened at the mention of his partner; the whole… thing between those two had come as a surprise to Mars, given how hostile the German had started off towards the recovering alcoholic. But he’d found that he didn’t mind. They seemed good for each other.

“Wanna come downstairs?” Dave asked, “Ollie and Aster are watching the Exorcist. Well,” he chuckled, “Ollie’s watching. Aster keeps complaining about how ‘inaccurate’ it is, so that’s pretty fun. I can make popcorn and hot cocoa.”

Mars hummed; that did sound nice. He could already feel the iciness leaving his body at the prospect. He opened his mouth to acquiesce, but froze up in sudden horror when something brushed against the edge of his mind.

The whispering. It circled around him, taunting him, making his previous panic come back with a vengeance. The cold feeling settled back into his bones, his spine, his fingertips.

This wasn’t right. The voices had never followed him into the waking world before. They weren’t supposed to be real, they weren’t supposed to exist-

It as at this moment that Marvs understood; they weren’t going to stop. The dreams, the voices, the feeling of dread… they weren’t going away. Not this time. They’d just grow stronger and stronger, louder and louder, until the mage eventually broke.

Unless he did something about it. Now.

“Mars?” Dave’s voice rang out, snapping him out of his reverie. “You with me?”

“Yeah,” Mars replied distractedly, “Yeah. You know, I think I’m gonna pass on that one. I’m pretty tired, and I don’t think that weird-ass dream is gonna come back tonight.”

“You’re sure?”

He nodded. “Positive.”

“…Alright.” David relented, getting back on his feet. “Just know that- we’re here for you, yeah? You know you can tell us anything. I’m not letting this go.”

Mars stared ahead. His fists were gripping the bedsheets tightly, his knuckles going white from the strain.

They’d try to stop him. He knew that. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let them get roped into this.

He turned to face Dave, and smiled. “I know,” he said, “and I’m grateful for that. For all of you.” He raised his arm to rest it atop Dave’s own, the one still squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, okay? I promise. I just need a little more time. To figure it out.”

Liar. Liar. Liar.

“…Okay,” the older man relented. “I’m holding you up to that, okay? I trust you.”

A spike of guilt threatened to make Mars cave, but he resisted. You shouldn’t, he thought. “And I trust you,” he said instead, shifting into a more comfortable position and closing his eyes. “G’d’night.”

He heard Dave bid him goodnight and leave his bedroom, gently closing the door behind him. He didn’t move as he listened to the older man’s footsteps going father and father away, until he could no longer hear them.

After about two minutes, he opened his eyes, slitted golden orbs gleaming with determination. He threw his covers off and got up swiftly, rummaging through his closet to throw on some jeans and a warm, clean winter jacket. He then grabbed his mask and fastened it around his head, the familiar feeling alleviating his anxiety somewhat.

He took a deep breath and focused, summoning his magic; his fingers twitched and glowed a vibrant cyan for a moment, his power slowly reaching out to cover the whole mansion.

Once he was satisfied, he breathed out in relief and walked out of his room, no longer worried about any commotion he might cause.

He walked by Cecil’s room; he could hear quiet snores through the half-opened wooden door. He leaned over and took a peek inside: the doctor was out cold, slumped over the stacks of paper sitting on his desk, a half-empty cup of coffee spilling its contents onto the floorboards below him. 

Cecil. The father he’d never had. The one he wished he’d had, deep down. He clenched his jaw, closed the door, and kept going.

As he went down the stairs, he caught a glimpse of Dave sitting in the kitchen; the man was fast asleep, him too slumped over the table, his phone still grasped in his hand. A steaming mug of tea sat next to his head, the sweet smell almost bringing tears to Mars’ eyes. He teared his gaze away and pressed on.

The TV was on, still displaying horrific images from the Exorcist. Aster was curled up in front of it, way too close to the screen in a way that would’ve made Henrik scowl. His clawed, black fingers twitched every so often, a strained expression on his face despite the deep state of unconsciousness he was plunged into.

Mars let out an airy chuckle; who would’ve thought he’s end up rooming with a literal demon from another realm. Weirder yet, befriending him.

…Well, sorta. The fiend was still an unhinged asshole with a moral compass like a russian roulette. But at least they weren’t worried about him stabbing them in their sleep anymore, even without the Deal. So that was good progress.

Finally, his eyes landed on Oliver, sprawled out on the couch in a small, messy heap of limbs; the hero had ditched his iconic jacket and jeans for a pair of grey sweatpants and a red, comfy-looking hoodie, with “Yeah I’m AFAB. Assigned Fucking Awesome, Baby” written on it; a gift from Dave. Ollie loved it.

Mars’ throat seized up as he lingered on the vigilante’s still form, on the slow rise and fall of his chest. Ollie. His first friend. The one he loved like a younger sibling at this point. The first new face he’d seen in so long, the one who’d dragged him out of the bubble he’d locked himself into.

He hoped he’d thought of taking his binder off this time; that airhead always forgot.

As he left the room and approached the door leading to the back of the property, he reached out with his powers and turned the TV off; Cecil had always been adamant about saving power.

He unlocked the door, and the freezing wind hit his face. For a split second, he hesitated.

The whispers doubled in volume, as if sensing his indecision; like a siren’s song, they dug their way into his brain, in his stomach, under his skin, filling him up until he could no longer wait.

“I’m sorry.” he murmured, his slitted eyes squeezing shut in pain and regret. “I’m so sorry.”

He felt sick. He hated himself for doing this. But he needed to. He needed to do this on his own, or he’d go insane. The call was too loud to ignore, the need too strong. He didn’t know where he was going, but somehow, he knew his feet would lead him there.

He took a first step outside; with a dull sense of surprise, he found that he couldn’t feel the cold anymore, not even the freezing snow under his bare feet. In fact, he realized, he couldn’t feel much of anything.

He took a few more steps, slow and slightly unsteady. But they soon became more assured, strides larger, faster, like fueled by a mysterious force that beckoned him far, far from his home, far from his family.

And as his gangly form grew smaller and smaller, heading for the woods behind the property, the back door swung on its hinges and came shut with a quiet click.

For a few more minutes, complete silence reigned in the mansion. Then the heavy blanket of magic keeping everyone asleep disappeared. And five pairs of eyes flew open in perfect synchronicity.

Aster snarled, jumping to his feet and looking around wildly. Ollie sat up on the couch, still looking a bit dazed. “Wha… Aster? What’s happening?”

“Magic!” the demon shrieked, “Fucking-” A string of clicks and growls, his body twitching in agitation as he paced. “Stupid Scars knocked us all out! I can still taste his magic in the air!”

“Mars?” Ollie asked, cocking his head in disbelief. “But-”

He was cut off by a groan coming from behind them. They turned around; Dave was stepping out of the kitchen, rubbing his forehead and wincing in pain. “Shit… I think I banged my head on the table. The hell was that about?”

“David?”

All heads turned towards the hallway; Cecil stepped into the room, looking confused. “I think something’s wrong. I was going over my notes and-”

“You woke up without remembering falling asleep?” Ollie interrupted, “Yeah, us too. Aster says Mars did it.”

Dave blinked, dumbfounded. “That’s- why would he…” he trailed off, something dawning on him. He looked at each person in the room, his heartbeat picking up. “No…”

“Um, guys?” Oliver tried, starting to piece things together. “Where’s Mars?”

“Scheiße” Cecil whispered. He took off suddenly, running to the mage’s room. “No, no, please no-”

“Please tell me he didn’t.” Ollie shook his head in disbelief as the German disappeared down the hall, his face going whiter by the second. “Please tell me this dumbass didn’t pull this shit on us again.”

Dave was frozen, eyes glossed over staring into nothing; the kid had been right in front of him, mere minutes ago. He had known Mars’ words sounded strange. Final. But he’d ignored it. Turned a blind eye to it.

If this was on him… if he’d let him slip away…

Cecil came back not a minute later, looking like he might crumble at the slightest breeze. He looked up, a haunted look in his wide grey eyes. And when he spoke, it felt like a giant hammer fell on them all.

“He’s gone.”