#maybe hurt comfort? probably not

[floralembarrassment]

Hi! I love your fics so much they always make my day better <3

I was just wondering if you could write an angsty/Sad Rosekiller fic? Idk why I'm just in the mood to feel pain and i love your writing so yeah :)

Hi you very kind human! I'm glad you find some joy here! What's fun request that made me hurt my own feelings so I hope it hits your pain fancy - as always requests and asks are the best! with love

Burning Desire (1/3) (rosekiller)

The thing with Evan and Barty is that everyone knew they were supposed to be together except them. They were both too stubborn, a bit too dim, and honestly too desperate for one another that neither of them had a clue the other had been pinning for years.

But how was Evan supposed to know? Barty was out flirting with everyone. He was with a different girl to in Hogsmead each weekend, and dancing with a different Slytherin boy every other, and kissing his friends just for fun. When Evan figured out he was ace he nearly threw in the towel, except his heart couldn't let go.

When Evan had both worked up the courage and had had enough, he wrote everything he wanted to tell Barty, planning to burn the note before he spoke to him in person. But as he wrote his heart out he realized that losing his friendship with Barty was actually worse than not telling him about this stupid little crush. Evan crumbled up the note and decided he once and for all needed to get over himself.

Evan went to grab his wand he had thrown on the bed as Barty walked into the dorm. He jumped and quickly set the parchment on fire, and Barty looked at him with a quizzical smirk.

"What are you hiding Rosier? Starting a diary like Regulus are we?" He chided.

In that moment Evan was hurt, especially because he had just decided that he would never be enough for Barty and at least being his friend, being able to be near him would have to be enough. And while he wasn't writing a diary, he did push his emotions down like Regulus and lash out instead.

"How about you mind your fucking business Crouch. You clearly wouldn't know a thing about privacy, seeing as you were basically practicing to be an exhibitionist in the common room with that 7th year," Evan sneered. It was meaner than their usual banter, and Evan knew Barty heard the nastiness in the tone.

Barty threw him a stinging hex, but Evan blocked it with ease: "oh screw off, you're just jealous because you haven't done so much as hold hands with someone since 4th year." Barty hit back.

"Jealous? You think I'm jealous? I don't want anyone you've been with," Evan scoffed, his cheeks flushed, betraying him though. He wasn't jealous about what sexual things Barty did, but he was jealous of those who held him closer...

What Evan didn't know was that Barty was only trying to get over his long lust for Evan. Evan never once reciprocated his flirtations, even when he was crudely foreword. How was Barty supposed to know why Evan was really jealous. Barty wanted to offer to help Evan find someone, but he never could bring himself to it, always thankful that Evan would decline because Barty wasn't sure he could handle seeing Evan with anyone else.

"Well clearly you are hiding something," is all Barty ended up replying. "I'll just forget it okay?" He finished and Evan sighed, just looking down at his shoes.

Barty stepped forward, reaching out like he normally would to pull Evan into a hug, but Evan jolted back. Barty looked at him surprised, they always hugged to make up after they snapped at it each other.

"I... I gotta go," Evan said and he nearly ran out of the room.

Barty stood for a moment confused and concerned. Clearly something was going on with Evan. He moved to his desk to fix it up and see if his herbology homework needed to be done, maybe help cheer him up. But he noticed that the first page of the homework was missing and the second page was singed. Did Evan burn his homework? Barty thought, but then he looked around him and saw the crumpled up piece of paper that must be the first page. When Barty picked it up though, he froze.

[jamtartandsunshine]

It starts small, inconsequential really. But Roy, he knows the signs, this isn't his first rodeo, as Ted would say. That thought makes him curse beneath his breath. Sounds like something fucking Lasso would say. It makes Roy's blood boil a little. He hates that the fucking cowboy coach has gotten into his head. But the point is, Roy notices. It's small but its there. Roy notices the way Jamie tips back the protein shaker, as he stands in the locker room laughing with the boys, but the liquid inside doesn't actually seem to go down. He notices the way Jamie's hands sometimes tremble as he picks up his water bottle in the gym. Having pushed himself harder then any of the rest of them. He notices the way Jamie jots down notes in a little pocket notebook at lunch. Roy doesn't see what's in it, but he'd bet his championship trophy its that stats of whatever Jamie's eating at lunch. Its not new. Everyone has macros to track, protein goals to reach. Carefully controlled carb intakes, but there's a darkness to Jamie's eyes as he scribbles hastily in his little notebook. Roy knows that look, and a part of him wants to look away, pretend he didn't see it, pretend he doesn't know the signs for what they are. He looks around the room, everyone is eating and laughing, they don't see what Roy is seeing. Most of them barely even spare Jamie a glance. Fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck it. It has to be Roy, it can't be anyone fucking else.

[henrybelly]

honestly when i tried to figure out why some fans are so mad at ivypool these days i was looking through avos and. the scene where ivypool apologises to twigpaw for not supporting sending a patrol for skyclan is genuinely very sweet??

i actually saw someone characterize this as "ivypool forcing twigpaw to forgive her". is it crack you smoke. is that what you smoke. you smoke crack?

[skyloftian-nutcase]

The Caregiver (LU Twilight Ficlet)

Dusk usually soured Twilight's mood, but today it was the rain. Or the walking. Or the constant fighting they'd been doing recently. He wasn't sure. Maybe it was none of those things.

Some days just weren't good days.

After the chores were done, Twilight offered to do a perimeter check and disappeared into the forest, shifting into his wolf form. He felt... different when he was like this. He supposed it was a stupid observation to make, saying one felt different when one was a wolf. Of course that would feel different.

But it was more than just the physicality of it. Like this, he was considered a monster. Like this, he was considered a sweet friend. Like this, he wasn't expected any heroic duties. Like this, people were afraid of him. Like this, he could just be with animals and nature. Like this, he could be left alone.

Like this, he couldn't cry.

Today just wasn't a good day. Anxieties and worries filled him, words biting into his mind like beasts tearing his sanity apart. Things that would usually be a quick observation that he would swat away suddenly returned with reinforcements, ready to trample him into the dust.

Four hated shadow magic, and Twilight used it extensively.

Time was happily married, Sky was head over heels in love with someone who probably loved him just as much, and Twilight was alone.

Wild could have breakdowns because everyone understood that he was a mess, and Twilight had to be the strong one for him even if he felt like he was going to fall apart.

Warriors had so many reasons to be a broken mess yet he wasn't, and Twilight had so few reasons yet he was.

Hyrule and Legend had no families, and Twilight had one that adored him yet he treated them poorly, he was never around anymore for them.

Wind had seen too much at his age but still had hope, and Twilight had a peaceful wonderful childhood and was filled with nothing.

Sometimes... sometimes Twilight just wanted it to end. Sometimes he wished he could sleep as well and as long as Sky seemed to, and sometimes he was so insane with energy and had nothing to do with it.

Four would hate him if he knew. Wild would never rely on him if he saw how Twilight hurt too, he wouldn't want to burden the Ordonian with his problems. Sky and Time would offer sympathetic words or touches but that didn't change the hollowness inside him. Warriors would tease and try to perk him up, and it would only emphasize how much better the captain was. Hyrule, Legend, and Wind would offer their support in their own ways, and it would highlight Twilight's pathetic state of mind even more.

Who else would hate him, he wondered. Would it just be Four? Hyrule might hate him, with as much magical energy as he has about him, shadow magic probably felt like a disease to him. If he showed his true nature, revealed all his secrets, his thoughts, his desires, his beliefs, his feelings... who else would hate him?

Who would be disappointed in him?

A choking sound emitted form his throat, making his chest burn. He couldn't cry as a wolf, but it would still try to escape.

Just let it out. No one's here.

Twilight shifted back into Hylian form and collapsed into a pile of leaves. The tears came in waves, racking his body with violent tremors and muffled sobs before leaving him drained and exhausted, and then it would start anew. He felt like his heart and mind were screaming at each other, his heart taking him and shaking him to his core until he was depleted while his mind told him to get over it.

Others have it worse. I need to take care of them. I have no excuse to feel like this. So what if they hate me for who I am, for what I think and believe, I can help them and support them until we get to that point. They don't have to know who I really am. And if they find out, then...

Then what? What would he do when he was an outcast to some of his brothers? If he couldn't support the others because they were afraid to bother him? He wasn't foolish with his emotionalism, he knew he wasn't going to be thrown out or anything, but... but he imagined he would be shunned. The bitter cold stabbed him from the inside out, making the tears spring fresh as if he hadn't cried four times already.

This was so stupid. He knew better than to let this upset him.

But today just wasn't a good day.

So much time passed the sun had completely faded behind the horizon. Twilight shivered as the damp cool air of night settled into his skin. It chilled the hot tears that stained his cheeks and slammed reality into his soul like a slap to the face.

Twilight took a deep breath, wiped his face clean, and rose.

Perhaps I will be an outcast if they find out. Perhaps some of them will hate me, and some will pity me to the point of exclusion. So they don't have to find out. I can support them as I am, with everything as it is. I can help them and be there for them, offer what little assistance I can provide.

They don't have to know who I am.

Twilight took another breath, steadying himself. He just wanted to help. The camaraderie meant the world to him, but he could live without it if need be. He just wanted to help. He could help - he knew Time's fate and could maybe alter it. He saw Wild's pain and had his trust, so he could help him through his trauma. Wolfie saw more than anyone, and Twilight could soothe the hurts the others held close to their hearts.

Twilight took a third breath, and felt whole again. Because this wasn't about him. It was about his family.

He went back to camp, and smiled when everyone greeted him.

Time watched him a little too long, eye discerning. "Everything all right?"

Twilight waved a dismissive hand as he walked to Wild, settling beside his little brother. "Of course."

[paperglader]

sometimes i'm living my life and sometimes i'm hit by the fact that c3 has become so intwined with my very being and in a way it's probably because of how it feels like it has been fully mirroring my journey since the moment i started watching- specifically with the imodna's- in the sense that i feel like i went through a period of so much healing and a bit of hardships, and then this year has been really hard, till it came to a tipping point maybe like a little less than a month from now and now the imodna's are like broken up and doing really bad and i'm like. i.want.to.sob.all.the.damn.time.about.it. but also, do i really want to sob that hard about it or am i just sad cause of life? and the answer is sort of, both, cause sometimes i just want fiction to be okay when real life isn't. Like, yeah, i've been rewatching early campaign with my roommate, and there was so much healing there along with the pain, but now it just feels so sad and broken (which, truly is ok). it's not like, doomed sad, but sad in the "shit. why did it get this level of fucked up?" kinda sad and like, i really really really really want a soft epilogue for the sad little lesbians, but also i very much want a soft epilogue for myself (also a sad little lesbian)

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

when I want to write something self indulgent to give me all the angsty and cuddly hurt/comfort feels but I can't because I end up feeling guilty because I'm seeking after feels that I feel in an inappropriate place because my mom told me one time when I was 15 that I shouldn't search that out or it's probably sexual sin but it confuses me because ALL the feels happen that way for me even if it's entirely platonic and nonsexual and so I don't know if it's okay to want to write to that because apparently all pleasure of any sort, even over platonic stories, is sexual or comes with a possibly probably sexual feeling and I also am having a hard time figuring out what's genuine conviction from God and what's just my anxiety/OCD/perfectionism/fear of failure

[y-rhywbeth2]

I'm curious if Durge's bad ending is, assumedly, becoming soulless like Imoen in Baldur's Gate 2 and becoming feral, would there be any way to save them from their situation after the fact? (of this is a dumb question, I apologize ❤️ I just love your blog.)

Seems slightly more soulless Charname than Imoen, what with Bhaal giving you personal attention and trying to turn you into his mindless vessel.

I'm not sure about saving them - but this is D&D, so probably. In BG2 the cure was getting your soul back (your other two potential fates were horrible wasting death, having your mind consumed by Bhaal - that was it). This doesn't apply to Durge, though, as they didn't lose a soul. They do have one, or at least the start of one, because Jergal might spot it in epilogue dialogue, but unlike in the rejection ending he doesn't cut it loose from Bhaal.

As Withers is aware of the deaths of all beings, and is almost certainly aware of Bhaal puppeteering his spawn around the corner plotting murder, I chose to believe that the party is also a trap meant for Durge. Whether the intention is to destroy them, or lock them away so that Bhaal can't use them, or to somehow extract Bhaal from Durge... who knows, but sometimes I like to imagine it might be the latter, and Durge gets support and a million years of therapy.

[dreamlogic]

going through another round of "what if i got a cane would my life be easier with a cane should i get a cane" hmmmm

[yueebby]

Any possibility of that mean gojo angst fic leaving the google doc my good sir🫡

only if the people want to read it 🫡

[swallowedabug]

KILLJOYS 5.01 (2019)

[piplupod]

feels like the isolation is a gushing wound and going to the centre is just a small bandage. i think perhaps i am not really ever going to feel okay unless something miraculous happens. i am retaining some semblance of sanity now that I'm leaving the house and socializing with non-family more than once a week, but i am still hurting more than I can really tolerate and I don't know what to do about it. there doesn't seem to be a fix for this that I can enact.

[feroluce]

Hello!! I came here because I was informed you had some Wriowinne headcanons and ramblings to share? Would it be alright for me to ask for some 👉👈 (or as much as you want to share please I'm desperate for food)

OH BOY DO I.

I feel you anon, I've been shipping them like...since the PV. So I've been stuck in utter absolute hell, getting nothing but father&daughter content from the fandom (shoutout to @hydrachea for being able to dual wield and letting me talk ship to her, light of my life fr weh). I'm hoping now that 4.1 has been out for a little bit, we'll get some more of them, though. I've dug through our dms, and found a hc that takes place after 4.1. So spoilers for that archon quest, but no leaks are involved!

Anyway, I love thinking about how close they cut it at the climax of 4.1, and the aftermath of it all.

Sigewinne somehow finding out what happened down there at the bottom of Meropide while she was evacuating the inmates, and like. She knows what the stakes were. The Primordial Seawater could not be allowed to rise. Clorinde made the right decision in shooting the gate lock. Even if it had killed Wriothesley, it still would have been the right decision.

That doesn't mean it's not a bitter pill to swallow.

Sigewinne can usually put it out of mind during the day, especially when she's busy treating patients, but it's harder when she's asleep. She dreams of the evacuation, and the alarm blaring, and waiting and waiting and waiting, and Clorinde walking past, alone, with her head down and her fists shaking, until Neuvilette finally approaches. Wriothesley isn't with him.

And Neuvilette's face doesn't really show much. It never does. But Sigewinne is close enough to the surface that she can hear the absolute downpour raging outside as Neuvilette tells her that he's sorry, he's so so sorry, and he gives her a gray and black and red coat, so soaked through with Primordial Seawater that he'd been afraid to let anyone else touch it, and the fur collar is matted and wet against Sigewinne's face when she clutches it close-

Sigewinne jolts awake, grasping at whatever is in her reach, which just happens to include Wriothesley's arm. His eyes almost immediately fly open, slurring out a mix of what's goin' on and what's wrong, and then a do we need to evacuate and poor Sigewinne, she feels awful. He hasn't been sleeping as well since the almost-flood, every little sound wakes him up now.

(There are nights where she'll wake up alone, and if she goes looking, she'll find Wriothesley, still in his sleep clothes and looking exhausted, down under their secret passage and staring at Neuvilette's seal over the sluice gate. Like he's keeping watch over it, or just daring it to try and do something.

Whenever she finds him like this, Sigewinne tells him to come on, come back to bed, and he'll keep his eye on it until the last possible second, but generally Wriothesley comes when called, and he'll let her lead him away. On his worse nights, he'll tell her to go back without him, he can't sleep anyway, he's going to stay down here for just a little while longer. He'll be back later. And she does occasionally go back to bed, but most of the time she stays, because she doesn't like the idea of him alone down there. Sigewinne will tuck herself into his side, or she'll get him to relax his guard just enough to lay with his head in her lap, and they'll stay there like that until Wriothesley finally decides he can bear to leave it alone and go back to bed with her.)

So with all that in mind, when she accidentally wakes him up, Sigewinne quickly gets her breathing back under control and pets his hair until he relaxes again. She tells him it's fine, everything is ok. Meropide is safe. Their home and everyone in it is safe. Go back to sleep. He needs his rest if he's going to go up to the overworld for supplies in the morning. She'll go sleep in the infirmary, she just had a nightmare, is all (the truth), it was nothing, she barely even remembers it anymore (a lie).

Sigewinne doesn't even make it out of bed, though, because when she tries to go, she finds her wrist suddenly caught. She turns back and Wriothesley is squinting up at her face, human night vision isn't nearly as good as a Mélusine's. They sit there like that for a moment, until she can see through the expression on his face that he's come to some sort of decision. Wriothesley pulls her back in and Sigewinne lets him, lets him rearrange them into something more comfortable. It's easy to give up when it's him, she didn't truly want to leave anyway. By the time he makes a satisfied little huff into her hair, Sigewinne is tucked under his chin, her face against his chest, one arm wrapped around her to keep her there. She pats his side and tells him ok, ok, she gets it. She won't go anywhere.

Wriothesley buries his face in her hair and sighs at that, something deeper and more content that hilariously reminds Sigewinne of a dog asleep on the floor. "Good." Wriothesley sounds like he's already half-asleep again. His arm still tightens around her waist though, just to make a point. "How could I sleep, when I know you're off somewhere crying alone?"

Sigewinne touches her cheek, and sure enough, it's wet? She has tear tracks. No wonder Wriothesley had been staring at her so hard. She hadn't even realized. And she opens her mouth to protest because she wasn't crying, some tears in her sleep doesn't count, but. Wriothesley is already asleep again, breathing slow and deep and even, and his arm is heavy and warm around her, and his sleep shirt is soft and comfortable against her face, not at all like the fur-collared coat in her dreams.

Sigewinne gives in again, curls into all that warmth and wraps herself up in it, until it lulls her back to sleep.

[rapidhighway]

i love hurt/comfort but i fucking hate hurt/comfort so bad stop doing the hurt comfort template i beg of you i am begging please pause for ten seconds and think if he would actually say that and do that i promise you can write satisfying hurt/comfort and have everyone be in character and not "character A" and "character B" template screenshot you found on pinterest

[factorialsotherfandoms]

In The Valley

TW: discussion of self-harm, reckless behaviour, various angsty discussions, Forever appears for a bit in the middle

Cellbit runs through the streets, the undead giving chase. Unthinking as they are it does not matter if he twists and turns, still they chase. Clawed nails catch on his arm, teeth shortly following; he reaches out with his mind, grasping the small spark of life in the zombie and crushing it between metaphorical teeth. It is not as satisfying as an actual bite, but he snarls as he twists the aether around it nonetheless.

The zombie collapses. Cellbit feels his energy drain further, and keeps on running.

Somewhere, something, if he can just find... He doesn't know, he has no idea, just the certainty that if he stops he dies.

If he dies, he never learns if his best friend survived. He never finds out if he was good enough.

That is enough to spark him into further action; he pulls a long dead radio from his pocket, desperately jamming the batteries in and out until it sparks to life. He has no idea how far they are, no idea what they are doing, or even if the message will send. He knew he should have changed the batteries months ago, but things happened, and stuff occurred, and now...

He preset the radio to their old unit's wavelength, and prerecorded it with a message. He does not know what frequency Forever now uses, but it is all that he has.

Cellbit has no idea if any of them are even alive, if the aliens have caught them or worse has occured. The drops he leave... They will never be found, not before he is torn limb from limb and dies. He has no way better to contact Forever, no idea if Felps lives, and Tazercraft vanished from the face of the earth.

Screaming in frustration he jams the batteries in again.

The screams draw more zombies, but the radio sparks to life.

It lights up just long enough for Cellbit to the button and a light to go on, but blinking a few times before dying again.

Cellbit keeps running.

He tries again.

Swearing and cursing and desperate he keeps trying to make the radio work, far beyond his skillset but all that he has. In his distraction, however, he does not see the dead end.

Not until the wall is in his face, and the zombies are at his back.

He takes one breath, and a second.

This is it, then.

Ten years undercover, twelve of trying to do good, only for it to end like this. The cannibal, alone and friendless at the last, torn limb from limb and feasted upon by that which was once human.

It's fine, though, was Cellbit ever really a person? It was nice pretending, while it lasted, those few years of tricking himself into thinking he was capable of change, capable of loving and being loved.

He should have known that goodness has no place for people like him.

Cellbit reaches out again, pushing himself to exhaustion and beyond. He might be about to die, and his attempts to call help have been thwarted by broken technology, but he refuses to merely give in.

A Child of the War, Cellbit does not know the meaning of giving in.

He thinks of his mentor from his earliest memories, he thinks of Pac and Mike and Forever and Guapito, and he thinks most of all of Felps. He draws them to mind, pulls strength into his soul, bolsters himself as best he can. No idea if they live, if they died, if they turned traitor or stayed true. Still he thinks on them as he remembers them, and reinforces his soul with love.

No weapons, no armour, nowhere to run and nowhere to escape, nothing but his clothes, his mind, his soul, a dead end, and three hordes of zombies closing in.

Cellbit feeds his soul with the life force of zombies and with love, pouring his hopes and dreams and everything he could have been into it. Red spirals out, leaking into the floor, forming a cloud of haze and dust. Zombies drop dead as they touch it, and yet still they come; it surrounds Cellbit in a small arc, keeping the undead away but draining him second by second by second.

It is too late.

Exhausted, desperate, weak - no matter what he tries to drag up from the depths of his tortured soul, Cellbit cannot hold it forever.

Still he tries, as long as he can, trapped and alone but refusing to let them win.

What a death, to be eaten alive.

At least if he burns his soul out first, he will not be conscious to feel it.

He holds until his vision blurs, zombies scrambling over one another's corpses to reach him.

He holds until his vision blackens, everything closing in.

He holds until his body crumbles, fallen and unaware in the dust and the grime.

---

Cellbit wakes up neither alone nor with a zombie, but rather with someone warm pressed into his side. Hair brushes against his cheek where they have pressed their face into his neck, and arms are wrapped around his chest.

His body wants to stay sleeping, his soul screaming with exhaustion, but...

Bed beneath him, pain, warmth, a human being at his side.

He needs to be awake, to assess, to find out what is happening here.

Dragging himself awake is like trawling through old treacle; not just though sludge, but with sugar in there crystals too. His eyes are heavy and his body is wrong, but he /needs/ to know.

The hair on his cheek is dark, and tightly curled. He... knows it.

"... Felps?" he asks.

Somewhere above he hears a muttered 'of fucking course', but he zones it out. Whomever it is is unimportant as Felps slowly untangles himself, and sits up.

He does not go far, just enough that they can make eye contact. Felps smiles with water eyes, and calls him "Cellbinho."

It feels like a dream. It has to be a dream, or a dying hallucination; the Felps before him looks not a day older than last they met, the only mark of ten years being exhaustion beneath his eyes, and that his hair has grown back.

Or maybe this is death, and Cellbit dragged Felps to hell with him.

Cellbit does not say anything else, he dares not. He barely dares to breathe at the sight before him, something worthy and that he condemned all the same.

But Felps does move. His fingers are thinner - frailer - than Cellbit remembers, but they grab at his cheeks, manipulating his face as Felps checks on him just like every other time he has been hurt.

"Are you okay?" Cellbit asks him, because of everything... Of everything in the world, what matters most is if Felps is okay. If... This Felps cannot be real, but maybe he can answer it anyway. "Did they find you? Did- Did you escape? Please, you're not dead - you can't be dead, I promised-"

He cuts himself off before a sob can escape him.

Felps' eyebrows twitch ever so slightly, and he glances to the side. It only lasts a fraction of a second, though, before he picks up one of Cellbit's hands, and places it to his cheek.

"I'm here," is what Felps answers, face shifting to a smile. "How would I be here if they hadn't?"

The cheek is cooler than it should be. Not corpse-cold - more like he had just fetched something from a walk-in freezer - but cold.

It does a little to discredit the dead idea, but not much.

"See, Cellbo?" a different voice cuts in, one also familiar; Forever, looking every bit the extra ten years older, perhaps even more, drops himself next to Felps on the bed. "I can be trusted with some things!"

Cellbit does not quite have time to process any thoughts before Forever is insisting on helping him sit up, pushing pillows around as support. It probably is not needed, not entirely, but his exhausted muscles appreciate the break.

And he looks up from Forever to see Pac and Mike, sat watching him. Pac notices and grins at him, but the tears drip heavily down his cheeks, carving paths in the dust on his face.

"Why didn't you call us sooner?" Forever asks, face ever shifting between intensities. "We would have come."

"Would you?" slips out. He doesn't mean to say it - he remembers just enough to know he is not supposed to question their loyalty no matter how strange it may appear - but he did think it.

He damned himself. Why would they - why did they - come for him?

Cellbit manages not to ask that one.

In response Forever makes a wounded sound, flinching a little at the question. Cellbit's heart curls up, to know that some of the first words he has said to his family in ten years caused that response.

It's Pac who answers "yes", with Mike humming in agreement. The two shift in unison. Mike says "bro, I thought this was a trap and I still came for you" and Pac continues "nothing could have stopped us from trying" their words running into a single sentence.

Nothing? Cellbit doubts that. He wonders why they even came, with ten years to break the dependency and tooth-shaped scars in Pac's flesh.

But he does not have time to think more, because Felps tilts his head with a slightly awkward smile. "Nobody would let me," he says. "But, I would have found a way, even if they refused to help."

What could Felps have done, if he was still frozen? If Cellbit... If nobody had answered Cellbit's desperate call to save his friend, too deep in the Federation to do anything with the information he had found?

Would there have been consequences?

And Cellbit thinks of thin fingers and cold cheeks, of an unaged face and the word 'stasis' slipping between the redactions on Felps' file. He repeats to himself Felps' words, about not being allowed to go. Now that he thinks about it, the man never answered if he was okay, did he?

... He was too slow, wasn't he?

Cellbit was too slow, and Felps has suffered for it.

Anger burns up in Cellbit's throat, fury reborn at the realisation. He has never not been angry with the Federation, but there is a difference between the simmering and the overflowing. He needs to destroy them, to rip them apart - every last one - to paint their white halls in their blood and feast upon their entrails.

He needs to tear himself apart, to punish himself, to create even tougher scar tissue so he can push past and never fail again. Because he has, and he did, and only in fire can a weapon be reforged, and only on a grindstone can a dulled blade be sharpened.

But the Federation are not here, and there are four people here who will not let him hurt himself; all he can do is reach out, and pull Felps tightly against his chest.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."

He thinks Felps must hear, or at least feel the quiet tears in his hair, because Felps' arms do not just loop around Cellbit, but squeeze him tightly in reply.

If anyone else hears, Cellbit is unsure. They don't react, though, or at least not that he sees; the three let them have a few moments, letting Cellbit cry into Felps' hair, and Felps cry into Cellbit's chest.

Eventually, however, Forever interrupts them. He does it by hugging them both, but also tapping Cellbit's shoulder as he does.

"I've got to go," he says. "You'll be okay? Our idiots will look after you."

It takes Cellbit longer to remember that Forever runs a rebellion and so of course is busy than it does for his heart to curl. Still, he clings onto Felps - the one he really needs - and nods.

"I'll be in my office if you need me," Forever replies. "The others are waiting in the crew quarters, if you want to end a tour there?"

He hesitates, eyes lingering on Cellbit momentarily, before he disappears on hurried feet, a radio already in hand.

There is a void left on the bed, one quickly filled by Pac and Mike scrambling over. The two are a chaos of limbs, but eventually resolve into Mike sat on the opposite side of the bed to Felps, and Pac perched over his legs.

"Do you hurt?" Mike asks.

That it is Mike of all people who asks...

Cellbit considers the question. He aches, yes, but not so much hurt - even where he was bitten, some sort of numbing cream seems to have been applied.

"I'm fine," he therefore answers.

"Good. I can do this then."

A second later there is a sting across his face, and an offended call of "Mike!" from Pac. Cellbit puts a hand to his cheek, right where Mike had just slapped him. He... probably deserved that, dragging them out all the way to Canada just because he was too incompetent to properly escape once his cover was blown.

Felps, having shifted in Cellbit's hold to watch, is laughing. Cellbit had forgotten just how dear his laugh was to him.

Seconds later, Mike wraps Cellbit in a hug, Felps scooped in too.

"You scared me, asshole. Ten years. Ten fucking /years/, Cellbo; we thought you were /dead/."

And... /Oh/.

Mike cares.

Cellbit... Cellbit deserved the slap, he knows that.

He doesn't deserve Mike's worry, though, not after he was the cause, not after everything he has done. He has never been worthy of the worry, but here it is.

"You could have asked us," Pac says, only doubling the pain in Cellbit's heart as he is looked at like he is worth something. "You had our details. We would have come. We always come, you idiot."

"I couldn't risk my cover," he replies. "I couldn't risk it. I had to-"

"Before, years ago," it's Mike, this time, and then Pac who continues. "When everything burnt" and together they say "You knew where we were, how to contact us; we would have come with you."

"You didn't have to go alone, you idiot," Pac finishes, at exactly the same time that Mike says "you could have at least said you survived, bro."

Cellbit thinks of Cucurucho's claws, and knows he would do /anything/ to keep his family far, far from them. Asking was not an option, not with how dangerous it was - he would never have risked them, not just to save himself a little heartache. They had each other; what did they need him for? And, what was saving Felps, what was uncovering the information to damn the Federation with, if the cost was more of his family?

The others, sure, but his family?

Felps is worth the world, but Pac and Mike and Forever are part of /Cellbit/'s world.

Mike grabs Pac's arm, pulling him into the hug. The patches of medical gown beneath their eyes are all, suspiciously, wet.

"We missed you," Felps says. "I missed you."

"You're safe now," says Pac. "We won't let them hurt you."

That's his line. That should be his line; they are criminals, yes, but he is the murderer, the bloodstained, the cannibal and the demon. It should be him who throws himself between them and the blade - something he has not been here to do.

Because while Felps looks like a slightly frailer man who disappeared ten years ago, the other three... all of their faces carry new scars. And all four of them are worn in a way Cellbit is sure is reflected on his face, but that he just wanted to save them from.

The Federation will burn, for daring to touch them - for the burn scars all across Pac's face, and the scratches littering Mike's skin. Forever's scars were more faded, but there certainly were a few.

For a while he drinks the three of them in, absorbs the feeling of knowing His People are safe again. He never wants to let go, except that he knows that he must. So many people, so much touch... Eventually his skin itches, and he has to push them away.

He tries to ignore the expressions they give him, and cannot ignore the tears - he wipes each of their cheeks in turn, and their hands wipe away his tears too.

"... A tour was mentioned?" he offers them, the best he can give that isn't begging them to understand, to never leave him.

The trio all perk up.

"Yeah about that," Mike's grin is a little dangerous. "Why /does/ Roier call you Gatinho?"

Pac elbows Mike, but there's also something terrifying in his eyes, "and you know Bad? BadBoyHalo? What a small world! There's even a lady claiming to be your sister! Why didn't you tell us?"

"Wait, I have a sister?!"

[pixelatedraindrops]

KokoWendy Alternate-Canon Scenario

A little dialogue-style skit event I made based on this edit I did days ago. This would happen after the two of them part ways with Halara in Chapter 4 before going off on their own.

Yuma gets tired while walking the city with Kurumi and collapses from exhaustion, resulting in a fever. Causing Kurumi to take him back to a safe place and look after him 🌡️💕

Skit Below (Minor spoilers for Chapters 3 and 4)

~

The detective and informant go around Kamasaki gathering info. Kurumi talking to Yuma about the hidden lab, Yuma is dazed and not listening.

Yuma collapses

Kurumi leans down and puts her hand to his forehead

Kurumi Stands Back Up

Halara suddenly appears from elsewhere in front of them both

The three safely return to the agency's submarine. Halara leaves the two to go back to looking for the abandoned village.

Yuma is out of his raincoat, wrapped in a blanket sitting on the checkered sofa. He wakes up to find Kurumi sitting right beside him. The two of them are alone.

These two are so cute! God I love them so much.

Kokowendy my beloved💕 They deserve the world.

Shinigami's not present here because she got mad and disappeared... x'D She would LMAO. (besides Yuma needs some peace and quiet)

And Yakou reluctantly leaves to go get medicine. Telling Kurumi to stay and watch over him. (he knows deep down he likes her >w<)

I love putting my ideas into the canon order of the game in between events. This of course is a different route from what happened in my sickfic. This one's purpose is just to fangirl over my ship 🥰💊

[slytheringlambert91]

New WIP

...I feel bad about this one.

In my defence, my beta reader wasn't taking care of herself so I'm getting revenge.

Title: The Tragic Demise of Damian Wayne

It's exactly what it sounds like and I apologize in advance xD