#neah being soft will be the death of me

[complures-aspiceres-archived]

@illuxions said;  🖐--?

SEND 🖐 FOR MY MUSE TO TAKE YOUR MUSE’S HAND AND PUT IT ON THEIR BODY

      Breathing is even and slow as he basks in her presence, her frame nestled between his legs and his back kissing the chilled surface of a wooden wall through thick fabric. Her visit would not ( could not ) last long, but Neah intended to enjoy it as long as he could. Golden orbs flick down to gaze at her, attention loosely on a book in her lap before she meets his gaze. ( She must have felt him looking. )

      Awareness had struck him upon their first reunion that she did not often look him in the face anymore. She could not fully separate the appearance of Allen from his reemergence yet. A soft breath leaves his lips as gloved hands gentle take hold of her own, guiding them up to his face even as the book quietly thumps closed.

      Slender fingers connect with pale skin as his gentle gaze bores down upon her, a lingering sadness tucked away beyond brilliant gold.

       “Won’t you look at me?”

      He can recall the glistening of tears in her eyes, but he stills presses on.

      “It’s me, Road. Neah.”

[dgmagines]

Since it's focus week this month, I'll be a bit more specific... I hope this is okay! ; ᴗ ; 🌷 I'd love a little scenario (or just headcanons, up to your preference) about Mana's reaction, when Neah brings his (future) fem!s/o to their hideout for the first time (when they are on the run). He only met her by accident, but she can help his twin regarding his weak health issues with home remedies, since medicine is expensive and they're probably broke?? Lol! Hopefully this makes sense! ; ^ ; ♡ 🌷

Wew this got?? way longer than it was supposed to /laughs/ gonna put it under read more but I hope you enjoy tulip non!! q w q I know I enjoyed writing this one /laughs

Also! Writing this in Mana’s POV so his dialogue will be the only one that’s in bold :3c Enjoy!

It’s been a couple hours since brother went out.

Looking out the window, I could see that the sun was already setting and I couldn’t help the heavy sigh that escaped my lips. It’ll be cold soon; I wonder if Neah’s in trouble… He knows I get cold easily, especially when I’m sick… He wouldn’t… leave me… would he?

Just as I started doubting myself, the door of the small room we’d managed to rent got kicked open – shocking me enough that I was already struggling to stand on my feet with the worse possible scenarios already playing in my head. Was it the Black Order? Have the exorcists finally found out who were are?? Or could it be- the Noahs?? Oh god what do I do-

“Woah, hey, Mana! You shouldn’t stand up so soon, you’re still weak aren’t cha?” Neah’s voice echoed in the tiny room and I was instantly filled with relief; my brother’s okay! He’s not lying dead in an alley somewhere! I could feel a tired smile making its way to my face, seeing my brother’s worried expression as he struggled to take off his boots with arms full of stuff.

What were those for?

Wait- more importantly-

“Brother, are you being followed?” I asked, already cautiously sitting back on the bed as I stared at the doorway. I heard Neah humming curiously, the head of (h/c) hair poking up behind his shoulder. Wide (e/c) eyes filled with curiousity stared – or, at least, tried to stare- at me; they probably couldn’t even see me with how their head barely passed above my brother’s shoulder.

 How… short is this person?

 “Oh, her?” Neah finally looked up from his struggle with his shoes, said article already on the floor in a messy heap. He gave a light chuckle as he entered the room, moving to place the things in his hand on the kitchen counter. With him out of the way, I could finally see the surprised (h/c) that was behind him – staring at me with her mouth open in a silent gasp.

Her eyes roamed around my face – or? At least I think my face? – before she locked eyes with me; for a moment, I thought I saw the night sky reflected in her irises – along with tinges of worry and excitement. Before I could stare any further or say anything else, she tore her gaze away and huffed, calling for my brother by name.

“Neah! You didn’t tell me your brother was cute!” 

C… cute…?

Even Neah, as I glanced back towards him, seemed to be stumped for a moment – his cheeks was getting redder and redder as the second passed! Is he? Embarrased? He narrowed his eyes, making an odd noise that can only be described as a mixture of bewilderment and confusion.

Almost… almost like a goose noise if you listen hard enough…

“Why would that be relevant information?! I thought you said you would help me treat him, not marry him!” the (h/c) huffed, obviously not pleased by my brother’s response judging by her furrowed brows. She stomped one of her feet on the ground, cocking her wrist on her waist as she glared at him.

“I mean, of course! But it’d help to know my patient was a cutie yaknow! I could’ve brought him some flowers or something,” 

“Haaaahhh?!” between the incredulous expression my brother wore and the weird first-meeting encounter I’m having with this (h/c), I couldn’t help the soft laughter that escaped my throat, a hand moving automatically to cover my lips as I laughed.

God.

I haven’t laughed like this in so long-

- and then I started coughing. 

“Hey, easy now. Neah, fetch me a glass would you?” I didn’t know when they had moved but the next time I opened my eyes, the (H/c) was already inside the room – gently patting my back as my brother approached with a glass of water. My eyes lingered on her person – her clothing didn’t look like those of the villagers, and I don’t think we’ve seen her in the short time that we’ve been here. 

It’s a small town- it would be impossible to miss someone with such strange,,, clothing.

Could she be a shut in…?

“Hey!” I was slightly taken aback by her outburst, my eyes refocusing to her face. She was glaring at me, a pout on her lips and red on her cheeks as my brother wheezed himself to death in the background. I blinked, tilting my head in confusion. 

“What?”

“I’m not a shut in,” she grumbled, huffing slightly as she passed the glass of water towards me. That was when I realized I had spoken my thoughts out loud-  

How embarrassing….

Murmuring a small ‘thank you’, I took the glass of water from her hands and took a slow, long sip; trying to hide my growing embarrassment at the situation. I heard her sigh, shoulder dropping as she glared at her feet. I couldn’t tell what emotion she was feeling – it felt like there was too many on her face for me to pinpoint – but thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long before she started speaking.

“I’m a traveller. Just as you,” she turned to stare at me, a hint of a smile on her face. Instinctively, I glanced to see what Neah was doing and he was? Calmly sorting through the stuff they brought home? As if he felt my gaze, Neah lifted his head to grin at me, waving his hand as if shooing me away. 

He wanted me… to talk to her?

“Are you… a friend of my brother?” she blinked, smiling in amusement at my question and chuckling lightly into her hands. Huh. Same habit- 

“No, no. I’m definitely not a friend of him-“

“Hey!” Neah called out from the tiny kitchenette, seemingly upset at her words but both of us paid him no mind. Barely, I could see the younger pouting and shooting glares at our new (h/c) friend. 

“-He sorta just… followed me? From the marketplace?” she laughed, waving her hands in the air as if to dismiss the topic. 

“Told me you were sick so here I am,” she smiled, holding out her hand for a shake. 

“The name’s _______. Looks like you’re gonna be stuck with me for a while until you get better,” she grinned when I hesitantly took her hand. However friendly she seemed to be, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something…. Was off…

“Why are you helping us?” 

“Huh?” she stared, her blank expression not helping her case in the slightest. I leaned back, still staring at her with mild suspicion as if I didn’t just shake her hand ten seconds ago- didn’t people shake hands as a sign of trust? Or was that something else? Slowly, I carefully repeated my question – all while gauging her reaction.

Could she be an akuma?

Or a double agent from the order? 

Why was brother so trusting of her anyway?

I wanted to glance at him for answers but I knew I wouldn’t get any from him as long as she was in the room.

______ seemed to think of my question for a while, her eyes narrowing as she searched for an answer in her mind. Then, after what seemed like a long silence, she shrugged.

“I don’t know,”

“…. Huh?” she smiled at my blatant confusion, patting my shoulder as she stood from the bed. She moved towards the door, still talking with her back turned towards mine.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m helping random strangers at their request but… if I can help someone with what little power I have-” she paused in her steps, staring at her hands – was her hand shaking? Or am I just seeing things? The (h/c) closed her eyes and shook her head, her shoulders sagging with the breath she let out.

“-then that’d be nice, ya know?” turning towards me, she smiled – though this time, it didn’t quiet reach her eyes… 

“Besides! Neah told me we’re going the same way so it wouldn’t hurt to tag along, right? The more the merrier afterall!” she grinned, putting on her shoes and turning towards my brother. She began to rattle off about putting grinding up some herbs and putting them in my water – “make sure he drinks all of it! It tastes icky but it’ll help get rid of that nasty cold of his!” – and Neah nodded along cheerfully to her instructions.

At least if Neah was handling it, I wouldn’t get poisoned… right?

“I’m gonna go back to my room for the night,” she turned towards me again, a soft smile on her face. She reminded me… of mother…. 

“Good night, Mana,”

---

When ______ left and we were sure she wasn’t lurking around the room trying to eavesdrop on our conversation, I turned towards my brother who was glaring up at the ceiling.

“Why’d you do it?” I asked, obviously referring to the situation at hand. Neah sighed, tilting his head to the side as he brought a hand up to his neck, lightly scratching the back of his neck as he stared off into space in thought.

“She helped a man in the marketplace, alright? And I heard her speaking to one of the vendors about being a sort-of healer in practice or something,” he sighed, a hint of annoyance in his features as he leaned forward on the chair – head in his arms as he, no doubt, glared at his feet.

“We only need her for her medicinal skills… For you, Mana… then after that- she can leave,” Neah shook his head, growling aggressively for whatever thoughts that plagued his head.

“Did you tell her about how we’re being chased?” 

“She doesn’t need to know that…!” my brother snapped weakly, glaring at me as a permanent scowl set on his features. He groaned, once again messing his hair up with his hands as he glared at his feet.

“I don’t know… whatever…” he sighed heavily and all I could offer my little brother at the moment was the patting of the bed, a signal for him to come closer. He did as I asked, the chair scrapping against the wood as he pushed it back to walk towards me. Neah all but collapsed into my arms, burying his face in my chest as he closed his eyes. 

“I don’t know…” patting his back, I shifted so that I could be more comfortable. I know he was doing this for my sake and that he didn’t tell _____ because he feared she wouldn’t join us otherwise.

“It’s okay Neah… We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” a long stretch of silence passed and, just as I thought he was falling asleep, Neah murmured in my arms.

“But… there is no bridge….” 

Oh Neah.

[magicallygrimmwiccan]

I’ve Read This Script

Summary: It always ended the same way. He really should have learned better by now, but he hadn’t. 

Notes: For the @secretsanders​! Happy Holidays, @im-not-leaving-my-room-fuck-u​!! Hope you enjoy my present!!

Also, yes, I forgot to put in a German translation, I’m sorry. I’ll explain what was going on there at the end, okay? :))

Title from Cleopatra by the Lumineers. Fight me, it works perfectly for this fic. 

Can’t think of any trigger warnings... maybe betrayal? Mention of death (of old age)? Some non-descriptive blood? That’s all I can think of... let me know if you see something else! On with the story!

He swore to himself that he would never fall in love again, not after last time ended in disaster and the complete shattering of Logan's heart for the fifth time in his extremely lengthy life. He should have known better, he should have known that Declan would only end in heartbreak, yet he foolishly listened to his heart and trudged onwards, deeper and deeper into a relationship founded on lies. Logan sighed and rested his head on his arms, leaning forward until the ribs were digging into his marble countertop. Colours and scents and sounds pushes against the barriers of his mind, and Logan groaned as he realized what was happening. After decades of this curse, he still triggered it because he couldn't handle his silly, illogical feelings. Logan gritted his teeth and shook his head, attempting to clamp down on the leaking memories of half a century ago. He couldn't risk going under, he had work in only a couple hours, he couldn't do this…

His brain, however, would not listen to logic or to his  pleas. These memories were determined to be acknowledged, to be remembered, to be seen, and Logan could not stop it, quickly losing the fight to the swirling technicolour vortex from his limbic system. He spiraled down, down, past kisses and missions, past stargazing and dinners, past betrayals and flashes of silver, and landed at The Beginning.

Lauren Johnson walked down the sidewalk towards her work, hurrying to her destination. She had awoken extremely late that morning, and while her employer would surely be fine with just this one instance of tardiness, Lauren did not wish to push. She was so focussed on her goal that she did not notice the change in traffic until she was tackled to the ground just before a loud screech cut through the air. She managed to push the person off of her and look around, her breath freezing as she took in the destruction before her. A car was flipped on its roof, flames streaming from the shattered windows. People were screaming and running, and Lauren barely registered a cool hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” a smooth voice asked, the hand squeezing Lauren's shoulder as they spoke. She nodded, still rattled, and turned around to face the stranger who had saved her life. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in her savior, the most handsome man she’d clapped eyes on in this lifetime. Amber-gold eyes gleamed above a pair of dark sunglasses that rested on a sharp nose and high cheekbones. Sleek brown-blonde hair poked out from underneath his hat, and a sharp black and white suit accentuated his slim, perfectly proportioned and muscular figure. In short: Lauren was faced with an angel.

“Er… yes, I am alright, thanks to you,” Lauren finally murmured. The stranger grinned and pulled her up, brushed her off, and then pressed a slip of paper into her hand before pecking her on the cheek and bouncing off. Lauren stood there, dumbfounded, staring after the vanishing stranger who had saved her life. Finally, she shook himself out of her shock and started to sprint for work. She couldn’t be late.

Logan snapped out of his memories, heaving. He hadn’t remembered Declan before, and he’d forgotten how… charming he’d been. How wonderful those first few months had been. He’d forgotten the moonlit rendezvous, the fancy dinners, the kisses after Declan returned from missions… He’d forgotten all the good as soon as Declan stabbed him in the stomach for accidentally helping another spy agency. He’d barely had enough magic to transform, so heartbroken as he was pushed backwards off the roof, the last thing he saw before the Change being Declan’s amber-gold eyes, now cold and uncaring.

Logan forced himself to his feet. He needed to let go of those memories; they would only hurt more in the end. With that, Logan locked cool rain, searing adrenaline, and amber-gold eyes back inside a heavy iron-wrought box and locked it. He could not be distracted by these meaningless romantic notions anymore; he had work to do.

He managed to stave off the memories for another month, until… until a shy, anxious, darkly-dressed boy walked into Logan’s library, checked out a book of faerie tales, and smiled at Logan with a smile Logan hadn’t seen for 300 years. The last time he saw that smile, it was on the dying face of a young Prussian captain, slain by a rival in the halls of Sanssouci. Logan managed to hold on until the young man left, but the second his final black combat boot left, Logan sunk to the ground, breathing erratically. His coworkers were used to this and bundled him off to the Panic Corner to allow him to become lost in memories. Logan screwed his eyes shut, blushing at the feel of warm tears, and tried to stop the flood; he didn’t want to remember her, he didn’t want to go back there, he didn’t want his heart broken again-

Ludwig Amsel stepped into the large ballroom, eyes wide in shock. They had never been inside a room this large or extravagant before, and they were honestly a little nervous. So many people, so many new faces… Ludwig couldn’t handle this. They wanted to go home already. Ludwig was not looking where they were going, and they found themself crashing into another person.

“Ah, es tut mir leid! Bist du verletzt? Haben Sie noch einen Wunsch, Sir?” the person babbled, their high-pitched voice cutting through the fog in Ludwig’s head. Ludwig shook their head and faced the person, their heart hammering in their chest. Short black hair framed a delicate, pale face. Blue-violet eyes locked into Ludwig’s own crystal orbs, and a deep flush rose on the soldier’s cheeks (for that was what he was, Ludwig realized, a soldier).

“Nein, mir geht es gut. Ich bitte vielmals um Verzeihung… wie heißen Sie?” Ludwig asked, extending their hand for a handshake. The soldier snapped to attention, flustered.

“Ähm… ich heiße Hauptmann Viktor Hinterberg. Und Sie?” the captain answered, voice high and shaky. Ludwig nodded and shook the hand, smiling bashfully.

“Ich heiße Ludwig Amsel. Nett es Sie kennen zu lernen, Hauptmann Hinterberg,” Ludwig returned, slowly releasing Viktor’s hand. Viktor flushed and stammered, causing Ludwig to smirk at the adorableness.

“Ich… ich muss gehe. Schönen Feierabend, Herr Amsel.” With that, Viktor walked away, leaving Ludwig alone in the centre of a crowded room.

Logan snapped out of the memory, still crying. His coworker Neah knelt down, large amber-gold eyes (so much like Declan’s, yet not at all like his) boring deep into his soul.

“Which one?” they whispered, gently squeezing his shoulder in a show of support. Logan sniffled, wiping his eyes with his Doctor Who scarf that Thomas had gotten him for Christmas only a few days ago.

“... Viktoria…” he whispered. Neah nodded and sat back, smiling softly.

“The Evans boy, yeah?” He nodded, and Neah nodded back again. “Do you believe that reincarnation is possible?”

“Of course I do,” Logan mumbled. “How could I not, after everything I’ve seen?” Neah shrugged and passed him a Rubik's cube to take his mind off of things and began to speak.

“Could you tell me about Viktoria? Maybe that would help. I know telling people about Laurel helped after… that, so maybe this could help you?” Logan pondered for a second before shaking his head. He wanted to talk about Vik, truly he did, but how was he supposed to tell Neah about all the little trysts as even the Prussian king supported them and gave them a room and privacy at his balls? How was he supposed to explain the sunshine in his stomach every time he saw Viktor’s smile? How was he supposed to explain the feeling of pure love and trust that exploded out of him when Viktor revealed that she was in fact Viktoria, and Ludwig had been allowed to reveal that he was in fact Louisa, but they had despised both names equally? How was he supposed to describe the feeling of pure… death, that came when Viktoria was stabbed through the heart by a fellow captain, jealous of all the attention Viktoria was receiving from Frederick? How in the world was he to speak about the cold, empty, hollow feeling of wrath as Frederick had the captain executed and Ludwig watched? It all still hurt too much to recall, let alone recount to another person.

Neah nodded before standing up. “When you’re ready, come out, okay?” and left him alone to hug the black cat plushie with the mismatched yes that reminded him so much of Viktoria’s sparkling green and brown eyes that if Logan didn’t believe in human reincarnation, he’d believe Viktoria had become this cat that he hugged and cried into on a weekly basis. There was… an odd sense of comfort in that thought, no matter how illogical and false it was.

The next flashback occured only two weeks after the Viktoria one, this time while Logan was out getting coffee with another coworker, Sascha. He walked up to the counter to order his coffee (black, three sugars, no cream), when the sight of the barista caused him to freeze. The soft blonde curls, the clear blue eyes, the freckles, the soft sunshine smile, everything pointed to her and Logan just froze. Sascha noticed, grabbed both their coffees, payed the barista, and quickly walked Logan out to his car, muttering assurances and soothing platitudes until Logan was safely in the car and the coffees were safely out of his reach.

“Okay, Logan, talk to me, what’s going on?” Sascha requested, pushing his sunglasses onto his head so he could look Logan straight (ha) in the eyes.

“B… barista… Pénélope…” he stammered. Sascha nodded in understanding and took Logan’s hands into his own, rubbing his fingers along the knuckles soothingly.

“Just let it all out, Logan, it’s okay,” Sascha soothed. Logan sucked in a breath and tried to stop this, but it was too late and he was yanked under, the last thing he registered in the present being Sascha turning the keys to start the car.

Léone LeClair glanced up as the bell above her shop door tinkled. “Good morning! What can I get you?” she called, turning to face the new customer. Her next question died in her throat as the stranger gave her a bright, sunny smile unlike any that Léone had seen before.

“Good morning! Could I take six loaves of bread, some eggs, and a bit of milk?” the stranger asked, blonde curls falling into her crystal blue eyes. Léone snapped herself out of her stupor and grabbed the items the beautiful girl requested, smiling awkwardly.

“Of course.” They exchanged payments, and the stranger left, leaving Léone feeling incredibly sad and lonely.

The stranger kept coming back, however. She kept coming back to buy more bread, more eggs, more milk. She came to buy butter and cheese and pastries of all kinds. Eventually, Léone learned her name. Pénélope Bisset, a weaver in the next town over who only came here because the products were cheaper and the people nicer, in her opinion. Léone didn’t argue with her.

It was about a year after Léone first met Pénélope when Pénélope asked the question.

“Léone, I love you. You are so kind and sweet and just… I love you. But… I don’t know how to be with you.” Léone’s heart froze in her chest. Pénélope felt the same way as she. They… they had a chance.

“Pénélope, I must confess that… I also love you,” Léone murmured. She flushed, shifting in discomfort, as she waiting for Pénélope’s response. Pénélope clapped her hands together, grinning.

“Oh, Léone! Thank you! I… I’m so glad!” Pénélope cried, dancing around. She paused soon, though, her smile dropping. “What… what are we going to do?” Léone thought for a moment before slamming her fist into her open palm.

“We run. We run to another part of the land and live our lives alone out there.” Pénélope pondered this idea for a moment before agreeing, and Léone’s heart fluttered. She loved this wonderful beam of sunshine more than she could ever quantify.

So, without even another thought, both packed a couple bags of clothing, food, and money and ran. They ran to the edge of the countryside, bought goats along the way, and settled down, telling everyone nearby that they were sisters to avoid being murdered. They raised their goats, and three orphaned children, and finally, finally, after 40 long years, Pénélope died, breaking Léone’s heart for the second time in her life. She held her wife’s body and cried, crying even harder when she realized that Pénélope’s sunshine had left, never to face her again.

Logan snapped back to the present, heavy tears fogging his glasses and dripping down onto his knees. He startled as he registered a soft, warm blanket wrapped around him and his coffee shoved into his hands.

“Logan? You good? Do you need anything else?” Sascha whispered. Logan shook his head, and Sascha nodded. After a few minutes, Sascha murmured: “... Want to talk?” and Logan shook his head again. A few more minutes of awkward silence, and then: “... Want to go home?”

“Yes please,” Logan whispered. Sascha yanked out his phone, fired off a quick text (most likely to Thomas), and then put the car back in gear to drive Logan home.

“Mi corazón, come here! I have something to ask you!” Prince Raúl called, his deep, smooth voice bubbling with excitement. Prince León poked his head into the room, confusion and concern stirring in his mocha eyes.

“Yes? What is it?” León answered, his voice high. Raúl spun to give him a large smile and presented a gleaming gold and ruby ring.

“We’re getting married! Well, in secret, but we’re still getting married! Isn’t this wonderful?” León’s eyes widened and tears bubbled in them. He was… getting married? To the love of his life?

“Of course! Yes!” León yelped, throwing himself into Raúl’s arms, crying and laughing at the same time. Raúl was just as much of a mess, grabbing León and spinning him around before pulling him into a passionate kiss. León giggled and smiled into the kiss as Raúl slipped the ring onto his finger. For just one moment, all was peaceful and happy with the two princes.

Logan snapped back to awareness, sobbing his eyes out. “Oh, sweetie, shh, shh, it’s okay,” a voice was soothing him. Thomas. That was Thomas. His employer. “Logan, I’m not mad, I need you to breathe with me.”

Logan tried, he really did, but nothing was working. Raúl had been the beginning of the end, the last time he was uncursed, the last time he was human.

A small scuffle, and then a new, cool presence was in front of him, telling him to breathe. He shook his head because he couldn’t, he was sorry but he couldn’t, he was too lost…

“Ludwig Amsel, I need you to look at me right this instant,” a soft voice firmly stated, cutting through the mess that was Logan’s thoughts. Logan’s breathing and heart froze. Only… only one person should still know that name; himself. So how… who… what?

“Logan, it’s Viktor. Viktoria. I need you to breathe with me,” the soft voice continued. Logan managed to finally suck air into his lungs, and the voice (Viktoria, but no, she was dead) cheered him on and praised him. Logan finally, finally managed to get his breathing back to normal, and he finally glanced up, only to meet one brown and one green eye, the same eyes of Viktoria.

“Logan. My name is Virgil, but you used to know me as Viktoria. I’m here, darling, and I need you to calm down so we can talk.” Logan nodded, still confused. How did Vik-Virgil know who they used to be?

Virgil pulled Logan to his feet, giving him that small shaky smile. “Thomas told me everything,” Virgil murmured. Logan swallowed. How had Thomas…

“I met the witch who cursed you, Logan. They feel sorry for what they did, and they decided to help me help you break it,” Thomas explained quickly, arms crossed over his chest as a warm smile dimpled his cheeks. “So, I reached out to the three who mattered, found out they all lived here, and told them everything.”

Logan blinked, surprised. The witch… was… sorry? “And Patton- you’d know him as Pénélope- and I are good friends, so I told him. He’s running to get you some tea; Sascha told us you like tea. So, Patton and I are friends, and Roman is Patton’s boyfriend- you’d know Roman as Raúl I believe?- so he’s with Patton getting tea. And I’m here to calm you down.” Virgil rattled off nervously.

“Ah… my… apologies for freaking out…” Logan mumbled.

“Hey, hey, no. No need. You’ve been through a lot, Logan, and no one is going to fault you for some breakdowns,” Virgil cut in, eyes fierce yet soft. Logan bit his lip. He didn’t believe him.

“Logan. Thomas has closed the place, so we’re going to sit down when Patt and Princey get back and talk this all out, okay L?” Logan nodded, and Virgil nodded before stepping back. “Now,” Virgil continued, arching a dark eyebrow. “Tell me about yourself?”

Notes: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Okay, so, the conversation was basically: Virgil apologizing to Logan after bumping into him and asking if he could do anything. Logan says that he’s fine and then asks for Virgil’s name. Virgil gives his name, Logan gives his, and then Virgil runs off in Gay Panic.

Hope you liked it! Happy New Year everyone!

[nea-writes]

pǝʇɹǝʌuᴉ

Patema Inverted AU with Past!Allen/Neah. They’ve discovered each other, but they want to go farther, higher - into the skies. Together, they just might.

Companion art piece by @peadles

[pǝʇɹǝʌuᴉ]

Keep your eyes on the ground.

One of their thousand laws, rules, codes, and the one he most frequently broke.

Neah was always looking at the sky.

It wasn’t for anything romantic or mystical, or even something to sigh at. He just liked the sun on his face, the wind in his hair, the smell of rain on clouds hanging heavy. The taste of what freedom might be like.

Besides, it was ridiculous to fear something as redundant as the sky. What was it going to do, rain on them?

And furthermore, the sky had given him Allen.

He rubbed his thumb over his lip, dragging away the indulgent smiled that formed. Allen only gave him a curious look, tucking his hair back before bending to pour over their logistics again.

Sentimentality aside, Allen had paved the way for greater heights, figuratively and literally. With their mutual discovery of the Inverted came the desire to go further, higher, beyond the horizon and past the stars in the sky. With Allen, Neah found purpose.

He sat on top two crates he’d stacked to be closer to the ceiling, papers, pencils, and countless calculations littered around him on the floor. Allen had their journal pinned under several paperweights he’d lifted from his home, and despite the ache in his neck from too many hours spent looking up, Neah watched as Allen diligently wrote the next entry.

It was not only a personal journey but an academic one as well - what they would do would make history. Neah didn’t particularly care about that. He just wanted to be in the sky, to touch the clouds that’d mist like rain over his hands. However, Allen wasn’t like him. There was kindness and compassion, not traits Neah necessarily lacked but ones he didn’t foster.

On the crates Neah was close enough that if Allen had been sitting instead of laying flat on his stomach, their faces would be parallel. As it was, it was only a few short feet to cross to push Allen’s glasses back up his nose.

He jumped, shocked, and then grinned. “I got distracted,” he said, waving towards the journal as he adjusted his glasses up with his other hand.

Unbidden, Neah smiled, rolling his eyes and leaning his weight back on his arms to prop himself up, scattering papers in the process. They fell in gentle wisps of air that filled the silence.

“I’m almost done,” Allen added, but Neah was already looking at the window and the sun descending towards that endless horizon. Allen’s hair fell over his shoulder as he followed Neah’s gaze, his next whispered words almost lost in that evening light spreading between them. “Already?”

“You spend so long stuck in those books,” Neah teased, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension there, “that you’d get day and night mixed up if it weren’t for me.”

Allen quietly scoffed, cupping his chin with his hand, eyes soft as they stared out the window. Neah wondered what it was like. To yearn for the sky and remain trapped.

He hopped off the crates, heedless of the pages that were crushed under his step. He strode towards the open door and glanced out, closing his eyes against the breeze that swept by, brushing his bangs back. When it eased he turned back towards Allen, grinning. “Come on!”

“And do what?” Allen demanded, pushing himself up to sit but already scowling. “Hang upside down until I get sick again? Or lose my glasses?”

“Come here, before it’s too late!” Neah insisted, and Allen sighed, striding over and hesitantly crouching at the end, fingers wrapping around the top of the ledge. Neah laughed as he reached up to pluck Allen’s glasses off, folding them closed and slipping them into a pocket. Allen playfully frowned at him, but quickly leaned back over, knuckles white with tension as he carefully gazed out.

Immediately his shoulders fell lax and his eyes softened, and Neah traced his stare until he met the sun dipping down over the horizon.

It left him dazed, eyes smarting, and he quickly looked away, futilely tracing the after-images dancing there. Still, the sun was warm on his skin and the wind gentle through his hair. It tugged on Allen’s, too, and he reached up to ghost his fingertips on the ends that drifted his way.

It caught Allen’s attention, and the pink that colored his cheeks then was amusing. His eyes flickered from Neah’s shoes, a tuft of grass at the base of the door, to a low hanging cloud, and back again, before settling in a shy smile directed Neah’s way.

Backlit by the setting sun, cheeks awash in pink, gray eyes soft-

Beautiful.

“Come on,” Neah said, hand held out.

“Come on… where?” Allen asked, glancing at Neah’s hand and then out at the field, knowing but still questioning it.

“Out here,” Neah replied, reaching to grasp one of Allen’s hands. He handed Allen’s glasses back with his free hand, and Allen nervously placed them back on. He hesitated only a moment longer, looking into the shed behind him before tentatively letting Neah pull him, latching onto his other hand immediately. Neah grinned, pleased, and stepped back, pulling Allen with him.

“Wait, wait wait wait-” Allen stuttered, feet scrabbling behind him as Neah tugged. “Give me a second-”

Neah laughed and pulled harder, grunting when Allen’s weight pulled at him fully as he fell into the sky. Allen suppressed a shocked squeak Neah still heard, making him laugh even more.

“Stop,” Allen grumbled, grip sure as unyielding stone, “laughing at me!” Each word was punctuated by a kick of Allen’s legs, jerked their joined arms.

“I can’t help it!” Neah said, grinning. “If you kick that much I might let go!”

“Don’t even joke,” Allen said, but Neah was already turning them to the sunset, and he could hear Allen’s quiet exhale as the light fell on his face. “Is it weird to say I miss the sun?”

Allen’s weight was a strain for Neah to keep anchored, and he hoped Allen didn’t notice the way his heels lifted. “Not at all,” he replied, glancing around for a place to hook himself to.

“We’ll be up there,” Allen said, voice as distant as those stars. “We’ll see the sun on the clouds, the stars at our fingertips.”

He was such a dreamer, Neah thought. It was a good foil to Neah’s pragmatism, and charming, but the stars were still too far away to reach. He really should’ve thought to install hooks into the ground so he could anchor himself there, his grip was getting looser, and Allen felt like he was getting heavier.

Maybe if he sat down his center of gravity would stabilize them? But he needed a way to pull himself down…

There, just a few feet away, was a rock. He could grip it with his feet and sit. Slowly he began to make his way over, Allen curiously shifting his fingers but not calling it to attention.

“One day everyone will be able to see this,” Allen continued, and Neah could almost see his starry-eyed look. “It’ll be normal, to feel the sun, the wind, the rain.”

“It already is,” Neah muttered, knowing it’d distract Allen further.

“For all of you it is!” Allen, voice shifting on just the edge of sharp. “But I want to share it with everyone!”

“And we will,” Neah said confidently, repressing his relieved sigh as he finally reached the rock. It was small, up to mid-calf, but it was enough to try to grip. All the moving had done was make his connection to the ground weaker. “We’re almost there.”

“The clouds are pink,” Allen said, words soft with awe. Neah knew the sight. He’d seen it rise and fall thousands of times, but in Allen’s voice was a new discovery, a new feeling, and Neah glanced up to see it.

The moment he did, he stumbled on the rock, and in his shock he let go.

Neah’s name wrenched from Allen’s voice in a terrified shout, and time slowed down as he looked up in horror.

Like a leaf caught in an unforgiving wind in the space of a mere second Allen fell away from him.

He gave a wordless shout and desperately jumped up, clasping arms with Allen and digging his fingers in so hard he tore at his nails with the brutality of it. Allen’s eyes were wide, shining with terror-stricken tears, and Neah could feel his own stinging in the corner of his eyes.

“Don’t let go!” Allen begged. “Don’t let go!”

“I won’t, I won’t!” Neah said, over and over, even as they slowly began to rise with the momentum of Allen’s fall. “I won’t let go!”

Allen’s tears rolled off his cheeks and fell on Neah’s, curving down his in a cold mimicry.

“Don’t let me fall,” Allen said, eyes trained on Neah’s, and Neah could only mouth the same words again.

It took a long time before the force of Allen’s descent stopped and Neah’s weight finally began to pull them back down. Still, it was long after the sun disappeared when his feet finally touched the ground again. Allen was struck silent, and Neah didn’t press, simply brought him back to the shed.

Inside Allen collapsed on the ceiling, forearms pressed flat against it and head bowed. Neah, too, sat with a fall onto the hard floor, drawing his knees up to rest his elbows there and cradle his face in his hands.

He’d been this close to losing Allen. Too close. The terror hadn’t abated, heart beating rapidly in his chest, and he couldn’t catch his breath.

It scared him more than he cared to admit.

When Allen spoke the moon had long since risen, and it startled Neah to hear his voice in the darkness. They hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on, even.

“Neah,” Allen said, and Neah looked up, meeting Allen’s eyes. His face was clear of any panic or fear, simply calm and firm, but it might have just been the night hiding his shaking shoulders.

“Thank you.”

Neah inhaled sharply, controlling his exhale and trying to do the same with the sharp anger that rose. Thank you? Neah didn’t deserve gratitude of all things! He’d nearly dropped Allen, nearly condemned him to a horrible death!

Allen shook his head, the soft sound of his hair swishing loud in that impenetrable silence. “Thank you. You didn’t let go, even if it meant being taken with me.”

Neah opened his mouth and couldn’t find the words to say. Instead, he stood and reached out, and Allen reached back, hands meeting and fingers intertwining, palms pressing together even as it bent his wrist back painfully. He wished he could bring him closer, reassure himself that he was safe, sound, here, but this was enough.

It was enough.

[pink-rea]

even in death

Ghost!Allen AU

Tags: Violence, Major Character Death, AU - Ghosts, Trans Allen Walker, POC Allen Walker

Summary

Allen struggles to his feet, feeling as if his body is moving through molasses. With a sharp tug he finally stands, feeling something break inside him, like a string being pulled taut before snapping completely.

The moon shines down on him, casting everything into shades of grey. The bamboo stalks stand silent and watchful around him, casting long shadows across the ground. Allen looks down at his hands. Or hand, to be more precise. Because his left arm is gone. Just... gone. And that's not the only thing that's strange. His hand is glowing with a soft green light, his whole body in fact.

And then he looks down and sees the face of his own dead body staring back at him.

.

night one ¤ powerless

.

Allen struggles to his feet, feeling as if his body was moving through molasses. With a sharp tug, he feels something break inside him, like a string that was suddenly pulled taut before snapping completely. He finally stands on his own two feet, looking up at the moon hanging high above him. The bamboo stalks around him stand as silent sentries, casting dark shadows across the ground.

What happened?

Tyki was here, and he… but I'm right here, so what…?

Could I have survived that?

Allen looks over at his left arm. And it's… it's gone. His left arm is gone. But that isn't the only thing thing that's strange.

Because Allen is glowing. Literally glowing. A soft green light surrounds him, shifting and changing like fire. And then Allen looks down and sees the face of his own dead body staring up at him, blue eyes glassy and vacant. Allen’s eyes widen and he steps back, out of his body.

“What…? What the...” Allen stares down at the body. It's… it's him. And it's definitely dead. He looks down at his hands. His glowing hands. 

It’s still not sinking in.

He… he can't really be dead, can he?

He's standing right here.

Except, Allen notices with the chill of ice water trickling down his spine, he's not breathing. He gasps in a breath of air and nearly cries out in relief when the oxygen enters his lungs. 

For how long wasn't he breathing?

Allen looks down at his hand, the deep brown skin now holding an ethereal glow.

What's happening to him? He can't really be dead, can he? But looking down at the dead body in front of him, a sinking feeling in his gut, he wonders if he really can.

“You poor kid.” A female voice says from behind him, and Allen whirls around. A girl with orange hair and gray eyes with odd amorphous hands stands before him, a sad look on her face. She sighs. “It’s always the young ones. What am I gonna tell Bak?”

“What do you mean? Miss?” Allen asks, reaching for her.

But she’s already turning away, and Allen cries out as his hand goes right through her. “Sorry kid. But this isn’t your fight anymore. There’s nothing more you can do.”  

Allen looks at the stump where his left arm used to be, swallowing hard, and then looks back and clenches his fist. “I don’t believe that. If this isn’t my fight, then what did I work so hard for?! What did I die for? There has to be something I can do.”

The woman looks back at him and smiles, her eyes sad. “Try your best, then. I won’t stop you.”

Allen brings up his hand and clenches his fist in front of his chest. “I will.” He says determinedly.

And inside him, a fire blooms.

.

Allen is sitting on the ground, looking down at the face of his former body. The blood has long cooled underneath it, however the scent of blood never reaches Allen's nose. The wind blows throughout the clearing, making the bamboo reeds rattle against each other as the wind whispers through the trees. Despite this, no wind plays across Allen's face or hair. It simply blows right through him, as if he wasn't even there.

He should really go find his friends. However he can't stop himself from hesitating, the hopelessness and powerlessness of it all clutching at his heart like a vice.

How can he help his friends like this? He can't affect anything in the physical world. He should know. He'd tried everything to touch his body, to touch anything around him. He had phased right through all of it, in fact the only thing he didn't seem to phase through was the ground.

…How can he keep walking like this? 

Allen blinks and looks up as a shape rises up from his dead body, coalescing into a person that pulls themselves up with a grunt. Allen's nonexistent heart stops in his chest. The person in front of him appears to be male, with dark spiky curls, grey skin and sharp golden eyes, the stigma standing out starkly on his forehead. He glows with a soft purple light, his clothes looking old and travel worn, unlike Allen's Exorcist clothes, which look brand new. 

That was inside him...?

The man's sharp eyes land on him. He raises an eyebrow. "Well you look a lot more different than I remember."

Allen frowns, getting to his feet. "What are you talking about? Just… who are you?"

The man scowls. "What do you mean? I'm Neah, you idiot. Surely you couldn't have forgotten…" Neah looks down at his hands and jumps. "Ah! What the fuck?! Why the hell am I glowing?"

Hesitating, Allen says, "you're a ghost." He sighs, scratching at his cheek nervously.

Neah turns, blinking at him. "You're kidding me." He says incredulously.

Allen's a bit incredulous himself, though more about the fact that he's having an actual civil conversation with a Noah than about being dead at this point. 

Allen shakes his head.

Neah looks down at himself again, then up at Allen, a scowl on his face. "You've screwed up royally, then. The one thing I asked you to do, to keep my memory safe, and what do you do? You get yourself killed instead!"

Allen scowls himself, clenching his fist. "You didn't ask me to do anything! Whatever happened to you, it isn't my fault!"

Neah stops, frowning. "You… you aren't him."

Aren't who? Allen wonders.

Neah half turns away from him, flapping a hand dismissively. "Well, whatever. I can't change it, so I might as well go have some fun."

Neah turns and begins to walk away. "Wait!" Allen calls. "Where are you going?"

Neah turns back to look at him and shoots him a self satisfied smile. "To go haunt my brother. Where else?"

Allen blinks, and he's gone.

Allen looks down at the ground, then up at the lightening sky. He hesitates, then clenches his fists in determination. 

Lenalee.

Lavi.

Krory.

Allen turns and leaves his body behind. He has friends to find.

.

The sun is rising by the time he finds the ship. It looks good as new, which doesn’t seem right until his eyes land on the newest Exorcist within their party. “Miranda!” Allen exclaims with a smile, running over towards them.

But they all completely ignore him, talking amongst themselves.

“I just can’t believe it. He seemed so s-strong!” Miranda sobs.

Lenalee nods with a tremulous smile, wiping tears off her face even as they roll down her cheeks. “I know. I can’t believe it either.”

From their cabin, Krory’s bereaved sobs could be heard emanating all throughout the ship. 

“...you guys?” Allen asks, uncertain.

“Guys, c’mon. We have to be strong, for Allen’s sake.” Lavi says, placing a hand on each of their shoulders with a smile. “He wouldn’t want us crying over him, would he?”

Lenalee laughs wetly. “Of course not. He’s Allen, after all.”  

They’re grieving for him. They think he’s… completely gone.

“C’mon, guys. Let’s go see if Krorykins is alright.” Everyone gets up and walks past him towards the Exorcist’s cabin. The door shuts behind them, and Allen slumps, sitting down on the deck of the ship. 

They're grieving. And it's his fault. And the worst part is that he has to watch, powerless to stop it.

Powerless.

That's never been a word he's liked.

.

As time passed aboard the ship, Allen gave into his new hobby. It was, to put it quite simply, spying. Allen gave people their privacy, but other than that, he had quite a bit of fun following sailors around going about their business. He learned each sailor's name and each of their shifts, and thought himself quite smart until he slipped while Henry was on mopping duty, sending him falling overboard.

With the crashing waves rushing towards him, all he could think was that he really didn't want to land in the water. His body jolts to a stop, now floating just above the waves. Allen blinks, looking down into the depths below. He gulps, glancing around for the ship. It's already a good distance away, and alarm pulses through Allen's nonexistent veins. 

“Okay, just like walking.” Allen tells himself, and takes a step forward. And another. And another. Soon he realizes that he’s literally walking on air. He breaks into a run, and soon catches up with the ship, diving back over the railing and into safety. He lies on the deck of the ship, a grin on his face. Then a sailor steps through his chest, and he yelps, phasing through the deck. He hits the floor with no noise to accompany his fall, getting up with a sigh. At least he can’t feel pain anymore.

“Anita, are you sure you want to do this?” Allen looks over to see Mahoja and Anita sitting together on a loveseat, Anita in the bigger woman’s lap while she brushed her fingers gently through her hair. 

Allen feels as though he’s infringed on something he shouldn’t have, and is about to leave when Anita answers. “The Exorcists need out help, Mahoja. We can’t just leave them with nothing.”

Mahoja wraps her arms around her. “You know, we’re probably going to die on this voyage. Us, and every last one of our crewmen.”

Anita kisses her jaw. “There’s no use regretting what we can’t change, Mahoja.” She says with a sad smile. “All we can do is make this voyage last.”

Allen’s heard enough. Taking a step upwards, he walks up into the air and ascends through the ceiling and back into open air. After that he does some experimenting. Can I just… float? Allen wonders one day, on a particularly breezy day. Standing on a packaging crate, he taps his lips in thought. How had he done it before? Well, it had been more of a strong wish not to drown. And he had been floating, he realizes. It had been him who decided that walking was how it worked.

Taking a deep breath to fortify himself, he pushes off of the crate and into the air. He gives an excited whoop as he ascends into the air, and starts doing laps around the ship, laughing all the while. He feels something weird going on with his legs and glances back only to see that his legs have merged together to form a ghostly tail. 

He screams in surprise when he flies straight into the rigging, the ropes breaking with an audible snap. It broke? How? Terrified screams echo below him, and Allen’s eyes widen. There are two sailors that must have been on the rigging when Allen hit it, now falling to either death or possibly great injury. 

Before Allen knows what he’s doing, he’s streaking after them. He flies as fast as he can, the wind that he can no longer feel going right through him. He catches the first sailor he reaches, awkwardly slinging him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. And then it’s like the whole world changes. He can feel the wind on his face, and the weight and the not-feeling of the sailor on top of him, his body suddenly feeling weighed down and heavy. Allen shakes his head to clear it, flying desperately to reach the other sailor. But how is he going to catch him? He only has one arm! 

“Extend!” And then Lavi is there with the handle of his hammer extended, catching the other sailor with his free arm. He looks back at Miranda, standing in the doorway and watching with wide eyes. “Are you doing this, Miranda?” Lavi asks, pointing with his hand still holding onto the end of his hammer.

Miranda shakes her head. “N-No. I can’t do that.”

Lavi frowns over towards Allen, the handle of his hammer shrinking as he lowers to the ground. Allen does the same, gently floating his cargo to the deck of the ship. He sets him down gently, and the sailor looks up at him. Allen realizes that he can’t be older than twelve or thirteen. “What are you?” He asks in confusion. Allen smiles and ruffles his hair. The kid laughs. “Hey!” He bats away Allen’s hand with a smile, and Allen grins. The kid looks down at the ground, his dark eyes nervous yet grateful. “Thank you for, um, saving me.”

“You’re welcome.” Allen says, even though he’s pretty sure he won’t hear it. He squeezes the kid’s shoulder and walks away.

.

All of the Exorcists are currently sitting in the dining hall, or the dining hull as some people have dubbed it. It’s a small and quaint room filled with tables and cooking food, with just enough space for everyone considering how the sailors switched shifts. Room has been made for the Exorcists to sit down and enjoy the food. Or, what constituted as food on a ship at sea. Which mostly consisted of bitter ale and stew of mysterious origin. But Lavi wasn’t complaining. He’s had worse.

Lavi just wishes this cold spell would blow over. He’s been cold for days, and though he can find the occasional spot of warmth, it’s getting a little annoying. The crew members have been complaining about it too, now that Lavi thinks about it.

“Are you okay, Miranda?" Lenalee asks worriedly. 

"Yes, I'm fine. A-And don't worry about me, you should be more worried about yourself! No, wait…" Miranda says, horrified mutterings being said under her breath. It makes Lavi wonder just what exactly she's saying.

"It's okay, Miranda. I understood what you meant." Lenalee says with a sad smile. She frowns. "Has anyone gone to check that those two crewmembers are okay?"

Lavi grins. "According to the rumor mill, they're both still alive and kicking."

Lenalee sighs in relief. "That's good."

Krory sighs. “This voyage seems never ending. Does anyone know how much longer it’s going to take to get to our destination?” He asks hopefully.

“About 49 days last I heard,” Lavi tells him, and Krory slumps in his seat. “And before then we’ll have to stop for supplies at some point.” Lavi clears his throat. “By the way, have any of you seen Timcanpy?” He asks awkwardly.

“You lost him?! Lavi!” Lenalee exclaims.

Miranda and Krory look at him accusingly with tears shining in their eyes.

“Woah, you guys! First off, I didn’t lose him, he flew out of my pocket while I wasn’t looking. Second off, I’m sure he’s fine. Timcanpy can take care of himself. I mean, it’s not like there are any cats on board, right?”

“Lavi, there are at least three cats on board.” Lenalee deadpans.

Lavi laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “Alright, so we’ll look for him.”

Miranda looks thoughtful. “I-Is anyone else curious about who saved that other crewmember?”

Lavi grins. “Well, according to the rumor mill we’re either haunted or being watched over by a guardian angel.” He says, pointing above his head to indicate a halo.

“Haunted…” Miranda trails off. Her face takes on an uncertain, hopeful cast. “C-Could it be Allen, do you think?” 

Krory’s eyes light up. “Yes, Allen! It has to be!” They look at each other with hope filled eyes, and Lavi sighs, running his hand through his hair.

“Look guys, it was just a rumor. It doesn’t have any evidence based on fact. You shouldn’t get your hopes up.” Lavi says. I know I won’t.

“But… the floating!” Krory exclaims.

Lavi sighs. “That kid could be an Akuma for all we know.” Or even a new Innocence accommodator. “It’s a much more reasonable explanation than ghosts and guardian angels.” 

Miranda and Krory look at him stubbornly.

Lenalee, who had remained silent up until this point, says quietly. “Guys… we saw the body.” Lavi shivers, feeling cold to the bone. “There was… no way to recover from that. There’s no way it’s him.” And Lenalee gets up from the table, looking pale. Lavi says quick goodbyes to the others and follows her into the latrine. He rubs her back as she vomits into a toilet, holding her hair back for her. When she’s done Lavi hands her a glass of water, and she smiles gratefully at him.

“It was like this last time, too.” Lavi observes.

Lenalee nods, smile sad. “Yeah, it was.”

When they had gone looking for their friend, they hadn’t been expecting to find his body. The stink of rotten flesh, feces, and rotten eggs permeated the air when they had arrived at the place where Timcanpy’s recording had ended. Lenalee and Lavi had looked at each other with apprehension in their eyes. Lenalee had gone first. What she had seen had made her stagger aside and vomit onto the ground. Lavi had stepped forward and seen something he had hoped to never see again.

Allen’s body was bloated and stiff, with a distinctly purple tone to his skin, bodily fluids leaking out of his nose and ears. Flies buzzed around him, maggots feasting on his flesh. Lavi felt sick. He didn’t want to believe what he had seen. 

But he had to.

He went over to Lenalee and started to rub her back, belatedly holding her hair back from the line of fire.

When she was done, Lenalee turned toward him. “Lavi. How could this have happened?” She asked, tears streaking down her face.

Lavi blinked his eye, fighting back tears of his own. “I don’t know, Lenalee. I don’t know.” Lenalee hugged him, shaking as tears wracked her body. Lavi laid his head against her shoulder to mask his own tears, holding onto her tightly.

When they pulled away, Lavi looked down to see a playing card lying on the ground between them. His brows furrowed. “What’s this?” He picks it up. It’s the Ace of Spades. 

Lavi looked around and noticed the playing cards scattered all around. He gives a sad smile. “C’mon, let’s pick these up.” They picked up the cards, Lavi keeping the Ace of Spades while Lenalee kept the Queen.

Lavi blinks himself out of his memories as he smiles at Lenalee. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

Lenalee and Lavi both stand and make their way out of the latrine. Lavi shivers. It’s still so cold. Lavi’s about to ask Lenalee if she wants to go on deck when an explosion rocks the ship. “Woah!” Lavi grabs onto the wall as the floor dips from underneath his feet. They look at each other, Lenalee activating her boots.

“Akuma.”

.

Allen follows Lavi and Lenalee as they ascend staircase after staircase towards the deck of the ship. Timcanpy wriggles from inside the collar of his shirt, poking his head out to see what’s going on. Luckily he’s invisible as well, mostly because of a few… incidents after he had left Lavi for Allen. 

Allen shakes his head to clear it, his feet making no sound to accompany Lenalee’s and Lavi’s footsteps as they pound up the stairway and onto the deck. The ship is in total chaos, crewmembers running every which way in order to avoid the attacks raining down on them. A woman trips and a bullet rips through her stomach. She screams, stars travelling up her neck and down her arms. But then there’s a flash of gold and the sound of a clock striking twelve, and the stars retreat from her skin, the wound in her stomach closing as if it never were. 

But Allen knows the wound is still there. And so does she, judging by the grim, determined look on her face. Lenalee kicks off with her boots, only to flip backwards in mid air as deadly streams of light streak past her, breaking into the deck of the ship and making it rock dangerously under Allen’s feet. Then the ship forcibly rights itself, the breaks in the wood sealing over with flashes of golden light. “Lavi, where are the Akuma?” Lenalee yells over the screams of the crewmen.

“I don’t know!” Lavi yells back, ducking behind his enlarged hammer as beams of light strike against it.

Allen’s eye has been activated since the Akuma arrived. So he knows, with perfect black and white clarity, that the Akuma are hiding up above the clouds. But he has no way to communicate this to them. Maybe he could grab Lavi’s arm and make him point to where they are? But that seems inefficient, plus what if Lavi’s arm gets blown off or something?

“Well, try flying up there to see!” Lavi says. Lenalee nods, a determined expression on her face. Kicking off higher into the air, she flies at a fast rate towards the Akuma. Allen kicks off into the air and follows. But he doesn’t get far.

“Title: The Girl and the Sky.” Allen hears the familiar sound of an Akuma’s voice, like static over a radio. 

Then Lenalee screams as she hurtles down from the sky.

[dgmagines]

can i request headcanons for how neah, lenalee, and allen cuddle their s/o? thank u!

Thank you for being patient with me non! and thank you for the ask!! I hope you enjoy ;; v ;; - Min

Allen

* he loves it when s/o lies their head on his chest, his fingersgently caressing their upper arm as they mumbled about whatever came to mind

* he was pretty self-concious when they first cuddled together,hyper aware of their fingers on his scarred arm but after many reassurances, he’s now okay with it

* he’d play with s/o’s hair until they fell asleep, staring attheir face (if he could) until he himself fell into slumber

* he also likes being the little spoon sometimes; it makes himfeel safe being in their arms (he usually falls asleep faster in this position)

Neah

* is it really cuddling if neah spends half their cuddle timetrying to tickle them to death? Yes it is

* he loves being the big spoon because then s/o would behelpless against his tickle-happy fingers

* he would also press light kisses to the back of their neck,playing with their hair, and mumbling in a half-asleep manner once he assumescuddle mode

* sometimes he’d drag them down with him in a whiny manner-demanding for cuddles as if he was five

Lenalee

* a mess of tangled limbs and messy hair, soft laughter escapingtheir lips as they shifted around for comfort

* she likes to have her hands intertwined with s/o’s, herfingers slowly moving in circles as they talked together

* she isn’t much of a touchy person during cuddle sessions though-content with having s/o’s hand in hers or the feel of their shirt in her hands

* once Lenalee is asleep, she basically has a death grip on s/o– though she doesn’t seem to realize that she was holding on to them so tightlywhile asleep.