#right as im trying to sleep

[serasfanfiction]

Cw for blood. No gore, tho. Cw in tags as well. Mostly Alastor being Alastor.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

If Lucifer didn't know any better, he would have sworn Alastor was going out of his way to make certain they ran into each other.

He seemed to be everywhere.

It didn't help that whatever he was doing, Alastor had seemingly decided to pull out all the stops. Horrifically enough, he was good at just being there, right as Lucifer would turn around, watching and waiting as if to see how long it would take the little king to notice him.

(And if he had damn near shrieked the first time it had happened? Well, no one else was around, so who would hold him to it?)

After a week of this, Lucifer was starting to feel twitchy. It was difficult to tell if he was actually sensing eyes on him like a second skin or if he was just being paranoid. The only place he felt any relief was in his own room, which he might have taken to hiding in when it all became too much.

It felt like being stalked. Like he was being hunted.

Lucifer growled to himself, frustrated he had been driven to such drastic measures. Yes, he could totally stand up for himself! He was significantly more powerful than that petty little sinner! He just really, really didn't want to deal with all of this. There was a reason he avoided senseless drama.

He groaned, throwing off his covers and forcing himself out of bed. Enough, he thought to himself. This had gone on far too long and it was past time he and a certain Radio Demon had a little chat.

He donned his suit, building up his armor like he was going to war. Which, he supposed, he sort of was. He settled his hat in place and grabbed his cane, aware he was doing all of this over a lowly sinner, Overlord or not, but he felt the uncontrollable urge to remind Alastor which of them was actually the King of Hell and which of them wasn't.

He was self aware enough to appreciate that if this really was just a matter of the Ruler of Hell putting a sinner in his place he wouldn't have needed to have put on his uniform, but Alastor had gotten under his skin and everyone already knew it.

There was no point in looking for Alastor. Based off of previous behavior, the red head would simply come to him.

Lucifer deliberately kept to public enough areas to invite company, while still being private enough that Alastor would be tempted to sneak up on him.

And Alastor did not disappoint.

Lucifer spotted him out of the corner of his eye while getting lunch. Triumphant, he spun around and pointed an accusing finger. "You!"

Alastor's ever present smile ticked ever-so-slightly wider, but it wasn't showing teeth yet. "And how can I help you today, your Majesty?"

"We need to talk," Lucifer stated, tone brokering no disagreements. Not that the other Hellion was protesting. "Now."

Alastor tilted his head to the side at just the right angle to be unnerving, hands folding behind his back. "Are you actually going to talk to me or are you going to run away again?"

Lucifer allowed himself a deep, calming breathe. Allowed Alastor to see it. The released exhale was hot enough for a whisp of smoke to escape.

There was still no teeth, but it seemed like it was only barely.

"We both know the only reason I've tolerated your behavior is because I promised not to fight with you."

Alastor raised on eyebrow, asking without verbalizing it as to if this wasn't a potential fight.

Lucifer crossed his arms to keep from wrapping his hands around that scrawny little neck. "And I want to keep my promise, but to do that, we need to get whatever you've been going through this last week out of your system."

Alastor laughed, false and mocking. "Ha! I assure you, I have no idea what you mean."

The blonde refused to rise to the bait. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but we are doing this." He smiled, tone generous as he added, "I'll even be nice and let you chose if we're having this talk in your room or mine."

Alastor considered him, body language giving away nothing. "You'd give the familiar ground to a potential enemy?"

Lucifer waved a hand at the room in general. "One could argue anywhere in Hell is my territory." He hummed lightly. "But in all honesty, even if your room - the one I built for you - could be considered enemy ground," here he leaned in to make his point, "There's nothing you could do to seriously harm me if I don't let you."

There it was again: the flicker of the dials. It was written all over him that Alastor wanted nothing more than to take that as a challenge and to put that theory to the test.

Lucifer welcomed him to try if it meant they could move on from this - whatever this was. Because that statement wasn't a theory, it was a fact.

Alastor reigned himself back in until not even a hint remained of his control slipping. "My room, if you don't mind. Shall we go?" He held out a hand, gesturing for Lucifer to take the lead.

Which, nope. He was not turning his back on this guy at this point in the game.

With a snap of his fingers, red smoke wrapped itself around them. It was showy and unnecessary, but it was worth it for the way a brief spasm of panic tightened Alastor's smile at just how easily Lucifer could just straight up kidnap him if he wanted to.

Which was good. Let him chew on that tidbit for a while.

They reappeared in the Radio Demon's quarters. The basics had been done per what Vaggie (with a V!) had been able to remember, as she was the only member of the hotel who'd seen Alastor's room. They'd left his personal touches to him, but an honest effort had been put into rebuilding the structure of it.

Glancing off to his right, Lucifer could see that Alastor had rather impressively bent reality (like the elderich creature he was) to morph half of the room into what appeared to be a bayou. It gave the impression that the room was significantly larger than it was. The residue of the magic it took to pull off such a stunt made his teeth itch, the same kind of wrongness the original bar had had.

Various other personal effects had worked their ways around the room. Some of the more interesting ones were the array of trophy skulls, both human and animal, decorating the walls. He had little doubt that Alastor had hunted, skinned, and mounted every one of them himself. The only real question was if they were original to the room pre the hotel's destruction? Or were they... newer?

By the time he turned his attention back to the owner of the room, said owner had had more than enough time to regain his composure. Lucifer was a little sorry he'd allowed Alastor the break, but he did genuinely want to resolve whatever the hell was going on between them. Being stern when needed was fine, but he didn't want to push Alastor so hard he snapped unless he had to.

Lucifer tapped the fingers of his predominant hand against his arm, all weight on one foot and ready to start tapping the other if necessary. He gave Alastor an expectant look. "Well?"

Alastor was nothing if not up for a fight. He may have been knocked off balance, but he was clearly up to being ornery as pay back. With an air of boredom, he inspected his claws, as if looking for nonexistent dirt. "Well, what, my dear king?"

Lucifers fingers didn't pause. "Don't play coy, it doesn't look good on you." He was pleased with the narrowed eyes he got in response. "What has this last week been about? You've been acting weird." Lucfier waved a hand in Alastor's general direction. Added, "Well, weird for you."

Alastor's irritation smoothed out at the implication that Lucifer paid enough attention to him to have come to some conclusion about what might constitute as 'weird behavior.' He hummed lightly, the noise oddly soothing in a way. "Very well, if you must insist. Just don't get angery if you don't like the answer."

Lucifer frowned. Angry? About what?

All thoughts were cut off as Alastor melted away into his shadows (and when the heck had his shadow gotten that close? He hadn't even seen it move). The thought crossed Lucifer's mind that he should have warded the room to keep the sinner from leaving, but ultimately, he needn't have worried.

Well, about Alastor trying to run away.

Because he really should have known better.

He realized where Alastor had gone, just as he could hear the unmistakable sound of someone taking a deep breathe right in his ear.

Lucifer could feel every single one of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as that breathe was exhaled against his neck, sweat breaking out across his skin as a shiver ran through his body. The only reason he didn't yelp was because he was too busy choking on his own tongue.

Dignity be damned, the King of Hell nearly teleported across the room, hand slapping up against his neck. Eyes widen in horror, he brandished his cane like a rod. "Wha-- what in the seven rings of Hell was that!?"

Alastor watched him like a cat watches a mouse it's having fun playing with. "You asked what had gotten into me." He folded his hands behind his back, as if he hadn't just been sniffing the Devil himself. "That was... curiosity."

Lucifer stared at him incredulously. "Curiosity?" He laughed, a little forced as he tried to reign in his too-fast heartbeat. "If you were curious how I smelled, you could have just asked."

Alastor raised an eyebrow to that and Lucifer belatedly realized he'd just implied all someone potentially had to do was ask to smell him and he might let them do it.

Lucifer flushed but refused to correct his statement.

"Hm, how quaint." Alastor leaned in eye so slightly, just to see Lucifer unconsciously lean back. "Rest assured, it isn't quite so simple."

A pause lulled between them as the blond waited for the rest of the explanation. When he failed to receive one, he waved a hand impatiently for the red head to get on with it.

Alastor turned enough he could look out into his bayou without completely losing track of his guest. The motion drew Lucifer's attention to the area, although he didn't dare take his eyes off the serial killer.

"Has anyone told you what my dish of choice is?"

The question confused Lucifer and his impatience made him feel irritated by what felt like a non-sequitur in the conversation. He'd heard Alastor was a cannibal, so he assumed it was other sinners. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Alastor rolled his eyes, gesturing out into the bayou.

As if on cue, a tree branch snapped closer to the edge of the trees in the distance. Lucifers eyes snapped to whatever had made the noise, making eye contact with ...a deer?

Lucifer stared, that feeling of being hunted roiling over him as it dawned on him what had happened. He didn't have to look at the Radio Demon to know he was watching him like a predator watches his prey.

Lucifer swallowed, hard. "I... I don't know what you..."

There was no mercy, no quarter in Alastor's eyes as he near stalked over to the Devil. His smile was all teeth as he ran a finger along the brim of Lucifer's hat. "When I saw those ears, I was curious if you would still taste like an angel or if you might taste like something more to my ...preferences."

Lucifer was fairly certain his brain was short circuiting. Some wire must have gotten crossed, because what came out of his mouth wasn't 'you're a freak,' it was:

"If you got your taste, you'll back off?"

The two stared at each other, Lucifer unsure who was more surprised by the question.

Alastor's grin was every inch as wicked as everyone only thought the actual Devil was but really wasn't. "Are you offering a deal?" The hand he'd used to near caress Lucifer's hat fell into the offer of a hand shake.

It was Lucifer's turn to roll his eyes. He shook his head vigorously. "Nope! No deals!" He glared, slapping the hand aside. "You'll likely find some wiggle room no sane person would think to look for and I am not interested in being on the menu indefinitely."

Alastor didn't even bother to look contrite. He simply looked disappointed. Since the offer wasn't on the table, he withdrew his hand and straightened his posture. "Then what are you proposing?"

Yes, self, Lucifer thought, what are we proposing? He felt like he'd lost all direction in this conversation because he had no clue how his day had gone from 'put Alastor in his place' to 'let's let an actual cannibal bite us.'

Lucifer grasped for the last shreds of his dignity, realizing that he might have finally found something that ranked high enough to be added to the Top 5 Insane Things I've Done For My Kid list. It didn't stop the ever-so-slight tremor from creeping in, even as he tried for stern, as he offered, "I'll bring back the deer attributes, you get to satify your curiosity, and then we go back to whatever our usual is."

Alastor's eyes narrowed. "To be clear: I get to draw blood and you won't retaliate?"

There was no official deal, but it still felt like they were making one. "Yeah." Lucifer shifted, trying to shake off the last of his nerves and at least seem like he was confident. He was still absolutely sure Alastor couldn't deal him damage faster that he could heal from it, but his nerves didn't want to settle. "You get a freebie, no punishment or retaliation, in exchange for returning to the status quo."

Alastor's teeth sharpened visibly, the room growing darker around them.

"Deal."

Still feeling like this was going to come back and bite him in the ass - or, well, neck or arm, if one was being literal - at some point in the future, Lucifer made his way over to one of the chairs near the room's fireplace. He set his hat down on the seat, before pulling off his coat. He had a feeling this was going to be messy. Neck wounds often were, and he had a feeling Alastor wouldn't be satisfied with being offered anything else. He regretted the amount of layers he'd dressed in, even as he used untying his bow tie and unbuttoning the first several buttons of his shirt as a desperately needed delay tactic to simply breathe through what he was about to do.

Judging by the indulgence he could almost hear coming from Alastor's spot in the room, he held no such disillusions as to if the red head knew that he was stalling.

Taking a deep, steadying breathe, he pulled the shift over himself, falling deeper into it than he had during the trust exercise. Blond ears flicked into existence around small antlers on his head. Goat hooves morphed subtly into deer ones. A fluffy, equally blond tail twitched slightly at the base of his spine, in mirror of his anxiety.

Burrowing it all down, down, down, Lucifer gripped the edge of his shirt, yanking it down as he spun around, finally allowing a grin fit for his reputation to spread across his face from ear to ear. Tilting his head to the side in invitation, he asked, "Well, Alastor? What are you waiting for?"

Alastor control snapped with an audible static screech. Moving across the room with a speed that had kept him alive during his fight with Adam, Alastor near pounced onto his prize. The force of their collision sent them toppling to the floor, Lucifer's head just barely missing the seat of the chair. The impact with the ground drove the air from his lungs, and Lucifer didn't have the chance to even attempt to recover as he felt razor-sharp teeth sink into the tender flesh of his throat.

Lucifer's body spasmed as it attempted to draw in air, lungs needing a second to remember how to work and he was startled by the pain of attack despite knowing it was coming. He was finally able to draw a desperately needed gasp in as those teeth withdrew. Lucifer could feel it even without seeing the damage that of course Alastor had gone deep. It was definitely going to take him a hot second for it to heal, but heal it already was.

The Radio Demon, seeming to realize this, sunk his teeth in again. Lucifer's hands flew up to grab onto Alastor's arms at the new wave of agony coursed through him, squirming as he resisted the urge to shove the larger figure off of him. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood himself as he braced himself for Alastor taking his pound of flesh.

There was a creak, like bone grating against each other. Alastor shifted, teeth unmoving as he moved. As he made himself more comfortable, Lucifer realized as the shock of it finally began to abate and adrenaline flooded his system in response to the trauma. He had to swallow down the urge to laugh, knowing it would be more hysterics than actual humor.

He grunted as those teeth withdrew, surprisingly without taking a chunk of his neck with it. He was confused until he felt a warm, wet tongue slide over the wounds, chasing blood the color of gold regardless of what form the seraphim donned. Without meaning to, Lucifer flinched at the odd sensation. It was not quite pain, but not quite soothing.

As the pain began to recede, Alastor seemingly merely content to fill himself up with one of the rarest delicacies in Hell, Lucifer was able to take stock of his body. The bruises along his back from his fall were already healing almost as fast as they appeared. The deer tail, smaller and thicker than his normal, whip cord one, protested being squished the way it was. His ears twitched as they followed every noise Alastor made, the sensation odd.

Since this appeared it was going to take a moment, unless Alastor decided to go for his throat with his teeth again, he decided to try and relieve his poor tail to distract himself from the fact that it felt like there was a tongue digging into one of the still open wounds.

Alastor's own ears twitched as the shifting of Lucifer's hips caused the sound of clothes rustling to sound through the room like a shot. Lucifer was tempted to reach up and pet one, but that would have moved all of this into territory far too close to something intimate, which this very much wasn't, thank you very much.

When the pain finally disapaited, the lapping of that insidious tongue moving from stinging to something far too close to ticklish for comfort, Lucifer decided he'd had enough. "Alright, I think you've had enough."

He was far too proud of the fact that his voice didn't shake.

Much.

His fingers dug into red sleeves as he could feel Alastor's smile brush up against the base of his ear.

"And if I haven't satisfied my curiosity?"

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

"Nope, you're done." Lucifer bucked, shoving off the grinning asshole, who went with all the grace of someone who'd gotten thier cake and ate it, too. Lucifer sat up, glaring as Alastor looked barely rumbled while he knew he himself looked like a mess.

"There, you've gotten your taste. Agreement upheld." Lucifer pulled back up his shirt, wincing at how much blood had soaked into it.

"Hmm, perhaps." Alastor placed a finger to his lips, eyes half lidded.

Something about the way it was said raised Lucifer's hackles.

Alastor merely stared back, not adding anything to his comment.

Right. Okay. Whatever.

Lucifer stood slowly in an attempt to hide the way his legs trembled. Once he felt stable, he began putting his facade back together. Buttons all buttoned up. Blood vanished with a mere wave of his hand (to Alastor's obvious disappointment).

He was slipping on his coat when Alastor rose to his own feet. Lucifer felt it was massively unfair that all it took was some minor adjustments, and the Radio Demon looked as put together as normal.

(Almost, an insidious voice whispered in the back of Lucifer's mind. Look closer, and he could see the little ways in which Alastor was affected. The slight flush to his cheeks of a successful hunt. Unhinged smile replaced with something more peaceful. The satiated hint of hunger quenched for the first time since they'd met.

This way lays trouble.)

But Lucifer shook it off, just like he shook off the foreboding feeling of Alastor holding the Crown of Hell.

He was already in too deep.

He slipped his hat on, letting the deer attributes he'd donned finally disappear. "Well, see you around, I guess."

Alastor hummed in agreement. For his own sanity, Lucifer refused to read into it any deeper.

And if his portalling out of the room was straight up turning tail and running?

Well, it wasn't like it was the first time he'd done it that month.

Tbc

Part 4

[satans-knitwear]

I don't suppose you guys would want.... Some gifs?? Perhaps?? 🥺

Treat me ~ Tip Me ~ More of me

[yaoisquidbob]

awkward hugging

[cherub014]

small luke doodle before bed =w=🩵

[scullcrusher101xd]

[crystalpallette]

ringo has never ever looked bad in an alt but my god she's hitting never before seen levels of Help Me lately

[ouaw-facts-i-just-made-up]

Kremy is asexual. With all the other shit he has going on, he thought it was just one more cherry on top of the really fucked up sundae that is him.

It's actually a main reason why he currently thinks him and Gideon are just plain incompatible.

[svampira]

romance isn't dead

[dykedvonte]

Do you have anything you've been thinking on but just haven't made a post about it yet? Also I'm really enjoying your fic!

I have a few things but it's likely mostly headcanons that I consider somewhat disconnected from my analysis.

Curly's parents had him old, only child, died shortly after he graduated and got the pony express position. It was the last big thing they saw him do which is a reason he stayed for so long.

Doesn't admit how much their death affected him

Jimmy has a largish family. One of the cases of too many kids to keep tract of, parent never really noticed any of them nor their behaviors

Anya lived in a lot of houses growing up, regular supportive family that just struggled to support themselves.

Became a nurse largely to avoid their financial struggles but mostly because she felt too many people weren't being cared for and advocated for in the world properly

Swansea likes high top sneakers most. Likes how snug they fit and how they shield his ankles at work

Curly has a bit of a caffeine problem since he can’t sleep. Can occasionally be found wandering the ship at “night” when he had some too late or just couldn’t sleep.

Daisuke knows a little about a lot of things. Starts conversations with “did you know” a lot but please don’t ask him deeper questions

Curly has known Jimmy longer but has worked with Anya and Swansea longer, met them during his middle years, met Jimmy shortly before college.

Swansea rents a house, Daisuke’s family lives in a big nice apartment, Curly has a condo, Anya live in a small one bedroom apartment and Jimmy has a studio.

Curly's home is very disconcerting. It's too normal to a like uncanny degree.

Anya is ambidextrous but prefers her left.

Anya and Curly are both not native English speakers so occasionally they forget words and bond over the mutual mocking they get from the rest of the crew. Daisuke knows some Japanese but is still learning, never picked it up as a kid

Only Swansea and Daisuke know how to drive, Earth in my mind is very post capitalist so only older people and like the extremely wealthy can afford cars.

It's also like walkable just due to how many businesses are in your face. Probably strict living vs shopping districts

I have more but the way that I headcanon about them is like too long.

[not-equippedforthis]

really wish we got a 30 minute special episode montage of john and arthur trying to figure out how to drive. bonus: parallel parking.

[writinganon1]

@cokoweee

Ya’ll ever have a dream so lifelike it feels aggressively real until one thing goes a little too wrong and then you start to realize that maybe you’re in a dream but it’s also too real to convince yourself it’s not real that you can’t wake yourself up? 

TW: panic attack, I say gun, uhhh blood ig? Bishop says a kinda weird thing but that's just him bein him

can I say blood? last time I did it marked me as mature...

-

Her heart thumped against her chest, lactic acid building in her legs as she ran. She tapped furiously at her phone, fingers slipping over the screen as she tried to deploy Sheldon. 

Donnie says “no no no” chimed a pixilated picture of Othello, his finger waving back and forth. 

“What the-” She slammed against a wall, her shoulder crunching against the brick. 

His stupid programming on the poor thing to keep Sheldon at his house. Maybe she could override it? 

No, not enough time. She was just going to have to run and hope for the best. 

Her shoulder screamed in protest as she climbed the ladder in the alley. Scrambling over the side of the building to catch her breath, she tapped at the screen again. 

There had to be something she could do to foil his programming. She wiped at her nose, the cold still not quite gone even after days of bed rest. Bullets flew over the edge of the building, seemingly locking on to her body heat. Throwing herself at the ledge at the last second to force the bullets to crash into the wall she coughed violently, phlegm coating her throat.

Stupid sickness. 

Stupid Othello leaving her with the stupid rabbit farmer.

She pushed herself off the ground, arms struggling under the weight of herself. It was as if every muscle in her body was on fire, each fiber screaming at her to stop. She gulped raising her head over the ledge. Agent Bishop was standing on the adjacent rooftop, his face curled into a sneer, eyes unblinking despite the sun in his eyes. 

He waved at her, fingers waggling in the air as he pulled a small gun from his pocket. Aiming it directly at her chest he grinned, his eyes flickering with something distinctly unhuman. 

She stumbled backward, her feet skidding over the concrete as he seemed to lock onto her. Loose rock dug into her knees as she clambered over the rooftop. 

Away.

All she needed to do was get away. 

She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the raised bump of the scar, as she moved.

This was…

This was wrong? 

It didn’t happen this way. 

No. She didn’t need to get away, she needed to get out. 

The bullet ripped into her skin, tearing away at muscle, and shattering the bone in her rib.

She screamed, blood pouring from the gaping hole in her chest, as Bishop moved closer. He walked to her side, footsteps clanking against the concrete. 

Clawing at the ground she dragged her body along the roof, rocks digging under her nails. Bishop laughed, his foot trampling her hand, digging it into the ground. She gasped, breathing shallowly as she fought to get loose. 

He grabbed her hair, wrapping it between his fingers and tightening his grip as he pulled her from the floor. 

“Oh, this is wonderful.” He smiled, voice dripping with venom. “Such a pretty little thing I caught this evening. I’ve been dying to chat with you.” He pulled her hair up, forcing her to rise. “I wonder if she’ll do any tricks?” 

She spat in his face, her ears filled with an all-consuming ringing. 

Away. 

She needed to get away. 

It didn’t matter how. She needed to get away. 

He said something else, flaunting some sort of mechanism he had hidden in his shirt. She tried to focus on his words, but her breathing was too shallow, her limbs too shaky, the ringing too loud for her to hear a word. 

She clamped a hand over her chest, a sorry attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping hole in her body. Cursing softly she watched as the red seeped into a slithering pink fleshy mass. 

She stifled a scream as the pink turned an orange maroon, her own blood fueling some sort of monster. 

“Shhhhhhh.” Bishop whispered against her ear, “It’ll be done soon. Just one quick slash and you’ll be out of my hair for good.” 

The mass jumped forward, faster than she could comprehend, her body spasming in pain as she scrambled back.

Was this the Krang she’d heard so much about after she’d left the jail? Weren’t they supposed to be mindless or something? 

It lunged forward again, tentacles lashing toward her face. Bishop shook her in front of him, like a toy for a dog. 

“Kendra?”  

She screamed as he tightened his grip on her, shaking her around like a bag of flour. The world around her turned hazy, her vision blurring in and out. 

She wasn’t going to go out without a fight. 

Throwing her head back she jammed her skull into his chin, breaking the grip he had on her hair. 

She clawed at the ground, a strange silky feeling coating her fingers. Pushing away the softness of what was sure to be Krang, she kicked at the mass as it wiggled unnaturally. 

“KENDRA!” A familiar voice shouted at her, a gentle three-fingered nubby touch against her arm. 

Her eyes flew open, arms flailing to the sides to swat at what was left of the Krang matter, as hands held her back. She gasped, her chest heaving as a sinking feeling hit her gut. Dread splashed over her head like a wave, drowning her, leaving nothing but fear.

Eyes widening she looked next to her for Tello, horrified as darkness encroached on her vision, leaving her staring through a pin hole. Nausea rolled through her stomach as she gasped for air, her chest shuddering to keep up with her breathing. 

It hurt. It hurt so bad. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He whispered, hand placed against her back. “It’s ok you’re home. You’re with me.” 

She jerked backward. He was loud. So so loud. Even with the ringing in her ears, he was too loud. 

Breaths were punched from her lungs faster than she could finish taking them in. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes blew wide. Her chest tightened, lungs twisting as she shook. 

She’s dying. She has to be dying. There’s no other explanation. 

Dead in her room from a nightmare-induced heart attack,  

Her eyes flickered back and forth over the room, not focusing on anything, just wildly scanning for danger she knew wasn’t there. Willing her arm to move, she let out a chocked warble. 

The room seemed to melt around her. Things blurred together, a fuzzy abstract painting of almost-real-life. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tightened her muscles. 

Her whole body shook as she tried to take steadying breaths. 

“Did you know softshell turtles only have half a plastron?” 

She was in the middle of dying. 

She most definitely did not need turtle facts right now. 

“Technically a full one, but it’s covered by skin, rendering it effectively useless for plastron purposes.” He shrugs. “Same deal as the shell.” 

She looked at him, confusion breaking through the panic. 

“Makes us really flexible though. Wanna see?” 

He got off the bed, walked to the middle of the room, and bent backward. He smiled upside down at her from the floor and smoothly brought himself back up. 

“Pretty neat huh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Bet no other turtle you meet could do that.” 

Amusement rippled through her as she watched him demonstrate his stretches and various yoga poses.

“I’ve never met another turtle like you.” She breathed, some of the panic melting away. 

“Precisely! No one can do it like me!” He said, pointing his finger at her triumphantly before his face softened. “ We starting to feel a bit better?” 

She brought her thumb and pointer finger close together. A little 

He nodded. “Am I good to come back up or do you need some space?” 

She patted the bed next to her, inviting him closer. She waited until he was seated comfortably before slumping against his shoulder, exhausted. 

He shifted slightly, reaching for his phone with one hand, the other wrapped around her. He let them sit for a moment, reminding her to breathe every few seconds before Sheldon zipped into the room. 

He whispered something to Othello before zooming out of the room. She watched passively as it happened, her body still not quite connected to her soul. 

Sheldon returned moments later, a bag of ice, a bottle of water, a cookie, and tub of lavender lotion in his little propeller arms. 

Othello took them from him, patted his head, and shooed him away. Taking one of the ice cubes he flattened out her hand and placed it in her palm. 

She jerked slightly at the sensation of cold in her hand, surprised when he placed another in her palm. 

“Focus on the melting.” He said, voice low and gentle. 

The ice filled the lines of her hand and dripped over the sides and down her arm. She shivered as the water pooled in her hand. Othello grabbed the cookie from the pile he had created and broke off half to give to her. 

“Thanks?”

He watched her carefully. “What does it taste like?” 

“A cookie?” She said through a mouthful, her hands still full of TV static. 

“I need details.” He pressed. 

She paused, taking a moment to consider the flavors in her mouth. “Vanilla, chocolate chips.” She took another bite. “ Like I left it in the oven a minute or two too long and overcooked them just slightly.” 

She’d have to make another batch, this time keeping an eye on the time. 

He pressed an uncapped water bottle into her hand. “Drink.” 

She pressed the bottle to her lips, feeling the way the cold blossomed against her skin as she held it there. Quietly observing the way she could feel it go down her throat and into her stomach. 

“Are we feeling more alive?” 

She nodded, running her hand along her thigh to feel the fabric of her pajama pants as she pressed her head against his side. 

“Good.” He murmured, sleep creeping into his voice. “You had a panic attack I’m pretty sure.” 

“...Sorry it was for something stupid.” 

“I get worked up over stupid stuff too.” He mumbled, eyes half closed. 

“Your stuff isn’t stupid.” She countered. 

“Then neither is yours.” 

She stopped, lifting her head to look up at him.

He grabbed her hand, flexing the fingers for her. “You feel ok?” 

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. 

He nodded and guided her to a lying position. “Tell me five of your favorite things.” 

She paused, looking around the room. “Hmmmmm. You.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Mhm. Uhhh, lavender. The color purple. Satin jackets. Baking. Messing around in the lab. Oh, I guess that’s more than five.” 

He tapped her shoulders rhythmically, “You can keep going if you need to.” 

She took in a deep breath. “I think I’m ok now.” 

“Positive?” 

Nodding she pulled the blankets over herself. What she really needed was rest. She was so exhausted from the whole ordeal that the idea of doing anything else felt impossible. 

He got off the bed again, searching beneath the bedframe for something before he pulled a large purple blanket from under the bed. She blinked in surprise as he placed it over her, a weight holding her down to the bed. 

“I should’ve mentioned it was weighted.” 

She pulled her hand out to give a quick thumbs up as he climbed back into bed. She shifted to hold out her arm for a hug. He smiled and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“You smell like you’ve been using my soap.” She grumbled against his plastron. 

He shrugged. “ I like the way you smell.” 

Rolling her eyes she tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders smiling as soft chirping filled the room, the sound he always made right as he fell asleep. 

“Good night Tello.” She whispered.

His plastron vibrated as he churred back, gently running circles through her hair. 

She was home. And she was safe.

~

squad don't write stuff at four AM I'm pretty sure this only makes sense to me at this point. Anyway I was listening to my pretty princess playlist while writing this 💁‍♀️

the reason why this was written is in the tags btw

[book-lover85]

Stay at home dad and artist on commission Keefe

[moeblob]

[vinestaff]

day 1 roleswap

[avocado62524]

[forever-a-lake-effect-kid]

maine is the first state to see the sun in the continental us (dawnland baby!) and i think that should translate into maine being one of those ridiculously early risers who everyone else hates send post