#the nightmares might still make miles tremble but his brother will scare them off

[kisaki-yazmin-motou]

¡Adoro tanto esto como no tienes idea!

Literal, grite y comence a aplaudir cuando Tails fue nombrado principe de Camelot ¡Sonic lee mis pensamientos!

Me da un poc de risa de que él piensa de que si todos lo conocieran mejor, no lo querrian como rey, cuando es todo lo contrario. Si lo conocieran mejor, estoy segura de que le habrian pedido que fuera rey desde mucho antes.

"El rey hace lo que quiere" que mejor manera de convencer a Sonic (?) Aunque sabemos que realmente son las palabras de su hermanito lo que lo animo a hacerlo, es normal que el menor sea quien obtenga todo lo quiere despues.

Me puedo imaginar a varios encargados de la politica hablar con Tails acerca de traer a su hermano a alguna reunion de vez en cuando, el erizo solo le hace caso al zorrito.

¿Se imaginan que alguien habla mal de las dos colas del principe? Sonic ahora los puede mandar a desvivir sin problemas, mejor porque su hermanito no lo sabra (?)

El que Calinburn se haya convencido de que Sonic seria un buen rey al ver como convivia con Tails fue magnifico.

Sonic and The Black Knight AU in which Sonic’s from that world, he’s an explorer of some sorts and he does technically live in Camelot with his brother Miles, but he spends most of his time traveling around and getting new stuff for his brother to weld and forge with.

One day while returning to Camelot and looking for minerals or cool rocks he finds a sword in a stone, great! New materials for his brother! he can surely make something better than this old blade or upgrade it.

He takes the sword out effortlessly. The sword can talk. Great(?

He brings the weapon to the town, people start to notice the obvious magical artifact and voice goes around about “the legend being fulfilled”.

Oh, that legend. Yeah, no.

He just wants to show his little brother a cool sword, not become ruler of a whole kingdom thank you very much, it doesn’t matter if he “fulfilled the sacred prophecy”, it’s just a rumor until he decides it isn’t. And he doesn’t want it to not be a rumor.

Rumors travel fast, but he is faster.

The talking sword started doubting if he was worthy of the throne after spending no more than an hour around him, not shutting up about how “you’re already running from your kingdom and you haven’t been crowned yet”. Good. Maybe he could convince the sword to tell the people he would make a terrible king if the disdain in its voice gave anything off.

They arrived at the blacksmith’s shop, his brother’s shop, he shush’s the sword down as his brother runs to hug him, instantly pulling away at the sight of the weapon, his twin tails happily wagging gentle circles behind him as he asks Caliburn (what a name) anything and everything that there is to know as a talking sword. Caliburn just asks him why does Sonic call him “Tails” (nice try of a joke mate).

The very rude sword being perplexed about how someone as “reckless and careless” as him has “such a brilliant child in his care”.

Well, not a pretty mineral or shiny rock, but a talking sword seems interesting enough to make his brother happily ramble almost all night long, taking karma in his name as he wears Caliburn’s ear(?) off as he did with him.

Well, he could tell the kid all about his latest adventure in the morning, right now he could focus on cooking his brother a new dinner dish with spices from his latest travel destiny. A small bedtime story (about the knight’s of the round table by Carliburn’s request) and a few ear scratches later and you got a snuggled sleeping fox kit ready for the night.

The sword stays near them, looking at every move Sonic made, as if analyzing him in confusion. What a rude weapon, he might not be good king material but he’s peak big brother material.

He might not have enough on him to give his brother a bigger workshop or expensive materials, but he will give him everything he has if it means keeping him happy, they may not live in a big castle or have fancy dinners every night, but he swore from the moment he met the fox that he would do everything in his power to keep him safe.

As long as his big bro was around, he would never go hungry again, he would never sleep outside again and no one would hurt him again. He won’t ever feel unloved again.

Sonic might not be able to give him the world, but he’ll give him everything else.

His little brother’s sleeping form slightly trembles in his tiny bed, curling himself in his small blanket, covering his body with his fluffy tails, (sometimes Sonic thinks he’s more “Tails than “Miles”, pun intended). it’s been kinda cold lately, their humble home not making much favors to keep them warm even with the forge still on, but he doesn’t think he’s trembling because of the cold.

It’s okay, he didn’t wanted to sleep in his makeshift bed today anyway, he’s been away from his brother for enough time and he doesn’t mind staying right beside him to fight the little fox’s nightmares away and sharing their warmth for comfort. He nuzzles beside him, the kit instinctively moving to hug him and hide his face on the crook of the hedgehog’s neck, gentle purring and soft humming filling the silence of the night.

The next morning Caliburn greets him loudly “Good morrow, king Sonic”

Hell.

He doesn’t know what could’ve changed Caliburn’s opinion on him from one moment to another, but now thanks to that he has knights kneeling before him, the royal wizard offering him their nation’s secrets, a talking sword lecturing him all day long about “a king’s duty and heart”, and the whole kingdom practically demanding him to rule.

It’s not a very tempting idea to say the least. Organizing diplomacy gatherings, hosting balls and knighting warriors is not really his thing, and hell, the kingdom wants it to be his thing.

He offers the throne to whoever wins a crusade? “the winner must defeat his majesty first”. He tries to put back the sword in the stone? “The sword chose you, my liege, it is your destiny”. He tries to show the high commands how bad of a kind he would be? “His majesty is such a humble king, even in all his might”.

So, so eager to make him king. They tried to drag him to the castle so he could “know his new home”. They offered him to make changes to royalty’s way to make it “enough of his way”. They showed him the perks of having power, “a king does as he pleases”.

But what could he really offer them as a king? He can fight bad guys and make allies for sure, but even if he wanted to, would that be enough?

He kinda regrets not spending enough time around the kingdom before, maybe if he did and the people actually knew him they wouldn’t be so insistent on him of all people being king, talking magical sword be damned.

His brother knows what’s going on, he keeps mostly quiet about it, not wanting to disturb the hedgehog with the subject when he actively is trying to avoid it, his only opinion about it being shown a few nights after his return to their home. He’s tucking the fox in for the night, Caliburn silently watching them from the other side of the room, a sleepy squeaky voice fading with a yawn in a last effort to reassure his big brother while he runs his finger’s trough the fox’s bangs.

“You could give this kingdom anything… you already gave the world to me”

That’s all it takes.

Alright, he’ll be their king, but he will not sit on a fancy chair all day, won’t have a personal army following him around and definitely won’t be educated in “proper royalty manners”, you want him to be the king? The king does as he pleases.

The high council or whatever can take care of the bureaucracy, alliances and all the boring stuff, they’ll have the control over most of the kingdom (just how they like it, right?)

His first decree? Right after his coronation, the only time he actually stays in the throne room longer than five minutes, he actually wears his crown, he’s bearing the sacred sword when he calls his brother to the center of the room “I dub thee Miles “Tails” Prower, the crown prince of Camelot”.

He’s the king now, it’s only logical for his little brother to be the prince, the crown prince, direct heir to the kingdom’s throne.

He’s the prince, and the prince can get whatever the hell he desires, so bring him all the minerals and heavy armory, and show him the secret library! Little bro needs stimulation and there’s only so much he can do with a blacksmith’s mediums. His room? Bigger than the king’s! His food? Get him all the neighbor kingdom’s candy if he asks for it! His education? Give him all the books known in the world, get him all the minerals and bring his workshop inside the castle!

What he had was enough for his brother before, but it might not be enough for him just yet. Time to give him the world that he already promised him.

Prince Miles does have a nice ring to it.

[sparkbeast20]

You're my Treasure (Mammon X MC) Pt7

The Blue Lotus petals (series)

As a fan of Beauty X Beast pairing, Showing your “true self” to Lover or (Monster Love) Tropes. I figure to make a (More Demonic Forms AU/head canon) story for each brothers. Heads up each brother’s Story is long as fuck. So, I’ll be posting them as parts and finishing one brother before moving on to the rest of them.

(spoiler for lesson 1-60)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6

Warning: Swearing, Demonic nature, mention of Pain, Blood, Violence, Body horror, Graphic Transformation

Previously

All of them look at each other, with fear and worry on their faces. Trying to know who has the answer. While Lucifer look through the hold in the ceiling and into the sky, wondering where is Mammon taking you and hope that the two of you are safe.

You and Mammon are curl up in each other. You have your arms wrap around his torso, your legs wrap around one of his and you have your face in the crooks of his neck.

While he his arms wrap around you. His wings are scratch out behind him and a tail grow over night is bounces about behind him, when it hit a small statue over hitting coins making a noise. Causing him to wake up.

He yawns and use his hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes, not knowing his fingers turn into talon claws he accidentally scratch his cheek.

“OW! The fuck was that?” his cursing woke you up, like somedays you sleepily smack his face with your palm. “Mammon I’m trying to sleep”

“I’m sorry, it just I felt something scratch my~” he finally focuses on his hand, his eyes widen.

“G’AAAAAH!” Mammon jumps up and scream in a panic completely waking you up. As he stares at his hand, then he felt that his wings are out so he brought them Infront of him and shock that his wings are different causing him to panicking more.

“Mammon calm down!” slowly got up and walk over to him, as he flailing his arms and wings around almost hitting. Then you quickly gave him a wake slap on his cheek, stop him from moving.

You cup his face with your hands and look at him directly in the eyes.

“Baby, calm down and change back” he nods grab your wrist and uncapping his face. As stood up straight. “Right......right okay” he took a deep and try to focus. However, nothing is happening he try shaking both hands, but still nothing.

“I-I can’t change back” he looks at you a defeated face, scare of what’s happen. Then he looks back down to his hand eh or talons clenching them and drop down on his knees as he brought his arms close to his chest.

“Mammon” you mutter under you’re breathe. You kneel down beside him hug him at his head running you through his hair. “You’re not alone, I’m here will…. Will find a way to change you back. I promise” you kiss him on the cheek and nuzzle face into his. He brough one hand on top of your arm and push it closer to his mouth kiss it. “Thank you…...I-I love you so much”

You smile and hug him even tighter “I love you too” you said it in a loving tone.

“Now…… where are we? and you have a tail!”

“I can see the outside of the cave, come on” you quicken your pace at the sight of light well moonlight, with Mammon following behind you.

Once you two are out of the cave, you notice that you are surrounded by trees.

“This is isn’t the wood near the house?” you look back at Mammon, who is confuse as you are.

You grab his hand and smile reassure him, he blinks and flash a cocky smile back to you his little way of making you feel safe with him.

“Don’t worry babe, I’ll just fly up and see we’re we at” he lets go of you hand and gets ready to fly looking in the sky. Before he leaps, he looks over to you “Be back in a sec” then his off in the air, as you watch him fly up.

Once he got high enough, he looks arounds and let out an airless gasp.

Miles and miles of nothing but trees and the mountain with the cave where you two came out from. But that doesn’t shock Mammon. What shock him was remembers this forest, it’s the same one in his nightmare with the same trees and the same mountain where he saw Nightmare Satan standing a top from.

He quickly flew back down, as he decent down he can feel his heart races as everything is coming back to him, why you two are here, why he brought you to the cave, and why he needs to bring you back to his cavern.

He landed Infront of you with a worry look on his face.

“Mammon? What did you saw?” but he didn’t reply all he did was walk close to you grab your uninjured arm, and start heading back to the cave with you in tow.

“Mammon”

“He’s still out there, you’re not safe out here”

“Who’s still out there?”

“Basto! That son of a bitch got out from prison and Lucifer knew and didn’t tell me or the others. Now he’s loose in Devildom and we don’t know where he is or what is his next plan”

Your eyes widen to the revelation “What?” you mutter under your breathed.

“I’m not letting him get near ya” he quickens his pace and tighten his grab on your wrist.

“Mammon please slowly down” you call out to him, but he couldn’t hear you as he continues to talk.

“If I ever see him…...”

“Mammon!”

“I’ll kill him!” he said it a deep and threating voice.

“Mammon it hurts!?!” that snap him back from his train of thought, he quickly looks back and see your face pain, he looks down to your arm and saw your hand twitching cause of his grab. He immediately let go step away from you scare to what he almost did to you.

“I-I’m sorry” he can barely say it without chocking on his own words.

“Mammon” you call out to him with a worry tone, as you try to reach out to hold him.

He shook his head trying to snap out of his guilt daze. “J-just stay inside the cave. I-I’ll need some spaces, I be back once I get a clear head and when a have some food”

Before you can say anything, he flew off leaving you near the cave. Feeling guilty of hurting you tears start building up in his eyes as he flies over to the nearby lake.

“Fuck. fuck. fuck. FUCK!!” Mammon curse to himself, as he bangs his arm in the tree near the Lake.

“Why is it always everything I do, I screw up and the others always have to clean up”

Maybe because you get way over your head or you don’t think clear enough to the point always jump to conclusions.

Mammon tremble to hear a voice in these woods, whip his body looking around where the voice came from.

“W-who’s there, if that’s you Levi this isn’t funny…... Its not like a can get scare or something” Mammon playing his brave card. Which the voice isn’t buying it.

Are you being serious right now! This is the first time I hear you talk like you aren’t afraid, and I don’t believe you!

Mammon face turn pale, he couldn’t move because he was frozen in fear. When the voice spoke again.

Oh, for the love of ~ MOVE!!!

Mammon startle by the yelling. “Oi ya don’t have to yell…… by the way where are ya?” he looks arounds “All I see are trees and the Lake~” Mammon trails off when he saw a figure reflecting on the surface of the lake near shore.

Mammon walks slowly to the lake, as he got closer to the lake can finally make out what’s is reflected on the lake.

It was a white crow-like beast with his front legs serve as he’s wings, with gold similar marking across his torso and his horns similar to Mammon’s only bigger. And his eyes with sapphire blue iris and ink black sclera looking directly at Mammon. It was his demonic form, his beast within, Finally face to face, but Mammon start laughing like a mad man.

“Hahahahaha……. I might be going crazy, because I seeing things”

Or you finally losing control over your mind and making it easier for me to take over.

“No!! I been eating those stupid petals; I can’t be losing control”

Oh…... the same petals you been vomiting for the past two weeks.

Mammon mouth gave open to the realization, on what the beast was talking about.

He quickly shut his mouth and stomp over to the reflection and drop down to his knees and start smacking the water.

“Yer not here! Yer still lock up in mine mind!”

Face it! There nothing stopping me from taking over. Even smack the water…… will you stop that!!!

Mammon stops mid smack at the beast command, he huffs crosses his arms and turn his back at the beast. but after a moment of silence Mammon demeanor changed.

“Please…...”

Hm???

“Please do take over, not-not just yet…… at least let me take y/n back to my brothers…... I-I” Mammon start sobbing causing his voice to crack. “I don’t want to leave them here in the woods alone and scare and I want to see them one last” Mammon start crying to the idea of not see you again. But Mammon heard the beast laughing, causing he to look back to the beast.

“Oi this isn’t funny, how cruel are ya” but the beast shook his head at Mammon earning him a confuse look on Mammon’s face.

If your smart enough to realize that I’m not planning

“What are you talking about?” but only met with the beast smiling even with a beak.

Let’s just say after our talk you’ll be begging me to help you.

“Mammon!! Where are you?” You call out to your boyfriend as you wandering in the cold and unforgiving woods looking for him. At least you’re wearing his jacket.

Is been hours since you decide to look for Mammon, in hindsight this wasn’t one of your smart ideas. But you could stay in the cave and wait for Mammon.

Its Mammon you’re talking about, the same demon who runs when from his mess and try to hide from the brothers who he gets them involve with his shenanigans, and the same demon who said to you to run away with him, when he gets emotional.

No, you need to find him, and be there for him in his time of need.

“Mammon~” before you finish shouting his name, you heard him scream in agony.

“Mammon…...” mumble his name, in fear of him being in pain. You start running towards the screaming, each step you took your heart start beating faster. And the louder screaming gets you start feeling tears falling from your eyes.

You saw a clearing ahead, as you got closer you saw a lake and Mammon crouch down digging his claws into the dirt as his body violently shaking.

“MAMMON!” you scream his name in fear and sadness, causing him look at you shock that you manage to find him in this big ass woods.

“Y/n…...” his voice sound hoarse, due to the screaming or something else causing it.

You rush over to him, only stop dead in your traces when raises his hand up.

“StaY BaCK…… PLeaSE……. I-I…….. dOn’t WaNt tO hURt yA……” you cover your mouth with both hands as you start to cry, hearing his voice change in each word to his normal one and to a sinister one. Seeing Mammon in pain causing you to fall on your knees sobbing. All you can do is be here for him.

He smiles at you for comfort, while tears of pain slowly fall from his eyes through his cheek telling. And he mouthed I love you, before looking down and groan it pain.

Then his wings folds in half and start creeping through his arms, as the end of the wings made it to Mammon’s wrist the thumb part of the wings dug into skin causing him to scream in pain, and you yelp.

Then feathers start sprouting out throughout his body, his boots start to tear open revealing four toe talons, feeling his face start to change he turn his back on you not showing what his about to do.

He stood up on his legs, as his body start to grow longer. Then he grabs and dig his talons into his face draw blood, luckily his palm is over his mouth muffle his scream of agony. As the sound of clothes tearing over leaping his muffle scream. Well now for long, as he feels growing under his skin of his face, irritated he start rip off the flesh of his face revealing a beak growing where once his mouth was. As he continues to remove the remaining flesh on his face.

He’s voice start to change into something demonic and animalistic, he’s screams turns to a crow-like shriek. As his skeletal frame start arranging themselves in his demonic form with bones bending and breaking.

Once done, He let out an unnerving shriek before dropping down on all fours and shake off the remaining clothes, blood, and flesh off of him, then turn his head at your direction with his sapphire blue glowing eyes stare at you.

Terrified you took a step; he sees that you’re moving he face his entire body towards you, he shrieks as his feathers stand upright and he pounces forward, see it made you trip and fall on your back, before you can get Mammon was on top of you pinning you down on the ground as he stares into your eyes. Scare of was going to happen, the only thing you can muster in this moment of fear is.

“Mammon”

[khaleesiofalicante]

ALEC WEEK - ALEC ANGST

“I got this one,” Alec yelled over his shoulder and ran after the demon.

Being the Consul involved a lot of desk work. While Alec did appreciate getting to stay at home with Magnus and the kids…

Well, he was a Shadowhunter after all.

He had kind of missed this. The patrols. The adrenaline.

Most of all, fighting with Jace.

So, when Jace had asked him to join him on patrol, Alec had jumped on the opportunity.

But now of course he was regretting it a little bit.

When Alec had said he wanted to kick some demon ass, he had been hoping for a dozen at most.

Not this.

They had fought almost double that so far and there was many more on the way.

Jace used to call himself a chick-magnet long time ago. But in actuality, his parabatai was a demon-magnet.

Wherever Jace went, they just seemed to hang out in hoards.

They had strategized to find the greator demon that was sending out the little minions. Alec had followed one while Jace followed another. It got darker and darker with every step until Alec found himself drowning in the night. Maybe he had wondered into a cave or something.

He quickly activated his night vision rune. But it didn’t help.

This wasn’t a cave. This was magic. Demonic magic.

“Alec!” he heard Jace yell. “Can you see anything?”

“No!” Alec yelled back.

Jace sounded like he was both close and miles away.

“This is some sort of trick,” Alec said.

“Yeah, no shit,” Jace yelled back. “Let’s get out of here.”

It was then Alec heard a low chuckle.

There was something eerily familiar about it. It sounded like someone he recognized – almost.

They were still plunged in darkness, but somehow Alec noticed a figure emerge. He pointed his bow at the man.

It looked like a man. Tall. Lean. Well built. Strong.

Oh god. Surely not another prince of hell. Haven’t they had enough of those things?

The closer it got, the faster Alec’s heart started to beat.

He knew he should run. But he didn’t.

The presence felt both like a threat and an ally at the same time.

Alec didn't want to hesitate any longer. He let the arrow fly.

The figure pulled out a bow out of nowhere and let his own arrow fly. It was like watching lightening. The figure’s arrow clashed with his own and burst into dust.

“Nice shot,” the figure said as it approached him. “Next time don’t hesitate so much. It can get you killed.”

“Jace!” Alec shouted.

But there was no response.

“Who are you?” Alec yelled at the figure.

He didn’t know why we was yelling. But it seemed like the right thing to do. His shirt was soaking in sweat, his fingers trembling slightly.

“It’s me,” the voice said.

As the figure closer, a small gasp escaped Alec’s mouth. He would recognize the figure anywhere.

Even in the depths of such darkness.

“Or should I say, it’s you.”

Alec took a step back.

It was him.

It was Alec. In shadowhunter gear. His hair out of place. His bow and quiver hanging on his side.

It was Alec and it wasn’t.

Despite all the similarities, Alec knew it wasn’t him.

This one seemed…empty.

Or full.

He didn’t know.

But what gave him away was his fingers - And the lack of his favorite and only piece of jewelry.

There was no wedding band.

“Stay back, you son of a bitch,” Alec didn’t hesitate this time.

“Is that anyway to talk about our mother?” other Alec chuckled.

“This is some sort of demonic trick,” Alec said, mostly to himself.

“Duh,” Other Alec rolled his eyes, the gesture intimately familiar.

Alec let another arrow fly but again – he just wasn’t fast enough.

It was almost as if the Other Alec knew what he was going to do.

“Of course, I know what you’re going to do,” Other Alec said. “I’m you, aren’t I?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I know what you’re thinking too,” Other Alec pointed out. “Right now, you’re thinking if Jace is okay.”

Alec held up his bow again even though it was pointless.

“He is okay,” Other Alec waved him off. “He has his own nightmare to deal with.”

Nightmares.

Baku.

“You’re Baku,” Alec said, feeling slightly triumphant. “Eater of dreams. Greator Demon of Nightmares.”

“Well, technically, I’m Alec Lightwood,” the demon shrugged. “Consul in Exile.”

“Alec Lightwood-Bane,” he corrected out of habit.

“Of course,” Other Alec put up his hands, his bare fingers making him more and more worried.

“What is this supposed to be?” Alec demanded. “A nightmare? I’m not scared of you.”

“Aren’t you?” Other Alec cocked his head. “You are your greatest fear, Alec.”

“Bullshit,” Alec spit. “I’m not afraid of myself. Not anymore.”

“Are we sure about that?” Other Alec asked again.

“Yes,” Alec snapped. “I can’t hurt myself anymore.”

“Well,” Other Alec shrugged. “You can still hurt others.”

Alec stared.

It was like the demon had shot him with an arrow. Right in the chest. 

“I know you, remember?” Other Alec grinned. “I’ve seen your dreams. Your nightmares.”

“You know nothing!” Alec yelled and let another arrow fly.

Useless. Other Alec dodged it effortlessly.

“How many people should keep getting hurt, Alec?” his own voiced asked himself. “How many people should get hurt because of your incomptency?”

His throat felt dry. His head ached.

He heard the questions from Other Alec who was in front of him.

But he heard them echo inside his head too. Like he was thinking these thoughts right now.

As if he had been thinking them forever.

“I’m not incompetent!” Alec said through gritted teeth.

“Say that to Max,” Other Alec sneered.

Alec’s heart clenched.

“Or Dad,” Other Alec whispered.

And then it broke.

“I-I tried,” Alec stammered. “I tried to save them.”

“You weren’t even there,” Other Alec accused.

“Stop it!” Alec let another arrow fly.

Nothing.

“You know, it’s ironic that they named you Alexander,” Other Alec chuckled. “When have you ever protected anyone? All you’ve done is hurt people.”

“Shut up!” Alec yelled.

“You tried to hurt Clary because you were angry and jealous. You did hurt Magnus because you were angry and jealous. You tried to kill Camille. You did kill Meliorn. So, who’s next?”

“I’ve changed,” Alec argued, he didn’t know why. “I’ve grown.”

“Growing into a sorry excuse of a man,” the demon laughed. “Now they’ve made you Consul. What a great opportunity to let your entire race down!”

“I won’t!” Alec yelled, even though he had had already had nightmares about this very thing. “I won’t let them down. They chose me!”

“Oh please,” Other Alec rolled his eyes. “No one would have even considered you if it wasn’t for Jace. He felt sorry for you because you never get the spotlight. And everyone who voted for you did it because they felt sorry for you because you lost dad. It was a pity vote.”

“Get out of my head!” Alec screamed. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything.”

“On contrary,” Other Alec grinned. “I know you better than anyone.”

“Bullshit,” Alec said again.

“I’m your greatest fear, Alec,” the other man said.

“Because your cocky and rude?” Alec demanded, gaining his confidence back. “I don’t think so.”

“Because of this,” Other Alec raised his empty hand.

Alec swallowed.

“I would never remove my ring!” he said, his voice hoarse. “Never.”

“Aw,” Other Alec said. “Not even if Magnus asked you to give it back?”

The confidence that was slowly building inside him felt apart like a wave crashing into land.

“That’s right,” the man said. “He took it back. He took rafe. He left.”

“Magnus would never,” Alec said, clutching his own wedding ring.

The other Alec just grinned.

“Rafe,” Alec said suddenly. “You said he took Rafe. What happened to Max?”

Stop it. This isn’t real! But Alec couldn’t listen to that voice. Just the one before him.

“That name is cursed,” Other Alec said sadly. “Or maybe it’s just you. You’re not good enough to protect anyone.”

“Max is fine,” Alec told himself. “Max is okay. He is in the institute.”

“Not for long,” the Other Alec said in a sing song voice. “You will get him killed too. He will die. Alone and afraid. Just like your brother.”

Alec leaped at himself, but the figure simply disappeared and appeared in a different spot.

“Touched a nerve, huh?” Other Alec chuckled. “I wonder why.”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Alec let arrow after arrow fly.

Nothing.

“Useless,” Other Alec chuckled. “Don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“You will not touch my family!” Alec pointed an arrow. He’d stab the fucking thing to death if he had to. “Do you hear me?”

“I would never!” Other Alec sounded offended. “But can’t say the same for you though.”

“I will never hurt my family,” Alec replied, his voice getting lower and lower.

“You already have,” Other Alec pointed out. “Giving up immortality? Wow. What a slap in the face for Magnus. You know he could have had anyone, right?”

“We made the decision together!” Alec yelled. “Magnus wanted this too!”

“Of course he did, you selfish prick!” Other Alec yelled back. “He did because you did! It’s what you wanted. Because of your precious parabatai.”

“But J-Jace-” Alec stammered.

“You know,” Other Alec’s voice turned into a husky whisper, like he was sharing a secret. “Magnus knows. He has always known you would choose Jace over him.”

“This is just a dream,” Alec whispered to himself desperately. “Just a dream.”

“How about what happened in Thule?” Other Alec asked. “Was that just a dream too?”

Alec gasped.

“Never thought you’d have it in you,” Other Alec whistled. “You’re savage.”

“It wasn’t me!” Alec yelled.

“Wasn’t it?” the other man shrugged.

“All this talk about loving one man and changing the world for him and yet you killed him him with your own hands,” Other Alec shook his head in disappointment. “Magnus deserved better.”

“Don’t talk about Magnus like you know him!” Alec snapped.

“Oh fine. But I do know you, Alec Lightwood,” Other Alec moved closer. “I know your future. You might keep him happy now. But you will be his suffering. You will be his Bane.”

Images of Magnus flashed before his eyes. Magnus coping with his loss. Magnus not coping so well.

“Please,” Alec almost begged. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing at all,” the figure moved back. “I just wanted to talk.”

“You’re not gonna kill me?” Alec asked.

“What’s the fun in that?” Other Alec asked. “I’d rather keep you alive and watch you suffer.

“Get out,” Alec ordered, even though he knew he had no power.

“So sensitive,” Other Alec chuckled. “Fine. I’ll go for now. You better watch out, Alec Lightwood. Bad things are coming.”

“You stay away from, Magnus!” Alec yelled. 

“I could say the same to you,” Other Alec pouted. “Leave him. For his sake. For the sake of your childr-.”

“If you touch my kids-”

“I won’t,” Other Alec raised his hands. “But can’t say the same about their grandfather however.”

“Stay out of my head,” Alec hissed.

“No promises,” the demon of nightmares winked.

Alec felt the darkness slowly dissipate. His heartbeat getting stronger.

The shivers on his arms were just going down when he heard the voice in ear one last time.

“Oh, one last thing,” his own voice whispered. “Give my regards to Izzy.”

Alec’s body shuddered at that and he fell on his knees.

“Hey. Hey. Hey,” Jace was already by his side. “You okay?”

Alec just nodded, still trying to get back to reality.

“Dude, I’d take an army of raveners over this any day,” Jace said, looking rattled in a long time. “This shit was creepy as hell.”

“What did you see?” Alec asked.

“Some psycho version of myself. He kept talking about killing Clary,” Jace laughed, even though Alec sensed the nervousness in his voice. “As if that’s ever gonna happen.”

Alec nodded and slowly got up.

“What did you see?” Jace asked.

Alec thought of Other Alec.

The one without the ring. The one he knew would haunt his dreams every night from now on.

“Spiders,” he said. “Just stupid spiders.”

[toraodwaterlaw]

Heart to Heart

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4

This is the final part of a four part AU fic set just after Marineford. Law is the latest Corazon, but Rosinante is still alive.

1681 words (6638 total for all four parts), angst with a happy(ish) ending

-

Whenever he returned from a mission, Law would appear like clockwork as soon as night fell. Normally. This homecoming was anything but normal. Rosinante didn’t think much of it that first night. Law had looked worn to the bone. Rosinante had hoped he was getting rest. When Law didn’t turn up the next night, Rosinante started to worry. He checked carefully with Viola and found out Law hadn’t left his quarters once, even to eat.

That settled it. As soon as he was sure there was no one around to interrupt, he slipped into Law’s room and closed off the outside world with a snap.

Law was at his desk, medical charts and texts spread before him. Rosinante assumed Law was reading until he got close enough to see those golden eyes were fixed on the window. He was staring beyond the edges of Dressrosa toward the distant horizon. A single black feather was clutched loosely in his hand.

“Hey, kid.”

Law’s fingers twitched. For him, it was about as good as jumping in surprise. “He still hasn’t put the strings in your lips back.” This didn’t seem to be addressed to Rosinante. It certainly wasn’t directed toward him, as Law continued looking out the window. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I noticed.”

Every word continued to be a struggle for Rosinante but he would talk until he could no more if it got some reaction out of Law. As it was, there was an emptiness in Law’s eyes that was far too close to the look he’d had those first meetings on Spider Miles.

“Would you look at me?”

“You shouldn’t talk so much. You still need time to heal.” Law reached across his desk to place the feather on the windowsill. He replaced it with a quill and scrawled something out on a scrap of paper. “Here’s a list of teas and other natural remedies to help your throat.” 

Rosinante took the note as it was passed back to him. “I appreciate it but—”

“I’m working on a salve for your lips.” Law rooted through bottles on his desk and on shelves to the side. He pulled open drawers on a cabinet and picked out different packets of fragrant herbs. They were all arranged carefully across the desk. “Some of the ingredients need time to cure before they’re ready, so you’ll have to wait a bit longer. I’ll write out instructions so that you know just what to do.”

Rosinante hugged his arms to himself to keep himself from grabbing Law to put a stop to all the anxious movement. The boy already had his movements controlled enough as it was. And it wasn’t what Rosinante really wanted.

“Law. Look at me. Please.”

Law sighed and turned slowly in his seat. His eyes immediately flicked to Rosinante’s chest. Rosinante had pulled on a light sweater for the meeting. The telltale hole in his chest couldn’t be visible but he knew it was all Law saw anyway. Law reached a hand toward it before quickly pulling it back to himself.

They were facing each other, which was a start, but Law didn’t seem any more inclined to talk to him. Rosinante frowned and then immediately winced at the pain it brought. At least now, with Law looking at him, he was free to us his hands to sign.

Are you okay?

Law scowled. “Me? I’m— you’re the one with a—” His frown deepened further and looked away again. He clutched at his own chest. For a while it seemed like he wasn’t going to say another word. In the end, voice low, he added, “I took your heart.”

His voice sounded as raw and pained as Rosinante’s.

Rosinante placed a gentle hand on Law’s face. He turned it so that he could get a better look at the bruising. He wished he knew what else Law was hiding because he was certain that there were other injuries. Law was no more one for covering up than Doffy was, so his crisp, black shirt doubtless covered injuries to his torso. Rosinante wished he knew what else was being hidden from him. He knew by now, though, that Law would simply brush off any such inquiries, so he’d try another approach. 

What happened?

Law waved him off. “I was stupid. Straw Hat had a nightmare about his brother and I was too close when he woke up. Seems he wasn’t too thrilled about the idea of me trying to hold him in his bed so he wouldn’t reopen his injuries. I’m fine.”

Rosinante must have looked dubious because Law’s frown deepened.

“I am,” Law insisted. “I did a scan to check for serious injuries to be sure. I’ve had much worse. I’d be healed up by now if I had a chance to actually get some rest.”

Then why don’t you rest?

Law crossed his arms. He’d grown so much. He was a man now but there were often times Rosinante couldn’t help but see him as a child. Shrink him down a number of feet and he could have been ten again with as stubbornly sullen as he looked. Not that Law hadn’t had plenty of cause to be sullen, but Rosinante did sometimes wish he’d make more of an effort to smile from time to time. The boy’s face was really going to stick like that someday.

“I had two patients with life threatening injuries and then I had to work overtime to get here as soon as possible. I haven’t exactly had time, you know,” Law said with a tone he usually reserved for Trebol. It was a voice that said he thought he was speaking to someone who was being exceptionally dull.

Rosinante frowned at him in turn, disregarding the pain it caused to do so. You’re back now. He resisted the urge to add a request for Law not to take that tone with him. One of them would be an adult here.

Law’s eyes flicked over to his bed a few times. His hands absently fingered at his bangs in a sure sign that he was unconsciously hoping for his hat. It was a habit he’d never managed to grow out of, even though he usually didn’t wear it these days. Not having his hat to hide beneath, he turned around once more.

“I tried to sleep, alright? It didn’t stick,” he said.

Rosinante waited for an explanation that didn’t come. Law had to be absolutely exhausted if he hadn’t gotten a single good night’s sleep in weeks. It was amazing he didn’t just keel over on the spot. Law did excel at existing on spite alone but this was pushing it, even for him.

Rosinante placed a hand on Law’s back and found it was trembling. He rubbed soothing circles and waited. He wanted to demand Law tell him what was wrong. The urge would always be there, to search out all of Law’s ills and try to cure them through stubbornness alone if he had to. However, there were times to talk, to push, and then there were times to wait. Getting Law to open up about anything was so often a game of patience. If it was up to him, he’d bottle up his emotions until that bottle burst and destroyed him. Rosinante wasn’t especially inclined to let that happen.

Law became so still that Rosinante might have suspected he’d nodded off if not for the irregularity of his breathing. Rosinante stilled, also, and waited.

“Every time I try to sleep,” Law said, “I see you. I see Doflamingo with your heart and all the things he might do to you because of me.”

“Not because of you.”

Law looked up at him. “Your voice—”

“My voice be damned,” Rosinante all but growled. “And Doffy be damned. This is on him.”

Law’s face fell. “I didn’t have to give in. I could have resisted more. I should have. And I didn’t have to act on some stupid fucking impulse at Marineford. I’ve been so careful. I threw out over a decade of work and for what? Some kid who thought he could take on the entire World Government and a rival Warlord. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking you could help,” Rosinante said. “You saved their lives.”

“Their lives aren’t as important as yours.”

Rosinante didn’t try to dispute that. He knew it wouldn’t do any good. And besides, he knew the feeling. He’d burn the world down if it meant keeping Law safe.

Instead of arguing, he knelt down and pulled Law into a tight embrace. Law’s breath hitched. All the emotion he’d stubbornly shoved down finally broke through and he started to cry in earnest. Even someone as bullheaded as Law had his limits. Rosinante was only glad to be there to hold Law together so he didn’t break apart.

“I’m proud of you,” Rosinante murmured.

There had rarely been truer words. He’d been scared for Law’s sake, of course, but he’d been so proud when Law first called him to say what he’d done. There were times, despite all his faith in Law, where he worried this life would be too much. It would be easy for Law to let this all change him. Perhaps it would even be better for him if he did. Less painful, certainly. But when he had a chance to show who he really was on the inside, he’d done something amazing. Something neither he nor Doflamingo nor even Rosinante himself had expected.

Not that Law would hear any of that. “You shouldn’t be,” he muttered.

Rosinante rested his cheek on top of unruly black hair. “Well, I am.”

“Well, you’re an idiot.”

Rosinante laughed and pulled Law closer. “Maybe. But I can be an idiot and rightfully proud of you, kid. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

Law let out a strangled sound that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t been so drowned in tears. Then, in a voice so quiet Rosinante had to strain to hear, he said, “Then I’ll try not to let you down. Idiot.”

[vegetacide]

Sleepless

Veg●notable: So... this popped into my head.. wrote it.. and here we are.

Any mistakes are purely my own...

Characters: Kayo/Virgil, Jeff Tracy

General warning: Just a little gropey

Word count: 4541 words

Time: Middle of the night. Crack past when regular people would be sleeping

Location: Lounge balcony, Island

Summary: Someone is having a hard time sleeping.. stuff happens. Embarrassment ensues.

Enjoy!

o0o

Virgil sat upright with a jolt, the feeling of foreboding and dread chasing him into the land of wakefulness. Breath heaving, heart pounding a rapid staccato in his chest, he scrambled up his rumpled bed until his back found the headboard and kicked his legs free of the tangle of linens.

Croaking out a command, the shadowy remnants of the nightmare which had been plaguing his slumber vanished as the soft, pre-programmed lighting illuminated the quiet space of his room. Reassuring him that he wasn’t actually hanging from a mountain a mere finger’s width away from a trapped climber..

Cursing softly to himself, he racked a hand through his sleep tousled hair and swung his legs over the side of the bed resisting the urge to shiver as the temperature controlled air breezed over his sweat soaked back.

Slouching he braced his elbows on his knees and rubbed the exhausted fog from his eyes. The dream had felt so real, the blistering cold, the blinding wind, the burning chill in his chest as he desperately tried to stretch those last few centimetres.

He’d been so very close yet not close enough. The climber’s pleading voice, hoarse from screaming grew quiet and an odd calm of realization had settled over the indistinguishable features of their face. A dark truth had been registered, that salvation was not in the cards for them.

In that instant Virgil had recognized the climber’s sudden intent and throwing all caution to the bitter mountain wind, he’d lunged. His thighs coiling then thrusting him out and away from the purchase of the ledge he’d been dangling from and just as he started to free fall, the climber let go…

He stared down at his hand and frowned at the slight tremble in them. Clenching them a few times and dispelling the dull phantom ache he felt from the situation that had been conjured from the depths of his own subconscious.

Catching the dim, blue numerals of the digital display on his night stand, Virgil exhaled wearily and with a grunt of effort pushed to his feet. A couple hours of sleep was better than no sleep at all but after three straight days of this, the lack of a full eight was starting to wear on him.

His brothers always razzed on him for his late morning sleeping habits and it looked like it was going to be no different once the sun decided to crest the horizon. Little did they know though that his penchant for daytime slumber was more out of a dire need than laziness on his part.

He’d suffered the insomniatic spurts for a large part of his adult life. Some due to traversing multiple time zones on a regular and completely throwing off his natural circadian rhythm and other from an over-active mind that just ceased to shut off at a reasonable time.

He’d tried various sleep aids over the years, from the medicinal variety to the drinkable kind with a percentage stamped on the side of the bottle but neither of them were long-term solutions. Both had side effects that were detrimental to his chosen career path. Hard to concentrate on a rescue in a drug induced fog or function effectively with a hangover. He knew that from experiences and both were definitely something he didn’t want to try or risk again with lives on the line.

So letting the brotherly teasing just roll off him was his preferred dénouement. As for the twilight hours from dusk till dawn? He filled those lonely hours with copious midnight sessions in the island gym, or with twilight maintenance work on his ‘Bird. The latter had been done so frequently that he could reassemble Two’s VTOL thruster assembly blindfolded, one hand tied behind his back and with a set of nail clippers as his only tool…. On the rare occasion when the exhaustion wasn’t too intolerable, he’d even break out his art supplies. Usually though his creative muse would be out cold in a corner somewhere so his productivity on those nights was severely lacking and whatever he managed to produce was subpar at best.

No one ever saw those works of so-called “art”. They were tucked away in the far back corner of his art studio saved from the trash for some reason he was unable to wrap his head around despite the fact that he loathed them for their complete ineptitude.

Crap results or not, it served its purpose of distracting his mind from whatever it was that was preventing him from dreamland and he found that on more than one occasion he managed to just stumble off to bed again before the rest of the house had roused to start their day. Hiding the fact that sleep had been evading him and effectively staving off both the worry wart that was Scott and matriarchal commandeering presence of his Grandmother.

Though these days, he had the added pressure of dealing with the wandering presence of his father as well. Who seemed to ghost around the house at night as much as he did. Virgil suspected that his father was still adjusting to being Earth side and except for one instance had managed to avoid him.

Jeff Tracy’s sleep patterns were erratic at best but that was to be expected after his survival ordeal in the Oort cloud. Virgil knew from a medical standpoint that given time his father would eventually adjust but in the meantime, he would have to play a one sided version of cat and mouse with the man just so he didn’t set his father’s somewhat questionable mental stability for a spin. He had enough on his plate to deal with already, he didn’t need the added weight of his second oldest son’s problems on top of it.

Giving his head a shake at the direction of his thoughts, Virgil made his way over to his closet. If he let his mind drift in that way for too long he would find himself down a rabbit hole he would have a hard time finding his way out of. At the moment he didn’t have the mental stamina or the wherewithal for it either.

Reaching blindly into the dark depths of his closet Virgil rummaged around until his fingers came across the soft cotton of a well loved pair of track pants. Slipping the loose folds of worn fabric over his legs he contemplated his options for the rest of the night and just couldn’t drum up the energy to make a decision.

Catching a glimpse at his bed out of the corner of his eye he knew that staying in his room wasn’t on the table. Turning, Virgil made his way quietly on bare feet out the door and towards the stairs. Maybe something good would be on late night TV but knowing his luck as of late it was unlikely. At this point though it was better than coming up with an alternative. He’d already gone over Two with a fine toothed comb and his muscles were still recuperating from the previous nights work out. Last thing he wanted to do was to end up with a work out related injury. He was already pushing safety parameters on call outs as it was and a sprain or strain was going to have him benched for sure

---

Ten minutes of channel surfing was all it took before Virgil hit the fed up phase of his evening. Abso-fucking nothing on TV. Nothing at least that could keep his attention. Tossing the remote somewhere to his left, he shoved up to his feet, grabbed his glass off the low table and headed out on to the balcony to watch the light show of a storm that was passing by off-shore.

Leaning his elbow on the railing overlooking the pool he watched the play of light as it rumbled across the dense cloud cover. By the looks of it, the storm was shaping up to be a big one but all their scans told them it would keep well to the South of their island home. Even as far out to sea as it was, the winds were starting to pick up and Virgil could hear the storm surge as it crashed against the shoals and rocky outcroppings far below the family villa.

Losing himself to the slashes of lightning that danced across the heavens in a vibrant display of scorching white streaks buffeting, turbulent bruise coloured clouds that in an instant succumb to the abysmal void of inky black. He could feel in his bones that beep bass rumbles that followed. Thrumming through the Earth, cement and rebar of his home up though his feet and the oppressiveness of its ferocity weighed on him. Even all these many miles away the might of Mother Nature could be felt. He just prayed that no one was stupid enough to be out in that mess.

“Fingers crossed.”

*-*-*

It hadn’t been her intention to startle him. Far from it and it wasn’t like she was trying to be quiet about her approach. Virgil had been just so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed her standing beside him contemplating the stark contrast of light and shadows across the expanse of his tense back and heavy shoulders.

“Shit… Kayo, you scared the crap out of me.” He heaved a sigh, settling his weight against the railing again.

“Sorry, didn’t mean too but I was just agreeing with what you said.”

Puzzled eyes turned towards her and a thick brow arched in question to her statement.

Mirroring his pose, she gave his shoulder a nudge with her own before pointing a finger off towards the churning storm. “That no one is stupid enough to be out in that.” She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he processed her words, noting the stiffness to his posture, the way the darkness hung like a bruise under his tired eyes and the paler of his skin. Even in the limited lighting he looked more ghost-like than human.

He gave a grunt of understanding before turning back to watch the storm and lifting his tumbler to the distant clouds in a salute. “Here’s to hoping.” The last dregs in the glass disappeared in short order as he tossed it back. The whiff of whiskey wafting her way as he set the empty vessel on the railing between them.

“I thought you were on rota tomorrow?” She questioned as she eyed the glass and wondered how much had been consumed.

“I am.” His eyes followed hers and he gave a shrug but no further explanation and Kayo didn’t press.

She’d basically grown up with the man and his brothers so she trusted his judgement impeccably but there was still something bothering her about the whole scene. Something felt off..

“You okay?” She was never one to bat around the bushes and her gut was very seldom wrong especially where it concerned the man beside her. The man she’d stopped seeing as a sibling sometime ago and started seeing as something else entirely. It was something that started to blossom one unforgettable snowy night the previous November in New York but neither of them had had the time to tend to since…. Other more pressing things had gotten in the way and there was now another Tracy planet side and returned from the dead as a result.

Maybe now…

He gave a shrug and he shifted to look at her, the wind blowing in off the coast tousling his unstyled hair in a roguish way across his brow. “I’m fine, nothing to worry about.”

He was holding something back, she could tell. Something eerie lurked in his tired walnut gazed. Shifting across the usual vivid depths like the smoldering haze after a wildfire. Dampening what was usually brilliant and clear.

She stepped towards him, her hand reaching to cup his check. The unshaved scruff rough against the palm of her hand. “I’m a good listener if you need an ear.”

He turned into her embrace, brushed his lips over the soft flesh of her hand in silent thanks and smiled at her. “Kinda a prerequisite in your line of work.”

Her own lips quirked up. “Growing up in a house full of testosterone it was a necessity or I would never have been able to sneak out at night with five over protective brothers.”

Virgil chuckled, some of the murkiness leaving his eyes. “Point taken.”

She let her hand drop and a flash of something like disappointed flickered across his brow.

His breath fanned across her face as he sighed, the light fragrance of whiskey warming her. “So…” she said, crossing her arms and emitting the air of stubbornness she was known for. “Spill already.”

A heavy shoulder lifted, the light cast through the open lounge doors catching on the planes of thick muscle with the movement and she couldn’t resist brushing a hand over the warm skin.

“Rough night, that’s all.”

“Can’t sleep again?’

He looked surprised at her question and she had her answer without him saying a word.

“Virgil, I specialize in security. I am well aware of your night time routine.Two has never run better and the gym equipment requires a break from you before you actually break it. Besides,” She added admiring the way his biceps bunched as he rested his hands on his hips, “You get any bigger you won’t be able to fit down Two’s chute”

A soft curse slipped past his lips. It was obvious that he’d thought that his attempts to avoid his family had been successful.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t or wont say anything to Scott.” Her fingers gave his shoulder a light squeeze of reassurance. “If it gets worse I know you’ll do the right thing and say something yourself. You’re dealing with it right now in your own way and you have a right to your own privacy and council. Just, if you wanna talk...” she stalled out on her offering, shifting her gaze away from his to take in the night around them as heat started to colour her cheeks.

A moment later his fingers danced across her brow and she sucked in a breath as he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His strong musician’s fingers lingered until she met his eyes again.

He was looking down at her, so close now that the bare skin of his chest brushed hers with every breath. He seemed to be sturdier now, more so then when she’d discovered him looking despondently at the storm. An assuredness that had been missing before seemed to have returned to the strong line of his jaw and the tension she’d seen in his posture was gone. There was a shift in the air around him, almost anticipatory in nature and she felt a thrill run down her spine.

Her pulse kicked at the heat imbued in his eyes as he gently angled her face towards his own. She stammered, not able to finish off what she had been about to say. “..uh..talk about....”

“Thank you, Tin’ He whispered, the oaky tang of alcohol ghosting across her lips and effectively stopping her uncharacteristic fumbling.

It took but a nanosecond for her brain to go from a midair stall out to ignition. Her inner monologue screamed, demanding that she act. Only the slightest of movements would be needed to bridge the distance between them. An easy contraction of muscles and she could push up on her toes, silencing all other words with the meeting of their lips. Without further hesitation, she did just that.

Months of denied contact and frustration sprang to the fore, blazing bright and intoxicating. Before either of them were aware, they were wrapped around each other. His strong body flush to her own, his hand tangled in her hair that had somehow between one second and the next come undone from its customary binding.

“God..” she panted, barely recognizing her own voice. His lips skimming across her flesh, trailing like fire down her neck to that spot that made her world flip on its axis. Light headed she scraped her nails down his back. Seeking purchase as her knees grew weak.

“I’ve missed you…”

He emitted a groan of approval. The sound heady, potent and oh so primal. It was almost her undoing and the burn within her flared.

Desperate for more and caring little about where they were standing, she slipped her hand between them...

The sudden intrusion of a throat clearing had them springing apart so fast that she almost lost her footing and she gracelessly plopped down on the nearest lounger. A feeble attempt on her part to save face. The instantaneous lack of Virgil’s body heat made her shiver and it sobered her mind faster than any cold shower could.

One of the overhead lights flicked on and the silhouetted figure at the balcony door came into sharp focus. A short striped housecoat was sashed neatly at a trim waist and slippered feet scuffed lightly over the flooring as the head of the house stepped out onto the balcony. In one hand he swirled a glass of water. Condensation dribbling over faintly scared hands as the ice cubes tinkled with the rhythmic movement.

“Tanusha,” He greeted, one proud eyebrow arched high over suspicious eyes as he scanned over the breathless pair. “Son.”

*-*-*

Fuck… that was all that came to mind as Virgil gaped at his father though he knew better than to voice the expletive.

Reaching out a hand, he grasped at the railing and wished his own long forgotten glass wasn’t so empty.

How in hell was he going to explain this?

He peered over to Kayo hoping that she could provide something, anything that might salvage the situation. The stunned deer-caught-in-the-headlights look he found though didn't bode well.

His first attempt to speak caught in his throat and he cleared it self consciously before risking a quick glance down to assess his person. Thankfully everything was where it should be and mercifully, PG...well...kind of.

“...Dad…It’s late, what are you doing up?”

Jeff blinked at his son then held up his glass, the answer obvious. “Hydrating, as I can see you have been doing too.”

“Oh..ya that… just a night cap.”

“And you’re on call in the morning?” It was said more like a statement than a question and Virgil did his best to hide the wince at the hidden reprimand.

His father turned to Kayo, effectively dismissing the subject from further conversation as he was well aware that his message had been received loud and clear.

Virgil did a fast and stealthy re-adjustment of his pants and groaned internally. Chances were by morning he would find that his shift had been rescheduled and he was going to need to dodge the Scott Tracy hairy eyeball all day. An unwritten rule that all the younger brothers were well aware of; never mess with the Commander’s schedules. It was some old hang up from his military days that he’d never grown out of to the detriment of the rest of the island. As unpredictable as Scott could be when on mission, at home you could figure out the time of day by what the eldest was doing. From his morning jog right down to when he grabbed the daily stock reports and headed to the bathroom.

It was kind of freaky actually. The man’s bowels were perfectly timed, no matter the food that went in...even if it was Grandma’s cooking.

Giving the back of his neck a rub, Virgil surmised he spent far too much time with his brother, far, far too much time.

Well with the exception of playing a tantalizing round of ‘avoid the angry, overly concerned big brother’… at least he could attempt to catch up on some sleep.

Ding! Bright side!...Crap.

“Tanusha, didn’t know you were back on the island. How was the flight in?”

“Uh.. hell of a cross wind on approach, ” Kayo finally piped up, returning once more to her feet. Her security agent persona nailed firmly back into place. “But nothing Shadow couldn’t handle.”

“Hmm, glad to hear it. You’ll have to let me take her for a spin sometime.” His father said all conversationally as if that fact that his second eldest and basically his adoptive daughter hadn’t just been about to get it on right there on the balcony like a pair of randy teenagers.

Jeff tipped his chin in the direction of the storm. “Nice light show.”

Virgil caught a hint of a grin on his father’s face that was not quite hidden behind a careful sip of water. The man knew exactly what he was doing and he was loving every minute of it.

“Uhhh… ya. It is.” Well, this was definitely awkward and his father was sadistic. Now would be a fantastic time for John to call down with a situation.. Somewhere.. .Anywhere.. For anything.. Like a cat stuck in a tree in say like Alaska...right now…

Kayo nodded her head in agreement and mouthed an apology in Virgil’s direction when Jeff turned to take in the view. “Well, it’s been lovely talking to you both but duty call.” She glanced down at her wrist as if to check the time but really it was to avoid the pleading look on Virgil’s face. “Canada’s about to come online and they owe me a report on last week’s protocol updates.”

Virgil’s shoulders slumped..

“Good night, Tanusha.”

“Good night, Jeff.” And she slinked off into the house, holding her head high despite that fact that there was still a healthy glow of red riding her cheeks.

Jeff shifted his attention back to Virgil. “So..you two were just,” He actually stopped mid sentence to emphasize his point with finger quotation. “Talking ?”

Exhausted beyond measure, embarrassed within an inch of his life and, if he was going to be truthful to himself; horny as hell…Yup, this evening was summing up to be a real shit show.

Crossing and uncrossing his arms, Virgil really wasn’t sure what to do with himself. It wasn’t like he was a teenager anymore. He was a grown man, of course he had relationships of a romantic nature.. He wasn’t a monk, by any stretch of the imagination but this was his father and old habits apparently did die hard.

Despite the length of time his father had been absent and the fact the family dynamic in the house was still adjusting to the patriarch’s return, Virgil felt like he’d somehow regressed back to a sixteen year old again. Caught making out with his highschool girlfriend on the couch and trying to make up excuses for the state of their undress.

The smile on his father’s face told him though that the man was well aware of his son’s floundering.

“Relax, son.” A humorous snort followed and he wandered over to stand beside him, leaning casually on the railing. “ I believe we had that conversation about the birds and the bees when you were eleven. You’re a grown man, I’m not going to fault you for looking for a bit of peace and comfort. ”

Virgil studied the ground, his mind drifting to the woman that had so captured his attention. He’d been skirting around how he felt in regards to her for months and he still had doubts if it was right of him to feel the way he did. To revise their adoptive familial relationship to something more intimate after everything they had been though. He often wondered if he was in some way taking advantage… as stupid as that might sound to others he seriously questioned his own motives.

It had been Kayo that had taken the first giant leap though. He shouldn’t have been surprised with her intuition. She’d seen right through him. Tore down all his defenses to expose what he so stupidly thought was hidden from her. Everything all out into the open for them both to see and after that..right into a penthouse suite at the Park Hyatt.

One thing about Kayo, she certainly didn’t waste time when the chips were down. She knew what she wanted and she went for it.

“So, you and our Tin-tin, huh?” Jeff chuckled and Virgil brought his attention back to his father.. “I never would have suspected but seeing you two together just now.. Well, I can definitely say that the pair of you are a good match. Complementary to each other actually.”

Despite his own embarrassment, Virgil started to relax. Relieve that his father seemed fine with what he had inadvertently walked in on. “Its, uh.. still very new.”

“Really?” Jeff questioned, his brows shooting up in mild surprise. “With that chemistry? Reminds me of when your Mom and I were together. After the first few months there wasn’t a lot that could distract us from…”

“Dad!” Virgil all but squeaked. He didn’t think it was possible to fit more blood into his head at that moment but apparently he could. Well at least the blood had stopped pooling somewhere else....thank God..

Jeff raised a placating hand and his words carried a laugh in them. “Okay, okay. I will spare you the details. The point being, the pair of you look good together and I must admit even with me still trying to get the lay of the land around here… you two fit and if it makes the pair of you happy, then I wholeheartedly approve.”

Virgil was speechless a moment. It had been the last thing he expected. Approval so easily given from a man he remembered as being rather commanding and if he was being truthful to himself, a bit intimidating.

His father’s time in space had changed him, changed them all in ways they didn't fully understand.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder, his calloused fingers tightening for a brief moment before he turned to watch the storm.

They sat a moment in companionable silence. Father and son, just taking in the light show together, getting reacquainted in a quiet moment while the rest of the house slept on.

It didn’t last long but it was enough to start mending the old tired fences that lay scattered between them. Not broken from misuse but worn from the years of absence. “You should try and get some sleep, son. You look tired and the sun will be up soon enough.”

Virgil inhaled deeply, tasting the distant rain and the linger hint of jasmine on his tongue. He nodded as he pushed away from the railing, rolling his shoulders to loosen up some of the knots that lingered there. “I should.” He agreed but paused before heading inside once more. “Thanks, Dad. Enjoy the storm."

Jeff tipped his glass slightly in salute. "I always did love a good show."

Virgil paused a moment, not sure how to take that but quickly decided he was way too tired to figure it out. Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle and stepped back into the house.

o0o

FIN

[mail-me-a-snail]

Backstage (Interlude)

Where exactly has Anti been this whole time? What’s he up to? Let’s take a look...backstage. tw: mentions of blood, violence, alcoholism  Anti ducks into the nearest gas station bathroom. He washes his hands, watching the crimson drip, drip, drip into the drain. He scrubs the sides with his palm, making sure to not leave a trace of red. 

He catches a glimpse of himself in the dirty mirror, flashes a quick, fanged smile, before dropping it and tsking in irritation. The front of his shirt has a sticky glaze of blood splattered all over it, though thankfully the black cancels the colour out. It'd be no problem to wash out, but he's irritated at the fact he was so sloppy this time. 

It wasn't even Jack's blood on his shirt; it was that self-righteous, goody two-shoes hero's blood. What was his name...? Oh, yeah. Jackie. As messy as the job was, it's still satisfying to recall it. The cleaner than a butcher's cut right along his neck, perfectly careful to avoid any major arteries, but just deep enough to really hurt. It'd put his playmate out of commission for a good while, thank God and all the stars above, and he damn deserved it, anyway. Thinking he could throw away his lines and derail the whole show, and for what? For some kind of selfish satisfaction? Anti snorts. He sure got it, in the end, didn't he? His reflection is picture perfect; almost exactly like Jack. Almost. The finer details aren't there yet. Still, no one would care to look close enough. He can walk the walk and talk the talk as Jack on the streets as much as he damn wants to, because he is the only one with the right to be Jack. But, a voice argues, he isn't Jack. Yet. One day, these eyes he's staring at will be a vibrant blue, his cheeks will be a little pinker, more alive, and his chest will rise and fall with actual breath. It's, in some way, his birthright to become Jack. To take over. For now, he's just a shell; composed of what those "brothers" of his left behind, the scraps, the glitches in the system that just didn't fit into their picture perfect dollhouse of a family. No, that's not what he's mad about, his exclusion. He's not mad at all—it's just business. He understands, anyway. He snapped their action figure in half. The doctor had been broken a long, long time ago. The magician, however, is a tough one. He'll have to do his homework on him. That left Chase Brody. Oh, man. Where could he even begin with Chase fucking Brody? He was their Ken doll, with a penchant for whiskey that garnered an embarrassing amount of pity from everyone around him. He had scared the little shit straight a year prior, scared him right into sobering up good, because he wanted Chase to be awake when his neck would be cut open. He had watched Chase for three years, following him, just out of sight, sitting in the rearview mirror, watching the vlogger lose his mind and cry out and scream and what have you. He had watched Chase sleep in the back of the same car because he had been evicted—always behind on payments. He had seen the gun under the backseat. When Chase went to the woods to honour his kid's grave (his son, one of three; wounds, from the car accident that started this whole spiral), Anti had followed. He watched, from afar. And of course, Chase drank, right from the bottle, like a parched man in the desert. That was when Anti decided enough was enough. This wouldn't do, not for his plans. He brought—more really, transported—Chase to a hospital, though not just any hospital; the beloved Dr. Henrik Von Schneeplestein's clinic. Chase hadn't seen him or any of his brothers in those three years. Anti would say it was divine intervention, but demons just called it influence. Yes, in a way, Anti did help Chase, but it was not for the vlogger's benefit. It was for his plan and that alone. He couldn't care less about any of them. All of them had such cliché stories about them it made Anti sick. A hero, a magician, a doctor, a time-traveler, and a normal guy walk into a bar... It just doesn't ring that well, right? Anti looks down at his shoes. Their soles are covered in blood, but he doesn't leave footprints unless he wants to, anyway. Of course, he just had to pick the white-soled Converse for today, huh? Stupid decision, but what did it even matter; it'd only get redder and redder from here on out. He does a quick self-check again in the mirror and leaves. He drops the keys off with the clerk. The clerk, unsurprisingly, asks for a picture. He gives the best Jack smile he can, shriveled heart sick with glee. This will really rile up his brothers. He walks out of the gas station, across the street, and ducks behind a pole. He emerges on the other side of the city, keeping his head down, blending right into the crowd. Cars honk and roar as they pass by. Traffic's hell at this hour. The sun's bright and it's noon, maybe one o'clock. He's about a few hundred square miles from the alley he left Jackie in. The magician would pick him up—he was the only other one among them who set foot in the city. Henrik's clinic was elsewhere. Speaking of, he felt like paying the good doctor a visit. Henrik would be distressed of course, he loves Jackie, and might try and strangle him. A fun Saturday night in his books. -- Henrik thumps to the ground. Anti spots the doctor's glasses on the ground and stomps them till the frames are bent and the glass is cracked. He slips them into the doctor's pocket. Anti leaves the room and goes to the bathroom. He washes his hands again. He swears he'll never get all this red out, but he does, watching it swirl and disappear. He can't say the same for Henrik. -- He watches the magician rush downstairs with Henrik in his arms. Marvin fails to notice the demon standing over Jackie. He waits, in a chair in the living room, until Jackie wakes up. He's gone before the hero can understand what he's seen. He'll think it's a remnant of a nightmare, that's all. Anti goes up to the roof, tapping his foot impatiently. Any time now, any time now... A sleek, grey car rolls up, the very same car Chase Brody slept in the backseat of three years prior. He comes out onto the sidewalk and just stands there for about ten minutes. Anti rolls his eyes. Chase would always get lost in his head, even when he wasn't drunk. He almost misses the drunk Chase. He had been a positively violent drunk, all smashed bottles and nicked hands and scraped knees and bruised faces and bloody noses and ripped clothes that couldn't be explained and more than enough scars. Of course, he'd be happy to give those to him again, but the only thing he needs from Chase is him dropping dead. He hears the commotion inside as Chase finds the aftermath of his spree. He laughs to himself. It's nighttime when Chase sits on the roof beside him. Anti watches him closely; his eyes are rimmed red and bloodshot, but not because of withdrawal. Because he's scared. Jackie comes and sits on Chase's opposite side, neither of them really noticing Anti there. "I-I'm not leaving. If he think he can fucking s-scare me," Chase growls, "he's w-wrong. I'm tired of r-running away. I'm going to fight." Anti raises his brows, grinning. He likes this side of Chase; he'll be sorry to see it go. He's already sorry because it's just so blatantly dishonest. Come on, really? Did Chase think Anti was stupid, or something? Then again, he'd have to give Chase props; he was sticking to his protagonist role very well. He knew all his lines and cues, unlike his precious role model. Anti's already fitted comfortably into the antagonist role. It's a perfect fit, if not an exhausted one, like a snake slithering back into its shed skin. It's all lined up. The good guys, the bad guys, the ultimate denouement—what will the hero Chase Brody do? Will he surmount his internal struggles and bring Anti down once and for all? Anti, as he watches Chase break down fully in the sanctity of his room, with stifled howls and red eyes and trembling, twitching hands and parched lips, thinks not.  

[daemoninfluff]

Nightmares

*GWEN DO NOT INTERACT* (you already got the link,,,)

finally remembered to put this on tumblr too! Will put the link to ao3 into a reblog cause tumblr somehow doesn’t show my posts in the tags when there’s a link in it (sad life)

In short, Frey has nightmares since McG fell out of the window and cause I’m uncreative the title is nightmares too. Tell me if y’all find any errors pls and thx, much love and let’s begin!

Ian Frey sat on the side of his bed, the room dark apart of the small illumination the glowing embers were giving off. The heavy curtains were blocking the moonlight, but also the cold from creeping through the window so he hadn’t yet chosen to open them.

He drove his hands through his still damp hair; at least the shivering had stopped.

It hadn’t been the first night and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Since they had come back to Edinburgh, since the Ardglass case had ended in the tragic death of Miss Caroline’s father, he hadn’t slept well.

Frey wasn’t stupid. He knew his brain was just trying to work out the events in Lancaster and on Pendle Hill – at least that was what he told himself. It had been a rough week after all, but now two weeks had gone by and he still wasn’t able to get a normal amount of sleep. And when he was honest to himself, he knew why it was. Better, what it was.

In the beginning he hadn’t been sure if it wasn’t just because he had fallen asleep on the train back. The dreams had been vague, a mix of colors and shadows, the smell of fire and the feeling of cold going through his body. But they continued every following night – or whenever he fell back into his restless slumber – and when he finally started to really see, he realized his numerous near death experiences weren't the full volume of his dreams, not even what woke him up, every time in a cold sweat, heart beating fast and breath rattling as if he had run for what felt like a hundred miles.

Instead it had been McGray. McGray’s death, to be precise, or what Frey had thought to be the end of the man. And every time it got worse.

Frey knew McGray was alive, probably awake even, as he knew the Scot was plagued from nightmares just as well.

If Frey just knew why McGray’s apparent death was eating on him so heavily, why it didn’t seem to let him go; Maybe it would let him sleep easier, find some peace. The whole affair was a riddle to him though.

Frey made his way out of his room, didn’t even bother to close the door. The corridor wasn’t much colder so he didn’t saw the need to close it which might would have aroused whoever else was still awake – worst of them McGray. Frey knew he had to pass through half the house to reach the kitchen, but he preferred his small chance of going unnoticed.

Already as he came to the end of the stairs he realized he wouldn’t have such luck. To his demise most of the doors stood ajar, showing that McGray had once again been roaming around the house before deciding where to stay and therefore probably having left the door open to whichever room he had chosen in the end.

Frey went on still, trying to be as silent and inconspicuous as possible. It shouldn’t work, as he soon found out.

“Ye still awake”, came McGray’s voice from the drawing room. It didn’t feel like a question but Frey still felt obliged to answer.

“Just getting something to drink”, he said but didn’t even look at McGray. “Maybe something stronger…”

Frey strode on, following the dimly lit corridor into the kitchen, not even registering the scrapping noise the legs of the chair did as McGray stood up to follow him. He opened the door and only two steps in he registered the lack of light. The fire had burned out as it seemed, an hour or so ago, still warm but the embers weren’t glowing anymore. Joan also had turned out all the light and since the kitchen wasn’t on one of the outer walls there were no windows to let the moonlight or that of the streetlamps in. Just as Frey turned around the big shadow of McGray appeared in the door frame.

“Why didnae ask ye nanny to bring some juice, lassie”, McGray grunted. He moved to the side just to bring up a candle.

The light was bright between just the two of them and Frey had to squint for his eyes weren’t ready for it. McGray inspected him, Frey could feel the man’s eyes moving over his body. Heat run up his head and ears but he ignored it. As McGray took a step forward Frey turned around and walked up to the pantry. He couldn’t stand looking him in the eyes. Sure, they were alive, nothing like the cold, glassy globes he saw in his dreams, but whatever he knew he would see in them didn’t become him.

Frey could hear McGray grumble behind him as he searched for something high percentage. He found some whiskey behind a few old looking bottles of wine and took it, short of just opening the bottle and taking a few gulps out of it, wouldn’t McGray stand right behind him. So instead he turned around yet again to march out of the smaller room and get himself a cup just to have McGray stand right in front of him once more.

He sighted, “Can you let me get a cup or should I take your own measures and drink out of the bottle?” McGray didn’t need to know that Frey would have done it either way, even though he would have waited until he had reached his own room again.

“Why ye do nae sleep anymore, Frey”, this time McGray squinted, not because of the light and also not because of his eyesight – that had gone back to it’s regular sharp self just a few days after they had arrived in Edinburgh again. No, Frey knew he was searching for something, searching for answers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, he mumbled though while looking away. Frey just wanted to go back to his room, maybe relight the fire so he would be able to let the curtains open, just for a bit. He would drink and then he would finally be able to sleep for some more than just an hour or two at a time. Maybe he would end up like Nine Nails himself, not able to sleep without tossing around, staying awake most of the night and drinking himself to sleep. Going crazy. He was sure he would end up being crazy when it went on like this.

“Tell me or I’ll talk to ye wee brother and I’m sure-”

“Don’t you dare talk to Elgie about this”, Frey hissed. His younger brother didn’t need to know about his sleeping problems – if they could be called that.

“Then ye would rather me talking to Joan?”

Frey pressed his lips together. He would have loved to just punch McGray but he knew that would get him nothing but a bloody nose himself.

“Ye as scared talking ‘bout yer feelings as ye are ‘bout believing in witchcraft, it seems”, McGray mused.

Frey huffed. He tried his best to shove McGray aside, pressed himself through the small gap and made for the corridor again, but before he could reach the door he was gripped by the arm, pulled around and in the next second Frey found himself pressed against the kitchen wall. He nearly let the bottle fall, but McGray was faster, grabbing it just a second before he let go.

McGray’s blue eyes were stabbing him with intensity. Frey wasn’t sure if the man could even see his face in the darkness of the room since McGray had abandoned the candle somewhere near the pantry, but he was able to see McGray’s face, mere inches in front of his own, eyebrows scrunched together and mouth tight in a slim line.

“I’m not scared of witchcraft”, Frey huffed, “since it doesn’t exist. It is not real.” He tried to control the heat running into his cheeks but it was pointless as McGray’s breath hit his face, the warmth of the man’s body floating through his too thin night clothing, making the heat of McGray’s hand – still on his forearm – even more noticeable.

“Same goes for yer feelings, then?” Frey gulped. McGray’s eyes squinted again and Frey reminded himself of the man’s great eyesight. McGray almost smiled. “Nae? Then tell me.”

Maybe Frey could have ignored McGray, could have ignored the fear of him telling his Brother – or worse, Joan, who would have announced it to half of Edinburgh until the next evening for sure – but there was something in Nine Nails’ eyes, something warm, nearly caring, that made him break. And within a second Frey had to suck his next breath in, heavily, his lip already trembling and feeling his eyes burning.

He tried to tell himself he wasn’t going to cry, but he knew if he wouldn’t get away soon, he would. And he knew he wouldn’t get away.

“It’s all your damn fault”, he said, his voice quivering. McGray frowned, already opened his mouth to deny his doings in whatever Frey was about to claim, but Frey was faster: “I can’t sleep. I can’t stay asleep. Cause every time I dream of this stupid stunt of yours and Ms Oakley! And every time it gets worse and all I can think of are-” He stopped for a moment, his breath heaving. Frey pressed his eyes together, he wished he was drunk for this, at least lightly. A first tear made it’s way out of the corner of his eye and Frey wasn’t sure if he should brush it off – which would also risk McGray noticing. “I- I see your eyes and they’re- they’re cold and lifeless and… I-It isn’t you! I know you are alive bu- but I just-” Frey gulped some more. He realized McGray had loosened his grip around his arm, had started to move his thumb over the soft skin on the inside like Frey had seen him do to his sister.

He knew he shouldn’t feel like leaning in. He was a man, grown up already, had studied twice – with rather little success, but still – and worked since some many years already. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t lean in, wouldn’t search for body contact, not in any form. He was an adult. He didn’t need that.

“Hush.” McGray drove his free hand up to Frey’s face, brushed over his cheek and wiped the tears away Frey hadn’t yet realized were running down his cheeks. He blinked, tried to see, but his vision was blurred. “Speak, Frey. What are ye fearing?”

Frey wanted to snort but instead his breath hitched and he let out a small whine. He was sure he started to blush furiously.

“I- I don’t know”, he finally answered. “I just don’t know.”

McGray hummed, “Then why ye crying just thinking about it?”

“I don’t know.”

Frey was sure he didn’t fear McGray dying, why should he. They weren’t even friends, they were barely partners. McGray didn’t like him and would never do and specifically not after what they had thrown at each others heads in the week in Lancaster. They didn’t get along, maybe when it was about Campbell or the Lady Glass, but never much further. Frey was sure McGray hated him and he shouldn’t feel any different to the other, but just the thought of it made him lower his head and sob.

“Och, stop the whining, pretty boy!”

The next moment Frey found himself pressed against McGray’s broad chest, the tall man rumpling through his hair which would have bothered Frey if he hadn’t just fallen out of bed anyway. He lifted one hand, told himself he wanted to use it to push McGray away, but it just ended in the man’s shirt, his fingers quivering as he clutched them into the fabric.

“I just can’t bear the thought loosing you”, he whispered so silently he was sure McGray wouldn’t catch it, even if his face hadn’t been nearly crushed into the man’s shoulder. Frey wasn’t sure where that had come from, but he knew it was the truth.

It was the truth and it scared him.

[kimtanathegeek]

Two Brothers, Many Paths - Ch 15

Oh boy.... Definitely the saddest chapter thus far....

Poor Sans.... Poor Papyrus....

—

Undertale copyright Toby Fox

Story and original characters by me, Kimtana

Please do not use without both permission and credit.  

Read below, or read it on AO3 here.

First

Previous

Next

Papyrus sat on the bed, his hands still pressed firmly against the mat, holding himself up. He was shaking in absolute terror. He was breathing heavily, each exhale tinged with the sounds of panic. His head jerked sharply around the room, his eyes darting frantically as he searched for his brother.

Aside from the sounds of fear coming from the little skeleton, the shelter was eerily silent. The fire crackled gently in the other room. The howls of the wind echoed through the shelter’s opening.

The room was freezing. Any heat generated from the magical fire had been lost, replaced by the frigid winds that swept in through the open entrance.

The wintry chill was nothing compared to the chill that ran through his body. He raised his hands and clutched at his chest over his soul. It hurt, as if something devastating happened.

Papyrus gripped his chest tighter. The last time his soul hurt like this, he could feel his mother slip away. Now, he felt Sans slipping from his soul.

Panic tore at his heart. He needed to find his brother. Now.

He leaned over the side of the bed and reached for his shoes with trembling fingers. He sat back up and fumbled as he tried to put them on, fear and frustration making it worse. His brother had always helped him with his shoes because he still too young to do it himself yet. At last he succeeded in getting his feet inside them, glad that he hadn’t untied the laces when he had pulled them off.

He jumped off the bed and grabbed his scarf from the foot of it. As he hastily wrapped it around his neck, he glanced up at his brother’s blue jacket, still hanging on the coat hook. He whimpered at the sight of it. Why did he leave without his jacket?

Papyrus quickly crawled outside and looked around, desperately seeking any sign of his brother. The snowfall was gentle enough that he could see for miles throughout the valley. He didn’t see his brother anywhere.

Fear gripped his heart as he started breathing heavily in terror. Hot tears spilled down his face as he panicked, not knowing what to do. He looked down at his feet and spotted fresh footprints leading from the shelter’s entrance and gasped.

Knowing the footprints would lead him to his brother, Papyrus felt a twinge of joy, and ran through their trail in the snow. All he had to do was follow his brother’s prints and he’d find him. He kept his eyes trained on them, not daring to look away.

Papyrus came to a stop so abruptly he almost fell over into the snow. His brother’s footprints suddenly ended. The little skeleton started panting as the terror gripped him once again. He looked around frantically for where the footprints continued, but the rest of the snow in the area was smooth as glass.

“Sas...?” he choked out under his breath.

The panic tightened his throat up. He could barely breathe anymore.

“Sas!” He cried out, hoping his brother would call back. The scream ripped from his very soul. “Saaas!!!”

The valley remained silent apart from the occasional gust of wind.

 -

 The darkness gave way to blinding, searing pain as Sans suddenly came to, roused by something too distant for him to comprehend.

He screamed out in his mind because his body was too weak to make a sound. The pain was unbearable, even for his barely-conscious state. He couldn’t open his eyes, move, or form words in his mind. All he knew right now was excruciating agony.

Sans felt his suffering slip away as the darkness mercifully took him back into its embrace.

 -

 Papyrus sat in the snow where his brother’s last footsteps had ended, his face buried in his hands as he wept. He had been sitting there so long, a thin layer of snow had covered him, as if the valley was trying to comfort the inconsolable skeleton in a white embrace.

When his tears had been spent, Papyrus merely sat there on the ground, panning the area this way and that for a trace of his brother. He whimpered every time he caught sight of him in the corner of his eye, only to find out that it was just a distant boulder.

He pulled his scarf up to his chin as a brisk gust blew against him. He shuddered. What if his brother was lost somewhere and freezing? He didn’t have his jacket....

He thought about that day he went looking for their father. He remembered how the storm raged around him, buffeting him right and left as he tried to walk. The wind stung his eyes, making it difficult for him to keep them open as he searched the valley for their father. The cold was biting into his bones with its sharp teeth, the snowflakes pelting against him like tiny knife blades. His fingers and toes burned terribly in the bitter temperatures. He remembered the pain and how tired he felt, but he couldn’t go back to Sans without their father. So, he kept going, until....

What if that was happening to Sans right now? What if he was in pain in the cold? How would he ever find Sans in this giant valley?

Papyrus shivered, more from fear than cold. He had never been so terrified in his life. But he wasn’t scared for himself, even though he was completely alone and helpless.

He was afraid for his brother. He knew, deep in his soul, that something terrible had happened to Sans. He knew he was too little to do anything, but, somehow, he knew that his brother needed him right now. He had to find him.

He glanced over at the shelter a short distance off. Maybe Sans had come back while he was sitting there. He’d been crying there for a while, so Sans might have returned without him noticing. He might be inside, worried about where his little brother was.

Papyrus jumped to his feet and ran back to the shelter as fast as he could. He didn’t want to worry his brother, and he needed to see if he was all right. Maybe the feeling in his soul was just from a scary nightmare.

He practically threw himself onto the ground to crawl into the shelter, calling out to his brother who was probably inside, preparing dinner.

“Sas! Sas!”

Papyrus froze in the opening, still on his hands and knees. He felt his heart fall into his stomach.

The shelter was just as empty and silent as it was before.

The disappointment turned into the harsh realization that his brother was gone. It was too much for the little skeleton, and he collapsed onto his stomach, weeping in the snow.

 -

 The splitting pain in his skull pulled Sans back into awareness. He still couldn’t move, couldn’t open his eyes, but he certainly could feel the searing pain.

...Wh....

His mind swirled in a fog, punctuated by the stabbing pains.

....where....

He tried to move, but couldn’t get his body to respond.

....am....I...?

He felt as if he was being crushed under a mountain. He became aware of his breathing, noticing how difficult and excruciating it was.

He was so tired. So very tired. He wanted to sleep. Sleep forever....

But deep inside his mind, he told himself not to. Was that his own voice telling him to stay awake? To get up?

He clung to consciousness, afraid to let go. Why wouldn’t his eyelids open?

He tried to remember what happened or where he was, but his thoughts were clouded from the throbbing pain. It wouldn’t let him think. Wouldn’t let him move.

But he needed to move. To get up. To go back. To him.

...P...Pa...pyrus....

A deep sadness welled up within him, as if he had failed the only one in the world who depended on him. A longing crushed him worse than the pain in his body—to be with his brother. Would he ever see him again?

Amid the agony, he could feel something in his soul. Something horribly wrong. Without even seeing it, he knew his soul was dimming inside his chest.

Instinctually, he tried to bring his hand up to his soul. The slight fraction of movement sent a wave of fiery pain up his arm. He couldn’t scream, but the strangled noise he made deep in his throat brought more agony in his chest.

Outnumbered by all the excruciating pain hitting him at once, Sans blacked out once again.

 -

 Papyrus picked his head up from the snow, his face still soaked with tears. He wiped his eyes on his sleeves and pulled himself up and into the main room of the shelter. He was filled with a sense of urgent determination.

The feeling inside his soul wasn’t from a nightmare, it was real. Sans was in trouble. He had to find him and help him.

He went over to his brother’s jacket and pulled at it until he freed it from the coat hook. Sans would be needing this. Papyrus put on the jacket, which came down to his knees. He pulled up the sleeves so that his hands popped out and adjusted his scarf from under the jacket.

He crawled back outside. He covered the entrance, just as he’d seen his brother do a hundred times before, then stood up, looking around.

Still no sign of Sans anywhere.

Papyrus pulled the hood up over his head and narrowed his eyes. Then he headed back down the trail of his brother’s footprints.

He would find his brother if he had to search the whole valley.

 -

 Sans slowly came to, the immense pain just as brutal as before. He still couldn’t move, his eyes still wouldn’t budge. Every bone in his body felt as if it was on fire.

He struggled to bring his thoughts together as he slipped in and out of awareness. All he could make sense of was that he was trapped. Trapped within his own body.

He lay motionless for some time, fighting to stay conscious. Slowly, achingly, he pieced things together.

The last thing he remembered was...the tunnel. He was standing in the cavern tunnel, in the dark. He could feel the stony ground underneath him now, digging into his bones painfully. Was he still there?

No. No, he remembered. He left the tunnel. He had new magic. He used it to leave the tunnel.

His head throbbed horrifically, making it hard to think. But he had to remember, he knew he had to remember.

He had used his magic...to try to get home. A sob involuntarily erupted from his lungs, causing sharp pains within his chest. He had wanted to go home. To their house. He used his magic, then...

...nothing.

It was all he could remember. He used his magic, then he woke up here, like...this.

What had happened? What went wrong?

The pain in his skull burst forth. It hurt so much just thinking. He wanted to rest, he just wanted to rest....

Don’t go back to sleep.

That voice, it was so familiar. Where was it coming from?

He clung to his thoughts, trying to ignore the pain that crushed into him.

After a small eternity, he tried to open his eyes. It took all the effort he could summon to raise one eyelid a fraction of the way. His vision was completely blurred. All he could see was that it was far brighter than the darkness under his eyelids. The sunlight—which he hadn’t seen in months—hurt his eye, feeding the throbbing pain in his skull. He blinked painfully, then managed to open both his eyes, barely. His splitting headache made it difficult to see or keep his eyes open, but he fought to regain his vision. Bit by bit, what was in front of him came into focus.

...I-it...i-it’s....

His body was crumpled against the barrier over the cave opening. He was looking out into the valley outside the mountain. Right where he watched his mother die.

He shut his eyes, regretting spending so much effort to open them. He was too weak to cry, but he felt the sorrow welling up in his weakening soul. Why was he back here, of all places?

He opened his eyes again slowly, staring at the iridescent barrier that was a mere inch away from his eyes.

...This...thing.... This stopped me....

The barrier that had sliced through his body, decimating his HP maximum. It must have stopped him when he was trying to use his magic to leave the mountain and return to their house. Whatever this seal that covered the cave opening was, it had to be some form of strong magic. It almost killed him back then, and it almost killed him now.

No.

It was going to kill him. Deep down, he knew the truth.

He was dying.

 -

 Papyrus had searched the valley for hours. He constantly kept looking back at the shelter, making sure that it was always in sight and hoping he’d catch his brother walking back to it.

He was tired, but the desperation to find his brother kept him going. He would search for the rest of forever if he had to.

Everywhere he went, he scanned the horizon for Sans. He looked for footprints left by his brother, for a sign, for anything that would lead to him.

Each moment that passed, the fear grew inside him. His soul ached as if his heart was being broken, and the feeling worried him immensely. He knew his brother was in danger, he knew it was bad, he knew he had to find him.

Whenever he got far enough from the shelter that it became hard to see, he turned around and headed back to it. Then he’d open the entrance, check to see if his brother had returned home, and when he saw the shelter was empty, he’d rest on the bed a moment to warm up, half expecting his brother to come crawling in from the opening. Then he would go back out, seal up the entrance, and head in a different direction.

On one of his searches, he looked up at the purple and violet walls of the cavern. He wondered if his brother had gotten captured and taken inside. He whimpered, trying to put the thought out of his mind. No, his brother was far too smart to get captured. He wouldn’t be inside the cavern.

Steering clear of the purple stone wall, the little skeleton continued his search.

 -

 Sans moaned deep in his throat, coming back to his senses again. He had passed out once more.

He lay motionless, waiting for his mind to clear. He opened his eyes slightly. It was now dark outside in the valley, indicating to him that he’d been there for several hours—at least. His eyelids fell, too weak to remain open.

The pain attacked his body once again, but he was becoming used to it. So much so that he attempted to move again. He had to get out of the cave, back to the shelter. His brother would be going out of his mind with worry. He needed to see him...to say goodbye....

Sansy, get up. He needs you.

That voice again.... It sounded so much like...like....

Sans had to get back to his brother. Summoning all his strength, he tried to move his left hand. The excruciating pain shot up his arm like a ravaging fire. He screamed inside his mind in agony and a strangled cry escaped his throat, but he refused to stop. He tilted his hand downwards, facing his palm at the floor. A set of white bones rose slowly from the ground under his arms and collarbone. They lifted him up, supporting and raising him as he cried out weakly in pain. It was blinding, searing pain, threatening to cause him to pass out again, but he hung on, concentrating on forming the bones.

Soon, they raised him up high enough that he was on his feet, though he could not stand. His arms and head hung limply over the set of bones as he leaned on them, his knees buckling from the weakness and pain. He fought to balance on his right leg, the only limb that hadn’t been seriously injured. He rested against the bones, preparing himself for the next step. He knew he had one shot at this, and he needed to make it count.

He pushed away the agony, bringing the shelter into his mind.

...I need to get there.... Please.... I need to see him...one last time....

He balanced himself on his right foot, readying himself. His left palm was already facing the bones holding him up.

...Please...bring me back...to him....

He made the white bones disappear, and as he fell forward, he pushed on his right leg with his last ounce of strength and landed on his left foot, the weight snapping his fractured shinbone completely. As his body fell, the deafening fwoosh and blast of wind surrounded him.

He landed hard, a loud cry of excruciating pain ripping from his throat as he fell face down in the snow.

 -

 Papyrus’ head shot up. He had been sitting on the bed, having returned just a short time ago. He was still warming up before setting out again when he heard the cry.

He flung himself off the bed and scrambled out the entrance. He stood up and looked around, his heart racing. Then he gasped sharply.

His brother was laying on the ground near the shelter, motionless.

Papyrus ran to him as fast as he could. He slammed down on his knees beside Sans’ head, laying his hands on his back.

“Sas! Sas!”

His brother gave no response.

He nudged Sans’ shoulders urgently. “Sas!"

Still nothing.

Papyrus rolled him onto his back. “Sa—!”

He gasped in horror, clasping his hands over his mouth.

There were several long cracks in Sans’ skull, branching like lightning. His cheekbone and forehead had gaping holes where the bone was missing. A few of his teeth were broken, others were completely gone. His left leg was bent at an awkward angle, and his wrists and forearms showing from below his sleeve cuffs were fractured and broken.

Papyrus stared wide-eyed at his damaged brother, unable to move. He had never seen any injuries this bad in his life, and his heart was gripped in terror at the sight of his poor brother.

“S-Sas...,” he whispered in shock.

He took off his brother’s jacket and laid it over him like a blanket. Not knowing what else he could possibly do to help his wounded brother, he buried his head in Sans’ shoulder and wept loudly.

The crying sounded so distant to Sans, as if it were on the other end of the world. He followed it, swimming through the darkness of his consciousness to reach it.

“...Pap....”

The sound was barely a whisper, but Papyrus heard it. His head shot up and he looked into his brother’s face.

Sans didn’t have the strength to move his head, but he forced his eyes to open, staring straight ahead into space through half-open lids. “...Pap....”

“Sas!” Papyrus cried out urgently.

Sans’ white pupils slowly moved down to meet into his brother’s eyes. His mouth creased slightly in an effort to grin. He was so happy to see his brother again.

Papyrus didn’t know what to do, how to help his brother. All he could do was look helplessly into Sans’ eyes.

Sans was having a hard time breathing. The broken ribs were threatening to puncture his lungs and soul, but he had to speak. He bore up under the sharp pain to form words that escaped his throat in agony. He prolongedly spoke, each syllable whispered out with an excruciating exhale of breath.

“...Pap.... I’m...not...going...to...make...it....”

Papyrus’ eyes grew wide in fear. No.... No, this couldn’t be happening.

“...Li...sten...to...me....”

The little skeleton couldn’t stop the tears from spilling. Why was his brother talking like this? He was going to be fine....

“...Go...to...ca...vern.... They...will...take...care...of...you....”

“No,” Papyrus breathed, shaking his head slowly. “No. No, Pa stay wif Sas. Pa stay wif Sas!”

Sans’ heart broke, wanting nothing more than to stay with Papyrus. But he knew he couldn’t. He could feel his soul’s glow fading. The pain was leaving him slowly—it didn’t hurt as much anymore. His body felt extremely light now. Light as dust.

His eyes never left his brother’s.

“...I...love...you...Pa...py...rus....”

His eyes shut gently, and his breathing slowed to a stop.

Panic gripped Papyrus.

“Sas! Sas! No, Sas! No!!!”

He leaned closer to his brother, desperate to wake him up. He pulled down the jacket and put his hands on Sans’ chest to feel his soul. There was no glow within him.

Papyrus shut his eyes tightly, his teeth clenched, refusing to accept any of this.

He lost his mother.

He lost his father.

He was not going to lose his brother.

He summoned everything within him to help his brother. He felt the magic in his soul stirring as his tears flowed, his hands still over his brother’s soul.

Don’t leave me.

He pictured his brother awake, sitting up, and grinning at him.

Don’t leave me.

He imagined his brother’s soul, glowing bright white in his chest.

Don’t leave me.

He remembered the words his brother whispered in his ear that woke him up from the cold, dark place.

Don’t leave me.

He opened his eyes and stared down at the light coming from his hands, covering his brother’s chest. Sans’ soul was glowing, but it wasn’t white. It was green.

Papyrus didn’t understand what was happening, but he didn’t let go. He wouldn’t let go. He closed his eyes again, concentrating on his brother’s soul, just as Sans had taught him to do with his bone magic during all those lessons.

Don’t leave me.

He felt his magic flowing up from his soul, down his arms, out through his hands, and into his brother’s soul. He kept on summoning it, refusing to stop or give up.

Don’t leave me!

A gasp of breath suddenly tore from Sans’ mouth. Papyrus’ eyes shot open, his green-glowing hands still not budging. He watched as his brother slowly took another breath. Then another. It was ragged, but his brother was breathing again.

He felt his brother’s chest rise and fall under his hands as he breathed. Something seemed wrong with his chest, so he moved his hands slightly and felt his brother’s ribcage. He could feel that the ribs were shattered and loose under his shirt. Papyrus closed his eyes again, letting his magic—whatever it was—flow from him into Sans’ ribcage. He pictured his brother’s ribcage, seeing each perfectly curved rib. He opened his eyes and saw his brother’s ribs glowing with the green light through his shirt. He held his hands there for a while until Sans’ ribs re-formed.

Papyrus’ eyes grew wide, stunned by what he was doing. He narrowed his eyes. He could heal. He would make his brother better again. He would save him.

He put his hands on either side of Sans’ skull and closed his eyes. He pictured his brother’s skull, perfectly smooth with his gentle eyes and warm grin. Then he opened his eyes. He watched his brother’s skull glow in the green light as the cracks slowly disappeared, the gaps and holes filled in, and his teeth restored.

Papyrus healed his brother’s arms and leg in the same manner. As he continued, he started to feel a strange kind of tired, a sensation he had never felt before. The green glow under his hands flickered after a while, and Papyrus was out of breath. But he wasn’t going to stop until his brother’s injuries were fixed.  

Once he finished healing Sans’ leg, Papyrus had healed all the injuries he could see. He sat on his knees, panting for breath, and swayed slightly. He was severely drained and needed to rest, but that didn’t matter to him now.

He gently nudged his brother’s shoulder. “Sas...?”

Sans’ breathing had become steady, no longer sounding raspy or ragged, but he still didn’t wake. Papyrus knew he needed to get him off of the snow and into bed to rest. Then he would wake up, good as new.

Papyrus stood up, but the exertion from expending so much magic in a short amount of time made him weak. He staggered a bit, then fell over onto the snow. He struggled to rise, his desire to get his brother into the shelter overpowering his exhaustion. He stood back up and steadied himself, then he went around to stand behind his brother’s head. He leaned down, grabbed Sans under his arms, and lifted his limp body up, then started to pull him, inch by careful inch, towards the shelter.

Sans wasn’t that much bigger than Papyrus, but the little skeleton had great difficulty since he had been so weakened. Still, he managed to bring his brother into the shelter after an exceeding amount of time and effort. He laid him down gently in the shelter opening and collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath.

His body trembled from the strain, but he knew he couldn’t rest yet. Gulping for air, Papyrus pushed the fabrics down to the foot of the bed. Then he looked at the bed, panting, his mind racing as he tried to figure out how he was going to get his big brother onto the bed safely.

Finally, he stood against the far wall and raised his right hand. White bones shot up at an angle from the middle of the floor towards the bed, creating a sort of ramp. Carefully, Papyrus pulled his brother over to the bottom of the ramp and positioned his limp form to lay up on the bones. Then he climbed on the bed, knelt on the mat, and reached down to grab his brother under his arms. He grunted as he pulled Sans up the ramp onto the bed.

Once his brother was on the mat, Papyrus raised his right hand again and made the bones disappear, then he climbed off the bed and grabbed the haversack from the floor. He shifted his brother up to lay on the haversack, then covered him with the fabrics and his blue jacket.

He stood by the side of the bed, making sure his brother was in a comfortable position and well covered, then stumbled as he headed to the shelter opening. He crawled through, sealed up the entrance with snow, and returned to the main room. He went to his brother’s side and leaned over to check on him.

Sans was still unconscious, but breathing normally. Papyrus put a shaky hand over his brother’s soul and watched as it glowed a steady white. He was out of danger.

Relief washed over Papyrus at the sight of his brother’s glowing soul. He swayed as he stood back up straight, then his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor, passing out from exhaustion. The little skeleton had finally allowed himself to rest, knowing that his brother was safely back home, and back with him.

[codylabs]

Wander Into The Woods Chapter 1

"Com'n, dude. It's not called Spider Woods because it's known for huge, killer spiders. It's called that because it was discovered by the great explorer Phineas Spider!"

"You got that from somewhere."

"So what if I did? Even if it is crawling with huge man-eating spiders who want to suck out your brains, it'd be a good entry for your journal." Wendy swiped the Pine Tree journal from Dipper's hands, throwing it up in the air and catching it.

"Hey!" Dipper squeezed indignantly, snatching it away from Wendy before she could throw it again.

"Besides, you'll be getting away from your sister for once…" Wendy tempted, leaning against the tree as she grinned mischievously.

“I’ll have you know, I like hanging out with Mabel. She’s like the Yin to my Yang.” Dipper huffed, looking down awkwardly as he nervously shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Or is it Yang to my Yin?”

“Since when do you care about that Japanese junk?”

“Chinese.” Dipper corrected, scowling at her. “The Yin-Yang in Chinese. Not Japanese.”

“Chinese-Binese. Com’n, do you want to get away from Mabel or not? Don’t tell me you think she’s not a bother.” Wendy groaned, disappointment flashing across her face at the realization that he might not actually want to come.

“Well, I mean, she hasn’t been lately. Not really. But…” Dipper squinted at Wendy, confused. “Hold on. Why does this mean so much to you?”

“Well, it’s Spider Forest!! I’ve never been, but Dad won’t let me go without someone. My brothers and practically everyone at school are chickens about this, except for Robbie and Tambry. But can you imagine going camping with your ex-boyfriend and his current girlfriend? Talk about awkward.”

“But you hang out with them all the time!” Dipper protested, tilting his head. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah. With Lee, Nate, and Thompson. But those three are wimps, too.”

“Oh. What makes you think that I won’t shy away, too?”

“Well, you’ve got that book.” Wendy told him, gesturing at the leather-clad journal. “You’ve hardly written anything in it for the last year, because you’ve been living in boring, old California, and you’re itching to put something in it. And what could be a better place to get inspiration then a spider-infested woods ten miles west of Gravity Falls?”

“Well…”

“Stan II also told me that the borders of Gravity Falls stretches around the forest, too, so paranormal stuff is there.” Wendy told Dipper, nudging him eagerly. “Please?”

“Paranormal stuff, huh?” Dipper asked, frowning at the journal. “Fine. I’ll go. But why didn’t you go with your Dad?”

“He said that he ‘went there once and once was enough’.”

“Waitwaitwait, if Manly Dan, YOUR DAD couldn’t handle it, what makes you think I can handle it?”

“Um, because you’re Dipper Pines, your Grunkles are literally Stanly Pines and Stanford Pines. One owns brace knuckles and spent thirty years messing with machinery he didn’t understand but still got it up and running, and the other owns laser guns and is a huge nerd.  Also, your sister has managed to stay alive on an all-sugar diet. If that isn’t impressive, I don’t know what is.” Wendy shrugged, smirking at him as she adjusted the pine tree hat.

Dipper hesitated one more time, weighing the pros and cons. There were really more cons then pros, but pros still won out. “Alright. Spider woods?”

“Yep. I’ll…um… ‘borrow’ Thompson’s mom’s van.” Wendy winked, an adventurous look crossing her face. “I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow, deal, dude?”

“Deal.” Dipper agreed, grinning at her confidently.

---

Hooonk!! Honk honk Hooonk!!

“Dipper!! Com’n out!! Spider Woods awaits!!” Wendy’s voice broke through Dipper’s thoughts as he flipped through the science magazine.

“Aack!! Coming!!” Dipper stuffed the magazine into his duffle bag, pulling it onto his shoulder as he rushed outside, turning his head to look over his shoulder. “Bye, Mable!! Bye, Soos!!”

“See you, dude!!” Soos called, waving from his spot in the employees-only room.

“Bye, bro-bro!!” Mabel beamed, cuddling with Waddles as she somehow knitted a sweater at the same time.

The mysteries that involved his sister still baffled Dipper to this day.

“There you are, man!!” Wendy grinned, sitting in the front seat of the van. “Get in; I packed it with everything. We’re going to backpack in and junk.”

“Really? Are you sure that’s…safe?”

“Of course not!! When has a Corduroy ever done something ‘safe’?”

“…granted. Let’s get this show on the road!” Dipper whooped, heading for the back seats.

“Dude. It’s just us. You can sit in the front.” Wendy grabbed his arm and pulled him into the passenger seat.

Dipper slipped in without a word, adjusting himself in the seat.

Wendy revved up the car again, making it preform a U-turn as she turned it onto the road leading away from the mystery shack. “I’m surprised you haven’t already gone to Spider Woods without Stan II, yet.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not sure why; he hasn’t even mentioned it before.” Dipper admitted, sighing in confusion as he gazed out the window.

“I don’t know, man.” Wendy shrugged, pulling onto the main street. “I’ve heard from S.W. Camper-veterans that it’s pretty hard core for even one night. I’ll bet they’re wimps, too. You don’t have arachnophobia, right?”

“I don’t think so.” Dipper frowned, cocking his head.

“Good. Those doofuses probably have arachnophobia, so they couldn’t handle all the creepy-crawlies.”

“Well, I’ll let you know tomorrow, then.” Dipper joked and was rewarded when Wendy laughed.

“I’ll let you know, too.” Wendy grinned, shaking her head.

“As if. You’re not scared of anything.” Dipper scoffed, glancing at her as he hugged his journal to his chest.

“Ha, how do you know that I just want you to think that, and I’m actually one of those freaks who wear a lunch bag over my face most of the time?”

“Um…”

Wendy laughed again, shoving him with her free hand. “I’m messing with you, dude. I’m not one of ‘em freaks.”

“I’m not sure if they classify as ‘freaks’…” Dipper unsurely contemplated.

Wendy shrugged, scoffing. “Whatever, Dipper.”

They lapsed into silence, focusing on the road ahead as they quieted, thinking about the terrors hiding in the woods.

---

"Here we are!" Wendy announced after fifteen-some minutes of driving. "Woods-sweet-woods!"

"The place where nightmares are born." Dipper mumbled, squeezing his duffle bag to him.

"Com'n, no arachnophobia, no problem." Wendy snorted, leaning down to ruffle his hair, but only managing to wrinkle his hat. "Eh, close enough. Out, out! Spider woods awaits!"

"Is it just me, or are we already pretty far in?" Dipper asked, gulping nervously.

The tall, swamp trees were clouded in mist, dozens of meters tall, their wet, mossy branches seeming to reach for the two teenagers, hauntingly towering over them.

"The deeper we go, the crazier it gets." Wendy chuckled, slinging her own backpack on her shoulders. "Or at least, that's one of the many, random bits of trivia I managed to wrangle from my Dad. Cool, right?"

"That doesn't answer my question." Dipper contemplated, watching Wendy suspiciously. "Are we already pretty deep in?"

"Naw, only about a mile or so. See, the road's-" Wendy pointed, then paused, staring at the trees beyond her finger. "Huh. I could have sworn it was right there. Like, literally, right there."

"Okay-hey-hey...Wendy, this is already creeping me out. You have, like, a great sense of direction, and suddenly disappeared?"

"Dude. Chill. It's just the fog messing with us."

"Wen-Dee!"

"Dip-pore!" Wendy repeated in the same, whiny, voice-cracked fashion, mimicking his pose. "Re-lax. Keep calm. As long as we find our way back to the van, we'll be good. Besides, we've only been here, like, what? Thirty seconds? And you're already wussing out on me?"

"It's not-"

"If you wuss out, I wuss out. My reputation would be ruined, man. I might be a total teen, but I'm not going to rebel against Manly Dan, okay? I'm not going to run all alone through Spider Woods, just because my partner wussed out and I didn't. Okay? Be a man, man." Wendy cuffed him gently, smirking at his expression as it morphed from terror to determination. "Right! I only have to survive one night of this twisted horror." Dipper smiled, trembling slightly.

"Night's still a ways off." Wendy reminded him, seeming overjoyed with this realization.

Dipper, not so much.

Sure, all that had happened was that they lost the path…but from the brief horror stories woven about this place from the town’s folk, you could never be too careful.

“Which is good.” Wendy continued, smirking to herself. “We get the full, horrifying experience.”

“I don’t consider that a good thing.” Dipper scoffed, nervously interchanging his weight between feet.

Wendy just rolled her eyes, grunting. “Stop being a wuss. You agreed to come, so stop whining.”

“I wasn’t whining, just stating facts!!”

“That’s also whining. Man up, and get ready!!”  Wendy stretched out her arms, gesturing wildly to the tress, grinning. “We’re about to enter the unknown.”

[geminicblue]

20 Galaxies: Legend in the Sky Chapter 7

Breckenridge was a few miles from Quarterhill's main tourist strip, and the Breckenridge girls rarely visited. The house mothers preferred museums and historical landmarks over the gaudy glory of Main Street. Ru's mother used to take Colleen to Main Street every once in a while. Colleen remembered the haunted houses the most, though they never scared her. She admired the props and wondered how much time it took to build them.

Main Street wasn't anything special, Ru said. Just ice cream shops and haunted houses and five different T-shirt stores all selling the same ten designs. Colleen silently argued she'd take an ice cream shop any day over Breckenridge. For once, she thought most of her housemates would agree.

Breckenridge itself was an attraction, though it didn't get as much traffic as Main Street or Tanager Park. It was a historical site with very limited tours. Most people saw the house only from the street. A stark iron-spear fence lined the property, taller than any person Colleen had met. The gate was wide, made of a labyrinth of flat, uneven curls. Mother Fontaine told Colleen it was designed with the leaves of a tree in mind. Colleen thought of it more as the inner workings of a lock.

She wished Mother Fontaine was still there. Most of the girls knew her as Laura; she had been the only house mother who let the girls call her by her first name. She was also the only one who ever tried to talk to Colleen without giving up. Mother Fontaine had bought Colleen her first paint set. The two of them spoke more often in pictures than in words.

Colleen shoved the memory away. Tears threatened when she thought too long of Mother Fontaine. Proper young ladies hold themselves with dignity, Mother Kendrick said. They don't blubber or whine.

The Breckenridge manor seemed miles away from the bottom of the hill, surrounded by towering oaks and maples. A few willows dragged their branches along the edges of a small pond. The manor was as wide as the high school gym, with lavender walls and navy shutters, the tall windows barred with white slats. Crew cut hedges and rosebushes wreathed the house. The porch had a railing like a ribbon of white lace, and a neat row of wicker chairs, all of which stood abandoned at the moment. Neatly abandoned. Proper young ladies do not leave their chairs facing every which way, Mother Kendrick said. The rest of the house had the same symmetry to it, as if Mother Kendrick had spoken to it personally.

Mother Grace herded the girls through the gate. She was a tall and narrow woman, whose physical presence was about as scant as her mental one. Colleen could have easily mistaken her for a figure on TV rather than someone actually standing next to her. Under her eyes the girls wandered about the property and lingered on the porch before her plaintive instructions finally nudged them all through the door. Colleen was last. Her feet crunched slowly on the glittering gravel path, her eyes dragged over the ants climbing through the porch boards, on the coral roses bobbling in the breeze. Sunlight grazed the stained glass on the front door and cast a wheel of color on the floor.

Mother Grace disappeared as soon as the group was in the entry hall. Colleen looked everywhere but at the other girls, at the marble floor, velvet furniture, the chandelier with crystals like melting icicles. Most of all, the stairs to the second floor. Until Mother Kendrick came to take roll, Colleen would have to hide, then make her escape to the stairs. Once she reached her room, she would be safe. Mostly.

"Aww, look who made it home. And all by herself, too."

Too late.

Ronnie Kale leaned in the doorway to the south wing, where only the house mothers were allowed. She was careful not to speak loud enough for her voice to carry to the next room. Colleen knew better than to acknowledge her, but there was nowhere else to go. The other girls were watching now, most with scorn, a few with pity.

Ronnie stepped in front of Colleen, her brown curls bouncing. She had a small face with huge eyes that made her look half her age, the perfect front for her snide, sharp tongue. Only Mother Kendrick seemed aware of Ronnie's true nature. "What'd you learn in school today? Numbers, or letters?"

Mutters fluttered in Colleen's ear. It was her own fault, bringing their attention on her with those supposed nightmares. Or maybe she really was scared of the dark. Maybe if she didn't have to have a room to herself, she wouldn't be such a crybaby. The whispers of those who believed Colleen's nightmares were worse. What if she dreams about me? What if she dreams about the house burning down? Don't let her see me.

"Hi, Colleen!"

She turned, surprised by a new voice. Misty was now in full Breckenridge uniform. She looked strange in it, like she was too tall for it and at the same time too thin. It draped off her like it would on a hanger. "I saw you have a Carmody."

Something shined in Misty's hand. In the many lights of the chandelier, the object seemed to gleam on its own. "I collect them. Maybe we can trade."

The room fell silent. Dozens of eyes locked on Misty.

"It's not a Carmody," Colleen said, voice tremulous. She brushed the tail of the dolphin with her fingertip. "My mother bought it for me when I was a baby."

"You still are a baby," Ronnie said.

That, on top of Misty's perplexed and disappointed look, sent Colleen scurrying for the nearest corner with tears brimming in her eyes. The only thing that kept the tears from falling was the peculiar expression that wiped out all emotion on Misty's face. Misty's pale eyes went unfocused, her lips open, as if she was on the verge of speaking, but to no one.

Ronnie put on her sweetest smile and put a hand on Misty's shoulder. Colleen was fairly certain that Ronnie was warning Misty not to make friends.

Misty's face froze over. She slapped Ronnie's hand away. Ronnie scowled, but then Misty replied.

Colleen didn't hear what was said, but all the girls in earshot flinched. Ronnie actually recoiled, wincing, as if she'd been slapped in the face instead of the hand. Colleen had never seen Ronnie afraid. Colleen liked it a lot less than she assumed she would.

Her stomach fluttered with Misty's eyes found her again. Misty had the same calculating expression Ru had when working on a tough math problem. Not malicious, but without empathy, either. By experience, Ronnie would have Misty seeing straight in a week. Ronnie was in charge of the house mothers, Quarterhill students were ignorant slobs, and the only one worse was Colleen Amundsen. Ronnie was at the other end of the room now. Contempt laced her voice, but her hands trembled. It did seem awfully cold in the hall.

Once the house mothers took attendance, Colleen sprinted for her room. Well, as close as she could to a sprint without being scolded about her manners, which was little more than a stiff, brisk walk. She hurried past the sunburn-pink walls and fluff-filled rooms without looking twice. Her room had not always been on the far end of the north wing. At a doctor's request, she had been moved. She had a vague, unpleasant memory of the doctor and Mother Fontaine asking questions about her nightmares, and what she remembered about her parents.

The lone room suited Colleen well. She minimized contact with her housemates anyway. Early in the morning, usually before the sun rose, she peered down the hall, looking for lights under the other doors. She went through supper at the very end of the long, lace-covered table with her eyes firmly fixed on her plate. Whether she liked or hated what was served to her, she ate as fast as she could without being upbraided for table manners. At least most of the girls ignored her there. It was hard to get away with anything under the hawk eyes of Mother Kendrick. Colleen didn't like being under her watch any more than being scrutinized by the girls her own age. She was always excused first. Whispers followed her up the stairs. There were no locks on the doors of the bedrooms; when Colleen wasn't the first upstairs, she found things missing. A picture of her parents, one of her diaries. She stopped writing those after she found Ronnie reading the entries aloud to her roommate. The only house mother who didn't act like the theft was Colleen's fault was Mother Fontaine.

For this reason, she kept the dolphin pendant around her neck at all times, even when she slept. Mother Kendrick made her take it off, afraid she'd choke to death in her sleep, but she put it back on after bed check was complete. She could not afford to lose it, especially if it turned out to be made of precious stone. It might be the only thing she had with enough worth to get her away from Quarterhill when she was old enough. Or when she escaped.

Her mind wandered from the World War I battle she was supposed to be studying. One summer night, she would pack all her things in her art supply bag. She would sneak some food away from the dinner table or kitchen, climb that tree on the west side of the property that leaned over the gate, and run as fast as she could before sunrise. Ru could lend her clothes so she wouldn't be running in her easily-recognized uniform. She brought the subject up at school once with Ru, and dropped it after her little brother overheard.

"First of all, Quarterhill's curfew is 11."

"Who says someone'll see her?" Ru shot back. "Besides, she's tall, they might think she's too old for curfew."

Jayson shrugged his sister off. "Second, there's no way you'll get out of Quarterhill before sunrise, even if it is kind of small. You might be able to hide in Tanager Park for a little while, if you don't think the Blue Star is coming to get you," he rolled his eyes, "but I bet that's the first place they'll look for you. Joe Ackerman's dad says that's where they find the most runaways."

The idea had already crumbled in Colleen's head, but Ru wasn't ready to give up. "Did Joe tell you that, or did you hear it from his dad?"

"His dad, when he was here on Career Day. A cop would know, right? Third, no one's going to buy a tourmaline necklace from a kid. They'll either think you stole it, try and find out where you came from and who your parents are, or they'll try to steal it from <i>you.</i>"

"How do you know?" Ru asked heatedly.

Jayson sighed. "Remember that time Randy broke a window on his dad's van?"

Colleen had only met Randy Fresnel a few times, and was happy for so few meetings. He seemed like a compressed spring ("That'd explain why he's so short," Ru said) ready to launch with his mouth or his fists.

Colleen's room was small and her possessions scant. A few carbon copies of her uniform hung in the closet, along with a puffy white parka and her pajamas, freshly cleaned. There was a set of plastic drawers, mostly full of things Ru's mother scavenged from the Amundsen home before everything was auctioned off. A picture of Colleen's parents and distant relatives, her great-grandfather's engineering textbook with brown pages and a crumbling leather cover, a tiny wooden pot Colleen liked to play with when she was younger, a tape of Colleen's mother playing violin. Ms. Hadley said Colleen's mother had been a songwriter, and the money that was still being made by those songs would pay for Colleen's entire stay at Breckenridge.

The room was different today. The floor had been covered by a plain yellow rug, but Colleen made a mess of it after the dream about Kelly. Her stomach still turned at the memory. At least the smell was gone, though it was replaced by the choking scent of sanitizer. All this she had expected. She was startled to find the other bed in the room occupied.

Three small, worn leather suitcases squashed the frilly comforter on the other bed. One case had its contents spewed across the bedspread, clothes, a pair of frayed, filthy sneakers, and a small makeup kit. The owner of that kit would have to learn to hide it, or it would end up in Mother Kendrick's contraband bin, never to be seen again.

"Oh, so you're my roommate?" Misty scoffed. "Good, I thought I'd end up with one of the annoying ones. Your name's Colleen, right?"

Misty resumed emptying her luggage. She handled her things in a strangely business-like manner, something Colleen would have expected from a house mother. Colleen's nerves buzzed as she sat down on her own bed. She rummaged through her bookbag, her long hair obscuring everything but the sandy carpet. She heard Misty walk to the closet and back. Metal hangers clanged softly as they were set on the bar.

"Why are the other girls afraid of you?" Misty asked suddenly.

Colleen's head jerked up. "Afraid of me?" she blurted.

"Yeah. Especially that girl, Ronnie."

"Um -- I don't think she's afraid. But I do have bad dreams sometimes. And my birthday's October 31st."

Misty gave a short, confused laugh. She had her eyes on her things, but Colleen couldn't help but feel watched. "That's it? Is 31 an unlucky number or something?"

Colleen stared in disbelief. Was Misty trying to make fun of her? "You don't know about Halloween?"

Misty flung her hands into the air. "I don't know about anything! Do you know how many times the house mothers yelled at me today? Over really petty stuff, too. Especially the old one."

"That's Mother Kendrick," Colleen said. "She's on second watch. She's here until ten every day."

"Does she let you have any fun? Or is that something 'proper young ladies' don't do, as she would say?"

Misty's voice flashed into an impersonation of Mother Kendrick's, near-perfect only ten times more cantankerous. Colleen giggled, despite her shock and nervousness that Mother Kendrick could have easily heard. Misty smirked at her. "Really, do you just study when you get home?"

"I like to draw."

Normally Colleen was hesitant about showing her works to the other girls, but Misty actually, genuinely seemed interested. She pulled out her sketchbook. The images within were mostly of outdoor scenery, different angles of the Breckenridge property with the house and birds and flowers she'd seen. Misty's face lit up as she shuffled through the pages. "These are so pretty! Could you draw me something, maybe?"

That was a common request, one Colleen usually turned down. "I could, maybe," she said quietly. "But you have to hide it from the other girls. They might rip it up."

Misty's silver eyes widened with shock. She almost seemed offended. "Why would they do that?"

Colleen's voice came out thin through a suddenly tight throat. "Ronnie did, anyway. The other girls just laugh at it. They, um - they tell me my artwork isn't any good. I'm not smart enough to make anything good. Maybe I never will be."

Misty smiled, a bright, warm smile. Colleen wondered why she assumed Misty wasn't capable of such a friendly face. "Oh come on! Don't say things like that. You're the nicest one here I've met so far, and you really do have talent. You should stand up for yourself more."

"You think I'm nice?" Colleen said. "Even after I wouldn't trade with you?"

Misty waved her hand dismissively. "I'd be mad if I found out it wasn't a Carmody, except maybe if yours is made of diamond. But then I'd just feel bad because yours is probably worth a lot more. Hey, want to see my favorite?"

She tucked her fingers into her collar and pulled on a string beneath. It must have been the thing she'd showed Colleen in the common room, a gray, silvery cloud pendant with an iridescent sparkle. Though it was easily the prettiest raincloud Colleen had seen, it was still sad. "A friend of mine back home gave it to me. It's the only one I'd never trade."

"It doesn't look like the other Carmody jewelry I've seen," Colleen said.

Misty's eyes looked beyond Colleen, her cheeks rosy. "It's not."

There was a quiet moment before Misty noticed Colleen's soft, questioning stare. Misty turned nearly as red as her hair. "Uh, anyway! Have you ever tried origami?"

Colleen let her question go unspoken. "Never heard of it."

A binder of colorful paper squares came out of Misty's suitcase. Misty chose a silver leaf, smoothed it out, and went to work on it. She folded, pressed, flipped, pulled hidden prongs from under the paper's umbrella-like folds, until a bird sprang to life out of the sharp corners and points. "It's a crane," Misty said. "You want to learn how to make one?"

A smile cracked Colleen's face. "Sure."

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[sweetxrevenge-blog1]

Utah

This is just a collection of things I drabbled out after finishing New Vegas Bounties bc it hit me really hard in the feelings haha. They don’t have a lot of explanation in them, but they’re just sort of an ‘in the moment’ thing.

The saloon reeked of blood, gun smoke, and the cheap alcohol it supplied. The former two were new additions, courtesy of the bounty hunter standing in the middle of the room surrounded by the corpses of those who had betrayed her. All but one. The slippery little shit escaped from under her nose, running out into the snow. It was pointless, though- she stepped outside and fired off a round into his leg, sending him down. He shrieked in pain, dropping his tough-guy facade completely. Ketan stomped through the snow over to him, ignoring the pain shooting through her hands and arms as she grabbed a handful of his hair, tugging his head back to look him in the eyes, keeping a solid foot on his back. The fear she felt in his gaze was the most satisfying feeling she had felt in a long time, and she savored it too much to be disgusted with herself. "Why?" She demanded, she didn't ask. She commanded him to answer her. He was crying, ugly crying. "I w-was scared!" He cried, snot running down his face which was bright red from the cold and the tears. "There wasn't any way you'd win, it was safer to side with Marko! I didn't know he would- he would..." "You killed Randall without a second fucking thought. I don't want any of your goddamn excuses." Even though she had just challenged him to give her one worthwhile. "I didn't enjoy it! Neither of you ever took me seriously!" "We were trying to protect you, you little shitbag!" She shouted, tugging harder on his hair. There wasn’t anyone to draw the attention of, they were all dead. Her volume didn’t matter. "This life is not what you wanted! This is what happens! No matter what choice you make, you die, either way!" "I just wanted to be like you!" He sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Then let's start with surviving a bullet to the brain," She spoke coldly, colder than the snow falling around them. She pressed the barrel of Sweet Revenge to Ford's temple, and pulled the trigger with no hesitation. He died instantly, falling limp out of her grip when she let go of him and stepped away. "Failed step one." Sweet Revenge was returned to its holster, and Ketan sighed. She hated herself. She hated that this was the only solution. The first time Steven was 'killed', she was filled with rage, ready to slaughter anything in her way to avenge him. This time, she just felt empty. A twinge of guilt ran through her, but she suppressed it just like she suppressed everything else. Ford wasn't a bad kid. He just had his head so high in the clouds, he was too scared to come back down to Earth. That didn't excuse him from Ketan's traitor policy: they die. Ketan lit a cigarette, eyes still set on the corpse in front of her. It hurt to kill him. She wasn't going to deny her own humanity, it hurt to have to be the one who put him down. She was so certain he was just some kid who needed guidance, who needed to be shown reality. He already knew reality, though, that was apparent when he abandoned his beliefs to join what he thought was the winning side. That's the kicker: it wasn't the winning side. It was the losing side. Anyone who opposed her was the loser, she made sure of it. It would catch up to her some day, like Marko kept insisting it would- she knew that. It was just going to catch up to him, first.

It was over. The cold, icy mountain air bit at her skin and the wounds still healing on her shaking hands. She stood alone, now; Marko's corpse was still warm beside her, if that man ever had any warmth in him at all. What a shame she hadn't brought a shovel with her, maybe she could have returned the grave he buried her alive in. It was, after all, conveniently empty now. Instead, she stared down at the fresh grave directly in front of her, right at her feet. The graveyard went on for a mile at least, countless unmarked wooden crosses in neat, organized lines; she wasn't sure whether the number or the sick tidiness of the way the corpses were buried was worse. However, only one grave held her interest, the one in which the dirt hadn't yet settled. Ketan knelt down by the wooden cross, careful not to disturb the mound and pulling her knife from its sheath on her thigh. Controlling her hands was still difficult, and she likely wasn't going to have perfect control of them ever again. Slowly but surely she carved into the wood, paying attention to neatness and detail as she wrote out the name of the deceased: Steven Randall. Once she was satisfied, she stowed the blade and pushed back to her feet. The tears were coming, and the first thing that came to mind was surprise that she was even capable of crying anymore. Her hand drifted towards the holster on her right side, pulling Sweet Revenge from its place there and looking it over. Part of her was tempted to bury the gun with him, as some sort of final step in fulfilling the revenge he wanted so dearly, the revenge he put on her shoulders. No, he didn't put it there. She did. The moment Ketan realized that she and Randall were family, that they were all each other had, that revenge became her responsibility whether he was alive or not. Maybe it was selfish to think he was all she had. She had other friends- she had Boone, Arcade, Veronica, all of the people she had encountered and who agreed to help her. It was definitely selfish to chase her own revenge high the way she had, leaving them all once more without a clue of her whereabouts, too consumed with hatred to bother telling them that she might not come back. That was the sad truth: it was entirely possible she wouldn't come back. But Randall was different from the others. He reminded her of someone, way back in the deep reaches of her mind where forgotten memories slept. It could have been anyone, perhaps her father or brother, if she ever had either. He was the first real friend she made after she crawled out of the grave, and how fitting it was that she avenged him after crawling out of one again. It wouldn't bring her peace. She knew that. Ketan would never know peace, no matter what she did, now. "I know you wanted me to keep it," She mumbled, idly returning the revolver to its holster at her side. "Doesn't feel right, not after all this, but like you said: would have just locked it back in the safe. Grave's about the same thing." Nightfall made the coldness of the air bitter, so much so it left a bad taste in your mouth. She let out a long, visible exhale, hands snaking their way into her jacket pockets. "Good bye, Randall, you crazy zombie bastard," her lips couldn't help but curl into a smile when she said it. Ketan turned to look back towards the pass she came through, turning to leave. Her steps were heavy through the snow, and her boots were soaking wet. She figured that if being shot through the hands and buried alive couldn't kill her, neither could frostbite. It was gonna be a long trip home.

Ketan's eyes opened like curtains being drawn at the speed of light, shooting upright in her bed. Her body was shaking, her breath was labored and she was coated in a cold sweat. It was the nightmare again. The same one that came every week, sometimes every night for several days in a row. It was so rare for her not to have it, she considered this normal, and she should have been used to it by now, but you never really got used to dying. It was Frosthill, the townspeople all on their knees in the street, then they're all gunned down. Their cries and the gunshots ring in her ears and echo like ghosts wailing at her in accusation, in blame. The blood turns the snow red, and it melts away while Ford, that fucking two-timing coward, puts a bullet in Steven's head without a second thought. It stings, she wants to scream, but she's gagged and she can't make a noise above a muffled yelp. The screams feel like rats trying to claw their way out of her throat, turning it sore and raw. Her stomach does somersaults, trembling in rage and pain as that monster, that horrific bastard has the nerve to touch her, to hold her jaw and force her to look at him. His words blend together into a cacophony of screams and laughter so concentrated it's deafening, as the ground below her opens, and swallows her whole. The darkness made it hard to breathe, like the chasm was getting deeper but tighter, suffocating her while she could still hear that hideous chorus of screams and laughter, telling her it was her fault, everything that happened was all her fault. Ketan ran a hand through her hair. Every time this happened, she would usually cope with it by getting hammered and passing out from that, since that generally drove the nightmare away. It was always temporary, every fix was temporary. Nothing could truly fix her psyche. Her eyes surveyed her hands. The large, grisly, round scars in the center of her palms and the backs of her hands were a constant reminder that the nightmare wasn't just a dream, but that it happened, and it happened because she fell for a trap she should have seen coming a mile away. The scarred areas were still tender and sore- her fingers, especially her middle and ring fingers, didn't work quite as well as they used to, just as she predicted. Nothing in her worked as well as it used to. Her mind wandered while she sat up in the middle of the night, eyes drying out from the heavy air conditioning blasting into her room. An idle thought wondered how much Med-X it took to kill you. She pushed the thought away. She considered getting up and seeing if anyone else was awake, but she didn't. This was her battle, it didn't matter to anyone else. Give her the Hypocrite of the Year award, but she wouldn't make others deal with her bullshit. She dealt with theirs so that she could forget about her own for even a short while.

A grumbling sigh found its way out of her throat and she reclined back into bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun. She just hoped sleep would find her again, soon.