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80pairsofcrocs · 27 days

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baby scarab || 67

A/N : its finally done- and its a small filler for whats about to come!!

masterlist - marvel masterlist - series masterlist

A/N : omg you guys have been so mf patient, but you are finally being fed!!! i enjoy writing again and im back in my moon knight summer so HERE YA GO!!!

please enjoy, and don't be shy if you want to be in the taglist, just ask <3, sorry for the long wait

pairings : steven grant x (platonic)reader, marc spector x (platonic) reader, khonshu x (platonic)reader, jake lockley x (platonic)reader, casper hart(OC) x reader

TW : medicine (pills), spidey stuff, mentions of violence, language, small smut scene minors dni, kiss and make up type shit idk, let me know if i missed anything

~~~

you were next to jake on the couch, frenchie on the other side of you as you sob your heart out into jakes chest.

you were just angry at the situation, and the more you thought about what casper said the more it affected you.

jake rubbed your back while glaring at his phone, debating on calling the poor kid and cussing him out.

frenchie was kind of out of place- he has kids, but none above the age of 10.

he just kind of sat on the other side of you offering silent support.

after you calmed yourself down, jake looked down at you and sighed. "i'm so sorry, mi vida"

"it's fine.. i know he didn't mean it" you sniff a few times before wiping your nose of your sleeve. "i just don't know what to do"

"i have an idea" frenchie speaks up, making both you and jake look at him. "..you can just talk to him you know? get to the bottom of why he acted out?" he offers and you nod slowly.

"i think that's my best option.. thank you frenchie" you say, and frenchie smiles.

jake nods at the man and looks back to you. "feeling a little better?" you nod at his question.

"yeah.. just.... really hungry all of a sudden"

"you should really get some fluids in you, you cried too much" steven pipes up and you sigh.

"can i have some pop tarts and juice?" you ask and jake nods, so you get up to move to the kitchen.

after you leave the room, jake grabs his phone and hits casper's contact, waiting for him to pick up.

frenchie gives him a disapproving look as casper answers.

"hello-"

"you better apologize to my daughter, i mean it. she came home crying because of you" jake says as calm as he can.

it's silent for a moment. "i- i know, sir i- i feel terrible. i'm bringing her flowers and more pop tarts tomorrow"

jake sighs. "good.. listen.. i...... i know you're a good kid. just let her- us help you okay?" casper nods even though jake can't see him.

"okay.. i'll explain everything to her i promise"

"good. she'll see you at school tomorrow then"

"thank you, sir"

"my name is jake and you know it"

"right- sorry"

jake lets out a singular laugh. "goodbye for now, hart"

"okay.. bye jake-"

jake hangs up before casper could get the rest of his words out, coincidentally as you walk back into the room with your snack and your juice.

you sit back down in between frenchie and your dad, opening your package of pop tarts.

"do i have to go to school tomorrow?" you ask and jake nods, making you groan.

"i don't want to though- i- ill clean the house just let me stay-"

"no."

you glare at jake and eat your pop tarts, taking sips of your juice every now and then.

it was an uneventful rest of the night. you were talking frenchies ear off, though he didn't mind.

you reminded him of his first daughter, unable to ever shut her mouth.

he means that in the nicest way possible.

the next morning was hell though.

you basically fought all your dads while trying to convince them that you're sick, or dying so that you could stay home.

you were sadly out the door on time.

you clenched your fists in your pockets as you walked on the sidewalk, until you heard rushed footsteps behind you.

you turn around to see casper, with a box of pop tarts and a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

you unclench your fists as he stops in front of you, just staring at you.

"i.. i'm so sorry y/n.." he starts and you rush forward to hug him.

"i know.. it's okay" you assure him.

"but it's not- i took my anger out on you and that wasn't fair.. i should've just told you what was going on-"

"hey.. it's okay. you are doing the right thing" you let go of him to look him in the eye.

"i never stopped loving you, not even for a second. i- i was just so- so mad" he says.

you nod and smile gently at him. "we can talk about that later okay..? at my place?"

"can we uh.. actually go to mine. i don't want to leave allison and mom alone for too long"

"of course. i just have to call my dads after school" you nod at him and he sighs.

"i got these for you.." he holds up the flowers and the pop tarts.

you smile and hug him again. "thank you. you didn't have to do that"

"i wanted to. it's only fair" he responds and you let go of him to take the flowers.

"they're beautiful" you smell the flowers, taking your free hand and holding his.

"not as beautiful as you-"

"okay, let's get going" you laugh, dragging him along towards the direction of your school.

"but i was just saying-"

you cut him off by laughing, which makes him glare at you before raising an eyebrow, deciding to leave it alone.

~~~

it was already after school, and you were waiting for casper right outside your school while dialing your dads number.

"what do you want?" marc asks as soon as he answers and you scoff.

"hello to you too, dad" you start. "i was wondering if i could-"

"yeah, go ahead just be home before 10"

"why are you encouraging it? what if i wanted to bone him, would you still be okay with it?"

marc sighs. "just be home before 10. i love you"

"i love you too" you laugh before hanging up.

you wait a couple more minutes and the last few people come out of the school, your brows furrowing when you don't see casper.

you do see your math teacher though, so you approach her.

"uh- mrs. harper?" you tap on her shoulder and she turns around.

her long blonde hair swings behind her as she turns around. "oh, y/n, shouldn't you be heading home?"

"yes, but casper- did you see him in there? i've been waiting for him out here and he's not usually this late" you explain and she frowns.

"no, i'm sorry y/n. i haven't seen him, i would check inside, he could be talking to another teacher" she offers and you nod.

"thank you" you say and you rush inside as the teacher smiles to herself, seeing that chivalry wasn't completely dead.

you rush through the hallways, checking all the open classrooms, but not finding him.

that's when you hear a 'thud' come from the nearby boys bathroom.

you walk over and press your ear to the door, hearing muffled voices. you crack the door open, but don't look inside.

"casper..? is that you?" you ask into the air and you hear another voice.

"say anything, and you're dead" you recognized that voice. it was that ferret boy, and there was no doubt he was giving casper a hard time.

you roll your eyes and enter the boys bathroom, seeing that casper was on the floor, leaning against the wall while holding his arm.

and the ferret boy, he was standing a few feet away from where casper was, both looking over at you in shock.

"come on, this is pathetic" you say. "why can't you just leave him alone- he didn't do anything to you" you move to help casper up when the blonde blocks your path.

"well, now that i have both you freaks here, i think it'll save me some time" he cracks his knuckles and you narrow your eyes at him.

before he could do anything, you trip him over and pin him to the ground, keeping a knee on his back to keep him down.

it all went by so fast, and the blonde lets out a shaky breath. "wh-what the fuck is wrong with you?!" he yells.

you roll your eyes again and get off of him, helping casper up and rolling his sleeve up to see a large bruise on his arm.

the blonde gets up and brushes himself off. "you'll pay for that.." he rushes over again, and you push casper out of the way so you could stop the blonde from hurting him.

you catch his fist in your hand and twist it, causing him to wince.

you let go and back up a step, as if challenging him to do it again.

he just pants and reaches his arms out, and without thinking, you shoot a web out to stick his arms to the wall.

everything goes silent.

"shit.." casper whispers, grabbing onto your sleeve.

"you- you're her! you're arachnid!-" the blonde yells and you shush him.

"oh my god- no- this can't be happening-" you put your hands on your knees, hyperventilating.

casper puts a hand on your back. "please- jones-"

"..how do you know my actual name? i know you call me 'ferret' behind my back" he argues.

you scoff. "we've been going to school together since middle school-"

"and then you disappeared and became weird" he interrupts.

casper steps in front of you, glaring at jones. "she's not weird, it's just a mental illness- and it's not even an illness-"

"casper it's fine- just- jones please- you can't tell anyone.." you plead, feeling ultimately stupid for letting yourself slip up like that.

jones just scoffs. "i've just discovered your deepest darkest secret. you think ill just keep it to myself?" he asks sarcastically, trying to get him arm feee from the wall behind him.

you stare at casper uncomfortably, unsure of what to do.

"dude, this could get her arrested!" casper tries and jones just rolls his eyes.

"so?"

"so i wouldn't be able to help people anymore.. and my parents would be alone" you answer coldly.

"we have moon guy for that" jones replies and you shake your head.

"not to be self centered, but without me, 'moon guy' would go underground again" you respond and jones sighs.

"...i'll keep your secret. but it will cost you" he says and you roll your eyes.

"fine"

"i get inside information on your little rendezvous', and i want to know the whole deal with your 'dads'" he says and you tilt your head.

he wants to know about you? strange. but it's negotiable.

"alright.. deal-"

"uh, no." casper interrupts. "you are not-"

you take casper's arm and lead him a bit away from where jones was still stuck to the wall.

"casper i'm in no position to not take that deal.. you understand i've- i've killed people, right?" you say in a hushed voice and he sighs.

"i just don't want him taking advantage of you.." he admits and you take his hands in yours, squeezing them reassuringly.

"i know, cas. listen, i love you, but i have it handled" you give him a nervous smile and he sighs again.

"if you're sure.. and i love you too" he smiles back and you nod before turning back to jones.

you take the webs off of jones arm. "we have to leave.. there's a back entrance right outside, we can't let a teacher see us.." you lead the way, sneaking out of the bathroom, the two boys following you.

once outside, jones speaks up. "so.. do the webs come out of anywhere else?"

casper chokes on air. "dude-!"

you sigh. "no. every single person that knows has asked me that, and the answer is always a hard no" you answer.

"did you grow extra limbs?" jones asks, a bit out of character.

"interesting question, but no" you look to him for a split second, then you turn to casper who was on the other side of you, looking all jealous that another man was talking to you.

boo hoo, ghost.

you just silently held his hand while the three of you walked up to this gorgeous mansion.

"this is my home- i'll see you guys tomorrow!" jones uncharacteristically smiles and rushes inside his house.

you blink a few times and turn to casper "that was so weird.."

"yeah" he responds shortly and the two of you begin your walk to his house in a sort of tense silence.

~~~

you arrive at casper's house, and once you both go in grace looks to the door, visibly relieved to not see her husband.

casper goes over to grace, hugging her before you approach the two of them.

"grace.. i know it's not my place but we can help you.." you start and she smiles gently at you.

"i think i'm ready, as well as my children.. we will accept anything from you and your family" she says and you nod, also relieved.

"whatever you need, we can give you" you say to her, and she tears up a bit.

she smiles and rushes over to hug you tightly. "god bless you, y/n.." she whispers as you hug her back.

"i uhm- im going to take allison to the park.. we- we'll be back in an hour" she suddenly pulls away, going to allison's room.

"allison has been stressed lately, the park calms her down" casper explains to you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it.

grace comes back out with allison and her eyes light up when she sees you, rushing over to hug your legs before waving quickly and running out the door, leaving grace to also wave and catch up to allison.

"well i hope they have fun.." you sigh, taking off your shoes as casper does the same

"so... what should we do now?" casper asks as the two of you stare at each other awkwardly.

"maybe start packing essentials..?" you offer and he nods, both of you going to his room.

~~~

"come on- just stick your hand back there it's fine!"

"no! i don't want my hand to be icky-"

"it's not that bad"

"then you do it-"

"but i can't reach"

you and casper had been arguing about who was going to reach behind his dresser to unplug his lamp, the dresser in which was bolted into the floor as it came with the house.

"...you're openly admitting your arms are shorter than mine?" you ask, smirking as you hold your arm out, and taking casper's to compare arm length.

he scoffs and yank his arm away, rolling his eyes.

"do you think i'll need to pack my pillows and stuff?" he asks and you hum.

"i've seen the place before, you'll be all set.. but i would still bring it. it'll be your new home after all" you tell him carefully, in a gentle tone.

he looks to you, taking your hands in his. "y/n.. i'm scared" he confesses, his voice shaking.

your brows furrow as you two step closer, so that you could cradle his face in your hands.

"i know.. but you're so strong, cas. i know this is the only home you've ever known but.. i really think you and your family will benefit. just think about your mother- your absolute gem of a mom- she will have the freedom she deserves- we already have job interviews set up for her.. does she like libraries? or uh- coffee shops because i-"

casper puts a finger to your lips to pause your speaking.

"y/n i love you. so so much- you don't have to do this for us-"

"i want to, casper.. we want to" you assure him, smiling gently.

he smiles as well, visibly relaxing.

"now quit moping around, i want to see what you have hidden in the back of your closet" you let go of him to stumble through piles of utter junk while he protests.

"y/n, baby, sweetheart, please don't-"

you pick up an old record player, sitting in the corner of a shelf. "what's this..? you have records?" you ask, genuinely curious.

"a few..." he scratches the back of his head, helping you out of the closet and putting the record player on his empty nightstand.

he opens his top dresser drawer and pulls out a frank sinatra record, the album being 'nice n easy'.

"awww cute" you hug casper from behind as he carefully puts the record onto the record player, adjusting the needle as music starts playing quietly.

you recognized it as 'fools rush in', and that's when you start swaying along with the music, still having your arms wrapped around casper.

he chuckles airily and turns around in your arms, grabbing your wrists gently and putting one over his shoulder and holding the other.

"you're so sappy, love" you rest your cheek on casper's chest as you both slowly dance around his almost empty room.

"you're the one who started this, dear" he responds, and you purposely and proudly step on his foot, making him pinch your side.

after the small interaction, you go through quite a few songs, just enjoying swaying along with the music and being in each others presence.

you bring your head up to rest your forehead against casper's, closing your eyes.

casper leans forward, capturing his lips with yours, slowing the dancing even further as he moves his hands to your waist, and you move yours thrown sloppily around his neck to keep him close.

you feel bold and slide your tongue against casper's bottom lip, making him open his mouth slightly for you to lick up into his mouth.

it gets steamy pretty quickly, and before you know it, your shirt is halfway across the room, and your straddling casper's lap on his still made bed kissing and sucking at his neck.

casper lets his eyes close as he breathes out slowly and shakily, running his hands up and down your sides, fingers nearing your bra clip.

you tug at his shirt as he unclips your bra, both of you sitting up to take said items off, casper's hands finding your breasts, kneading them as he pinches your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

you let out a breathy moan as he does so, lightly tracing casper's bare chest with your fingers, circling around the scars on his abdomen.

he notices your stare at the healed wound, taking your hand in his and looking up at you.

"hey.. we don't have to do this right now-" he starts but you cut him off by delivering a quick kiss to his lips.

"i want to- sorry i.. i got distracted for a second.." you apologize, cleaning your head. "i really, really want to do this-"

casper chuckles at your eagerness, flipping the two of you over so that your back is flat on the bed, casper already untying the band on his sweatpants.

you do the same with yours, and it leaves you both nearly bare to each other, only being covered by your lower undergarments.

casper takes the band on your panties gently with his fingers, slowly pulling them down along your legs.

you're both looking into each others eyes when me leans down to kiss you, instantly moaning and letting his tongue explore your mouth.

casper brings a hand down to your sex, circling your clit with his thumb while gently pushing his middle and forefinger through your wet folds, making you let out a shaky breath before moaning into casper's mouth.

you feel his hard on press into your thing, making you break the kiss. "wait- do you have a condom here?" you ask, and casper reaches into one of his packed bags right by the bed.

"of course i do, we're too broke to be teen parents"

you laugh before focusing more on the moment as casper rips the condoms package open before throwing it to the floor, sliding the condom onto his hardening cock.

unbeknownst to you, casper bit his tongue to prevent himself from finishing just by you touching him.

you just blink down at him, smiling as he gently flips you both over, now having your back on the bed while casper hovers over you. he smiles back, positioning himself over you so that the tip of his cock was lined up with your entrance.

taking in a deep breath and holding it, casper cradles your face while starting to push into you. "breathe, y/n.." he reminds you.

you feel your eyes roll back into your head as casper sinks fully into you, and you let out a lengthy moan while your arms wrap around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders. you both stay still while casper reminds you to breathe again, and you nod when you're ready for him to move.

casper slowly starts thrusting himself in and out of you, and if you were in a different headspace the noises of it would have bothered you. your nails dig almost impossibly deeper into caspers shoulders, and he leans down to start kissing your neck.

you lean your head further back, letting casper suck hickeys on every inch of you he could reach. your legs tighten around his waist as his thrusts get deeper and slower, hitting your sweet spot perfectly every time.

"cas- i.. i'm close-" you whine, leaning forward to hide your face in caspers neck, biting down on his shoulder as his breathe hits your ear.

casper lets out a lengthy moan into your ear, his thrusts becoming more erratic before he brings a hand down to start circling your clit again. you bite down harder on caspers shoulder as you moan, legs starting to shake violently before you feel yourself release.

your eyes close as you move your head away from caspers shoulder, laying it down on the pillow below you as you catch your breath.

casper finishes a few seconds after, almost collapsing on top of you while he softens inside of you. he brushes a few damp strands of hair from your face, planting a kiss on your cheek as he slowly moves off of you. a whine bubbles up from your throat at the feeling of him leaving you.

"come on, hon, let's get you cleaned up. i think there's still some towels in the bathroom" he tells you, lifting you to sit up and wrapping your shoulders in the blanket that was folded on his bed. he helps you stand and he wraps the blanket tighter around you as he leads you to the bathroom.

"thank you cas, i love you"

"i love you too, y/n/n"

~~~

you and casper had showered together, cleaning each other of any proof that you had done coitus. everything had been cleaned, and certain things had been thrown away as well.

you were now helping casper, grace, and allison unpack their things into their new house while jake and layla went to get the last of their belongings.

"how do you like your new room?" you ask allison, putting up the last poster for her. she smiles up at you before hugging your legs. you grin from ear to ear as you pat the top of her head. grace peaks into the room, eyes softening at the sight, her tense shoulders sinking into their more relaxed form.

"ms ha- grace- will you guys be alright here?" you ask and she instantly nods. "i've never felt safer.." she says with a smile.

you nod and allison lets go of you, letting you go to the front door ro get your shoes on. casper meets you there, handing you your jacket.

"i'll see you at school, cas" you say, putting your jacket on.

"of course, my love" he wraps his arms around your waist.

you snort and scrunch your nose a bit. "you're getting more corny by the second" you say out loud, wrapping your arms around his neck.

casper rests his forehead against yours. "anything for you, my darling honeybun-"

"get off me"

"no- y/n- baby i'm sorry-"

"no, we are breaking up"

"..."

you press a small kiss to caspers cheek before opening their front door.

"i love you, see you tomorrow" you laugh, turning to leave.

casper laughs as well. "yeah, i love you too. dork" he mumbles to himself, knowing you could hear him.

you simply smile and begin your short journey home.

~~~

you unlock your door and go inside, expecting to see one of your dads and layla since they finishes helping with caspers family and their stuff a bit ago. yet, you didn't see or sense anyone.

and frenchie was gone as well..

odd.

that's when you felt it... the tingle, but it was sharper than usual.

and that's when khonshu and taweret appeared right in the middle of your living room.

~~~

A/N : cliffhanger. sorry not sorry. i truly love each and every one of you :)

~~~ taglist -

@alexloveskili @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @thebiggestsimpshrimp @guyinachair27 @astrobuzzsstuff @mooonlight-and-stars @moonlighting87 @mateihavenoidea @inactive-things @alondrashultz @femalemarvelself @queenthorin1 @haileymorelikestupid @jvdethirlwall @justtiredandvibing @winterfrostsarmy @themapoftinyperfectthings @littlebird101 @atzlena @httpslinow @arrowurboat @m-brekker @lifeandbandmembers-blog @adamcarlsenslvr @violet-19999 @seninjakitey @bestgirlpip @panic-in-the-multiverse @in-between-the-cafes @branolagar @bl6o6dy @annoyingmarvelreader @bee-a-cool-kid @buzzitsbeee @wintergirlsoilder2 @crow-carcass @you-bloody-shank @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @valiantphantomangel @50shadesofcrocs @rayrlupin @kingshitonly @brekkers-desigirl @hutaos-gh0st @kayane28 @nevaeh-jasso @lizlil @scarabgrant @luvxxee @certainchildmentality @yikesitskennawrites @alexisabirdie @zlatolait-writes @thursdaywritings @izzzzy-the-amazing @angrykitsune01 @kult6 @deadthings-pdf @0scars1saac @jones89 @idontknowicomefromtwitter @yeetskeeter @romanoffsurvives52

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lyman-garfiel · 8 days

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just had a vile experince,,,, ok so... still in my insomnia arc and i take half a benadryl some nights so i can actually fucking sleep [this causes nightmares, i still don't win] and i like.. i keep my benadryl in the box that fuckinf etsy scarab perfume i bought came in.. and i just dryswallowed one of the pills and it tasted like the perfume,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, god i just injested scarab perfume

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cloudyswritings · 6 months

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Hollow knight bugs and real world species: P2

Hornet: So we know that Hornet is the daughter of the pale king and Herrah, making her some sort of biological monstrosity. But what bug is she based on? My best bet would be a horned orb weaver, specifically either a long-horned orb-weaver or Gasteracantha versicolor based on coloration and her horns.

Zote: So the in game/logical answer is that zote is whatever type of generic beetle that team cherry concocted from stag, Hercules, and rhinoceros beetles. However I think that’s really boring, I personally subscribe to one of the single best crackfics in the fandom Camouflage of Great Renown and think zote is a nosk that left Hallownest and lost his memories before retuning and adopting his persona. It’d even explain how he’s actually really hard to damage(see coliseum) and how he keeps getting places before ghost does.

Midwife: So I’ve seen a lot of people headcanon that she’s a centipede of some sort, and it kinda makes sense? Like centipedes are actually really good at caring for their young and protect them until they’re able to hunt on their own, so I think it’s a plausible and likely theory. That’s said I’d like to present some alternative ideas. Midwife to me, looks a lot more like she has an earwigs body shape, based mostly on the width of her. That said her behavior matches up far better with a trapdoor spider and she lacks antennas. Overall I’d say a trapdoor spider is more likely as an alternative reading of her species.

Lord fool: So here’s the thing with lord fool, there’s a lot of evidence he’s a higher being of some sort. Most of it comes down to the way the fools, while infected, seem less damaged by the radiance and seem to keep a large portion of their mind intact. Plus his position-dead on his throne- seems earily similar to a certain pale wyrm. Interestingly however it seems like his mask is actually just a mask, because we can see the top of his head and it looks to just be soft carapace. He’s also got six limbs so we know he isn’t an arachnid, or crustacean. My best guess would be either a deathwatch beetle(the texture on them looks like a good match) or a more likely a green junebeetle. Him being a junebeetle also matches nicely with how the fools are regarded as invasive, or not belonging in Haloownest. My last theory is that the bug the colosseum is built in may be the Lord fools old shell, aka wyrm.

Bretta: She looks a lot like a hair soft-shelled beetle to me, but her colors are all wrong. Based on that I’d say she’s actually a female scarab of some sort(sorry y’all my beetle knowledge isn’t up to par just yet!!)

The Hunter: So I’m really and truly unconvinced that the hunter is a bug, or crustacean, or arachnid of any kind. Bro visibly has a spine of some sort and the only beings with hands remotely similar to his that we see are THK, The shade lord, and the collector. That said we do still know he has an exoskeleton. I’ll admit I’m kinda stumped, I’d love to hear what y’all think. Verdict: inconclusive.

Baldurs: So I’m pretty convinced that these fellas are a pill millipede of some sort, they have the right number of legs and do curl up for defense. Additionally they spit infection, which I imagine when non infected would be some sort of toxin— something millipedes are well known for.

Mosskin: So this covers the mosskin as a whole, I’ll probably make a post for them specifically eventually. They’re obviously creatures that are in a symbiotic relationship with plants(because Unn). The only ones I feel super comfortable giving a specific species atm are the moss chargers who I feel are a species of velvet worm, mostly due to Unn being a big old slug and them living in a more tropical region. These velvet worms essentially copied the homework of the leaf sheep sea slug—which steals its ability to photosynthesize from the algae it eats.

That’s it for now!!

#hollow knight #Unn #hk hornet #speculative biology #brain fried #ummm #enjoy ig #zote the mighty #a knight of great renown

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davosmymaster · 2 years

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Fallen from Heaven, Grown on Earth -Part 4-

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

TAGS AND WARNINGS - +18, Minors DNI, mentions of injuries and blood (graphic), canon-typical violence/themes, claustrophobia, birth control, panic attacks, shock, death (??)

PAIRINGS - Steven Grant x fem!reader ; Marc Spector x fem!reader

WORD COUNT - 12k

A/N - Epilogue will be out soon!

FALLEN FROM HEAVEN, GROWN ON EARTH - PART FOUR-

Marc left before you woke up, taking Steven with him to Cairo and not bothering to wake you up before he left. Truth be told, if you had thought about what the next day would be like —instead of instantly falling asleep in his arms—you would've guessed he wasn't going to be there, and you would've been right.

That was a matter that needed to be discussed when he came back. He had not said goodbye when he was first posted and that lousy habit had apparently sunk into his psyche. No one liked farewells, but that didn't make avoiding them the right thing to do.

With a sigh, you rolled over his bed; capturing his —their— smell on his side of the bed. You buried your nose in the pillow and swallowed your tears.

Today was one of those horribly hot days in London, which wasn't too hot to be England, but still uncomfortably hot and humid at the same time. The curtains did nothing to shield your body from the rays of sunshine, and you found yourself getting out of bed in an instant, for a change. But not even the summer approaching and the uncomfortable heat made you crave the proximity of your boys any less. Yes, even Steven, even if he hated you with all his being.

There were way too many things to worry about, and you had very little power over most of them. You worried they got killed in Cairo, looking for some ancient scarab whose power you didn't even understand. You worried that Steven would never forgive you, and even if he did, you had a bad gut feeling about it.

Maybe he would understand, after all, maybe Marc would explain the whole thing to him, but that wasn't a guarantee of anything. It was painfully obvious that Steven wouldn't have you anymore. And then you will have lost them both. Many of your past relationships had ended for far less, but you guessed that comparing the two men with your previous exes was as useless as it was ridiculous.

After having the longest shower ever, getting dressed and feeding fake Gus —who seemed to be begging you not to go— you were ready to leave the flat. But before that, you walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and make sure everything was turned off. That's when you saw what Marc had left for you.

You almost chuckled when you saw the box of plan B on the kitchen table, but you thanked him immensely nonetheless.

You two should've been more cautious, better than that; but it all happened so fast and you were so lost in the moment that neither of you had thought about anything else until it was all done. Marc had already apologized the night before, profusely. After what happened, you were planning on taking the pill either way, but the gesture was certainly nice of him. He woke up at some ungodly hour in the morning to buy it, came back to the flat, left again for the warehouse, got his luggage and then started his journey to the airport. You almost wished he hadn't bought it, just thinking about it.

Next to the box, another yellow sticky note, and a set of keys.

I'll call you when I land.

You can take it if you want, I won't force you, but it is for the best. We'll figure something out if you don't want to.

Take care of yourself (and the fish). You can stay as long as you want.

See you soon. Love you.

-Marc.

You almost laughed at how awkward he sounded, how unsure of his own words he was. He had written we'll figure something out as if it was true, but you both knew you didn't have many options at that point; not unless you wanted a kid with his curls and hazel eyes, a kid that looked like Steven and Marc.

You found yourself thinking that maybe someday, if it came to that point, but not today, not like this, and certainly not surrounded by that mess. In your mind, there was no other choice, and despite it all, you were thankful that the ultimate decision was yours to make.

And then there were the keys. You knew Marc far too well to know that he wasn't giving you the keys for Gus. He wanted you to stay, maybe for longer than you would've thought.

It didn't take long for Steven to find out.

He became co-conscious when the plane began to take off. Marc, who —fortunately, or not—had been given the window seat, caught his own reflection in it without yet being aware of Steven's presence. The pad of his fingers looked for the mark, the love bite, on the tender flesh. Marc only had to pull a little from the collar of his shirt and there it was: a mix of red and purple dots; slightly painful to the touch. A pain Marc seemed to enjoy, as he kept slightly pressing the pad of his fingers over the bruised skin.

He looked ahead, to his reflection in the window, and saw himself still looking at the hickey with a different glint in the eyes, one that wasn't happy at all. His heart sank in his chest as he saw Steven's glassy eyes, the corners of his mouth pointing downwards as he joined the dots in his brain.

Marc waited and waited for Steven to look at him, say something. But, instead, he vanished, long gone and lost in the headspace.

He wished Steven had yelled at him. Maybe even hit him. Anything would have been better than that terrible silence.

Marc arrived at his hotel in Cairo a few hours later. It was a family-run hotel, not at all luxurious. The bed was too hard and there were too many mirrors for his taste, but it had an incredible view of the pyramids of Giza that anyone else would have paid extra for. Not Marc, he wasn't there to admire Egypt's iconic sites or sightsee. Despite the view, it was the cheapest and best-located hotel he had found.

First thing he did was take a shower. Small, cramped and crowded places such as planes had the habit of making him sweat. Marc usually had to take pills to even have the courage to get on planes, but this time —with such short notice— he had to rely on plain breathing exercises and focus on his five senses in order to have a clear mind. After all, the pain blooming on his neck had come in handy for that.

His claustrophobia was yet another sequel —and a horrible reminder— of what had happened the last time he had seen himself stuck somewhere.

Everyone —his parents and relatives— remembered Randall's death. But no one had ever seemed to stop for a second and think about the repercussions the accident had on Marc. He had almost drowned too, he had screamed for his mother at the top of his lungs as the cave filled with icy water, while he ran out of oxygen. He saw his brother die, and even if at the time he had been wide awake, watching and in extreme panic when that happened, his brain had shut down and erased all traces and details about Randall, which was probably for the best. In his memories, all Marc could remember were the insistent coughing, the cramping on both his legs, the overwhelming sensation of being stuck, not able to move his own limbs or breathe, the darkness that swallowed him whole as he squeezed his eyes shut and coughed, the sensation of crying underwater and not feeling his own tears on his face, his clothes uncomfortably clinging to his small frame when his father pulled him out by the shirt, the pain on his knees as he fell to the ground and lied there, eyes still tightly closed as he hugged himself. A ray of sunshine fell directly over his face, almost like an omen.

He would live to see another day, many many more days, but the accident would scar him for life.

Marc only survived because he was a few inches taller than Randall, a few inches that gave him the advantage of time. If he had been shorter, he would be dead. If his father had taken thirty seconds longer to get him out, he would be dead. Him being alive today was a miracle, a miracle eclipsed by the death of his brother, a miracle Marc had always hated, a miracle that felt like a curse at times; but a miracle nonetheless.

For the same reason Marc sweated on planes, he took extremely quick and hot showers. He got out out of the shower barely three minutes later. The mirror wasn't even fogged by then, and he heard the familiar voice of Steven as he wrapped a towel around his hips.

"You two slept together."

It wasn't a question, but Marc still felt like he needed to answer it, and he didn't know what to say. He stared at Steven in the mirror, the same half-naked and wet body but with an entirely different expression on the face.

He felt his fingers dig into the skin of his neck, but this time it wasn't Marc who was in control of his own hand.

"You two slept together," he insisted, slightly louder. "Didn't you?"

Marc bit the inside of his cheek. He really really didn't want to hurt Steven, but he couldn't undo what he had done, and neither would he if he had the chance. He remembered your words when you told him how much hurt could've been prevented if he had just been honest from the beginning. And even if he was scared shitless, he tried. He said the truth.

"I love her, Steven," he said, his back a little less heavy. "I've loved her for years."

Steven clenched his teeth in the mirror, he gave a step ahead and looked at him with a face so full of disgust that he wondered if he was going to be sick, a face Marc had never seen in sweet and calm Steven.

"AND WHAT ABOUT ME?!" Steven's scream shook him to his core, the surprise causing Marc to back off. "Am I a joke to you, to both of you?"

"She loves you too."

Steven smiled, a wry laugh leaving his lips when he talked.

"Oh, please..." he said. "Don't make me laugh."

"Believe me," Marc said, getting closer to the mirror and resting his palms on the edge of the sink. "I don't know how she likes me either, but she does."

Steven didn't believe him. He mirrored Marc, his face getting closer and closer to the surface of the mirror. He looked intently into Marc's eyes, and for a second, Marc had a vision of his alter emerging from the mirror to choke the life out of him with his own hands.

"You're gonna hurt her," Steven said. "...and worst of all is you know that you will. You ruin people's lives. That is all you do. You abandoned your wife, you kill people..." the way Steven said it, the way his eyes bore into his, caused a seed of fear to implant itself in Marc's heart. "I won't let you do the same to her. I will make your life, my life, a living hell. You parasite." Marc trembled, a shiver growing in his own marrow. "I hope you enjoyed it, because you will never touch her again."

Before he knew it, his fist smashed the mirror, splinters getting buried into his knuckles as he hit the broken surface over and over again. Blood —his blood— quickly stained the whole pristine sink. Drops of it all over the mirror, the walls, the shower, the floor. Rivers of crimson on his white towel.

Marc gasped, screamed from the pain. His fingers gripped the edge of the sink. If he didn't calm down soon, he knew he would throw up.

"When you are done with Harrow, you give me the body." he heard his voice and turned to see Steven in yet another mirror, in the bedroom, even if the sound didn't come from it, but from his own mind. "That was the deal. Then you get out of our lives."

Marc walked out of the bathroom, until he reached the other mirror in the bedroom. He was still breathless. He clenched his jaw. He knew what that meant.

"No," Marc responded. "Change of plans. I'm not giving you shit. What are you gonna do about it?"

Marc knew Steven like the back of his hand, he had grown watching him, but Steven had become rather unpredictable the last couple of days. Marc would have never imagined Steven yelling, threatening him, nor would he have pictured that deranged look on his face. Marc didn't know what he expected Steven to do, but he sure as hell didn't expect him to cry.

Steven clenched his jaw in the mirror, so much so, that Marc swore he felt the pain in his own teeth. A tear fell from one of his eyes, and then another, and then another, and another. A scream pierced Marc’s ears; Steven now sobbing loudly on the floor.

"Steven..."

He saw him fall to his knees, close his fist over his chest as if he could squeeze his own heart in his hand. The image reminded him too much of a certain moment in his life, not long ago, and Marc's heart sank to his feet. He took a step forwards, his fingers caressing the surface of the mirror as if he could touch Steven somehow. As if he could reassure him. He never meant to hurt Steven. He had always seen and admired how strong Steven Grant was, how never, nothing got to him. And yet there he was, breaking down in front of him. A sobbing mess on the floor.

"Steven, listen to me..."

The cries were suddenly over, the noise in his head gone. The last thing he heard from him was a word. A plea to the heavens. The most-asked question between the martyrs.

"Why...?"

Marc made the first call shortly after, sitting on the floor with a bottle of whiskey in hand. He had somehow managed to put a pair of black boxers on, and that simple act had consumed the last drop of strength in his body. The fight with Steven had worn him out, his body feeling limp, numb everywhere. First, the crippling fear of leaving you alone not knowing if he would ever see you again, then the plane and the tiredness that followed; last but not least, the fight with Steven.

He wouldn't be surprised if that night he couldn't manage to crawl to bed.

Even in that situation, he called you. It was a quick call because he couldn't pretend he was okay for longer than a couple of seconds. Still, your voice calmed him down, enough to close the blinds and get on the bed. It would have almost lulled him to sleep if he wasn't as shaken as he was. He forced himself to drown in your voice, memorise it. He knew in the next couple of days he would hardly hear it. He had work to do, and he needed to be careful and look over his shoulder at all times. He couldn't get distracted, a lot of lives depended on it.

Two days later, it was Steven who called you.

He was finally in the driver's seat. He finally had the body. Not because Marc had allowed him to, but because it was necessary. By then, Steven had understood —despite trying to get to the airport in a taxi a day earlier— that there were more pressing things than his desire to get home to his quiet, lonely and boring life. There were things at stake, things that were more important than any of you.

But Marc still pressed him to call you, to let you know that they were okay. And Steven, despite the heartache that the sole sound of your name caused him, agreed.

"Hello, it's me," Steven said. "Your friend here told me you two had some shit going on about some calls, but I have the body now, so you'll have to deal with me."

Because of the way he addressed Marc, you knew he wasn't exactly happy, but the fact he still chose to call you gave you hope.

"Thank you," you responded, a relieved sigh leaving your lips. "Steven, I'm really sorry about-"

You were trying to apologize for leaving his flat, for your last conversation. But Steven was way past that, there were worse things that bothered him. He left the tent he was in, walking in circles before he found a rock and sat on it. He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands, hard. Since he had taken hold of the body he couldn't stop feeling like he had sand on his eyes. But he knew the sand wasn't the only reason why they were always teary.

"Save it, (y/n). I know you two slept together," he said, his voice much more emotionless than he intended. He saw Layla far away, stepping out of another tent, and he signalled that he was okay when she shouted the question. She was too far away to hear the conversation, but Steven knew Layla wasn't as oblivious as to not know who he was talking to. "I'm frankly gutted, but I should have expected it, right?"

"No... no, don't say that," you almost begged. "That's not-"

You then heard Layla's voice in the background, urging Steven to end the call. You didn't exactly understand her, but you knew it was her.

"Is that Layla?"

"Yep, yep," he said, standing up and walking in the opposite direction, finally reaching the car and leaning against it. "Layla El-Faouly herself. Any complaints about it?" he waited, and the line went silent. "Of course not. It would have been hypocritical of you, wouldn't it?"

"I don't get it. Did Marc bring her there? He didn't say."

Steven looked at the rear-view mirror, at Marc's pained expression as he read Steven's face. Marc shook his head, a silent plea. But Steven wouldn't lie to you and say that Marc had brought Layla there, because he hadn't. Layla had followed Marc without him knowing, and Steven didn't have the need to piss you off, despite all the hurt you had inflicted over his poor and shattered heart. He wouldn't lie to you, he wouldn't cause any unnecessary pain.

"You have no idea how much I'd love to say yes, but no, Layla came here by herself. We had no idea she was following," he said instead, looking at the way Marc closed his eyes, a relieved expression washing over him. Steven, annoyed by his reaction, tapped the rear-view mirror as if he was a fish. "But I do love to have her here, honestly. We have a lot of things in common. She says all she wants from Marc is honesty... Sounds familiar? Guess you two are made for each other..."

You couple of liars, he wanted to add, but he bit his tongue. That was too much. And yeah, he was hurt. But the fact that you hurt him didn't mean he had to be cruel and hurt you back. He would never do such a thing. He wasn't that kind of person.

And neither were you. You had never meant to hurt him, not on purpose at least. Despite his words, you understood how he felt. You guessed you'd have probably reacted worse if it was the other way around. But none of that mattered now, not in the great scheme of things. They were fighting for their lives as much as for the lives of others. They were heroes, even if they didn't feel like that yet.

And you had finally understood, after your last conversation with Steven, that you never know what your last words to someone are going to be.

So you took a deep breath, calmed down, and opened your heart to him.

"Steven..." you sighed. He noticed the change in your voice, the relief. "I'm glad you are okay."

He frowned.

"Because that means he is?"

You rolled your eyes, but he didn't see that.

"No," you told him. "What I meant is I'm glad you are fronting and... fine, and I'm relieved to hear your voice, your accent," you said. "I've missed you. I know you are angry with me, but that doesn't make me love you any less."

Steven is hurting. He knows it's natural to feel that way, and he knows that it's natural not wanting to feel that way. He lets the pain drown him, though, because that means he cares, that it was all real and still is, at least for him. In such uncertain times when he's doubting even his own name, the pain is a reminder that his love was real; that at least his was.

It was supposed to hurt, it was part of what he signed up for, and he let it hurt.

"I love you, too," he said. "Guess that's not that good for me, though."

"I'm very sorry, Steven," you responded. "But I need you to know that it's true. I love you. It will always be true. The same way it has always been true for Marc and I."

There was a tense silence filling the line. Steven got a steadying breath and wondered for a second if all this talking had a purpose, or if it was simply the two of you torturing each other with meaningless words. Were they meaningless, even? Were you lying to him again? Could he ever trust anything you said?

He called your name, and you responded, but he didn't know what to say. He wished he could go back in time, call past you, and hear her talk for hours instead. He wanted to hear your voice. He wanted to listen to your ramblings. He wanted to go back to what the two of you shared before Marc appeared in his life. Meanwhile, his mind was blank. He didn't know how or even where to begin to fix the situation, that is if he even wanted to fix it.

Luckily for him, you talked first.

"I know you hate me right now..."

"I don't hate you," he squeezed his eyes shut for a second. He cursed himself for saying that so quick. He sounded desperate and he hated it. "I said I was gutted. I didn't say I hated you. I could never..." he filled his lungs. "I could never hate you, angel."

He heard how you went silent, a few cries following shortly after. The nickname crushed you the same way it crushed his heart. It had been so long since you had last heard it that you thought you would never hear it again. Steven didn't know if it even had the same meaning, if he still thought you were an angel fallen from heaven.

But he would never use the nickname for anyone else, and he missed you.

"I'm so sorry, Steven."

A sad smile took over his expression. Steven looked ahead of him at the bright blue sky, at the line on the horizon where it melted with the yellow sand. The desert gave him peace, somehow. And he took it as a sign that everything would be okay in the end.

"I'm sorry too," he said.

His apology was not the result of remorse, and you knew that. There was nothing Steven had done wrong, and there was nothing he felt guilty about. The only thing he might regret was falling for you. But even that, he couldn't bring himself to do.

"Take care, love," he said. "We talk when I get to England, yeah?"

"Yeah, alright."

"I don't wanna hear you cry anymore," he said, and heard you chuckle through the tears. "I mean it. I'm tired of it."

Even on the phone, you knew he wasn't annoyed by it. You knew he cared. You knew he said it because he genuinely cared.

"I'll do my best."

He smiled.

"You better do."

You tried not to spend all day in Steven's flat, but by day three —a few hours before the call with Steven—, you found yourself carrying a suitcase and the Taweret stuffed hippo to his flat.

Not only was his bed extremely comfortable —and smelled of them— but the head teacher of a nearby school had also given you an interview for the next morning. It was something that would serve as an excuse to stay for a few days. Plus, the internet said goldfishes ate three times a day, and you were way too lazy to take the tube six times a day.

Staying at Steven's flat was simply convenient, or so you told yourself.

The truth was you missed them way too much. It formed a permanent hole in your chest, the fact that they were out there risking their lives for something greater than themselves. It hurt you to an imaginable level the fact that Steven had been dragged into the whole thing without any knowledge or fault of his own. He didn't even know he had DID. He didn't even know his mother passed, still doesn't.

You wished you could talk to Marc about it. Steven deserved to know. But even if you decided that telling the truth was the best thing to do in these circumstances, the calls were not long and neither of them answered the messages you sent to Marc's phone. It didn't take you long, either, to find out that Steven's phone had been left behind in London.

Despite Steven thinking you didn't like the presence of Layla, you knew she was trained for that, after all. She was good with weapons, she knew Cairo as the back of her hand. She was born there, raised there, married there. And you couldn't compare yourself to her. You would have only been a burden, a nervous wreck. You were actually glad she was there. You were happy they were not alone.

On the fourth day, neither of them called.

You nailed the interview, got the job on the spot. From the very first moment, the new school looked welcoming and playful, with not a hint of the grey and depressing walls that had adorned your previous workplace. The hallways were covered in paintings, poems and quotes. The playground was much bigger and the head teacher introduced you to all the teachers that were then in the teacher's lounge. None of them had an ugly black scale on their forearms.

When you finally left, you couldn't wait to give the good news to both your boys, but had to keep yourself from calling them anyways. You didn't want them to get in further danger. In your mind, the loud ringing of Marc's phone could give away their location while they were hiding somewhere; or even worse, knowing Marc he would pick up thinking it could be an emergency and get distracted long enough for his enemies to hurt him. Yeah, not only you had watched too many movies and had a very creative mind, but you were also an anxious wreck even when —apparently— there was no reason for that.

By the time the sun began to hide behind the skyscrapers of the city, you had already called them a couple of times, not able to hold your nerves in check. Was Marc even fronting yet? You didn't know, but you felt a little more relaxed at the idea of Marc having the body and protecting Steven from fights he didn't know how to win, so you told yourself he was, in fact, fronting. And prayed that he picked up the phone, but then midnight happened and you still had no news from them.

With tears on your face and a deathly grip on your heart, you hugged Taweret as much as you could. And somehow, it felt as if the soft cotton of the stuffed hippo hugged you back. You were sitting on Steven's couch, and hated that you had turned on the tv to feel a little less lonely and keep the thoughts at bay as much as you could. It was a lost cause now, though. You couldn't stop thinking something horrible had happened to them. You felt it in your own flesh, beyond what you could possibly explain with words.

And so you called Layla.

You had never been very close with her, and there had been a time in which her stern face and determined eyes made you think she secretly despised you. But she didn't, of course. She was a wonderful woman, one you admired most of the time and envied whenever Marc held her close. But it wasn't an angry, red-stained envy. It was a sad one, a baby blue coloured, the last swim in the river in the summer, the last sunset before coming back home to the city. You had longed for Marc for the longest time, but not one of your thoughts was ever directed at Layla. In fact, you loved to see Marc happy, even if it wasn't you who caused his smiles and laughter.

She picked up on the last ring.

The line was deadly silent, and you knew what that meant before she even spoke.

"Layla..." you called, trying to drown your own tears, trying not to sob, trying to keep the pieces of yourself together as much as you could. But you felt like a paper plane landing on a lake, the edges getting heavy as it made contact with water, then slowly unravelling, breaking into small, thin and drenched pieces of paper. That's how you felt; heavy and breaking.

"He's dead," she said, and you swore you had never heard her cry until then. "They... are. Both of them. I'm sorry."

The entire flat gave a violent turn, your own stomach following shortly after. Something soft and hard landed on your cheek at the same time. Your whole body gave up, falling on the couch with a thud. It took you more than a few seconds to realize that you were now lying on the couch, on your side. The cartoons you had been half watching, half ignoring until then, became a blur, a mixture of bright yellow, light blue and orange that you couldn't distinguish anymore. The only thing that kept your awareness, the only thing you still cling to, was the phone. Your fingers gripped it for dear life, pressing it so hard against your face that a blunt ache bloomed on your skull as your earring pierced through the skin there.

You didn't feel it. You were more concerned at the fact that your heart had seemingly stopped beating, your lungs constricted in the cage of your chest as if you had been kicked on the diaphragm.

For a second, you wondered if you were still alive. Then you heard her talk.

"Harrow shot him, twice," she said, her voice now stoic, determined. "I'm going to kill him."

You wetted your dry lips, and tried to wipe away tears that weren't on your face. Wasn't it funny how feelings shut down when the hurt is too much to bear?

"No," you said, but before she could answer, you regained your own voice. Words left your lips before you even could shy away from them. "Kill them all, Layla. Not just Harrow."

You heard her chuckle, music to your ears.

"I will," she said. "I swear I will."

"Don't leave one of them standing."

"I won't."

The call was the only thing keeping the darkness from swallowing you whole. And when it was done, when silence took the place of Layla's voice, there was nothing standing between you and the unwavering loneliness, the never-ending pain that felt like a cramp in every single joint and muscle. A sharp pang went through your chest, then, and without making a single sound you parted your lips and silently screamed. Hot tears now —finally— burning the flesh of your face and neck as they ran through the skin and died either on your lips or on the floor.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. You would never see them again. They would never make it back home. You would never hold them again, talk to them again, run your fingers through their hair.

Take care, had been their last order, their last wish and hope. And it wasn't until now, way too late, that you understood. Take care (whether we come back home, or not), take care (even if we are not there), take care (whatever happens).

Take care. Always, take care.

They had promised to come back home, but they failed to keep their word.

You picked up the phone and threw it against the wall. It shattered in an instant, splinters fell as the screen became a puddle of broken glass on the floor. It was as if the whole thing exploded, the phone was now a mess on the carpet. You picked it up a while later, after staring at it and realizing you felt a lot more broken than the thing was. You picked it up because you wanted to see Steven's face. A picture of him at the karaoke night had been your lockscreen until then. Not anymore though, the stupid thing wouldn't even turn on. And you cried, because you wanted to see them and you couldn't. You could never do it again, you never would. Neither your best friend nor your lover.

The idea of a world in which Marc didn't exist was a hard one to grasp, one that left you limp on Steven's bed for the rest of the night. Not that it was easier to think about Steven, but Marc had been next to you for such a long time that you could barely remember a time, or a phase in your life, in which he was not present. He had been your first and truest love, your first kiss, your first and last best friend. He had given you your first sip of beer, your first taste at what true friendship was like, too. He had caused a lot of pain, sure, but comparing it to what you felt now, the pain of longing had been sweet, salted-caramel-like. This ache was different. It was dull, dark, and hopeless. And it gave way to fear. Fear of how much darker the world would be without your only two lights to help you wander through it.

You wondered how you'd live the rest of your life knowing you could have had Steven but decided to hurt him instead. You wondered how you could have ever lied to his pretty face, how you could cause so much pain in his already aching heart. And above all, you wondered if you could live with the fact that you had never —actually— talked things through, never fixed things, never tried to mend all the agony in his body. All you had ever wanted was to see him happy and content, even if that didn't mean having a relationship, his happiness was all you ever wanted from the very first moment he came up to you and asked you about the scriptures in the museum.

At the end of the day, all you had ever wanted was for both of them to be okay. And even at that, such a simple task, you had failed. In every way, shape and form, you had failed.

You had promised yourself you would never fail them, hurt them, again. At least one of you could keep their word.

Despite desperately needing to, you didn't sleep all night. You didn't drink or eat anything, either. All you did was hug Taweret, and lose yourself in the hallways of your own mind, in all the raw and unfiltered memories. The next morning, you managed to crawl out of bed. The only thing that could make the situation somewhat worse, was if you killed Steven's beloved pet by accident. He would never forgive you for that.

You thought you had no more tears left to cry, you thought if you didn't drink anything maybe you would never cry again, you wouldn't have the tears; but as you approached Gus' tank, you felt them once again prick your eyes.

"I'm sorry, Gus," your voice broke as you looked at the vibrant orange goldfish. For a second, you wished you could be him, forget about the pain, be clueless. "I'm so sorry, darling."

It was another warm day in England, but this time you couldn't manage to get out of bed anymore. Despite the heat, there was a coldness, a freezing cold feeling coming from your bone marrow, from your heart, from seemingly everywhere in your body, that you couldn't shake. You lost consciousness and regained it several times during the morning. But every time you woke up to an empty bed, and a world without Marc and Steven, it felt like a worst punishment than death. By midday, you started to wish Layla failed, that Harrow would come after you to finish what he had started in the museum. Even if he had no reason to, because he already had what he wanted and Layla was his only obstacle left.

You really shouldn't have smashed your phone last night. It was only then that you started regretting it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care even then. Not even curiosity was enough to bring you out of the state you were in. They were dead, both of them. What did it matter anymore? If Marc was right, you'd be gone in a couple of hours, at most. If not, then your guess was Layla had succeeded.

In the midst of your pain, you imagined Steven on the bed next to you. If you were going to die, you might as well have a peaceful death; surrounded by the people you loved most. You imagined them as vividly as you could. When you pictured Steven, you saw the bright eyes, the soft skin, the kind eyes. When the image switched to Marc, you saw the wrinkle between his eyebrows, his clenched jaw, his pleading eyes, the child you had met almost two decades ago.

You fell into a dreamless sleep, restless. You had thought you'd have another one of your nightmares, like all the other times you had fallen asleep that morning. Thankfully, your own mind decided to give you a break. And you slept, but did not rest despite your efforts. Maybe imagining them next to you had helped to some extent, maybe if you kept imagining them next to you, you could make it through the day, maybe a few days, maybe longer, who knows.

When you woke up, they were still there.

"Afternoon, angel," Steven said, a little smile on his lips.

He looked different, very different from the image you had first projected when you fell asleep; an certainly different to any Steven you remembered. This Steven had deeper circles under his eyes, and they had a darker shade of purple. He looked exhausted, a few years older, even. His hair was messy, but that wasn't a first. The way he looked at you, as if you were sand that slowly slipped from his fingers, as if you were a vase he was trying not to break, was what really had you concerned.

Well, that, and the fact that he had talked. Were you that close to a nervous breakdown? Were you dreaming, or had you finally entered psychosis? Whatever it was, you didn't mind, you didn't care; because now you had Steven. Even if it was for a short while.

His brows furrowed, his eyes squinted.

"Love?" he said. And you thought that must be the way he died; confused, frightened. Steven brought a hand to your face, lingering over the skin of your cheek, wondering if he should touch you. But he finally did, and the warm hand, the vivid sensation of him caressing your face, was enough for you to gasp as if he had physically hurt you and squeeze your eyes shut; trying to breathe through the pain. "Oh... I'm sorry, love. I'm sorry for everything. But I'm here now. We both are."

Steven pressed his forehead against you, and you recoiled as if you were a wounded animal. You didn't understand what was happening.

That's when his voice changed.

"Listen," Marc said, his hands now cupping both your cheeks. "Open your eyes for me. I'm here. Everything is alright. We're home. We're fine."

You opened your eyes, but didn't dare to believe him. You were now dreaming, that was for sure. It wasn't the first time you dreamed of someone you had lost. And you knew the more you engaged the more it would hurt when you woke up. Layla wouldn't lie about this. She wasn't that cruel. She wasn't capable of doing such a thing. It had to be a dream, a painful and vivid dream, the result of your weak mind breaking down.

Tears pricked your eyes again, as if you hadn't cried them all last night. You were tired, exhausted, you just wished you could make the whole world stop for a few seconds. You wanted to close your eyes, turn back time and find yourself back into your boys' arms again. Safe, loved.

Now kneeling on the bed, Marc brushed the hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ears.

"I called you a hundred times," he said, and just then you saw how exhausted and frightened he looked too. The slight yellowish colour of his skin, the frantic eyes. He chuckled, but far from a relieved laugh, it was a sad one. "You gave us quite the scare."

If this was your mind playing games, you were quickly getting pissed off about it. But everything seemed so real, too real. You weren't sure you even cared at this point, if it was real or not, but you'd appreciate if they stopped trying to bring you out of your stupor. All you knew was that you wanted to live in this exact moment forever. You didn't want it to end, you didn't want to wake up. You needed Marc and Steven like air. You needed them home.

If this is heaven, you thought, please don't let me fall.

His accent changed again, briefly.

"Please, love," Steven said, brown eyes full of concern. He leaned slowly and kissed your forehead, once. "Say something... come back to us," he whispered.

His words tugged at your heart.

"You were the one supposed to come back to me."

He squinted, but a second later his pupils got lost somewhere in your face, as he listened to what Marc had to say about it. Then, his shoulders squared, his face morphed into Marc's once again, his lip stopped trembling. One of his hands urged you into a seating position against the headboard, gently grabbing you by the waist and guiding you against the wooden surface. Soft hands warm against your clammy and sweaty skin. And you couldn't help but reach out for him when he stood up and turned, trying to leave.

"Marc..."

You don't want him to go, you might never see him again if he does.

Turning back to face you, he took your hand —which was gripping his white t-shirt like a lifeline—, between both his palms and gave a gentle squeeze; his thumbs drawing circles on your skin, trying to comfort you somehow.

"I'm not going anywhere," he sofly talked, as if he could read your mind. He then said your name, and went on. "...you're in shock. But it will pass soon. You have to let me help you."

That made sense, or at least that's what you felt, and as your mind tried to join the dots and give sense to his words and your surroundings for the first time that morning, you let him go. He stayed unmoving for a couple of seconds, sitting on the bed next to you, making sure you were okay before he left. He then stood up and disappeared behind the bookshelves that divided the bedroom space from the kitchen. When he came back, he was holding a bowl and a cloth. He sat down next to you.

"Give me your arm," he said, and you did.

Taking an ice cube from the bowl, he pressed it against your forearm, drawing circles on the skin. The cool sensation was immediate, the burning taking away the numbness. Marc gestured for you to hold it, and soon enough he was pressing another one to your temple, his arm pulling you against his chest by the shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, just above your ear. “She shouldn’t have said anything.”

The ice was melting against your hot skin, the heaviness in your muscles quickly disappearing, your mind finally clearing out, leaving the fight or flight response for the first time in more than twelve hours. The full force of your anguish hit you then, and as he held you in his arms you sobbed, burying your nose in the crook of his neck despite the uncomfortable heat.

“There you are, finally,” he said, you could barely register his hand rubbing your back up and down. “That’s it. Let it all out.”

You were tearing your insides apart. Your heart was broken beyond repair, your lungs punctured, your muscles unmoving, stuck in place. But it wasn't a quiet and peaceful sadness; you were full of rage against everything and everyone and even fate itself. You couldn't possibly believe anyone could hurt Marc or Steven. It was as inconceivable as the idea that you could ever forget them. It just wasn't going to happen.

"I'm gonna miss you," you whispered, between hiccups. "I loved both of you so much."

Marc squinted, his whole exhausted face now even more concerned if that was even possible.

"Baby, I'm here."

But you didn't listen, you couldn't possibly listen to him. You didn't want hope, didn't want reassurance. There was no space for that, you didn't want to make it worse when whatever that was happening ended. He had to be a dream, a precious dream, but one you hadn't asked for.

"Look at me."

You did. And Marc, dipping his hand in the bowl and bringing as much water as he could, spilled some of it in your cheeks and forehead; as if you were a sickly feverish child confined to bed. He then looked into your teary eyes, your reddened face, your trembling shoulders and fingers. He couldn't help but think that you seemed barely a shell of a person right now, and he hated it.

Rearranging himself in front of you, clothed legs crossed right next to your thighs, he took one of your hands in his. Then, he brought it up to his naked chest, pulling the t-shirt up enough for your arm to get under it. He pressed your hand against his heart and kept quiet.

His breathing was steady, but his beating heart was the complete opposite. It was pounding hard against his chest, so much so, that you could almost feel it in your hand, as if there was no flesh or muscles standing in between. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on the sensation on your fingers, on the sound of his steady breathing; but you could feel a grimace forming on your face, not being able to cover your own feelings. Your features contorted in a pained expression, the corners of your mouth pointing downwards. And you tried to breathe through it, bringing your attention back to the present moment, to what he was trying to show you.

"I'm alive," he said. "Steven is okay, too. He was here a second ago. And you..." he said. You opened your eyes just in time to see him press his big, warm hand against your chest, to where your hollow and broken heart must be. "You are safe. You're fine. We'll be alright. It's all over now."

Marc smiled trying to get you to trust him, to believe him. It was a small one, even if the pleading eyes remained. He didn't remove your hand from his chest, and nor did you do it from his.

Getting closer, legs now intertwining in an intricate knot as you got closer and closer to him, you closed your eyes and tried to focus on reality; on what you just now began to identify as your reality, the present moment. You tried to focus on Marc. He was back, and that was all that mattered.

"(y/n)," he called.

Pulling his shirt up, you encouraged him to take it off. He obeyed, both his hands surrounding you as your forehead fell against his warm skin, your lips barely brushing the hot flesh, the gentle curve over his pectorals, a curve dying in the dip in the middle of his chest. You pressed your cheek so hard against him, that you could feel how the chain of his necklace got imprinted there.

Then you heard it, the quickening beating. Even if that had not been your intention, you thanked your own actions for allowing that melody into your ears.

"Let's stay like this for a while"

There was a change, a gentle one as his muscles got slightly tense, regaining the initial softness just a split second later. You didn't realize what had happened until he spoke.

"Of course, love," Steven whispered.

The moment was short-lived as questions kept popping up in your mind. Your thoughts, your curiosity, were so loud that you could barely focus on the way he held you. Still, you waited there, closed your eyes as you ravished in his touch on your back, in his breathing making your baby hairs swing back and forth, in his naked flesh against your ear.

"Steven?"

"Yeah?" he responded, a hand rubbing your back. He didn't give you any time to talk. "Tell me what you need."

"When did you learn to switch so quick?"

It took all your willpower to part ways, to separate your body from his, even if all your limbs and all his limbs were already intertwined with each other. Steven chuckled under your watch, his tired eyes becoming bright and contentment filling them up. A small set of wrinkled appeared on the corners as he squinted.

It striked you then. He was okay. Marc was okay. You were okay. Everything was okay.

You wanted to kiss him.

"Long story short..." he said, "...we've become mates now. If you can call it that..." his eyes wandered for a second, the same as his mind. "He said not to call him that, but I'm gonna do it anyway."

You couldn't help but smile at his words, your fingers in his nape getting knotted in his curls. When your now —finally— focused eyes locked in his, a miserable look on them, Steven felt his own heartbreak; an invisible hand grabbing the muscle in a tight fist and trying to pull it outside through his throat.

"What happened?"

Don't tell her, Marc said in the headspace, but there was no need for that. I don't think she can handle it right now.

Steven knew Marc was right, but for a second, he wondered if it wasn't that —the hidding, the lies, the running away— what had brought yours and Marc's relationship to the darkest point in its history. There weren't many things that Steven hated more than that, the lies.

He brought a hand to your forehead, the pads of his fingers delineating —caressing— the lines and curves of your face.

"It's a long story, dear," he said, but the more he tried to keep a serious face, the harder it was. "It was truly an adventure. I was inside the Great Pyramid of Giza, I talked to gods. It was absolutely bonkers."

By the time he was done, his brown eyes were shining. The contrast against the purple circles under his eyes made him look a bit bonkers indeed. But despite that, you couldn't help a smile growing on your lips. You knew you should've been angry, after all, you had gone through hell the last couple of days, but you couldn't bring it against him with how excited he seemed to be. And you knew not everything had been a fun ride.

"Are you alright now?" he asked, speaking soflty, looking intently into your eyes. You nodded. "Good. I'm so glad."

Steven hugged you, he pressed your body against his so much that he accidentally lifted you from the mattress, and you were now kneeling, one of his thighs between your legs. The hug was so tight, his strong arms squeezing you against him so much, that a faint ache spread throughout your ribs; but you couldn't be bothered to care.

He drowned his nose into your hair, smelling the scent of you in your neck. Tears started pricking his eyes without notice, and before he could stop it, he felt himself out of breath.

"I was so scared," he whispered.

You let him calm down, not ending the hug anytime soon.

What he didn't say was what he was scared about. Steven was, overall, a very honest man. And he hated drama as much as he hated bullies. For those reasons, it even surprised him when he wanted to be detailed but couldn't. Words got caught in his throat, but also knotted in his mind, as he found himself not only unable to say them but also unable to thread them properly to form sentences. Steven had been anxious the whole journey, scared too, but he didn't address that fear in particular. It wasn't until he felt the piercing, burning wound in his chest that he knew everything was fucked up.

But what really got to him wasn't the blood or the water surrounding him or noticing his body exhaling his last breath. No. That had been comfortable, almost peaceful. Death was easy. It had been everything that followed what had scarred him, filled his inert veins with fright. The whole time in the boat he had wondered and worried about what would happen to you, how were you doing, what would you do once you heard the news. And the more his thoughts spiralled, the more he was convinced about finding a way out of the underworld. He didn't know how, but he knew he had to. They both had.

The feeling had only been aggravated when he dived into Marc's memories. Not only he felt as if his soul had been shattered when he realized how awful his own mother had been to —him— Marc; but the boat had also shown him precious memories that Steven —despite feeling slightly jealous, in a good way— found precious. He understood why Marc had treasured those memories, why they were neater and sharper than any other memory he had. Steven saw himself in Brighton and everything that followed. He saw your first kiss on his dad's car. He saw Marc desperately coming back to London after becoming Moon Knight, not resting until you were in his line of vision. He saw you at his mother's funeral through the window, even if you didn't see him because he didn't dare to get in. He watched with tears in his eyes how you brought 14-year-old Marc to your home and almost burned yourself trying to light up a couple of candles over a cake for his birthday. After seeing how his father had given up on celebrating his birthdays, and his mother always ruined it by being too drunk to get out of bed, Steven couldn't help but be grateful that you had been there.

After all he saw, he couldn't bring himself to be angry at any of you. In anything, he felt annoyed that it had taken so long. He felt as if he had seen an uncomfortably long romantic drama that seemed to never quite unfold.

When Steven fell to the freezing cold dunes of the Duat, that's when he abbandoned himself to terror. The whole time he was there, he screamed in his own mind. He cried, he yelled. He couldn't even breathe, not like he had the need to anyways, but the sensation was equally uncomfortable. Panic surged through his veins. When the realization of never being able to see you again striked, he wished he could move just so he could fold his own body into itself and sob.

Now he was okay, safe, alright. But if he was all those things, why did he feel the same terror, the shadows of something crawling at his feet, trying to drag his soul back to the Duat?

Steven focused on your breathing, on the slight movement of your back behind his fingers as you breathed. And that —you— was the only thing that calmed him down. It was the only thing that could calm him down.

It's alright, Steven. Marc said in his mind, noticing the knot in his throat, the fright. Steven had to admit that he wished Marc had shown himself before. He wished he had those reassuring words sooner, when he was at that time in his life in which panic attacks were his bread and butter.

"I'm so thankful you were there," he said, caressing your back as if he was comforting you when, in reality, he was comforting himself. "At my mom's shiva, I mean. It means a lot to me that you were there, even if she didn't deserve it."

His words surprised you, that was obvious, but you didn't let go just yet.

"I wasn't there for her, Steven."

You hadn't been there for him, either, not for Steven at least. But that didn't take away any of his thankfulness; because he saw Marc as a part of himself now, and everything you had done for Marc, Steven took it as something you did for him too.

"I know," he said, finally separating, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek before he did. "Thank you, anyways."

That's when you saw it.

With your eyes looking down as you pulled away from him, you discerned the scars on his chest. Two circles, two swirls of healed skin in the middle of his chest. One just over his diaphragm, the other directly into his stomach. Your eyes widened as you caught a glimpse of them, your fingers quickly touching the surrounding skin. You guessed Khonshu had healed them —if not, how could they be there?— but you had watched enough movies for you to imagine it. The placement of the wounds was enough to kill anyone instantly, piercing through many major organs and even not allowing them to inhale any oxygen.

"Oh, that, yeah...," Steven said. "It's alright. It wasn't as painful as it seems."

Speak for yourself, dude. Marc complained. I literally had my throat full of blood, but whatever.

"Don't be a wanker," he responded, whispering, quickly correcting himself as he saw your confused expression. "That wasn't for you! It's Marc, he's..." he pointed at his temple. "he's whining. You know how he is."

I'm not whining!

Steven rolled his eyes. Whatever.

"Are you sure you're alright?" you asked. A flash of your own frightening thoughts coming to the front of your mind, the memory of the cold barrel of a gun pressed against your back. "You can talk to me if you need to. Marc, you too."

Steven smiled, and when the movement in a nearby mirror caught his attention, he saw Marc smiling too.

"Don't worry about us," he said. "It was quick. A couple of seconds and... puff," he mimicked two explosions with his hands, closing and opening his fists. "...we weren't even there anymore. It was honestly worse what happened afterwards."

"What do you mean?"

Congrats, Steven, you fucked up, Marc said in the mirror. And he didn't respond because he knew Marc was right. Marc might have known you longer, but it didn't take Steven to know you for years to know that once something piqued your curiosity, you wouldn't stop until you got to the bottom of it.

"Uhm..." he murmured, his own body suddenly stiff, restless. Steven disentangled your body from his and got out of bed. "Why don't we get a cuppa? I've missed that so much."

You squinted.

"Steven..."

"Yes, love?" he said, about to surround the bookshelf to get into the kitchen. That was his first mistake, to look into your concerned expression for such a long time that he felt as if the guilt was eating him alive. He sighed quietly. Steven stood in front of you, playing with his own fingers like a kid that had accidentally broken a window playing football. "Can we talk in the kitchen, please? We have so much to tell you. And I'd really like doing it over a cup of tea."

Who would reject such an offer? Not you, that much was clear.

Unlike many people in the world, Steven was one of those people who once he said something, you could expect him to fulfil his intentions. He said he would tell you all about it over a cup of tea, and that was exactly what he did. He told you everything he had experienced, but also gave you pieces of what Marc told him had happened in the scarce moments in which he was not either fronting or conscious in the headspace. He didn't hold back, he told you absolutely everything. The fight with Marc the first day, the meeting with the gods, Alexander the Great, the shots, the underworld, everything... And he tried for his fear —and jealousy— not to show up when he talked about how Marc passed to the Field of Reeds while he stayed in the cold sands of the Duat. His own heart felt swollen and warm when he talked about the way Marc had left the field looking for him.

It was a long chat, and much of it didn't make sense from a logical point of view. But the world was a messed, confusing place; and there was no point in denying or doubting anything they said.

After a few seconds, the sounds coming from Gus' tank the only thing filling the silence, Steven squeezed the mug against his fingers. It was now cold, and he wetted his lips before talking.

"Marc and I made an agreement," he said. "About... well, us," his dark, kind eyes looked into your own, looking for a reaction in them. "You know, us."

"Yes, Steven," you softly chuckled, and gave his wrist a gentle squeeze. "What is it about?"

"Well we agreed that he's horrible at words."

You chuckled.

"That's not news to me."

"Yeah..." he smiled, looking down at his mug again. "That's why we agreed, and it makes sense having in mind you two already fixed things, that it would be me the one who did the talking," he said. "For the conversation."

"The conversation," you nodded, trying not to smile as he said it. You found it amusing, despite the true meaning of his words. But your throat still closed around in a knot, your stomach giving a violent turn in a second. "Okay. That means you talk first...?" you asked, "...or I talk first?"

Steven smiled, shook his head and gave you a gentle squeeze back. His hand surrounded the one that was caressing his wrist over the table.

"Let us do it," he said.

You nodded. Your teeth dragged your bottom lip between them —a habit you did when you got anxious—, until Steven's thumb reached for your chin and rubbed the pad against your lip, forcing you to let it free. He was sending you a sign with his actions: there's nothing to worry about, love.

"Not only we relived everything at the boat," he said. "We had plenty of time in the plane to talk, even if we were in a rush to get here, and we panicked much more than we should have. We had five and a half hours of flight, and we guessed that we might as well put that time to good use.

"I'm gonna talk for me first, but Marc already knows this," he took a deep breath, rubbed his face with both hands and swallowed. "I know it wasn't fine what you both did. Us, getting to know each other, as if you didn't know who I was beforehand. But I do know, now, that neither of you had bad intentions. And what happened between us wasn't... orchestrated," he stopped, looking into your eyes for the first time. "Marc thinks what I felt for you was so sudden because I mistook his feelings for mine. But I don't think that's true. Even if it was, it doesn't matter now. I still love you-"

"Steven..."

"No, let me finish," he said, still holding your hand. "I liked you from the very first moment I saw you, and that is something that I won't give him credit for. I like you because of who you are, and I grew to love you. Quite soon, that's true. But I don't think timing is any problem here. You love who you love, when you love, and after being lonely for so long, I won't make myself feel guilty for that," he swallowed the lump in his throat again. He was scared, he didn't want you to run away from him, and he feared he might frighten you with the extent of his feelings.

“I used to think that you fell from heaven, that God sent you to me for some reason,” he said. “I know now that’s not true. You didn’t fall, you grew on Earth, next to us. We helped each other, we fed each other, and we loved each other in every way a person can be loved. You saved Marc, and saved me without me noticing, and we’d like to think we saved you, helped you and loved you in the best way we could; even if I was a bit late to the party, even if Marc ran away from it.”

“You’re a part of us in the same way Marc is a part of me. You were not a miracle or a blessing or fate. You are the realization that we, as humans, are made of the people that we love most, that there's always a part of us that belongs to the person you love. I believe there’s no us without you, and as bad as it is that I am the one to say it, there’s no you without us either."

Steven closed his eyes, he could feel his anxiety adding up to Marc's, and he needed to finish what he had to say. He was almost done, he had to.

You are doing great, Marc said. Better than I ever would.

Tell me about it, Steven responded in a whisper, even in the headspace he felt out of breath.

Thank you.

"We’ve left fingerprints on each other," Steven's eyes looked into yours. The purest longing drowning them. "We can’t run away from that. I don’t want to run away from that," he played with his fingers, and kept doing it as he looked ahead, at the reflection of Marc in Gus' tank. Marc nodded. "Before the Duat, we saw the other as competition, an enemy. We were jealous because each of us had something with you that the other never could, and because we couldn't conceive the idea of the three of us together; because we hated each other. That's not a problem now. So..." he took a breath, his fingers gave you a gentle squeeze before his eyes locked in yours again. The brown melting your heart. "...if you will have us, we would love to have you. And we'd love to be yours, too."

That was everything you had ever wanted to hear.

You smiled, the most relieved smile any of them had ever seen, as if the weight of the world had been lifted up from your shoulders. You rose up from the chair, and rounded the corner of the table. Steven moved away from it, making room for you. His eyes, both Steven's and Marc's, looked at you with such adoration from where they sat, that you felt every bone in your body melt under their gaze. The love that pervaded their souls was as pure as it was moving.

Before you sat, Steven was already holding you, bringing your body against him by the waist. You took a seat over his thigh, and far from bothered, he felt privileged.

"What about Layla?"

That wasn't what he expected to hear, but the light in his eyes didn't vanish.

"Marc signed the papers yesterday night," he said. "She knows everything."

You nodded, but you were still deep in thought. There was just one more small detail that you couldn't quite shake, the only thing still creating distance between your own heart and his. Steven's specifically.

"What is it?" he asked, as he brushed the tips of your hair with his fingers, mindlessly. "Tell me."

There's one thing..." you began. "Steven, you said you thought I didn't love you, that I only loved Marc and liked you, just because you looked like him," your own words hurt, even if it wasn't the first time your ears heard them. "Do you still think that? I don't want you to think that. Ever."

He smiled, shook his head. His fingers digged into your naked waist, below the t-shirt you had slept in.

"Who do you hug while you sleep?"

"What do you mean?"

"Taweret," he said, he brought your face closer to his. "You hug my present, every night, a present that has nothing to do with Marc. No, angel, I don't think that anymore."

His calloused hands got buried into your hair when he pushed your face down. His lips quickly found yours, hungrily devouring your mouth like a starving man. And he sure as hell felt like one. He felt as if he was still in Cairo, in the desert at midday, surrounded by sand that burned his flesh, under a punishing sun and Egyptian gods full of wrath and, and soon, in his mouth, under his fingertips, an oasis. Fresh water and shade, salvation.

"Thank you," he whispered against your lips when it ended; his forehead pressed against yours, your hot exhale over his mouth. He didn't know who he was thanking: you, or God. Probably both. "Thank you."

"Can I..." you asked, a fun giggle coming from you that made his heart swell. "Can I kiss my other boyfriend now?"

Steven laughed, and his eyes widened at the same time.

"Your other," he repeated.

Steven wanted to mock you, laugh, tickle you. He hadn't felt this alive in a long time. But Marc was just as excited, his heart just as full.

Give our girl what she wants, Steven. Marc said, but before Steven could surrender control, Marc was already in the driver's seat; fronting. His own teeth nibbling at your lower lip before he even realized he wasn't in charge anymore.

From the surface of Gus' tank, he found out it was almost just as pleasing to see you kiss Marc, as it was to kiss you himself. None of you —not one out of the three— could believe your luck. Marc drowned you in kisses, in all the kisses he hadn't given you in all those yours. Now you'd have plenty of years to make up for the lost time.

"We could visit Brighton now," Marc heard you whisper. You were now laying on the table as he kept giving you lazy kisses, covering you whole with his own body.

"Heard that, Steven?" he asked, looking at the reflection. Steven had the biggest grin on his face. "He really wanted that, you know."

You nodded under his body, your lips kissing his arm, his collarbone, anything you could reach.

"I know," you said.

Endless nights since you had met them, you had prayed for things to be different. For all of it to unfold in another way, one that didn't hurt as much. But being there now, you wouldn't change one thing for the world. It had taken a lot of tears and blood to get to that point. And there were scars —both visible and not— to prove it. What all of you failed to acknowledge, is that it only takes to win once, to achieve greatness. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter how many battles were lost. If at the end of the day, it was war that you'd win.

And you did, all three of you did.

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thesporkidentity · 1 month

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Hammond B3 Organ Cistern

Gabrielle Calvocoressi (1974- ), Published 2018 (as far as I can tell)

The days I don’t want to kill myself are extraordinary. Deep bass. All the people in the streets waiting for their high fives and leaping, I mean leaping, when they see me. I am the sun-filled god of love. Or at least an optimistic under-secretary. There should be a word for it. The days you wake up and do not want to slit your throat. Money in the bank. Enough for an iced green tea every weekday and Saturday and Sunday! It’s like being in the armpit of a Hammond B3 organ. Just reeks of gratitude and funk. The funk of ages. I am not going to ruin my love’s life today. It’s like the time I said yes to gray sneakers but then the salesman said Wait. And there, out of the back room, like the bakery’s first biscuits: bright-blue kicks. Iridescent. Like a scarab! Oh, who am I kidding, it was nothing like a scarab! It was like bright. blue. fucking. sneakers! I did not want to die that day. Oh, my God. Why don’t we talk about it? How good it feels. And if you don’t know then you’re lucky but also you poor thing. Bring the band out on the stoop. Let the whole neighborhood hear. Come on, Everybody. Say it with me nice and slow no pills no cliff no brains onthe floor Bring the bass back. no rope no hose not today, Satan. Every day I wake up with my good fortune and news of my demise. Don’t keep it from me. Why don’t we have a name for it? Bring the bass back. Bring the band out on the stoop. Hallelujah!

#poetry

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seashellcosmos · 6 months

Note

You mentioned it before so now I must know: Which bug has Gonta assigned each of his friends to and for what reason?

OKAY HERE WE GO BABY

Shuichi- blue noctuid moth! Shuichi has big moth vibes, and (according to research the author has done) this moth is sometimes associated with death :) but it is very pretty

Kirumi- orb weaver spider! Spiders are arachnids, not insects, but Gonta still likes them- and orb weavers are very delicate and organized spiders, often observed tearing down and rebuilding their web daily (i have seen this with my own eyes it rocks)

Korekiyo- praying mantis! Tall and thin, can come across as unsettling, but is sorta just minding its own business. Stares at you for too long.

Himiko- ladybug! Small and cute and round, with a similar color scheme and habit of just hanging out wherever they feel like. Also fall asleep like…. As soon as they are somewhere cold or dark. Which is endearing

Ryoma- June Bug! (June beetle) a small, round, endearing beetle in the scarab family. Are very small and resilient (despite their clumsy and self destructive flight patterns)often used to symbolize transformation? Apparently? Christmas beetle would also work for him tbh.

Kaito- firefly! (Lightning bug, fire bug, etc) while not as flashy as Kaito tends to be at first glance, these little show stoppers quite literally light up the night sky like little stars in lonely rural eras

Angie- painted lady butterfly! Maybe a little obvious, but this tiny butterfly has splattered oranges and white and black across its wings to make a vibrant pattern! They also fly around very excitedly, and are attracted to bright colored flowers like echinacea or sunflowers

Rantaro- Atlas Moth! A large, striking moth found in many parts of Asia, with beautiful eye markings and wings that bare a strange resemblance to cobra heads as well. Often used to symbolize travel and wandering

Miu- primrose moth! partially for her signature pink and yellow color scheme, partially for their pickiness when it comes to host plants, and partially because these little critters are often active day and night once they pupate and reach adulthood.

Kiibo- Pill bug! (Rolly Polly, Armadillo Bug, etc) a tiny isopod that’s more related to shrimp and crustaceans than true insects, with slate gray armored backs they have a tendency to hide behind if startled

Kokichi- Emperor Moth Caterpillar (and the moth itself) a very flashy little creature with eye designs and frills along its body to trick predators, known for that one metaphor that symbolizes life’s struggles

Kaede- Monarch Butterfly! A delicate but incredibly resilient butterfly with very vibrant colors!! Often used to symbolize strength and endurance

Tenko- Grasshopper! A high energy insect found all over the world, known for their high jumps and cute little chirps

Maki- Glasswing Butterfly! Small, delicate butterflies with translucent wings they used to blend in with their surroundings. Pollinate and lay their eggs on plants in the poisonous nightshade family

Tsumugi- Leaf Cutter Bee! While a little more plain looking than other bee species (heh heh) these bees are very unique! They cut parts of leaves to make their home, stitching together little nests for winter.

Gonta sees himself as a rhino beetle, big and silly and strong enough to protect his friends!!

#rambling #asks #long post #can you tell I almost went to school for agricultural science lol #all I know are the pollinator bugs and pest control bugs #I love bugs so much #danganronpa

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thewapolls · 8 months

Text

PILLBUG is another member of the WA allstars club --along side Blue Book, Balloon, and the Gobs-- a monster present in every game. The original design is unlike every subsequent appearance, something I personally suspect was a reference to Hayao Miyazaki's Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind. But every other appearance, starting with WA2, sports the unaltered spiny design we all know and love, retaining just a bit of the green coloration of the original.

URCHIN BUG is the enduring recolor of the standard PILL BUG, color shifted just a bit toward the bluer end of the spectrum. Kind of rionic that all but the original PILL BUG aren't actually all that Pillbug like, but are very sea urchin like, yet the original urchin bug was very un-urchin-like.

BOCKLE is a weird one. It only appeared briefly in WA2 and 3. I would be inclined to note that it's one of five classification of Cornish fairies according to one Robert Hunt --Small People, Spriggans, Piskies, Bockles, and Brownies. But that appears to just be another spelling of BOGLE and that's a recolor of the GOBs and it seems odd they'd use them both in the same game. (There's also an Ultraman enemy named King Bockle, but I can't tell if they're at all related?)

BOMBARDIER, so named after Bombardier Beetles the family Carabidae. The beetles all share a remarkably specific defense mechanism that allows them to squirt a boiling hot chemical concoction at predators. BOMBARDIER is the single link between the PILL BUG model and that of...

PLAGUE BEETLE & MAGARO SCARAB I'm bundling together here since they have no distinct qualities individually or any legacy as they're both first introduced in WA5. The MAGARO[マガロ] appears to be the Japanese word magaro[曲がる] meaning "Twisted"/"Warped"/"Crooked."

ZAVORG is a bit of a stretch here, but I feel like given it boss epithet and the 3 monsters with the shared model in WA5 that ZAVORG may well have been the first instance of the design, but i can't really say for certain.

#wild arms

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platypusjones · 1 year

Text

Hammond B3 Organ Cistern

By Gabrielle Calvocoressi

The days I don’t want to kill myself

are extraordinary. Deep bass. All the people

in the streets waiting for their high fives

and leaping, I mean leaping,

when they see me. I am the sun-filled

god of love. Or at least an optimistic

under-secretary. There should be a word for it.

The days you wake up and do not want

to slit your throat. Money in the bank.

Enough for an iced green tea every weekday

and Saturday and Sunday! It’s like being

in the armpit of a Hammond B3 organ.

Just reeks of gratitude and funk.

The funk of ages. I am not going to ruin

my love’s life today. It’s like the time I said yes

to gray sneakers but then the salesman said

Wait. And there, out of the back room,

like the bakery’s first biscuits: bright-blue kicks.

Iridescent. Like a scarab! Oh, who am I kidding,

it was nothing like a scarab! It was like

bright. blue. fucking. sneakers! I did not

want to die that day. Oh, my God.

Why don’t we talk about it? How good it feels.

And if you don’t know then you’re lucky

but also you poor thing. Bring the band out on the stoop.

Let the whole neighborhood hear. Come on, Everybody.

Say it with me nice and slow

no pills no cliff no brains onthe floor

Bring the bass back. no rope no hose not today, Satan.

Every day I wake up with my good fortune

and news of my demise. Don’t keep it from me.

Why don’t we have a name for it?

Bring the bass back. Bring the band out on the stoop.

Hallelujah!

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blankpapper · 24 days

Note

what would you do if scarab was right next to you and kept farting and was visibly nervous of it but couldn’t stop and starts blushing because he was embarrassed but still couldn’t stop farting and he’s just blushing so hard

I would get a wiff obviously and offer him some non gas pills, but surprise!!! They were extra gas pills.

Then id get my freak on idk

#trolled

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lesbianpinkie · 1 month

Note

what’s your bio quote from? i really like it

I really like it too!! it's the opening to a poem called Hammond B3 Organ Cistern by Gabrielle Calvocoressi

The days I don’t want to kill myself

are extraordinary. Deep bass. All the people

in the streets waiting for their high fives

and leaping, I mean leaping,

when they see me. I am the sun-filled

god of love. Or at least an optimistic

under-secretary. There should be a word for it.

The days you wake up and do not want

to slit your throat. Money in the bank.

Enough for an iced green tea every weekday

and Saturday and Sunday! It’s like being

in the armpit of a Hammond B3 organ.

Just reeks of gratitude and funk.

The funk of ages. I am not going to ruin

my love’s life today. It’s like the time I said yes

to gray sneakers but then the salesman said

Wait. And there, out of the back room,

like the bakery’s first biscuits: bright-blue kicks.

Iridescent. Like a scarab! Oh, who am I kidding,

it was nothing like a scarab! It was like

bright. blue. fucking. sneakers! I did not

want to die that day. Oh, my God.

Why don’t we talk about it? How good it feels.

And if you don’t know then you’re lucky

but also you poor thing. Bring the band out on the stoop.

Let the whole neighborhood hear. Come on, Everybody.

Say it with me nice and slow

no pills no cliff no brains onthe floor

Bring the bass back. no rope no hose not today, Satan.

Every day I wake up with my good fortune

and news of my demise. Don’t keep it from me.

Why don’t we have a name for it?

Bring the bass back. Bring the band out on the stoop.

Hallelujah!

1 note · View note

thesefevereddays · 1 year

Text

Hammond B3 Organ Cistern

by Gabrielle Calvocoressi

The days I don’t want to kill myself

are extraordinary. Deep bass. All the people

in the streets waiting for their high fives

and leaping, I mean leaping,

when they see me. I am the sun-filled

god of love. Or at least an optimistic

under-secretary. There should be a word for it.

The days you wake up and do not want

to slit your throat. Money in the bank.

Enough for an iced green tea every weekday

and Saturday and Sunday! It’s like being

in the armpit of a Hammond B3 organ.

Just reeks of gratitude and funk.

The funk of ages. I am not going to ruin

my love’s life today. It’s like the time I said yes

to gray sneakers but then the salesman said

Wait. And there, out of the back room,

like the bakery’s first biscuits: bright-blue kicks.

Iridescent. Like a scarab! Oh, who am I kidding,

it was nothing like a scarab! It was like

bright. blue. fucking. sneakers! I did not

want to die that day. Oh, my God.

Why don’t we talk about it? How good it feels.

And if you don’t know then you’re lucky

but also you poor thing. Bring the band out on the stoop.

Let the whole neighborhood hear. Come on, Everybody.

Say it with me nice and slow

no pills no cliff no brains onthe floor

Bring the bass back. no rope no hose not today, Satan.

Every day I wake up with my good fortune

and news of my demise. Don’t keep it from me.

Why don’t we have a name for it?

Bring the bass back. Bring the band out on the stoop.

Hallelujah!

#poetry #Gabrielle Calvocoressi

0 notes

80pairsofcrocs · 11 months

Text

baby scarab || 64

masterlist - marvel masterlist - series masterlist

A/N : THERE IS NO MORE SCHEDULE, IM SORRY also thank you all sm for the support and requests :)))

please enjoy, and don't be shy if you want to be in the taglist, just ask <3, sorry for the long wait

pairings : steven grant x (platonic)reader, marc spector x (platonic) reader, khonshu x (platonic)reader, jake lockley x (platonic)reader, layla el faouly x (platonic)reader

TW : medicine (pills), spidey stuff, violence, language, angst, kinda rushed? angst, more angst, yelling, mentions of past child abuse, let me know if i missed anything.

~~~

you were sat at the table in the kitchen the next morning while slowly picking at a muffin steven had made earlier.

marc sat across from you, and layla had left earlier as well.

it was silent. too silent. you could hear every drop of rain that fell on the ground a couple stories down.

that was until you decided to speak up.

"so... am i still grounded?" you ask uncomfortably.

marc sighs a runs a hand through his hair. "yes. but.. for less time. and i know this will.. absolutely break your heart but.. but..... oh motherfu- jake you do it"

"no"

"darling listen.." steven takes over. "we decided as a group.. and your mother and even khonshu agrees but... we've decided that you won't be able to be arachnid until you're eighteen.." your heart drops at stevens sentence.

"what..?" you ask shakily and marc sighs.

"i know it's hard to hear, but we really mean it this time. we can't have you out there getting hurt-"

"but you do it all the time!" you interrupt. "jake knows how important it is to me- he agrees that i should have freedom! right jake?" you look to him in the mirror and he gives you a sad look.

"wha- jake?! you too?! seriously- i- you've seen what i can do- i-" you cut yourself off, tearing up and putting your head in your hands, allows resting on the table.

steven sighs sadly. "it's okay darling, we're sorry but- you need to focus on your school work, i mean it's the beginning of march and you're failing almost all your classes! you haven't even been in school all too much either!" he raises his voice and you look up at him.

"you can't do this- it doesn't matter if i graduate i don't even know what i'm going to do in life- all i have are these stupid powers!" you tell back at him and a stern look takes over stevens face.

"no, you listen. you need to graduate, i'm not letting you throw your life away-"

"why not?! you're already taking away everything else!" you cut him off again.

steven scoffs, which is something unlike him to do. "excuse me? we are taking away one thing- and it hurts you don't you understand? it's gotten you kidnapped!" he raises his voice another notch.

you groan out of annoyance. "steven just stop- im not giving this up, i can't" you start. "there's people out there that need my help-"

"they have us, kid" marc says and you look to the mirror where he looks at you. "you aren't invincible! you're just a kid, you shouldn't be out there risking your life-"

"neither should you! what if one day khonshu can't heal you?! what- what if one day i just sit here like an idiot waiting for you to come home and you never do?!" you stand up from your seat.

"y/n we will always come home- but you however are young and inexperienced. you are more likely to die out there than we are" steven answers. "we can't lose you. we are doing this because we love you, i need you to understand that" he quiets his voice and you sigh, sitting back down.

"but that's why i-" you're interrupted by khonshu appearing in a thick fog before he turns to steven.

"we must go!" he shouts and you look to steven in a panic.

"no! i- i just got back-"

"darling listen, we will continue this when we get back but you have to promise me you'll stay here-"

"don't just leave! what's wrong with you?!-"

"casper is coming over to make sure you stay put- now we really have to go-" steven continues to talk over you while his suit forms onto his body.

"steven this isn't fair-"

"don't talk to me about 'fair', now i love you, just stay here" steven days before leaving out the window, making you stare with wide eyes at all that just happened.

"great job 'dad'. sending my fucking boyfriend to come babysit me" you mutter under your breath as you speed walk to your room and slam the door shut, falling onto your bed face first.

that's when you immediately hear a knock at the front door and you groan out of annoyance.

"yeah okay- can't even get a fucking minute of peace" you mumble, swinging your door open to march to the front door.

you open it to see casper with a sad smile on his face. "are you okay?" he asks quietly and you sigh, dragging him in by his sleeve and shutting the door.

"i'm fine. it's not like you came here just to babysit me" you say sarcastically and sit down on the couch with your arms crossed.

casper sighs and goes to sit next to you. "i came here to make sure you're okay. and because i love you" he says honestly, and you look over to him.

"and to make sure i don't leave" you add and he shakes his head.

"even i know that i couldn't stop you if you really wanted to leave" he says and you nod. "that's true-"

"but you wouldn't. i can tell how exhausted you are right now" casper tells you and you look away, biting the inside of your cheek.

"i'm not even-"

"come on, marc told me everything that happened. have you even tried to sleep since then?" he asks and you stay quiet.

casper sighs and stands up in front of you, offering you a hand. "come on" is all he says before you take his hand.

he takes you to your room and pulls the blanket back on your bed.

you get the message and sit down, looking up at casper as he slips his shoes off before joining you.

"just get some sleep, okay? i'm worried about you" he pushes you down so that your head hits your pillow.

"i'm really not in the mood to sleep right now-" you try sitting back up and casper moves behind you to put his arms around your waist, keeping you from sitting up.

"casper-"

"you're not getting out of this and i'm not leaving until you fall asleep"

"how about you just don't leave at all"

"deal"

you smile to yourself before turning around in casper's arms to face him.

"and for the record, i love you too" you lean to press a kiss to casper's lips before burying your face in his neck.

casper sighs in content and hugs you closer, feeling almost just as tired as you were.

i'm not even two minutes both of you were fast asleep in each others arms, not a care in the world about anything that has ever happened.

meanwhile a few hours later you were still asleep, but in a different position.

you were on your back, head to the side while casper was still hugging your waist but with his face buried in your stomach.

and that's what jake had come home to.

he smiles as and shook his head before closing your door and quietly cleaning up the dried blood on his face.

it wasn't his by the way.

another hour passed and marc was extremely stressed about how tense them and you were before they left, and was almost scared of the next conversation you were going to have once you woke up.

he heard your door open a moment later and thought the worst.

that was until he realized it was casper and not you. he unknowingly let out a sigh of relief as casper approached him.

"how was she?" marc asks quietly and casper sits down next to him.

"justifiably angry" he starts. "i know that she understands why you're taking away arachnid, but it is a part of her now" he explains and marc sighs.

"i know but she's my kid.. she should be focusing on school, not listening to the news and going out to risk her life everyday" marc rants and casper nods.

"i miss her" casper confesses. "the real y/n. she used to try, like actually try. she had a job, and she tried her hardest in school but now.. she's changed so much" he takes a breath. "and i get that she's been going through things lately, like being kidnapped and- and taken by the police but- i need her back" he looks tearfully to marc, who gives him a concerned look.

"i can't let her destroy herself, i just can't" casper hides his tears behind his hands. "i love her marc. i would do anything to make her happy again"

marc puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. "i.. i know how that feels" he starts. "i'm glad she found someone like you.. and i hate that i just admitted that" casper smiles slightly at marc's comment and wiped his tears away.

"thank you, sir"

"call me marc.. you've earned it" marc mumbles and casper nods before marc furrows his brows in thought.

and that was when jake fronted, and casper noticed a change.

"you guys didn't actually have sex did you?" jake questions and casper quickly shakes his head

"no- no. we didn't..." he says.

"but?" jake adds and casper sighs.

"she.. she tried to get something started and i could tell she didn't want it" casper starts. "i.. i stopped her before anything actually happened.."

jake looks down at the ground. "..are you both okay?" he asks and casper nods.

"yeah, i.. i know she wasn't in the right headspace.... and i knew she was hurting" he finishes and jake nods.

"thank you"

casper looks confused. "for what? i just did the right thing- anybody would've done it-"

"no i.. we thank you for protecting her. even though she's technically a 'superhero' she still needs someone" jake starts. "someone like you" he admits and casper smiles slightly.

he's about to say something when you come wandering out, yawning and wiping away the tear stains from your cheeks.

nobody said anything. you just stood looking at them.

"you guys were talking about me.. weren't you?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"all good things" casper tells you. he thought that one little lie couldn't hurt, as long as you didn't use all your energy up again from crying and being overall angry.

"does this mean you have to go home?" you ask him, not even bothering to acknowledge jake.

casper sighs. "i believe it does.. but we will see each other at school tomorrow, and i can help you get caught up" he offers while standing up.

you simply nod and tiredly walk over to him, wrapping your arms around him waist in a hug.

casper hugs you back and when you let go he heads to the door.

"i'll see you tomorrow, y/n. take care of yourself for me" he says before leaving.

you stare at the door for a moment before looking hesitantly at jake.

there was an awkward silence before either of you said anything.

"are you still mad at us?" jake asks which earns a scoff from marc at his bad choice in starting a conversation.

you furrow your brows and cross your arms in front of your chest. "what do you think, dip shit?" you retort and jake stands up with his hands on his hips.

"disculpe?" jake responds and you look away from him with a shake of your head.

"hey- look at me when i'm talking to you" he says sternly so with attitude, you look back at jake, who seemed to switch.

"don't call him that" steven starts, taking his hands off his hips to put them in his sweaters pockets. "you don't get to swear at us like that-"

"yeah? but what stopped me before?" you interrupt and steven takes a deep breath.

"don't interrupt me, and when you did it before it wasn't to hurt us- you better apologize to him or so help me-"

"so help you what? what are you going to do? send my boyfriend back here to babysit me while you go fuck around in your stupid suit?" you start angrily. "how about taking my phone- oh wait! you already have! god knows when i'll fucking get it back!"

"you watch your tone-"

"i'm not finished 'steven'" you say his name as if it's a curse in your mouth. "bet you're regretting adopting me now, huh? it's all been shits and giggles up until you took everything away from me! first my phone- and- and then arachnid- what's next?! are you going to starve me?! resort to beating me, because i damn well deserve it!"

stevens eyes widen at your words and the fact that your angrily yelling at him, marc and jake are just as shocked but can't find anything to possibly say.

"why did you even adopt me?! why bother trying- you've never been around kids before- and marc's had a bunch of trauma associated with it so why?!" you yell in stevens face and he hesitates in putting a hand on each of your shoulders.

"listen. we love you y/n, please just tell us why you're so worked up" he offers quietly and calmly and you stare up at him confused.

"..what...- you- answer my damn question!" you shove his hands off you you.

"we adopted you because we all saw part of ourselves in you.." steven starts.

that's when marc fronted. it was getting to be a bit too much for steven.

"even before jake.. me and steven both saw a part of ourselves in you. and you were hurting. you were overworked with school and your job, and you were being bullied at school- we had to at least help you" he starts and you calm down enough to listen.

"we.. grew attached. we became protective over you because we saw you as our kid. i have always had trouble expressing.. feelings... and so have you now please, please just tell us what's bothering you" he takes a breath. "please baby, i know you're hurting just tell us how we can help you" his voice breaks at the end of his sentence and you look down at the ground.

it's silent for a minute while you try and hold back tears.

"i.. if i can't help then what's the point..?" you start slowly, still staring at the floor. "i don't want to just sit here and do nothing... nobody else knows what's going on out there with harrow- and- and all that shit- i just want to stop it. it's my fault" you take a deep breath.

"i should've died out there where my mother left me.." you manage to rasp out before marc looks at you in absolute terror.

he moves his hands to each side of your face to lift your head up so he could look you in the eyes.

"don't you ever say that again, you hear me? nothing is your fault- and we're sorry for being so hard on you when you got home but you need to learn. you need to have a life outside arachnid, where you can get a job you love- maybe have a family of your own one day but you can't do that it you're constantly being hurt physically and emotionally" he pauses. "you need a break"

you don't say anything but your eyes gather with tears as you take in a shaky breath.

"..i'm sorry...." you manage to squeak out before tumbling into full blown sobs.

"i'm so sorry- i didn't mean to yell at you guys! i know why you do these things and i shouldn't take my anger out on you it's not fair! i'm sorry- i'm so so sorry-!" you get pulled into marc's chest, and your arms fall around his shoulders as you cry your heart out into his shirt.

"shh.. it's okay, we know you. we know you don't mean those things-"

"no marc you don't understand! i've been a horrible person to you guys and you didn't even do anything-"

"no. stop thinking like that, okay? i only want to hear you say good things about yourself, none of this self deprecating bullshit" marc rubs your back as you calm down, and you refuse to look up at him.

"i'm sorry.." you wipe your face. "stevens suit isn't stupid.. it's great" you sniff.

"it's okay darling, are you feeling better?" steven speaks up through the mirror on the wall.

"i shouldn't have yelled at you.." you say quietly, and wipe at your wet cheeks again.

"it's alright, you were just blowing off steam.. but next time just talk to us okay?" steven requests gently and you nod.

"good, now you seriously need to eat something, you're going to pass out from exhaustion" marc says and guides you back to the kitchen table where your muffin still sits from earlier in the day.

"if you want something else-"

"no.. it's fine" you cut him off and start taking small bites of the muffin.

you eat your muffin while marc sits across from you at the table, trying to decide if he should say anything.

he overall decides to, with the help of steven and jake.

"is there anything else bothering you..?" he asks and you look up at him and nod slightly.

he tilts his head at you as if asking you to go on.

you sigh and look down at the table, specifically the empty muffin wrapper.

"i just.. i miss how we used to be. i've been a terrible girlfriend to casper too.." you voice your worries and marc sighs.

"i miss you too. you lost yourself for a while and we are all here to help you, you know that" he starts. "and don't worry about casper. that kid loves you so much, i've seen it"

you look up at him and nod, slowly standing up from your chair, making marc do the same.

you slowly walk over to him to snake your arms around his waist and rest your forehead on his chest.

marc gently puts a hand around the back of your head and the other around your shoulder.

"it's okay. you'll be okay, kid" he tells you, which makes you tear up again.

you stood there with him for what felt like hours, and he didn't mind one bit.

steven and jake let him have this moment with you, letting him hold you while you calmed yourself.

who knows what the future would bring from here?

would you turn yourself around? would you go back to being an angst teenager?

but more importantly, would you lose someone close to you..?

i guess we won't know until later.

much later.

you thought this was going to be the end of this little chapter of your life didn't you?

tsk. you should know me better than that by now-

anyways, now, you're doing much better. it was now middle of april and you've gotten your grades up to C's, you get your phone for the day, and your dads take it at night and charge it in the kitchen.

your cats are no longer kittens, they have matured to the point where they fight for a spot on your bed, and whoever loses has to usually sleep with marc.

you'd gone on a couple dates with casper, who had gotten his first job at an ice cream parlor about 5 minutes away from his house.

so of course, he had to spoil you and take you to a fancy restaurant.

with a live quartet too. he wore the nicest clothes he had, and you did as well.

layla lent you an old dress of hers for the occasion, it was dark red with gold accents around the trim.

casper thought you crash landed there from heaven that night.

now back to present day, casper was walking you home from school while you fidgeted with your phone.

casper noticed the nervous tick, so he spoke up. "hey, you feeling alright?" he asks and you nod slightly.

"yeah.. just.. evie asked me to go to a party with her tonight and i'm nervous to ask my dads" you voice your worries and casper hums.

"well the worst they can do is say no" he points out and you turn your head to smile at him.

"i know. i guess i just needed reassurance, so thank you" you say kindly and casper opens the door to your apartment building for you.

"it's no problem. do you want me to come up with you?" he asks.

"no, that's okay. you should get home and get your brace off, i know it's been itching lately" you offer and casper chuckles.

"well i'll see you tomorrow then" he smiles.

you nod and lean in to give him a quick peck on the lips before backing up to the elevator.

"i love you, see you tomorrow" you smile and he waves before leaving.

you get a bit nervous in the elevator, watching the numbers rise as you reach your floor.

'the worst they can do is say no' you chant in your head before unlocking the door.

you walk in and leave your bag by the door while steven made tea at the stove.

"hey darling, how was school?" he turns to you for a second with a grin.

"it was good.." you say and steven turns to you with a confused look on his face.

"and..?" he asks and you fidget with your fingers before looking up at him.

"evie invited me to a party tonight.." you say quietly and steven looks over to the mirror on the wall.

"but it's fine if you want me to stay here i understand-"

"how much homework do you have?" marc asks and you blink a few times before answering.

"casper helped me finish it all during lunch"

marc sighs before nodding to steven.

"you can.. you can be out until 11 at the latest. and we will drive you there and back. you're lucky it's a weekend" he jokes and you smile at him.

"you mean it? i can go?" you ask excitedly.

steven nods. "you've been doing better, i think.. we think it'll be a nice reward for you, to keep you motivated, you know?"

"thank you!" you rush to hug steven and both marc and jake smile at you through the mirror.

steven reluctantly pulls away as jake speaks up. "now go clean your room"

"okay!- thanks dads!" you yell as you run to your room to begin cleaning.

i mean, what's the harm in letting you go to a party with your friend?

you've pulled yourself together and began focusing on school and your relationships with your loved ones.

you were finally you again.

what could possibly go wrong?

~~~

A/N : omg this took way too long, but IM BACK!! i have more time to write now and im back in my baby scarab mindset lol. hope you enjoyed, and ill see you later!!

~~~

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