#fategrabbed

@fategrabbed​ troll’d:

“when this is all over, i want it to be you and me.” from karkat :3

* Misc // Accepting

Her pusher felt like it was caught in her throat, having caused the teal blood to freeze in place. As if she didn’t hear those words correctly. ... He didn’t mean it like -- No. No ... As if.

Like hell was she going to let herself look like a fool in front of Karkat. Hasn’t she enough with him? This game of push, pull, push, push, pull, push, push push... She was getting tired.

night terrors.   hold  my  muse  after  they  wake  up  from  a  nightmare. pearl -> steven     /     @fategrabbed​ (accepting)

SHE HAD BEEN ALARMED, at first, by how much he needed to sleep; it’s no wonder humans have never managed to travel any further than their moon when they only live about eighty years or so and spend so, so much of it just … sleeping. [ and if steven is half-gem, shouldn’t he only need to sleep half as much as a human? did he really need to sleep eight whole hours every night? ]

         and when a human is asleep, how are you supposed to know if there’s something wrong? they’re such delicate, fragile lifeforms — they constantly have to consume energy and expel waste and breathe oxygen to survive, and what if he forgets to breathe one night and none of them notice? no — she has to stay nearby, in case he needs her.

         so she doesn’t mean to hover — or, well, she does, but only because she’s worried! after she lost — that is, if something happened to him, what would she —

         “ steven! “ at the first shriek of distress, she flings herself onto the floor beside his bed, catching one thrashing hand in hers. “ are you alright? are you breathing? do you need to use the — ” she doesn’t have time to finish before he’s flinging himself into her arms, shaking and whimpering into her chest.

         dreams. garnet had mentioned that once before, hadn’t she? the imaginary stories that humans see when they sleep. could a dream have this effect on a human? [ he’s so small, she thinks. she was never this small. never this fragile. what’s a pearl to do? ]

         she lifts a hand and slowly, gingerly pats him on the back. “ there, there, ” she sighs, tears welling up in her own eyes even as she does so. “ it’s alright. i’m here. ”

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈   𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴   𝙰   𝙻𝙾𝚃   𝙸𝙽   𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙼𝙾𝙽:      they’re   both   in   shades   of   bloodshed,   carmine   slinking   the   brim   of   her   cape   just   like   it   splashes   dark   the   bullet   of   his   mask.      he   has   a   gun      ;      hers   tucks   into   her   holster.      she,   too,   likes   to   pair   a   scything   smirk   with   her   cowl   from   time   to   time.      

“      bet   he   loves   it   when   you   call   him   b.      ”            kate   doesn’t   need   to   try   her   hand   at   redeeming   the   robins   that   batman   could   call   rogue      ;      she   has   a   sister   of   her   own   on   the   run,   tipped   into   rabbit   hole      &      𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙻𝙻   𝙳𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙴𝙳.      in   a   way,   she   gets   his   sharp-toothed   grinning   as   much   as   she   understands   the   dry   vermouth   of   a   wit   that   he   flings   out   in   every   direction   like   the   contradiction   of   carefully   aimed   shotgun   splatter.      she’s   still   tending   that   unweeded   garden   of   the   flagrant   urge   to   find   her   own   way,      to   drag   her   way   out   of   the   mire   of   fitting   herself   into   a   soldier’s   uniform   to   fend   for   herself      &      serve.         “         anyone   tell   you   that   you’ve   got   a   yen   for   gallows   humor,   hood?      ”   

they’re   jawing   in   the   ink   black   like   it’s   nothing   more   than   a   social   call,   but   kate   has   the   infrared   shielding   tipped   down   in   crimson   spyglass   over   her   eyes.      scoring   the   horizon   trawls   up   a   series   of   blurry-bright   spots   looming   closer.      her   gaze   narrows.