#I kind of like doing physical drawing with pencil quite a lot. That being said I’m definitely planning

[ocean--grey]

[ID: fanart of Lister and Rimmer, done as a pencil drawing. Lister is stood to the right and slightly in the foreground, shown from the waist up. He is wearing a t-shirt and his grey jacket and hat from series I. The sleeves of his jacket are rolled up to his shoulders and he is smoking a cigarette. He is looking to his left with a slightly bored expression. Rimmer is stood to the left and slightly in the background. He is wearing his series I uniform, with the plain uniform shirt, tie and hologrammatic “H”. He is looking at Lister, and holding a “No Smoking” sign in front of his face. His eyes are peering over the top of the sign, and there is a slight blush on his face although the rest of his expression is obscured. Above them, the smoke from Lister’s cigarette is twisting into heart shapes. /End ID]

Happy Valentines Day to everyone who celebrates! Have a sketch of early-series Rimster :)

Also, happy 27th anniversary of Blue!

[wastefulreverie]

penciled lines

Vlad dies. He isn't gone written for day 26 of ectober month 2021: autopsy / pumpkin more parts of this series: 2 | 3 | 4 | 5  (links fixed)

"Daniel. Daniel, listen to me."

Plasmius floated behind him, reaching out to grab Danny's shoulder. Danny kept walking, accelerating his pace so that he was just out of Vlad's reach.

He had to get to class. Vlad's nonsense could wait until after he failed his physics exam.

"You can't let them do this to me! You of all people should understand what will happen."

Danny scoffed, not bothering to look behind him. "Maybe you should've thought of that before you got yourself killed. I mean, really. One of your little projects was bound to blow up in your face sooner or later. Don't expect me to feel sorry for you." Especially since said project had been human experimentation, vivisection. It hurt enough that the subjects had been Danny's clones, but all things considered, at least Vlad had paid the price.

Jazz didn't quite see it that way, and it was hell to see his parents so devastated over their dear friend's untimely death. But Valerie knew. She'd been the one to tell him the details of what happened, of how she'd found Vlad elbows-deep in a boy that resembled Danny Fenton. Of how she'd panicked and shot an ectoblast that just grazed Vlad's shoulder, which hit one of the cloning tanks and detonated a chain explosion. How the poor clone on the table had reacted with a final ghostly wail, decimating everything in a ten-foot radius and slamming an unsuspecting Vlad against the ceiling. Which then caved in.

Valerie's suit was the only thing that saved her from being buried alive in the lab.

Vlad, on the other hand, was dead even before the mansion collapsed.

"This isn't about your fondness for me, Daniel! If they do this, we're all in danger!"

"I don't know, sounds like a you-problem."

Danny ducked into his classroom, slamming the door in Plasmius's face. Of course, the bastard phased right through and followed him to his desk.

Ugh, what would it take to get him to leave?

He'd already tried the thermos, but Plasmius knew too well how to evade it. He wouldn't budge without a fight first, a fight that Danny didn't have the time for.

This exam was one-third of his grade, after all.

"Daniel," Plasmius hissed again. "Daniel, we don't have time for this."

Mr. Falluca was beginning to hand out the exams. Besides the soft rustling of paper and scratching of graphite, the room was silent. Dammit. Was Vlad going to torment him during the entire exam?

"You have to fly to the morgue, now. The autopsy is this afternoon. They're going to scan my body for ecto-contamination and it'll all be over. They'll know about half-ghosts."

… what.

Why should Vlad care about half-ghosts? It wasn't like he was one anymore. Hell, he'd died experimenting on their kind! If anything, all Vlad cared about was protecting his reputation and estate!

Fuck him.

Once he was out of this room, Vlad was getting the pummeling of his afterlife. He'd see to it.

"Everything alright, Mr. Fenton?" Mr. Falluca asked.

Danny's pencil was broken. He wasn't sure when it had snapped—when he'd snapped it. Mr. Falluca looked concerned though, concerned enough to ask about it.

Danny brushed it off.

"Nerves."

He expected Dash, who was only a couple seats away, to laugh as always. Instead, Dash rolled his eyes and kept to himself. There'd been talk around school about Vlad's death and it wasn't a secret he was a Fenton family friend. Huh. Guess Dash did have a heart, albeit a small one.

"You've got this, Mr. Fenton," Mr. Falluca assured.

Maybe if there wasn't a self-centered ghost leaning over his shoulder. He felt like that added a lot of unnecessary pressure.

"You're wasting your time!" Plasmius snapped. "There will be other exams, Daniel."

The first question was simple. On a stationary object, there are two forces. Draw these forces.

"Once they know about half-ghosts, they know! That can't be taken back!"

Free body diagrams are child's play.

"Why aren't you listening to me?"

He drew a box on a line, two arrows jutting out of the top and bottom of the box.

Just… keep working.

"I shouldn't have to explain the severity of this!"

Normal force and gravitational force. Mr. Falluca would count off points if they weren't labeled right.

Plasmius flew forward, his torso now in Danny's desk. He couldn't see his paper now.

"This is in your best interest, Daniel!"

Goddammit. His best interest?

Forgetting himself, Danny grabbed a fistful of Plamius's cape and pulled him to the side. "And since when did you care about me!"

The scratching of pencils stopped.

Chairs creaked as people turned back to stare at Danny. Who was clutching onto nothing but dead air.

Fuck Vlad.

He would kill Vlad twice, no, thrice?

Again. He'd kill Vlad again.

Mr. Falluca groaned. "What now, Mr. Fenton?"

Danny released Plasmius and cleared his throat. "Uh, I'm good. Just… was confused?"

"Solid excuse," Plasmius informed him.

"... shut up," he muttered.

Mr. Falluca raised a brow. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing! Nothing, I swear. I'll be quiet now."

No one looked convinced. Danny felt his cheeks rush with cold, and not-so-subtly covered them with both hands. The rush of cold meant ectoplasm, ectoplasm meant green blush. That wasn't right. He couldn't let them see.

"You're a mess," Plasmius retorted. "If you let them find out that I was a half-ghost, it will only be a matter of time before they connect the dots. Once they know it's possible, both of your identities will be on the line. Only a matter of time until they try to replicate what happened to us. You have to stop the autopsy."

He didn't want to admit that Vlad sort of had a point.

People finding out that Vlad was a half-ghost wouldn't bode well for Danny at all. Chances were his parents would be among some of the first few consulted about it… and if the GIW got wind of it then who knows what twisted experiments they'd dream up.

But why did it need to be him? If Vlad felt so strongly about it, he could do it himself.

He could sabotage his own damn autopsy.

Danny turned over his exam packet to the back. There was a blank page.

do it yourself? he wrote.

Plasmius scoffed. "If I could, I would! Your mother and father caught me last time I was in the morgue and set up a ghost shield."

… of course they did.

and you want me to go thru? then what?

"Well, my entire body is imbued with ectoplasm. It's not like there's a way to undo that. Ideally, just steal my body and phase it deep into the ground somewhere."

Oh, Mom and Dad would be pissed about that. They'd taken on the funeral preparations. If they found out that Phantom stole their best friend's body…

Well, actually, them thinking that Phantom was a body snatcher was better than them finding out about half-ghosts.

He'd take it.

after the exam. just this one class.

Plasmius groaned. "We don't have much time, Daniel."

buy some time. haunt the doctor until I'm done. I'll be there.

Before Plasmius could protest, Danny flipped his exam back over and resumed with question two.

"If you don't show up, I will make your life miserable," he threatened.

Danny rolled his eyes. Like he wasn't doing that now.

Plasmius, with one last flourish of his cape, flew through Danny and out through the nearest wall. That bastard—!

At least he was gone. That's all that mattered.

Now, he was able to focus on his exam.

"I AM THE BOX GHOST, MASTER OF ALL THING CUBICAL AND—!"

Danny slammed his pencil down on his desk once again. "For fuck's sake!"

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Domesticated Drabble

Pairing: Bang Chan x Y/N

Genre: Marriage AU; Sequel; Drabble

Warnings: So. Much. Fluff. (small smut scene at the beginning); language

Request: 

A/N: Finally finished this one! Please enjoy another taste of my favorite AU!

5 Years Later

“We’ve got five minutes,” I whispered against the pulse point on Chan’s neck, the throbbing vein pumping hard as he panted for breath from above me, eyes shut tight together as he moaned.

“I’ll blow at any second,” Chan cursed, laying sloppy kisses wherever he could reach while fucking me hard and fast.

“Your cock feels amazing,” I practically purred, digging sharp nails into the milky white skin of his back, legs closing in around his waist to keep him close. 

“Oh, sweetie, you’re laying it on thick this morning, aren’t you?”

I clenched a vice-grip around the length pumping inside me in response, sending Chan’s hips stuttering against my own. “I’ve got kids in the next room who can wake-up at any second. Excuse me for trying to inflate your ego.”

“That’s not the only thing inflating,” Chan gasped, curling his fingers through mine.

“You’re gross,” I huffed, closing my eyes and throwing back my neck as best as I could in this position: laid out under my husband, orgasm approaching at a meteoric-level speed, and sweat coating my skin in a delightful sheen as the muscles around my abdomen worked overtime to milk Chan for everything that he had before the moment was ruined by my kids. 

I half-expected them to burst into the room unannounced at any second, oblivious to their parents fucking in much of the same way that created them in the first place. Locked together with limbs intertwining, sucking in each other’s air, and kisses rough and demanding. 

Fuck it had been far too long since Chan and I had last done anything even remotely this intimate, and it was still necessary for us to go at it as fast as possible to prevent unwanted eyes from accidentally catching us at the height of our passion. 

I couldn’t help but glance at the clock, realizing that we had been fucking for almost ten minutes, and the alarm had been set for 7:00 AM so that I could somehow wrestle my kids together for their first day of school. 

Damn, this is gonna turn out to be a very long day.

“Are you close?” I asked Chan, connecting our lips for a sweet kiss since I personally knew that they were a weakness of his.

“Yeah,” he said, features collapsing into a look of pure concentration as a guttural moan found its way crawling up his throat to release itself at the same moment when I could feel his release emptying into the condom separating us from complete skin-to-skin by a thin layer of latex.

But I insisted on wearing them now.

“You’ll cum too, sweetie,” Chan whispered, laving his tongue across the pad of his thumb before reaching down to connect with my clitoris, drawing rough circles in random patterns to snap the physical breaking point: holding my tongue to prevent myself from screaming as I rode the waves of pleasure until nothing was left but a delicate haze and the sensation of Chan’s cock still stuffed inside my spent pussy.

As it turns out, aftercare with Chan was the equivalent of my husband spewing my praises while insisting on letting his cock soften completely before pulling out: cock warming at its finest.

“Do you plan to pull out?” I asked him, smirking when he whined and buried his face into the side of my neck.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been like this,” Chan remarked.

“The kids need to get up soon,” I said, although there was a sleepy pull weighing down my eyelids. A good fuck tended to wear me out. “They’ve got their first day.”

“Yeah,” Chan agreed, but he made no effort to separate us. In fact, I could imagine us both easily falling back to sleep.

“You’re coming right?” I asked around a yawn. “To their Kindergarten orientation or whatever the hell they call it.”

“Of course,” Chan said, and he finally lifted his head from my shoulder, gaze soft as he took his time to explore my features. “I can’t miss that.”

“What? Watching the teachers drag them away for the first day of the education system they’ll be stuck in for the next thirteen years?”

“You have a way with words, sweetie.”

I grinned. “Maybe I’m just using words to deny the weirdness of my kids starting school and making me feel like I’m 100 years old.”

“It feels like they were just born,” Chan agreed, and he slowly rose himself into a sitting position, climbing out of bed to give me the best view of his naked ass.

“Your ass looks great by the way.”

“Thanks,” Chan snorted, reaching for a pair of black slacks from the floor. “I’m taking a shower.”

“Fine,” I groaned. “I guess I’ll go awaken the sleeping monsters.”

“Let the chaos begin,” Chan announced, closing the bathroom door behind him as I reached down deep into the reserves to muster enough energy to finally get out of bed.

At the risk of sounding too long-winded, the best way I could describe my twins was with a touch of irony. Because, despite looking identical to one another, my girls couldn’t be more opposite in terms of personality. 

Leah, the eldest by one minute, was boisterous, loud, and unapologetic when it came to being herself. She was the epitome of a social butterfly, jumping from one person to the next and asking questions that occasionally raised a few eyebrows because of their brazenness.

Her sister, Rose, was nothing like that. In fact, Rose hardly spoke at all, choosing to listen instead, and offer her voice only when she truly felt the need to include it. Of course, side-by-side, they were another thing altogether, far too energetic for me to handle.

This morning was no exception, chasing Leah around the house because she refused to change out of her pajamas, questioning me relentlessly on why it mattered that she had to change.

“I should wear what I want!” she insisted, and I had nearly lost my patience with her until Chan entered the room, and he was one of the only people who could talk through to Leah.

Him and Felix, of course.

Before Felix moved out, he and Leah were practically inseparable, and I could see her uncle’s influence in a lot of different ways.

“You want to look your best to make new friends, right?” Chan asked her, and after a laughable look of concentration, Leah nodded and allowed me to change her into a much more suitable dress.

“There,” I grumbled, turning my attention to Rose who was more willing to be dressed.

“Let’s go have breakfast, yeah?” Chan whispered to Leah, and she smiled and giggled at her father as he took her hand and led her into the kitchen. 

I scoffed at how easy he was able to manage her, glancing at Rose who was even more quiet than usual. “Aren’t you excited for your first day?”

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. “I don’t want to leave you.”

I could feel my heart breaking at her sweet words, cupping her face between my hands as I tried to reassure her that she would still see me in the afternoons and evenings. “It’s just a little break,” I said, but I knew that Rose was harder to convince.

In the meantime, Chan and I worked together to have both twins fed and ready to leave the house, packing them lunches for school before ushering everyone out the door because we were teetering on the edge of being too late. 

At least Chan had the wherewithal to warm-up the car, and it gave us more time to fasten everyone into their car-seats before pulling out onto the main road, speeding into the downtown district with the clock ticking away. “Well, at least the other parents will think we’re irresponsible.”

“I’ve got this,” Chan said, and I shivered as he toed the gas and grazed just going over too fast. 

“At the risk of getting a ticket-”

“Relax, sweetie,” Chan interrupted, reaching over to take my hand. “I’ll handle everything.”

“Uh-huh,” I murmured, glancing up into the rearview mirror to see Leah and Rose engaged in their learning tablets. Even if they were a few minutes late, my kids would still be the smartest. I had made sure of that, spending countless hours with them reading as many books as I could buy, digging out paper and pencils to practice their names and alphabet letters, and reading tons of online articles about the best methods to ensure your child’s early learning set them up for the most success.

Right? So what if we were a little late.

“Mommy? Why can’t you both stay with us at school?” Rose suddenly inquired from the backseat.

I sighed, turning around to face her. “Mommy and Daddy both have to go to work, okay? We’ve already had our turn at school.”

“Our turn?” Chan chuckled, and I pivoted in my seat to glare at him.

“That’s the kind of language we should be using with them!”

“Did you read that from an online expert?”

“As a matter of fact, I did!” I huffed, and I caught his smile, letting me know that he was just messing around.

“I just want them to do well,” I whispered, and his expression instantly softened at the sound of my tone.

“You’ve done so well, sweetie,” Chan reassured me, squeezing my hand even tighter as he turned into the school’s parking lot, finding an empty spot near the back.

Immediately, I was at the back door, reaching inside to help Rose out of her seat, spinning her around to help her with her brand new bookbag. “There,” I said, once her attention was on me again. “You’re ready.”

“I don’t know...” Rose trailed off, and her eyes held all the uncertainty of a five-year-old who was used to staying at home with her parents and uncle. Not the unfamiliar presences of her peers. 

“Hey,” I said, kneeling down to meet her gaze straight-on. “I know it seems scary, but I promise that you’ll really love it. I was the same way too on my first day, but my mom gave me the same advice, and guess what? She was right. I ended up loving school, and if there’s a little piece of me in you, then I know that you’ll have so much fun that you’ll forget all about your mommy and daddy.”

Rose’s eyes grew bigger, shaking her head in a manner that was quite endearing. “I won’t ever forget you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” I said, pulling her close for a hug as Chan and Leah emerged from the other side.

“Everything okay?” Chan asked, looking between me and his daughter.

“Just fine,” I said, ruffling Rose’s hair before standing tall again. “Let’s go inside.”

The classroom was already full of students, and I was glad to see some parents lingering, which meant we weren’t as late as I had thought.

“Told ya,” Chan snickered, and I gave him a playful glare before turning my attention to the approaching teacher: an older gentleman with a head of pepper and salt colored hair and kind eyes.

“Hello,” he said, addressing me first. “I’m Mr. Park.”

“Hi,” I said, accepting his handshake. “These are my daughters: Leah and Rose Bang.”

“Ah!” Mr. Park remarked, glancing down. “I’m excited for our twin students! Please, have a seat wherever you’d like.”

“Go on,” I encouraged them when I caught their matching looks of insecurity. “You have each other,” I added, reaching down to wrap their fingers together, giving them one last smile before Leah bravely led her sister further into the room, selecting an empty table near the back.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you,” Mr. Park said, and I noticed that he had grown a little too close, gaze lingering for far too long. 

“Yes,” I agreed, “And this is my-”

“I’m Chan,” my husband interrupted, inserting himself between me and Mr. Park with a brusque movement. “The father.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone, watching as Mr. Park hesitated before nodding and shaking Chan’s outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I smirked, waiting until Mr. Park had moved on before leaning in to Chan. “What was that, dear?”

Chan scoffed, searching the room for a moment. “He was flirting with you, sweetie. What did you expect me to do?”

“Well, it could be from our morning romp, but it kinda turned me on.”

Chan raised a suggestive brow at my comment, but I gave him a cheeky smile in response before walking in the direction of Leah and Rose’s table. “Look at you two,” I remarked. “I think you made a good choice.”

“I like seeing outside,” Leah said, and I nodded and tucked away a wayward strand of hair. 

“You’ll both stay together, right?”

I received synchronous nods in response, and there was a lot of relief on my end knowing that my girls would be just fine. 

“We’ll be here to pick you up at 2:00,” Chan said, pointing to the analog clock above the door. “Okay?”

Two more nods. “Remember to have fun. You’re gonna learn so much, and maybe you’ll even be smarter than daddy.”

I managed to elicit two laughs in response to that, and Chan chuckled as he wrapped an arm around my waist. “Be good, alright?”

“Yes, daddy,” Leah replied diligently while Rose nodded her head, attention drifting to a book sitting at the edge of the table.

I smiled knowing that she was showing interest, and then I realized that there was a deeper part of me that was having just as much trouble leaving the girls as they were having with leaving me and Chan. But the other parents were starting to leave the room, and with one more exchange of our goodbyes, Chan and I were walking away from our girls, keeping our own hands locked together as the door closed behind us.

“Woah,” I sighed once we were outside in the hallway. “That was harder than I expected.”

“It’s a big step,” Chan said, and he wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me closer. “But they’ll be okay because they’re ours.”

“Oh,” I laughed. “Is that so?”

“Of course,” Chan said, giving me a perfectly serious look before a smile overtook his features, and any previous doubts were vanquished by the sincerity in that smile, and I knew that as long as I had Chan, then nothing would ever be too difficult to overcome. 

[battery-forgot]

Now, I come mid-week to give you all of my DSMP/MCYT headcanons because I have many

Don’t mind if these are repeated, misspelt, or has no logic, it is block game things and I am not checking over them-- and some will be organized, and some will be random, some might not have a Enter space because these are all ctrl c + ctrl v’ed from a Discord server I am in :]

Skeppy headcanons: Skeppy is 4 billion years old as scientists have thought that is how long ores and diamonds existed for

Skeppy's species is pretty rare

Every diamond that is broken or damaged causes Skeppy to feel a physical pain in his body

His species has lamp tail as they don't have night vision, some of them also have tiny wings that aren't usable, though they can kinda glide short distances with them

Because of his small height, he has taught himself magic to be able to change size, it can hurt him if he goes taller than 5'3, but he is able to get to Foolish's height if he tried

Sometimes random crystals grow on Skeppy's face, though they look different from normal crystals and can be used for things like explosives, though he doesn't know about it

Techno has seen Kristen but doesn't remember it well, though Kristen gave him his crown as a gift

Techno has a collection of skull masks that he has worn, he wears the skulls because of nostalgia now but he used to wear them because he thought they were cool and made him look threatening

Technoblade, Skeppy, Sam, Ranboo, Michael(the son- not Michaelmcchill), Phil, Bad, and some others really like shiny and golden objects

DreamSMP theme/"timeline" is kind of like a steampunk like thing

Drista is DreamXD's sister and DristaXD is Dream's "sister", though they aren't really siblings as they are robots

Drista and DreamXD are clones of DristaXD and Dream, though they actually look nothing alike

Callahan is a mute mini-god that everyone knows exists but doesn't really understand they are a mini-god. They kind of just chill and do what people ask them to do

Phil: Phil is more into traveling than anything else

Though he doesn't mind being a father figure, he doesn't think he is a good one especially after he killed Wilbur

He is able to turn into the size of a crow, though since his wings are now unusable, he doesn't do it as often as it is basically useless

Phil sometimes takes bird baths, though I guess they are always called that-

He has bird legs/talons,but they aren’t fully noticeable

joke headcanon I thought of is that Phil's handwriting is chicken-scratch because he is half-crow

Phil has really good memory, as a crow would

-DreamXD is actually pretty weak in powers, but he acts like he is the strongest person in the server

-Tommy's eye is just completely gone from when Dream killed him, but he covers it with an eyepatch

-Tubbo talks about things to Ranboo thinking he'll forget them, but some stories Ranboo remembers but doesn't speak about it because he doesn't want to make Tubbo worry too much

-Philza wasn't willing to kill Wilbur so Wilbur forced Phil by grabbing his arm and impaling himself

-Dream and Techno sometimes share stories about having ADHD

-Phil didn't really know about Fundy, he knew he existed but had no idea to how he acted, looked, or his actual name

-Wilbur had a letter written to Fundy about how he was sorry for what he was gonna do during November 16th, but the withers blew it up before Fundy knew about it

-Fundy doesn't let anyone hold his hand because it makes him remember the past where he would hold Wilbur's hand a lot

-Change of headcanons: Schlatt and Puffy are cousins, Tubbo was just a random kid that would follow Schlatt for hours a day, waiting for him to acknowledge him

-Dream jumps into the lava in the prison as it reminds him of Sapnap

-Bad was uncomfortable when Sapnap married Big Q and Karl because he went on a date with Quackity before but he still supported them (Yes I know Big Q basically had a divorce with Sap and Karl--)

-Skeppy knows a lot about other's pasts because of how old he is, even traumatizing facts

-Skeppy has a fear of fire (Pyrophobia) and he is kind of scared of Sapnap

-Dream used the revivebook on the cat Tommy killed, but Sam killed it thinking Dream would use the cat against Sam to escape quicker in the future

-Dream doesn't *fully* know why he is in prison, ever since Tommy and Tubbo killed him, a wire/chip broke in his body which made him forget a lot of things. Dream does get told what he had done a lot, but it makes him almost have a panic attack because he thought he was a pretty good person

-Ghostbur is Callahan, they were commanded by DreamXD to become Ghostbur so that everyone could feel like he was still there (Callahan can change who they are completely, but they don't actually know how they acted when as Ghostbur, though that doesn't mean he didn't know what happened, when Dream killed/revived Ghostbur, Callahan got to see what it felt like to die for the first time)

-Fundy has the habit of picking up things and using them at some sort of fidget (examples: knives, leaves, grass, wood, pencils, berry stems, etc.

-Ranboo will be writing/saying something about someone and use pronouns instead of their name or just with the person's name (example: "Puffy she/her was--" or "he/him writing down things") [Basically canon-]

-Tubbo used to headbutt people but stopped after around 2 years because he kept hurting people

-Phil used to squawk randomly when he was a kid, but he mainly just squawks when hiccuping now

-Even though Bad used to get really nervous picking people up because he was afraid he was gonna drop and kill them, he now just picks up everyone randomly... except Foolish and Ranboo

-Foolish is able to shrink to around 7ft, and unless he is building a big build, he will shrink so he can get around easier

-Because Ranboo is only half enderman, he isn't the full height of an enderman (He is only 8'5)

-If someone asks Charlie about his pronouns, out of confusion, he just responds with "Bones!" which sometimes leads Las Nevadas members (or just anyone really) calling him by He/it/Bones

-When Bad was being controlled by the egg, it made him get even more flashbacks about how his species was supposed to act which would end up with him panicking because that isn't who he wants to be (bonus: The more a member infected by the egg would panic, the more the egg would be able to take over the person because they can't focus)

-Kristin has taught Phil how to do makeup in their free-time of hanging out

-Kristin is insanely tall, if she shrinks then she turns more transparent, so she ends up looking more like a ghost when at average height

-Skeppy can't cry, though he still can feel sad

-Bad and Eret talk to eachother quite a lot

-When Tubbo was around 11-14, he would make redstone contraptions, though he doesn't remember how to make most of them now

Ranboo doesn't like photoshoots because he feels like everyone is staring at him, though this does mean he just doesn't have a passport photo, his alternative was to draw what he looked like on the passport but they didn't allow it, as well as Ranboo doesn't really remember what he looks like anyway because they don't like looking in mirrors--

I think this is half-canon but another headcanon is where every SMP is just an island far away from others. In this case, Hermitcraft, 30 day SMP, and other SMPs are all linked up, as for people who are in multiple SMPs, they travel around by boat for awhile, now, the thing I've just not figured out is how tf their look magically changes-like- outfit is decently obvious-- but do they magically transform like an anime girl? Idk- 

Skeppy's voice randomly glitches out, is there an actual reason for this? No.

Quackity’s outfit is similar to Sub Urban’s (In Freak)

Skeppy acts as if he is royalty, he doesn't act rude or demanding unless joking- but he does act as if he is the superior person-

-Skeppy and Slime are the only "people" that don't have steampunk styled clothing because of how old they are

-Skeppy's hair grows insanely quickly and no one knows why, he honestly hates it

-Most of Skeppy's outfits have been made by Bad or Puffy

-Skeppy knows DreamXD as if he is a brother, but he despises him because of something that has happened around 3,000 years ago

-Skeppy has a lot of different shades in their hair on the "inside"(like- the side where his neck is is what I mean, I don't remember if it has a name or not-)

-Like I've said before, Skeppy's eyes are crystallized, but they are somewhat transparent, not enough to where you'd be able to see the inside of his head, but they are still transparent

-In the past, Skeppy didn't like their name which is why they called himself "Skeppy"

-He has an attachment to caves

-When Skeppy was a kid, they had the dream of him filling cave walls with houses of their own

-Skeppy goes by it/they/he

-Skeppy joke flirts with Bad all the time to confuse everyone, Bad doesn't like it because then everyone thinks they are dating which makes him feel a little uncomfortable

-Out of boredom, in the past, Skeppy would climb on the roofs of caves, hang upside down, and try and sleep like a bat

-They have no blood in his body, it is literally just a diamond covered with a thin layer of skin and hair

-Skeppy gets stressed out easily when it comes to learning because it just reminds him of everything he had to get used to as the billion of years he lived went by

-Skeppy used to not be allowed out into the open world, the first time it experienced going outside was when it was 2 billion years old

-Skeppy has accidentally caught things on fire during the day because of the reflecting of the sun, but even then, they are nocturnal so they don't really have to worry about it

-Wilbur adapted to hanging out with Sally in the water, he has some gills, but he can only breathe underwater for a bit longer with them

-Skeppy always has the equivalent of Diamond (armor) except when he was infected by the egg, he was equivalent to the strength of a Ruby

-Infected Skeppy has a redstone glow when touched, so when hugged(or hive fived- or- yeah you get the point), he would give a subtle glow around him until let go

-The Eggpire still can be controlled, but they are able to control it unless angered/upset

-Skeppy was 6ft when infected, now he is 3′9 un-infected

-At this point, Dream likes the prison because he sometimes feels safe there, like no one can hurt him

-DristaXD is more of a ghost robot than an actual robot

-DristaXD's hobby is murdering people and has basically been in some sort of jail before, she has broken chains around their ankles and hands, it seems to have been made of a really strong material as wel

-Sapnap used to have fire wings, but when he had to get extinguished, they disappeared, they are still there, they just aren't visible until dunked in lava and Sapnap can't use them anymore

-Infected Bad still took care of Sapnap, but Sapnap never cared

-Sapnap takes the name "lava cake" too seriously... though he thinks the literal lava cakes he makes taste good

-Puffy's hair has been dyed blue by Ghostbur before because he wanted people to remember Friend if they ever disappeared

-Going with my Ghostbur as Callahan hc, when Ghostbur was killed, Callahan kind of glitched between realities and so Ghostburs body glitched from Callahan's body and Ghostbur's then just disappeared. Callahan is still alive but they randomly glitch into different realities, he has glitched into places Karl has gone, including The Inbetween.

-When Ghostbur was glitching back into Callahan after killed, it shocked and concerned Dream

There you go :]

[dinosaurtsukki]

[ flu season in E minor ]

pairing: fyodor dostoevsky x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k words

contains: uni!au, sigma and nikolai as your bff’s, gn!reader, music student!fyodor, fyodor being a bit of a brat while he’s sick, slight pining/crushing, idk just fluffy shit

summary: you and fyodor are both in the university theater club but you rarely ever see him except for when you’re picking up the musical compositions he makes for the play. this time, however, you come over to his apartment to find him sick with the flu

a/n: uhhh this is kind of a trainwreck cause i was literally just ‘omg uni!au fyodor sickfic’ and then went with it :P

“don’t forget to drink your vitamin c guys! flu season is already here and if you’re down with the flu please don’t come in and spread your germs everywhere,” sigma instructed at the ending of the cast meeting. even though he sounded snappy while saying it, you could tell he meant well. two of your actors in the theatre club had already come down with the flu and with showtime coming up soon, everyone was understandably extra careful.

“y/n, one last thing,” sigma called you over as everyone prepared to leave.

“in case you were going to ask, yes, i took my vitamins already,” you teased skipping over to where he was.

“not funny,” sigma rolled his eyes. “i was wondering if you could follow up with fyodor on the music for the next scene? he doesn’t respond at all to any non-physical communication, i already left him ten messages.” 

“ooh, another visit to the phantom of the opera’s apartment,” nikolai popped up right at your shoulder.

“seriously? you guys call him that?” sigma raised a disappointed eyebrow at you two.

“well he’s mysterious and makes music in a theatre.” 

“i feel like you should actually watch phantom of the opera before making that claim,” you told him. “also sure,” you shrugged nonchalantly to hide your obvious excitement. “i have time to drop by.” 

even though he’s a part of the theatre club, fyodor dostoevsky was pretty much an enigma to the rest of the members. his contributions to the club activities were mainly in the form of the musical compositions he created for the plays. however, because he was always busy practicing for upcoming recitals apart from his music classes, fyodor rarely ever attended rehearsals. 

but on the off-chance that he did drop by in a rehearsal to discuss with sigma or attend a cast meeting, you’d spend the entire time just... admiring him. everything from the calm and articulate way he spoke to messy way his hair framed his face. and on that day when fyodor decided to demonstrate the music by playing it himself on his cello, you realized you were head over heels for this man.

and so you, practically jumped at every chance you got to pick up sheet music or recordings from fyodor’s apartment. you already set the expectation that you wouldn’t be around for long. and you were right about that... usually.

...

“fyodor? hello?” you knocked on the door for what was probably the fifth time already. it was freezing cold outside and you were desperate to get in. pressing your ear against the door, you heard a weak voice say ‘come in. door’s open’ and then tentatively, you unlocked the door.

whenever you saw fyodor, he was always wearing a clean, button-up shirt and slacks since he was also at orchestra practice. so of course, it was a complete shock to you to come into his apartment to find fyodor dressed in bright red pajamas with a mickey mouse logo on the center of his shirt with a colorful patchwork quilt thrown across his shoulders. not to mention, he was seated in his couch with sheet music and tissues strewn around him. 

upon closer look, you could tell from his sunken eyes and slightly red nose that flu season had struck fyodor. 

“oh, y/n, it’s you,” he sniffled as you hesitated near the door. “come in. it’s cold out.” 

“are you alright?” you asked, approaching fyodor. because you had gotten the flu a bit earlier that month, you weren’t too concerned about catching it again. “you look, well, sick.” 

“just a cold,” fyodor waved his hand. “anyway, did sigma send you for something?” 

“he’s asking for a follow-up with the music for the new scene,” you remembered. 

“oh, that...”  fyodor nodded, frowning as he searched the sheet music scattered around him. “i’m sure it’s around here somewhere and... i forgot to do it.” fyodor sighed at the realization. “don’t worry. i’ll just whip something up real quick,” he sniffed before picking up a blank piece of sheet music.

“well you don’t have to right now. fyodor, you’re sick. you should get some rest before working,” you sat down on the couch as fyodor bent over the coffee table with a pencil ready. “i mean, no offense but i doubt you can come up with anything in your current state.”

“nonsense, y/n,” fyodor scoffed and began to scribble something on the page. “i am a trained classical musician. composing is merely second-nature to someone like myself. why, i’m sure i have a melody coming along right--” 

“fyodor.” 

“yes?”

“you just wrote the letter g on the corner of the page and then started drawing random squiggles.” 

fyodor looked down at his squiggled-over sheet music with a completely deadpan expression and stared at it for a good ten seconds. “i thought it was a g-clef,” he whispered to himself.

“do you... want me to help you to your room?” you asked softly. fyodor sniffed.

“yes please.”

...

when you headed out to his apartment earlier that morning, you didn’t expect to be taking care of a sick fyodor for the rest of the afternoon. for someone who always looked put-together and composed, fyodor was terrible at taking care of himself. even after coming down with the flu a few days ago, he still insisted on practicing the cello in his apartment. and, judging by the empty cans in the sink, you could tell that all he was eating was instant soup.

and, sick fyodor was kind of... whiny. it took a lot of convincing on your part for him to agree not to work on the compositions in bed, or practice his bowing. he complained about his pillows ‘not being plump enough’ and that his socks didn’t match (because he didn’t do the laundry). 

“i don’t think i’ll even be able to sleep at this rate, y/n. my head is spinning but i’m not nearly tired enough to sleep. maybe i’ll drift off for just a bit but it won’t be that restful,” fyodor said, laying down on his not-plump pillows before he was out like a light five minutes after.

“drift off for just a bit, huh?” you chuckle slightly to yourself as you watch him. fyodor was curled up on his side, hugging one of the pillows with his blanket wrapped tightly around him. 

you were definitely in a strange situation being in your crush’s house while he was sick in bed. there wasn’t really a need for you to stay; you could just leave some medicine on the nightstand and a note with instructions.

“mmm... key needs to be in e minor,” fyodor mumbled in his sleep before turning over on his side. you bit back a laugh for fear of waking him up. 

‘what the heck? i’ll stay and make him some actual soup,’  you ultimately decided.

...

fyodor woke up to the smell of something delicious cooking, and that was something he rarely woke up to. aside from the fact that he could actually smell out of his currently unclogged nose, fyodor felt much better than he had been in a while. 

‘y/n must still be here,’ was his next thought after waking up. and he must admit, that was very reassuring to know. fyodor didn’t have the best constitution and whenever flu season rolled around, he expected being sick for a length of time. 

after wrapping the blanket around himself, fyodor curiously crept into the kitchen to find you standing over at the stove, stirring something in a pot while humming to yourself. there was a bag of groceries on the counter too. ‘did they... buy me food?’ 

he coughed slightly to get your attention.

“oh, fyodor. you’re up,” you turned around, smiling at him. “how are you feeling?”

“a bit... better,” he confessed, fully aware that he said all those things about not being asleep before embarrassingly falling asleep for two hours. 

“great! soup’s going to be ready in a few minutes. if you freeze it you’ll have enough for a few days,” you added. “also bought some oranges. they should be good for you.” 

“you... don’t really have to do this you know?” fyodor ended up blurting out, except it sounded a bit harsh. “i mean, i’m sure you went through all the trouble.” 

“don’t worry about it,” you waved him off. “you’ve been working really hard so i get that you don’t think of yourself much. let me do this one thing for you as a friend,” you smiled.

“also, i’m genuinely concerned at the amount of canned soup you’ve been consuming.” 

“canned soup isn’t that bad for you,” fyodor insisted. 

“yeah, and i’m sure you enjoy that metallic aftertaste quite a lot,” you quipped. fyodor opened his mouth to retort something before closing it abruptly. the knowing smirk on your face only made him glance away. instead, he busied himself with retrieving the clean bowls, luckily there were two left, from the dishrack and setting them on the table. you were humming again while you turned off the stove before serving the soup.

“chicken noodle soup, huh?” fyodor couldn’t help but chuckle.

“a classic,” you shrugged with a smile. “it’s a secret family recipe too so it’s bound to get you to feel better.” 

“you’re making it up, aren’t you?” 

“yeah, i got it off the internet,” you giggled. fyodor chuckled and took a sip of the soup. it was deliciously hot and flavorful and best of all, the soup didn’t have a metallic aftertaste.

“after eating, you can take some of medicine that i bought in case you have a headache or body pain, as long as you didn’t take any four hours before.”

“what?” fyodor blinked at you.

“you know, don’t take the medicine within four hours of each other,” you explained slowly. “also it’s better that you drink some now that you’ve eaten.” 

fyodor not-so vaguely recalled all those times he drank medicine on an empty stomach and feeling even more sick after. “i... was not aware of that,” he admitted. you sighed with your eyes closed.

“i’m amazed you’re still alive.” 

...

“so, flu season struck the phantom of the opera, huh?” nikolai sighed after you told him about your weekend.

“yeah,” you nodded, remembering the sight of fyodor on the couch dressed in his pajamas with a blanket wrapped around him. that was going to be burned in your mind for a long time. “he’s... kind of terrible at taking care of himself.” 

“that’s fyodor for you,” sigma added. the three of you had arrived at the backstage area of the theatre early and were busying yourselves with sorting through the various props that you had. “you know, one time he even went to a recital with a 39-degree fever. practically collapsed when he was off-stage.”

“i’ll one-up that story,” nikolai practically sprang off the box he was sitting on. “okay, so there was this one time i came over to fyodor’s’apartment while he was sick and he was so delirious he--”

“you guys do know that it’s rude to talk about people when they’re not there.”

the three of you practically spun around at the same time to find fyodor leaning against the doorframe of the backstage entrance with his arms crossed. he was looking way better than last time you saw him.

“fyodor,” sigma blinked, clearly stunned. “you’re... you’re here.”

“you’re alive!” nikolai cried dramatically, skipping over to fyodor and flinging his arms around fyodor who showed obvious discomfort. 

“of course i am,” he scoffed. “thanks in part to y/n.”

hearing that made your face flush a bit. “i-it was nothing,” you stammered, dodging nikolai’s curious stare. 

“anyway, i finished the compositions for the next scene,” fyodor strode forward, handing sigma a folder of sheet music and a flash drive. “let me know if it’s to your liking.”

“thank you. i’ve been having director’s block with that one. this should help,” sigma sighed gratefully. “i’ll give it a listen if you don’t mind.” and before you could say anything else, he scurried out to the stage area.

“and i’m going to leave for some arbitrary reason just so you two would have some alone time,” nikolai snickered at the indignant expression on your face before leaving you and fyodor alone backstage.

“oh, nikolai. always... funny,” you laughed nervously. 

“indeed,” fyodor nodded. “i only have the vaguest idea of what’s been going on during rehearsals. i should probably come around more often.”

“oh, we understand that you’re busy and all. but you’ve already been helping a lot with composing the music so don’t sweat it if you feel like you haven’t been active,” you said.

“well, that’s not the only reason i want to come around more often,” fyodor’s eyes flickered up to meet yours and you felt your face heat up again. god, it was so much easier to talk to to him and joke around when he was sick with the flu.

“in any case, i’m glad you feel better now,” you cleared your throat. “i hope the soup helped.”

“it did. i was sad to see it run out,” fyodor chuckled. and before you could even consider what it was you were going to say, you went and blurted out: 

“i could make it for you again.”

“oh?” fyodor’s eyebrows flew up and a smirk played on his lips.

“i-if you want to of course,” you stammered. 

“i’d like that,” fyodor smiled, much to your surprise. “if you could update me on rehearsals and the play we’re doing, that would be great. how does friday sound?”

“friday sounds great.”

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumusdomain​​ @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo ​ @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi @amberalisa​ @whootwhoot​ @liz-multifandom-hotel​​ @kac-chowsballs​​ @violentfarewll @fyoyacanruinmylifethanks

[thewritewolf]

No, Really

Summary: Adrien can no longer deny it - he is in love with Marinette! The only problem is, she has made it absolutely clear that she is definitely not interested in him. But when he discovers that Marinette might be harboring feelings for Chat Noir, Adrien decides that there is only one way to get together with her: Reveal his identity.

Trouble is? She doesn't believe him.

Hello and welcome! This fic was written for the @totographszine, which was publish for free here. Go check it out, the wonderful @anna-scribbles even did some excellent art of this fic in there.

Read on Ao3

Without any further ado... Enjoy!

Adrien was in love with Marinette. There was no getting around that any more. But, unfortunately, it didn’t seem that she felt the same way.

Ever since he had come to terms with his feelings, he’d been trying to flirt with her. A few cheesy lines here. Some lingering touches and eye contact there. Compliments scattered throughout the day. Although, as he had realized now, it was harder to compliment her more than he already had been. How had it taken him so long to figure out his feelings?

The worst part of it was that she even flirted back! Which may sound great, but his experiences with Ladybug had taught him that flirting back could also mean friendly banter. It was a frustratingly similar experience, which he chose not to dwell on too hard.

And just like with Ladybug, he was at least appreciating the friendship that he could share with Marinette. Now that she had begun to open up to him, he was learning all sorts of things about her. Her favorite foods, what exactly tickled her most, her little mannerisms.

One day he learned the most important little fact about Marinette of them all.

“What is it with you and crushin’ on celebs, girl?”

Adrien recognized Alya’s voice at once and his eyes widened when he realized who she was likely talking to on the other side of the locker.

Sure enough, Marinette let out an irritated groan. There was a sound of a locker opening.

“What makes you think I have a crush on him? Just because I drew him in my notebook—”

“Oh sure, if you were just drawing him, that’d be one thing. But the hearts and kissy faces tell a whole different story.”

Adrien stood stock-still, listening as intently as he could. It felt as if his heart had

stopped beating. Had he failed to win the hearts of both his crushes? Would he ever get a lucky break just for once?

“They weren’t—that’s—no! Those were …” Marinette sputtered and eventually mumbled something that sounded a lot like “spades.”

“Spades.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, girl, if you want I could probably mention your name the next time I see him. Sure it’d be harder to pull off than with blondie, but I’m down.”

“Drop it, Alya,” Marinette said half-heartedly. The locker door was shut and they walked toward the entrance. For a moment, he was scared they would turn around and see him eavesdropping. “I’m sure Chat Noir doesn’t want to have my number pushed into his hand.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he suddenly jolted to life. Chat Noir?

“Maybe. We’ll only find out if we give it a shot.” Their voices got more distant as they walked away. “At least we know you’ve got a type now.”

“Alya!”

In his heart of hearts, Adrien hoped that type included boys with green eyes and blond hair. Would it be too much to ask that she fall for him a second time? Not just as Chat Noir but as Adrien?

It was there, standing alone in the locker room, heart pounding in his throat and feeling light headed, that Adrien was suddenly struck by a plan. And while he was no Ladybug, he was pretty confident about this one.

After all, he didn’t need to make her fall for him twice. She just needed to find out who Chat Noir was.

--------------

His first opportunity took way too long to arrive. The need to confess his secret identity to her had been weighed against his duty not only to Paris but to Ladybug. He was as certain of Marinette’s trustworthiness as he could be, but he needed to be sure that she and only she heard him.

Besides, it made confessing his feelings a little easier too, which was honestly weighing just as heavily on his mind. Sure, safety of Paris and fighting Hawkmoth and all that, but there was also his poor battered heart to take into consideration. Ladybug had been gentle with her rejections, but they still stung as much as being tossed into a wall by a dozen akumas.

It took over a month for a golden opportunity. The four of them had been studying in Marinette’s room when Alya had left to go babysit her sisters, taking Nino along with her. Adrien watched them slowly pack up and amble over to the trap door, silently screaming every time they stopped for another little chat. But eventually, they did leave. Nino’s cap disappeared below the floor and the trapdoor shut behind them. It was late enough that Sabine and Tom had gone to bed already, but not so late that Adrien would have to leave yet, at least not for a couple hours.

Swallowing against the suddenly dryness in his throat, Adrien looked at Marinette. All thoughts of the physics homework in front of them banished the moment he saw her tongue poking out the side of her mouth, her brow furrowed in concentration.

How could one person be so cute?

Her bright blue eyes flickered up at him. “Something wrong, Adrien?”

There wasn’t going to be a better time. It was now or never.

“Marinette … I’m Chat Noir.”

The sound of her pencil scratching along the paper stopped as she stared at her homework. There was a long moment of silence wherein Adrien silently panicked. After a few seconds that stretched into infinity, which Adrien spent praying that she would say something, anything, she finally spoke.

“Yeah, okay.”

She said it with a snort and a chuckle. It was like when he was experimenting with different jokes for her and he found one that didn’t quite land but didn’t completely fall flat.

She returned back to her homework, and the sound of the pencil resumed.

“Okay? That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Um … I suppose I can add a ‘haha’ in there too? If it makes you feel better?”

“You’re not supposed to laugh!”

“Then it’s not a very good joke.”

“It isn’t a joke,” Adrien said, crossing his arms haughtily. This was not going how he had planned in the slightest.

Marinette raised an eyebrow as she sat up. “There is no way you are Chat Noir.”

“Why not? I’m cool!”

“Exactly, and Chat Noir is a massive dweeb.”

Adrien gasped, scandalized. “Take that back!”

“I will not. Besides,” she continued, raising her hand, “there are plenty of things Chat Noir is that you aren’t and vice versa.” She raised a finger for each point. “Chat Noir is loud, outgoing, with a sharp tongue, and he’s a flirt to boot. Plus the whole massive dweeb thing.”

“And what about me?” Adrien pouted, almost dreading the answer. “Adrien Agreste me, I should say.”

“You’re quieter, to start with.” There was a faint blush on her cheeks. Maybe it was easier for her to describe someone who she thought wasn’t present. “You’re considerate and kind and a perfect gentleman.” She smirked and chuckled. “At least, you usually are.”

Adrien put his hands together and brought them next to his lips as he took a deep breath. He was suddenly reminded of all the times he’d made reservations or tried to set up an account on some website under his own name, only to have it deleted because it “couldn’t possibly be actually Adrien Agreste.” By this point in his initial planning stages of confessing to Marinette, they were already organizing their first date between passionate spells of making out, not trying to determine if he really was himself.

But Adrien was nothing if not adaptable.

With a wide, toothy grin worthy of his alter ego, he leaned forward, putting himself dangerously close to her face. The faint blush she’d been sporting flared to life and spread across her entire face. Her eyes went large as he purred out a reply.

“What an unfortunate alley cat I am, baring my soul to a beautiful princess and she doesn’t even believe me. Whatever shall I do?”

“W-wow, you’ve … you’ve really practiced this, h-haven’t you?” She put on a brave face and scooted backwards.

“You could say that. You could also say I’ve got a lot of experience with the whole Chat Noir flare.” The smile became more genuine as he added teasingly, “And it looks like you think Chat Noir might be more than just a massive dweeb, hmm?”

“Y-yeah?” She got back some of her composure—not much, but enough to start bantering back at him. “And what else is he then?”

“A cool cat, maybe,” he said, tossing his hair and running a hand through it. “Or, even better, a fine feline.” He grinned and finger gunned at her.

Marinette snorted. “You’ve definitely nailed down some of that Chat Noir full-of-yourself stuff. Congrats on getting your research done at least.”

“Not research. Just living the life, Pigtails.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Very creative nickname.” She smirked and crossed her arms. “Then again, it’s better than princess or my lady, so I’ll take it.”

“Hey now, Ladybug likes me calling her that, even if she tries to hide it.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Somehow I doubt that. But seriously, whose idea was this? It feels like Alya had a hand in this. I just know it.”

“Why would Alya get me to try to tell you I’m Chat Noir?”

“She never gives up on her ships is all.” Marinette’s eyes went wide and she threw her hands over her mouth. “Forget I said that!”

“But I—”

Her hands went straight for his mouth. “Forget!”

He held his hands up in surrender and she backed off.

“Come on, though. What’s so hard to believe about me being Chat Noir?”

“I just can’t see you and Chat Noir being the same person. You’re both so different!”

“Okay, first off—yeah, I can be quiet sometimes,” Adrien admitted. “But you’ve seen how I am with my friends, when I’m comfortable. I can be just as outgoing as I am in the mask!”

Marinette massaged her temples. “So what, you’re saying you have to be with close friends to be as confident as you are making terrible puns in front of all of Paris?”

“Well, the mask helps a little,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “After all, then I don’t have to think about how what I say will impact the company or get yelled at by my father. I get to just … be wild.” He gave her a timid smile. “I suppose sometimes I go a little overboard, huh?”

Her blush deepened. “Y-yeah. I guess you do sometimes.” She cleared her throat and schooled her expression back into a skeptical one. “Assuming you are Chat Noir, of course.”

“Of course.” Quietly, he added, “You know, Adrien me isn’t the only one who is ... kind. I’ve done it plenty of times in the mask.”

“I mean, yeah, you do the heroics and everything, but I was talking about something—”

“Gentler?” he said with his best Chat Noir grin, which made her eyes widen like saucers. His voice was still barely above a whisper. “Like when I comfort akuma victims or sponsor animal shelters?”

“I—yes, like that,” she admitted in the same soft tone. A little stronger, she poked his chest and gave a small smirk. “But don’t you think Ladybug will be mad that you revealed your identity? You promised not to do that, you know. Assuming you really are Chat Noir.”

“Maybe I should have asked her about it first,” he admitted, even as something tickled at the back of his mind. How did she know about the promises between them? “But I’m sure she’d understand if she knew. The value of love is something we both agree on.”

“I mean, I guess, but—wait, what?”

“And I suppose you’ve noticed how, no matter what side of the mask I’m on, I love to flirt with the person I love?” She gasped, but he just shook his head and laughed. “Finally get there? I mean, I’ve been flirting with you nonstop for like a month.” He smiled. “Maybe you and Ladybug should hang out. The everyday Ladybug and the real-life Ladybug. Both of you can be really dense when it … comes to … realizing … oh my god.”

Adrien saw the exact moment that she realized that he had figured her out. One moment she was watching him attentively. The next, her eyes had widened in panic, her pupils shrinking down to tiny pinpoints. He knew that if he did nothing, she’d start flailing her arms around and denying it.

The distance between them turned to nothing as he leapt toward her, laughing. She grumbled as he pulled her close, squeezing her tight against his chest, but she didn’t try to break free.

“Don’t be so proud of yourself. You only got lucky,” she said as she returned the hug.

“Luck or not, I finally found you … my lady.”

He looked down at her face at the same moment that she looked up into his. A moment laden with meaning passed between them before they both broke down laughing again. At long last, they had finally found each other.

[opalmaplehibiscus]

Vice Dorm Leader Study Date HC

Hello Anon! Sorry for the wait! I wasn’t quite sure what you wanted to see so I tried my best trying cover a lot of ideas OTL If this wasn’t what you wanted, please do request again with what you wish to see! 

Trey

·       Study dates with Trey are very rare

·       He’s always busy due to his responsibilities as vice dorm leader while preparing to becoming a 4th year, so going on dates with you in general isn’t going to happen a lot

·       When you do end up going on with him though, he would cherish them and try to make it last as long as possible, trying to catch up on all the missed times with you

·       Usually, the study dates happen by Cater (best wingman ever by the way), who ends up stealing Ace, Deuce, and Grim from you on the days you’re supposed to study with them

·       Whenever that happens, Trey gets a message with a “U owe me~ ;9” from Cater as said guy drags the “interference” away

·       Trey: Cater, you shouldn’t be calling our underclassmen interference... Cater: Eh~ So, are you saying you don’t feel annoyed that they’re spending more time with you-know-who? Trey: …You don’t see me saying it up front now do you

·       He would do his best to help you study, teaching you whatever you needed to know  - tips, tricks, what topic that would be covered the most on the exam, etc

·       Would he try to make you flustered and blush though? Yeah. He thinks you’re adorable when you blush – endearing, cute, someone he wishes to cherish with all his heart

·       It’s why he would make passes on you, leaning towards you and brushing shoulders when he sits next to you as he helps explain something you don’t know or purposely having his hand graze yours as he points out something in the textbook or your notes

·       Expect to be spoiled with all types of sweets and desserts when with Trey

·       Cake? Cookies? Pudding? He would bring all sorts of things for you two to snack on when taking a break and studying, including tea. After all, you’re someone he happens to love so he has to somehow make it obvious one way or another

·       Trey has younger siblings. It’s why he naturally wipes the crumbs off your face since it’s habit to do so. Yeah. That’s it. Totally not

·       What isn’t natural is when, near the end of the study date, you would either hug or kiss him on the cheek, after finally understanding something or making progress, as thanks

·       Covering half of his face, he would turn his face away to hide his red face that could rival Riddle’s hair, trying to tell you he was fine with a small stutter and wavering smile when you ask if he’s okay

·       Now if only you would realize said study dates were actually dates and he likes you…

     Ruggie

·       Like Trey, Ruggie is a busy man. Busy doing Leona’s orders while chasing after all the money and food he could possibly get, so having study dates with him are also rare

·       In fact, the percent of having study dates with him are lower than Trey’s because of how much work he’ll be forced to deal with

·       It’s why, the only times he would be able to go on study dates with you are when you come visit Savanaclaw once every blue moon

·       Most often you would come over because of Jack, whether it’s to just hang out, give him a memo, whatnot

·       The thing is though, whenever you come over, you end up meeting Jack a bit later because something would always come up right when he’s about to meet you

·       And it’s totally not suspicious that it happens whenever Ruggie is coming back to the dorms. 100% true.

·       Don’t worry about Jack by the way. It so happens that a certain dorm leader kidnapped said wolf because he happens to be a good wingman when he’s bored

·       Also, he’s running low on blackmail on Ruggie. Might as well get a refill when he can

·       When seeing you alone at the entrance either being bothered by the other dorm members or looking bored, Ruggie ends up taking you to the lounge and chat with you

·       The conversation always  school orientated with school work and teachers coming up

·       While you’re in the middle of complaining about Trein and Crewel again over their ridiculous assignments (like seriously, what’s so important about hair-color changing potions again? And what about the history of the school’s chandelier, is this shade???), Ruggie teases you about not being able to do something “as easy as that”

·       He does his best to hide his soft side towards you when you sulk about it, seeing it as you pouting. Which is adorable and cute in his eyes and he loves  seeing it

·       Just as you’re about to get up and leave from getting annoyed, Ruggie quickly offers you his help on your assignments despite saying it in a teasing tone

·       Yes, he likes to troll with people a lot but he can be serious when he wants to, evidently seen when he helps you through the questions

·       His explanations aren’t great, yet he doesn’t give up trying to get you to understand and solve the questions

·       Will he tease you while explaining? Yes. Will he snicker at you and give his infamous infuriating cute smirk? Yes.

·       In the end, the assignment still gets done along with you feeling better with the concepts you weren’t so sure of thanks to him

·       It’s his turn to blush as you give him a surprise hug, ending up covering his face with both hands and sigh once you let go

·       As this happens, a certain lion continues to film the whole thing while covering the mouth of his “precious” kouhai with a smirk on his face. He’s not sorry when he shows it to Ruggie by the way.

  Jade

·       Having study dates with Jade happens more frequently than Ruggie and Trey’s solely because Jade would make sure he has one with you

·       By that, he means using the pretext of having to “tutor” you per request by one of the staffs to get to go on one with you

·       He will proudly say it’s his favorite excuse to use against Azul and Floyd since they wouldn’t be able to bother him nor interfere when he’s trying to spend some time with you

·       Yes, he enjoys hanging around them for entertainment but he has his own limits too. Plus, he wouldn’t have to use….some other methods to get them off his back though he wouldn’t hesitate to do so if they interfere (cough blackmail cough)

·       Studying with Jade is difficult no thanks to how much he enjoys teasing you

·       He’ll be kind, polite, and courteous but he’ll do everything he can to get to see you blush

·       Brushing shoulders and hands “incidentally” is nothing compared to the times he explicitly makes a move on you like gently cupping your hand whenever he takes your pencil so he could write some helpful notes in your notebook or sitting really close to you in general

·       The worst part is how he’s actually good at teaching you with whatever you’re struggling with

·       Makes good analogies, explains things thorough enough for you to grasp the foundation, surprisingly writes neatly and draw good diagrams – he truly lives up to his position as one of Azul’s hands and vice dorm leader

·       That along with the fact he would be providing hospitability such as teas and snacks that you enjoy definitely makes him seem like a kind gentleman

·       He enjoys teasing you during the whole time, having fun with your reactions his favorite other than seeing you blush being you being annoyed

·       Just needs to shade here and there to get a good grasp and push your buttons only to get amused in the end from seeing you huff and pout or chuckle at any smart remarks you make towards him

·       However, when you give him one your softest, genuine smile or initiate any physical contact yourself, it’s going to be his turn to blush and perhaps even tsun a bit

·       Will go wide eyes at first with cheeks dust pink to turning lobster-red if you point it out while covering half his face and look away a bit

·       Hugging is a whole different story though where you would be very successfully into getting Jade to go “Jade. exe has stopped working” after surprising him with one once you finally understand and get whatever you were confused with and do it out of happiness

·       Once the date ends, he’ll show you out before going back into the dorm and find Azul and Floyd who he knew was spying during the whole thing

·       He finds all the photos they took of him blushing and either would burn them or delete the files if saved on phone or PC

·       He does secretly keep the ones that includes you looking happy or being close to him

   Jamil

·       Study dates with Jamil happens a good amount of time thanks to Kalim who makes sure it happens

·       By that, literally Kalim would get everyone in Scarabia to help out but that’s another story for another time

·       Out of all the vice dorm leaders, he’s the one that takes the study date seriously

·       Wouldn’t really strike up a conversation because he would be focused on trying to get as much done as possible no thanks to how he’s busy in general

·       That being said, most of the time would be more studying orientated

·       Jamil would be attentive and help you with anything you need help with, going over them and making sure you get at least the foundations solid

·       His explanation and tutoring skills are nearly par to Trey’s probably because of his many years of experience with Kalim, his sibling, and now, the other dorm members

·       So, the idea of teasing you wouldn’t come up initially. Keyword: Initially

·       Just because he’s focused on studying doesn’t mean he isn’t aware of his surroundings and other’s behaviors, especially yours

·       He’s aware his attraction towards you is very much mutual since he practically caught you who-knows-how-many-times you looked at him, only to blush and stutter whenever he asks if there’s a problem

·       Cue the teasing like the rest but unlike the other three above, his is more subtle

·       He’ll be testing the water-  see how far he can go with teasing you

·       He honestly enjoys how you’re trying to keep a straight face, all cool and collected when he sits next to you to the point only a pencil case would slip through the space between you two

·       Acting innocent and nonchalant, Jamil struggles to not smirk when he sees your ears turn red and the corner of your lips twitch

·       Totally would pull “face too close for comfort” on you when he finds you getting distracted from whatever he explains something to you

·       It would only happen once and never again though during the next few study dates since he’ll realize he nearly lost his self-control when he unconsciously and nearly closed the gap between the two of you

·       What do you mean you heard him click his tongue? He did no such thing. It’s not like he was disappointed or anything because he wanted to-

·       When you hug him, he’s not going to be calm. Whatsoever

·       Pulls his head over his head and tells you not to come near him as he pulls his hoodie’s strings and try to cover his face completely

·       This is when Kalim comes out of his hiding place and tries to get Jamil to calm down while telling you that he was “just passing by” when you ask where he came from

·       It isn’t until he’s back at his room does he start calming down only to drag his hands down his face from realizing he messed up on trying to look cool around you

·       Kalim: You like them that badly, huh~ Jamil: Shut up

 Rook

·       Study dates with Rook is bad for your heart. Not because he does weird things to you or anything. It’s just that…he’s rather direct. Very direct

·       Although he does an excellent job teaching you, he doesn’t hide his attraction towards you at all

·       Calls you all sorts of endearment without any shame when you come over to Pomefiore to have the study date with him: mon cœur, mon chéri, mamour, and more

·       Like with everyone else he takes interests in, he very much likes to look at you. Even though it’ll distract you, he’s genuinely happy and in bliss getting to spend time with you

·       To him, getting to see the you studying with such calmness makes him think you look absolutely enchanting, loving to see you putting effort and trying your best

·       Despite being a hunter, he isn’t aware how you tend to look at him when he’s focused though nor does he know that you like seeing his serious side

·       …and you probably shouldn’t since the minute he realizes this he probably would take advantage of it and cause you more problems down the road

·       He spoils you a lot, mostly because he wishes to see you happy. Meaning, he would prepare all sorts of things to make sure you’re feeling comfy and happy when you’re with him

·       In all seriousness though, he does education justice when he’s the one tutoring/teaching you

·       Goes over everything thoroughly to the point where he would continue practicing and quizzing you until he knows you actually understand everything

·       Every time you get something right, he praises you a lot to the point you would probably feel bashful

·       When you’re feeling down or frustrated from the fact you can’t understand something or from anything in general, Rook is the one who’ll realize it first which often leads to him being the one to make you feel better in a short amount of time through words of encouragement

·       In fact, he’s one of the two people who would be the best comforter of the vice dorm leaders

·       By that, he’s the one you would probably pour your heart to without worries and end up feeling better after every single study date

·       Hugging can go two ways with Rook

·       When he senses you about to hug him (happens 90% of the time btw), he’ll hug you back with the same amount of excitement. He wouldn’t let go after you realize what you’ve done out of pure instinct and would instead hug you tighter while your face burns in his arms

·       When you catch him off guard, he’ll freeze and blush, completely not expecting it. Probably would be his first time ever getting flustered too as he tries to quickly recover once you let go of him

      Lilia

·       Study dates with Lilia is more like a hang out than anything else

·       He literally will pull the “immortal-being” card, where he’ll look over your shoulder and see what you’re doing before going on a long story-time telling of how each theorem, principle, historical event, etc. was discovered when he was whatever age-old at the time

·       When dealing with assignments, he would complain about doing them, muttering along the lines of “back when I was in school, we didn’t have to do these”, “kids aren’t going to even use what they learned in real life”, and so on

·       Don’t expect him to even attempt to study. He would ask you why he would ever need to when he lived who-knows-how many years and being at all those events that took place

·       With all of that being said, you would think it would be impossible to get anything done, doing a great job distracting you especially when he just name drops a famous historical person and tells you the guy/gal’s life from baby to adult all in one go

·       “That kid used to be so cute, as expected they would end up being this great”, “What’s this nonsense? How did that brat even did that when they couldn’t even answer 1+1 correctly”-

·       However, when you try to study and start struggling, he would always help you

·       There’s going to be teasing and he is very bold about it

·       When you stifle a laugh from his stories, he sulks first only to kabedon you in your chair

·       Leaning closer to you, he’ll ask whether you’ll take him seriousness now, gently holding your chin so you wouldn’t be able to look away

·       He does end up letting you go with a smirk, giving you some space and time to get over what had happened in less than a minute, thinking that you looking like a deer caught in headlights with a bright blush made you look extremely adorable

·       It’s not shocking that he teaches you well, especially when he’s the one that taught Sebek, Silver, and Malleus. How? He’ll never tell you how but the look their faces when you ask them makes you decide not to think about it further

·       Lilia also happens to be the other greatest comforter, probably even better than Rook

·       It’s because he raised three children on his own, he’s able to pick up any stress or sense the struggle you’re having when you do your assignments or studying before you say anything about it

·       When it happens, he has you take a break on studying and lends you an ear, making sure you say everything that’s in your chest since he knows you’ll be needing it

·       By the time he’s done helping you and you hug him out of gratefulness, he’ll be surprised and widen his eyes at first

·       He does quickly recover and hugs you back with a satisfied smile, rather seeing you happy and filled with joy than anything else

·       And it’s obvious that’s the case since once you leave, Malleus, Silver, and Sebek would ask him if anything good happened

[bellafarallones2]

a/n: i just think the “aliens need to breed with humans because reasons” trope is underused in this fandom

The receptionist sent Joseph into a private room to wait for his appointment, so he had plenty of time to look around at the place where an alien would be fucking him. It looked like a combination of a hotel room and a gynecologist’s office, with a neatly-made king-sized bed and a reclining chair with stirrups. Joseph sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

A knock at the door. “Come in!” Joseph called, hating the nervousness in his voice.

The first thing he noticed about the alien who came in was how large he was, eight feet tall at least. The second thing Joseph noticed was that he had wings, and four arms, the lower pair of hands politely clasped, the upper holding a clipboard and pencil. His eyes were round and red and featureless. His mandibles touched for a moment before he spoke, and Joseph found himself staring.

“Hello,” the alien said. “My name is Indrid, and I am here to prepare you for insemination and observe the process.”

“Hello,” said Joseph.

Indrid looked down at his clipboard. “You are Mr. Joseph Stern, correct? Just to make sure I’m in the right room.”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Alright. In that case, Mr. Stern, I just have a few questions for you before I begin the physical examination.”

“Ask away.” Joseph couldn’t tell where Indrid was looking, whether up at him or down at the clipboard, and the effect was a little unsettling.

“You have volunteered, of your own free will, under no coercion, to be personally inseminated by an anonymous donor.”

Well, when you put it that way. “Uh, yeah.”

“I’ll need a yes or no, please.”

“Yes. I did volunteer.”

“Charitable of you,” Indrid murmured as he made a mark on the clipboard.

“The pay isn’t half-bad either,” said Joseph, trying for a joke and not quite landing it.

“You marked down you prefer vaginal penetration. Is that correct?”

Oh, god, Indrid was looking at the form he’d filled out to volunteer? The form where he listed his sexual history (minimal), fantasies and inhibitions? “Yes, that’s correct.”

“What is the capacity of your vaginal cavity?”

“What?”

“Sylph copulatory organs are larger than their human counterparts.”

“Oh, well, I’m a bit of a size queen, so I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” He’d also done his fair share of Googling.

“What does that mean? I’ve never heard that phrase before, size queen.”

“It means. Uh. It means I like big things inside me.”

“Oh. Well, that’s convenient, I suppose, though numbers would be more helpful.”

“The largest dildo I have is… seven inches long?”

Indrid wrote that down. “And in diameter?”

“An inch and a half.”

“Should work out nicely.”

Joseph felt slightly light-headed. “Will… will the person I’ve been assigned look like you?”

“No, of course not, he’s much more human-looking,” said Indrid without lifting his gaze from the clipboard. “My kind lays eggs, actually,” he added in a more joking tone.

Joseph whimpered. Indrid’s head snapped up. “Do you think he’ll… like me?” It was an embarrassing question to ask, but would hopefully distract from the even more embarrassing fact of how exactly Joseph felt about the prospect of eggs.

“I’m sure he will. Do you have any more questions before we continue?”

“No.”

“Alright. Feel free to stop me at any point if you become uncomfortable. Would you mind undressing for me?” Indrid turned his back and opened a cabinet.

Joseph unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, then his pants, and neatly folded both. Indrid turned back to the room and gestured to the gynecological chair, and Joseph sat down. “Feet in the stirrups, if you please.”

Joseph watched with some interest as Indrid affixed electrodes to his chest, entirely professional, and a heart-rate monitor to his finger. Then he sat down on a stool between Joseph’s spread legs and the clipboard on his lap. Joseph closed his eyes, waiting for Indrid to keep touching him, and heard the scratching of a pencil.

Oh. Indrid was drawing him, with his head between his legs, so close Joseph could almost feel his breath. Joseph couldn’t see the heart monitor from where he was, but he could hear it, beep beep beepbeepbeep as his heartbeat quickened.

“You’re already rather aroused,” Indrid commented absently.

“No I’m not,” Joseph said, although he was sure he was already wet enough for Indrid to see.

He looked up, not at Joseph’s face, but at the heart rate monitor over his shoulder. “My equipment tells me otherwise.”

Joseph couldn’t argue with that. Eventually Indrid put the clipboard aside and picked up an electronic probe, that looked something like a micropipette. “I need to put this inside you. It’ll test your fertility and make sure you’re not allergic to any Sylph proteins.”

“Alright,” said Joseph. The probe slid in easily.

“Such a good, accommodating human,” Indrid murmured. He kept the probe in for a few seconds, though to Joseph it felt like more, and pulled it out when it beeped. “It looks like you’re all set. Are you ready for your assigned partner?” Indrid asked, leaning over the chair to remove all the electrodes and the heart monitor.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“It’s perfectly fine to change your mind at any point.”

Indrid wasn’t going to let him pretend he didn’t want this. “No, I’m ready.”

“Alright.” Indrid crossed the room and opened the door he himself had come through. “Barclay? He’s ready for you.”

The person who walked in, indeed, did not look like Indrid. Just far enough from human to remind Joseph exactly what he’d signed up for, Barclay looked like an ape, with auburn fur and a face just to the left of human, and he was nicely dressed, in a white button-down and slacks.

“Joseph, this is Barclay,” said Indrid. “Barclay, Joseph. He’s quite wet already, I think he’s been looking forward to this.”

“Nice to meet you!” Barclay stuck his hand out for a handshake. Joseph scrambled to get down from the chair and shake his hand.

“Uh, nice to meet you too!”

“I’m required to stay and watch, just to make sure everything goes alright, but you can just pretend I’m not here,” Indrid said.

Joseph nodded. “Bed?”

“Sounds good to me.” Barclay started unbuttoning his shirt - god, his chest was broad - and then took off his pants - god, that ass - then turned back to Joseph, who tried very hard to keep his gaze up and not on, as Indrid had put it, the copulatory organ. “Can I kiss you?” Barclay said.

Joseph nodded. And then Barclay was cupping his cheeks and kissing him. Joseph forgot where he was, forgot what was happening, his whole world was just Barclay’s hands on him and Barclay’s honey-brown eyes. “You have gorgeous eyes,” he said when Barclay pulled back a few inches.

Barclay laughed. “You’re cute.”

“Do you do this a lot?”

Barclay nodded. “You already seem more eager than most.” He bent his head coyly and kissed Joseph’s neck. “Let me be good for you?”

That made Joseph whimper. “Please fuck me.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

Joseph lay back on the bed, pulling Barclay down with him. There was so much of him, solid and muscular underneath the soft fur. Barclay kissed him again, quickly, and pulled away, and Joseph closed his eyes, expecting a cockhead to press against his folds but letting out an involuntary squeak when he felt a tongue instead.

“Sorry,” said Barclay. His arm was wrapped around Joseph’s thigh. “Not that?”

“No, no, that was good, I just wasn’t expecting it. Please.” Joseph tugged on Barclay’s hair. He had a vague feeling he shouldn’t be begging, that this was supposed to be something professional and detached.

“Tell me what you want,” Barclay asked.

“I- I don’t know.”

A moment of silence before Indrid cut in. Joseph had almost forgotten he was in the room. “If I may offer a suggestion.”

“Sure.”

“He responds well to praise. Good boy, and all that.”

Just hearing Indrid say it so matter-of-factly was enough to make Joseph squirm. Barclay lowered his head and licked across his entrance. Then he turned his head to level his gaze at Indrid. “Voyeur.”

“Excuse me,” said Indrid primly. “I am being paid to be here.”

“Nice gig if you can get it,” Barclay muttered.

“Humans tend to regard me as a sexual nonentity,” Indrid replied. “Therefore my presence is not alarming.”

“Oh, be quiet, moth,” said Barclay, and turned his attention easily back to Joseph. “Fuck you’re so good for me,” he said, his whole lower face slick, “so wet, you feel amazing.”

Joseph tried to buck his hips up but Barclay was too strong, too heavy. “Please fuck me, if you keep doing that you’re going to make me cum, and I want -”

“You want me inside you, good boy?”

“Yes,” Joseph breathed. Barclay got up again and Joseph dared to look between his legs. Fuck, his cock was big. Joseph threw his head back and let himself groan as Barclay pushed in, unbearably slow and gentle. Looking up, he could see that Barclay’s teeth were gritted as he eased himself in and out. He was holding back.

“Fucking harder,” Joseph said, wrapping his legs fully around Barclay’s waist. “Fucking fuck me.”

Barclay buried his face in Joseph’s hair, and it took a little for Joseph to make out the words he was whining. “Want to be so good for you,” Barclay was saying. “Want to be the best mate, breed you right, want to -”

And Joseph realized the strangled moans he could hear were coming from him, that he, Joseph, was coming right now as Barclay’s dick split him apart.

The next thing he knew, Barclay must have finished too because he was pulling out and collapsing on the mattress next to him.

Panting, Joseph managed to turn his head. Indrid was still standing there, watching, though at some point he’d snapped the pencil he was holding.

Joseph’s voice was hoarse. “How soon can I volunteer again?”

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Finding Us Chapter 21

Alright! Here I am at last with another Tim chapter! I hope you guys enjoy it. 

AO3 Link

~

Tim couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling up in his chest at the idea of progress in the stalker case. It fueled his desire to keep moving in other directions, while he waited on Damian to finish his sketch he dove back into work on the Alkali case.

Currently, he was trying once again not to backseat hack as Barbara was finally digging through the Alkali’s files. After their trip to the physical location, Babs had used the access gained through Stephanie to create her own back door and they’d sat on that for a little while to make sure no one found it.

It was early the morning after Damian’s encounter with the creepy man and Tim was in the belfry standing over Barbara’s shoulder because there was nothing to currently do on the stalker case. Tim hadn’t recognized Damian’s sketch of the guy he’d seen, and so they were waiting on facial recognition to grab his identity. The kid’s sketch was definitely good enough for the system to pick something up, they just had to wait.

“Have you found anything interesting yet?” he asked, trying not to bounce on his toes.

“Lots. Nothing we’re looking for. Though, there is a guy here who’s last name is Bandersnatch, which is pretty cool.”

She was teasing, but Tim could also hear the note of warning in her voice. When she found what they were looking for she’d tell him, and he shouldn’t keep pushing. He sighed, and turned to step across the room, over to a mini fridge installed for snacks.

“Want a soda?” he called.

She shook her head, “It’s too early for that, toss me a tea.” she answered.

He grabbed a bottle of tea out for Babs and a can of orange soda for himself and moved back over to the computer.

“Thanks for helping on this.” he said, handing her the tea, then cracking open his soda.

“Of course, the sooner we get these guys the better.”

Tim agreed, and sipped at his soda while he played a matching game on his phone in an attempt to both distract and stop himself from tossing advice Barbara’s way. He got stuck on a particularly difficult level and found himself totally lost in it for a while, trying again and again to win. It made the waiting a lot easier, even if he also kind of wanted to toss his phone out the window and watch it crash at the bottom of the building.  

“Got something.” Babs said at last.

Tim looked up bleary eyed, blinking away red diamonds and orange squares. It took his brain a moment to register what she’d said before he stood up, the chair shaking.

“Great!” he hurried over to look at the screen again, “What’d you find?”

“Well, under the private files I found some that were locked with a password, after cracking that I found these.”

The file she’d opened was filled with unreadable text.

“It’s encrypted?” Tim asked.

“I think it’s some kind of cypher. See it follows a sort of pattern. Nothing too overt or easy like a caesar cipher. It’s got to have a key.”

Tim hummed, she was right, the text was filled with letters and numbers and broken up in a way that looked like lines of real text, if they’d been in any kind of legible order.

“Well then we’d better get to cracking it.”

They worked for a couple hours trying to figure out what cypher had been used, and testing various codes to no avail. Eventually they decided to give it some time to breathe, and their brains time to think of new ideas. Babs forwarded him the files so he could keep looking over them later and Tim left her to work on other projects.

As he was leaving, he found Cassandra waiting for him down at the base of the Belfry. She was eating a cinnamon roll like it was a doughnut.

“Hey.” she said, handing him a cup of coffee, and shaking her wrist and the plastic bag hanging off it.

Tim took the offered cup, then tugged the bag off her free hand checking inside. A second cinnamon roll sat tucked into a nest of napkins. He fished it out, careful not to spill his drink then copied Cass, taking a huge bite out of the side.

It was still warm, and the taste of cinnamon and sugar danced across his tongue in a way that made him think of home. Of early Saturday mornings with Alfred, stirring together a bowl of butter, sugar, and cinnamon so the man could carefully spread it across dough. Or of Bruce dropping off a few in his room, ruffling his hair, and telling him he should probably finish his homework before working on another case.

“Ready to head back?” she asked.

He washed down the bite of bread with some coffee and nodded, “Yeah, I think Babs and I have done all we can. How’re things back at the manor?”

Cass shrugged, “Everyone is still waiting on the results of the search, so they all split up to work on other things.”

They moved to the car Cass had brought to pick him up in, it was one of Bruce's many cars, black and not too fancy. Tim held a hand out for the keys and after an eye roll Cass dropped them in his palm.

“I drove here.” she argued.

“You drive too fast for me and my coffee.” he replied.

“Fair.” she shrugged.

As Tim pulled away from the clocktower, still munching on his cinnamon roll Cass pipped back up.

“Can we stop at the craft store?”

He glanced at her, “Sure, but why?”

“Damian wanted some more colored pencils. He sent a list and asked me to stop if I had time.” She tugged a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and opened it to show him.

A detailed list of colors, brands, and what not to buy’s filled the page in Damian’s neat, tight, handwriting. Tim was surprised to find a little picture of a dog at the bottom of the page, it wasn’t as detailed as Damian usually did, and smiling for some reason.

“He drew it as a thank you, and promised to make me a better one with the pencils.” Cass said, catching where Tim’s eye had fallen, then she added, “Eyes on the road.”

Tim flicked the turn signal on the car to indicate he needed to go left, towards the craft store Damian frequented, “Why didn’t he come if he wanted to restock?”

Cass shrugged again, and folded the paper instead of crumpling it back up. She set it in her lap, fingers tapping on the paper with gentle tip taps.

Damian rarely missed a chance to get his own art supplies. He was as picky about them as Tim was over film or lenses for his cameras. Sure it was just a few replacement pencils, but even those Tim knew Damian would linger over for an hour if he was left to it. He wondered briefly if his mild concussion had anything to do with staying home. Maybe Alfred had told him he couldn’t leave? But no, it had been days at this point, he was probably cleared at last for most activities.

Maybe it was because he knew Cass was headed to pick up Tim.

He tried not to think too hard on that thought. They hadn’t really talked much lately. Both had been busy with their own things, and besides that, they didn’t really talk a lot to begin with. He’d thought they were doing better, but at the same time Tim knew they weren’t.

Tim reached out to snatch his coffee and take a sip from it. Now that he thought about it, maybe they were doing better after all. Damian had called him by his first name the night before. And he’d gone looking for clues as to Tim’s stalker. A queasy feeling bubbled up in Tim’s stomach. He’d been quick to dismiss Damian’s attempted apology back when they’d been at the mall, and now he was starting to wonder if he'd been really trying to mend that bridge. T im loved the idea of having a little brother, and way back when he'd first met Damian he'd been happy to have one, for all of two seconds. Still, sometimes he thought they had found that perfect spot of being siblings, and other times it felt like there was a gaping hole between them. Especially lately.

He pulled into the store’s parking lot not even realizing they’d made it there, his body on autopilot. Cass cheered as she climbed out of the car, and Tim stayed quiet.

When he looked up at the storefront he figured it out.

He might be jealous. Of the squirt.

Maybe it wasn't their past that was bothering him so much lately, but their present. Tim thought he'd shaken off those feelings in regards to Jason and Damian, but maybe he hadn't. Even in the wake of the family’s eyes turning on him Tim still couldn’t stop thinking about how Damian seemed to draw everyone in all the time. Dick, then Jason, Bruce with his fretting after they’d gotten hurt. It was--it was like he fit in a way Tim couldn’t quite imagine himself fitting again.  Like they were both the same piece, and there was only one spot left on the puzzle, and Damian had swooped in just in time to fill it. Even now, he felt odd about the attention. Like the moment everything was done his family would stop looking at him again. Stop seeing Tim, because he’d messed up. He’d failed to be the one to fix everything and he no longer deserved to be seen.

“Tim?”

“Coming!” he said, locking the car door.

Inside he was hit with the smell of paint and paper. The whole place was a kaleidoscope of colors and supplies crammed together in a space that should have felt cluttered, but instead actually seemed homely. He followed Cass to the pencils and held each as she selected them, reading Damian’s list carefully, then making Tim double check “ just in case” .

He thought they’d be in and out, but once they’d found Damian’s stuff Cass insisted on browsing. Tim followed her, feeling a bit like Titus pattering after Damian as he instructed the dog on something very un-dog-like and soon his arms were full.

Cass had added extra packs of less high quality colored pencils, crayons, thin markers --not thick, because apparently those didn’t trace well-- and made him pick out a coloring book. She selected one full of animals, and Tim picked one that was more abstract. Like black and white stained glass. He and Cass locked eyes on an adult swear word coloring book and both grinned.

“For Jason?” Tim asked.

“And one for Dick.” Cass grinned.

Soon they’d selected adult coloring books for the whole family. Some simply because they knew they’d get a laugh out of them, and others from the knowledge of the recipient getting genuine delight from it.

By the time they left, Tim was feeling better. His day brightened even more when Cass hooked an arm through his at home, and dragged him into the living room.

“We are going to color and watch She-Ra.” she declared.

He could have argued and said he had work to do. But he knew Cass would tell him a break was good. And wasn’t that what he’d just told Babs? He could have fallen into other cases or dug out his 3Ds to play some Animal Crossing. But the best idea in the whole world right then was sitting on the floor and coloring with his sister, and he wasn’t going to pass it up.

He filled in two whole pages, first lined with marker --Cass had been right about the thin ones-- then colored in as dark as he could with his own box of colored pencils. At some point the sounds of She-Ra had been turned down as he and Cass chatted about everything.

She told stories of an adventure with Steph. He talked about Mindbender and how weird it was to have Jason in the house again. Then about how cool it was to have Jason in the house. Cass told him about a ballet she’d seen. All of it, whether it was little nothings or big changes, ebbed and flowed to the scritch scritch of pencil on paper, and legs folded up or kicked into the air.

At some point, Alfred brought in cocoa and water. Then sandwiches. Dick breezed through and gasped over his book, stopping to color in all of an F before getting bored and breezing back out. Jason cackled over his book, and then genuinely thanked them for thinking of him. Damian collected his pencils, didn’t complain about a single one, and stared at his own book of animals to color like it was made of gold before tucking it under an arm and scurrying away.

Bruce stayed the longest, lounging on a couch to add his own commentary between theirs, infrequent, but enough to say “I’m here, I’m listening, I love you.” before he too was called away. He planted a kiss on each of their heads before leaving.

It was Stephanie who broke up the peace. Showing up like a tornado, and stirring them from settled spaces into laughter. They traded pencils for controllers and fired up Smash Brothers for a wholly different, but still perfect, adventure.

There, surrounded in waves by his family Tim wondered if he’d been wrong earlier. If maybe the puzzle had room for all of them. And every time someone new came in, it just expanded and made room for them. He certainly felt like he fit in, and it was really nice.

[33skeletons]

This is a list of all the people currently available

If this blog gains any real traction, I’ll add more... but until then, I don’t want to get too carried away until I’m 100% sure that the effort is worth it. I hope y’all understand

Name: Deydra Age: 18 Likes: ice cream, yaoi, drawing, roleplay dislikes: rude people, coffee, people putting words in her mouth, XP, Punk Bio: She’s in an open relationship with Scruff. she’s mute, but doesn’t know sign language, so she communicates via charades. She’s a low key perv, but tends to feign innocence.

Name: Friday Age: 22 Likes: flirting, coffee, making people flustered Dislikes: tea.... that stuff’s too mild, spicy food..... are you fucking insane!?! Bio: This tall drink of water is not for the feint of heart. He knows all the right buttons to push to reduce you to a blushing puddle. He has a goofy sense of humor and will often make a complete fool of himself just to make people at least crack an amused smile.

Name: Manga Age: 24 Likes: being pampered, the finer things in life Dislikes: getting dirty, being treated like a commoner Bio: This Miss Priss is a purebred with a pedigree. She believes herself to be an aristocrat and deems those of lower standard to be “plebian filth” and below her. Quick witted with a sharp tongue to boot, she’s not the nicest person to be around unless you can meet her high standards.... or give her a bottle of fancy ketchup. She has a weakness for tough guys that can match her mental capacity and hold intricate conversation with her.

Name: Punk Age: 32 Likes: What’s it to ya? Dislikes: Like you’d like ta know! Bio: he’s quite stand-off-ish and likes to keep people at arms length as much as he possibly can. He gets along with very few people and likes to shroud himself in mystery, the less you know, the better for him. He’s a wild card that enjoys throwing people for a loop at every turn.

Name: Scruff Age: 19 Likes: protecting Deydra, spicy food, tea, cuddles Dislikes: sushi, bone broth Bio: he and Deydra are in an open relationship. He cares more about Deydra than his own life. He’s a tad stand-off-ish towards anyone he doesn’t know. He tends to act as a translator for Deydra when someone doesn’t understand what she’s trying to say. All the scars on his face and his gold fangs are all from fighting to keep Deydra out of harm’s way. Wherever Deydra goes, Scruff is never very far.

Name: XP Age:15 Likes: destruction, being an asshole, getting what he wants Dislikes: being told no, having to be nice, things he destroys being fixed Bio: This edgy teen just wants the world to burn. He strives to hurt people any way he can and often ends up getting beaten senseless by Scruff when he targets Deydra. Being an Error Nightmare, he can use both Error strings and Nightmare tentacles to bring about destruction and pain, though he normally keeps the tentacles hidden as not to instantly rouse suspicion from his targets seeing as most actively avoid Nightmares, but are okay with Errors, though he can’t hide the goop that covers his right eye, which gives away his other half if anyone’s attentive enough to put two and two together in time

Name: Hokori Age: 23 Likes: food, blood, peanuts Dislikes:..... meh Bio: With his hood up, he appears to be a Dust Sans, but with his hood down it reveals a large gash in his skull and allows him to pass as your average Horror Sans. He’s volatile and unpredictable, but the fastest way to this skeleton’s proverbial heart is lots of food. He’s a bottomless pit with an insatiable apatite. If he’s out on a killing spree and has decided to target you, your best bet at escaping is to toss a handful of some kind of small, easily scattered snack such as peanuts. He’ll stop and start picking up and eating whatever you threw like James Woods from Family Guy. He’s also a bit of a perv once he’s deemed you not worth the energy of killing.

Name: Calibri (left) Age: 21 Likes: shredding sick riffs on her guitar, rapping, beating the snot out of assholes that need a checkup with karma Dislikes: Assholes, people calling her fat... I’m a queen with more curves than you know how to handle!!! get it right, fuckers!!! Bio: This badass, bodacious babe is one of Gears’s twin daughters. She’s got a sailor’s mouth with an alcohol tolerance to match. She’s hot-headed, but also mediates when her sister Chiller is too angry to see straight and starts edging too close to the line when putting her foot down. Calibri is sexy and she knows it with a ride or die attitude. She don’t need no man to take care of her, no sir! She’s perfectly capable of paying her own tab and fighting off a group of thugs that don’t know how to take no for an answer! She, her sister, and her mom can play Through The Fire And Flames on their guitars. Name: Chiller (right) Age: 21 Likes: playing guitar with her sister Calibri and mother Gears, reading Dungeons and Dragons books Dislikes: movie adaptations of books, live action adaptations of animations, assholes, being angry Bio: Chiller’s a badass babe in her own right. She survived being hooked up to a car battery and has the scars to prove it. She’s a lesbian and proud, and prefers taking on the dominant role in a relationship. Her pain tolerance is incredibly high. She enjoys hip hop, interpretive and break dancing, and is one heck of an archer with nearly dead shot aim. She’s normally stoic and very blunt with her words, preferring to only speak when necessary. She’s a natural born pack alpha.

Name: Sparkle Age: 41 Likes: anything sweet, bright colors, J-pop, K-pop Dislikes: anything bitter, having to get violent, seeing others get hurt Bio: she may look all sunshine and rainbows, but she can punch like a freight train and sometimes forgets her own strength. She suffers from hypoglycemia and has to keep sweets and candy on her person if she leaves the house, though she will gladly share them if you ask. She enjoys baking, and can often times be found doing just that out of boredom, not that anyone has been complaining. She may appear frail, but she can tank hits like a champ so long as said hits don’t come from a sharp object or gunshot. Her twin sister is Shade. She has a problem with producing more magic than her body can handle, so her sister comes in handy for that issue.

Name: Shade Age: 41 Likes: star gazing, dark colors, bitter and robust flavors, Evanescence (she knows all of their songs by heart) Dislikes: sweets, bright light, satanists Bio: Miss Doom And Gloom here is a wiccan highly skilled in her practice. She has the ability to leech magic from other monsters because she has no magic of her own to use, so she uses the magic of others, though mostly the excess magic her sister overproduces. She doesn’t enjoy getting her hands dirty in a fight,.... good thing she wears gloves! She’s rather soft spoken, but make no mistake, she has an outside voice and will not hesitate to use it if someone’s getting on her nerves. She mostly uses defensive magic to protect others, though she knows attack spells purely for the defense of herself and others should it be absolutely necessary. She also knows basic healing magic, though she can only heal minor injuries.

Name: Aiden Age: 40 Likes: pain, meat, grunge and screamo Dislikes: pop music, allergy season, Bio: This sharp toothed masochist ADORES pain, both receiving and inflicting. She got so mad once, she ruined her voice, so now she sounds like she smokes a pack a day. She’s very fast, agile, and super flexible since she’s double jointed EVERYWHERE!!! She has three rows of those razor teeth and a tongue which is so long it can act as an extra limb, which she enjoys showing off to freak people out via picking up objects such as cups, keys, pencils, and even going so far as to balance on it. She has very bad allergies, so she smells by flicking her tongue out like a reptile. Her spit and other bodily fluids are highly acidic. She’s normally chill, but it’s still obvious she’s a bit unhinged.

Name: Gears Age: 40 Likes: hot sauce, children, playing his acoustic guitar, working on cars, blacksmithing, learning new things Dislikes: sitting still for too long, sweets, water, cold, rude people, being alone Bio: Gears is a country boy that enjoys staying in top physical shape and keeping his hands and mind busy at every chance he gets. He’s just as strong as Sparkle, but slower. He has fire magic that when not fighting to keep others safe, he uses to forge metal as a freelance blacksmith. He carries a ridiculously enormous wrench forged from the hardest metal known to man that he uses as a melee weapon. Fire doesn’t harm him, but water sure as heck does (but he can drink things like koolaid and soda and be perfectly fine... just no water on it’s own or saline solution)!!! He bleeds ferrofluid, which he can manipulate, harden, and liquify at will as a last resort in a fight or to keep his injuries from deterring him too badly. He’s a bit of a himbo, but not as dumb... he just has his moments where “me brain am no werk so gud” and it’s evident when he starts having Freudian Slips in whatever he’s trying to say or his response to a question is “uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhm...... wait one...... run that by me again?”. Gears was around during the great human monster war, which in his AU the humans sealed them in the mountain, but chased them till they were backed against the barrier, but the monsters hit a massive stroke of good luck and managed to take back the underground with the help of Frisk. Being a war veteran that has seen things no one should ever have to, he suffers from PTSD. Gears has a soft spot for children, and will often babysit for others if they ask.

Name: Sketch Age: 40 Likes: drawing, painting, coloring, blood, sketching,..... what? Dislikes: ......... what were we talkin bout? Bio: Sketch is an unhinged scatterbrained clutz of an aspiring artist.... with a dark side. She’s a low-key sadist that’s developed a taste for blood. Once you piss her off, stopping her is like trying to stop the Doom Guy.... just... stay out of her warpath and pray to whoever you pray to that you’re not the one she’s storming towards. She’s a MASSIVE perv and will openly stare at whatever she sees that she likes a little too much, even known to get handsy when the person doesn’t take the hint. She often loses track of important things like her phone, keys, ect and loses her train of though every now and then or feigns it to skillfully dodge questions and conversations she’d rather not be having.

Name: Rave Age: 42 Likes: singing, dancing, fashion and most importantly BOOOOOOOYYYYYS~ Dislikes: ..... depends on the situation, really~ Bio: A flamboyantly gay vigilante is also a medic with powerful healing magic. Rave is fleet of foot and deathly quiet when sneaking up on someone and with enough stamina to outrun most of his targets. His weapon of choice is a glowstick staff. Wanna hear what he sounds like? Go to youtube and look up any nightcore male version of any Ke$ha song and that’s what he sounds like. Rave likes looking hot AF and can frequently be found rocking women’s punk, pop and grunge style clothing and looking damn good in it and some eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara. He prides himself in keeping himself as healthy and fit as he possibly can at all times. He unironically likes pumpkin spice anything, peppermint bark lattes, and kale chips. 

Name: Dante Age: 42 Likes: children, Italian food, guns, cigars, wine, bourbon, being a wise guy mobster, Helping others.... so long as they help someone else in return that is.... sorta like.... paying for the person behind you in a drive thru where it starts a chain reaction of people paying for the next person’s meal..... little acts of kindness make the world go round, y’know.... and I’m a charitable man. Dislikes: rude people, having to go “Melancholy”, Bio: This Mafiatale Ganz (GZTale Sans) is the don of his own mafia that deal in guns, alcohol, and providing protection to those who come to him on the day of his sister's daughter's son's niece's nephew's grandmother's sister's wedding-..... pffffft hahaha!!! Just kidding! He has no blood relatives besides his brother Leon, but this group of people (everyone in the two pictures above this) are like.... illegitimate family.... adoptive you could say. Dante’s great with kids. He and Gears are the best at babysitting and often work together to help lost children find their families again when they’re out and about. Dante enjoys giving back to the community as much as he possibly can, even spending his free time doing volunteer work and donating funds to the city. When Dante gets a custom order on a gun, he has Gears forge it for him and focuses on the fine details, dip dying, engraving and making custom bullets to match.

Name: Anomaly Age: immortal, frozen at age 23 Likes: helping others, traveling to other AUs, fruity alcohol, karaoke, JAPANESE FOOD!!! Dislikes: spicy food, beer, celery, mushrooms, country music Bio: Anomaly has ben around for god knows how long. They are bigender. They have wings and horns (cause They’re a fallen angel) but prefers to hide them away. 40 years ago, they decided to create their own AU as a safe haven for anyone trying to escape danger, though danger seems to find their little safe haven more than they’d like to admit. It was around this time they discovered forgotten AUs and ones being destroyed or deleted and decided to try to rescue as many people from them as they could, bringing them back to populate their AU Crossroads, aptly named due to it being a meltingpot of the multiverse and still growing in size and population to this day. The 9 skeletons listed above were the first 9 they ever rescued and they became like their own kids. They’re a goofball, but make Them mad and you’ll feel their wrath! Skilled in a multitude of weapons and fighting styles, they’re a formidable force of nature. They can shift between male and female at will, though they prefer their female form due to them being able to fit in smaller spaces, being lighter weight, and being able to doe eye and bat their eyelashes out of most situations.... plus free drinks at the local bar on Thursdays.

Name: Eros Age: 19 Likes: long walks on the beach, cuddles, his family, oreos Dislikes: rainy days, confrontation (cause it makes people afraid of him) Bio: This 10ft tall, frightening behemoth is actually Aiden’s son! Out of all the second generation, he’s the youngest of the adults, but the most responsible of the four boys, often being the voice of reason amongst them, especially when it comes to the well being of children around his idiotic cousins Etch and Scribble and often being the one to get little ZJ to listen to what he’s told by telling him going to bed on time and eating vegetables will make him grow up big and strong like him. He’s actually a little on the shy side and very humble, only hamming things up around ZJ and other small children present. He suffers from early onset arthritis and has to take medication for it to keep his joints from locking up and grinding together, but he doesn’t let it hold him down. He and his uncle Gears work out together because it helps his aching bones and because Gears turns it into fun little challenges for him to keep him going with it instead of giving up.

Name: Etch Age: 21 (but a few months younger than Chiller and Calibri) Likes: mEmEs!!!, weed, being annoying, prank wars Dislikes: being forgotten, being ignored, pain (has a very low pain tolerance) Bio: One of Sketch’s sons and Scribble’s twin brother. He’s just very lonely and wants people to pay attention to him to stave off being alone for as long as he can... whether said attention is positive or negative. When no one pays attention to him or there’s no one to keep his thoughts from wandering to dark places, he steals his brother’s weed stash and gets high... which his brother hates because Etch could easily go to a doctor and get his own prescribed to him, but Etch fears the doctor’s office more than death and adamantly refuses to go, even hiding or running away at the mere mention of it. Etch tried to get a tattoo once.... he went into it screaming like a badass Viking, but before they could even roll up his sleeve to start, he ran out blubbering like a baby. He’s the most irresponsible one in the entire family and is always the one to cause major problems because of a bad idea he thought was good at the time. He ends up in bad situations a lot and finds himself with the wrong crowd more often than not, but lucky for him he has a family full of badasses that come to bail him out of any situation before he ends up hurt too badly.

Name: Scribble Age: 21 (but a few months younger than Chiller and Calibri) Likes: memes, weed, hanging around Etch, Eros and ZJ, cuddles Dislikes: when Etch steals his weed, when Etch gets into trouble, pain (another with very low pain tolerance, looky there! But he has literally no tolerance for pain.... he screamed when he got those piercings)  Bio: Scribble suffers from anxiety and clinical depression and was prescribed marijuana to treat it. He and his brother were home schooled after freshman year of high school due to Etch pissing off the entire football team and them all ambushing the brothers in the locker room after gym class and um... let’s just say Etch got over it and Scribble still fears .....backdoor intimacy after what the football team did to them. Scribble is unable to protect himself and is a firm believer in pacifism. In times of battle, Scribble acts as a messenger, able to write notes in magic ink that can only be seen by it’s intended recipients. He normally just rolls with whatever Etch is doing or does what he’s told to avoid a conflict.

Name: Spritle Age: 20 Likes: Cheesy romance, dark humor and morbid jokes, rainy days Dislikes: removing her death touch nullifying necklace, people sexualizing her right off the bat, people underestimating her because of her appearance Bio: This brightly colored reaper girl is one of Sparkle’s daughters. She prefers to blend into the background and not be the center of attention if she can help it. Yes, her freckles are rainbow colors. She’s more on the proper side like her aunt Shade and enjoys a relationship if it’s not centered around perversion. She’d rather spend the day cuddled up on the couch watching disney movies, eating pizza and sharing a drink with two straws. She really likes nostalgic and retro things like 50′s diners and drive in movies. If you’re with her and intend on asking her out, doing old school gestures like laying your jacket over a puddle so she won’t step in it is the quickest way to win her over.

Name: Pixie Age: 19 Likes: when any guy is interested in her, when soon to be reaped souls try to run from her sister (It gives her something to do), sushi Dislikes: When people think she’s a child because of her nearly flat chest and high pitches voice, How her big sister has a bigger bust than her (Sprilte: Hey, if I could switch with you, I would! These things hurt my back!) Bio: Sparkle’s youngest daughter. Her father was an ErrorFellSwap Papyrus. She works with her sister as a chaser. Her job is to chase after, disarm and detain souls that refuse to be reaped when their time comes via trying to fight death or outrun it and thus trying to fight/run away from Spritle. Pixie is the first ever chaser on record and was the one who proposed the idea to the reaper council to keep reapers from tearing their bodies up to do their job. Chasers can be identified by a little white cross on their clothing or accessories and are required to be fast runners and ferocious fighters. Pixie has the speed and ferocity of a FellSwap Papyrus and is able to use her error strings to easily take weapons from your hands and tie you up to await the cold bite of Spritle’s scythe or claw blades. Pixie enjoys puzzles, her favorite being rubix cubes.

Name: ZJ Age: 4 Likes: coloring, playing outside, hanging out with the older boys, spending time with uncle Gears and uncle Dante, when his momma reads to him, hide and seek, COOKIES, CAKE AND CANDY!!! Dislikes: When people are mean and hurt others, vegetables, bed time Bio: Shade’s adopted son. ZJ is shy, yet a hyperactive ball of energy that likes to hang around with Etch, Scribble, and Eros. He has wisdom beyond his years thanks to his mother reading college level literature as his bedtime stories, but he has trouble articulating his words from the first three years of his life being spent with everyone baby talking him. When he doesn’t know how to respond to something, he just reacts by screaming “I DUNNO WHAT’S GOIN ON!!!” the same happens when he gets overwhelmed, but it’s accompanied by him hiding behind the nearest trusted adult.

FEEL FREE TO START SENDING ASKS AND RP STARTERS!!!

[dear-selena]

Sketchbook (Peter Parker x Stark!Reader): Chapter 1

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (Female) 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Summary: (Y/N) never understood science based subjects, despite putting all her efforts into studying them. Kids at school bullied her, her father, Tony Stark, was disappointed in her, and the Avengers looked the other way. Peter Parker, her best friend and secret crush for almost two years, was always there supporting you when you needed someone. However, since he became an Avenger and your dad’s ‘favorite kid’, you don’t know how much longer he’ll be around for you. 

You find yourself struggling to exist with everything working against you, and instead of asking others for help, you turn to your sketchbook. 

Warnings: angst, bullying, mentions of depression / suicide 

A/N: Hey everyone! This is a story idea I’ve had for a while, and I have to say this is the most intense writing I’ve ever done. Because of how massive I’m making the character development, and the fact that I’m going back to college in two days, my updates for this story will not be quick. I can guarantee that I will not drop this story, as I have already written half the chapters. All I’m asking from you, if you’d like to follow this story, is to be patient with me as I update. I was planning on creating a mood board and everything, so I really do have confidence I will complete this story XD. 

With that said, this story is going to have heavy themes of depression and suicide, especially in future chapters. If this is triggering to you in anyway, please feel free to skip this story. I will be tagging the triggers, and will warn of any serious themes throughout this story. If there is anything else I can do to be aware of safety for my readers, please reach out! 

Hope everyone is well! Enjoy the first chapter of Sketchbook! 

Chapter 1: Flashes and Shades

Words: 1962

------------

Shaking your leg under the desk, you anxiously wait for your chemistry midterm to return to you. 

As your teacher, Mrs. Smith, slowly passes exam books back to each student, you couldn’t help but pray for a good grade. ‘Please, at least a B this time… at least a B’ repeats in your head over and over. You studied your butt off the past two weeks for this exam, yet nothing would click in your brain. For some reason, balancing equations, differentiating the elements on the periodic table, and identifying every single scientific law known to man never came easy to you. 

You hope the extra studying you did would finally pay off. 

Mrs. Smith eventually came up to you and hands your exam back to you face down. Not being able to hold in your anxiety, you flip the packet over immediately, only to be met with disappointment and a wish that you never got your exam back at all. 

Written and circled in a bright red marker, a D+ mockingly spat at you. 

Eyes going wide and heartbeat accelerating, you quickly hide your exam, making sure none of your classmates saw your poor grade. You look around at your classmates to see them showing off their grades to one another, most of them with A’s or B+’s. Before you could let the significance of your peers get to your head, the bell rang. You quickly shove your failure into your backpack, and make your way to your next class, English. 

English wasn’t a hard subject for you. In fact, you enjoy the readings that were assigned and always participate in discussions. However, that didn’t really matter at Midtown School of Science and Technology, one of the top college prep schools in New York. Subjects like physics, biology, and calculus truly matter to faculty and students. 

Too bad you practically failed those classes. At least in English you could breathe easy for 90 minutes. 

As you make your way to your next class, you feel eyes following your every move. When you would look up however, students quickly look down, as if they weren’t watching. You knew they were. You’re (Y/N) Stark for God’s sake, daughter of Tony Stark, certified genius and team leader of the Avengers. Even though you were a Stark, you were a certified idiot, and everyone at Midtown knew that. 

You absolutely hate it. 

Negative thoughts start to come into your head, ones you wish you could push away. You mostly thought about your existence, how it would be for everyone if you simply weren’t there. Before your thoughts could elaborate and get more intense, your phone vibrates in your pocket and you see that Peter Parker, your best friend for the past two years, has texted you. 

From: Peter

I hope you did well on your chem midterm! I can’t wait to see you at lunch :)

You smile at your phone, practically beaming at Peter’s kind words. Peter always knew how to cheer you up and snap you out of your bad thoughts. You have no idea how he does it, but nevertheless, you love that about him. You’ve loved Peter for a long time, ever since your father took him in as his successor. But you knew he was out of your league. One day though, you hope you can share your feelings with him. 

Before you could respond to your best friend, a booming voice calls out to you. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss Stark herself.” You look up to see none other than Flash Thompson approaching you with a cocky grin, ultimately souring your mood. Flash likes to pick on Peter with dumb nicknames, but with you, he’s a bit more relentless. “How’d that chem test go?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Why does it matter to you?” 

“I’m just looking out for you sweetheart,” Flash leans in close to your ear, grabbing your shoulders firmly. “You know, so you don’t flunk chemistry again.” 

Quickly pulling away from Flash, you try to hide your face so he can’t see the tears starting to burn in your eyes. He’s right. You took chemistry last year with Flash, Peter, and many other students in your grade. Peter would try to help you in class, and that helped a lot. However you didn’t quite make a passing grade, and when you saw how disappointed your dad was, you knew you had to retake the class and get a better grade. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Flash coos in a mocking tone. “You don’t have to be ashamed around me. A pretty girl like you can always cry on my shoulder.” If you weren’t in school, and if you weren’t your father’s daughter, you’d have spat at him. 

“I have to get to class.” You quickly say, trying to walk away. However, Flash never made it easy. 

“You don’t have to run from me (Y/N),” Flash starts, and you reluctantly turn around. “So what that you aren’t at all smart? At least you can still go here with all the money your daddy’s paying for you to stay in. That’s some lucky wealth you have at your fingertips.” 

Before Flash continues, you turn and quickly walk to the nearest bathroom, tears already falling from your (E/C) eyes. You hate it when people brought your father’s name and wealth into the picture. Logically, someone that fails classes at Midtown, especially a science one, wouldn’t have a GPA high enough to stay enrolled. But despite your poor grades that never seemed to improve, you still roam the halls of Midtown. You knew your father has something to do with it, but you’re too ashamed of yourself to talk to him about those logistics. 

As you find your way into the bathroom and lock yourself into a stall, you let your frustrations come out, silently sobbing. Things Flash would say directly to you was ultimately what your peers would say behind your back. Almost everyone at school knew you were the dumbest kid there, and they made no efforts to hide their thoughts. No matter how hard you studied or how well you took notes in class, your efforts were never enough. 

It made you struggle to find a reason to stay around. 

------------- 

Lunch rolls around quickly, and after humiliatingly walking into English late, you want nothing more than to see Peter. You knew Peter always supported you, but you didn’t know how much longer he’d be there for you. Sure, you love Peter, and he likes you as a friend (at least you hope he does). But he’s been getting all your father’s attention for quite some time now, practically taking the spot on the Avengers team you’ve yearned to have for so long. You never know what your father says about you to Peter, and you really don’t know if he thinks you’re worth it anymore. 

You’d rather not think about that right now. 

You were also close to Ned and MJ, but you found yourself super cautious around them. They never brought up how you were a Stark or practically failing school, but you never knew what they truly thought of you, and that was scary. 

At lunch, Peter saw you gloomily walk into the cafeteria and immediately knew it meant bad news from your exam. Instead of asking you about it however, Peter compliments your outfit, a gesture that makes you blush. 

Peter and Ned were talking about their AP Physics assignment, you longingly listening into their conversation, when MJ comes over and sits next to you. 

“Hey (Y/N), small question.” MJ proceeds to take out her sketchbook and open it up. “I feel like something is off in this drawing but I can’t figure it out. Can you help me?” 

She slides the drawing over to you, and you start to admire her work. It looks like she started a portrait of someone, and you have to say it looked really good! The line work was already traced with pen and she started coloring the character in black and white. However, you did notice what was off about her work. 

“Oh! You didn’t highlight their face all the way.” You say simply. She raises her eyebrows curiously, but hands you her pencil so you can explain further. “You got the dark tones on their face just right, but there’s not really any white tones to balance it.” You start to lightly erase some of the pencil work. “I like to leave white sports around the nose and cheeks like this to give the face more depth.” You hand the pencil and sketchbook back to MJ. “You try it.” 

MJ takes the pencil back and starts erasing lightly, starting to see what you mean. “Oh! Thanks (Y/N). I tend to forget about that stuff.” 

“It’s all good. It comes with practice.” You say, going into your backpack and taking your own sketchbook out. Your sketchbook was practically a safe haven, filled with doodles, designs, and poems from over the years. Whenever you find yourself struggling with negative thoughts or even wishing you were gone, you turn to the moleskin covered book and just let your mind wander. Over time, the simple doodles and haikus turned into intricate drawings and full on hand-written stories. 

Opening your sketchbook up, you turn to one of your early doodles, a drawing of your father in his signature Iron-Man suit. “I drew this of my dad a few years ago, and you can tell I didn’t know what I was doing.” You laugh at yourself. 

MJ’s eyebrows furrow. “What are you talking about? This looks amazing!” You look back at the drawing in confusion. MJ just rolls her eyes. “I mean, it’s not shaded, but you got some really good detail on your father’s suit. It kind of looks like you can even see wiring in it.” 

Sending MJ a small smile, you can feel your cheeks turning red. “Thanks… I just think my more recent drawings are a little easier on the eyes.” With that, you turn to some drawings you worked on last week, ones you did after a typical scolding from your father about your grades. These drawings were more intricate, small shapes dancing across the pages in a contemporary pattern. 

MJ’s eyes pop out of her skull. “Whoa… Can I just look through these for a bit?” 

You nod, letting her know of some pages to avoid. You told her they were crummy sketches, but in reality, those pages were filled with words that… might cause some serious concern. 

As MJ intently looks through your most prized possession. You feel eyes on you again. At first you thought your classmates were pitifully staring at you again, but to your surprise, you see Peter looking at you, biting his lip in an attempt to hide a smirk. 

“What?” You ask innocently, unsure of why Peter would be staring at you that way. Was he trying not to laugh at you…?

Peter blinks, realizing he’s been caught. “Oh, n-nothing.” He sends you a sheepish smile. 

You simply smile back at the boy, a blush once again creeping onto your cheeks. Before he could see it though, MJ starts to ask you some questions about the drawings in your sketchbook. In moments like this, you were thankful that something distracted you from your crush. After all, you were nowhere in his league. He’s a superhero with crazy abilities, one of the smartest kids in school, and your father’s most cherished mentee. 

All you are is a dumb girl with a sketchbook.

------------

-Peter Parker Tag List-

@sweetcoffeeblandtea // @house-arya // @jovialpeanut

-Permanent Tag List-  

@mindset-jupiter // @romance-geek // @imcharishope // @fakindob // @cutiekoa // @wowursofunny

[phoenix-downer]

Brought to Life

Roxas/Naminé. Alternate Universe. Romance. Based off of the Greek myth Pygmalion. ~3000 words. For @scoobysnack1107​. 

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There was nothing Naminé liked more than art.

She started out by drawing on spare scraps of paper her father left around his workshop. Little scrawls and scribbles with pencil stubs as she watched him sculpt works for his many clients. He was the most respected sculptor in the city, and he always had a long list of commissions to work on. 

When Naminé wasn’t helping her mother with chores around the house, she spent every spare moment watching her father at work. Once she was old enough, he enlisted her help and then formally signed her on as an apprentice. From then on, every spare moment she spent in his workshop honing her craft. She learned to work with a variety of mediums—wood, stone, clay, metal—but marble was her favorite. It was easy to mold and yet resistant to shattering, and she loved the feel of its texture beneath her fingers and its slight translucence that mimicked human skin. 

As the years passed, Naminé developed a reputation as something of a prodigy. People began to ask her to craft special orders under her own name and not her father’s. And when she wasn’t working in her father’s workshop, she worked with a master painter in the city and learned his secrets, too. By the time her twentieth birthday had arrived, she had quite the following of her own and was set for a life of steady work and happy clients for both sculpture and painting. 

There was just one catch. She had no one with which to live her life, and her parents were not getting any younger. They worried about who would take care of her once they were gone and urged her to find someone to marry.

“The two of you are still young,” she told them as she added the finishing touches to a painting of their splendid city during its summer festival for the goddess Aphrodite. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I have clients enough to last me for the rest of my days.” 

“Naminé, we’re not worried about your ability to provide for yourself,” her mother said as she took a seat on one of the workbenches. Her blond hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her blue eyes were filled with worry for her daughter. “Ever since you were little, we’ve known you’re talented, and your hard work has ensured you’ll be able to take care of yourself for the rest of your days.” 

“What we’re worried about is that you’ll be lonely,” her father said. His dark hair had a few streaks of gray in it now, but his blue eyes were as intense as ever, and Naminé knew he had many years of life ahead of him yet.

“Lonely?” Naminé set her paintbrush down. Why should she be lonely with such a happy family and so many happy clients? Her parents’ friends were wonderful too, and she never lacked for company if she so desired it.

“Don’t you want someone to spend the rest of your days with?” her mother said. 

“Oh, like a husband?” 

Her parents both nodded, and she glanced outside. She often saw young men pass by their shop when she worked into the twilight hours; it was on the way to a rather seedy part of the city, and she was less than impressed by the effects of alcohol, gambling, and prostitutes on the young men. Didn’t they have any respect for their wives and families?

Naminé sniffed. She had no use for a husband who would drink himself into a stupor, gamble her hard-earned money away, and then spend the night using the body of some poor woman whose name he couldn’t even be bothered to remember, all while his wife waited lonely and unsatisfied at home for him to come home at the crack of dawn to pass out and sleep the morning away while she did the chores. She would rather be alone forever than be miserably married to such a man. 

“I’m not interested in any of the men I’ve met,” she said. “I’m not interested in marriage at all.”

Let her parents think what they would about her words, but she would not be persuaded to chain herself to a miserable marriage. She had never met a man she would be interested in marrying, and she doubted that would change. There were plenty of good men in the world, but the ones she knew were all already married, and she had no taste for adultery or affairs. 

Her parents dropped the subject for now, but every now and then it would come up in conversation. One breezy autumn day, as they ate lunch on the terrace of their home, it came up again, and with a vengeance.

“Naminé,” her father said, not even trying to hide the exasperation in his voice, “if you don’t ever meet any young men, how would you know you’re not interested in marriage?” 

“It’s true. You spend so much time in the workshop and hardly any time at all meeting people your age,” her mother said as she sipped her goblet of wine. 

“I have a lot of work to do,” Naminé replied. “If I work hard now, I can build a good reputation for myself and have more flexibility when I’m older. Then I can think about marriage.” 

There was no point in rushing. Right now, her career took center stage. Marriage could come much later… if at all. 

Her mother daintily patted her mouth with her napkin. “Do you even know what you want in a husband?” 

Naminé thought for a moment. “Someone kind and caring, someone loyal and true. A man who would defend me from harm and never betray my trust. A man who would love me and want to be with me always.” 

Her father brightened. “Those are all good qualities. Why don’t I inquire with a matchmaker about—”

She shook her head. “It’s okay, father. I don’t think such a man exists. Or if he does, he’s already happily married to someone else.”

Her parents dropped the subject once more, but their conversation haunted her. She had little faith her dream man existed, but her life as an artist had taught her that she could create things out of nothing. She could make things a reality that had only existed in her head before.  

She stayed in the workshop after she’d finished the day’s work. A big hunk of marble had been delivered yesterday, and she had let it sit there, unsure of what to do with it. It was far too big to make a bust out of, and no one had commissioned her to make any full-body sculptures lately. 

But tonight, she had just the idea. Grabbing some wire, her fingers worked swiftly and deftly to craft a basic human figure. Then she took a large lump of clay and shaped it around the frame to get an overall idea of what she wanted the sculpture to look like. 

Content with what she had so far, she went to bed, physically tired but mentally alert. The next few weeks she spent building a full scale model and then added tacks at key points. Once she was happy with their locations, she transferred the tacks to the block of marble to get a sense of scale. 

This next part was what she’d been looking forward to the most. Mallet and chisel in hand, she went to work bringing out the man trapped inside the marble. A dynamic pose to emphasize his movement, to make him seem real. A broad chest and wide shoulders, strong enough to wield a sword and protect her from harm. A resolute expression on his face, because he was passionate and driven. And yet his eyes needed to look at her just right; had to be both both determined and gentle. 

This process took months, especially because Naminé still had her clients’ commissions to work on. She usually only had time to work on the sculpture of the man during the evening after her other duties were fulfilled, and she spent many a late night working on him. But as he became more and more lifelike with each passing day, she was more determined than ever to finish her work. Now she was using a more specific set of tools; tooth chisels and claw chisels and rasps and rifflers. 

When at last the sculpture before her matched the image in her head and the models she’d made, it was time to sand the uneven parts down with a special rough stone called emery. The color of the marble shone through in this process as a thin patina developed over its surface, and she also added a sealing compound to make the marble practically glow. 

Now for the reason she’d studied painting: so she could paint her own statues. She gave the man blond hair and blue eyes with Naples yellow and Egyptian blue. His hair was brighter gold than her own, so bright it was like the daffodils that grew in her family’s garden. And his eyes were darker blue than her own, as blue as the water in the fountain reflecting the color of the tiles beneath it. She painted his skin and clothes with a variety of other fine pigments. Dragon’s blood, lead white, and lamp black contrasted nicely with his hair and were what she largely used for his clothes. 

At long last, after over a year’s worth of work, she was finished. She set her paintbrushes down and stared at her creation. This was what she had worked so hard on, what she had poured hundreds of hours of sweat and tears and the occasional drop of blood into. Her ideal man. His golden hair swept up towards the sky, and his blue eyes gazed down at her. The robes draped from his arms and legs were so realistic they almost seemed like actual clothes, and his striking pose made him look like a warrior or messenger coming down from the heavens to protect her.

She brought her hand to her cheek, and it was hot. Was she really… blushing? Just from looking at a statue she’d made? How was this even…

She ducked her head and then looked back at the statue, mesmerized by her own creation. He was handsome and dashing, tall and strong and true. Loyal and faithful because he knew only her, knew only her touch which had spent hours bringing him into being. 

It was a good thing he wasn’t real. Otherwise he would be disloyal, just like the others. Just like her first love who had—

She cleared her throat and looked away. She wouldn’t think about that man and how he’d broken her heart, finding shelter in the arms of another woman instead of her arms. Because now she had a man that would never leave her, never abandon her, never betray her. 

Maybe he wasn’t real, but she couldn’t risk her heart on a real man again. 

Right?

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Though the statue was, by her father’s estimation, her greatest work yet, Naminé refused to sell it. She didn’t even want other people seeing it lest they get any ideas. Very rarely did she keep any of her works for herself, but this one was an exception. She was keeping it for the rest of her days.

She found her eyes drawn to it often as she worked, and her blush returned when she glanced at it. It was so lifelike, so realistic, that she couldn’t help but be drawn to it. No, to him. Referring to him as an it felt wrong. The more she looked at him, the more she felt he had a soul trapped in the rock, much like his form had once been trapped in the rock.

Late at night, after her father had gone to bed and the other workers had gone home, she’d taken to lingering in the workshop to spend a few more moments with him. As she gazed into his eyes one summer night, the moonlight shining on his face, a thought occurred to her.

“I haven’t given you a name yet.” 

She pressed her fingers together as she thought. He needed a name, a fitting name…  

“You were hewn out of marble, out of rock…” She smiled. “Roxas. Your name is Roxas.”

He gazed at her steadily, and her blush spread up her cheeks. The name was perfect, just like he was perfect. She reached for his hand and wrapped her fingers around it. Her hand fit perfectly in his, and she sighed. 

“Roxas, I think I love you.” 

Her breath caught in her throat. Had she really just said those words out loud? Was she really in love with a statue? How awful, how could she have let this happen—

Ashamed, she fled from the workshop and retreated to her room and buried herself under her blankets. This had gone on for too long. Roxas had bewitched her, heart and body and soul, and a statue so powerful must be cursed with evil magic. She had to get rid of him as soon as possible before some disastrous fate fell upon her and her family. 

But the thought of losing him, the thought of losing her beloved Roxas, made her heart sink. Could she so easily throw him out when she had made him? Cast him aside like her first love had cast her aside? 

Still, this obsession wasn’t healthy. She needed to do something about it. Tomorrow was the first day of the festival for Aphrodite. Maybe, if she went to the goddess’s temple and prayed, Aphrodite would send her a real man that would make her forget all about her infatuation with a statue. 

Yes, that was what she would do. Satisfied now that she had a plan, she was able to go to sleep. But as she slipped from consciousness, it was Roxas’s chiseled marble face that lingered in her mind.

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Naminé rose early the next morning for the festival so she could carefully select some choice flowers from her family’s garden to offer as a gift to Aphrodite. It wouldn’t do to approach the goddess empty-handed, and so Naminé made sure she had an offering worthy of the city’s deity.

The flowers selected, she made her way to the sanctuary of Aphrodite, where the altar of Aphrodite rested. Throngs of people surrounded her, as the festival was already underway, and it took quite some time before she made it inside the sanctuary, let alone to where the altar was. But at last it was her turn to offer a gift to the goddess, and as she did, she made a wish, her voice barely above a whisper.

“If it so pleases you, Aphrodite, I would like to wish for a husband in the likeness of my Roxas.” 

In her heart of hearts, she knew the wish was not entirely true. She didn’t just want a husband in the likeness of Roxas, she wanted Roxas to be her husband. But she was still too ashamed to admit her true desire, so she went home and returned to the workshop. A particularly wealthy patron had requested a bust of him and his wife, and she wanted to get at least a little work done for his request today. 

But when she entered the studio, Roxas was there waiting for her. He looked even more handsome and lifelike than ever, and a strange urge came over her. Her feet carried her to him, as if she was being carried along by the breeze. She cupped his cheek, and she could’ve sworn his skin felt soft beneath her touch. 

“Roxas,” she said, her voice breaking. “My dear Roxas. How badly do I wish you were real.” 

His blue eyes steadily gazed back at her as she stroked his face. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed her mouth against his in a sweet kiss, her eyes fluttering shut as she indulged the fantasy that had taken root in her heart from the moment she’d named him. To her surprise, his lips felt warm. She leaned back a little, her lips parting and her eyes widening, then kissed him again.

This time, she didn’t stop kissing him, even when his lips grew warmer and his skin grew ever softer against her touch. And then his arms went around her and he was kissing her back. A soft cry caught in her throat as he did. This was real. He was real, and he was holding her in his arms like she’d dreamed he would.

She remembered. She remembered everything. Why no man she’d ever met could satisfy her. No man in this life, anyway. Why her heart was so drawn to a statue of him, to this man she loved with all her heart. Her Roxas was in her arms, and all was right in the World again. 

When they finally broke apart, she was breathless. She would’ve fallen if he hadn’t caught her and gently pulled her up.

“Naminé,” he said, his voice breaking as he looked into her eyes and caressed her cheek. 

She hugged him again. “Roxas—”

He held her and comforted her as she cried, reassuring her that their long separation was over, that he was here and they were together again. 

“We promised, remember? ‘We’ll meet again,’” he said, smiling as he repeated the words she’d told him so long ago. “So here I am. It wasn’t the way I was expecting, exactly, but what matters is that I’m here and we’re together.” 

“Yes.” She found his hand and held it. Even when her mind had forgotten him, her heart hadn’t. Her body hadn’t either; it had guided her through the long process it had taken to bring him back to life, and it was responding so wonderfully to his touch. 

He scooped her up in his arms. “Shall we?” he said as she laughed lightly. 

“Yes, we shall.” 

As he carried her out of the workshop and to the house, she couldn’t take her eyes off of his face. They were together again at long last, and she wanted to make the most of every moment.

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A/N: This fic was written for @scoobysnack1107​! Rokunami is dear to her heart, and she’s poured so much love and effort into the Rokunami fandom. I wanted to write something for her to thank her for that, as well as to thank her for supporting me :) 

This guide was really helpful in terms of how to make a marble sculpture, and I drew heavily on it when I wrote the descriptions of Naminé making the sculpture of Roxas. Also, thank you to @rapis-razuri​ for looking over things for me and providing suggestions and feedback!

Hope you all enjoyed! 

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 20--Zexion

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo continues to play into Xehanort's hands, and finds an old ally in the process.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

It took time to earn Xehanort’s trust--perhaps too much. But then again, considering Ienzo had suffered “twelve years of indoctrination with propaganda”, it was surprising the man began to trust him at all.

Two weeks after his initial arrival at the castle, his milk dried up completely, an ache so intense he felt it inside of his still-deadened magic. Amalia would be six weeks old. His arms felt so empty without her. He hoped that she was safe, healthy, that Demyx was with her. He had to believe this for his sanity.

Ienzo had to be clever. He was shocked at how easily deception came to him--deception that had never been used to do anything more than hide when Even sought him. He pretended to take an intense interest in “Ansem”’s research. And to be honest, he was interested, but not in the way he let on.

“Darkness is intrinsic in every heart,” the man told him. Ienzo was joining them for meals now. “If we can draw out that darkness… we can give people power. Help them shed their bonds of tyranny.”

“But it seems there’s some kind of transmutative property to darkness which is mostly unpredictable,” Ienzo said carefully. “How do you plan on controlling that?”

“I have several tests running which may illuminate such things,” Ansem said, and elaborated no more.

Ienzo swallowed. “I see. Perhaps you may… let me see some of this research. I wonder if my power might provide some sort of… insight.” He continued to eat, as casually as possible.

“Perhaps,” he said. “I’m sure its absence must make you feel blind. You do understand why we had to do things this way, yes?”

Ienzo smiled. “Of course. Were I in your shoes I’m sure I would’ve done the same.” He decided to take the risk. “What… did you do, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Ansem grinned back. “Placed a limiter upon you,” he said. “A self-replicating injectable. Given time… I’m sure my father would consent for you to receive its antidote.”

Ienzo tried not to show his horror. “Quite.”

Once a week or so, Xehanort requested an “audience” with Ienzo. He seemed to be selecting places he thought would be most important to Ienzo; the gardens, the main library, his father’s study. And they were; seeing how they had been perverted seemed like a personal slight. But Ienzo had to be cordial, polite, accommodating. Instead he forced himself to thank him for allowing him this much “freedom.”

They were being served tea in the rose garden one afternoon. It was a bit too cold to be outside, and Ienzo hadn’t been given a coat, just a sweater. There were two heaters hovering around, but they didn’t do much.

“I must thank you for your patience,” Xehanort said smoothly. “I know this must not be easy for you, to be treated a prisoner in your own home.”

“I thought I was a…” He took a deliberate pause here. “Guest.”

Xehanort chuckled. “A guest in a locked, warded walk-in closet?”

“...Your words, not mine.”

He picked up his cup. True to Lydia’s word, all of his family preferred things dark, sour, and bitter; Ienzo wondered if they could not taste well due to the darkness. “I would like nothing more than to allow you run of the castle, to give you quarters more… suitable for someone of your status.”

“But you don’t trust me.”

“My sons don’t trust you,” Xehanort said. “ I think you were a little boy misled by people who supposedly cared about you. No. You have been nothing but tolerant of how we’ve treated you, questioning nothing.”

“Over the intervening years… I’ve been treated worse,” he said pleasantly. It was time to lie, and lie big.

This got his attention. “Have you, my dear prince?”

“Oh, yes. Quite often we’ve stayed in… places of ill repute, in cities crawling with danger. My guardians… coddled me endlessly, would not allow me the freedom to make my own choices. They said it was for my safety.” He tutted. “But do they truly wish for me to be king, if I am not allowed to make choices? Or am I… a puppet?”

Xehanort’s face organized itself into something he must’ve thought pity. “What would you have chosen, then?” he asked. “Xemnas said you were rather distraught, that night, when Even was injured.”

“Isn’t any child distraught when seeing violence for the first time? I did care about him then,  I won’t lie.”

“Do you, now?”

Ienzo sighed. “I’m sure your son must have told you stories of their years working together. Even is… hard to read. It’s hard to tell what he wants, what his intentions truly are. He is quite a master manipulator, Xehanort. I don’t know what I should believe.”

Xehanort smiled widely. “I think you’re allowed to decide what you believe now, child.”

Hook, line, sinker.

---

Soon after, Ienzo was moved from that small, enclosed room to his old bedroom. Seeing it was like a small gut-punch of memory. Had this space always been so open, the bed so exposed? It was smaller than he remembered, but larger than anywhere else he’d stayed in all this time. The bed was a king, four-poster, neatly made in violet silk, thin curtains tied back to each post. There was a large white marble fireplace with flowers carved all along it, a small chaise nearby. A sitting room adjoined this space, with a writing desk, a table to take his meals, three of the walls lined with bookshelves and storage; the fourth was mostly windowed. The bathroom, too, seemed large and exposed, too much light. Admittedly it was much more comfortable to wait in these rooms. At least he had the luxury of pacing, of books.

As much as he could, Ienzo researched. It seemed like a lot of the textbooks his father had given him had been removed, leaving spaces like missing teeth. Books about the science and theory behind magic… the fairy tales.

Time was passing.

His longing for his daughter and Demyx only seemed to be getting stronger. He knew he was missing the small moments, the important ones, moments crucial to her development. He didn’t even have the peace of his pendant, considering he’d taken it off that evening before bed. Being polite, kind to them--especially the youngest--was wearing. More than once he cried in the shower, and now and again there was the fleeting thought of what it might feel like to “fall” out the window. But it was never more than a passing impulse. He would see Amalia again, even if it killed him. He repeated it to himself, constantly, a manta. He would hold her, smell her. Play with her.

But Ienzo played into their palms wonderfully. He expressed curiosity about darkness, he yes’ed them to death when it came to their ideals. He complimented “Ansem”. When Xehanort offered him the new “name,” he knew it was a major sign of trust. Still, hearing that clunky X thrown into the name he had chosen so carefully felt like another stab to the self.

He needed to get down to the lab, desperately, but the few times he asked he was so politely told no. Ienzo took vociferous notes of whatever he was told, carving them between the lines of his storybooks. He left thin pencil leads among the spines to see if anyone was snooping through his things; it seemed like they weren’t, as they never broke.

He needed his power back. If he had his power, he could sneak down into the lab. There were no other computers connected to the OS that had Tron; he checked as soon as he was allowed to, but the computers Ienzo could access just had the basic office programs, editing programs, things of that ilk, as well as the Internet. Using that, too, was just about useless; he knew that Even had likely taken them off the grid again. And all social media was blocked, preventing him from getting any messages to any of his other friends. He wondered about physical letters. Maybe Lydia might pass something on for him? But he didn’t quite trust her yet, either, despite the fact that she seemed to be his devoted maid, and she hadn't exposed the fact he'd had a child. If he had the power, he could sense her intentions. Everything hinged on performing well enough to get the magic back.

Fall deepened into winter. He’d forgotten what these coastal winters were like, wind howling against the windows, making every room freezing despite the double-paned windows and the fireplaces.

Every now and again Xehanort, or one of his sons, would not-so-subtly pry for information about Ansem, about the resistance. Ienzo told them the rare truth in this case; he had no idea where Ansem was or what he was up to. He also said that Even had refused to tell him anything about the resistance. He kept his answers as consistent as possible, fully aware this was why they kept asking.

It seemed that several things happened in quick succession. “Ansem” deigned to give him his power back; Xehanort wanted to reintroduce him to the public; and someone else he’d nearly forgotten entered his life.

“You’ve been gracious,” Ansem told him. “My father agrees that there’s no point in suppressing your power further, lest we cause it undue harm.”

So Ienzo was led downstairs, so temptingly close to that lab, was laid onto a narrow gurney and strapped down. “What are--”

Ansem started an IV. “The serum works theoretically . But I don’t know for sure how it reacts inside a human body. This is… mostly for your own safety. Can’t have you falling and hitting that precious head of yours.”

Was that sarcasm?

“Don’t you trust me, Zexion?” Ansem purred. “There. Now be a good boy and try not to move.”

Something cold and stinging entered the port Ansem had placed in his hand; it felt like ice water being injected inside Ienzo’s veins. He jerked without meaning to.

“Stillness, boy.”

The cold crept down all along his body, a sharp shattering pain. Ienzo wondered briefly if he were simply being poisoned before he felt a heaviness in the pit of his being, something being lifted and dragged out of him. The serum made his muscles spasm, and he found himself grateful for the restraints. A pained noise left him.

“There, there, Zexion. Not much farther.”

The coldness worsened. He felt as though he could barely breathe, his magic straining against the limiter in his body, breaking it apart. Ienzo could feel dampness and realized it was his own sweat. He felt a mask being placed against his face and jumped before he realized it was just oxygen.

He thought he might shatter, his back arching against the bed. The magic bled back into his body, nearly as painful as when Amalia had separated from him. The pain peaked suddenly, and he blacked out.

---

Ienzo woke slowly.

He was in the infirmary of the castle. Something felt… off, about his body, and he realized it was because the heavy dead wrongness he’d carried all these months was gone. The magic sat under his skin, pregnantly. The serum had worked. There was still an oxygen mask on his face, an IV in his hand. It hurt to move; every bit of him was sore.

“...Why don’t you be a good little boy and rest?”

Ienzo jerked. He recognized the feel of this person, his voice. He tried to speak.

The man came into the range of his sighted eye. “Easy,” he said softly. “Easy, Zexion. ”

Ienzo swallowed. His mouth was so dry. In front of him was “...Braig.” No more than a whisper.

“These days I go by Xigbar, but whatever floats your boat.” He sat on the plastic chair near the bed.

“You look…”

He chuckled. “Like shit?”

“...Different.” He did. His hair was much longer, half-streaked through with white; Ienzo could not tell if he’d aged prematurely, or if it were something else. But then he saw his gold eye, his pointed ears. The eyepatch. “This whole time you’ve been… here?”

“Past thirteen years, kiddo.” He leaned back and crossed his legs. “Good help is hard to come by. All I had to do was swear allegiance to the old man. Would you believe he let me? But after all, I was around you, your old man for years. Figured I’d have to know something.”

Xigbar was hard to read. “So you decided to pay my sickbed a visit?”

“Soon as I heard. They’ve kept word of you being here hush-hush. But there’s a sweet little old lady who thought I’d like to know.”

Lydia. Ienzo swallowed.

“Don’t know what you’re trying to get at. Don’t know that I need to know, either.” He leaned forward a little. “Aren’t you handsome now? Just like your daddy.” A pause. “I guard the old man too.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Come on, kid. You and me were always pot-stirrers.” A laugh. “I don’t believe that’s changed. Not one bit.”

“Why not sell me out, then?”

“Bluntly? Because I don’t think anything’s going to get accomplished here, in the long run. Not by him. I’ve heard that darkness is affecting the farmland. Meaning food. Meaning the planet itself.” His expression became serious. “I don’t know about you, but I like to eat.”

Ienzo furrowed his brows.

“Look, if you need something, I can probably get it to you,” he continued.

“Why should I trust you haven’t been converted, too?”

“Come on, princey. Can’t you feel I’m telling the truth, or whatever?”

He could.

“Besides, according to the old tales… too much darkness, and the planet cracks like an egg.” He clutched his fist. “Don’t want to be there for that, either.”

“...I see.”

A substantial pause. Ienzo knew his cover had been blown at this point. “There’s something else.”

“And that is?”

A slow smile. “A little birdie told me that your family’s trying to find you. So I did some seeking of my own.”

Ienzo tried to hide the surprise on his face.

“They were hard to find. It took me months. Even’s still one clever bastard. I was playing poker one night in some dive bar when someone recognized me… and thought I might like to know you were still alive. He told me all about your little love story. Mazel tov, by the way. She's a cute kid.”

The words exploded from him. “They’re alive?”

“Alive and well.”

A relief he hadn’t quite let himself feel washed through him. “You’ll help me?”

“I’d love to wipe the stupid smirk off Junior’s face. It was his fault this happened to me.” He pointed to his eye. “They used us as experiments.”

“...They just used me as one. But it was necessary.” He sat up slowly. “Could you tell my family…” He hesitated. “Tell them to trust me. ”

Xigbar’s grin was wicked.

[purplesurveys]

1102

survey by joybucket

What color are your eyes? They are dark brown. They’re actually really more of black because of how dark they are, but that sounds creepy so let’s just go with really really dark brown.

What's your favorite type of milk? I don’t take a lot of milk and am not familiar with most of them.

What's your passion? What a deep, introspective question three questions into this survey lmao. My interests are always changing so I don’t really give much thought into this. I don’t let myself be bound to just one thing.

What's your favorite color? I really like the way baby pink looks on everything.

Are you shy? Sure, but I’m trying to break out of that shell. Based from hundreds of past experiences, being shy is the easiest way to be forgettable and I’m tired of people never remembering my name or anything about me.

What is/was your favorite school subject? History. Anything about it I will surely enjoy.

Do you celebrate Christmas? Yes.

What's your favorite quote? I don’t keep track of quotes.

What is your natural hair color? It’s black.

Do you like it? There’s nothing to complain about. I’d love to have it dyed just to try out something new with my look, because it’s been black and untouched for 23 years; I guess it’s just a matter of when I’ll push through with it.

Are you happy with the way you look? I wish some aspects were different, like my hair to be less frizzy, my front teeth to be straight, my eyesight to be clearer, etc. But it’s also whatever; I don’t really focus on these things too much as I’ve never been the type of person to concentrate on my physical looks.

What would you change about your appearance if you could? ^ Well, those things I listed. Also, to have boobs?? Puberty never did anything for me in that department.

What would you change about your bedroom if you could? I’d move the bed up against the wall because that’s always been more my vibe. If I had the energy, I’d buy a storage container and place all Gab-related stuff in there so I can finally hide away those things (but not entirely throw them out). I would also fix my closet, all three sections of it. I’d also love to get a homey and soothing night lamp and be able to regularly buy scented candles to de-stress at the end of the day. In other news, my room has remained stale for so long and needs a revamp HAHAHA.

Are you rich or poor? I’d say we are in the middle, but our financial situation throughout Covid has been making me increasingly worry.

Are you double jointed? Nope.

What's the most physically painful thing you've ever experienced? The time I ripped my ear piercing, and my foot infection from snorkeling. Also getting my blood drawn, but that’s only because I’m a big baby when it comes to sharp things.

Do you like shots? See above.

Are you afraid of spiders? Our spiders are never too large or look menacing where I live, so not really. I’m aware of how big they can get in other places though so I totally understand the widespread hatred for spiders lol.

Have you ever had an allergic reaction to something? Not sure if it’s an allergy, but my legs quickly get irritated if they’re exposed in a grassy area for too long. My face also doesn’t seem to appreciate face masks, (the skincare kind), but I’m not sure if that’s an allergic reaction or if face masks are meant to do that.

Name a food that you like that's green. Green curry, or broccoli.

Do you like to read? Yes. More of non-fiction, though. I haven’t read a fiction book since I wasssss probably in middle school or early high school.

Do you know what your purpose in life is? No. I don’t stress out over stuff like this lol, I just make sure I’m happy where I am and at the same time, still feel fulfilled with the things I’m doing. 

Are you lonely? I can be, but I guess it’s just meant to happen sometimes.

What's something you are good at? Reading people. Sometimes to my benefit, sometimes otherwise.

What's a color that looks great on you? Olive green and maroon are my favorite shades.

What's something you would like to improve at? Being creative. My work requires a lot of it and I end up being a shitty teammate whenever we have to do brainstorming, because I literally just stay to the side, unable to think of anything.

Do you believe you have great potential? Yes.

What's one word to describe you? Right now? Tired.

Are you spiritual? Nope.

What's one thing that you get a lot of compliments on? My writing.

What's one hidden talent that you have? I dunno if it counts as a talent but I memorize a great deal of songs from Jay-Z and Kanye’s Watch the Throne album, which has always been a fun ‘talent’ to whip out and surprise friends with when we’re partying at a club/bar and a song from the album is suddenly played.

What are three girls' names that you really like? I love Olivia, Mia, and Harper. I’ve probably listed those names a thousand times on these surveys by now.

What are three boys' names that you really like? I like Liam, Mason, and Lucas.

What is the most beautiful scenery you have ever beheld?  The prettiest place I’ve been to was probably Palawan.

What is your favorite pizza topping? Just cheese is fine with me. If that doesn’t count, bell peppers come second. I can definitely live without the other usual toppings like pepperoni, beef, etc.

Name a food that you like that's red. I said green curry in the green foods question, and I’ll answer red curry here, haha.

Are you color blind? Nope.

Have you ever had a crush? Yes.

Can you type fast? I can and I do on a daily basis.

What's your favorite type of cereal? Erm, I’ve never tried them before but I’m drawn to cereals that are rather sweet lol, like Reese’s Puffs or Hershey’s Kisses cereal line. The thing is, they’re classified as one of the luxury imported brands over here so their prices are very unreasonable for a box of cereal, and I never get to have them as a result. Otherwise I don’t enjoy cereal too much.

What is one of your dreams? I would love to have a family.

What are your top three favorite colors? Baby pink, white, and mustard yellow.

What is your favorite book? I don’t have one.

What is your favorite amusement park ride? Ones that would provide enough thrill but won’t make me pass out, like the octopus.

What are three middle names you wouldn't mind having? Idk, I’m fine with my second name. I actually really like the name Isabelle and at one point I unsuccessfully tried to make it my main name, back when I still hated Robyn.

Are you flexible? Not really anymore. I used to be, kind of.

Do you consider yourself religious? Not at all. I haven’t been in around five years. I’ve been atheist since I was in the 4th grade, then I had this very sudden (but very brief) change of heart back in senior year when I started praying a lot. I went back to atheism as soon as I started university.

Are you bold? I can be, but it’s not one of my principal traits.

Are you spontaneous? It’s nice to be every once in a while, but I’m not always.

Do you have a significant other? No.

What's your pet peeve? Lateness.

How tall are you? Just a little over 5 feet, which does not classify me as tall at all.

What's your sexual orientation? Demi. I’ve also been increasingly self-identifying as asexual, so let’s go with that too.

Can you sing? Nope.

Can you dance? Nope, but I still do it when I’m alone.

Can you draw? No.

Do you play an instrument? I mean, just the recorder, but I don’t know if that counts.

What school subject do you hate the most? Chemistry. I struggled with it both in high school and in college. I hated physics and geometry too, but at least I got better at them as I got older. Chemistry is just far too complicated for me to appreciate.

What's your least favorite color? Most shades of yellow and neon green.

Do you eat healthy? I wouldn’t say I exclusively eat healthily, but I do keep a good balance in the food I consume. I enjoy my junk food as much as I like eating vegetables.

Do you think you look better with short or long hair? I’d say short.

What's a color that doesn't look good on you? White.

Are you passionate? Sure.

Are you doing the most you can with your life? Right now, with the world falling apart around me? I definitely try to. I have a great job, I spoil myself and try out new things for myself every now and then, I’ve pulled myself out from the rut I used to be in a few months ago, etc. I guess I can say I like where I am.

Are you proud of yourself for the way you are living? See above.

Do you love yourself? I've started taking a couple of steps down that path.

Do you have regrets? Sure.

Do you have wishes and dreams? Of course.

Do you have a huge secret you are keeping from the world? I suppose so.

Do you have neat handwriting? Yeah, I get quite a lot of compliments on my penmanship in general. I liked practicing my writing as soon as I learned how to properly hold a pencil, so I guess all those times served as good training.

Name a current favorite song. I dunno but Hayley is set to release a new album by tomorrow so a couple of songs from there will most definitely end up being a favorite.

List a song lyric that you like. “Can you live with what you know about yourself when you're all alone, behind closed doors?”

Are you happy? I think so. I’m definitely not as sad as I used to be.

Are you a generally optimistic person? I try to be, but I allow myself to be negative or realistic sometimes.

Have you ever had something horrible happen to you? Between deaths in the family, depression and other mental health issues, and personal life events that were less than nice, absolutely.

Have you ever been abused? Sure.

Have you ever been harassed and/or bullied? I was bullied as a kid because of my name, and as a result it was difficult to make friends for years. I’ve never been harassed though.

Do you love nature? Yes, I love being around nature when I get the chance.

Are you free-spirited? I wouldn’t consider myself that. I like being on the careful side when it comes to many things.

Are you carefree? Not really. 

Would you say you are an overcomer? Yup.

Are you a good friend? I hope I am.

Do you like animals? Love them, except insects.

Do you meditate? No. I actually tried yoga for the first time yesterday because that’s what my workout app had planned for me, but I quickly learned that I am way too impatient for it, lmao. The whole session was meant to be I think 30 minutes? but I quit by like the 14-minute mark and did another program. Idk, I guess it’s just not for me.

Do you pray? No.

What month were you born in? April.

What's your favorite season? We don’t have the usual four seasons but I’m gonna go ahead and say winter because it’s what appeals to me most.

What's one place you've been to that you want to visit again? I want to keep coming back to Sagada.

What's one place you want to go that you've never visited before? Thailand.

What's your favorite type of tree? I don’t have one.

Are you laid-back? I tend to be uptight most of the time, actually.

Are you hard on yourself? Yes.

How's your self-esteem? It’s been getting better, but sometimes I still can’t help but feel insecure.

What medical conditions do you/have you had? Scoliosis.

What are you allergic to? I have had itchy, irritable reactions to face masks and grass before, but not sure if they’re allergies.

Do you like to try new things? For sure, as long as it’s not a crime or if it involves my fears lmfao. Like I would be willing to skydive or dye my hair a strange color, but I’d never scheme a burglary or jump in a tub of cockroaches.

What's one word to describe your style? Chic.

What's one word to describe your bedroom? Plain. I definitely need to mix it up so that it can feel more like who I am.

What's one thing you like about yourself? I like that I’ve always been able to surpass difficulties and come out a better person from them, instead of letting them consume me.

What's one thing you dislike about yourself? I need to stop blaming myself for things out of my control.

Are you competitive? To a fault.

Are you faithful? Sure.

Can you cook? Hell no.

What's your favorite restaurant? Ramen Nagi.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 22

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​

She stands at the kitchen sink, watching through the window as they sit side by side at the patio table. Millie already in her pajamas, hair still damp from a bath, Tyler in a pair of weathered old sweatpants and tattered t-shirt. Their resemblance striking; same color and texture of hair, same ears and profile, even the same shaped lips and those brilliant blue eyes framed by impossibly long and dark lashes.  She’s her father’s child; even more so than the boys; sharing not only physical appearance, but facial expressions and body language.  Even now their faces mirror each other: eyes narrowed, and brows pinched together, mouth set in a thin, stern line. A staring contest and a battle of wills that’s lasted for more than a minute with no sign of either weakening or wavering.  Millie strict and demanding over how she wants things done when it comes to her birthday invitations, her father wondering just how the hell he’d managed to get himself into such a mess in the first place.  They're both ferociously stubborn; Millie even more so. And she always wins; no one is immune to that mop of hair and those eyes and that little voice.  

Her father is especially weak when it comes to her. An almost six-year-old able to bring a man that size, and who possesses so much strength and power, to his knees.  She’s his number one weakness; always balking at scolding her even when she deserves it, succumbing to all the begging and pleading for ‘one more’ bedtime story even though it always turns into five, finding it incredibly hard to say no and very rarely doing so. While his bond with all the kids is strong, the one with Millie is even more so. Perhaps because she’s the first after Austin’s death; a rainbow baby of sorts. Or maybe because she represents the start of his new life; his second chance. A man that had so little to live for suddenly being given everything to live for. She had been conceived in the most unconventional of place during the most unconventional of times. A little blue-eyed miracle that reminds him every day of just how lucky he is to be on this side of the ground.

“Daddy....I am telling you...” Millie finally speaks,  her facial expression never changing and her eyes never wavering from his. “...you HAVE to use the glitter.”

“But I don’t want to use it. That shit gets everywhere. You do it the way you want. Then your mom can bitch at you for getting it all over the place.”

“She’ll bitch at you for letting me use glitter without supervision.”

“I am sitting right here. I am supervising.”

“But you gotta use it too,” she insists. “Or the cards won’t match.”

“They don’t have to, Martha Stewart. Relax.”

“Yes. They do have to match. Why are you being so difficult?”

“Amelia...”

She giggles. “Daddy...”

“You’re not the boss.”

“Neither are you. You just think you are. Mommy’s the boss. Your boss.”

Tyler frowns. “Is that what she said?”

“She doesn’t need to say it. It’s just the way it is. And mommy would tell you to use the glitter too.”

“You and I both know that’s bullshit. She’d never say that. She hates glitter.”

“She hates play-doh and slime,” Millie argues.

“And glitter.”

“She never said that!”

“Excuse me? Yes, she did. After your brother got mad at you and dumped a whole container of it in your backpack. Remember? When we still lived at the old house?”

“Oh yeah,” Millie scowls, then pulls her top lip between her teeth and then releases it with an audible ‘pop’. “...well I guess that means you should be really, really careful with it then.”

“I guess that means you should get someone else to help. A glitter bitch.”

“Daddy! That’s a bad word! Why do you have to give me such a hard time? Don’t be like all the other boys in the house. Please don’t.”

“How would like another brother?” Tyler counters.

She gives a dramatic gasp. “Why would you do me like that? Isn’t three enough? Why so many boys? Boys are dumb. And annoying. Except you of course.”

Grinning, he lays a hand on the top of her head and presses a noisy kiss to her temple. “You are so lucky you added that last part.”

“Why? What would you do? Nothing. Because you love me too much.”

“You know what?”  His voice and face are stern at first, but then a slow grins spreads from ear to ear and he scoops her up and places her in his lap; pressing kisses against her cheeks and rubbing his beard against her skin until she’s giggling and squirming in a half assed attempt to escape; little hands on his cheeks trying to push him away, the squeals becoming even louder when his fingers dig into her stomach and start tickling.  

“What?” Millie asks, when the playful assault ends, and she kneels in his lap facing him; hands delicately cradling his face, a look of pure adoration on her face as she regards him.   “What daddy?”

“Get back in your seat and hand me the goddamn glitter.”

Esme laughs and then turns away from the window, busying herself with making a tea and a coffee and tidying the kitchen. The house is eerily quiet for only nine at night; both Declan and Addie fast asleep upstairs, Mac curled up under her crib, snoring lightly.  Normally the twins are still tearing around. Either tormenting one another or their older sister or burning off the last of their energy in the pool or down on the beach. She misses them; the dirty handprints that she is constantly wiping off every surface, the sand that they track through every inch of the house, those little voices –and even their squabbling- and the way they eventually fall asleep either spread out on the couch with the tops of their heads touching, or on the bottom bunk pressed back to back.  

They’re a handful and have been since day one; a pregnancy filled with complications and scares. But they’re a joy. Rambunctious and mischievous. Fearless to a fault. Always willing to try new adventures, as long as they’re together for them.

The sun is beginning to set as she steps out onto the patio, and the strings of solar powered white lights wrapped around the patio railings springing to life, bathing the area in a soft, almost soothing glow. And she places the steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of her husband, then lays a hand on the back of his neck and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Despite the outwardly display of confidence and the rare genuine smile that crosses his face, he’s struggling. The last couple of days have been especially rough; medications not enough to take away that edge and that sense of impending doom she knows he’s feeling.  It’s so many things: TJ’s troubles, Millie’s rapidly approaching sixth birthday, the situation with Ovi and the very real possibility of having to get back in the game.  But he gives her an appreciative smile and lays a hand on her hip; gently squeezing before allowing his hand to lightly slide over her ass.

“Just what are you guys doing?” she inquires and slips into the chair at the head of the table; a foot on the seat, bottom of her hoodie pulled over her knee.

“I don’t even know anymore,” Tyler admits. “I just do what I’m told.”

“We’re making birthday invitations,” Millie says. “Glittery ones.”

“Yeah...I see that...” Esme frowns, then moves her seat back from the table to avoid any wayward sparkles. “You know that crap is going to be everywhere for weeks, right?”

“Daddy already has it in his hair,” Millie giggles. “And in his beard.”

“Because you thought it would be hilarious to dump glitter in your hands and rub them all over my head,” he complains.

“It was funny!” she exclaims. “You’re going to be sparkly forever now. A sparkly daddy.”

“Like one of those vampires in Twilight,” Esme muses, and he gives her a dirty look. “Just much more handsome.”

“I have vampires,” Millie announces. “Daddy could kick their asses.”

“Damn right,” he agrees.

“Daddy would kick all the monsters’ asses, right daddy? Like you kicked all the bad guys asses. Do you miss kicking bad guys’ asses?”

“You know what I miss? I miss when you didn’t say ass every five seconds.”

“Better than the s word or the f word,” she reasons, and kneels in her chair to reach for plastic container full of pencil crayons sitting in the middle of the table. “Do you? Miss kicking the bad guys’ asses?”

“Nope,” he quickly replies. “I don’t.”

Esme knows it isn’t the entire truth; someone just doesn’t give up a job...a life...like the one he’d been leading and not experience some fall out. It’s fast paced and generous; living life constantly on edge and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Days and sometimes weeks of putting your ass on the line to help a stranger; shedding a lot of blood, sweat, and tears for that pay out in the end. The job is exhilarating; every mercenary will admit to that.  That there’s a certain rush that comes with the intensity. And most won’t say it out loud, but there’s a feeling of satisfaction you get when you witness revenge and karma up close; even if it means you’re delivering them yourself with your bare hands.  

His entire adult has been that existence. First the military, then the job. And there’s no way he doesn’t miss. It’s quite the change; going from that life to one of routine and domesticity.  

“I bet the bad guys don’t miss you,” Millie muses. “They were tired of getting their asses kicked.  But who does it now that you don’t? Who goes after the bad people?”

“Other guys,” Tyler responds.

“What other guys?”

“Guys like me. Who do that sort of thing. There’s lots of guys like that out there.”

“And girls too?”

“I guess. I suppose there’s girls out there that do that kind of thing. Mommy did.”

Esme directs a kick to his shin under the table, then shakes her head when he gives her a quizzical look.

“Mommy sort of did that job,” he quickly adds. “She helped guys like me out. She helped track down the bad people and then told guys like me where we could find them.”

“Mmmm...” Millie considers this, head cocked to the side, eyes focused on the drawing she’s creating. “....is that how you met?”

“Yup. When I used to live here before I had you or your sister or your brothers.”

“In this house?”

“Not in THIS house. In my old house. Well it wasn’t really a house. It was more like a shack. But there’s where I met mommy. A long time ago. Auntie Nik brought her there and introduced us.”

“We should go there sometime,” Millie suggests. “To your old place. To see it.  Who lives there now?”

“A friend of mine. You met him a few times when you were a baby.”

“I want to go there,” she decides. “To your old place.  I want to see where you met mommy. Is that where you helped put me in her tummy?”

“No. That happened somewhere else,” Esme speaks up. “In an entirely different country. In Bangladesh. A place called Dhaka. Daddy and I were working there. That’s where you were made.”

“We should go there too,” Millie concludes.

“Yeah, that’s a no from me,” Tyler says. “That’s not a place I want to go back to.”

“Is that where you almost died?”  

Esme watches her husband’s face; mug pressed against her lips as she waits for his reaction. Noticing the small intake of breath and the slow, steady way he releases it.  The way his shoulders tense and his leg begins to shake back and forth underneath the table.  

“Yeah...” he finally speaks, then turns his attention towards the craft in front of him. His eyes are dark and that vein in his neck...the one that had to be surgically repaired after being blown out by Farhad- begins to pulsate. “...that’s where I almost died.”

“How?” Millie asks.

“You know what,” Esme comes to his aid.  “This isn’t a good time to talk about these kinds of things. Not so close to bedtime, okay Millie? It will give you nightmares and as much as we love you, we don’t want you sleeping with us until you’re eighteen.”

“It won’t give me nightmares,” she argues. “I’m fine.”

“Amelia...” Her tone and her face are stern; the warning in her voice noticeable enough that her daughter looks up at her. “Not right now. Thank you.”

Silence falls on the table, no further conversation for several minutes. Nothing but the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore, the slight rustle of the trees, and the soft scrape of pencil crayons against paper. And Tyler reaches under the table to lay a hand on Esme’s thigh, squeezing lightly and giving her a small, grateful smile. There are days when he can talk openly and honestly about what happened in Dhaka. He was able to tell the therapist the whole story without even breaking a nervous sweat. But there’s other times where it’s unbearable; the memories too strong and too painful. The mental wounds still too fresh and feeling still too raw.

“Look at you,” Esme laughs, and the lays a hand on the side of his face and turns his head towards her. “You have glitter everywhere. It’s all in your beard. It looks like you went down on a stripper. I hope you don’t think you’re coming near my bits looking like that.”

He grins. “Oh, I so am.”

“Like hell you are. Last thing I need is being sparkly down there. I don’t know how you’re going to get all that out of there,” she vigorously rubs her palms against her beard, then frowns as she studies the purple and silver flecks left behind on her skin. “It couldn’t at least be a good color that brings out your eyes?”

“Might have to just shave the whole thing off,” he says.

“Like hell you will. We’ve talked about this. Do you want a divorce? Because that’s how you get a divorce.”

“You don’t even know what I look like clean shaven.”

“You’re not Tyler without a beard. Your kids won’t even recognize you. That's how they know you. That’s how I know you.”

“Don’t do it, daddy,” Millie implores. “You’ll look totally different. Like a stranger. I want you to look like daddy.”

“Two against one,” Esme says. “The beard stays.”

“You only look like the beard because when we do...well when I do...you know... you like the way it feels.”

“I’ll give you that. But it’s also because it’s rugged and manly and you look so freaking sexy with it. Even with silver and purple glitter in it. Speaking of glitter....” she stands up and picks up on of the finished creations. “...I take it she mentioned her party and you went along with it.”

“Come on, you knew I wouldn’t say no.”

“I did,” she admits. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to be completely uncomfortable and miserable, either. That’s a lot of people. Here. In your space. I know how much you value your space. So, if you think it’s too much to deal with...”

“I’ll be okay,” he says. “I’ll deal.”

She stares at him pointedly, brows arches.

“I’ll be fine, babe,” he assures her, and reaches out to lay a hand on the small of her back. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.”

“Daddy’s tough,” Millie declares.  “Super tough.”

“Yes,” her mother agrees. “The toughest guy I’ve ever known, that’s for sure.”

“Is that why you fell in love with him?” Millie inquires. “Because he’s tough?”

“There’s a lot of reasons why I fell with him,” Esme replies, as she sits back down in her seat and places her feet in her husband’s lap. “I guess being tough was once of them. Because I knew that I’d always be safe, and I’d have nothing to be scared of when he’s around. That he'd always be willing to protect me and be able to physically do it.”

Tyler smiles and gives her a wink, his hand giving her foot a squeeze.

“He also had really cool hair and crazy beautiful eyes,” she continues. “And big arms. Not to mention that face. Pretty damn handsome, I think. He was kind of mean though. When we first met.”

Millie’s eyes widen as she looks towards her father. “You were mean? To mommy?! Did you make her cry?”

“I did not make her cry and I was not mean.”

“Not right away,” Esme says. “But he got really mean and really bossy when we got to Dhaka.”

“Listen, your mom’s not telling you the truth,” Tyler address his little girl. “I got a little mean, yeah. You want to know why? Because even then your mommy didn’t like to listen to a word I say. And I was in charge and she did something I told her not to and she got in trouble and I got mad.”

“I just put him in his place though,” Esme says with a shrug as she sips her tea. “That just made him even more mad and even meaner. Deep down though, I think he liked it. A woman being all assertive and aggressive with him.”

“I’m not afraid to admit that I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

“That was obvious,” Esme grins, and presses her toes into his crotch.

“You think I’m tough, Millie? Your mom’s even tougher than I am. Hands down the toughest woman...person...I’ve ever met. She’s little, but she’s bad ass.”

“Like me!” Millie cheerfully exclaims.

“You’re exactly like her in a lot of ways. You know how tough someone has to be to  trick the bad guys into telling her secrets and letting her know where they are? Crazy tough. When you get older, I’ll tell you a story about how she handled things in Ireland against some pretty scary people.  She went in there and talked them all by herself. She wasn’t even scared. Not for a second. I was proud of her. Insanely proud.”

“Don’t make me cry,” Esme pleads, and gives him a brilliant smile. “Because my hormones are all over the place since having your daughter and I’m liable to bawl at anything.”

“Mommy’s the most amazing person I’ve ever known,” he continues. “Not a lot of people would do what she did. When she stuck around to help me in Dhaka. No one else was going to do it. I would have died if she hadn’t had been there.”

“But you didn’t,” Esme says. “And that’s all that matters.”  

She hates being praised for it; truly believing that she’d done what anyone with a conscience and an ounce of compassion would have done in that situation. Ovi had been too young; there’s no way he should have had to spring into action and shoulder that kind of responsibility. But there’d been no excuse for Nik. There were other team members there; they could have easily kept the situation under control while she held; at least lending a hand to control the bleeding long enough to get him into the chopper and get both Ovi AND him out of there.  

And she’ll hold that grudge for the rest of her life; every time the subject of Dhaka comes up or she looks at the scar on her husband’s neck.  

****

Ovi arrives just as darkness fully sets in, standing on the bottom step of the patio; cautiously watching them for several minutes, hands shoved in his pockets, nervously rocking back and forth on his heels.  

“You don’t have to just stand there, mate,” Tyler speaks up. “You can join us, you know.”

The younger man breathes a sigh of relief as he climbs the steps, giving Esme a small, apologetic smile which she returns with a curt one of her own before looking away. Their talk the night before had left a bitter taste in both of their mouths; she’d been harsh and brutally honest and refuses to make any apologies for it. She doesn’t understand how, despite all of the things he’s seen and heard in Dhaka and the years following it, that he can be so steadfast about diving headfirst into such a dangerous life. She’d laid out the hardest of truths she possibly could; the long-lasting effects on Tyler’s mental and physical health, the demons and the monsters that prey on every day, the trickle-down effects and impacts the entire family. Yet he remains determined. Either too stubborn to face the truth, or too just immature and ignorant.

“Millie, why don’t we go inside and get a bedtime snack,” Esme suggests, when Ovi steps up onto the patio, finishing the last of her tea and pushing her chair away from the table. “You can finish these tomorrow, okay? I think daddy’s had just about as much glitter and coloring he can take.”

“Okay,” she willingly –and surprisingly- agrees. “You’ll still tuck me in right, daddy?”

“You know it. Just come and get me when you’re ready, yeah?”

Nodding, she curls an arm around his neck and sweetly pecks his lips. Then scurries over to Ovi and wraps her arms around his, tightly squeezing.

“I can’t deal with this tonight,” Esme says, when Tyler catches her by the wrist before she can leave, a concerned and almost puzzled look on his face. “I don’t want to deal with it all. You do what you have to do. I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

He nods in understanding, and she leans down to press a soft, quick kiss to his lips before ushering Millie into the house.

“I think she’s still mad,” Ovi comments, as he drops into a chair at the end of the table.

“Really?” Tyler scoffs. “What gave you that impression?”

Standing, he begins tidying up the table, stuffing pencil crayons, glue sticks, and tubes of sparkles into small plastic storage containers. A far cry from when his hands used to inflict pain and even death on others; glitter caked under his nails and stuck to his fingers as opposed to blood and dirt. And it horrifies him how disappointed he feels over the thought; how blood seemed so much better and easy to accept than a child’s craft supplies. It’s not the first time in six months he’s missed what things were like before, and he knows it won’t be the last. That it will always be there; that side of him that had actually enjoyed the job and the payday that came with.  

And it fucking disgusts him.

“I understand why she’s upset,” Ovi says.  

Tyler regards him, eyebrow arched. “Do you? ‘Cause I don’t think you do.”

“She doesn’t want you getting back into this. Into that job. Into the job. Because if what happened in New Zealand.”

“Do you even understand what went on there? Why I left? Why I called it quits and came home? Because something tells me you don’t.”

“Mental health issues.”

“That’s part of it. I came home because I couldn’t fucking do it anymore. I’d had enough. Of that life and all the bullshit that came with it. Fucking death and blood and gore and everything that came with it. Helping people that don’t give a shit if I’m alive or dead at the end.”

“I gave a shit,” Ovi reminds him.

“You know how long I’d be doing the job? Almost sixteen years. That’s a fucking lifetime for guys like me.”

“Guys like us,” the younger man stresses.

“You’re not there yet. You might not even get there. You might not even get past what I have in store for you. You want to think it’s all a big game and that it’s something you ‘just want to try out’? Well you’re going to see just how fucking fun it is when I get a hold of you. So if you’re having any second thoughts, I’d back out now before it’s too late and I have you curled up in a ball of your own puke and piss.”

Ovi blinks at the harshness in his voice.

“You wonder why she’s upset? Why she’s pissed off with you? With the whole fucking world right now? Do you know how many promises I’ve made to her that I’ve broken? So many that she doesn’t even believe me when I make promises anymore. That’s fucking sad. It’s pathetic. And here I am, breaking another one.”

“You’re not exactly...”

“You know what? You don’t get to talk. You're just going to sit there and listen to what I have to say. You want to be a man and make these kinds of decisions? Then you sit there and let another man tell you the way things are. I’m not just random off the street that doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The job was my life. It’s who I was. And when I walked away, I thought I left it behind. And then you come along with this bullshit...”

“Tyler...I...”

“Just shut the fuck up and listen,” he growls. “I’m not fucking around here, Ovi. I’m not pulling any punches. It wasn’t just the job that screwed with my head. There was a lot of things that fucked me up. Things you don’t even know about. All the way back to when I was a kid. But the job? The job fucked me in more ways than you can even begin to imagine. You think it’s fun killing people? That I actually enjoyed it? I took pride in it?”

Ovi shakes his head.

“I did it for the money. That’s it. I didn’t do it to help people. I didn’t give a shit about myself, why would I give a shit about them? And then you came along, and Dhaka happened, and that was my one chance to make things right. For redemption. To prove I wasn’t a shit human being. And part of me was ready to die that day. More than ready.  And another part of me wanted to stay alive because I thought maybe...just maybe...I’d met someone that could teach me how to give a shit again. That would actually give a shit about me.”

“She obviously did. And still does. Or she wouldn’t be here.”

“She stayed behind on that bridge. Knowing there was a chance that Asif would get a hold of her.  Do you know what would have happened to her if he had? What he would have done to her? Way worse than he would have done to you. He would have killed you quickly.  He would have waited days with her. Weeks. Until he was bored with her; tired of doing all kinds of sick and twisted shit to her.”

Ovi swallows heavily, tears welling in his eyes.

“And she still stayed. Knowing what would happen if she got caught there. Fucking Nik took off. She wasn’t even going to come back for us. Everything should have told Esme to leave me there and she didn’t. So don’t come here...to my house...and even think about disrespecting my wife.”

“I wasn’t going to. I...”

“You didn’t even give a shit about what she had to say last night. She’s trying to save your life and you didn’t even care. She doesn’t want you ending up like me, don’t you fucking get that? You think I want to be like this? Fucked in the head? Having to take medication every morning to just goddamn function like somewhat of a human being? You think I want my wife and my kids to see me like this? What the hell is wrong with you that you can’t see what the job does? It hasn’t just fucked me up, it’s fucked all of them up. My wife, my kids. Why can’t you see that?”

“I don’t expect you to get back into the job. Just to help me. And you said you would. With the training. You said...”

“You think it’s really going to stop there? That that’s going to be enough? I’m going to get dragged back into this shit. You know it, I know it. Esme knows it. And it’s fucking killing her inside. Because I told her that this time I was done for good. And now look. Look at the goddamn mess you’ve gotten me into.”

“I never meant to...”

“Never meant to what? Bring me back into it? Bullshit. It’s what you wanted right from the get-go. You never wanted to do  this alone. You wanted me with you right from the start. Well now you got what you want. You’ve got me right back into this crap. Whether I want to be in it or not. You know I wouldn’t let you do it alone. You damn well knew from the start I’d never let that happen, didn’t you.”

Ovi reluctantly nods.

“Well I hope you’re prepared then. Because I’m not going to make this easy on you. You want me to drag me off to some shit hole and get me killed, I get to do things my way. And I swear to Christ, if my marriage falls apart because of this and I lose my kids....”

“You won’t. That won’t happen. She’d never leave. You know she wouldn’t.”

“I know she WOULD. Don’t tempt it. I break one more promise to her and it’s done. She’ll take off and I’ll never see my kids again. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making yours miserable because of it. Understand me?”

“I don’t understand why you’re both so worried. Why you’re both so upset. I don’t...”

“What if I don’t come back?” Tyler angrily interjects. “What if this is the one time no one is around to save me? What if it’s the one time a sniper puts a bullet in my head instead of my chest? Do you know what I leave behind? Five kids. Five little kids that deserve so much better than this. Does that even matter to you? Do they even matter to you?”

“Of course they do!” Ovi exclaims. “I love those kids! They’re my brothers and sisters! How could you even ask me that? How could you...?”

“You love them but you’re willing to take their dad away from them? It’s okay that I go in there to rescue your ass, but I get killed for it? I leave them behind; I leave Esme behind. Do you know what that would do to her? Me not coming back? Like what the fuck?”  He angrily tosses the craft supplies into a storage container on the edge of the patio and slams the lid closed. “Do you not realize everything I stand to lose?”

“I do. I do realize that. You have a life. A wife and kids and...:”

“And you’re still going to do it. You’re still going to go ahead with this bullshit.”

Ovi sighs.  

“We start the day after Millie’s birthday. I don’t want to hear anything more about it until then. You know you’re more than welcome to keep coming over here, just don’t talk about this again. Not in front of my wife. And especially not in front of my kids.  Understand me?”

“I understand.”

“We’re finished here. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s been a long fucking day and I’m done with it. With everything. I’m going into Port Douglas tomorrow to take Millie to see my dad. You can come along if you don’t mention a word of this around her.”

“Okay. I’d like that. To see him again.  And I’m sorry. I really am. For all the problems. For all the bullshit. I never meant to cause issues. Especially for you and Esme. I never meant...”

“You come between us and fuck things up, I will make your life hell,” Tyler vows, as he gathers up the dirty coffee mug and steps towards the entrance to the house.  “I lose my family because of all this, it won’t end well for you.”

“Tyler, I...”

“We’re done with this,” he says, and then slams the door closed behind him.

[caitlinsnicket]

Ben Hanscom SFW alphabet

A/N: It took me sometime, but I did it! I hope you guys like it. Feel free to like, reblog or comment. Also, requests are open (but I’ll do it only by december or if I have sometime by next month).

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Ben is touch starved, but instead of trying to avoid it, he does the opposite: he craves it like it is his last breath. He’s always hugging you, holding your hand, giving small pecks on your cheeks and the top of your head. While holding your hands, he caresses your fingers gently, and when he hugs you he tries to kiss you- it happens every time. Also, if you don’t keep alert, he’s already cuddling you, and it’s impossible to break free from his grasp. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Ben is very good with advice, so when you have a problem that you feel like you can’t ‘solve alone, you go to him for help. He’s always hanging out at your house (when you’re not at his) and you two always watch documentaries about one historical moment or other. You two probably met at an enterprise party of some sort, and then you started talking from there. As Ben has a hard time making new friends, Ben approached you and kept in touch pretty quickly.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Y.E.S. Ben is a sucker for cuddles, and even if he’s a muscular guy now, he loves to be the little spoon. He feels like someone cares truly about him, but most importantly, he feels safe and loved. Tough, sometimes he likes to hold you in your sleep because in that way he feels like he can protect you. Kisses and nips in the neck are included.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Ben’s biggest dream is to have at least four kids (though you two are negotiating the number of kids), a big house with a green backyard and two big dogs. Having a family with you would make his life even more perfect, and you two constantly talk about it. Ben is very, *very* good at cooking, as he had a lot of time to learn different recipes and to make nice dinners for you. About cleaning, he doesn’t mind, as he knows it is both of your responsibility.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Ben would probably be shaking. He would stutter a lot, looking around nervously. He would tell you his reasons, probably in the verge of tears, and after you left, he would cry and he would be sad for quite sometime.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Ben one of the most passionate, gentle and loving people in the world, and yes, shortly after you two got together he would think about marrying you. But he is also a respectful men, and he knows how to respect your time. If you don't want to get married right way, he'll wait until you are ready. If you want it right way, be ready to be called Mrs. Hanscom.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Ben is a little touch starved, but one thing he knows is to respect other people's times. He is smooth in his touches, always making sure that you are comfortable with everything. He holds you like you are made of glass. Emotionally, he is a sweetheart, always making sure that you are alright and that you are happy.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He's the king of hugs. He got quite taller, so he finds it easier to hug you. He loves it because he can feel your warmth and your heartbeat. He hugs you daily: before you leave to work, when you come back, when you are cooking, before you take a bath and before you guys go to sleep. His hugs always make you feel safe like nothing bad can touch you if you're wrapped in them.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Pretty fast, and he wouldn't even realize he said it. Actually, only after some time, when you first said it back, he realized he's been saying it for some time. He probably said it for the first time before leaving for a meeting, and just realized so when he came back and you said it back to him.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Ben gets jealous only when people are acting too flirty with you. When it happens, he gets insecure about your relationship, about his appearance and about his qualities as a lover: is he not good enough? Would you be better with somebody else? But before he gets too sad, you hug and kiss him, and he realizes that everything will be fine.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Ben takes your breath away. Every time he kisses you, you can feel all the love, the adoration, and the admiration feels for you. He holds you close to his body so he can feel your warmth, and he holds you tightly because he’s afraid that when he opens his eyes, you’ll turn into smoke and he’ll find out it was just a dream. Most of his kisses tend to be calm ‘cause he likes to take his time, but sometimes he can’t do it, so before he goes to work, he tries to stun you with his passion, so you keep thinking about him for the rest of the day.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Ben loves children. He always has paper and pencils with him, so that he can draw whenever he has an idea. So, when there's a child around, he handles them the materials and draws with them. You guys have talked about kids before, and whenever it happens, he'll be thrilled. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Ben usually works from home, so he can wake up whenever he wants. It allows him to watch you waking up, to hold you close when you've just looked in his eyes and to kiss you slowly as a greeting. You guys do your morning routine together, and he always lets you put your masks and special soaps on him- sometimes he'll ask you to do it because "his skin is too dry".

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

When you get home, dinner will be ready, the table set up with candles or roses and Ben with a plate in his hands, getting everything ready. After you two eat, he'll do the dishes while you take a bath, and then you two will watch a movie or a show. And while doing it, both of you will have masks on your faces. Maybe some creams too, if he lets you put it in his face.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It would come naturally. One day, he would be talking about his favorite band of when he was a kid, and in the other, he would be telling you about his fear of never be loved. Although, Ben would be very insecure about all the things he has lived. He would think that you would leave him if you knew everything, but he tells you anyways.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It's very difficult for Ben to get angry at something: the only times he's shouted in your presence was while cursing a coworker or when he was under pressure. Even when he does get angry, he's easily calmed down by you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

Ben has one hell of a good memory. He remembers all dates, all small details, all conversations you guys had: he remembers everything and keeps it in his heart whenever you have a special occasion.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time he showed you the scar on his belly and you showed yours as well. It was such a meaningful moment that he almost cried. He can still feel your cold fingers tracing his scar gently, giving him chills. That's when he realized that he wanted to be with you forever.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Ben is not very worried about your safety. Of course, he worries about you, but he knows that you can defend yourself, and only steps in if you ask him to. He protects you when you need to, and by hiving your space and time. He usually feels protected when you reassure him about himself or when you defend him from someone.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

A lot. Like, a lot. He's a very romantic guy, and he likes to demonstrate all his love and adoration for you by making cute dinners, giving you meaningful gifts and putting a lot of effort into making his everyday tasks.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Sometimes, when he's feeling insecure, he tends to get in his defensive self, and to "protect himself" from hurtful words, he says things that he'll regret later.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

A lot. He got a lot of shit when he was younger for being overweight, so he does a lot of push-ups and he can be very insecure about it. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. Ben was a very lonely man before meeting you, so when he has you around for so much time and suddenly doesn't anymore, he feels empty and alone all over again.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He writes you little love poems and leaves them around the house to crack a smile of you. He also likes the kisses he receives in return.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who's too obsessed with appearances and "what will people think". He just wants to be with someone who cares about things themselves and not by their looks.

Z = Zzz (What is the sleep habit of theirs?)

He tends to get up in the middle of the night to drink water or to eat something, but he always tries not to wake you up when doing so. After that, he'll snuggle close to you to fall asleep with his nose buried into your neck.