#also apparently he shot at stray dogs for fun at least one time just in case human suffering isn't enough for you

[imnotwolverine]

The Accidental Family - Chapter 4

Henry Cavill x OFC - multi-chapter

< Chap 3 | Chap 4 The First Date night | Chap 5 >

Disclaimer: fluff, mild smuttiness, some strong language

Word count: 2.303

Author’s note: I had so much food the past couple of days 😂So yea, despite the Christmas days having been weird at best, me and my bf had quite a bit of fun - and a whole lot of romantic dinners to kill the time. And ..now we’re talking romantic dinners..

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

‘Black or purple, what do you think?’ Henry held up the two ties before Kal, the dog tilting his head left and right, as if deciding which one was better. The answer was apparently quite simple according to Henry’s dog; with an excited huff the Akita jumped right up in Henry’s face, licking him all over.

‘Yea, yea, hahahah - that’s the goal. Hahahah. You got me there. So..no tie, then?’ He pushed the dog back down and ruffled him through his thick fur. Kal borked softly and Henry agreed. ‘Very well, a little less formal is probably better, you’re right. We’re having a date at home, anyways.’

Henry breathed in deeply and looked in the direction of the kitchen, his stew simmering on a low fire as he heard Phoebe rummage upstairs, some closet cabinets opening and closing in a mildly hasty manner.

With Henry still in full recovery, it was decided that it would be best to just stick to a cute home dinner for their first dinner date since his memory loss - just to avoid any overzealous fans that would disturb him in a restaurant after the news had been released that he had suffered a serious head injury in a motorcycle accident.

The accident had left many scars. Both physical and mental. It was weird to be here at home now more people lived here, the kids on a prolonged stay with the grandparents while Henry and his wife recuperated from the shake-up his - their - life had had.

In the past days Henry had seen about every specialist and doctor in the book. He went from lengthy couch sessions with a psychologist - the story of the introduction of his kids having been received with mild horror - to the keeping of sleep and medication schedules with his doctor to make sure he got enough recovery and rest in between re-learning the basics of his new life.

The fact that a good many people surviving such head trauma would never be the same, troubled Henry greatly, and so whenever he was allowed to search the internet, which was sparingly, he scoured it like a starved man, the printer in the living room doing over-time to print all the articles and research he had found.

But, all that research would have to wait for the moment. First he’d have to get reacquainted with another part of his life: his wife. And even now as he heard her rummage around the master bedroom, he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter with nerves.

What if she didn’t like the new Henry? What if he couldn’t fall in love with her. Or the sex would be awful, or..

NO! Stop those thoughts.

Looking back in the hallway mirror, he unbuttoned his blouse a little further, a little peek of chest hair popping out over the sleek white fabric.

‘Button up or down?’ Henry looked over at Kal, but the dog thought his human dad was being ridiculous, his body turning around to trod back to the kitchen to slobber up some water.

‘..Very well then.’

--

It was near surprising how easy dinner went by. Which of course, shouldn’t be too much of a surprise; Henry and Phoebe had several dinners at home before this one, though they never had been quite so romantic. Henry had turned the lights down low and lit some candles, the kitchen radio playing some soft jazzy music playing in the background.

With dinner over and the dirty plates returned to the dishwasher - the dance of moving around the kitchen together now quite well practised, they ended up on the couch, the both of them sipping on some tea, since it was strongly advised not to consume alcohol after Henry’s brain injury.

‘So...’ Henry finished the last sip of his tea and placed it on the side table next to his right elbow, his blue eyes searching for his wife’s slightly dazed expression - she did have a wine or two with his stew.

‘Hmm?’

‘Are you falling asleep on me, wife?’

‘Hahaha you wish.’

‘I do wish.’

‘Oh stop it!’ Her cheeks burned a bright pink, making Henry chuckle - at least he still got some of his charms.

‘I WAS actually wondering about what you mentioned earlier. When I asked you on this date..remember?’

‘Yea…’ She lifted her legs and crossed them, snuggling herself more comfortable in her nook on the couch, lips blowing over her slowly cooling tea.

‘What did you mean by “we never really dated”?’ Henry quoted the last words with his fingers.

‘Oh!’ She quickly looked away, her hands deciding it was best to put her tea away on the side table on her side of the couch. ‘Yea….’ She looked back at Henry. ‘That’s a funny story..’

‘Mmm?’

‘Okay, okay. So, I’m just curious. How do you think we met?’ Her eyebrows rose in expectation, her body fully turning towards him, legs still crossed before her chest. Henry also turned slightly, his arm stretching out over the back of the couch, his fingertips just about able to reach her knees.

‘Hmm. I’ve actually thought about that. Though of course I don’t know. But ehh..’ He squinted his eyes a little, as if playfully wanting to guess. ‘I think I met you on set.’

‘How’s that?’

‘I don’t know. Just a feeling.’

‘Well. It’s not. Try again.’

‘Okay..Ehm, then I totally met you at the grocery store and hit on you so hard that you thought I was some weird creep?’

She laughed. ‘That has happened. Not with you though.’

‘Shame.’

Phoebe laughed and shook her head. ‘Dork.’

‘OH! A comic book store?! A Comic Con? A..’

‘No, and.. no.’

‘Alright, I don’t know. Spill the beans, wife-dear.’

She shot him an exasperated look, before clicking her tongue. ‘We shagged at an after party.’

Henry’s face blanked. ‘I’m sorry, say that again: AT an after party?’

‘Yea..we definitely did it AT the after party.’

‘Was I drunk?’

Phoebe laughed. ‘Shit Henry. Of course we were. We both were. I wouldn’t for the life of me shag anyone on any party, but there we were, fumbling hands and tearing expensive dress shirts in a toilet stall.’ 

Henry’s eyes widened at her words.

‘Yea..classy, right? And you left me a little present too.’

‘We’re not talking about just a phone number here, huh?’

‘Nope. You knocked me up with our ray of sunshine, Sam. Funny thing was that I lost my phone that night, and with it your number. I then contacted your assistant, Aunt Lea, whom TOTALLY didn’t believe you’d do anything of the sort, so it took me a good three months to get in contact with you.’

‘Holy crap.’

Phoebe sighed deeply and turned away again, as if wishing to shut out Henry from her thoughts. ‘Yea, it’s been a wild ride.’

‘Wait.’ Henry pushed himself a little closer so he could brush a hand over her shoulder, his eyes searching the curve of her nose and the pull of her lips. ‘Do you regret it? It’s okay if you do. I mean, we’re all out, bums out - besides I can’t remember a thing of the things you just said.’

Phoebe shook her head. ‘No.’ She finally looked back up at Henry, her eyes a lot more warm and welcoming than he had expected. ‘I was already smitten with you before I rang this doorbell to give you the happy news you were about to become a dad...and I’d have kept sweetheart Sam either way the wind would have blown.’

‘Sam..Fixing his dad and all.’ Henry smiled.

‘Gods.’ Phoebe chuckled. ‘That was bad.’

‘Kinda. I’ll need some help with managing that rowdy bunch.’ Henry sighed, feeling Phoebe’s hand reaching out to brush through his curls again - he liked it.

‘I had a good night.’ She said.

Henry looked at her and instantly felt his heart flutter, his stomach dropping and palms going sweaty. It was quite obvious that IF he wanted to make a move, he’d have to do it now. And so, with perhaps a bit too awkward a hastiness, he scooted closer to Phoebe, his black burning eyes staring down into her expecting dark blues.

‘I liked it too. I like YOU..too.’ He breathed, making her eyes also grow darker by the second.

‘Good,’ She whispered, switching her focus between his left and right eye, noses slowly crawling closer to one another until their lips were but a breath away from touching.

‘Can I kiss y..-?’

His words lingered somewhere in between the crashing of their two bodies, Phoebe’s arms eagerly pulling him towards her, her lips savouring the taste of mint tea and musk on his tongue. And as eagerly as they started, so eagerly it to-tal-ly escalated. In moments Henry had flipped her flat onto the couch, his hands scorching the skin on her neck and chest, fingertips teasing and touching whatever piece of flesh her simple black dress revealed.

‘FUCK.’ She whined, turning her head to offer him more neck for him to bite down into.  

Henry growled and lowered his hip, making her feel the eagerness he felt in the tightness of his dress pants, the fabric strained around his crotch.

‘Oh gods,’ Her breath hiccuped and were it not for Henry’s attentiveness, he wouldn’t have picked up on the tears that had started to spill from her eyes, his body immediately pushing back up before he wiped the stray hairs in her face away, worried eyes studying her trembling lips and blurry gaze.

‘I-I’m so sorry.’ She mumbled, turning her head into the couch pillow, wishing to hide from his penetrative gaze.

‘No, no. It’s okay. Sshhh.’ He sat up on his haunches and pulled her with ease onto his lap, his chin pressing down onto her head as she cried into the open V of his shirt, his chest hair wetting with her agony - yep he kept it buttoned down. ‘Sshhh.’ He hushed, pressing more and more kisses into her golden hair. ‘I’ve got you.’

‘I’ve missed you so much.’ She whimpered, and it was in that moment Henry hated himself for the way his erection twitched beneath the plush of her thighs, his mind having to focus on anything but her scent and warmth - and failed. Henry failed miserably, Bee’s head starting to shake “no” as she pushed herself off his lap.

‘Fwooo…’ She breathed, focusing on slowing her breath before she looked back at Henry with watery eyes, their bodies separated by the magic of opposing magnetic energy; if Henry tried to come closer, she leaned back and vice versa.

‘Maybe we should give THAT a little more time.’ She chuckled through her tears, the back of her hand wiping away the smudge of mascara that was running down her cheek.

‘I’m sorry about that.’ Henry muttered, feeling like he had failed completely, though thankfully Phoebe could only see the hilarity of it:

‘Guess nothing much has changed in that department.’ She sighed and turned her body back towards him. ‘Is it okay if we sleep apart for a little bit? Just to..-’

‘Calm down?’

‘Yea.’ Her lips curled in a smile.

‘I’m not really used to sleeping with women on the first date anyways.’

Phoebe laughed, poking him in the bicep. ‘OH PLEASE, don’t tell me I was the only one you ever..’

Henry laughed along and shrugged with boyish innocence: ‘Can’t remember, but from what I know, I ...never..’

‘Will you go on another date with me though?’

Henry let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was pleased with her gentle plea, his hand catching hers to press a sweet and tender promise of a kiss onto the back of her hand. ‘Absolutely.’

--

That night Henry found himself bunking up with a bed full of stuffies, the bed of his 4-year old the only one he could somewhat fit into.

Turning towards the stuffies, he remembered the notes his wife had given him in the past days: Sam had a stuffy named Mr. Stinky, which he had left behind to watch over his other friends while he was away. 

Henry studied the line up of rabbits, elephants, bears and foxes. Which one was Stinky anyways? His wife had said it in between a avalanche of other information, so Henry hadn’t quite managed to catch on like he so wished.

‘Oh..There’s a LOT to learn huh..Mr Stinky? Or ..were you Mr Stinky?’ He looked from stuffy to stuffy, the large beady eyes looking back at him in silence. With a slight smirk on his face Henry pushed his nose into their fluffy bellies, inhaling deeply to find out which one would be Mr. Stinky. But, apparently it was just a name; they all smelled fine.

Rolling onto his back, he switched off the Mario mushroom shaped night light, the ceiling above glowing up with a hundred small stars that had been put up to keep the nightmares at bay.

‘Woa..’ He breathed, feeling his heart flip at the idea that everything about this was real. He had kids. He had..a wife. A family life. And now all he needed to learn was how to fit into his new role. This new ..Henry. And, for the fuck of sakes: if he wasn’t going to jerk off soon, he’d jump his wife before the night was through. It was quite clear how they had never made it to a first date; she simply made his heart and loin ache in a way he had never quite felt before.

Sighing deeply he looked back at the dark row of judgmental beady eyes next to him. He chuckled.

‘Yea...let’s not do that here.’

--

Chap 5 >

--

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[bitchapalooza]

Hetalia nekotalia headcanons(covering just a few of them)

It seems weird that the cats would just be called "Italy-cat" by the actual nation whose name is already Italy so I wasted my time in figuring out their possible breeds and searching up acceptable names(unless stated otherwise) for them that the nations may pick for them and even where the nations obtained these cats. I think they've come to value these cats on the same level as themselves due to how long they may have been around(the same goes for whatever other pet(s) they may own). I thought this was a fun thing to do and honestly it was! :)

Might do more when I get the time again~

***Tw for mentions of animal abuse***

Americat:

Domestic long hair, possible Maine Coon mix!

I think America adopted his cat in the 1980s. He was just a kitten, abandoned outside a supermarket in a box with a sign with one other kitten inside. At least 2 months old. America, having a big heart and soft spot for animals of any kind, took them both in. However he was already struggling to buy proper food for his other animals so he needed to find a different home for them. America ended up keeping one, as he fell absolutely head over heels for him, and named him Liberty— for obvious personal reasons. America raised him for the majority of his life as an indoor cat but with how much energy he has he decided to train him to be an outdoor cat as well, even teaching him to use the doggy door. This gave him enough room to actually grow faster into the adult cat he is now compared to if he'd ALWAYS be around America(as in staying small due to the slow aging around America).

Canacat:

Domestic longhair, possible Maine Coon mix!

Canada adopted him after America offhandedly asked. Canada was pretty stuck when it came to naming him. It was 4 weeks into owning him, mostly calling him a range of names such as Paul and Rookie but never sticking to one for even one whole day, but when Canada was just sitting there eating breakfast before leaving for his daily duties, just a normal quiet morning it came to him. Again, he was just sitting there. That is until the kitten figured out how to climb onto the chair next to him that is. He sat there meowing and pawing at Canada's thigh for 10 minutes while Canada ate. And then he tried to jump onto the table 3 times in a row. Canada gave in and allowed him up there for a minimum of 3 minutes. Not even 1 second passed and suddenly the little rascal is trying to steal the last couple bites of pancake. That was apparently what he wanted. And so Canada named him Pancake! Pancake was an energetic little kitten that a spring in his step but he did mellow out as he grew into adulthood. He's mainly an indoor cat. Come winter time when it snows, Pancake has a tendency to forget the existence of snow so he goes bolting for it only to regret it later.

Germany-cat:

A black or gray German Rex!

Germany isn't exactly a big cat person, he prefers dogs. But after this kitten followed Prussia's cat all the way home and noticed how thin he was he couldn't resist taking care of him. Germany ended up naming him Maus in reference to how tiny and often silent his meow was as a kitten. Now it's just a hilarious name as he's grown quite big and has a very strong meow! Maus is a very well behaved cat although it seems he doesn't favor being played with. He's most often seen at the top of his cat tower or in the window basking in the warm sun. As he was previously found as a stray outside he still does favor being outside. He tends to escape whenever Germany unlocks the doggy door or when Germany let's the dogs out in the backyard to run around for a bit. Maus may be a very mellow cat but he does tend to be loud when he wants food and doesn't want to wait for it. He also tends to attack people when suddenly being pet.

Prussia-cat:

An albino German Rex!

Prussia adopted him in 1998 after his and Germany's new home became a little overrun with mice. Prussia affectionately named him Gunther. Gunther was a spunky little kitten, in fact he was the runt of 6 other siblings and noticeably different to his siblings in appearance(originally thought to just take after the father's white coat despite the orange coats of his siblings and mother). Prussia chose him, the teeny little runt, after watching him easily sneak up and take down his bigger sister and win the play-fight he started. Prussia proudly took him home and trained him to catch the mice! Some years later, Gunther apparently got curious and brave and got loose outside. He was gone for weeks. He came back with a limp, a fresh scar, and a kitten clinging to his side. Gunther rarely escapes outside anymore. Prussia didn't know Gunther was albino until took he took him to the vet for his shots.

Itabby and Romano-cat:

They're both European shorthairs!

When the Italies were freshly unified and everything was still pretty awkward they were forced to go bond by taking walks every morning. Veneziano didn't mind this, he enjoyed the morning and even more so the countryside around them. Romano however could care less about it all and just wanted his bed back. Veneziano was all conversation, very observant of his surroundings as he commented on them to strike up an interesting conversation. And that's how he noticed a man cruelly stuffing two kittens into a sack on their way out of town. After alerting his brother, the two confronted the man. The man claimed these two were sick because neither were getting any of their mother's milk like the rest. Romano demanded he hand the kittens over or else he'd regret it. Veneziano annoyed him with his whining to the point where he gave in and handed them over quite harshly. Once they got them safely away from the man they took a look at the 1 week old kittens; they were both terribly skinny but clearly hanging on for dear life and the brothers both agreed, for once(well more like Romano kept saying "whatever the fuck you want"), that they wanted to help these poor creatures. Luckily for them they knew a stray cat that just had another litter of 3 and could perhaps try to get her to accept two more. And she did! Well it took a day but she did eventually take them in and feed them. Veneziano immediately decided that once they were old enough to eat solid foods he was going to keep one of them and name him Gino! It took a while for Romano to warm up to the idea of keeping even one but he eventually did. He took the other kitten and named him Sonno. They've lived so long due to just how clingy they are to the brothers. Their aging was so slowed down because of how often they're near the Italies that they didn't become fully grown adult cats until some time around 1932.

Japan-cat:

Japanese bobtail!

Named Yoshi* for being Japan's little lucky charm. Yoshi was left behind by his previous family after they moved away. He left his home and began wandering around until he got to Japan's house. Taking notice of how the cat stuck around his house, Japan began feeding him. And feeding him. And feeding him. And eventually he accepted the idea that he was now a cat owner. Not knowing his previous name, Japan decided to rename him Yoshi. Because of Yoshi, Japan began to come outside more and more each day as he is an outdoor cat that seldomly comes inside anymore. What's more is Yoshi came into his life in 1999, just a few months before 2000— aka when The Lost Decade was coming to an end as well as his personal on and off string of depressive episodes. Japan spoils Yoshi with treats and only the best cat food he can afford!

*The real name given to him by Himaruya is Tama, most likely a reference to calico cat Tama from Kinokawa, Wakayama Prefecture, Japan(that's at least what I've gathered). Before I knew this(in my early fandom days) I headcanoned his name to be Yoshi, as I said above it was a reference to luck(I didn't have as easy and unmonitored access to the internet as I do now so I never had a steady way to look these things up). I like Tama as well but I still can't get the name Yoshi out of my mind! I'm not sure if Yoshi and Tama can be combined like some names here in America can be combined(like Lilian Pad[as in Lily Pad] or Patches Poo) and I don't want to attempt it in case I get it wrong no matter how much research I do.

Austria-cat:

Domestic longhair!

Austria has quite the soft spot for this kitty surprisingly. He was born on his estate after his mother wandered in and settled between a couple bushes in his garden. He was born one of three kittens, almost entirely identical to his mother. Austria ended up giving names to all the cats but this one specifically was named Mozart— for very obvious reasons on Austria's part. The mother cat and two of the other kittens ended up moving along a year later after Austria decided to renovate part of his house; however the only one to stick around was Mozart. Austria would let Mozart come inside if only he could manage to pick him up. Mozart will jump into his lap outside, brush up against him, greet him in the morning, allow him to come near(especially with food and clean water) and even pet him but he won't ever peacefully allow Austria to carry him. Mozart was originally thought to be a Ragdoll however it was France who identified him to be a simple domestic longhair instead.

China-cat:

Burmese cat!

Originally a stray that endlessly bothered a shop owner and his own cat, China attracted his attention when he fed him only once. This cat followed him all the way to the hotel he was staying at not far from the little shop, which annoyed him greatly but honestly gave him a little laugh as well. As his car ride home was only going to be an hour at best he decided to at least attempt to bring the little fella home for proper care and attention. And obviously it worked. On his way home he decided a name like Zhi seemed perfect for him! Something told China Zhi was used to car rides and being around people, which told him Zhi was originally in a loving home. Feeling a little sad that this nice loyal cat was living on the streets he began to pamper him. Now Zhi expects to be brushed twice a day, let out at least once a day to soak in the sun's warmth and lay in the soft grass. He's fed the best food possible, has more toys that he knows what to do with. China's cellphone is overrun with videos of Zhi playing fetch— a trick he didn't teach him which, to him, is further proof he had a previous owner.

Russia-cat:

Siberian cat!

Taken in from a rescue shelter, at first fostered, then adopted. Russia kept the name the shelter gave him, Boris, as it fit him very well considering his past. Boris was unfortunately neglected when his previous owner was around. His fur was matted, he was skin and bones, upon pick up he had an eye infection. He was terribly scared of people. After being treated and showed kindness, it wasn't very long for him to open up. When Russia came along and took him in to give him all the proper attention he lacked, Boris fell in love with it. And Russia fell in love with having a cat around. Before anyone could swoop in and try to adopt Boris, Russia already put in to adopt. Now Boris is a happy healthy cat who's favorite toy to play with is Russia's supply of yarn. Boris loves bird or feather based toys the most, however, and will often drag his favorite feather wand over to Russia so he'd play. He's not much of an outdoor cat but after being kept mostly in a small cage since birth he does enjoy at least laying on the porch outside.

France-cat:

A Sacred Birman with light creamy point colouration!*

Obtained as a newly born kitten in 1992, France had offered to help nurture him as his mother had died shortly after giving birth. France named him Minou, more so in honor of his deceased mother Minet rather than it being a common French cat's name(some assume he was lazy with his naming). Minou grew up to be properly spoiled and loved by France. From the time he could see and walk properly, France began putting light outfits and accessories on him for very small amounts of time(like hats and ties mainly to avoid overheating). Minou often silently greets France at the door whenever he comes home, barreling through the hallway or off the couch in order to get some much needed love and attention. He surprisingly gets along very well with France's pet birds, only ever going after them once as a kitten. Minou can be found in his luxurious cat bed made of cardboard from the cat tower's box and a quilt France had crafted long long ago that's now drastically torn in various places. OR he can be found planting his fanny on France's face at night, nearly suffocating him. Minou seems to have a likeness for Russia and England.

*I know France-cat doesn't have any visible point colorations to him but him being a Persian doesn't fit him in my opinion, especially a blue eyed white cat. There's a high percentage of blue eyed white cats being deaf. However a common trait in Birmans are blue eyes so that, to me, fits better.

Iggycat:

Scottish fold-American shorthair mix!*

Obtained through a small litter from a colleague. England named him Lopsy  immediately upon seeing him, completely falling in love with him. Due to Lopsy's health concerns(osteochondrodysplasia) he's strictly an indoor cat. He's not very playful due to the pain he endures so he's prone to lay about, especially in England's lap, in his cat bed that sits directly under the window to reach the sunlight, or under England's bed. Despite being on them for so long, it still takes quite the struggle to give Lopsy his medication as he's come accustomed to when England is preparing to give it to him. As he's not very active, Lopsy isn't too fond of France's, America's, or Canada's cats— all of which tend to love playing together. However there are times when Minou is in non-playful mode where Lopsy will lay near or eat with him, but will absolutely refuse to lay with since Minou does have a tendency to attack another cat's tail without warning.

*The reason I see him as a mix is due to the major health concerns breeding two Scottish folds together can bring. However, breeding a Scottish fold with an American shorthair or British shorthair is often the better choice as there's less issues involved. There's talk about banning the breed all together. Even with this talk, breeding persists, preferably for cat shows from the sound of it. There's even research going into fixing these health concerns but it seems incurable due to the Scottish fold disease seeming to be a very dominant trait no matter what secondary breed it's bred with. Scottish fold disease doesn't always occur in a litter, mostly being a 50% change.

Spain-cat:

European shorthair!

Named Vivo for his lively personality, this little guy was found in the rain, drenched and hungry. He looked to be roughly 3 months old, very well fed and groomed so Spain assumed he had a family he ran away from for whatever reason. Without any other solution, Spain took him in until someone came to pick him up. A few weeks go by without anyone coming to claim him, so Spain opted to keep Vivo. Vivo is very loving, he possess a strong purr and often falls asleep purring. He's a lap cat but also has a tendency to curl up on or near Spain's shoulder when he's on the couch. Vivo is mainly an outdoor cat, often chasing mice or other vermen away from the garden without ever destroying it. Spain is pretty grateful to of found him as it had gotten quiet with Romano gone and all. And Vivo defiantly brought some noise to the house! He's not always vocal but when he is he tends to run around happily meowing for attention. He's surprisingly very territorial however— when introduced with then young kits Gino and Sonno, the Italies' cats, Vivo almost attacked them. It took small steps forward to get the three of them to warm up to each other. It also took a while to warm Vivo up to Minou and Gunther.

[mlqcconfessions]

hi!!! i noticed you also do headcanons and I was wondering if you could do mc's cat cockblocking the boys?? i really love your writing, and tysm!!!

I’ve never owned a cat, but I’ve watched enough videos on YouTube

I GOT THIS

MLQC Headcanon - Please do something about that cat

Victor

He’s not much of an animal person

And you know that

But that doesn’t mean you’ll throw away your cat after moving in with him (the one you’ve raised for nearly 12 years)

So you’re determined to make him accept little Whiskers

One of the biggest peeves he has is the fur

He doesn’t like having the hairs stick to his clothes (AND in the food)

He just doesn’t find cats that adorable like you do?

He doesn’t complain when you take him to buy stuff (he actually enjoys watching your face light up while picking things out)

But he regrets it because you were taking too long looking at everything in the store

So he now makes you shop online (so he doesn’t have to actually be there)

“Victor...! We HAVE to get this banana bed!!”

He doesn’t see the necessity but buys them for you anyways

There’s a lot of things he wants to say about that cat, but he stops himself

But he DOES want to say something about your cat continuously cockblocking him?

Every time he goes to kiss you, Whiskers is always there

She keeps meowing to get your attention (to which she always succeeds)

Damn cat.

He doesn’t like how you give her more affection than to him

She’s such an angel when you’re around

But is the devil’s incarnate when you’re not

He swears your cat gives him a look sometimes

“Victor, you’re being ridiculous” (if only you knew)

Damn cat.

You’re usually the one to take her to the vet

But you were busy with wrapping up a shoot one day (so HE had to take her)

Boy, did he hate every minute of it

Meowing like no tomorrow (he thought his ears would start coughing hairballs)

The appointment wasn’t all that splendid either

He thought about accidentally leaving the cat at the vet’s 

But he was able to refrain from doing so

When he gets back, you’re waiting for him

He suddenly picks you up bridal style (doesn’t forget to glance at Whiskers)

He thinks he wins this round (but she’s the one in your arms when he wakes up the next morning)

Damn cat.

Kiro

He loves animals

He REALLY loves animals

But sometimes they don’t love him back (poor sunshine boy)

And your cat was one of them

He literally tries everything to make Whiskers like him

But it doesn’t work

“My evol......” (absolute charm doesn’t work on animals, apparently)

He becomes so sulky afterwards

Savin has to stop by the house to drag him to his next schedule

He gets up to leave, but then sees Whiskers come up to Savin’s leg

She starts purring so loud? (like she wants Kiro to hear?)

“Wha— No! That’s not fair!”

He sits back down, exclaiming that he won’t budge until he MAKES Whiskers like him

Savin is crying, once again

Kiro uses his knowledge as Key to create the most complex system you’ve ever seen in your life

“Ki..Kiro? What’s all this?” (you’re almost afraid to ask)

“It’s an automated treats dispenser. Whenever she passes by any of my things, this bad boy (he taps on a device) will drop her favorite treat. You can think of it as training her to associate me with food!”

“And....this is supposed to make her like you?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment (he’s desperate, isn’t he?)

“Just watch, MC! Don’t come crying when she no longer follows you everywhere”

You sigh (I’ll have to apologize to Savin again)

So the treat dispenser idea worked in the beginning

Or at least, it seemed like it did

Whiskers figured out the trick pretty quickly (she was old, but not stupid)

She could care less about becoming familiar with Kiro’s scent, and was only interested in the snacks

He’s devastated now (he’s curled in the corner of the sofa)

Seriously, what made you marry this man?

Just then, Whiskers comes up to Kiro and sits on his lap (he’s squealing)

“MC! Look! I told you this would work!”

Lucien

He doesn’t particularly hate animals

But can’t imagine raising one himself

He was supportive when you said you wanted to adopt a stray cat (the one that’s been wandering around the orphanage)

He helps you buy the supplies to prepare the house

He even offers to take her for her shots (while you were working)

He was looking forward to expecting the cat to fall in love with him

As did the hundreds of animals in the past

He never thought this stray cat would become so attached to you

And attached as in ATTACHED

She literally gave him no room to come between the two of you

He pretends it doesn’t make him faze one bit

But he’s actually plotting using that sexy brain of his

He’s laughing at his own childishness

But when it involves your love, it’s a little different (he’s willing to play this game)

She’s a formidable opponent

As a pet, she has the upper hand in a lot of situations

For example...

She’s allowed to sit on your lap and stay there for who knows how long

She’s able to follow you into the bathroom (something Lucien wishes)

Theoretically speaking, she’s much more huggable than he was

Whiskers was smol and fluffy, but Lucien?

Alpha male was just BIG (his hair is fluffy, though)

He doesn’t like how he’s losing on so many levels

But he DOES have advantages as a husbando human 

He can cook you breakfast

He can pick you up in his arms and swing you around

Even though he can’t sit on your lap (he’ll crush you if he does), he sure can rest his head on it

He can actually communicate with you? (this is the BIG ONE)

He understands your body language, your speech, and any changes in between

And he KNOWS that he is the only one in your life who will be able to get this intimate with you

Inside and outside

Gavin

He’s more of a dog person, himself

You already knew about Flyer (*see Rehearsal Date)

And you knew Gavin wasn’t actively looking for a pet

But he is more than willing to take in a stray cat you brought home

You ask him to name the cat, to which he appropriately names Whiskers

It’s not original, but I suppose it’s still cute

What did you expect 

This is a man who names his motorcycle Sparky

Slowly but surely, he begins to love this cat as if she was his own

And Whiskers seems to love him the same, as well

You often find the two of them napping together, curled up in the sofa

When he comes back after a long mission, she’s always there by the door (she knows when he’s coming before you do?)

Despite all this

He loses it whenever she gets in the way of his affectionate moments with you

Other than that, the two have a great relationship

He has small scratches on his legs and arms 

He gets new ones whenever he tries to kiss you

You end up cutting her nails more frequently than before (but she always finds a way to make them sharp again)

Minor makes fun of him when he tries to explain his dilemma

“Bro! You’re fighting with a CAT” (Gavin had to punch lightly nudge Minor’s stomach)

He knows it’s dumb, but he can’t help himself

He has his reasons for being so jealous over Whiskers

It’s because you’ve become so much more lovey-dovey after taking in the cat

Well, he’s not complaining (you were more adorable now)

But it would be nice if all that love was directed towards him

Right now, it was 7:3 (Whiskers : Gavin)

In order to fight back, HE becomes the affectionate one now

Kisses become a lot more........extravagant

It’s not like he’s not embarrassed about it

If anything, he wants to hide in a hole every time he slips his tongue in your mouth

“Gavin, if it’s gonna make you blush that hard then you don’t have to do it, you know?”

I’ve always wanted a cat, and this just solidifies my point

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Six

Ao3,   Masterpost,   C.1   C.2   C.3   C.4   C.5

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality. platonic dukeceit, creativitwins, and dlampr.

Yet again there are no italics. its new years eve sue me. oh also happy 2021 nobody question my priorities thanks <3

Warnings: so much softness, implications of self-isolation, swearing, Lots of Feelings, sympathetic everybody, descriptions of the sides having non-human features.

Word Count: 3,962

Something Remus came to realize was that he, a bit paradoxically, was not used to people being in his space.

It was weird. Not weird in the way that people usually felt when he was the one interrupting- he wasn’t scared by it, or disgusted, or even really annoyed. It was just… surprising, to have somebody else hanging around him, unprompted by anything. 

Remus wasn’t known for having boundaries- or respecting them, for that matter- but he’d at least been attempting to restrain himself just a bit after being accepted by the others. Out of courtesy, if nothing else. 

And apparently he didn’t need to. Not after what happened with Patton, anyway. Now that Patton had deemed the two of them ‘close’- something he was absolutely happy to agree with, for the record- Remus’ world had flipped sort of around. Back to no boundaries, only he wasn’t the one crossing those lines, and nobody was running screaming. Least of all Patton!

Remus ran the thoughts over in his head, feeling like that day was shaping up to be a great example of the change:

He and Patton were sitting side-by-side in the living room, content, with the rest of the sides spread around in different seats and configurations just the same. The unlikely pair were at the fringe of the circle, close enough to be part of things but far enough to zone in and out at will (as both were prone to do). It was nice, amiable.

 But minutes before- forty of them at most- Remus had been up in his own room, happily dissecting some gooish creations and only vaguely aware that there was a meeting that day. His attendance to group meetings varied from week to week- sometimes he was bored and could use an argument, and other times he was having fun on his own and knew that it wouldn’t be all that important if he ditched. He joined more often than he used to, sometimes he was even asked for, but he was optional still. A favored option, suggestions taken now, sure- but still not mandatory. 

He was going to stay upstairs for that one, but Patton had come to get him. Had dragged him down in that sweet, puppy-dog way of convincing that worked so well and, knowing him, was totally unintentional. And even if Remus didn’t care about arguing his way through content production right then, Patton had promised that it was important for him to be there.

That was the word he’d used for Remus. Important.

How the hell could Remus say no to that?

At least the meeting was going by without a hitch, for once. He assumed it was- Remus was honestly paying very little attention- but the lack of anger or tension was practically palpable. These things were usually so spiteful that even Remus, renowned lover of chaos, could almost taste his headache when everybody started shouting and hissing and fighting. It just got sad.

But not that time, apparently.

As Logan went on his third ramble of the evening, smiling widely at a surprising lack of interruption, Remus turned to Patton. He whispered:

“Okay, when are they gonna snap? Did they all finally get lobotomized?”

Patton frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean where’s all the screaming and crying? Specs and Prince Priss haven’t had a single one of their horny yelling matches, what gives?”

Patton smiled in a way that said he was trying very hard not to laugh, rolling his eyes.

  “These meetings have calmed down a bit, I guess,” he shrugged.

Remus glanced around the room with narrowed eyes. While that certainly seemed like the truth, he couldn’t buy it. 

“Yeah, I give it until one of them vaguely insults the others,  and then everybody’s gonna shut down for the next week. That kinda tension doesn’t just go.”

Patton didn’t say anything. Half-gazing at the carpet, he didn’t look like he’d even heard. He was smiling, but it was one of those jumbled up expressions, the type that tried to span a hundred different feelings. He had so many expressions like that, that seemed bottomless and swirling and so intricate on a humanoid face that, in reality, wasn’t built to display something like that. It was uncanny- not like an eerie doll, but like something with unearthly beauty. This face, though, had tones of upset.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been around everybody,” Patton said.

It wasn’t a question and it didn’t need to be. While Remus wasn’t exactly known for keeping to himself, he couldn't be called sociable either. He dropped in to say something, usually random, and then he was gone as soon as he’d visited. Even before the first Patton incident, fuck, it had been weeks since he’d actually stuck around through something.

Since The Acceptance, now that Remus thought of it, he’d been spending more time alone than ever. Not all of  his time- he remembered being surprised at Logan talking to him, willingly, like friends, and after that had even come Virgil and Roman. He saw people, talked to them, yeah. The time spent was friendlier, more welcoming, but it was so much less. 

Well, it was obvious why: they visited him, but- like he’d mentioned, he’d been trying to give them some space.

“Sure, it's been awhile,” Remus admitted, “But I never expected shit to change so much around here, still.”

The haze on Patton’s face thickened like fog on the moors, a soft and sympathetic mist over his eyes that Remus knew was aimed at him (even if it was pointed more to a sort of middle distance). 

“I don’t think I did, either,” Patton’s mouth barely moved, his voice less of a whisper and moreso a fragile breath. “I was hoping for it, but… I’m still trying to get used to stuff being allowed to change, you know?” He picked at a loose thread along the seam of the couch. “I haven’t done this stuff in a while, either.” 

Remus’ head shot up, and he almost forgot that they weren’t the only two in the room. Somehow, he stopped himself from shouting:

“You- it has?”

A tiny smile. Something built up behind Patton’s eyes; a wave, dark and lonely and filling his bright blues with cloudy gray. “I just needed some alone time, after everything changed so much so fast. I still feel, I dunno, weird. I don’t know what’s wrong with me- but…” he swallowed, his head lifting. “I’m really happy for them,” he was staring- so very loving- first at Logan, then Roman, then Virgil and Janus. It was a wonder none of them felt his gaze on them, Remus thought, because he was sure if anyone looked at him that way, he’d burn up like a fae upon iron. “They deserve it so much. I know that not everything is perfect still, but, I’m just so proud of us anyways. I- I think maybe-”

He cut himself off, blinking rapidly. Remus gave the room a quick once over to make sure nobody was looking their way- and nobody was: Virgil was very resolutely trying to get everyone to stay on topic despite Janus and Logan’s continued tangenting, and Roman was scribing furiously on several different pieces of paper- before he inched close enough to curve his arm around Patton. Touching like that had steadily become familiar to both of them, and it didn’t take long for Patton to fall untense against his side. He leaned into him, muttering: “I mean, they’re all doing a lot better than me, that’s for sure. I- I don’t even know what I’m for anymore. Maybe that’s why I’ve been… ditching, really.”

Remus squeezed his shoulder. There were so many things he could’ve said and done, but all of them loud and fervent and definitely not subtle enough to go unnoticed by everyone. So, for the sake of Patton’s privacy, he settled on this:

“That makes two of us, Morey.”

 The meeting that was planned to take two or three hours took the entire day, just as always. Hours and hours were spent in a room filled with excited conversation, of which the subject oscillated wildly between relevant topics and complete nonsense- which Remus and Patton did, eventually, tune back into (and contribute to as well, mainly in the nonsense department). Eventually, even Virgil gave up on trying to keep anything in order. 

But the meeting ended on a good note anyway. Lots of good notes, actually, if the stacks upon stacks of paper they’d scribbled up were any indication. Mess, the sides had come to believe, was usually a measure of their productivity: if crumpled pages were strayed across the room, if forgotten pens and pencils balanced on every surface from coffee table to TV stand, and if- in the process of snacking- they’d accumulated enough dishes to fill the sink for days on end? Shit. Got. Done.

Remus stared over the chaos with unfocused eyes. He felt distantly proud of the stormish state the living room was in. Draped over the back of the sectional, he gnawed idly on a wood pencil, stripping its yellow into beige. The paint fell off in bitter chunks, and the taste made him think of grabbing some non-acrylic dinner before closing the night off. Maybe he’d steal some of whatever saccharine sweet Patton usually made in the late evenings, and then spend the rest of the night with him, anyway. Remus debated what would be the most fun (or if he was tired enough to sleep yet), partially aware as he did so that he’d chewed and swallowed the metal-eraser end of his pencil.

“Ugh,” a drawn out groan broke his thoughts, petulant and whiny. “Do you have any intention of helping us clean up this, the common area?” 

Roman was kneeling beside Janus on the carpet, the pair surrounded by papers and binders and trashbags, the former of which they were sorting into either of the latter two, depending on how useful each page was. Roman had stopped working, however, to stare up at Remus indignantly. Remus glared right back.

“I’ve never had an intention in my life,” he answered.

Janus shrugged, smiling in that I-told-you-so way at Roman. But Roman, ever the nuisance, wasn’t letting it go. 

“Come on! It’s not like you’re even doing anything!”

“I’m doing something,” Remus’ words were wide and wobbly as he stripped another line of paint off the pencil, breaking some splinters off into his teeth.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” another chunk of wood, down the hatch. “I’m flaying all these leftover pencils until they’re lead-sticks.”

Roman hopped up from the floor and dropped himself onto the couch, shoving himself into the way so jarringly that it reminded Remus of himself. 

“Well, now you’re going to help us clean.” 

Janus rolled his eyes, not even glancing up. “Roman, just leave it alone, we-”

“We are all parts of this whole now, including him! Remus-” Roman rounded on him again, “If you’re going to come down here and help us make all this mess, with all of your numerous contributions that we have to write down, you’ll help clean it like anybody else. Do you think that I like any of- of-” he gestured, flamboyantly, at the room, “This? Ugh, please, I’m a prince! But, fair is fair, and fair means everybody.” 

And that was the point of the conversation in which Remus would cackle, push Roman backwards off the couch, and proclaim how much it’d go against his very being to clean a mess instead of cause it. He’d tell Roman how funny it was that he thought he could boss him around, because it always had been- that full-of-it Older Brother kind of attitude that had never worked. The Prince had never once managed to get him to do anything, and each attempt only got funnier than the last. 

He didn’t say any of that, though. 

Roman was bitching at him, not to go away this time, but to stay. Stay and help the group, because he was a part of said group. So he was asked to help them, the group that he was a part of, because he was part of it. That group. 

“Okay,” he blurted, “Okay, I’ll- alright.”

Roman blinked at him, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “You- oh!” he smiled, utterly baffled. “That was- very easy?”

Janus, too, was looking up at Remus with bewilderment, his task of paper-sorting all but forgotten. Remus couldn’t blame either of them, but he still huffed, trying very hard not to be embarrassed by that whole… moment.

He shook it off, rolling off the couch and standing up, jittery. 

“Whatever, just- tell me what to pick up, okay?” 

They seemed not to hear him, the gawking continuing on until he started working unprompted, and longer than that still. Each time he (begrudgingly) shoved something into a trashbag, it earned him another Exchange of Glances from the pair. 

They got over it eventually, though, because there was a fuck-load more to clean than there was room to stare. So they cleaned.

Remus thought it would get old after a minute, and he’d finally gather up the guts to bail on them, but it just… never happened. It felt unnatural to be getting rid of a mess- like an animal having its fur brushed the wrong way, continuously- but by some point the sensation was distant. The rest of him was still busy processing, experiencing, maybe possibly overthinking this kind of recognition he’d never gotten before. It was handed to him now like it was something normal. The three of them worked together, and it was normal. 

Acceptance, as it turned out, wasn’t synonymous with ‘soulless assimilation’. In fact, it was pretty fucking great, getting to watch his brother and best friend find documents from the floor with his ideas on them, then tucking them into a binder marked important, instead of a trashcan marked to burn. It was… surreal. 

But the tidying was over in just an hour and a half- oh wow, never in a million years would Remus have thought an hour and a half of cleaning would be too little for him. He made a note to absolutely destroy something big and important later, to balance the universe out again. 

Roman sank through the floor as soon as they were done, complaining loudly about how very exhausted he was. Remus teased him on his way out, but it was just for the habit- he was way too mushy to think of anything properly mean at the moment. 

Janus watched him go, silent. He sat beside Remus on the couch, and despite his obvious tiredness, he waited a good few minutes before saying anything. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. 

Remus shivered. Janus pulled him up into a hug (one that maybe dragged on for a little too long, but who was counting?), and it spelled out all the pride and care that he’d never been good at verbalizing. With that, he gave Remus a short nod, and then was gone as well. 

Which made everyone else upstairs, probably in their rooms and halfway asleep. Then there was Remus, antsy in the living room, itchy with feelings. 

Everyone but Patton, of course, who could still be heard humming in the kitchen; who never went up until he knew everyone else was in their rooms, true to the protective parent persona. Remus suddenly didn’t think he wanted anything else but to see Patton after what had happened, to talk to him, to… 

He walked to the kitchen.

“Pat.”

Patton looked over his shoulder at Remus, up to his elbow in sudsy sink water. A smile fell naturally across his face.

“Hi,” his voice was low, delicate. “You about to head up?”

Remus watched his friend work, trailing into the room slowly.  He grinned, “Are you kidding? I could stay up all night, if I wanted.”

“Do you want to?” Patton asked him.

Remus thought on it for a moment. He shrugged, iunno, leaned against the counter by the sink. Patton turned away again.

It was so quiet. No wind. No footsteps. Not a muffled voice upstairs, even- just the sound of water and ceramic hitting ceramic. Everything was still.

Remus hated it. Silence was fragile, and he crawled with the need to break it. He felt it get tense as it stretched out, and he just wanted to tear the air apart with sound. It felt like nothing mattered anymore, when peace was so easily able to drown it all out. Cold and alone. He hated it.

Sometimes, Remus imagined that if the silence went too long, he’d never be able to make a noise again. There were few things that made him so unhappy, but the quiet… 

“What’s on your mind?” Patton asked.

Remus jolted. Patton was staring, concern gathering in his eyes the longer he did. Remus took a deep breath- he remembered something, something small and unimportant that Janus had told him once. 

When one is so intensely happy, they can fall to agonizing upset even quicker than if they’d been mildly perturbed in the first place, because of the ferocity of the feelings. Something like that. 

“A lot more than I’m willing to throw on your shoulders, Pops.”

Patton pouted. Actually. Fucken. Pouted. The worst part was, his puppy-face was actually working.

“Ugh,” Remus rolled his eyes, “Just- could I- I dunno, have a hug, or some shit?”

If Patton was surprised, he hid it well. God knew, that wasn’t exactly the kind of thing Remus would ask for. He almost never asked to get attention- taking it was much easier, and much more entertaining. Besides, if he’d ever asked before that point… well, he already knew what answer he would’ve gotten. 

Patton’s smile only widened, until it was positively melting. “Of course you can,” he shut the sink off. “Of course.”

He reached haphazardly for a hand towel, to dry his arms. Remus, riding the high of that enthusiastic permission, absolutely could not wait that long. He latched his arms around Patton’s middle before the side had even finished talking, burying his face between his shoulder blades and hugging tight. 

Patton went still, like he didn’t know what to do. After it became clear that Remus had no intention to move, Patton laughed, dreamy and soft, and shook his hands as dry as he could. He patted Remus’ forearm; bead-bracelets clattered under the Duke’s sleeves. 

“Hey,” Patton said.

“Mmh?”

“Not that this isn’t lovely,” he laced his fingers with Remus’, squeezed them, “But I’d like it better if I could hug you back, ya know?”

Remus let go, reluctantly. In the true fashion of intrusive thoughts, there was a second he was so convinced Patton would run, now that he was freed. Make an escape from him, an escape from his claws.

He didn’t. He spun right around and pulled Remus against his chest- one arm linked around his torso, the other winding into his tangled hair. Anyone, at a glance, could see that Patton was huge- but up close the difference was dizzying: his wide chest, encircling arms that seemed to be made of nothing but muscle and padding, and that height, all made him so… comforting. Big and strong, a body that disguised power in soft edges and fat. If he squeezed just a little too tight, in fact, Remus wouldn’t be surprised if Patton could make splinters out of his bones. Which Remus definitely, definitely wouldn’t mind, but the knowledge that Patton not only could do that but also wouldn’t ever do that- that was what really did him in. 

And he’d hugged Patton before- months ago, and somehow Patton had seemed so small then, when everything had started- but being hugged? Properly, too, not underwater while one of them was drowning- it was a world of difference. No panic, no breakdowns, just a real, solid hug.

He could just ask for this and then have it. He could smell sugar cookies and candle wax, and feel somebody- a willing body- pressing in. It was weird. He thought that someday, he might get used to it. He wanted a chance to get used to it. 

���Do you wanna talk now?” Patton prompted, forcibly reminding Remus that he had a bloodhound’s nose for emotional distress. 

“I don’t know.”

Patton hummed, his fingers scratching through Remus’ hair. “Today went better than I thought it would.”

“You didn’t have to bring me, if you thought it was gonna be bad.”

“I wasn’t worried because of you! I was worried because of me. Things have been… a lot for me, lately.”

“Oh,” Remus angled his head to the side, looking up at him. “Yeah. I feel ya.”

“But they were all so much more patient, weren’t they,” Patton’s eyes went a little misty, the way they always did when he talked about his family. “Everything’s different now, and I guess that scared me, but I think that now… it’s a good different, you know?” 

“Like us, right?” Remus laughed, “This is the craziest difference, if ya think about it.”

Patton chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest so that Remus felt it more than heard it. 

“I don’t think I would’ve gotten through with today without you, you know that?” 

It was deeply honest. There was a beat. 

“I-” Oh fuck, Remus was choked up, when did that happen? “I wouldn’t have even had a day like today, without you, so. Do with that what you want.” 

Remus buried his face in Patton’s sternum, just to avoid the sad understanding in his eyes. 

He- he wasn’t exactly made for the care he was getting, not the kind of softness in that face. Not when Patton was still patiently untangling his matt of hair while they hovered in the stillness of the dark, empty kitchen, and Remus desperately didn’t want to cry. 

Patton gave him a minute to breathe, at the very least, before:

“They like you, though. Janus loves you.”

“Yeah, okay, but it’s not-”

“I know how you feel,” said Patton, and did. “Like they couldn’t actually care about us, even though it doesn’t make sense for them not to. It’s one of those things that’s easy to forget,” Remus could hear the smile in his voice. “So it’s good we have each other, when we need to get out of our own heads. At least, it’s like that for me, I don’t know if you even-”

“No,” Remus curled his claws in the back of Patton’s shirt, something dark and emotional flooding like tar through his chest. “Nah, you’re right, Morey. This is good for us.” 

Remus shook his head at nothing in particular. He forced his hands unballed, pulled back, and wormed his way out of Patton’s hug after way too long. 

His skin felt like paper from the affection, like he’d been electrocuted, and while that was fun- was amazing- for a while, he didn’t think he could handle much more in one sitting. 

Patton let him go, smiling warmly, leaning back against the counter. His eyes were shiny and wet, but he was content. 

“Thanks,” Remus said.

“What for? The hug?”

“No- I mean, that too, but I was saying ‘thanks, for caring’. For giving enough of a shit about me to try and help.”

Patton smiled, solemnly.

“I told you so,” he breathed, “I promised I would like you when I got to know you, and then I did. I do!” 

Remus felt a grin returning to his face, sliding across his lips more naturally than anything else he’d had to deal with that night.

“Yeah. You aren’t too bad yourself, Pat.”

Chapter Seven

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls  @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob 

[wilhelmjfink]

Daryl Dixon Drabble #6 — Pt. 3

Clearly, this is no longer a Drabble. I have no self control. This has been sitting in my documents for months, and I really like it, so why haven’t I posted it? Because my life is a fucking mess, y’all. It’s not very long, but you don’t care.

Who wants to guess how many more parts of this I will add over the next fucking fifteen years I make you wait? Who knows. Enjoy it now. Or don’t.

—

You’d half expected him to take off when you made it back to the campsite you shared — if you could even still consider that after the events of the night — but were instead surprised to see Rick, Lorie and Herschel had made their way into camp and stood around the glow of your campfire. Rick and Lorie were armed, their bodies stiff and uncomfortable and on edge it seemed, and they both turned at the sound of you and Daryl approaching in sync before lowering their handguns with their features softening in recognition.

“There y’all are,” Lorie exhaled with relief, tucking her pistol back into the holster resting on her hip. Still buzzed, you couldn’t help but notice Rick’s revolver remained in his grasp. “What in the world is going on?”

It was then you realized that you hadn’t come up with an adequate excuse for why exactly you and Daryl had literally been running around in the woods; and also the exact moment you realized how fucking stupid you felt, running after Daryl when he stormed off as if he — of all people — would do something careless and manage to get into trouble. And then what? You went after him like you would be able to save him from any danger. As if you didn’t just drag him into a dangerously idiotic situation that could’ve easily been avoided if you weren’t acting like a drunken frat girl, calling him names and spitting lies to hurt him and only then acknowledging your true feelings after you thought you may have pushed him away for good.

And as if you weren’t already embarrassed enough of course Daryl had you covered while you blindly fumbled the metaphorical football and tripped over your own feet, opening his mouth before you could manage to choke out some half-assed story about a stray walker in the night.

“Thought we heard somethin’ crawlin’ around,” he replied, smooth as the whiskey he (always) vaguely smelled of, once again just reminding you that, Jesus Christ, get a fucking grip — what is this, middle school? “Found a straggler outside the next pasture — fell over the fence or somethin’.”

You turned to look at him, to see if maybe he would be looking back at you and somehow convey to you what the fuck you were supposed to say or do or feel right as Rick decided to speak up.

“We heard screamin’, his expression was unreadable in the flickering glow of your slowly-dying campfire. “You alright?”

You could still feel your head spinning and the boney fingers intertwined in your hair and pulling your scalp but you were determined now to prove something, literally anything, to Daryl that you made sure to answer for yourself before he could try.

“Yeah, it got the jump on me,” you blurted out, almost before he even finished his last word, then dropping your gaze to the ground shamefully. “It just — y’know, scared me. But... Daryl got it.”

You were briefly self-conscious that you’d tried so hard to casually add on that last bit that it came out as bitter and immature as you really felt, and you forced yourself to swallow down the nausea that rose along with the shame and the flush of warmth from your chest to your cheeks.

“Well, good, but next time...”

Daryl waved a dismissive hand as he broadly stepped past the sheriff’s wife and closer to campsite. “Won’t be no next time. ’Sides, it ain’t nothin’ I couldn’t handle myself. Didn’t need to alert the whole damn village.”

Lorie — god damn Lorie, of course, who could never just leave things alone and always has to poke and prod opened her mouth to argue. “Still. We shouldn’t — “

“Man, enough with this fuckin’ ‘we’ stuff, alright? Ain’t no ‘we’ here — no ‘us’ — so give it a rest ‘n leave me the hell alone!”

You were left in silence, the wake of Daryl’s rage burning a trail behind his heels that violently kicked up dirt and rocks at you where you stood whilst watching him storm off. It was a very familiar sensation, the onset of tears threatening to fall, but you always knew when wanting to withhold them back would prove futile and instead of wasting the last of your energy trying, you hung your head and instead focused on trying to keep them as quiet as possible, at the very least.

“We’ll have to make a lap around the perimeter,” Herschel added nonchalantly, unbothered by Daryl’s emotional outburst and the fact that it had you choking back sobs as you stood in front of him. “Make sure all of the fencing is still holdin’ up okay. Maybe add some barbed wire or electricity or somethin’.”

You felt a gentle hand on your shoulder and stiffened, but saw Lorie standing at your side with her head cocked curiously and somehow pitifully at you. She offered you a tight smile.

“Yeah, tomorrow,” she agreed softly. “Let’s get back to bed. Why don’t you come sleep in the RV tonight? Carl can — “

Harshly shrugging her palm from your shoulder you straightened up, trying to remember how the current state of your own camp might be — you’d left it behind with a bottle of whiskey in tow to cross the few hundred yards between as you had the previous few nights, but that all seemed like a lifetime ago in retrospect. “No, I’m fine. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

As you strode away you could almost feel Lorie reaching for you, surely to add a comment of some sort or offer at least an escort back to your own camp, but you were extremely thankful to whatever it was that had convinced her to just keep her mouth shut for once in her fucking life.

The campfire was low now, the embers burning brightly within the logs they intertwined but with very little of the once roaring flames left. It smoked, the scent still somehow comforting to your soul even after the last few months of hell you’d endured — and once foolishly thought only possible within cheap horror flicks — managed to taint the long-gone memories of camping for fun instead of a dangerous lack of secure shelter. You wouldn’t have met Daryl if it weren’t for having lived through all of those nightmares. And, yet somehow, that thought still managed to scare you in a way that monsters and zombies never could.

Torn from your thoughts by the unmistakable sound of your boot crunching glass beneath your foot, you stopped. Just a few hours ago, those boots had been insignificant to you, tossed carelessly to the side of Daryl’s tent where they lay for the rest of the night. Light purple socks draped over them, just as quickly forgotten — it was a small luxury, but one almost instantly you’d grown to cherish when your life suddenly became full of long, taxing walks through all the various terrains the state of Georgia had to offer during the dog days of summer. You had only been a shot or two deep, but you were already basking in the sensation of thick, luscious grass against your bare feet once again.

“Shouldn’t be barefoot out here,” Daryl had quipped harmlessly from where he knelt opposite of you, stoking the workings of your campfire in the evening glow. You opened just one eye, content to relax where you were, but your body instantly began to sit up, already working to get up from where the tree stump you were sitting on and make its way to your discarded socks and boots.

“And why not?” You responded curiously. Of course, you were acutely aware of several reasons you shouldn’t be barefoot in the beginning chapters of what you safely assumed was the end of the world as you knew it — the only thing you were curious about was the nagging voice in your head you were struggling to ignore that made you realize you just wanted to hear him talk. Didn’t matter about what, apparently.

Instead of a gruff explanation about how you realistically needed to be prepared to jump up and run for your life at any second, Daryl had just shrugged half-heartedly. “Fire. Glass. Bees. Ya know.”

Doubled over you were already retrieving your socks and boots from up off the ground. “Fireglass bees?! That sounds awful!”

There was the soft snap of a twig and then the feeling of it bouncing off of your back, tossed playfully by the archer as he continued to break kindling over the growing fire.

“Don’t come cryin’ to me when ya get a shard of glass lodged in there,” he’d said lightly. “Shit hurts.”

You chanced a quick glance around the fire pit and proximity of the camp. “I don’t see any broken glass around here.”

“Well, yeah, nobody ever sees it before walkin’ on it. People don’t cut themselves open on purpose, y’know.” He pauses. “Smart people, anyway.”

You vividly remember the way his mouth quirked up into a smirk; the way you felt so relaxed and relieved that he seemed to feel the same way. The glass at your feet was the shattered remains of the once full bottle of whiskey that you liked to assume was solely responsible for how things had gone wrong that night. You don’t remember who dropped it, or even hearing it break.

But there you were, on your hands and knees in the dirt as you hunted for it’s pieces using what little light remained of the dying fire beside you. You didn’t know why you were doing it, either — as if you could somehow actually retrieve every last bit of the bottle, you could glue it back into its original form, a fragile vessel too pure for any leaks or cracks or chips that could compromise its integrity, and then maybe you could do the same to the deeply complex relationship you had with Daryl that you had managed to destroy in literal seconds.

Heavy tears obscured your vision and you blinked them away furiously, heart pounding in your chest, trembling hands instinctively clenching into fists to subdue the sudden need to just fucking hit something all the while simultaneously closing around the collection of glass pieces you’d gathered in your left hand over your last few minutes of absent-mindedness.

With a hiss of pain you released your grip, several shards falling from your grip but some remaining by way of stabbing themselves into the soft flesh of your palm.

Ironic, you thought, that Daryl had never warned you about getting glass lodged into your hand.

Then again, he shouldn’t have had to. People don’t cut themselves open on purpose.

Smart people, anyway.

[thebutterflyestate]

movement six

(Name) ran up the steps toward the Kamado household. Her frail legs carrying her body in the wind as she hurriedly made her way up the stairs. She heard that Suyako was already giving birth to her baby and apparently, Yorichi also came by after many months of his absence. (Name), of course, was ecstatic when she heard the news.

The girl reached the top of the stair and caught her breath. She could hear nothing, it was quiet so she assumed Suyako had already given birth to her child. She jogged to the side to reach the garden but Yorichi appeard right in front of her, "Ah!"

He caught her by the shoulders before she could barreled straight toward him. He let go, "(Lastname)..."

"Tsugikuni-san!" She beamed, her cheeks tinting into a color pink, "It's been months! How are you?"

"I'm good...Suyako had already given birth. The child is a boy." He said and she smiled at him, "I was about to leave."

She blinked and looked at him shocked, "E-Eh! But you just arrived!"

He nodded, "I do not want to take the Kamado's hospitality for granted." 

Her lips parted and he turned away to leave, she quickly caught his wrist and he turned around, expecting her to say something. She didn't let go of him.

"Tsugikuni-san, please stay with me for a while..." She softly said, her head down and cheeks turning red, "I.."

She couldn't say it but to get him to stay for a bit, she has to say it.

"I missed you..." She said, barely above a whisper but thankfully, he heard it and she let go of his wrist. (Name) mustered up the last of her bravery to look up at him, clenching her hands on her sides, "Y-You told me that destiny will decide if we must meet again...! I believe this is why i ran into you just now..! To spend time with you!"

"But you're here to visit the baby." He said and she puffed her cheeks.

"Uhm, I-I can drop by later but if you're going to leave now, at least spend a few hours here...with me." She said shyly. She hit herself, she sounded like a demanding child. Yorichi looked at her concerned.

In the end, Yorichi did go with (Name) to town but he had said that he will leave before it gets dark. He also didn't want to take her kindness for granted. The two caught eyes of people as they walked along the dirt path, most especially Yorichi. He would notice that people would stare at him in awe or suspicion. Some brave souls tried to greet (Name) whilst greeting him in the process. (Name) seemed to be loved by the people in the village.

"Tsugikuni-san, why do you always leave when you always come here to see the Kamados?" An innocent question. (Name) looked up at him with her pretty (e/c) eyes. He blinked.

"I just like visiting them when I'm close by. I cannot stay in one place because there are demons lurking all over the place. I wouldn't be able to protect anyone if I stay here..." He said quietly, "(Name), if you think something or someone is important and you want to protect it, you make do. "

She warmly smiled at him and tugged on to his sleeve, "You always say inspiring things."

They both stopped to eat a udon store. Yorichi didn't really have money so (Name) insisted she pays for the two of them. They both ate quietly and the girl felt like they were on a date. She shook her head, getting rid of the foolish thought then was surprised when Yorichi put some of his meat cuts on her own bowl.

"E-Eh? Tsugikuni-san, you'll need the meat to gain energy and protein...!" She said, returning them to him but he returned it back to her, and she returned it back to him but he returned it back to her before she could even place it on his bowl. People stared at their antics, "Uh..."

"This is the only way I can repay your kindness towards me." He said, putting back the meat into her bowl. She stared at him, "Thank you. The noodles and vegetables are enough. The meat is the most expensive one in this bowl...it's only right you have it."

She turned red and grew flustered. She ate the udon quickly, she nearly choked. Yorichi handed her a cup of tea.

After that, as Yorichi had promised, he went his way to slay demons. (Name) was escorting him until they reached the entrance of the village. He turned around and gave a polite bow. The girl spoke when he raised his head, "It's so unfair... you leave for so long but stay for a minute."

He place a hand on her head, patting her locks softly. She looked up at him, blushing. He didn't say anything though. Yorichi pulled his hand away. She was waiting for him to say something but he didn't. 

The mysterious samurai simply turned his back and walked away and there (Name) realized that he seemed so lonely. He always walked alone and for how long" That she doesn't know. She helplessly watched his broad back as it slowly shrunk and became part of the horizon ahead, his silhouette disappearing out of view.

(Name) placed her hands over her beating heart.

She was helplessly in love with a man whose name and occupation is the only thing she knows.

a/n opp-- sorry for the short chapter. however, I decided I would update this daily starting tomorrow because this only has...uhm, four chapters left. yes, it's only until chapter ten. I meant for this to be a drabble-sort of thing or oneshot but I was surprised the readers for this,,,increased so yeah hahah the reason it was supposed to be just a one shot thingy bc I have nooo absolute idea how yoriichi flirts but look at me, im at chap six still with the sa,e yori from chap one *shrugs*

ill be writing a new book but if you have requests, I MAY OR MAY NOT answer them,, haha im the kind of author that gets unmotivated when being told to do something,,, I was thinking of doing a michikatsu tsugikuni one shot but uhhh will that sell?

aaa future books r going to be hypmic related,, if there are hypmic fans out here, and maybe a bungo stray dogs one if I don't get stuck writing ranpo's character again 

. well that's all! please look forward to the last few chapters itll be fun :D

[thefandomsurfer]

Another top 10 couple list

Just as any of my other top tens-These are just my favorite couples! Thats literally it. Im not dismissing your ships or anything like that. ^^ Ive done this before and as such will only be doing my NEWER ships that I’ve come to ship since then.  

(One million)Honorable mentions:

Touka and Kaneki-(Tokyo ghoul-Tokyo ghoul Re:)

Midoriya and Todoroki-(My hero academia)

Catra and Scorpia-(She ra and the princesses of power)

Rose and The Doctor-(Doctor Who)

Crowley and Aziraphale-(Good Omens)

Mikasa and Eren-(Attack on Titan)

Dazai and Chuuya-(Bungou Stray Dogs)

Homura and Madoka-(Puella Madoka Magica-Rebellion) 

Ladybug and Chat Noir-(Miraculous Ladybug)

 Mirai and Akihito (Beyond the Boundary)

10. Catra and Adora-(She Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Childhood friends to rivals to enemies. It has so many different tropes that its crazy. They have this chemistry thats just...unbeatable. Even though they are enemies at this point its still...there. They are the Sole reason I got into this show and one of the main reasons I stick with it. Though I put them so low on the list because they need to grow more healthy before I really really get into it. They have so much potential and room for growth.

9.  Atsushi and Kyouka-(Bungou Stray Dogs)

Just two cinnamon rolls in love. Thats about all I can say about them. I think they have a really deep bond and trust in one another. His drive to want to help her and her need to protect him Its just really cute to watch. His anguish when he thought she died and his relief and happiness when she wasnt-It tugged at my heart. I know most people prefer my honorable mention as opposed to this one but...I just really, really love their dynamic.

8. Ymir and Historia

Ahh, they are just so. Heartbreaking and...beautiful. Ymirs love for Historia is so refreshing in such a dark show. This pairing made me fall in love with it so quickly and then later on it was so beautifully executed...Ymir being the one that made Historia become her true self and be honest with everyone and Historia being the reason Ymir cared for others made be love this couple so much. And dont even get me started on Ymirs letter to her. I dont need to open that box of tissues.

7. Marinette and Chat Noir (Miraculous Ladybug)

I just perfer this dynamic over most of the others in this show. I dont know why? I just do haha. I guess because he thinks he needs to protect Marinette but in reality she is strong enough to take care of herself? And the fact I just like Chat Noirs personality better with Marinette. Its fun to see. 

6. Kyoko and Sayaka (Puella Madoka Magica)

Ahh, The red and blue gays. Its no secret this is a thing. Their will be spoilers here if you havnt watched the anime!! I highly suggest it!! They butt heads, taunt, tease, and would gladly punch each other. But they also understand each other in a way no one else does. Kyoko opened up to Sayaka. She...didnt do that for any of the other characters. And then she died trying to save her soul. And when Sayaka and Kyoko both came back in another timeline Sayaka admitted to having one regret. And It was leaving Kyoko behind.  Its just...so good.

5. Gon and Killua (Hunter x Hunter 2011)

This is a couple that Im content with staying as a brotp or otp. They are both young-To young for this to be anything but pure fluff to me. They trust each other so, so much and would die protecting one another. They also have angst-A lot of it but Im not going to spoil it for anyone who might not know. I will say I just started liking them together just because of how sugery sweet they are usually. Killua is highly protective over Gon, as he was his first friend. And Gon has such a high trust in Killua its amazing. I just think they are too precious for this world. Platonic or otherwise.

4. Mika and Yuu (Owari no Seraph)

Ahh, My gay bois. My gay demon and Vampire due. They are just. So. perfect together??? Its weird how fast I shipped it?? Mika and Yuu has such a deep bond and good chemistry its amazing. I litterally saw them in the first episode and started to ship them. Mikas strong protective instinct over ‘Yuu-chan’ and Yuus despair over having to leave Mika behind was just...great. And Yuu offering his blood to Mika and immediate acceptance was heartwarming...I love them together so much.

3.Mutsuki and Urie-(Tokyo Ghoul Re:)

Alright now were getting to the controversial one. Im not so sure if this is a loved or hated pairing-But I know Mutsuki is a fairly disliked character. I personally love him and think hes an extremely interesting character to read and study. And his relationship with Urie being one of the prime reasons I love him. Urie and Mutsuki have had a ongoing bond since the auction raid and it just seemed to grow more and more apparent to me that Urie seemed to have romantic feelings towards Mutsuki. Mutsuki seems to see Urie as a source of comfort and security as he opens up to him the most out of everyone else. And not to mention Urie gets...very protective over Mutsuki as seen above and in other scenarios. I just really love them together.

2. Glenn and Maggie (The Walking Dead)

I stopped watching this show a long time ago-However this couple always stuck out to me and gave me hope. I loved Glenn and I loved Maggie and I loved them together. Such a loving and supportive relationship. They gave such a bleak show some hope and love. We got to see them going from nothing to sex partners to having a relationship and, eventually, a marriage. And then a pregnancy. It was amazing to watch and I still love it to this day.

1. The Doctor and Clara (Doctor who)

Another controversial one I think? I loved Clara. She is my favorite companion by a long shot. I loved her storylines. I loved her with both of the doctors. She had such a good chemistry with the eleventh doctor it was unbeatable. And the way she had to learn to relove the twelfth one was just...both angsty and cute. They both clearly loved her-At least in my opinion.  And she loved them as well. The way the Doctor fought to bring her back when the Raven got her and the way He jumped in his own timestream to save her it just summented this couple as my favorite one out of all the new ones I shipped.

Thats about it for now!! I’ll probably make another one of these once I watch more shows or ship a lot of new characters~ Thanks for reading and see y’all later! <33

[amandabe11man]

a VERY LONG post about Hell on Wheels

YEAH i forgot about this post in my drafts... it’s been like a year since i finished the show now and i feel i’ve barfed everything out into this post (that i can think of), so here it goes (you’ll have to shield your eyes after the spoiler warning if you don’t wanna be spoiled btw. i can’t seem to be able to add a read more-link...) :

SO... i finished watching “hell on wheels” at last, pm half a year since i started. it’s funny because i was under the impression that i’d sOMEHOW be able to binge all five seasons within just one month (reason: i wanted to watch it before my free trial on HBO’s website went out). honestly, that wouldn’t have been possible because it was a LOT more emotionally draining than you’d think at first glance... after being gutpunched three times in a row in season 4, any reasonable human would need a little break.

anyway, it feels-- weird. i’ve never been big on following tv-shows so i haven’t been able to relate to that feeling ppl describe once they’ve finished a show they’ve become so attached to, except NOW i can relate. the show’s not groundbreaking, it’s not perfect, but i’ve had a lot of fun. what a ride it’s been...

looking back, i’d say HOW’s biggest weakness is its tendency to forget or ignore certain plot points. i guess that’s not too weird, with such an arsenal of characters, but still, i find that’s what bugged me the most, if anything bugged me at all. for example--

[SPOILERS for those who might wanna watch it after seeing me go on abt it, idk]:

first off, what REALLY grinds my gears is how ezra dutson’s plotline was handled. it was set up perfectly in the beginning; having him escape from the swede (who promised him that, and i quote: “i’ll find you, ezra! i always do”), the original plan was obviously for ezra and the swede to “reunite” some time in the future so that ezra could tell everyone that the swede killed his parents, thus tying up loose ends and giving some closure to that whole arc. some might say this would’ve been too predictable, but i would rather have that predictable storyline than having it just end unceremoniously like it did, with ezra dying ACCIDENTALLY and off-screen by sidney snow’s hand, simply as a way to further bohannon’s pain and set the stage for ruth’s final arc. this might’ve been fine, if the writers had made it so that ezra actually, y’know, TOLD SOMEONE WHY HE’S AN ORPHAN TO BEGIN WITH. but they didn’t even give the viewer that form of closure, instead just deciding to use him as a plot device for the other characters’ increased angst... bohannon and the others were never even made aware of ezra’s last name, and this is all what bugs the everliving SHIT outta me: the only ones who know, or will EVER know, ezra’s full story is the swede and the viewer, tho after season 4′s end, ezra is never mentioned or acknowledged again-- not by bohannon, and not even by the swede. ezra went from convenient character with a PURPOSE to “nameless” orphan forgotten by history. thanks, writers...

then there’s the whole deal with campbell coming to town to reinforce The Law™, which wasn’t a bad arc, mind you-- campbell and his goons were the most infuriating little shits for a while there-- but the thing is; didn’t campbell LIE to his men about the president giving him the position as governor? i might’ve misunderstood it, but i’m PRETTY sure the president didn’t give him THAT much of an upstanding role, but that campbell just went ahead and took that position anyway? if that was indeed the case, then that’s another plot hole, cause nobody finds out about campbell’s possible trickery to become the governor. nobody rats him out, despite literally no one in “his” town liking him all that much, so they’d have no reason to protect his “secret”. (correct me if i’m wrong on this one though. i might be misremembering things)

then there’s the other pretty infuriating issue of bad guys never getting called out for doing bad shit (unless it’s the swede, who gets all the blame, all the time), for example:

major dick bongbendix(???idk he had a silly name like that) is presented VERY MUCH as a bad guy in the beginning. y’know, just casually beheading natives on all his missions and collecting those heads and taking them to the bar like a fucking nutcase-- those little details. he also seemed to believe in racial biology, so yeah, definitely not a good guy. but by the end, he’s been watered down into some quirky guy who’s ALMOST on friendly terms with the main characters. yeah, uh-- seems everyone (writers included) collectively forgot the whole public display of cut-off heads he had going on...

aaron hatch: started off as a guy too proud for his- or his family’s own good when he shot the police officer, BLAMED IT ON HIS FUCKING SON and then just kinda let bohannon hang the kid even though it was pretty obvious hatch was just shifting the blame away from himself. THEN he reappears with some other mormons and causes a full-on shootout in the town (probably getting some people killed, i don’t remember), TAKES EZRA (also a mormon) HOSTAGE SO THAT BOHANNON WILL COME WITH THEM WILLINGLY and passive aggressively forces bohannon to marry his daughter who bohannon knocked up. somewhere along the line, hatch’s bad side is just thrown to the wind, and bohannon at one point describes him as “a good man”. yeah, ABOUT THAT--

sean and mickey mcginnes: unlike the ones mentioned above, these two started out as seemingly decent dudes, but ended up pm as secondary villains in the end. however, like the ones mentioned above, they hardly face any consequences for whatever crap it was they did in boston, OR the fact that they killed and fucking mutilated/dismembered a man in cold blood (a man who WAS gonna kill them, yes, but HE did it because he thought they had killed his friend, which wasn’t a farfetched idea since mickey DID brag about killing the dude even though he didn’t actually do it). sure, they face their OWN demons as time goes on, they get ostracized, and they start losing faith in each other as well, which ends up with mickey killing sean before the latter can confess(?) his/their crimes. so, while sean was spineless and a creep, at least he thought about finally owning up to what he’d done in the end, whereas mickey lives on to keep doing shady shit, killing people, and getting increasingly more corrupt. he does end up pursuing new goals in the end, but it’s obvious he’s not happy about it anymore. that’s-- really all the comeuppance he ever gets, and the only one who knows about his shady businesses are pm just bohannon, durant and eva (also, personal gripe here-- they seemed to not settle for “just” tarring and feathering the swede and publicly humiliating him, but i’m pretty sure i recall mickey telling bohannon they were thinking about having the swede killed too. keep in mind, this was BEFORE the swede truly lost it and started killing people left and right. apparently, being kind of a douche about taxes is bad enough to warrant being tortured and cast out by the entire community... i’m obviously biased here, but still-- the mcginnes bros’ double standards are amazing to behold)

now that i’ve aired some of that out-- here are some highlights, according to me:

unexpected friendships, like that between eva and durant. i’d say the swede finding that stray dog and fawning all over him qualifies into this category too

durant and campbell fighting in the mud before finally coming to an agreement -- just- durant and his competitors being petty as fuck, honestly. it’s hilarious

bohannon trying to get through to elam by reminiscing about their friendship, especially since bohannon isn’t one to show his feelings often OR get sappy -- in fact, EVERY time bohannon loses his stoic facade is a good moment. when he was gonna bury elam and he just broke down completely for the first time since we were introduced to him... that shit had me in tears as well, but man was it a great scene

jimmy two-squaws

every time the swede opens his mouth (yes, even when he’s spouting some lies and bullshit like that)

ruth’s character development. i admit i didn’t like her at all in the beginning, idk something just felt off about her, but man did she ever grow on me. just-- how everyone kinda relied on her eventually, even though she’s only like in her 20′s or something... she still became a pillar of the community. bless ya, ruth :’ı -- also, her essentially adopting ezra was Pure as heck. I Lov it

the fact that this was the 1800′s and the only backlash the (openly) LGBT characters faced for it was pm just “yeah they’re a bit confused maybe but they’re not hurting anyone”. maybe that’s not very realistic but WHO GIVES A SHIT AMIRITE

mr tao just being a sweet old man

chang’s sunglasses, straight out of Django Unchained

mr toole’s complete heel-turn from racist POS to someone who sticks by his word to turn himself around. that shit was impressive coming from him, tbh

bohannon just calmly running into a buffalo by the train tracks

mei posing as a grown man instead of a boy (which is what she looks and sounds like, oml)

another thing i realized is that bohannon is a classic gary stu. there’s just no getting around that fact after seeing him being revered by most everyone he meets, how he’s somehow the only person able to build the railroad(s) fast and efficiently, and even wooing the literal PRESIDENT and becoming close friends with him-- all this despite his Bold and Brash personality. of course, there’s more to bohannon than these gary stu-symptoms, but i felt someone should bring it up, for the lulz

[misstinfoilhat]

Whumptober 2019 #18: Asphyxiation- Bungou Stray Dogs

I have to stop this here- the story will continue in the next upload, but I haven't decided which prompt it's going to be yet! This will be several parts long, as many of the remaining prompts fits this story! I might get back to this to fix the cursive writing- I just can’t be bothered right now- sorry. I don’t know why it doesn’t do that automatically when I have it in the saved documents, no matter where I copy it from. But, for the time being, just... add cursive where you feel it fits in. Arraaait.  --------- The red light of the black camera indicated that it once again was rolling. 

Another jolt of shooting pain seared through Dazai's body. Between clenched teeth, he stifled a muffed cry of agony while twitching viciously in his seat. His head shot up, slamming into the back of the chair he was tied to, while his body shook violently out of his control.

The zap cane was removed from his stomach, and Dazai heaved for a breath of air with a mixture of saliva and blood spilling out between his lips. He had bit his tongue again, tearing open the bearly closed wounds he had suffered from the day before  (and the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that). 

“Let's try this again today,” the large man said in a dangerously calm tone. He looked to be in his mid to late fifties and was towering over Dazai's half-conscious form, wide and tall. The two other men in the room were armed with the electric prods and would shock him each time the larger man nodded his head towards them or gave them a hand gesture that indicated that he was getting sick of Dazai's lack of cooperation. The two younger men took a couple of steps back, making room for the big man to lean in close to Dazai's ear.

With heavily accented Japanese, the man asked again; the same question he asked Dazai endlessly, every single day for as long as he'd been there. 

“Are you ready to confess?”

At first, Dazai kept quiet, just like he did every day; forcing his lips tightly shut and refusing to meet the ice-cold stare of the man he assumed was the leader of this group of imbeciles. He turned his head demonstratively to the side, not even wanting to breathe the same air as him.

A hoarse smoker's laugh trembled through the elderly man, making his shoulders shake. Suddenly a large, firm hand had a tight grip around his jaw, forcing Dazai's head in the man's direction.

“I said; are you ready to confess?” 

Dazai's only answer was to chuckle in amusement, before gathering a mouthful of blood, spitting it into the man's face.

The broad-shouldered man sneered, backing up and turning away, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“I'll give you one more chance,” the man growled in a dangerous tone. “Look into the camera, and admit to your crime. This will make this whole ordeal  a lot less painful for you. You were the one who killed Niko! You killed my beautiful baby-girl! Admit it!”

It was getting difficult for Dazai to keep his head steady on his shoulders, and his vision had doubled. The small window of sight he still had left in his right eye was completely gone at this point- hopefully, because of his eye being bruised shut and not because of any additional damage to his optic nerve.

Thick fingers grabbed a hold of his hair, yanking his head back forcefully, locking him in an uncomfortable position. It might have hurt if Dazai hadn't been dragged after Chuuya in more or less the exact same way for two years staight while still in the Port Mafia. But, being held directly into the path of this guy's foul breath was enough to make it seem tempting to break. 

Then again, if against all odds, he would survive this screwed up situation, and the damage was already done... he didn't have anything left to lose and he might as well have some fun along the way.

Dazai gave the man a broad grin, teeth shining mockingly with red lines of crimson running between them.

“Fine, fine...” he wheezed, a bit more pathetic than he had anticipated. “I give up, it was me... I did it..."

Dazai took a deep, shuddering breath, before he continued ceremoniously, "...I, and I alone... let the dogs out.”

Apparently, his captors didn't have a sense of humor, because the zap cane was quickly pushed against his neck. The buzzing sound of electricity was only heard for a short second before it drowned into a wave of blackness and his own strangled scream.

-----------

When Dazai woke back up, he was back in his cell; his small, cramped, cold purgatory. He had no idea how long he had been locked up in this place. There was no light, no set schedule for food or using the facilities. It seemed like it varied depending on which people were on guard- which also seemed rather random. That left him with little to work with in terms of keeping track of time.

The stone flooring was cold, and his bare back was pressed up against the door. His legs hardly fit in the tiny cell when stretched out, but that wasn't why he was pressed to the door. 

No, that was because of the chain around his neck.

The thick iron was locked tightly around his throat, tight enough to hurt his vocal cords and add horribly painful friction to the black burns caused by the zap cane. It made his breaths go in and out in rapid, hungry hicks, and each time someone opened the door, he would be dragged along with it, cutting off his air supply and efficiently subduing and choking him.

But the pain wasn't even the worst part anymore. He wanted it gone- wanted it to  stop  wanted to  die  more than he had his entire life and would end himself (he didn't even care about a pain-free suicide anymore- didn't care about it being convenient just wanted it done) as soon as he could... But they wouldn't let him.

At some point, he had tried. He had leaned forward, effectively cutting off his air supply for long enough to make him faint, while making sure he wouldn't fall unconscious in a way that made it loosen the chain enough to clear his airways. But it hadn't worked.

It was all because it was that damn camera. The only light in the cell, the only true constant that had been there (except for the pain- the pain didn't go anywhere- because that came with the light the small red orb looking tauntingly and laughing-)  since he had been brought to this place.

The fuckers revived him when he had managed to strangle himself with the chain, and on many other occasions too. So now... now he knew. 

He knew that they wouldn't let him die. They wouldn't let him get out of the one crime that he did not commit. He was guilty of many horrendous things, but he would never admit to killing such a sweet innocent girl. In which case, he would rather die.

Still, he was sure if he somehow was able to hang himself, overdose, cut his wrists, shoot himself in the head while jumping off a cliff and set himself on fire at the same time, they would still find some way to bring him back to life. 

It sounded surreal even to him, but he had finally, actually, given up on death.

A venomous voice in the back of his mind told him that he didn't deserve the release of death anyway. That after all he had done, he had this coming. Even if the tiny bit of sanity left in his mind tried to convince him that nobody (not even him)  should even fantasize about doing something like this to another human being... That  nobody (not even him) deserved what was going on here...

That maybe...  just maybe... he wasn't the worst human to ever leave a print on the face of the earth after all.

Because whoever killed poor little Niko, definitely deserved that title.

...and he also questioned if maybe the lack of oxygen was clearing  his mind more than muddling it, and tried to imagine what Kunikida, or Chuuya for that matter, would say if they could hear him now.

“Was a couple of weeks of torture all it took to get that into that shrimp-sized brain of yours? I wish I had known so I could have done it myself.” 

...that seemed pretty accurate, he decided.

The silence inside his solitary was disrupted by a hoarse, broken chuckle. The sound of his broken voice sent chills down his spine.

His eyelids felt heavy now. He couldn't remember the last time he slept- unless being unconscious counted as sleep.

Dazai shifted, trying to rest on his side, but a sharp pain shot through his hip. It made him startle and he rolled back to his half-seated position against the door, leaning his head to the harsh, wooden surface. There was a burning behind his eyes. Not tears, more of a desperate call from his body to fall into slumber, to relax and maybe... give in.

 No. 

 If he did- they would frame him for the murder of Niko, but without his confession, they would never be able to. There was    no    evidence to point to simply because he did not do it. 

But he wanted to give up on all of this... Kinda. Not really, but... he was considering it. At least, his body was.

Just the thought made him slam his head into the door behind him, punishing himself for those ridiculous thoughts- because those kinds of thoughts were unacceptable. He hadn't endured years of Mori's vicious training to withstand torture to lose out to fatigue.

All of this made him feel like a child. Nothing more than the poor helpless kid he had once been, that the Port Mafia had beat, burned and whipped out of him.

...still, the feeling lingered, and he realized slowly, painfully, why it did.

This experience woke up a demon that had hibernated in the pit of his soul for fifteen years. A ferocious beast he had fought and defeated and thought he had buried along with his humanity long ago.

For the first time since he could remember, he was truly scared.

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

 “He can't be in Yokohama.”

“Are you sure there's not anything we've missed? There isn't anywhere we haven't looked?”

The Armed Detective Agency was hurdled around a large, squared table, scattered with notes and documents. In the middle, there was a map with excessive amounts of large, black crosses drawn all over, eliminating each searched location throughout the city.

“We've scavenged every little creak and corner, from the border to Tokyo to the port. Our colleagues in Kobe, Sapporo, and Tokyo have done an extensive search too, without any luck.”

Kunikida crossed his arms with a grave expression. Atsushi was still eying the map, hoping to discover something they might have missed.

“I hate to say it, but I suspect that he actually is still in Yokohama,” Ranpo muttered gravely, not even bothering to pretend to be using his ability. There was no use. Their colleague had vanished without a trace and they had no idea how or why.

"If this had been a group from out of the city, they would have had some sort of motive, and they would have let us know what it was," he added.

There had been no ransom demands, no one that had taken responsibility, and most importantly of all, no body.

They had gone as far as to hire divers to search the bottom of every little creek in Yokohama, even if they knew that this wasn't another suicide attempt that had finally been successful.

The evidence was clear; their coworker, friend, and ally was kidnapped. If he had tried and succeeded at killing himself, he would have let somebody know. He always did, so they wouldn't have to go out on a wild goose chase looking for him.

Strangely enough, Dazai was considerate like that.

Dazai had his flaws, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that if he was ever to disappear, they would come looking for him. They were also fairly sure that he knew they cared enough about him to know that they wouldn't rest until they found him, and that was why he always gave them some sort of notice when he would try to off himself, so they wouldn't waste their time.

This time, however, there was nothing. No hint of where he had gone except a busted door, a few droplets of blood and 6 months of absolutely no trace of him.

The ADA had put everything else aside to find their missing colleague. They had even developed close cooperation with the Port Mafia. Their eerily creepy leader, Ougai Mori had laughed when they had reached out to them, but Dazai's former partner, Chuuya, as well as several other members of the Port Mafia, had become quite invested in the search when they had learned about his disappearance.

At this point, there wasn't really any profiled ability-based organization in Japan that hadn't partaken in the search for Dazai in one way or another.

In spite of all of his shortcomings, Dazai turned out to be widely respected in the community of ability users. Some because of his work in the mafia, some for his work in the agency, and some plainly because of the reassurance that he could cancel their ability if it got out of hand. 

It was fair to say that most of Japan were invested in finding Dazai at this point.

Still, no one had gathered any information that had lead them any closer to finding him.

“I hate to say this, but our resources are running out, and we're still not any closer to finding him,” Yosano started, always the voice of reasoning.

The dark-haired doctor ignored the venomous stares she harvested from several of her younger coworkers and continued.

“From a medical standpoint, I would say that he's dead.”

“Don't say that!” Atsushi retorted immediately, fists grasped tightly at chest level, with arched eyebrows. He turned around to face the young doctor, who he had eventually surpassed in height.

The thought of his friend and mentor being dead already haunted his dreams every night. Their continued search was the only thing that made him hopeful that Dazai was still alive- if they began to entertain the idea that his nightmares were real, Dazai would be dead eventually no matter what they did from this point forward.

“We can't give up on him.”

“I'm not saying that- Knowing Dazai, he's way too stubborn to be killed or die in any way that seems inconvenient to him. I'm just trying to be realistic... We're not going to be able to solve this if we run out of money. We might have to start taking on cases again.”

“Taking on other cases would mean that we have less time to search for Dazai,” Kenji stated sadly yet accurately.

“I know, but nobody is paying us to find Dazai at this point, and there's a large stack of forms on Haruno-san's desk of actual paid  missions that will eventually lead us to have more resources to find him.”

An argument broke lose between the agency members just as Fukuzawa entered the room.

“Yosano's right,” he said solemnly, effectively breaking up the fight before it could escalate to a loud shouting match. Eight pairs of eyes turned towards the entry as Fukuzawa stepped inside.

“I've been reluctant to tell you, but if we don't take on other cases soon, there won't be enough funds to sustain the agency at all.”

Two hands slammed into the work table and Kunikida stood abruptly.

“Are we just supposed to give up on him?” he retorted agitatedly, earning shocked stares across the room.

Fukuzawa's steel eyes looked at him, unaffected by the uncharacteristically rough tone. The blonde lowered his gaze, held his breath for a few seconds to calm down.

“With all due respect, director... Dazai-san has been missing for over six months now. He might be in great danger, and I don't know how any of us could live with ourselves if something were to happen to him, because we stopped searching.”

Fukuzawa's tall stature came closer, and a large, strong hand reached out, grabbing and putting reassuring pressure on Kunikida's shoulder.

“I know, Kunikida-kun. I don't want to stop the search any more than any of you do. But if we don't take on a couple of missions now, we will lose all the resources we have at hand here at the agency... because there won't be one.”

Kunikida cleared his throat, and looked back up and nodded affirmatively. “I-I understand, president. I'm sorry for speaking out of line, it... it's been trying times.”

“I know,” Fukuzawa assured him calmly. “I'm not saying to stop looking, but I do want some of you to take the time and do some of the missions. You can decide amongst yourselves who does what, and if there is anything that I can do, don't hesitate to ask.”

The tall man left the room, leaving the agents to digest this new information.

Kunikida quickly snapped out of it. “Kenji and Tanizaki, go and look over the missions on Haruno-san's desk. Don't pick anything that will take away too much man-power, please. Dazai still needs to be our priority. When you've found one, come back and do a short debriefing, and we'll decide who's going. I would rather have Ranpo free to continue the search, though...”

The two young detectives nodded in unison and darted off towards Haruno's desk.

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

 Darkness. Consuming everything. From as far as my eye can see- to the core of my soul, it eats away, leaving room for the uneasy, strangled fear that creeps up every time I forget to pay attention. 

 Fear doesn't need doors or windows. 

Dazai tried to keep in mind that fear was only an emotion and reminded himself how illogical all feelings were. Some people were scared of heights, while other people bungy jumped.

The hight wasn't any more dangerous for the person who sought it than to the person who feared it. The only difference was their perception of it.

Just like he had no more reason to fear his captors than they had fear him. 

 Because he was Osamu Dazai, previously the youngest executive of the Port Mafia in history, purely because of his brilliance and heartlessness. 

Still, one thought kept picking at his brain. Because even if that was so, someone was out to hurt and destroy him, which actually was a much more actively danger than what the space between a person and the ground was.

He wanted to tell himself that this was the kind of thinking that separated him from his persona as a mafioso. Those years ago, he believed more than anything that he himself was the only real threat to him.

He wasn't durable in a fistfight, wasn't bulletproof and was truthfully inadequate at taking care of himself. Still, what he was, kept being and had always been, was unbreakable. 

Maybe not physically  (not at all, really) , but emotionally, he was. No one had ever been able to throw him for a loop, make him unsure or scare the daylight out of him.

Not since he was a child, anyway.

...so why was it now, that he couldn't stop shaking?

In the distance, he could hear footsteps, and he held the breath he so preciously treasured, hoping they would pass him by. Keys were rattling, and the lock mechanism on the door behind him clicked.

He quickly exhaled before greedily gulping in another breath, ready for what was to come.

The door was yanked open, the chain around his neck tightening around his throat, effectively cutting off his air supply and crushing at his windpipe and almost strangling him. He was dragged back, his cuffed arms clawing at the chain around his neck while he struggled to breathe.

The zapping cane poked at his side, and he let go of the tight collar to protect himself, curling up and kicking with his legs while being zapped again and again until he lingered at the edge of unconsciousness.

Without a word from his guards, the two men picked him up between them and carried him between them, once again heading for hours upon hours of torturous interrogation. I have to stop this here- the story will continue in the next upload, but I haven't decided which prompt it's going to be yet! This will be several parts long, as many of the remaining prompts fits this story!

[solara-bean]

First Meeting

I have like 3 different versions for how Zola met the Autobots ( specifically Optimus) but thos one's my favorite.

So this was it. I wake up. Shower. Feed RG0 ( pronounced Argo ) my Rottweiler, German Shepard mix. Eat breakfast. Workout. Then tinker and tinker till the day is spent on whatever project I'll probably never finish. I usually skip lunch and go straight to dinner. After that I'd read, paint watch tv or even practice playing my ukulele. Then I'd sleep and do it all over again as I've been doing for the past three years.

The best part is that my routine is never interrupted by outsiders since I'm alone in the woods. Or at least until now.

One night RG0 decided that he wanted to stray away from our normal path. I was fine with even though he was off leash. Nighttime in the forest no longer scared me. I felt more safe than anything. I still brought my shotgun just in case.

Then I heard a loud boom and stopped in my tracks. Before I knew it RG0 bolted into the direction of the loud sound. I hurried after him in a panic.

" Crazy dog! Now is not the time to be curious!!!"

He zoomed past the twisting trees over the uneven ground that slowed me down. Over the thumping of my heartbeat I could hear more loud sounds that were all getting louder. What was this dog leading me to? Thankfully he stopped at a dead end.

I recognized it as a small cliff that overlooked the largest valley in the forest. RG0 stood at the edge and stared down quietly with his ears perked. I slowed down and began to catch my breath only for it to leave my lungs again in shock.

The once peaceful, lush valley was now a warzone filled with....robots??? Why the hell are there robots?! And why are they fighting for that matter?!! There had to be ten - no - twelve of them. All with futuristic guns and other weapons used to harm and maybe even kill. But there seemed to be two groups. It wasn't just random fighting.

The ones with brighter colors seemed to only be fighting the ones with sharper, more threatening features. Wait did they have matching symbols? Ugh! I can't tell without my glasses.

Hang on...what were these things exactly? Some kind of government project gone wrong or maybe a test? It would make since sense these woods are deserted despite me and RG0. Wait did they not know I was here. I have been keeping a low profile. Maybe I'm not suppose to be seeing this. Holy Crap!!! One of the little ones just ripped off the other's arm!!!!

" Ok buddy," I held onto RG0s collar and began to step back slowly. " No clue what the hells going on but we're leaving right now."

Then as luck would have it, one if the robots was blasted into the cliff with an eerily human cry of pain. The force of the impact made me fall over and RG0 yelp. Apparently we'd been loud enough to be heard since the robot, who was tall enough to rest their elbow ( or at least what looked like one ) on the cliff's edge, spotted us.

They were red, blue and silver from what I could see. They also seemed to be wearing some sort of mask. But what really stood out was their glowing eyes that stared back at mine. They held so much emotion and intelligence. That and they were the most beautiful shade of blue.

Before I could admire the metallic stranger any longer, a screeching voice runge out.

" Well Prime, it looks like you've found one of the planet's many pests. Here let me dispose of it for you."

Oh that can't be good.

An energy blast from above missed me and RG0 by a hair. I frantically searched above the trees to see another robot high in the sky with a blaster pointed at us.

Oh great they can fly too!!!

Without a second thought we bolted back down the path with the flying bot hot on our tails. RG0 was taking the path home but I managed to signal him to follow me down another in the opposite direction. I hadn't been this way in a while but the last thing I need is them knowing where we live. It would have been a lot easier to runaway if I didn't have to keep running ina zigzag to avoid blasts. From the high pitched laughter, I could tell that this metal douchebag was enjoying our scurrying.

The robot must have gotten tired of flying since they landed on the ground. Right in front of us.

" As fun as this chase has been, human. I'll need to finish the job before Megatron gets suspicious of why my mission is taking so long. Not that you understand any of what I'm saying. With your inferior intellect and all."

Ok. Doucheness just went from a 10 to a 20.

They pointed their blaster at me, causing RG0 to jump in front of me and growl at them.

" Aw. The organic has a loyal pet. Let's see how well it handles my plasma beam."

" No!"

I held RG0 close to me and awaited the blast that never came. Instead another came from behind us and hit the flying robot's in their blaster, damaging it.

" Leave them alone Starscream!" came a noble, booming voice.

It was the red robot from before.

" Argh! How dare you interrupt my fun once again Optimus Prime!"

Ok good I've got their names now. Guessing that Optimus is the good guy.

Oh great now they're fighting and I'm way too close!

I barely managed to get out of the way as they tussled around, making the ground shake. Once I was a good I looked over my shoulder to see Optimus, the nice robot, pause to give me a look that said "run." He was distracted long enough for Starscream, aka the douchebag, land a kick on his injured side. That must be where he was shot earlier considering there was a hole leaking some sort of fluid.

Optimus groaned and fell to his knees. He was about to get up before Starscream pointed his still somewhat functional blaster at his face.

" You've disappointed me, Prime. Bested by a few blows? Where's that legendary power?! Ah well. No matter. Megatron shall be pleased when I deliver your helm to him."

That should've been my cue get RG0 and I ro safety, seeing that Optimus was only fighting this guy to give us an opening to flee. But was he really going to die? Or would he be fine if we left? It's not like we could help him anyway!

Unless....

" Hey Starscream!"

" Huh-"

Starscream emitted a pathetic wail when one one of my rifle's bullets hit his face. Then another. And another.

" Why you little-"

Before he could aim his blaster, RG0 jumped on his foot and barked up at him loudly.

" Ew get off me you disgusting organic parasite!"

He hopped from foot to foot as RG0 jumped around his feet and pawed at them. Meanwhile I kept shooting at him, making a few noticeable dents in his armor. All the chaos made him do a panicked jig and whine. I couldn't help but giggle.

'Serves you right!!!'

He had enough once he accidentally shot himself in the foot trying to get RG0.

" ARGH! Oh that's it! Now you both die!"

Then Optimus, now having recovered some, shoved him at full force. It sent him tumbling threw a few trees, scratching his metal skin and bending one of his wings. He laid a groaning mess in a heap with Optimus' gun aimed at his head.

" I think it's time for you to go."

With that Starscream transformed into a jet- wait how the HELL- and flew away. I was so taken aback by his transformation that I didn't notice one of the now dented trees give out and fall towards me.

" Look out!" Optimus warned.

RG0 thankfully tackled me out of the way but my head hit the ground to hard and everything turned black.

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

I woke up with a throbbing headache and sore muscles. Even worse my bed felt terrible and the curtains were open in my room.

Wait a minute....

'This isn't my room!'

I surveyed my surroundings. I was apparently seating in the front seat of a truck.

'WHO'S TRUCK AM I IN???'

Before I could panic for much longer a familiar voice came from the radio.

" Good morning. How are you feeling?"

" U-uhmm...fine I guess. Who am I talking to?" I said while staring skeptically at the radio and scooting as far into the seat as I could.

" Forgive me for not introducing myself properly. I am Optimus Prime. The mech you met from last night."

'Oh great! That wasn't all a weird whiskey induced dream.'

" But......you're a truck now???"

" Yes."

" Weren't you a robot before?"

" If by 'robot' you mean my primary form, then also yes."

I burried my face in my hands and groaned.

"Ughhh what's going on?"

I then remembered the lack of a certain furry companion. I was about to panic again until I saw RG0 a few yards away from us and playing with some of the other robots from last night. A small yellow one was on the ground, nearly mirroring RG0's play position. I would've found the whole scene cute if it wasn't so bizarre.

" If you don't mind me asking. I would like to know the name of the human who saved me."

I snorted.

" Saved you? No way. If anything you saved me."

" If you hadn't have stayed and distracted Starscream, I would've been severely injured if not offlined. You could have left me there and saved yourself. But you didn't. You showed true bravery."

" Aw stop with the flattery. I was just paying you back for helping us first. So consider us even."

" Then thank you miss....?"

" Princeton. Well Zola is my first name."

" Then thank you Zola. And I'm sure we have much to discuss."

" That might be an understatement."

And it was.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober Day 4: Love Triangle

Summary: Avery Hawke’s been hearing whispers about town, something about her boyfriend? Is there a love triangle going on she doesn’t know about? She’s going to get to the bottom of this, or Kirkwall’s going to start seeing a lot more broken noses.

---

“Did you hear?”

“Hear? I saw it the other day!”

Apparently, Kirkwall didn't know the point of whispering was to make sure nobody fucking heard you when you were talking shit about somebody. What a surprise.

It was a shitty day in the city of chains; gray skies, smelled worse than usual, and people were pissing her the fuck off. Ok, so maybe it was just a shitty day because Avery was in a bad mood and she was projecting. All options were possible in Kirkwall, and it was probably a mix as she threaded her way through the streets. Twilight was falling over the city after a long day of bullshit, and soon an uneasy darkness would settle in.

Perfect time for her to go to work.

With her hands in her pockets and dog at her side, Avery probably didn't look very much like somebody who could take Qunari on solo. Mostly she looked like a skinny half elf who had an attitude problem. All of that was of course true, but it was what was on the inside the mattered: her ability to rage like a goddamn dragon.

And some people were starting to earn the privilege of meeting a reaver first hand.

It wasn't like she was totally unused to people talking about her; you build up a reputation of kicking ass and people start listing names. Being a half elf with a large dog in Hightown more often than not earned her some stares. But this? This was different, a recent thing that had just started about a wee prior. People kept looking at her out the corner of their eyes as she passed, whispering behind their hands just loud enough for her sensitive ears to pick up bits and pieces. They knew something she didn't, apparently, and they loved it.

Was she going to have to beat it out of somebody? Because she would. She had a lot of tension to work out from the last couple days.

“This is why I miss Ferelden, people called your shit out to your gods damned face.” Avery grumbled as she patted her mabari on the head. Chewy wasn't really needed for work, but she liked to come along for the ride. If it added to the atmosphere, it was all the better. “Oh well. Wonder if we'll have to kick Gamlen out again tonight. Would you like that girl? Maybe you can bite him in the ass.”

Chewy whined in distaste – Avery didn't blame her, she had no idea when her uncle had last washed his underclothes... or if he was even wearing them. Given where she worked, it didn't seem likely. Pants of multiple kinds were in short supply at one of Kirkwall's most favorite spots.

The Blooming Rose was already hot with activity as she approached. One of the workers was outside, calling out to passersby to entice them in. She stopped at the sight of the half elf and gave a little wave. Since Avery wasn't raised in a barn, she returned it as she stepped inside, heading towards her favorite spot in the brothel.

Now it was time for the Rose's favorite bouncer to get to work.

“Nice to see you, Hawke. You're looking lovely today.” Serendipity was all charm as Avery settled into her usual spot against a dark wall. “Having fun?”

The half elf rolled her eyes, but she smiled. “Loads. Got some lovely tension to work out, so if anyone's giving you problems-”

“I'll let them get acquainted with you.” Her friend chuckled in a knowing way, but then there was a look in the woman's eye. “Everything ok at home, though?”

Something about the way she was looking at her made Avery's stomach drop. Why wouldn't it be? Sure, Leandra gave her fucking migraines but she was a little less annoying now that they had separate parts of the house to hole up in. Other than that and the occasional bandit ass to kick, things were going great.

“Uh... yeah. Why'd you ask?”

Briefly, a look of pity flashed through Serendipity's eyes. “No reason. Just asking. I should get back to work.”

She nodded, and then off she went to do her job. This left Avery standing alone, now more confused than ever. However, she didn't really have much time to dwell on it. As the sun set, more people were coming into the Rose. Some of them needed the fear of the gods put into them, which she was more than happy to provide.

There was just something about breaking noses or tossing people out on their asses that did wonders for her stress level.

She got a chance to breathe after tossing a few Templar recruits out halfway through the night. Avery rotated her neck and shoulders as she exited the main room, heading up the stairs to one of the rooms on the second floor. As she walked, she heard it again – whispers, somewhere from the floor below. Maybe workers, possibly patrons, but she heard her name.

“And Hawke doesn't know?”

“Maybe she does – she launched that last lad.” A sad sigh. “What a pity, he made her so happy. Now bones are really going to get broken.”

Cold ice slipped into Avery's stomach as her hand gripped the banister. She was frozen in place on the stairs, glancing down at the floor below. Her mind had gone blank at that point, like she was nothing but ice.

Shit.

“Hawke, didn't anyone ever tell you not to stand around in high traffic areas? You're small enough that somebody could punt you all the way to the chantry, and then where would you be?”

In church, which was as great a nightmare enough to knock Avery out of her reverie. She looked up and saw Jethann standing there, hand on one hip. He had been waiting for her for their usual mid-night chat in his room. No doubt when she hadn't shown up, he'd come looking for her. He was a good guy like that.

She shook her head, stiff shoulders popping as she did – oww. “Sorry, guess I spaced out there.”

“No, really, couldn't tell.” The elven man shot a look to the floor below as they both climbed the rest of the way up. His room was quiet, empty. His last client had left about twenty minutes prior judging from the state of the place. While he took the bed, she sank into a chair nearby.

Shit.

Jethann had been smiling, but he stopped when he saw her face. “What's on your mind, Hawke?”

She looked up, blinking. “Oh, uh... listen, this is going to sound weird, but have you heard people saying anything about me?”

The man laughed, a rich sound that usually drew clients in. His actual laugh was more like a chicken – she liked that one more. “Besides the fact you're a terrifying monster born of the Archdemon itself? At least that's what I heard one call you.”

Avery shook her head, frowning. “No... I heard someone downstairs talking about me not knowing about something. Something about someone who makes me happy?”

There weren't a lot of people who could do that – it was a highly selective list. Add in the whispers and stares, and that narrowed things down further. She was getting into an uncomfortable area, one she didn't like to be in. If anyone knew something, it would be him.

And he did. She watched as he shifted on the bed, a spring creaking as he moved. He wouldn't meet her eyes when she looked at him. Jethann may have been good at controlling his expressions, but Avery could read him like a book.

“We're friends, Jeth. Tell me.”

Jethann nodded, though he had a tinge of worry across his face briefly. “Well... someone saw that lover boy of yours... with your brother. They looked pretty cozy if you ask me.”

He held up his hands. “Hate to admit it, but a love triangle gets people talking. Just don't go murdering anyone over it, Kirkwall's bloody enough.”

…

Avery blinked. “Someone saw Fenris with Moses?”

“In Lowtown about a week ago. Guess you and the healer are going to have some lovely conversations over drinks about this.”

Realization flashed through her body like lightning. She leaned over, shoulders shaking with pent up emotions. As she did, Jethann lurched forward in an uncharacteristic panic that could have only come from concern.

He didn't need to, though. She started to laugh her godsdamned ass off a second later.

Jethann's ears twitched as she doubled over. “You're... taking this well.”

Avery gasped for breath as she wiped a stray tear from her eye. “Maker's ass, and here I thought it was something serious!”

Relief washed over her in waves as she sat up. The tension in her shoulders was gone now. Hell, she didn't even mind the smell of Kirkwall as much. Add in the moonlight streaming through the open window, and it was a pretty nice night.

Man, she was fucking stupid.

A smile stretched across her face once Avery could talk again. “Jeth, it's not a love trial. Moses and Fenris are also seeing each other.”

She then added, “And for that matter, I'm also seeing Anders. So yes, we'll have plenty to talk about in bed later once I see him again.”

The elf in front of her let out a massive sigh of relief at the news. “Thank the Maker, people were worried you were going to go berserk when you found out. There were bets and everything about who was going to get it first.”

Damn, she could've gotten in on that and really raked it in! So much for knowing what went on in the damn town...

Still, Jethann's face turned into an eager smirk as he leaned in. “So, you're seeing two men at the same time then? Someone's a busy woman.”

“Not quite the same time. Fenris and Anders in one bed would just be a nightmare.” Avery laughed as she leaned back in her seat. “But I definitely keep myself busy at night.”

Her friend laughed as well, eyes glittering at the thought. “So~ who's better in bed? The healer's got reach, but Fenris... ooh, he seems like he has some real flexibility.”

Oh, it was going to be one of those nights. Still, Avery couldn't mind much as she settled in for the remainder of her break. When she went home in the morning, she would have to tell Moses about their supposed love triangle. If Jethann kept his mouth shut, maybe they would still be able to get in on the betting pool.

Hey, if people were dumb enough to bet, she had a gods given right to clean up from their stupidity. It was practically in the Chant of Light.

[popatochisssp]

Fur a Good Time, Call... 2/15

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader Chapter Warnings: none 

You work at an animal shelter. You love all your fuzzy buddies and can’t imagine a better job for yourself than looking after cats and dogs all day, even when the work is hard and often gross. What can you say? You’ve got a lot of love to give!

You’re just not quite sure yet how you feel about the new monster who’s been helping out these days, and this riddle wrapped up in an enigma is something you just can’t resist investigating…

AO3 Link

Humerus

You didn’t actually see much of Sans in the days that followed.

His schedule was really more of a non-schedule, something so freeform and seemingly random that if there was a system in place, you certainly couldn’t figure it out.

He did good work whenever he showed up, though, which was a lot more than could be said for some of the other well-meaning volunteers who ended up being more hindrance than help. You figured that whatever leniency your manager gave that let him just sort of come in whenever was probably deserved.

Of course, it was entirely possible that he was around and you were just missing him. You’d been more or less absorbed with your latest pet-project and noticing much of anything around here, even a giant skeleton in slippers, was probably asking too much of your attention span.

On the bright side, you were delighted to say that Buddy was doing great!

A quick buzz and a bath to the new stray had revealed a merle coat and stunning ice-blue eyes that the whole shelter fell in love with almost immediately. With even just a few days of regular meals his scrawny body was starting to fill out, and when his tail got to wagging and he relaxed enough to show off a winning doggy smile it was obvious to everyone that you had a handsome little man on your hands.

So far, though, it seemed that Buddy only had eyes for you.

He was okay around most people; a little shy and nervous, maybe, but he certainly hadn’t bitten or lashed out at anyone. He was just a noticeably more relaxed dog when you were somewhere he could see you.

It wasn’t much of a surprise since you had been there to calm him down that first day—you had a feeling Buddy might show a similar response to Sans—but it was clear that you’d become a safe person to him.

For that reason, it was decided that it was probably in everyone’s best interests if you were the one to handle most of his training and socialization. The bulk of your day-to-day duties was shifted around to other people for the time being and that was that: you’ve been Buddy’s best buddy ever since.

He was currently panting hard beside you, glancing up at you every few steps as if to say, ‘I did good, right?’

“Yes, Buddy, you’re a very good boy.” You gave him a quick scritch along the scruff of his neck—his favorite spot—and opened the door to let him back into the shelter. “Good first walk.”

You’d taken him around the neighborhood the long way, partly exercise and partly a test. Walks were a great way to suss out little things about a dog that were impossible to notice interacting with it just in a kennel, and you found that those details helped you write up the best adoption descriptions possible.

Buddy, for example, loved to sniff everything and had even tracked down a scent all the way to a squirrel dray up a small tree. The one floppy ear of his could be a sign he had some hound-blood in him, which was always better to write than just ‘mutt’ or ‘???’

You’d guess that he also had some feline ancestry of the scaredy-cat variety because as soon as an actual squirrel had popped out and squawked at him, Buddy had hurried away quite suddenly, pulling you along with him. Probably better for a household without other pets so the poor little wuss didn’t get harassed all day long.

“You made it, see?” you cooed, leading him back inside and tweaking his pointed ear. “Gonna get you some water and then you can lay down and catch your breath. Good boy.”

Except…maybe not?

Buddy didn’t seem to want to go back to the dog room and his kennel just yet. Even tired as he seemed to be, he was dragging you down the other hallway and sniffing along the tiled floor with focus.

“What, Buddy? You find a really good smell?” He must’ve because even a gentle tug to his leash didn’t seem to sway him from this new path, just like with the squirrel from earlier. “Okay, guess you’ll show me.”

You could probably spare a couple minutes on a detour and you were more than a bit curious to see where Buddy wanted to go.

Ending up in the laundry room shouldn’t have been much of a surprise. Especially not with a pile of unwashed bedding sitting out right there on the floor.

“Oh, no wonder, that’s a great smell.” A little grin split across your face at your own sarcasm. “Well, it is for you, I guess.”

Buddy did seem pleased by his discovery. His tail was wagging as he enthusiastically nosed through the folds of a tawny brown blanket, nudging it this way and that, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Getting to see a dog that was so scared and hurt barely more than a week ago start to get better; a sweet, silly boy like this having some fun snuffling around in a dirty quilt….

This was why you loved your job.

When Buddy’s tail went still, though, you paused. “What? What is it?”

Obviously, he didn’t answer you so you moved a little closer to the laundry pile, trying to see for yourself. Hiding there in the earth-toned pile, beneath Buddy’s pointing muzzle was a surprising splash of color.

You reached for it and picked it up. Even as Buddy’s tail started to wag again—‘See? Look what I found!’—you tilted your head in confusion.

The thing was…a rock.

Blue-green in color and very rough to the touch, it glinted a little in the light when you turned it in your hand but otherwise seemed to just be a big hunk of stone. Sitting in the dog blankets. Where rocks…usually weren’t?

“What the hell.”

“oh, that’s mine.”

You whirled around and who should be standing there but Sans, huge and looming and having made absolutely no sound with his arrival, like always. You blamed the sudden adrenaline spike for what you blurted out next.

“Shit, you’re quiet, has anyone ever told you that you should wear a bell?”

It seemed like you’d surprised him with that. The upper ridges of his oddly malleable eye-sockets raised up and his red pupil shrunk from its normal size. He stared at you long enough for you to realize what you’d just said and stars above, was ‘rude’ your default setting?!

“God, I’m sorry, that was—”

A snort cut you off, followed by a full-on chuckle.

“a bell?” Sans echoed, his grin seeming to stretch wider across his skull. “heheheheh… no, that’s a new one. not sure i get the appeal.”

You almost started to apologize again before you caught the emphasis. That was a joke! He must not be too offended by your lack of manners if he was joking with you.

You laughed a little instead and watched Sans perk up, his eye-light dilating back to normal.

“maybe it does, uh… ring a little true,” he admitted. “did i scare ya’?”

“Oh…heh, maybe a little….” You looked down to see that Buddy had fully abandoned the blanket and was now vigorously sniffing at Sans’ feet and legs and everything clicked. “Oh! He smelled you! That’s why he dragged me in here.”

“hm?” Sans looked down too and recognition flashed across his face. “oh, hey, pal,” he greeted, bending to scratch at Buddy’s ears. “ya look good.”

So far, Buddy hadn’t really liked it when hands got near his face. He’d let you do it, though—you and apparently Sans, who Buddy was totally fine with while he sniffed the ever-living hell out of Sans’ sleeve.

“you found my rock, huh? good job, i been lookin’ for that.”

Right! You held out the chunk of stone in offering. “Here,” you said. “It was under that blanket, I guess you must’ve dropped it.”

Sans straightened and took the rock back from you. What completely filled your hand settled neatly in his palm and his smile turned a little sheepish. “nah, it was in my pocket. but, uh…” He pinched the bottom of his hoodie, highlighting the pocket that the very dog who now came up to smell it had bitten through on his first day here. “i tried to stitch it and called it good, but i guess not so much.”

The rock had some serious heft to it when you held it. You didn’t doubt that it would test a rushed repair-stitch to the breaking point, but… “Why didn’t you just put it in your other pocket?”

“and squish my ketchup?”

“……what?”

Sans seemed happy to show you. He swapped his rock to the other hand and scooped out…god, what had to be at least two dozen little ketchup packets from his pocket.

“don’t always have a rock,” he told you, as if he were actually explaining something, “but i always got these. they were here first.”

The absurdity of the situation hit you all at once. You were standing in a laundry room, holding a dog who was still smelling everything while a skeleton two heads taller than you was very soberly justifying why a condiment collection had seniority over a rock in regards to pocket-storage.

You thought bursting out laughing was completely appropriate.

“Pfft, what the fuck,” you said through helpless giggles. “Why do you have those? Why do you have either of those things? Oh my god…”

Far from offended, Sans looked delighted by your laughter. “i like ketchup,” he said with an easy shrug, putting the packets away. “as for this…” Sans paused a moment to look at the stone in his hand. He almost seemed to be debating something with himself. “well, i, uh… i’m actually…a little bit of a geologist? so i like rocks.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What, seriously?”

“yeah. helped out with the CORE a little, back… back Underground.”

The CORE—a technical marvel of geothermal energy production and totally unrivaled by anything manmade so far. According to the news, it had provided heat and light to the trapped monsters even when they had literally nothing else, and top scientists were still studying it trying to replicate its function. It was slow-going research because according to the former monster Queen, everyone who’d built it was dust and gone.

Obviously not entirely true.

“You’re kidding,” you breathed. “That’s amazing.”

Sans just rubbed the back of his neck. “mmm… wore a lotta hats back then. ‘jack of all trades,’ y’know? not into the other technical bits so much anymore, but i still like the geology stuff.” He cracked an awkward smile at you as he added, “it rocks.”

You laughed and watched the tension leave his shoulders. You realize pretty quickly that you may have found the key to befriending Sans that’s been eluding you all this time: he’s volunteered more (completely fascinating) information about himself in the past few minutes than anyone else had learned in weeks, and it all started when you laughed at his jokes.

That certainly wasn’t hard to do. Sans was a funny guy when you actually got him talking and you found yourself really not wanting it to stop.

A glance at Buddy down by your feet and then the clock up on the wall—early afternoon—and you had your idea.

Impulsively and before you could lose the confidence, you say, “Hey, so… I was gonna go get Buddy settled and then head out for lunch. Would you…want to come? The place I usually go to is close by and I’d be happy to treat.”

You’d clearly caught Sans by surprise again. “……really? why?”

You didn’t quite get his confusion but, “Well… I kinda feel like I should get to know you.” You fussed a little with the leash in your hands, trying to spend your nervous energy. “I mean, you’ve been here for how long and I’m only now finding out you’re funny? That’s crazy. Plus I’m going anyway, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, I just thought….” You didn’t know what you thought and you realized you were on the verge of rambling so you let the sentence trail off.

The offer was out there, you’d made the attempt. That was something to be proud of, even if he said no!

“…i dunno,” Sans said eventually and you bit back a sigh of disappointment. “see, i did just lose my apatite.”

“That’s okay, I—…”

The emphasis. You stared at the rock in Sans’ hand, which he helpfully waggled when he caught you looking.

“……is that. Is that actually apatite?”

Sans looked like he was bursting to tell you, grinning with eager anticipation. “yeah.”

“……”

This time when you completely lost it laughing, Sans joined you with a quiet chuckle that had you covering your face and shaking your head.

“Oh my god, did you plan this? Did you set this up somehow, just for that joke?” you demanded.

Sans snorted but shook his head, “nah, happy accident, i swear. probably the happiest accident of my life, though, that was perfect.”

Still smiling, you looked up at him. “So, lunch, then? Yea or nay?”

“hell, i don’t turn down free food. sure. just gotta put this in,” he nudged the laundry pile with his slipper, “and drop my rock off at home where it’s less funny. lobby in fifteen?”

You blinked in surprise. “You live that close?”

Sans made a face and gave you a so-so motion with his hand. “but,” he winked, “i do know a shortcut.”

And then he was gone again, just like before.

Buddy visibly startled, jumping back up from where he’d been sitting (like a good boy!) and whipping his head around to you, like you could somehow explain to this animal that didn’t speak your language all the nuances of an apparently teleport-capable skeleton.

“I don’t know, man,” you told the poor dog, “I’m in the same boat as you. Let’s just get you that water, okay?”

Buddy actually let you lead him all the way to his kennel this time. He lapped up half of the water you put in his bowl and then padded straight over to his cot where he plopped down with a big, dramatic sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, your life is so hard,” you teased, which Buddy seemed utterly indifferent to so you left him where he was and went to go clock out for lunch.

-

True to his word, Sans was waiting for you when you got to the lobby, greeting you with a crooked grin and an awkward wave.

You mentally laughed at yourself for ever having thought this guy was scary when it seemed like everything he did just proved what a total goober he was.

“You ready to go?” you asked him. “Any last minute jokes you want to get out before we leave? Sight-gags? Puns?”

“heheheheheh… jeez, we haven’t even hung out yet and ya already got me pegged.”

“Am I wrong?”

“nope,” he freely told you. “i was tryin’ to think of somethin’ but ya showed up too early. i’ll let ya know if i come up with anything on the way over.”

And with that, the two of you headed out the door into the lovely, sunshiny day.

The weather was great and you made some small talk about that before telling Sans a bit about the place you were going—a little cheap and a little dive-y, but it was close to work and the food was good so you went there pretty much all the time.

Sans nodded and ‘hmm’ed in all the right spots but you got the slight sense that he wasn’t fully paying attention to you. His eye-light kept casting up to the sky; the endless expanse of azure blotted with fluffy white clouds floating past on the breeze.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be offended by Sans’ distraction. Stars only knew how long he’d spent thinking he’d never get to see a sight like that.

His focus immediately switched back to you again once there was a roof over your heads and he watched you peruse the short menu on the wall. “know what you’re getting?”

“Yep. I’ve got a usual,” you told him, “I think I’ll stick with that. You?”

He looked at the menu himself, processing it for a minute before shrugging. “eh. i’m not picky. anything you’d recommend?”

You turned to face him fully, looking him up and down. Feeling unaccountably playful, you asked, “Trust me to order for you?”

He just eyed you, half-puzzled and half-amused. “sure? knock yourself out, i guess.”

Decision made, you went up to the counter and ordered your usual, “And a triple bacon cheeseburger with everything on it, fries for the side.”

You paid and got your order ticket and went back off to the side to wait…where Sans was unabashedly staring at you in awe.

“how did you know?” he asked. “triple isn’t even up there.”

You were probably radiating the smuggest aura right now, but you couldn’t help it. “I told you I come here a lot. The chef is cool, he doesn’t mind throwing an extra patty on there if you ask for it. You’re a pretty big guy, I figured a double might not cut it.”

“and the rest of it?”

“Anybody who carries around as much ketchup as you do is basically guaranteed to be a garbage disposal when it comes to food. No offense,” you added quickly, though you didn’t entirely think Sans would take offense to that. “That, plus you’ve got a pretty big grease stain on your shirt, so….”

Sans looked at the stain and then at you before starting to snicker at himself. “oh my god, you really do got me pegged. you’re not gonna sherlock me the whole time, are ya?”

“I’ll try to refrain,” you offered magnanimously and then sent him off to fill up your drink cups at the machine over on the wall while you stayed to wait for the food.

It didn’t take long for your number to be called and you settled your tray down at a booth Sans had scoped out for you. You found that it was only a little surreal for you to be at your favorite eatery, sitting across from a skeleton that you happened to work with.

After a few more words of small talk about the food—so good, probably in the Top Five of all the burgs he’s ever had, great pick— you find you’ve gathered enough courage to start the social part of the outing.

“So,” you say lightly, picking at your meal, “the CORE. That’s some pretty groundbreaking stuff.” Sans huffs a tiny laugh at the pun. “I kinda gotta ask why a guy like you is at an animal shelter, of all places.”

“mostly this,” he says, reaching up to knock his knuckles against his skull, right next to the broken part of it. “see, i guess when half your head caves in, that makes it start workin’ different than it used to.”

The candid answer sobers you quickly. “Oh.”

“yeah. takes me a little longer to work stuff out than it used to. i forget things easier. got a fun little issue where i just sorta fall asleep sometimes. i got some human medication for it that helps, but it still happens. i’m sure you’ve noticed it.”

You…have.

In the time Sans has been at the shelter, he’s almost always had a follow-up question on a task he’d been given, or needed another run-through on a procedure he’d already been shown.

You hadn’t seen it yourself, but you’d once heard a couple volunteers chuckling good-naturedly near the coffee pot in the break area and saying they should bring a mug to the stock room for Sans; the poor guy must’ve had a late night if he’d passed out halfway through doing inventory.

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling…very guilty all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. That’s…pretty personal…”

But Sans shakes his head. “nah, don’t be sorry,” he says. “i just like havin’ my cards on the table. i’d be a liability workin’ in some lab with my head the way it is, for sure, but i was outta the science game long before it even happened. it ain’t as tragic as all that.”

“No?”

“nah. i’ve done a bunch of different stuff since then and none of it had anything to do with my degrees.”

You almost asked about that—degrees, plural—but you find yourself more curious about the other jobs he’s tried. He’d called himself a jack of all trades earlier and you wonder just how much that covered.

As it turns out, it covered quite a lot. In between bites of his burger, you get Sans to tell you all about the times he sold concert tickets, rented out a telescope, and ran an illegitimate (?!) hot dog stand.

(You don’t ask what he did during the famine. Even you know it’s a faux pas of the highest order to ask a monster about the famine.)

“i think my favorite was the comedy routine,” Sans says eventually. “had a little time-slot at a fancy resort every other week. that was a lotta fun.”

“I am not even a little surprised you were a comedian,” you say flatly, but with enough of a teasing note in your voice that you see him smile. “Is that something you wanted to get back into?”

“mmm…probably not?” He picks at his ketchup-drenched fries a little. “it’d be nice, maybe, but i dunno if i trust myself to be up on stage for a whole set, these days. nothin’ sadder than live reruns.”

You blurt it without thinking. “The things you take for granite, I guess.”

He’s quiet for just a bit and you worry you may have overstepped there…but a second later he bursts out laughing. The sound is deep and genuine, so much more than his understated little chuckle and you couldn’t have been prouder to be the cause of it.

When he finally looks at you, you swear that the red light of his eye is sparkling. “oh man, good one. hope I remember that, Pap’ll hate it.”

“Pap?”

And you thought you’d found Sans’ conversation button before.

It turned out that jokes were only the second best way to get Sans talking; the best was his brother, Papyrus.

You’d had no idea a skeleton could look so animated until you had Sans smiling, gesturing, practically vibrating with pride across from you as he told you all about his sibling.

Papyrus is the coolest guy ever, athletic and smart and so organized Sans can hardly believe it. He used to be a bit of a chef, but lately he’s had more of a budding (heheh) interest in gardening and their yard looks so colorful now, it’s crazy. He’s also studying to be a nurse and working part-time at one of those big home improvement stores until then.

“we get that money from the human government, y’know,” Sans points out. “we both do, so it’s not like he even has to work? we could coast awhile on what we got and be fine, but Papyrus goes out first thing and picks up a job ‘cause he likes to be productive, and then he starts going to school for an even harder job just ‘cause he wants to help people.” Sans is positively beaming at you. “isn’t my brother cool?”

Well, of course. That should go without saying, but you can’t help but think of Sans, too; how he volunteers at the shelter, spending his unpaid time doing hard, dirty work to help fuzzy people that can’t even thank him.

“It seems like it runs in the family,” you say sincerely.

Like most of the times so far you’ve said something he didn’t expect, Sans needs a couple extra seconds to process it. When he realizes what you said, though, the most curious thing happens.

The light of his eye is a vibrant cherry-red… but the color that spreads impossibly across his cheekbones is a soft gray-blue, like slate or steel.

You can’t help but find it… bizarrely pretty.

“eheheheheh…” His nervous laugh is almost as nice as his normal one, though it does make you want to pat his hand a little and tell him it’s okay. When he immediately changes the subject in the least subtle way possible, you have enough mercy to let him. “so, uh. what about you? what’s your story? why the shelter?”

“Sorry to say I don’t have much of a story. Well,” you amend, “not an interesting one, anyway. I, uh, I’ve always liked animals and I kinda knew from the start that I wanted to work with them, so… it’s pretty much just always been this, for me.” You look down and fiddle with the straw of your empty drink, and laugh, “I’m nothing special, really.”

You immediately wonder if maybe that was a little too self-deprecating. You can feel Sans looking at you and try to decide if you should go for an unsubtle subject change yourself or just wait to see what he says.

You're more than a little relieved when Sans makes the decision for you.

“well……i wouldn’t terrierself up about it. you seem like somebody with a lot of petential.”

Your laugh that time is totally genuine, surprised out of you. You look back up, grinning, and can’t quite resist a pun of your own. “Are you fur real, right now?”

But of course, there’s no out-punning the master. “i’m pawsitive.”

You both dissolved into giggles like you were two middle-school girls instead of the grown (maybe not so) mature adults you were.

-

Eventually you both finished your food and it was time to go. Sans had that load of laundry to finish and you wanted to do some more clicker-training with Buddy—you were sure you could teach him to shake and you weren’t giving that up without a fight!—so you headed out for the short walk back to work.

The trip over is quiet, but companionable and it isn't long into it before you find yourself chasing another crazy impulse.

“So… do you want to exchange numbers?” You feel awkward even asking. It’s maybe only the third or fourth time in your entire life that you’ve been the one to ask for a person’s number, but, “This was fun and I don’t really have anybody at work to go to lunch with. It’d be cool to…keep in touch?”

Sans scratched at his cheek. “guess you’d want me to pay for my own food next time, huh?” He made a show of considering this, which made you snicker. “don’t suppose you’d consider lettin’ me open a tab? i’m good for it, i swear.”

“Why do I doubt that so much?”

“careful, now, these completely accurate judgments of my character are gonna start hurtin’ my feelings.”

You rolled your eyes with obvious amusement, much to Sans’ apparent pleasure.

“i’m kiddin’, i’m kiddin’, that sounds great. i don’t have a lunch-pal, either.”

You go to get out your phone for him to put his number in, but he’s faster—possibly because it looks like he had his in his ketchup-pocket. He hands it to you unlocked, with the messages screen pulled up.

“just text yourself, it’s easier.”

You do, keying in your number and sending a skull emoji to yourself. You felt the answering buzz of your own phone a moment later but paid it no mind, trying to think of a good name to put yourself under in his contacts.

Your actual name would be boring, but you didn’t want to pick something too out there just in case Sans would look at it later and have no idea who you were supposed to be.

It wasn’t long before you got it. You happily typed, ‘Good@Dogs’ next to your number and saved the contact. You’d have to think of something fun to put Sans as later.

This would be good! It had been a long time since you had a work-friend…or really any kind of friend…and it would be nice to have somebody to go to lunch with sometimes, and to send funny memes to. You had a feeling Sans would appreciate memes.

Plus, maybe you could meet up for other stuff outside of work, like if a cool movie came out or something. You might even get to meet the infamous Papyrus at some point!

There were so many good reasons to have Sans’ number and absolutely none of them were that he was a total sweetheart of a skeleton that seemed to get cuter every time you spoke.

You ignore that thought and go to hand Sans’ phone back, only to pause.

In the minute or so since you’d stopped talking, Sans had gotten distracted by the sky again. He was just standing there on the sidewalk, watching the clouds and soaking up a sunbeam with the corners of his eye-sockets crinkled just so.

Sans suddenly looked like the biggest, boniest cat you’d ever seen, lazing in the sunlight on the verge of a nap. It wouldn’t have surprised you one bit if he started purring and it made you feel….

You cleared your throat. “Sans? Your phone.”

“huh?” His focus turned back to you and the phone you held out to him and the moment was gone. “oh yeah, thanks.”

He took his phone back and you were on your way again.

Oh, no. Sans wasn’t cute at all.

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[ilovereadingandilovebreathing]

Sticks and Stones

A/N: Remember that Roman angst I hinted at? Well, here it is. Apparently, Marin (aka ssides) inspired me to write a thing a while back, and I’m finally posting it. This is kind of a companion piece to “Perfectionism Killed the Prince...But Love Brought Him Back” but not as angsty. 

Summary: In which Roman is having a bad week, so he goes through and looks for Prince hate stuff. The Sides try to help, but eventually come together for the best case solution.

Word Count: 3,853

Characters/Pairings: Roman, Patton, Virgil, Logan (platonic/familial LAMP/CALM)

Genres: Angst(ish), turns into Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: self-deprecation, cyberbullying, crying, arguing, yelling, implications of perfectionism (let me know if I missed any!)

Tags:  @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch  @ssides @pantasticpanini @anxious-but-whatever @celiawhatsherlastname @misc-merde @anxiousoddish @didsomeonesayprince @fandomsofrandom @leesacrakon  (let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from my general tags list)

 Sometimes, when you’re having a bad day, you want to escape from the world, enshroud yourself in a cocoon of social ignorance, and wait out the storm. Often times, Roman is this kind of person; usually, he blasts Disney music or distracts himself with creation to keep the negativity at bay.

Today, however, isn’t one of those days. Roman doesn’t want to ignore the hate, the trolls, the spam comments.

He does deserve it, after all, does he not?

He’s only produced garbage ideas all week long, so it’s only natural that people should lash out against him. He’s only ever caused conflict in a Sides video, so why shouldn’t people complain? He’s only ever antagonized the other Sides, so why shouldn’t loyal fans call him out?

They should. They should. They should.

“Hey, Virge?” Patton asked, glancing over his shoulder at the Side slouched at the kitchen table.

“Yeah?” The Anxious Side didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Can you go get Roman, please? This is almost ready.”

“Do I have to? His room is just so…extra.” His lip curled in disgust.

“I think it’s fun!” Patton smiled, and he shot the slouching Side one of his signature puppy-dog looks. “Pleeeeeaaase, Virge? I don’t want to leave this alone.”

“But Patton, we’re in the MindScape, nothing’s-oh whatever.” Virgil sighed and stood, knowing full well that arguing with Patton was useless. “Be back in a minute.”

“Okay, thanks, kiddo!” Patton started to hum as he stirred up whatever was boiling in the pot in front of him.

With a small shake of his head (and an even smaller grin), Virgil sunk out of the kitchen and into the hallway in front of Roman’s room.

“Roman?” Virgil knocked on the Prince’s door, surprised to find the knob locked. “Hey, Roman? Patton wants you to come downstairs. He made….something…”

“I am not ready at present, but I will come down when I am, thank you, Virgil.”

Virgil’s chest began to pound. Princey sounded….angry? Sad? Some weird, uncomfortable combination of the two? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it, and it instantly set his instincts on edge.

“Hey, Roman, are you…okay?” He heard Roman try to quietly clear his throat.

“Yes, of course, Virgil, I’m fine.”

Virgil bit his lip, knowing something was up, but also knowing how stubborn Roman could be. “Uh, okay, then, I’m going back down, but you need to come, okay?”

“I will. Thank you.”

Virgil sighed for the second time in 10 minutes and decided to take the long way back to the kitchen.

As he padded down the stairs, he saw Logan still settled in on the couch, his nose buried in Carl Sagan’s “Pale Blue Dot.”

“Hey, Logan, food time.” Virgil approached the Logical Side and tapped him on his knee to pull him out of his reverie. “Also, haven’t you read that already?”

“Yes, but there is definite benefit to reading a work on multiple occasions, particularly if said work is by Carl Sagan. Also,” Logan sighed, marking his place. “I don’t see why Patton goes through the trouble of cooking for us. We do not actually require physical sustenance, and even if we did, Roman could simply conjure food for us.”

“I think he likes it.” Virgil’s gaze strayed toward the Side happily humming in front of their kitchen stove. “Gives him…purpose, or something, you know?”

“Perhaps…”

“Good evening, Space Bland!” Virgil flinched at the Creative Side’s sudden, loud entrance; he turned sharply, throwing Roman a peeved glare to which the Prince returned an apologetic grin. “I see you’ve found a new novel to nerd over.”

“It is not a novel, Roman-“

“I know, I know, it’s an informational, expository text; I was going for the alliteration there, Logan. Work with me for once, man.” Roman’s tone had a hint of a bite to it, but he quickly covered the action with a dramatic, what one could call, stage sniff. “Oh, Patton, precious Padre, that smells heavenly! Your culinary craft really has improved!” Roman strode grandly into the kitchen and grabbed Patton from behind, wrapping the father figure in a warm bear hug that lifted the smaller trait off the ground.

“Well, thanks, kiddo!” Patton choked out with what breath wasn’t forced out by Roman’s tight embrace. “I know you like spaghetti, so I really tried to do it like Joan showed Thomas this time.”

“You’ve done well, Padre, and you effort is acknowledged!” The Prince set Patton back on the floor and sat in his place at the kitchen table, idly scrolling through his phone while he waited for the food to be done.

Virgil quietly left Logan to finish the chapter of his book and silently slipped into his chair across from Roman. The Anxious one studied the Creative Side’s features carefully, noting the slight downturn of his lips and eyes and the hint of a crinkle on his forehead. He watched, his eyes widening a bit, when Roman roughly hit the home button on his IPhone, sighing to himself and seeming to click onto a different app.

“Everything okay over there, Princey?”

“What?” Roman didn’t even look up from his phone; Virgil could see the light blue of the Twitter loading screen reflecting off Roman’s face and eyes. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Fine.”

Roman’s eyes suddenly scrunched together; the prince bit his lip and slammed the phone down on the table.

“Whoa, kiddo, everything okay?” Patton jumped a bit and turned to face Roman. He plastered on his best care-free smile, but his eyes radiated concern.

“Y-yeah, fine, of course. I’m just going to….wash up.” Roman explained lamely, rising quickly and taking the stairs two at time.

“Well…that was-“

“Weird. Odd. Unsettling. Foreboding.” Virgil grumbled, reaching for Roman’s phone before Patton’s indignant tone brought him to a screeching halt.

“Virgil Sanders! What are you doing? That’s Roman’s phone!”

“Pat, there’s something wrong with Roman. When I want to get him earlier, he was acting really weird, and now this? I want to see what’s up.” Virgil flipped over the phone and managed to tap on the screen right before it went dark. His eyes scrutinized the screen for just a second before a frown re-shaped his entire countenance.

“You may think my precious Logan’s an egghead, but at least he’s not an Egomaniacal Prince!”

“Virge, what’s wrong?” Patton came behind Virgil’s chair and looked over his shoulder.

“The Prince character is so obsessed with himself that if he saw himself in the mirror, he’d fall in love and never leave that spot. #Narcissist.”

The fatherly trait’s eyes instantly filled with tears when he read the text on the screen. “Roman’s….reading hateful things about himself?”

“Roman is so bossy! He’s bringing them all down by trying to be in control all the time!”

“What the heck?!” Virgil’s voice was laced with concern. “Princey….why would he do this?!”

“Why would I do what?” Roman asked as he breezed back into the room, his familiar smile on his lips before he registered the presence of his phone in Virgil’s grasp. “Virgil.” Roman began evenly. “Why do you have my phone?”

“Because you’ve been acting like a-“

“You’ve been…off…and we were concerned.” Patton cut in, shooting Virgil a look.

“You could have simply asked me instead of commandeering my phone.” Roman’s tone was ice.

“I tried to ask you, remember? Upstairs? And you ignored me!” Virgil bit back, turning the phone so that the screen faced Roman. “And WHAT is this? Why are you reading this garbage?!”

“Just for….constructive criticism….”

“These aren’t constructive!” Virgil cried, flipping the screen back around. “’Roman is such a bully.’ ‘That prince character annoys me; he needs to tone it down.’ ‘I hate-‘”

“Enough!” Roman erupts, roughly snatching the phone from Virgil’s hand and quickly turning from the other two Sides. Before he can stalk out, though, Logan is in front of him and blocking the doorway.

“What is happening in here? Why the sudden commotion?”

“Roman’s reading hate comments about himself.” Virgil deadpanned, and Roman threw him a bitter glare.

“Roman? Is this true? Why would you engage in such illogical behavior?”

“It’s not illogical, Admiral Apathy.” Roman bit off. “It’s gathering input from our fans on how I can improve.”

“Come on, Princey,” Virgil rose and came up beside Roman. “You don’t believe any of that crap, do you?” Virgil sighed and swiped at Roman’s phone, barely missing the device as Roman jerked his hand away.

“I…..maybe.”

“Stop it.” Virgil looked him square in the eye. “I know what you’re doing. You’re feeling bad about yourself, so you’re throwing a pity party and looking up hate on the internet as the main event.”

“I-“

“I’ve done it, too, and I can tell you it doesn’t make anything better. You still feel crummy afterward, but now you have a whole new set of insults to throw at yourself.” Virgil suddenly looked exhausted. “Look, Princey-Roman. It doesn’t so you any good to sit there and feel bad about yourself. Trust me. You have to get up and prove to yourself that you’re better than that.”

“But…” Three pairs of eyes widened as Roman’s lips trembled, his voice quiet and quivering. “But what if…I’m not?” The Prince swallowed a sob and sunk out of the kitchen before any of the other three could react.

“Ah, geez.” Virgil mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he gazed at the spot Roman had only just occupied and wondered how they were going to fix this one.

“Hey…Princey?” Virgil knocked lightly on Roman’s door, cursing himself for giving into Patton’s idea of playing rock-paper-scissors to see who would go after Roman first. After a few beats of silence, he continued. “I….uh….I’m sorry I stole your phone and looked at it. That was….a crummy thing to do, and I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy. Forgive me?”

Silence.

“Logan, you’ll have to talk some sense into him.” Virgil rubbed his eyes, groaning as he fell back onto their couch. “He won’t listen to me.”

“I shall do my utmost.” Logan assured him, straightening his glasses and shoulders as he sank out of the Common Room.

Logan approached Roman’s room, pulling out a small lock picking set from his back pocket. He’ll probably wish he’d never conjured this for me after this…

“Hey, what the-”

“Roman,” Logan threw the Creative trait’s door open. “I apologize for not knocking first, but, considering your current state, I doubt that you would have answered my calls anyway.”

“You’re not wrong there, Four-Eyes.” Roman mumbled, still scrolling through his phone. He’d wiped all traces of his sorrow from his face.

“Roman, this sort of behavior is highly illogical and not useful. You’re really only stroking your own ego this way, but in a sick, childish form of-“

“You wouldn’t understand, Logan!” Roman suddenly screamed, jumping up from the bed and throwing his phone down. “You don’t get emotions, right? You’re Mister Logical, Mister Processing, Mister Emotion-LESS.” Roman was shaking now, his hands in fists at his sides. “You don’t get what it’s like to feel disappointed, like an absolute loser and a failure because you’re Mister Perfection. Well guess what?! The rest of us don’t get that luxury, so just LEAVE. ME. ALONE.”

Logan gasped when he suddenly found himself back in the Common Room. He’d landed firmly on his tailbone when Roman, in the force of his fury, had literally thrown him out of his room. “Well, I have never-” Logan’s face was beet red, and Virgil could only lay stalk still on the couch as he rose from the floor. “-dealt with such a childish, petulant, selfish, self-absorbed-“

“You two okay in here?” Patton asked, confused at seeing Logan back so soon.

“Yes, Patton. Virgil is quite safe from my wrath, but that Prince, that royal bas-”

“Logan, language!!” Patton reminded him loudly.

Logan took a deep, steadying breath through his nose. “No emotions indeed, Prince. You see this?!” Logan yelled to no one in particular. “This is anger, Roman! This is rage, frustration, and…..and hurt!” He cried at the ceiling, his voice cracking before the final two words. Looking both Virgil and Patton in the eye, Logan nodded curtly and sunk out of the room, into his own realm to calm himself down.

“Well, looks like it’s my turn to take a swing at it.” Patton plastered a wide smile across his cheeks as he materialized out of the Common Room and into the Prince’s domain.

“Hey, kiddo.” Patton whispered as he appeared in Roman’s all too quiet room.

“Not now, Patton.” Roman replied. The Prince was now laid across his bed, resting on his side and facing away from Patton. The Moral Side could hear the steady click of Roman’s finger nail hitting his phone screen as he scrolled.

“Come on, kiddo, you gotta stop doing this to yourself.” Patton scooted closer to Roman on the bed. Quick as lightening, Patton quietly and precisely plucked the cell phone from between Roman’s fingers.

Patton’s curiosity turned to full concern when the Prince merely slouched into his bed in response, not even trying to get the phone back.

“What’s really going on here, Roman? You and I both know that hate comments are only critical and not at all constructive.”

“They’re not hate comments,” Roman grumbled. “They’re feedback from fans.”

Patton sighed.

“Roman…I can’t even be too mad at you, really…because I’ve done the same thing.” Patton smiled sadly to himself, staring forlornly at the blank screen in his hands. Roman rolled onto his back, laying an arm across his eyes as a sort of shield against the truth.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He mumbled, barely opening his lips.

“Yeah you do, kiddo, and like I said, I’ve done it, too. You’ve had a bad week. You’ve already been beating yourself up anyway, or been beaten up, and you’re at the point where it’s not bad enough to really hurt. But you want it to, and you want to indulge in that hurt because it makes you feel more worthy and purposeful, like a victim of a cruel world instead of someone who just needs to learn and grow.”

Patton could see Roman’s jaw clench, but the Prince immediately released it as he removed his arm from his face and sat up on the mattress.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you are referring to,” Roman threw back. “You do not know my motives, so do not pretend that you do. I have told you, it’s construct-”

“Oh, but I do, kiddo.” Patton whispered, a tremor creeping into his voice. “Because I-”

“I GET it, Patton!” Roman suddenly exploded, throwing his hands up in the air. “You’ve indulged in negative emotions. Congratulations. We all have at some point or another, but I am not throwing myself a pity party. I am not indulging to feed my ego. I am giving myself what I deserve to hear after being such a miserable failure in my role and my duties!” He sucked in a breath, and his voice quieted. “I am no prince. I am the pauper. Now, if you will kindly leave me be to wallow in my squalor, Patton, I would appreciate it.”

“Yeah, kiddo. I’m sorry.” Patton got up quickly, turning from Roman so the Prince would miss the determined gleam in his eye.

“I need your help.” Patton declared to Virgil and Logan as they stared up at him from the Common Room couch.

“So, I take it your intervention went as well as ours did?”

“Yup…” Patton smiled sadly. “Though I think I got a little more intel. I have a plan, and I need your help.”

When Roman finally left his room hours later, he found the other three sitting at the top of the staircase, looking expectantly at his door. “What is this, a floor party?” He muttered humorlessly, moving to sink out before Patton jumped up.

“Wait! Come with us!” Roman hesitated at the desperation in Patton’s tone, considered his request, and came back up.

“Where? Why?”

“Downstairs!” Patton grabbed Roman’s wrists and dragged him to the stairs, tugging at him arms to get the royal to follow him.

“Patton, I’m not in the mood for a movie marathon or-“

Roman froze when he was low enough to see part of the living room. Most of the room was still obscured, but what he could see was covered in tape and paper with text. “What on earth-“ As he got closer, he recognized the Twitter logo. He approached the paper closest to the stairs, and read:

“Roman is my favorite Side. He’s so lively and fun; I have such a crush on him!”

He stared for a moment before allowing Virgil to nudge him to the next one.

“Roman is SUCH A good singer, wow! Just like a real Disney Prince! #Romanfornextprince”

Logan gestured toward the next sheet.

“I think Roman is my new favorite Side. He’s such a complex character. I can already see so much potential for future arcs and episodes for him, and I’m excited to see what happens next with him!”

He slowly progressed around the room, soaking in each comment that was taped to an object or piece of furniture in the Common Room. Some made him laugh, and some made that beautiful smile break out across his lips.

Then he reached the final three sheets.

“Roman is an incredibly talented and vivacious being.” Logan’s voice echoed from behind him. “He throws himself into everything that he does, and his passion is rivaled by none that I have ever seen. He is a pleasure to work with, and he is an inspiration that drives me to do my best. I am grateful for his presence in our group.”

Tears well up dangerously in Roman’s eyes.

“Roman is just the bee’s knees!” Patton’s cheery voice rang out from beside him. “He’s so good at singing, and he’s so much fun to have around! He’s great at making me happy when I feel kinda sad, and I’m always amazed at the things he creates! He’s the best Disney movie marathon buddy a guy could ask for, and I’m so glad to have him in my life!”

Roman attempted a laugh, but a sob slipped out instead. He bit his lip.

“Roman reminds me that even though life can be a drag, there’s always a reason to get up in the morning with a smile.” Virgil’s quiet, even tone sounded from Roman’s other side and sent a chill up his spine. “He works so hard to do his best for all of us and Thomas, and I appreciate that more than I ever tell him. He puts up with so much from us, and I’m always amazed at what he is able to accomplish. I’m glad he’s our prince.”

Tears snaked down Roman’s cheeks, but he didn’t even try to stop them. He read the three pieces of text over and over, running the words and their meanings through his mind. His head bowed when Patton carefully wrapped an arm around his waist and gently rocked them both side to side, humming a wordless tune. He slid his own arm around Patton’s back, and his eyes slid closed as he continued to cry but absorbed the love practically radiating off of Patton.

Virgil tenderly placed his arm across the Prince’s shoulders, and Roman sobbed harder as the Anxious Side tenderly rubbed his shoulder. Virgil got closer to the royal, and Roman slid an arm around his back and pulled him in close.

Roman suddenly felt someone at his back, and he relaxed just a hair when he felt a pair of arms weave around his stomach. A forehead pressed into his back, and he felt a slight tremble come from the being behind him.

“Th-thank you. All of you.” Roman breathed out. “And L-Logan…I apologize for asserting that you lack emotion…because clearly that is not the case.” A jarring combination of a laugh and sob escaped Roman’s throat as Logan squeezed his midsection.

“It’s q-quite alright, Roman. I apologize for not being more…tactful in my approach.”

“You are forgiven.” Roman sighed and wiped his eyes, and he took in a deep breath. “I feel….much improved. Far better. I…am good, guys. Thank you, again.”

Patton squeezed Roman tight in a side-hug, and Virgil brought his arm from around Roman’s shoulders, stretching the appendage as a grin crept onto his lips.

“Hey, Lo, you need to apologize for something else.”

“What is that, Virgil?” Logan asked, brow quirked.

“For calling Roman a ‘royal bast-‘”

“VIRIGIL, NO CUSSING!” Patton cried, hands over his mouth.

“He called me a WHAT?” Roman spun around. “You offer your apologies, but neglect to mention defiling my good name, you…you-!”

“Well, I only managed to say part of the word, so I figured an apology was not necessary. I only called l you a  ‘royal bas-, not a ‘royal bast-‘“

“Logan!” Patton turned on his dad voice. “That’s enough of all of this! We were having a nice moment!” He whined, turning to Virgil as the other two continued to bicker.

“It’s okay, Dad.” Virgil reassured him, throwing an arm over his slumped shoulders. “This is our normal, and I think if anything, it shows they’re gonna be alright.”

“I guess you’re right, kiddo.” Patton sighed, watching on with a strange fondness in his eyes. “He’s gonna be alright.”

All of my Sanders Sides fanfics

[coal-the-shiba]

Life in Japan with a Dog

Hi everyone.  After some thinking, I decided I wanted to share some of my experiences about raising a dog in Japan.  Since I am from the Evergreen State, it was a real culture shock for me and it sometimes gives me a lot of stress to try and navigate the compromises that I have had to make--especially in dealing with the older, postwar generation (my mother and father-in-law).  I love my in-laws dearly, but this has been a tough one for me.

The first thing I learned about dogs in Japan, especially in an older neighborhood, is that dogs that are medium to large (so this means Shiba) are usually living outside 100% of the time, usually tied up to their dog house because Japanese yards are pretty small.  Also, Japan has TONS of wild/stray cats running around, plus I have seen weasels and other unnameables that I know carry all sorts of nasty stuff.  Small dogs like minis and toys are generally allowed inside, and pet cats are becoming more and more indoor pets, though many people still let them roam outside, unaware of the dangers.

I did get lucky in that, since we have no fence and I have students coming and going outside (including young children) I won the right to keep Coal inside.  HOWEVER, that came with the stipulation that he stays in his pen :(  This has been a huge heartbreak for me, as free-running dogs are kind of my childhood.

  I get to take him out sometimes,  but since there is this weird hygiene culture, I have to make sure to clean up his hair afterwards.  I can also let him run around in the upstairs office *sometimes* but not often.  On the plus side, Japan is getting super big on the pet dog culture.  Dog runs are starting to crop up everywhere, and there are a lot of dog-friendly hotels that we can go to as well as pet-friendly shops and cafes.  We just have to get him there (living in an isolated community has not helped.  Lots of residential houses and factories, but most amenities are at least a 20+ minute drive)  Even though Coal has proven time and time again at various hotels that he does not chew on stuff, won't table surf, and doesn't snatch our food--he still doesn't get the amount of freedom I want to give him.  My husband has indicated that after his parents pass away (hopefully not for a long time, but they are both almost 80) I can give him more freedom.

The other struggle I have had is in interactions with him--basically training and discipline.  To make a long story short, the looks I got when I mentioned training were pretty hilarious.  Why do you need to *train*?  Our first and only dog, Jirou, was perfectly well behaved and didn't need to be trained.  Of course, getting him to sit wasn't going to happen XD  But apparently, their only dog from twenty years ago was one of those perfect, never bites nor shows aggression Shiba.  Good breeder choice, I guess.  Well, the looks on their faces when I made it very clear that no striking was allowed was even funnier.  While my in-laws thought I was crazy, everyone agreed to this rule and the rule of not giving him food or treats without requesting a cue of some kind.

I think the whole no-hitting thing was the weirdest thing for my in-laws.  Even my husband struggled with it because their idea of discipline was to swat the dog on the behind, nose, or kick or whatever, if the dog was being unacceptably bad.  My husband has shared stories with me that made me cringe--but he admits that now he realizes how badly they treated their first dog, and he regrets it (though he can't understand why we are having some of the troubles we have had with Coal lol)

The thing in Japan is that pets are still technically things--property.  More and more of the younger generation are starting to latch on to the feeling of pets as actual family, but it is still a little different because of some of the cultural stigmas.  Even though we use kibble and dried treats, it is practically mandatory to use a separate sponge and not was the dog dishes/treat containers while there are human dishes in the sink.  Don't greet the dog first, greet humans first (though my husband has been guilty of this a few times :) )  Wash your hands after EVERY SINGLE interaction, even if you only scratched him on the neck...and he is an indoor dog who doesn't roll around in stuff.  Originally, my husband wanted to shower him every week!  I got him down to the minimum of twice weekly, and now it looks like we may go down to once a month due to not wanting to scratch up the new bathing rooms floor.   Winter will probably be less if we decide to wash him outside, since I can't do that in winter.

It has been a roller coaster of emotions with me constantly attempting to find a balance to prevent any bad blood between Coal, me, and my in-laws.  I have found it best to not really force things, but to gradually and slowly introduce certain concepts--especially about freedom.  For example, if I take him outside of the pen with the family in the living room, I keep him on leash.  Given the size of our living room and everyone sitting in there, this is as much to give them a sense of security as it is to prevent him from zoomies all over them--and to get his zoomies out he would HAVE to jump on them, as there is no room for him to run haha.

The family does absolutely adore him, constantly interacting, loving, giving treats and laughing at his crazy antiques.  I wish they could see how much more fun he would be if he had a bit more freedom, but I am not sure I can win that fight.  They are all JUST beginning to understand that each dog is an individual, too.

Coal is very lucky, though.  I have walked around the neighborhood and found pretty much all the Shiba's I met sitting patiently outside their little houses.  I find that so very sad.  Right now, with Coal upstairs, everyone in the family misses him.  They say it is not as bright when they can't see him and actually make an effort to go upstairs or to meet him at the door before and/or after walks.  His pen will be a little smaller after remodeling is finished...but I still can't get them to change their minds.  I will just have to keep chipping away at it slowly.

And to put it into even more perspective--when we went to the one positive-reinforcer traininer/behaviorist/vet person, he actually APOLOGIZED to me for the Japanese culture with dogs.  He was really surprised about what I knew and understood for training and kept telling my husband to listen to me lol. Anyway, one of the reasons I haven't shared many photos is because of a

bit of shame at the situation--with the remodeling, we haven't been able to take him anywhere ( we were late on his shots, so that didn't help).  Since his pen is his place, I have made sure that all the best things--from training to play to feeding to attention--happen in there the majority of the time.  There are some issues that seem to be a more intrinsic issue because no matter what external factors we manipulate, we can not correct/counter condition/desensitize--but there are a couple of training attempts we can not do because they require a level of space that generally doesn't exist in Japanese houses (over 50 feet is just not feasible---we can barely do 10!)  But it is only two issues (maybe one as they seem similar) and we have found how to effectively manage them, so that is enough for now.

When I compare his life to other Shiba I have met, I think he is very very lucky.  I shouldn't feel shame because I am doing the best I can in the situation.  The house belongs to his parents, too, so that means it is kind of amazing at the things I have been able to do so far.  There is still a stigma about Shiba as being unintelligent/stubborn/untrainable, etc--all of which I have pretty much disproven with Coal.  I have managed to prove to my husband that yes, positive reinforcement and desensitization works as long as it is consistent, so that is another bonus.  Maybe time will tell.

Thanks for listening to my story. It is kind of a rant, an explanation, an apology, and a bit of venting.  Different cultures can really open your eyes to many things.

[brielleinstitutehq]

DEXTER STAVROS is a 24-year-old PATIENT in the PSYCHIATRIC WARD. He has been diagnosed with RENFIELD’S SYNDROME (SCHIZOPHRENIA), NARCISSISTIC PERSONALITY DISORDER, & PSYCHOPATHY. He looks a lot like Domnic Sherwood.

MAYBE THEY’RE HIDING

Dexter’s story starts off like everyone else’s. Born to a mother and father. He lived in a middle class, working society. The only difference was the lack of communication between parent and child. Dexter will be the first one to tell you his parents never gave a shit about him. As far as he was concerned, they had children so they could claim a decent chunk of change at the end of the year during tax time. Dexter was given things to survive, sure, but being ignored 24/7 really does tend to isolate any child faced with the situation.

As a child, Dexter sought out other means to keep himself from feeling lonely. It started off with stuffed animals, then slowly - but gradually - moved to domestic animals. It didn’t matter if it was the neighbors dog, or the stray cats running around the neighborhood. Often times, he would bring them home, hording them inside his room, leaving his parents and brother oblivious to the fact they were even around.

When he was asked about the odd smells starting to overtake the house, he would lie to anyone that asked. “It’s not my fault" he would tell them, and most of the time, they’d be in too much of a hurry to argue about it with him.

Some would question rather or not Dexter actually felt some sort of connection to these animals, and he’ll always tell you the same thing. He did, at the time. It wasn’t until he started taking his anger out on the animals that things started to take a turn for the worst. Those strays, he would cut them open and watch as they took their last breath. He would shove the carcasses in plastic bags to relieve the smell, and he’d leave them piled up in his closet.

WE HOPE THEY ARE PLAYING A GAME

When the police came to his house the first time, he was eleven years old. The neighbors dog had gone missing and the moron living next to them was so sure that Dexter had something to do with it. Dexter’s parents gave the police permission to search his room, and what they found was disturbing for all parties involved. Not only did they find Dexter’s hidden stash of dead animals, but they also found the neighbors dog. Arresting an eleven year old was awkward, and instead of sending him to jail, they sent him to a psychiatric hospital, where he underwent outpatient therapy for the next several years. They tried to make him a normal, functioning member of society and for a while, they succeeded.

By the time he was fourteen, he decided to drop out of high school (his parents even granted permission), figuring he’d do better doing online school. In his mind, he didn’t actually need an education to become the various things he wanted to become and this was one way he didn’t have to leave his home. He never had any friends, so being bummed out about that was never a problem, either.

Hell, Dexter til this day doesn’t know what those are. The only real friend he can ever say he had came in the form of his older brother. Although they weren’t super close, they were close enough to talk about things that concerned them. His brother was a known drug dealer and while Dexter didn’t necessarily care what he did in his free time, he did have a problem with him bringing the buyers to the house.

One day while they were home alone playing video games, Dexter’s problem became even bigger. Not only did his brother continue to bring his buyers to the house, but during a drug deal, his brother was shot dead. To any fourteen year old, that probably would have caused some sort of emotional turmoil. For Dexter, it was just another piece of the puzzle he didn’t know existed. He remained in the house with his dead brother for hours, unsure what he was supposed to do in the situation. His brain didn’t work like everyone else’s, so his need to call police wasn’t there. It wasn’t until his parents came home and he was still covered in blood that shit hit the fan. The cops were called again and Dexter was brought in for questioning – although this time – he had nothing to do with the crime. His first emotional outburst happened during the interview process. Something had set him off and instead of listening to what the police wanted, he threw a fit, tossing multiple things into the air and shouting about how they didn’t know how to do their jobs because his brother was dead and his killer would probably remain uncaught. Needless to say, he was taken home shortly after. Trauma, they labelled it.

His second emotional outburst was against his parents and it led to two counts of second degree murder at just sixteen years old. Things had changed in his home. With his brother dead, his parents were trying to become more active in his life and he didn’t like it. The yelling and screaming sent him over the edge and the only thing he’ll tell you is that they deserved what happened next. He bludgeoned them both to death and left the scene of the crime, not even trying to cover up what happened. His impulsive nature left two people he could care less about dead. The police, on the other hand? They cared quite a lot and Dexter became a mini celebrity as his photograph flashed along television and media screens.

He was able to stay hidden for about a month before the police found him. That’s when the real fun started. The prosecution had to decide rather or not they’d try him as an adult. It took a lot of negotiation, but Dexter managed to plead insanity with the help of his lawyer and his childhood therapist. Instead of painting Dexter out to be a monster, they painted him out to be a child who grew up ignored in a family. They painted him as someone that had lost his only friend and had suffered a childhood trauma that clearly left him unstable. They stated various things from his childhood twisted Dexter into becoming the individual he was today, and he soaked it up. He was able to fake remorse, even crying during his sentencing at certain points. The book wasn’t thrown at him, but he didn’t get to walk off scot-free, either. For the next five years (until he was legally 21), he would be forced to see another therapist paid and hired for by the state. He was also forced to undergo a psych evaluation by a forensic psychiatrist who reported his findings back to the court system. Not only did Dexter have an insane illusion that he had somehow become better than everyone, he had grown an unnatural attachment to the taste of blood and would often cut himself in order to receive the substance. Renfield’s Syndrome – or so they claim. To the forensic psychiatrist? Schizophrenia. Or at least a sub-category based around it. The true diagnosis? Psychopathy.

BUT THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING

He’s not sure how he ended up here at Brielle Institute. Dexter will be the first to keep saying there’s nothing wrong with him, but there are people that will disagree. He’s here simply because he returned back to his old antics. Animals came up missing and his anger got the best of him. His impulsive nature caused him to fight with the police when they were called and he was arrested, again. Only this time he wasn’t so lucky. No jail time, of course. But now he’s facing time in a psychiatric hospital that he can’t escape. Brielle Institute. Full of mystery and conflict, but apparently, capable of helping even the helpless. He’s not aware of the stories that cloud the place, but even if he was aware, he probably wouldn’t care. The only thing he does care about is putting up a facade, so he can get the hell out of here as fast as he can. Yet, he knows there is always going to be some doctor to challenge him. He was challenged often by the forensic psychologist that looked at his case the first time, and he can’t help but feel this place will be the same.

CONNECTIONS: none

Unfortunately, Dexter is TAKEN!

[shima-draws]

Timeloop Aftermath

((I decided to create a possible idea of what might happen with the Aftermath of this AU. It’s a brilliant AU, so many possibilities and great writing on your part (I also love your art wow)! So, here it is! I hope you like it!))

After the incident, everything in Jeremy’s life changed, and for the better.

After he told Michael about everything that had happened (using the journal as proof, even if he has to read it to him and persuade it to him enough to make him believe him), he was convinced by Michael to get the Squip out of his brain.

There was a whole shitload of stuff that happened (may possibly write it out), whereas Jeremy had to fight against the Squip'a forces, talk to Rich, and finally get that Mountain Dew Red to end it all, Michael being his main support.

Afterwards, with everything that had happened to them with the party and Squips, Jeremy finally seemed to be accepted by people. Not only did Rich come out as bi and started being good friends with Jeremy and Michael, he got them one step closer to Jake, Chloe, Brook and Jenna. Christine had taken a liking to helping Michael after the accident (Jeremy wasn’t into her anymore since he figured out his feelings for Michael, however he couldn’t help appreciate all the amazing things she did), and so the Drama Crew was formed, their friendship really unexpected and magnificent.

Not to mention that Jeremy and Michael had gotten together quickly. Jeremy visited Michael in the hospital everyday after the accident until he got out. Apparently Michael would have full blindness for up to a year, six-nine months at least, and then he’s have eyesight problems for the rest of his life (so, worse than needing glasses obviously, however he’d have partial blindness at times. However it wouldn’t affect him as greatly, and not as bad forever).

Despite the joking bets about how long they’d last, they lasted.. that’s just it. They lasted. They graduated, went to college together (They were cool in college, let me tell you,) and moved in together shortly afterwards. They went on dates, got a dog named Pac-Man (a stray Michael found on the street, what a furry,) , and eventually had a wedding! It was small but cute, the Crew was there, Jeremy’s dad was there, Michael’s parents were there, and Mr. Reyes was there for some reason. It was all amazing, life couldn’t go better for Michael and Jeremy Heere.

That’s the saying, you can only go up. But when you’re up, where else can you go? Well.. only down, of course.

Jeremy and Michael were in their early 40’s. It had been so long since everything happened, the two never imagined Michael’s sight could be so bad ever again. He had been able to see just fine since he had turned 31, despite still needing glasses. They hadn’t even costed the doctor in a whole year, they were so confident.

Confidence wasn’t enough.

Michael had always been insistent on driving himself places after he had gotten better. To practice driving again after getting better, he went to the grocery store to get stuff for the week for them every week, and he had just kept it up since. It wasn’t a big deal.

It had been September when this whole instance occurred. Jeremy sat at home on this Monday, when he had the work day off for Labor day. He sorted through the papers in his hands that was keeping him busy. It wasn’t business papers, oh no (he couldn’t work for a big business anyways, it reminded him of the Squip. Plus he just hated the thought of working in a cubical), these were adoption papers. Jeremy and Michael had been thinking about this for yesrs, and now they were thing of going through with this. He was reading through the different foster care systems near them, when he heard his phone ring.

Jeremy wasn’t one to let his phone go to voicemail unless he was really, really into something or just couldn’t reach the phone. This wasn’t one of those times. He was quite calm at the moment, normal, feeling alright..

He suddenly didn’t feel alright. With the sound of the stranger over the line telling him about the accident. Telling him that his player two had swivered off the side of the highway into a ditch in a frenzy. He was at the hospital. He was under-

Jeremy had stopped listening. Why? Because he dripped his phone on the way outside. Panic ran through his body as he sped out of the driveway in his car, cutting someone off and not caring for a single second.

He could barely breathe as he raced towards the hospital. He knew where it was from how many times he’s been there for this man and this man alone. This man he loved more than anything in the world. The man he saw die so many times before- but felt it so real this time that he felt like he would die right here and now if he didn’t make it to the hospital.

Adrenalin filled him as he crashed into the ER, frantically waving down anyone at all to tell him where Michael was. He looked insane, so if course, security had stopped him before a nurse had came to him.

“Where’s Michael? Where- I-Im married to him! I-is he ok?”

“Sir, were doing everything we can. Hes in a critical state. You have to calm-”

“I can’t calm down! I have to see him- h-he can’t die! I can’t let him d-die! Please!” Jeremy held back the word ‘again’. He also held back tears.

“Sir, I..”

Just then, a doctor stepped into the area. He talked to the lady at the front counter before making his way over to us. “You’re Jeremy Heere, sir?”

Jeremy nodded quickly. “Y-yes, where’s Michael? Is he ok? H-hes ok, right?”

The doctor had paused.

Jeremy felt a fear rush through him at this silence. “H-hes, t-tell me Michael’s ok! Tell me!” He persisted, his voice escalating.

The doctor spoke calmly, obviously rehearsed and drone-like. “I’m sorry sir. There was nothing else we could do for him. Michael had punctured his lung and bled to death before we could do anything usef..”

Jeremy felt his heart drop as the words sunk in. His thoughts seemed to stop, scream to a halt, not disappear, but a much , much worse feeling. The feeling of his whole life crashing down on him and fleeing him at the same time. His heart stopped, like everything else, for a pause that seemed to last for hours.

Then it all hit him. All of it. His heart came back, feeling an ache that only grew worse with every pump. His mind filled with the words of the doctor, the thoughts of his lovers death, the thoughts of Michael, Michael, Michael is dead.

Jeremy was crying. His cheeks were leaking as he pulled himself away from the other men. He stumbled back, still staring at the doctor. His vision became blurry as he started crying harder than every before, his breath becoming tiny gasps, his feet losing balance when he realised he was outside the hospital, on the grass. He brought his hands to his face, weeping and whaling profusely to himself, alone.

Everything came flooding back. And it all guilted him. He could have gone grocery shopping with him. For him. He could have taken him to the doctors to get checked up, seen that his sight might get worse. Checked that his lover was ok with a phone call, say “I love you, player two” one last time. The worst part was that he couldn’t remember the last words they had exchanged.

His mind was in such a spiraling state that he started thinking of everything bad that he ever did to Michael. He reached his deaths, he reached the looping. He remembered every death. He remembered his pain and how none of that pain was nearly as bad as it is now. Now was the worst day of his life. And there had been many bad days for Jeremy Heere.

He just wanted to see his face one more time. He wanted to see his lover, his player two, his alive husband, his best friend, his partner in crime, the most amazing person in the world-

“Or you’ll what?”

The bathroom. The light. The taste of shitty, terrible liquor threatening his mouth. And right in front of him, almost 30 years younger, was the love of his life. He teared up.

“M-Michael?”

(HOOOOO BOYYYYYY I AM. I AM DEC E ASED

I AM LIKE. LIKE THIS

I’M AM PHYSICALLY W EAK

That was really really really fantastic, wow!! I have had thoughts about making the timeline where Michael goes blind the final timeline, sort of like, there’s gotta be some sacrifices, but they don’t necessarily have to be someone dying, ya know? And just imagining all the fun stuff that he and Jeremy go through afterward, hoooo!

All I can think about now is Jeremy pushing Michael (who’s wearing like, shutter shades or a pair of ridiculous sunglasses probably) around in a wheel chair through school and Michael’s like “Move outta the way, bitches, I got an escort to class” and like. Once they recover they get comfortable enough to make blind jokes ppfffp Although I do like the idea of Michael’s sight coming back eventually. Like the accident at Jake’s house was only temporary and he regains his sight after a couple months or a year or smth.

BUT ANYWAY BACK TO SCREAMING THAT WRECKED ME AAAA!! I just can’t imagine how awful that would be, to live thirty years and then be taken back in time all the way back to the start of the whole thing;; but now Jeremy can try to prevent the whole blind thing, yeah? (Maybe instead Jeremy ends up going blind :0)

STOP KILLING MICHAEL I say as I continue to kill Michael in multiple of my AUs haha--//shot

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS!! You guys are awesome continuing to shower me with fics and beautiful art and giving me more ideas for this AU I AM TRULY. TRULY BLESSED.)