#but this turned salty fast and it's kinda sad that this is my first tag ramble in a long while and it's venty. i wish it was cheerier.

[thefanbasewhore]

To Forget.

Summary: Buck has a nightmare and just wants to forget about it, of course with the help of his girlfriend.

Warning/content: (18+), suggestive content ahead. Biting, slight degration, rough sex, mentions of PTSD but Bucky is a soft little angel towards the end. P in V, oral (female receiving)

Paring: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: I don't ever write smut, so this kinda sucks but also took me 2 weeks to write 😡

He's curled on the floor, chest heaving as he takes a deep gulp. Eyes ablaze but wide with sadness, fear of the demons who drown him every night he closes his eyes.

The smallest step has his head snapping in your direction, hand reaching out as if he was looking for something to protect himself with but with a few clicks and gears turning the vibranium hand unclenches a sigh of relief leaving his lips.

"Hi baby." His heart is still pounding, mind still racing as he remembers the reason he's in this predicament. Faces of those he's wrong, guilty he's the reason families mourn and children go without father's. Bucky opens his arms, wanting you close, wants the feeling of anxiety and guilt to go away.

Without hesitation you sink down next to him, finding a home between his arms, chest warm and comforting.

"It's alright Buck, I'm here." Lifting your head to face him, petting his hair as you press a soft kiss to his lips. His eyes are sad, glossy with unshed tears, chest irratic against your own. "I'm here."

A hand against his chest reminds him to breath, taking deep breaths out his nose to ease the burning chest. "You have to start waking me up when you move off the bed, don't like you sleeping out here by yourself."

"You look so peaceful, it would be a crime too."

A warm, soft hand glides up the bare skin of your inner thigh, skillful and unforgiving as it pushes deeper and deeper underneath the hem of the shirt. Bucky's eyes flicker to your own, sad and wild but also, filled with an aching hunger felt deep inside the pit of his stomach. The blues mixed with a sense of panic but layered with cloudy lust. "Wanna forget sweetheart."

The words mean nothing as a finger presses against the bundle of nerves covered by your panties, which momentarily surprises and makes your jump, warm lips press against the junction of where your neck and collar bone joint. "Help me forget?"

It's hard denying such a request especially feeling the cushioning of his bottom lip follow the line of your collar bone with wet, sloppy kisses. He's sucking at the skin, nibbling and paining it purple in his wake, fingers now running over the hem of the black, lace panties. His other hand reaches over, vibranium knotting into your hair, cupping the back of your head to angle your face towards his, it's not soft - rough and meaningful but just enough to make your heart pound and between your legs wet.

Longing eyes as he bites his swollen lips, staring at each other for an eternity - or that's what it feels like. The tension is high, his hardness heavy on your inner thigh as he moves closer, coolness of dog tags felt through the thin shirt, the contact hardening your nipples. Eyes dark are feral and when you dare look away - down at where he throbs against you, he harshly yanks at your hair. "Eyes on me, sweet girl. I still haven't gotten my answer yet."

"Yes, yes, yes." That's all he needs as a tongue wets the skin of your neck, a smooth trail of saliva making your neck his. Flesh hand reaches between, squeezing your tit softly, rubbing it through the shirt and feeling it harden.

Clearly frustrated, his fingers pull at the hem of the shirt with a growl, soon enough it's up and over thrown across the room with little regard. Hands squeeze every round piece of flesh, gentle but meaningful as lips bruise your skin.

His chest flushes against your own, now with heavy breaths for an entirely different reason. Frustrated hands find the barrier between his hand and your aching arousal, face mirroring the irritation because of it as two hands push into hem before shredding them with little regards.

You barely have time to gasp as his fingers fill you, smooth kisses presses against the line of your stomach as fingers slide out before curling up into the spot that makes you cry.

He's relentless, at first it's too much, trying to move up the bed from the source but he holds you still, grounds you underneath him until you're soaking his hand, whining out for him.

"More, more, please." At this point you don't know what you're begging for, something snaps inside you. Warm and filled with a tingle that numbs both legs but between his fingers which move in and out at an unforgiving pace you can't feel a thing.

It's impossible to form words as he hits a spot so deep you cry out.

"Look at you.." He teases but hard eyes are anything but playful, they're cruel and condescending and never leave your own. The way he talks is so filthy, degrading but love every word that falls from his mouth. "All dumb, can't even speak. Am I making you dumb, sweet girl?"

The words get stuck in your throat again, the feeling on his finger hit deeper and deeper as your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Eyes feel heavy, half way closing as walls flutter around his scissoring digits. "Gonna come for me, honey?"

"Mmmm!" Is all you can manage as a pair of teeth sink into your inner thigh, it doesn't break the skin but will leave a mark that will last days.

"Yes you are, look at you. I want it, give it to me." A tongue runs out to roll over the burning skin, soothing it with wet saliva and a few kisses as his fingers milk you through. "There it is, you're gorgeous, baby."

It happens so fast, white, hot pleasure that temporarily blinds you. A dark bliss with shaky thighs, they only thing that pulls you back is the feeling of lips against your inner thighs and clicking of plates and shifting of gears as cool vibranium pets your hair, skimming over your hair line. "You with me, bunny?"

A weak nod but that's all he needs before a long stride of his tongue catches a taste of your cum, squealing at the surprise and sensativity of post orgasm. "Bu- Buck -."

You can't form words once again and he can care less. He's ruthless, nibbling at the over-sensative bundle of nerves, licking and moaning with the slightest shift of his own hips

Hands fall to feel the smooth hair, stands a little longer on top fill into the gasps of your fingers, pulling harder- harder then you usually would but Bucky doesn't seem to mind.

"Buck - ugh!" The sounds are filthy, wet and sloppy as one particularly hard pull of hair muffles a moan that vibrates your whole lower half, legs start to shake as thighs tighten and cup his ears.

He's putting his all and everything into you, drunk on the feeling and taste as everything else in his broken mind disappears - he's tense, angry but only filled with thoughts of you, you, you.

For the second time within only minutes of each other you cum, Bucky doesn't dare move, taste every single drop he could manage before pulling away. Arousal smeared across his face as he sits on his knees between open legs using the back of his hand to wipe whatever he could manage.

The loud announcers of the soccer match on the television is the only sound next to the heavy breathing, breasts moving with every breath and Bucky can't look away. Metal fingers cool your nipple, squeezing and pinching as you let out a gasp and cower from the touch. The hand fingers your chin, clicking as it curls against the chin and pulling eyes to his open.

He doesn't bother with words, instead closes the gap between both of you. Taste of yourself tangy on lips, a strong tongue parting lips as the shift of hips has his cock kissing your opening. He tests the waters, pushing forward for the bulbous head runs up and down and up again to touch the bundle of nerves that makes you moan under his mercy.

Tears of frustration prickle eyes but his tongue continues to messily run over every part of your mouth - the roof, the tongue, sucking lips purple and swollen - he can't get enough. It's torturous but soft, lips are kind and caring and considerating on the distraction for the moment.

"You're so beautiful, how'd I get so lucky?." He sounds drunk whispering against your lips, slurring and slow as flesh fingers knot the back of your hair to bring you deeper into his lips. "Can't get enough of you."

"Buck, need you." Wether he hears the words or completely ignores them, his tongue rolls over your own, sharp teeth catching the fat of your lip as his hips tut into yours. He's throbbing against your inner thigh, pre-cum mixed with your own arousal soaking the skin.

The small hand goes unnoticed as it slips down his hard stomach, following the trail of hair that leads to him. His lips are too busy, messy and wet as they move against your own. A hand wraps around his hardness, momentarily separating where you two meet, a small gasp parting lips.

His eyes flutter close as you pump him, pressing soft, gentle kisses against his shoulder. The skin is hot, and still tastes salty from his dream but the whisper of your name under his breath has you reaching forward, fingers at the base of his neck to bring him to your own lips.

You take this time to squeeze and he groans, unaware of your true intensions to push him off, hands against his chest to apply a force that's enough to knock him into his back.

Pretty blue eyes with soft alabaster skin, which flushes compared to the disholved light pink blanket that's fabric tightens under his body weight but never leaves your face, well maybe a second to watch you straddle his thighs, rub your aching pussy against this heavy length.

He doesn't fight as you lift yourself up, rubbing the throbbing head against your folds before slipping into the warm, wet hole with a hiss.

"Jesus, sweetheart." He groans, every inch sending a shock of pleasure up his spine but also stretching you so good it's intoxicating. Drunk on him, the way blue eyes beg you for more, bites his lip and smirks seeing just how ruined you already look.

Finally he's snug, not an inch left to move but you're so warm he doesn't know if he wants to, so you decide to for him. Pressing a hand against his chest for support, giving him an experimental roll that receives a deep breath, "That's it."

"Look good like this." Cool metal squeezes your left breast with his admittance as your hips finally find their rhythm.

Bucky flesh hand follow the lines of your stomach, over the roundness of your breast grab ahold of the posterior aspect of your deltoid, the other cool one is digging dents into the skin of your hip as another skillful roll of your hips has his head rolling back onto the ground.

His mouth hangs open, soft praises filling the air.

You're so good to me.

That's it honey, feel so good.

Eyes squeezed shut as small, sloppy kisses are felt against his neck. A set of teeth digging into the skin and something snaps. A snarl with teeth, fangs on full display as he uses his hand placement as an advantage to turn the pair of you. He pulls out with a hiss, angry and red but the hand against your back guides you to lay on your stomach. With a gentle but meaningful push pressing your cheek to the floor and keeps it there, his other hand curling around your hips to pull them towards him.

Without a word he splits you open again, easing himself until you're a withering mess, under the mercy of his hand which keeps your head grounded, the surface of the floor cool on contrast with the skin of your cheek. He doesn't waste any time, pulling out before trusting so deep you feel him in your stomach.

It doesn't stop, over and over again. Every ounce of frustration is felt as he sheths every inch of himself inside you. Brutal, almost painful but clouds your mind, barely can speak as his hips snap against your own.

He's taking it out on you, so lost in his pleasure he's temperily blind from why this even started in the first place, all he can concentrate on his how good and right you feel, the sound of your arousal every time he trusts into you, the way his name falls from your lips.

A small ache starts to form from the repeated force on your ischial but it's burns so good as he continues to split you open.

"Fuck..." He moans, "So good, sweetheart."

His hips are faultering and slowly loosing rhythm as he hears his end, the vibranium fingers squeeze your ass before pulling away and coming down to hard you see black and feel the rush of blood to that area makes you dizzy.

It's a sharp, searing heat that fills your stomach. Under his mercy as he claims you his, teeth scrape but his lips follow behind to soothe. A hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you towards him but his hips never stop, he's filling you with a brutal pace as your back makes contact with his swollen chest.

The hand wraps around the front now, squeezing the tender area of your neck and you're a mess, feeling his other hand press down on the bundle of nerves that makes you squeal, begging for more.

Arousal coats your legs, thank God he's holding you up because they're shaking, unsteady as he bottoms out inside you again. The bulbous head stretching you to no return, he changed the angle by flexing an knee for more force and you're done for.

Teeth nipping your ear, down the sensative skin of your neck that's already covered with all his love bites, soothing them with the warm surface of his tongue. Heavy breathing in your ear all you could hear as all your other sense dull out, falling limp in his arms.

It's numbing the way the orgasm hits you, blinding and all you can feel is a red hot release that bubbles your chest, makes you cry out for him. All you can hear is a moan in your ear, the "Good girl," as Bucky nears his end.

Almost seconds later, hips still against your ass, pressing harshly as white spurts coat your walls and follow with a small kiss against your shoulder.

He's breathing heavy, slowly lowering both of you on the floor but doesn't dare pull out, instead pulls you close to his chest, sensative and twitching.

He's breathless, but looking over your shoulder to see the closed mouth smile with an appearance of a dimple. "Thank you, baby doll. Feel better already."

His tongue clicks at the imprint of his hand on your cheek, red and on fire but due to the post organism haze you barely felt it. The outline of his fingers starting to rise off the skin, it would be there for a while. "I'm sorry." An apologetic kiss touches your arm, follows a trail up and to your back, soft breath fans your neck, "I was too rough, took it out on you."

Sleepily shaking your head with a goofy grin, "Was good, like it."

A hand cups your head, lifting it front the hard floor to place a pillow there and gently placing it there. The other rubs soothing circular motions over your ass check, with a small frown.

"Bucky, it's okay. I'm fine."

"Don't like hurting you, was too rough." He argues, guilt creeping at his shoulders, weighing then down aa avoids eye contact.

"I liked it." Despite your sore extremities you turn to face him, one hand comes up to cup his cheek, rub the high globes of his face and vibranium soon follows to cover yours. "You were not too rough, in fact, wanna give me a matching one on the other side?"

[tungstenb]

WIP Weekend Whenever

Tagged by @rpgwarrior4824, @ljandersen, @natsora, and @inquartata30. Thanks for the mentions, everyone!

Inq and Nat asked for fluff, so that's what I'm gonna try. I don't think my writing style is suited for fluff. But! An attempt was made. ^_-

I'm planning a bit of an intermission between SAtS and BODS — a series of vignettes from the trip to Thessia first referenced in "Cardamom and Cloves" — so here's a snippet from that (~2,500 words).

Enjoy!

Thessia: Day 2

Something's wrong.

It wasn't so much a thought but a feeling, an instinct. A surge of adrenaline to rouse her from sleep, to tense her slack muscles and propel her to act. One short intake of breath and she shot upright. Eyes keen. Mind ready.

Stillness. Early dawn.

Not wrong, only different. She'd forgotten.

Armali.

Shepard sank back down onto the plush bed, her sigh lost in the breeze rumbling with the crashing surf. Beyond the vast bedroom windows and billowing sheer curtains, new light tinted the scenery outside in a cool muted grayscale, the sky dilutely inky, the ocean mercurial, the scattered islands and jutting rock formations awaiting the colors of day, just beginning to come to life with swaying trees and flocks of birds. She sighed again. Allowed the last of her hypervigilance to bleed away. And as she shifted, turning to her left, she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips.

Beside her, Liara slept soundly, facing away, curled up comfortably under a drape of sheets. The relaxed curve of her shoulder rose and fell slightly with her steady breathing, the gentle sheen of microscales still somehow catching the dim early light. She glowed, even in the gray.

Shaking her head, Shepard barely suppressed a quiet breathy laugh, all amazement and relief and disbelief. She never thought she could have this. Never thought her heart could feel so full. She reached out, stopping just short of running her knuckles gently over Liara's arm, or sweeping the fallen strap of her nightgown back up over her shoulder.

She wouldn't wake her.

Hand sinking into the pillowy mattress, Shepard propped herself up and swung her legs over the bed, taking a deep breath, rolling out the residual soreness and tension in her shoulders, stretching her neck, massaging her bad leg. She stood. Breathed. Stretched again. The woven rugs were soft beneath her feet and the stonework cool as she made her way to the kitchen. Priority: coffee. Leave it to the asari to perfect the tech even for that. She hummed as she scooped the fragrant grounds into the machine, tapping a few buttons to start it brewing.

By habit she brought up her omni-tool before remembering she'd decided to ditch her usual early-morning reading for the week, her daily newsfeeds and all but the highest-priority messages muted, their pinned widgets grayed-out and transparent on her homepage. She clicked her tongue over the whirring and dribbling of the coffee maker, then wandered to the refrigerator, idly appraising its contents.

The rental house had been stocked with essentials before their arrival — maybe standard Armalian fare, maybe items a bit more suited to human tastes, maybe things Liara had requested specifically, Shepard couldn't be sure. Two large glass bottles, one green juice, the other milk (or something milk-adjacent). A variety of eggs cradled in a basket, some small and pastel, some larger, textured and mottled with bluish spots. A package of dense, doughy bread, sliced, cylindrical in shape. Small blocks of what appeared to be cheese, or butter, or another sort of cultured or aged dairy product, wrapped in decorated waxy paper. Assorted vegetables in crisper compartments. A bowl of shiny berries. A jar of… whatever the hell. She grabbed it, unscrewed the top, took a whiff. Fishy.

Best wait for Liara to wake before attempting to cook. Bit out of her element, at least with these ingredients. Chances were she'd fuck it up, Liara would wake up laughing at her and her sad burnt breakfast lump, and they'd have to go out to eat. And maybe Liara'd prefer to go out anyway, head to a quaint little cafe on the waterfront that starched its cloth napkins and served fancy drinks with like, olives and celery sticks or whatever the garnish for socially acceptable breakfast/brunch booze was here. Probably best to defer to her judgment; this was her home, after all. But she could, at the very least, have tea ready for her when she woke.

Taking the milk-like bottle and setting it on the counter, she readied and leveled her translation overlay. Tapped for an audio sample. Melikhratun, said a silvery voice in her earpiece. She poured some in a glass and tasted it. It was reminiscent of melted vanilla ice cream, even in thickness, and it coated the interior of the glass. Kinda weird, oddly tasty. She shrugged and set the glass aside, skimming through the article.

Melikhratun: a sweet liquid cream/yogurt made from haavi milk, rich in… well, everything. Fat, sugar, protein, vitamins, sometimes probiotics; eezo content variable, generally ranging from 0.5 to 5.0 ppm, depending on livestock origin and feed. Ideal for the energy needs of those who make ample use of biotics. Many regional versions, cultured and uncultured, in a multitude of flavors, some seasonal, some staples, some festive varieties only making brief appearances for annual holidays, most notably porfuranq flavor, for Janiris. Either drunk straight, used in recipes, mixed with other beverages — and essential for serving arwamaasi, a tea made famous in Serrice.

She tapped the link to arwamaasi, the article popping up beside the one for melikhratun, humming a tune as she shuffled over to the pantry.

Arwamaasi, arwamaasi… that one also sounded familiar.

The hinge squeaked as she opened the pantry door, and she turned. In the sliver of the bedroom still visible from the kitchen, she found Liara still sleeping soundly, face serene, arm relaxed resting before her. Thankfully undisturbed by the squeal of oxidized hardware needing oiling — constant humidity and salty sea air would do that. With a quiet breathy chuckle — and a mental note to tend to it later — she turned back to her search.

Translation overlay active she scanned the labels, looking for a match among the tins and boxes and jars lining the shelves. The pantry was well-stocked — nonperishables left by previous guests — and she scanned over the bubbles of transliterated text that popped up in real-time.

Arwamaasi, arwamaasi, arwamaasi, she repeated, silently. Liara had said the word before, back on the Normandy, the syllables rolling off her tongue as sweetly as the scent of spice that permeated the air and lingered on her lips after she'd drunk cup after cup, counting on the kick of caffeine to keep her awake and alert long after staring at her terminal had strained her eyes and made her mind weary.

"It's just not the same without melikhratun," she'd explained to Shepard, but assured her she enjoyed it even without the rich, sweet Thessian dairy product. Not practical to keep it aboard: perishable, spendy, difficult to acquire without eezo contamination. I'll see what I can do, regardless, Shepard had thought. Errands on the Citadel. What's that stuff called again? Alone, she'd detoured on Tayseri Ward and ordered coffee from an asari-owned cafe, hoping to jog her memory. Thought to ask for something nice to put in tea, a specific kind of tea, what's-it-called? Stopped. No, just the coffee. But… god, no. The gesture would be too forward. Her omni-tool chimed as she finalized the transaction and rocked, agitated, on her heels.

Pull yourself together.

It had ached, hurt like hell back then. Soft freckled cheeks and supple lips and spiced tea and she'd punched the Normandy's elevator console just a bit too hard, because it wasn't right, all these impure thoughts she couldn't shake, but what could she do but go run on the treadmill for half an hour and blow off that steam and longing and frustration because fuck, Liara had to know what she was doing to her when she talked so smart and sucked on her teeth and licked her lips and smiled like that.

No fucking way in hell should she even think about making the first move.

But if Shepard swiveled to her left — and she did, then — there, only meters away, Liara slept, that placid comfort clear on her face in the early light, and that sight ached too, but it ached so good. Warm and full and perfect and — god, how did she get so lucky? Bouncing on her heels, she quietly hummed while her nose and her eyes crinkled in a grin she couldn't fight, and she shook her head, scoffing in disbelief.

Shepard turned back toward the pantry, peering through the hovering transparency over her forearm. And a match. She waved the translation app away, tin in hand, flicking back to the article.

Arwamaasi: developed by tea artisans in Serrice. Made with leaves soaked in concentrated spices, then expertly woven into packed shapes designed to bloom when steeped; then fermented, where they grow in pungency; and then aged, where they condense into pellets as they dessicate. High in caffeine, this tea is treasured for its distinctive flavor, heightened with the addition of melikhratun.

Making it would be simple enough, and she collected the rest of what she needed — the melikhratun already sitting out — and switched the electric kettle on. The dry, compact tea pellets rattled in the tin as she pried off the top, then stuck her nose inside. Sniffed once and pulled back at the pungent sting. Punchy. Smells like a concussion but probably tastes real good. Gingerly, she plopped a pellet into a glass teapot.

Shepard poured a mug of coffee and drank, leaning against the counter as the tea kettle heated. It was good coffee. Really good, actually. Even better in the quiet, with the gentle humid air, the soothing rhythmic crash of the waves, the incredible view. She smiled, eyes lingering on Liara, still fast asleep —

The kettle beeped shrilly and Shepard spun to turn it off, shushing and admonishing it for its disruption, and quickly poured the boiling water into the glass teapot while sneaking glances toward the bedroom.

Stupid noisy thing. Hopefully it didn't — nope, still sleeping.

The packed cluster in the teapot unfurled lazily like some sort of sea creature, releasing amber swirls as its delicate leafy arms swayed in the steaming water. Shepard sipped at her coffee, waiting for the tea to finish steeping, tapping her fingers against the countertop as she sang soundlessly. She topped off her own mug before finishing Liara's tea preparation.

Coffee in one hand, tea in the other, she returned to the bedroom, setting the tea cup down on the nightstand. And as she lingered there, smiling, the sweet scent of arwamaasi spices wafted on the humid breeze. She leaned over, kissing Liara lightly on the cheek. When she pulled back, though Liara's eyes remained closed, a sleepy smile warmed her face.

⁂

Something warm and sweet tinged Liara's fading dreams. She stirred. Yawned. Stretched, breathing deeply as she sat upright, spilling out of a loose cocoon of soft sheets. Before her, on the nightstand, was the steaming source of that familiar scent, sweetly spicy and full as it mingled with the fresh air and tickled her nose. She picked up the cup and swiveled to look behind her.

Unsurprisingly, Shepard's absence on the bed meant she was out on the balcony. There, she sat, ankle on the opposite knee, coffee in hand, staring out at the ocean.

For a moment Liara just waited, watching her, one leg tucked up on the bed as she drank her tea. She'd never seen her look so relaxed. Never had her heart felt so full.

Eventually she slid off the bed, greeting Shepard with a light brush of her hand on her shoulder and a playful tousle of her hair.

"Mornin'. How's the tea?" she asked, scooting over in her chair to make room.

"Perfect." Liara sat, their shoulders brushing.

They didn't speak for some time, Shepard resting her head on Liara's shoulder, both watching the birds and boats and waves as the sky continued to lighten and the comfort of closeness was enough. Shepard set her mug on the table first, hopping off the chair and heading down the balcony stairs before Liara could ask where she was going. Reluctantly, setting aside her own tea, she followed.

The bottom tier, at water level, served as a dock. As Shepard leaned against the partial railing, taking in the scenery, Liara nestled up beside her. "Did you see something?" she asked.

"Something?" Shepard scoffed in amazement. Gazed back out at the ocean. "Everything," she said, awed.

Liara only chuckled softly in response, the warming breeze tickling her crest and her affection leaving her speechless. Pausing, she traced the curve of Shepard's cheek, her skin soft and slightly — as she'd recently learned to say — peach-fuzzy. "What did you want to do today?"

"That's such an open-ended question." She took Liara's hand and cupped it in both her own, running her thumb over her knuckles. "Dunno. This's your home. Anything. Surprise me. I'll even close my eyes the whole way there, if you want."

Liara shook her head, amused. "I would be willing to wager a significant credit sum that you couldn't manage to keep your eyes off me for a minute," she teased.

"Oho. Oh. One whole minute."

"An entire minute." Liara smirked. Lowered her hand from her grasp. "Okay. Let's practice."

"Okay." Shepard's gaze was unwavering as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, hands at her sides.

"I'm starting a timer," Liara warned, and brought up her 'tool.

Shepard closed her eyes, the hint of her smile still there, as she took Liara's hands in her own.

Hands occupied as they were, Liara couldn't reach out and cup Shepard's cheek, run her fingertip over the scar on her brow, trace the stubbly texture of the buzzed hairs on the sides of her head. But she could, in this moment, lean forward and kiss her.

"Five seconds," Liara announced smugly, pulling away.

"Hey — uh, no!" Shepard sputtered. "Sabotage. Doesn't count."

Liara flicked up her brows. "Try again, then?"

"I have a feeling by 'try again' you mean — ahhh…"

Liara kissed her again, pulling her close. Suddenly, she gasped and staggered back — and not because Shepard's fingertips had found pressure along the ridges on her spine.

A trio of maidens skipped by on a motorized skiff, squealing and hollering their delight at the show while triumphantly waving protective hats and fishing gear. Liara clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

Shepard, shoulders rocking with silent laughter, cleared her throat. "Uh, where were we?"

"Day plans," Liara said, removing her hand from her mouth just enough to speak.

Shepard continued to rock with laughter. "Right," she deadpanned.

"Hmm." Liara gazed upward, sucking on the inside of her cheek as she thought. Looked back to Shepard, raising her brows. "Armali Natural History Museum?"

"Oh shit, dinosaurs!"

"Excuse me?"

Shepard, expectantly wide-eyed, mouth excitedly open, burst into actual laughter.

"Is that a 'yes' or a 'no'?" Liara pressed.

"It's a 'whatever you want to do today, Li.'"

"Petraaa."

That earned Liara a nose-wrinkle. "Nobody calls me that."

Liara tapped the end of Shepard's nose and shrugged, grinning. "I do."

"At the very least," Shepard said, playfully swatting the arm attached to Liara's nose-bopping-hand away, "we should talk breakfast first." She took Liara in her arm, pulled her close, kissed her shoulder. "There's some weird-ass eggs in the fridge if you know how to cook those. Or we could eat out… hey, why are you looking at me like that?"

Her grin turned devious. "I think I'd like that," she said, and she grabbed Shepard's hand and pulled her up the stairs.

[spacegaywritings]

Hello, we are the Neighbours - 1/2

Heated Afternoons

Summary: Virgil and Remy have been close for years. Remy is rather shy with new people but supposed to introduce himself to the new neighbours - of course Virgil is around to help his friend! Turns out, the boring old neighbours have a hot adolescent and fae are pretty hot. Virgil uses she/her and he/him. Remy uses he/him. Emile uses they/fae.

tags: a LOT of swearwords, edginess, Teenagers scare the living shit out of me, weapon mention, hints at violence, slight creep factor, being salty at authority, lovingly insulting one another, food, piercings, kisses, bold moves, innuendo, visual puns, cigarettes (no smoking!), edibles, mentions of getting high, marijuana (implied), saying mean things about your mom but not really meaning it bc social anxiety ah Tumblr: next // ao3: all / 1 / 2 . // masterlist . My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me Story under the cut:

“I can’t believe she is doing that. This little bitch. I swear to fucking everything unholy, I will move out the second this stupid university accepts me.”

 Virgil glanced at his friend, the long man fidgeting wildly as he fumbled with his house keys.

 “You got them or not?”

 The addressed adult shot him an angry glare.

 “Of fucking course I do! Do you take me for an idiot, too?”

 The smaller one shrugged, his black and blue beanie moving a bit as if to shake itself in denial at the mean sound.

 “Do I look like I care that you are a crazy dog? I kinda stopped at some point, if you did not notice it before. Just for clarification, Riri.”

 Virgil flicked the rainbow button on his beanie heartlessly.

 “Can we go before your mom comes back and makes us bring these shitty biscuits, too? “

 Remy snorted in offence and pushed the little box with his elbow, not even sparing it a glance.

 “What-fucking-ever. Let us just go. Can’t take this shit with these two treating me like I am five. I am literally done with school and just waiting for an acceptance letter, I am even working and saving up and they still treat men like I am some fucking toddler who cannot even walk straight!”

 His friend rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the counter.

 “Yo, I am willing to babysit you, stop acting like that. I am allowed to baby you!”

 He heard a hissing sound when Remy sucked an annoyed breath through his teeth. His rainbow knee socks contrasted greatly with his sour mood. His whole outfit was about the opposite of everything people would expect from him. Except for his black combat boots. Those looked exactly like his knife-stabbing mood towards the whole world (well, safe for his friend Virgil. She would be safe for now.)

The young adult looked like the embodiment of sunshine and rainbows with the bright pair of knee socks hugging up his strong legs. His plain black skirt was lacy and lazy in the way it fell over his thighs. Askew, like the neon pink bow in his shoulder-long hazel hair. A white shirt saying “Sleep” in holographic block letters completed the odd look he offered. It was so huge, it was wearing Remy more than he wore it.

 Virgil shrugged, her unicorn/bunny onesie (“Virgil, this shit literally has a fucking tail like some of Bambi’s followers, not like a proud, rainbow-shitting creature to break laws and eat tears with supernatural ‘fuck you’ magic!” - “Shut up, maybe it was declared a unicorn because maybe this is what it feels like you intolerant moron”) called “Philly” largely encompassing her frame. It was white and pink - the little tail was as rainbow as the rest of his heart and mind.

..Even if nobody could see that.

 “You will get the biscuits if you are fast enough with me. Get your ass going!”

 Remy pocketed his keys at last and stuck his pink tongue out at his friend.

 “You were literally the one to keep dragging this whole thing out”, Virgil reminded him patiently, her hand digging into the soft pockets of whatever synthetic cheap-ass shit her comfortable dream suit was made of.

“You know, you got me and I look nice but I will fuck up a dude if he fucks with my little baby.”

 Something about her voice seemed to drop into a level of threat. Something... just something in his voice was so morbidly dark, it gave Remy chills for just a moment.

 He muttered, walking to the door.

 “I will not take you to the ice rink anymore if you flash a fucking knife, you silly bunnycorn.”

 Virgil followed, by now two unwrapped lollipops in hand. He stretched one into her friend’s direction, barely nudging his lips. It was coke and almost as dark as Remy’s raven, makeup on his mouth.

 “Bunnycorn sounds debatable. You may use it and I will refrain from stabbing you. Also, you know I dropped my butterfly into the fucking gutter. I will never get it out. Can’t exactly tell the cops I found an illegal weapon in there but want it out and in my possession. Too suspicious. They will get me locked up or some shit. I am not 13 anymore and they will fuck me up.”

 She shrugged.

 “Whatever. Eat the pop, bro”, he encouraged as she slipped the sweet ball on a stick into his mouth. The unicorn ripped the door open and swung it to the side so violently, the hinges cried and her body leaned in to follow the force her hand needed to contain.

 “Ooops, you are an eager piece of shit”

 Virgil shrugged and jumped down the little set of stone stairs. It was like these blocks of cobble stone. They were uneven and ugly. Truly hideous and useless.

A ramp would have been so much better, especially considering those were the flattest two steps of shit he had ever seen in his life. At least then Remy’s family would be able to get Remus in without carrying his stupid wheelchair - or needing to buy a fucking lift or whatever they usually did. Stairs sucked anyway. This house was on the fucking ground, not in the sky.

 “I fucking hate your parents sometimes, not gonna lie, dude.”

 Remy shrugged at that.

 “Feel that every day, pal.”

 His friend smiled patiently as he closed and locked the door behind him, careful not to break it further. The door was okay but Virgil*s consistently energetic treatment was not.

 “Okay, whatever. Let us get to those neighbours. I am ready for the real shit going down!”

 Virgil hopped on her bare feet, the jingles on her earring dancing and chanting happily.

Suddenly, she stooped and flinched, her hands immediately flying to undo her buttons.

 “Yo- Yo what are you doing? Stop ch- WH - WHAt the FUCK ?!”

 The small social reject nudged the other and pointed her wet lollipop at him. There was judgement in his determined eyes.

 “If you wanna introduce yourself to the neighbours, you gotta establish dominance. We are gonna out-weird these boomers! This is the perfect strategy to make sure they are gonna leave ya and your dummy thicc brother alone.”

 The unicorn happily danced.... or just prepared for a violent attack at something.. someone. She was charging her energy. The ketchup paint on her pink undershirt assembled to say “Tell Jesus to suck harder”. It was framing the upper and lower parts of the shirt, perfectly framing the upside-down paragraph on it.

 “We are going. I want my stupid biscuits because your mom does not use raisins. She used fucking sprinkles and chocolate. This is my fucking aesthetic.”

A shrug accompanied the statement.

“Who likes raising biscuits anyway, I mean - really? Those are sad ones and if you don’t have any better, you take it but we are all striving for higher things in life.”

 Remy rolled his eyes but softly approached his friend. There was something vulnerable in his step when he offhandedly looked at Virgil, no scowl or complaints hiding away the feelings in his face.

A little bit of pain seemed to paint his features, exceeding the simple level of discomfort. He stretched his arms out for a hug.

His trusty idiot of a friend immediately pulled him in, her arms wrapping around his middle. A sigh tickled his neck.

 “I will fight your feelings”, he mumbled.

The taller one shook his head before shrugging.

“Just stay...”

 The sentence broke off.

Maybe it was just Virgil but these two words were just a part of so much more he could and should have said.

 Instead, the tall dude stretched his shoulders enough to tug his arms away from Virgil’s strong hug. It was nearly suffocating but not him, his bad feelings.

Virgil had the most grounding hugs Remy had ever felt. This could be all due to the bunny costume he was wearing but this was not the first time Remy got her embraces and suddenly felt wiped clean of all the bad feelings.

 A small smile dared to fly the corners of his lips upwards.

 “If she bitches around, we will dip. I will doubt it, though. She’s gonna be busy with Remus because fawning over him will never get tired.”

 He shrugged. It was quick and unconvincing.

After the shrug, his shoulders still seemed pulled down enough to be identified as “burdened”.

Virgil noted it with an eyebrow raise. She was too wrapped up around the lollipop to turn this matter into a long and wild evaluation of this family and all its issues.

They were better off than his stupid shit relatives anyway.

 “Hey, hottie, did I tell you about Logan?”, he asked instead. Something in Remy seemed to drop and he brushed against Virgil’s side as he took one of her hands and squeezed it.

 “No, tell me while we walk. What about Logan? Who is this even?”

 Remy was tame when grounded. He was so tame and nice when you were nice.

The man was calm when you showed him it was okay to be calm and right to be composed without imposing it as standard he had to follow.

 “Okay, listen!”, Virgil started, his naked feet jumping into motion and leading them on to their destination just a few houses down, “so, my sib came out, right? And..”

 She made a wet sound, a squelching could be heard as she pulled the lollipop out for a moment. Remy was so close, he swore he could hear the tiny gremlin swallow. He chuckled and leaned his head against hers for a bit.

It was more symbolic than practical and he immediately retreated after Virgil pressed her head’s side against his.

 “And they were looking for a name. Just a few minutes before I got my ass over to yours, they came up to me and said they wanted to use “Logan” as preferred name, so I was like “huh? But that is your name, sibby” and they groaned but took it as acceptance.”

 The taller one smiled weakly.

Their destination came into view.

 “You are a good sibling, you know? Logan can be happy to have you throughout all of this.”

 Virgil shrugged as she dropped the shrinking lollipop into her mouth once more. He pointed at the moderately-sized house. It looked sort of regular, one big VR still parked in the front.

 “This one?”

 Remy’s eyebrows narrowed, huddling together. They were slightly plucked but still looked natural. Somehow, Virgil felt proud of this.

A nod indicated yes at last. It felt annoying - how could a nod even express annoyance?

The unicorn snuggled closer.

 “Enjoy your coke, bastard.”

 The younger one groaned, rolling his eyes as he - once more - used the stairs.

Virgil scowled at them while the male glared.

 “Literally, stairs are a pain and we should fucking bomb them away, honey.”

 Remy squeezed his hand.

 “Uh.. I mean,,.. fuck stairs but.. um”, he looked down, his eyes showing him just how much he was standing on a stranger’s doorstep, “fuck.”

 Discomfort pooled in his hear, making him feel cold all of a sudden. It tickled in him but in a way that made him feel like he was going numb.. maybe he would just faint.

Instead, he kept stuttering about the door, just repeating the nonsense echoing through his burning mind

 “It is okay, Remy. I can kiss it away!”

 She grinned at him and leaned in. The stuttering stopped at once.

Wide eyes stared into the curiously baby blue orbs Virgil’s face held.

Coming closer and closer and-

 “Yo, I really appreciate the company, but I really just wanted to go back inside.”

 A voice like dark sandpaper rubbed between them, sawing their intimacy away and making Remy jolt in surprise. Hot, bloody anxiety flooded back into his consciousness whilst Virgil closed the distance between them as the unicorn/bunny stepped back before her tall baby.

 “Okay, bitch, that is it, I will fucking FIgthT yOU!”, he screeched, bouncing up.

 Remy acted fast to pull the furious ball of rage back into place. At least the unicorn was so small, he could easily contain the raging bean.

 The new voice was more than voice, it was a person. Evidently, they already looked like friends, despite Virgil’s sudden threats and Remy’s gut-freezing anxiety. The styles seemed to unify them. They all looked like a bunch of social rejects old people would frown upon and little kids would point at. Brave teenagers would be scared and young adults would try to dominate then.

 A person with an actual body stood there, dismissively leaning against the nearby wall of the house. A beanie adorned their head much like Remy’s and in contrast to Virgil’s messy ginger head.

Skin darker than a slight tan, eyes green like a miracle and so deep, deeper than the forest and every treasure.

A few strands of different colours could be seen to defy the beanie, They proudly stood out in the sunny light of a comfortable Sunday afternoon. Remy could identify a colour akin to pumpkins and different shades of green as if sculptured by nature personally.

 Unnatural colours for hair but still, the stranger wore them as if this was the most natural of all occurrences.

Was this a bit of light blue? It contrasted with the row of shiny piercings in the stranger’s ears -- they all looked like little cartoon items of food? And that nose ring was to die for...

 “And you wanna fight me, why?”

 Virgil hissed, his jaw snapping together but only biting air before the newcomer.

 “Ff-f-ucking ffforg-get it”, Remy jumped in, still mesmerised by how ripped someone’s jeans could really get. They were not revealing but fitting with a bit of space while being scratches and patched at any place he could identify.

 Virgil came back to life at this comment, vocalisations of all the threatening kinds were thrown like from a feral animal.

The “suck the right butts” shirt with a human cartoon butt next to a burning cigarette seemed to tickle Virgil a bit into a level of slightly less intense readiness to throw hands. At least the weirdo had some style.

 “Alright. Would you step away, then? I want to go back inside and eat my pancakes.”

 Something within Remy died as the person said that.

Oh fuck.

Everything that did not matter seemed to matter an this point.

 “You are the new neighbour?”, Virgil blinked dismissively and waved, “overrated.”

 The stranger clicked a tongue impatiently, one blonde brow quirking up in question without him repeating his words.

 “That b-bitch is on fucking coke o-or some ssshit! Don’t mind him!”

 Remy pushed Virgil to the side, his arms still wrapped around him as to not let her fall down these miserably sad stairs.

 Virgil huffed.

 “Coke? You fucking picky shit, You can have cherry if you want it! I took it only because I love you more than I like coke flavour and you fucking thank me like this? I wanted to be nice and you are being a dumb butt again!”

 He pouted.

 Emile looked as uninterested as ever. If there was a sleeping stone on the porch, maybe there would be a chance this person would be more interested but right now? Not so much. The person was unimpressed, forest eyes blank in apathy.

 “Listen, you two are very entertaining but -”

 Remy cut this speech off in a.... honestly, there was no words for what exactly this special piece of human did at this point.

For some anxiety-logic reason (and for this “reason” only), he smacked Virgil’s furry thigh and let out an inhumane screen before pushing himself in front of the door and pushing his hand between him and the new neighbour. Or whom he deemed to be that person.

 Virgil was next to him instead of before him and looking less smug or feral, just a tad confused at best. A reaction like this had her blink and swallow the cherry flavour of her saliva that came from the generous lollipop in her mouth.

He could not complain about that.

 Well, maybe Emile would complain.

 “Excuse you?”

 A blonde eyebrow rose up. The stranger looked at Remy as if he was nothing but a mortal insect to the mighty deity this person was.

 Remy was not shaking but his heart was uncontrollably sweating, swirling around his chest cavity and basically running in circles at an immense speed. Great panic ruled his existence and left him gasping and shaking his head for a moment.

 “I- I am bit- REMY!”, he started, “I AM REMY”

 He basically screamed his personal introduction at Emile. Panic regulated the tone of his voice and make his further screeches even more incoherent as Virgil just stood by, awestruck and frozen at this... this event of uncommon occurrence.

 Honestly, she would lie if she claimed to have ever seen this sort of behaviour before. This was pretty much a first after considering just how anxious Remy was around strangers. Maybe the gayness in the air was just overriding the last bit of influence his braincell had?

Virgil appreciated the feeling but did not share the sentiment (which is a lie). He really did not (LIE). He REALLY did NOT!! (cheap lie. Read: he very much did but pretended not to care as much while his eyes tried not to shape into tiny hearts for how attracted she was to this new person).

 Holy shit those two needed some more social contact other than each other.

 “I am Emile. Fae/faer and They/them. I am not not really-”

 Fae sighed, interrupting faer own sentence.

 “My grandparents lived here for longer. I am the only new one here. I came here for a summer job only, so you don’t have to deal with me for long. You can just go back and make out in front of your own house now.”

 Virgil blinked, underwhelmed.

 “Shut up.”

 Remy immediately drew in a gasp of air. It was loud, audible and more than just intrusive to anyone on the street. This sound could have been heard by everyone in the entire neighbourhood.

 “Virgil, you insolent prick, shut up yourself, you wanted to be nice and help! You are not getting knife privileges, you .. you.. sucky.. fucky.. me-mean...”

 He stumbled over his own words, suddenly finding himself at a loss of words as he was faced with the situation he was in.

This was too much. What was this even?

This was absurd, this is what it was. It was absolutely confusing and weird and not as it should have been. He should have given some stupid biscuits to some stupid neighbours and just bad-mouthed his mom for a bit longer because of how salty he got at the forced social interaction. Instead, he was caught in the gay panic that was this.. this fucking mess!

 “If you don’t say “yes”, tell us to leave”, Virgil growled as he leaned in.

Emile did not back away even by an inch.

 Actually, fae even leaned in, fae leaned in so much, fae could whisper right against Virgil’s lips. The thought of a word was lost on their lips as they moved and pronounced just enough of a “yes” for her to shoot forward and press their lips together.

 Within seconds, hands got caught up in fingers, in strands of hair and articles of clothing.

Virgil brushed over the beanie, trying to find something to hold onto as he pulled down the giant of a faeling for a good session. There was no real grip there. Instead, she opted to do the one good thing she could be doing instead.

 The unicorn tugged Emile down, pushing them against the door - right next to Remy who squealed in reply at the sudden crash.

They groaned into the kiss, hands looking for more roughness in the endlessly silkiness of a onesie. The push against the door was not even minded with as much as a mental note or even ...anything, really. The groan might have been nothing but pleasure.

 But as soon as Virgil, The Storm (TM), has come, as soon he left again. She pulled away, clicking her tongue.

Somehow, she must have lots her lollipop.

If he had even half a mind for anything but getting more of Emile, she might have realised how she had dropped it in the moment their lips had crashed. How else would lips get that close in the first place? Lollipops were a good way of policing closeness - too good. They prevented kisses too much.

 Virgil stepped back a bit, looking at Emile and Remy in satisfaction. Her curious eyes switched between one tall to the other tall pal.

 “So... you two gonna shake hands now and say the whole neighbourhood shit? I did not come here for nothing.”

 She shrugged, looking away as if to look for something. Sure, she found it on the ground. The pink ball of lollipop she had dropped in the excitement of sweeping in idiot up in a storm of a sudden kiss, the winds of passion and electricity of pleasure and excitement meeting.

 Nonchalantly, the unicorn picked up the piece of trash and threw it into the trash in front of the house.

All the while, Emile and Remy watched her quietly.

 “I told you to do the societal bullshit thing, so we can be nice and steal your biscuits Remy’s mom made.”

 She rolled her eyes.

 “I am Virgil, by the way. I am a unicorn and you would not dream to dream of me even in your wildest dreams.”

 Fae nodded.

A new sense of knowledge - respect - was in their violently green eyes.

Remy simply shook his own head into waking his brain up.

 “Remy, he/him. Virgil uses she/her and he/him.”

 He cleared his throat, voice weak but not exactly recovering even after his little treat to his throat. He swallowed his coke-flavoured lollipop liquids.

 “Sorry about ..”, he gestured towards his friend who cuddled up next to him as if he had done nothing more but given her mom a hug or whatever trivial thing like texting a bro, “that.”

 Virgil huffed but said no more, only leaned into his side and sighed, sounding surprisingly void of energy.

 “Do you want to come inside?”

 Remy flinched at the question. The hot neighbour was pulling this fucking beanie off their head, revealing their colourful hair. Green and blue, orange-ish and purple were easily spotted in the mess of a dyed paradise. Faer hair were curled like clouds. Exactly like clouds. It was probably the most balanced state between curled up and simply wavy hair.

 Virgil shrugged.

 “Nah, did you not hear us? We came here by force because we hate life but adults think you gotta be nice to new neighbours. So imma go to Remy’s and eat these fucking biscuits his mom made for you because they will be great and you cannot have them. You can dream of them.”

 She hugged him as if to prove a point.

 The neighbour shrugged.

 “Just wait a minute. I want to give you something. You guys.. you guys need it - you deserve it, you know?”

 They pulled the beanie back over their head.

 “Re- Remy? Can you move, I gotta get inside for a moment.”

 Fae gestured towards the door and Remy quickly pushed against Virgil enough to straighten up his slouching friend a bit and give way to Emile.

The feral idiot seemed.. pretty much asleep at this point. Was there any point in even trying to wake her up? Probably not.

 Anyway, the deity of a neighbour disappeared inside for a few moments and quickly came back with a little box.

 “Biscuits”, fae stated rather bluntly. So much about them was just so blunt and straightforward without being straight in the slightest.

“I don’t think mine are better. I know it.”

 They winked before disappearing into the house again, the door clicking shut with a loud and definite sound. For now, this was the last bit of interaction they would be able to squeeze out of faem.

But..

 Virgil shook awake at the sudden impact of the door slamming back into its frame and pushing the lock until it clicked and closed as it was supposed to act. Instead of staying awake, his eyes switched from shot-open to rolling up to reveal white only until his lids had the mercy of blanketing these pools of eyes.

Her head travelled upright against the door with a dull “donk” and immediately lost all support from her neck, therefore rolled back against Remy’s shoulder.

 “Virgil! Virgil, hey! Food!”

 The bunny mumbled and turned closer to hugged Remy from the side. His arms reached around the entirety of the barely dressed man, a few curious fingers started tugging at his short skirt.

 “Virgil!!”

 The naughty friend groaned at the loud noise as if she had room to complain with even a bit of ground to stand on.

 “Nooooo”, he whined. His body pulled back, forced by the magic of friendship to respect the boundaries of Remy’s super important message or whatever the shit,

He just wanted a nap and biscuits, man.

“Fuck..fuck you..mm”

 Virgil was still busy rubbing her eyes when the taller man pointed at the box.

 “We got more biscuits for you”, he informed the feral cryptid, “and it is in a box - Emile’s box. You know what that means.”

 The onesie-clot bitch shrugged, shaking his head. A moment passed while Remy hugged the box, a dirty grin appearing on his lips.

 “Wait~”

 He lifted the lid just enough to reach into the box and get the first biscuit. Instead, there was a little.. piece of paper?

Remy pulled at it until it was in proper vision to see. He skipped down the stairs while Virgil sluggishly stumbled down the miserable excuse of stupid stone stairs. Literally those shits should be forbidden and aborted. Everyone would just trip over stairs but not on ramps.

Ramps were cool. Get ramps, kids.

 “Vi, you h-”, Remy held his breath, stopping himself from saying anymore. Instead, he passed a note to a rather tired and moody baby of a bunny.

 >>Get high with me tomorrow? xx xxx xxxx xxxx - HMU, you two are cute. BTW, love the shirt.<<

 The awakening pal patted his own thigh suddenly, then the box and eventually reached up to Remy and pulled him into a kiss as if his lips depended on it.

It was much shorter than the wild session of kisses he had shared with Emile.

 Again, as soon as Virgil came, as soon she was gone again.

With that, she grabbed the box and ran off.

 “You bitch won’ be gettin’ any coke nor any COCK without me!”

 He jumped around the corner, back to where the two had come from.

 “You owe me a few cherry kisses yourself, Virgil!”

 Remy promptly ran after her, cheeks ablaze, baked from the sun of a thousand kisses, heart flying on the wings of compliments and mind thriving on the warming and tickling light of hope.

 Inside, Emile peeked out of the windows enough to see the two chasing down the block. Littering was bullshit but these two surely were some good.

 The new neighbours were not so bad after all.

[joyful-soul-collector]

12/12/12 Tag!

@livvywrites made this super awesome tag game! Thank you for tagging me dude!

Rules: answer 12 questions in character as an OC, ask 12 questions, & tag 12 people!

I’ll be answering from the perspective of Tatum from my Pearl Thief WIP! TW: Self harm/Suicide Attempt story on #10!

1. What teachings from your parents still affect you to this day? Do you wish that they didn’t?

Tatum’s face turned rather somber at the mention of his parents. 

“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t remember my parents much. But I know they always said family was very important. They always told me that your chosen family is just as important as your blood family, and that you should always be there for the people you love. They lived that truth all the way up to the moment they died.”

2. Who is the person who has made the greatest impact (good OR bad) on you, and who you are today?

“Loch,” Tatum said without hesitation. “I know I act like I’m obsessed with him or something, but he really is. Loch...” Tatum trailed off, looking down at the ocean floor.

“Loch saved my life.”

3. If you could do anything, without strings or consequences attached, what would you do?

“I think I would turn Loch and I human. Permanently I mean. I’ve had enough of Syrenis and the ocean.”

4. A genie gives you three wishes. What would you wish for?

Tatum thought for a moment. “Well, I would wish for Loch and I to be human first. Then I would wish that we had a nice house, one like Art’s, with a room nice and big for Loch. And then--” Tatum cut off, his ear turning a little red. “I would want Art to come live with us.”

He scowled at the raised eyebrow you gave him.

“It’s not like I have crush on him or anything! He’s parents are just shit, and I don’t want him living with them anymore.” Tatum’s ears turned a little pink all the same. 

5. When you go to pack for something—whether it be as simple as tucking items in your pocket for a normal day, or an overnight trip—what are three or so items that you couldn’t live without?

“Well I don’t own a lot of things. Hard to keep stuff when you’re constantly traveling. But I always keep pearls and Loch’s sweater in my bag,” Tatum said patting the messenger bag resting on his hip. “And of course Loch is always giving me rocks so I put those in here too.”

6. Is there someone in your life you can’t live without? Who are they, and what is your relationship like?

“Definitely Loch,” Tatum said. “I adopted Loch as my little brother with he was an infant, so that was when I was around 10 or 11. So I guess I have lived most my life without him, but now? I would be dead without him.”

7. What do you think your childhood self would think of you now? How is your life different from what you pictured then?

“If I met my childhood self, he wouldn’t recognize me,” Tatum said. “He would be kinda confused about where these came from--” he tapped a few of the scars on his face and shoulders, “--and he would probably be wondering where in the sea my parents and other family are. It’s weird to see a dolphin Syreni without their pod.”

8. How do you feel about where you are now? About the person you are now? What, if anything, would you change about yourself?

“I don’t particularly like where I am now,” Tatum said with a frown. “And I’m not my favorite person either. But, those things are both out of my control. I am the way I am because of where I am now. I wish I could be happier, more relaxed, less... scared. But until either myth becomes reality or you humans fix the ocean, I’m stuck. 

I’m stuck being angry and sad and terrified. I’m stuck having to lie to my brother and tell him everything is fine when really everything is falling apart and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. I’m stuck having to steal and fight and hurt just to make sure that my little brother gets to have something in his belly. I’m--” His voice broke, and he bit his lip. If you weren’t underwater there might’ve been a small tear drop from his eye. 

“I’m stuck.”

9. What do you do to de-stress, and take your mind off of things?

Tatum gave a little laugh. “I uh, I’ve never really thought about it. I guess I just play with Loch. Or I switch to legs and go for a walk on the beach. That’s always nice.”

10. What is the most ridiculous thing that you can recall doing? Do you remember why you did it?

TW: Suicide Attempt/Self Harm

“Most ridiculous...” Tatum said with a small smile. But that smile was erased quite suddenly, and a dark shadow seemed to cover Tatum’s face. “I did not meet Loch under the most ideal circumstances. When my family was killed and I escaped from the gang that captured me shortly after their deaths, I was severely depressed. And I...” Tatum took a deep breath.

“I bashed myself against the rocks of a coast. That’s actually where a couple of these scars came from. I was trying to crack my head, break something so I would die. I was speeding directly towards the sharpest part of the rock. And Loch... Loch was just a baby, wasn’t even awake. I didn’t notice him until he drifted in front of the rock, and I swerved at the last second. I realized he was all alone, just like me, and decided I didn’t want him to ever feel the need to do the things I used to want to do. I want him to be happier than I have ever been.

And of course it’s ridiculous in retrospect. Killing myself was a shitty idea, even if Loch wasn’t around. But Loch did save me that day. He doesn’t know it but he did.”

Tatum stopped talking abruptly as Loch swam up to him and pushed a rock into his hands before diving down again. Tatum held up the rock, looking at it with a sad smile.

“Little Loch and his little rocks.”

11. If someone were to record what was happening to you, the story of your life, how would you want to be portrayed?

“I’d want to be seen as caring and strong. Like a guardian.”

12. What is your ideal future life like? When all is said & done, what does peace look like to you?

“Peace looks like smiles and laughter and warm homes and full bellies. It looks like Loch growing up to be everything he ever wanted to be, and the same with Art.”

You ask what he would want for himself.  

“For me? Well... It looks like watching the sunset from the beach sand, rather than from beneath the ocean surf.”

My questions and the people I’m tagging are under the cut!

My Questions:

1. Would you rather have a monkey tail or cat ears?

2. Sweet or Salty? Tea or Coffee? Fire or Ice?

3. What would you do if you somehow lost your best friend? Can be lost in a crowd or loss of life or any other way of being lost

4. Are you scared of the dark? Have you ever been?

5. Have you ever dyed your hair? Would you ever consider it if you haven’t?

6. Do you like to play with fire? Have you ever lit matches just to see how close it would get to your fingers before you had to blow it out?

7. Who and/or What do you live for?

8. If you were a mermaid/man/person, what would your tail look like?

9. Have you gone to school? If you have, what was your favorite class? If not, why not?

10. Have you ever had a pet? Or taken care of an animal in any way? What was the animal’s name?

11. Can you swim? Can you drive? How fast can you run?

12. Have you ever been hit on purpose?

Tagging: @timetravelingpigeon @oneleggedflamingo @txintedsxint @tracle0 @writing-frontiersman @writer-jessicac @writing-and-nutmeg @reborn-fromtheashes @dragons-child-writeblr @roselinproductions @rose-of-sharon-cass @jcckwrites

[disneydreamlights]

Hey so I went off in the tags but I don’t think I talked about it here.

So let’s talk about the new Lion King songs, or actually basically the six old ones that existed prior to the movie.

And yes, by the way, I’m very salty.

Positives:

He Lives in You is in the movie. For those who don’t know it’s a song that started in the Broadway musical and eventually made it into the sequel. It’s a very good song that deserves every bit of attention it’s getting. And it’s a very good rendition of the song too. The lack of nostalgic ties makes it easier for me to recognize it for what it is and that’s amazing.

Circle of Life is an exact remake of the original song just with a new vocalist. I’m sure you expected me to consider this a negative but you cannot improve on perfection so the fact that they instead decided to replicate it is a good decision. I still stan Circle of Life.

Can You Feel the Love Tonight surprised me? I didn’t expect to like it and while I find the additions they added to Pumbaa’s lines a little grating when Simba and Nala are singing they steal the show. Beyonce’s voice also was really good in this song, which was another surprise since it’s very different than the stuff you normally hear her sing (R&B is very different from showtunes). She has a voice that fits a wide variety of genres and that in and of itself is impressive.

Overall they didn’t change the background melodies much. They’re still very clearly recognizable and this shouldn’t be important but literally if you’ve heard the A Whole New World remake where the singers were phenomenal and it would’ve been great except they turned the background music into bland terrible badness, you know why this is important. None of these songs have bland background tracks and are very faithful to their originals, probably the most faithful of all the Disney remake songs thus far, with one exception.

Negatives:

They ruined the best Disney villain song ever. With the lackluster effort they put into Be Prepared (spoiler alert, it’s fucking terrible) they might as well have not included the song. It doesn’t feel like a song, it’s just a poor mockery of the phenomenal and fun original. I hate it.

I Just Can’t Wait to be King lacks the same energy of the original. The baby Simba and Nala voices are actually really good and they did a great job with it but Zazu’s voice actor stays to serious. It’s boring and lacks the same staccato and energetic feel that the original does. As a result it feels too slow in contrast to the upbeat and fast paced singing and background of the song. The effect is further contrasted by the fact that several portions of the song in the latter half (Anything Zazu’s solo part) almost feels like they’re trying too hard to make it a Disney epic while also trying to keep it lighthearted and fun, but it’s not a combo that works because it forgets what makes the song fun to begin with. It’s not necessarily bad, it’s just a decision I don’t care for. I’m assuming it’s going to be similar for the scene as well, which is a shame since it’s one of the most fun pieces of Disney animation.

Hakuna Matata is...bad. There’s far too much banter between Timon and Pumbaa that it detracts from the song and paying attention, and almost none of it was funny. One line got a chuckle for a highly personal reason because the idea of Pumbaa being “Brad” (the most fuckboy name of all time imo) is just honestly hilarious, especially when you take into account I had a fairweather friend named Brad. In fact there was one line that took an actually funny joke (“And I got downhearted” “How did you feel” “Everytime that I--” “Pumbaa, not in front of the kid” “Oh, sorry”) from the original song and actually took a shot at it. (”Everytime that I farteeeeeeed aren’t you gonna stop me?” “No I’m not”) And it wasn’t funny, it was downright mean spirited. Like I didn’t hate it as much as I did Be Prepared, but it pissed me off anyways.

Other:

Did not listen to any new songs from the movie. I believe it’s just Beyonce’s solo but the point of my listening to the soundtrack was to assess the old songs since the new songs Disney has made for its rereleases (Evermore, Speechless, etc) tend to be pretty solid overall so long as they’ve had the vocalist to back it up (which with Beyonce they definitely do)

Anyways I didn’t really have a lot of hope for this remake and this didn’t really give me any reassurances. Kinda did the opposite. More trash from people who didn’t understand what made the original great and change things for the sake of answering nonexistent questions and “perceived plotholes” while taking jabs at earlier Renaissance Disney for things that don’t deserve jabs are on the horizon.

It’s actually sad because Circle of Life gave me hope because it was the first I listened to because I was looking to be salty, and then I was pleasantly surprised by Can You Feel the Love Tonight and He Lives in You, then that hope just got dashed by the latter half of my listening spree.

(Interestingly enough, this broke the trend from BatB though where the more I liked a song in the original the more I hated it in the remake. My song ranking list remains about how it was, just with Be Prepared being last instead of third. My favorite songs from the movie remained unscathed.)

[ursae-minoris-world]

KALTENECKER: Who is your favorite Voltron character? (part 2 : Keith)

...and, my last answer for @ashrayus‘s ask for the Voltron ask meme ! As a follow up to that one about Hunk !

Thanks a lot for tagging me, by the way, I’m having way too much fun doing this !

Sooo. I didn’t think I would get that much attached to that guy that fast. Oops.

(Me : “oh, you think you’re cool ? I’m not impressed. No way I’m getting attached to a character like that”. Narrator’s voice : “it didn’t go as planned...”).

So yeah… the one that really grew on me was Keith, to the point that I think he’s probably my fave now (well I love him different ways that I love Hunk, if that makes sense ; it’s hard to compare). This is funny because when he was introduced, for some reason, I really wanted to hate him (lol).

He had this epic introduction scene and I just thought “Ok, here comes the cool guy, he’s gonna be the leader and overshadow every other character... and I liked the others, damn ! So annoying.” Which is funny considering it was Shiro who first was set up to be the leader and it became explicitly so pretty soon. But, even without the leadership, he had this sort of Main Character aura. Well I thought he would be the 80’s hero stereotype, and the others would be kinda reduced to side-kicks, and it rubbed me the wrong way. But then he kept surprising me.

His soft, worried expression when he saw Shiro caught me off guard. Then, when Lance interrupted, and he wasn’t able to recognize him despite having been in the same class, and clearly trying honestly hard to remember, got me chuckling despite myself : “OMG, not good with people, are we ?” lol.

And him begrudgingly saving the garrison trio along with Shiro, and then being salty when they had the guts to complain about  how he did it was… more relatable than I expected. Also, it was pretty cool to see him using the fact that his hoverbike was overloaded as an advantage to gain speed. And when he excitedly drove of that cliff, it was kind of endearing.

Then he brought them to that shack in the middle of the desert when I expected to see his family or at least a somewhat decent flat, and I started getting intrigued. Added to that heartfelt dialog with Shiro (“good to have you back”) and when he then admitted how lost he had felt when booted from the Garrison…  How his voice breaks, the sad look Shiro and him exchange… I started connecting the dots about their past. And getting really invested in it.

But a voice in my head was still saying “well of course the cool hero has a tragic back-story ! Don’t fall into this trap !”. I don’t even know why I was so stubborn about NOT liking him lol. But I couldn’t help but being fond of this emotional and vulnerable side I was starting to see in him, and that I really didn’t expect (same goes for Shiro, but I really liked Shiro from the start).

(you all took that decision together as a team, Keith !)

And the moment I let go of that curious mindset of “I don’t like the stereotype so I’m determined not to like this character” was when, at the Castle of Lions, out of sheer provocation, Lance tells Allura that them being attacked has to be Keith’s fault. Keith starts sarcastically “Say whatever you've got to say to make yourself feel better.” And, as much as I actually enjoyed the reply, I was still thinking, a bit annoyed “yeah of course he would be more mature and not react to the provocation”. But then… Keith explodes. And I realized that he was not being mature, but trying to appear so by bottling up his emotions and that they had just...blown up on him. And that was such a good character flaw that it completely scraped the “cool guy” stereotype I had seen at first. And I started really liking him.

And he just kept growing on me.

Basically, what really got me with Keith was this struggle he has, with desperately wanting to belong… But also being terrified to let himself get attached, because then it would hurt too bad if he gets rejected again. And how that ends up being a self-fulfilling prophesy. Because the way he keeps a distance by trying to protect himself doesn’t allow him to grow deeper bonds with others, or communicating properly with them. Which, in turn, results in misunderstandings and conflict. He ends up running away (come on, it was not the only reason why he left, but I bet this was at play too), isolating himself from the people he cared for.

(Canonically his greatest fear is being rejected by Shiro...)

(...and of course it ended up happening… or well, not really, it’s complicated, but it must have felt pretty close to him)

And it makes complete sense that he struggles like that , it all comes from his childhood trauma ; and honestly he keeps getting traumatized  again, like losing Shiro not once but twice already, and being there not only for Ulaz’s death, but also for Thace’s after having fought alongside with him, and Regris’, who was his teammate and with whom he had at least been on several missions ; that doesn’t help ! And the growing tension with Shiro after finding him again ; and the gap that has been slowly widening between him and the team (his “found family”), culminating in his decision to leave. Heck, even having to leave Red, with whom he had such a great bond, to pilot Black in season 3. And then, leaving Black too for Shiro’s benefit. So far, the story keeps feeding his narrative of “I’d better not let myself get attached” : it seems each time he bonds with someone, they end up separated, or, in worst case scenarios, that person even dies.

It just breaks my heart and I really, really need him to solve this issue. He deserves to be loved, and for that he needs to learn to accept that love, too. Because more than once, we see him dismissing it or misinterpreting it when others try to show concern or support. I kind of hope the tide will turn now that Krolia is in the game. And I really cross my fingers for Kolivan to not being killed off, and forging deeper bonds with Keith as well, although I’m really worried about how that will turn out.

Also, I like how deeply emotional he is, but how he tries to bottle it up, and how that doesn’t work at all. Please Keith, please open up to others.

I’m also extremely curious about all the secrets that surround him. We found up about his galra origins, we finally met his mother, but there is so much more I want to know. For instance, I’m dying for his back-story with Shiro. I need to know more about his family history, how his parents met, what happened to his father. I wonder if Acxa could, indeed, be related to him. I want to know more about this weird connection he seems to have with magic and quintessence. I want to see if those visions of galra invasions (both in his dream in “the Ark of Taujeer” and in his visions in “the Blade of Marmora”) could be repressed memories, like some theorize.  I want to know what happened between his father’s disappearance and the garrison, did he hop from foster family to foster family like many of us headcanon ? How did he get into the garrison ?

(I don’t thing that’s what Kolivan meant by “undetected”, Keith !)

Another thing I like with Keith is how he is balanced. Yes, he is extremely talented in some fields. He’s an amazing pilot and a great fighter, and it’s really cool to see him improve in those domains. He’s also pretty good at improvising on the spot in dangerous situations. He’s extremely focused, loyal, dedicated and resourceful.

But at the same time, he can be pretty awkward in social situations. He has a hard time managing his feelings. He might be really good with blades and in close combat, but struggles when he has a gun. He gets caught almost every time he tries to be sneaky, which is both endearing and worrying, considering the risks of this while he works with the Blades. He is the worst liar ever and it’s hilarious (I hope Kolivan has given up any expectation to make him go undercover, that would be a disaster).

Anyway, some characters are well balanced by being moderately good at everything and being a jack of all trades (Lance for instance). But Keith… he’s amazing in a few domains (flying, fighting with a sword…) but pretty bad in others.

So despite his obvious talents, he is quite far from the cool, flawless character  that I first thought he would be.

Although he has a quite eventful and compelling arc, I don’t feel he overshadows the other characters as he’s often (and sometimes painfully) out of focus… We barely saw him at all in the last two seasons. And honestly at this point I’m invested enough in his story that I wouldn’t even complain if he hogs the spotlight a bit more at times.

I ended up getting way too attached and it’s hard to watch him getting hurt by the story all the time. I really hope he gets some good comforting moments soon (same goes for Shiro, by the way).

Yeah, I also love Shiro very much, I think he’s an amazing character. Honestly, there is such a good cast of characters in this story, including really charismatic side characters (Kolivan ! Matt ! Krolia ! Shay !). So it’s really hard to pick a favorite.

[charlieism]

Torn

Heyy friends, this is my first time publishing angst haha so I hope I did it right?? Honestly I would adore feedback because I don’t really know if I did ok and what I could improve on :) I also tried a kinda new writing style so let’s see how that worked out. 

Anyway the fic was based off two prompts I got, which I kind of blended so I’m really sorry if that’s not what you guys wanted. One prompts was for angsty analogical and one-sided Prinxiety, sent in by @give-me-a-minute-to-think, and the other was for angsty Logicality, sent in by an anon. Also this took me wayyy too long to write so I apologise for that.

So I’m going to tag some people I would like to read this haha. @use-it-ironically / @pansexualroman, @lekawaiimelon @mylasagnaisraw, @princeyandanxiety, and ofc @give-me-a-minute-to-think. Hope you guys like it! (If you want to be tagged in other things I write, simply ask haha) And without further ado, the actual fic!!

Words: Around 3500

Warnings: There’s a little bit of swearing. Lots of crying, and a panic attack.

****

It had been inevitable. It had been slowly ending from the moment it begun. It was destined to die, and it was destined to hurt, and nothing they could do would stop it. It was cruel and they tried so hard, but it was impossible.

Patton should have known that he and Logan wouldn't work out.

****

It had been inevitable. It had been slowly ending from the moment it begun. It was destined to die, and it was destined to hurt, and nothing they could do would stop it. It was cruel and they tried so hard, but it was impossible.

Patton should have known that he and Logan wouldn't work out.

But he had tried so, so hard, to make it work. He loved Logic, he knew he did, but the short amount of love and happiness there relationship had brought him was now slipping through his fingers like sand, and no matter how hard he held on it just keep sifting away.

Morality and Logic weren't like magnets, they weren't opposite forces that were drawn irresistibly to each other.

No, they were water and oil. They would never mix, and it was a mistake to try, as it would never work, no matter what you did.

And they had kept up the pretence for so long, put up walls and smiles and avoided topics and tried to dodge fights and arguments, but now the walls were crumbling and the smiles were turning to tears and the fight raged like no other.

  Morality couldn't even remember how it had started, probably over something stupid. But now everything they had locked away and tried to forget and ignore was bubbling up and spilling out, and harmful words were being flung and everything hurt and he was still yelling and so was Logic and what were they even fighting about he didn't know he just wanted it to end he hated this he hated fighting why was Logan still yelling he was crying why wasn't Patton trying to fix things what was going on why wasn't this working he didn't even know what he was saying anymore but he could hear every insult and shout that Logan flung and everything hurt so bad and everything was so loud and scary and angry make it stop make it stop make it make it STOP!

He screamed.

Patton's hands flew up to cover his ears and his eyes screwed shut tightly against the world, legs giving out and sending his body sliding to the floor, sobs wracking his body and making his breathing unsteady and painful. Hot tears dripped onto the kitchen floor from two pairs of anguished eyes.

This couldn't be fixed.

They were broken.

****

Anxiety curled in tighter on himself, a mountain of blankets serving as a fort between him and the outside world, his hoodie his armour, the screams echoing through the mind the eternal enemy. The sounds of vicious fighting, of pained screams and furious yelling, of sobs being torn from sore throats and ruined minds, and Anxiety's own thoughts, were seeking to destroy him. They crashed against his dark blanket mountain like waves pounding the beach, slowly eroding and eradicating whatever stood in its path. And it was unending, how long had the fighting been going on? The fighting between Anxiety's two best friends, between Logan and Patton, the horrendous arguing between Anxiety's favourite couple, the pained screams of anger and sadness and fury that pierced through his armour, had been going on for aeons now.

It wall that he could hear, all that he knew, and he couldn't breathe. Anxiety tried desperately to pull in oxygen, but his breathing was obstructed by everything and nothing, and he was panicking, and he couldn't escape and nothing was alright, tears were sliding in endless trails down his face, hot and salty and he was shaking and there was no hope, no light, no escape, only pain and fear and he couldn't get out of whatever was pinning him down and he couldn't think and the yelling went on and on.

And then cool air was caressing his tear soaked face, and light pricked behind his closed eyes, and somebody had lifted up his blankets. He tensed with fear, and opened his eyes, to be met with a familiar face. Prince.

Roman's face was illuminated by light (he must have turned the lights on when he came in, Anxiety dimly realised) and his skin was pale, his hair messy and eyes suspiciously red. His eyes were full of concern and worry, a veil that hid the fear dancing underneath. His normally pristine clothes were crinkled, and his expression had been pulled into a frantic, jittery frown, and he was talking. Or at least, he looked like he was. His mouth was moving and his hands were gesturing and he was staring directly at Anxiety, who could only stare back wide-eyed and trembling under a pile of blankets, drowning in his oversized hoodie. He couldn't hear anything Roman was saying, all he could hear was his own faltering breathing and his uncomfortably loud and fast heartbeat. He was like a deer in headlights, staring uncomprehendingly at Prince.

Soon Prince seemed to realise Anxiety wasn't understanding anything he was saying, and his face somehow fell even more. Anxiety had to be imagining the sheen of moisture that shone in Roman's eyes for a minute. Anxiety ducked his head and shuffled back into his hoodie again as he remembered why he was here, and he tried to regain control of his breathing because his lungs were starting to burn but it just wasn't working. And then strong, warm arms were pushing the blankets off him and wrapping around his middle. Anxiety managed to suck in a breath. Then Prince was sitting on the bed with him and pulling Anxiety closer, and he was pressed up against Roman, who was warm and soft but steady, and Prince was cradling him close, a hand petting Anxiety's hair reassuringly, his breathing purposefully slow and steady and exaggerated, and Anxiety took another breath.

****

Morality sat crumpled on the cold floor, head in his hands, breathing ragged and painful, tears wetting his glasses, his cheeks, the floor, his clothes. He was sniffling and crying pretty loudly, unable to keep the agonised feeling of sadness and hurt inside of him. He'd began to block Logan out, had stopped talking and yelling, had stopped everything. He just... cried and tried to stop hurting. He could vaguely hear Logic sniffling as well, and he knew without needing to look that he was angrily wiping tears away as they welled up.

"I'm-" Logan's voice cracked, and he took a deep breath. He sounded strangely muffled, but maybe that was because Patton's hands were still over his ears. Logic had stopped yelling now too, though, so maybe he could take them down. Maybe they could still fix it, even after how bad and horrible and painful that fight had just been. Slowly, Morality took his hands away from his ears and looked up, wiping the tears away from his damp cheeks and trying to wipe them out of his eyes (which was a vain attempt, because once he started crying it was hard to stop.) He looked up at Logic, who was standing on the other side of the room. Logan's skin was pale, but his cheeks were scarlet and eyes were rimmed with red. His eyes were bright with angry, unshed tears, and his hair was messy from where he'd been running his hands through it. His expression was torn, half angry, half sad. All miserable. It hurt Patton to see, and know that he was the one that made Logic look so distraught.

"Y-yeah?" Morality croaked quietly; he couldn't deal with anymore screaming. He considered standing up, but he wasn't entirely sure he could right now. He still had tears rolling slowly down his cheeks.

"I don't- I can't, Morality. I just can't anymore! It was great at the start, but it's just been getting worse and worse and I can't handle it anymore, I can't do it, I'm sorry but I can't!" Logan burst out, and tears fell out of his eyes and dripped down his cheeks and splattered on the floor, but Patton was frozen.

"W-what?"

"It's over, Patton. We're done. I'm sorry, but we both know this can't go on." Logic said, wiping his tears away, but more only spilled back over. Morality stared at his boyfriend, no, his ex-boyfriend, in horrified shock. He hadn't expected that, oh no, please no, god no, don't let them be breaking up, please, he still loves Logan, how is he going to deal with this, please no, please don't let this be happening, please!

"N-no, please, no..." A hoarse whisper dropped out of Patton's lips unwillingly. Logan sniffled.

"I'm sorry." He whispered back, then closed his eyes, putting his hands over his eyelids and sniffling, expression crumpling. Patton heard him sob once, twice, then Logic span on his heel and stumbled out of the kitchen, running down the hallway blindly. A moment later his door slammed, and Morality broke down once again.

Logic was gone.

They were over.

****

The yelling had stopped. That was good, Anxiety was relieved. The shouting had made him panic. Currently he was... what was he doing? He had his eyes shut and he was swaying back and forth. And he was warm. And he could hear a nice, pleasant sound by his ear. And his face felt slightly damp and sticky. Slowly, Anxiety opened confused eyes, to be greeted with the sight of Prince with his arms around him, slowly rocking them back and forth, humming softly.

Oh. Yeah.

A rush of memories flooded Anxiety; apparently he'd zoned out completely once he had gotten his breathing back under control. God knows how long he'd been out of it. But Roman had stayed with him, even comforted him. That was weird, and Anxiety didn't know how he felt about it. So he sat up straighter and shifted, (he was literally on Prince's lap, what the heck?) Roman flinched and looked down in surprise, and smiled weakly when he and Anxiety's gazes met.

"Hey, Sunshine." He teased, but his voice sounded kind of strained. Anxiety gingerly disentangled himself from the royal boy and flopped back onto his ned, curling up into a blanket.

"Hi, Princess. What are you doing here?" He grumbled.

"Well, I was helping you. You began to freak out quite badly when Patton and Logan were fighting." Roman explained.

"Oh, yeah, uh... thanks, I guess." Oh yeah, the yelling had stopped. Anxiety really needed to get his train of thought back. "Um, so did they work it out?" He asked, already feeling a bit relieved. Those two always ended up working things out. Anxiety waited for the cheery confirmation, but it never came. After a minute of silence, Anxiety frowned into his blanket and looked up at Roman. "Princey?!" To his shock and horror, Roman looked away, but not before Anxiety saw the thin sheen of tears glistening in the royal boy's eyes.

"I, uh, I don't think so." He rasped. "I don't want to worry you, but it's kind of unavoidable. The fight was really really bad, like nothing they've ever had before. And then Logan went running into his room and I don't know what Dad did, but... Anx, I think they broke up." He whispered, and a pit opened up inside Anxiety's chest.

No. No, no way, not possible. Morality and Logic couldn't have broken up! Please, no, they would both be broken-hearted.

"What?" He gasped dumbly. Prince nodded, and finally turned to look at him.

"Yeah." His voice was hoarse. "Are you okay?"

"I..." Anxiety was wide-eyed, struggling to take all this new information in. "I don't know. I don't think so." He finally admitted. Silence, and then,

"Me too."

That made Anxiety look up in surprise; catching Roman in a moment of weakness was a rarity. But Prince didn't even look ashamed, or try to cover it up, he just stared mournfully at his hands and fiddled absently with a blanket.

"Oh." Anxiety didn't know what to say. "Um... what would even make you feel better?" He asked awkwardly. Prince shrugged, but a light blush began to form upon his cheeks. Finally he answered.

"Can I have a hug?" He asked quietly. Anx was taken aback.

"W-what?!" He exclaimed. Roman immediately looked crestfallen. "Wait, no, shit, um... sure." Anxiety agreed a little reluctantly. Prince looked up, gloomy expression brightening just a little. He held his arms out shyly, which was a strange sight, and Anxiety nervously shuffled forward and wrapped his arms around Roman's waist, hugging him gently. It seemed to work, though, as Roman's breathing evened out pretty quickly, and his stance relaxed. Anxiety found himself enjoying the hug too, surprisingly. They stayed like that for a while, together in the cold silence of the mind, and eventually they leaned apart slightly.

And then Anxiety and Roman locked gazes. Anxiety was kind of uncomfortable, but he tried not to let it show.

And then Prince started leaning in.

****

At one point Patton had gotten up and slipped from the kitchen to the hallway, bolting clumsily to his room, trying to see through the heartbroken tears and attempting to muffle the inconsolable sobs tearing out of him. A vain, desperate attempt, really. The tears left a drip drop trail behind him, staining the carpet with splashes of sadness. He made it to his room somehow and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed and letting the tears flow freely. Morality's entire body shook with sobs as he realised what he had done, what Logic had done, what he had lost, what he no longer had. 

That it was his fault.

No more Logic. No more late night cuddle sessions, no more playful teasing and deep conversations, no more bad jokes to make Logan get frustrated then let Morality kiss his smile away, no anything. And it was his own fault.

It felt like he was being stabbed, like his heart had been pulled out of his chest, ripped into 1000 tiny careless pieces, an left to blow away like dust on the wind. Patton had never felt any pain like this before. It hurt so much he didn't know what to do with himself, he didn't know how to function, he didn't know how to let it out. All he could do was sob and cry and regret.

****

Anxiety flinched backwards immediately, scooting to the other side of the bed, wide-eyed and staring at Roman.

"What the fuck?" He demanded. Prince looked completely and utterly confused.

"What?" He questioned.

"What was that? You just tried to kiss me, what the fuck Roman?" Anxiety screeched.

"I- I didn't... I thought you liked me!" He sounded so hopelessly lost and crushed, and it shook Anxiety to the core.

"N- no... Roman, do you have a crush on me?" He asked incredulously, lowering his voice. Prince's face was burning crimson, and he nodded tensely at the ground. "Oh my goodness... Prince, I don't like you like that!" Anxiety burst out, then realised how mean he sounded. "Just- shit, I don't... no, Roman." Was all he could stammer. Prince just nodded again.

"Right. I'll just leave, then." His voice shook a little, and Anxiety felt bad, but his mind was still blanking from the realisation that Roman liked him. How was he supposed to deal with that? Half the time Anxiety freaking hated Prince, he was so annoying, and the other half of the time he barely tolerated the guy.

"O-okay, yeah, good idea. Uh, bye." He stammered, watching as Roman stood up and walked to the door, eyes steadily fixated on the floor.

"Bye." He said shortly, still flaming with embarrassment, then shut the door and presumably walked away.

Anxiety still didn't know how to react. He didn't like Roman at all, but now he felt really bad because Prince had a crush on him. And all the emotions and feelings about Patton and Logan's breakup were catching up to him and he was suddenly so sad and scared and afraid and anxious again, and he felt terrible, and now he had nobody left to help him, nobody at all, because he had driven Roman away. What kind of horrible person was he? Now Prince would hate him, one of Anxiety's only friends would hate him so much, and Logan probably hated him too, and Morality, and they all hated him and it was his fault and he shouldn't have done that, he should have helped them, he should have done so many things differently.

And slowly, more tears began to leak, as Anxiety lost the battle against his own mind.

****

In Logan's room, there was a curled up ball covered by a single blanket, crying into the pillow, feeling heartbreak and agony for the very first time. Logic didn't know how to cope or deal with these feelings, he just wanted to scream into his pillow because it seemed like the only way to get at least a fraction of his pain out. It just hurt, it hurt so so much. I felt like his heart was being torn in half, which he knew wasn't physically possible but that's what it felt like. Heartbreak. And he had been the one to end he and Patton's relationship. It had hurt, it still hurt, and seeing Moralit break down like that was one of the worst things Logan had ever experienced. But the split had to happen. It was inevitable, their relationship was just getting worse and to attempt to continue for longer would just end up hurting them both more, but god, Logan didn't know how to deal with these feelings. All this pain was just building up, and he didn't know how to let it out, and it was welling up and bubbling inside him and he was crying, which was strange. The salty tears dampened his pillow, which was unpleasant, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

He'd never cried before.

He'd never hurt so much before.

He hated it.

Logan just wanted to run out of his room, wanted to stumble into Patton's and apologise over and over and have Morality forgive him, he wanted to crawl into his ex-boyfriend's soft bed and curl up under the blankets, he wanted to hug Patton and kiss him and be back with him, wanted to be comforted by him. Logic wanted to be happy with Morality, he wanted it to work out, he wanted to be with the normally bubbly boy but he couldn't!

And perhaps that hurt the most. The realisation of what Logan had lost, what he could never get back, the knowledge that he would never be able to do any of those things ever again. The fact that he would never be able to even look at Patton the same ever again.

So Logic cried, alone, because that was the only thing he could do.

****

Prince was laying face-down on his bed, silently shaking, still red and mortified. He had hoped, he had dreamed, he had truly believed... he had been deluded, and in love. With Anxiety.

Oh lord, how he had fallen. Somehow all the sass, the flirty remarks designed to throw him off balance had only worked to make Roman fall in love with Anxiety. And he had thought that Anxiety liked him back! He had even- he'd tried to kiss him. And he had been denied, forcefully. He had been wrong. Anxiety didn't like him, not one bit.

Anxiety probably hated him.

And oh, how that hurt. Prince had accidentally given his heart away, placed it in Anxiety's oblivious hands under the impression that Anxiety knew and would protect it, only to have it crushed to dust. Have it torn to pieces by the very person he loved.

A love that seemed unending.

A love that was unrequited.

And he had made a fool of himself! He had truly believed that Anxiety loved him back. Wow, Roman was an idiot. And now he was paying the price.

The embodiment of passion and love felt like his heart, his very being, had been broken. Pain shot through him in waves and spikes, reducing him to tears, crumbling his defences with ease and tormenting him with regret and self-loathing. How could he ever come back from this? Anxiety would never see him the same way, Prince had no chance, and yet he still loved the dark persona. The knowledge that the feeling would never be mutual, that he would be left to pine and love where he would never be loved back, was the root of all his fears, and it was suddenly wrenched into the light for all to see. If anyone had been here to seen him. But nobody was, there was no comfort for Roman, perhaps he didn't deserve it. Maybe he deserved the pain, for being such an impulsive, irrational fool.

And Prince continued crying, for what left was there for him to do?

****

And there was no happy ending.

From each corner of the mind came heart wrenching, spirit shattering, broken and pained sobs and cries, pulled from sore throats and an infinite chasm of hurt and heartbreak that grew in each personality as the seconds ticked by. Tears dampened pillows and blankets, stained cheeks and rimmed eyes with scarlet red. Sobs shook each trait's body, pulling choked cries from aching throats and burning lungs. Each person seeked comfort, searched desperately for a way to appease the hurt clawing at them from the inside out, only to find cold, unyielding isolation. No comfort or help was anywhere to be found.

They were all alone, each trapped in their own worlds of pain and suffering.

And they saw no escape.