#honestly I just wanted to draw something for that song but bubbling is the only ship I shippped that could for

[smallpapers]

you cried over eugene (he was mean)

[thyln4gf]

Darling, can I?

✞ Confusing feelings - youre both lost, stuck and thinking about each other after the hookup. But its not a one-night stand if it turns into two, right?

✞ Word count - 1898

✞ I have synesthesia! Heres 5 songs that i associate with this fic - "favorite" - Isabel LaRosa, "bad idea!" - Girl In Red, "attention" - Charlie Puth, "eat your young" - Hozier, "meddle about" - Chase Atlantic.

✞ Warnings - smut, mentions of alcohol.

✞ Lando Norris x reader

Whiskey, expensive cologne, and dizzying passion.

Thats what he reminded you of. The image of him was burned into your brain permanently. Whenever whiskey washed over your tongue, memories of him would flash before your eyes. The way he had his tongue deep down your throat, mercilessly fighting with yours. The subtle flavour of whiskey and the cologne he used numbed your senses, almost making you forget your own name. No one has brought you to the heights he has by simply kissing you. No one, ever. And all that happened only once - yet, you couldnt help but let your mind linger on the memory. You kept it close to your chest, like something sweet and sacred. But you thought that he didnt feel the same - and you spent hours thinking about it. He was a famous figure, after all. You probably were just another pretty looking doll to him, something he could play with once and throw away. But did you care? No, not really. You knew that you could easily get anyone else. If you wanted to, that is.

Initially, Lando thought the exact same thing. That you were a pretty thing that he particularly enjoyed playing around with for a night. But, after you, hooking up with women simply didnt feel the same. He kept thinking of you and your scent. The way you looked at him (that look in your eyes was enough to make any mans knees buckle), and the way you made him feel. He was starting to regret his actions, as he found his heart making even more space for you and the feelings for you that have been bubbling up to the surface.

Today was no different - he was staring up at the ceiling, contemplating his life choices. It was approximately 7am, and all he could think about was you. Even when the pretty looking miss barbie he had in his bed tried talking to him - he found himself getting distracted. You just had a way of drawing people in, and barely even noticing it.

And, before he knew it, he was up on his feet, getting ready to leave the house. He had already escorted the blondie out of the door, and that was his last straw - as soon as the distraction left his space... he *had* to go and see you. He wasnt so sure if you would accept him, though. He felt like an ass. He used you and threw you away like something disposable. And he was sure that it was an uncomfortable experience to spot him out and about - monaco wasnt that huge, after all.

"Fucking hell..." he muttered under his breath, as he was currently failing to button up his shirt - his hands were shaking more than ever. He knew that you had options, and that so did he. But he was almost desperate to hold you in his arms.

-------

You were having another slow morning - the weight of your responsibilities was slowly, but surely, weighing you down. You had pulled yet another all nighter - your body is currently powered by hopes, prayers, and a load of canned caffeine. You were surprised by how you were still pulling through.

You were currently walking around with a textbook in your hands, hoping that the walking part is going to trick your body into staying awake. And it was actually working, honestly - despite your legs feeling like pieces of stone. The house was pretty quiet, too. One of the things that made you cherish living alone - peace and quiet.

But thats until you heard your doorbell ring. You werent expecting anybody, it was a Tuesday morning... you put the book down onto the kitchen table, and start making your way towards the front door.

You had a horrible habit of opening the door without peeking through the little hole. And you should have, atleast this time - because none other than Norris himself has made his appearance. You werent expecting such a sight, and so early. You werent expecting him to squeeze himself right past you into your house, either.

"What the fu - hello?" You calmly call out to him, your voice laced with confusion. However, you dont question it much, and close the door behind you. Lando almost looks grateful as you do so - almost as if he was expecting for you to kick him out.

He looks into your eyes, just like that. You can see him briefly licking his lips, and one of his hands going to the back of his neck, rubbing it. He looks away and takes a deep breath, before he can even say anything else. He had 'im nervous and overwhelmed' written all over him, in capital letters. But what is it? Only the sight of him made your heartbeat accelerate a tiny bit.

"I wanted to - ohhh..." he tries to speak up, but he sees you stepping closer to him. Your movements made him freeze in his spot. His breath got caught in his throat. In all honesty... when he looked into your eyes, all he could think about was that one night you spent together, and his confusion about his feelings towards you amplified. Your movements were slow enough to almost feel agonising, making him want to snap and break his composure.

Neither of you say a word, nothing. All he could see was you, and all you could see was him. You could almost imagine how his hot breath would feel on your neck, and in... other places.

But, besides your own thoughts, him struggling to breathe, and the distant ticking of the clock somewhere in the house, nothing else could be heard. The clock almost felt like a ticking bomb, a countdown of seconds until one of you snapped. Both of you knew what was coming a long, long time ago. It was just a question of when.

The silly little staring contest continued. But Lando couldnt keep to himself for much longer - he almost lunges towards you, planting his lips on yours like he was a drowning man, desperately trying to come up for air. You cant even describe the noise that just left your throat, though it was definitely one of surprise. But you quickly found yourself kissing him back, your hands immediately burying themselves into his hair, his snaking around your waist.

You both start losing yourselves, and pretty fast. All the energy and the longing spilled out, sending a wave of electricity throughout your body. You spent the past couple of weeks trying to ignore those thoughts. That maybe, just maybe - you liked him. Each and every of your doubts melted with zero effort as soon as you felt him squeeze your body against his, his fingertips clinging onto your clothes, desperately.

You werent sure of the speed you wanted this to be. As if sensing your confusion, Lando slips his arms a little lower, them now being wrapped around your hips. He didnt want to waste any time, nor he liked to do that. Suddenly, the feeling of being carried takes over - Lando has picked you up, and is about to pin you against the wall with his body.

The intensity he kisses you with increases as your body makes contact with the wall. You can feel his every muscle, hear all the sounds he's making. Hell, you think that you can even hear his heartbeat. You can feel a bite or two he makes on your lips, but youre too far gone for your brain to register it properly.

His body presses against you even harder, the feeling making you moan. You hear him chuckle - he's rather happy that he gets to see the wild side of you - youre always so calm, so... collected. He liked to joke that you were a rock in your past life. His hands leave your hips, now roaming all over your body. He always liked to explore - and this wasnt an exception.

Eventually, his hands start slipping under your shirt. His fingertips are a little calloused and rough from all the training and racing, but his palms were soft. His fingertips were still a little chilly from the air outside, and his palms felt almost disgustingly warm. The contrast between the textures and temperatures makes you shiver with pleasure. You cant help but imagine what they would feel like if he put them down your pants.

If you didnt believe in being able to read someone elses mind before... You were about to. Because you suddenly felt one of his hands slip lower, and lower, and lower. From your chest, down to your stomach, and down to the waistband of your pants. But he doesnt go further, for now - he pulls away slightly, to look up at you, his eyes filled with anticipation. He clearly wanted to ask if you really wanted this, for your permission to go further. He just couldnt find the right words - a part of him was scared as well.

You didnt know what to say either. You always struggled with talking about your feelings, leaving alone... these. All you could manage was crash your lips back onto his, even harder than before. A surprise groan leaves Landos throat, a moan - yours. He understood your message well, or so he hoped. He didnt want to misunderstand anything, even worse - hurt you.

His hand does end up in your pants, starting to slowly rub in all the right places. And, right at that moment, you can feel your brain disconnect from your own body - its almost like you were suddenly working on autopilot. You were almost ashamed to admit, but you could already feel yourself getting close. Something about him felt nothing like you have ever felt before, in all the right ways - his touch overwhelmed and turned you on at the same time.

Lando could feel your back trying to arch, and hear your moans getting louder. He smirks to himself - that didnt take long, he thought. Even faster than he would usually finish in.

The orgasm reaches you just seconds after. The wave felt hot, melting your insides and your inner thighs, as you moan into his mouth. Oh yeah, right - you two never stopped kissing each other during all of this. You simply couldnt be bothered to leave each others embrace. Well, you were basically forced, still pinned against the wall - but you didnt have any complaints. You barely had it in you to kiss him back anymore.

And he could feel it. He felt it. He pulled his face away from yours just a little, making eye contact with you. His hand that was in your pants just now comes up to his face, starting to lick the fingers clean. All while never losing the eye contact. For the first time in awhile, the sight in front of you made you blush.

Seeing your reaction, he chuckled, again. You were adorable. He hesitates slightly before speaking up.

"Could I be your favourite, darling? Can i?" He asks you, in the most gentle tone you have ever heard. The thought of it only makes you smile like an idiot.

'Youll know when you find the one', they said. And you always thought of it as bullshit. But right now? You were proved wrong. You were staring into this mans eyes and you could see the world.

Your favourite.

[thebeautysurrounds]

I’ve been thinking a lot about how people’s reactions to certain queer shows and something I think we need to examine how we treat more ‘dark’ and ‘emotional’ shows versus more ‘happy’ shows in this case I’m gonna be talking about the “debate” between Young Royals and Heartstopper.

Firstly these shows exist in two different lanes, and draw in two different audiences and potential age ranges, in my opinion, Young Royals is for older teenagers (think juniors or seniors or someone who is about to graduate high school and is going into college) while Heartstopper is geared towards those who are just starting high school or in the middle of it and is in that transitional period of their lives. Obviously, if you are not in these age ranges you can still consume and enjoy these shows, But I want to discuss how people act like they both can’t exist and you can’t like both or both shows existing for a reason. I’ve never really been a fan of punching down or belittling queer media (unless it’s harmful) Queer media in all forms is still lacking (especially those mediums centering WLW relationships). That being said the debate of which show is better is honestly so tired.

For people who say Young Royals is so much better (don’t get me wrong it is an amazing show and by all means like whatever you want) but liking it more because it’s “darker and more realistic” compared to Heartstopper which is "much happier" and "unrealistic," To me is so disingenuous because firstly so what? campy shows that feature queer characters deserve to be unrealistic, What's wrong with being unrealistic? Queer media has been subject to the Burry Your Gays narrative for decades or extremely unhealthy tropes and storylines so what's so wrong with having storylines and shows that are unrealistic or extremely happy? (even though the themes in Heartstopper are realistic).

Have you thought about how that may be an intentional choice? Now bare with me here this may be my over-analytic brain at work but Heartstopper has more or less some of the same themes as Young Royals just shot in a very vibrant and colorful manner to showcase how happy and colorful young love is BUT if you actually have watched the show or read the graphic novels you would know the show and graphic novels cover some heavy themes.

SPOILERS AFTER THIS POINT……

I want you to keep the song Pumped up Kicks by Foster the People in mind throughout this...I have a point I promise. Heartstopper is shot in a very poppy colorful way and in my opinion, symbolizes how when you’re young and in love everything feels warm, colorful, and vibrant. While Young Royals doesn't utilize this cinematic style they do use some form of vibrancy to convey tone and emotion. In Young Royals many of the scenes featuring Simon and Willhem's 'good moments' feature the sun especially shining on Simon when Willie is looking at him or whenever they are just in each other's company, this is especially prominent in the last scenes of the last two episodes of season 3.

So while people's criticisms of Heartstopper can be warranted (not saying you can't dislike the show) the comments that it's just so bubbly and bright just aren't true. The last season of Heartstopper saw multiple characters go through traumatic situations and it has been building up that way from the very first scenes in the first season of the show (but for the sake of time I'm only going to discuss both main characters in the two shows) Charlie not only is still struggling with being outed but is also battling with an eating disorder, this is foreshadowed throughout the first two seasons leading up to its inevitable blatant reveal when he is at dinner with Nick and his family where Nick starts to piece together why he is never hungry, passed out on the Paris trip and never finishes his food, which leads his to eventually research the signs of an ED. Nick is also still figuring himself out when it comes to his Bisexuality, while also dealing with the feelings of, feeling abandoned by his father, and having to reckon with the fact his brother is not supportive and dismissive of his sexuality and relationship.

Now before I said keep Pumped Up Kicks in mind that's because while this song has an upbeat, catchy tempo the song actually has a really dark undertone and meaning. So while Heartstopper is shot in a very vibrant colorway most of its characters and content of the show deal with dark themes and it's not all just a happy love story, and if the script for the next season follows the graphic novel closely, then we will see the characters go through even more challenges which also falls inline with the "darker" more emotionally message of the show. So to end this so it doesn't become a dissertation, both shows more or less have the same themes they just exist in two different lanes, I don't know why exactly people are fighting for one to be more valid than the other. When both can exist and be impactful to both or each audience, more queer shows need to exist where the characters are just happy and in love and I need y'all to unpack why you view more doom and gloom (for a lack of a better word) queer shows or movies are more valid than ones where the characters are just happy and have relatively in some aspects great experience when it comes to young love and figuring out one's identity. Sepreatlty why do you want these characters to suffer to find love? Why do characters have to go through something traumatic for their identity to be more valid and for you to relate and want to root for it more versus the latter?

Anyway, this was longer than I intended it to be but I just had to get my thoughts out there. TL;DR: Heartstopper and Young Royals are two great shows and if you think one is better than the other cause it has darker themes you are missing the point or probably objectively missed the dark undertones of the show, and one isn't more valuable than the other.

[jonquilyst]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

I was tagged by @rebouks 💜(My answers are long so I apologize LOL)

are you named after anyone? I’m not named after anyone, but I’m named after this song (Have a Little Faith in Me by John Hiatt). It’s my parents wedding/couple song and since I’m their first kid together (I have an older sister but we don’t have the same dad) they wanted to name me after their get-together song, so my middle name is Faith… I honestly think this is one of the coolest facts about me because I love music and to also be named after a song is a flex imo

when was the last time you cried? A few months ago I cried after I failed to find parking downtown while on my way to a field trip for one of my graphic design classes. It sounds pathetic and insignificant but for a suburban girl with little familiarity driving in the big city and multiple anxiety disorders, it was exceptionally difficult to keep my brain from imploding on itself. I parked in a spot close to the building’s entrance only to find it was reserved for long-term parking and there was absolutely no more parking spaces available, even along the street. So after 45 minutes of searching (and 30 minutes after I was supposed to have arrived) I decided to call it quits and went home… I got myself some bubble tea on the way to help cheer myself up but I still cried in my bathroom with my cat. I really wanted to go to this field trip but I couldn’t because of how inaccessible it was. I really hate driving in the city 👎

do you have kids? Nope, just my cats. I don’t want any human kiddos either. I’ve got many reasons why, but basically my older sister has 3 grade-school age kiddos and as much as I love them they’re a lot of work and I’ve learned over the years that I kinda don’t want to dedicate my life to a helpless person. I want my life to be about me.

do you use sarcasm a lot? I use it mostly with my friends and family members lol. Not all strangers understand how hilarious I am

what sports do you play/have you played? I used to be in dance and basketball when I was a kid, but after I chipped my front tooth in basketball practice my mom wouldn’t let me go back so not anymore. Nowadays I walk but Idk if that’s considered a sport lol. I enjoy playing badminton though; it’s so so fun (just wish we had a court around here; it’s not very popular where I live).

what’s the first thing you notice about other people? Their general personality, I guess. What someone is wearing and how they talk and move really says a lot about a person and it’s usually the first thing I notice.

eye colour? Blue

scary movies or happy endings? I don’t mind a thriller every once in a while but I generally tend to prefer happy endings

any special talents? My special talent is being incredibly awkward 👍

where were you born? Minnesota (US); born and raised

what are your hobbies? Besides the Sims I draw, paint, and write (as in authoring books/short stories you can read). I actually have a website/portfolio where I have my favorite creations if you wanna check it out: https://resplendent.carrd.co/ 

do you have any pets? Yep, two cats 🥰 Lacey, my brown tabby and white girl and Oskar, my fluffy long-haired tuxedo boy!

how tall are you? About 5′4″ or 163 cm

fave subject in school? Based on my hobbies said above, I think you can probably guess that it’s art lol. I took all the painting and drawing classes in high school. 

dream job? A job where the hours are flexible and I’m not staring at the clock all day... Something that keeps me busy all day while not being too hard on the body.

Tagging @simelune @estah @glowbloom and anyone else who wants to do this 💜 (but you can ignore)

[timaeusterrored]

(College Au because I love them)

The thing that had Kerry hauling ass up the stairs was a red truck. That meant Vincent was here, and was the person Kerry had wanted to see all day. Normally they’d run into each other in the art wing or between classes, but he hadn’t seen his input all day, or really even heard from him. A bit of nerves and insecurity bubbled in his gut as he walked into the apartment.

Vincent’s bag was on the couch, his boots by the door, and keys in on the counter. That was a good sign, that meant he was staying at least. He followed in his partners steps, bag next to his, keys next to his and kicked off his converse in the living room. It was an oddly domestic thing, seeing Vincent’s stuff around the apartment, mixed with his and Johnny’s.

He found his gorgeous input in bed, curled up under the blankets in what Kerry could assume was his shirt. He smiled, walking over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Boo.” Vince smiled and put his drawing tablet down, turning to get an actual kiss. “Welcome home.” Kerry could get used to that.

“How long have you been here? Haven’t seen you all day.” Kerry asked, stripping down to pull on comfy clothes, climbing into bed next to his partner to watch him draw. Some DnD thing that Kerry didn’t understand but thought looked cool. He felt Vincent raise his arms so Kerry could tuck into his chest.

“Few hours, wasn’t feeling the best today and wanted somewhere quiet.. I wasn’t ignoring you, I just woke up honestly.” Kerry knew that feeling all too well, looking up at him worriedly. Vincent had gone back to drawing, unaware of his worried partner now.

“Hey.. you okay now?” Kerry tilted his head down, the tablet being put on the nightstand with his pen. “I’m fine, Ker.. just felt a little down and wanted some peace. No need to worry.” He turned to face him completely, hugging him tight. Kerry stroked his cheek, humming. “Okay.. you can tell me if something is bother you, know you know that right?”

Vince nodded, kissing Kerry’s nose sweetly. “I know. Thank you..” he whispered. Vince then asked about his day and Kerry began to babble on about teachers and homework, a new song he was working on, about how much he missed Vince today. In return, Vince pressed kisses to his cheeks, neck, and shoulders while he talked. Distracting little fucker too.

Johnny wouldn’t be getting off until midnight that night, but they still ordered him some dinner for when he got home. They sat on the couch, watching a shitty reality show they had both gotten into while they ate. Vince had perked up a bit, much to Kerry’s delight. He hated seeing his angel so down, especially if this had been an all day thing… but there was something else. Something about him coming HERE for comfort. It made Kerry smile a bit at the thought.

They ended their night with a smoke on the fire escape, Vince talking about his DnD session with his friends. Kerry would never understand that game but seeing Vince so passionate and proud of it made him not question it, only ask questions and listen while he talked.

They crawled back into bed, not sleeping but softly talking while they waited for their third to come home, and at around 12:30am he did, walking in quietly. They could hear him moving around the apartment, dropping his keys next to theirs and heating up his dinner. When he finally came into the bedroom, he stripped to his boxers and cuddled up behind Kerry, he was beat. So were the other two.

They fell asleep curled up together, Johnny reaching over to have Vincent closer to them, Kerry in his personal paradise in the middle. He watched Vincent fall asleep, tracing the chrome lines in his cheeks with a small hum of appreciation for them. He tugged him closer and moved them both deeper into Johnny’s chest, falling asleep.

[everystephoftheway]

camp cloudtop: chapter eighteen

This can be found on ao3 as well.  

Keyleth and Vax both stood nearly on top of Kash to get a look at his phone, one of his videos playing for them for the first time. The audio was hard to hear over the thrum of cafeteria riff-raff, but Kash promised it didn’t matter that much. A song played over footage of several of his campers, Zahra, and him doing some dance routine that was supposedly all the rage on social media. 

They pointed to the left of the screen and text that read, “Talent Show at Camp Cloudtop!” appeared in bright purple lettering. They pointed to the right and it was joined by, “Two gold pieces per person!” The two text bubbles went away, more dancing ensued, and then the video ended with some more text, now gold instead of purple, “Help keep our camp going! And eat some baked goods!”

The video faded to black and Keyleth and Vax leaned back, Kash turning on his seat to look at them.

“So?” he tilted his head forward, expecting some response. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s great!” As soon as Keyleth announced her praise, Kash released a nice, deep breath and his shoulders relaxed.

“Okay, good. It looks simple, but it took like an hour to edit. Another just to film.” 

“And you’re going to put more information in the description?” Vax questioned, moving to sit down next to Kash.

“Oh yeah. The video is to catch their interest, and then the description will have all the details. Address, time, date. All the good stuff.” 

Vax clapped Kash on the shoulder. “Nicely done. How many more of these can you do?”

“As many as you guys want. I think the more people involved the better, honestly. Kids can show their parents the ones they’re in, make it harder for them to say no. And I’ll do some regular vlogs too. Vary up the content so I get as many people to watch as I can.” 

“Kash, you’re amazing.” Keyleth sat down on his other side, reaching out to hold his hand and squeeze. “Thank you again for doing this.”

He smiled sweetly at her, leaning in for a kiss on the cheek, which immediately had her turning red. “I’m a man of my word. I’ll throw this up at the end of the work day. We’re still not telling Gilmore anything, right?” 

Keyleth shook her head. “Not yet. Why? Do you think he knows something?”

“No, no, but it’d be nice if he could share it. His following is huge.” 

X.X.X

“Who needs Gilmore to share it? Check out how many views we have!” The next morning Kash gathered their little group in the auditorium and placed his phone in the middle of the circle, his finger pointing to the very large number on the bottom left of the screen.

“Does that say ten thousand views?” Vex leaned down to get a closer look; for sure, her eyes must have been deceiving her.

“In one night?” Percy leaned in too, only to nearly slam his chin into Vex’s skull, so he pulled back to look once she was done.

“I knew it was going to do alright, but I didn’t think it’d do this.” Kash’s face was lit with excitement, his smile bigger than Keyleth had seen it since their first date at the fair.

“All that means is ten thousand people saw it, right? It doesn’t mean ten thousand people are coming to the talent show.” Keyleth’s eyes widened at the thought. “We probably don’t want ten thousand people at the talent show.” 

Kash nodded. “The more people who see this the better. It just bumps our chances of getting the amount of people we need to actually show up. And sign up for next summer.” 

“Mr. Vesh!” The groups’ heads all snapped up at the sound of Gilmore’s sing-song voice, Kash drawing his phone back into his pocket as quickly as he could. The director stood in one of the three doorways, poofy sleeves pressed down by his arms folded across his chest. 

“Yeah, Gilmore?”

“Can I see you in my office for a moment?”

“Oh shit.” Percy’s mumble could only be heard by them, but he said exactly what everyone was thinking. 

Kash nodded. “Yeah, be there in a second.” 

Gilmore nodded back and turned to head back first, not waiting for Kash to follow.

“Well, that’s not good,” Vex sighed.

“Come on,” Keyleth was the one to start for the door first. “We’ll all go together.” 

Everyone looked at each other for a moment, almost as if they were having a telepathic conversation, before they all started to shuffle forward. Kash quickened his pace so he caught up with Keyleth.

“You guys don’t have to come with me,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

“We all know what this is about, and we’re a team. He’ll probably ask you who’s involved anyway, so we’ll beat him to the punch.”

“Plus,” Vax leaned in from behind them, “he likes me more than you.” 

Kash rolled his eyes, but they all knew having Vax there would probably help their case. 

When they arrived, Gilmore’s eyebrows rose at the sight of the whole group.

“I did only ask for you, didn’t I?” he said, looking at Kash.

“You did,” he said, hands relaxing behind his back. “But, I think we know what you wanted to talk about and, if we’re right, it makes sense that we’re all here.” 

Gilmore thought for a moment before he nodded and took a seat on the edge of his desk, crossing his ankles and intertwining his hands. 

“Well, it seems you bunch already know what I’m going to say. That video of yours is very cute, I must admit. And this idea of a talent show and bake sale,” he chuckled softly, “is wonderful. However, I thought I told you to let me handle taking care of the camp.”

“We know,” Vax stepped forward, “and we are sorry for keeping this from you, but we love this camp just as much as you do, and we love you, and we would hate to see this be the end of such a great place.” He continued on, clearly doing his best to work his charm as Vax explained their well thought out plan; Keyleth interjected when necessary, filling in extra details. Gilmore listened quietly at first, but when they got to the part about the bake sale, he put a hand up, stopping Vax mid sentence.

“You are all too sweet. I appreciate all of your hard work and how much you care about me and this camp, but this needs to stop now. I don’t want to extend hope when hope is not feasible.” 

Vax’s brows knitted together, his jaw slack for a moment before he leaned forward. “Gilmore, did you sell the land already?” 

“Nothing is official–”

“So there is still time to try and save it!”

“Why are you not lisTENING TO ME?” Gilmore’s voice rose from his usual sing-song tone into something loud enough to echo through the office, and his hand swung out as if he was going to back hand Vax.

Vax flinched back, an arm already coming up to defend himself, but Gilmore stopped his swing before he made contact. His chest heaved with anger, but–as if he didn’t understand what he was doing–his eyes went wide and he lowered his hand, breathing starting to normalize. Vax relaxed as well, though his eyes didn’t leave Gilmore, even as Keyleth came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Please cease your efforts,” Gilmore said once he seemed calm. “As noble as they are, this is my problem to solve.” 

The group answered with muddled, half-hearted agreements and then quickly left the office, feet not stopping until they made it back to the auditorium.

“What the fuck was that?” Vex was the first one to speak up, clearly heated. “Vax, are you alright?”

He nodded, a hand running over his hair. “I’m fine. Gilmore, very clearly, is not.” 

“I’m going to delve into more research once the day’s over,” Percy said, hand pressed to his chin as his mind clearly raced with ideas. He glanced over at Keyleth who shrugged.

“I won’t say I told you so yet, but…”

“Well, while we try to figure out why Gilmore’s being so aggro,” Kash was the next one to speak, “what are we doing about the plan? Are we sticking to it?”

The group all looked to Keyleth, and she nodded. “Well, yeah, we’re sticking to it. That wasn’t Gilmore. It was, but that reaction wasn’t him. I don’t think that conversation should change anything.” 

The group all looked at each other, and Vax nodded. “Onwards and upwards.”

“Well, wait.” Vex put a hand up. “What if Gilmore continues to fight us?”

“We can have a contingency plan,” Keyleth said. “Maybe have a Plan B where we host the talent show off the grounds? It’ll be a completely independent thing.”

“It’s not ideal,” Percy tilted his head. 

“Of course it’s not, but it’s Plan B. Hopefully we won’t have to go there. You’re going to do your research, figure out what they’ve got over Gilmore, we’ll fix that, and then there’s no way he won’t be on our side. I can feel it.” 

If anyone had any other arguments, they had no time to offer them before the sound of kids arriving filled the hallway.

“Time to get to work.” Kash gave everyone a salute, Keyleth a little wink, and led the way to their homerooms to greet their kids for the day.

[tutuandscoot]

Thought of the evening:

I’m only just now becoming OBSESSED with Sui/Han (the pairs team from china 🇨🇳)

They for me are the VM of the Pairs worlds, and I don’t just mean their GOAT status (if not then by far one of the best ever) athletic prowess.

I mean they have what TS have- that thing that some claim to be madly in love (but not that), or that once in a million years magically unexplainable connection (my take on it), and an intimacy/chemistry on the ice that can’t be created out of thin air- it’s some written in the stars kinda shit.

They make me feel a similar way to TS do. Like time stands still, like they truly are in a bubble, like the air is thinner and only they can hear the music. Everyone watching is holding their breathe, you don’t want it to end, it’s so seamless, there’s never a major struggle.

As well as all that there is a tonne of uncannily similar stuff. They were paired up very young (not quite as young as TS but maybe even more so in pairs being put together then staying together from a young age is so rare because growing, teenage years etc..) I’m not sure if they were each other first partners, if not have obviously never separated since being put together. She had very serious injuries (both ankles) that required surgery and were potentially career ending (before the first surgery where they placed 2nd at worlds in 2016 he said they may not be competing ever again if the surgery doesn’t work). They have a very distinct lack of height difference (and height in general for pairs) which was something that always seemed to be a thing about TS- their lack of height difference and especially growing up if she got too tall it wouldn’t work out. It’s in fact a super power of both teams.

They are both the only two ‘couples’ skaters (pairs and ice dance) to win a Super Career Grand Slam (every major international competition in both juniors and seniors).

To be fair it’s not that I’m only NOW becoming obsessed. I desperately wanted them to win the olys this year- after their mission impossible SP I was like wholly fuck! And then their Bridge Over Troubled Water FP (which I later found out they re used the music but the program is totally different), and while I hate the fact that is was not the S+G version of the song I’m still in love with that program.

I’m essentially going down a rabbit hole like I did with VM the (2nd, 3rd time I got obsessed with them.. can’t remember) but I’m going so slow coz I just keep watching the same programs over and over.

Rn I CAN NOT stop watching their Rain In Your Black Eyes FP from 2019 worlds. I’ve watched it maybe 6 times and I’m borderline crying/ have chills every time.

Their chore in general is amazing!! Laurie Nichol does chore for lots of skaters but this is another instance like with VM where the very very best make actual magic from their chore.

They just have this intimacy and while it’s not as emotional and romantic as TS’s it’s still so moving and draws you in and gives you those feels that last for ages after you’ve watched them- that feeling that you really want to give them a hug afterwards coz you feel like they really laid their hearts on the line for you and you just want to make sure they’re ok.

It’s that thing like with TS that you can feel them communicating- not just talking (apparently SH also talk in their programs) but you can FEEL them communicating.

I’ve never felt this way with any other dance team and I honestly didn’t think I’d ever feel it from a pairs team at all. And honestly it is so surprising it’s a Chinese team illiciting this reaction. While trying not to play into stereotypes, it’s hard for me coz I’m so invested in geo politics but I’ve always found it hard to root for countries like china (also Russia and USA) and along with that in terms of artistic sports it is just typical that those eastern (block) teams are more technical and in general less emotionally compelling. But SH do not feel like any typical eastern block team. It’s almost astonishing their emotional presentation. They can be (in their own way- not the same a TS) sexy, seductive, romantic, intense, vulnerable. All those things and sometimes all at once and it’s amazing it’s giving me chills writing about it.

I even feel like I have a vague recollection of reading that SH are very inspired by TS and the way they move and they get a lot of inspiration from their innovation in lifts and dance chore (coz SH have insanity beautiful choreographic moments) Idk I could be making all that up to justify my obsession but I really do feel like I have (If someone knows what I’m talking about please hmu with facts)

The way they are in their partnership as well- and this is piggy backing off some commentary, he sets her off- he makes her the star, she is a star, but he makes sure people know it (just like Scott does with Tessa) but to be that good- to not distract from your partner but be soooo good in your own right in every part of it makes him just as good as her (same as TS). Their connection, they way they handle each other (out of chore) has similar qualities (again going back to the stereotypes talk is so refreshing to see from a Chinese team) once again not the exact same way but just this comfort and trust in each other that only comes from being together so long (but even then other long time partners don’t have this- it’s soooo rare).

So so far I’ve watched their 2016, 2017, 2018 2019, 2022 (these are the worlds/oly years) programs. Their shorts are always fire I’m obsessed with all of them. Their frees my faves are RIYBE (2019) and BOTW from this year in particular. Oh and turandot from 2018 olys (wasn’t perfect but is brilliant as well).

So fear not this is not gonna stop being a TS blog, I just need to say this coz while I watch a tonne of FS (mostly in the background while I sew) i don’t particularly love it or connect to a lot of it- there’s alot that bothers me about it (it’s relation to dance and now that I’ve learned about the more technical side of it the flutzers and the likes really piss me off..) but SH are special like TS are and so I just need to say it.

This post is for anyone else obsessed with SH- I’ve now boarded the ship (that maybe/has departed.. are they gonna keep competing, what’s the story with china are they banned like Russia- I didn’t think so but typical I fall in love with a team after they retire). And for anyone else who isn’t really a FS person and is just here for VM please go watch this team if you want the closest possible thing to TS but more ‘tricks’ (that’s the other thing about pairs I find it hard to connect to coz the elements are more ‘circus-y’. And generally less connection even compared to the most bland of dance couples).

Ok there. I’m a SH Stan. They make me (almost) cry and honestly that there were several times their career nearly derailed just like TS makes me so emotional.

Here’s a RIDICULOUSLY cute moment that’s something like TS would/does 100% do (not in public tho coz the crazies would legit just think T was pregnant with S baby 🙄).

[miss-tc-nova]

The Closing Shift - Vala x Reader

I'm SO SORRY this took so long!!! I have been wracking my brain about this request for WEEKS! I never expected a Vala request to fall into my hands! Honestly, though, I found the right song and then it all kinda hit me. But I hope it's at least a little bit like what you hoped for, anon.

~~~

Premise: Serving a drink to a regular customer before closing

Words: 1,555

Music Inspiration: Still Breathing by Green Day

~~~~~

               Eyes finding the clock, I come to terms with the reality of responsibility. It takes some effort to coerce me from the comfort of my couch, but alas, societal norms dictate that I pretend to be a functioning adult. What a farce.

               Still, I go through the usual routine of pulling on my uniform and scrounging together some pitiful semblance of lunch before heading out the door. It’s much the same when I finally arrive at the homely shop which dares call itself a café. It could actually serve as a storage closet for the unit next door, but I guess they didn’t want to pay for the extra space. With a tiny storage at the back and a miniscule bar at the front, our little place has just enough room to seat some few soulless employees as they wait for their afternoon coffee and ham and cheese croissants before rushing off to their own doldrum lives. C’est la vie.

               The lunch rush comes and goes and my coworker finally clocks out to leave me to my closing shift. Now up to my arms in soapy water and dirty dishes, I hum along to the music from the senile radio in the corner that’s decided not to growl in static all day.

               “Aw, look at you.”

               A soft gasp slips my lips, the glass tumbler making an escape beneath the bubbles. Not entirely eager to test if the water will run red should I reach in, I turn back to the bar.  

               Wire around my heart gives a sharp tug, causing a stutter in my thoughts. There she sits, wearing that all-knowing, demeaning smile, imposing behind sleek glasses. Light shines in long, flowing silver locks like a halo attempting to assuage the mischief her gaze implies.

               But something is off. A hairline cut rests above her eyebrow. A hue of violet mars her soft jawline and a scrape graces her shoulder. In her clothes are tears and stains—a red one on her sleeve leaving me particularly concerned. Even a few strands of hair lie amiss. It’s a wonder I didn’t immediately notice but she certainly isn’t acting any different.

               “Somehow able to make working at a small-time, tedious café look so enjoyable.” Her chin rests atop her hand. “If only you knew the existence outside your small world.”

               This girl—I don’t even know what to say. She’s been a regular of the café for the last few months, always coming in when we’re at our quietest, which usually happens to be when I’m on shift. Clever charm lures me into conversation, often with heckling galore. Though I’ve yet to determine her reason for singling me out, I’d be a liar to deny enjoying her company. Yet, for all her confidence and composure, there’s a hint of something deeper. I’ve never gotten a good look at it, but it feels forbidden so I’ve respected that boundary. Even so, it draws my pity. And I can only assume that it has something to do with her state today.

               I brush off jabs at my naivety. “Are you okay?” I ask, ambling closer. Without missing a beat, my hands fall into line, starting with a mug.

               That subverts her smirk for a second, but only a second. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just a little mishap.”

               “Do you need anything? Like a bandaid or painkillers or something?”

               Her dismissal is light. “No no, I’ll be fine.” Emerald eyes fall to my work, gleaming with hunger. “But I suppose something warm to drink would be nice.”

               Taking her cue, I let a quirk take corner of my mouth. “Oh? Then you’ve certainly come to the right place. And just in time before closing. What’ll you have? Tea? Coffee?”

               Pink lips twist in faux thought. “I don’t know. What do you have on the sweeter side?”

               “A sweet tooth, huh? Well we can mix those up however you like.” I may have embellished pouring the steamed milk a bit to make my point, but her eyes watch with anticipation. “Or we do have juices and milkshakes, but you were looking for something warm, right?”

               “What about hot chocolate?”

               “Hot chocolate?” I reach for the salt and powdered sugar. “Hmm, hot chocolate. No, I don’t think that’s on the menu.”

               “Are you sure?” A slender finger taps at one of the promotional stands. “Says here there’s a special on coffee, tea, and—oh look at that—hot chocolate.”

               “Oooh, that hot chocolate.” Even I can’t contain my smile as I reach for a knife and a fresh bar of white chocolate. “No, you don’t want that. That’s just cocoa powder and hot water. Very bland. Terrible stuff.”

               I never knew I could be so enamored by a simple giggle, but she’s got a grip on that afore mentioned wire.

               “So what kind of hot chocolate would a cocoa aficionado such as yourself recommend?”

               “Aficionado?” Dumping in the chocolate, I give the drink a quick stir. “I think that’s going a bit too far. I simply thought a gorgeous girl like you would be dissatisfied with some cheap chocolate drink.”

               The prettiest shade of pink bleeds across her nose. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

               I let loose a little laughter. A quick flourish of whipped cream and a haphazard sprinkle of the remaining shreds of chocolate top off my creation. With the utmost care, I slide the drink across the counter.

               “For you, I can but humbly offer my best.”

               A thought slithers through my brain at the sight of her first sip, but I shake it away. Instead, the pure, contented smile on those rosy lips as she hums warms my heart. Unlike most clients, who just come for the caffeine fix or quick breakfast, she truly enjoys what I’ve done.

               “Humble seems an ill-suited adjective for something so delightful.” To be praised by her precious words has my pride swelling. “But unlike your ‘bland’ hot chocolate, I know this isn’t on the menu.” She’s got me. “So how did you come up with this?”

               Taking a second to compose my stray thoughts, I give my response some consideration. “Someone taught me when I was little. I used to make these on days when I felt like nothing was right. It never fixed my problems, but at least I knew I still had one small happiness in this world.”

               For once, all deviance leaves her expression and though her eyes are on the sinking remnants of cream, her thoughts are far away. Something I said connected and I’m worried which part that might be.

               My palm rests atop her hand. “Hey.”

               She snaps back to this realm, her eyes finding mine. Lightning traces my spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake as I gaze into her glittering, green eyes.

               I dare not raise above a whisper. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

               That flash of vulnerability vanishes though her smile isn’t quite so honest. “I’m still breathing.”

               “Huh?”

               A hand behind my head nearly drags me across the counter. My special mix of hot chocolate never tasted as good as it does on her lips. The velvet feel has me grasping for every bit I can get, but her coy movements string my heart along like a fox and its prey. Slowly but surely, she’s dragging me under and drowning me with everything I crave. Euphoria floods my lungs, stranding my brain in blissful haze. Whatever she asks is hers, as long as I can get just one more hit.  

               Content in my demise, the end comes as a bitter blow, leaving me a hapless wreck wanting more. Soft, genuine happiness fills her expression. But even as her hands cup my face with so much adoration, I can only see just how weak she is in this moment.

               “I used to pity you for your secluded little life. Now I know that ignorance is bliss and I almost envy you. But more than that, I admire you.” Her thumbs trace gentle circles against my skin. “Thank you, for giving me what I needed.”

               A single tear slips along her face. Then a light kiss presses against my forehead and she sets me free.

               Lost in the chaos of the events, I stand straight. By this time, there are no traces of the weakness she bore, but I know now. The wire in my chest tightens as she gives me her signature smirk.

               “So, what do I owe you?”

               Words don’t immediately present themselves. My thoughts are still racing to sort themselves out. I never knew just how much these short, simple encounters meant to me until she laid everything out on the table and then swept it under the rug—like be exposed to the secrets of the universe and then having to pretend it never happened.

               My head shakes. “It’s on the house.”

               “You sure?”

               The answer rasps in my mouth. “Yeah.”

               “I appreciate it.”

               I watch her stand, straightening her clothes. Just as she starts to turn, she pauses.

               “I’m Vala, by the way.”

               My own voice suddenly feels so foreign, but I give her my name.

               Her eyes light up as if I’ve given her another treat.

               “It’s nice to meet you.” A hand rises to bid goodbye. “I’ll see you around.”

               But I never did see her again.

[inun4ki]

死/// Headcanon.!!

✾ Goofyness!

I wanted to make a proper post about his goofier quirks, as I feel my penchant for the sad stuff has likely brought up some misconceptions about Kaede. To start with, he's not whiny or aggressive and tends to deal with what's bothering him in private, strictly. He's very much the type to lick his wounds when there isn't anyone around - brave face, stoic, half-hearted jokes type, in the end, because he doesn't want to bring anyone else down.

So, here are some of the goofier things about him!

✾ Writing Letters

He's a big fan of letter-writing as it feels more personal to him. He tends to get distracted in the middle and will end up calligraphically sketching a hydrangea, spider lily, other such flowers, or Muushi in the margins. On occasion, he'll just outright sign his letters with little drawings of Muushi. He only signs his name when it's a formal letter.

✾ Chocolate

Kaede loves chocolate - all kinds - despite not having much of a sweet tooth. He loves chocolate so much, honestly, if you got him some for an apology, he'd probably forgive you right away. But if you tried to nab his last one, he'd throw down in a heartbeat.

✾ Hup, Hup!

Everyone's gotta have a little sense of whimsy in their lives, right? Why not quietly pretend he's Mario when he's jumping around, trying to balance on things, lifting, climbing, etc.? He gets a kick out of it; It's highly amusing to him, in the same vein as singing to the tune of the Wii song.

✾ Shoes & Spa

He turns into a little bit of a baby when it comes to feet in general. He thinks most shoes are hideous and uncomfortable - that's the biggest reason why he doesn't wear them himself. Feet, icky. Shoes, icky. To mitigate the calluses he gets from hobbit feet, he takes meticulous care of his feet, frequenting a spa before and after missions. Pedicures - he loves 'em.

✾ Sharing

Surprisingly, he actually doesn't mind sharing food or drinks ( or even clothes), but beware - he will take a sip or bite out of whatever you've got next time (with friends and the like). A big chomp! moment, for sure, with a shit-eating grin to go along with it.

✾ Music

He listens a mix of metal, indie, r&b, and Japanese funk. On occasion, he'll play the piano while he's listening - he's got a good ear for it. But for the most part, if he's listening to music, it's because he's cleaning, bumpin' like somebody's mom in the 90s.

✾ Taunts & Quips

Less goofy, but he does have a tendency to taunt both friend and foe for his own amusement. His taunts are completely terrible (or corny as hell), and that's the only reason they could ever be funny, and he can't always pull a good quip out of his ass - I'm serious, his delivery is awful. It's hilarious. It's better if he just sticks with the usual 'how dare you' because the rest is just embarrassing unu

✾ Speaking of Embarrassment...

Boy gets all red in the face so easily, like you wouldn't believe. It never takes much. You just gotta find the sweet spot at just the right time and he'll never recover. It's like a QTE. 'Press O to Decimate Kaede's Composure' with an 'L' in the chat to go with it. And it doesn't matter, even, what it is that you do.

✾ Laughing

So, I hate to do this to him, but he has a goofy ass laugh. A genuine laugh, but still goofy as hell. He sounds a bit like a wheezing alleycat. His voice cracks and fluctuates a bit, and is usually low in volume. I'd say it's one of those laughs that make you go, 'Omg are you okay?' and they're just...dying, of laughter lol. He'll normally just keep himself at a good chuckle so as not to risk sounding Undignified when he's actually amused by something. He does not want to be embarrassed.

✾ Bubble Tea

He has a love like no other for bubble tea. In fact, he loves it so much, he will pay for you to have some yourself - insist on it, in fact. You get boba, and YOU get boba - everyone gets bobaaaa! That sorta deal. Even if he doesn't like you whatsoever, you'll get a, 'Would you like some? I'm getting you some. Please enjoy.' So polite.

✾ Running Away

So, he's actually more lame for this than anything, but he gets extremely nervous when people he doesn't expect at all seek him out, so he'll scramble to get away. He will go to great lengths not to be percieved by anyone but exactly who he needs to talk to. He's usually caught pretty quick though! And when he is, with a dramatic sigh, he resigns himself to his fate. Kind of a walking trope right here, smh.

✾ Jokes!

He does, in fact, have a sense of humor! Dark jokes, dad jokes, sex jokes, the oddly specific dysfunctional family jokes, inside jokes - please, try to make him laugh. He can't tell a good joke to save his life, but dammit, he'll try! Depending on the joke, he might get flustered, though.

✾ Memes

He is absolutely wise to the internet. He is no fool, and he won't get caught in your trap! A known sufferer of Foot in Mouth Disease, he simply cannot. Nope. Why risk sounding like a reddit post?

✾ Another Dating Tidbit

If he's been got, well, he likes to dress nice for his partners! It might come off as a little strange at first, but he'll dress in fitting outfits and even do his hair (y'know, straighten it, throw it up in a nice ponytail or braid, etc. maybe it's maybelline, u kno? u kno). He considers dates to be worth getting a little dressed up for, for everyone involved even if it's Not That Serious.

[prettyboykatsuki]

♡  bakugou headcanons that feel like a warm hug ♡

➳wc ;; 1.2k (oh my god. what is wrong w me.) 

➳ a/n ;; or my bakugou brain-rot that never goes away. thanks for being my comfort character, you fucking gremlin. forgive the silly title. 

♡ always makes little adjustments to the environment for you. he’s observant to a fault so if there’s something even a little off and it happens to bother you, he’s trying to work around it. 

♡ good at playing guitar but not good at reading music. he can throw something together if you give him a chance but he’s not good at trying to recreate someone elses memory. he’s not like.. musically gifted either but he likes how guitar sounds 

♡ thinks about getting a lot of piercings in his ear because he thinks they’d look cool but is kind of too nervous? the idea of a needle going through his skin is a ick. when you start dating, he drags you to his appointments lol - won’t admit it but he thinks he looks so hot when he gets them. takes a bunch of selfies <3 

♡ needs to be moving constantly. can’t sit completely still to save his life. when he listens to music, he moves his head. sometimes he just runs his thumb over his fingers. 

♡ really, really bad at talking. not in the sense he can’t communicate (that too) but he just likes listening in conversation. rarely adds his own thing. but when he does - always accidentally says something super meaningful 

♡ enjoys subtle physical touch because it is literally intimate he melts inside. a hand on his forearm or shoulder. your legs over his lap. small things that show how comfortable you are. 

♡ likes being held cause he’s a big ass baby lmfao 

♡ wont admit it but enjoy when you choose pretty or colorful bandages for his cuts he won’t himself but it’s like keeping you in his pocket wherever he goes.  

♡ really needs you to find him attractive dslksjk it’s not that he ever thinks he’s particularly ugly. but he didn’t really assign importance to his appearance at any point in his life, yet now he puts in a scary amount of effort. readjusts his hair so much more, makes sure his clothes fit good. fixes his fuckin’ face lol 

♡ likes chewing gum a lot and always has a pack on him. really proud of how big he can blow bubbles and will be a little sad if you’re unimpressed. 

♡ is overly sentimental about things you’ve made him - especially if it’s something super dumb. you drew him a silly little sketch of him in a frog hat? it’s in his wallet behind his id. freaks out when he thinks he’s lost his wallet 

♡ LOVES phone calls. yes he still hates talking. but the way his face looks when he listens to your voice. eyes half-lidded, shamelessly smiling - it’s so tender and so lovesick. 

♡ terrible first grader hand-writing. he tries to write them for you in the beginning of your relationship (to be romantic or some shit) but they’re so incomprehensible pls. if he focuses on it - it can be legible but most of the time ... yea no. 

♡ doesn’t favor tea or coffee but prefers tea if he has to drink one. 

♡ crazy good at eyeballing measurement. even in baking. once made a perfectly good bread without weighing anything and doesn’t get why that’s so wild. 

♡ has the phone on his text set to be bigger even though his eyes are fine. 

♡ lets you do the layout thing on his iphone and decorate as you please. says he doesn’t care but when he sees you made it hero themed/fit with his aesthetic - he got so red it was so cute. 

♡ hates shopping in store. will still always go with you because the one time you went alone a store clerk hit on you.  

♡ so practical. he started couponing when he was in his early twenties like an old man. checks the news and weather the night before, every night. never misses doctors appointments. 

♡ shit at any form of visual art. drawing, painting etc - cannot do it to save his life. but he tries. his hands shake when he tries to draw hearts for you 

♡ blows the eyelashes off your cheek super gently whenever he notices. he’ll like.. take your face in his hands and blow so softly like he’s gonna hurt you. 

♡ used to agree to make pinky promises with you as a joke. now though? automatically holds his pink out for you to take it. straight up pouts if you don’t. 

♡ you two have a song and when it comes on, he’ll sing it back to you. any other time? any other song? he wont. but he always sings your song even without realizing, just mouths it. 

♡ enjoys when you put your hands under his shirt and just leave them there and hug him like that. skin to skin contact is elite but only from you. 

♡ hamsters adore this man. they just do. 

♡ draws frowny faces on your eggs with hot-sauce 

♡ soul leaves his body when you play with his hair and scratch his scalp. the tension in his neck literally disappears and he just sighs that shit relaxes him like crazy 

♡ the first time he says i love you, you’re tying his tie for his first hero event. you’re telling him to that the color looks good on him and you’re smiling. it honestly it just slips. he went on to win an award that night. 

♡ his favorite memory of the two of you was when you were trying to leave the grocery store one afternoon. it was raining heavy as shit. you pulled him in under your clear umbrella and just stood there. he doesn’t know why but that means a lot to him. 

♡ cares a lot about his dads approval on his work specifically. him and his dad have a really specifc bond and he actually admires him quite a bit. 

♡ nothing makes him cry like “im proud of you”. especially when it’s for something small. it’s just something he didn’t hear enough in a sincere way. 

♡ likes fruit flavored sweets over chocolate (generally needs something to do w his mouth cause it helps him think. bad oral fixation) so he keeps little candies on him 

♡ shit at video games. terrible at them with the exception of mario kart? for some reason. 

♡ always loses his keys 

♡ stutters every!single!time! he tries to compliment you. it’s been YEARS. 

♡ takes a melatonin gummy before bed and always drinks a glass of water 

♡ buys you flowers and keeps them too. like does the upkeep on it and replaces them if the wilt. suggests pressing them to keep them for longer. 

♡ lowkey cries really easily. he just gets overwhelmed w his feelings some times and it makes him cry even if he doesn’t want too. you and the bakusquad are sworn to secrecy over it though 

♡ wears his ring around his neck on a chain bc it’s easier to show off. 

♡ naturally good at doing hair! 

♡ likes sneakers but wears dr. scholl's because he walks a lot and is on his feet for most of the day w his job. just being careful. 

♡ loves u a lot <3 

[jazz-miester]

Let's talk about this like adults.

I am. And I'm pissed. More so at myself than you.

Pairing: N/A

Characters: Y/N. Optimus Prime. Others mentioned in passing.

Reader type: gender neutral human

Song: why'd you only call me when you're high- Arctic monkeys.

Warnings: Angst. Manipulation. Mentions of past abuse.

An: This is a vent. And based on actual things this person has said to me and some of its quoted directly. I thought he was a friend and honestly. I'm a fucking idiot for thinking that. People change a lot in 11 years man.

But ya. This is entirely through text. This person and me.

And maybe this is a lot my fault as well. I accepted the damn compliments even after I told him I didn't want a relationship. Maybe I led him on.

Maybe I'm not as alone as I think I am.

.

It was late at night when the message came. Long after you should have been asleep. A ding! Chimed from your battered phone. It showed a name you haven't seen since you were ten.

:Hi! I know it's been a long time and you've probably have forgotten about me by now. But it's (redacted) From school?

Like a fool you smiled. Curled up a little tighter on the couch with your blanket. Heart pitter pattering with excitement. Old friends meeting! How great was that?

You stayed up for two hours. Talking. Catching up. It was nice. Even as sleep called to you and the sun begins it's rise over the horizon. Truly. It was. Until the next day.

:I had a crush on you. You know that? One of those kiddy, puppy love things.:

God. You just started talking. Was that a weird thing to lead off with? You didn't know.

"Are you alright y/n? Your heart rate has increased. " You glanced up from your phone. Caught Ratchets concerned look. Prime looking from behind him. Digits poised in the air. Normally that meant you were hurting. About to have a week long migraine.

You shook your head. Gave a smile. "It's nothing. Honestly. Just a weird text." Ratchet hummed. You felt more than saw him run another scan.

"Alright then."

June gives you a knowing look.

You type back. Brushed the message off. If you ignored it maybe it wouldn't happen again. And it didn't. At least not for a couple more days anyways.

.

Coffee. Sweet, dark, coffee. The smell surrounding you as you waited for it to finish brewing. Sitting in the counter impatiently as you scrolled through Pinterest. Trying to find some sort of inspiration on what you should draw next.

Your phone dinged. Buzzed in your hand.

:Wyd?:

You wanted to ignore it. Go on with your day. Have your morning in peace. You didn't want to have the dread bubbling in you. Simmering like a pt on the stove. This was your friend. You should be excited.

Right?

:Not much honestly. Making coffee.:

Speaking of which. You pulled your mug down. Black. Old. Had a few chips in it. You've had it since you were fifteen. You're twenty one now.

You two talk. Nothing abnormal. How's it going. Plans. Things that's happen since you've last talked.

Family.

The. He dropped a bomb. No warning. No reason. Nothing leading up to it outside the fact you were talking about parents.

:Ya. They were pretty abusive to me.:

I. You. What?

Your stomach turned and no longer did you want the blueberry muffin you had been so excited for the day before.

Pain pulls at your temples. The start of a headache as you begin to stress. How in the fresh fuck do you answer that? What in the fraggin pits do you say?

_Im sorry you went through that and had shitty parents_?

_Fuck. Hope you weren't tramatized_

You swallow thickly. Stare at your phone. Your hands shake. You take a breath and answer back.

Feel sorry for him .

Tell him it's ok.

Its fine. You're here.

He's forcing you to listen.

You go to work that day uneasy.

.

He texts you again later that day. Not a single word is mentioned about your last conversation. No thanks for listening. No sorry for just. Just venting unannounced.

:Can I tell you something?: You glanced up from your phone. Miko smiles at you from her spot on the couch. Curled up with a large chocolate milkshake and her notebook. Doodling away.

You agreed to watch her so Bulkhead could go on patrol.

: Sure. What do you need to tell me.: Your stomach turns. :As long as I don't end up in a documentary we're good lol.: Something funny. Please let it be something funny.

: I think I have a crush on you. Not one of those kiddy ones either. Like a real one. And you make me so happy. I'm glad I'm able to talked to you again.:

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

"Y/n?" You glanced up at Optimus. Smile. He tilts his head. Studies you. Then goes back to decoding.

You let out a shaking breath. What to say what to say?

: Honestly man if I wasn't so awkward I'd know what to say lol. But I'm glad I was able to make you happy?:

:🥺 lmao I get that. I've been low-key flirting with you this entire time. And now? I'm gonna open up the flirt gate.:

"Shit." Please don't. God please don't all I want is a friend. Optimus glances up at you again. Despite not wanting to you ignore him. Pretend it didn't happen.

After going back and forward with him you go to Miko. Asking her if she did her homework. Looking for some sort of distraction.

.

The next conversation was better. For the most part. He wondered why you weren't talking as much. You explained you get migraines. Man went off about how he was always worried about you. "Even when we were little."

The conversation steered. Talked about x box's and games. About Skyrim and Dragon age. About how you were excited to start playing Halo after your sibling got you back I to it.

It was good. This conversation. You liked this one.

You talked like friends.

.

A couple days later. You're watching YouTube on your phone .

:So I may be getting jumped soon.:

:Gun.:

Your response is immediate. Your stomach whirls. Aches. Dread .

:Because I said it’s not my fault that this guys family in the past were slaves and shit like that. I said that was many years ago. And that my family wasn't slave owners. Like damn.:

Shit shit shit. You spill your coffee. Ice and creamer flowing over your wooden table top. You throw an old towel over the top of it. Cleaning as you typed back.

:If you're really worried you could tell the police?:

:Nah he's to much of a wimp to do anything. And besides. I've had knifes pulled in me before so I'm not worried.:

Not worried? No fucking worried.

You sit down in your chair. Phone landing in a mess of creamer. You lead over. Head between your knees. Try to breathe.

A migraine.

You had a fucking migraine.

.

He didn't get hurt. Thank fuck. Oh thank fucking God. The next day you were still hurting. Calling in to work and letting them know. Telling June to let the Bots and kids know it may be a few days.

Relief.

The two of you talked about games. Halo. Master Chief.

That's all you wanted with him. A friend. Platonic friendship.

Not.

Not everything else.

Was it you fault?

Did. You shake your head. Go on talking.

.

:Hey baby girl want to send pixs back and forth😉:

Your stomach turns. Anger flashes through you. All you fucking wanted was to cook dinner.

June and Jack talk in the living room. Miko and Raf go over homework at you kitchen table. Now stained by coffee.

:This better be a joke cus I will through hands.: Your phone clattered on the countertop. You go back to frying chicken and getting tofu ready for June.

He apologizes. Says his account got hacked. Tells you he changed the password.

Did you overreact? You feel bad. He's your friend. Give him the benefit of the doubt.

You joke with him. Tell him you've seen worse out of Tumblrs Bots. Finish up dinner. Tell June and the others goodnight. Send Miko off with the rest of the apple pie.

:If I ever find out some guys asks you for nudes let’s me know. I’ll fight their asses.: You roll yours eyes. Like it would be his problem or place.

:Assuming I wouldn't first?:

He laughs.

:Okay lol. Shit I’m actually kinda embarrassed to ask this. But what if I asked. I'm not asking for any. Just curious.:

You toss your sponge. Suds scatter to the floor. Anger. And something else you can't place. Guilt? Shame?

God you were overreacting again. Right? That had to be it.

:Hard pass. Not my cup of tea.:

:Ok good. That's the answer I wanna hear.:

What the fuck is that supposed too mean?

He thanks you for letting him know. You try to brush it all off. You two send gifs back and forth.

Then he asks.

And you wanted to scream.

: So. Question.What would you do if I accidentally sent you a pic of my you know what. Lol. What would you do. Laugh at it. Because of how small it is. 😂 because I laugh at it.:

:lol. I wouldn't scare you with it.:

And you ignore him.

.

:Since the weirdness is gone wyd?:

.

:hey.:

:Are you mad at me?:

.

A picture.

:Table for one.:

.

You were talking to Prime. Asking him if he'd be able to help you haul your old truck to the mechanics. Somethings busted in it and you can't figure out what.

Your phone dings.

:I might be getting fired tomorrow.:

You ignore it. Prime arches a brow.

"Should you not answer that? I have heard it is not polite to. What did Miko call it." He looks to the left. Then back. "Ahh. Ghosting. It is not polite to. Ghost. Someone."

You laugh.

"I think this one is unique Prime. I." You look down. Clutch your phone. It dings again.

A picture of a car. The corner of the fender busted. Despite not wanting to. Really. You wanted to make sure he was ok.

You stuck your phone in your back pocket. Turned your full attention on Prime.

"Will you though? I have the hitch for it and everything. If not it's fine. I think Fowler might have a pick up we can use to haul the damn thing." Your heart pitter patters at the look Optimus is giving you.

Intense. Concerned. Optics soft.

"You are stressed." He leans in closer. Helm a hairs breath from where you are standing. He pulls back. "You have been this way since "the weird message." Is something wrong?"

You swallow thickly. You want to tell him everything. Optimus has been your official-unofficial guardian since meeting the Bots.

And Adult you were.

But you were young. Still learning.

"Do. Do you know how to tell if someone truly wants to be your friend. Or if they're just using you to vent. To be a bouncing board for their emotions." You look up at him. You want to cry. "He. He says he likes me but. I just want a friend. Not a relationship."

You look down. Heat flooding your face.

"Y/n. I'd this person truly cares they would take your emotions and feeling into consideration." He bumps you with a finger. "What is wrong? Please. Tell me."

And you did. All the messages. You told him about the calls. Who he used to be to you.

Optimus was holding something back. You could tell. The tires at his legs whirling and spinning like when he was in battle. Vents hissing. Jaw tensed.

"This happened to Elita. Once." You tilt your head.

"Elita? Thats a pretty name." He smiles at this.

"A pretty femme as well." He softens. "She had a friend from her days in the academy. And he contacted her again at some point during the war. Long after me and her had bonded."

Bonded? Like married?

"Elita. Despite everything, and she is a very strong femme in her own right. Determined to do this on my own. But this mech would not take no for an answer. So I delt with it upon her asking." You fold your arms. Lean forward.

"I delt with him." He rumbled out again. "I do not condone violence. You know this. Words before action. Action before aggression. " He leaned close to you again.

"Do not allow this mechling to toy with your emotions. He is attempting to get you to feel sorry for him. To feel guilt for asking about such an intimate thing. Asking that is akin to asking a cybertronian to bare ones spark." Another brush from his finger. A tilt of his helm. "He is far away from here. Cut connections with him y/n. I do not wish to see you come under stress again. Not from a mechling."

You smile. Something lifts from your shoulders. "Thank you Optimus. Truly." You stop. "I hope I can meet this Elita one day. She sounds pretty cool." A soft smile. A far away look.

"I wish you could meet her one day as well. She is important to me. And so are you." He pauses. "Do not hesitate to ask me for help. I will talk with him if you wish me to." You laugh.

"I don't think that will be necessary Prime. But thank you. Truly."

.

Your heart pounds as you block him late at night. One social media then the next. Tik tok. Messenger.

It was late ok.

Your forgot one. And you hardly used t anyways except for the filters.

So. The next morning you got the message.

:Please. Before you block me here hear me out.:

:no. I made my choice. I would have blocked you here as well if I remembered we were mutuals here.:

More talking.

:Please. Let's talk about this like Adults.:

Pissed. Livid. God you were angry.

:I. Am. I'm more pissed at my self than you. I'm disappointed in myself for it going on this long.:

:I'm disappointed in myself to. I shouldn't have said that. I won't do it again. Promise.:

:You shouldn't have done that in the first place.:

Friends don't do that to friends.

More talking.

:Look. At least wait to block me again until after my surgery.:

You wanted to cry.

:No.: You breath in. Look at your tv screen. Master Chief idling as he waited for you to take control again. :Look. I'm a bitch but I. Nt an asshole. I truly hope that your surgery goes well. Ok. Truly I do. But I'm done. With this. With us.:

: Please. Your my only friend. I don't want to lose you.:

You wanted to throw up.

:no. I made my choice. I'm done.:

:Fine. Love you.:

(Redacted has unfriended you)

:Jesus man. :

And you block him.

Curled up in your couch you stare at the tv screen. Watching the landscape of Halo and Master Chief. You wanted to cry. Scream. Something.

Were you wrong for doing this?

Did you over react?

.

:Optimus are you busy?:

:I am not. I am merely helping Ratchet watch the children.:

:Can. Can we go an get ice cream?:

A pause. Then the sound of a ground bridge opening and closing. Then tires crunching over gravel.

He was here.

You walk out and he swings his door open.

"Would you like music?" You sniffle. Nod. Then swallow back the tears. You wouldn't cry. Not over this.

Welcome to the jungle sounds through the speakers and you laugh.

And you know what. That was the best God damn ice cream you ever had.

[hollyhomburg]

Color me pretty

(Bts Little space au)

Summary: When it came to the littles, the caregivers knew there was no better activity than coloring. 

Tags: SFW, implied bts x reader, pure fluff, little space, little! kookie, Little! m/c, Caregivers! bts, 

W/c: 1.5k

A/n: If you don’t like this kind of content please just skip over it and pay it no mind! this is very sweet and fluffy. this can be read alone, but i did use the characters from my other little space ask au titled ‘the peanut butter to my jelly’ it’s linked at the end of the fic!  i wrote this drabble in one sitting! 

- On the nights that Koo and the m/c are non-verbal but still feeling energetic enough to need stimulation the caregivers have a special little ritual that they like to do. 

- it’s something tucked away, always ready to have on hand when they need it, it never fails to calm an overly excited or sugar high little; the blanket made out of a special material that can be washed after it’s doodled on, painted, and made new. 

- On those special days, the caregivers bring around all their ‘messy blankets’ the fort making supplies that no one minds if they get ruined, if koo gets his apple sauce on it or if a sippie mistakenly gets it’s lid taken off. they make a nest in the living room with markers and crayons and they’re allowed to get the blanket as colorful as possible. 

- The blanket is magic in the littles eyes! filled with simple flowers that they can color in as many times as they want! All the laundry fairy (Taehyung) has to do is pop the blanket in the washer and voila! it’s all ready for more coloring! no more marker marks. 

- I just picture her and Koo stretched out on it with half of their stuffed animals for “moral support” while cartoons play in the background coloring to their hearts content. Koo gets a little younger in his headspace sometimes than the m/c though they’re pretty equal in general.

- Eventually koo just gets so small that he forgoes coloring all together, instead busying himself with sucking on the end of a marker. while the m/c just giggles with her tongue hanging out, swinging her feet, the picture of adorable concentration as she struggles to keep her pink marker inside the lines.

- Occasionally one of the caregivers will come in to check on them. And they’d come pet over their heads and koo and the m/c just excitedly gesture to the mess they’ve made! their brains too cottony to make many words other than “flower! made’ pink!!!” koo in his little sing song voice going “flower flower flower~” 

- And whichever caregiver who is on “baby duty” will praise them, today it’s yoongi who takes a second to sit, each of the littles tucked under an arm. yoongi leaning in close and tracing his finger along their pretty lines. “you guys got so far today! almost all of them are filled!” he loves how puffed up both of your chests get at the praise. 

- He can almost tell how far down they were when they first started coloring. on the outside border the flowers are carefully patterned, but the ones just under where you where sitting are full of wilds scribbles. Yoongi reminds himself to take a picture before they wash it, wanting to save a memory of today. 

- “Oh did you make this for us little ones? I bet Joonie’s going to love it you know how much he loves nature! and you even gave each of them little stems.”

- And of course, eventually they find the m/c and koo are asleep in their little puddle of markers. Maybe the m/c has a little bit of purple splotch on her cheek. After they wake them up to put them to bed she whines softly when they clean it off her cheek “oh you poor fussy baby, don’t worry it will only take a second” her cute pout demanding a kiss for every rub.

- Eventually she presses into bed and koo kisses the faintly red spot on her face. his kiss a little wet and open mouthed but so innocent it makes the caregivers bookending them on either side coo. it’s as much of a sorry as koo can articulate right now. his mind feels like marshmellows and stuffed animals, like a too squeezed juice pouch and an empty packet of fruit snacks. totally devoid of big scary thoughts. 

- The caregivers are glad they made the decision to throw out all and every permanent marker in the house after the last little incident when Koo decided that people were a viable canvas. I think their whole house would be full of little doodles from the two littles. When they get big they always blush and say that they don’t need to pin them to every available surface. But the caregivers just shush them because they honestly love their drawings. 

-To the caregivers, their collection of drawings is a representation of the love they have for their two youngest. A mark of a healthy relationship- that they can give love in a way that matters to the two of them. Maybe jimin gets a tattoo of one of their flowers, a little purple one for koo and a pink one for the m/c on his hip at once point. 

- Maybe one day the m/c has what they affectionately call a ‘tiny day’ where she’s small and can’t seem to snap out of it. she tries valiantly, but after that catch her pouting down at her coffee and staring wistfully at her stuffy on the bed they tell her it’s okay. she can be small today and they’ll handle all of the big thoughts. 

- Of course they can’t stay home because they have a track due soon, and alas they are adults, so certain things have to be accounted for. There have been many times that the m/c has had to pretend to be at least a little big in public, luckily for the caregivers their littles are always remarkably well behaved. 

- They treat it as a game, today, bunny is a secret agent and cannot be discovered by anyone, sent to protect the princess. Nothing can happen to her as long as bunny’s there. But no one can see bunny- or else his powers are nullified. It does the trick. They love to see her nodd seriously when Tae weaves the story for her. it makes their heart hurt when they catch her talking to the bunny. “i gots you.” it makes it so hard to seperate from her for the day. 

- Seokjin packs up a day bag and gets her in the comfiest clothes possible and she spends the whole day quietly coloring in the corner of Joonie’s studio with her favorite bunny stuffie in her lap. She’s always careful to tuck him under her blanket and hide him whenever someone comes knocking, pretending to tap away on Namjoon’s tablet, but luckily no one pays her much mind, used to her presence. 

- When the noise and the stimulation gets too much for her namjoon puts her in a pair of noise canceling headphones that play soft nature sounds and pretty soon when he turns around to check on her he finds she’s nodded off in his couch. And he gets up to fix the blanket around her before he goes back to work for a few more hours. 

- She’s still asleep when the others finish up and decide to pry joonie away from work (a feat in itself) and when the others softly knock at the door she gets up, all bleary-eyed and honestly half-asleep rubbing at her eyes with a closed fist. almost tripping in happiness when she sees jungkook. hitting into his chest with a little ooof, almost tripping to get out of her blanket. So excited to see him- her favorite playmate “Koo play now!? koo get tiny!!!??” 

- Already the stress is weighing on Jungkook’s shoulders, his eyes getting all misty when he sees her bunny and the blanket and just wants to regress so bad. He starts to help her clean up the day bag but seokjin and Namjoon ease him away from it.

-  “You’ve got to watch her for us Kookie, can you do that? can you be a good boy?” by now they know how to softly nudge Jungkook into his headspace and it does the trick, lets him have a task before he can truly let go. they end up giggling softly with their foreheads pressed up against each other, telling stupid little jokes that are no doubt from jin and playing with each others hands. 

- On the ride Home, they both hold onto one of bunnies ears in the backseat of their car. Their heads loling by the time they pull into their safe underground parking garage ready for some snuggles and probably a nice relaxing bath for kookie because he hates feeling sweaty from practice when he’s little. He Just wants to sit and play with some bubbles and bath toys while someone runs shampoo through his hair, the soft-smelling kind that's meant for babies.

- Inevitably Koo always looks up from his bubble bath and points at himself and says “baby?” Hobi nods sagely while smoothing his hair into a goofy mohawk, “baby” he agrees.  

- But that’s not exactly true- the better term would be ‘their babies’

~Fin~ 

Please reblog and comment! Likes are nice- but they do little to support content creators! 

(You can find more little space content here)

[formulawonu]

Hi! I have a request for you if you can, can a request based on “champagne problems” by taylor swift where either daniel, lando, lewis or carlos are dating the reader and think it’s time to propose, and they do it in front of their families or the whole grid but the reader says no, and they broke up, and years later they run into each other again and talk. you can choose the ending between fluff or keep it angst.

champagne problems / lewis hamilton

(gif is not mine! credits to the owner)

warnings: angsty :'(

a/n: i fell in love with this request, thank you so much for it. i got immensely sad writing the last few lines of this :/ taylor swift knows what she is doing. i hope my writing did justice to this beautifully sad song <//3 tried doing smth different and wrote in third person/more of lewis' pov. big cheers to lewis getting 100 wins — what an incredible feat!!! hope you guys enjoy this one :D

He thinks he sees her from across the room but an extra glance tells him it’s not her. She wouldn’t show up here. That isn’t her — something he’s had to learn ever since she left his life two years ago. He is here with someone new and she reminds him of the stars that never fail to show up in the night sky every night. She is constant and he doesn’t need to second guess with her. She understands who he is and knows what he thinks. He is genuinely happy. But she is not her.

“I would like to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” He says, looking up at the love of his life from where he is kneeling. They are surrounded by his family and their friends. The most important people in their lives that have become an extension of who they are and know how perfect the two of them are for each other. He planned it all out — the intimate dinner full of all the things she loved. Her favorite food, her favorite people. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Everyone in this room knew it was only a matter of time until they both took the next step forward in the relationship. In this moment, however, he only sees her. That is how it is whenever she is around. It feels like tunnel vision: all roads lead simply to her.

He has always believed that love was unique to different people. He is, no doubt, in love with his current girlfriend and he is so sure of that. She is the calm before and after every storm. He also knows that despite this, a piece of him and the love he is capable of giving will always remain with Y/N. He will never forget how it felt to love her, just as he knows she won’t ever forget loving him.

Something is wrong. All he sees is her and yet she looks terrified. Tears are forming in her eyes and there is an emotion that he can’t quite place yet. It is an emotion he doesn’t see often. “Y/N?” He whispers, trying to read her. At this moment, he doesn’t care that everyone is standing around the both of them. He just wants to make sure she is okay. She looks away from him and looks around the room. He squeezes her hand, trying to get her to just focus on him. He is trying to reassure her that everything is okay. She looks back at him then at the open small box in his other hand. She starts shaking her head, the tears now falling from her eyes. Everything seems to be going wrong.

“I love you, Lewis.” His girlfriend whispers as he sways her back and forth on the makeshift dance floor. It is his friend’s wedding. “I love you more.” He is satisfied with the way his life has turned out. It was difficult the first few months she had left his life and he honestly thought life wouldn’t be okay again. Everything reminded him of her. There were pieces of her in his apartment and pieces of her everywhere he went. Time passed by so slowly as if it wanted him to sink in the emptiness that came when he lost her. But he met her — she made everything bright again and allowed him to see colors in the world that turned grey. She was patient with him. She took the time to understand him and let him find himself again. He is happy. He is in love.

“I- I can’t.” She whispers, still shaking her head. The tears won’t stop falling from her eyes. He understands the emotion in her eyes now. She is overwhelmed. It is regret. He can feel tears building up in his own. Everything begins to spin around the two of them. “Lewis, I… I can’t.” He tries to remain holding her hand, but she forces hers out of his hold. He looks up at her, speechless. There are so many things he wants to tell her. He wants to tell her to forget about everyone around the two of them. He wants to tell her it doesn’t matter how it happens or that they don’t need to get married right away. He would be happy being engaged forever if it meant she would be by his side. He wants to tell her that they could ditch the party and just lock themselves up in their apartment if that was what she wanted. But he doesn’t. He can’t because she is long gone now. She has run outside of the room and has left him in the center of everyone’s gaze. He cannot move. He is stuck on one knee, with his mother’s ring in his hand. Everything feels like it’s in slow motion. The first thing he does is close the box and drop it in his suit pocket. He slowly stands up, refusing to look at anyone else. He doesn’t know how to react or how to be. Everything is wrong.

While he is leading his girlfriend back to their table, something catches his attention in the corner of his eye. He has to blink a couple of times, trying to register that it is actually her. There, standing by the bar, is the girl who had left him two years ago. She is standing on her own, her body language still very familiar to him. She does not want to be seen and is trying to simply be a faceless stranger in the crowd. She would not be here if she didn’t need to, but his friends are her friends too and the bride is a good friend of hers. “That’s her, isn’t it?” His girlfriend says, following his gaze. “She’s beautiful.” He flashes a smile at her, nodding. “Yeah. I didn’t think she was going to be here, actually. None of us have actually seen her since it happened.” “Do you want to say hi to her?” He fully focuses on his girlfriend now, trying to understand if she is challenging him or simply curious. All he sees is genuine questioning. “I think you should speak to her, Lewis.” He is unsure if that is the right decision. He does not know what he wants to say to her anyway. “Go. It will make you feel better, even if you don’t know what to say.” She gently nudges him towards her and he is left reluctantly walking towards the woman he has not spoken to since she left him kneeling.

“Hi.” Words escape the both of them, the casualness of a greeting seeming so unfitting for the two. “Hi.” She replies. “How ironic that we’re seeing each other here.” He offers, trying to break the ice. He is not used to this, the awkwardness enveloping the two of them when once in the past he felt he could talk about absolutely anything with her. She visibly draws back at the reminder of the last time they had seen each other too. “Why are you here, Lewis?” She asks with a smile on her face. She was never the type to beat around the bush, that much he knew. She always went straight to the point, never afraid to hear things she might not want to. Like ripping off a bandaid, she once said. “I honestly don’t know why either.” There was no point in lying to her. He doesn’t know what to say, neither does she, and yet it felt right that he could speak frankly to her about the events of the past. “You look happy,” She starts, looking genuinely pleased for him. “You deserve to be happy.” Two emotions bubble up inside of him, one he has not felt in ages. Frustration and defeat. It is all coming back to him.

“We could’ve been happy too.”

She sighs, refusing to meet his eyes. She is still surveying the room, taking in everyone celebrating the union of two lovers. He did not like that about her; she always knew how to hide her emotions. Better put, he did not like how he could not read her anymore. “I don’t want to fight you, Lewis. I didn’t come here to do that.” She picks up her glass of champagne that she has left on the counter of the bar, sipping at it. “Dom Pérignon.” She adds. The champagne she is drinking is her favorite and it is the same one that everyone was drinking the night it happened. Or should’ve happened. A wry smile forms on his face. “I know you don’t owe me an explanation nor should you have ever felt you owed me a marriage, but I just wish you talked to me about it. That was our thing. We always talked about it.” She finally meets his eyes, studying him.

“I just didn’t have anything to say.”

“How could you have nothing to say?”

“I did not know what to say.”

“Then you should’ve said that.”

“I did not have a reason, Lewis. Is that what you want to hear? When you got down on one knee, a thousand thoughts were in my head and none of them told me to say yes. I’m so sorry and you know I loved you immensely—I still do—but I could not for the life of me come up with a reason to know for sure I wanted to say yes.” Just like ripping off a bandaid.

He does not know what to say and he wants to laugh at how she is still able to leave him speechless after all this time. “Well, I’m sorry you felt that way.” That is all he is able to say in reply. “I’m sorry I couldn’t say yes.” She finally meets his eyes, the familiar gaze of the woman he once swore he would give everything up for. “My mom wants a sorry too.” He finally says after a while, trying to lighten up the mood. “I miss her.” She replies, a small smile forming on her face. His mom absolutely loved her and held a special place in her heart for her. She was just as crestfallen as he was when she saw what had taken place two years ago. “She misses you too. Everyone kind of misses you too. I don’t understand why you had to disappear.” She shakes her head. “It wasn’t me, Lewis. All of this,” She says, gesturing around the grand ballroom. “Is not me.” “Then why are you here?” He doesn’t mean it as an insult, he just wants to know. She frowns at him. “Because Joe and Louise are my good friends, Lew. I wasn’t planning to stay long, though. I just promised Louise I was going to come by and I keep my promises.” He knows she does. He shakes his head at her. “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s nice to see you again, honestly. Nice to know you’re still alive.” “I know you didn’t. But I just don’t know who I am when I’m here. It’s all so….” She pauses, trying to think of the right word. “Intense? Overwhelming? Heavy? I don’t know. It just makes you feel so small.” He nods but he still can’t grasp that she had felt this way all this time. Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did. “Don’t blame yourself, Lewis. I can see you doing that now. It was just me.” There is amusement in her eyes and he can’t understand how she is so candid about all of this. “I just don’t understand how I feel like I didn’t- don’t know who you are. I don’t know where it all went wrong.”

She studies him, noting how the creases in his forehead have formed. Something he always does when he is deep in thought. “Lewis, you knew me better than anyone else in this world and I don’t want you to ever feel like you didn’t. What we shared was good, right? It was brilliant.” She offers him a small smile, a consolation for all that has gone on between them. “I will always love you. I don’t think I need to tell you that. You will always be special to me. But what was screaming at me when you got down on one knee was that whatever was happening… It wasn’t right. And I wouldn’t forgive myself if I ever let you go into something so wholeheartedly with me in it half-heartedly. That wouldn’t be fair to you. You deserve someone who would jump into darkness headfirst with you. I hope she is that for you.” She glances around the room again, probably noticing the eyes of spectators that have now noticed the both of you together again. She is beginning to get conscious. The emotions that were beginning to reveal themselves through her eyes are disappearing once again. She is withdrawing. He nods, trying to internalize everything she has just said.

“I’m sorry I lost you. I know you don't want me to apologize, but I’m sorry we ended like that. There are times I wish you were still in my life and there are times I still think about what it would be like if it was us in this position.” His words hang in the air, the both of them looking around the room. “But I’m doing okay. She’s great - I think you two would get along, actually. I honestly hope you’re doing okay. It sucks that I don’t know what you’re doing. I hope you know that you’re still always welcome to just hang out or whatever. Have a chat to update me on your life, Y/N. Don’t be a stranger.” She nods, smiling at him. She drinks the rest of her champagne before setting the glass back on the bar counter. “That is great to hear, Lewis. I still keep up with your races, you know? A hundred wins, you’ve finally done it. No matter what, I am always going to be proud.” She places a hand on his shoulder, a fleeting squeeze on it, then she drops it. “I’ll try not to be one. But either way, just know I’ll always be rooting for you.” She straightens out her dress then tucks her hair behind her ear. “I’ve gotta go.” She says, looking up at him. He tries to remember how she looks in this moment because he knows he doesn’t know the next time their paths will ever cross again. She is in a floor-length dress and her hair falls in waves just by her shoulders. Her eyes alight with assuredness and confidence, something that he now realizes he barely saw back then. She is happy too. That is all that matters. He nods, giving her a small smile. “Goodbye, Y/N.” She smiles back at him too. “Goodbye, Lewis.” She begins to walk away, not once looking back. Just like how it was two years ago.

“Hey, Y/N.” He calls out to her. She is not far enough for him to draw attention. She turns around, her head tiled to the side. “We almost had it all, didn’t we?” She chuckles and he can feel the sadness in it. She nods, still chuckling. “We really did. Cheers.”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Black

Prompts: After POF, Roman takes over the abandoned color black. He becomes the hated side that Virgil used to be. By most, anyway. Janus and Virgil are concered. Patton chooses to ignore it. Romans room is really cold? and boy is he touch starved - anon

(Sanders sides Prompt) Any one of the sides is touch starved. fluff. (You dont have to do this just thought I might ask) - anon

Hello there!! I just wanna say that I love your work and I think you’re such a talented writer. Idk if this is a weird ask but would you consider writing Roman angst with the song “it’s OK I wouldn’t remember me either” by crywank as like inspiration? Thank you so much <3 -anon

buckel up babes this one's a doozy

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/reference self-harm by way of self-negligence, pretty intense self-hatred and neglect that could verge on suicidal, but NO ONE DIES, everyone's fine at the end, we don't break shit and not fix it in my house

Pairings: it is platonic found family hours

Word Count: 5697

Do you know what no one ever tells you about the color black?

It’s seamless.

There are no cracks, no tears, no imperfections, because everything’s so dark you can’t tell what’s a trick of the light and what isn’t. Everything blends together. At first, second, even third glance, it’s perfect. Pristine, even. It hides absolutely everything. It’s intimidating, honestly, that level of deception. The way it can make anything look like it’s meant to be there, as if to live the colorless and lightless life is all it was ever destined for.

Darkness has always found a way of feeling like home, even to the ones who are afraid of it.

You either die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Roman hadn’t wanted to go to the wedding. He didn’t want to go, but it’s what Patton wanted. It’s what Thomas would’ve wanted. If Roman hadn’t been so loud. But it hurt, it did, when they said that they shouldn’t go to the callback because there was such a slim likelihood of Thomas winning. Because Roman couldn’t win. But Roman wasn’t supposed to be the villain and do something bad so he sent Thomas to the wedding.

Bruises were supposed to be yellow, or green, or purple, not black.

But if he had yellow, green, or purple bruises, he would’ve blamed a yellow, green, or purple Side. And that was bad.

So he hid them, because as he learned, no one was looking for them anyway. Patton cared when he didn’t show up to the video and then he was there and oh, having someone there, even if they only cared a little, was like rainfall in a desert, it was wonderful, Roman would’ve sung if he thought it wouldn’t make everything worse. But Roman was good, so he never complained, and he did his job to the best of his ability.

But what if his job was bad?

But there are two Creativities, a Roman and a Remus. And no one else liked Remus, because Remus was bad and Roman was good. But Remus isn’t bad, he’s just the opposite of Roman. And Roman didn’t want to be Remus because Remus was bad. But Remus isn’t bad.

Creativity isn’t bad.

Bruises aren’t supposed to be black but they can’t be red.

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain but what else do you call someone who laughs at vulnerability, who scorns people’s earnest attempts to help, who single-handedly ruins someone’s life?

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain, but bruises aren’t supposed to cover every inch of his skin unless he deserves it.

His skin burns. It crawls and aches and screams and darkens into bruises. His throat aches from the wordless screams and the horrible things he’s said to everyone. He’s been so selfish, he’s tried to make everything go his way, tried to make it about him, not about Thomas, because everything they do is supposed to help Thomas, help Thomas, that’s what they’re supposed to do, they’re supposed to help Thomas, not themselves, why is he doing this, why is he doing this?

Because he’s the villain.

Roman cries.

What else is he supposed to do?

He cries until the tears grow thick, sluggish, oozing out of his eyes until he can’t see anything but them, until his breath grows thick and his chest heavy. He cries until he has to struggle to open his eyes because of how swollen they are, how globulous the tears have become on the ends of his lashes. He cries until his head splits and his chest wails from the pain he isn’t supposed to have but deserves, deserves every little bit. He cries until his body is consumed by the bruises.

His costume is a straightjacket. He needs it off. The white hurts now, it burns his arms and cuffs his wrists. He doesn’t deserve it so he rips it off. Every seam that he ruins is another bruise. The rips are so loud they burrow into some soft part of his brain and live there. The white is still imperfect because it’s on him.

Only when his costume lies in tatters around him, his sash torn off and thrown away, far away, does the white look pure.

He cries himself to sleep with a smile on his face.

Far, far away, a black hoodie is tugged back into the Conscious Mindscape.

When Roman wakes, his head is full of static.

His lungs inflate and collapse on autopilot, driven by the merciless pump of some distant machine, turning the crank to draw air in and out, in and out.

His hands are numb, fingertips rubbed raw and inflamed from tearing relentlessly at fabric. He turns them slowly and it’s like watching himself in a video game.

His face is cold. He paws at his cheeks and feels sticky residue, etched into his skin. His eyes stick slightly when he blinks and he doesn’t know if that’s just his face or if there’s something else.

He is swathed in black fabric, an old threadbare hoodie that has gone years unloved, untouched, unseen. It’s selfishness that makes him tug it closer, feel a faint bubble of pressure on his screaming body.

He should get up, he should go make sure he hasn’t hurt anyone else with his tantrum again, he should apologize.

But…what would be the point?

Like Patton asked, does there come a point when someone keeps apologizing so much that you just have to admit they’re bad?

Roman isn’t good. Has he ever been?

Something interrupts the pleasant numbness and it shoots from his chest to the soft points at the base of his wrists, making his hands tingle. He decides he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want it. He wants everything to stop.

He’s selfish, they all know that, he’s just going to end up hurting them anyway, so why bother trying to fix it?

Apathy, his tired brain supplies when he lies there, unmoving, on the ground, for hours and hours and hours, unwilling and uncaring to fix things.

But that can’t be right. Roman is here because he cared too much, he did too much, he was too much. How can he now be the epitome of not caring at all?

If only he never cared, if only he wasn’t so attached, if only.

If only he had been Apathy, maybe he wouldn’t have been so hurt.

His pride got him here. His pride, his wants, his his his. He wanted everything and burned down the things that would’ve helped him get there because he couldn’t do it right. He is the villain and villains always have too much pride.

Pride. Apathy.

Prapathy.

Apride.

I’m not Creativity anymore, he thinks to himself as he lies there, still on the floor as his chest aches and his eyes sting and the sticky residue drips down his cheeks onto the bruises. He stares and stares and stares at the wall and a faint part of his mind that exists outside of the static realizes he never did get around to fixing that crack in the baseboard.

Pride, apathy. It doesn’t matter. There’s a much easier word that he can use to describe both of them.

Wrong.

—————————————————————

“I don’t know, Thomas,” Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t think that’s a valid solution either.”

“But it makes sense,” Virgil protests, shoving his hands into his pockets, “all we have to do is not talk to anybody else—“

“But that will hurt their feelings!”

“But we won’t hurt ourselves.”

Janus and Patton look at each other for a moment before Patton sighs and scratches the back of his head.

“I—I don’t know, this…this feels weird.”

“None of us are happy about this, Padre,” Virgil mutters, “but it’s the best solution we’ve got.”

“Real high bar we’re setting there, isn’t it?”

“Listen, Snake Face, if you’ve got a better idea—“

“Virgil, enough.” Logan shakes his head. “We need to keep thinking.”

“We’ve been at this for an hour, Logan,” Thomas says cautiously, “I don’t know what else you think we’re gonna get to.”

“We’ve already passed the optimal point for productivity, yes.”

“Oh, well, we can’t just give up now!” Patton puts his hands on his hips. “I’m sure if we just keep at it for a little longer—“

“You said that half an hour ago, Patton.”

“And I’ll say it again!”

“Because that’s going to make everything go much easier.”

Thomas sighs as the Sides fall back into bickering. Normally, this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary—pretty much all they do is argue back and forth—but Logan’s right. They’ve made almost no progress. He finds himself staring at the TV.

Why is he staring at the TV?

He frowns, tilting his head. It’s literally just his TV. Why is he so fixated on it right now? It’s not like it’s gone anywhere, it’s sitting right where it always is. He stares at it most of the day, why is it so weird that he’s looking at it now?

Wait—

“Guys,” he interrupts, still staring at the thing he’s not supposed to be able to see like this, “where’s Roman?”

The room pauses. Then Logan sighs.

“Oh, of course, that’s why we’ve been having such a hard time coming up with solutions, we don’t have Roman.”

At Virgil’s side-eye, he glances around to see similar looks of disbelief on the other’s faces.

“What?”

“Did you…did you just admit we need Roman?”

“He is Creativity, it makes sense that if we are struggling to be creative, he isn’t here.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.” Virgil shakes his head. “Thought you were admitting he was important or something.”

“Please, his head is big enough as it is.”

Janus hides a snort.

“Why didn’t he show up earlier,” Thomas asks, “he’s normally one of the first of you to get here.”

Virgil shrugs. “I dunno, I haven’t seen that much of him lately.”

“Is he…okay?”

“Who the hell knows, he’s Roman.”

“My guess is he’s been in his room,” Logan says, glancing at Roman’s usual spot, “I haven’t seen him either.”

Thomas doesn’t miss the way Janus and Patton glance at each other. “If you two have information now might be the time to share it.”

“Roman…hasn’t come out of his room,” Patton says after a beat, “not since…”

“Wait, he hasn’t come out since the wedding?”

Janus shakes his head. “I’ve barely seen him open his door.”

“That doesn’t…normally happen, does it?”

“No,” Patton says, “and, uh, he doesn’t normally ignore us either.”

“Ignore you?”

“We’ve tried knocking. It doesn’t work.”

“Perhaps Thomas can summon him,” Logan offers, “you have more power than any of us do, he’d have to answer you.”

“Well, here goes nothing. Creativity!”

Someone pops up in front of the TV.

Someone in a white costume with green embellishments and a mustache.

“Remus?”

Remus glares at them, his Morningstar at his side, his costume white, pristine, and light.

“What the fuck have you done with my brother?”

—————————————————————

It’s been weeks.

The fans have accepted Remus as Creativity. They think that the videos are better than ever. They think this was Thomas’s plan from the beginning.

There is one end card where the Sides are watching a movie and some of them spot a dark figure in the corner. Who could this be? Is this the mysterious orange Side everyone has been waiting for? Is this the Side that’s been hurting Thomas so much?

Zoom and enhance. It’s Virgil’s old hoodie. They’re sitting where Remus used to sit. They’re not staring at the screen, they’re looking at the others. What could this mean?

Someone spots the faint outline of a tiny crown perched atop the figure’s head.

And then, well, then it all makes sense.

There was always one Side that messed up everything, that made everything more complicated. There was always one Side that, if you thought about it, you could trace everything back to. There was always one Side that was told he was making the bad choice and yet, never seemed to learn.

They start to put together timelines, evidence, essay-length meta posts on how of course, this is the plan, why didn’t they see it before? Those that had disliked him from the start crow about how they were right, how everyone doubted them but look who’s laughing now. They point out how he’s become a Dark Side, maybe he was always a Dark Side, and how incredible would that storytelling be? To warn against the pressures of society’s expectations, the idea of good versus bad, or authentic versus forced. How of course, they’re wearing Virgil’s old hoodie because they’re the hated Side now. How they’re not looking at the screen because that’s not what they want, they want to be a part of the famILY.

Vitriolic rants. Accusations. Vent fics. The unsympathetic tag is overflowing.

Because who else could the villain be?

—————————————————————

Roman lives in the cold now.

His fireplace isn’t lit anymore. The door to the Imagination doesn’t work anymore. The blankets on his bed aren’t thick enough anymore. He drifts through a haze where only the emergency systems in his brain are online, where only the awareness needed to sleep, breathe, and move the little bits he needs to move are present.

He doesn’t know that there’s nothing behind the red door anymore, that when Janus and Virgil come to knock on it, worried, or when Remus storms through the Imagination and tries to knock it down by force, there’s nothing for them to find.

He doesn’t know that a new door, a black door, leads from his room to the hallway, far away from any of the other rooms. He doesn’t know that it’s so dark back here that no one would be able to tell there was a door if they didn’t put their nose right up against it.

He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care.

A new kind of ache settles in his bones now. Pain is an old friend, but he’s yet to give suffering a proper handshake.

He misses when he could go and ask someone for help.

He misses when Patton would turn to him without any judgment in his eyes, without any ‘well, you know, kiddo—‘, without any ‘let’s start off with—‘, just the soft words of I’m here, I’ll help you. He misses being able to walk up to Patton’s door and knock on it and know that he would be safe on the other side.

Patton would open the door and soften, his mouth curling up into a small smile as he says hey, kiddo, come in. He would sit Roman down on the bed and press a glass of water into his hands. He would rub his back as he drank, taking the empty glass gently and cupping Roman’s face in his hands. He would ask what’s wrong, sweetheart, what can I do? And Roman would say he just wants a hug, he just wants to not be alone for a bit. And Patton would smile and coo about how Roman was always welcome here, sweetheart, I’m right here, I’ll take care of you. And Roman could fall asleep with his head on Patton’s chest and believe that everything was okay.

He misses when he could walk up to Logan and ask for help and he wouldn’t be scoffed at or turned away, he wouldn’t be looked at suspiciously and asked what he really wanted. He misses when Logan could come to him too and just spend time together.

Logan would knock on his door and ask if you have a moment, would you like to walk with me? And Roman would smile and say, of course, he always has time for Logan, and they could go somewhere in the Imagination and just talk. And Logan would say that’s an interesting idea, I wonder if—and they would walk and talk for hours. And Roman could bustle up to Logan’s door and say I’ve just thought of something, and Logan would open his door and be happy to talk with Roman and it would be okay.

Roman curls up tighter and feels nothing.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Virgil. He wishes they could have bonded over their love of Disney, their want to talk about the things they’re interested in, or even the need to just have someone else in the room with them for a bit. He wishes their relationship wasn’t just spitting barbs at each other, each hoping to hit the bullseye first and knock the other one out of the race. He wishes he could’ve done better.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Janus. He wishes they could’ve done this right, that they could’ve bonded over the want to keep Thomas safe but also have him be himself. He wishes that he hadn’t laughed, hadn’t scorned, hadn’t fallen back on his pride to keep himself safe at the expense of Thomas. He wishes that maybe, just maybe, if he had been a better puppet, then he wouldn’t have been dropped so suddenly.

But as it stands now, more than anything he wishes he could hear them when they say the things they say about him because then he could figure out which bruises were theirs and take comfort in knowing that they still touch him in some way.

The bruises are a constant now. From the online hate to the casual remarks from the others to the way that Patton hasn’t even tried to come find him anymore—he can hear that, you know—he can’t turn over without landing on a new smattering of bruises. The hoodie helps to cushion the blow a little bit.

He misses Remus.

Remus was…

…Remus was everything.

Roman misses his other half. Roman misses his brother. Roman misses his Creativity.

When they were small they would curl around each other as if they could fuse if they focused hard enough. They would wrap their arms around each other so tightly that it would be a pleasant ache when they woke, never minding because they were tighter. Remus was always so warm and Roman hoarded every single bit he could get.

Roman was cruel to push his brother away and now he understands how it feels.

He misses Thomas.

He misses when he was allowed to go and see Thomas. When he could talk to Thomas. When his presence was celebrated or at the very least, tolerated. He misses it. He misses helping.

But he’s helping now, by staying away.

He’s cold.

He’s so cold.

—————————————————————

do you remember what it felt like

to be touched?

press of fingertips against shoulders

bump of a forehead against yours

palms meeting and parting a mere second later

in days gone by

do you remember

warm?

humans thrive off physical contact,

we’re not built to hold each other

at arms’ length.

infants will die

if they aren’t held enough.

and I am so

so

cold

—————————————————————

Something is wrong and even Patton can’t ignore it anymore.

The Sides shuffle uneasily in front of the red door until Remus raises his hand to knock against it.

“Roman?”

Silence.

“Roman, please, please, just—just say something.”

Silence.

“Where the fuck are you, Roman?”

“Don’t yell,” Logan mumbles, “you’ll make him think we’re angry at him.”

Remus takes a deep breath.

“We’re not angry, Ro-bro, we’re just—just please make some noise.”

Silence.

“…we’re coming in, Roman.”

But they can’t. Because as Remus turns the knob on the door, it falls forward. The entire door comes off just to reveal—

A blank wall. With no sign that there was ever a room behind it.

Thomas can hear the scream.

—————————————————————

Roman hears the scream and can’t move. But he can close his eyes and reach out and see what’s going on. After all, he hasn’t done anything, so something must be wrong if someone else is screaming.

He feels something in his chest twist and snap.

“Re?”

Across the Mindscape, Remus’s head jerks up.

“Ro,” he breathes, getting to his feet and rushing off down the hall as the others hurry after him, “Ro!”

“Remus, what’s going on?”

“Why isn’t Roman’s room there anymore?”

“Where are you going?”

They barrel into the hallway and smack into a black door. Logan’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happened.

“Roman’s become a Dark Side,” he says, fingers scrabbling where the door meets the wall, “he’s—he’s really hurt, we have to help—“

“Move, L, I’m gonna break the door down.”

“You’re not gonna do it without me.”

“Roman!”

Roman turns his head to look at the door. Are they…here? The hoodie rasps against his undead skin and he winces. There are still bruises.

“Roman!”

The door shudders its frame. He could open it. He could. He just has to reach out and—

“Ro!”

Remus.

The door unlatches and his brother pours into the room, letting out a wail when he spots Roman in the bed.

Janus hisses as soon as he crosses the threshold, this room is freezing. It feels as if no one’s moved for years inside, as if the heat has been sucked out entirely. His gaze flies to Remus, who’s over on the bed, his hands scrabbling at something in black material.

Roman.

“Oh, little prince,” he whispers, horrified, “no, no, no—“

“We have to get him out,” Logan orders, startling Remus into action as he scoops Roman into his arms, “we have to get him warm. His core temperature is too low.”

“Shower? Bath?”

“No, if we shock his system we could make it worse. Janus, I need your heating pads, Patton, something warm to drink.”

Janus and Patton vanish.

“Virgil, weighted blankets, Remus—“

“I’m here.” As Virgil ducks away as well, Remus helps Logan cradle the limp and freezing form of his brother in their arms as they begin to rush out of that horrible, horrible room. “You thinking bathroom?”

“Get him to Janus’s, that’ll be the safest place.”

“Got it.”

Sure enough, Janus has no objection and sweeps them inside, setting down the heating pads as Patton bustles in with two thermos flasks and a mug. Virgil pops back with thick blankets as they lay the cold form on the ground. Roman’s eyes blink sluggishly as he stares up at Remus.

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Roro, it’s me, I’m right here, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster.”

“What’s…wha’s going on?”

“You’re too cold, Roman,” Logan says gently, “we need to get you warmed up.”

“Oh…”

“It will be easier if we take a few of the layers off,” he explains, still careful to keep his voice low and even as the others scurry around, “is that alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to unzip the hoodie.” Logan works slowly, patiently, stopping when any flicker crosses Roman’s face. “That’s it, you’re doing very well, I’m almost done.”

By the time he’s coaxed the hoodie off of Roman’s shoulders, there’s a little bit of color back in his cheeks.

“Very good, Roman, you did well. Virgil’s brought a few warm blankets and Janus has heating pads for you, do you think you can sit up?”

“Don’t know.”

“That’s alright, you’re doing alright.” Logan glances up at Janus.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, sitting by Roman’s head, “if you can sit up, I can sit behind you and help warm you up, does that sound alright?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, sweetie, we’re going to sit you up now.”

Logan and Janus sit Roman up slowly, only to pause when the long sleeves of his shirt fall down.

“Roman,” Logan asks, trying frantically to keep his voice calm, “are you hurt?”

“Mhm.”

He bites back the fearful response and patiently asks where, how bad, can he see?

“Everywhere.” Roman lifts his arms weakly. “’S all bruises.”

“…can we see?”

“Okay.”

Logan’s hands begin to tremble as he works the shirt over Roman’s head. He wasn’t kidding when he said everywhere.

There’s barely an inch of skin that doesn’t look bruised black and blue. Patton stifles a cry as he drops to his knees next to them, looking at Roman like he’s never seen it this bad before.

Oh, Roman, how did they not know? How could he just ignore him like that?

“Get him covered,” comes Virgil’s voice, “he’s still too cold.”

Janus grabs one of the blankets and wraps it carefully around Roman’s form. It should help distribute whatever pressure they apply so it won’t aggravate his injuries too severely. He takes one heating pad and scoots forward, bracketing Roman’s legs with his own and wrapping one pair of arms around him to press the pad to his chest.

“Can you feel that, sweetie,” he asks softly, “is that too warm?”

“No.”

“Good, good, little prince, you’re being very brave.” He turns away to reach for another and so misses the little shudder that goes through Roman. “Do you think you can handle another if I press it to the back of your neck?”

“Mm.”

“Let’s try, little prince, and if it’s too much, I’ll stop.”

“Okay.”

“Here we go, sweetie—“ Janus presses it carefully to the base of Roman’s skull, just at the edge of the blanket— “there, does that feel okay?”

“Mm.”

“Good, sweetie, you’re doing so well, so good for us, that’s it, you relax now.”

Roman starts to tremble.

“That’s alright,” Logan soothes, “you’re warming up, it means you’re going to shiver a little more, you’re alright, Roman, you’re safe. You’re doing well.”

It certainly doesn’t seem that way once Roman’s breath starts to come in gasps. Virgil nudges Patton out of the way and sits, gently calling Roman’s name until his gaze snaps to Virgil’s.

“Hey, Princey,” Virgil says slowly, “you gotta stay with me now, okay? We’re right here, no one’s angry, nothing’s going to hurt you. Just focus on me.”

He ignores the startled noises when Roman starts to cry thick, black tears.

“Eyes on me, Princey, that’s it, stay here. We’re just gonna sit here and breathe for a moment, okay?” Roman nods and Virgil starts to take big, exaggerated breaths. “Good. That’s it, Princey, you focus on me and you breathe. It’s okay. You’re doing great. Just stay here.”

When the viscous black liquid slows, Virgil reaches out and begins to tuck Roman’s hair back. A moment longer and he pauses, noting how the scratch on Roman’s face is covered in the thick black tears.

“Princey, can I clean your face off for you? You’re doing really well at breathing, I’m proud of you. Can I help you with the rest of it?”

“O-okay.”

There’s a bottle of micellar water and a pack of cotton circles pressed into his hands. He moves in slow, careful strokes, changing out the circles as often as he needs to. A pile of them grows beside him as he works, doing his best to get all the black off of Roman’s face. Roman just cries.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Patton murmurs when Roman’s cry gives way to a wail, “it’s okay, you cry all you need to, we’re not going anywhere, it’ll be alright.”

“We have you, sweetie,” Janus says against Roman’s neck, “we’re here.”

Remus lets out a broken noise.

“Oh, Roman, you didn’t…”

Logan’s head whips sharply around to scold Remus only for his mouth to fall open in shock.

Remus’s costume is bleeding too. The same black that drips down Roman’s face is slowly coloring Remus’s costume again, back to what it normally looks like. Remus’s mouth is agape, staring horrified at Roman.

“Oh, Ro—“

“What’s going on?”

“Check the bruises on his neck,” Remus orders as Janus pulls back the blanket, “are they still there?”

“They’re here, but they’re…lighter, how is that—?”

“Roman is the Ego,” Patton mumbles, “he gets bruised when—when—“

“Oh, shit,” Virgil curses, before quickly hushing Roman’s discontented mumble, “and with all the hate that’s been gunning for him—“

“Oh, sweetheart—“

Roman lets out another sob and the tears run clear.

“The Ego is kept healthy by positive attention,” Logan says softly, scooting closer and rubbing Roman’s shoulder through the blanket, “you’ve been starving, haven’t you?”

“He’s not cold because he’s hypothermic,” Remus blusters, “he’s touch starved.”

“It’s still not safe to introduce him to direct contact all at once,” Logan warns when Patton and Remus look like they want to rip the blanket off, “we have to take it slow.”

“So what do we do?”

Janus just leans down and presses a kiss to Roman’s temple. “You’re so brave, sweetie, you’ve been so strong.”

They watch as Roman’s tears begin to wash away the black.

“We love you, sweetheart, you’re so important to us.”

“Stay with us, Princey, we need you.”

“You’re doing very well, Roman, we’re very proud of you.”

Roman cries, ducking his head into Virgil’s waiting hands as Remus’s costume colors itself black again.

After a long while, when Remus looks like he normally does, Roman shakes his head and looks up at them.

“Where am I,” and he sounds like Roman again, “what’s happened?”

“You were starving, sweetheart,” Patton mumbles, “and we didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“O-oh,” Roman blinks, “is that…is that why I’m so cold?”

“You’re touch starved too,” Virgil adds, “and we, uh, L said it wasn’t a good idea to try and shock you out of it.”

“Try and drink something,” Logan says quickly as Patton reaches for the mug, “you’ve been crying for a while and you’re dehydrated.”

“Is that…hot chocolate?”

“Your favorite, kiddo.”

Remus sits down at Roman’s side as he drinks, staring at him like he’s not seen him in ages. Which, well, none of them have, really.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Roman repeats, looking sheepishly at all of them, “I, uh, well, the last video I messed up a lot. I, uh, I shouldn’t have laughed at your name, Jan—where are you?”

“Right here,” Janus mumbles, giving him a gentle squeeze, “and you’re forgiven.”

“Oh. Uh, that was easy…are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Yes, it wasn’t great of you to do, but I’m not exactly blameless either and…”

He squeezes him again.

“…you’ve been hurting enough.”

“Logan, you too, I—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Roman, but I agree. It’s alright.”

“Why are you all forgiving me so fast?”

“Because,” Remus mumbles, cupping Roman’s head and resting their foreheads together, “this happened.”

They all watch as Roman shudders as Remus shows him what happened.

“Oh—oh—I—oh no—“

“It’s over now, sweetie,” Janus reassures, “we’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

“C-can I have a hug?”

“Of course, honey, come here—“

“Let’s get the blanket out of the way, L, is he—“

“It should be safe now, yes.”

“Remus, I—oof!”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“It’s still—I’m still—“

“Patton, grab that end of the blanket.”

“This one?”

“That’s it, yes.”

The Sides end up swaddled in the blanket, their heads poking out, as each of them pulls a little bit of Roman into their arms to warm up. Janus and Remus wrap around his upper body, mindful of the few bruises that haven’t been healed yet. His legs are in Patton’s lap, as Logan and Virgil each hold on to his hands. The poor thing is still shivering, still shaking, still a little overwhelmed.

But Janus coos into his ear as his head lolls back, Remus holding him tightly. Logan’s thumb strokes over his palm as Virgil lets him squeeze as tight as he needs to. Patton makes sure he’s off the cold tile and he’s warm.

They’re going to have to work out what to do about the fans, about the videos, but right now they need to worry about Roman.

Speaking of Roman—

“I—I need to apologize to Thomas.”

A cry goes up as he says so, Patton reaching up to pat his knee. “You don’t have to do that right now, sweetheart, rest, it’s okay—“

“I won’t—he won’t be able to rest until he knows what’s happened.”

As if he can hear them, they feel the familiar tug of one of them being summoned. A quick glance around shows that if one of them is going, all of them are, so they appear on the floor of the living room, swaddled in the blanket.

Thomas’s mouth drops open and he rushes to their side.

“I was gonna ask if you found Roman, but I—Roman, buddy, are you okay?”

“I…I don’t know,” Roman mumbles, “but I’m sorry.”

“For what, buddy?”

As Roman begins to apologize, for being away, for hurting Thomas, for being selfish, Thomas just shakes his head.

“No, buddy, that’s not all on you. You—yeah, okay, some things happened, but it’s not entirely your fault. You don’t need to think of it like that.”

“Well said,” Logan mutters, “now help us get Roman to rest.”

“So what Disney movie are we watching and how many pillows do we need?”

A lot, as it turns out, is the answer. And they have to bite back laughs at the way Thomas makes a noise when he’s swept into the blanket too. But Thomas is warm and Roman is still cold and the movie plays on the screen.

“Hey, Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my hero.”

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if you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

[thefanficmonster]

Phone Call Anxiety

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When wanting to make quality merch, one needs a quality team there to produce and work on quality ideas. Great minds think alike. Great eyes see alike and great hands make alike - the three keys to the formula of creating a clothing line that will be fashionable and up to his brand. Luckily, Corpse knows just who to call.

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your wonderful request, I absolutely loved the idea! Sorry you’ve had to wait for it to be turned into a fic for so long, but I still hope you come across it and give it a read in which case I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

He’s not a fan of phone calls. Anyone who knows him even remotely is very well informed on Corpse’s distaste for phone calls and upholding a conversation over the phone. He’d even go as far as to say talking to a person face to face is less stressful for him than that previous option.

But still, seeing as how the person he’s trying to reach lives in a different state and is rather busy all the time, arranging an IRL meeting is basically impossible at the moment, and sending her a text results in running the risk of having the text overlooked or completely lost in the sea of notifications she probably gets on the daily.

Therefore, a phone call was his only proper way of reaching her. And it’s what’s got him pacing the room with his nervousness peaking.  He doesn’t know anything about this girl, nothing concrete at least. He was referred to her by Jack who brought her up in their passing conversation when Corpse mentioned how paranoid he was regarding his upcoming merch project. He specifically stated he doesn’t want anything basic and he wants the clothes to be fashionable, suitable for anyone no matter the age or gender and to be endurable. With all the love he has for his fans, he doesn’t want to give them anything less than what they deserve - the best.

“My friend’s the person you’re looking for.“ Jack said enthusiastically and confidently, “She helped me design the latest merch line I put out and I’ve never been more satisfied with my own merch. I’m planning on offering her a position in Cloak for her birthday. Make sure not to let that one slip out if you give her a call though.“ He warned half-jokingly. 

Bottom line, with that kind of intro, Corpse couldn’t help but let his interest be piqued. And so, he asked for this girl - Y/N’s contact info from Jack before he went to surf through her social media where she thankfully posted plenty of pictures of her creations, never failing to mention specifications in the caption of each picture so the viewers would get the perfect and most detailed idea of how high the standard for her work is.

And so he’s finally managed to talk himself into dialing her number that’s been sitting in his phone for weeks now. As he paces his living room, his nerves chewing him out like a dog would with a toy, listening to the ear piercing ring of the dial waiting to get picked up by the girl he’s trying to reach. 

Just then, Corpse’s head turns so that his eyes meet the glowing red numbers on his digital clock on his desk and he damn near hangs up the call right away - it’s half an hour past midnight. Fast as lightning, he removes the phone from his ear, his thumb flying over to press the red ‘end call’ button. Just then, a faint ‘hello’ reaches his ears, coming from the phone’s speaker. She’s answered the call.

He hurries to put the phone back up to his ear.

“Hey, sorry for taking so long to pick up, I ought to clean my desk eventually cause my phone was literally BURIED under a pile of papers.“ A cheerful sing-song voice rattles his stale and sleep deprived consciousness, as if awakening him from a half-dream state. “You’re either a wrong number caller or a last minute client, aren’t you? Need something done urgently?“

Corpse is taken the hell aback by her strong and downright awing first impression. Not to mention her energy at an hour unsuitable for calls. Lord knows he wouldn’t have picked up if her were in her spot. With the intention of not wasting any more of her time than necessary, he hurries to explain his situation. “Y/N, right? Um no, I’m neither actually. I was told about you by a friend, he said you were a real miracle-doer with fashion design.” He trails off for a second, not completely sure of how to hold this conversation, “Uh, sorry for the odd timed call, I lost track of time. I’ve been meaning to call you for hours now but I...I was nervous.” He cringes the second the word leaves his lips, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He doesn’t know why he wants to leave her with a great, better than realistic impression of himself but he does and as of now he deems his attempts as ultimate failures.

He hears her giggle from her end, rifling through what sounds to be papers, “Yeah, I’m her. And boy is it refreshing to get someone who’s calling with an actual purpose.” She sighs as if a weight’s been lifted off her shoulders, “And don’t worry about the phone call anxiety. Makes two of us, to be honest.”

This catches him off-guard. The last thing he’d expect is for this girl to have phone call anxiety. In fact, she appears to be a natural, God-given talent at carrying conversations and upholding chit-chat with people. Maybe he’s a little too quick to judge - probably, considering he’s ‘known’ her for less than five minutes and knows nothing but her occupation, her name and the state she lives in - but that bubbly persona she greeted him with gave off the impression that it’s immune to any and all kinds of social anxiety - or anxiety in general. To hear such an honest and counter-to-assumptions confession on her part rattles him a tiny bit. In a good way though.

“How does that work for you? Isn’t your whole job depending on your phone conversational skills?“ He doesn’t mind that he didn’t phrase that too perfectly or that he straight up blurted it out. He knows he’ll be understood. She’s obviously a person who understands. Not just something specific, but everything. She simply understands. How he drew this conclusion and how accurate it is, he may not know until further notice.

“Well...“ she sighs as if genuinely looking to give him a proper answer, “You see, after doing it for so long and having been caught off guard quite a few times with some absolutely absurd orders, I’ve grown prepared of literally ANYTHING and I have a line prepared for anything the caller has to say. I just no longer let them catch me off guard and it’s fine. Helps avoid any possible awkward silences.“

Corpse’s eyebrows shoot up, her explanation only raising more questions rather than providing answers. But he’s not gonna be the annoying dumbass asking those questions at close to 1AM and bugging her. After all, if she agrees to this partnership, they’ll be hearing and potentially seeing a lot more of each other soon. “Impressive, honestly. You’re gonna need to teach me sometime.“ He’s unaware he’s smiling until he catches his reflection in the window. However, he doesn’t bother hiding it. This conversation is actually making him feel good, serving as a reminder that he’s not the only one who periodically goes through turmoil over small things. 

She giggles again, this time the sound manages to draw a blush out of him, coating his cheeks, “I’d typically stray for revealing my secrets to professional success, but I’m willing to make an exception for you...” she pauses for a second as though she’s just now remembered something, “Oh shoot, I don’t even know your name.”

He wheezes out a nervous laugh, realizing he never introduced him, “Oh yeah, sorry, that’s my bad. My name’s Corpse, nice to meet ya.”

“Nice to meet you too, Corpse.“ Y/N replies, sounding pleased but teasing simultaneously, “Now tell me, you didn’t call me about my phone call secrets, did you? What may be the real purpose of your call?“

Oh shoot, he himself almost forgot what he was calling for. Luckily, the reference designs displayed on his computer screen remind him. “Right, well, I’ve been thinking of launching a new merch line either this month or the next, depending on how long the procedure will take, and I needed someone great on my team to make some merch actually worth the money people are paying for it. And, as I said, I was told you were in that ‘someone great’ category.”

“Told by who, if you don’t mind me asking?“ She briefly cuts him off, her voice now giving away the fact that she’s half-absent-minded in this conversation, added evidence be the ruffling of more papers on her end.

“Jack. I mean, Sean. You know, Jacksepticeye.“ Corpse explains, contemplating whether he should’ve ratted Jack out like that. Hearing the sound of delight Y/N lets out eases his worries ASAP though.

“Oh Gosh, I haven’t seen that cutie in so long! He’s like a brother to me so a friend of Jack’s is a friend of min-“ this time she cuts herself off so abruptly Corpse thought the line was cut or she hung up on him. She doesn’t let him wonder for long though, “Wait, wait, wait....Merch? And you’re friends with Jack?“ She pauses for a second once again, once again not a long enough second for Corpse to speak up. “You’re a famous YouTuber, aren’t you?“

He was completely unaware of the fact Y/N hadn’t realized he was someone famous yet. In fact, he didn’t think of it because he thought it wouldn’t be a big deal to her considering she’s friends with Jack-fucking-septiceye! In his mind, his ranking is far lower than Jack’s - despite that mindset being absurd - so the last thing he expected was for her to have some sort of impressed reaction to have been talking to him on the phone this whole time. Hell, she doesn’t even know his full YouTube name or what kind of content he produces.

“WAIT!“ She shouts urgently, startling him a tiny bit, “You’re Corpse Husband, aren’t you? Oh my God, yes you are, how didn’t I put it together sooner? Ah crap, I really need more coffee for this.“

“No! No, you need more sleep.“ Corpse hurries to correct her but is very clearly ignored or overlapped with the many sounds that are coming from her end, “What are you doing?“

“You’re getting the first rough sketch of a design by tomorrow morning.“ She says, taking a sip of whatever beverage she’s acquired for the purpose of keeping her awake, “You go ahead and get some sleep, I know exactly what I’m doing. Don’t worry about it.“

“I’m not worried about the design.“ He hurries to say before she, God forbid, hangs up on him, “It’s 1AM, woman, you need sleep! I don’t need those designs done by tomorrow. Hell, I don’t even need them this week!“

“You don’t, but I do.“ Y/N says, sounding almost breathless because of what seems to be overwhelming excitement, “You don’t get it - I’m designing merch for Corpse fucking Husband! You have any idea how crazy that is?“

“I personally would say it’s underwhelming. I mean, I’m no Pewdiepie, after all.“ He says, now sat at his desk with his free hand rubbing his temple as he stares at the designs he’s pulled up on his screen, ones he probably won’t need given that he’s now working with a professional.

“Oh, shut it.“ She chuckles, ��Shut it and get some sleep, ok? I’ll talk to you in the morning.“

“Noooo...“ He leisurely stretches the word, “Tell me, Y/N, do you have Discord?” She clicks her tongue instantly, giving him a signal that the question he’s asked is bordering into the territory of ridiculous. He playfully rolls his eyes, “Alright then, lemme find you. If we’re partnering up on this, we’re both staying up.”

“You know you can just straight up tell me you don’t fully trust me with this? Like, I won’t be offended, I get it.“ She murmurs in-thought, the sound of clicking evident on her end. 

“You know you can just straight up tell me you don’t want me bothering you and want me to leave you alone?“ He mimics her statement, smirking to himself as he pulls up Discord, knowing he’s already won.

She huffs and tells him her Discord info, quickly adding a small comment, “...but only because great minds think alike. I know we’ll be getting along on this design pretty nicely.”

“Yeah, yeah, right, sure, whatever you say.“ He laughs, “Accept my friend request and let’s drop this phone call.“

“Hey! - um, before we do that, I just wanna say a quick thank you.“ Y/N murmurs quietly, as if half-hoping he doesn’t hear her.

“For what?“ Corpse asks, his brows furrowing, unsure if they’re on the same page about this gratitude.

“For never once triggering my phone call anxiety.“ She admits, “I mean, I know I said I have lines prepared for every conversation scenario possible, but you totally caught me off-guard.“ She giggles a tiny bit, now sounding dangerously close to nervous, “But, not in a bad way, if that makes sense. Sorry if it doesn’t, I need more coffee.“

“No, no, it does!“ He hurries to reassure her, “It really does. And thank you too. Thank you for, you know, tolerating my BS at this hour. God knows I would’ve ignored your call if our roles were reversed.“

He hears her scoff and can’t help but laugh, “Huh ok, I see.“ She says, sounding greatly triggered and mock-pissed at his confession, “I’ll make sure to think of that next time you call me after midnight. Or at all, ever.“

Laughing his butt off, the only thing Corpse can think of in this moment is:

Damn, this girl and I are gonna get along

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[randowriters]

Nicknames

D&F: Hi! We've been working a list of content and it's all done! This is the first of four fics!

Nicknames are used to signify close relations between people.

It helps solidify the sense of trust between them, to allow their commodore and all that it represents to feel stronger.

Nicknames can also help make people feel approachable; Someone whose friendliness is firm yet welcoming to those willing to interact.

The same can be said with animatronics. Despite programmed personality types and pre-programmed relations, nicknames hold a lot of importance for them. That’s how Freddy feels about nicknames. Every time he uses the nicknames of his friends, it’s his subtle way of letting them know he truly cherishes them as friends. When he uses the nickname “Superstar” to children and certain people, it’s his way of showing he is friendly, he can be trusted, and sometimes to show that he is a friend.

Romantic relationships work the same way with nicknames. Just…a bit more personal.

“Hey, how about we give each other nicknames?”

Freddy and DJ are playing cards, with the music man receiving aid from Map Bot by holding his cards for him. The bear animatronic looks up from his cards. “Nicknames?” He felt a feeling stir within him. The animatronic giant beams, “Yeah, just a little thing between the two of us.” DJ…DJ wants them to have nicknames. Nicknames! Excitement is bubbling inside of the robotic bear at the mere thought of it. The glamrock had always wanted this, so much, ever since the two confessed their feelings for one another!

Yet Freddy didn’t want to overstep any boundaries and he wanted to take things slow with the disc jockey. But now, they’re there! “I…” His eyes sparkle with glee as his ears wiggle like crazy, “Y-yes, of course!” This is great! This is wonderful! This is-

“IT IS YOUR TURN.” reminds the impatient worker bot. It snaps Freddy out of his little world. “Oh! Right!” He said. He looks down at his cards: Two sixes, two threes, and a one. Smiling, he lays them in front of the two animatronics, “Two pairs!” DJ examines it, stares at Map Bot before both stare at the cards they have. He nods, giving the S.T.A.F.F. Bot permission to reveal his deck. “Four of a kind.” The music man grinned.

“Wha…” The orange glamrock stares at the cards. A king of clubs, a king of spades, a king of diamonds, a king of hearts, and a ten. The disc jockey winks, “Guess I win again!” Freddy slumps back, blinking. The animatronic bear had managed to get a few wins in the game of cards but compared to the spider animatronic he was still behind. “Honestly, you are too good at this.” He admitted. DJ puffs up his chest with pride. “It comes naturally.” He tells Freddy. Map Bot raises an eyebrow at that remark. Only she knew how long the robotic spider had been preparing for this game. From constantly playing the online version to playing against other S.T.A.F.F. Bots for practice.

==============

Freddy cannot mess this up! Nicknames…holy crud! He’s been pacing around in his green room for a while now. It seems ridiculous to make such a big deal out of something so simple, but for the glamrock bear it means a lot. This is the next step in their relationship! A way of solidifying that yes-they are a couple-they are a thing!

…AND THE BEAR ANIMATRONIC IS DRAWING BLANKS!

He slumps down on his couch and lays his face into his hands. Why, oh why, is he having a hard time doing this?! The lead singer can memorize the name of every dwarf planet, planet, and asteroids with ease but coming up with a cute name for his boyfriend is like trying to solve the pizzaplex’s money problems! Scratch that, solving that major issue would be far easier than this right now! Freddy lets out a sigh and opens one of his private folders from his interface.

In it is filled with pictures of DJ, and even songs made by him. The robotic bear found himself smiling as he went through the images. The way the music man grins when he sees Freddy, the way he manages to be so gentle to the animatronic bear. All of it gave a sense of safety and love that the lead singer never thought he would ever experience in his life. “And to think…” He stops on one picture of DJ happily putting up a peace sign, “all it took was for me to open up to you.” To talk about his troubles, his emotions, personal things that the glamrock leader was usually too afraid to utter to anyone else. Even something as normal as his own hobby, space. Just thinking about it causes the animatronic bear’s eyebrows to furrow.

Space…

…Space.

His eyes widened. That’s it!

==============

The lead singer wastes no time reaching all the way to Fazcade and entering the DJ Arena. “I figured out a nickname for you!” Freddy cried out. DJ smiles, “So have I!” This is it, the moment of truth! How well the music man accepts the nickname will reveal how good it is! If he doesn’t like this one, then the glamrock bear will simply go back to square one! No pressure!

 “How about you go first?” offers the animatronic giant. It felt like the whole world froze around Freddy. His wide eyes stare up at the disc jockey, “M-m-me?!” DJ nods. “Of course,” He gestures to the glamrock leader, “beauty before size.” The robotic bear’s ears wiggle as he felt his cheeks heat up. “Oh, you…” even with his nervousness, he couldn’t help but be flattered by DJ’s words. Right, it’s now or never. “Okay…um…” Freddy tries to ignore the growing hesitancy within him. He can do this, just tell the music man. The animatronic spider gives him a comforting smile. It gives the orange glamrock the boost he needs to keep going. He claps his hands tightly together to prevent his fingers from fidgeting. “Th…the nickname I chose for you is a bit cheesy, but I feel that it fits you so well…” The robotic bear said. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and says it.

“My Titan.”

Saying it out loud, so calmly, that it felt natural to call DJ that made some of the anxiousness fade. When the glamrock opened his eyes to see the disc jockey’s reaction, he was met with shock. Suddenly, the vanishing nervousness came back in full force. His face turns a deep shade of red that even his face paint is blending with the coloration as he frantically explains, “T-T-Titan is S-Saturn’s largest moon! Though, i-it is the second largest compared to Ganymede!” The lead singer’s hands animate fiercely as he continues, “G-Ganymede sounded awkward to say and p-probably hard to pronounce, so I went with T-Titan instead!”

He wants to run back to his green room and hide under the couch. Freddy messed up, he’s too embarrassed to go on. It really was a bad idea to go with Titan as a nickname, it’s too much! “Wow…” mutters the music man. The orange glamrock couldn’t even look the robotic spider in the eyes, “L-like I said, cheesy.” He blew it, he literally blew it.

“Oh man…that is an amazing nickname.”

The robotc bear opens his eyes. DJ is smitten, his eyes darted away as a dopey grin appears on his face. His hands covered his cheeks as his face flushed red. “You…” Freddy blinks, “y-you do not think it is cheesy?” The giant animatronic shakes his head, “No, it’s incredible!” He chuckles with a hint of nervousness. “Titan sounds grand, important, and strong.” The disc jockey looks down at the stage floor, “And here I am being really cheesy with mine.”

He loves it? He loves it! The animatronic bear feels like he’s on cloud nine. He did it! Though, hearing the uncertainty in the spider animatronic’s voice brought out a sense of confidence in Freddy. “L-let me hear it! I am sure it is fine!” He assured. The music man fidget with his fingers. “Well…” His eyes met the lead singer’s. The sparkle of encouragement dances in the robotic bear’s eyes. The look alone shows how much Freddy is rooting for DJ, despite all of this being something so simple. His lips found themselves forming a warm smile.

“You are like a memorable song to me: pleasing to the audios, yet every pitch and rhythm within it is so defined.” The expression of sincerity as he spoke those words rang true to the bottom of his being, “You are always on my mind and being with you is a moment I can relive those sweet, loving seconds.”

“My…” He chokes. The words halt right in the middle of the robotic spider’s throat. Hesitation starts to rear its ugly head as the animatronic giant struggles to get it out. Not now! DJ can’t bale on this! Just say it from the heart…well, battery core and see if it’s good! He can do this! The music man clears his throat and tries again. “…my…” The rest of the sentence came out to quiet for even the glamrock leader to hear. Freddy’s ears twitch, trying to make out what was said. “I am sorry, I did catch that.” he admitted. DJ’s eyes grew, but he shook it off and took a deep breath.

“M-my…Melody Bear.”

It is now the disc jockey’s turn to be utterly sheepish. Augh, it sounds too cutesy! At first, the giant animatronic thought it would be perfect for someone like the orange glamrock but now it just sounds silly! His eyes glance away as he rubs his neck, “Yeah, it’s incredibly cheesy-” 

“May I hear it again?”

He returns his attention to Freddy, who fiddles with his fingers shyly. The lead singer gazes up at DJ with a loving stare, “My Titan?” Hearing the nickname again sends a surge down the music man’s endoskeleton. “S-sure!” The robotic spider desperately tries not to stumble on his own words, “…My l-little Melody Bear.” Freddy beams. “I love it.” He said. The glamrock leader’s ears wiggle wildly, complimenting the blush on his face to DJ. It gave the animatronic spider a huge sense of relief. Sighing lovingly, he caresses the smaller animatronic’s face with his finger. 

“And I love mine.”