#ive been thinking about the missed pun and also just. wanted soft again with all the angst coming up

[lavenoon]

Everyone remember the hands? Have some more <3

@naffeclipse hands you this <3

[otonymous]

A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part IV (End): Courage, My Love

Description: The final chapter.  The Big Bang 😉  Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: physically aggressive behaviour, ex-boyfriends, angst, size kink, profanity, vaginal fingering and intercourse Word Count: 4237 words (~21 mins of thrills, real talk, fluff and smut) Author’s Notes: To all the lovelies who have been patiently following this story: you’ve made it! 🥳  Welcome to the final chapter in this Shaw saga, where we aim to go out with a massive bang (pun intended 😆).  Once again, thank you all for every like, reblog, and comment I’ve received on this story.  You are all amazing, and I appreciate your support! 💕

As always, tagging the lovely @op-peccatori​ — I hope you enjoyed this story!  I certainly had lots of fun writing this!  Please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, dear readers, and happy reading! 

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Three

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

The quiet is back.

But there is no peace, no relief in the monotony that follows after the man known as Shaw burst into your life like a bolt from the blue, stirring up long forgotten feelings like dead leaves animated by a carefree wind — here one minute, gone the next.

And with each passing day, hope erodes.

Little by little, your heart learns not to race as the clock above the magazine rack approaches 1:30.

It becomes harder to remember the sound purple sneakers made walking through the store.

You stop hoping, wishing, to see a head of lavender hair; that the next person to approach the register would place a cup of Pepsi mixed with Coke on the counter, amber-eyed gaze speaking volumes without uttering a single word.

Days become weeks, and then eventually…

…you stop counting them altogether.

* * *

“You’re looking good.  I see you’re doing well for yourself.”

He reaches for the jade pendant hanging around your neck, eyes flashing with amusement when you hit his hand away with an audible smack.

“What the hell do you want?  Haven’t you already done enough?” You say through grit teeth, steps quickening as you head for the better lit part of the street, trying to outpace the man and silently cursing the fact that returning to the convenience store was no longer an option at this point.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that.  It took a lot of effort to track you down and I waited a very long time for you to get off work.  It’s cold, dark and lonely out here.  Is that any way to treat your boyfriend?  Or friend, at least?”

“ ‘Ex-boyfriend,’ asshole, and you’re no friend of mine, especially not after the way you took my life’s savings and ran.”

“Baby, it wasn’t like that—”

“Oh yeah?!  Did you try telling that to the loan sharks too before they came and trashed my place?  I had to move, Leto, because it wasn’t safe for me anymore, not with the way they kept harassing me and the neighbours asking about your whereabouts.  They even came to my office.  I lost my fucking job.  So don’t come around here and tell me that I’m doing well for myself.”

Breaking into a sprint, your mind races as you try to think of a way to lose your ex, anger and anxiety prickling every nerve in equal measure.  He had ruined your life, singlehandedly taken away everything you had.  And though you had known him once, desperation has a way of making monsters out of men.

And right now, for all you knew, he was desperate and dangerous.

“Please, I just want to talk.  I don’t need much this time, just a little bit to get me through this rough patch.  I’ll pay you back, I swear, just…just STOP FOR A MOMENT!—”

You shriek to feel Leto wrap his hand about your wrist, but before he could tighten his grip, another arm is thrown around your shoulder, pulling you back until you’re pressed up against a hard, muscular chest, staring at a close up of Snoopy riding a skateboard.

“You got business with my girl?”

That voice.  Dangerous and cocksure, yet comforting like nothing else as the muffled words reverberate through the tiny bones of your ear, a prelude to the soothing ba-bump of his heart, rhythm steady and concrete as the ground upon which you stood.

Shaw.

He’s really here.

“Hehe.  Your girl?”  The derision in Leto’s voice makes you sick to your stomach; you can’t help but hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop as he looks Shaw up and down, zeroing in on his old t-shirt.  “Tsk, tsk.  So, not only do you enjoy wearing second hand clothing, you also have the habit of picking up sloppy seconds?”

BOOM!

Deafening thunder rolls moments after a bolt of lightning rends the night sky in two, throwing a jagged spotlight on the fury written on Shaw’s face when he moves just as fast to grab a fistful of Leto’s collar.  The muscles of his forearm bulge as he holds up the entirety of Leto’s bodyweight in one hand, the sky opening in a sudden downpour as your ex struggles in midair, rain dripping almost comically from dangling feet.

And when Shaw brings Leto’s terrified face up close, the ferocity in those amber eyes sends a chill up your spine.

“This is the last time you’ll ever talk to her, see her, even think about her.  Or else I’ll find you and take my sweet time making you wish you were never born, do you understand me?”

Head bobbing in vigorous nods, drops of water fly off the tips of Leto’s rain-slicked hair.  Seemingly satisfied, Shaw tosses him onto the ground at your feet, voice low yet audible as it cuts through the din of the storm when he says, “Beg for her forgiveness.”

The fear in his expression almost palpable, Leto looks between you and Shaw — cowardice etched onto features you had once found so pleasing a lifetime ago.  He prostrates himself onto the wet pavement, voice cracking in between sobs as he yells over the sound of the rain:

“P-please…please forgive me!  I’m a piece of shit!  I’m nothing, I’m garbage!  I…I deserve to go to Hell for what I did to you!  I-I’m so sorry!  Please forgive me!”

Leto reaches out a shaky hand towards your soaked shoes before he remembers Shaw’s warning, but it is too late.  Black combat boots hit the concrete hard within an inch of Leto’s face as Shaw stoops, yanking back a fistful of hair and pulling until your ex is looking up at you like a pitiful supplicant begging for mercy.

“Satisfied?”  Shaw looks to you as if he were asking about something as mundane as the weather.  You nod, suddenly too tired to even speak.  You wanted to wash your hands of Leto, wanted nothing to do with all that had happened since you finished your shift at the convenience store.  All you could do was watch as Leto scrambled away on all fours the moment Shaw loosened his hold, running until he was nothing more than a speck of darkness merging with the night.

The rain is cold, wetness driving against your body to leech even the final bits of warmth from bone.  Your clothes are drenched, heavy as they cling uncomfortably to skin.  But you are too drained to care, lacking the energy to even notice when the dim light of the streetlamp above is blotted out — Shaw holding his leather jacket over your head in the place of an umbrella.

All you are aware of before your vision goes dark is the anxiety in his voice when he calls your name over and over again, how weightless it felt to be carried in the cradle of his arms.  

How much you missed the scent you thought you had learned to forget.

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

“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

You opened your eyes to gaze into irises of warm amber, the situation similar to one you experienced before except for the fact that this time, you were the one lying in bed, staring at a man who sat on its edge, brows knit with concern beneath soft lavender strands.

“If you slept for any longer, I would’ve had to knock on your neighbour’s door.” Shaw chuckles but the sound is hollow, mirthlessness obvious like the blanched knuckles of his tightly clenched fists.

“What…how did we…” You begin, voice raspy as it dies, a sudden sharp pain in your throat making you wince.

And immediately, Shaw is on his feet, rummaging through cupboards in your kitchen until he finds a glass.  You watch him run the tap, fill it to the brim.  Feel the strength of his arm around your back as he holds you up, touch lingering even as you down the water in gulps to chase the discomfort away.

“You passed out not long after your douchebag of an ex ran off with his tail between his legs.  I found your keys in your purse, so I let myself into your apartment — hope you don’t mind.  Although, to be fair, I was also carrying you at the time, so it’s not really breaking and entering.”

Head feeling like it would explode as the events of the evening come rushing back, you turn towards him…slowly…slowly, afraid Shaw might disappear before your eyes should any movement prove too sudden.

Thank him.  Now.  Before he goes away again.

He is close, so close that you can count those long, beautiful lashes; almost feel the minuscule shifts in the air between you every time he blinks — those pupils encroaching onto gold as they expand and pulling you into their depths as they do.

“Why are you doing this?”

He doesn’t flinch at your question, and you can’t bring yourself to be shocked by the discrepancy between what you meant to say and the words actually spilling from your lips.  And as the grey memory of days spent counting the hours of his absence settles like lead in the pit of your stomach, the only thing you knew was that your heart couldn’t survive latching onto this sliver of hope only to have it ripped away again.

All you wanted…was the truth.

“Because I can’t stand to see you sad anymore.”

There is no smirk to stretch across that handsome face, only pain that hurts your heart to see it.  Resignation heavy in his voice, Shaw takes a deep breath before he continues.

“Turns out I’m weak when it comes to you.  Selfish.  I know I’m no good for you; there’s no future with me.  I can’t give you anything, can’t even promise you tomorrow, but…I just can’t stop thinking about you.  Wondering how you are.  Whether you’re eating well, sleeping well.  If you’re safe…happy.

“Tonight wasn’t supposed to happen.  I just wanted to make sure you got home okay, that some asshole wasn’t going to hassle you at work.  But then your ex showed up and when he tried to get fresh with you, well…I couldn’t let that slide.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s wrong with me but…I’m sorry, if I ever made you sad, if I scared you.  I’m sorry for everything.”

His gaze drops to the rip in his jeans, the drip, drip of the leaky faucet the only sound in the ensuing silence of his confession.  That is, until you say,

“I’m sorry too…that you’re such an idiot.”

His head whips up, brows furrowed and mouth slack as if caught in a rare moment of speechlessness.  The shock makes him seem years younger, lending him an air of innocence that you couldn’t help but smile at.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions.  I’m not so naïve that I don’t know what I would be getting into by being with you.  You say you can’t promise me tomorrow, but tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.  All we can ask for — hope for — is the here and now.  

“Love takes courage, as does life.  But a life without love…it’s not much of a life, is it?  So I’m willing to be brave if that’s what it’ll take for us to be together.”

As quickly as they came, the words are gone, leaving you cotton-mouthed and faint as your heart pounds to send the blood rushing to your ears.  That could’ve been the only explanation as to why Shaw’s “I knew there was a reason why I loved you” sounded so muffled you had to ask him to repeat himself.

“Too bad, I only say things once.”

And there it is again: the spark in his eyes, smirk on those lips — igniting the fire you only allowed yourself to feel in dreams of his body on yours, skin to skin like kindling to flame.

“Are you that single-minded about everything?”  You ask, the smile on your face mirroring his as it approaches closer…

“Only when it comes to not letting go of the one I care about.”

…closer…

“Tell me one thing.”  Your voice is barely above a whisper.

…and closer still.

Lips now a hair’s breadth apart, the gentle rhythm of his exhalation blows soft upon your cupid’s bow; a shy request.  Your vision is filled with him, wonderfully awash with colour — lavender, amber, the soft pink of his mouth — and you wished you were the very clothes upon his body; saturated in his intensity, dyed in his hues.

His eyes fixate on your tongue when you wet your lips before asking, “That night, when you were hurt so badly you passed out in my store…why did you still insist on coming in?”

Shaw’s breath catches, hitching in his throat.  You know because you can feel it, the way the warmth stops short on your skin.  And when he speaks, the eyes that hold yours tell you this is no lie.

“Because if it was going to be the last night of my life, I didn’t want to go without seeing your face one more time.”

Love is a funny thing.  Formless, senseless, yet the strongest thing that could bind two strangers.  You hadn’t known Shaw for long, could count the days you spent together on one hand.  And still, entirely without reason, he bled into each and every hour, crept into the darkest corners of your mind to fill your weary heart with a desperation that made it very clear that love was far from done with you.

That right or wrong, the only place you wanted to be was here — held in the arms that wrapped around your body: hot, tight, safe…

…Shaw.

His lips are softer than you ever imagined when he brings his face to yours, plush silk gliding corner to corner to cover your mouth in reverent kisses — one for each night he came into your store, watched over you from afar.  

Your stalwart protector.

You tasted it now, the remnants of cinnamon on his tongue from the gum he was so fond of chewing, intensified by the memory of all the times you wondered about its flavour: pink bubbles popping in his mouth as he coolly dealt with the robber, the night you emptied his pockets as your neighbour stitched him up on your bed.

Shaw tasted sweet.  Far sweeter than you ever imagined.

And when his tongue slides against yours — slow and sure as it explores your mouth with increasing fervour before drawing back just as you clenched around emptiness, yearning for more, the beast within you refuses to abide.

You like the shock that passes over his face when you move, sudden and forceful, to push him onto the mattress beneath you; the artless way Shaw sinks teeth into his bottom lip in response.  You like how he watches as you straddle his hips — gaze earnest and body honest, hardening as you grind undulating circles upon his groin.

But, perhaps most of all, you liked the spark of something wild in those amber eyes, an unpredictability warning that if you weren’t careful, you’d be the one to find yourself pinned to the bed.

Because wasn’t that ultimately the push-and-pull that characterized so much between you and him?  Maddening at times, but always, always binding you to Shaw like some red string of fate.

So you nod when he whispers “May I?”, unable to suppress a moan to finally feel his hands on you: tracing along your jaw, cradling your face…resting the pad of his finger on your lip before pushing past to stroke your tongue.

Every sound he makes pleases; the soft hiss preceding the bob of his Adam’s apple to feel your lips pucker around his finger to suck, pink tongue enticing as it swirls along the length of that digit, drawing it deeper into the hot wetness of your mouth.

You never saw yourself as seductive before, but Shaw made you feel sexy.  Perhaps the impulse stemmed from some primitive desire, an instinctive call to please the man you felt so profoundly for that shame was the farthest thing from your mind when you pulled his hand from your lips to guide it to your breast, only partially aware of how wet you were becoming from his gaze alone — half-lidded and heavy with lust.

The heat of his touch permeates your blouse, white and transparent still in patches from the rain.  You watch his hands as they play: cupping your breasts in a gentle squeeze, thumbs and forefingers catching your nipples to pinch and roll until they stood stiff against the drape of your clothing, the flush of your flesh bold through fabric.

“You’re so beautiful that there are times I think you can’t possibly be real.”

His voice is low, husky.  You let it wash over you, almost frightened by how stupidly happy you become, willing the magic to linger even as his words dissipate amongst the sounds of the night: neon buzzing and the faraway screams of sirens in the distance.

A world apart.

Your hands find the broad expanse of his chest, tracing along muscle before circling the nipples that stood erect against his damp t-shirt.  Each twitch is endearing, every erratic breath he draws to feel your touch making you fall harder.  And when he tries to focus on unbuttoning your blouse while fighting the impulse to tear it clean off your body, the stirring between your legs grows in intensity until he finally pulls the silken panels aside, a quiet gasp escaping his lips to see his necklace nestled between your breasts.

“It really does belong on you.”  

The admiration in his tone is laced with a hint of possessiveness that makes you throb.  Shaw pushes himself to sitting, gathering you onto his lap in one smooth motion as he buries his face in your chest, inhaling deep.  You gasp to feel gentle teeth sink into the flesh of your breasts, Shaw following the chain of precious metal with his lips until it leads to the pendant.  And when his tongue slips out to draw the piece of jade into his mouth, he brings your nipple along with it.

“Oh!…”

The sensation is unlike any you’ve known before, the soft wetness of his pliant tongue a searing contrast with the cool, smooth stone rubbing against the sensitive tip of your breast in equal measure.  You feel his smile on your skin when you fist your hands into lavender hair, spine curving as your legs begin to tremble.

And he had yet to touch you below the waist.

“Your body responds so well to me.  I knew you were a good girl.”  He looks up at you, teasing shamelessly even as he continues to lavish attention on your breasts.

“Just your girl, if you’ll have me,” you say without second thought, long past the point of caring to keep your cards close to your chest.

Something breaks in that expression, the final walls crumbling like dust when Shaw blinks once…twice, revealing eyes that shine with emotion when he replies, “For the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”

* * *

“Hmm!—”

Your moan is muffled, swallowed by Shaw’s greedy lips like he does with every sound of ecstasy that leaks like you do around his cock, buried impossibly deep in your body as it rocks back and forth, back and forth on his muscular thighs…

…doing your best to adjust to his ample size.

He had barely suppressed a chuckle when you first slipped your hand into his jeans, a subtle mix of pride and amusement on his face to see your eyes widen when you couldn’t quite wrap palm and fingers around the entirety of his girth.

And foreplay had only just begun.

“Still doing okay?” Shaw asks, touch tender as he brushes loose strands of hair from your eyes, lips smoothing along the apple of your cheek to feel its pink heat.  “We can go as slow as you want, there’s no rush.  If it’s too much, we can stop—”

“No!  No…I’m okay.  More than okay, I’m great.  Please…please don’t stop…don’t stop…”

Struggling to string words together, your breath comes in disjointed pants as Shaw begin to thrust up — the look on his face effortlessly sensual when he bites his lip to feel you spasm around him, tight wetness yielding in increments to accommodate his body as it broke new ground.

For you had never taken a man of that size, the litheness of Shaw’s muscular body belying the impressive package he’d been hiding in those jeans.  Your jaw ached just to look upon the length of that thick cock, mouth watering as a fresh wave of arousal made you press your thighs tighter together.  The movement didn’t go unnoticed.  Shaw had drawn you to him then — deft fingers dipping low to trace the outline of your swollen folds through moist panties, lavender head bending to kiss its lacy trim.

He took his time preparing you, licking his fingers before he eased them into your pussy — first one, then two…curling deep until the slippery sounds of arousal told him the time was ripe to introduce the third, leaving you blooming for him even as he whispered, “Think you’re ready for me to make you my girl for real?”

It borders on overwhelming, this sensation of fullness — between your legs, within your heart.  And as skin stretched to capacity to accommodate the sweet friction of his slide, you wished there was a way for the euphoria of this connection to last forever:

To the one you could never forget, no matter how hard you tried.

To this man you loved like no other.

“Shaw.”

His name is faint on your breath when he falls back onto the bed, taking you with him.  And as you found yourself straddling his hips once more, the altered angles of your bodies gave him the leverage to make you gasp when he begins to thrust in earnest.  The eroticism of his face, lost in lust, drives all thoughts from your mind as you drop a hand to your clit, fingers drawing tight circles before his hungry eyes.

The violence of your climax takes you by surprise, having no time to consider neighbours and thin walls as the lewdest sounds escape your lips at high volume.  Intense convulsions wracking your body in waves, you clench in time around your lover.  The sensation proves too much to bear, drawing out Shaw’s own release as he pulls out to spill onto the folds of your pussy — swollen and pink and trembling still beneath the coat of his pearlescent seed.

* * *

“I love you.”  

Morning light trickles across your walls like the slow crawl of spidery legs.  Shaw’s words hang in the air between you, a final, sacred moment shared between lovers before the rest of the world wakes.

You loved the hoarseness in his voice; a testament to the hours of noisy lovemaking you had shared in lieu of sleep.

You loved the weight of his hand, stroking softly at the crown of your head.

You loved the rhythm of his heart, echoing just below your ear to confirm his existence.

“I love you too.”

You look up into those amber eyes, trying to discern whether those four little words were sufficient in conveying that fact that you adored every fibre of the man before you.

The smile that graces his face in return is tender, honest…more brilliant than the day breaking in the East.

Your hands find his body, bare beneath the sheets.  And as a curious finger traces along the ridge of the scar that runs in a broad stroke across his sculpted abdomen, your gaze falls on his t-shirt, draped over the back of a chair.

“You should probably throw that Snoopy shirt away, especially after what happened last night.”

Shaw follows your line of sight, chest rising and falling in a deep sigh.  “Shitty as its previous owner was, I could never bring myself to hate something that reminds me of you.  Aside from saving my ass, this was the first gift you ever gave me.  And I never throw away gifts from my girl.”

His girl.

The mystery of life is that filled with unknowns though it is, we continue to live, brave in the face of the uncertainty that comes with every passing day.  You had no idea what fate had in store for you or Shaw, had no way of knowing if your relationship existed on borrowed time.  

The only thing you were certain of was that your feelings for each other were real, that try as you might, neither of you were very good at forgetting the other.  That in this moment, here and now, the only thing that mattered was this love that hit you…

…like a bolt from the blue.

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Thanks so much for reading!  I hope you all enjoyed this Shaw saga! 💖 

Check out more of my work here! 📚 (Please do not repost/copy/alter my work.  Reblogs, on the other hand, are perfectly fine and much appreciated! 💖👍🏼)

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Three

[kryptored]

She’s Shady and Sketchy...(2)

I’m back. I really want to thank everyone for the feedback I received for part 1 of SSaS. The amount of notes I got was phenomenal, I almost couldn't believe it. Really, thank you everyone. 

Now, about part 2 - the typos during the group chat portion are as intended, because it’s not a group chat if no one’s screwing up what they're saying. I know they're supposed to speak French so, the formatting of their words are different, but I'm referencing the use of English in - you all get the point, right? Je ne parle pas français; I’ve only finished the elementary course. I tried to make it look authentic, but we’ll see. Also, a shout-out to @writingishfanonsideblog​ for pointing out the pun (you have no idea how long I was waiting for someone to see that). 

PART 2:...when she goes on and raves

In a room above the Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie

Marinette is severely stressed. At the moment, she is reminding herself that she needs a break from everything – being Ladybug and the new Guardian, keeping up with her commissions, helping out at the bakery, being the class representative, etc. Clearly, it was somewhat working as Adrien could see from his position. He watches the girl lying down on his lap as he treads his fingers through her soft, dark hair. Her eyes are closed in content (kind of), the lines on her forehead slowly melting away. He smiles lopsidedly as he notices her cute nose crinkle and wiggle every few seconds, her lips in a pout as her mind continues to spew thoughts and ideas inside her mind. He reaches out a finger to boop her nose and says, “Hey, I can hear you thinking. You’re supposed to relax.”

Marinette opens her eyes, her brows even more furrowed. “And I told you that I can’t help it.” She tries to swat his hand that hovers over her face. Adrien laughs as he avoids her hand, returning to combing through her hair. She closes her eyes again and tries to go back to her halfway-decent relaxed state that Adrien so often made fun of her for. Oh, did she mention they’ve gotten closer?

To her amazement, Adrien had finally understood the extent of what Lila was doing. It was quite awkward at first, what with how Marinette was struggling to keep her composure in front of the same person she had fallen in love with beyond his looks. Adrien, on the other hand, was starting to realize that Marinette is someone so precious to him that he would do anything to help her, even if it meant he had to grow a backbone or two. It was working, thankfully, and had not backlashed on him. He had started to be less lenient with Lila’s inappropriate approach and invasion of his personal space, to which he made sure to mention to his father. For once, he felt that he was his father’s son because the day after his confession, he had found himself free of Lila’s grasp (literally and metaphorically). She was still modeling for the brand, though (to the disappointment of him and the many staff who found her performance lacking).

That did not mean the same for Marinette, though. He may have finally stood up to Lila, but Marinette was taking the brunt of her anger. Just recently, his friend told him how Lila was being more aggressive in her approaches, to the point where most of the class were starting to treat Marinette at arm’s length. They could clearly see that the class was taking sides, and it wasn’t theirs. Alya and Nino had been at the forefront of convincing him to talk sense into Marinette and giving Lila a chance. For some reason, they forgot how uncomfortable and mortified he felt whenever the latter came close to him without his permission. They weren’t that close, let alone friends. They were working the same job, at most. Physical contact was definitely not acceptable when he says so.

THE GOOD KIDS (11)

It’syagirlALYA: Hey, Lila. good to hear you’re doing fine, girl!

DeLila: I just don’t want to worry everyone.

It’syagirlALYA: It’s okay, don’t worry about it.

rose-pink: that’s right, Lila!

DeLila: anyway, about what I said…

            I just really think that marinette needs to be…

           Controlled.

jabberwocky: controlled? She’s not an animal.

sea-monkey: yeah, it kinda sounds…

                     haarhs

                     hars

                     harsh

DeLila: Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. Im just saying she needs to be stopped.

            She needs to know what it feels like to be bullied.

brainf.Art: Hey, I think destroying her sketchbook is too much. I wouldn’t do the         

                 same if another person, especially an artist, was being mean to me. 

Jules: Nath’s right. If Marinette’s gone that bad, we shouldn’t stoop so low.

rose-pink: We’d be the bullies!

jabberwocky: besides, she already knows what it feels like to be bullied.

                      Remember chloé?

DeLila: Oh, Im not saying we bully her. Just, I dunno, give her a warning?

It’syagirlALYA: How bout this, lila: we try to keep you 2 apart as much as

                       possible.

DeLila: But…what if it doesn’t work? Or I just approach her again to really try be      

            friends with her?

It’syagirlALYA: Look, girl – we’ve known Mari for a long time. Well, more so the 

                       others, but yo get the point.

kneeknow: what Alya means is that you let us handle it for oyu.

sunflower: that way, no one fights anyone.

DeLila: Oh, that’s a nice idea.

sun: Yeah, it is.

DeLila: Anyway, I was wondering if one of you could help me with our math 

           homework? I was just os distracted thinking about the charity Ive been

           doing with Prince Ali on Tuesday that I wanst able to concentrate.

Maximus: I believe I can be of assistance.

DeLila: Thanks, Max! do you think you could send me a copy? It’s just, my mom  

            wants me to attend some very important meetings so, I won’t really have 

            much time.

Maximus: Oh. I suppose so, yes.

DeLila: Great!

It’syagirlALYA: Maybe you should take a break now.

sea-monkey: Sleeep.

Jules: Rest.

DeLila: Um, why?

Am I bothering all of you now?

rose-pink: No!

sunflower: it’s just, you said your head was hurting a while ago and we don’t 

                want to make it come back

rose-pink: or wrse!

                 worse.

sun: yeah

DeLila: Oh! Right.

             I’ll see everyone tomorrow, then?

It’syagirlALYA: Sure.

kneeknow: Yeah.

DeLila: Bye, everyone!

jabberwocky: Yup, bye.

sea-monkey: See ya.

brainf.Art: bey.

                  bye.

sunflower: bye!

sun: bye.

Jules: yeah, bye.

rose-pink: bye-bye!

Maximus: Good-bye.

HOLD THE EFF UP (10)

It’syagirlALYA: I just had a realization.

                         Lila kept claiming she’s Ladybug’s bff, but that kinda sounds iffy

kneeknow: what makes you sya that, Als?

It’syagirlALYA: I never relly got a chance to ask LB herself but…

                         why would someone like lila deliberately tell me, the   

                         LABYBLOGGER

                        That she’s Paris’s superheroine’s bff, knowing that Hawkmoth 

                        could easily use her against LB?!

jabberwocky: holy sh*t, youre right!

sea-monkey: I may not be the smartest, but even I know that’s dumb.

rose-pink: which means Lila is inn danger!

Maximus: as seen during Animan hunting you down.

Sea-monkey: MAX!

                        It wasn’t my best moment, okay?

sunflower: and her family!

Jules: she’s not in danger…

brainf.Art: Juleka!

Jules: let me finish: she’s not in danger, she put herself in danger.

sun: does that mean lila’s not really friends with ladybug?

It’syagirlALYA: guess I’ll have to hunt down LB if we want to find out ourselves.

brainf.Art: what if ladybug deflecting about it is just a tactic to protect her?

Jules: I’ll do you one better: why didn’t lila know better than telling other people 

           something tha could be passed on to HM

           No offence, Alya.

It’syagirlALYA: none taken.

kneeknow: Juleka’s right. It’s one thing when LB pretends she doesn’t know 

                    someone for safety reasons. It’s another when you don’t know who 

                    could possibly be listening or watching the interview and they plan 

                    to do with it.

sun: wasn’t there something on the news about someone claiming to be Chat’s 

        girlfriend who ended up being kidnapped by an akuma as bait?

sea-monkey: ooh! I remememember that!

Maximus: She was heavily reprimanded by Ladybug and Chat Noir, not to 

                 mention her parents for endangering herself.

jabberwocky: hey Alya, weren’t there somepoeple who tried to call her out on 

                       the interview?

It’syagirlALYA: who? The girl ivan was talking about?

jabberwocky: No.

                        I mean Lila.

Maximus: Alix is correct. I seem to recall about 27% of your comment section 

                 filled with doubts and proclamations of disbelief.

It’syagirlALYA: I think this calls for another meeting. But this time, for different 

                        reasons.  

Come tomorrow morning, 10 people in class had a wary look in their eyes. Lila had yet to arrive, but asides from them, Chloé and Sabrina were already seated and talking about whatever it was that had them busy yesterday. Along the front rows, Marinette is seen to be chatting excitedly with Adrien. Now that they think about it, they hadn’t realized when exactly those two got comfortable and closer together (particularly Marinette). After all, it wasn’t much of a secret except for Adrien that the girl had a huge crush on the model. Alya and Nino, mostly, were very confused on how they missed the development on the interaction between their best friends. But before any of them could comment on the newly discovered development, the real person who had been running on their minds had finally arrived.

“Hi, everyone! It’s so good to see you all this wonderful morning.” They never really thought much about it, but Lila always did have this overly sweet tone. It was different compared to Rose’s own way of talking. “I’m glad to announce that nothing too bad came off from my head injury, but I want to also let you know that I got…”

Huh. Not that they didn’t care about the well-being of others, but Lila always did have a way of putting a lot of attention on her. But really, for how long and how much she’d told them, it was too hard to ignore that she always did talk about herself.

“…I could also introduce you guys to…”

Introductions. Hm… well, that was one word they were well acquainted with. There wasn’t one a time they hadn’t heard Lila mention someone new and promise introducing them. it wasn’t that they were using her for her ‘connections,’ but she could at least try to avoid making promises she would suddenly forget about.

Their eyes narrow down on her, following her every move while she is none the wiser of the sudden change of how they see her. Things hadn’t been easy after the short meeting among those in attendance. Doubt had been planted among their minds and initially, none of them knew whether to weed it out or to water it with curiosity. Lila, thinking she has their trust still, goes on and raves of the many things she’s supposedly done.

Lila approaches the one person she knows is her greatest ‘fan,’ Alya, and proceeds to shower her with the many tales she had spun that involved name droppings and not-so-subtle self-praise. She goes on, thinking that all is well, but the others are actually more inclined to observe the same person they once believed at the drop of her hat. They are listening to her words carefully, only this time with more awareness.

TAGS:

@animergirlweeb @sturchling @plsltmesleep @theyellowfeverexperience @rudy-ruby @j-a-n-e--d-o-e @queenmj10 @krispydefendorpolice @the-delta-42

Is that everyone?

[snippychicke]

Aftermath--Three

Chapter Three is here! The last of the set up chapters, after this is mostly just...fluff. 

No warnings, I think. A surprise waits inside, however. 

First | Previous

 Otto had spent most of his adult life working for the commission. A few time jumps to different eras and decades, but mainly staying somewhere in the 1960s since it seemed the more precarious times. Nuclear war liked to develop at the drop of a pin, and even the most well-meaning change could spell Armageddon thanks to trigger-happy Americans and Russians. 

(Though a few times it was the UK and France. And once China, which the rest of the world hadn't realized had nuclear weapons until it was too late.) 

But no matter where or when he was, he was with his brothers. Oscar might have mingled with the civilian population once in a while, but he, like Axel, either had other responsibilities or would rather relax at their temporary home than deal with the locals. 

He wasn't used to civilians and their quiet, dull lives. Granted, Lorelei often had her radio on to break the silence if she were home, and the grainy black and white TV was usually turned to the news. (She also had a habit of chattering while changing the dressings on his eye every morning and every night. Even if half the time her southern drawl made her words hard to understand, her tone and lit were pleasing to listen to.) 

It was still dull, with nothing but the pain to distract him from his thoughts. Losing Oscar had been hard enough, the wound still fresh on his heart. Even now, he expected his younger brother to try and ambush him just to get a reaction out of him. Or hear him trying and failing to sing to the more upbeat music on the radio, stumbling over the English words. 

Then he lost Axel; his last memory of his older brother being of his hands around his neck and Axel's face twisted in both rage and grief of not controlling his actions. Otto found himself praying to some unknown power that Axel was out there, somewhere, carrying on. 

Otto feared if their position had been reversed, he wouldn't be strong enough. He struggled as it was, but the thought of finding Axel gave him strength. Believing his brother was out there gave him the motivation to keep trying to regain his strength. 

And startling Lorelei was becoming decent amusement as well.

"Why are you doing pushups?! Shit, your eye is bleeding again!" (It often did at inconvenient times, leading to her fretting like a mother hen. She wouldn't rest until he allowed her to fuss to her heart's content. )

"Why are all my kitchen knives impaled in the garage wall?" (Relearning to aim with just one eye was becoming a chore. And he gave in to the need to take a break just as she returned from work. She quickly forgot about the knives as soon as she saw he was bleeding, again,  and about five seconds from passing out.) 

"Jesus Mary and Joesph, I swear Otto, you may not be a serial killer, but you definitely have a screw or two loose!" (He swore she hadn't dusted the cobwebs from her ceiling in decades, but considering how small she was compared to him, he couldn't wholly blame her. To his amusement, she tried to steal the feather duster he had found, jumping pathetically to try and reach it as he held it out of reach. It reminded him of Oscar, and then it wasn't quite as amusing.)  

It wasn't that he was getting soft towards her; it was simply that he had a sense of honor. The reverse of an eye for an eye; she had been kind insane enough to help him. The lengths she went to and fussing over him as if she genuinely cared, made him feel indebted to her. He could tell Raymond didn't trust him, giving him a dark look when he visited every day. 

But he couldn't harm her. He had no reason to (and it certianly wasn't because she tried so hard to show him kindness. Like when she tenderly brushed his hair away from his forehad when she feared a fever. Being so careful during dressing changes, her voice soft and soothing, her touch gentle. She quickly picked up on his body language and did her best to distract him when his thoughts got dark.) 

It was nearly two weeks before he was feeling well enough to think about leaving seriously. Two weeks no sign of Axel. He kept an eye on the news for anything bearing his brother's mark, but there was nothing—no trail for him to follow, making him antsy. 

The longer he stayed, the farther Axel was. (He refused to believe there was any other reason. Axel was out there. Somewhere.) 

It felt a bit wrong to leave when Lorelei was at work with nothing more than a note saying thank you on the kitchen counter and assuring the small room was in perfect condition (or as best as could be, considering the old worn everything.)

It took him a while to find the small cat house, feeling like it was halfway across the suburb of south Dallas (or it could have been that he wasn't quite up to strength just yet.) The ragged curtains were still drawn shut; a few of the cats lounging in the windows  enjoying the sun while others relaxed on the small steps thanks to the little cat door Oscar had crudely cut shortly after they had 'moved in.'

The cats welcomed him with plaintive meows, rubbing and threading through his legs. The fact the place smelled like an unclean catbox was enough to confirm Axel was no longer using it as a base. The large bag of dry cat food was spilled across the kitchen and living room, yet the cats were far more interested in him as he searched the small house for any sign of Axel. 

But every trace of their residence had been cleaned away per protocol, with not even the vaguest of hints where Axel's next destination was.

Except, for some reason, his and Oscar's bags were still stuffed in the hallway closet, packed and ready for a quick retreat, just as they had left it. The ache in Otto's chest strengthened at seeing his little brother's pack buried beneath his, the white and black milkman hat sticking out from where Oscar had quickly stuffed it before that last mission. 

Otto could still remember chastening him to take better care of it if he honestly wanted to keep it, and Oscar had groaned he would fold it correctly when they got back. 

Except his little brother didn't return with them that day. 

Only the cats were witness to him, pulling the hat out and falling to his knees as he clutched it to his chest, biting his tongue to trap the scream of agony from escaping. 

                                                        --+--

Lorelei supposed she shouldn't be too surprised when she returned to an empty house. She had noticed a restless shift in Otto for the last few days. The kind she had seen before in others that had stayed with her to recuperate before they too moved on. 

At least he was kind enough to tidy up after himself (was it embarrassing that he was a better housekeeper than her?) And he had even left a piece of paper saying thank you that she pinned to her fridge. 

She knew Raymond would be relieved when he found out he had left. Even though Otto proved he wasn't about to hurt either of them, her soul brother was about as distrustful as could be when it came to him (granted it was somewhat earned.)

But she was going to miss him and his odd antics. Like how he had sat at the kitchen table, all of her knives laid out before him along with an old whetstone he had found somewhere in her junk drawer, and spend probably at least a few hours just sharpening the dulled blades. (Generally, after he used them for target practice.) His determination to find some odd house chore she had slacked on and finish it without so much as a word. 

 He had been silent, but it wasn't the oppressive silence like her father's had been, where she knew he was boiling about something (like her existence). Sure, once in a while, it would be broody or antagonistic when Raymond visited, or something reminded him of something dark in his frankly mysterious past. But otherwise, it had been amicable. 

Even when she was chatty out of nerves or after a particularly stressful day, he hadn't seemed annoyed. Instead, she sometimes would catch a faint smile as she prattled on. Or even a light huff of laughter when she made a joke, and he shook his head slightly because her jokes were usually terrible puns. 

"Oh, I'm an old biddy," she sighed to her comatose patient the next day, setting up another saline flush along with the IV antibiotics. "Here, I keep telling everyone that I'm fine being by myself, yet here I am getting attached to an absolute stranger. I should just get some cats, huh?"

The man was silent, which she expected. The doctors had just been in to check the healing stump of where his leg had been. Which meant the nurse had dosed him with plenty of pain meds just an hour before. Partially to help negate the pain from the procedure itself, but also so he wouldn't try to grab the nearest person as a hostage. 

That encounter still left many of the other nurses hesitant to enter the room. It had been the day after the John Doe had been brought in the emergency room, found by a couple of hunters just outside of town with a traumatic amputation of his left lower leg.

One minute he had been asleep (or assumed) as the doctors discussed treatment plans, and the next, he had jumped up, grabbed one of the nurses, and had a ballpoint pen pressed against her throat while swearing something in an odd language as everyone scrambled. 

What was with white-haired men and being violent? Granted, she had never seen Otto like she had the John Doe, his pale blue eyes wild with both rage and pain. 

Which was why restraints were now strapped to the remaining three limbs. The straps rattled against the metal sidebars as John Doe stirred, making Lorelei pause. His young face was twisted into a grimace, and she moved to brush his forehead out of instinct.

"Bror?" He mumbled, making her stomach twist in guilt. She didn't think her rambling would wake him.

 "Shh, it's okay, hun. Just get some rest," She smoothed his messy white hair, smiling as he relaxed back into sleep. 

"Lorelei, you know you're crazy, right?" One of her fellow nurses asked as she slipped from the secured room and into the nearby nurses' station, "Going into that room by yourself. You saw what he did to Mary Lou!"

"Well, how would you feel waking up without a leg and a bunch of people hovering over you, talking in a different language," she shot back defensively as she grabbed John Doe's chart.  

"Not homicidal," her coworker responded, working on her own chart notes. "I mean, I'd scream for sure, but I doubt I'd be able to move the way he did. Hell, I doubt I'd ever been that quick." 

                                                      ---+---

Lorelei supposed she shouldn't have been happy to see Otto sitting on the front steps of her home the next evening. She had a crappy day, her feet were killing her, and she was planning on just crashing in her bed. Yet seeing him on the cement step, two large backpacks sitting on the dilapidated porch, made the end of her day a little better. 

He looked up, the bandage still wrapped around half of his face, but she was pleased not to notice any blood staining the gauze. She wasn't so happy to see the melancholy expression on his face.

 She took a seat on the step next to him, feeling warmth radiate him to chase off the chilly December air. She wasn't brave enough to look at him, and instead plucked a piece of dead grass from the lawn. "Don't tell Ray, but you make a decent house guest. Not many men clean up after themselves, let alone fight me about dustin' or sweeping them cobwebs out." 

She peeked a glance after a pause and felt relief to see a faint smile on his face as he focused on the dusk colored sky. "I won't ask what you've been up to, as long as it ain't gonna be bringing any police around here." 

"No," he answered her joking comment gravely. 

"Kay, good."  She tore at the blade of grass some more. "So... Are you looking for a place to stay, or are you just here to say bye for good?"

This time he did meet her gaze. His dark eye looked haunted, and she could see the telltale marks of crying by the red rims and puffiness of his lids. Her fingers ached to reach out and try to soothe the crease around his good eye, to bring some sort of comfort, so she shifted to sit on her hand instead, hoping he would think her fingertips were cold. "Because like I said, you're a nice house guest. You do your own share of the chores, and you can stay as long as you like. Just no more using my good steak knives as darts, you got me?"

"Yes," he answered solemnly, making her heart jump. "...Do you like cats?" 

His question surprised her for a moment before she smiled. "Yeah, I do. I was just telling my patient that I should get a few."

He nodded his head without elaborating further, though she swore there was a thoughtful expression on his face as he watched the last glimmer of the sun fade away. 

The silence this time was broken by her stomach growling, earning an amused glance from Otto as she blushed. "Right. Well, I'm hungry,' she hurriedly jumped up and offered her hand to him. "Shall we?" 

He accepted her hand, the callouses firm against her skin. It still surprised her how tall he towered over her. "Let's see; I have fish sticks or hot dogs. It's up to you…."

                                                   ---+---

Lorelei woke the next morning to a blank and white angular-face cat kneading her pillow; its purr a deep growl. As soon as the cat realized she was awake, it butted its head against her as a greeting, its purr becoming louder. 

"Where did you come from?" She asked as she sat up, allowing him to crawl into her lap. The cat, of course, didn't answer but continued to knead her lap. She picked up the cat and descended the stairs, following the smell of sausage and the quiet mewl of other cats. A group of them were sitting expectantly at Otto's feet, jumping when he would toss a piece of an egg at them. All of them boney and looking as if he had found them wandering the streets. 

"Dare I ask?" She asked, shifting the cat to protect her modesty as he glanced over at her. She didn't miss the quick once-over before he shrugged and returned towards breakfast.

"You said you liked cats." 

Living with him was going to be fun, Lorelei decided as she allowed the cat down to join its brethren at his feet and instead shuffled towards the fridge. "True. I did say that." She just didn't expect so many. They were all weaving around him, eager for a treat, which made it hard to count, but she swore there were at least a dozen. "So… do they have names?"

"Bebis." 

She waited for him to elaborate and frowned when he didn't. "Are you saying they are babies, or that they are all named Bebis?"

"Both," he answered, shooting her a quick half-smile as he flicked another piece of an egg at them. 

"Oh no, that isn't going to work. I mean, I fully agree they're babies, but they need their own names." She busied herself with setting up the kettle for coffee, trying not to think how easy it was moving around each other, or how much happier she felt compared to the last two days. 

It was the cats; she decided as one jumped up on the counter to pester her. Definitely the cats. She blushed when she noticed Otto watching her out of the corner of her vision as she baby-talked to the small tabby that looked like it hadn't eaten in weeks. 

Just the cats.

Next Chapter 

[ohshit-itsyagorl]

Four Dipshits and a Michelle

Part 1 

Hey, Loves! This is a fanfiction I’ve been working on recently. Hope you like it!

Summary: Michelle never believed in soulmates. But what happens when she turns seventeen and gets her mark? What happens when she inevitably finds the person with the matching tattoo? And what is she supposed to do with Peter Parker. Her best friend in the whole world. Her crush. Someone she feels drawn to for some inexplicable reason.

Michelle Jones never understood the infatuation human society had with soulmates.

As a little girl full of hopes and dreams, she admits she was rather fond of the idea: someone out there who was perfect for her, someone who she could share her life with, her soul-bonded partner.

Until her mom got sick. And her dad started treating his wife like his own personal punching bag and then left them with barley enough money to get by. And that sucked, but Michelle could deal with it. She really could.

(But she was not okay.)

But after that initial honeymoon phase, after seeing a relationship that was supposedly written in the cosmos fall apart, she was wrenched back to a sad, logical reality.

After giving up on her soulmate, she found it grating how often it came up in seemingly normal discussion.

This, Michelle thought, was rather ridiculous, considering they were all freshman in high school, and wouldn’t be turning 17 for at least two years, three for most of them.

When she woke up on the morning of February 27th, she was not expecting the day to be anything special or different.

Trudging to the bathroom, half asleep with hair in her mouth, she thought she might pass out. Damn her for opting to take the PCB (physics, then chemistry, then biology) route instead of being normal like almost every other kid at Midtown Tech.

The only bonus to PCB was that she had the same kids in her science class every year. Betty and Cindy and Ned and Peter. The only downside was Flash, who was insufferable on the very best of days. He was also on the PCB track.

(Ugh.)

Point was, Michelle had stayed up super late the previous night studying for a massive test with Peter and Ned, and she was absolutely exhausted.

(Physics could be a bitch sometimes.)

“Hey, Sweetie, how did you sleep?” Her mom was laying on the couch, nose shoved into her book, right arm hooked up to an IV. When Michelle didn’t answer immediately, she looked up and let out a soft oh. “Rough night?” She asked.

Michelle sighed. “Yeah. Big test today. Studied with the losers last night.”

“Well, good luck, honey.” MJ started walking toward the door. “Oh, and, Michelle? Don’t call your friends losers.”

Michelle ran a hand through her hair, the chocolate curls a tangled mess perched atop her head.

————————————————————

“Hey, MJ.” Michelle looked up to see Peter waving at her, toothy grin and glasses and a dark blue sweater. She narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. Too early, Idiot.

Physics went as well as could be expected. Lunch was a different story.

“I can’t wait,” Betty said dreamily. “I wonder what they’ll look like.”

“I wonder what my soulmark will be,” Ned said, looking up from his English notes. “With my luck, it’ll be worse than that senior with a foot tattooed down the right side of his face.”

Michelle snorted. “Yeah, maybe it’ll be a giant dick or something.”

“Maybe yours’ll be a unicorn, MJ. You know, to match your personality,” Ned fired back.

She stiffened, looking around at the group. ‘‘I don’t want a soulmate,” she muttered.

“What? Why not?” Cindy exclaimed, her eyes almost comically wide.

Peter looked up at that. His glasses had fallen down his nose considerably, and he shoved them back up his face. Dork.

Michelle shrugged. “I just don’t. They’re pointless.”

“Well,” Peter started, “maybe one day you’ll change your mind.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not likely, Parker.”

“Tell that to your soul-bonded partner.”

A soft chorus of oohs echoed from the Table around her. She needed new friends.

“Whatever. Even if I find my soulmate, I’ll just avoid them like the plague. Shouldn’t be that hard with all my practice when it comes to you lot.”

Peter let out a small uh-huh, and went back to whatever the hell it was he was doing.

It wasn’t like she and Peter didn’t argue. As best friends, it was kind of part of the job description. But Peter and Ned already knew how she felt about soulmates and soulmarks. Michelle was surprised he had pushed her on that front. Weird.

She cleared her throat.

—————————————————————

Sophomore year rolled around, and with it came Academic Decathlon. Michelle befriended Liz almost immediately. She was so nice, and perfect, and smart.

About halfway through the year after a field trip for AcaDec, Peter missed school for over a week. Something about catching a bug on the trip. On day 10, Michelle went to his apartment.

May opened the door. “Oh, hey, MJ! Peter is in his room. He’ll be glad to see you,” she said, a smile gracing her face.

Michelle walked past May with a small nod of acknowledgement. When she entered Peter’s room, she was fairly surprised to see that he, in fact, did actually look very sick. He was on the floor covered in sweat and shaking.

“Ohmigod, Peter! Are you okay?”

“Oh, MJ. Didn’t know you cared. How sweet of you,” he managed through chattering teeth.

“I don’t, Loser. Here,” Michelle leaned down, “let me help you to your bed.”

“No!” Peter scrambled backward over a pile of schoolwork, the pages sticking to his hands. The sweat, probably, thought Michelle

She quirked an eyebrow.

“I, uh—I don’t want to get you sick, is all,” he explained.

“Whatever, Loser,” she said. “I brought you your schoolwork, so… here you go.” She dropped the stack onto his unoccupied bed, spared Peter one more glance, shrugged, and turned to walk out of the room.

“MJ, wait. Thank you, for, uh, for the schoolwork.”

She flipped him off on the way out the door. Weirdo.

Peter started changing after that. He started filling out his shirts more. She figured he had started working out or something.

Not that she was looking at him. Because she wasn’t.

He no longer wore glasses, and dropped out of marching band and robotics club. He disappeared at nationals, showing up only for the ride home after the fiasco at the Washington Monument (of all the times to gain a rebellious streak AcaDec nationals was not the time or the place). Michelle glared at him nonstop for a week after that.

People started avoiding the topic of soulmates and soulmarks around her, knowing it was a touchy subject.

Over the course of the year, Michelle grew closer to Peter and Ned than the other kids in Acadec.

————————————���————————

“MJ?” Peter looked back at her from where he was squatting down in front of the DVD player. He was wearing sweats and a math pun t-shirt that stretched tightly across his chest. His arms across his legs were lithe and muscled. How had she never noticed before…

And she was staring. Michelle blushed furiously. Peter smirked. She flipped him off. He chuckled.

“What do you want?” She asked. His hair was gelled back like every day, but it was a bit mussed, falling onto his forehead. Her blood heated. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, wondered how soft it would be.

Peter ran a hand through said hair, biting his lip. “Have you—uh—have you ever seen The Princess Bride?” He asked.

MJ rolled her eyes. This boy. “Bits and pieces. I was never really interested in that mushy, gushy, sappy shit. Besides, we are not watching that.”

“Uh, yeah, we are. It’s simply tragic how your previous social circle failed you,” he said, scrunching his nose up. It was cute annoying.

Michelle squinted at him, mouth becoming a thin line. He smiled back innocently. She flipped him off. Again.

She relented in the end.

Peter hopped up next to where she was sitting, stretching his arms up and over the back of the couch. Michelles’s eyes snagged on the bit of exposed skin where his shirt had ridden up. Were those… abs? She shook her head, looking back toward the now-glowing TV screen. Her nerdy best friend Peter Parker could not have abs. But.

Michelle had to admit that the movie wasn’t actually as bad as she had initially thought. The reason for that was mostly Peter. The absolute dweeb was acting out the fight scenes with himself. Watching Peter try and punch and defend himself at the same time was pretty funny.

MJ looked over at Peter during the end of the movie. He was looking at her.

“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” He blurted, then proceeded to clap a hand over his mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry. You really, uh, really don’t have to answer that.”

And maybe it was the laughter they had shared together. Maybe it was the way she felt safe around him, or how his hair curled behind his ears, but, “My parents were soulmates. It—it didn’t work out."

That was all she was willing to share.

Peter nodded, swallowing thickly and looking back to the movie. “I think Ned’s right,” he said. Michelle raised an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat, “Your soulmark is definitely going to be a unicorn. Or a pegasus. Or a rainb—”

“Shut up, Parker.”

Peter raised his hands defensively, grinning.

They talked for another hour, but Peter couldn’t seem to drop the conversation about soulmates.

“Hey, MJ?” He said, giving her a curious look.

Michelle hummed.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. With all the posing while acting out the movie, it looked like he had just gotten out of bed. Maybe even just had—

No. Best friend. Peter was her best friend. Nothing more.

“On your birthday,” he ventured, “when you get your mark, will you tell me about it? We could, like, make fun of each other’s or something. Once I get mine, that is.”

Michelle hesitated. Then: “Sure, okay. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Peter beamed at her and her heart did a backflip. It was worth talking about her soulmark to see that smile, different from his usually timid upturned lips. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Awesome! What are best friends for if not to make fun of shit,” he said.

Best friend. The words stung a bit, even if they were true.

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

Junior year came faster than any of them expected, and with it, standardized testing. Michelle was sad that Liz had moved away the year prior when her dad was caught selling alien technology illegally, but she was excited to be team captain this year. She, Peter, and Ned had all celebrated with aLord of the Rings movie marathon, but over the past few months, Peter and Ned had been sharing hushed conversations. MJ wasn’t sure what was going on, but it made her feel kind of shitty—like she was being pushed out of their friend group.

But then Peter would shoot her a shy smile, and she would feel a little better. There was definitely something going on, though.

Betty got her mark over the summer—a small cat’s eye in the palm of her left hand—but she had had no luck finding the person with the matching tattoo, much to her chagrin.

Michelle truly felt like she was rocketing toward her birthday. Somehow, she and Peter had found a way to turn her soulmate into a bit of a joke, which helped. A little.

That’s how Michelle found herself on the phone with Peter, wearing a tank top and shorts in the middle of winter, watching the seconds tick down to midnight.

“I’m so excited,” Peter said over the phone. “I can’t wait to see if it’s a unicorn or a pegasus.”

“Can it, Parker,” Michelle snapped. She was strangely terrified, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Okay, Magic Princess Unicorn—”

“I mean it, Pete.”

“Ten seconds, MJ.”

“Shit,” she whispered, hands shaking as she hastily put Peter on speaker, and set down the phone, turning to face the floor-length mirror.

“Do you see anything?” He asked. Did he sound… nervous?

Michelle scanned her arms and legs in the mirror, turned around and did the same on the back. “Fuck.”

“What?” Peter said, voice crackling over the phone. “What is it? Is it a Unicorn?”

“No,” Michelle gasped out. “I don’t see anything.”

It was true she didn’t want anything to do with her soulmate, but it did hurt that she didn’t even have one.

She let out a sob, then slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“MJ—MJ, calm down. It’s probably just somewhere else. Try taking your clothes off.” Michelle felt her toes curl into the carpet, her breath hitched. “Fuck,” Peter said. “I didn’t mean it like that—fuck, that came out wrong.”

You don’t need to apologize, Michelle thought. Instead, she nodded, then, realizing he couldn’t see her over the phone, she cleared her throat and said, “No, I get it—what you meant, I mean.” She cringed, Christ, she was absolutely horrible at this. “God, I hope it’s not on my ass.”

Peter let out a bark of laughter. Michelle smiled, then remembered her situation, frowned.

“Stop frowning, you’ll get premature wrinkles,” Peter said.

Michelle frowned deeper. “How do you know I’m frowning?”

“I know you, MJ. Now stop frowning. There’s only one way to know if you have a tattoo on your ass,” Peter said, choking on the last word. “Just check.”

Michelle loosed a breath. “Okay. I guess you’re right.”

She turned back toward the mirror, reaching for the waistband of her shorts and underwear, pulling them both down at the same time. Nothing on the front. She shimmied around a bit, before giving in and stepping out of her shorts. She glanced over her shoulder into the mirror. Nothing.

She took off her tank top next, checking her back first, since she was already facing in that direction. Still nothing. She turned around and ran her fingers over her stomach. Nothing there, either. Goddammit.

She slowly reached back to unclasp her bra and let it slide down her arms. “Mother fucker,” she said quietly.

She’s not sure how, but Peter heard her. “MJ? What’s the status? Did you find it?”

“Yeah, I did. And I fucking hate the universe.” She hissed.

Peter laughed nervously. “Well, what is it? Where is it?”

“Like hell I’m telling you!” MJ screeched.

“C’mon, Michelle, we had a deal!” Peter said. She could picture him laying down in bed, then sitting up abruptly, hair mussed like that night they had watched The Princess bride together. And that strip of skin she’d glimpsed and—fuck, she was thinking about him while she was naked.

“Peter, I literally had to take all my clothes off just to find it. I am not telling you about this ever. God, this is so humiliating.” Michelle looked in the mirror again and winced. Staring back a her was her naked body, dark skin gleaming in the moonlight, curls coming down over her breasts. She moved her hair out of the way to get a better look at her mark, and… there it was. A fist-size black spider sitting in the middle of her left breast, right over her nipple. She groaned, burying her face in the crook of her elbow.

“Oh, c’mon, M. It can’t be that bad,” Peter said.

“It’s bad, Pete,” Michelle sighed. “Well, at least this way my soulmate won’t be able to see my mark.”

Michelle stroked a finger over one of the spider’s legs and shivered. Peter swore over the phone.

“What?” Michelle asked.

“Nothing,” Peter said, though his voice was shaky. “Just got a shiver. That’s what I get for not wearing a shirt.

This boy.

And now she was picturing him shirtless. Fuck. With that mussed-up hair. Double-fuck. She looked down to find that the hand near her breast had grabbed on, kneading the soft flesh. Holy mother of god, an infinite amount of fucks. But it felt good. Really good. She let out a quiet moan.

“MJ? What’s going on, are you okay?” How the ever-living hell did Peter keep hearing her? She could barely hear herself.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she managed. Thankfully she sounded normal, if not a little breathy. “Just a little messed up after seeing the mark, you know? I wasn’t expecting to feel so… attached to it.” Because that’s what it was, she realized. She could already feel her connection to someone else, and she hated herself for loving it, for craving that sensation to be stronger.

“Okay. We should probably both go to sleep anyway,” Peter said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” He sounded worried, but he was willing to give her space. That was one of the things she valued most about their friendship.

“Yeah,” Michelle said. Then, when she heard him start to shift, presumably on his bed (God help her), she interrupted, “and, Peter?” He hummed in response. “Put a shirt on. It’s cold out.”

He grunted. “Yeah, will do, M.”

Somehow Michelle got the feeling he wasn’t going to put on a shirt. Idiot.

Part 2

[harlot-of-oblivion]

A Rose of Unconscious Beauty (Part 6)

All work and no play make Dante a dull devil, but when he finds out about his brother's flowery friend he sees an opportunity to cure his boredom. Well, that and his curiosity about what kind of woman catches Vergil's attention. So, he decides to spontaneously visit your garden to see what all the buzz is about.

Hope you enjoy these two finally meeting! And gardening puns...just all the gardening puns. 😆❤

Here’s the link to the list of all the flowers featured in this part. 🌹🥰🌹

Chapter 1: Meeting Dante

Life has been pretty good for Dante since he got back from his little foray into hell. He may still be in quite a bit of debt, but that never stops him from living life to the fullest. For the first time in a long time he does not feel so alone in the Devil May Cry shop. There is just one problem that plagues him now as he leans back in his chair, feet propped up on the edge of his desk as a huge overdrawn yawn escapes his mouth…

He is bored.

Very, very…BORED.

The occasional odd job usually keeps him entertained, but business has been slow recently. There is only so much games of pool and swimsuit magazines before Dante is positively itching to fight something…anything. Nero has taken advantage of this dry spell and is finally getting hitched to Kyrie. Even Vergil, who he annoys into fighting sometimes just for sheer fact that it relieves his boredom for a while, has taken to disappearing from time to time.

Oh yeaaaaah. The mysterious flowery friend.

Dante ponders the potential of that whole situation giving him something to do besides sitting alone in his shop. He did not think it strange when Vergil started to go out more…in fact, he is proud that his brother is finally embracing his humanity and making this world his home. But when his cranky brother came back to the shop with pretty little blue flowers wrapped around his beloved Yamato…well, now that just piqued his curiosity. He tries to goad Vergil into telling him where he got the flowers or where he has been disappearing off to lately, but that conversation usually ends with him being stabbed a lot. Dante got his answer one day when Nero asks if he knew this florist that his old man just recommended to him. It all just suddenly clicked. The constant visits, the soft cloud nine smiles, just the overall secrecy…

Vergil…has a crush.

Just the idea of his brother being head over heels for someone has Dante shaking his head in wonder. Vergil has already left the shop, probably visiting his florist friend if Dante had to guess. It happens to be the day that Nero and Kyrie are supposed to meet their savior of flowers. He wanted to tag along to see what all the hype is about, but Nero absolutely refused to let him. Usually, that is not enough to deter Dante, but then his nephew just had to sick Kyrie on him. And how could anyone say no to her? So, here he sits…extremely bored and very curious.

I have to know if it’s true…if my dumbass brother really is lovestruck…

A sudden idea pops into Dante’s head as he takes out his cellphone and begins to text:

Dante: Hey! Gonna see your old mans flower girl today, amiright?

Nero: NO. Forget it.

Nero: Im not spying 4 u

Dante: NO ONE said ANYTHING about spying!

Dante: Just a couple of pics!

Nero: NO U CREEP

Dante: OH C’MON!!!

Dante taps on his screen vigorously as he provokes his stubborn nephew to reply, but after a few minutes of continued silence he gives up. He rolls his eyes as he groans in mild irritation and drops his phone onto the desk. His nimble fingers stroke his scruffy chin in thought, wondering if there will ever be an end to this torturous boredom…then it hits him faster than the Devil May Cry van. Nico! Dante snaps his fingers and nods his head in approval at his own ingenious idea. He snatches his phone back up and begins to text again:

Dante: Heyyyyyyy

Nico: Wat

Dante: Wanna help a friend out?

Nico: Lemme guess

Nico: U want me to spy for ya, right?

Dante: A couple of pics is NOT spying

Nico: Yeah yeah whatever

There is a long pause and Dante almost thinks his last-ditch effort is a bust. Until…

Nico: Mayyyyybe I’ll do it

Nico: Wats in it for me tho?

Dante only has to think about her prize for second before replying.

Dante: I’ll let you check out my guns

Nico: Ive already seen my fair share of muscles

Dante: Im talking about Ebony and Ivory

Nico: U GOTTA FUCKIN DEAL

Dante clenches his fist in victory. Nico tells him to hold tight while she finds a good hiding spot and the perfect angle. So, he grabs the nearest swimsuit magazine to read while he waits for Nico’s sneaky photos.

He only has to read a couple of pages of articles and check out a few curvy ladies before his phone vibrates. “Well now…let’s see what we've got,” he announces aloud as his hand instantly picks up his phone and eagerly opens up the message. Here she is! is written below two pictures of a bubbly woman with a bright smile and lively eyes. In one photo she is sitting down at a garden table, and in the other she is standing by a bed of flowers. She is wearing white summer dress and has a white flower in her hair. Dante chuckles in glee because now he understands why his brother has fallen so hard: the local florist is a total babe!

Dante is about to get back to his magazine when another text from Nico comes through:

Nico: Yoooooooooo

Nico: U didnt tell me that Vergil was gonna be here!

Dante: Im not my brother’s keeper!

Nico: Im NOT about to get stabbed if he catches me

Nico: Im out

Dante: WAIT

Dante: I’ll sweeten the deal!

Dante: If you get a pic of them together

Nico: DANTE

Dante: Then I’ll let you check out my guns

Dante: FOR A WEEK

A very long pause follows and Dante thinks that Nico is still going chicken out despite his sudden add on to her prize when her response chimes in:

Nico: U better hold up your end of the deal, Dante

Dante: Nicooooo u know I always keep my word!

Nico: Cuz if u dont, I’ll run u over with the van

Dante: No u wont

Nico: VROOM VROOM BITCH

Dante’s amused chuckle echoes throughout the shop. “So, that’s where you’re running off to,” he comments to himself. “The secret garden.” As he waits for Nico’s next photo, he starts to wonder what kind of a woman catches the eye of his broody brother. I mean…sure, you’re a cutie, but Dante knows that Vergil is not so easily swayed by looks alone. Of course, he could be reading into this too much and you’re actually just a really adorable friend…which is why he has to see both of you together. If Vergil has that soft smile on his face and if you show any sign of reciprocating his brother’s feelings…

His phone vibrates and Dante immediately opens the message. How's this for ya? reads Nico’s text along with a bunch of laughing emojis and a video clip. He arches an eyebrow as he presses play. He sees Nero, Kyrie, Vergil, and you all walking together by a bunch of flowers. He cannot make out the soft conversation of the group, but he does hear a lighthearted giggle as you do a twirl. Dante squints his eyes when he notices your hand reach for something in your dress…then his eyes widen as you throw petals into the air. The distinct growl of his brother comes through the audio and Dante nearly chokes on his own laugh. Some of the little pink flowers you threw…are sticking to Vergil’s hair!

I’m totally saving this just for the look on his face!

Dante kicks his feet off of the desk and he leans forward in his chair, never taking his eyes off the screen as Nero and Kyrie step out of frame. He tilts his head when Vergil kneels and you start to pluck the flowers from his hair. Dante has to rub his eyes to make sure he is really seeing these events correctly. Things get really interesting when you move in closer. The awkward expression on his brother’s face is pure gold. But what really has him pressing his nose to the screen is when Vergil stands up and you both just stare at each other. It is like a scene cut straight from a romantic movie. Dante has never seen his brother look so…totally in love. And you are mirroring the exact same expression.

Jackpot!

The video starts to shake and he hears Nico quietly cursing up a storm. The screen is a blur for a moment before it just totally cuts off. Dante is still for a while as he takes in everything that just happened. He honestly did not expect Vergil to be bitten by the love bug. A genuine smile curls on his lips as he thinks that maybe you are exactly what his brother needs to finally let go of the past and start living. But he cannot be the helpful little brother that he is without at least meeting you first. The genuine smile turns mischievous as Dante texts Nico about happened after the video ended and where exactly is this secret garden in the city...

(A Week Later...Reader’s POV)

The late afternoon sun beats down as you wipe the sweat from your brow. You examine the rambling roses you are currently pruning, checking to see if you missed anything before standing up and stretching your legs. Sweet basil, it’s hot, you thought, taking off your gardening hat and fanning your face as you pocket your pruning shears. You think about Vergil and how he always seems to keep cool while wearing a long blue coat in the summer.

The power of Sparda must also include internal air conditioning. You giggle at your own quip as you put the gardening hat back on your head and decide to take a break. As you walk through the multitude of flowers you search for any sign of the Son of Sparda among the flora. He has not called to inform you that he is stopping by today, but that does not necessarily mean he will not show up unannounced…annoyingly startling you before buttering you up with an offering of beautiful blooms.

Vergil has been regularly visiting you in your garden now. Sometimes both of you read and drink tea under the fruit trees, other times you have to work and just let him read in peace while frolicking about your garden. Every now and then he insists on looming close behind you, claiming that he wants to observe how you arrange bouquets and care for the flowers. There are a few times that you somehow rope him into helping since he is so inclined to learn and you must admit…seeing a tall and imposing man handle tiny flowers carefully is so endearing, making you fall even harder for the handsome devil.

You step through the backdoor and walk into your kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and swiftly open the door. When the cold air hits your face you sigh and just stand there for a moment to cool off as you reach for a bottle of water. You close the fridge and head to your office to check the status of a shipment on your computer while you guzzle down half of the bottle. The flowers for Nero and Kyrie’s wedding are well in supply, but you ordered some extra ribbon, wires, needles, and other miscellaneous supplies. It is a little stressful that you only have so much time to pull this off, but that only pushes you to do your utmost best to give them the best flowers they have ever seen. All seems to be order, you mentally note, finishing off your water bottle as you tab out of the website.

Time to get back to work! You go back out to the garden, grab the garden hose, and turn on the outdoor faucet. You adjust the nozzle on the hose to spray into a mist and set off to water some flowers. “Alright, my darlings!” you say cheerfully as you step up to the first section of flowers. “Who’s thirsty?” You happily spray their petals with glistening droplets as you hum softly. One of the many reasons why you enjoy gardening so much is just how tranquil it can be, your mind slipping into a peaceful state as all your worries just drift away and you feel like a flower basking in the warm sunlight.

Although, you do find yourself ceaselessly daydreaming about a certain white-haired gentleman while gardening lately. You cannot get the feel of his slicked back locks out of your thoughts, yearning to do more than just pluck petals from his hair. You wonder if the bergamot scent is from a cologne he is wearing or the constant cups of his favorite tea. And the expression on his face after you picked the stray petals from his hair…cheeks slightly blushing as his gleaming silver eyes stare straight into your soul. The very memory of it has you shivering in delight as you turn around to water the next section of flowers.

“Holy hollyhock!”

The sudden appearance of a man in a long red jacket standing in your garden has you jumping back in surprise. Your foot steps on the garden hose, making you lose your balance and start to tip over. Thankfully, the stranger has quick reflexes and quickly leans forward to catch your fall. “Whoa! Easy there!” he exclaims as he sets you upright, doing his best to avoid the misty spray of the hose still clutched in your hand. That is when you notice his distinct white hair swaying in front of his blue eyes. And his face…if it was not for the slight fuzz of a beard or the care-free expression, he would be the spitting image of Vergil. Which can only mean…

“You must be Dante.”

“What gave it away?” he asks, dramatically holding his hands out to the side as he nods his head in confirmation.

“You wouldn’t be a Son of Sparda if you didn’t scare your local gardener to death!”

Dante tilts head at your answer and smirks as he examines you from head to toe. “I dig the overalls,” he comments as he gestures to your attire. You look down at your green gardening overalls, the phrase "I like big buds and I cannot lie" imprinted on the front surrounded by large colorful flower buds.

“Thanks!” you laugh, turning off the garden hose. “I’m Y/N! I don’t recall Vergil saying that he was going to finally introduce me to you.”

“So, he’s told you about me? Did he mention that I am the better-looking twin?” he jests as he takes a step back and strikes a charmingly rugged pose.

“Uh, he mentioned that you are a demon hunter, a foolish buffoon, and…whoa!” Your eyebrows shoot up as you closely examine his coat. “Your jacket does look really expensive!”

Dante rolls his eyes as he relaxes from his over-the-top stance. “He just can’t let that go, huh?” He shakes his head and lightly chuckles.

“So…what brings you to my garden?” you inquire kindly, not letting his surprise visit distract you from being hospitable. Dante did not mention his brother being present here with him, so you hope that Vergil does not mind you being friendly and helping his brother out if he needs it.

“The girls keep telling me I need something to brighten up the shop,” he explains as he scratches the back of his head. “So, I figured some flowers from my brother’s friendly neighbor florist might do the trick.”

You smile sweetly. “Okay! Do you have any kind of flowers in mind?”

“Well, my mother’s favorite flowers were-”

“Burgundy roses!”

Dante quirks an eyebrow. “Did you just read my mind?”

A giggle escapes your lips as you shake your head. “Vergil told me that his mother had a modest garden herself, and that she grew those roses a lot. Don’t worry,” you affirm as your hand sets down the garden hose. A big confident smile spreads across your face as you twirl in excitement, pausing to strike your own cute pose. “I got you covered!”

He nods his head in approval. “Right on.”

You make small talk with Dante as you lead him to the rose section of your garden, asking if by “the girls” he means the other two demon hunters that work with him. He confirms your guess and grumbles about how unfair it is that you know so much the crew while he knows next to nothing about you. That is quickly remedied though as he bombards you with the oddest series of questions…most of them involving strawberries and pizza. When you tell him that you used to work at the local pizzeria and bakery in your home town he enthusiastically asks if you made the pizzas. You laugh at his boyish glee and inform him that you sometimes helped with the pizzas, but you mostly baked the pastries and desserts.

“Here we are!” You point to a bush full of the dark reddish-purple roses as you step through the various buds and blooms. “Roses of unconscious beauty!” Dante studies the rose bush as you approach it, lean in, and inhale their lovely fragrance. You breathe out in delight and start looking for the best blooms for a bouquet. “Aren’t they lovely?” You look over your shoulder and see that Dante is barely paying attention. His blue green eyes gaze distantly at the rose bush, reminding you a little of Vergil’s silver blue eyes when he recedes into his head. You wait a moment before deciding to coax him out of pensive stupor.

“Flower for your thoughts?”

Dante blinks and shakes his head. “Sorry about that. I was just…remembering something.” He walks over and stands next you, a small grin appears on his face as he peers down at you. “These would look nice on my desk. I’ll take ‘em.”

“Alright!” You reach into your pocket, taking out the pruning shears still stored in there and begin snipping some select roses, carefully removing the thorns before sticking them in another pocket until you can properly tie them together.

Dante quietly watches you for a few moments before he crosses his arms and leisurely leans back. “So…you and my brother.”

You snip a third rose as you glance over at him. “Me and your brother…?” you repeat, hoping he will expand upon the conversation he started. Dante just continues to gaze at you inquisitively. Your brow furrows in puzzlement as you wonder what he is trying to imply…until it suddenly hits you.

No way. He can’t be…

“Are you…Dad-terogating me?”

“Am I what now?”

“You know…that thing fathers do when daughters bring home their boyfriends.” Your voice drops as you do your best impersonation a stern father figure. “What are your intentions little girl?”

“Oh man,” Dante snickers. “And what if I am?” he counters with a puckish smirk.

“Well, Mr. Sparda,” you begin with a cheeky grin, turning to him while you clutch a thornless burgundy rose close to your chest. “I only have the best intentions towards your brother, Vergil. They include smiles, laughter, and a healthy dose of poetry with dash of tea…Oh!” You dip your hand into the front pocket of your overalls. “And lots of flower showers!” Your grin turns cheerful as you toss pink hydrangea petals high into the air.

Dante stares at you closely for a moment, totally unfazed by the petals scattering around him before he chuckles softly. “Well now…how can I argue with that? My party pooper of a brother needs it.”

You giggle and go back to snipping more roses. A fourth one is freed and you begin to remove the thorns from the stem. “It’s sweet of you to look out for him, you know,” you point out with a genuine smile. “You’re a good brother, Dante.”

He smiles back and is about to respond when an awful hellish screech fills the air. Your head snaps over to the direction it is coming from, but you already know what those sounds mean. Dante casually looks over as well, but he does not look as concerned as you. His face reminds you more of the neighborhood kids when the ice cream truck drives by. “Looks like our flower pickin’ is gonna have to wait,” he surmises as he struts briskly towards the commotion.

You pocket the pruning shears and the rose in your hand as you hurriedly follow behind him. The screeching is now really loud and as you step into to a clearing you see the familiar forms of demons just beyond the gates of your garden. Even though you live in a city known for its constant hellish attacks, the sight of their malformed bodies never fails to freeze your blood. The closest one, resembling a large corrupted bat, flies over the gate and hovers near one of your apple trees. It shrieks as its throat starts to glow red. Anger floods through your body when you register what it intends to do to your lovely fruit trees.

“Oh, no you DON’T!” you shout as you run by the gardening tools still laying out, grabbing the garden hoe as you pass by and rush towards the bat-like creature. It swivels around just as you draw your makeshift weapon back and swing up at it with all your strength. The hoe connects and a pained squeal rings out as the demon is knocked back a little bit away from the apple tree. You let out a shuddering breath, quickly realizing that perhaps smacking a demon with a gardening tool was not the best idea.

Multiple gunshots startle you out of your internal dread as they streak up at the bat-like demon. It shakes violently before it drops to the ground and disintegrates. You turn around and see Dante holstering two guns behind his back before giving you a round of applause. “Not bad! Very inventive use of…” his hands pause as he inspects your tool curiously.

“It’s a hoe,” you bluntly inform him.

“Really?” Dante puts his hands on his hips as he circles around you, shielding you from the oncoming demons notice. “Well then…you really know how to handle a hoe!”

You snort and check your tool for any signs of it being broken or bent. “You know what they say…a dirty hoe is a happy hoe!” you joke, flashing him the disgusting bloody residue on the tip. Dante hunches over as a hearty laugh burst from his lips. You feel a sense of accomplishment at making such a clever gardening pun, but it is short lived as a series of terrible growls and roars remind you of the current danger. “Umm,” you mutter softly, “as much as I would like to give more demons a good hoeing…”

Dante reigns in his boisterous laughter and nods. “Yeah...get yourself to safety.” He runs and skillfully jumps over the gate. Before he goes to deal with the demons, he looks over his shoulder at you. “Even though I’m not a hoe I can still get rid of these nasty weeds,” he quips with a wink.

You laugh and shake your head at his own gardening pun before retreating back to your house, sighing in relief as your backdoor comes into view. When you are a few feet away from safety, a low rumbling growl reaches your ears, making you stop in your tracks. You still have your garden hoe, so you hold it up in defense as you scan your surroundings for any immediate threat. It is quiet for a moment…then a series obscure red streaks zoom around you. Your eyes try to track whatever is circling you, but you cannot see what is stalking you like prey.

Your body is quaking now as you turn around to glance behind you. A lizard-like demon with a vicious red blade protruding from one of its scaly arms is leaping through the air straight at you. Your instincts kick in and you raise your gardening tool up in defense, even though you feel certain that it will not enough to block that sharp blade. A series of tumultuous emotions sling around your mind, but one strongly overtakes you as the image of Vergil pops into your head…regret.

I didn’t even get to tell him that-

Before you are able to close your eyes and brace yourself for the deadly impact, a sudden blur of blue spheres pop up and knock back your scaly assailant. A familiar form clad in a blue coat suddenly appears next to the demon and proceeds to hit it with a series of slashes. When he finishes his ruthless onslaught, he turns his back on the demon and dramatically sheaths his sword. Just as the hilt of the sword slams into the case, the demon convulses in pain one last time before collapsing on the ground.

The regret you felt earlier fades away as your devilish rescuer turns towards you. The usual scowl on his face is now even more severe as he scrutinizes your appearance. He may be fuming with rage, but you do not mind, nor do you care. “Vergil!” you cry, trying to thank him for saving your life, but you feel so overwhelmed that no words come out. All you can do is smile gratefully as your eyes well up with tears, so happy that you get to see the man you feel so deeply for again after all.

Read Part 6 (Ch. 2) here

Read on my Ao3

My Master List if you want more ❤

Tagging: @drusoona, @thedyingmoon, @bettybattaglia, @veenus-ow, @meowykittenn, @fandomhell97, @vergilsangel, @venomous-lawyer, @alicewinchester

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (7)

A/N: y’all ., ., .,,. . ..  we’re finally getting to the Good Shit. my hand was literally Over the “post” button and then i remembered “oh shit this is supposed to be touchstarved roman”, so, uh, that’s not reflected in this chapter at ALL. but it’s still filled to the brim with angst. but like, hurt comfort angst. i think i can call this a hurt comfort, right? right

WARNINGS: cursing, arguments, yelling, like a lot of yelling, Complex Emotions, self-hatred (implied) — if I missed anything, please let me know!!! <3 <3

Words: 6575 

Pairings: im proud to say that this has some Logicality. only 20,000 words into the story and we’re finally getting small tastes of ships. still DLAMP endgame but by god. 

Part 1 (chivalry is dead) — Part 2 (i’m wishing) — Part 3 (the bells of notre dame) — Part 4 (honor to us all) — Part 5 (i’ve got no strings) — Part 6 (god help the outcasts) — Part 7 (go the distance)

AO3 link!

@starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda@askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil

i hope y’all like this one!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 

______(tumblr’s not letting me put a line so ive manually created it)______

It seemed that, without Roman’s focus, the Imagination sustained a regular day/night cycle. Logan made a mental note about it as they watched the sun go down behind the forest hills, perfectly in tune with his internal clock’s knowledge of the real world’s time. The sky, however, was darkening more rapidly than it would normally. While walking through the forest, he hadn’t noticed any incline changes, so perhaps the forests were thicker than he’d originally thought. The map didn’t indicate that, anyway.

It was a fascinating place, the Imagination. It seemed semi-sentient — at least, based on how the Playwright described it and from what they’d seen so far. Logan regretted not asking to see more of it when Roman was….

No. He’d ask Roman to show him once Roman had returned. His chest hurt a tiny bit to think of it. Nothing was out of reach.

He faced forward again, marching silently. Patton was humming, had been for the whole trip, humming Disney songs.

The Child was staring at Logan still. It was unnerving, for many reasons (A child? Roman was a fucking child? Why was he staring so much? How much less formed were each of the Romans? How did they select what they looked like? Who was the Child based upon? What did he believe?) so he looked away.

“Stop,” the Child patted Patton’s back, “Stop here.”

“Ooookay,” Patton stopped, and Logan stopped behind him.

They’d been walking towards the castle this whole time, away from the sunset. It was clearly huge now, with multiple large spires with red and glittering gold flags. Patton thought it looked straight out of a medieval movie, almost too grand to just be based on Disney alone, though it did bear some resemblances to the castle in Disneyland. It was incredibly pretty.

Oh, sure, he’d seen the Imagination before. Patton and Roman had sat at the window in his room and Patton would listen to Roman as he talked about the various worlds he created. Sometimes it was a balcony with seats and a tea set, but he liked the window sofa more, since he and Roman could sit in each others’ laps and bundle up beneath a pile of blankets. Patton could recognize this castle from a distance. He’d seen this setting before, with the forest and large lake and glittering dual rivers that Roman’d named and then renamed and named again, though Patton couldn’t remember what names he finally chose.

Logan seemed surprised by it all, though, and Patton didn’t want to make it seem like he was rubbing his friendship with Roman in his face. Plus, he’d never been inside. Things were a lot bigger up close.

Yeah, he could see how Logan kept frowning around the world. How he’d been glaring at the Child for the whole walk. Patton’d made a pun — “This sure is a magic kingdom, eh?” — and he hadn’t even groaned!

Patton shifted his weight on his feet, casting Logan a worried look as the logical side inspected the building before them. Whatever was eating at him, he hoped it’d settle soon, because Patton knew they’d need Logan thinking properly to get Roman put together.

“We’ve gotta go in here,” the Child pointed to the building.

It was an unassuming door with two steps leading up to it, attached to a building that looked exactly the same as the others. Besides the door was a wooden sign, fixed to the stone wall, that read “Art Museum (Ages 3–6)”. It was a fairly unassuming building, similar to the other stone buildings to the left, right, and other side of the road.

“Okay,” Patton reached out and touched the door’s handle, just to be interrupted by the Child waving his arms up.

“No! No, no, not yet!” he put his hands out.

“Not yet? Well, what’re we waitin’ for?” Patton put his hands on his hips, watching the Child with a small smile.

“The sun is lowering. It will be night soon,” Logan added, giving the sky a quick glance again.

“But the Artist can’t know that you’re Dad and Mister Logic,” the Child said, mirroring Patton’s hands-on-hips position.

Logan, on the other hand, crossed his arms in thought. “Why can’t he know? Is he a danger?”

“Nah,” the Child shook his head and pointed a finger at Logan. “The Artist doesn’t like you most.”

Logan exhaled sharply. His brow furrowed, nose scrunched, as he processed THAT. Of course,the Playwright supporting him meant there was a counter. Of course Roman didn’t harbor only positive feelings towards him. Logan knew his and Roman’s opinions differed on a multitude of topics, often resulting in unpleasant quarrels. He knew. And, yet, it hurt. “Come again?”

“The Artist doesn’t like you. Don’t worry, he doesn’t like Mister Anxiety either. Or Mister Deceit. He kinda sorta likes Dad?” the Child made a so-so motion with his hands, before letting his shoulders drop with an exaggerated groan. “Not really. He doesn’t like Dad. It’s okay, he barely likes Thomas!”

Logan looked toward Patton with a frown, now thoroughly confused, and was greeted with a similar confused pout. There was a part of Roman who just didn’t like any of them. Not even Thomas. That upset Patton fairly well, but Logan….was almost relieved.

The Child waved his hands again, sticking them up in between the two adult Sides. “Hey! Like I said, that’s okay! We just gotta walk around him and he probably won’t notice you.”

“Do you think he won’t notice that three people have entered his house? Especially two adults. Two full Sides,” Logan couldn’t keep the disbelief from his voice.

If the Child noticed, he didn’t let on. “Yep! He barely looks up from the whatevers he’s working on, anyway,” he bounced on the balls of his feet, “Maybe….hm.”

He looked up at the sky and rubbed his hands together. Above them was a thick cloud. It would probably rain that night; they were still looking for him, anyway.

The Artist was probably getting worried. Right? Curfew was coming up soon and if Child got caught, Thief and Bard would be upset, and so Artist would be upset, too, right?

“We have to go in. If he asks, uh,” an idea popped into the Child’s head, and he snapped his fingers. “You can say you’re Dad guy and Teacher guy!”

Logan’s eye twitched. “Do you mean the characters from Thomas’ short videos?”

The last semblances of seriousness Logan held inside himself was shattered by the Child’s enthusiastic nodding. “Yeppers! They’re really nice! Teach is really good at making Dad laugh, and since this all happened, they’ve been—”

“The Shorts characters are alive inside the Imagination,” Logan wasn’t even trying to hide his disdain anymore.

He’d been half angry, half curious as they marched through the sleepy town. He could accept magic, sure, he could suspend his disbelief. It made sense that the Dominoes guy was in here. That was backed by science. But what in the name of Newton did the Shorts characters—

“Logan,” Patton held his hand and gave it a quick squeeze, “This is the Imagination.”

—okay, really, why the FUCK were the Shorts characters real in here?! — and the Child was now just rambling on about characters who were actually fictional. Characters who were characters. Scratch his curiosity from earlier, the Imagination followed no reason and he wanted out. Immediately.

Patton squeezed Logan’s hand again, in a rhythm, one two three four, tight, and raised his other hand toward the Child, who was still talking.

“Hey, kiddo,” the Child immediately quieted, looking up at Patton, “This all sounds fun, but can we talk more about it when we’re inside?”

Patton immediately regretted interrupting him. The Child’s lip curled inward, eyes growing wider as he nodded silently. He looked at Logan, who was scowling at the door, and wilted.

“Yeah. Not important. Okay,” the Child took the door handle and flung it open.

Before Patton could respond, he darted in. Logan looked at Patton, scowl replaced with a confused raised eyebrow, oblivious to the quiet tension he’d missed while internally monologuing.

Patton just slouched. The Child was more skittish than he’d anticipated.

The museum was dark and dusty, though not unintelligible. Patton entered first. There were drawings everywhere, some on actual pieces of paper, some on torn-out notebook pages, some on the wall itself. All of which were children’s drawings, of course, scribbles and splotches of paint. In the halls were also some sculptures on pedestals, most seemingly made of Playdough.

He stopped by a drawing of a house, two windows and a door, and read the placard beside it. Patton was pretty sure he had the same drawing in his room, tucked away in an old photo album.

“Thomas and Roman Sanders. House 41, 1994. Crayon on cardstock.”

Patton felt tears coming to his eyes. Thomas was only five, oh those were good times, learning about the world around him! Such a soft era. And Thomas’ grown so much since then, too.

This was an interesting place for someone to live, but considering his name was Artist, it made sense for him to live amongst his work. Patton turned around, a bright smile on his face, and motioned Logan to join him. “Logan! Come look at the art!”

Logan was standing just inside the door, which was closed behind him, eyes examining the exhibit. It was disorganized and clearly unkempt. Roman must not have visited in a while. Or maybe he didn’t have a curator for this museum. Before he could respond to Patton’s call, the Child’s voice echoed from down the hall.

“Are you coming?”

Logan and Patton shared a look, one disgruntled and one sheepish, and hurried down the hall lined with childish artwork. There were more houses, some family drawings, a fun looking self portrait with bright colors.

“Hurried” is an overstatement. Logan had to pull Patton away from a drawing on more than one occasion.

“Down here,” the Child’s whispers bounced along the walls.

They entered a room, still lined with drawings, and found the Child standing in front of one of the artworks. He held out a hand to them. “C’mon, we’re going in,” he said.

Logan squinted at the painting in question. Yes, painting, done in “Crayola Washable Paint on Cardboard,” according to the placard beside it. “Thomas and Roman Sanders. House 118.”

He looked at Patton for support that this was absolutely ridiculous, but was only met with another shrug. “It’s the Imagination,” he said, as though that explained everything, “Don’t think too hard, or you’ll get a headache.”

Too late for that, Logan thought, though he stopped himself from pondering. Instead, he grit his teeth and held Patton’s arm, determined to get to the bottom of this figurative rabbit hole. Patton himself took the Child’s hand.

The Child gripped Patton’s hand and leaned toward the painting. He pinched the painted door’s handle, tugged.

They all felt a pulling sensation, the Child pulling Patton who pulled Logan.

And then there was a door before them.

It was as though someone poured white paint all over their surroundings, from every angle, wiping away the museum they’d come from and leaving a blank emptiness behind them, all within less than a second.

Logan stared at the door. Then he turned, slow and steady, overlooking the blank white expanse. Like an empty page.

Something wasn’t computing. It’s the Imagination, he repeated in his mind, like Patton’d said earlier.

Directly behind them was the only piece of “world” they could see other than the door. It was another painting, of the museum, of the room that they’d just left, hanging in the middle of nothing.

Social realism, Logan thought. The painting’s placard read “Roman Sanders. The Art Museum repaint, 2019. Oil on canvas.” A reverse portal, created recently. Logan almost wanted to touch it and see how dry the paint was.

“C’mon, we gotta go inside,” the Child whispered, giving Patton’s hand a tug.

Patton, in turn, tugged Logan, who turned back around. “Sorry, this is just….” fascinating? Interesting? Enchanting? Something I would like to experiment with Roman on further? “Different.”

Patton watched the Child as he watched Logan. Roman was clearly still in there, Patton thought, and he didn’t want to be. And, to be frank, Patton understood that feeling. There were many days where he wanted to curl up into his hoodie and be young again, if only to hear a good joke once more. Those were the two-cookie kinds of days!

Maybe Logan couldn’t see what Patton was seeing? The Child’s big wide eyes, staring at Logan and Patton as though searching for approval. Or how he tried so hard to ignore Logan’s obvious contempt for the situation. It was obvious that the Child was actively trying to ignore it, but Patton didn’t miss how he flinched at Logan’s tone. The Child wasn’t naïve, not entirely — in certain turns of phrase and side-glances, the Child revealed his thirty years of life experiences.

But the Child also didn’t seem to notice that Logan wasn’t angry about the world. No, Patton thought as Logan turned back to the museum painting quickly, he was more upset at himself for not being able to understand it.

“Different,” Logan repeated, brow furrowed. It didn’t feel like the right word. He wasn’t usually one to have vocabulary troubles, but he couldn’t find a more adequate word.

It satiated the Child. Or, rather, the Child was thinking of something else. His hand was stiff on the doorknob. Patton leaned in, letting go of Logan finally to put both hands on the Child’s shoulders. “Go ahead,” he whispered. He hoped the Child could feel how much Patton loved him.

Perhaps he did, because the Child calmed down. Enough for him to open the door.

The most notable thing was the mess. There were a lot of things inside that door. Canvases, sketchbooks, pens, pencils, paint sets, notebooks, cups of water, all in piles or scattered about the floor. Some canvases were hung on the walls, too, and some were laid flat on the ground. Others were stacked atop each other or leaned in bunches against the walls. There was a clear path through the mess on the floor, that branched to the stairs on the left and then into the kitchen on the right. Logan could see a drawing tablet over there, too, propped against the wall. Where the laptop was, he couldn’t tell. Patton could see that most of the paintings were unfinished. Whether it be sketch lines still showing or just clearly half-painted, half-white canvases, not a single finished piece was in this clutter.

The second most notable thing was the person painting.

Another Roman — the Artist, most likely — was sitting on a stool in front of a painting on an easel. It was also only an assumption that he was another Roman, because he absolutely did not look it, clad in a white hoodie covered in paint splotches and red sweatpants, hood pulled up and covering his hair. The only thing that indicated his Roman status was the golden waves adorning his sleeves, the same as the waves on Roman’s crest.

He held a large painting palette in his right hand and a brush in his left, dabbing oil paint against the half-finished canvas in front of him. Another work in progress, it seemed.

The clutter and the painting didn’t bother the Child. He closed the door behind himself, being careful to not slam it, and cleared his throat.

The other Roman didn’t move nor speak. Just kept painting, dabbing his brush on the palette and swiping it along the canvas. The painting was unfinished, but it looked so far like an impressionist piece, Logan thought.

The Child coughed again, yet the other Roman didn’t flinch.

“I’m back, Arty,” he said.

“I heard you,” came the impatient reply, snappy and fast, the Artist not turning to speak to them, “Who’s with you?”

“Dad. And Teach. Dragon was mean today,” the Child was playing with the hem of his shirt

“Mhm.”

“It’s curfew. They couldn’t go back to their houses.”

“Mhm.”

“So they’re gonna sleep here. I’ll keep them in my room.”

“Mhm.”

The Child took Logan and Patton’s hands into his own again and pulled them toward the stairs. “Good luck with your painting,” his voice teetered off into silence as the Artist failed to turn again.

Patton opened his mouth, but the Child squeezed his hand and shook his head. Logan took a little more tugging, as he stood by the bottom of the stairs, trying to look at all the paintings. Some were paintings — oil impressionist, pop art, surrealism and cubism, even some De Stijl paintings — some were simple figure drawings on lightly-crumpled paper, some even….was that a painting of Virgil?

The Child tugged harder and Logan stumbled after him.

They made it to the top of the stairs. The Child let go of Patton and opened the door, ushering both of them in before slamming the door shut behind himself.

This was probably the most regular room they’d seen so far in the Imagination. A small twin bed sat in the corner, with a big canopy and fairy lights overtop. There were streamers and drawings and posters hanging all around the walls, even some stickers and some drawings done directly onto the wall. A wardrobe sat in the corner farthest from the bed, a desk and vanity mirror besides that, and five bean bags were arranged in a circle around a circle rug in the middle of the room.

There was an air of magic around the room, too. The fairy lights bobbed up and down slowly, despite being hung on wires, and the clouds painted onto the ceiling seemed to move. The ceiling was fairly low, too; Patton reached up, eyes stuck on a cloud in the shape of a heart, and found that he could actually touch them. The heart swirled around his hand, glowing light blue before dissipating entirely.

“Sorry about him,” Patton and Logan looked down at the Child — he’d gone to the wardrobe and was taking off his cloak, revealing a plain white shirt with the crest’s sun emblazoned across his back. “Artist’s, uh, not a people person.”

“So we saw. His work, however….it’s breathtaking,” Logan stepped aside as Patton went for one of the beanbags, “I didn’t realize Roman was that much of an artist.”

The Child snorted. He sat down on one of the other beanbags and started untying his shoes, chubby fingers unlacing them down a few notches. “Yeah, well. You never seemed interested. No one was. Arty doesn’t like leaving his art all alone, so ever since we formed he’s been in here with it.”

“Yeah, you said somethin’ like that.” Patton crossed his legs on the bean bag, leaning forward on his elbows toward the Child. “The Playwright also said something about everyone having different thoughts on what’s best for Roman.”

“Playwright!” the Child tossed his shoes into the corner behind the door and laid back in the bean bag, spread out with his arms open. “Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen him in a while, is he okay?”

Logan let his shoulders loosen and slouch. It….did feel good to unwind, after the events of the day. Maybe the adrenaline and shock were wearing off finally. He sat down on another bean bag, bending his knees as though he were in a normal chair. “Yes, he is fine. He is, ah, backstage, as he called it.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Artist doesn’t like Playwright at all,” Logan and Patton shared another confused glance at that, “Thief says it’s ‘cause he doesn’t like mister Logic, but I think he doesn’t like you ‘cause he doesn’t like Playwright.”

“Why doesn’t he like the Playwright? That seems counterintuitive, to not like yourself,” As soon as the words left Logan’s mouth, he realized how hypocritical it sounded. And how obvious the explanation was.

Patton seemed to notice as well, because he grimaced, putting a hand on top of Logan’s knee. The Child, however, just shrugged. “Well, I don’t like all of me, you know? I wanted to figure out what parts of me I could live without, but every part of me has an opinion about what part’s important.”

“I?” Logan asked, softer now.

The Child nodded. “Roman. I,” he made a gesture up at the air, and it reminded Patton a little of the hand flip Roman typically did when rising. “I’m Roman but I’m not Roman.”

“How does that work, kiddo?” Patton coaxed him.

“It’s like….” he trailed off, resting his hand on his chin as he thought. After a few quiet moments, he continued.

“Okay,” The Child sat up and patted his own chest. “Me. I’m the Child. AND I’m Roman. I’m all….”

He flopped backward again onto the bean bag, making vague gestures with his hands as he wrestled to find the words, only to find that there were none. No words truly.

The Child let his hands fall onto his stomach with a groan, staring upwards. Patton and Logan shared a nervous glance. It was clear something was bothering the Child, something integral to this Hunger Games of Romans situation.

“Take your time, kiddo,” Patton tried to comfort him, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

The Child was just looking up at the sky ceiling. After another few seconds, he heaved a sigh.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The sky?” Logan and Patton both looked up as well.

“With all the clouds that look like pretty things. And even if they don’t look like things, they look soft and fluffy and wonderful. And then, when there aren’t clouds, it’s the most beautiful shade of blue or a dazzling red, like how a nice summer night makes you feel?” The ceiling had been full of fluffy white clouds, meandering across the painted blue expanse, but as soon as the Child mentioned “dazzling red” the clouds began to glow pink as the ceiling’s paint color changed to red. He clapped.

“Or, or! Even better, sometimes, when it’s really, really late, and there are stars out? And every star is like a gem on a glittering cloak that the world’s putting on you?” the ceiling changed once more, painted black as the clouds vanished. One by one, twinkling stars seemed to glow from nothing against the ceiling backdrop. In actual constellations, no less.

“It’s all so….” the Child exhaled, “Beautiful.”

Silence followed. All three of them were now laying on the bean bags, looking up at the twinkling stars and the occasional barely visible line that connected them. They just starred, Logan and Patton unsure of how to break the silence, until the Child continued himself.

“That’s what I want Roman to remember,” Patton looked at the Child, who was watching the stars. He spoke with a strong determination, voice set. “That’s what I want to see. The beauty.”

He faltered, closing his open mouth and gritting his teeth. Logan looked away from the sky now, too, and watched the Child as he closed his eyes. Wiser than he seemed. “But that makes me really childish, doesn’t it? If we just see the beauty, then that means we’re ignoring all the bad stuff. And if we’re too childish, we don’t get taken seriously, and we really need to be taken seriously. I mean….”

The Child glanced over at Patton, and he could have sworn that the Child had tears in his eyes. Oh, he hoped he wasn’t crying. Patton reached out, offering his hand to maybe comfort him, but the Child just shrugged, unwilling to look at him anymore.

“We see how you get treated, Dad,” Patton’s brow furrowed in confusion, hand retracting a little, as though the Child’s words hurt. “No one takes you serious and you always have to prove yourself. We don’t take you serious, either, a lot of the time. ‘Cause if you’re childish, then you don’t deserve to be taken seriously. That’s what Roman tells himself. Tells me. But it’s wrong.”

Now the silence was just awkward. Patton lowered his hand into his lap as the Child looked back up at the sky. There was no denying now, now that the Child’s quiet breathing hitched and stuttered, that he was crying.

“It has to be wrong,” he whispered between gasps.

Slowly, the Child pulled his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes and sniffing into his hands. Patton was going to start crying himself, watching the Child cry. He turned to Logan with a bitten lip. He knew, deep down, that the others didn’t always take his opinion seriously. Heck, it was a running theme! Patton the childish, the inner child, the baby. But Jesus, that was point blank.

“You’re correct, Roman. I don’t always understand you both, but the things I don’t understand aren’t…they aren’t unimportant. Occasional immaturity does not equal insignificant. We….” Logan faltered and looked up at Patton, who was staring at him now, tears dotting his eyes.

They really did walk on him, didn’t they? Logan considered the times he had helped elevate Patton’s concerns, and the situations in which Patton’s concerns were elevated. No one took the puppet suggestion seriously, until it was proven successful, and Thomas himself had to step in to get them to even consider it as an option. Along with that, Deceit was able to mimic Patton by, what? Literally saying he was a fan of cartoons and was silly? It was so easy to character Patton into a caricature of immature glee that he, Roman, and Virgil barely noticed.

That was the insult, wasn’t it. Childish. Not to be taken seriously. Silly and immature. Was that what he thought of Patton?

Patton wiped his tears and looked away. “I….guess that’s true. But hey! That’s what comes with being Thomas’ inner child, isn’t it?” there he went, voice heightening in pitch as he tried to make it sound as though he weren’t so upset with Logan’s silence and the Child’s assessment. “Your dorky ol’ Dad can be a lil’ goofball a lot of the time.”

“Your goofball-ness is welcome, often appreciated. We….do have a lot to learn, about having fun and seeing things anew.”

Patton looked over at Logan, who was watching him with determination. The Child, too, was watching Logan with both eyebrows raised, having grabbed a pillow from his side to press his face into. His eyes were two large spotlights.

“I do not understand the Imagination. I cannot claim to. But there IS immense beauty in this world you’ve created, and I see that it would be a waste to focus on making logical sense of it rather than take in the world around as a work of art. It might be childish, but sometimes….a little childishness is what we need to maintain a healthy lifestyle and a healthy headspace. Your input is appreciated.”

If Roman was having these sorts of concerns, about being perceived as childish or not, then Logan knew it was likely Patton had similar concerns. He chided himself mentally for letting this self-consciousness fester but a direct approach was always the most efficient.

And it was all worth it to see Patton smile and remove his glasses, wiping the tears from his downcast eyes.

“Thank you for sharing your concerns with us, kiddo,” the Child smiled at the nickname and rubbed the back of his neck, turning away for a bit. Patton smiled at him, then at Logan, beaming like the sun. “Logan put it real well.”

Logan fixed his glasses, pleased with himself, and the Child patted his arm. “Thank you, Logan,” he said.

They sat in silence, eyes flicking with new brief understanding between each other, until there was banging from below the floor. Patton squeaked and Logan stiffened, but the Child just groaned into his pillow.

“WHAT’RE YOU TALKING ABOUT UP THERE?!” the Artist’s voice boomed from below.

“JUST TALKIN’ ABOUT THE OTHER SIDES WITH TEACH,” the Child shouted back, voice muffled by the pillow.

“WELL, SHUT UP ‘BOUT THEM! THE DRAGON BITCH’LL HEAR YOU!”

“YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

“YOU BRATTY LITTLE—DON’T MAKE ME COME UP THERE!”

The Child leaned his back, groaning loud and angrily. “FINE! SORRY!”

Logan and Patton exchanged worried glances. Had the Artist heard that whole conversation? They looked to the Child for any thoughts or input, but he just shook his head.

“He won’t come upstairs. Ugh, I was doing real good at not saying your names,” he rubbed his face, rubbing the tears into his skin to hide them, “It’s–It’s like the taboo system. Dragon, he put a curse on your names so all of us can hear it when someone says them. The others aren’t really scared of that, they–they….Artist doesn’t want anyone finding this house. He heard me say your name, mister Logic.”

Before either of the adults could respond, however, there was another crash from downstairs. The Child frowned and climbed off the bean bag, kneeling on the ground with an ear pressed to the rug.

“What—” Patton was cut off by the Child shushing him harshly.

They weren’t confused for long, though, as the voices grew more raised and angry.

“—TOLD YOU—FUCK OUT!” they heard the Artist shout.

“I WILL ONCE YOU STOP TALKING SHIT ABOUT THE OTHERS! THEY’RE IN OUR REALM NOW, THEY COULD HEAR YOU!”

Patton raised his eyebrows. He looked at Logan, who was frowning at nothing. When he noticed Patton, Logan mouthed “Playwright.” He didn’t seem like the type to be so….explosive.

“WELL TOUGH, PLAYWRONG. I DONT GIVE A FUCK IF THEY HEAR ME! I JUST DON’T WANT DRAGON SHOWING UP, THOSE UNGRATEFUL CRITICAL ASSHOLES—”

“THEY’RE MUCH MORE THAN THAT, THEY’RE BETTER THAN ALL OF US COMBINED, YOU STARVING STEREOTYPE—”

The Child stood up slowly, stepping carefully on the rug and sliding his feet along the wooden floor. He slid all the way to the door. As slow as he could, he clicked the lock in place, and let out a breath. The yelling died down immediately to a whisper, as though locking the door disconnected the room from the whole house.

“That’ll keep them out. They’re probably not gonna come up here, can’t get into my room now, but if they find you then we’re all fucked,” he mumbled.

“Language,” Patton mumbled, and the Child giggled at him. “No swear words when there’re children present, you know that!”

“Yeah, yeah—” the Child cut himself off with a yawn, shoulders hiking up slowly.

He shuffled back to the bean bags and collapsed into the one he’d been sitting in. He curled into a ball, huffing a small sigh. Patton yawned, too, and smacked his lips. Logan had to stifle a yawn himself. They were contagious.

It had been a long day. They were due for a sleep, especially after the arduous experiences they’d had throughout the day.

“Y’know, I didn’t think the Playwright’d let y’all in,” the Child’s words jumbled over each other, and he covered his mouth as he yawned again.

“What makes you say that?” Logan pressed.

Despite the tiredness, he knew there was something wrong with his initial read of the Playwright, and this situation didn’t leave space for those kinds of errors. The Child shrugged. “I….from what I know, he’s more….he likes things done his way. He really wants all of you approve of him. Mostly mister Logic, but all of you. And he really, really, really doesn’t like Princey. Him an’ Dragon an’—an’—” the Child yawned again, mumbling the rest of his sentence incoherently, but Logan didn’t process that.

There was another mention of this “Dragon” character. Logan rubbed his cheek, arms crossed on his knees as he ran the new information through his mind. The Playwright was volatile — he scoffed quietly, of COURSE Roman, with his boisterousness and exuberance, wouldn’t be able to contain his energetic nature into something reserved and quiet. He had his quiet moments, but he couldn’t maintain stoicism forever. They would have to assess him again, it seemed.

“I thought….” Patton whispered, and Logan looked up at him.

Patton’s eyes were downcast at the ground, brow furrowed in anguish. He’d thought they’d gotten at least one part of Roman, one bit to understand that they were accepted. That Roman was LOVED, damnit, because that’s what it was! He was loved, Roman was loved, and by God it felt like he’d failed if one of his friends doubted that so much that he couldn’t believe that.

“I’m gonna sleep. Just right here. Y’all can take the bed if y’all want,” the Child’s voice slurred together, halfway asleep already and cutting into both adults’ trains of thought.

Patton sighed. He slowly switched into Dad Mode as he pushed himself up and rolled his shoulders. “Nope. You’re a growing boy, kiddo, you’re goin’ in the bed.”

He stooped down and picked the Child up, chuckling quietly as he groaned in dramatic despair. Still, the Child wrapped his arms around Patton’s neck lazily, snuggling against him once more. Logan crossed his legs on the bean bag and watched as Patton sat on the bed, rubbing the Child’s back, and tried to pry him off.

“You need to get in bed, kiddo,” Patton whispered gently, “You’ve gotta sleep. A prince needs his beauty sleep, right?”

The Child giggled. “I’m not a–a–a,” he yawned again, “A prince! I’m a child!”

“But you’re gonna grow up to be one! You’re gonna grow up to be a great prince, ruling over all the Imagination,” Patton was whisper shouting, putting on a grandiose voice full of gusto.

He mimicked blowing a trumpet with one hand and the Child laughed, patting Patton’s hand down.

“Nuh uh!” he hummed between tired giggles.

Logan stood up behind Patton and gently took the Child’s hands. The Child looked up at him, squeezing Logan’s hands sleepily and giggling.

“You will be a valiant prince,” he lifted the Child’s hands away from Patton, and he took the cue to start tucking the Child into bed, “You will be a prince, lion-hearted and loved. But tonight, you must sleep.”

The Child squeezed his left hand, then his right, and laid down in the bed he’d been placed in. He looked so comforted as Patton pulled the blanket up higher around his face, big brown eyes questioning as he looked up at Logan from beneath the edge of the blanket.

“Will they listen to me?” his voice was thick as he teetered between unconsciousness and lucidity, “Will–Will they care, when I’m a prince?”

Logan nodded at him, and Patton nodded too. They were both sure, sure as the sky is blue. “Yes,” Patton whispered, “Everyone will hear you. And you’ll live happily ever after, my Prince.”

The Child giggled quietly. Slowly, he snuggled into the bed, and his hold on Logan’s hands relinquished, now gripping the blanket as he curled into a ball. Within mere seconds, he was snoring softly.

Patton stepped back and stretched. He looked up at Logan, who was removing his glasses in preparation for sleep.

“Wanna sleep on the floor?” Patton asked, “Or should we stack the beanbags in a square and use those as a bed?”

Logan considered the bean bags for a moment, actually, before deciding the morning back pain wouldn’t be worth it. “I think we can suffer the floor for a night,” he said, taking his coat off and spreading it out on the ground.

Patton followed suit, throwing his cat cloak down and spreading it out like a bed mat. They both slowly climbed to the ground beside each other, fitting themselves into the space that was to be their sleeping mat, grabbing some of the pillows and stuffed animals strewn about. At least the carpet was soft, adding extra padding. They both laid down, heads resting on some of the Child’s pillows, staring up at the stars on the ceiling.

Though they were both tired, Patton wanted to clear one thing up before letting himself drift off.

“....Lo,” Patton asked, voice soft. “Lo, are you awake?”

Logan sniffed. He was actually partway asleep already. “Yes, Pa—er. Patt.”

Patton giggled. It wasn’t always that he got to hear Logan call him by a nickname. He sobered up fast, though. “Did you mean what you said? About…about appreciating the childish things.”

Ah. Logan opened an eye. Patton smiled sheepishly at him.

He still had his glasses on. Logan turned to his side, facing Patton, reaching a hand out and taking his glasses off carefully. He slowly folded them and set them aside on the ground, with his.

“Of course I did. You provide important opinions and insight, often noticing details I….overlook,” Logan rested his hand on Patton’s shoulder, “You are appreciated.”

Patton beamed with a wobbly lip, more tears threatening to spill over. He slowly took Logan’s hand and pressed it to his lips. Not in a kiss, per se, but more to hold him close. To show that he was so thankful, so grateful for this acknowledgement. Plus, he was afraid that the tears would spill if he opened his mouth.

Logan didn’t seem to mind, though his face did turn a brighter shade of crimson, just barely visible in the starlight.

After a few seconds, Patton regained his stability. “Thanks,” he whispered. “We...we’re gonna get Roman back.”

Logan nodded, discombobulated. Patton’s breath on the back of his hand was comfortingly warm. There was that feeling in his chest. What was that?

He let go of Logan’s hand and rolled back onto his back, letting out a sign of contentedness. Their little prince was fast asleep and the next day would bring more trials. They had to find Virgil and Deceit and hopefully the Roman who’d been on the roof. They had to talk to the Artist. They had to confront the Playwright. They had to find the OTHERS and talk to THEM.

And Patton knew they’d be able to face it all head-on. He knew it in his heart. “Goodnight, Lo’. I love you.”

Logan exhaled beside him. Perhaps….things would be okay. He looked over at Patton, whose eyes were already closed, legs crossed and hands interlaced on his chest in a peaceful manner.

There was that feeling again. The data points — he was too tired to be thinking coherently, look at him, applying statistics knowledge to emotions of all things — indicated that he felt warm and fluttery near his lungs whenever he considered the other Sides. It felt as though his lungs were clenching, breathing constricting and carbon dioxide exhalation warming. That couldn’t be literal, though, or else he’d be ill. On this particular adventure, in this particular day, it’d happened a few times.

Perhaps he was just tired. It had been a long day, all of this just in one day. Logan would consider this issue more in the morning. However, he would indulge in the working hypothesis just once, whilst muddled in this warm-chested comforting confusion. “....I love you, too, Patt. Sleep well.”

It may have been a trick of the light or his mind, but Logan thought, just before he closed his eyes, that he’d seen Patton smile at him.

[madboxwithagirl]

The Nightmare Before Christmas

Author’s Note: This was never supposed to be a Christmas story, but it somehow ended up becoming one anyway. Don’t worry, I have a true Christmas story coming up after the 25th, so stay tuned for that. I apologize for any and all typos in this story. My finger is broken and it was difficult to type this out. I also didn’t have a beta reader for this. Please inform me of any errors so I can fix them!

Prompt: This was inspired by Early Sunsets Over Monroeville by My Chemical Romance and the video game Left 4 Dead 2.

Summary: For some reason, the Doctor wasn’t a fan of Christmas. Hoping to get him into the holiday spirit, you go shopping for presents together. When things start to go downhill quickly, you find out why he doesn’t like the Christmas season.

Warnings: Death, dead bodies, blood, guns, zombies, people changing into zombies, injuries, heavy angst

Words: 4,221

“I can’t believe you wrapped me into this,” the Doctor pouted as you looked through a rack of clothing, looking for a nice sweater to give as a Christmas gift to a friend.

“Did you just make a gift wrapping pun?” you smirked, knowing that he hadn’t meant to do so. You weren’t one to pass up a good pun, however. He groaned, annoyed with himself.

“Stop it, you,” he scolded, waggling his finger at you as if you were a small child. “We could be absolutely anywhere else in the universe doing absolutely whatever we wanted, and you chose to go Christmas shopping in a mall on a planet inhabited by humans? C’mon, wouldn’t you rather go to a planet that has rainbow snow? Because I can take you there, you know. Each color tastes different! There’s strawberry, cookie dough, we can’t forget banana, mint, orange…” You rolled your eyes as he rambled on, talking about the vast amounts of snow flavors, like it was the most interesting thing in the universe.

“Doctor,” you interrupted as you pulled away from the clothing rack, sweater in hand. “I get that humans aren’t the most interesting creatures to you, but it’s nice for me to be around my own kind every now and again. Plus, we’re not even on Earth! I kept that in mind when I asked to come here!” You bumped his shoulder with your own, trying to get him to smile. “Listen, after we’re done here, we can go and taste test different snow flavors, alright?” He glanced over, noticing the warm look in your eyes. He sighed and nodded his head in agreement, a small curve appearing on his lips. He just couldn’t say no to you.

“Fine, you win. But! Don’t you think that we’re going to stay there for only a little while. We’re staying until we’ve tried every flavor possible.”

“Even pear?”

“…Except for pear.” You laughed loudly, noting the scowl that had replaced his smile. How he despised pears. You were still chuckling by the time you made it to the register to pay for your items. Bags in hand, you and the Doctor made your way back out into the busy mall. It was Christmas Eve on the planet. Frantic shoppers rushed through the stores, looking for last-minute gifts for their loves ones. Even there, people were still very poor planners. You hadn’t meant to land on such a hectic day, but with the Doctor piloting, you never made it exactly where you wanted to go. Deciding to head to one of the many department stores, you turned right and began walking.

“So tell me, Scrooge, why are you so adamant on keeping me from my Christmas shopping?” you asked as you slipped through the crowd. He had never been huge on the holiday during the time that you had known him. You had tried more times than were really necessary to get him to enjoy the season. Snowball fights, decorating Christmas trees, cookie baking, and even hot cocoa weren’t enough to bring him around. He seemed adamant on avoiding any and all Christmas cheer.

“Nothing good ever happens during Christmastime. I’m certain I’ve told you about my last regeneration. And about those murderous Christmas trees.” You let out a laugh, finding some humor in his misfortune.

“Alright, dying and having near-death experiences at Christmas aren’t exactly at the top of my list of fun holiday activities, but you’ve had those experiences loads of times. It’s just coincidence that some of them have happened during Christmas. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had plenty of run-ins with death on, say, May 27th!” You linked your arm with his as you kept walking, hoping to offer him some comfort. “You’re only remembering those specific times because they were at signifiant times. They’re just coincidences, nothing more.” His eyes traveled towards you, a reassuring smile gracing your face. His head bobbed in agreement.

“Yes, nothing more than just mere coincidences. Speaking of coincidences, did you know that on May 27th, John I of England and Alexander III of Russia were both crowned? Well, several years apart, of course. And Malcolm IV became the King of Scotland! Again, not on the exact same day, but on May 27th nonetheless. And…” You shook your head as he started to ramble yet again. He could talk for hours without stopping if no one intervened.

As luck would have it, it wasn’t someone who intervened, but something.

Horrified screams rang throughout the space, people running towards the exits as fast as their legs could take them. Confused murmurs broke out around you, no one knowing what was happening. Then gunshots rang out, some trying to take matters into their own hands. The pop! pop! pop! of the guns forced them to stop questioning and instead try to escape as well. Your eyes meant with the Doctor’s, knowing that whatever was going on was going to have to be stopped by the both of you. As people ran away from the impending danger, you and the Doctor ran towards it like you always did.

What you saw next made your stomach churn, the bile rising in your throat. You skidded to a halt and dropped your bags in shock, taking in the terrifying sight. There, in front of you, were four humanoid creatures kneeling down and feeding on the flesh of dead shoppers. Their skin was a sickly, faded green, some falling off in different places. One of them had an eye missing, the red socket sticking out amongst the pale. Some lay beside the carnage, bullet holes in their heads; the targets of the previous gunshots.

“Zombies…” you breathed out, watching the scene unfold. You felt the Doctor’s hand against your back, the man trying to comfort you and pull you out of your trance. You screamed and leapt forward, scared that the touch had been from one of the changed humans. The pale beings jerked their heads up at the sound, wanting to find the source. As their eyes found you, they rose slowly. You felt the Doctor’s hand grab your own and pull you away as the zombies rapidly charged at you, ready for their next kill.

“Keep running and do not look back!” he yelled, dragging you through the last straggling patrons. You followed his orders, too worried that if you stopped, they would catch you and cause the same cruel fate as their last victims. “We need to find some shelter and wait this out. It’s safer that way,” he said as he tugged you towards a seemingly abandoned department store. Despite him being unable to see the action, you just nodded in agreement, too scared to say anything.

Then, you spotted it. On the ground, directly in the path of your escape, was a pistol. Opting not to think about the gun’s owner and their fate, you placed all of your focus on grabbing it as you ran by. You knew that in your situation, it was better safe than sorry. The Doctor’s sonic was useful, but it was no firearm. As you quickly approached, you leaned down, aiming your hand towards the object.

“Wait, what are you do-“ You grasped at the gun, knowing that it was your one and only chance. Your fingers touched the barrel, fireworks going off in your head. You were doing it! You were going to protect yourself and the Doctor and you were going to make it though the apocalypse just fine! Then, without warning, you were jerked away from the pistol.

“No!” you cried out, turning back to watch the gun get further and further away. “No!” you yelled again, but this time out of anger. You dragged your feet into the floor to the best of your ability and pulled your hand as hard as you could, effectively slipping out of the Doctor’s tight grasp. You heard him yell out your name, panic in his voice, but you ignored him. You had to get that gun. You hurried back towards the weapon, aware that the group of zombies were close. You dove forwards, arms and fingers outstretched. Once more, you felt the cool surface of the pistol beneath your fingertips, this time getting a firm grip on it.

You had no time to celebrate your victory, the zombies having caught up to you. Your heart raced in your chest, the realization of your mistake catching up to you. You heard a strangled voice scream your name, the sound nearly being drowned out by the beat of your heart. On impulse, you raised your arms up, holding on tightly to the weapon in your shaking hands. Four shots rang out, followed by four soft thuds on the linoleum floors. You took in rugged breaths, adrenaline running through your system. The zombies lay dead in front of you, blood oozing onto the floor.

You felt a rough tug on your shoulders and then you were running again, the Doctor pulling you into the store. Doing a quick once-over to be certain there were no undead beings within, he let go of your hand and found the gates used at closing time, pulling them shut. He sonicked them and checked their durability, making sure that nothing could get in. Once he was certain that it was secure and safe, he turned to you, anger in his eyes.

“What were you thinking!?” he roared, stalking towards you. In that moment, you found yourself more afraid of him than of the zombies. “You could have been killed! Or worse, you could have turned into one of them. And for what? A gun?” You backed up, the Doctor’s wrath nearly making you cower in fear.

“It’s to keep us safe! Didn’t you see me kill the ones who were chasing us?” you argued back, trying to appear strong.

“And what if the gun hadn’t had any bullets? Or if you had missed? It would have been over for you! I…I could have lost you…” Your shoulders dropped as the anger left his body. You knew that he was right. What you did was stupid, but in the heat of the moment, you hadn’t been thinking of anything except finding a way to keep you both safe. In doing so, you very well could have lost your life or caused him to lose his. You jumped as you heard rattling against the gates followed by low moans. The creatures were trying to get to you, luckily to no avail. You winced, knowing that the harsh noises of the gun drew them to you.

His jaw tightened at the sound, knowing that had he waited only a few extra moments, they would have made it to you. You sighed as you looked at the Doctor, knowing that once you made it back to the TARDIS, you would be scolded even further. Until then, you reasoned, you could at least try to lessen the blow. You willed your legs to move, beginning to walk towards your friend to comfort him and apologize.

Without warning, you heard a raspy cry and felt something grab ahold of you. The gunshots and your shouts had drawn one out of hiding, the beast hungering for fresh meat. A new shot of adrenaline soared through your veins as you tried to fight the zombie off. The Doctor, a look of fear covering his face, rushed towards you, ready to aid you in your battle. You called out in both shock and panic as you felt a pinch on your shoulder. Before it could cause more damage, you raised your hand, gun still held tightly, and sent a bullet straight through its skull. Its hands slipped off of you as it fell to the floor, dead. You instantly felt a new set of hands on you, these ones pulling you into a tight embrace, ignoring the blood and brains that coated you.

“Are you alright!? Are you hurt!?” He pushed you back and looked you over, trying to assess the damage. He held your shoulders and looked you in the eye so intensely that you wanted to shy away. “I need you to be honest with me. Did it bite you?” You had never seen him look so serious in all of your time traveling with him, but underneath that seriousness was an intense uneasiness. You wanted to say no just to ease his nerves, but you couldn’t do that to him. Even if you did lie, he knew you better than you knew the back of your own hand. He would have known if you weren’t being truthful.

“I…I really don’t know. I felt something on the back of my shoulder, but…” He wasted no time turning you around and lifting your shirt up, not bothering to ask for permission. You heard a sharp intake of air and nearly inaudible whispers of denial. You heard him fumble around in his pockets for a moment before hearing the sound of his sonic, the device scanning you. “Doctor? Is everything alright?” you asked, knowing, somewhere deep down, that no, it wasn’t alright. He put the screwdriver away, pulled your shirt back down, and turned you back around, this time at a much slower pace. When you met his eyes, you held back a sob. The look he held told it all.

You had been bitten.

“Here, c’mon.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, hand resting on the bite. He pushed you forward, keeping an eye out for any other lurking zombies. You were shaking violently, unsure if it was from nerves, the bite, or both. You could feel him shaking too, the Time Lord afraid of what was to come. He guided you to one of the store’s large display beds, hastily rearranging the pillows for you. He helped you climb onto the soft mattress and get as comfortable as possible. You expected him to join you, hoping that he would attempt to comfort you. Instead, he paced back and forth in front of you, muttering to himself. You eventually leaned forward and clasped onto his sleeve, forcing him to stop and look at you. You gulped, the look on his face showing complete helplessness.

“Doctor?…Am…Am I going to be okay?” you whispered out, unable to make yourself speak louder. The Doctor just looked at you, his eyes moving over your face as if he was trying to take in every last detail. Unshed tears threatened to spill over and rush down his cheeks, the man trying his hardest to keep them from doing so. His body was rigid, tension spread throughout. You swallowed, noting his actions. “Doctor, please…” He shook his head and placed a hand over the one holding onto his suit.

“I’m so sorry.” The breath caught in your throat, all attempts to allow air into your lungs ending in failure. You finally placed the gun down next to you, the weapon having been held tightly throughout the whole ordeal. You raised the hand up in front of you, examining it for any changes. Your skin, already, was beginning to turn into the diseased green of the monsters that had caused the whole situation. The Doctor’s other hand grabbed ahold of it, trying to give you all the comfort he could offer. Your eyes shot back over to his, trying to ignore the pain in them.

“No. There has to be something. There has to be. The TARDIS. She must have something in the med-bay. Right?” You knew that the chances were slim, but you refused to accept that you were doomed. The Doctor always had a way. He could fix it. He could make you all nice and healthy again and then you would be off on more crazy adventures, narrowly escaping death’s grasp again and again and again. He squeezed his eyes closed and detached his hands from yours, wrapping his arms around your shaking form instead. He whispered apologies into your ear, his warm tears falling onto your neck.

You clawed at his back, trying to prevent there being any space between you both. Your face was buried into his chest, the feel of his twin hearts beating wildly noticeable beneath his clothing. He was mortified at the events that had lead to that point and of the events that would follow.

He was losing you, and he wasn’t ready.

You pulled him into the bed with you, the Doctor allowing himself to lay with you and hold you close. In that moment, all you wanted was comfort from the most important person in your life. You pressed your ear against his chest and closed your eyes, his hearts being one of the most beautiful sounds in that moment.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, knowing that if you hadn’t stopped for the gun, you wouldn’t have drawn the attention of the zombie that had bitten you. You both would have been more alert, so it wouldn’t have snuck up on you. You would have been on your way back to the TARDIS. Once there, you would have gone elsewhere, perhaps the planet with the multitude of snow flavors. Maybe you should have gone there in the first place. You had begged him to come Christmas shopping with you, desperately hoping that he would start to enjoy Christmas if he just had the right experiences. Tears started to soak the fabric of his suit, leaking through until they touched his skin, making him shiver.

“I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I forced you here and now I’m going to-“ You couldn’t say the word, a sob taking its place instead. You were either going to die or turn into one of the undead. You didn’t know which was worse. Instead of going home and spending Christmas with loved ones or staying in the TARDIS and spending it with the Doctor, you were going to lose your life.

“Do you know why I hate Christmas?” a broken voice asked, tearing you away from your thoughts. You pulled away and looked up at the Doctor, his tear-filled eyes closed tightly.

“What? I thought it was because of the trees and regeneration?” you replied, confused by his question. He took a deep breath, willing himself to speak about one of the biggest reasons as to why he didn’t like the holiday.

“As you know, you are not my first companion. I’ve had many before you, all of whom left me in various ways; some willingly and some by means outside out their or my control. But I’ve never told you about the few almost-companions. After Martha left me to continue her life on Earth, I met another woman almost right away. Her name was Astrid.” His arms squeezed you tighter, the appendages holding you like a vice, too scared to let go. “She was a waitress on a space-cruise ship replica of the Titanic. Just as it always is with me, trouble wasn’t too far behind. We, of course, attempted to fend off the impending doom.” Tears finally began to appear on his cheeks, the liquid falling into his sideburns. He angrily wiped them away.

“We were going to travel together, her and I, as soon as everything was taken care of on the ship. It was her dream to explore the universe, a dream that I could have easily fulfilled if…if she hadn’t…” He trailed off, knowing that you could put the pieces together. He let his tears fall freely, no longer caring. “It was Christmas. Since then, I’ve had no desire to celebrate or partake in any Christmas traditions. Too many terrible things have happened during those days. And now…” He opened his eyes and let them fall onto your face, causing him to breathe out a pained “Rassilon.” Your pupils were dilated and your skin was completely the wrong color.

You didn’t have much time left.

“Doctor,” you rasped out, your voice having changed as well, “I shouldn’t have-“

“No. Stop that.” He looked deeply into your eyes, taking them in for what was going to be one of the final times. “It’s not your fault. I wasn’t honest with you when I should have been. I could have taken us somewhere else. I-“ That time, you cut him off.

“Stop it, Doctor!” you croaked. “You always blame yourself whenever something bad happens. Some things are just out of your control. This was just bad luck? It’s just coincidence, like May 27th, right?” No matter who’s fault it was, you didn’t want him wallowing after it was all over. If it was his fault, you didn’t want him believing so. He had been through enough. He didn’t need more.

Your eyes widened as you felt a nearly uncontrollable urge to latch your teeth into the Doctor’s flesh. With all the strength you could muster, you pushed him as far away from you as you could, wanting to distance yourself from him. You couldn’t let him share the same fate as you. He tried to crawl back towards you, wanting to examine you.

“No!” you wailed. “Don’t come any closer! I won’t be able to control myself!” You looked at him in despair, knowing that you were coming down to the final minutes. You were turning into one of them, and nothing could be done to stop it. Unless… You looked down next to you, the discarded firearm still where you had left it. You picked it up in your shaky hands and checked to see how much ammo was left in it. There was a single bullet remaining. You inhaled deeply, knowing what had to be done. “Doctor.”

“No.” You locked gazes, the agony in his old, tear-filled eyes prominent. “No, I won’t do it. Not to you.” Your face was filled with despair, knowing that if he didn’t, you would turn. Tears fell quickly onto the bed’s comforter, the fabric darkening.

“Please Doctor,’ you sobbed. “I don’t want to become one of them. Please, please, please.” The Time Lord shook his head, closed his eyes, and bared his teeth, angry at whatever god or gods had lead him to that point. He didn’t have it in him to take your life, but he couldn’t let you turn into a monster. The options tormented him, tearing him into tiny, little pieces. He wanted to block out your pleas for him to end your life, but he knew that there was only one way. He looked back up at you, misery coating his entire being as he made his choice.

He could never say no to you.

“Fine.” You swallowed and leaned over, placing the gun near him before leaning back, desperately fighting against the desire to sink your teeth into his skin. He picked the gun up, hating the feel of it in his hands. His chest hurt with every breath he took and with every beat his hearts made. “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. It should have never ended like this,” he breathed out, knowing that no amount of apologies could make up for what had happened and for what he was about to do.

“Please don’t blame yourself,” you replied through gritted teeth, fighting the change. Even so, you gave him the biggest smile you could make. “I wouldn’t trade any of this away, really. I enjoyed traveling with you. Thank you for giving me the most amazing time of my life. I…I love you, Doctor.” All at once, his hearts stopped in their places and his lungs couldn’t bring any air in or out. No no no no no. You couldn’t say that to him, not as he was about to end your life. Trying to break him away from his thoughts, you weakly called out to him to no avail. He didn’t want to do it, he couldn't do it, he just couldn’t.

“Doctor!” A deafening, throaty voice called out his name and he was suddenly charged at, your teeth bared and ready to strike. With no time to think, he raised the gun towards your head and pulled the trigger, the sound ringing in his ears. Your body slumped down onto the bed, no life within it. His eyes were wide as they looked over your sickly body, blood pouring out onto the bedcovers. He dropped the gun on the floor, the clattering not even registering in his brain.

Ignoring the blood and brains, the Doctor scooped you up into his arms and lay back down, replicating the position that you were both in before. He held you close, your body quickly growing cold. He cried, thinking about your final words. “I love you. Doctor.” It wasn’t a surprise to him, not really. He knew that you held intense feelings for him, but you had never admitted them. He never expected you to come clean, and he certainly never expected you to tell him on your deathbed. Clutching onto you, he lay in the bed, hearing the zombies at the gate trying but failing to get to him. He didn’t care if they got through. In fact, he almost wished that they did so he could be with you.

For the Doctor loved you too.

[the-kipsabian]

Also sparkleharper and/or spaceharper

sparkleharper ~

Who offers their jacket when the other is cold?jared. this smol thing on his side cant be cold, nope he wont allow. his sparkles will keep him warm lol

Who giggles uncontrollably when the other playfully picks them up?idk how many times i can repeat myself, but mads will just. yell. and she cant pick up jared so yep

Who compliments the other in front of everyone?jareddddd. mostly cause thats just what he does tbh. and mads doesnt need to say anything to compliment him in front of everybody tbh, everyone already knows how fantastic the school senpai is lol

Who is more likely to tell the other a pun and what is the other’s reaction to the pun?i think in this case the puns fall on mads to deliver? being the courteous gentleman that he is, jared laughs. pretty much every time, not even depending whether he gets it or not tbh

When one of them has a bad day, what does the other do to help cheer them up?jared puts up a “fashion show” for mads, completed with a photoshoot session of goofy outfits and expressions and googly eyes. when jared needs to distress, mads sits him down, asks him to ramble to her about any recent d&d games and help him plot some really stupid and lighthearted side quests while having a relaxing cup of tea and some kit made cookies

If they got to pick what one another wears for a day, what would one another wear?blue. lots of blue. mads wants jared to wear his blue shirt (”its pretty and its soft and you look so nice in it”) and jared insist she wears one of his shirts (”cause its adorable, they are so big on you”) and her favorite pair of blue jeans. i dont think i need to say why anymore at this point lol

Who introduces their partner to their family first? How does it go?for this, i wanna say mads? jared obviously isnt too keen on introducing anyone to his family, and while mads is very hesitant about this, especially since this is a super well-behaved boy its. gonna get very awkward considering what kind of a bunch of normies my family is mmmm. but jared is a good boio underneath all that rich senpai stuff, so it would probably go very well in the end, actually

In a coffee shop AU, who would be the coffee shop employee and who would be the customer?jared is too pretty to work as a coffee shop employee sssooo hes the customer, and mads is the daydreaming waitress woo

When they sit side by side, do they touch one another? For example, does one person has their arm around the other, do they sit holding hands, or linked arms, ECT.jared definitely. has at least one arm flung around her at like all times. if he needs to be more discreet in like a more public place or whatnot, he holds her hand under the table

What is a small thing that one another does to make their partner happy?jared definitely tries to befriend the stray cats tbh. mads takes his encouragement about herself to heart and whenever jared is feeling down or just generally missing her, she send him little video messages to cheer him on and selfies she wouldnt sent to anyone else cause jared keeps saying he loves seeing her and that makes him happy so dang it shes gonna push past her comfort zone to be more comfortable with herself and make him happy

What would they do to celebrate their one year anniversary?jared would arrange something very elaborate tbh. take her to dinner, possibly see a movie, go to the arcade, win her everything she wants, walks in the moonlight.. literally anything that he can think of, and he would fit it into either one day or over the weekend, if mads seems like shes gonna get exhausted by it

When did they know that loved each other, and when did they first tell each other that they loved one another?i feel like they both had like. hard time actually recognizing when it was love tbh? like yeah mads first falls for him cause of aesthetic reasons, and jared is playing the senpai card of loving every girl, so you cant really tell on the outside when its actually love or when either of them develop like real feelings, but at some point it just. kinda becomes obvious that oh shit i. love this person?? and yeah its jared who definitely says it first tho. its like an offhand remark at first and mads is like ‘what did you say’ and jared repeats it and realizes that oh heck i. actually do mean this??

Who likes to give the other hugs from behind followed by a kiss?jared does this as a combo, mads sneaks in little kisses when hes piggybacking her around tbh

Who would make a playlist for the other person? What would be featured on the playlist?i feel like mads would do that? jared is more about more expensive presents, while mads cant really afford that so she has to pull something selfmade together and yeah, that happens. its mostly like ambient sounds and background music tbh, stuff she thinks will inspire him and what he could use for d&d games and maybe some more upbeat stuff for the fashion shows and for better days

Who would bring their partner on a romantic date under the stars?they could both do this tbh? mads wants to surprise him so she arranges a little cuddling under a blanket while stargazing moment, and jared just does this a lot in general

~~~~~~~~

spaceharper ~

Who offers their jacket when the other is cold?jeff. mom friend habits kick in and they kick in hard. this has also probably been established somewhere in the canon of this route anyways lol

Who giggles uncontrollably when the other playfully picks them up?im gonna keep repeating myself but mads. except that she yells. put her down yall pls

Who compliments the other in front of everyone?mmm i wanna say jeff? but its like. really soft things and its done in almost unnoticeable fashion, like its just really offhand comments like “oh shes so sweet” etc. unless its something that she has given him a permission to share about her writing. then jeff will lose his freaking mind cause eveRYONE NEEDS TO SEE THIS THING MY GF DID OMG

Who is more likely to tell the other a pun and what is the other’s reaction to the pun?i’d imagine jeff is more of a pun man out of these two. he does it very casually tho, like most of the time its not on purpose or he doesnt put much emphasis on it, so most of the time mads just misses it. if she gets it tho, she will most likely laugh

When one of them has a bad day, what does the other do to help cheer them up?jeff arranges some cuddle time, with the help of kit builds a blanket fort, gets some scented candles, and they just cuddle up with some strays and play animal intersection. if its jeff that needs destressing, mads will literally cling onto him until he sits down and just takes it easy - which is her cue to throw a blanket on him, get jeff a cup of tea and just sit down and talk about random nonsense with him to make sure he takes a break from everything

If they got to pick what one another wears for a day, what would one another wear?onesies all day every day. jeff in a hamster onesie, and mads in a fox one

Who introduces their partner to their family first? How does it go?jefffffff. i think ive crossed this topic enough times by now tbh lol

In a coffee shop AU, who would be the coffee shop employee and who would be the customer?mmmm i’d say jeff is the customer? i could see him working in a coffee shop tho, but this pair feels better to me with mads behind the counter tho

When they sit side by side, do they touch one another? For example, does one person has their arm around the other, do they sit holding hands, or linked arms, ECT.jeff does what mads feels comfortable at the moment. usually its just limited to hand holding, tho if they are in relax mode, like playing games and mads doesnt wanna be too cuddled up but still wants to be close enough to jeff, there will at least be her legs in his lap

What is a small thing that one another does to make their partner happy?jeff brings sweets and stray cats. hes also always available for cuddles and advice when needed. mads sends him stupid pictures of her with googly eyes and gets him hamster related gifts cause they made her think of him

What would they do to celebrate their one year anniversary?STARGAZING WITH CANDLE LIGHT PICNIC NEXT QUESTION

When did they know that loved each other, and when did they first tell each other that they loved one another?jeff helps her through some rough times and shes like. oh heck i like this boi like. LIKE him. oh dear goodness me what do. jeff comes somewhere afterwards as they spend more time together and thats where the whole ‘you wanna join hidden club’ thing comes along and only after that jeff has it in him to actually tell her how she feels mmmmalso it would. probably actually be mads who tells him first? jeff has hard time opening up about his feelings even if they are there, so it falls on her to confess about it first yay

Who likes to give the other hugs from behind followed by a kiss?both honestly? tho jeff needs to be sitting down for this lol, but yeah they both do it. its just a cute little way to show the other that hey im glad youre here

Who would make a playlist for the other person? What would be featured on the playlist?probably both? with both asking help from luke cause oh my god wHAT DO

Who would bring their partner on a romantic date under the stars?mads? its one of those nights when jeff really needs to destress and she knows how much he likes space and stars and stuff so she basically drags him out to just lay on the grass and stare up at the sky like yes pls jeff tell me about your plan to shoot hamsters into space again tho i mean when you put it like that its not like. super romantic pfff but you know it doesnt need to be romantic as long as it makes him happy

[rachelblogsstuff]

Musical adventure to London

I’ve always loved London. Since I was younger, until now where that love grows each time I travel down. The first trip down to London was one of the best experiences along with the time I went down for a second time. Thinking back, it hasn’t been that long since I first went down. But then again, it will be 4 times I've been to london by the end of this year.

The first trip was with a friend to go and see Carrie Hope Fletcher’s first solo concert in Cadogan Hall. And the second was a trip to get a visa to work at an American summer camp over the summer. Both memorable trips. But my latest trip down to London has took the ball.

A few weeks ago I traveled down to London with my friend Amy. We planned on going down due to both our loves for musicals and London. We got our trains and hotel booked along with two musicals we were going to see. And the best thing that happened was when we got to London.

When we got into Euston station, we began another mini journey to get to Kingston. This is where our hotel for the few days was. It was beautifully sunny two of the days we were there but It did get cloudy when we went our wonder after dropping our stuff off at the hotel.

Kingston has recently been the go to place for me when I book hotels. And when I say that, it was only my second time staying in the area which both times included a Travelodge. Outside of the hotel there was this massive art piece that I thought was quite cool. A line of red phone boxes were tipped over like domino. And obviously I had to take a picture of it.

From there we travelled back into London waterloo to go be tourists for a little bit. We spent the rest of that evening walking along the river where we seen the London bridge. We were even lucky to catch it opening up to let a boat through (Not exactly sure if that is a rare sight or not but it was still lovely to see it happen).  We stayed in that area until it got dark where we seen the bridge open up for the second time letting that exact same boat through again before we started our wonder back to the station to get back to Kingston for the night.

The second day was where the excitement began. Both musicals that we booked were in this one day. Eugenius in the matinee show at the other palace. Then the Heathers evening show in the Haymarket Royal Theatre.

We got to the Other Palace in time to get drinks before the show began. They had... Slushies. Slushies? In a theatre? You can tell this was a new one to me considering I only expected normal drinks like the average soft drink or alcoholic drink. But as I could tell it was going to be an amazing day, I got a slushie and I loved it. Also, can I just mention how beautiful the building is?? Like its such a nice building (I loved the architect of the building. It was just so damn nice).

The show itself was amazing! Our seats were a few rows from the stage, bang centre of the row which let us see the full show with no difficulties at all. As you can probably tell, this was the first time I had been to the other palace. And the theatre was beautiful, there was fairy lights hanging around the theatre and the stage was such a nice size. I hadn’t been to a theatre like this one before to be quite honest. And I’m so glad I got the chance to watch the show there. The cast were amazing! I had never had much expectations since I didn’t want to look into it so I could just be surprised by my own expectations. Which I was. I honestly loved every single moment in that theatre. The set, the music, the cast. So much talent and work went into this show and it’s payed off because at the end of the show everyone joins in with the wonderful fist pumping to Go Eugenius.

Fun fact: I seen a girl stand up to start dancing along at the end of the show and this lead me to standing up too. I looked around to see nobody else standing up so I very awkwardly slid back onto my still folded up seat only for everyone to then start standing up to dance along. This was probably one of the most awkward things in my life ahaha

But at the end of that show I came out so incredibly happy to have went to see it. The cast came out to go for they're lunch and Scott was nice enough to stop and have a chat with people so we went and said hi to him before he headed off. 

We stayed in the other palace after the show so we could devour food since we hadn't ate that day. (Bad, yes but at least we managed to get food before show number 2). We got pizza, nachos and best of all... Eugenius themed cocktails! and I need to say thank you to the lovely bar staff for making these wonderful drinks. 

From the Other Palace, we went straight to the Royal Haymarket where we were to go see Heathers the musical. I had been waiting months for this day to come and honestly I was so excited for this show. Because I had went to work in America over the summer, I missed the chance to see heathers at the other palace during its run there. Nobody knew my happiness when I had seen heathers was due to come back for another more longer run in London so I said to Amy and we booked the tickets.

Another small thing that needed to be done at the theatre was a mini photoshoot outside before we went in. Yes it was a bit windy and I look a tad of a mess but looking back at this day makes me extremely happy so I'm going to share this picture...

Now, I have been to my fair share of concerts, and musicals ect. But the seats we had for Eugenius and Heathers that day had taken the cake for best seats. We got into the theatre where I collected the tickets, got some merchandise then headed to our seats. We must have been about 4-5 rows from the stage and it was one of the best views in a theatre like that in London I have ever had. The lights all went down and the show began and it was Beautiful! Pun intended. The set was amazing, I never thought it would be as good a set as it was. The band were amazing, the cast were incredible! Ive seen quite a few shows carrie has been in and oh my god, her voice. The whole cast is so talented I was blown away with how good the show was.

After the show we stood outside the front of the theatre as there was a line waiting for the cast to come out. I do enjoy stage door but at the same time I don't expect to meet any certain member of the cast as it is after all,  they're decision if they want to come out and spend time with a lot of the audience that came to see the show. If they want to go home and not meet anyone then I totally get that. They've done they're job and to be quite honest I would rather go home after work too (Even though my job at the moment is totally not relatable to theatre) Ive seen how other people can get quite annoyed but it is literally you're own fault for deciding to stand and waiting. But anyway, a few of the ensemble cast members came out which was amazing. They were so genuinely lovely and it was nice to have a little chat with them.

After we met the cast members that came out, we ended up wondering along to a bridge that gave us a really nice view of the London wheel. We had spent a few hours wondering around, grabbing some food before realising the underground did not intact run 24/7 which lead to us walking to waterloo station from Piccadilly. The time we got to the station we had indeed missed the last train... By half an hour, which left us stranded for just a little bit as we managed to get an uber back to the hotel. Thank the lord for uber, otherwise we would have been stuck in central London the whole night. We got back to the hotel room and basically crashed after such an amazing musical filled day.

The next day was when we decided to go back to see Heathers for a second time. We booked tickets and went into Piccadilly for a bit. We went to the Theatre Cafe, Such a wonderful musical filled place that I do recommend. The hot chocolate is a personal favourite there due to my love for hot chocolate. I also enjoyed my trip to the bathroom there- If you like selfies and theatre then please do go into the bathroom.

 Afterwards, we decided to go a stop to Leicester  Square for a little bit. We must have sat there for a good hour or so just watching the world pass by. Plus it was a nice way to just chill before round 2 of heathers! After almost getting hit by a ton of low flying birds, we left our view infront of the fountain and went back towards the Royal Haymarket theatre.

When we got to the theatre, the oddest thing happened that was no expected... Carrie Hope Fletcher... walked past us. She walked past with Becky and I stood like a starstruck idiot. I think I was just a bit shocked at first to be honest since I did not expect that to happen. They walked past and I didn't want to interrupt them since they looked like they were in a big conversation so I never said anything. We ended up walking back towards a burger place we had passed earlier and went in for some pre theatre food but when we sat down Carrie, Becky and the Heathers director was there too and I must say, we freaked out slightly again but no worries, we stayed somewhat chill. They got takeaway so left but I need to say my food was good! Even though I only got sweet potato fries. I was deeply craving them after seeing them on the menu earlier that day.

After some food, we headed back to the theatre but we still had some time to kill so we went next door and I got a Heathers themed cocktail. It was honestly one of the best cocktails I have ever had. 

Afterwards it was time to then head to the theatre for our seats. We got the tickets and went up a floor to see the show and we had an amazing view. We could see everything from our seats which was nice especially how we had booked tickets extremely last minute. Once again, the cast had outdone themselves. The show was brilliant! Only one thing went slightly wrong during the show but the cast made it work anyway like pro’s! Both trips to heathers, we made a few friends which was quite nice. I always enjoy talking to others at shows as everyones always so nice. After the show, we waited at the front of the theatre where some of the cast came out again then we decided to go back to the hotel to make sure a repeat of the previous night didn't happen again. Didn't really fancy getting stuck in central London for the night. But anyway we made it back and went for a lovely sleep.

The last and final day. The only part of this day I didn’t like was that it meant I had to go back home.

I got up and packed then went into Piccadilly again to get some Polaroid’s of the theatre. I really love Polaroid’s as you can probably tell. They just look so nice plus I love how it just instantly prints your picture (Whole point of the polaroid yes, but still!). Heres a little picture of a few of them. I will soon be creating a polaroid wall in my room so these will make a nice addition since I love things that just take me back to a memory. Especially happy places and days.

I took polaroids of the front of the theatre before I ended up talking to two girls who I joined in walking round to stage door. I just wanted to see what stage door was like at the theatre considering I hadn't been to the one at this theatre before I headed back to the hotel to collect my stuff for check out. But just before I left, Carrie turned up which completely made my day. I got to say hi and how I loved watching the shows the last two nights I had seen then she signed my ticket that I kept from the first night. I always get nervous or “starstruck” a bit when it comes to actors, musicians and youtubers ect, then again I am an awkward person. An introvert is probably along the right words. But anyway I asked If i could get a hug because she has genuinely inspired me for years.

 So yeah, that kind of made my day. And to top it off, It made this whole trip one of the best memories. After we met her, we went back to  the hotel and got our stuff then back into piccadilly to have one last sit down in the Theatre Cafe. I must say, I don't think ill ever not enjoy the theatre cafe. Its just such a lovely musical place to go. The staff are really nice, the cafe itself is insanely cool- including the bathroom mirror they have- and its just a great environment to be in.

Last of all we travelled to Euston for our train back. Was quite a sad thing to be leaving but I know I will defiantly be coming back down soon enough.

And there you go. That was probably an extremely long first blog post of my trip to London. I really hope you enjoyed it and if you did please press that follow button to keep updated. If you like blog posts, musicals ect then please give this post a like so I can see who liked it!

Anyway, Thanks for reading!

[threeracha]

𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚋𝚒𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚐

tagged by: @skzlove ILOVE U CJ

tagging: @jinnielovebot @himeaegyo @hyunjeno @hyyunjinn @bangchans @realstraykids @hyunnlix @bangchant @felixeslee @channie @luvknow @jeongingf @district9sgf @xiupch @vitaminhwang @1ovbot 

who is my bias?

perhaps hyunjin

what’s your favorite thing about them?

HIS EYE SMILE, the way he gets all awkward like he wants to bury himself n never surface again whenever he has to be cute, HIS SELFIE UPDATES, eye mole, his dancing, that thing where he stares into the camera on stages n kills me, HIS VOICE, HIS TEETH, HIS GIGGLE, UGH his DUALITY, when he eats,,,,hhhh,,,,,is this a k*nk i jsut , when he stares at his fansites for a LONG second before doing a heart or something, when he hugs jeongin ;_____;,  I COULD GO ON 4 TWELVE MORE YEARS but yeehERRRKRR

who would initiate skinship more?

i think i would even tho i dont wanna admit the actual SOFT I AM UGH like i dont like hugs but if i am Not Hugged Ima Needa GotDamn SNIKCERS

BUT AT THE SAME TIME hYUNJIN IS SO NATURAL W SKINSHIP ITs UGH 

who would hog the blankets more?

UGH ME even in the most humid, hottest, scorching days that are basically feeling like satans actual aSS ,,,,, i need to WRAP.ME.UP, in ALL THE BLANKETs ;;;;

who would be more clingy?

hopefully neither like i like attention occasionally but i also need some of that SPACE n i feel like my mans jinsus would understand n would appreci8 the same

who would say ‘i love you’ first?

o me man i lov tellin ppl i lov them ALL THE TIME LIKE its some sort of dISEASE i feel like

what cuddling position would you two have?

o this is like such an awkward question honestly omfg but ig like my fav is when i can put my head on ppls shoulder or chest or smth n their arm is around me so i can still use my phone n they can too n yeah it’s a win win situation in our generation 4 sho 4 sho LMFAOOFOA

which colors remind you of them and why?

peachy orange ! it’s a very bright / light kinda color i suppose n who doesnt just think of ALL TIHGNS PRETTY N GOOD when u think of hyunjin n peaches / oranges :(

which season would you like to spend with them?

fall / winter? i hate snow like SO MUCH HONESTLY but i hate unbearable heat / rain even more n i have minimal allergies in the winter so im not wheezing and crying 50 hours a day during those seasons

who would bake the cookies and who would steal the batter?

we would bake cookies tgt n eat the batter TGT

which one of you would make bad puns and how would the other react?

i liv for making bad jokes :( hyunjin would probably call me a headass, catapult me out the window, change the locks on the doors, change his name, change his hair, get a new id, and pretend he doesnt kno me when i crawl my way back

who would want to adopt 50 dogs and cats?

TEAM EFFORT. 

which one of you would nearly burn down the kitchen trying to microwave a pop tart and who would come to the rescue?

WHO MICROWAVES A POPTART??? we eat that shit Raw IN OUR HOUSE >:[

who likes to lean over trail railings and who pulls them back?

hyunjin would b leaning but im not pullin him bacc yall im so scared of like SKDJFLSJ DYING LIKE THIS ugh if any1s ever been to chicago n like yall kno the bridge over the grandriver on michigan ave???? THE SIDEWALK HAS AL THESE LINES IN IT SO U CAN SEE ALL THE WAY DOWN TO THE WATER AND ITS SO SCARY i practically crawl going across i cannot HANDLE THAT SHIT IM i omg i just its so ;(

what would watching a horror film with them be like?

i LOVE SCARY MOVIES SO MUCH like im still scared but ye itd b lit bc ik he doesnt like them so like ima HECKA PROTECC JINSUS 

who would be the cheesy flirt and who would be the smooth flirt?

LMFAOO actually ive been told im a smooth flirt (even tho i never mean what i say ;_____; oop)  BUT OMG i feel like jinsus would b smooth too tho ngl LFMOAFAOOF BUT OUR INTERACTION WOULD SOMEHOW NOT COME OUT SMOOTH-

who is more competitive?

hyunjin. i cannot compete in anything it givs sm STRESST TBH LIKE I SLKDJFLKJ GUHGHkflJ

who would be given constant reminders? (don’t forget your keys, remember to eat, etc.)

BOTH? IM FORGETFUL?? BUT I DONT FORGET WHAT OTHER PPL GOTTA DO fFFLFKFJLFKJFJ we lov priorities in this house ?___?

who sends memes and who sends cute ‘i miss you’ texts at three am?

 I THINK WED BOTH BE BOTH i get so emo sometimes n also i combat emoness w memes n i think hyunjin would b like ugh BITCH mood

[milomeepit]

Virgil’s Birthday

Prompt: So headcannon where the sides are all talking about special dates ((birthdays, anniversaries, etc)) and Patton goes, “Hey, Virge, when’s your birthday?” and he gets all quiet before just saying it, and horror just fills their faces as they realize it was forgotten a week ago https://chemically-imbalanced-romance.tumblr.com/post/168974544071/so-headcannon-where-the-sides-are-all-talking

Relationships: Platonic LAMP (Maybe Analogical at the end if you squint?)

Tag List: (I think I got everyone? Sorry if I missed anyone who wants to be in my tag list!) (I also tagged everyone I could in the notes of the original post, true to my word!) @istolelittleredshoodie @do-rey-me @chemically-imbalanced-romance @kittyboof8 @zoranzumrov @gay-space-rain @koalamuffins @pinknachoobject @realityisnt-real @minimandy1256 @vixyrules @torito-sakka @liberalautisticnerd831 @linnamonroll-too-good-too-pure @the-king-of-lemons @c-a-l-m-sanders @texastwo22 @shy---anon @themeddlinggirl @lynisnotamused @ohmyfuckingchrist @allaboutme7 @thomas-the-smol-gay-bean @pieces-of-annedrew @shyrinhabits @undertakershairline @nicky-nix @jinxgolden5 @i-support-angsty-virgil @maximusgayimus @cringey-username @nicole-is-online @theangelsoars @keeshy-ekho @failureofaesthetics @thepusheenqueen @captainmcfluffin @ananipurlue @hello-my-fandoms @justarandompersonwithadream @space-princey @sanders-trash-4ever @thelogicalloganipus @lovelylogans @baguettes-save-lives @waste-of-space-666 @lucyheartfilia123  @thatsthat24@issocoldiminfuckingnarnia @sunshine-hal @madd-catter @all-da-fandoms @devilessyeet @thebrokennightmare @fortunebooks @pyromaniacphoenix @leesacrakon @sos-fandoms @ireblogstuff-andineedalife @the-answer-is-juice-or-murder @novagalaxy4real @bennidoesart @sandersfanders @midnightcandy @mantha-has-fallen @awkward-avocado-of-death @softpretzel13 @angsty-sandersides @j-ust-l-ive @roliza @nyxwordsmith @persiphonec @ai-logical @cecil-the-scientist-catcher @im-bad-at-life @littleoptimistme @spoonfullofcrofters @markiptefangirl2017 @blade-the-demon-fangirl @11wolfpup11 @nyifmet @galaxypankitty3030​ @seas-space-and-stardust​ @otto192​ @enchantingdefendorperson​ @deathshadowrules​ @iaminmultiplefandoms​ @superwaywardangel​ @cheapwiltedroses​ @tree4life25​ @fsm-c-sher​ @that-purple-snazzy-dragon​ @super-confetti-cannon​ @future-watcher​ @anotherspnfangirl​ @passionateaboutponies​ 

Patton stretched up on his tiptoes, trying to reach up to the top of the window. He huffed in frustration and strained to hang the end of the banner on the hook attached to the wall. What he wouldn’t give to have the extra six inches to be Virgil’s height. “Roman?” He called, half-turning towards the kitchen.

“You need some assistance there?” Roman grinned as he meandered over.

Patton pouted. “I can’t reach. Can you get a ladder or something?”

“Psh, I can do better than that!” Roman proclaimed. He swooped forwards, wrapping his arms around Patton’s waist and lifting him up.

Patton squeaked in surprise, then quickly hooked the banner onto the wall. “There!”

Roman set him down and nodded. “It looks good!”

Virgil glanced up from his spot on the couch. HAPPY MEW YEAR! the banner read. Cartoon cats with party hats were on either end, and he chuckled at the pun. “Nice one, Patton.”

“Indeed, it shall suffice for the celebration,” Logan agreed. He sat at the kitchen table, carefully drawing out a schedule for the new year. Papers, rulers, and pencils littered the surface around him.

“Yaaaaay!” Patton grinned, clasping his hands together and bouncing up and down excitedly.

“So, what’s on the agenda for 2018 so far, Specs?” Roman asked, coming up behind Logan and clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Logan jumped at the sudden touch, frowning up at Roman. “Well, first of all, we need to work out resolutions-”

“Because that went so well last year,” Virgil said dryly.

Logan cleared his throat and continued. “Then of course, there’s Patton’s birthday, Valentine’s Day, Memorial Day, your birthday, Independence Day, Labour Day, Halloween, my birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Now, naturally, I believe we should be focusing on staying organised in the new ye-”

“Wait!” Patton interrupted, shooting over the the couch and flopping down next to Virgil. “You forgot Virgil’s birthday!”

Logan blinked, looking closer at his schedule, and frowned again. “... I have indeed. My sincere apologies, Virgil. I’ll add it immediately.”

Virgil sighed, cupping the back of his neck. “N-nah, it’s fine, guys. Don’t worry.”

“C’mon, Gloom N’ Doom, we couldn’t forget about you!” Roman insisted.  

“Virgil, what’s your birthday, kiddo?” Patton smiled at him.

“It’s, uh...” Virgil licked his lips, nervous. “My birthday’s December 19th.”

The room went silent for a few seconds, and he regretted saying anything. He closed his eyes, curling up tight. There he went again, spoiling the mood. God, couldn’t he keep his mouth shut-

“We missed your birthday?” Patton whispered, horror clear in his voice as he gently touched Virgil’s shoulder.

“It’s fine, guys, don’t worry about it,” He murmured dismissively, unable to meet Patton’s eyes.

“It most certainly is not fine!” Roman shook his head. “Virgil, we are very sorry-”

“It’s fine,” Virgil snapped, shaking off Patton’s hand and standing. “Just drop it, okay?” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “... I’m going to bed.”

“It’s 4pm,” Logan glanced at his watch.

“I’m tired.” Without another word, Virgil disappeared up the three steps leading from the common area into the hallway.

“... Uh oh,” Roman sighed.

“Oh nooooooooo, we have to do something, guys!” Patton rushed over, grabbing onto Roman’s sleeve.

“Absolutely.” Logan agreed. “The only question is what? We clearly wouldn’t want to overwhelm him if he’s already not feeling great about it.”

“Buuut, it needs to be something special. Something... that just screams Virgil...” Roman mused.

“I’m gonna start making a cake!” Patton announced, sprinting to the kitchen. “Do you guys think chocolate would be good? Oooh, maybe devil’s food. Or black forest?”

“I think I remember Virgil saying he liked cherries,” Logan replied, setting aside the schedule and pulling up another piece of lined paper. “Roman, can you help me brainstorm some movies that Virgil might like?”

“Top of the list, Black Cauldron. Hmm...” Roman tapped on his chin. “The Hunchback of Notre Dame might be good as well. Return to Oz, perhaps?”

“All those suggestions sound really good!” Patton grinned. “How about Fantasia?”

“Fantasia? For Virgil?” Roman didn’t sound convinced.

“Well, sure! He likes music a lot. The animation is gorgeous. It’s right up his alley!” Patton explained.

“True, true... I’ll write it down,” Logan nodded.

Meanwhile, as the three older Sides talked, Virgil was pacing back and forth in his room. Good job, dumbass, you upset them all. God, why do you even bother? It’s not worth it anyway. You’re not worth it. Even if they did do something, you would have said or done the wrong thing.

His hands nervously raked through his hair.

You’re just fucking everything up again. They’re gonna hate you for not wanting to participate.

His fingers tightened into fists, pulling at the roots of his hair.

theyhateyoutheyhateyoutheyhateyoutheyhateyou

He sunk down into his bean bag, shaking. He tried to focus on his breathing. He could see the danger signs, see that he was standing right on the edge of a meltdown. The air was thick and heavy, hard to heave into his burning lungs. He couldn’t. Not right now. He couldn’t call the others to help. He couldn’t do it right now.

hecouldntcouldntcouldntcantdoanythingcantevensuffocateright

He shuddered, lurching forward off of the bean bag and crawling towards his bed. He snatched the Eeyore plush off of his bed- a gift from Patton- and clung to it desperately.

See, Patton gave me this, Patton cares, they care. They care. They care. He repeated to himself silently as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, curled awkwardly on the ground, silently crying until his eyes seemed to run dry. Minutes? Hours? Time seemed static, unchanging, within his little bubble of misery.

Well, aside from the sun going down outside his window, but that was an illusion anyway.

A soft knock on the door shook him out of his blank trance. He leapt to his feet, scrubbing at his face quickly with his hands. “Yeah, what is it?” He called, doing his best to sound nonchalant.

“Hey, there, buddy...!” Roman’s voice was cheery, suspiciously so.

“... Can I help you, Princey?” Virgil rolled his eyes, gently setting Eeyore down on the bed before he trudged over to the door. He stood before it with his arms crossed, not yet opening it.

“So, Logan wanted some help with planning the next few videos and he wanted to see if you had any input?”

Virgil stiffened. Of course. Even after earlier, a small part of him had been quietly hoping that they would ignore him, make a big deal out of it, do something special. He viciously crushed the thought. He had told them to drop it, they had. He should be happy they did as he asked.

Not that they understand what you want because you never fucking talk to anyone.

idiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiotidiot

“Y-yeah, sure. I’ll be out there in a sec.” He replied, glancing at himself in the mirror and frowning. His eyeshadow was smudged to hell and back.

“Excellent!” There was a pause. “Out of curiosity, do you like cherries?”

Huh? “I mean, they’re okay, I guess.” Virgil shrugged as he began to clean up his face. “Why? We doing a fruit video or something?”

“Yeah, something like that. Just curious.”

Virgil set down his makeup, then opened the door. Roman was leaning against the wall across the hall, a thoughtful look on his face. “Gee, you almost look like you have a brain,” Virgil said sarcastically.

“Surprisingly, it does exist,” Roman laughed.

Virgil snickered. “You’re a dork, you know that?”

“And proud of it!” Roman extended a hand and grinned. “Virgil, do you trust me?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “I mean, you asking honestly or...?”

“Shut up and close your eyes, Mr Secretary of Nagriculture.” Roman grabbed his hand. “I promise not to trip you up.”

“Oh gee,” Virgil snorted, closing his eyes, “I feel safer already.”

Roman led him down the hallway, dodging around the pot plant next to Patton’s door. “Okay, gonna stop just before the stairs, alright?”

“Sure?” Virgil frowned.

He heard hushed whispers, a giggle from Patton, and Logan sighing. He strained, trying to hear what they were saying.

“Are you ready, Virgil?” Patton asked, suddenly much closer to him.

He jumped slightly. “Uh... yes?”

“Open your eyes and come on in, then!”

Virgil cracked open his eyes and took a step forward, onto the middle stair.

He was suddenly assaulted by party horns, confetti, and a spray of silly string onto his chest. He yelped and jumped, losing his balance. His foot slipped off the stair and he landed with a thump on the wooden floor.

“Oh, gosh, are you okay?” Patton tossed his party horn to the side, kneeling down next to Virgil.

Virgil looked around the room, speechless. Black, purple, and grey streamers were hung from the ceiling, draping down like cobwebs. A dark purple tablecloth had been thrown over the dining table, where a large purple and black iced cake sat. Even from his spot on the floor, he could see the dark glazed cherries in a ring on the top. Balloons bobbed up from each chair, with more tied to weights dotted around the edge of the room.

What caught his attention most, however, was the large, bright banner hanging across the top of the window. Happy Birthday, Kiddo! It read in bold, colourful writing, with his purple stormcloud on each end.

“Patton... your banner. You worked so hard to hang that up,” He mumbled.

“Oh, shucks, I can hang that up again with some help!” Patton waved a hand, laughing.

“I...” Virgil put a hand over his mouth, unable to say anything else. Tears pricked at his eyes.

Oh great yes go on cry theyll just think youre even more pathetic go on virgil start up the pity party thats all this anyway they just feel sorry for your stupid ass youre so needy

“Virgil, are you alright?” Logan asked, stepping closer, concern etched into his face.

Virgil opened his mouth, his hand still loosely touching his face, but nothing came out. The tears began to overflow from his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks, fat and hot, and he choked out a sob.

Roman threw his can of silly string over his shoulder and dropped to his knees in front of Virgil, expression worried. “Hey, hey...” He said soothingly, taking Virgil’s free hand and squeezing it gently.

Logan sat on his other side. “What’s wrong, Virgil?” He asked, his voice soft.

Virgil sniffled, waving his hand at the decorations, the cake, everything. “I-I don’t...” He struggled, swallowing another sob. “I don’t deserve any-any of this...”

Patton’s eyes started welling up. “Vir-gil!” He exclaimed with a huge smile. “Of course you do! You are perfect and special and wonderful!” He threw his arms around Virgil’s shoulders, almost knocking the featherweight Side onto his back.

“Indeed you are. There’s nobody else than all three of you who I would want by my side in life’s great adventures!” Roman proclaimed grandly, beaming at him.

Logan paused for a few seconds before speaking. “You’re vital. Both to Thomas’ functioning... and to us. We wouldn’t be... us without you.” He said slowly. “We... love you, Virgil.” He laid a hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

theydontmeanittheyhateyou

Virgil sniffled again, ignoring the voice in his head for the first time that day. He had solid proof. The lingering smell of baked goods. Patton’s hug, his glasses pressed awkwardly against Virgil’s cheek. Roman’s grip on his hand, warm and solid and soft and comforting. Logan’s gentle, subtle, touch, soothing in it’s own way.

“I-I love you guys, too.” He smiled.

[hyunjjins]

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ soft bias tag

i was tagged by @just-oneofthegays

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 1. WHO IS YOUR BIAS?

i love too many kpop boys but for the sake of this tag i’ll choose felix because im full of uwus on his behalf atm

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 2. WHAT MADE YOU NOTICE THEM?

his whole ass voice. like im pretty sure there’s a screenshot of a snapchat i sent to eli one of the first times i listened to skz asking about who he is bc of his voice (accompanied by the cliche “it doesnt Fucking match is face” whICH IS TRUE) but also yes im shit at faces so when im getting into a new kpop group theres always one member who i keep asking whO IS THIS even though ive already asked 100 times so yes. voice + face = bias

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 3. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEM?

wow okay uM i love his dedication. like he can rap in korean? a language he didnt know until joining the group? and he can rap well? and hes getting so good at korean, obviously his members are helping, but everything he does blows me away bc he’s so committed to doing everything he does well and i admire that. (also his freckles and his smile are bonuses but we can talk more about those later)

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 4. WHO WOULD INITIATE SKINSHIP MORE?

him. hands down him. i’m all for physical affection but because most of my friends dont like it i dont usually initiate but i live for that shit. and he is one of the most physical people i have ever seen and i am one touch starved motherfucker so that would work out super well for both of us. except its all strictly platonic because im a huge lesbian and hes gay 4 changbin so it would be more like when @violet-hyunggu and i are in the same room for more than 3 minutes hahA

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 5. WHO WOULD HOG BLANKETS MORE?

yo idk im not usually one to use that many blankets but i can totally see lix running around with a blanket cloak on even though all he’s wearing is a tank top and shorts and there are sweatpands right over there, jesus, put on some socks you’ll be warmer

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 6. WHO WOULD BE MORE CLINGY?

have you seen felix? like ever?

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 7. WHO WOULD SAY ‘I LOVE YOU’ FIRST?

probably me but only because i have sait it about him before lmAO so it wouldnt be weird for it to just like. slip out. and i tell my friends i love them all the time and i seriously do love him i just feel like he wouldnt say it bc he would be worried he would be crossing some kind of Line in our friendship but then i say it once and hes like “okay time to shower her with Love and Affection”

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 8. WHO WOULD BE MORE EASILY FLUSTERED?

i mean idk. im taking this as the two of us being bffs so i dont think there would be much flustering involved. aside from that we’re both panicked gays so we would both be flustered constantly, unrelated to the actions of each other.

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 9. WHAT CUDDLING POSITION WOULD YOU TWO HAVE?

im always a slut for the ol’ “my head on someone elses stomach while they play with my hair” but also just like any way that we could be pressed against each other would be perfect. also im a huge sucker for intertwined legs (even though his are probably a whole six inches longer than mine lol im Small)

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 10. WHICH COLORS REMIND YOU OF THEM AND WHY?

blue but like the bright blue of a summer sky when it’s midday and like 100 degrees and existence is pain but you look up and see the stark contrast of fluffy white clouds and huge blue sky and you’re like, holy shit, the universe is huge and i’m part of it. also i feel like he is the human embodyment of a blue raspberry sno-cone

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 11. WHICH SEASON WOULD YOU LIKE TO SPEND WITH THEM?

summer but the part of summer that is in september. idk why but thats one of my favorite times of the year and i love being with people at that time. you know like you can still get away with going to the beach if its warm enough but also fairs are starting up and it’s plaid season

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 12. WHO WOULD BAKE THE COOKIES AND WHO WOULD STEAL THE BATTER?

i would bake because i feel like felix is a disaster in the kitchen and tbh i would make them with the express intention of him eating some of the batter. you know like specifically washing the eggs so he wouldnt get salmonella and making more than i want to have for the cookies so he could have some and we would still have a good amount of cookies

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 13. WHICH ONE OF YOU WOULD MAKE BAD PUNS AND HOW WOULD THE OTHER REACT?

i am a pun god and he would smack me every time but it would be Worth It

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 14. WHO WOULD WANT TO ADOPT 50 DOGS AND CATS?

i have been known to look at google images of kittens and weep so i would want to but not act upon it but he has little to no self control so he would spend hours at the local shelter and send me pictures of every single animal they had and ask if we could have it (fuck now i want to write a felix-works-in-an-animal-shelter au)

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 15. WHICH ONE OF YOU WOULD NEARLY BURN DOWN THE KITCHEN TRYING TO MICROWAVE A POP TART AND WHO WOULD COME TO THE RESCUE?

again felix is a disaster in the kitchen because first of all. who microwaves a pop tart they are strictly a toaster food. second of all. i would come to the rescue

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 16. WHO LIKES TO LEAN OVER TALL RAILINGS AND WHO PULLS THEM BACK?

felix is a huge railing leaner and i have massive amounts of anxiety but i also love a good people watching session so i feel like i would pull him back but then join him at a reasonable angle

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 17. WHAT WOULD WATCHING A HORROR FILM WITH THEM BE LIKE?

i like to pretend to be touch but i am actually the biggest baby and so is he so watching a horror film would be a disaster. some are okay though and then its fun. but other than that we are strictly a mean girls and lemonade mouth couple

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 18. WHO WOULD BE THE CHEESY FLIRT AND WHO WOULD BE THE SMOOTH FLIRT?

i feel like i might be the smooth one but hear me out. my logic is that im smooth when its playful and any flirting i would do with him would be playful. he’s just a mess no mater what

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 19. WHO IS MORE COMPETITIVE?

me, myself, and i. i have found that i dont usually like the concept of competetion (like sports and stuff) but once i get started i am a competetive monster who cannot be stopped

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 20. WHO WOULD HAVE TO BE GIVEN CONSTANT REMINDERS? (REMEMBER TO EAT, DON’T FORGET YOUR KEYS, ETC)

him. hes a certified mess and im a mom friend but then when i forget something he makes fun of me for hours lol

*♡ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ 21. WHO SENDS MEMES AND WHO SENDS CUTE ‘I MISS YOU’ TEXTS AT 3AM?

we both do. i am the queen of “this made me think of you” *weird ass picture* and once he found out that im a memer he wont stop sending me memes. and im a sucker for when someone waits until youre asleep and then sends a “for when you wake up” message. i send those all the time and i love it

okay so i tag @spear-bean and @notleefelix and anyone else who happens to see this and wants to do it uwu

[nctverse]

♥*♡+:｡.｡soft bias tag ｡.｡:+♡*♥

i was tagged by @wlwjisung i love her 

most of mu mutuals have already been tagged but ill tag @flossytae and @angierosalic

i'm really sorry for not putting any writing out today but i promise boyfriend!jisung is coming tomorrow!!

1. who is your bias?

okay so i was debating hella hard on who to do bc biases are so ughhhh in nct bc how do you choose one smh.. but ill do ten and haechan. they're my main boys hhh

2. what made you notice them?

Ten; his facial features  that he makes when he dances. hes very expressive and he looks like he throughly enjoys what he is doing bc he is fully immersed in the routine.he captivates me every time. also he looks so light on his feet and its just effortlessly beautiful.

Haechan; his voice, i heard him singing and since im a singer too i started to harmonize with him and i realized that our voices sound good together (some voices just dont mix well with eachother but i felt like ours sounded really nice together) ive noticed this with other nct members as well, he has a really flexible voice. also he's a really good dancer

3. what’s your favorite thing about them?

Ten; his personality. hes very outgoing and goofy. he reminds me tmyself in the way he interacts with other people.

Haechan ; he's very funny and outgoing, i love his interactions with people bc he's the kinda friend i gravitate towards since i'm more introverted

4. who would initiate skinship more?

Ten; honestly i'm not sure sjsjssh  we are both pretty equally as touchy but maybe me LMAO im really affectionate and i love cuddling and hugging so yea i think maybe me.

Haechan; both of us pretty equally bc he's also vvv clingy and cuddly and i'm just as bad sjsjd

 5. who would hog the blankets more?

Ten; he seems like a blanket hogger tbh lil shit  i never really hog blankets 

Haechan; i feel like he'd do it just so your basically forced to cuddle with him to be covered by the blanket

6. who would be more clingy?

Ten; hhhh we are both clingy and whiny sjsjsj i think he would be more shameless about it so ill go with him

haechan; i already mentioned this but both of us bc we both affectionate 🤧

7. who would say I love you first?

i think both ten and haechan would say it before me bc i'm a pussy so i'd wait until they said it first

8. who would be more easily flustered?

me for both again but this time for a different reason , ten is a pretty confident gay guy and although he gets flustered sometimes, it's just not the usual for him but Haechan, i feel like he lives to make other people flustered and i get flustered easily jsdjsj

9. what cuddling position would you two have?

lord why i'm cring-

for both of them i like ether facing eachother, or them with their head on my chest and arms around my waist so i can pet them especially with hyuck bc i feel like he'd like it more

10. what colors remind you of them and why?

Ten; Purple. lmao my whole theme is purple because of him it's a colour that hold a pleasant mystery in my opinion. a colour that is cold but also warm at the same time in a way

Haechan ; Yellow, it's a warm colour that makes you think of the sun him and it's the colour that instantly makes you think of happiness

11. which season would you like to spend with them?

both- winter/autumn bc i like the cold and wearing hoodies and stuff like that

but with hyuck i feel like the summer would be extra cool bc he's a really fun boy

12. who would bake the cookies and who would steal the batter?

i would both bake and steal

but for real i think i'd bake and we'd both steal lmsododnd

with hyuck tho he'd do more stealing lil shitface i love him

13. which one of you would make bad puns and how would the other react?

with ten it's equally as bad pun making jsjdj

with haechan it's me making bad puns and him roasting me for it

14. who would want to adopt 50 dogs and cats

both of us bc ANIMALS

15. which one of you would nearly burn down the kitchen trying to microwave a poptart and who would come to the rescue?

i feel like they are both awful in the kitchen and i'm a major cooker so i'd be saving them all the time

16. who likes to lean over tall railings and who pulls them back?

ten- he'd probably pull me back or just push me off idk

haechan; we'd both be leaning over wHOOPS

17. what would watching a horror film with them be like?

ten; he's a lil baby so he'd be scared and ill get occasionally scared but not that bad

haechan he'd pretend he wasn't scared but he'd be shitting

18. who would be the cheesy flirt and who would be the smooth flirt?

ten is both cheesy and smooth at the same time

haechan is the cheesy flirt that end up making you laugh so did he win or did he win?

19. who is more competitive?

ten; is trump his ass for sure

haechan we are both fiery shit heads so the iTS ON SJDJDJ

20. Who would have to be given constant reminders?

both of them bc they are both cHILDEREN smh

21. who sends memes and who sends cute “i miss you” texts at 3am?

they are both pretty soft so i think they'd both do it, and i would too so it's just a sappy mess :)

[stargirldotgov]

soft bias tag

i saw this on @peachchenle ‘s blog and i almost died so kudos to her lmao

soft bias tag (◡‿◡✿)

1. who’s my bias?

❤️ idk if u know this.... but wong yukhei is the most amazing man on earth and also my bias

2. what made you notice him?

❤️ i had been kinda following nct for a little while (this was before i stanned) and i saw his sm rookies announcement and i thought he was Hella Cute. later on i had heard about the comeback, so i watched everything, and he IMMEDIATELY caught my eye again. i learned more about him and i’ve been stuck ever since.

3. what’s your favorite thing about them?

❤️ his sense of humor, the crackhead antics, the happy puppy personality... whats not to like??

4. who would initiate skinship more

❤️ i honestly feel like both of us would, but he would do it CONSTANTLY. touching at all times, no matter where we are uwu

5. who would hog blankets more?

❤️ ugh him, the man is a giant and probably needs like 12 blankets to be happy 

6. who would be more clingy?

❤️ ME BITCH ME. i love cuddles n kisses n all that mushy shit

7. who would say “i love you” first?

❤️ watch my dumbass say it on accident because im a LOSER with too many feelings

8. who would be more easily flustered?

❤️ hi yeah, my name is chloe and i blush at even the THOUGHT of ANYONE flirting with me or being sweet

9. what cuddling position would you two have?

❤️ fUCK maybe facing each other so we can talk and laugh at our dumb jokes sdhdsfhfsd

10. which colors remind you of them and why?

❤️ pinks and yellows and blues because i KNOW he looks amazing in them and ive themed my blog around him AND those colors a couple of times

11. which season would you like to spend with them?

❤️ summer !! going to beaches and water parks and having sun lit picnics and celebrating my birthday and WOW IM CRYING??

12. who would bake cookies and who would steal the batter?

❤️ i love baking, and hes a little (big) shit, so i want you to GUESS

13. which one of you would make bad puns and how would the other react?

❤️ ...... PLEASE JUST GUESS SJKSHDH ITS HIM GOD I WOULD BE SO ANNOYED BUT I WOULD STILL LAUGH JHHS

14. who would want to adopt 50 dogs and cats?

❤️ both of us, because i love animals too and im an enabler

15. which one of you would nearly burn down the kitchen trying to microwave a pop tart and who would come to the rescue?

❤️ honestly, we switch, because im a klutz and he’s a nutcase sjjhfs

16. who likes to lean over trail railings and who pulls them back?

❤️ i am TERRIFIED of heights, so i will yank him back by his shirt and try not to kill him for doing that

17. what would watching a horror film with them be like?

❤️ guess who’s the biggest baby on the planet??? ITS ME ive gotten panic attacks from watching horror movies, so its gonna take some bribery to get me anywhere near that shit. if he gets me to watch, i’ll hide my face in his shoulder the whole time jdkjdhjd 

18. who would be the cheesy flirt and who would be the smooth flirt?

❤️listen, i feel like both of us would be both at the same time lmao

19. who is more competitive?

❤️i will play dirty to win so.... it me

20. who would have to be given constant reminders (reminders to eat, don’t forget your keys, etc.)

❤️ i have the shittest memory ever, and i think he actually has a p good one???? so i would need to be reminded of everything lol 

21. who sends memes and who sends cute “i miss you” texts at 3am?

❤️ both of us send equal amounts of memes and love notes oops

so yeah, uh that shit hurted and i love him a lot lmao

tagging: @ppangdaeng @dreammutual @softseongs @neogotmyheart @hyucksgalaxy @chenleleh + anyone else who wants to do this !!

[raeyvies]

“Push and Pull” pt. 6 // VxMC fic (based on day 10)

Surprise double update!! Things better be getting good now right? And yes somewhere in this chapter you’ll start getting love triangle vibes /o/ Remember MC here is “MC Jeon”

By the way, how would you guys feel if I gave MC an actual name? I mean like it’ll still be MC but legit when I write this story, I accidentally write “you” instead of MC cuz well MC isn’t a name xD

I was thinking to choose from these names: Jeon Dayeon, Jeon Jinhee, Jeon Ji-An. Which would you pick?

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt.4 // Pt.5 // Pt. 6

Length: 3234

Part: 6/?

Pairing: VxMC

Warnings: None

Sorry for any grammatical mistakes ^^;;

“Jaehee…,” MC held her hand out to her, inviting her to sit next to her. Jaehee fought to swallow down her tears–she had always been one to show her feelings in private–but this was not as easy, despite having been fooled once already about Rika’s death. Accepting her invitation, the short haired girl sat next to MC, allowing herself to be comforted. “It must be hard but I'm here for you. I'm here for all of you. I know we just met but I can't thank you all enough for being by my side after all this. I’ll be with you if you need a shoulder to lean on, okay.”

It had been a tough day despite everyone’s efforts to remain optimistic. Jaehee let out her cries even in front of her boss but it really did serve a purpose. Because MC encouraged Jaehee to not hide her pain, Jumin realized that his assistant was more than just his worker and fellow member of the RFA. As he saw how selfless MC was, disregarding her own views on the situation and well, having her own dilemmas, Jumin could not help but think that MC came into their lives as a light. As a new sun. As a balance.

Jihyun had been gone for a while with Saeyoung and MC began to worry if something happened. What if Jihyun hurt himself? Saeyoung would have called without a doubt so maybe they were fine. Maybe they were having a long talk and Saeyoung could have been dropping the bomb (pun totally unintended) on him about Rika.

Too much was happening, and there was much more gloom than MC would like to admit she could handle for one day. She needed some refreshing or maybe a restart to the day, and well, she thought it could start by having a change of clothes.

“What city are we at? So much was happening I didn't notice what hospital this is. Then again it was nighttime and we were airlifted here,” MC said after a period of silence. She was surprised that after all this time it never occurred to her to ask where she was, though, it was normal because her mind with clouded with worries and fears.

“We're in Busan, MC. Inje University Haeundae Hospital,” Jumin answered, after all, he was the one who brought them there. MC was taken aback. She was far from home. At least three to four hours away, and Jumin noticed that, suddenly realizing that no one ever asked where she came from. ”I take it that you’re far from where you live.”

Scratching the back of her head and giving a soft chuckle, MC nodded, “Yeah it's pretty far at least by car. But I guess by train it's maybe an hour or two. I'm from Daejeon actually. I was going to say that maybe I could go with one of you to get a new set of clothes in the meantime.”

What MC did not mention was that she wanted to get rid of the clothes she was wearing because they were Rika’s. Little by little and step by step she wanted to strip herself of the terrible moments of these previous eleven days.

Jaehee volunteered to take MC to a retail store assuming that she could be discharged then and there, however, the nurse who had been monitoring her all this time came in. The nurse told them that she might be discharged at night and asked for Zen and Jaehee to give Jumin and MC privacy. Because Jumin passed as her guardian he was allowed to stay for the moment as the nurse discussed MC’s condition with them.

The nurse went over the medication she would have to take for the next week to help her gain back the nutrients her body was missing, and asked for MC to not strain herself for in the near future to prevent another incident like this one. MC was surprised to know she had anemia but she was aware that it was nothing that she would have to be worried about. Yes she would have to make sure she ate properly and that was nothing of a huge effort to begin with. Of course, it also explained why she was so tired recently.

In the meantime, Jaehee and Zen went out to buy MC a new set of clothes that was much more comfortable, both physically and mentally.

Jumin stayed with MC the entire time and was relieved when she was healthy enough to not need an IV anymore. She had definitely regained color in her skin compared to last night, and she looked so much brighter and stronger. Clearly showing that she was comfortable with him, MC talked more about herself and who she was. She had not gotten the chance to truly show the RFA who she was but she was ecstatic to finally show them one by one. And Jumin continued asking questions as he was intrigued in this girl. He found out that she was only two years younger than him so she was twenty five years old. He finally understood why MC was so mature despite everything she had gone through. It was something he really admired about her. However, knowing that she lived quite a distance away, Jumin dreaded the day that MC would return to her home if she ever decided to. He was about to ask her when she would leave when Jaehee and Zen returned with multiple bags of clothing.

“We have a special delivery for Miss Jeon from the fashion department,” Zen came in announcing as he placed the paper bags on MC’s bed. ”Oh! You don't have the IV anymore! Does that mean you get to leave today?”

She nodded as she looked through the contents in each bag. It was much more than she asked but then again she knew she would be staying for a while to be with Jihyun and she had no interest in returning to her home, and risk being followed by Saeran. Admittedly, she was terrified to go home because she would be alone and vulnerable. “Thank you so much! I'll make sure to pay you two back for this. I think I might relocate here in the next months but in the meantime these clothes are enough. So thanks again. And yes I can leave tonight, I don't know where I'll stay–”

“You'll be staying at my penthouse for now until you can settle down here in the city and adjust to the new cityscape,” Jumin interrupted, though it was not his intention. As MC stated she would consider moving to Busan, Jumin wanted to make sure she stayed but it seemed that he blurted it out instead, catching her off guard. She stuttered in agreement, but MC did not really have much of a choice, and she was not interested in blatantly turning down an offer that was so convenient for her.

On the other hand, Zen was somewhat annoyed with Jumin’s upfront interjection. It had been a miracle that the two had not instigated an argument sooner. “Jumin it's not for you to decide if she actually stays here permanently or where she’s going to live for the moment. You can't control everyone for God’s sake.”

MC rather decided to go ahead and take a shower but sadly there was not one in their room. Leaving the room with a set of clothes in her arms and her cell phone, she asked a nearby nurse where she could take a shower. On her way to the showers which were a decent stroll away, she checked her phone and had received multiple notifications from the same person. Although the ID tag said they came from Ray, it was Saeran.

Her heart dropped. All this time she had been distracted from this entire mess. She had forgotten about that phone call. She had forgotten her nightmares. And MC thought it was over with Rika’s death but there was still Saeran. Her palms began to sweat as she hurried on her way to the shower where she could open up the messages and voicemail in silence. MC could hear her heartbeat in her ears but remained composed.

Her shower came first to ease her tension and mentally prepare herself for whatever messages Saeran had left on her phone. The hot water relaxed her muscles and helped her reach a moment of peace, one that she did not think she needed until now. The clothes that Zen and Jaehee had picked out for MC were right in line with her preferred style. It felt great to wear leggings once again along with a large button up shirt.

She felt like she was in her own skin for once.

Towel wrapped over her hair, drops of water falling onto her brand new shirt, she a took seat on the bench in the bathroom and opened the text messages first.

You're the only person I've ever cared for. You must like me. I like you too.

Thank you for being here with me. I really wanted you to stay longer.

I thought I was being a good boy. I thought I was good enough for you to stay.

Without you I feel like I can't breathe. It's like I'm dying. I don't have a purpose anymore.

MC come back I miss you.

I have nowhere to go anymore MC. My savior has died therefore I am nothing anymore.

I have served my purpose.

I'll come back for you another day. I promise you that.

There were several more messages along those lines. MC wanted to pity him, she really did but that was something she could not do for him anymore. This man was sick and MC could decipher that he was more than just figuratively sick. He was not normal; it was as though he lacked any social interaction and that made him that way. But MC could not forget that he tried to drug her too. She could not forget that she had been essentially imprisoned in that room, only able to leave it when Saeran came for her. She had to think of herself before him even though she was the one mad enough to actually go to him, be blindfolded, and fooled by his lies. MC’s hand was balled up in a fist as she thought of everything that could have happened to her at Mint Eye. What if Saeran had lost his control on her like he had with Jihyun? What if he had refused to let her out of his sight? Where would MC be right now if Jihyun had not sent Saeyoung their coordinates?

No lighthearted possibilities came to mind unfortunately as she could only imagine herself being abused, violated, maybe even brainwashed like Saeran. However, MC could only replace those thoughts with memories of Jihyun’s cries through the phone; they were haunting her, so she let out a heavy sigh, closing her eyes and letting the memory play once again. There was no use in fighting it.

We should’ve escaped at the first chance we got, Jihyun. That didn't have to happen to you, MC mentally cried. Later on when Jihyun would fully recover, she was sure to ask him who Saeran was, or at least when the moment seemed appropriate. He seemed to know a lot more about him than even Saeyoung knew. MC felt that she needed some closure before moving on. After all, there would only remain questions for the rest of her life and it would haunt her then.

Shaking her head, she tried to stop thinking about Jihyun and Saeran that night, and listened in to the voicemail he had left.

“The weather was nice today so I wanted to talk to you. But looks like you're not picking up the phone. What a shame.. Listen, to be honest, when you were in that room MC, those were the happiest days of my life. Having you so close I mean. You never showed a spot of betrayal. Dammit it was because of Jihyun that you're not here. I won't ever forget how you trusted me and waited for me. I won't forget your voice. I miss you a lot. I know I've said it so many times already but in the end we couldn't see each other,” Saeran’s voice gradually became broken and lower, sending chills down MC’s spine. This voicemail was causing so much confusion and conflict within her because she knew both sides of him even though Saeran though she only saw the man named Ray. This was beginning to start more like a goodbye than another phone call.

“The last time we met was when I introduced you to the savior right? Now I'll never get to see you. It's all my fault. I dreamed of living happily ever after when this all ended. That won't happen anymore. Though it was brief, I never imagined myself loving someone like I loved you. I wanted to go on a date with you. Hold you hand. Eat ice cream with you. I'm dreaming too big aren't I? I think even now I made you hear how pathetic I am.”

However, his voice completely changed, now sounding sinister and threatening.  “But none of this is over, MC. I'll still find my way to you and make these dreams come true. You'll be with me again and we'll live happily ever after. We'll just have to see what the future brings but for now I think this is over. You won't be seeing Ray anymore,” after that, MC heard him cough and growl, struggling with some sort of pain. Once again the voice had changed and it sounded strained and bitter. ”Farewell my dear flower. I hope you’ll remember me like I remembered you.”

The last thing MC heard was the sound of rapid ticking and beeping before the silence was broken by an explosion. As the noise was extremely loud in her ear, she gasped, pulling the phone away quickly. Then the call was voicemail ended with the operator saying in its monotonous voice, “End of voicemail. To listen to this message again press two. To save this message press four.”

Why she decided to save the voicemail was still unknown. Saeran died and MC kept his last words recorded, but what use would she have of it? It seemed however, like the proper thing to do. But that sinister voice rang in her ears. What did he mean that they would see each other again? The man was dead. That would be impossible.

Rika died in an explosion in her apartment. Saeran died in explosion God knows where. The only conclusion MC could reach was that they were destroying evidence of their cult. No one could survive.

And she was an eyewitness of that cult so MC must be evidence of its existence, too.

A few minutes later, MC was able to gather herself after that shocking voicemail. She repeated to herself that she would be fine. That nothing would happen to her. Both Rika and Saeran were dead, and that had to be enough to put the RFA out of harm's way. With those two out of the picture, MC could focus on aiding Jihyun in his recovery. He was her priority for now undoubtedly and her heart ached at the idea of being unable to be by his side. There was no real reason to leave, for now.

Placing her dirty clothes in a bag and removing the towel from her head, MC left the shower room to find herself bumping into Saeyoung and Jihyun. They must have been done with their long walk then. MC assumed that Saeyoung had told him about Rika’s death as the mint haired man had a gloomy expression plastered onto his face. Before the two men noticed that MC was in front of them, they were talking about Saeran.

“...way to get Saeran out of there,” Jihyun was in the midst of explaining to Saeyoung that his brother was alive at Mint Eye. Neither of them must have known what MC knew then. However, why was this to be discussed with Saeyoung? Did he know who Saeran was?

Wait.

Similar names. Almost identical facial features. Different voices however. There was something MC did not know yet and she was beginning to puzzle it together. Saeran and Saeyoung have to be related without a doubt. Maybe it was not the moment to discuss his death with them yet. They already had to mourn the loss of Rika, and MC was not about to hurt them even more.

As the two men finally took note of MC, they immediately cut their conversation. She wanted to say something to them but she did not know what it was, so instead she gave them a small grin and walked by Jihyun’s side.

As Jihyun saw how healthy MC appeared to be, it instantly changed his expression. Despite the previous discussion he had with Saeyoung over Rika and Saeran, seeing MC again gave him the energy that was drawn away from him earlier.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry into your conversation,” MC apologized for intruding in the midst of an important talk. Sadly, it still ate at her that she would have to wait to tell them about Saeran. But how would she tell them? Would she show them the voicemail? Would she just tell them? Would they even believe her?

The three walked together to their room and spent the rest of the day discussing things about the party, occasional moments about Rika, and mostly the RFA was getting to know MC. When night time fell, everyone was asked to leave the room and leave Jihyun to rest.

No one wanted to leave, but MC was the one who wanted to stay the most. Maybe she had grown accustomed to being by his side after all this time. It was a strange feeling to leave him alone now. Just as everyone was leaving, MC stayed could not fight the urge as she ran back to Jihyun to embrace him. He was caught off guard as he almost fell back onto his bed, but he was just as happy to have MC in his arms for one more moment again. She hugged him carefully, aware of his wound that was healing much quicker than expected. Unlike that night out in the mountains, Jihyun returned the embrace and wrapped his arms around her waist.

It felt so much warmer than that night. It was so pure and innocent.

“I’ll be back tomorrow after helping out with cleaning up the party venue,” MC mumbled against his chest. If anything, she wanted to stay there in his arms. It was very clear that her feelings for him were not going to disappear anytime soon. “Take care of yourself please.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” Jihyun reassured her as he noticed that Jumin was glaring at him. “You give me so much strength, MC. But please don’t keep Jumin waiting, I think he wants to get home too.”

The two friends knew each other so well. Jumin did not need words to tell Jihyun to be cautious of his actions and choose his moves carefully. And Jihyun was completely aware of Jumin’s warning.

To be continued...

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt.4 // Pt.5 // Pt. 6