#like jeez that scream did not sound platonic like

[makeyouminemp3]

I'm not the first to say it but I'm gonna say it anyways cause why the hell not, right? if we're gonna take the stranger things' logic of nancy jumping in after steve being known as an "unambiguous sign of true love" or whatever, then wouldn't that mean robin is in love with nancy cause she jumped in faster after nancy than nancy did for steve or does that logic only apply for just hetero ships?

no, I'm not over this 3 months later and I never will

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #156

What are three of your favorite things to photograph? Details in nature, animals, and I REALLY wish I could shoot more vast, impressive landscapes. I also had an incredible amount of fun the one time I shot boudoir for my then-best friend, it was so fucking fun and amazing to help her feel attractive and beautiful in her body, especially as a more plus-sized woman. She loved them and it was the most fun shoot I've ever done.

In your opinion, what are three of the most relatable songs ever? Uh, jeez, idk. Too much to pick from, lol.

When was the last time you took a selfie you thought you looked beautiful in? By pure coincidence, it was somewhat semi-recently; I almost never, EVER take selfies, and even less often do I think I look okay in them, but I took two I thought looked pretty good like, a month or two ago?

Do you play many online games? No; the only one I ever play is World of Warcraft, but I've been barely playing it at all for a while now; I seem to go through phases of logging on more often and then not at all.

Have you ever forged a note for something at school? No.

Do you know anyone who's been adopted? I have at least one old friend that I know was adopted.

Have you ever broken a rib? No, that sounds so fucking miserable.

Where did you last bleed from? My bottom right gum area because I had a tooth extracted. I am so glad I'm no longer tasting solely blood, ugh yesterday was ROUGH. Doing it aaaall over again in a month...

When I go to a new restaurant and have no idea what to order I… I go for a sort of food that I generally always like, like chicken tenders and fries.

If you knew me well, you’d gift me… Money for a tattoo lmao

Does anyone else know who your first crush was besides you? The Internet haha bc I've identified him in past surveys asking about first crushes, but I don't think anyone who might know both of us knows.

Do you feel shy around someone when you are first getting to know them? Oh absolutely, I am extremely, excruciatingly shy.

Have you ever fallen asleep in class? No.

Have you ever been afraid of the world ending? No, I don't at all believe that's predictable.

What is unfair about your life? Mental illness. It's not like I make a conscious decision to become abysmally depressed or so anxious I can barely function.

[TW: SELF-HARM] Have you ever self-harmed? Yes, primarily in high school. It's not something I've done in a long time, all it ever did was make me hate myself more than I already did.

Have you ever shoplifted? Nah.

Do you know who your father is? Yeah, thankfully he's been in my life since I was born.

Have you ever had an emergency surgery? No. When I had my cyst I went into the hospital wanting that because of how much pain I was in, but instead they cut and drained the cyst, but oh boy was I conscious and SCREAMING, there is no fucking way in hell they numbed me enough for that procedure, even morphine wasn't calming me down at all.

Do you think you are fat? I factually am, it's not unknown to me.

Have you ever dated a guy after your friend did? No.

Is your mom your best friend? I would definitely consider her such, after Girt. The amount of shit this woman has done for me is unreal.

Do you find any of your friends hot? Yeah, mostly female friends I have, but it's in a platonic sort of way.

Can you go to an actual beach in the state you live in? Yeah, go east and you're hitting the Atlantic. People tend to prefer South Carolina for their beaches, though, but they're of course still crowded here too.

What animals have you ridden? Just like, horses and ponies at fair-like things.

Ever been brought home by the cops? No.

Describe your natural hair? It's brown and extremely thick, healthy too. It will sometimes get lighter highlights in hotter months if I see the sun enough.

What's a pet peeve you have about guys? This does NOT apply to every guy, at all, but in general I don't think it's debatable that they're generally more sex-driven than women, and that often leads to problems.

If you could change something(s) about your outer appearance, it would be: I'd be a healthy weight.

Are you against animal testing? I am VEHEMENTLY against animal testing, the fact that it's still practiced is barbaric to me. We're "alpha species" my fuckin' ass, by using other forms of life as goddamn guinea pigs, we're nothing but animals.

Where do you wish to live as an adult? Well, I am an adult, but in terms of where I settle down when independent, I'm not certain, but in complete realism it's probably going to still be in this general area, despite how badly I want to move to the mountains of western NC; it's just a very long drive from where we're at, and it's important to me and Girt that we keep touch with our families. I don't want it to be a massive, lengthy drive to see our loved ones.

Where is your favourite place to get fries? Bojangle's or McDonald's, depending on my mood. Bojangle's fries are a fuckin' delicacy if you're in the mood for something really seasoned, but a lot of the time, really just classic McD's fries are great.

Do you know anyone who was raised by their grandparents? Uhhhh I don't THINK so.

Are there any waterfalls nearby? No big, even remotely impressive ones, no. The best you get around here are dams, but those aren't like, real, natural waterfalls at all.

Do you prefer coffee or tea? I hate both; I've never had any of either that I liked. I THINK I'm most likely to discover a sort of coffee product I like though, there's such a serious variety. I think with enough sweetness to it I'd be fine. The taste of tea has always made me cringe with how much I dislike it, which is basically an alien reaction here in the south, where "we" are fucking insane over sweet tea, lol.

Have you taken a painkiller today? Yeah, I'm not rawdogging getting a fuckin' tooth yeeted out lmao

Have you had a nap today? No, but I went to bed very early last night, and though it took a long time to fall asleep, I definitely got some good hours after yesterday.

Who cooks most of the meals in your household? My mom. I never cook-cook, I'll just use the microwave or air fryer if I want to make something myself.

Do you have gluten intolerance or know anyone who does? I don't, but I know Sara was open about having it, though I don't "know" her anymore. I know at least one cousin and her mother also have it.

Your favorite store as a teen? Hot Topic.

You get 2 pizza toppings, what are they? Pepperoni and sausage, ig.

Ever dipped your pizza in ranch? I feel like I've tried this before? I don't remember what I thought, though.

Ever order a lobster for yourself at a restaurant? No; I hate crab and have heard lobster is similar, so I'm not interested in trying it.

Have you had Apple Jacks cereal? Yeah, that's a fave.

Most famous person from your town/state? lol I googled it and apparently Michael Jordan is from NC, I think that's a name most people in at least the USA know. There's a few other big names.

Does your best friend wear glasses? Yeah, he and I are both blind as shit without our glasses, haha.

Who is closest to you in your family? My mom.

Have you listened to a Britney Spears song today? No, but I do like her well enough. Every now and again I'll listen to a couple classic songs by her.

Do you have a pet turtle? Nah, turtles as pets have never interested me much. They're great animals, just not for me as a pet.

French fries or onion rings? Fries, for sure. I don't really like onion rings.

Have you ever had a storage locker? If so, what is/was stored in it? No.

Do you have a gas, electric or induction cooktop? Uh... I've never used the stove since living here lol, but I'm quite sure it's electric.

Are you interested in plants? Oh for sure, at least as an observer and not a caretaker; I enjoy looking at them, lightly learning about the ones I'm very attracted to, and I mostly take photos of some sort of plant, be it a flower, tree, or whatever, so I value them a lot. There's a pretty big part of me that wants to start taking care of indoor plants, especially for my room remodel, but I just have an honest feeling I won't stick to it so I don't wanna take in a plant and kill it.

How far away is the nearest capital city? Raleigh is about an hour away from us by car.

What was the last movie trailer you watched? The Five Nights at Freddy's one, god I lost my shit when it was IMMEDIATELY pointed out just how fuckin stoned the animatronics look, omg please fix it 😭😭😭 I do plan on seeing it though, I really don't understand the franchise's lore very well, but it's a fun series.

Are you expecting anything in the mail? No. Well I mean Mom said she's ordering some final plugs for my earlobes at some point, but it's been a while. I'm just glad the gauges aren't falling out all the time now that they're healed better, I think.

Do you hate cars with loud exhausts? Yes, it's annoying.

What's the altitude of your town or city? I feel weird giving exact numbers, but it ranges from quite below 100ft to not even 200ft.

Do you like movies with vampires in them? Vampires are cool, but I'm not gonna automatically be more drawn to a film just because it has one.

If you have a pet, what is its favourite treat? If you don't have a pet, what's one of your favourite treats? :) GOD Cookie is a spoiled brat when it comes to food; if you have any, she wants to try it, and it's gotten bad because Mom has trouble telling her no unless the food just straight-up isn't okay for dogs. I'm not certain what her favorite ever is, however I do know she's crazy for fries; Mom can't ever have fries from anywhere without sharing some with her. Roman's not big on treats, and he's also VERY weird with being offered food that's not in his bowl, like he doesn't know if he's supposed to eat it and will generally just sniff his a treat given to him to where he pushes it across the floor, like you cannot watch this cat examine a treat without laughing, it's so strange. He even comes to Mom when she gets a treat out for Cookie, like he wants one, and then acts like he never learned how to fuckin eat lmao. Venus has only ever been fed originally f/t mice and now f/t rats; I'd like to let her try a pre-killed chick one day because variety IS good for them and certainly stimulating for them, but it's not something I'm going to go out of my way to buy; ball pythons are notoriously picky and she's been on a major hunger strike before, so I don't want to buy food she's not going to eat. It's one of those things I'd just offer her if the opportunity presented itself.

Do you remember the first house you lived in? No; we moved into what I fully consider my "real" childhood home when I was literally just a baby, I have zero memories of the house I was born into.

When was the last time you threw up, and do you know why? Maybe close to a month ago and we're not going into why lol

Who was the last person you said "I love you" to? My mom, before she left to clean the church she volunteers at.

Have you ever worn a tiara? Haha yeah, I'm sure I did in my childhood at some point, and I remember on one of my teenage birthdays, I wanna say my 17th, my then-best friend Summer got a tiara with my age on it and made me wear it out to dinner, lol. I'm sure I still have it, probably in my treasure box.

If you plan to have kids, what will you tell them about Santa Clause? IF I have kids I'm most likely going to keep the tradition going, like it's just fun and exciting for kids; you're doing no real psychological harm with something like that, it's innocent and I've never seen a kid NOT excited about Santa.

Do you think that pet stores are cruel for keeping animals in small cages? lol oh hunny, there are problems even bigger than tiny cages going on in chain pet stores. Yes, it's cruel. I fucking hate places like PetSmart or Petco, where it's about just pulling money in, corporate doesn't give a microscopic shit about the quality of life of its animals while there.

If you have ever been employed, have you ever been attracted to your boss? What about a co-worker? No.

Do [would] you avoid kissing your [possibly hypothetical] significant other when you or they are ill? Yes, at least on the lips. I'm the one that's dumb about it, if you're sick *I* don't mind simple kisses, however I shouldn't be that way; for right now though, since we don't live together, we don't really deal with this, if one of us is sick we tend to stay apart for both of our benefits.

Does it annoy you when people make their default of them kissing someone? No, why the hell should it????? People are allowed to love each other and be happy about it???????

If ambidextrous, do you prefer writing with your right or left hand? I'm not ambidextrous; I only write with my right hand.

Do you enjoy trolling? No, it's not something I get pleasure out of or anything, I've got better shit to do. And when *I*, an extremely non-busy person, says that, it means shit REALLY is not important.

Have you ever had a close encounter with a shark? Not knowingly, but it's possible. I'm going into their home when I decide to swim in the ocean, so.

What is a song you heard long before it became popular and everyone liked it? I can't think of a song, just a band: Train. I grew up hearing them because my mom's a fan, so I also became one as a kid, then "Hey Soul Sister" came out and they were big with other hits following. I have no idea how big they are now, but I still like them. "If It's Love" is even one of my top picks for a wedding song, lol.

What do you think of excessively long names? What about their shortenings? No opinion, I really just don't like making anyone feel bad about their name. Plenty of longer names are beautiful.

Can you learn the lyrics of a song by ear, or do you have to search them up? Both, but I almost always need to see the lyrics first; my auditory processing disorder makes me really bad at figuring out lyrics, ESPECIALLY for things like death metal and stuff (hell I think most people struggle with that one), I've got no fuckin' clue what you're saying. This happens regularly even with songs where the lyrics of performed quite clearly.

Do you like the name Amy? It's not high on my list of favorites or anything at all, but I think I like the name because I always associate it with Markiplier's literal gem of a girlfriend haha.

Have you ever got an x-ray? How about a brain scan? Multiple x-rays, and I got I think a CT scan when I got a concussion; it was that or an MRI, don't recall. I know CT scans are shorter though, and mine WAS very brief if I remember right, but I mean I was concussed, I don't remember things that well with a bruised brain lol.

[genderbinaryisforlosers]

compilation of jet partaking in his favourite passtime: bullying juno

JACKET: So. Do you have a good reaspon for walking out in the desert? Besides your death-wish. JUNO: Besides my what? JACKET: It’s well-documented.

this is one of the first things jet ever says to juno which sets a wonderful precedent

JACKET: Good. Now please. Get in this dumpster. JUNO: What? JACKET: I’m afraid I must insist. JUNO: H-hey, put me down--

jet slam dunks (gently lifts) juno into an actual trash can. iconic

JACKET: In the interest of fairness I should tell you that if you have, I will be forced to crush your head with this dumpster lid. JUNO: How is that any fairer-- (SOUND: JACKET LIFTING DUMPSTER LID.)

jet doesn’t have time for your semantics, juno. yes you are being interrogated in a bin

(SOUND: JACKET’S FOOTSTEPS.) Hey! hey, where the hell are you going? JACKET: To ensure this area is secure. Now be silent. Dumpsters cannot speak in the Cerberus Province.

i deeply love this man’s sense of humour

JACKET: I am sure your screaming makes Buddy’s thinking much faster. JUNO: Oh, hey, was that sarcasm? Maybe the big guy’s got enough brain for a sense of humor after all. JACKET: I have always possessed a sense of humor, Juno. You are just not funny.

absolutely destroyed. honestly juno was such a bitch in this episode i’m amazed buddy wanted to work with him more

JUNO: (SURPRISED YELP) Where the hell did you come from?! JACKET: The door.

considering that we heard jet’s footsteps clearly enough in the streets earlier in the episode, i fully believe that jet deliberately quietened his footsteps so that he could jumpscare juno.

(SOUND: HE TAKES THE HELMET OFF AND TOSSES IT TO JACKET.) There. Happy now? JACKET: Not at all. I have grown fond of your presence in this hovercycle. I thought my tears would imply that. JUNO: Your what... Are you crying? JACKET: Everyone cries, Juno.

given his recent antics, i wholeheartedly believe he was fucking with juno here. i don’t know if i think he can cry on command and did it deliberately, or if he just got sand in his eye and decided to exploit it to fuck with juno, but either way, this man is fucking hilarious

JACKET: She is one of the most accomplished hackers on the Solar planets. One cannot repeatedly hack into Dark Matters’ systems without building a reputation in the Cerberus Province — and to do so and live to tell the tale is unheard of. It was near impossible for me to locate her; now that I have, Rita is a higher priority for our team than you are, Juno. JUNO: ...Wow. RITA: Wow!! JACKET: She will also be paid significantly more than you. JUNO: Okay, come on--

i don’t think jet lied about buddy telling him that rita was a higher priority than juno, but i do think he took this opportunity to deadpan bully juno with impunity

JET: I am a great fan of hers. RITA: Awwwwww!!!! JUNO: And what does that make me? JET: You are an amusing sidekick. JUNO: Goddamn it, you big lousy--!

juno as the third wheel to jet and rita’s weird dynamic duo is honestly such a great dynamic. i love them.

JET: (BIG ROAR) VESPA: Siquliak, don’t! JET: Oh. Hello. JUNO: Uh... hi, big guy. So... you’re not gonna brain us, then? JET: If it would help our current situation, I might. I thought you were the invader.

jet really said if not for the laws of this land i would have slaughtered you (if i felt like it would help)

(SOUND: JUNO FUMBLES IN A HURRY TO GRAB THE WRENCH. HE RUNS OVER TO JET AND HANDS IT OVER.) Jeez, you could’ve told me you were working on something important! Should I tell everybody to get their O2 masks on? Get in the Ruby? Run-- JET: We would not have suffocated, Juno. That was a joke. JUNO: A joke? Do I sound like I think it’s funny? JET: No, but it has amused me. Ha ha. You had a question?

mr. sikuliaq, will you marry me (platonically)?

JET: You are very mature for your age, Juno. I’ve always respected that about you. JUNO: I’m... what? You’re only like eight years older than me. JET: (LAUGHS) Juno, I am not thirty-two years old. JUNO: ...I’m forty. JET: Ah. (SOUND: HE KEEPS WALKING OUT. AMBIENCE FADES.) JUNO (NARRATOR): I’m two seconds away from starting a fight when I see that Jet’s smiling on his way out the door. Another joke, just for him. And I know for a fact that a year ago I would’ve missed it completely.

truly iconic with a side of juno growth which i deeply hope cast light on several unseen incidents where jet was blatantly playing practical jokes on him and he didn’t realise until Right Then

[sxltedcxramel]

Lover’s Quarrel

c!techno x gn!reader

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

: ̗̀➛ Summary:  You and Technoblade have been friends for decades, always by each other’s side you two faught alongside each other. That was once in a lifetime, and should never happen again. Unfortunately life doesn’t play out that way and you happen to need him one more time... or maybe they’ll be a change in plans?

: ̗̀➛ Word Count: 1515

: ̗̀➛ Chapters: 1/1

: ̗̀➛ Tag(s): No beta reader we die like ghostbur, c!techno, gn!reader, immortal reader x immortal techno, angel!reader, god!techno, angst, friends to enemies to friends, complicated ik

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: slight cursing, mentions of torture and death

: ̗̀➛ Taglist: Here

: ̗̀➛ Link(s): Ao3

: ̗̀➛ Notes: *screams into oblivion* one this is all platonic I didn’t specify 😓 two I barely survived the writers drought (no friken inspiration) but I bring to you my first c!dsmp x reader fic (please be kind I tried-) basically this taks place in really old times and not modern considering how its writter like I just finished reading shakesphere although the idea came while listening to classical music so that it how you will. Also this isn’t edited so my bad if theres mistakes-

The room was dimly lit with candles and the r oaring fire that burned passionately at the fireplace. White tiles were plastered with gold diamonds, the shade almost as if it was antique jewelry, Old but could tell an amazing story. The colour completing the beige-coloured room

You waited patiently, cross-legged glaring at the clock that ticked every second or so. 10 minutes you thought to yourself while you grind your teeth. That man seemed to be early only when it was for his own convenience, how distasteful.

Just as you finished that thought you saw the dark oak wood door being pushed open. A man walks in, he wears a white loosely fitted blouse, with bishop sleeves which was decorated with frilly fabrics. Along with death-black dress pants that were worn up to the waist. His face where his mask usually is is replaced with glasses and the man's delicate bubblegum pink hair is loosely braided and thrown on the right side of his shoulder.

“Your late” you glare crossing your arms

He let out a sigh “Well pardon me for taking a while to get ready, It's almost like you didn’t come here unannounced” he spoke sarcastically.

He walked over to the glass tray and picked up a small glass cup with a gold ring around it and poured himself a drink. He eyes you “Would you care for a drink y/n?”

“I don’t drink”

He shrugs “Suit yourself”

“Technoblade, I didn't come here for idle chatter.”

He arched his eyebrow slightly “Oh?” Techno placed his cup down “Pray do tell, what exactly did you come here for?” You watched him walk to the other side of the room as he said that.

“I-“ you could even finish before being rudely interrupted by a rustling noise. You watched as your patience grew thinner by the minute he took out a black vinyl disc and placed it on a wooden box making sure the oin was adjusted well. A soft tune of the piano came out of the music player.

“Would you care for a dance?” He holds out his hand, you stare at it contemplating whether you should grab his hands, you really shouldn't, you didn’t want to play his games, you wanted what you came for, but then again it would harm a dance. Or course your brain chose the latter considering how you delicately placed your hand in his letting him place his hand on your waist the the other on your shoulder. He lead the way,(just like he always does)

“Apologies for interrupting music helps me think.” He spoke as he spun you around the floor “They calm the voices” . You knew all about the voices, how much they love to chant and clog his brain with different variations of thoughts, perks of being his ex-partner you suppose. But you watched as he hid a smirk, you guess he’s just telling only half the truth. You roll your eyes

“You can finish”

“Wouldn’t you mean start idiot” you snap

“Meh”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance, his inability to ever grasp the mood of the situation was flawless. It seemed as if he never cared about the other person's feelings, unless you were the god of death you were out of luck for a serious conversation. You’ve dealt with that for decades

You could remember once in a lifetime the two of you were partners, fast and precise that's how the job went. The blood god and the angel of destruction are an amazing duo. You remember when the two of you used to watch as people begged on their knees for their life or perhaps a mercy kill. Watching as your foes tried to retreat to their bases only for their pitiful lives to end in such a disgraceful manner. At the end of the day the two of you stood in the battlefield side by side knowing the world could shake in fear knowing you two were alive

And you loved it like that desire to make people fear you brought giddiness to your body and enlightened your world. You wanted one thing and it was to get revenge.

Revenge on all who did you wrong from your youth up, and now you were strong enough to bring it tenfold.

Everything was fine, It wasn’t until one day the two of you had sat down for a cup of tea like you usually did on Thursday evenings. He told you he wanted to retire, he was done with the killings and the torture.

He was finally putting down the title ‘Blood god’

At first you thought it was a joke but then you saw his eyes and they were as serious as he could ever be, anger rose up in you unable to process the statement.

How could he leave you like this, he promised to be by your side when no one else would.

A liar that's would your made him out to be

A slap to the cheek was all you left him that day

Now here you were decades later, hand in hand dancing to the sounds of the instruments harmonizing becoming one just the way you two were.

He spun you around gracefully on the tiled floor, there's something about dancing in an empty room that makes you feel weird inside. What was this feeling? Him making you feel weak in the knees, perhaps it was the fact the last time you did this it was when you two were young and reckless. He always seemed to know how to brighten your life,even to the point the friendship you two had was envied amongst the other gods.

He twirled you across the room dipping you slightly “Cat caught your tongue”

You rolled your eyes “As if”

You saw outside the glass panes, the sky was painted a blood orange mixed with lavender purples and hints of blue. The sun slowly sets,bringing the nightfall.

You chuckle to yourself, how romantic of the sky to show such a sight for people who would die before dating each other.

You turn your gaze to the god “I need you one last time” you say cutting to the chase

Technoblade glared at you “I already told you I’m retired, don’t be so stubborn”

“I’m not, your being selfish putting your needs before anyone else's”

He snorts “Isn’t that what you're doing y/n? Or am I reading the situation wrong?” He says sarcastically “Plus I thought you made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with me, or was that slap something you did on impulse and you couldn’t face me after?”

You grind your teeth “It was not, and why are you making it seem like you're the victim? You're the one who wanted to leave me!” You snapped

He took his hands away from you and pinched the bridge of his nose “See, this is why we cannot have a conversation. You always jump to conclusions” he growls

“I do not!”

“You do! I never intended to leave your side, only retiring. Is it so bad I wanted to stop killing and do something better with my life, and here I thought you’d be happy with it.”

You stared at him shocked, “I..”

Was he right? You were known to act on impulse which did cause problems in the long run but he’d be there to be by your side every time. But yet, you couldn’t fathom the thought of him leaving his life behind to start a new one. Why? You weren’t sure.

Techno sighed “You act so tough when actually you're broken inside. The thing is you weren’t mad at me for retirement, you were mad that things were changing. You're scared of change because you don’t know where you’ll fall between it all.”

The piano falls into a soft handsomely rhythm

The violinist quietly drag their bows delicately

You cast your eyes aside, you couldn’t argue with the truth. You swallow hard fighting back the tears. You couldn’t fathom the amount of times you’ve been in the wrong or how much you’ve hurt him

Stupid

Stupidstupidstu-

A hand is placed on you head

“You think too much, stop that”

“I’m sorry”

“For overthinking or for being impulsive” he questions

“Both” you whisper keeping your eyes on the floor

“And?”

You huffed “You were right about everything”

He grinned showing his pearly whites “I’m sorry what was that? I couldn’t hear you?”

You laughed slightly making your worries go away for the time being “You asshole, get your head out of the skies as if I’m repeating that again”

He chuckles shrugging “Worth a try”

“So, let's get something straight. I’ll help you one last time then I’m forcing you to retire. Seriously you have no say so.” He eyes you “You probably need therapy too jeez”

“Fuck You I’m perfectly fine”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night” he responds ushering you out the room

“Bold of you to assume I sleep”

“Bruhh”

Taglist: @ttakinou @angstyx

[earthlyyan]

Little Trainee (Platonic(?)Yan! Childe x Reader)

For @bye-bye-sunbird (thanks again for your help) Warnings: Abuse, Graphic descriptions of violence, Implied Torture, Eye Trauma, Unhealthy Sibling relationships, Childe being a sadist, Kidnapping? If you squint? Imprisonment? Betrayal 

Word Count: 3084

________________________________________________________________

He was gone.

Tartaglia held his younger brother’s fur-lined cap in his calloused hands, bringing it close to his chest. He’d taken off without it, wanting to be as far away from the killer that was his big brother so badly, he’d neglected to dress for the cold.

Despite his best efforts, Tartaglia had been unable to find him, and though tempted, he had refused to get the Fatui involved. It would further remind Teucer that his brother’s job was a terrifying one, too dark for the mind of a child to fully grasp. A child’s mind would never truly grasp why he had to kill, only that he had taken the life of another. And how that was an unforgivable sin.

He’d requested a day off work to prevent him from making any rash decisions on duty. He’d spent the day wandering aimlessly, desperately trying to gather his thoughts. He’d found himself in the familiar shambles of Dunyu Ruins. Perhaps he’d take out his frustrations on some ruin guards, or at least he’d considered it, until he saw you.

*

In and out and in and out.

Your sword found its way into the ruin guards eye again and again. It had been dead after the first thirteen stabs, but you didn’t care.

Your thrusts were becoming harder to maintain, your shallow breaths and sore arms halting your rage filled pursuit. Your legs straddled its large, heavy body, thick vines restrained its arms and legs.

It killed him. It killed your brother. The laser sliced his body while simultaneously cauterizing the wound, leaving him in two, unable to bleed. His face still frozen in that of agonizing pain.

It was going to kill you as well until a blinding green light appeared before you; a dendro vision.

You didn’t know how you did it, but now it was dead, and the gift of the archons laid on the ground before you. You hated it.

A gift of the gods, what a fucking joke.

You choked back the urge to vomit at the rancid scent before removing your sword from the gaping glass wound.

You kicked the hunk of metal as hard as you could before losing your balance and falling back onto the ground.

A man stood there; a couple years older than you. You’d fallen right at his feet.

He wordlessly helped you up off the ground before clearing his throat, as if to clear the air with it.

“You know, I’ve never seen someone receive a vision before.” His voice was light and airy. “I had been walking when it’s light blinded me. I regret not showing up sooner.”

You refused to look at the strange man, his words not registering. Your mind was too busy trying to process what had just happened.

“Hey,” His voice was louder, shaking you from your stunned stupor. He held out a handkerchief from his pocket. “You should probably get out of—”

“He’s dead.”

The man’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry?”

“That thing killed him. He’s dead.” Your words were empty. You contemplated if you should be feeling anything else other than thinly veiled anger and disgust. You should’ve been sadder. The only thing you had felt at the time of you mindlessly stabbing the guard was desperation for your own survival, and fear that it would get up again. You were revolted at the sight of the corpse before you, but you weren’t terribly torn up about the death in itself. And that disgusted you.

Anyone else would’ve been. Anyone would’ve been devastated if they had watched their own kin get cut in two. But no, you were more worried about what you’d tell your mother.

You walked over to the remains of your brother and poked it with your foot, your blatant disrespect for the dead caught the man off guard. Your gut did flips in your stomach at the gruesome sight.

“You don’t seem too upset about it.” He seemed to lack the same feeling of fear at the sight of a corpse. You didn’t quite know how to feel about that. “Though, you don’t seem like you’ve got the guts to orchestrate it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He laughed. “The way you kept stabbing the poor ruin guard made me think it was self-defense, and that the death was an accident. But the fact that you’re not devastated at his death made me wonder that you did it intentionally.”

“And if it was?” “Then I think I’d applaud your ambition.”

*

The man introduced himself as Childe, a member of the Snezhnayan organization called the Fatui. He claimed to be a warrior of sorts, and that he had gone to Dunyu Ruins to take out some frustrations he had one some ruin guards. He then had stumbled across you stabbing a lifeless robot corpse.

He had treated you to lunch in Liyue, saying that leaving you to stew in your thoughts after witnessing something of that caliber was ill-advised.

“What were you doing in Dunyu Ruins?”

“My brother wanted to do something there. He wouldn’t tell me what it was.” You mumbled.

“And the sword?”

“The sword I have with me was the one he was carrying, but when his torso disconnected from his legs, his scabbard landed close to me. So I thought I might as well use it.” You stirred your soup with your spoon, not having much of an appetite.

“So why did he have the sword?”

“Archons know.” You sighed. “If I’m being frank, I think he was going to kill me.”

Childe lowered his tigerfish from his mouth. A light laugh left his lips, startling you. “What makes you think that?”

“I was father’s favorite, though I am the younger of the two of us. So when he found out he had left the inheritance to me instead of his eldest son, he thought it unfair.” You reluctantly brought the spoon to your lips and swallowed. “We had never gotten along; I was like a punching bag than his younger sibling.”

“And I suppose that’s why you’re not crying and mourning the loss?” His voice was mocking.

“Well, would you?”

Childe hummed. “I’m not sure, family is family, but…” his voice lowered into an inaudible mumble, pondering.

He was silent for a moment. He took a few bites of his grilled tigerfish. His eyes wandered to the scabbard at your hip. “You don’t know how to fight.”

“What? Where did this come from?” He hadn’t even finished his thought from before.

“The way you were holding the sword as you used it to kill the ruin guard was way off. Had you kept going, you could’ve gotten hurt. If you had held it properly you could still be stabbing it now. If you didn’t get that vision when you did, it could’ve killed you with how poorly you were handling yourself.”

“That’s the whole point of getting bestowed a vision. Saving you when you’re on the brink of death or something like that.” You shoved your spoon in your mouth again.

“Yes, true.” He sighed and set down the now empty skewer. “But if you hadn’t gotten it you would’ve ended up like—” “Okay jeez I get it!” You grumbled around the metal in your mouth. “What are you getting at?”

“Luckily for you, I’m quite skilled at the sword.” His chest puffed in pride. “And it’s not like you’re going to go home with half a brother in tow, yes?”

“So you want to train me? What good does that do you?” “I’ve always wanted to train someone in a weapon.” He smiled, though there was a tinge of sadness in his voice. Like he was looking forward to it before the invitation presented itself. “And now, I can.”

*

You were on the ground again, some shallow, superficial cuts littered your body, Childe’s blade inches from your throat.

“You left yourself open again. I told you this weeks ago and yet you can’t get it.” A disappointed sigh escaped his lips as he pinged the bridge of his nose. “Hunch, keep your legs apart, again.”

Some part of you wondered if Childe got off on hearing your groans and hisses when he slashed you. Something about the way he bounced on his legs and the way his grin seemed more genuine had you worried.

You slowly got yourself off the ground, your bones and muscles creaking in protest as you readied your brother’s blade again.

“If you’re sore it means its working.” His laugh echoed as he lunged himself at you again, leaving you a moment notice to swerve out of the way. “If you weren’t sore before it means you were doing it wrong.” He dodged an oncoming attack from your sword and swept your legs, leaving you on the floor again. Yup, he was definitely getting off on this.

*

Three months under Childe’s tutelage toned your body significantly. He seemed to be more eager to fight you these days. Saying that you were finally getting fun to fight or something like that.

“Despite your form issues in the beginning, you’re practically a natural.” He beamed as he extended a hand to you. “Fighting you is actually fun these days, and less boring.”

“It was boring before?” You were borderline insulted.

“Fighting against you was boring. Seeing you grow and mature as a fighter was interesting.”

“Uh huh.” You wiped the sweat from your brow. “Sure.”

He’d been gracious enough to let you room at his house. And for someone of his age, it was quite impressive for him to have one of this stature. You had your own room across the hall from his. He only had two rules when staying with him.

One: The lower levels were off limits. No matter what. He said that it had to do with his work, and that it would be unprofessional of him to allow someone to interfere.

Two: Don’t ask about his work.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about it. Sometimes he’d leave for days on end and come back beat up, other times you’d hear noises from the lower levels.

They sounded like screams.

You wondered what he’d have to do for a living to hear such noises from below. Sometimes he’d go down for hours and come up itching for a fight with you, other times he’d leave satisfied and covered in blood. You’d wondered if it was his own.

Something about it didn’t sit right with you, but a fight with Childe was not one you wanted to engage in. He’d know all your moves, considering he’d been the one to teach them to you. Whenever you’d try to bring it up, you’d be shut down with an uncharacteristic coldness from him. One that barely used, only when he was talking about his work, that is.

But tonight the screams were louder. They reached your room in the depths of the night, even with the door closed and pillows blocking your ears. You had to know.

You were sick of being left in the dark here, you were sick of hearing those screams from downstairs. You had to know.

Were you training under a serial killer? Childe didn’t seem like the type, or was he?

The strange amount of pleasure he’d get when watching you get hurt by his hand. The ruthless way he’d slaughter hillichurls and treasure hoarders alike. No matter who or what it was, its death was no different to Childe. It seemed to light him ablaze, having him itching for a fight with anything that moved, and when it stopped moving, he’d be disappointed.

 The screams had died down after a few hours. You had to wait until you heard his boots go back upstairs and into the room across the hall.

You had to be more quiet if you were going to get in and out of there before he noticed you.

After these escapades he would take a shower, the running water would be enough to cover your footsteps going down the hall, truly.

A minute after the shower started running you made your move. It was easy to pick out what door led to the basement, due to the sheer amount of deadbolts and locks keeping it closed. He’d left the key in the door, probably to stop whoever was in the basement from looking through the keyhole. Smart move for him when it came to living alone, but with company, it was practically begging to be used.

And use it you did. Deadbolt after deadbolt, you finally turned the key.

The basement was warm and sweet smelling. But not in the pleasant way sweets were supposed to smell.

It made your stomach ache and twist as you descended the staircase, closing the door behind you.

The clinking of chains got your attention before the sight of blood had. The lights had flickered on, illuminating the sight before you. You couldn’t hold back your vomit anymore.

Your suspicions were right, or so it seemed, with the sheer amount of bodies below. One was still living, trembling, and hunching away from you. “Did Childe do this?” You knew the answer but had to be sure. Perhaps it was an associate he worked with, or some weird fetish.

The man nodded, “I didn’t have enough money.”

“What?”

“To pay back the Northland Bank.” He stammered. “I couldn’t pay them back, so they sent him.”

“He’s a debt collector?”

The man shook his head. “No. He doesn’t care about collecting the debt, not like the others.”

There were others?

“He gets sent in after the warning deadlines are up. You pay with your—”

The man abruptly stopped, looking past you and onto the stairwell. Then he couldn’t see at all.

An arrow flew past you, barely grazing your ear before finding itself in the mans eye socket. He slumped to the ground, lifeless. You whizzed around to meet the source, only to find Childe, an arrow drawn taught in the bow you’d barely see leave his side.

“Well that’s disappointing.” He sighed. “I was hoping to make him last another day.” He grimaced. “That was a warning shot, by the way.” He walked down the stairs slowly, still aiming at you. “Put your back to the wall.”

He almost sounded sad. You were too shocked to move.

An arrow landed at your feet, standing straight up against the ground. “I said ­put your back to the wall. That wasn’t a suggestion.”

You tripped over the man’s corpse while making it to the wall. “Childe I—” “Nope, too late for that. Hands up.” He slowly lowered his weapon and made a show of putting it away. He wanted you to know he still had it. He leaned in close to your face. “Now that’s a look I haven’t seen in quite some time.” His voice was low, husky. “Betrayal looks so good on you.”

You could feel his hot breath on your neck. You growled and threw your head forward, colliding with his. He took a step back.

Blood ran down from his forehead, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. “Oh hoh~ Now that’s what I’m talking about. A real fight from you.” He drew hydro blades from his sides and threw one at you. “I’m expecting improvement from you, my little trainee.”

You picked up the cool blade from your feet, never breaking eye-contact with him. “I’ll kill you.”

“You better hope you do. For your sake, at least.” You lunged at him, swiftly finding your way behind him, ready to strike.

“Your stance has gotten better.” He smiled. “But I’m afraid it still leaves you open” He kicked off from the ground and into the air, his foot collided with your chin sending you reeling.

“You bastard.” You hissed, picking yourself off from the ground with the steadiness of a newborn deer. “Why not be more quiet about your escapades down here? If you’d had your victims quiet down, I would’ve never found about what you were doing.”

“I never said I never wanted you to find out what I was doing.” He ran at you again, slicing your shirt and your left shoulder along with it. “I was hoping you’d have enough faith in your teacher to follow my rules.” He sighed. “I didn’t take you for the curious type.”

“I’m not.” You said, you swept at his leg, but he narrowly escaped, jumping just high enough to miss it. “But I enjoy liking to sleep in peace knowing my upperclassmen isn’t a serial killer.”

“I’m no serial killer!” He laughed, landing a cut to your lower back, then stepping hard on it. You fell to the ground trapped under his heel. “I’m simply following orders. I have nothing against these people.” He pressed harder.

You suppressed a scream.

“I do have a problem with those who interfere. You were going to help him, weren’t you?”

You’d be lying if you said you were going to leave him to die.

“Weren’t you?” His voice was closer to your ear this go round.

“Yes! Yes, I was!” You sobbed. “I just wanted to—”

“I’ve heard this before. Suddenly you have the moral upright to save a dying stranger? But you sat back and kicked your brother’s corpse?”

“That was different!” “Sure it was. A man is a man is a man, yeah?” His foot lifted from your back and turned you onto your stomach. “See the difference between me and a serial killer, is that if I was a serial killer, I probably would kill you right now.” He sighed. “But see, I like you. So I think I’ll let you live. Though don’t expect things to go back to normal. I can’t expect you to stay quiet and continue your training in the open alongside me.” He leaned you up against the wall, easily fighting against your protests. He took your wrists and cuffed them to the wall.

The restraints were still warm.

You shuddered.

“See, here’s the thing.” He said. He cupped your cheek with his spare hand. “I don’t want to leave you the way you are, half trained. I do enjoy fighting you.” He finished tying you upright and smiled, admiring his handiwork. “I’ll let you go under one condition.”

For the first time since you’d met him, his smile finally reached his eyes.

“You’re free if you can kill me.”

[luimagines]

He Accidentally Hurt You pt.2

Masterlist

Set platonically and within the group Part 1

Hyrule

Your blood was pounding as your feet carried you across the battle field.

Your hearing was rendered useless by the cause, you only thoughts were on Hyrule and getting to him before the hoard of monsters did. He had somehow gotten separated from the group in the struggle and was left to fend for himself.

You made contact.

The sword in your hand followed through your practiced movements, slicing all and any between you and your target.

You could hear him in the distance, you were close, you just had to get- just a little-

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and the air changed. The split second static was your only warning before lightning struck.

Monsters fell all around you but you failed to pay attention to that. Your attention was instead on the blinding, scalding twist in your arm that held your trusted blade. You couldn’t even find it in you to let go of the weapon, your muscles incapable to receiving orders.

The pain traveled through your arm and across your chest until it encompassed your whole being.

Screams tore through your throat without your knowledge and when the attack subsided, your whole body went rag doll and your vision went black.

“Please. Please. Please.” A voice whispered through the darkness. It was soft. Pleading. A blessed chill seemed deep into your bones and you found it within yourself to open your eyes.

Hyrule was crouched above you, tears in his eyes with shallow cuts across his tunic and exposed skin. Not a lot of blood though, your brain supplies. You take a relieved breath.

“Hey.” You croaked out in greeting. “Glad to see you’re ok. I was worried.”

“I didn’t know you were there.” He blurts as if he didn’t hear you. Maybe he didn’t. “I thought it was only monsters nearby. I don’t think I have enough magic to heal you completely. This is all my fault.”

“Fault?” You attempted to sit up. You succeed. Mostly.

A grunt leaves your mouth at the stiffness in your joints and you force yourself to power though to reach into your inventory.

A sniffle leaves your Traveler when you push his hands away when you find your target. The red liquid glints in the dying sunlight and you hand it out to him. “Think you can open it?”

He nods and pry's it open before you can even think about getting into a better sitting position.

You don’t think twice about taking the potion when he hands it back.

“Save your magic.” You say. “I’ll be fine.”

And you know you’re right....It’ll take a little more than that to convince the rest of the group when you get back though. Hyrule plans to smother you until not a single blemish is left. The others? Well... They’ll keep an eye on you.

Twilight

“Ten rupees says you can’t make that throw.” You hear Warriors say.

“Double it and I’ll gladly prove you wrong.” Twilight responds.

The book in your lap calls for attention more than whatever those two are doing for the sake of friendly competition. You don’t look up, trying to keep your eyes on the page but you can’t help the growing curiosity in the back of your head.

“What are we using to aim with?”

“That?”

“Sure.”

You roll your eyes and keep your head down.

“I’ll be twenty rupees richer and it’ll shut your mouth. Just watch.” Twilight grumbles.

There’s a tap and a growl before something comes at your head full throttle. It’s dense but not enough to keep it from exploding all into your hair and it knocks you over slightly.

You closed your book to protect it from the falling matter and reach at the spot. By your feet laying the offending object.

An apple.

They threw an apple at your head. Correction. Twilight threw an apple at your head.

The thoughts in your head spin a bit. Your whole head is throbbing but you doubt there’s any blood. You look up just in time to see Warrior and Twilight running at you as fast as they can. Twilight reaches you first and kneels next to you. “By Ordana, are you ok?”

His hands hover over you, trying to take in the damage without actually touching you.

“Who are you?” You blurt out, very quickly realizing that it was the wrong thing to say.

His face drops and Warrior wears a similar expression.

“Kidding.” A pained grin covers your face. “Take me to Hyrule please.”

“I’m so sorry.” Twilight reaches for you and you comply. Once you’re on your feet he speaks again. “Warrior messed up my shot and it hit you by accident.”

“That’s a weird way to say you lost a bet.”

You kick Warrior as payback.

Sky

“So...” You sit next to Sky during the break. “What are you planning to make this time?”

The boy next to you already had his whittling knife out and a decent sized chunk of wood in his lap. He picked it up and spun it a few times, staring into it as if he could already see the form inside it. It was just his job to take it out.

“I don’t know yet.” He admits. “Maybe it’ll come to me.”

You nod and let him work in relative silence, the faint but consistent sounds of Sky working next to you create a blissful and serene atmosphere.

The others are off doing their own thing, each keeping to themselves for the most part.

It’s nice.

“Actually, can you help me with this real quick?”

Your attention is back on Sky. He’s trying to get his knife out of the wood block, the outline of the shape he’s making already starting to form.

You don’t recognize it.

Sky picks up the knife and the whole block follows. “It got stuck.”

“How?” You raise an eyebrow and try to keep the smile off of your face.

Your response is only a shrug and the wood being thrust in your direction.

You grab it and instinctively tighten your grip on it when you feel Sky pull.

You both use your strengths to your advantage and pull in different directions. You feel the knife begin to slip out and adjust your grip. Within seconds the blade is free and you feel it cross the tip of your finger.

Instantly, the wood is dropped and you cradle your hand close to you, putting pressure on the injured digit.

“Ok, got it, thank- What happened?” Sky scoots closer to you and pulls your hands out.

A thin red line follows the length of your finger and it only seems to grow as the moments pass. It doesn’t feel deep but it certainly won’t let you flex your finger for a while.

A quite hiss leaves Sky’s lips. “Well that could’ve gone better. Sorry about that.”

“It could’ve gone worse too.” You press a little on the injury, trying to will the pain away.

It doesn’t work, but hey, you try.

“Hold on. I think I have some bandages in my pack.” Sky gets up and jogs to where most of the others are sitting. He picks up his bag and looks inside for a minute or two before jogging back to you.

A small role of bandages sits in his hand and when he reach for your hand, you don’t hesitate to give it to him.

As he’s working on your finger, you feel mild irritation bubble up in your throat. “This better not scar.”

“Why’s that?” Sky replies.

“It’ll be the lamest story.”

He laughs and finishes his work.

Time

Sometimes it surprised you how short everyone in the group was. You weren’t sure if it was a Link thing or one of the biggest coincidences of the universe because it certainly wasn’t just because they were Hylian (but that probably didn’t help).

That being said, and what you could gather from The Captain, it boggled your mind further that Time was the biggest of everyone. Warrior made it seem like he’d stay small forever, implying that Time was smaller still when he first defeated Gannon.

That didn’t seem very fair.

For him and you....well everyone, only Twilight and Warrior were the ones exempt from having to look up at the old man. But you didn’t like the idea of someone so small fighting such a beast, so Time is included in your sympathy list.

Despite his size, he seemed to move as silent as a mouse. Only Wild would be quieter than him.

After some time of traveling with them all, you realized he was just as much as a gremlin as the rest.

He was not above pranking the living daylights out of poor unsuspecting teenagers.

And the thing is, no one could catch him. Somehow he managed to get them to in the blame on each other but you knew better. You swore it had to be him. There was no way. There was no way he could count as a Link and not get into this kind of stuff.

But no one believed you.

It definitely wasn’t fair.

With the stage set, it’s safe to say now that you were calmly, peacefully and quietly minding your own business. You weren’t bothering anyone.

You were writing in your journal under a tree with some low branches. Nothing too bad but in terms of shade and angle, you found it to be the perfect resting place.

You took a deep breath in and let it out.

Yes, it was nice.

“BOO!”

You jumped as high as your reflexes you take you and spun around, but you had forgotten where you were in the moment.

With a solid thunk, your head hit the branch above you and sat back down, with a curse.

While there was laughter in the your reaction, it was cut off abruptly at the first sign of pain. “Oh jeeze, I’m sorry. How bad does it hurt?”

A whimper escaped your mouth before you could stop it and you closed your journal, choosing to furiously rub your hands against the now tender spot on the top of your head. “Ow Time. Why did you do that?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d move like that.” He moved your hands away and inspected the area for himself. “No bleeding. Doesn’t look like it’ll need a potion...”

“I blame you.” You grumbled. “This is your fault.”

“I can accept that.” He nodded and stepped back. “There’s not much we can do about it in terms of healing, but perhaps Hyrule would be willing to lend a hand.”

“No way. He’d ask how it happened and I’m not going to lie to him.” You pouted. “No one will believe me if I told them the truth.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s you!” You glared at him.

A tiny giggle escaped from the so called Old Man of the group, Mr. Stick in the Mud. Senor Buzzkill. “And why would that make a difference?”

“I cannot believe you... Actually yes I can, you were doing this on purpose the whole time.”

He laughed more fully this time and didn’t seem to let up.

With a pout, you picked up your book and marched away.

One day you’ll get back at him. You just had to figure out how and when.

Four

“So, how do we play this game again?” You picked up the ball one of your companions took out. It was almost the size of your head and had crisscrossing lines. It was white and weighed less than you originally thought.

It was a relatively slow day and no one felt in the mood to dampen it by looking for trouble.

While Twilight and Warrior set up the net that was supposed to go with it, the rest were waiting and going over the rules.

“Just hit the ball over the net. You can’t the ball twice in a row, someone else has to hit it and if it touches the ground you lose the point.”

“Seems simple enough.” Wild takes the ball from you and tosses it a few times.

It takes a while for all the appropriate moves to be demonstrated but you all play the game with ease.

You were having a good time with your friends. Everyone was actually getting along for a change. With a smile on your face, you waited for the moment that would inevitably change.

You swore you could almost pin point when it happened.

With Four right across from you, his sudden change in stance gave away the glint in his eyes.

The ball came to him and he jumped up, higher than you thought he could and spiked.

Next thing you knew, you were on the ground, stunned and slightly disoriented and your face was hurting.

Four ran to your side as the game was halted. “That... was not what I was intending.”

“You don’t say... Can I step out for a minute?” You asked, trying to get your feet. Four helped you get away from the battle field- I mean, the game area and helped you sit back down against a nearby tree.

“Sorry about that.” He smiled apologetically. “Anything I can do to help?”

You looked up at him hopefully. “Lose the game?”

“Not a chance.”

[eliemo]

Solitary

Summary: Logan wakes up. He wasn't supposed to this time.

TWs: aftermath of a suicide attempt, implied/referenced self harm, self hatred and self esteem issues, hopeful ending

Notes: Mind the tags pls, I wrote this with no plan at like 1am. Platonic LAMP

When Logan woke up, the first thing he registered was a splitting headache, white hot pain spreading down his head to his spine like his skull was being snapped in two.

The next was the pulsing agony in both of his arms, shooting up to his shoulders with a sudden intensity that made him gasp before he could stop himself, only to be met with another stabbing pain in his throat.

“Hey hey hey, easy.” A vaguely familiar voice filtered in from somewhere nearby, but Logan was pretty sure the pain would only worsen if he opened his eyes to look. “Easy, Lo. You’re safe, you’re ok.”

All Logan was able to manage was an awful sounding croak. He felt someone running their hand gently through his hair, another holding the side of his face.

“Breathe, kiddo. You’re ok.”

Patton. A bit of the rising alarm faded when he recognized the moral side’s voice, but something still pulled at his chest when he realized how scared Pat sounded. What was going on?

“Can you open your eyes?” Patton asked, soft and concerned right beside his ear. “We really miss you, Logan.”

Patton’s voice broke a bit at the end, miserable and pleading, and that was enough for Logan to risk pain that came with the sudden light, making another weak noise in the back of his throat as he pried his eyes open, surprised and a little frustrated over how much effort it took.

Like he’d warily expected, the barrage of light did feel like someone was repeatedly taking a knife to his eyes, but it wasn't nearly as intense as he’d anticipated.

It took a second for everything to come into focus, but when it did Logan could make out that he was on the couch in the living room, a dark blue blanket draped over him, the curtains closed over the windows to keep the sunlight out of the dim room.

Patton was crouched beside him, fingers still running through Logan’s hair, slow and gentle. Virgil was perched on the other end of the couch, eyeshadow smeared and staining his face with dried black tears.

Roman was standing beside the armchair just a few paces away, looking like he’d just been startled out of his seat, face pale, eyes wide and shiny.

They all looked...awful. They looked about as bad as Logan felt right now.

“Wh-what?” It hurt to talk, voice raspy and shaking, but the confusion was only making his head hurt more. “What’s happening, I—”

“I’ll, uh- I’ll get him some water,” Roman said hastily, failing to hide the worried glance he sent Patton’s way. “Hang in there, Teach.”

Roman was gone before Logan could say anything, and his gaze wandered instead to Virgil who was still planted by his feet, shifting anxiously where he sat, glancing between Logan and Patton like he was waiting for someone to speak.

Luckily Roman wasn’t gone for long, hurrying back into the room within seconds and practically thrusting a glass of water in Logan’s face.

He moved to sit up and take it, only to hiss at the pain shooting up his arms at the tiniest of movements, falling limply back onto the cushions.

“Don’t use your hands, honey,” Patton said, a second too late. “Here, let me help you, ok?”

Any other time Logan would have protested. He was perfectly capable of drinking a cup of water by himself. But right now all he had the energy to do was give a tiny nod and let Patton help him to sit up.

He didn’t have the energy to fight, keeping his aching arms under the blanket and letting Patton bring the cup to his lips. The cold water eased the pain in his throat somewhat, even if it took a frustratingly long time for Logan to swallow a few sips.

“There you go,” Patton said when he saw done, and Logan hated how overly gentle the other side was being with him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” Logan said, despite how badly everything hurt. “What...happened?”

He saw the three of them exchange worried glances among themselves, trying and failing once again to hide it from Logan. His head was still too heavy to remember what had put him in this position in the first place, but their concern was only worsening his rising anxiety. Or maybe he was just picking up on some of Virgil’s distress.

The anxious side shifted again, brows drawn together as he looked Logan over. “Do you not...remember what happened?”

Logan took a moment, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing against the lump in his throat, taking a moment to catalogue his aching body, his headache, and the searing pain shooting up his arms.

“Was I...injured?”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Patton immediately burst into tears. To his dismay, Roman and Virgil’s eyes started welling up at the same time.

Oh, god. Logan was even less prepared to deal with their emotions than he usually was.

“Is that…” he trailed off, swallowed, and tried again. “Is that a yes?”

Patton only began crying harder, and before Logan could try to apologize the moral side was throwing himself forward, arms wrapped around Logan as best he could, sobbing loudly into his chest.

“Patton, I—”

“I’m so sorry!” Patton wailed, only further growing Logan’s confusion. “I’m so sorry Lo, I’m so sorry! We didn’t- we didn’t know! I swear we had no idea!”

“Let him take a moment to wake up, Padre,” Roman said, still hovering anxiously. He and Virgil were being much quieter about their distress, but both of their faces were soaked with tears. “But we...we really are sorry. Gosh, Logan we’re so so sorry.”

Logan screwed his eyes shut again, still coming up blank when he tried to connect the dots. “What...what on earth are you apologizing for?”

“For not realizing you felt that way, Lo.” Virgil moved to put a hand on Logan’s leg, refusing to look the logical side in the eyes. “Jeez- you’re family and we never...we never noticed.”

Patton was still bawling into his shirt, Virgil tightened his own hold, Roman began pacing as he tended to do when he was stressed, and Logan still had absolutely no clue what was going on. Why wouldn’t someone just tell him what had happened?

“Patton...” Logan stopped, first from the pain that came with raising his hand to touch Patton’s shoulder, then from the shock of seeing his arms. “I—”

“Don’t look, baby,” Patton said, gently guiding his hands back under the blanket like Logan hadn’t gotten a clear view of blood stained bandages wrapped around his arms from his wrists to his elbows. “You’re ok.”

His arms were...had he...?

Roman cleared his throat, and Logan looked over at the sound. The Prince held a wrinkled piece of paper in his hand, crumpled and a little stained, and the writing Logan could just barely make out was suddenly alarmingly familiar.

“We, uhm. We found your note.”

And just like that it all came rushing back- the overwhelming pain, the emotions, everything spiraling out of his usually so strict control as he finally let everything out onto a flimsy piece of notebook paper.

He’d lost control, no longer able to see a better way out. All he’d been focused on was the horrible pain in his arms soaked with blood that signified an ending he hadn’t even been sure he really wanted.

It came back in a fragmented blur, and Logan abruptly remembered that he wasn’t supposed to have woken up.

Oh. Oh no.

“I am...so sorry,” Logan said, at a loss for what else to do. “It was never my intention for you all to—”

“Your intention was pretty fucking clear,” Virgil snapped, and Logan was taken aback by the hostility in Anxiety’s voice. “Jesus Christ, Lo! What were you thinking?”

“Virgil,” Patton snapped, but the wavering in his voice overshadowed any vehemence. “That’s...let’s calm down, kiddo. Ok?”

Virgil wiped his eyes with his sleeves, shoulders hunched as he crossed his arms and stared at the ground. Logan’s chest squeezed, guilt and panic overwhelming.

“How long was I...asleep?”

Patton gave a shaky sigh, going back to running his hands through Logan’s hair. “Since last night. It’s...I think three in the afternoon now.”

Logan’s stomach dropped, and the pain in his arms flared up again as he struggled to sit up, only to fall limp against the back of the couch. He’d been out all day, forcing the other sides to stop what they were doing and look after him.

He couldn’t imagine how much damage and stress he’d caused. The one thing he’d been trying to avoid doing any more of.

“I’m very sorry,” Logan said, forcing his voice to remain steady. “My intentions were not to be an inconvenience or cause any unnecessary stress. I will attempt to get back on schedule as soon as possible and—”

“Get back on schedule?”

Logan couldn’t remember hearing Virgil yell like this, shrinking back into Patton’s arms before he could stop himself, the anxious side having stood up from the couch, eyes wide and brimming with new tears.

Logan cleared his throat, struggling to speak with his heart hammering in his chest. “I...apologize for—”

“You think we’re upset over the schedule?” Virgil snapped, flinching when Roman moved closer to put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve been sitting here for hours waiting for you to wake up after you tried to kill yourself and you think we’re upset because we’re behind schedule? Are you fucking serious, Logan?”

The screaming eventually dissolved into ragged sobs, and Logan watched as Roman gathered Virgil up his arms and pulled him close, the anxious side burying his face into the Prince’s chest.

Roman hadn’t stopped silently crying, silent tears sliding down his cheeks as he pressed his nose to Virgil’s hair, trembling with the strength it took to hold back his sobs. And Patton hadn’t let go of him, half of Logan’s shirt soaked with the moral side’s tears.

He hadn’t...expected this. Any of it.

Honestly, Logan hadn’t expected anyone to even notice his absence at first. He supposed they might not have known he’d...passed at all if he hadn’t been found before he’d finished.

He'd expected them to be mildly agitated when they found out he was gone, a little annoyed that he’d taken such drastic measures instead of continuing to ignore it and move on for Thomas’s sake. They'd have to make their schedules themselves now, and his death would likely push a few things back.

Things might be a bit less efficient without him but...they’d realize it was for the best eventually. They would be happier without him around. The air would be lighter.

It would be quieter. They wouldn’t have to constantly hide their annoyance every time he opened his mouth.

They wouldn’t have to deal with him at all anymore.

He hadn’t...expected anyone to be upset over the thought of losing him. He hadn’t even succeeded, he was perfectly fine, and every single one of them was in very clear distress.

“I am...very sorry,” he tried again, wondering if all he’d managed to do was ruin things irreparably. “I never wanted to upset any of you.”

“It isn’t about us,” Patton said, reaching over to quickly squeeze Virgil’s hand. “It’s not about our feelings. It’s about yours.”

“No, Virgil is right. It was selfish of me to—”

“It wasn’t selfish,” Virgil said quickly. He pulled away from Roman, just enough to look at Logan. “It’s not...it wasn’t selfish, Lo. It wasn’t your fault.”

Logan frowned, because that...was an exceptionally strange thing to say. Especially when he had every right to scream until his voice was hoarse. “Of course it was. I did it to myself. I was fully aware of what I was doing.”

That made Patton tighten his hold and Virgil’s gaze drop to the floor, but Logan didn’t falter. It was the truth. He wasn’t going to make excuses or pretend to be ashamed. He’d been convinced it was the right thing to do.

Roman suddenly sighed, trembling and quiet, the only one able to meet Logan’s eyes. “Sometimes our brains tell us things, Lo. They aren’t true and they’re awful but it’s...hard not to listen. You just need some help quieting the thoughts.”

“My thoughts are...perfectly rational,” Logan said, despite the situation. “I was simply mistaken. I thought I was doing what was best.”

“You thought we hated you!” Patton was crying again, sobbing with nothing holding him back, and Logan suddenly couldn’t bring himself to look at the note left on the coffee table. “You thought...Lo, the things you said—”

“I was wrong,” Logan said curtly, even as a prickle of dread settled in his stomach. “I was...I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

He was a bit taken aback by how quickly the three of them burst into affirmations, all of them suddenly crowded around him, holding him close as gently as possible. Keeping him safe.

“We love you,” Virgil was saying, and the anxious side had somehow managed to half commandeer his lap, his arms wrapped around his Logan’s middle. “I love you, Logan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not...your fault,” Logan said, wishing his arms didn't hurt quite so bad. He couldn’t even attempt to hug anyone back. “I shouldn’t—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Roman spoke up, placing a gentle but grounding hand on Logan’s back. “I know it feels like you did, Teach. I know. But you didn’t.”

“I tried to...I- I thought—”

“You’re in a bad place and we didn’t notice,” Virgil said, barely audible from where his face was pressed into Logan’s shirt. “That’s our fault. We- I should have been there to help, I didn’t know you—”

“I was attempting to hide it.” Hiding it had become normal. He’d hoped it would all simply go away, or fade away to the background at the very least if he just pretended.

But it had only grown worse, leaving him feeling empty and numb and hurt each time he was ignored and talked over, each time an argument went a little too far, each time he felt like a burden for simply speaking his mind. For having a thought in the first place.

He’d thought they hated him. He thought they hated the sound of his voice, his presence in their lives, his existence. A bitter part of him had wondered if they’d celebrate his death before erasing him from their memories entirely.

He hadn’t been able to say it aloud. But he’d finally been able to sit down and put it all on paper, finalizing it into one last goodbye.

Logan has been stupid. Logic had failed, and he’d done something irrational.

If he couldn’t even do his job well enough to keep himself alive, what even was the point in keeping him around? Thomas might be better off without him after all—

“Logan.” Patton was right in front of him now, warm hands on Logan’s cheeks, effectively cutting off his spiraling thoughts. “We’re here now. We’re here and we know.”

Logan curled his shoulders and nodded, the thought equally comforting and terrifying. He’d never planned on having to face the consequences of this decision. Of his awful, irrational feelings.

“We’re gonna help you kiddo,” Patton continued. “You’re not alone, Logan. You never ever have been. I’m so sorry you thought you were.”

Logan swallowed, alarmed at how tight his throat was becoming, vision quickly becoming blurred. “I...I don’t want to cause any pointless stress. We’re all busy.”

“We’re worried about you,” Patton said softly, never letting go of Logan. “You worry about the people you love. You worry about family.”

“I...” he paused, closing his eyes as the tears finally spilled over. “I wasn’t...sure that I was.”

Virgil lifted his head and frowned, but Logan refused to look down at him, staring blankly at the wall instead. “You weren’t...what? Family?”

Logan didn’t respond, didn’t jump to correct the assumption because he...couldn’t. He’d questioned his place for so long, somewhere along the way he’d begun assuming nobody cared. That it wasn’t a question for anyone else.

The heartbroken noises from the other three sides made him flinch, and he melted into their touch as they rushed to assure him once again, hard as it was to focus on anything they were saying.

He’d been so stupid. How could he have mistaken this for anything but love?

“You’re family, Logan,” Roman said, holding him from behind with his head now rested on Logan’s shoulder. “You will always be family. I’m so sorry it got this bad.”

Logan wasn’t sure when he’d started letting himself cry in earnest, but now that he’d started he couldn’t stop.

There were three pairs of arms around him, holding him close while he trembled and sobbed and tried to force out apologies that kept getting caught in his throat.

He’d been selfish, and he’d upset them all so much but…

But he’d been so hurt. He’d felt so hurt for months and none of them had noticed. Nobody had asked. He wasn’t angry, he knew they would never have left him like that if they could have known. But it didn’t change the fact that it had happened.

But it was...going to be better now. Logan wanted so badly to believe it was going to get better.

“We’re going to fix this,” Patton said, and Logan’s eyes slipped shut when the moral side once again began playing with his hair. “We’re gonna be right here, Lo. We’ve got you. It won’t ever get this bad again.”

Logan felt himself drifting back to sleep, the pain fading to a dull ache in the background, and he didn’t try to fight against it. His chest was still heavy, mind clouded with distorted thoughts and doubts, and he knew none of that would disappear the next time he woke up. He wasn’t naive enough to hope it would.

But he had a way to fix it now. A way that wasn’t quite so final as his original plan.

And his family would be there when he woke up. He didn’t have to do this by himself anymore. He didn’t have to be the only one trying to fix this.

Logan believed them. He wouldn’t have to do it alone. Never again.

[soldmysoultootomeboys]

I love the au swap ! If you dont mind the undateables (+ platonic luke with simeon?) Summoning a demon MC??

Demon MC with Human Undateables 

I hope these are okay!! I’ve never written for these characters before so I tried my best

Part 1

Diavolo

When a human summons you, you tend to have an idea of what you’re going to see when you show up, black hoods, cult robes, mysterious sigils signed in blood, NOT an average looking sitting room that appears to be part of a moderately wealthy mansion

Immediately your greeted by a man in an expensive red suit

He looks rather excited to see you, like he wanted to pull you in for a hug right there instead he settles for a handshake

Before you can start your usual spiel on the rules for your pact he interrupts you shaking his head

“I invited you here not as a demon but as a guest. Consider it like improving the relationship between the three realms. What do you say?”

What can you say? A human with knowledge of all three realms was rare but one who invited a demon into his own home was even rarer. You can’t help but be interested in what it is he really wants.

So you agree a pact forming between you two in a second.

You fully expect him to break his promise. After all there isn’t anything in it for him. However a real order never comes and for all intents and purposes you really are treated like a guest. 

For a while you had wondered if you were meant to be a servant here, but Diavolo seems more than happy with his staff. In fact his head butler could be a demon with how efficient his service is. 

With a little snooping you manage to find a file full of different demons, including you but he easily explained it as possible candidates for his program.

On more than one occasion Diavolo invites you to enjoy tea with him, although you suspect its more of an excuse for you to talk about Devildom. Diavolo is fascinated with the place.

He hangs on to every word you tell him, exclaiming over your cultural differences with excitement. 

Whenever you bring back a new snack or devilmade show he’s very eager to watch it with you.  

You’re still not sure what he really wants. He continues to treat you as his guest but you can’t help but feel he’s hiding something. 

Oh well, it's probably nothing.

Barbatos

Sometime when you make a pact it feels like you’ve lost something. Maybe your freedom, or your dignity, but in this case it doesn’t feel like you’re missing anything at all. In fact its more like you gained a butler.

Even though you’re the demon here, he’s the one who’s always taking care of your every need

Before you can even ask he is offering you cake and tea with refined grace, as if he was born to do it

In fact the two of you end up enjoying some very fine tea parties

At first he insists on serving you but with a little nagging (as well as some bribes in the form of a few special Devildom tea blends) he can be convinced to sit and chat with you

He seems to know a little something about everything making him the perfect conversation partner and listens to you talk about home with a quiet smile. However your favorite times are when he lets loose. 

A real smile (drawn out by your presence and a bottle of wine) takes up his face and he’s more personal, teasing you and even talking about himself

However most of your time is spent in the kitchen

He works at a very popular bakery so the two of you spend many afternoons making pastries. You offer what tips you can but he is already a very accomplished baker so there’s not much you can say

Instead you sit on the counter taking swipes of the batter when he isn’t looking (He knows, he just wants you to feel like you’re getting away with something)

It’s on a day just like this you have your first encounter with what would become your worst enemy

He had just opened the cupboard to get more flour when he lets out a bloodcurdling scream

You jolt from your perch. In all your times of living together he had never made such a sound and you peak over his shoulder to see what he’s looking at

Calm as can be sits a plain black rat chilling on top of a pack of sugar

Barbatos is still very much so frozen so you scoop up the animal and go outside to dispose of it

It's kind of gross but not nearly as bad as some of the pests back in Devildom so it’s not that big of a deal

When you walk back inside he has once again composed himself into the picture of dignity but for the next week you are rewarded with as many sweets as your heart desires

After that you makes sure to keep the kitchen free from anymore of the pests and he leaves you more than enough presents for your service

Solomon

Who is this shady man?

He summons you in what looks to be a stereotypical alchemy lab, something you hadn’t seen since like what? The 19nth century? Jeez man move on

He asks you to make a pact and despite your general misgivings you agree

Of ALL of his 87 pacts (now 88) he favors you and you spend a lot of time with him in the human world

Although he’s a rather strange person his work is rather interesting. He has plenty of rare tombs and interesting spells, you just wish he wasn’t so eager to test them on you

Typically you just help him with potion brewing and magic but occasionally you perform other tasks for him too

You also end up meeting quite a few of his other demons including Asmo who was more than interested in having some fun with the both of you, something that you had to politely (and then forcefully when he didn’t get the hint) shoot down

Even though you work with him a lot you still don’t have a clue on what his purpose is 

Simeon

He didn’t summon you on purpose...probably?

It’s kind of hard to tell. He seems really religious but he’s also super chill about the fact that you’re there

He acknowledges that you’re a demon but never actually brings it up

When you’re in public he introduces you as a friend of his

It’s actually kind of funny to shake hands with people who would probably scream if they knew who you really were

You end up reading a few of the books he wrote. They’re actually really good. You even find a character that reminds you of you. It’s actually a little too similar really, but it was written before you two had ever met so you guess its just a coincidence.

He asks to see your demon form and as you have no real reason to say no you agree

He’s rather unphased but like Lucifer he’s very interested in your wings. Almost bluntly he asks if you could fly with them, or more importantly if you could fly with him

He’s not a big guy so it’s pretty easy for you to pick him up

It’s not the proximity that has you blushing but his outfit. While you had noticed he was rather scantily clad, it is extremely obvious when you have to touch him, hands pressed tight to the dips in his hips, while an arm is delicately slung around your neck. It takes all your focus not to just have a nosebleed and crash

When you get high enough that the city lights gleam below you and the stars glitter above he becomes very quiet. When you look over to see if you broke your new human you see that he’s just staring at the stars

He seems very at home in the air and holding him isn’t so bad. The two of you stay up there for a long time and when he finally begins to shiver from the altitude you settle on the roof tucked tight to his side watching the stars a little longer. Both of you thinking of a home you can no longer go

Luke

Has a heart attack

Literally has a heart attack

As soon as you appear he’s dialing for Simeon to come help him because there is a DEMON in his house!!

He tries various methods to banish you, most of them hilarious to say the least. 

Throwing salt, holy water, and even a shoe when he got desperate was about all he had in his arsenal. You actually laughed at that last one or at least you did before he started to cry

You give Simeon a pleading glance but when he only gives a mysterious smile at you in return you decide to scoop Luke up. He complains but pushes further into your chest anyways.

Once he starts calming down to the point where he doesn’t try to exorcise you whenever you enter a room he’s not that bad

In fact he’s pretty fun to hang around with. 

He spends a lot of time baking and you’re able to buy his affection by offering to teach him Devildom recipes

After helping him make yet another batch of cupcakes together you find that you actually really like the kid???

After this he’s going to be the most protected child in the entire world

Bullies beware between you and Simeon nothing is going to happen to Luke on your watch

Luke tries to rein you in most of the time so you have to make sure to do anything when he’s not watching

For the most part he pretends like he doesn’t like demons, but in the end it's obvious that he really cares about you

[ultimatetrashyfanfic]

Wooow, first time writing a fic for this fandom. I’m stupidly nervous. Also I only just finished SDR2 so I’m just gonna make this a Non-Despair AU in case there’s any big events in the next canon games I don’t know about yet. Plus i want everybody to be alive and well (chapter four hurt). This is also the first time in years I’ve written any fanfiction, so forgive me if I’m rusty. I do love this pairing. Can be taken romantically or platonic in this one (as this isn’t my only ship for Hajime so I tried to keep it ambiguous). - Circle

Also posted to AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/33332596

Warning: sickfic, descriptions of vomiting (I don’t go into much detail), nightmares/general anxiety.

Kazuichi was the only person Hajime knew with a worse sleep schedule than his own. For months he hadn’t realised - everybody had their own space on the island and Hajime was occupied enough with his own fatigue - but as Fuyuhiko saw how much Kazuichi grew to trust and confide in Hajime, he reported the issue.

“He’s like a fucking baby,” Fuyuhiko muttered bitterly. “If he gets tinkering on something he’ll be at it for days without sleeping. You gotta make sure he doesn’t overdo it. I can’t babysit that dumbass by myself.”

Hajime nodded, letting the insults sail over his head. Fuyuhiko may swear and yell and tell everyone over and over that Kazuichi and Hajime and Akane were the bane of his existence, but he was really the closest thing their group had to a mum friend.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Hajime promised. It was an easy enough job. At least it gave him something to do. Whenever Hajime found himself unable to sleep now, he’d go hunting for Kazuichi. More often than not he’d be at the airport, dismantling or building things as the mood struck him, and all Hajime had to do was hook his collar and ignore the whining as he dragged his friend away to bed.

But that night was different. Hajime could sense it the second he walked into the airport. Since the other students rarely went in there, Kazuichi had taken over the space, scattering bits of parts and machines in various stages of completion. But he wasn’t hunched over with a fiddly screwdriver or hidden underneath some big contraption with only his legs visible. He was sitting against a large machine, resting his head against the cool metal, his thumb rubbing at the motor oil embedded under his bitten fingernails.

That was concerning. Kazuichi was never still. He was forever biting his fingernails or twirling his wrench idly in his hands or messing with the pockets on his jumpsuit, dragging the zips up and down over and over. It used to drive Hajime mad, but after knowing Kazuichi for so long Hajime could recognise it as a nervous response and he knew not to complain about it.

Because kazuichi was fragile. Not physically - he could easily haul heavy engine parts around and didn’t buckle when Akane jumped on his back - but it was pretty easy to upset him. When Fuyuhiko had started mocking Kazuichi over his obsession with Sonia - “you gotta bully the shitty behaviours out of people, Hajime.” - it had led to Kazuichi knocking at Hajime’s cottage in the middle of the night, tearfully asking him why Fuyuhiko hated him.

Sometimes Hajime really wished they had an Ultimate Therapist on the island.

So now, looking across the abandoned airport to Kazuichi behaving in a very not-Kazuichi way, Hajime proceeded with caution. He made sure to step purposefully, his footsteps loud on the linoleum floor; he’d once surprised Kazuichi from behind and almost received a wrench to his temple… as well as a burst eardrum from the screaming.

Kazuichi looked up, hastily fumbling with his glasses and shoving them into his pocket. He hated anyone seeing him wear them, so Hajime knew not to comment.

Usually Kazuichi’s face brightened when he saw any of his friends, but now his smile was wary, reserved. “Hey, Hajime,” he said, his voice thick with fatigue.

“When was the last time you slept?” Hajime asked bluntly. “Or ate?”

Kazuichi turned back to face the hunk of metal beside him (unidentifiable to Hajime), though he still didn’t start tinkering. “Not hungry.”

“That doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“I slept yesterday. I think… It’s Monday, right?”

Hajime sighed heavily and hooked the collar of Kazuichi’s jumpsuit with his fingers. “Come on, get up. Bedtime. You’re not even doing anything.”

“Mmn. Can’t seem to focus tonight.”

“That’s because you’re exhausted. Go to bed.”

“Okay! Jeez, man, you’re acting like my mother,” Kazuichi whined, sounding more like himself.

The pair walked out into the cool night air together, Hajime taking hold of Kazuichi’s sleeve when he stumbled. Just how long had he been awake? He was acting like a zombie.

“Fuyuhiko said you weren’t sleeping,” Hajime grumbled. “You should take better care of yourself.”

“Fuyuhiko said it? So why did he make you come get me? Are you sure he doesn’t hate me?” Souda pressed.

“Yes, I’m sure. I told you, he was only harsh because he wanted you to leave poor Sonia alone.”

“Well. I have been, haven’t I?” he muttered.

Hajime assumed that was meant to be a rhetorical question, but it came out like Kazuichi was looking for reassurance. It hadn’t occurred to him how often Souda seemed to do that, as if he was worried anything he said would elicit a bad reaction.

“I’ve even been nice to Gundham,” Kazuichi said, much more irritably. “Though that’s a damn uphill battle, Hajime, I’m telling you. I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about half the time.”

Hajime snorted. Watching Souda trying to interact with Gundham was becoming a running joke between the other students now. There was always a five second pause when Gundham finished talking before Kazuichi could reply, his face contorted as he hastily tried to translate.

“You’ll get used to Gundham. I didn’t understand him much at first either.” Hajime frowned as Kazuichi wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. “Are you cold?”

“I’m freezing. Maybe I do need to sleep better. I’m not feeling so good…” He stumbled again as they went across the uneven boardwalk to the cabins, bumping Hajime’s shoulder.

Hajime caught hold of him instinctively - then paused for a second. He quickly cupped both hands over Kazuichi’s cheeks.

“H-Hajime?!” Souda reeled back so fast he almost toppled right off the platform. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You have a fever, Kazuichi,” Hajime groaned. “You’re burning up. That’s why you don’t feel good.”

“I do?” Souda cupped his own cheeks contemplatively. “Huh. That makes sense. I couldn’t focus properly all evening.”

Hajime sighed heavily. Souda could be so oblivious at times it was hard to believe he was so talented with his machines. He seemed so much more confident when he spoke about that stuff. When he’d started getting closer to Kazuichi, Hajime once asked about some little mechanical toy Souda was making - and Souda’s face had just lit up. He talked Hajime’s ear off for a good fifteen minutes about every little piece of the toy and how it worked. Hajime didn’t understand the majority of it, but he always made sure to ask Kazuichi about his various projects after that. Souda was delighted every time, his words tripping over each other with excitement and his eyes shining like beacons. For a second Hajime wondered if that was how it felt to be Sonia.

“Well, you’d better come with me for now,” Hajime said. “I know you don’t have any first aid supplies in your cabin, and we don’t need Mikan to tell us you have some standard virus. I’ve got painkillers and fever reducers.” Hajime held onto Kazuichi by the elbow, guiding him along to the correct cabin. He seemed beyond argument. He flopped onto Hajime’s bed as soon as they went inside, curling onto his side and closing his eyes.

Hajime hovered over him, feeling a pang of anxiety. He wasn’t used to caring for any sick people except Nagito, and caring for Nagito was a wholly bizarre experience all around. Hajime had never seen anybody swing so wildly between self-deprecating, passive aggressive and strangely clingy when he was forced to babysit a sick Nagito. Hajime figured Kazuichi might fall into the clingy category.

Hajime grabbed fever reducers from the bathroom cabinet and went to crouch beside his bed, shaking Kazuichi’s shoulder. Maybe it was the fever or the several days without sleep, but Kazuichi already seemed to be breathing deeper. There was a red flush across both his cheekbones, garishly bright against his pink hair. Hajime checked his forehead again; it was burning.

“Hey, dude, wake up. You’ve gotta take some medicine and go back to your own cabin,” Hajime said, shaking Kazuichi’s shoulder harder. Kazuichi whined irritably, reaching out a clumsy hand without opening his eyes. He managed to find Hajime’s face and tried to shove him away weakly.

“Kazuichi!” Hajime caught hold of his wrist, sighing. “You have motor oil on your hands. Look, I don’t care if you don’t want to take medicine, but go sleep in your own cabin. This happens to be my bed.”

Kazuichi didn’t move, breathing deeply. Hajime wasn’t sure if he was actually sleeping or just ignoring him.

“I kissed Sonia,” Hajime lied.

No response. Hm. Maybe Kazuichi really was asleep.

Well, what was Hajime meant to do now? He didn’t feel mean enough to boot his sick friend off the bed. He supposed he could go stay in Souda’s room, but he didn’t know where his key was, and he didn’t want to go rifling through Kazuichi’s pockets for it while he was sleeping - and maybe Souda needed somebody with him in case his fever got worse. Fevers could turn nasty, right? Not that Hajime would be any use, but he could go get Mikan.

Sighing resignedly, Hajime went to the unoccupied side of his bed, lying back to back with Kazuichi. Most of the bedsheets were trapped under his sick companion no matter now Hajime yanked them, but Souda was so hot Hajime was soon uncomfortably warm. The sleeping boy was taking up a lot of the bed too; he had Kazuichi’s hair in his face and elbows jabbing his ribs no matter what sleeping position Hajime tried. He sighed again. “You’re an utter pain to deal with, Kazuichi,” he mumbled into his pillow. “You need to take care of yourself before you get really sick.”

Hajime, though sure he’d never be able to even doze in this situation, must have slept at some point, because he woke with a start to find the bed shaking so violently he almost toppled off it. In his drowsy state Hajime wondered for a second if the island had any seismic activity, but the earthquake seemed confined to the bed alone. He sat up and fumbled to turn on the bedside lamp, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and turned to his sleeping friend.

Kazuichi was shaking violently, curled into a foetal position. His face had bleached several shades whiter and his fists were clenched tight, crumpling the bedsheets. His brow was furrowed and he made intermittent whines in the back of his throat, barely audible. Whatever dream was playing in his feverish head, it clearly wasn’t a pleasant one.

“Kazuichi,” Hajime called, shaking the sleeping man’s shoulder. Hajime could feel the heat radiating through Kazuichi’s clothes. “Come on, man, wake up.”

When he received no response, he shook harder, momentarily panicked. It was a mistake. Kazuichi jolted awake with a scream, the momentum sending him tumbling right off the bed onto the floor. He banged his head hard on the skirting board.

“Shit! Fuck, Souda, are you okay?” Hajime cried, hurrying over to Kazuichi. Souda scrambled backwards in a panic, clonking his head all over again when he hit the wall. His eyes hadn’t focused yet and he was breathing far too quickly. Hajime was starting to think he really should fetch Mikan.

“Kazuichi, it’s just me. Hajime. You know, your…” He paused, cringing. Only Kazuichi ever called them by that dumb name. “Your soul friend.”

Kazuichi looked up, locking eyes with Hajime. He didn’t stop shaking, but his breathing calmed slightly. For what felt like several minutes, both boys stared helplessly at each, unsure what to do or say. Souda swallowed thickly and finally whispered in a hoarse, rasping voice, “I’m gonna puke.”

“What?” That certainly broke Hajime out of the awkward staring contest. He grabbed hold of Souda by the wrist and yanked him across the bedroom to the bathroom, shoving him firmly towards the toilet. He turned to leave - he didn’t want to witness any of that - when something snagged onto the back of his shirt.

“Are you serious?” Hajime groaned. Souda felt too nauseated to dare opening his mouth, but he tugged insistently at Hajime’s shirt.

Hajime paused. Part of him - maybe even most of him - really wanted to brush Kazuichi’s hand away and flee the room before anything gross started happening. But Souda looked so… pathetic, sitting there trying not to vomit, still shaky and tearful from the nightmare, his hair tangled across his sweaty face.

Damn it. Hajime shouldn’t have looked at him.

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, kneeling beside Souda on the bathroom floor. He hastily gathered Kazuichi’s messy hair away from his face as the sick boy leaned further over the toilet. “You owe me big time for this. Especially when I end up catching this from you.”

Grumbling aside, Hajime stayed, managing not to complain or pull too many faces when Kazuichi was vomiting. He focused on holding Souda’s hair out of the way, glad he had one job he could manage. This comforting thing was way out of his depth. Souda kept one hand reaching backwards to clasp Hajime’s shirt, as if he didn’t quite trust him not to run away.

When the retching finally tapered off, Hajime released Souda’s hair and reached up to flush the toilet, grimacing. “Better?”

Kazuichi made a noise between a whine and a sob, head resting on the toilet seat.

“Well, at least it’s over. I’m gonna go grab you some water, okay?”

He stood up, but Kazuichi hastily lifted his head, looking outraged. “You’re leaving me? I could be dying here!”

“You’re not dying, Souda. Honestly, sometimes I think you should’ve been Ultimate Drama Queen.”

“Stay with me.” Kazuichi shuffled away from the toilet and latched onto Hajime leg.

“Souda, it will take me literally thirty seconds to grab a bottle of water. Now get off.” Hajime tried to yank his leg free, but Souda had a strong grip, even when ill.

“Nope. Don’t leave.”

Hajime sighed heavily. “Then get up and come back to the bed.”

Souda slumped down onto the cool linoleum floor, making sure to keep his arms around Hajime’s ankle. “Don’t wanna move. Everything hurts.”

“Oh, for fuck sake!” Hajime tried to pull Souda up himself, but Souda let his body go limp, sprawling across the bathroom floor, and Hajime couldn’t lift him up when he was dead weight like that.

“You know that’s exactly what toddlers do when they don’t want you picking them up,” Hajime snapped. Honestly, this was almost as bad as Nagito. Why did everybody mess with him when they were sick?

“I can see why. It’s very effective,” Kazuichi muttered.

“I could just leave, you know. Just say fuck it and let you lie there on your own.”

“Don’t.” The jesting tone had disappeared from Souda’s voice. He looked close to tears again, flat on his back and staring up at Hajime pleadingly.

Hajime tried to hold onto his frustration, but he couldn’t. Not with Kazuichi looking at him like that. He sighed and sat on the floor beside Souda, putting a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Keep your hand there,” Kazuichi mumbled. “It’s cold.”

“Fine. But if you let me leave I could get you a cold cloth for your head.”

“Noooo…”

“Okay, okay.” Hajime paused. Souda’s eyelids were drooping again. If he wanted to ask, Hajime had to do it quickly. “Hey, Kazuichi..?”

“Mn?”

“What happened? Earlier, I mean.”

“I puked.”

“No, you dope. Earlier than that. When you woke up. You seemed really terrified. Were you dreaming?” Hajime was already regretting asking. Kazuichi was sick and over-emotional. They were sitting on the bathroom floor, for God’s sake. Nothing good could come of emotional conversations on a bathroom floor.

There was another silence, so long Hajime checked to see if Kazuichi had dozed off. His eyes were wide open now, staring at the ceiling. “It was just a dream. That’s all.”

“Do you remember what it was about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kazuichi mumbled.

Hajime sighed. “Look, it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. But it clearly freaked you out really bad. If there’s something you’re worried about or something that’s scaring you, I can-“ Hajime stopped as Kazuichi sat up abruptly. He kept his face turned to the wall, but Hajime heard the sniffles, saw his shoulders start shaking.

“Fuck,” Hajime muttered helplessly. “Kazuichi, I’m sorry. I’ll just be quiet. You don’t have to tell me anything. I’m messing this all up, I’m such a fucking idiot sometimes.”

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Kazuichi sobbed. “So stupid I still dream about him! Why can’t he just go away!” He went on talking, but he was howling too hard for Hajime to understand. He’d seen Souda cry countless times before, but this was different somehow. This wasn’t just wailing because some girl he liked had turned him down. This was raw, painful terror.

“Hey hey, calm down! You’re gonna make yourself sick again,” Hajime said, trying hard to keep the panic out of his own voice. He took hold of Kazuichi’s wrists, pulling him gently away from the wall. He’d meant to lay Souda down in the same position as before, but Souda instantly fell against Hajime’s chest, practically knocking him over.

“Right. Um. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” Hajime mumbled, patting his sobbing friend awkwardly. He wasn’t used to embracing people. It felt strange and unnatural but not unpleasant - and Souda clearly needed a hug more than anything else right now. “Souda, breathe. It’s okay. You’re safe. The fever is probably making it worse. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked about the nightmare.”

“Home,” Kazuichi gasped.

“Huh?”

“I was dreaming about being back at home.”

Oh God. Where was that Ultimate Therapist again? Hajime didn’t know how to handle this. He couldn’t sort his own problems, let alone anyone else’s. “Oooh. Okay. Shit. Your dad..? You mentioned him once before.”

“Don’t. Don’t talk about it.”

“Okay. Sorry. So your dream was a memory? When he… hurt you?” Hajime guessed.

The sobbing, which had been gradually calming, quickly returned to near-hyperventilating.

“Sorry, sorry. Breathe, okay?” Hajime’s own heart was thumping hard. This was way more than he could handle. “Look… You’re away from there. He’s literally across an ocean. It’s just me and you here. Because you usurped my bed tonight.”

Kazuichi gave a snort that could’ve been a laugh. “It’s not… not usually this bad,” he said, his voice still jerky with sobs. “I-I can handle it on my own. The nightmares.”

“Fevers make nightmares worse. I think. I’d have to check with Mikan,” Hajime said. “But at least you were here this time.” He was surprised to find he really meant that. He couldn’t bear to think of Souda dealing with all that on his own.

They sat in silence for a long time, until Souda’s sobs died down to sniffles, his head still resting on Hajime’s chest. The front of Hajime’s shirt was now damp with tears and snot, and Souda’s feverish body was like a furnace, but he didn’t suggest they move. After a long time he found he’d wound his arms around Kazuichi’s shoulders.

“Are you still awake?” Hajime whispered eventually.

“Mn. Barely…”

“Listen, this is important. If you have dreams like that any other night, you can come over here. If you want. Just knock hard so I wake up.”

Kazuichi shifted in his arms to look at Hajime’s face. “You don’t have to do that. Don’t feel like you’re stuck with me.”

“Maybe I don’t mind being stuck with you,” Hajime retorted.

A ghost of a smile flickered across Kazuichi’s face, though he was still red and tear-stained. “Then you’re fucking crazy.”

“It’s not crazy to want to be your friend, Souda. So will you ask me for help next time you dream something like that? Please?”

Kazuichi wound his arms around Hajime’s middle and squeezed so hard it made Hajime gasp. “Okay. I’ll come get you.” He paused. “Thanks, Hajime.”

Kazuichi fell asleep soon after, still pinning Hajime to the bathroom floor with his weight. And though Hajime would moan about how sore and stiff he was the next morning, he was still glad Souda came to him for help. Just about.

[cobaltusami]

Friendship

Hey hi hello! I'm finally back at It with another t word fic! I had so much trouble getting into the groove of this one, but regardless I had fun writing it! I think this will be the last installment In this mini series, I feel like I'm at a good stopping point. That being said, Obviously I will eventually write more for these three beans.

Part One: That's what Friends are for

Part Two: Intimidating

Characters: Lee!Kazuichi, Lee!Gundham, Ler!Sonia, Ler!Hajime, Ler!Chiaki, Fuyuhiko

Pairing: Platonic!Sonsoudam (Though you could construe It as romantic, Whichever you prefer--)

Word count: 3430

The Ultimate Princess scoured the island In search of The Pink haired mechanic after leaving the dining hall, Normally he was easy to find since he was always so eager to talk to her but today was different.

Walking with her was Hajime, Who had volunteered to help her find Kazuichi. “Are you sure It was a good Idea to leave Gundham sleeping In the dining hall? I feel as though we should have woken him up.” Sonia asked.

“It’s better for him to get some sleep.” Hajime responded. “Besides, It’s not like we left him alone, We left him with Chiaki.”

“I suppose you’re right but… I feel bad for not waking him up and sending him to his room.” She frowned.

Hajime smiled a bit, A knowing look on his face. “You really do worry about him a lot…”

“Of course I do, He Is my friend.” Sonia responded. “I worry about all of my friends.”

Hajime was about to open his mouth to respond but he changed gears upon catching sight of the pink haired Mechanic. “There he Is. What’s he doing?”

“It appears as though he is working on something.” Sonia said quietly, the pair silently approached Kazuichi where he sat on the ground tinkering with something.

He was humming quietly while he worked, he seemed as though he was In good spirits so that couldn’t be the reason why he was ignoring Gundham.

“Just put this here and…”

“YO!” Hajime said suddenly, stepping In front of Sonia. “KAZUICHI!”

Kazuichi screamed, launching his screwdriver into the air in surprise. He spun around In his spot on the ground and let out a breath of relief. “Oh. It’s just you. Jeez man, Don’t scare me like that! What the hell Is wrong with you!?”

Sonia stepped out from behind Hajime, her arms folded. “Kazuichi--”

Kazuichi’s face turned pink as he quickly got to his feet, throwing a tarp back over his project. “M-Miss Sonia!”

“Kazuichi,” she started, frowning. “I wish to know why you are avoiding Gundham.”

“W-What? I’m not--”

“Yeah, You are.” Hajime interrupted. “He tried to talk to you the other day and you made up an excuse and practically ran away.”

“What Is going on? You two were getting along so well at the party.” Sonia stepped closer to the mechanic. “Please, Tell me the truth.”

The pinkette frowned, looking away from his crush awkwardly. His eyes fell upon his tarp covered project as he thought about It in silence.

Kazuichi had blown Gundham off because he didn’t want to accidentally blab about the surprise he was working on for him, Soda was creating a brand new play area for The Four Devas as a peace offering, to prove to him that he wasn’t just trying to get along with him for Sonia’s sake.

He always had trouble admitting how he felt with words, usually stumbling over them or saying something stupid. He preferred gestures over words.

The truth was this... He had a lot of fun at the party, as much as he initially hated spending time with Gundham, he actually started to have fun. Kazuichi didn’t have many friends either, he’d always been picked on as a kid and didn’t have much free time due to helping his dad out with the bike shop.

That day, even If for just a little while, It felt like he had friends. And he wanted to make sure Gundham knew he was genuinely thankful for that.

But he knew he was a horrible liar and Gundham would eventually figure out what he was doing, so he was avoiding the Breeder so as not to spoil the surprise.

“I… I can’t.” Kazuichi said, realizing he hadn’t answered yet. “I-I mean, not yet anyway!”

Sonia sighed softly. “I did not want It to come to this, but I promised Gundham I would get to the bottom of this.”

Kazuichi gave a confused look in response. “What are you talking abohohout-- H-Hey!” He yelped, chuckling a bit as he jumped backwards at the sudden pokes to his midsection.

“If you will not tell me what Is going on, I will tickle you until you do.” She smiled, sending chills down the mechanic’s spine.

“Y-You wouldn’t dare...” He smiled nervously, backing away from the blonde princess.

“I would dare.” She insisted.

Kazuichi felt his fight or flight instincts kick In, and he chose the latter. He went to run away from her but he ran into Hajime, who he just now realized had been eerily silent.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, smirking as he grabbed a hold of his arms. “I didn’t just tag along to help her find you, Y’know.”

“I thought you might try to run away, So I asked Hajime If he would help me just in case.”

“L-Let go! This Isn’t fair!” Soda whined, struggling in Hajime’s surprisingly strong grasp.

“Life’s not fair.” The tsundere sighed in reply, spinning him around to face Sonia and holding his arms up over his head.

“Kazuichi, Last chance. Tell me why you are avoiding Gundham or else…” She threatened, a determined glimmer in her pale blue eyes.

The pinkette shook his head, already resisting the urge to giggle anxiously. “N-No. I can’t.”

Sonia nodded, unzipping part of his yellow jumper and shoving her hands under the white shirt underneath. Her nails began gliding across his sides. “Very well then.”

Soda tried not to laugh or show any reaction, but he ended up laughing after a few seconds of holding back. “Wahahahait! M-Mihihihiss Soniahaha! Dohohohn’t!” He whined between laughs.

“I am sorry, Kazuichi. But I must get to the bottom of this.” Sonia smiled at the sound of his laughter. “Gundham Is upset and I do not wish to see my friends upset.”

Really? Gundham’s upset by Kazuichi not talking to him…? Does that mean he considers him a friend too? “I cahahahan’t tehehehell you!”

“I am sorry, but I must know.” Sonia reiterated, digging her fingers into his stomach.

He yelped and crumbled back against Hajime, laughing harder as he tugged at his arms. “Nohohohoho! Ahahahahaha!”

“Does this tickle~? I am willing to wager that It does~” She cooed, his fingers wiggling into the muscle beneath his skin.

“Sohohohonia stahahahap! Hahahahaha!” he blushed at the teasing words, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting of a Princess but It sure as hell wasn’t this.

“No~” she sang. “I’m not going to stop until I get what I want. Even If I have to tickle you for hours.”

To emphasize her point her fingers sped up as they traversed upwards, brushing teasingly against his sides and wiggling like wild spiders against his ribs.

Kazuichi screamed and threw his head back, knocking Hajime In the face as he did. “SHIHIHIHIT! NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!” He shrieked helplessly.

Hajime yelped In pain and readjusted his grip on the Mechanic, now holding both of his wrists in place with one hand. He used the other to tenderly rub his chin. “Jeez, Kazuichi. Watch where you’re throwing that thing.”

“YOUHUHUHU DEHEHEHESERVED IT!” Kazuichi laughed heartily, still attempting to pull his wrists free. Though thanks to Sonia’s merciless tickling he was much weaker.

Hajime huffed. “Oh yeah? Well, I think you deserve this.” He wormed his free hand into Kazi’s jumpsuit and began scribbling his nails against the back of his ribs over his white tee.

When I tell you the boy screamed.

“AAAAH! NONONONONO!” He screamed, His body jerking violently to the side, trying to shield the sensitive spot.

“Ooh, Hajime, It looks like you found a really ticklish spot~” She grinned, her fingers darting around to the back of his ribcage to join the Tsundere In torturing their friend. “What do you think Kazi? Is this a bad spot?”

“Yeah Kazi,” Hajime grinned. “Does this tiiiiiickle~?”

Kazuichi couldn’t even form sentences, he was laughing way too hard to focus on anything else. His laughter was borderline going silent from the intensity, as evidenced by his constant wheezing.

“Just tell us~” Sonia hummed, her fingers tickling the sensitive spots between the ribs now.

“You gonna tell us?” Hajime asked.

Kazuichi nodded frantically, tears streaking down his pink cheeks from laughing too hard.

Sonia and Hajime relented, though Hajime kept a grip on his wrists, evidently not trusting the pink haired boy. “Why have you been avoiding Gundham?” She asked again.

Kazuichi coughed as he gulped down air, clearly not used to being tickled. “I… Didn’t want to spoil the surprise… for him…” He panted.

“The…” she trailed off.

“Surprise?” Hajime and Sonia exchanged confused looks. “What are you talking about?”

Kazuichi nodded his head towards the tarp covered project. “Check… For yourselves…”

Curiously, Hajime released the Mechanic and went over to the tarp. He pulled It off to reveal what Soda had been working on, A play area made out of pvc pipes, A fish tank, and a wide assortment of metal and plastic items.

“Huh?” He was confused, but Sonia recognized what It was intended to be instantly.

Her face lit up at the sight of It. “Oh my! You’re building a pen for the Four Dark Devas of Destruction!” She twirled around to face Kazuichi, who had just finished zipping his jumpsuit back up.

He chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head, blushing as he glanced away from the bright girl. “Y-Yeah. I wanted to show Gundham I really consider him a friend, So I was doing It the best way I knew how…”

“By building something for him.” Hajime finished, smiling at the dork. “That’s really thoughtful of you. I’m impressed.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?? I’m always thoughtful!” He shot back, flustered.

Sonia giggled and hugged the pink haired boy suddenly. “You’re so sweet. Gundham and I are lucky to have a friend like you.” she praised.

Just when he thought his face couldn’t get any redder… It was close to matching Mahiru’s shade of hair now. “F-Friend?” He stuttered, asking for confirmation If what he heard was what she just said.

“Of course! We’re friends.” She beamed up at the embarrassed tinkerer.

He smiled warmly back at her and hugged her back. “Thank you.” he whispered almost silently, not even sure If she had heard him or not.

But she did.

After another minute or so they both pulled back. “I should get back to work on this. I don’t wanna make Gundham upset by not talking to him.” Soda announced nonchalantly, sitting down in front of the project again.

“Would you like some help? I am not very mechanically inclined, but I can be taught.” Sonia volunteered, sitting down next to him.

“Sure! I would love some help!” He smiled at the blonde.

“Is there anything I can do?” Hajime asked.

“Can you go check on Gundham? I am worried about him.”

“Sonia, We’ve been over this. We left him with Chiaki at the hotel, I’m sure he’s doing fine.”

“You left him with Chiaki?” Kazuichi repeated, looking at Hajime for confirmation.

“Yeah… What, Why are you looking at me like that--”

“In the hotel, Where there’s video games?”

Hajime stared blankly at him for a minute before cursing and running off towards the hotel.

Apparently reaching the same conclusion Kazuichi had, That Chiaki would most likely be sidetracked by the video games and not check on the Breeder.

He burst through the doors but didn’t see Chiaki anywhere near the video games units. He did, however, hear Gundham scream from upstairs. “Gundham??” He called out, confused.

Hajime bolted up the stairs into the dining room, and froze at the sight before him. Gundham was on the floor, trying to curl up Into a ball, and Chiaki was on top of him, tickling the life out of the Dark Prince.

“Uhhh, Chiaki? What are you doing?” Hajime asked, leaning against the doorway.

Chiaki looked up at him and offered a smile. “Oh, Hey Hajime. I’m tickling Gundham.” She responded bluntly.

“GEHEHEHET THIHIS FIHIHIHIHIEND OFF OF MEHEHE!” Gundham laughed helplessly.

“I can see that.” Hajime laughed, Ignoring Gundham’s plea. “The question Is, Why?”

“I promised I would keep an eye on him, But that got too boring. So I’m entertaining myself.” She answered, skittering her fingers across his neck.

There was something about the thought of being on the receiving end of Chiaki’s tickles that scared Hajime, It could be how merciless she was being, Or maybe how nonchalant she was, Or both.

Gundham squealed uncharacteristically and covered his face. “STAHAHAHAHAP! I AHAHAHAM AWAHAHAHAHAKE NOW! I DOHOHOHN’T NEEHEHEED WAHAHATCHED!”

Hajime smirked, approaching the two. He sat down next to Chiaki. “I dunno, I think you still need supervision.” he said playfully.

“I agree.” Chiaki smiled mischievously.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO! I DOHOHOHOHON’T!”

“I think another hour should do it, Don’t you, Chiaki?” Hajime asked, winking at the pink haired girl.

She giggled. “I think so too. That way we can make sure he’s going to stay awake.”

“AHAHAHAN HOUR?!? SUHUHUHURELY YOU JEST!” Gundham whimpered at the thought, considering adding Chiaki Nanami to the small list of people he finds intimidating.

“No, I’m quite serious.” She replied with a determined glimmer in her eyes. Her fingertips lightly dancing across his neck and collarbone.

“I think she means It, Gundham.” Hajime chuckled, unable to resist the urge to help her any longer. He began teasingly poking at random exposed spots on his midsection. “And who am I to stop her? I think I should help her If anything.”

“I WIHIHIHILL DEHEHEHEHESTROY YOU BOHOHOHOTH!” Gundham threw out an empty threat.

“It doesn’t scare me when Fuyu threatens me, And It doesn’t scare me when you threaten me.” Hajime snickered.

“Oh, I don’t scare you huh?” Hiko’s voice was suddenly right at Hajime’s ear. “You sure about that?”

Hajime yelped in surprise, whipping around to look at his friend. “F-Fuyu! Jeez! Don’t scare me like that.” Hajime sighed, holding his chest to steady his rapid heartbeat.

Fuyuhiko grinned triumphantly. “What are you two dipshits doing, Anyway?”

“Tickling Gundham.” Chiaki answered.

“O...kay. Well you think maybe you should… I dunno… Let him breathe?” Fuyu asked, having noticed how much the Breeder was gasping.

Chiaki paused what she was doing, allowing the dark prince to breathe. “Oh… Right. Air, He needs that.”

“Hey Fuyu.” Hajime motioned for the Yakuza to come closer, he hesitantly did so. He whispered something to the small blond so Gundham couldn’t hear.

Hiko rolled his eyes, making a show of huffing as he threw his hands up. “I GUESS.” Although he had a smile on his face as he did so, negating the annoyed response he was going for. He sauntered off, leaving Gundham at the mercy of Hajime and Chiaki once more.

Fuyuhiko made It to the area where Sonia and Kazuichi were, curiously peering over their heads at the project they were working on. “Uh, What are you two doing?”

Kazuichi yelped in surprise, nearly throwing his screwdriver for a second time.

Sonia giggled and turned to look at the Yakuza. “Hello, Fuyuhiko! Kazuichi Is building a play pen for the Devas and I am helping.”

Ahh, now It makes sense why Hajime and Chiaki were wrecking poor Gundham… They were trying to keep him from finding out what was going on. “Ah, Gotcha. Uh, Hajime sent me to tell you both that Gundham Is awake but uh… He’s being distracted by him and Chiaki.”

Sonia and Kazi exchanged confused looks. “What are those two doing to him?”

“I walked In on them…” Hiko paused, blushing. Fuck, of all times to be unable to say that word why did it have to be right now?! “U-Um. They were sort of destroying him.”

“D-Destroying!?” Sonia asked, alarmed.

“N-Not literally!” Hiko quickly corrected. “They’re uh…”

“Ohhh… I get It.” Kazuichi laughed. “I think what Fuyuhiko Is trying to say Is that they’re tickling him. Right?”

“Yeah, That.” he nodded, still blushing.

“Oh. Why didn’t you just say that? You scared me for a minute there. Not that I believe they would hurt him, But still…”

“Uh… Well… I…”

“Some people have trouble saying the word ‘tickle’.” Kazuichi explained casually, tightening a bolt on the play area. “Usually people who are super ticklish themselves.”

The pinkette grinned as he winked at Fuyu, who seemed to turn pinker at that. Though he would vehemently deny such a thing.

“H-Hey! I am NOT! I just… Think the word Is stupid and childish!” Fuyuhiko pouted, crossing his arms childishly.

“It Is okay, Fuyuhiko. I understand.” She smiled sympathetically. “Though I am not nearly as ticklish as Kazuichi or Gundham, I see how It would be difficult for one to say.”

“Hey! Whose side are you on??” Kazuichi blushed, nudging her side.

She giggled and recoiled.

“So…” Fuyuhiko cleared his throat, trying desperately to change the subject. “How much longer until you two are done? I’m not sure how much longer Gundham will last.”

“Actually,” Kazuichi tightened another screw, then set his screwdriver down. He looked It over one last time then smiled. “It’s done.”

“It looks wonderful, Kazuichi! You did great!” She beamed, standing up and dusting her dress off.

“Thanks…” He chuckled sheepishly, standing up too. “Hey Hiko, Can you help me carry this?”

Fuyuhiko looked at it, skeptical. “I’ll try, but If you drop It on me, I will kill you.” he threatened.

The two lifted it up and began carrying It towards the hotel. It wasn’t as heavy as Kazi expected It to be, much to the relief of the petite Yakuza.

They brought It up Into the diner and quickly covered It with a tarp, luckily Gundham hadn’t noticed them thanks to Hajime and Chiaki both smothering him with tickles.

Hajime looked up and saw the three students, smiling he withdrew his hands and motioned for Chiaki to do the same.

Though she relented much more halfheartedly, pouting as she pulled back.

Sonia and Kazuichi both approached the recovering Supreme overlord of Ice and sat down on either side of him. “Gundham, I found Kazuichi and made him explain to me why he was avoiding you.” Sonia explained, helping him sit up.

He tiredly looked at Sonia, then over at Kazuichi who was trying not to laugh at how disheveled he looked. “I-Is that so? Then why…?”

“Uh, Listen man…” Kazuichi started, reaching over and fixing Gundham’s hair. “I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t want to talk to you. I just didn’t want to spoil my surprise for you.”

Gundham tilted his head in confusion. “Surprise…?”

“Yeah. I wanted to show you that I really consider you a friend, And that I’m thankful to consider you a friend so I… was doing It the only way I know how.” Soda blushed, looking over at Hiko and Hajime as if to cue them.

They pulled the tarp off, revealing the playpen for the hamsters. Chiaki, wanting to be included, motioned to It like she was on a gameshow showing off a prize. This drew a laugh from Hajime and Fuyu.

Gundham’s expression softened, his face turning red. “Y-You… built that? F-For… Me?”

“Yeah. I’m not so great with words, But I am great with building things.” Kazuichi smiled. “Do you like It??”

Gundham bit his lip, he went to pull his scarf over his face to hide his blush but quickly realized his scarf was still chilling on the table from earlier. “Y-Yes…” Gundham turned to Kazuichi, smiling a little at the way his eyes sparkled with happiness. “Thank you, Friend.”

Kazuichi squealed happily and pulled him Into a hug without giving it a second thought.

Gundham flinched, but eventually returned the hug. Sonia smiled at her two dorks, happy they were getting along. She got up and retrieved the Devas from the table, putting Gundham’s scarf on again.

“Fiends! We must seek not the approval of the Dark Prince, But the Four Dark Devas of Destruction and Tickles!” Sonia mimicked Gundham again.

“The… what?” Kazuichi asked, totally confused as he pulled back.

“She renamed them.” Gundham explained. “But she Is right. Their opinion is what truly matters.”

Sonia set them down In the fish tank, And they began happily scurrying around through the different pipes and segments. They seemed to enjoy It.

Gundham smiled as he watched his pets having fun. “They like It.” He confirmed to his friends.

Though their friendship may not be typical, and It may be confusing at times. I have a feeling that this friendship will be one that’ll last. And Who knows? Maybe down the road, It’ll turn Into something more…?

[sergeanttpoliteness]

➹types of kisses➹(peter parker x reader)

A colorful collection of your many types of kisses, because a kiss can have more than just one meaning.

a/n: i know i’m three days late, but this is my christmas present :) (sorry for the shitty title) it’s kinda different to what i usually write because there’s really no... plot? it’s just one big but short compilation of fluff and tropes that will give you real bad diabetes. i was gonna include a break-up kiss but bc i’m nice, i decided against it lmaoooo. also !! i wrote this for ps4 peter, but i honestly can imagine it with mcu peter as well-- just choose whatever you prefer ! anyway, i hope whoever is reading this has a wonderful new year, ily.

warnings: making out, a lil bit of grinding but nothing more than that, cursing.

——-

FIRST KISS - KISS ME IN THE PARK, WE’LL MEET UP AFTER DARK

It wasn’t exactly how you wanted it to be.

Not that you thought about kissing Peter Parker too much, anyway. He was one of your best friends, and who thinks about kissing friends? Definitely not you.

Alright, that was a lie— you used to think about it. A lot. And unbeknownst to you, he did as well. However, contrary to your lack of knowledge about his urges, you did know that, for a while now, his feelings towards you changed. And, similarly, he was aware that your own feelings for him, too, transformed into something more. Further than friendly embraces or innocent sleepovers when you were little kids. Bigger than platonic emotion. More than a simple friendship.

It lingered in your minds and was evident in everyone’s eyes, yet neither of you had the courage to move past friendship.

One night at eleven-thirteen, as the two of you— two grown-ups— were in a playground, doing the spider on a swing together and laughing enough that your stomachs ached, that craving to meet his lips resurfaced with such vigor, it spilled out of your mouth.

“Can I say something?!” You laughed as you swayed higher into the air, a yelp involuntarily fleeting past your lips and your legs tightening around Peter’s waist since you feared you were close to falling off the swing and on your back. “Thank you for picking up— shit!— the phone! I really missed you, you know— ow, okay, this really hurts!”

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough,” Peter’s feet immediately skidded against the ground to put your swinging to a halt, sand flying everywhere. Once you were still, you both remained giggling and with youthful smiles that reached your eyes. “Of course I was gonna pick up the phone. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?” He said, and you had to hold yourself back from making a face at the word ‘friend’. You couldn’t complain— that’s that you were, after all. Except that this didn’t feel like merely hanging out, rather it appeared like a date.

“It’s pretty late, though.”

Peter shrugged. “Even if it were three AM, I’d still answer any of your calls.”

Your face softened and you bit the inside of your cheek, staring down at your lap. “That’s cute. But if you called me at three AM, I’d tell you to fuck off and then go back to sleep.” Peter opened his mouth in disbelief at your honesty, shaking his head.

“Wow, thanks. I’m glad our love is mutual.”

“It is mutual,” And it was indeed. “I just express it differently. For example, I tell you to stop working yourself to the bone so you can hang out with me and do adult stuff.” You placed one hand on his shoulder and gestured with the other to the empty playground you were in.

Peter chuckled, quirking a brow whilst he unconsciously began to move the two of you back and forth a little. “Adult stuff, huh?” You nodded solemnly.

“This is very mature.” You raised your nose in a not-so-mature way. Peter copied your previous gesture, humming.

“You’re right. Playgrounds were made for twenty-three-year-olds, after all.”

You giggled, but then changed your expression into a more stern one. “For real, you gotta give yourself a break.” You warned him, shaking your finger at him to add more of an emphasis, however, instead you amused him more than anything in the process.

He raised his hands. “Hey, it’s the city that never sleeps.” He defended, but you narrowed your eyes, giving him a look that was enough to communicate you were not accepting any humor. He dropped his hands and hung his head dramatically, sighing. “All right, I’ll try. But I can’t promise anything.”

You smiled sadly. “I know you can’t.” You quickly exchanged your frown for a smirk. “But if you don’t listen to me, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to make it up to me.” You joked, and Peter cocked his head to one side, wearing a crooked smile.

“How, exactly?”

All playfulness vanished and the warmth within your stomach took the spotlight yet again. Kiss me, a thought popped into your head, threatening to control your tongue. But you couldn’t. Even if your eyes accidentally flickered down to his mouth, and he undoubtedly noticed, for he gripped the swing’s chains tightly. You really wanted to say it.

So you chose to do it.

“Maybe you could…” You trailed off as soon as you caught onto some movement in the background, your sight shifting from Peter’s face to it. Suddenly, your eyes grew wide. “Oh, fuck.”

“W-What?” Peter turned to look behind his back, but before he could observe anything, he felt your legs unwrap from his body followed by a heavy object hitting the ground. His head whipped back to stare at you, and now his eyes were the ones about to pop out of his sockets when he saw you on the ground. “Y/N! Jeez, are you okay—”

You jumped to your feet, not bothering to dust off the sand off your clothes before you yanked Peter away from the swing, shushing unnecessarily louder and completely opposing your intention. “Shut up! We have to hide!” You hissed at him, peeking behind his body.

Peter tried following your gaze a second time, but you pulled at his arm harshly. “Why?!”

“Just— just follow me!” Was your explanation as you dragged him to hide behind a tree. You put your hand against the wood, slowly leaning to your side until the tree trunk uncovered your eye. Pointing at a woman standing up from a bench and a guy walking up to her, you glanced back at Peter. “You see her?”

Peter furrowed his brows, momentarily looking down at you. “...Y-Yeah? Isn’t that the teacher you told me about? The one who teaches at your cousin’s school?”

“Yes! And look at her!”

Peter’s attention returned to the woman who hugged her jacket close to her body and now spoke to the man, not discerning anything suspicious at the moment. “She’s talking to someone.” He pointed out the obvious, unimpressed. You groaned, rubbing your eyes.

“That someone is one of her students.”

Peter blinked and eyed the man who turned out to be a teenager. “Oh, he looks much older—”

“Because he’s a fucking drug addict! And I bet she’s his dealer!” You scream-whispered at him, flailing your arm towards the pair.

“I thought you were just joking when you first said that.”

You rolled your eyes, and continued watching them. Whatever the conversation was, it had all of a sudden turned into an argument as the woman poked the kid’s chest with her finger. “Why are they just talking, though?” You asked quietly, as if Peter somehow would have the answer. The volume of their voices increased, but you couldn’t make out any of the words. Scoffing, you shuffled away from Peter. “I gotta hear what they’re saying—”

Before you could tip-toe away from the tree, Peter gripped your arm and pulled you into him. “No. She has a gun.” He motioned to an object peeking out of her pants’ back pocket, and upon further squinting your eyes, you realized it was, in fact, a weapon. Peter gently pushed you towards the tree and he took a step back. “I’ll go make sure nothing bad happens while you stay here, okay?”

You stuttered, your brows snapping together. “No, this is my fucking case, you dickhead.” You began to speed walk past him, but you couldn’t get too far— he grabbed your arm and tugged you back once again. “Peter!”

“Y/N, you’re not a goddamn private investigator—”

“Well, tonight I am!” You broke free from his grasp; however, he quickly had you back in his hold.

“No, what are you doing?!” He embraced you tighter when you squirmed wildly.

“Peter, the kid could be in danger!”

“You don’t even know how to fight!”

“Oh, and you do?” You retorted without thinking. When he processed the absurdity you’d just uttered, he let go of you and stared at you dumbfounded, struggling to speak. Finally, he pointed at himself, his forehead creased.

“I’m Spider-Man!”

You scrunched up your nose, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t know why I said that.”

You totally did. As he remained puzzled, you took the chance and started a race to a tree standing near the woman and the kid. Completely forgetting about Peter’s super-speed, you thought you had succeeded until halfway there, he quickly caught up to you. Without a warning, he tackled you to the ground, falling on top of you whilst you cried out in pain.

“Ow! What the fuck, dude?!” You groaned loudly, but then you slapped your mouth when you recognized how noisy you’d been. Their conversation stopped abruptly, crickets singing whole-heartedly as you and Peter stared at each other wide-eyed.

“Did you hear that? Did you bring someone with you?” You both heard the woman ask. To your horror, footsteps approaching you were the next sound to reach your ears. “Hey, who’s there?!”

“Great, look at what you did—”

“You fucking tackled me to the ground!”

Peter surveyed the area promptly, and his gaze fixated on the tree you initially sprinted towards. He didn’t hesitate before he lifted his hand and aimed his wrist to shoot a web to get both of you out of there. But you had other plans.

You gripped the collar of his shirt, distracting him. “I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do, but just— just trust me and follow me, okay?” You breathed out, eyeing him. Peter opened his mouth, about to ask for you to elaborate.

“Wh—” You pulled him down and crashed your lips into his, muffling his exclamation of surprise. Stunned, his eyes stayed open, and when he didn’t react, yours fluttered open to signal at him to play the part. As soon as the hairs of his arms stuck up, he shut his eyelids closed and kissed you back, cupping your face and fully getting into it.

The woman jumped from behind the tree, confident she’d found the culprits of the noise, and— well— yes, she had. However, she didn’t expect to walk upon two people on the grass, in the middle of a make-out session. She grimaced the moment she saw your legs around Peter’s waist and your hands running all over his back as you fucking moaned to a point that it was forthright pornographic.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, her cheeks reddening perhaps more than your face and Peter’s, and she instantly turned around, leaving you two alone.

You two continued, waiting until the woman made an excuse and abandoned the teen. Ten seconds passed and you finally broke the kiss, panting heavily as Peter unknowingly searched for your lips again. “That worked like a charm, huh?” You laughed, dazed and the speed of your heartbeat only incrementing when you saw Peter’s swollen lips.

“Yeah, yeah… a better warning would’ve been nice.”

“Shut up.”

“And was the moaning really… necessary?”

“I saw it on a show. It makes people more uncomfortable.” You explained, out of breath, and he nodded. You both stared at each other, not bothering to move yet. “For the record, you’re a good kisser.” You blurted out and grinned sheepishly. Peter returned the expression, chuckling and unbelieving of your existence.

“S-So are you. But my plan was better.” He smiled bashfully, holding himself up with his hands next to your head. You doubted his statement, narrowing your eyes.

“Did it involve kissing?”

“No.”

“Then it wasn’t.”

You might have forgotten about your drug deal case and continued making out.

HELLO AND GOODBYE KISSES - TOOTHPASTE KISSES

Two months into dating, neither of you thought much about them anymore. Once they became part of your routine, it’s an absent-minded action, not much different from brushing your teeth, or Peter entering your apartment through your window instead of the door like everyone else. But then again, Peter wasn’t merely everyone else. And your unconscious routine kisses weren’t exactly just another bullet point in your ‘to-do’ list, either. If one of you forgot, or simply did not have enough time to spare, you’d both find yourselves missing it.

Which was why you tried your best to follow through with them, despite what situations either of you found yourselves in.

The alarm did not go off that morning (or perhaps you both passed out before you could set it in the first place— you couldn’t remember precisely), reason why you nearly choked on the lather of toothpaste while you brushed your teeth as if your life depended on it. In a way, however, it did, especially your job: you were now running outrageously late, and you could already imagine your boss’ blank expression as he told you he needed to ‘have a talk’ with you since this was the third time it occurred. You whined. You were doomed.

Peter joined you in the bathroom, jumping on one foot as he slid his other leg into his Spider-Man suit. He made a noise and caught your attention— finally, you noticed he had an entire piece of toast in his mouth. He tried to say something with the bread in between his teeth, but it was incomprehensible. You raised your brows, attempting to communicate with him without taking out your toothbrush. You both went on like that for thirty seconds: doing hand gestures and mumbling without getting any idea across until Peter finally put on his suit and bit off a chunk of his breakfast.

“Have you seen my phone?” He asked, his mouth full. You spat out the toothpaste and he couldn’t help the smitten smile that his heart painted onto his face when he saw the froth around your mouth.

“I put it right next to my keys.” You said as you washed your brush. Peter hummed and swallowed before he walked up to you.

“Alright, thanks. I really gotta run now, though.” He planted a kiss on your temple and you groaned in disgust when you felt the crumbles of his toast on your skin.

“Gross,” You wiped your forehead and Peter rolled his eyes, shoving you playfully and about to leave until you grabbed his arm. “Wait!” You encircled his neck with your arms and pecked his cheek for longer than usual, purposefully smearing his face with toothpaste.

“Ugh, gross!” He mimicked you and leaned away from you, laughing. You puckered your white lips, still trying to reach him but his arms pushed you back. “Nuh-uh, I gotta run.”

“No toothpaste kiss from your love?”

“No.”

“Toast kiss?”

“You’re gonna get fired.”

You let him go.

Later that night, Peter entered your living room, his search for you coming to an end once he saw you asleep on the couch. He laughed quietly, in the back of his head wishing he was sleeping, too, with you, and he kneeled down in front of you. He kissed the tip of your nose— the way he liked to greet you in spite of what state you were in. When he stood up, you blinked your eyes open and you lazily grinned up at him. “Peter-Man is back.”

His gaze moved down to you, guilt appearing after he saw you let out a long yawn. “Ah, man, I didn’t want to wake you.”

You had to return his hello kiss, and so you clutched his hand and pressed your mouth against his gloved knuckles. “C’mere. Join me in my slumber.” You said with an overdone accent.

He didn’t even consider telling you to move to your bed. He plopped down on the small space left and snuggled into you, his own yawn overpowering him. You hugged him tightly from behind, and within minutes, you were both deep into your sleep.

The next morning, you woke up late yet again.

HEATED KISSES - WE’VE GOT ONE THING IN COMMON, IT’S THIS TONGUE OF MINE

It’d been your first date in four months, and you swore your sex drive had never been higher. 

Peter noticed, of course, and took the decision to ditch the dinner you had originally planned once you finished the movie you were watching— or tried to watch, since you couldn’t take your hands nor lips off him during its entirety. As the credits rolled, you straddled his hips, sucking on the flesh of his jaw. You itched to see his face when he groaned— and my God, that sound did not help your case at all.

You began to trail your mouth down his neck, decorating it with a whole masterpiece of bruises, and Peter wondered how he was going to cover those up; but at the moment, it did not matter a single bit. The two of you were too into it to pull away—

“Ugh, wait—” Or not. Peter stopped you and you blinked at him as he sat straight, taking out the TV’s control remote from under him. “That was really bothering me.” He immediately pulled you back into a kiss, tugging your hair and provoking a small moan out of you.

He broke away from you, his smirk transforming into the fuel feeding your lust. “You really like that, huh?”

“Shut up.” You mumbled and your lips continued to mold into each other with desperation, the sexual desire which had build-up since your last encounter brimming as your tongues met. Peter slowly began to lift the hem of your shirt, and your excitement erupted in the pit of your stomach at the fact that you finally wouldn’t have to wait anymore—

Your phone began to ring. You tried to ignore it, but your ringtone made it impossible. “Hold on,” You sighed, disappointed, and turned your phone off, your jaw set in annoyance. Yet again, you resumed where you left off, more urgent than before. Your hand moved his own back up to your hair whilst the other ran up his thigh. He failed in holding back the jerk of his hips as he pulled at your hair yet again, your moans synchronized. You couldn’t have been more elated you both wore your pajama bottoms as you began to grind down onto his crotch. 

Peter dug his fingers into your hips and he threw his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he gulped to keep his noises down lest your neighbors heard you. “No, no, I wanna hear you—” You breathed out, speeding up your pace, whining yourself. He collided his mouth against yours, grunting into your kiss.

You didn’t know what had gotten into you, but you really, really, really did not wish to stop. And you weren’t going to this time, no matter what—

“Tonight’s our last party as high school people!” A voice and music blasted from the TV and you both jolted away from each other, startled. The credits had gone on long enough that the streaming service began to play a trailer for another movie, the volume at its fullest from where you’d left it earlier. You let out the most exasperated groan in your lifetime and furiously moved off of Peter to go and unplug the TV; however, he slipped his hands under your butt and picked you up.

“The bedroom—” He panted and stopped neglecting your lips as he carried you and ran towards your room, the two of you giggling maniacally when he stumbled through the door and then slammed it shut.

The trailer played all night long.

EMOTIONAL KISSES - STOP YOUR CRYING, IT’S ALRIGHT— SHUT UP, KISS ME, HOLD ME TIGHT

Peter had lost the fight.

Although you were useless, you tried getting there in time, hoping you could cause any distraction that would give him an advantage. But you heard the explosion, the walls and the ground rattling, and you dreaded you were too late.

You fell through the double doors, nearly losing your full balance and dropping to the floor. However, you maintained your composure, and tried to scan the room. The smoke hit your eyes and they stung, tears forming in your eyes which grew redder as the seconds passed.

Fire blazed throughout most of the room. You went down on all fours and shrugged your jacket off before you rapidly fastened it around your lower face. Your trembling hand grasped the pipe you’d kept with you in case you came upon someone, and you began to crawl into a cloud of smoke, praying Peter was still alive and breathing.

You fought hard to hold in the sobs that clawed at your throat. You couldn’t break down. Not right now, when Peter needed you.

“Peter!” You called out, coughing as a trace of fumes managed to sneak into your system. You went on with your search, nevertheless, even after your hand accidentally touched a scorching piece of metal and left your flesh screaming. Keep going, you told yourself when you cried out in pain, shaking yourself out of it. “Peter, it’s me! I-I’m here!”

A minute went by at most, but it seemed like an eternity. A minute and ten seconds, until you caught a glimpse of Peter’s body surrounded by flourishing flames. “Pete!” You stood up and ran to him, uncaring of your knees as you collapsed next to him. “O-Oh God…” You saw his burnt suit and whimpered, not knowing anymore if the tears pouring down your face were due to the smoke or the appalling despair poisoning your veins. You didn’t waste a single moment dwelling on the sight in front of you, though— right away, you grabbed him under his armpits and took in a restricted breath before you dragged him with you. You only moved him a few inches before you fell to your knees, heaving.

“Why are you so fucking heavy,” You sobbed, the terrifying realization that you might not make it out of there hitting you at full force. “N-No, you’re coming with me. We’re getting out of here, okay, baby?”

You didn’t know why you were speaking to his unconscious body. Perhaps it was the faint desire that he wasn’t gone yet, and he could somehow hear you. You could sense a coughing fit coming, but you stood back up and started hauling Peter across the floor again, this time mustering every last shred of strength your body possessed.

You had no answer to how you made it. But soon, you had gotten Peter as far away from the room as you could, and your arms gave out. You ripped his mask off, cupping his face with your dirty hands. He barely breathed. “Don’t leave me. Don’t you fucking dare. I’m gonna be so mad if you do.” You wiped your nose with your forearm and shook your hands, coughing. “Okay, okay, CPR.”

You placed the heel of your hand on his chest and put the other on top to push down hard. Push, push, push. You carried on begging him to stay with you as you did the compressions, your arms already too weak from having to carry him, but you continued pushing. Push, push, push. When you realized he still wasn’t breathing, you cursed loudly and began to blow into his mouth. You went back to doing compressions.

At the third rescue breath, he began to cough.

“Peter!” You bit back another sob as you watched consciousness slowly return to him, and when he blinked his red eyes up at you, you grabbed his face and pecked his mouth countless times, your shoulders shuddering.

Not too long after, he finally understood what was happening, and he held your shoulders, viewing you up and down. “Oh, thank God you’re okay—”

“No, thank God you’re okay—”

“I was so worried about you.”

“I was worried about you!”

“I tried getting to you as soon as I could—” He pecked you back, his voice raspy. “—but more guys just kept coming at me—”

“A bomb fucking exploded, Peter. I thought you were gone.” You were now weeping. Peter kissed you one last time before he embraced you close, against his wounds’ wishes. As you both tried to calm down, he glanced down at your hands and saw your open knuckles.

His eyes widened. “What happened to you?!” You looked down at your hands, the pain only just setting in once you became aware of your cuts.

“I had to get up here somehow,” You laughed weakly, and pointed at the abandoned pipe a few feet away from you. “I also had that. I’ve got a mean swing you’d be surprised. And a taser.” You took out the taser from your pocket wiggling it. Peter stared at you, his eyes moving back and forth between the taser and the pipe.

“That’s kinda hot.”

“Almost as much as that explosion?”

He had to give you a high five before you finally took him to the hospital.

‘YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL’ KISSES - YOU’RE JUST TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE, CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU

A comedian’s podcast played in the background as you knelt beside Peter on your bed, using a brush to spread a skincare product evenly on his face. Peter watched you, adoring eyes inspecting you closely while you caught your lower lip in between your teeth and giggled after you heard a joke which you found too amusing. 

He drew patterns on your knee with his thumb and he squinted at you with curiosity, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards. “Since when are you a fan of this skincare stuff?” 

You squeezed a dab of product onto the brush before you grasped his chin gently, leaning closer to his face. “This coworker of mine, his skin is, like, so damn soft and flawless. I asked him what kind of black magic he used and he gifted me this,” You motioned to the bottle next to you, “and so I thought: ‘Well, might as well try it with my poor boyfriend who fucking sweats into a mask most of the time’. Seriously, I feel so bad for your pores—”

“Hey, my skin isn’t that bad, though. It’s beautiful.” He joked. You smiled at his comment, agreeing with your head.

“You’re right. But it doesn’t mean it can’t be better. You also deserve to sit back and relax after that job interview you had today.”

Peter frowned when he saw your excitement at the mention of the interview, self-doubt sabotaging his attempt at relaxing. “I probably didn’t get the job.” He muttered. 

Your brows knitted together and you pulled the brush away from his face to run your hand through his hair. “Shut up, you totally did. You’re the smartest guy I know.” You winked at him teasingly and he rolled his eyes, although his mouth twitched nonetheless. “Okay, you’re done! Now, look— let’s see my new glorious skin.” You gestured to your dried face, patting it to make sure it was ready.

“If our skin isn’t softer than a baby’s butt, I’m gonna sue.”

You snorted at him before you started scratching the product off your jaw. You hissed as it peeled off, pulling at your skin. You attempted to go on, but your pain tolerance was a joke at the moment. “Fuck, I think this now officially gonna be my face for the rest of my life.” You groaned. Peter gently pulled your hands away from your face.

“Lemme try.”

“No!” You playfully slapped his hands off you. “You’re probably gonna rip my face off.” And so he simply stared as you resumed your torture and voiced your complaints, until you gave up once you’d managed to free half of your face. 

Needless to say, you looked like an absolute clown.

In the midst of your battle against the face mask, Peter himself struggled to keep a serious face as he watched you and the product hardened, limiting the range of his expressions. You heard him laugh strangely, and you glanced up at him only to see him with his mouth half-open, his shoulders bouncing up and down with his chuckles, but he remained with a straight-face. 

You quirked a brow when his laughter increased, his eyes tearing up. “What is wrong with you?” 

“I-I can’t laugh.” He gasped, his face starting to twist. You began to laugh at him then, spreading the hilarity further like a virus. “N-No, don’t laugh! You’ll make laugh and I can’t laugh!” He shook his head frantically, his face mask starting to crack.

“You look like an idiot,” You wheezed, and all he could do was admire you as you cracked up and held your stomach, your beam making his chest swell. 

Your appearance was ridiculous at the moment, yet you mesmerized him nevertheless.

When you noticed he’d stopped laughing, you wiped your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, and saw his small smile. “What?” You questioned him, wondering if perhaps he gasped so much he was now dizzy. His grin grew. He didn’t care about the mask anymore. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

You pretended to gag, although your face heated up and your mouth curved into a smile. “Shut up, you’re so lame, God.”

“But you are!”

“Stop!”

“You’re so beautiful!” He yelled out dramatically to tease you. All of a sudden, he pulled you closer to him and grabbed your face, determined on peppering all the visible skin of your face with kisses. Your giggles were out of control as you tried squirming out of his grasp, but he continued pecking you over, and over, and over again. 

“I’m gonna throw up!” You laughed, and he smooched your cheek. “You’re a loser, I swear.”

He was your loser.

HOLIDAY KISSES - BABY, I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, AND IF YOU SAY YOU LOVE ME TOO, IT WOULD BE CHRISTMAS EVERY DAY

It’d been eight months since you started dating, and neither of you had said ‘I love you’ yet.

It’s not that there existed no love. Just like you had said the night you first kissed, the love was mutual, but— again— you preferred to show it differently other than verbally. Or at least other than being straight-forward. It was expressed loud and clear whenever Peter squeezed in time in the morning to make you breakfast, every time you both teased each other or you told him to ‘shut up’, and, of course, in the most simple and obvious way: with every single kiss you shared. But you couldn’t have cried it out louder when you told Peter you’d take care of planning the Christmas Eve celebration at F.E.A.S.T.

You knew everything about Peter. You saved a special place in your brain with every detail about him: his fears, his wishes, his regrets, his shoe size— everything. It’s a perk from knowing him since middle school, and now that you were together, you’d only uncovered the remaining information buried deep within. Therefore, after he got a new job that made him as content as working with Otto Octavius did before everything went downhill, you were aware that if you hadn’t intervened, Peter would have overloaded with stress from trying to juggle every aspect of his life plus dealing with the Christmas Eve party.

However, that meant you transferred the restlessness from him to yourself.

Two months of relentless planning, and at last, it was Christmas Eve. At the back of the room, you watched your friend’s band play a Christmas song from afar, anxiously supervising that everyone enjoyed the night. Suddenly, you felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind and a chin atop your head. 

“Hey,” You heard Peter say and you smiled, leaning back into his embrace. “I haven’t been able to hang out with you at all during the night.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure everything was going well.” Your voice, distant and distraught, deepened Peter’s frown. He turned you around and held your face, brushing your cheek with his knuckles. 

“I’m proud of you. You did a great job.”

Although his words made your chest glow, you glanced back at the performance. “Thanks. I was able to add in a few things since I convinced Harry’s dad to donate some money. I guess being his favorite out of you, Mary Jane, and I helped after all, huh?” 

“Well, you can relax now,” He rubbed your shoulders, and you just then realized how tense they were. “The night’s almost over.” Peter reassured you and you sighed, closing your heavy eyes.

“Anything could happen, though.” You forced out a laugh, worry forming a crease in between your eyebrows. “What if something catches on fire? Actually, did you know that people can randomly combust? There’s this one case—”

“Y/N.” For once, he was the one stopping you from rambling. 

“There’s still five songs left of the set.” You pouted at him, trying to convince him to let you off the hook, but he simply stared at you, concerned.

“I talked to Miles, he’s going to take your place while you take a break.”

“I don’t need a break, I just have to watch—”

“Remember the night when we first kissed, and you told me that I needed to stop overworking myself?” He recalled, raising his brows. You pressed your lips together, recognizing how hypocritical you appeared at the moment.

 “This is different, though. I need this to be perfect.” You mumbled. Peter’s brows drew together in confusion. 

“Why?”

“Because of May!” You said, raising your voice a little. The floor now seemed more interesting than Peter or your surroundings. “She deserves it. She really cared about F.E.A.S.T., so I know how important this is for you, too.” You admitted, all of a sudden quiet. 

The corners of his mouth turned downwards. He grabbed your chin and kissed your forehead before his soft gaze interlocked with yours. “Y/N, I bet she’d be so proud right now that she wouldn’t shut up about it, like, ever.” You both laughed, but you smiled weakly, hugging him strongly. “And spending time with you is really important for me, too.” He whispered.

Peter took in a sharp breath and dug his hand into his pocket. “I know it’s Christmas Eve, but I wanted to give you one present today.” 

You tilted your head, your heart falling as remembrance dawned upon you. “But I left my gifts back home.” 

“It’s alright, I-I just…” He took out a tiny box and your eyes widened in panic. “Before you freak out, it’s not… it’s not what you think.” He chuckled nervously and opened it, revealing a silver band ring.

You covered your mouth with your fist while your other hand grasped the ring carefully, inspecting the diamond cut running through the middle. “Pete… it’s so pretty, oh my God. I can’t even imagine how much you spent on it.” You said, guilt etched onto your face.

Peter tried to shrug nonchalantly, but he had to admit the expense stung a bit. “Don’t think about the price tag,” He joked, and then pointed down at the ring. “Look inside it, though.”

You followed his orders and spotted something engraved inside. You lifted it closer to your face to read it properly, squinting your eyes, and once you did, you looked up at Peter’s nervous face with a grin growing on yours. “You… love me?”

It was about damn time.

“Y-You… you like it?” He asked rapidly, his own heart mirroring the speed of his words. 

In the blink of an eye, you met his lips with a deep kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling into it. “You’re so fucking dramatic, you could’ve just told me but you had to buy a whole ass ring to tell me you loved me.” You nudged him playfully.

“I wanted to be cute!”

“You’re automatically cute, you don’t even have to try.” Peter proved your point as the color of cotton candy painted his cheeks. “But I love it. And I love you, God, I love you so much, Peter, you have no clue.” 

He did. And he loved you back just as much.

[fangirl-1523]

Cherry Bomb: Chap. 1

For clarification, Milven is purely platonic and events from Stranger Things 3 did not happen, such as Jim Hopper's death and the Byers and Eleven moving away.

June 14, 1985

"Roth... Roth...." the voice of Mike Wheeler said coming from the comm.

[Y/N] groaned and picked it up. "What you want, Blackbird?"

"You want to come over and play some D & D? With the rest of the party? Over." He asked.

[Y/N] [L/N] had lived next to the Wheeler family since she was five. Her family had moved there for a change of pace as it was a small town and very different from Indianapolis. She and Mike had grown up as window neighbors.

"But my elvan archer will die! It's happened every time. So much for me trying to be a female Legolas. Over."

"Then, bring your other characters. I know you created like twenty, so you can continue on playing with us for ten hours. Over." He told her.

[Y/N] could faintly hear the sound of snickers and giggles from the other end followed by the normal "Shut up!" from Mike. She sighed to herself.

"What will I be getting out of this again? Over."

"Time with the greatest people you have ever known? Over." Mike paused before adding. "We have food. Blackbird out."

"I'll be there in a minute. Roth out." [Y/N] put the comm down and left the room.

She didn't hear the endless teasing from Eleven, Max, Lucas, and Dustin. Or any of what Mike said in retaliation of their teasing and mochery. Instead, while that was going on, she hopped down the stairs to her mom. At the moment, it was just [Y/N], her mom, and her cat at the house (her parents were seperated, but they both liked the small town life of Hawkins, Indiana).

"Hey, momma, can I go over to the Wheeler's right now? Mike invited me over to play Dungeons & Dragons with the party." She asked finding her mom in the kitchen baking some deserts.

"Sure, sweetie. Just be back by six. You're father will be over here to pick you up for the weekend." Her mother, [Mother Name], replied.

It was the Friday after school let out for the summer and the first thing the party wanted to do was play Dungeons & Dragons. Of course some people (Max Mayfield) resented that notion seeing as it was summer which meant no more school and some more beach.

"Okay. Love you! Bye!" [Y/N] kissed her mom's cheek and zoomed out the door to her neighbors house.

She knocked on the door and Nancy opened the door for her. The upcoming senior at Hawkins High sighed before allowing the young girl that hadn't been involved with anything weird yet into their house. One thing the party, Jim Hopper, Joyce Byers, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathon Byers, and the Scoup Troop all agreed on was to leave the girl out of it. Out of all of it. [Y/N] went down towards Mike's basement where she found the boys setting up the pieces at the table and the girls were setting up snacks such as chips, some bite sized deserts, and soda.

"Hi, [Y/N]." Eleven said.

"Hi, El." [Y/N] said coming over to the two girls.

"[Y/N], which character are you playing?" Mike said looking through the folder labeled [Y/N]'s characters.

"Uh... actually... I wanted to try to be... a... uh..." then the girl mumbled what she wanted to do.

Max Mayfield and Eleven smirked (as they had heard what she said). Dustin Henderson asked for her to speak up, so they could hear her. All they got out of her was a smear of red across her face. Now that the boys were staring at her and her two only female friends were smirking, she instantly regretted every decision she had ever made.

"You know what? Just forget it. I'll use my elva-."

"She wants a chance as Dungeon Master, but she is too nervous to say anything to you four." Max said cutting her friend off.

[Y/N] tried to cover her face with her hands as she waited for the laughter to come right afterwards. It was a stupid idea. A stupid, silly thing to suggest she do. Way to make a fool out of you, [Y/N]. the [H/C] haired girl thought to herself before shying away from her friends.

"Since when do you know how to be Dungeon Master?" Dustin asked as he and Lucas sneakily (not that sly though) glanced over at Mike.

"It can't be that much difficult than putting on shows with action figures and dolls while my little cousins intervene about what the different characters could do." And Mike taught me.

"I say we give her a shot. I'm tired of doing the same thing ever single time." Max said.

"We don't do the same thing every time!" Lucas retorted back at his girlfriend.

"It's the same thing, but different outcomes based on the die roll." Eleven agreed.

"Just let her be dungeon master, guys. For one day. I actually want to see where she'll go with it. I'll just be a Gnome Thief." Mike told them.

"I don't have a problem with that." Will Byers added making his first statement in the conversation.

"Go on, [Y/N]." Dustin said glancing at the seat next to Mike. "You can sit there."

[Y/N] didn't see the glare Mike sent Dustin as she sat down in the seat. Eleven and Max got some food before sitting down.

"So, are we ready?" she asked them.

"Yeah. Let's see what you got." Lucas told her.

"To be clear, this is going to be totally -."

"Just start already, [Y/N]." Mike interrupted her. "Yes, we're well aware this is 'Geek Improv'."

Eleven looked from Mike to [Y/N]. As soon as she started to go to school with the party, she met [Y/N] almost as soon as she stepped into the door. And instantly, she understood why Mike hadn't been able to return her feeling. And now, watching the two of them, it reminded Eleven of why that was. Time passed and they all realized how much more involved she was with the details than Mike was and they all knew the adventure they were on was all sprouted from her mouth like bullshit. Because it was. She was making it up as she went along.

"You have reached the end of your quest. But your quest is not over. Instead, one of your party members carries a dark secret. One of them is actually the Great Darkness that vows to shrall the land in eternal night. You hear the cackle of what sounds like the Wicked Witch of the West Hehehe! As the sound bounces off the walls of the cave, you wonder where and who the sound is coming from. But it's too late. Your hear it say 'It's too late for you. Hehehehe!' And the voice is coming from-."

"[Y/N]," Karen Wheeler, Mike's and Nancy's mom, said walking down into the basement, "your mom says your dad is waiting for you. Time to go."

Karen Wheeler went back upstairs and Dustin leaned over to Mike, "Since when does your mom come down here?"

Mike simply shrugged. "Can we finish this really quickly?"

[Y/N] shook her head getting up from her seat. "Sorry. Dad's impatient as it is, and we're supposed to go to Chicago for the weekend. I'll be back Wednesday though. We can finish it then. Have a good weekend, Blackbird. Fellow geeks." She saluted them.

"Bye, Roth. Have fun with your dad." Mike said as she went back up the stairs.

"Dude!" Max exclaimed once she was out of earshot.

"What?!" Mike fired back.

"Do you two really have to act like that?" Max asked him.

"Like what?" he asked her.

"Like that! Two love sick idiots. Why don't you just ask her out?" asked Max.

"He can't."

"He's tried."

"Countless times."

"Failed countless times."

"Stuck in the friend zone, is he." Dustin said in the voice of Yoda.

"He's not that stuck. She likes him back. Right, El?" Max asked looking at her female friend for assistance.

"She does." Eleven nodded her head in agreement. "Just ask her out."

"Do it. When she comes back." Max told him.

"Jeez, okay, I will." Mike told him.

Wednesday came, and he commed [Y/N]'s radio. "Roth... Roth... Roth...."

No answer. Usually she would pick up after the second or third Rorh, but silence filled the radio. He tried again thinking her mom may have cleaned up her room while she was away (it has happened before). Silence.

"[Y/N], you there? Blackbird here ... trying to talk to you. Over." Silence.

This was weird. It was strange. Even when she was angry with him, she never metaphorically left him on read. She would radio in that she was angry and didn't want to talk and there would be a "I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU! I HATE YOU!" followed afterward that she didn't really mean. And that's when he heard shouting, yelling, and screaming from next door. It sounded like her parents.

Mike got out of his basement and along with his family and the rest of the street watched the scene play out between [Mother] and [Father] who hadn't spoken or saw one another in months.

"What do you mean you lost her? She was here yesterday! She called telling me she was back in Hawkins!" [Mother] yelled.

"I went to get food, and then she's gone! I checked everywhere for her! She's not here! And I'm pretty sure she didn't go back to Chicago! So, yeah I lost her! But I didn't lose her OKAY? She's missing! Gone! And it's not my fault! Dear god, why would you think it was my fault?" [Father] yelled back.

"It wouldn't be the first time you thought that." [Mother] mumbled before shouting, "If you didn't lose her, then help me find her! Help me find my daughter! Before something awful happens to her!"

[Y/N] was missing? Mike looked over at Nancy who was looking at him back. They both knew that the Upside Down had a part to play in the disappearance of [Y/N] [L/N].

What Netflix Original would the characters of Stranger Things watch the most often?

Eleven - Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (Eleven would compare the events of her life to Sabrina's events in her life when they are sorta similar)

Mike - Orange is the New Black (gives me Mike vibes)

Max - Sex Education (gives me Max Mayfield vibes)

Will - A Series of Unfortunate Events (i feel like he would have read the books in elementary school, so he felt obligated to watch the show)

Lucas - Lost in Space (i didn't know what to pick for Lucas, so I just picked something random)

Dustin - Voltron Legendary Defender (Dustin has always given me vibes that he's a cartoon watcher type of TV person)

Steve - Daybreak (gives me Steve vibes)

Nancy - The Worst Witch (this was an accident. Nancy didn't want to watch it, but saw the trailer, thought it was interesting, and watches it afterwards).

Robin - Disenchantment (doesn't it just scream Robin at you?)

Jonathon - You (he would have heard about it from Nancy who wanted to watch it and he got hooked)

Joyce - Santa Clarita Diet (funny zombie humor)

Hopper - The Crown (this would have started off as something that both Hopper and Eleven watched together as a sort of father-daughter show or whatever, but he got hooked really, really fast)

[asterythm]

and maybe one day i’ll get around to fixing myself, too.

Pairing: platonic LAMP/CALM

Word count: 8k

Summary: Patton’s getting real sick of this.

Warnings: crying, sickness, nightmares, fainting, blood mention, injury/burn mention, knives (of the kitchen variety), food mentions, one (1) word written in caps lock, probably about a million emdashes, whump with a happy ending. 

AO3

--- --- ---

The mindscape was clean out of Kleenex. 

Ah, thought Patton, moments before promptly bursting into tears.

--- --- ---

Approximately half an hour later, as Patton wiped down a pair of tear-stained glasses with the hem of his shirt, the thought occurred to him that he may be slightly more ill than he'd first thought.

Not that it really mattered at this point. Logan hadn’t left his room in days; Virgil, his bed; Roman was borderline delirious already. What with all four of them having somehow managed to fall sick at the same time, someone had to take responsibility. And seeing as Patton was currently the only one who could stay awake for more than five minutes at a time, that someone might as well be — 

“Achoo!”

— him.

Patton sniffled, instinctively reaching for the tissue box before remembering what had caused his breakdown in the first place. 

He frowned. Over the past few days, that box had grown to become his dearest friend; Patton scarcely went anywhere without bringing it along. They had bonded! Something about throwing it out so carelessly, like nothing more than a worthless object... it just rubbed — 

“Achoo!”

Rubbed him the wrong — 

“Achoo!”

Frown deepening, Patton mentally added 'replace tissue box' to his ever-growing list of things to do.

Gosh, if only Logan were here. How much simpler managing the mindscape would be with one of those handy-dandy schedules the logical Side always seemed to have on hand (pun intended)! Patton had tried to write up a few of his own in Logan's absence, but it just wasn't the same. 

So here he was, stuck struggling to remember everything at once. Tidy the living room. Wipe down the counters. Hang the laundry out to dry. Patton ticked the items off one by one on his fingers as he ran through the familiar list. He was forgetting something, wasn't he? Replace the tissues. Wash the dishes in the sink. Make sure the others are drinking enough... Aha, that was it!

Patton was a little wobbly as he made his way into the kitchen, but managed to fill three glasses of water without once coughing into any of them — at this point, that was a win in his book. The hard part would be delivering them to the others.

At first, he tried carrying the cups on a makeshift cutting-board-turned-serving-tray. It took about two steps to realize that wasn’t going to work. His sense of balance was already poor enough when he wasn’t also dealing with a nasty cough, full-body chills, and a headache intense enough to make the room spin. “I may be a glass half full kind of guy, but sometimes you just gotta know when it’s time to drop it,” he said (out loud for some reason), followed by a solid minute of giggling.

Wow, he thought once he’d recovered enough to form coherent thoughts again. I am really out of it today.

Having now washed his hands of the water puns — nope, try again. 

Having now gotten the water puns out of his system, Patton was ready to try a different angle. He left two cups on the table this time, opting instead to use both hands to carry just one. There’d be less spillage that way. For sure, it would take much more energy to make the trip up and down the painfully long spiral staircase (a result of Roman’s whimsy from a time when they were all more spritely) three times instead of one, but he couldn’t imagine an empty drinking glass would do anyone any good. 

Besides, Patton was willing to do just about anything if it meant helping the other Sides recover faster.

--- --- ---

The first trip he managed with relative ease; Patton entered Logan’s bedroom to find him sound asleep, as expected. Tiptoeing so as not to disturb his slumber, Patton quietly set the glass of water at Logan’s bedside table, where he’d be sure to see it if — when — he woke up. 

In the corner of the room, something began to buzz. Patton let out a tch when he saw what it was: an alarm clock that had apparently fallen off the bookshelf to bury itself deep into a pile of discarded clothing. Really, Logan — you’re still trying to get work done? In this state? He hurried to shut the alarm off before its muffled ringing could register in Logan’s illness-addled brain. Silly duck’s going to exhaust himself if he’s not careful.

The last thing Patton was expecting was to be unable to even locate the alarm. What had looked like nothing more than an innocent pile of fabric from across the room soon revealed itself to be an absolute mess of a garbage heap. The wrinkled polo shirts and ties were only the surface of the problem (literally); underneath them hid all manner of odds, bobs, hammers and tongs, metal scraps and fizzled-out lights and pages upon pages of crumpled-up notebook paper. Whatever this project of Logan’s was, it did not look simple.

Nor did it look at all organized, in fact, which was quite a contrast to Logan’s usual love of the methodical. It appeared the sickness was taking its toll.

Giving up on the alarm clock search for a moment, Patton peered around to spot even more things that were just slightly out of place. A book out of place on the shelf. A tie clip left on the dresser. A corner peeling off of the crooked periodic table poster on the wall. And, at the foot of Logan’s bed, several small cardboard boxes that hadn’t been tucked away. 

Patton squinted at the boxes. Thick black Sharpie lines were scrawled into the side of each one, labels for them all. One, he could identify as ‘Green LEDs’; the others were harder to see from where he was, but he was willing to bet they were storage boxes as well.

Just then, the alarm clock abruptly stopped ringing, prompting Patton to glance back down at the pile he was trying to sort through. A flash of colour caught his attention: a bright green sticky note. Patton unfolded it to see ‘don’t forget to sort the supplies’ scrawled hastily across the paper, with the last few letters in ‘supplies’ trailing off as if Logan had barely managed to scribble out his message before falling into bed.

Well, while Patton was here, perhaps he ought to lend Logan a hand. Separating stuff into boxes seemed easy enough, right? And this pile must be a tripping hazard. With that in mind, Patton got to work. 

Excruciatingly slow work. There was enough junk in that one pile to last Logan a lifetime, it seemed. Still, figuring out which little pieces went in which box did get easier over time, so he kept at it. 

Eventually, everything was in its place but the shirts and ties, which Patton folded and left on the ground for Logan to organize as he pleased when he was feeling well enough. That’s better. Clutter-free, just as Logan likes it.

Then, with that taken care of, Patton had to come face-to-face with an unpleasant truth: it was time for him to brave the stairs once more. 

On a regular day, he’d bound down two steps at a time, maybe even slide on the railing if he was feeling particularly energetic. Today, on the other hand, it was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other, clinging to that same railing the whole way. 

The brief feeling of pride when he finally reached the bottom was quickly swallowed by the realization that he still needed to run (or rather climb) that gauntlet twice more. 

Patton grabbed the second cup of water with a groan. Let’s get this over with.

--- --- ---

The door to Virgil’s bedroom swung open with barely a whisper. Inside, rows and rows of cobwebs stretched from floor to ceiling between the door and where Virgil lay fast asleep — a veritable horror that would usually send Patton away screaming, but these days he was almost too tired to care. Covering the rim of the cup with the palm of one hand, Patton carefully picked his way through to Virgil’s bed, where he could at last drop off his cargo. 

He meant to leave immediately after that, not wanting to spend even a second longer than necessary lingering in the surely spider-infested room. Unfortunately, he didn’t get very far.

Patton’s hand was on the doorknob when it happened: without warning, Virgil began thrashing around in bed, violently enough to make Patton jump. Beads of sweat were breaking out on the poor anxious Side’s upper lip and forehead, the latter creased tightly in his distress, the former trembling in a silent scream. As Patton watched, Virgil’s movements grew more and more frenzied — bed sheets weaving between his legs, back arching, fingers clawing at some invisible foe...

Within the same instant, Patton was back at Virgil’s side. “Hey, hey, hey,” he comforted, “it’s okay. You’re safe. Papa Patton’s gonna protect you from the nasty night terrors, alright?” As Patton continued to make soft, soothing sounds, he gently took one of Virgil’s hands between his own, rubbing protective little circles with his thumb. “Shh. I’m right here. Shh.” 

Jeez, he’s really burning up . The temperature of Virgil’s hand alone was through the roof — no wonder he was so feverish. Still, Patton didn’t let go of that hand until his kiddo had fully calmed down.

Now what? As badly as he wanted to just get out then and there (the sooner he was away from the cobwebs, the better), Patton couldn’t very well abandon Virgil like this. Paternal instincts kicked in; before he even knew what he was doing, Patton had taken hold of the mess of blankets tangled at Virgil’s feet and was methodically fluttering it out until the fabric was smooth again. That taken care of, he gave the blanket one last swish before settling it oh-so-lightly overtop of Virgil’s sleeping form, tucking the edges in snugly to make sure the fit was more secure this time. A quick fluff of the pillows around Virgil’s head, and he was done. 

Satisfied at last, Patton stepped back to admire his handiwork. It was difficult to look away, really — Virgil, a shock of pale skin against the mountainous backdrop of dark blankets and pillows, seemed years younger in this state. Softer somehow. Especially without the usual eyeshadow darkening his eyes or the brooding expression darkening all his other features, he looked… vulnerable.

“Sleep tight, kiddo,” whispered Patton as the door clicked shut. 

Turning away, Patton breathed a sigh of relief. Two down, only one to go.  

--- --- ---

At first, Patton had hoped Roman would forgive him for saving the royalty for last. 

By the time he’d stumbled down and up the stairs again, though, Patton wasn’t sure if he would ever forgive himself for making himself take that trip three times in a row — he was just about ready to keel over on the spot. About halfway up, he’d been seized out of the blue by a coughing fit that took a lifetime for that to pass. 

Ironically, his symptoms only went downhill the higher he climbed. What began as a faint ringing in his ears eventually grew loud enough that he could hardly focus on anything else, and the more Patton tried to will away the dark spots crowding at the corners of his vision, the more persistent they became.

But the weight of the glass of water clasped securely in his hands had remained mostly unchanged throughout the entire hike. Still full. The water… is that really what I was doing? It seemed such a small thing now, to be at the root of all this misery.

But no — he couldn’t start doubting himself now, not when he was so close to being finished. Patton shut his eyes tight and gave his head a firm shake. That managed to clear away some of the dark spots, at least. Good enough.

“Okay… okay. I can do this,” Patton panted, sounding to his own ears even less confident than he felt. Yet still he pushed onward, determined to finish what he’d started. 

Every step felt like wading through a sea of molasses. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Right foot — no, left — no — 

Who am I kidding? I can’t do this.

In the middle of the hallway, Patton stopped, feeling an all-too-familiar tickle beginning to form in the back of his throat. No, no, no, no, no... He wasn’t sure he was capable of handling a repeat performance, especially not while he was still coping with the aftershock of the last one. Swallowing hard, Patton tried to force the cough down and keep moving.

It didn’t take long to figure out that ignoring the situation wasn’t going to be an option for him. The tickle was unbearable. Maybe if I could just clear my throat, Patton conceded, just lighten the pressure a bit…

That was all the permission his body needed. The thought had barely finished forming when the figurative frog in his throat came leaping out, doubling Patton over into one of the most painful hacking coughs he’d ever experienced. His chest felt like it was ripping to shreds. Blindly, he passed the drinking glass into one hand, then threw the other outward, feeling around for a wall on which he could steady himself.

Instead, his fingers gripped something warm. Sturdy, too. 

The coughing momentarily subsided as Patton’s brain struggled to make sense of this new development. His gaze traced down to his hand, which was hanging for dear life onto... someone’s shoulder.

“Thomas? Is that you?” the shoulder said.

Patton did a double-take. Not because a shoulder was talking to him — the shoulder wasn’t talking at all, actually; shockingly enough there was a head was attached to that shoulder and of course it was the head that had spoken really — but because the voice was so familiar, and yet its owner had no business being out and about right now. 

“...Roman?” Patton tried, tentative (his vision was still hazy).

“Roman,” the voice repeated, equal parts ponderous and absent-minded. “Huh, that’s a funny word. Roman. Roman.” Rolling the R’s: “Rrrroman. Rrrroamin’ the halls… stalking the halls, for the thrill of the kill. She’s the apex predator! Jungle rrrr-royalty! Watch out, everybody — this kitty’s got clawwwws.”

Yep, definitely Roman. 

Poor guy was rrrr-raving, though. Seeing his friend like this was just enough to snap Patton out of his own feverish state. In alarm, he exclaimed, “Roman, what are you doing out of bed? You should be resting!” 

“Who, me? Oh, so I’m the Roman. What are you, then? Floman? Wait, no I’ve got it — Snoman!” Roman giggled hysterically at his own joke before suddenly breaking into raucous song. “Frosty the snowman...”

“Okay! Okay, okay, shh, okay,” interjected Patton, trying to speak over the singing. “Roman, you’ve got a lovely voice, but you’re sick right now , kiddo, you understand? And you’re going to hurt that voice and the rest of your body if you don’t take care of ‘em. So do your favourite snowman a favour and drink this for me.”

Patton tried to hand off the (somehow still mostly-full) glass of water to Roman then, but instead of taking it, Roman just stared in a mixture of confusion and fascination.

Patton sighed. “Alright, plan B. Sit down.” Keeping his grip on Roman’s shoulder firm, he carefully settled Roman down to the ground, back against the wall. 

A crooked smile. How long has it been since the last time I said this? 

“Here comes the airplane.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Roman’s own mouth opened obediently. Patton raised an eyebrow. Huh. I wasn’t expecting that to actually work.

Not that he was complaining. Sip by sip, he coaxed the water into Roman until the glass was empty, Roman’s clouded-yet-curious eyes peering up at him through lidded lashes the entire time. When he was finished, Roman made grabby hands. “More.”

“I can’t, bud, I’m all out.”

“More,” Roman insisted, voice scratching painfully. 

He’s probably been coughing that poor throat raw, too, hasn’t he? Patton realized. Figures he’d want more water. With a fond sigh, Patton gave Roman the now-empty glass. This seemed to placate him; as Patton helped him to his feet, he continued to hold tightly to the drinking glass as if it were a lifeline.

“I’ll bring you more for real once we get you to your bedroom,” promised Patton as he slung one of Roman’s limp arms over his own shoulder. Guiding Roman one step at a time, the two slowly hobbled back in the direction Roman had come, the thick silence occasionally punctuated with a sudden outburst which Patton quickly shushed. 

He hadn’t noticed at first, but Patton could feel the sick Side’s body shivering against him all the way. 

The short walk still proved exhausting to Roman, apparently; already half-asleep by the time they arrived, Roman didn’t waste any time dropping off into dreamland. Patton was left with the unenviable task of wrestling all of Roman’s many duvets, blankets, comforters, and accent pillows into some semi-functional-looking arrangement. 

As he did so, the mental image of Virgil caught in the middle of an awful night terror kept flickering through his mind. A twinge of guilt. While I’ve been over here feeling sorry for myself over a silly little cold, Patton realized, these three have been way worse off. Roman couldn’t even remember his own name! And Logan… Logan’s still working himself down to the bone. I should have realized sooner. I should have taken better care of them. Should have, should have, should have.

But I didn’t, did I?

Patton rose to his feet, gently pulled the empty drinking glass out of Roman’s grasp (who mumbled an incoherent protest, but let go without much resistance). Maybe it was silly to have gone through so much trouble just to make sure his three little sleepy-heads drank something, but it was what was best for them, and Patton would do it all again in a heartbeat.

Really, he would. He was going to have to at least three times a day, anyway, if he wanted the other Sides to recover anytime soon.

And oh, at this point, he’d really love nothing more. Then and there, listening to Roman’s softly rumbling snores, Patton made a resolution: Whatever the cost, if it helps you, I’ll do it. I’d do anything for you three.

“Hang in there, Roman,” he whispered. “You’re gonna be feeling better in no time.”

--- --- ---

Tidy the living room. Wipe down the counters. Hang the laundry out to dry. Wash the dishes in the sink.

Are the others still asleep?

Vacuum the kitchen. Sort the bookshelves. Prepare dinner. Check on Virgil. Check on Roman. Check on Logan.

Did I check on Virgil? Better check again just to be safe.

Power nap. Breakfast time.

Hang the laundry out to dry… no, it’s already out there .

Wash the dishes. Make sure the others are staying hydrated.

Logan hasn’t touched any of his food since yesterday. The others seem to be awake more often, though.

Power nap. Dust the mantelpiece. Power nap.

Shoot, that was definitely longer than a power nap.

Organize the medicine cabinet. Water the plants. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Breakfast. Lunch.

  When was the last time I tidied the living room?

--- --- ---

The strangest part was that Patton wasn’t cold at all. Quite the opposite, in fact; even the slightest of movements left him sweating nowadays, to say nothing of his twice-daily trips and up and down the stairs. Patton hadn’t had time to check his own temperature or anything, but was fairly certain he knew what the thermometer would tell him: burning up (and burning out).

So how come he couldn’t stop shivering?

Maybe I should ask Logan, Patton thought, before remembering that was out of the question. Sure, the others were doing much better recently, but Patton's promise had been to nurse them to full health, hadn't it? They needed their rest. He could handle a little shakiness in the meantime. 

Besides, it was probably just jitters from all the coffee he'd been drinking. After that time he'd accidentally slept through an entire afternoon, Patton had been fueling up on caffeine so as not to risk a repeat performance.

Speaking of which. He peered over the rim of his empty mug. Time for a refill. 

As he half-walked, half-stumbled into the kitchen, Patton mentally sifted through his list again. Had he washed the dishes after lunch? 

No sooner than the thought occurred to him, he could swear he could hear the kitchen faucet start to run; the sound of plates and utensils clinking soon followed. Patton's brow furrowed. He couldn't afford to be going insane right now — he didn't have the time.

Unfortunately, it seemed that was exactly what was happening to him. How else but a hallucination was he supposed to explain seeing Logan standing at the sink, rinsing off dishes that he could have sworn he'd already done?

Before Patton could react, Logan glanced up. He blinked. "What are you doing here, Patton?"

Patton's mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. Were hallucinations supposed to be able to talk? I must be really far gone.

Perhaps the craziest thing of all, though, was the fact that Patton decided to talk back. "I think that's my line," he said without thinking.

Logan frowned. "I don't understand. We're not recording a video right now. To refer to our off-camera lives as if they were part of a pre-written dialogue simply does not make sense, unless I've been deeply misinformed for the past thirty years."

Okay, never mind. This was definitely the real Logan.

But then... that didn't make sense, either. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"'Supposed to be'...?" Logan turned the tap off, frustrated. "Alright, really. How have I been operating as a functional part of Thomas for so long without ever once hearing about this script?"

"No, no, there's no —" The rest of Patton's sentence was cut off with a sudden sneeze.

"Gesundheit. Wait, was that my line?" 

Patton shook his head. "There's no script, Logan, it was a figure of speech. I just meant that you need to rest. You're sick!"

"I was sick," Logan corrected him. "I'd hardly say that term still applies to my current state, thanks to you. You've been working so hard to take care of everything in our collective absence; if anyone should be resting, it's you."

Patton was about to argue when another voice cut him off. "Alright, what's all the fuss about?" asked Roman, coming in from the dining room with a feather duster in hand, but stopping short upon seeing Patton. "Pat! I was wondering where you went."

"Living room," was all Patton managed to get out.

"Ah, of course, silly me! Look, thank you so much for all you've done. Why don't you go lie down now? I believe Virgil's still feeling a little under the weather, but Logan and I can take it from here."

Patton stared, trying to spot anything that might give Roman away as a fake produced by his addled imagination, but there was nothing. And oh, it was so tempting, the idea of finally getting to relax. He imagined his bed, feather-soft after so many nights of sleeping on the couch; his collection of stuffed animals just waiting for him to come home. How lovely it would be to just curl up and drift away...

Then Logan winced. "Patton, I beg your pardon, but where did you put the Advil?" he asked. "I checked in the medicine cabinet but couldn't find it."

Just like that, Patton's dreams of dreaming were gone. 

Logan and Roman still needed his help; it would be selfish to abandon them now. No matter the cost, he'd promised, I'd do anything for you three.

His mind was made up. 

Feigning innocence, Patton smacked himself in the forehead. "Ah, shoot," he said. "I think I must have left it in Virgil's room. Here, I'll go get it."

Roman immediately spoke up. "Oh, absolutely not. It's time for you to go to sleep, Padre. You go to bed; I'll get it."

"That's awfully kind of you, but I'm the one who asked." It was Logan this time, his words still a little stilted as he ground them out from behind what was most likely a headache of some sort. "It would be irresponsible of me to not go myself."

"Oh, come on, calculator watch, you're in pain!"

"Not so much that I've been rendered unable to fend for myself!"

"Guys, please stop fighting," Patton tried to shout, but his voice came out barely above a whisper. Yet somehow it did the trick — two sets of apologetic eyes turned to look at Patton. "Look, at this point I kinda feel like it'd be simplest if you just went together and that was the end of it."

Logan looked like he was about to argue, but Patton shot him a stern look and his mouth shut meekly.

"Great, glad we're all in agreement then. Come on." Without waiting for an answer, Patton turned and hustled both of them up the stairs. Come on, come on, come on... It was excruciating, but he had to make it look like this was no sweat if his plan was going to work. 

The fact that Logan and Roman both had to take a break at the top only solidified Patton's resolve. If he'd had any doubts before, they were long gone now, replaced with one concrete goal: Get them somewhere they can rest.

"Alright, off to sleep I go," said Patton once he was satisfied that Logan and Roman would both hear it. "Thanks, guys."

"Anytime."

"Oh, and would you do me a favour? Could you please close Virgil's door when you're in there? I think there's a bit of a draft in the hallway and I don't want Virgil to get any worse." Which was the truth. (So what if everything else he'd been saying wasn't?) With that, Patton disappeared into his room.

He didn't go to bed, though — even though every bone in his body was screaming for him to. Instead, he pressed his ear against his wall and listened. A click, the shuffling of feet, and then another click as the door closed.

Patton didn't waste any time leaping into action then. Fast as his legs could carry him, he grabbed a chair and jammed it under Virgil's doorknob. A second chair soon followed, as well as a stack of boxes and a small table. He could hear a muffled commotion beginning inside as Logan and Roman realized they’d been barricaded inside. 

The doorknob rattled. Patton ran.

His feet moved fast, but his thoughts were faster still, and with every step they grew more and more muddled. Had he really just done that? Maybe this is going too far. 

On the other hand, Logan and Roman were only slowing down their own recovery by trying to “help out”. Patton had been handling things just fine by himself so far, after all; why try to fix what wasn’t broken?

He needed a distraction.

Luckily for him (or unluckily, depending on how you wanted to look at it), there was never any shortage of things to be done around the mindscape. For one, he still hadn’t prepared that chicken soup he’d been meaning to. No time like the present.

Again to the kitchen, as if in a dream. He just kept finding himself back here, didn’t he? 

Patton tried to grab a large stockpot off the shelves and nearly hit himself in the face. 

This thing is so much heavier than I remember, he thought, grunting. With a considerable amount of exertion, he lugged the pot over to the sink, then leaned against the wall to catch his breath as it filled up with water. Maybe I could close my eyes for just a second...

Patton woke to an overflowing stockpot and the taste of blood in his mouth.

“Shoot, shoot, shoot!” Ignoring a splitting headache — he’d dealt with plenty of those over the past few days, one more was hardly going to faze him — Patton leapt to his feet to turn off the tap. A groan. He couldn’t believe he’d been careless enough to let something like this happen again. 

Lamenting the waste but left with no choice, Patton tipped the pot over and watched its contents swirl down the drain. Once that was finished, he carried the pot out of the sink, took a step, and immediately stumbled. Funny — the room was swirling, too.

Gosh, his head was killing him.

He’d probably hit it against the counter just now, maybe bit his tongue by accident too. At least that would explain why, after setting the pot of water on the stove to boil, Patton couldn’t for the life of him remember what came next.

What would Martha Stewart do? he wondered. Add vegetables? 

Vegetables seemed as good a guess as any. Celery, and garlic, and probably carrots too, except Patton did not care much for those and would rather keep the carrot-to-soup ratio to a minimum. He pulled one out of the fridge anyway, if only to fool himself into thinking he was doing the right thing.

Patton gripped a stalk of celery, preparing to chop, except suddenly the stupid shiver was back and the blade of his chopping knife slid off the stupid dumb vegetable and nicked his own stupid dumb idiot finger, and had those little red dots on the cutting board always been there? How come his finger hurt so much, too?

Patton gritted his teeth. Perfect. Just nifty. This was exactly the kind of stupid-dumb-idiot moron-thing he needed to deal with right now. 

Maybe, just for today, it’d be easier to break the vegetables by hand instead. 

With that thought, he tried to slide the knife back into its holder, but fumbled. In slow motion, the knife slipped out of his shaking hands; a loud clatter rang out as it fell to the floor, sharp blade narrowly missing chopping off one of his toes.

For several seconds Patton just stared, heart threatening to pump out of his chest but brain a little slower on the uptake. 

Then, to his own surprise, he began to laugh. 

All the confusion and adrenaline and exhaustion and hysteria of the past few days crashed together in an instant, and Patton couldn’t do anything but stand there and take it. He laughed until it hurt to breathe, until tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, until he had to grab onto the stovetop to support him in case he passed out for lack of air — he couldn’t stop. The pot was boiling over. He couldn’t stop. 

He wasn’t sure, but he thought someone might have been calling his name. Maybe it’s God, Patton’s feverish mind rather unhelpfully supplied. Maybe my time has finally come. That would explain why, the next time he blinked, it was suddenly as if he were looking down at himself from above. He watched as shaky laughs turned to desperate breaths turned to hacking and coughing and choking, turned to not breathing at all. He watched as already-pale skin turned even paler. Eyelids fluttered shut. Fingers released their iron grip, and knees buckled.

Three indistinct-yet-familiar faces came running down the stairs just in time to see his silently swaying body go crashing to the ground, and that was the last thing Patton got to watch before everything went very, very dark.

--- --- ---

Someone was snoring.

This was unexpected — first and foremost because Patton was sure he would remember inviting any of the others for a sleepover — but not entirely unpleasant. Lulled by the gentle rumble, Patton snuggled deeper into his blanket’s warm embrace and tried to reclaim the nice dream he’d been having a moment ago, even though he could tell he’d already been asleep a long time. He felt more refreshed than he could ever remember feeling.

Was today some kind of holiday? In his drowsy state, Patton couldn’t for the life of him remember the date. Ah, well. Either it was, or it wasn’t — and if it wasn’t, surely Logan would be coming by any second now to wake him up and make sure they stay on schedule. Patton couldn’t think of any other reason why he would have been allowed to sleep in for this long, let alone with a mystery person in the same room to boot. 

Speaking of… who might that be? 

Patton opened his eyes, but for a moment wasn’t quite sure that he had. His surroundings appeared just as dark as the insides of his eyelids. Add that to the list of unexpected things: had he not slept in, after all? But then why did he feel so well-rested? And what was this mystery person doing in his room in the middle of the night?

Sluggish though his brain was, Patton cast aside all hopes of sleep then in favour of trying to remember what might have happened yesterday to lead to this strange set of circumstances today. Memories started coming to him in bits and pieces then: a bright green sticky note marked with bold Sharpie lines, a veritable maze of cobwebs and clawing hands, the weight of an arm around his shoulders…

Oh, goodness. 

This was no holiday. Patton had slept for far too long. 

How long, though? How long have I left the three of them to fend for themselves? Patton wondered, fighting frantically now to extricate himself from the grip of the same sweat-soaked blankets he’d earlier been clinging to. He had to get out there, had to get back to work… Another memory stopped him short: he’d locked them into Virgil’s room. 

Patton sat bolt upright. I locked them into Virgil’s room!  

He regretted the abrupt movement less than a second later. A searing sensation shot through his left hand, which he’d instinctively used to push himself up, and the previously-dull ache in his chest was flaring up to match. At the sudden pain, Patton couldn’t help but let out an inadvertent yelp.

It was only after the snoring stopped that Patton remembered there was someone else here, too. 

He barely had time to process the thought before the mystery person was on their feet, probably on high alert. Patton’s good hand shot up to cover his mouth, as if silence would somehow render the mystery person unable to find him in this tiny enclosed space.

A hushed voice.

“Are you… awake?”

In the dark, Patton blinked. “Virgil?”

His mind was racing a mile a minute trying to keep up with all these new revelations. Why was Virgil in his room? Why was Virgil asleep in his room? Why was Patton asleep in his room, instead of out there making dinner like he could have sworn he’d been doing before? No, that last one was silly — it was clearly past dinnertime, if the darkness surrounding them both was any indication.

Still. Why was Virgil in his room?

Patton opened his mouth, unsure where to start but desperately needing to put a voice to some of the confusion. Before he could get even a single word out, though, Virgil cut him off.

“Oh my g — Patton, you’re back!” Virgil said, volume rising in his excitement. “You’re back, you’re — you’re talking to me!” 

Patton’s intelligent response: “Uh. Yup.”

“I — sorry, I just... I can’t believe you’re finally awake. You really scared me there.” Virgil’s voice was a little quieter now. “Scared all of us.”

“What do you…?” Patton paused as the full implication of his friend’s words set in. “Virgil, how long have I been sleeping?”

The silence went on for just a second too long before Virgil spoke, this time the quietest of all. “A little over a week now.”

Patton’s mouth went dry. 

No way. Was that even possible?

“Yeah, you were out like a light. Roman was maybe a second away from stabbing you just to get a response.” Virgil swallowed hard. “Hell, Pat, for a moment I almost thought you… weren’t gonna wake up at all, you know?”

“Gosh, Virgil, I’m sorry,” was all Patton could get out. 

“Hey, no, don’t be,” Virgil hurried to backtrack. He huffed out a laugh; too shaky to be convincing, but Patton appreciated the effort. “Ugh, just listen to me going on like this. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you in the first place. You’re here now, aren'tcha?”

“I guess,” said Patton, slowly at first. “But why did it have to be here specifically?” 

“What?”

He gestured at the door (or in its general direction; it was still too dark to see clearly). “I should be out there, Virge! I should be helping! It’s like you said, I’ve been asleep for more than a week while all of you guys were worrying over me. All I ever wanted was to make this stupid fever easier on you, and look how that backfired —” 

“Hey, I’m gonna stop you right there. Look at me.”

Patton sniffled. “I can’t, it’s pitch black in here.”

“...right. One sec.” As Virgil spoke, Patton could hear him busily fumbling around trying to find something. 

Moments later, a flood of daylight assaulted his senses, bright enough to blind him (or at least give him a killer headache, but what else was new?). Patton shrieked like a thing possessed.

“Virgil, what the heck? I thought it was midnight or something!”

“Nope,” replied Virgil, returning to what Patton could now see was a folding chair set up next to Patton’s bedside. The same chair he’d used to block the rest of the Sides into Virgil’s room, Patton realized with a guilty start. “4:00 PM, according to that clock above your bed. You’ve just got really nice light-blocking curtains in here. D’you think you could hook me up sometime?”

“But you were asleep!” 

“Yeah, I’ve been waiting here for some time. My hibernation instincts kicked in.” That just raised even more questions, but Virgil waved them away. “Not the point. Now look at me.”

Patton looked. What he saw was an exhausted, unnaturally pale young man with eyeshadow several shades darker than usual. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“Someone who cares about you just as much as you care about them, Patton,” was the reply. “Listen, while Roman and Logan and I were sick, you took responsibility for everything. You were juggling so many things at once, and honestly it’s kind of unbelievable that you managed to go for as long as you did without dropping any of them. But the truth is, that’s just not healthy. You ended up overworking yourself so much, you literally passed out because of it. Not to mention what happened to your hands.”

“My hands?” Patton repeated. “What do you…?”

The rest of his question died on his lips once Patton looked down. His brain must be even hazier than he’d thought, because once he saw the fresh white gauze carefully wrapped around both palms, he had no idea how he’d managed to miss them. 

Patton didn’t quite understand until another memory pushed to the surface: him clinging to a heated stovetop, boiling water spilling over the sides of a stockpot. 

Suddenly, the burning pain he’d felt when he’d pushed himself up earlier made a lot more sense.

But something still didn’t add up. “Who’s been changing my bandages?” Patton asked, although he had a feeling he already knew the answer. 

Virgil’s silence only confirmed his suspicions. 

It was him. Of course, it was him.

“Doesn’t matter,” the anxious Side finally said. “What I’m trying to say is, it’s your turn to rest. You deserve it. Let us do the work for a change, okay?”

“But —”

“No buts. Or else I’m gonna get Roman and Logan in here, too.”

“You don’t need to —”

“Too late, I’m already doing it.” Never once breaking eye contact with Patton, Virgil leaned out the door to shout downstairs. “Hey, losers! Patton’s awake!”

“What?!” Roman’s voice distantly shouted back.

“Virgil, really, I’m not worth the trouble — ”

“And he’s talking bad about himself!”

Logan this time, at near-’falsehood’ levels of volume: “WHAT?!”

A loud crash, as of a dinner plate shattering. Patton winced. No time to worry about that now, though; he could hear urgent footsteps threatening to pound right through the stairs if someone wasn’t careful.

Logan was the first to arrive. The huffing and puffing stopped short, as did his movements, once he caught sight of Patton sitting up in bed. 

“Patton, I…”

Despite everything Logan might say to the contrary, behind his thick glasses, dark eyes brimmed with all manner of emotion. For once in his life, the eloquent Side appeared to have been rendered speechless. Silence stretched for an instant.

The instant didn’t last long. 

Next thing either of them knew, Roman was blazing into the room, recklessly shoving Logan aside in his quest to reach Patton and envelop him in the most bone-crushing bear hug he’d ever received. 

“Woah,” wheezed Patton. 

“Oh, thank Madonna,” was Roman’s response, sobbed out into the nape of Patton’s neck as he squeezed even tighter. Patton let out a squeak.

“Hey, Roman? This is great and all but you’re kind of crushing me so if you could loosen up just a bit so I could breathe thatwouldbe great — ”  

“Right, I’m sorry.” Reluctantly, but just in time, Roman released his still-fragile friend. Down went Patton, breath coming in little wheezes that would be almost comical if it weren’t for how uncomfortably familiar they felt.

Roman opened his mouth to continue his thought. Logan shot him a glare. “At least wait until his lips are less blue,” he hissed.

“No, it’s alright,” Patton managed to say. “Go ahead, Roman, don’t worry about me.”

A sigh. “Hate to break it to you, but I think it might be too late for that.” Roman seemed uncertain of where to put his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re okay. You wouldn’t believe how relieved I am! But still, we were all so worried about you.”

Taking care not to disturb the bandages, Patton pushed himself back up to a sitting position so he could give Roman a sympathetic look. “Aw, Ro.”

“Would you mind if I… hugged you again? Gently.”

In response, Patton opened his arms. And oh, Roman hadn’t been lying — this time, he embraced Patton gingerly, his touches if at all, as if Patton was a delicate butterfly and even the slightest pressure would snap one of his wings.

His heart broke. Did Roman not know how safe he felt in the creative side’s arms? Yes, he’d seen those arms slay dragons, but he’d also seen them weaving flower crowns and adding finishing brushstrokes to paintings and bringing nectar to hummingbirds, and all manner of equally delicate things. 

Don’t worry, Patton wanted to say. I trust you.

But Roman pulled away before he had the chance.

“I really am glad to see you awake, Patton,” he murmured into Patton’s ear, thumb still softly tracing circles on Patton’s shoulder — until, without warning, his grip tightened and Roman pulled back to look at Patton with an intensity he’d never seen before. 

“Roman?”

“Listen to me,” Roman demanded in response. His eyes seemed to be boring right into Patton’s. “Don’t you dare do that again. Ever.”

Patton’s forehead wrinkled. “Do what?”

“Prioritize our health at the cost of neglecting your own.” Although quiet and controlled, the sound of Logan’s voice momentarily startled Patton; the logical Side had been patiently standing off to the side for so long, they’d all forgotten he was even there. “Patton, I appreciate that you were only trying to help, but there is a fine line between selfless and self-sacrificial. And you crossed it.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Patton, lips twisting off to the side in an uneasy frown.

But Logan wasn’t finished. “You may have thought you were doing us a favour by refusing to allow us to assist you. But at that point, when we were clearly in a better condition than you, your actions only put all of us at risk.”

“Hey, teach? Maybe dial it back a bit?”

Logan didn’t appear to have heard Virgil. He absently pushed his hair back with one hand, which then rested on the back of his head. “Do you know how frightening it was to see you reduced to a — a heap on the floor? Do you realize what could have happened had Roman’s sword not been strong enough to chop through the barricade you made at our door?”

“Logan,” Virgil repeated, more firmly this time.

 “Your job is to serve as Thomas’s Morality.” Both hands were buried deep in his hair now. “You can’t do that if you’re — ”

“I’m sorry,” Patton breathed.

Logan caught himself, glanced over to see Patton wearing an expression Logan could only describe as being akin to that of a kicked puppy. Oh, no.

“I just… you all were so much worse off than me. The only one who could even get out of bed was Roman, and if you’d seen him wandering around like I did, not even remembering his own name, you’d be worried too!” Patton drew in a breath, gingerly pulling his arms in towards his body and refusing to look at the already-worried faces his friends wore around him. “It felt so selfish, the idea of taking a break while you three so obviously needed help.”

Above his head, Logan glanced at first Virgil, then Roman. Someone ought to say something. But seeing as both Virgil and Roman appeared to be struggling for words, that someone ought to be —

He heaved a sigh.

— him.

Taking care not to jostle Patton too much, Logan lowered himself down onto the mattress and laid a hand on Patton’s back, right where he himself had often felt the moral Side’s comforting touch after straining his eyes on a laptop screen late into the night. Patton flinched a bit, but didn’t pull away.

When he spoke, it was with a voice gentler than any of them had ever heard Logan use. “It’s never selfish to ask for help.”

On the other side of Patton, Logan felt rather than saw Roman nod. “I’m with Pouty McSpecs over here,” he said, perhaps trying to lighten the mood a bit. “As the late, great Ms. Frizzle once said: Do not be afraid to ask for help. Nobody gets through college on their own.”

Logan blinked. “That... was Michelle Obama.”

“Yeah, there were so many things wrong with that statement I’m not even gonna try and unpack it all,” Virgil agreed.

“I’m pretty sure it was the Friz.” Roman shook his head. “Anyway, not the point. You see what we’re saying, right, Patton? You won’t be able to take care of anyone if you’re not properly taking care of yourself first.” He gestured to Patton’s injured hands. “I mean, all this for a bowl of broth?”

“Not the time, Princey.”

“Sorry.”

“Speaking of time.” Virgil rose to his feet with a stretch. “I think it’s time for us to leave you be. You still need your rest.” 

Patton opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off with a yawn so long he couldn’t remember what he’d meant to say by the time it was finished. Already-flushed cheeks grew even redder with embarrassment.

“I rest my case.” He turned to the others. “Come on, I’m pretty sure someone’s got a shattered dinner plate to clean up.”

Roman flinched. “Ah. That.” 

“Yeah, that. Let’s move!” As Virgil shooed Roman and Logan out of the room, he snuck one last glance back at Patton, who had a lopsided smile on his face, crooked in the most genuine of ways, as if biting back a laugh as he settled himself back down under his bedsheets and snuggled in tight.

Something fluttered in Virgil’s chest. Warm, it felt, and light and fuzzy and — and inexplicable, until he realized: it was the first time he’d seen Patton smile in weeks.

Patton was alright. Everything was going to be alright.

“Sleep tight, pops,” whispered Virgil as the door clicked shut.

 --- --- ---

A/N: i set out to write a 2k vent fic in a day and ended up writing this exclusively in half-hour chunks over the course of three weeks. whoops. but i mean, here we are — and here you are, having read all the way to the end, so… leave a comment maybe? :’)

Taglist (not sure if this’ll work since this is a scheduled post but eh, worth a shot): @surleytemple @starryfirefliesbloggo @icecoldparadise @lyditist @fandom-random2405 @beach-fan @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @starryeyedhomicide @unring-this-bell @flix-net @pheonix-inside @thelowlysatsuma @residentanchor @sanderstalker

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 8: Stab Wound

(But hold on a little while longer.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 8: Stab Wound

Word Count: 2054

Relationships: familial Creativitwins, platonic/familial dlamptr

Warnings: Stab wound (obviously), other minor injuries, blood, minor dissociation, lots and lots of cursing

A/N: yes, i know this is late! it’s only by 30 minutes though D: hopefully my characterization of the trash man is alright! this was fun to write hehe

Well. That wasn’t a very fun camping trip!

Remus has always been one for surprise. He likes the excitement, the variety, the fun! It’s healthy to keep a little bit of spice in your life. He’s not afraid to live by this sort of motto, because life is about the little things. Although, he isn’t sure that getting stabbed in the middle of the woods at three a.m. necessarily counts as little, but he’ll take what he can get.

So sue him! Maybe he likes to have a little fun sometimes. Routine is boring! Fuck patterns! Fuck authority! Cause anarchy!

And, uh, yeah. He’s pretty chill with living on the edge like that. But maybe… maybe just a bit further from the edge? He means, like, the edge of harmful societal expectations and complacency, or whatever dumb shit Dee and Lo-Lo rant about to each other at one in the morning. Remus loves his roommates, and would totally rip out a bitch’s spine for them, but they’re fucking nerds. Speak ENGLISH.

Yeah, the edge of “normal”. Not the edge of death.

He’s not gonna die out here, no siree. If he believes he’s immortal strongly enough, he will be. That’s what Barbie movies teach you, right? In any case, even though he refuses to die, getting stabbed hurts like a motherfucker, and it doesn’t help that it’s also storming. He just wanted a nice, fun camping trip, but nooo, some shitty-ass god out there decided “Oh! Time to turn Remus into a shitty cliche horror movie protagonist!”. Why can’t he be the antagonist? Or… wait, what’s the one in the middle of the two? The side character? He wants to be the one guy who is in the midst of all the action with the protag, but seemingly dies halfway through the movie, and then comes back at the end to be like, ”Haha, surprise, bitch! I’m not dead!”.

Huh. Maybe he shouldn’t make all of his life choices based on movie stereotypes.

Anyway, he wishes that at the very least it’d stop fucking raining, because it makes it seriously hard to crawl through the underbrush while slipping in mud and falling flat on his face every two seconds. The stab wound is painful, sure, but as long as he can keep pressure on it and not lose too much blood before he gets to the main road, he should be fine. But having to deal with the downpour hindering his movement and blinding most of his senses sucks ass. How the hell is he supposed to utilize his tracking skills and make sure he’s going the right way without being able to see, hear, or smell a single goddamn thing? He might like making other people wet, but that doesn’t mean he likes being wet himself.

So, he thinks he’s going the right direction. Trying to escape a batshit crazy murderer in the middle of the woods doesn’t leave you a lot of time to casually sit down at a table with a cup of tea and pull out your faded, burnt treasure map, but if he had a table and a cup of tea and a partially burnt map, he would totally do that. Maybe the killer would be so confused, he’d have time to run away.

The thought causes Remus to bark out a laugh into the white noise of the storm, which is a VBI (Very Bad Idea), because it goes straight to his stomach. The pain that radiates out from the wound is like, actually excruciating, hahaha! But... Remus is supposed to be the one who actually survives to the end. He-- he has to be. Who else is gonna fill Roman’s socks with wet concrete?

Oh, Roman. His brother would probably be crying like a little bitch if he were here. Now he’d be the protagonist, the one who’d make so many stupid decisions and somehow come out of it alive anyway. He’s like those teenage girls in horror movies who make you scream at the screen “Don’t go in the dark scary basement, you fucking idiot!” but for some reason, never have a single repercussion for any of their terrible choices. (Remus would be the one who would sacrifice himself for the main character near the end of the movie at the dramatic climax, but Roman can never know that.)

Maybe he wishes Roman was here so that he didn’t have to crawl all this way on his own, but whatever. His brother would probably be too busy whining about his ruined hair to help much, anyway. Not-- Not that Remus needs help! He is having a blast slipping and sliding through the sticks and mud and bushes, thank you very much!

“C’mon out, dude! Don’t draw out the inevitable!” a voice echoes from the trees, a yell that’s far too familiar for Remus’ liking. God, can this guy just give it up already? Go find some other helpless damsel to terrorize! He does not wanna try Remus right now. This may all be fun and games, but Remus is starting to get pissed off, and he is unafraid to take out the stress on this crazy dumbfuck.

Somehow, Remus is able to hear the guy’s footsteps come closer through the sound of the rain splashing all around him, and he speeds up. Probably better to just avoid the guy. Although Remus’d totally win in a fight, the dude does have a knife, and Remus would really prefer to not get stabbed a second time. There’s a drop ahead, a place where it looks like the floor disappears, so Remus shuffles over to it and peers over. It’s a small cliff, with maybe fifteen or so feet to the bottom, and Remus curses under his breath. Fuck, he’s gonna have to do it, isn’t he? And now that he’s looking, he can just barely make out some headlights flit through the trees and disappear, so he knows that he’s close to the main road.

With a grimace, Remus steels himself, then slides off the edge feet-first, trying to use his shoes as a brace against the incline. Of course, because his life fucking sucks, he somehow manages to hit a rock embedded in the side in the wrong crevice, and it pitches him forward off the wall to tumble to the ground below. He smacks into the wet dirt, is just barely able to bite his tongue hard enough to stop the scream from ripping from his throat, and he lands at the bottom harshly. 

His stomach is on fire. It fucking hurts, feels like he’s being stabbed all over again a thousand times over. Bruises are definitely going to start forming all over his body from that fall, and coupled with the fact that his leg hit the ground at a weird angle, walking is going to be even worse than before. Fuck! Why can’t he just catch a fucking break?!

Remus pants hard, trying to work himself up to resuming his trek, when he hears his attacker’s voice calling out from above again. It sounds like he’s coming to the edge, so Remus just swallows hard and scoots himself over through the agonizing aches in his body to lay flat against the cliff wall. He just has to hope the dude doesn’t see him. He can’t really see very well through the storm, but Remus thinks he sees the guy look over the edge. Silence is key, and that’s pretty damn hard considering the absolute torture that is his wounds, but he has to. To survive.

He can’t die today.

And then the guy’s yelling for him again, and his voice is getting further away, and Remus waits in the mud until he can’t hear his footsteps anymore. Vigour and adrenaline now fully renewed, Remus bolts into the trees again, crawl morphing into a crouched run when he’s finally in cover. He clutches at his stomach to try to lessen the pain, which of course doesn’t help, but maybe it’ll keep some blood inside of him or something. Probably not best to bleed out right before he can get help. That’d be a shitty movie ending, if he’s being honest. Absolutely uncreative and unsatisfying. -11/10. 0% on Rotten Tomatoes. Is Remus delirious right now?

Despite all that, the sight of the road through a break in the trees is like a blissful breath of fresh air, a shining light of hope in the darkness. He’ll get to see Roman again, and prank Patton with bugs, and absolutely destroy Virge at video games, and listen to Dee and Lo-Lo’s stupid philosophy talks, and give his adoptive uncle Thomas a heart attack every time he does something stupid, and holy fuck maybe Remus is dying because when did he become sentimental? Ew.

A car finally comes along right as Remus manages to drag himself up onto the shoulder, and he waves frantically from where he’s kneeled on the ground in an effort to flag it down. Thank fuck, the car actually slows to a stop, and the window rolls down almost immediately. The face that pokes out is cute, and innocent-looking, and Remus prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that this person will actually help.

“Oh, jeez, are you okay? Why are you out on the road like this? Is-- Is that blood?!” the driver asks, horrified, and Remus tries to stumble closer. He doesn’t know what he looks like right now, but it’s probably horrifying, and he wouldn’t really blame this stranger if he drove away immediately. Maybe Remus will become like those ghost stories, the spooky legends about ghost hitchhikers. Ooh, maybe he’ll become a local cryptid! They can tell stories about him, and sell merch with his face on it, and he’ll be famous, and he can rub all of his sweet, sweet royalties in Roman’s face.

“Got-- I got stabbed. Crazy fucker got me while I was asleep. Help,” Remus manages to force out through his grit teeth, voice hoarse under the weight of the pain he’s in, and the driver looks extremely worried. For whose well-being, Remus has no clue.

“Alright, I’m taking you to the hospital. I couldn’t live with a guilty conscience if I left you out here. I’m Emile, by the way-- please don’t murder me, okay?” the stranger, Emile, says, and Remus chokes out a laugh despite himself. Emile gets out of his car and rushes through the drizzle without any hesitation, and Remus can already see that this is a genuinely good person. Anyone else would leave him here to die. He knows that. Even he’d leave himself here. But here this guy is, the kindest anyone has ever been to Remus, and it makes him wonder if he’ll still be as nice when he realizes that Remus’ personality is awful and the polar opposite of good and kind. (He knows he’ll never be good enough. He knows. He’s heard it enough, and he doesn’t need to be told again.)

“Not g’nna murder you. I can’t-- can’t even walk on my own, so,” Remus mumbles once he’s sure Emile is close enough to hear, and the latter just clicks his tongue with hands that frantically wave all around as if they don’t know where to go. Luckily enough for Remus, Emile pulls himself together quickly, slings an arm underneath his shoulder to help support his weight, and they limp back to the guy’s car together. As they do, Remus realizes the rain has stopped outright, and, well, isn’t that poetic?

Once he’s inside, dripping all over this stranger’s seats (okay, maybe he feels a little bad about that. When he’s a famous cryptid, he can pay for Emile to get his upholstery fixed), Remus starts to fade in and out. Not like the dying kind of “fading”, because he knows from multiple personal experiences what dying feels like, but more like he’s losing time as an effect of a literal stab wound. Oh, what did Lo-Lo call it? Desecrating? Dissipating? No, dissociating. Yeah, that’s the bitch. Yeah. Yeah...

He gets flashes now and again. Streetlamps outside, a tall building, hands underneath him, bright lights, rapid conversation. It smells like an E.R. It feels like home. He’s not gonna die today. Not yet.

[greenninjagal-blog]

Weightless

Do you ever write something and immediately hate it but can’t help but finish it? Welcome to my (currently two part) Monster AU. 

Summary: Virgil hates the human world, and humans in particular. That doesn’t change for his strange (assumed) human housemates.

Words: 3400

Pairings: platonic LAMP

Read on AO3

Virgil needs to stop sleeping on the couch. Really, it’s been a month since he’s moved into the building and he has his own room, with a door that locks, the windows that shut all the way, and headphones that blare the sound of the ocean waves as loud as he wanted. He doesn’t need to be out in the common area, taking up the entire couch, headphones on and buried under as many blankets as he can get away with.

He’s sure he’s annoying his housemates with it too. Every once in a while he picks up on the presence of one or two of them skirting through the area, once or twice he’s heard the disgruntled huffs of one of them coming into the room and leaving again when they see Virgil was there again, once or twice he feels guilty about hoarding every single blanket he can find and dreads when the others will finally call him out on it, but not enough to return them.

He’s sweating profusely under all of them, but he burrows himself deeper, arching his aching shoulder blades. The heat won’t bother him, if he can just...manage...to get the...weight right.

(It’s not right.)

((It won’t ever be right.))

He hates it, every bit of it. He peeks out from under the mass of fabrics to check the time on his phone. He missed dinner again, but that was fine. Patton always makes too much and stuffs it in the fridge with Virgil’s name already taped on.

He pauses the calming sounds of “daybreak on the seashore”, and listens intently for the sounds of the other man in the kitchen. There isn’t any telltale clink of the silverware, no humming of the microwave, nor the whooshing of the water running as he finishes up cleaning the dishes. There isn’t even the whistling that Patton seems to carry everywhere with him.

Actually, Virgil has to take that back. He doesn’t think he has heard Patton whistle since Logan had asked him to stop in that rude monotone he had the other day. Patton is strangely attune to everyone’s personal preferences. Once someone asks him to do something he, almost immediately, gets it done. Concerning? Maybe. But Virgil can’t bring himself to care much. Patton is pretty much the only human he could stand, probably for that reason only.

(Jeez Virgil really hates humans. Why did he agree to live with three of them?)

Not that it mattered much. Virgil knows he’s dying. It wouldn’t be long before one of them gets irritated with him and digs under the blankets just to find his dead corpse. Virgil hopes, maybe a bit darkly, that it will be Roman who finds him, and that his particularly childish scream can be heard in the deep pits of hell Virgil’s sure to end up in for wishing something like that on someone.

Though to be fair, Roman is a bit of an asshole. He’s everything Virgil hates about humans wrapped into one stupidly tall, stupidly fit body. He’s bold and brazen, reckless and loud, not to mention chaotic. His first instinct when he makes someone else angry is to start flirting, and flashing that seductive grin of his as if he can make every bad thing go away with a smile. He never apologizes. He’s forgetful-- or just holds a certain disregard for anyone other than himself: Virgil had asked him to move his laundry before he went out for the evening two nights ago and Virgil had ended up having to move it so that he could get his own laundry done. Additionally, he never seems to be focused on what was in front of him, regardless of what it was.

The only good thing is that he prefers to go out nearly every night so Virgil very rarely has to interact with him. Roman at least has the decency to not to bring home the people he was clearly sleeping with, if his messy hair, crumple clothes, and the glimpses of hickies that were nearly never subtle on his collarbone, were anything to go by. Virgil doesn’t want to know what sort of things Roman gets into.

Virgil is at least thankful that Roman had gone out tonight. He had been stuck in the house for the past two days, moping about something or other and making everyone else equally as miserable as he was about it by loudly complaining anytime he saw them.

Humans are such a vile sort of race anyway.

If Virgil is being honest, though, he’d much rather spend time with Logan than the other two. Where Patton is constantly buzzing with energy and seems to ask Virgil if he needs something, anything, every few minutes, and while Roman has an ego deeper than the Marianas Trench and constantly strives to prove it, Logan is a stone statue.

He stays cooped up in his room for the most part, only venturing out on a rare occasion to eat something, or read a book in the common area. Virgil doesn’t think he has ever seen him without his shades either: Logan wears the thick heavy black sunglasses that made it impossible to see in the house when dusk hit. Regardless Logan has determined that he’d rather stumble into the walls, or trip on the steps rather than take the glasses off. It’s certainly a dedication.

He alludes a type of contained energy that’s opposite to Patton. Every movement he makes is calculated, even the ones that ram him into the walls. He’s always calm, speaks in a monotone, and he likes the stars.

Virgil used to like the stars. He doesn’t anymore. They just make him sick.

He props open the layers of blankets he has around himself letting in a gulp of fresh cool air that should feel as good as it does. If Virgil turns back on his music, and closes his eyes really tight he could fall victim to the delusion that he was back in the water feeling the caress of the waves welcoming him back after so long.

But Virgil isn’t in the habit of lying to himself, so he closes out of his music app and rearranges the blankets so that he can sit up. His clothes are a sticky, crumpled, disappointing mess. He tugs the zipper of his black sweatshirt down a few inches and wishes that it weighed more, that it was purple, that humans weren't such giant assholes, that he wasn’t an idiot.

Because really when it came down to it, the whole situation had been Virgil’s fault. He had been naive and absent minded and even though he knew the stories about human, knew that they couldn’t be trusted, Virgil had still allowed them to get as close as they had.

The humans hadn’t killed him, but Virgil finds himself wishing more and more often that they had. It would have been quicker than the death he was currently living.

Virgil stretches lightly, his shoulders aching miserably from an issue he couldn’t fix. He had been over the seaside town with a fine-tooth comb: there was no sign of the humans that he had encountered that night. His memory is hazy and with every passing day it became worse, but he had become prepared for this. The second he had woken up in the human hospital he had scrambled for pen and paper and scratched out every detail of the four he could remember. Curly hair, a lip piercing, a red bandana, a skull and rose tattoo--He had drawn it all up for the police and then made himself a copy because the police were also humans and humans couldn’t be trusted.

The pictures had circulated the town for three days. Then the police came to him and told him that there was no way to find the people who had attacked him on the beach, so sorry.

Virgil is sorry, too. So sorry, in fact, that he has already decided when he finds them he’s going to kill them himself in many painful ways. He’d make them feel every ounce of pain he feels. He was going to make them beg for a merciful death.

(It was rational, he told himself. Revenge for everything they had done to him)

((It was rational, he told himself. Because he was likely never going to find them anyway.))

So he is stranded: standing on the cliffside feeling the sea spray with every crashing wave, and knowing if he so much as dipped his feet in the oncoming waves he’d dissolve into seafoam.

He had never told anyone he was leaving, never mentioned that he was going to sit on the beach and stare up at those dazzling stars. No one would come looking for him because no one was as stupid as he was.

It’s a human world after all. And everyone knows that humans poked and prodded things they didn’t understand, and turned a profit for the things they did.

Death had sounded preferable to both options. But Virgil couldn’t bring himself to...do it. The thought of ending it all terrified him, the thought of the waves calling for him made him determined not to. He has to find a way to get back.

He has to find his skin again. And in order to do that he has to find the humans who had stolen it in the first place.

So he continued this charade of being human: got a job writing a comedy column for the newspaper that printed twice a week, found a place to rent with three other people, and pronounced himself a shut in that rarely talked.

He’s sure the others thought he was mute or deaf (Roman probably thought both), seeing as he attempts to not acknowledge them at all. He’s slightly paranoid that if he does allow himself to drop his guard again they’ll find something else to take from him.

Virgil doesn’t lie to himself and he most certainly learns from his mistakes.

So even if Patton tries his best to offer him free food, to talk to him, to be his friend, Virgil doesn’t give him an inch. (A human saying: give them an inch, and they’ll take a mile.) He lets the plates of extra food in the refrigerator go bad, wears headphones whenever he was in the room with any of them, doesn’t answer his door on the rare occasion that Patton did come knocking.

Falling asleep on the couch was more of an accident turned habit than anything else. His room doesn’t have a window that faced the beach, but the common area did. He had come out there to work on his newest piece for the paper (a diary of an alien encountering normal human things written purely for laughs. It wasn’t supposed to have become a permanent thing but the editors had liked it so much they had offered him a salary). Somewhere between the writing and staring out the window his eyes had started to droop and he had found himself curled up on the sofa.

And someone, Patton most likely, had made the mistake of throwing a blanket over Virgil’s sleeping body.

And for a second-- a split second-- when Virgil had woken up, it had felt exactly like wearing his skin, like nothing was wrong, like everything was normal.

Then he had shifted and it had been all wrong again. Virgil had desperately hoarded all the blankets he could get his hands on and attempted to very valiantly to recreate the feeling. But it wasn’t right, wasn’t enough. The habit had been formed and Virgil had taken to sleeping on the couch instead of in his room.

He glances to the window, somewhat impressed with his own ability to have wasted most of the day. He swears just minutes ago the sun had been rising and dolphins breaking on the distance waves, and now it was all dark and black with the stars thankfully hidden behind a thin cloud layer.

His shoulders feel too light, his back feels too exposed, but Virgil resigns himself to standing up. His spine pops in a refreshing sort of way. He faintly wonders if he’s hungry-- he had found that humans tended to eat so much; Patton made food in the kitchen at least three times a day. Virgil is so used to binge eating once a day that it makes his head spin when he realizes that Patton’s trying to foist food off on him again.

Apparently, it’s really unhealthy for humans to eat as little as Virgil did. But that makes sense because Virgil isn’t human, and there isn’t really a way for him to fix that. It’s one of the few things about himself he can’t hide.

Plan for now: binge eat all the food he needs now that Patton and Logan were most likely asleep and Roman was out, scroll through what he had written last night, make the necessary edits and submit it to the editors, and then go to his room to do more searches on the nameless humans that had ruined his life that would ultimately get him nowhere. Then he’s going to sleep unsatisfied and miserable just as he had done every other day of the past nine months, two weeks, and one day, since he had been exiled from his home.

Virgil doesn’t even make it to the kitchen.

He barely gets around the coffee table (kept neat and tidy from Patton’s meticulous housekeeping) when he hears the telltale sound of the front door being unlocked. Virgil freezes with a glare narrowed towards the entrance, as if glaring at the door could scare it into refusing to open. It was late, far too late for it to be anyone other than Roman.

--And he wasn’t alone.

The door swings open with a clattering bang and no regard for the elegant beach shadow boxes framed on the walls. The noise is vicious and vile and followed by a tumbling of bodies into the house, that are so close together Virgil can barely make out the differences between Roman and his friend. One of them slams the other into the wall and they are kissing like they were slightly more than just friends.

(“Slightly” meaning “a lot”)

Virgil isn’t quite at a lost of what to do-- it was more of a paralysis on what the fuck than anything else. He knows that Roman is human and humans have a habit of constantly seeking out...partners for the night. But Roman was very good about not bringing those partners back with him, excellent really. It was his only redeeming quality.

And yet here he is, ruining the only good thing about himself. And Virgil is watching.

Fuck, he walks through that hall every single day. Why is Roman trying desecrate it?

Virgil must have made a noise, something, because without warning one of the forms peels back and looks down the hall at him. Moonlight streams in between them leaving Virgil with a perfect view of Roman pressed against the wall, flushed, and seemingly covered in glitter, swollen lips parted in a breathless smile that drops almost as quickly as it had appeared. Virgil swears for a second his eyes were a fiery red, but he blinks and they ware brown again.

“Virgil,” He scowls.

The stranger, however, laughs. “Hey pretty boy, get lost. Or join in!”

And Virgil is ready to flee. His feet are bouncing, his brain screams all sorts of profanity at Roman, he is stomach is already bubbling with nausea. Everything points at him to run, run as fast as he can, to his room, to lock the door, to scrub that terrible look on Roman’s face out of his memory.

But then Roman rolls up the wall in an attempt to regain his balance and his shoulder hits the lightswitch. And suddenly the narrow hallway floods with the golden light, too bright. It’s wrong. It’s wrong, it’s so wrong.

Virgil’s chest constricts and he meets the eyes of the last person he ever expected to be standing in front of him again.

Because Virgil would know that face, know that silver lip piercing, the curly hair, the ripped vest, and the red bandanna tied around his upper arm. Virgil would know that human because he was the nameless, cruel being that had helped try to kill him.

And Virgil knows he’s not hallucinating because the second they make eye contact, the stranger’s eyes go wide and he freezes as if he had just seen a ghost.

“You--”

The door flinging open had been loud, but Virgil’s certain the explosion of all the water pipes in the house is louder. He barely even notices that he does it. Anger swallows his entire body, swamping him, drowning him, and Virgil lets it. Every thought turns violent and raging, a massive swell of kill it, kill it, kill it, find skin, kill it, kill it, kill it and it’s friends.

Virgil throws himself towards the man hands out and itching to wrap his throat and squeeze the fragile human life from his chest, prolonging it as long as he can, because that’s exactly what it feels like when Virgil stands on the beach with the burning grainy sand in his shoes and stares at the Ocean he can never return to. He wants the death of that man so much he loses all sense of his surroundings.

Particularly that of Logan coming down the stairs at the same moment.

It happens in a sort of slow motion that Virgil has never experienced before. Logan collides with him full body, and they both tumble to the floor, hard. Virgil rolls and scrambles to get back to his feet. Something crunches under his shoes. Roman elbows the stranger to the side, but it's too hard and the man falls to the ground. Virgil lunges for him, teeth gnashing in the most inhuman display he’s allowed himself to perform in nine months. Roman blocks him with a surprising strength.

At the same time, Logan blearily looks up from the floor and makes eye contact with the fallen stranger.

The man screams for a second, something brutal, gutted, and horrified. It’s the sound of someone who just saw Hell and realized they were falling in it. It’s the sound that causes Roman to freeze. It’s the sound that lasts a single second and no more because it takes all of that second for him to turn completely to stone.

Solid stone.

Logan lets out a scream curling in on himself and burying his face in one hand as the other claws the ground for glasses he’s not going to find. Virgil doesn’t care. It’s terrifying really, how strong his tunnel vision suddenly becomes and he digs his nails in Roman’s distracted arm as he struggles to get around him, to get to that body, to get his answers and his revenge.

“Fuck!” Roman yells, drawing back when Virgil draws blood.

There’s the body right within his grasp. Red tints his vision. A giddiness that has not right to be there floods his veins, intoxicating and addicting and Kill it kill it kill kill--

Strong arms wrap his waist dragging him back. Virgil struggles, he kicks, he screams. Pipes burst across the house, probably across the block, and distantly the waves pound the shore with an unprecedented force. Something pricks his neck, sharp.

The next thing Virgil knows everything is blurring together. The screaming in his head subsides as suddenly as it comes, and the silence is more terrifying. There’s always noise in his head, always dreams, feelings, opinions. It’s silent and Virgil can’t even produce a single thought.

The strong arms let go. He falls like a ragdoll to the tap-water covered floor without even a movement to catch himself. He can’t move even if he tried.

He doesn’t try.

It’s wrong. It’s wrong. It’s really so wrong.

What’s wrong? Virgil doesn’t remember.

Blue smoke wells up in the room, starting from somewhere outside his direct vision. It smells like something sweet and sugary that Virgil doesn’t know the name of. He loses consciousness before he figures it out if it’s even real or not.

(It’s wrong. It’s wrong. It’s so wrong.)

Part Two

[dr-gloom]

You’re Scared

Summary: Based off this AMAZING prompt from @britbrodcast​! 

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairings: Platonic LAMP? what’s it called when Dee’s in it??? Who knows

Words: 4,774

Tags/Warnings: Virgil is spoopy but also a dork so it balances out, Patton is Concerned(tm), I guess this could be considered Sympathetic Deceit?, Idk, But he isn’t a bad snek so, mild swearing, angst, panic attack

Read it on AO3

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((i listened to all of Folie A Deux on repeat while writing this cause that’s like my default Virgil playlist honestly))

It was no secret to Thomas and the other sides that Virgil didn’t exactly get around like them. It’d been proven that he was capable of sinking out, but he always just, as Logan put it, “appeared”. Roman was convinced it was because he was really a Dark Side, but Patton wasn’t having any of that. Virgil was his sweet and sour son and there wasn’t a dark or sinister bone in his body. So no one knew how Virgil did it, or even why, because it wasn’t really asked. Maybe they didn’t mind, or maybe they were scared of the answer. Maybe Virgil really was a Dark Side; if that were true, well, ignorance is bliss. 

Patton was cooking lunch as he hummed along to some song on the small kitchen radio, chopping up some veggies when he turned to grab something and the knife slipped out of his hands and clattered to the floor, making him jump with a yelp. He held a hand to his heart, trying to calm himself as he glanced down at the knife now on the kitchen floor. A voice coming from above him startles him even more.

“Jeez Pat, be more careful. You could’ve seriously hurt yourself.” Patton looks around, confused when he doesn’t see anything. “Up here.” Patton looks up, eyes widening a bit as he spots Virgil on top of the fridge. How had he gotten up there? And how long had he been sitting there? “Oh, hey kiddo! You doin’ okay?” Patton remembered Virgil saying something about sitting in strange places on more... stressful days. Virgil shrugs, seeming to not have considered that. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” Patton makes a small ‘o’ expression and nods. 

“Yep! No knife can hurt this cleaver dad!” He bends over and picks up the vegetable cleaver. Virgil rolls his eyes, swinging his legs to dangle over the side of the fridge. “That pun wasn’t cleaver.” He mutters. Patton giggles, just glad that Virgil is joking along with him. He knows the other is usually a little jumpy, cautious, reluctant to join the other five (the four other sides and Thomas, of course) in any kind of banter or fun-making. “Why don’t you come down from there and help your old man with lunch? Cheese?” 

“That one was just bad.”

“So it wasn’t Gouda.” Patton smiles brightly as Virgil snrks and hops down from the fridge straight to the floor. Patton almost protests - that can’t be good on his knees! - but Virgil seems unaffected. “How long were you sitting up there anyways? You too cool to say hi to your old man?” Patton thinks he hears a mutter of same age before Virgil replies, “I’ve been there the whole time. I just didn’t want to bother you.” Virgil isn’t looking at Patton, but Patton just figures it’s because he’s shy and ‘doesn’t like to be a bother to anyone’. He could never bother Patton! Patton loves his dark strange son. 

“Well gosh kiddo you know you can talk to me whenever! I love our talks.” He grins at the other as he gets a new, clean knife and Virgil moves the cut up veggies to the waiting pan. “I guess... You’re good, though?” Virgil glances over at Patton through his bangs, and Patton’s smile softens. “I’m okay. Thanks kiddo.”

Logan sits in his usual spot at the end of the couch, reading a book while the TV plays on in the background. Roman had started some sci-fi horror film, leaving part-way through when he was stricken with a sudden idea. Of course, this often happened, so Logan didn’t mind the background noise that was more like a quiet static underneath his focus. Judging by the music and increased screaming, Logan would venture a guess that the movie was nearing the climax. He turned the page, further tuning out the movie as he became immersed in the world of Mr. Heathcliff at Wuthering Heights. 

He made it through nearly half of the book before his focus waned again, the sounds of someone - most likely Roman - coming down the hall caught his attention. His suspicions were proven correct when the princely figure plopped down on the opposite end of the couch and picked up the remote, seamlessly putting on another movie without a second’s thought. It goes through the ads, and the dreaded THX sound blares out of the speakers. Logan jumps, dropping his book, looking around. Roman looks just as startled, despite being the one who put the movie on, and mutters an apology. Virgil sits on the back of the couch (when did he get here???) and leans down, snatching the remote from Roman and quickly turning it down. 

“Seriously Princey, you’re going to make us all deaf.”

Roman and Virgil launch into a fit of banter as Logan watches them silently, now feeling calmer and thinking to himself. How odd; he was certain Virgil was in his room just a moment ago. He obviously knew of Virgil’s penchant for Appearing(tm) places, but he almost always walks around like the rest of them when in the Mind Palace. So why Appear(tm) now? They weren’t in any imminent danger. Logan thought of asking, but with how cryptic and vague Virgil tended to be, he doubted he’d get a real answer. Virgil turns to look at Logan, eyebrow raised. “What?” Logan blinks. “Ah, it’s nothing. You just startled me with your appearance, that’s all.”

“Yeah, Edgar Allen Woe, quit popping up like that! It’s so rude.” 

Virgil tenses slightly, and if Logan hadn’t been studying him so closely he knows he would have missed it. “Maybe the valiant prince should learn to keep his guard up if he wants to be good at protecting people.” Roman opens his mouth to quip back when Logan cuts him off. “Now Virgil, you know that’s absurd; you’re the protector of the five of us. Well, I suppose Deceit is as well to some degree, but your role presents in a more physical aspect.” Virgil blows a puff of air and shrugs, slinking off the couch and heading back to the hallway.

“Hold on, Wizard of Odd, watch a movie with us. You’ve been in your room all day.” 

Virgil pauses and looks between the two sides before shrugging just slightly and sitting between Roman and Logan, with a comfortable distance between each. Roman and Logan share a look before they both move to sit so there’s only a few inches of space between each side, Roman grinning satisfactorily and grabbing the remote to put on Big Hero 6 - something all three of them enjoy. Logan isn’t one for physical contact, but he knows that Virgil can be when he’s in the right mood and yet will never ask for it, so he’s more than happy to nudge the boundaries of his comfort zone to help him out. As the movie starts though, Logan’s mind wanders over the information he’d gathered while observing the anxious side. Now to figure out what it all meant...

Dee rarely had the commons to himself. Since his appearance in Can Lying Be Good? the others have... sort of accepted him into the fold. They’re still a bit on edge around him, for obvious reasons, but he can tell they’re trying. And it’s appreciated, really, but it can be... tense, and exhausting. So he tends to stay away unless it’s famILY meal time, as Patton puts it, or if only one sides is in the room. He can deal with any of them on their own, but two or more of them and the atmosphere became too muddled. Too conflicted. 

So Dee preferred these times on his own, knowing that Roman had taken Patton into his strange fantasy realm and that Logan was off somewhere, categorizing memories or... something. He can’t remember. He knew Virgil tended to keep to his room as well, and honestly he wouldn’t mind if the other came to join him either way, so he settled onto the couch and turned the TV on. After a while, he decided to settle on some children’s show Thomas ha been getting into, Duck Tales. Honestly (ha, honestly), Dee didn’t see the appeal, but since he was part of Thomas an this strange famILY, he figured he might as well try. 

He thinks back to the day he revealed himself to Thomas, his mouth quirking to the side. That.... could have gone worse. But it could have gone better, too. He had been trying to help Thomas, that’s always his intention, but even he could see that there was a better way to do so. How was Thomas supposed to trust anything he said if he went around pretending to be someone else, both physically when he looked like Patton and characteristically when he acted the part of the bad guy. 

But it had gone so well for Virgil.

“Half-truth.” Even Dee got caught in his lies sometimes; he had to remind himself of when he was actually lying, and what the truth meant. Sure, Virgil had essentially done the same as Dee, but the other had eventually started to act more like himself around the other sides and began building relationships. The others actually started trusting Virgil and liking him. But Dee? They didn’t know much about him, they had few interactions with him, so how could they possibly feel the same for him as they do about Virgil, who’s been around for years? 

I need them to like me.

“Lie.” He didn’t need their approval to do his job, or even exist. His existence up to this point was proof of that. 

I want them to like me.

“Why?” He was aware he was talking to himself in the middle of the living room, but he honestly didn’t care; it’s not like anyone could hear him.

Because I’m lonely.

Dee’s brow furrowed. “Truth...” And it was. It scared him, but it was true. He’d never admit out loud how he felt, but the feeling was as old and familiar to him as lying itself. Before, he hadn’t paid any mind to it; he’d contented himself on performing to his best, keeping Thomas’ relationships afloat and keeping everyone happy. He lived vicariously through Thomas’ interactions with his friends, found happiness and peace in their laughter and their smiles and their shared jokes. That’s why he fought so hard to keep it that way.

But now? Now he had something to draw his focus, something he could lose. As fragile as it was, he had some sort of relationship with the other sides now and he couldn’t mess it up. If he had to go back to Thomas’ subconscious, alone...

I’m scared. 

“Hi scared, I’m Virgil.” Dee jumped, falling off the couch. He laid on his back in shock, staring up at Virgil who was hanging upside down from the spinning ceiling fan, legs spread as they were each hooked over separate wings. His hair dangled in the air, giving a rare sight of his whole face. Virgil sighed as the fan spun him until his back was facing Dee. “Of all the places...” He comes back around. “You okay, Dee?” Dee stares up at him, sitting up slowly and watching him spin around lazily. 

“How did you-?” 

Virgil smirks slightly, but it doesn’t look snarky or menacing. “I’m anxiety, I know fear. If you’re so scared of being alone, try being yourself.” Dee scoffs lightly. “It’s very easy.” Virgil frowns slightly, brushing a hand through his hair (which does nothing, he’s upside down). “Try taking them to your room.” Dee’s room was one of the very few places he could actually speak the truth without his words being twisted without his consent. He rubs his face with a sigh. “They’ll believe me. I never lie.” Virgil hums as he’s spun away again, answering as he’s brought back to face Dee. “I could come with you. They know that I know you, and they trust me, I could convince them if they don’t believe you.” 

Dee watches Virgil spin around one more time before speaking up. “Why are you up there?” He found out long ago that questions are something he can speak without them being twisted. Virgil shrugs, which looks a bit strange upside down. “You know how this works just as well as I do, Dee. When someone-” 

“Yes, yes. I don’t mean... Why are you still up there? Don’t come down.” Virgil looks at Dee’s face for a moment before curling up to grip the fan, then maneuvering his legs so he was danging upright. He lets go of the fan and lands on his feet in front of Dee, offering him a hand. “Come on, Princey and Patton should be back soon, we can do this together.” 

Dee nods, taking Virgil’s hand and standing up. 

Roman panted loudly as he ran, feet pounding on the solid Earth beneath him, causing small puffs of dust to rise and trail behind him. He was sweating; it was hot out and he’d been running for a good ten minutes, with the monster never showing a sign of faltering or tiring. He curses under his breath as his empty scabbard hits the back of his thigh with every other step. If he hadn’t lost his sword... 

The monster roars, the sound loud and cacophonous, making birds in the surrounding field take off in flight. Roman feels his heart leap as he pushes on past his growing fatigue, trying to remember where he put the door. He runs until he sees the local village, and makes a beeline for it. The door wasn’t far from the other side of the village, he was almost there. Roman stumbles, almost falling and regaining his footing and just barely escaping the monster’s claws. It roars in anger again, gnashing it’s teeth. Roman spares a glance over his shoulder as he nears the edge of the village, paling at the sight of the monster gaining on him. He runs through the streets, calling at the villagers to turn and run as the monster comes thundering after him, carelessly crushing stalls underfoot and ramming into buildings as it passed. Roman swallows around the lump in his throat, his heartbeat deafening his ears, his legs complaining from being pushed so far for so long. 

Roman looks over his shoulder at the monster once again, not seeing the cart in front of him and crashing into it with the right side of his body, sending him sprawling to the ground. He halts himself with his hands, getting to his hands and knees just as a shadow blocks out the sun overhead. 

Roman rolls to sit, resting back on his hands, eyes wide, hair and clothes disheveled, staring up at the monster looming over him, snarling. It’s breath is hot, and reeks of decaying flesh. Roman gags, his heart thundering in his chest and his arms shaking. He feels along the ground for something, anything, as he refuses to look away from the beast. Oh god, he’s going to die. This thing is going to kill him and Thomas will never have an idea ever again and Patton will cry and Virgil will never leave his room and Logan will- 

There’s a familiar scream as the monster goes in for the attack, and Roman looks over to see... Virgil? No, not just that..

Virgil.

Stuck in a stone wall.

Looking absolutely terrified as he watches Roman just lay there as this monster-

Roman tears his gaze away long enough to roll to the side, just missing the jaw of the beast and jumping to his feet, running to Virgil. 

“Virge! What are you-? How did you even-?” Virgil looks like he’d been falling through the wall when it decided to solidify around him; his left arm is encased in stone almost up to the elbow as well as half of his right hand. His left leg is almost completely in stone, the upper half of his thigh the only denim showing. His right leg is free though, dangling at an odd angle due to Virgil being several inches above the ground. Even some of his hair seems to be caught in the stone, keeping him from moving his head too much. 

Virgil isn’t looking at Roman though; his terrified gaze is locked on the monster behind him, clawing at the ground and getting ready to charge. Virgil’s breathing is shallow and uneven, and what Roman can see of him is trembling like a leaf. “R-Roman-!” Virgil screams again as the monster charges, and Roman spins around, summoning his sword just in time to bring it up and block the monster’s claws, pushing it back a step. It roars and Virgil’s breathing does something funny. Shit, Roman needs to end this soon and help him out.

Roman goes on the offensive now, attacking the monster with a vengeance. He can’t let this thing defeat him or hurt Virgil! He cuts the monster’s arm, blood gushing from the deep wound as it screams and rears back on it’s hind legs, then comes down on Roman. Roman runs toward it, sliding down to his knees as the front paws near the ground, and brings his sword up to stab into the monster’s stomach, cutting it open as he slides to a halt. Blood covers both him and the Earth around him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, clamping his jaw. Monster blood, eugh. 

Roman takes a moment to just sit there, catching his breath and letting the tremors leave his body before he stands and tries to wipe some of the blood from his face. He turns to look at Virgil, large grin dying on his face as soon as he takes in the other’s appearance. 

Virgil is an absolute mess. He’s shaking uncontrollably, sobbing loudly as tears race down his cheeks, his breathing quick and panicked, eyes wide, staring right at Roman. Roman frowns with concern and raises a hand, taking a couple steps closer, but when Virgil’s breathing gets worse he stops. Shit, what is he supposed to do now? His friend is literally stuck in a wall and having a panic attack and Roman is covered in-

He wants to slap himself for being so stupid. He snaps his fingers instead, and instantly all the blood is gone, along with the monster’s corpse. Roman holds both hands up placatingly as he slowly, so slowly, moves closer to Virgil. Virgil tries to speak, but with how hard he’s crying and how much he’s panicking he can’t form a coherent sound, much less a sentence. Roman gently shushes him and rests a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “It’s alright, Virge. It’s okay. The monster’s gone, it can’t hurt you or me. You’re safe. Everyone’s safe. We’re okay. Just breathe.” Roman stumbles through Virgil’s breathing exercise a few times until Virgil is mostly calmed down, now just crying softly with the occasional soft whimper. “there you go, you’re doing great, Virge. Everything’s okay. We’re safe. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Roman feels the stone wall, frowning slightly. It certainly feels like solid stone, so then how did Virgil..? “Virge? How did you get here?” 

Virgil sniffs and looks at his arm poking out from the stone. “I-” No use in hiding it now, “When people- sides- experience fear, if I’m too distracted to filter it out, it summons me. You... You were scared...” Realization dawns on Roman’s face and he sighs softly. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Virge. I’m sorry I scared you.” Virgil shakes his head. “You didn’t know. Besides, you can’t help how you feel.” Roman hums and raps his knuckles on the stone. “How are we supposed to get you out of this?” 

Virgil actually looks embarrassed. “I... I can’t sink out like this.” Roman just looks at him. “You mean...”

“Yeah.”

“Poseidon’s trident. Alright, I’ll go... recruit some help.”

It took nearly three hours for Roman and the village men to chip away at the wall enough to free Virgil, and the entire time the anxious side had been tense, flinching any time a pick came too close for comfort. Roman had been there to reassure him, and once they freed his leg, Roman helped him to the ground. As they were walking toward the other end of the village, to the door leading back to the Mind Palace, Roman spoke. “This is going to make such an epic tale!” Virgil just snrks and shakes his head, earning a quizzical look from Roman. “What?”

“No one will ever believe you.”

((lol did you think we were done?))

On one of Thomas’ rare days off - no videos to make, no plans with friends, no need to visit the store, not even a phone call to be made - all five of the sides were relaxing with Thomas in his apartment. Roman and Patton were playing some old video game on the TV, Logan was reading at the table, and Dee was laying across the other end of the couch, his head in Thomas’ lap and Thomas’ hand carding though his hair. Thomas sighs happily as he closes his eyes, listening to Roman and Patton shout and jeer and make a general ruckus, the occasional page flipping from Logan, and Dee’s soft relaxed breathing. Virgil was around here somewhere... Thomas was honestly bummed that the anxious side hadn’t wanted to hang out with them; even Dee was  trying to get past his discomfort to spend some time with all of them! But he supposed it couldn’t be helped. Virgil was anxiety, Thomas was sure some social settings just weren’t his thing. 

Patton and Roman finished their game and suggested a movie, to which everyone agreed happily. Thomas stood as Dee sat up, making his way over to the TV and looking through his DVDs, grabbing Toy Story and popping it int he DVD player and sitting next to Dee again. The five of them got comfortable as the movie started, Thomas wishing for the dozenth time that day that Virgil felt comfortable enough to be here with them. 

Twenty minutes into the movie, Thomas starts feeling a fluttering of nervousness in his chest. This confuses him, because he doesn’t have any reason to be anxious or scared right now. No one’s arguing, he doesn’t have any deadlines approaching, the movie isn’t even scary. And yet... 

Thirty minutes into the movie and Thomas is feeling anxious. He fidgets, unable to focus on one thing, eyes darting around a bit as his heart starts to speed up. He does the breathing exercise Virgil taught him, and keeps doing it because it doesn’t seem to be working. He hopes his sides don’t notice; he doesn’t want to worry them unnecessarily. 

Forty-five minutes in and Thomas is verging on a panic attack. His heart is beating too fast, and his mind is racing too much for him to even figure out what he’s panicking about. His chest feels tight, and he feels light-headed. He slowly and gently slips his hand into Dee’s and squeezes lightly. Dee glances at him, frowns, and squeezes back. Thomas doesn’t answer his questioning look. He doesn’t know what’s wrong either. 

Fifty minutes in and Thomas is openly having a panic attack. Patton pauses the movie, face etched in concern, and crouches in front of Thomas. Roman sits on his other side, taking his free hand and rubbing his thumb over the back of Thomas’ hand. Logan puts a hand on his shoulder, reassuring him that everything’s okay, he’s safe. But Thomas knows he’s safe, he knows everything’s fine, he just doesn’t know why he’s panicking and that’s freaking him out even more and that panic leads to more panic and- 

“V-Virgil-” Thomas gets out, and Patton nods, standing and heading for the stairs. He’s not even on the third step when Virgil appears. 

Except he doesn’t just appear. He falls into the room. Through the ceiling. As soon as his head pops out he’s screaming, black eye shadow streaked down his face - just like Thomas thought, he’d been panicking too. Virgil is screaming, terrified out of his mind. He stops falling, which confuses Thomas and seems to scare Virgil even more, because now he’s hanging from the ceiling by one ankle, his other limbs akimbo. His face is covered in running makeup, his clothes are rumpled, and he’s crying uncontrollably, screaming every time he moves and it causes him to sway a bit. 

In an instant, Patton is moving to stand right below him, trying to calm him down while stretching to reach him. Logan rushes to the dining area, grabbing a chair and bringing it over. Patton doesn’t hesitate to climb on top of it, cupping Virgil’s cheeks and petting his hair, trying to support his head and keep him from moving too much. Dee fidgets beside a stunned Thomas; he wants to help, but he doesn’t know how he can. He can’t reassure Virgil because he can only speak in lies. He’s honestly a little freaked out because he’s never seen this happen before. That is, he’s never seen Virgil come plummeting through the ceiling. Logan goes and grabs two more chairs, both soon occupied by himself and Roman, who are both trying to help Patton calm Virgil down and support his weight so he doesn’t feel like he’s dangling by a foot. 

Logan turns to the two remaining Sanders on the couch. “Please do try to calm down, he can’t calm down if you’re panicking.” Dee bites his tongue and nods, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to calm down. Thomas does the same and the two of them watch as the other three slowly calm Virgil. It feels like hours before he stops screaming and crying, but he never stops shaking. Patton and Roman stay on the chairs, petting Virgil’s hair and keeping his head propped up, gently stroking his cheeks, shoulders, chest, anything to ground him. 

“We need to devise a way to free Virgil’s foot from the ah... Ceiling.” Thomas looks from Virgil to Logan, now standing in front of him. “How? Do we need to... Break it?” Virgil makes a panicked sound and Thomas clarifies. “The ceiling! Not your foot, oh god Virgil, not your foot.” Patton shushes Virgil gently and Roman speaks up. 

“Yeah, we’ll have to free his foot manually. He can’t sink out when he’s like this.” Thomas hums with concern, trying to think if he has anything that can help. 

“Oh!” He runs off, shooting up the stairs and coming back a moment later with a toolbox. Logan’s face lights up in recognition. “We will have to be very careful-” He lowers his voice, “or we may injure Virgil.” Thomas nods and sets the toolbox on the couch, taking out the two hammers sitting within and handing them to Logan. Logan takes them and holds one out to Dee. “I require your assistance.” 

Dee’s eyes widen. “Me?” Logan nods. “The other two will be preoccupied with keeping Virgil calm. It will only take longer if I do it by myself.” Dee nods nervously and grabs another chair, getting on it along with Logan on his chair and he glances at Virgil. “We... We will get you out soon.” He makes eye contact with Virgil, who nods shakily. Dee can tell the truth, if he tries hard enough, but it takes a lot of effort, so he saves it for important moments. Dee and Logan slowly start hammering at the plaster, and when Virgil whimpers Patton and Roman talk to him to distract him. As the ceiling around Virgil’s foot is broken away, Patton and Roman slowly start supporting more and more of Virgil’s weight. Once his foot is finally free, Logan and Dee slowly and gently lower his legs. Once he’s upright, he clings tightly to Patton, trembling uncontrollably. Patton holds onto Virgil protectively, one hand on the back of Virgil’s head. The others get down and put the chairs back, and Logan starts vacuuming up the mess as Patton and Virgil finally get down. Virgil refuses to let go of Patton as they sit on the couch, and Thomas immediately moves to Virgil’s free side and hugs him as well. 

Once everything’s cleaned and put away, the other sides join them on the couch, Logan next to Patton and Roman next to Thomas, with Dee spread out across everyone’s laps. Virgil intertwines his fingers with Dee’s as Roman puts on the Black Cauldron. Virgil falls asleep soon after. 

A/N: The Dee part is my favorite. I haven’t had a chance to write him (aside from one fic where he’s an abusive ass) and I’ve had all these ideas buzzing in my head so I just had to do it. Plus, when I thought “what would scare Dee?” I instantly thought “the truth”. But it’d have to be a truth Dee was at least semi-unaware of; something that he didn’t recognize or dwell on, because he’d be admitting to something he’d rather not acknowledge. So it was part me-wanting-to-analyze and part can’t-rush-the-fear-factor. This was SOOOOO much fun to write!